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tinyluvs · 1 year ago

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Being spencer’s girlfriend and meeting the team for the first time? I think it would be cute!!!! 🫶🏻

it WOULD be super cute! thank you so much! i got huge sibling vibes from the team while writing this so hope that’s okay too!

the tray holding yours and your boyfriends coffee wobbles slightly in your hand as the elevator doors ping open, giving you full view of the bau offices, your eyes widening when you realise just how big it was

caught up with staring you almost forget to actually step out of the elevator, the doors sliding shut just as you manage to pass through them, somehow keeping hold of the coffee's as you do

suddenly it dawns on you that you don't really know where to find spencer. big glass doors separate you from the offices and people whizz up and down the hallway behind you, none of them paying the slightest bit of attention to you

you use your shoulder to push the doors open just enough to squeeze through and when you turn you realise the office is mostly empty, a few people sat at desks but luckily, spencer is there too, stood by what you assume is his desk, looking down at a chess board

"hi," you greet him quietly as you walk up to him, your voice muffled by your, his, scarf that's snug around your neck, "spence," you say slightly louder when he doesn't acknowledge you

he turns, looking thoroughly confused, his features softening when he notices you just feet away from him, "hey honey, what are you doing here?" he asks, rushing to take the small tray of coffee out of your hands before you drop it

pulling at the scarf you start unraveling it from around your front, "well you forgot your lunch, so i was going to bring it but then i also forgot it," you explain, cheeks reddening, "so instead i got pastries and coffee" you finish, waving a paper bag in his direction with a smile

spencer chuckles at you, "thank you," he wraps an arm around you, pulling you in, his lips pressing against your forehead, "is it snowing outside?" he asks, pulling away, his eyes darting to the window and then back at you

"how'd you know?" you question, head titling slightly

gentle fingers push your baby hairs back, "you have snow in your hair sweetheart," he says softly, his fingers dropping to wrap around your wrist, pulling you into the small space by his desk, "here, sit" he reaches over to grab an empty wheelie chair from the desk next to his

with a soft sigh you fall back into the seat, it rolls back slightly, the back hitting the edge of the desk, "where is everyone?" you ask, watching your boyfriend sit directly in front of you, your knees bumping his

"uh," he looks around while you pull pastries from the bag, "they must all be on lunch" he comes to a conclusion with a slight shrug, "it's never usually this quiet"

you slide the bag over to him and pull your knees up to your chest before balancing your croissant on your knee while you turn to grab your coffee, making sure you have the one with less sugar in it

slowly your chair starts to spin, spencer's eyes widening slightly as it does. he shuffles closer, extending his legs either side of you, holding you in place, "where did you get these?" he asks, eyeing up his apricot danish which already has a bite missing

"the market," you answer with a nod, "we have to go there this week, please," you smile softly, knowing full well he would never dream of saying no to you

spencer's eyes flicker up, behind you and then back to you, "of course, honey" he says as other voices start to fill the office space, "they're back"

your eyes widen at him, not daring to look over your shoulder at the people. somehow you sink further into your chair, the huge scarf falling around you like a blanket. meeting the bau was inevitable but not right now, not while you have flakes of pastry over your leggings and snow soaking your hair

"hey guys," spencer smiles slightly as people start to wander over. in your head you start naming them, emily and jj come over first, david and aaron on their tails and behind them, penelope with derek's arm thrown around her shoulder

"hey kid, you didn't tell us you were expecting company," david says, standing behind your boyfriend, hands on his shoulders while the older man smiles at you

"well actual-"

"aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" derek says, teasing, like a sibling would. spencer scowls at him, though there's no heat behind it, causing you to giggle into your coffee

you can tell spencer contemplates just saying no but eventually he sighs, "honey, this is the bau," he gestures at his colleagues and you stifle a laugh, "guys, this is my girlfrien-"

"girlfriend?!" penelope shrieks, cutting spencer off. she shakes derek off of her to move closer, "oh my, you're gorgeous! how long? why didn't i know?" she finishes, whacking spencer on the shoulder

aaron and david pat your boyfriend on the back, like fathers would before brushing past, sending you gentle smiles as they do, retreating back to their offices.

the girls, plus morgan, pull up their own chairs, forming a sort of semi circle in front of you. "so, spill," emily says, gesturing between you and spencer

"what do you want to know," spencer replies, ripping an iced bun in half. he offers you the bigger bit, smiling to himself when you ooh excitedly.

jj sighs, exasperated but still light hearted, "how you met, how long you've been together, everything spence, c'mon"

"we met at a farmers market, he accidentally ran into me, spilt hot," you shoot a look at your boyfriend who stares at his lap with a slight smile, "chocolate down me but then he bought me flowers to say sorry and i was a goner from there," you explain

penelope opens her mouth but spencer beats her to it, "sunflowers"

"that was," you trail off, thinking, "just over a year ago now" you know spencer too well, already looking at him, eyebrow raised, "go on"

"four hundred and two days and counting" he says with a grin, leaning over slightly to brush crumbs off of your scarf

derek holds his hands up, "hold on, you've had a girlfriend for over a year and never thought to mention it" he says, the others nodding in agreement

"aaron and david knew," you slide into the conversation, throwing spencer under the bus, he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“why would you say that?” spencer asks you desperately, you shrug and sit back, watching as jj, emily and morgan burst into chatter, offended that they weren't told while penelope silently scoots over to you

"is that the scarf i made him?" she asks and you nod, knowing it was her christmas gift to him last year, "ohmygod, i'm going to make you a matching one, don't argue, you won't win!" she says all smiley

"when were you going to tell us? at your wedding?"

"no! it jus-"

"boy, do not say it just didn't come up, do not make me smack you in front of your girlfriend"

jj stands, rolling her eyes at the boys arguing while emily jumps in every now and then, fuelling the fire, "great to meet you, we will arrange a girls night soon"

"oh yes, of course! lovely to meet you, finally" you laugh before she wanders away from the scene still unfolding, "are they always like this?" you ask penelope, offering her the bag of goodies

"oh you're my new favourite person," she hums, taking a donut from the bag, "and yes, they're always like this, welcome to the chaos, enjoy your stay"

leaning back in your seat to fully observe, you scoff, "oh i will"

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #❥ spencer reid #❥ spencer reid fic rec #❥ my spencer works #❥ spencer reid drabbles

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brummiereader · 10 months ago

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PREVIOUS PART MASTERLIST

Don't Fear The Reaper (Part Four/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: In attempts to escape the continued teasing about your small mishap the previous day, and the unwarranted grand display of roses sent anonymously to you that morning, you find yourself down by the docks of Small Heath where you would attempt to escape not the playful banter from your colleagues but the heavy footsteps of a man following you, when an unexpected individual conveniently comes to your aid. Your boss, Tommy.

Warnings: Language, supernatural themes, visions, manipulation of time, angst, fluff, smut, stalking, controlling behaviour, dark romance, violence, manipulation, obsessiveness, dark!tommy (This is a dark fic, please read the warnings before continuing)

Word Count: 3577

"Early bird catches the worm" Polly said winking to you as she blew out the matchstick she had just used to light one of the many candles now scattered throughout the room whilst you walked through the offices early the next morning, Intent on making up for your tardiness from the previous day.

" Something like that" you smiled back, taking off the many layers of attire you had dressed yourself in an attempt to keep the bitter frost that had descended on the city from numbing every finger and toe you wished to keep intact. That, and a keen display to every resident of Small Heath you was adamant knew of your little mishap yesterday morning that you wasn't a woman that goes flaunting her bare legs willy-nilly to any Tom, Dick and Harry.

"Ladies" Ada said, walking through with a giggling Ethel and Betsy following behind her. "Save me from them" She whispered to you, thankful for your presence and the diversion you gave from Ethel's ever expanding list of profanities.

" Getting brutal out there already" Ethel commented, rubbing her hands together as everyone turned to face her, pleasantly surprised by the lack of artistic flare in her choice of words. " So cold it would make any fuckers bollocks shrink back up" she said, running over to the burning candle Polly had lit as she hovered her trembling hands over the warm orange flame. Never mind. "What?" Ethel asked, oblivious to everything but the four pairs of eyes now staring back at her.

" Two minutes..." Polly said pointing at Ethel who was now rolling her eyes at the Shelby matriarch and everyone else that was giving her disapproving shakes of their heads. "... I counted" Polly finished, placing a large washed out jar of Robertson's apricot jam on her desk with a thud. " Profanity pot. Has your name written on it, right there. Eth-el" Polly smiled, turning it to show her as Ethel opened her mouth to say something undoubtedly crude before she realised pay day was two weeks away and she'd never make it that far.

"I will be taking a vow of silence from this day forth" Ethel commented with her head held high, slowly pushing the glass jar out of sight behind a flower pot on her desk as Polly arched her brow." In thanks to the almighty, as the brides of Christ do" she said turning the document gracefully in front of her, a small dramatic sigh of reflection leaving her lips at her sudden founded faith, the same devotion that had seen her never step another foot in church since the day she got dunked by the priest on her baptism almost twenty five years ago.

" Bloody hell" Polly said, crossing her arms as Ethel cleared her throat, nodding to the pot that Polly was now wading through her pockets to find a shilling for.

"Oi oi!" John said as he strolled through the offices making a swift beeline for your desk, deliberately sitting on the pile of folders you intended on filing. " No show for us this morning Y/N?" he teased as you pulled the papers from under his rather plump bum. "Ay up" he winked, turning the tooth pick in his mouth as you rolled your eyes exceptionally high in response to his playful remarks.

"Alright darling?" Arthur commented, wrapping his arm around John's shoulders whilst he straightened his moustache out, a small smirk settling on the corner of his lips as you waited for him and everyone else to continue their badgering of you.

"Y/N" Michael sauntered over, cap in hand with a grin on his face like some over-zealous school boy. Oh, for fuck sake. Were they all waiting for you to go into a song and dance and finish off where things had ended the previous day? Diamond encrusted nipple pasties and feathers included?

"Delivery for Miss Y/L/N" came a small voice from behind the three gormless muppets in front of you.

" Yes, here" you said, parting Arthur and John to see a young boy standing with a bouquet of a dozen red roses in his hand, his eyes barely visible above the large arrangement of fresh flowers.

" Are you the girl that..." The young shop boy started to say before John put his hand over his mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence as your eyes narrowed in on the likely culprit behind all the stares you had received that morning on your way to work.

" John boy 'ere's got a big mouth, ain't that right John?" Arthur sniffed, patting his brother's shoulder as he turned to face him.

" That's not all I've got that's big love" the third in line to the Shelby throne said winking to you, a cheeky smile dimpling his rounded cheeks.

" Give over! I've seen your todger" Arthur laughed as an intense argument between them both as to the specifics of when, and if that event had even occurred ensued. Arthurs detailed description of John's preference to being stark naked from an early age solidifying the date said unfortunate event took place, resulting in the third-youngest brother to swear on each of his siblings lives that he was now, sizeably endowed.

"Thank you" you said with a sigh of relief at the welcome end to their bickering as you reached over the desk to take the bouquet from the poor boy whose mouth was still muffled by John's forgetful hand when your eyes shot up to see Tommy leaning against the doorway, a cigarette hanging loosely from the corner of his lips. Shit." No card?" You looked nervously at the boy who simply shook his head in response as Tommy's piercing stare heated your cheeks to an unfortunate shade of red. This was the last thing you needed, an unwarranted gesture sabotaging the understanding you had both come to the previous day in his office.

" Well that's not bloody fair!" Betsy huffed as Ethel bit her bottom lip in an attempt to desperately hold back her own thoughts on the extravagant gift and the vow of silence she was already close to breaking.

" Bit creepy, don't you think? No message, no idea who it's from" you said to the room whilst you abruptly stood up, smoothing down your dress before swiftly turning on your heel and marching over to the bin next to Tommy to discard of the large arrangement of flowers, intent on showing your boss exactly where you stood on the matter.

" Looks like you have a secret admirer love" Tommy smirked as he subtly tilted his head to get a better look at you as you bent down to pick up the scattered petals that had fallen at his feet in your dramatic display of loyalty. " Wonder who?" Tommy quietly mused to you looking over your shoulder, subtly jerking his head up to Michael's direction before strolling off to his office, hands casually placed in his trouser pockets as he winked to the young delivery boy. Michael. You thought to yourself, not missing the small gesture Tommy had sent his way as your head snapped to the man whose name kept coming up, the whole exchange also not going missed by Polly's watchful eye, who's feet found her charging over to Tommy's office to confront him about the little game she knew he was playing, and the flowers that were undoubtedly sent by him.

"Wait, hang on...wait. Who sent them? Fuck..." You said with your hand out to halt the delivery boy as he ran out the door. Your flustered state not quick enough to stop his speedy steps and avoidance of questions as the hustle of the office resumed and you stood there nervously watching the Shelby cousin in the corner of your eye. Was it Michael who sent you those flowers? Michael, who was watching you that night?

"Lucky posy for you me love?" an older lady dressed in ragged clothing asked with a small bouquet of heather bound with twine held out for you to take as you were about to turn the corner onto the docks. Some fresh air from the confines of the office had been your pathetic excuse to not join the others at the Garrison for drinks that afternoon, ultimately leading you to the very spot you were standing in that might as well have been the dodgiest back alley of downtown London after all of its unusual residents you had encountered on your little afternoon detour. In reality, you not only wanted peace from the worries that had begun to weigh heavy on your mind for the third time that week, but also from the constant bombardment of attention Michael had been giving you all that morning.

" No, thank you" you quietly replied as you walked under the bridge, clutching your coat around you from the drop in temperature a gust of wind tunneling through the overpass sent your way.

" Bad luck not to..." she pouted, her comment making you come to a sudden stop. Fuck. With a broken mirror, and a black cat adamant on popping up out of nowhere on a regular basis, you were in need of some good fortune.

" Ta love " she said, polishing the penny you had given her on the sleeve of her woolen coat before quickly pocketing it as her eyes scanned the darkened tunnel suspiciously for any chancers that wished to steal what was now rightfully hers." Good things be heading your way me love, I can feel it!" she called out as she waved you off. Good things. She had best be bloody right, you thought to yourself as you looked down at the small lilac bundle of flowers in your hand, a heavy feeling of unease settling in your stomach as your eyes darted up to the empty path with a row of narrowboats lined up against the embankment. Ten-minute walk max. That's all it would take for you to get to the end and back into the welcome bustle of Small Heath's main street. Why on God's green earth did you pick this bleeding path? You thought to yourself as you started walking dangerously close to the edge when you suddenly heard the distinguishable sound of someone's heavy footsteps behind you.

" Shit" you mumbled under your breath closing your eyes, every part of you wishing you had accepted your colleagues' offer to join them in the Garrison before you slowly turned your head, squinting through the settled fog to see a man in the distance walking your way. " Shit, shit shit!" you cursed yourself as your unhurried steps turned into a brisk, panicked pace.

" Hey!" He shouted, his low voice barely audible through the thick smog as he started to jog after you, you in turn frantically matching his speed as your eyes darted between a passage way mere feet away on your right, and the barge beside you to your left. Ever attentive to your surroundings, or more specifically, anything above eye level, your careless proximity to the water's edge had you tumbling over an iron pilling just as a hand reached out and grabbed hold of your arm before you fell into the icy water and, ultimately, to your death.

" Woah...careful there sweetheart. A bit cold for a swim, eh?"

" Tommy..." You cried, falling into his arms, hiding your head in his coat as your grip tightened at the sight of the man who had been chasing after you distance closed in. Unbeknownst to you, as you buried your head in your savior's chest, the very man you had feared had already come to a stop at the gulley, placing what could have only been your scarf that dreadful gust of wind blew off you as you entered the bridge only five minutes ago on a bricked wall before heading off, something you had yet to realise in your jittery state.

"Y/N? What's going on, eh?" Tommy said, holding you in front of him, the coolness from the leather of his gloved hand gently brushing a lone tear from your cheek." Hey...shhh, come on now" he hushed your sobs away, bringing you back into his strong arms as your cries overtook your mumbling attempts to explain what had you so frightened, the feeling of your body pressed firmly against his own sending a ripple of pleasure under his skin.

" I... I thought he was... Ethel and Betsy, they told me about this man..."

"Ethel and Betsy, eh?" Tommy cut you off with a chuckle as he held you firmly by your arms. " If they told me the sky was blue on a clear summer's day, I wouldn't believe them. Two of the biggest gossipers in the whole of Birmingham, no doubt told you a bunch of fibs, hm?" He said, his own little white lie leaving his lips so naturally, so calculated as you nodded your head in response looking down at the small bouquet in your hand. " Lucky Heather..." Tommy said with a playful smile as his fingers softly brushed over your hand, taking the good luck charm from you. " Not Superstitious are you Y/N?" Tommy questioned cocking a brow, twirling the stems of the flowers between his fingers before handing them back to you.

" Lately...yes" you exhaled as Tommy rested his hand on your lower back, gently gesturing you to walk with him.

" Lately eh?" Tommy said looking down at you as you met his playful stare with a smile. "Seems we've made quite the impression on you here in Small Heath Miss Y/L/N if you're stocking up on lucky posy's already hm?" He chuckled fishing in his pockets for a cigarette. His preferred Sweet Afton's, conveniently no longer his tobacco of choice.

" It's me, I'm just...getting used to it here" you said, reassuring yourself as you pushed your nagging worries away for the umpteenth time that day. " I thought you'd be at the Garrison?" You said changing the subject as you and Tommy came to a stop at the end of the path. Always so curious. Tommy thought to himself, a subtle laugh caught in his throat leaving his lips as he brushed his hand down his mouth.

" I like to come down here, to catch some quiet. Have a boat down here I check up on. "The January" he said coming to a stop, the exhale of smoke from his tobacco following the curves of your body as Tommy looked you over, measuring what it was you were really asking whilst your lips curved into a smile as you looked up at him through your dark lashes. Did you look at every man that way, or was your bashful innocence only his to enjoy? Tommy thought to himself, when his next words suddenly caught his calculated demeanor off guard. " There are plenty of quieter places in Birmingham, could take you there if you'd like. This evening?" He said waiting for your response, his fingers subtly pressing into your back at your unexpected lapse in reaction. Rejection was something Tommy had yet to experience, and in his hearts attempt to do something his mind would never contemplate, he was about to get a lesson in the very thing his dashing charm had evaded him from ever encountering.

" Oh...Perhaps, perhaps another time Tommy" you said, taken aback by his unexpected offer. He was your boss, and as much as he was both devilishly handsome and dazzlingly alluring, you had promised him to keep things professional, assuming that meant being with him too. You thought to yourself sending him a small smile before slowly walking ahead, your arms crossed in front of you as you mentally scolded yourself for refusing his offer. He had been nothing but gentlemanly to you. Had he not?

It had been an hour since you and Tommy had arrived at the Garrison to join the others for the drinks you had originally turned down, and an hour since your close encounter with what you believed to be the man that had been both watching, and following you since your arrival in Small Heath.

"Whisky or Gin?" Ada asked taking your glass as you nodded your head to the bottle of London Dry on the table that Tommy was sat across from, watching you, deciphering your every movement as a cloud of tobacco smoke from his lips briefly haltered the piercing stare he had been giving you since you both arrived. You hadn't lied to him, had you? Keeping a secret boyfriend he didn't know about? Now that would be naughty. Tommy thought to himself as he stubbed out his cigarette, determined to find out why you refused his offer down at the docks, his bitter jealously at the thought of any man being with you accept him making his usually stoic demeanor unnervingly menacing.

" Where have you been? Michael?" Polly asked as her son entered the snug, the bottom of his beige coat damp from the dewy mud-ridden cobblestones Small Heath seemed to permanently possess.

"Leave it mum" Michael responded sharply as he quickly poured himself a whisky, looking at you above the glass. What did have him so late? You thought to yourself as you looked down at the cuffs of his muddied trousers, splattered with soil like your own stockings from your frightening impromptu run along the embankment.

"That'll be my fault, Aunt Pol" Tommy said lighting another cigarette, tossing the box of matches on the chair next to him his cousin was about to sit on, the tension between the two family members heightening with each passing second." Sent Michael here on a little errand for me. Went for a run as well, I see..." Tommy said raising his brow as he looked down at his cousin's grubby dress shoes." Does anybody smell, shit?...Michael?" Tommy lent forward his nose turning up in his cousin's direction as he furrowed his brow in disgust before falling back into his chair taking a drag of cigarette as an amused laugh left his lips, Arthur and John quickly following suit at the blatant dig to the unwelcome newest member to the family.

" Fuck off Tommy. Get a delivery boy next time" Michael huffed, pushing through the crowded space with an irritated pout on his face as he made his way to the empty seat next to you.

"Alright, enough you two" Polly reprimanded them both, undoubtedly trying to diffuse the animosity they felt for one another and the sinister threats Tommy had made the previous day she knew he was capable of executing.

" You alright Y/N?" Michael said, turning to face you as you found yourself putting as much space as possible between you both, now practically sitting in Adas' lap. Why wouldn't he leave you alone? You thought to yourself, feeling increasingly uneasy with his continued attention aimed solely at you at any given moment he could steal. " I was wondering, maybe you and I could, could go out somewhere this weekend?" He said quietly, but not quiet enough as the snugs chatter suddenly diffused at the perfect moment, and everyone's heads snapped to the both of you, their ears pricking up at Michaels' offer.

" Think we've found your secret admirer Y/N" Betsy hiccuped with a giggle, her third glass of gin dulling her usually sensible attitude.

"Give it a rest Betsy" Michael said slouching back into his seat as your nervous fumbling with the hem of your dress caught Ada's attention, her hand coming to rest over your jittery fingers in reassurance.

"Whatever's the matter?" She said quietly turning to face you before sending Tommy a look of concern as the chatter of the room resumed and Michael was left there waiting for your response.

" I'm fine, honest. Too much gin" you said as Ada's brow furrowed, suspicious of her cousin's overly eager display and the clear discomfort it was causing you as you looked up to Tommy who was also waiting on your response to his cousin.

" How about it then?" Michael said, putting his arm around the back of your chair as Tommy's eyes narrowed in, his jaw tightening. Touch her, I dare you. Tommy seethed to himself, Michael's next move sealing his fate if he was willing to take the risk.

" Go on Y/N, go 'av some fun. Even if it is with bloody Michael" Arthur said belching into his drink giggling, so drunk he was seconds away from falling face down onto the hard wooden table as Polly sent her eldest nephew a formidable stare. "Sorry Polly, but..." he said gesturing his hands out laughing as he looked to Tommy who was unable to hold back his own laugh and the scoff hidden within it.

" Ok. I guess..." you said reluctantly, feeling forced to give into his request as Michael's satisfied smirk widened in accomplishment as he looked over to Tommy. Michael's juvenile attempts to get under his cousin's skin going completely ignored by the notorious gangster, whose glare and anger was now aimed directly at you, unforgivably, straight at...you. Tommy's amused smile that graced his face mere minutes ago had fallen into a stare even the Grim Reaper himself would recoil from, his eyes darkening with each burn of the ash forming at the end of his cigarette loosely resting between his fingers as his face kept still and indecipherable from the enragement bubbling furiously like the pits of hell under his skin.

Oh sweetheart, now why did you go and do that?

Next part coming soon!

Tag list: @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @prettywhenicry4 @smayhem49-blog @pacifymebby @indierockgirrl @globetrotter28 @theshelbyclan @zablife @call-sign-shark @red-riding-wood @peakyswritings @everysage

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sizzlingcloudmentality · 5 months ago

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Kiss the Bride

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: It's your weddingday and Dave helps you relax during a little break and ends up tasting your apricot.

Triggers/warnings: reader is able-bodied, a mentioned footmassage, one kiss, fingering, very short oral (f recieving), weddingvows, pet names (sweetheart, babe), infidelity, one flashback, mentioning of: champagne, a bloody shooting injury; let me know if I missed anything

Word count: ~2.8k

notes: this is my late entry (Dave+french kiss) for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses follower celebration, congratulations on the 1600 follower by now, hun, you deserve every one of them and more! Also thank you for beta'ing again and basically pulling me through writing this thing. Lots of love and eternal gratitude 💛

Extra shout-out again to @gyllenhaalstories for keeping me sane and being my own little cheerleader, lysm 💖

The elevator door closes behind you, the thick carpet swallowing the sounds of your heels. Your wedding dress brushes against the fabric of Dave’s suit and all you can hear in the little cabin is the faint noise of the cream colored satin when it brushes against the expensive dark blue wool.

You glance at him, a smile spreading on your face when he catches your gaze. Here you were, finally, with your best friend by your side. The man you knew who would never leave you and protect you with his life. Dave.

In one arm he carries several boxes, small and big, with bows and wrapped in expensive wrapping paper. Some gifts from the guests that you wanted to store in the suite that you’ve rented.

Your hands brush against each other, your pinkies touching, teasing and a giggle bubbles up your throat, bubbly like the champagne you have drunk the last hours.

Dave smirks at you and his pinky curls around yours and gives your finger a light tug. Another giggle, another smirk, you intertwine your fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze.

"You are so fucking beautiful, Sweetheart," he groans softly. His body leans closer to yours and his eyes flit over your body and the way the shimmering fabric drapes around the prominent curves of your body. "So beautiful. Have I told you that?"

You bite your bottom lip to not giggle again but you fail miserably. And so you nod your head and beam up at him.

"Thank you," you whisper and your fingers brush over his knuckles. It was such a nice feeling to have your hand held by the man you love so dearly. “You’ve told me a few times, yes. But it’s still nice to hear you say it.”

He told you often today. When he first saw you after the stylist had left. And when he stood beside you at the altar, his thumb massaging little soothing circles between your shoulder blades. It made you smile every single time he said it.

It’s still like the first time that you've heard him call you beautiful. When you were first assigned as partners and the mission had gone horribly wrong. You ended up being shot and heavily bleeding, slipping in and out of consciousness until Dave reached you. He patted your cheeks, told you the ambulance would be there any minute and that you needed to stay awake for him. You tried, you really did. And even though you were focusing on his eyes and voice, your mind ran through your fingers like sand. Your eyes were fluttering shut and this time it felt like something finite.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Dave muttered, cradling your floppy head in his hands, your blood making his skin sticky. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

And for some weird reason you chuckled right then and there and managed to stay awake, your fingers clutching his hand as you held on to him like to your life. And maybe he was clutching your hand, too. You never asked, you were just beyond grateful. He saved you. Since that day, there was a bond between you, written with your blood on his skin.

You lean against him, the joy you felt today and the champagne making your knees wobbly. But you knew you could always count on Dave.

With a quiet ‘ding’ the elevator doors open to your floor. Once again thick carpet swallows any sounds as you almost stumble on your way to your suite.

“Careful.” Dave’s hand finds its way to the small of your back. He offers you guidance with his fingers gently pressing against your smooth skin and he leans back just enough to get another view of the low cut back of your wedding dress. He has no idea how dress physics worked, but apparently there couldn’t be much else than just you under the satin and silk. Just you.

You let yourself sink down on one of the plushy chairs in the suite. With a soft groan you stretch your legs out. The heels of your feet are burning in your pretty Jimmy Choos.

“Someone needs a little break, hm?” Dave piles the gift boxes up on a sideboard and looks over to you with a smirk on his face. “Let me help you.” He walks over to you with a few slow steps and kneels down on the ground. As soon as he slid off your shoes and neatly put them aside his hands come back to your hurting feet. His thumbs press into the balls of your feet and your head tips back with a relieved sigh.

“That’s… perfect, don’t ever stop,” you murmur and slowly lift your head again. It was a nice sight, Dave in his suit, on his knees, massaging your feet with his concentrated expression that you normally only get to see when you work on cases together and he’s crouched over some paperwork. “Just five more minutes, please? We don't need to tell the guests that I took a break from them.”

Dave gently places your foot on his thigh before he starts massaging the other foot. “Don't worry, your secret’s safe with me, Sweetheart.” He looks up from the perfectly pedicured foot in his hands over the smooth calves and thigh that disappears under your dress, up to your relaxed face.

You've been smiling the last few days, looking forward to today, the ceremony, your friends and your family. He felt like the luckiest man on this side of the ocean to be chosen by you, that you wanted him by your side, through all of the past turmoil and for everything that is yet to come. The love he feels for you runs deep. And on his knees before you, his love just runs a little deeper.

“But they will miss the beautiful bride,” he murmurs and raises a brow, his hand wanders from your ankle to your calf and when you giggle his fingers tiptoe their way behind your knee.

“Dave.” You slowly sit up and look down to his hand, hidden under your dress. “What are you doing?” The sultriness of your voice does not only surprise you.

“I don’t know,” he breathes quietly, the tip of his tongue running along the inside of his teeth. “You wanna see where this might take us?” His brown eyes look at you from under his brows.

Your breath hitches when you recognize what lies beneath his words and you can feel your whole demeanor change without being able to control it. You blink, once, twice to get a clearer view of the situation but then Dave curls his fingers gently in the hollow of your knee. “Okay,” you murmur and a soft, warm blanket of tingles wraps itself around your body.

“Say stop whenever, Sweetheart.” With a shrug of his shoulders the blazer falls down to the ground and when his fingers expertly extract his monogrammed cufflinks and he starts to roll up his sleeves… you knew he would get his hands sticky.

A soft nudge left and right against the insides of your calves later you watch your legs part for him. The silky satin makes pretty ripples as it is being slowly pushed up your legs, the cool smoothness of the fabric followed by scorching hot palms.

“I, David York, take you, little Sweetheart, to be my woman…” The words vibrate against your skin and Dave places a first kiss on your inner thigh, right above the knee. “I promise to always be your…,” another kiss, higher this time. “...best friend. I promise to…,” he switches sides and kisses his words into the soft flesh of your other leg. “...always protect you.”

Your thighs twitch under his fingers when he uncovers more of your skin only to cover them with kisses. Your eyes grow wide and round, like your mouth when it shapes into a little ‘o’. The same ‘Oh’ that you breathe out when your eyes meet Dave’s.

‘More?’ his raised brows ask silently and you swallow your answer, ‘yes’, it tastes like the innate scent of Dave that emits from his body. You nod and he rewards you with another kiss.

His hands slip under the waves of shiny satin that he has retained on your thighs and he slowly dives deeper. He inhales you and holds his breath to keep you inside of him. The tips of his fingers crawl over your thighs as if they were searching for something that wasn’t smooth.

Your head tips back and your hips buck. ‘More,’ your body silently demands and Dave complies with your wishes, placing his opened mouth on the inside of your thigh and testing your softness with his tongue. You reward him with a moan.

He smells your arousal and it ignites a fire inside of him. A fire that can only be put out in the sea that is you.

His hands glide along your thighs up, up, up until he dives completely under the ripples of your dress. The flowy satin folds encompassing him like he's allowed to enter into another sphere of you.

Dave's fingers scrape the lace he finds in the shadows of the wedding gown that you look so divine in. He gulps and almost tastes your slick that he feels already pooling when he gently presses his palm onto your covered cunt.

Your eyes lock and you nod your head once, allowing Dave to test the waters, your waters. You craved his hands on your body for so long now, this moment was as good as every other moment, why not just give in? Maybe this desire that was eating away at you would be sated then.

His thumbs slip under the sopped fabric and the feel of your plump pussy beneath his pads draws a quiet grunt from him and a gasp from you.

Dave blindly prys you open like a ripe apricot, one digit running along the juicy cleft until he finds the pit that he wants to desperately suck clean.

He's torn, divided in half, like your pussy. He wants to do this, like you, but is now the right time? The wedding guests probably were already waiting for you to come back and celebrate with them. Dave's tongue darts out and he wets his lips while his thumb wets yours.

You writhe underneath him and every caress lets you mewl and move, closer to the edge of the chair, closer to his face.

“Dave,” you softly gasp his name, your hand reaching out to sink your fingers into his hair but no, you can't tousle him. This needs to stay hidden, deep in the flowy, glistening folds of your dress. “Please.” Your teeth nip the corner of your mouth but he can clearly see the smirk. Like a naughty kid asking her best friend to join her in a prank.

“Fuck it.” The decision is made. Dave's thumb goes for the little pit again and he draws tight circles around it like he wants to separate it from the drippy pussy pulp, preparing it to be eaten.

You moan and clench and he can feel the tug from the depth of your cunt. He wants to feel it, he needs to feel it. The way your cunt would swallow whatever piece of him he would offer that greedy hole.

Impatiently you pull your dress high enough to spread your thighs for him and to shed a little light on the secret act between you and Dave. Your fingers hook behind the fabric that covers you and you pull it to the side and hold it there. No more secrets, everything out in the open.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he groans and his eyes follow his thumb going round and round and round your clit. Your folds are just as shiny and smooth as the satin that's bunched up your waist. Dave looks up to you and sees how you bite your lip, trying your best to not moan out loud. “Do you want this?”

You nod your head yes and breath out shakily while a nice tingly warmth starts growing in your belly.

“Do you want this?” Dave places a finger at your entrance and applies the lightest pressure so that his fingertip slips into you. Again you nod your head and your breath hitches.

“Sweetheart, I need to hear you. Do you want my finger in your pretty cunt? Yes or no?”

“Yes. I want…,” you subtly scoot a little closer to his hands, hoping you could just magically let yourself sink down on his digits. Heat crawls up your cheeks and when you open your mouth to speak there's a moan that slips out first. “I want your fingers. Please.”

“More than one, huh? Greedy.” He feels you pucker around his fingertip and he slips his finger into you.

It's nothing like pushing a finger into the pulp of an apricot or peach. You are hot around him, molding to him, gripping him, pulling him in. What was similar to a fruit is the squelch, a rich and wet smacking when his knuckles sink between your folds before the pulls out again.

Your back arches off the chair when Dave gives you a first taste of what it feels like being filled by him. With each slow push in and pull out of your pussy you whine and writhe. Your head spins from Dave's touch, his scent, his words:

Do you like this? God, so beautiful. Does it feel good? Do you like letting the guests wait just because you want your needy hole filled? So fuckin' wet, just for me?

And just like earlier, at the altar, all you can say is “yes”. Yes, you do. Yes, you like. Yes, you are. Yes, you need, need him.

Your thighs shudder as they close around Dave's head and he finally lets himself have a taste of you. While he takes a first lap he wonders if he can taste your joy and excitement, if you taste any different on your wedding day. You're sweet and salty all at the same time and you coat his tongue like the flesh of a ripe apricot he can finally indulge in.

Three sharp knocks on the door let your both jerk up, ripped out of your intimacy shared.

“Babe, can I come in?” A familiar, low voice comes from outside the door before you and Dave hear the beep from the opening door.

Fuck. The sudden withdrawal from Dave's fingers lets you gasp, in a hurry you let go of your panties and pull down your dress again. You see Dave lick your slick from his lips and wipe his fingers dry with his monogrammed handkerchief before he grips one of your feet again.

“Hey, there you are! I was worried you could have run away.” Your husband looks around the corner, a bright and happy smile on his face as he sees you and your best friend in the living room, Dave obviously massaging your hurting feet. He walks over and pats Dave's shoulder. “Thanks for taking care of her, man. God, we're lucky to have you.”

Your face is flushed and you chuckle, hoping that it doesn't sound like betrayal. “Yeah, he's the best,” you confirm and see a smirk on Dave's face appear.

“I'll give you a few more moments, but then I expect my beautiful wife to dance with me, okay?” Your spouse leans down and pecks your lips before he turns to leave the room again. “Love you, babe!”

“Love you, too,” you answer and hear the door close behind him. You look at Dave and he simply smiles at you like nothing much has happened before.

“Everything alright, Sweetheart?”

You reach out your hand and your thumb wipes a wet spot on the corner of his mouth. “Dave, we…”

“Don't worry, we'll figure something out.” He slips your shoes back on your feet and gets up from his knees with a little grunt. He cups your face in his hands and you smell yourself on him. “I, David York, take you as my woman, my partner. I promise to always keep you safe. And I promise to keep your secrets safe. Will you do the same for me?”

“Yes, I do.” You whisper lingers between the two of you, heavy and loaded but also warm and comforting. He smiles at you, the heartfelt relief visible on his face.

“Good. I may now kiss the bride, hm?” He leans closer, and your lips meet his halfway. You're both careful, trying not to smear your lipstick. Maybe your mouth tastes just as sweet as your pussy, he wonders. Maybe you taste different on Dave's tongue, you wonder and lick his lips like he did earlier with yours. Your tongues tangle, gently, lovingly. And when you part again and smile you both share the taste of slick and hunger.

___

find my Dave York masterlist here

find my masterlist here

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york fanfiction #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #my writing

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thirtysomethingloser92 · 6 months ago

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Bittersweet Symphony: Chapter 2.

"You're so beautiful like this," You looked over at the man sitting at his desk, a small smile across his face, illuminated by the small lamp. "Like what? Sleep deprived, haven't showered in 3 days, living off energy drinks and spite?" You joked, shifting a bit self consciously on the leather couch. Rafael gave a small chuckle, "Like you. Looking at you like this, I don't think you've ever looked so beautiful,"

“You need to eat,”.

Carisi’s voice next to you brought you out of your self-induced misery. The cursor on the computer screen blinked a few times before you turned to face your partner. “I ate,” you argued, pulling out a packet of rice paper biscuits.

“You know, when my sister was pregnant, there was this little bakery a few blocks from her apartment that made these scones with ginger and chamomile. I’ll see if they still make them and bring them over some time.”

You smiled weakly at his thoughtfulness, but your stomach turned at the thought of food. “Thanks, Sonny, but I’m fine. Really. Me and food aren't really getting along at the moment.”

Carisi’s eyes softened with concern. “You need to eat,” he repeated gently. “It’s not just about you anymore.”

You sighed, knowing he was right. The stress from the ongoing case had been overwhelming, leaving you nauseous and exhausted. All you wanted was to go into the back room and sleep the rest of the day away. Just as you were about to respond, Carisi reached out and took the packet of rice paper biscuits from your hand, replacing them with a granola bar from his pocket.

“At least try this,” he urged. “It’s got nuts and dried fruit. Better than those biscuits. More nutritious for you and the baby.”

You took the granola bar, unwrapping it slowly. The sweet, nutty apricot smell was surprisingly appetizing. You took a tentative bite, and to your relief, it went down easier than expected.

“Better?” Carisi asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Thanks, Sonny.”

He smiled, the worry lines on his face easing. “You know I’m here for you, right? Whatever you need, just let me know. I'll bring some more of those over to you later on.”

“I know,” you said softly. “And I appreciate it. More than you know.”

He patted your shoulder gently. “Good. Now, let’s take a five-minute break. We’ve been at this for hours, and you need to relax.”

You nodded, grateful for the reprieve. The two of you walked to the break room, where Carisi made a pot of herbal tea. As you sat together, sipping the warm tea, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

“You’re a good friend, Sonny,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

He chuckled. “Just doing my job. Can’t have my partner running on empty, especially now.”

The sincerity in his words touched you deeply. You knew he wasn’t just talking about the job; he genuinely cared about your well-being, you knew that all he wanted was what was best for you and the small being inside you. The past few weeks he had been the one constant in your life, from the moment you told Liv and the look of shock on her face "Is it-?", to Amanda giving you tips and offering you her daughters old baby clothes "I know you've only just gone into your second trimester but its better to be over prepared then under prepared trust me,".

“Thanks for looking out for me,” you said, feeling a surge of gratitude.

“Anytime,” Carisi replied with a warm smile. “We’re in this together. I told you this. It's you, me, the fetus in there and even Barba if he ever gets his head out of his ass” There was a silence that fell between you, and you knew what was coming next, "Have you heard from him?" You paused mid chew,

the granola bar suddenly feeling like lead in your mouth. You took a slow sip of tea, trying to buy yourself a moment to compose your thoughts. “No, I haven’t,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Carisi’s expression was a mix of concern and frustration. “It’s been weeks, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, avoiding his gaze. The pain of Rafael’s absence was a constant ache in your chest. “I thought he’d come around by now, but… nothing.”

Carisi sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I know he’s got his reasons, but this isn’t fair to you. Or the baby. Have you asked Liv if she had heard from him?” You gave a small shrug, "Lets be real for a moment, if she had heard from him she would still leave it up to him to come to me. She wouldn't tell me,"

You nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I just don’t understand how he can be so distant. I thought we were in this together.”

“People react to things in different ways,” Carisi said gently. “But that doesn’t make it any easier for you.”

“I just wish he’d talk to me,” you murmured, feeling the familiar wave of sadness wash over you. “I don’t even know if he wants to be involved anymore. I feel like my whole life is on pause waiting for him. Whether it be waiting for him to call me, or to come back or something. I feel like I'm just stuck in this space and I can't even move on from him until I get some type of closure”

Carisi reached out, taking your hand in his. “Listen, no matter what happens with Rafael, you’re not alone. You’ve got me, and you’ve got the squad. We’ll get through this together.”

“Thank you, Sonny,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” he replied with a reassuring smile. “But I’m here for you, every step of the way.”

<:>

Later that evening, as you sat alone in your apartment, the silence was deafening. You picked up your phone, scrolling through old messages from Rafael, trying to make sense of his sudden withdrawal. Your heart ached with longing and confusion. Finally, you decided to call him, hoping to break the silence.

The phone rang a few times before going to voicemail. You took a deep breath and left a message, your voice trembling. “Rafael, it’s me. I just… I need to know what’s going on. Please, call me back. We need to talk.”

You hung up, feeling a mix of relief and dread. You had put yourself out there, and now all you could do was wait. As the minutes turned into hours, the weight of uncertainty settled heavily on your shoulders. <:>

The next morning, you arrived at the precinct feeling more exhausted than usual. Carisi noticed immediately, his brow furrowing with concern. “Any news?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head, trying to keep your emotions in check. “No. Nothing.”

He sighed, pulling you into a comforting hug. “I’m sorry. But remember, we’re here for you. Whatever happens, you’re not alone.”

As the day wore on, you threw yourself into work, trying to keep your mind off the unanswered questions and unspoken words. But every time your phone buzzed, your heart skipped a beat, hoping it was Rafael.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that you finally received a text. Your hands shook as you opened the message.

“Can we meet? - Rafael”

<:>

You couldn’t stop the constant twisting and turning of your stomach. Despite how hungry you felt- the rumbling in your stomach reminding you that you’ve barely eaten anything all day-you couldn’t help the small gag that came over you when the coffee was brought to your table.

God you felt so angry.

The white hot anger that twisted and turned in your stomach with every breath you took. You wanted to yell, you wanted to scream, you wanted to shake him and ask him why you weren’t good enough.

Why did he abandon you?

The silence between you and the man in front of you made your heart ache, conversation between you both used to flow so easily but now, now you couldn’t find a single word to say to him. You knew there was so much you wanted to say, to tell him. There was so many questions you wanted to ask him. So many Why’s you needed answers to, but nothing could come out of your dry lips.

“Is it mine?”.

The words left his mouth quietly, as if he was ashamed for asking. Your head shot up, meeting his brown eyes with your own, the question lingering in the air between you.

Is it mine?

Those words made you feel a hatred you hadn’t ever felt towards Rafael Barba. Not when you first met, not when you would be left red-faced after a lashing from the former ADA, not ever.

“What do you mean is it mine? Of course it’s yours. There isn’t anyone else I’d-“ you swallowed deeply, looking back into the brown liquid inside the cup before pushing it away from you, the smell making you want to regurgitate what little food Carisi managed to shove down your throat before you came.

“Where were you?” You heard your voice break, you wished that you had gotten a glass of water in before starting this conversation. The tears started welling up in your eyes, “I needed you and you weren’t there. Not just for this but for so much more. I woke up, and all you had left me was a note. No one had known where you had gone and I thought-“ You swallowed deeply and began picking at your nails, an anxious trait you had inherited from your grandmother, “I don’t even think it matters anymore. You made your choice,” You stopped picking your nails and looked up, seeing him look at you with an indescribable sadness across his face.

“Of course it matters. I hurt you and for that nothing I do can make up for it. After what happened I couldn’t put you through that. Could you have really been with someone who was labelled a baby killer?” He gave a sarcastic scoff, “I love you. I could never have asked you to give up your career to come with me. To run away with me,”

“But I would have,” You didn’t hesitate to interject, “If you would have asked me to resign and come live in the middle of nowhere with you then I would have,” Your voice rose slightly earning glares from the few patrons in the cafe, “But you took that choice from me thinking you were doing some noble shit. And now I’m pregnant, trying to make decisions that I can’t make by myself. I was alone, I was heartbroken and you weren’t there,”

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t. But I’m here now, I’m here to support you whatever you choose to do,” He went to reach across the table for you but you moved away. The thought of the man you once loved touching you made your skin crawl, you saw who he was and it made you feel sick.

His hand moved back to his cup, “Are you keeping it?”

You let out a small sigh and nodded, “Yep. I don’t-I don’t think I could go through with it. I thought about it, especially since you made it pretty clear you want nothing to do with me, but this is what I’m doing. I'm just over 14 weeks now, so either way this is where we're at. Whether it be with you as co-parents or without you,”

“I was hoping we could talk about that?”

You raised a single eyebrow, motioning for him to continue.

“There wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t think about you, or what you were doing. I never stopped loving you,”

“Yeah you did. You stopped loving me the day you walked out. I’m not doing this again. I let you in, it took us so long to get where we were. It took years for us to be together and you threw it away because of your ego and your assumptions. I won’t make the same mistake again,” You reached into your small black purse, ruffling around for some bills for the untouched decaf.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll pay,” Rafael stated simply.

You stood up, a bit unstable in your feet as vertigo hit; you paused for a moment before turning to face the man across from you, “The difference between you and me is that when I said I’d love you forever I meant it. You just don’t seem to get it, what you’ve done. You think that you can come back and walk into my life and nothing has changed. But Rafael everything has changed; everything has changed between us. Do you know what I think? I don’t think you came back here for me, I think you came back for something else. Otherwise where were you weeks ago when I called you?” For the first time since you've known him, there was no words which had left his mouth. No sarcasm or sass, no sincerity or words that could make your heart stop in your chest. There was just silence from him. A silence which made your heart break and your decision final. "Did Liv call you here?" You asked with an air of finality, your voice trembling but resolute. You needed to know, even if it shattered the last remnants of hope you clung to.

Rafael’s face contorted with a mix of guilt and sorrow. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The silence between you stretched, thick and suffocating.

“That’s what I thought,” you said softly, more to yourself than to him. The reality of the situation washed over you, leaving you feeling hollow.

“Please, let me explain,” Rafael finally managed, his voice barely audible. “Liv did call me. She told me about your condition, how you were struggling. She thought I should know. But I came back because I needed to see you, to try and make things right.”

You shook your head, a bitter smile forming on your lips. “You had every opportunity to come back on your own. But it took Liv calling you to get you here. That says it all, doesn’t it?”

“I know I failed you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I thought I was doing the right thing, protecting you from my mess, but all I did was hurt you more. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t change what happened,” you replied, the anger and hurt bubbling up again. “Sorry doesn’t change the fact that you abandoned me when I needed you the most. I can’t trust you, Rafael. Not anymore.”

He looked down at his hands, clasped tightly around his coffee cup. “I understand. I just… I want to be there for our child. I want to make things right, if you’ll let me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I appreciate that you want to be involved now, but it’s too late for us. I can’t go back to the way things were. But for the sake of our child, we can try to co-parent. We can try to make this work for them.”

Rafael nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.”

You stood up, feeling a strange sense of relief mixed with sadness. “We’ll see. But for now, I need some space. I need to figure out how to move forward from this.”

He rose as well, looking at you with a mixture of regret and hope. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

You turned and walked away, leaving Rafael standing there in the café. As you stepped outside, the cool air hit your face, and you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting off your shoulders. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you knew you had the strength to face whatever came next.

#rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #sonny carisi x reader #pregnant reader #raul esparza #dominick sonny carisi #rafael barba

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atinylittlepain · 1 year ago

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Tougher Than the Rest

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

wordcount | 5.5K

warnings | smut, angst, the usual

a/n | we have reached the last chapter of this story. thank you to everyone who has followed along with this one, it has truly been a treat working with these characters, so your love for them means a lot. as always i'd love to hear what you think, drop me a line!

...................................

“Ellie, school in thirty! You better be up if you’re catching the train! Sorry about that, my daughter is– well, you know how kids can be. What was the question again?” She hates these things. These fluffy little interviews that her agent forces her into whenever she has a new book coming out. Good publicity and all that. Bullshit, if you ask her. Why can’t the book just speak for itself?

“No worries at all, I was wondering if you could tell me a little about your writing process for this last book, did you have a set routine or any rituals that propelled your work forward?” Rituals, gag her. She tries not to let out a dejected sigh over the phone, settling instead for an eye roll as she attempts to get Ellie’s lunch put together with one and a half hands, her phone settled precariously between her cheek and her shoulder as she puts together a pb and j, except not because Ellie’s school has a thing about peanut butter. So, sunflower butter and organic apricot jam from the co-op down the block that she somehow got wrangled into as a member.

“You know, I try not to be too precious about routines. I write as much as I can whenever I can. And as a mom, I have to take whatever time I can get.” The interviewer most certainly didn’t like that answer, a long right, okay crackling over the line. But what did he expect? Some sort of meticulous, meditative bullshit no doubt. Sorry, not her style.

“So, last question here, you have certainly established yourself over the last decade as a prolific writer. What is it that keeps you writing?” Well, that’s simple, isn’t it? If she keeps writing, she keeps herself from thinking about the past, about things she shouldn’t be thinking about. But her agent would probably throttle her for saying that, so something else in its place instead.

“I always wanted to be a writer growing up. It’s just– instinct, maybe impulse, frankly. I write because it’s what I know how to do, it’s how I figure out this world.” She tacks on that last bit hoping it will make up for the entirely unsexy rest of her responses, and judging by the hmm the interviewer lets out over the phone, it will suffice. All the usual niceties and a long sigh when she finally hangs up.

“Ellie, if you aren’t up I’m–”

“Jesus, I’m up, woman.” Her eleven-year-old has developed a new habit of calling her woman like a despondent husband in a loveless marriage, marching out of her bedroom and into the kitchen as she shoves papers into her backpack.

“Lunch for you, and I will be outside of the school at 3:30 to walk home with you, okay? Do you– I can walk with you this morning too if–”

“No, mom, I got it.” It stings, just a little, smarting, and then a small swell of pride that her girl is so independent.

“Okay, okay, let’s get some breakfast in you, huh? Smoothie, that sound good?” Ellie’s face scrunches up, but she doesn’t give her an abject no, and that’s enough for Cherry to get out the blender.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s in Texas?” Cherry freezes, her hand holding half a banana (non-GMO, whatever the fuck that means) suspended over the blender.

“What– where’s that question coming from?”

“On the computer last night, you had left it open to some construction company in Texas.” Shit, her smart girl. That was how Ellie found out that Santa wasn’t real two years ago, hopping on the desktop and finding the order confirmation for the pair of glow-in-the-dark Converse she had asked for in her letter addressed to the North Pole.

“Oh, um, that– I have a friend who is, uh, moving there and I’m helping her find someone to do work on her new house, yeah.” Ellie doesn’t seem to buy that answer, brow pinched up, but before she can question it, Cherry flips on the blender, letting it whir just a little longer than it needs to.

“Alright, breakfast of champions, you can drink it on the train, yeah? You’re gonna be late if you don’t get a move on.” A quick flurry to pour the smoothie into a to-go cup and then out the door, love you, be safe, bye. A big sigh when she slumps back against the shut door, close one.

Yes, maybe, a moment of weakness yesterday. A moment of weakness while she was working over edits for her next book. Somehow, up until yesterday, she had managed to not let a moment of weakness creep in. But before she knew what she was doing, she was googling his name and Austin, Texas. And there he was, with his own business no less.

Yes, maybe, she had left a tab open on the Miller’s Construction website’s About Us page. And yes, maybe, she had left the page zoomed in on the picture of Joel in the top corner. And yes, maybe, none of her edits had gotten done because she was a little busy looking at said picture for the better portion of the afternoon.

So the first thing that she does after cleaning up the small cyclone in the kitchen is log onto the computer to delete that tab, not letting herself linger on the photo any longer. But he looks good, she thinks. Doing good for himself, she thinks. Not letting that thought get any bigger, that want crack open any more than it already has, right back to work on her edits.

But her mind is fickle this morning, still stuck on that photo, still stuck on him in a way she hasn’t been in a while. Maybe it’s because of the appointment she has at noon. An impulsive choice she made and, for some reason, has kept. A way to hold onto something she should have let go a long time ago. But she can’t.

And yes, maybe, her morning is spent in a constant toggle between the open tab of her word doc, and that damn About Us page on the Miller’s Construction website.

…

He’s nervous. And he’s not sure why, because it’s her, right? It’s them. Except this is new. Not something they ever got to do in the past. Not like this at least.

“Hey there.” She’s in a dress when she opens the door, and his mind has to quickly configure around the fact that this is the first time he has seen her in a dress in two decades, though he probably should have expected that, right? Because people dress up for these things, something that Sarah said to him very slowly like he was an invalid, prompting him into a button-down before he left.

“Hey, Cherry, you look, uh, yeah– look real good.” She smiles, still leaning in the doorframe, but before she can speak, someone else beats her to it.

“Wow, real smooth, man.”

“Ellie.” Cherry hisses it over her shoulder, but Joel never sees the kid, just hears her lowly murmured what? I’m just saying, geez. Already off to a great start.

“Sorry about the peanut gallery, but I’m ready if you are.”

No more sneaking around, no more questioning if this is real or not. They’re doing the thing that normal people do, normal people in a normal relationship. They’re going on a date.

“I like this.” She hums it, reaching across the console from the passenger seat to thumb at the collar of his shirt, her palm smoothing down over his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, you clean up very pretty, Miller.” Just a little snark tinging the end of her words, making him huff as she keeps rubbing distracting circles into his chest.

“Well, you’re in fine form, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” With that, her hand trails up, palm slipping behind the nape of his neck, her fingers threading through the errant curls there while he fights the urge for his eyes to roll back in his head.

“Sure, Cher, at this rate we’re not even gonna make it to the restaurant.” He regrets saying it instantly, because just as soon as the words leave his mouth, she’s taking her hand away, sitting prim and perfect in the passenger seat where she had been completely turned toward him before.

“Right, sorry, best behavior.” Her words slant with the simper of her smile, and he has to remind himself that they’re doing this normal thing now. No need to hurry, no need to hide, no need to steal time. Because she’s staying, and so is he.

By some stroke of luck, they do make it to the restaurant, and it’s right about then that Joel realizes it has been a woefully long time since he has been on a date. He has to stutter himself into all the motions, trying to remember the right moves, opening the door for her, a bit flustered when he pulls her chair out for her and she snorts.

“Well you don’t get this kind of treatment in New York.” To make the matter of his quick creeping flush worse, she presses a kiss to his cheek before she sits down. He gets to have that now, totally normal. He’s still getting used to totally normal.

“So how is the book coming along?” He’s not sure if he’s allowed to ask that, what might still be a sore subject. For a moment, her face falls, fear flickering in his chest that he has fucked up, though she smooths it out, something like a smile still at the edges of her eyes.

“Do you really want to hear me talk about that?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Can I ask you something first?” He nods, of course, taking a cursory sip of his wine as she does the same.

“Did you– what did you think? About the other ones?” She asks it shy, her cheek propped in her hand, smile crumpled to one side. His mind reels with what he could say, though he’s not sure if any of it’s right. It’s not like he has some dazzlingly intellectual thing to say. But she’s asking him, she wants to know what he thinks, and he muses to himself that she’s been wanting to know what he thinks for a while.

“I was amazed by every single one, Cher. And I was proud of you too, even though I had no business feeling that way. It was– I thought about you, a lot, over the years. And getting to read your books, it felt like I could be a little closer to you that way.” He surprises himself with the stark honesty of his words, but how could he offer her anything else when she’s looking at him like that? Smile softening in the dim light of the restaurant, cheeks brimming up with the praise.

“I always wondered, you know, if you were reading them. I– I guess that’s a little ridiculous.” He’s still getting used to this too, being able to reach out for her, taking her hand in his across the table.

“Not ridiculous, and I’m looking forward to reading the new one.”

“I sent the second draft in two days ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, my editor fucking destroyed my first one, so we’ll see how this draft goes over.”

“You know, I’ve been wondering, Cher, when the hell did you get that trucker’s mouth of yours?” She laughs big and bright, shoulders shrugging up to her ears, a little flail to her hands that makes him laugh too.

“I mean, it’s definitely a New York thing. That, and people just started pissing me off a lot more, so I kinda had to.”

“I tried to cut back on it when Sarah got old enough to start picking stuff up. She still managed to slip a few fucks into her vocabulary in the first grade.”

“Oh god, I actually got called into the school when Ellie was in the first grade because she told a boy at recess to leave her the fuck alone. Honestly, I was more proud than anything else, is that bad?”

“Fuck no, it’s not bad. I’d probably take Sarah for ice cream if she did the same.” She sighs around a smile, and he finds himself doing the same, settling into this ease. Yes, he thinks, it’s going to take some getting used to. But he’s more than happy to be getting used to it with her.

…

“I’d like to get it on my right shoulder, if that works okay.” If her mother could see her now. She doesn’t look in the mirror until the tattoo artist has stamped the stencil into place, a satisfied hum in her throat when she gets a look at the design.

Frankly, she wasn’t sure if she was going to keep this appointment. She had made it under the pleasant flush of two glasses of wine late one night about a month ago, surprised to receive an email from the artist saying that they loved her idea and wanted to get her on the books. And for some reason, she didn’t say no, didn’t cancel, and is now laying out on a tattoo table and bracing for the first pass of the needle.

It’s not too bad, a little cringey when the artist is working right over the cap of her shoulder, but otherwise it passes quickly, and before she knows it, she’s standing back in front of the mirror on shaky legs, looking at the twining cherry branch now wrapping around her upper arm.

“It’s perfect, thank you. I love it.” Ellie has rather different feelings about it, her jaw dropping loose when Cherry meets her outside of her school, still warm enough that she’s only in a t-shirt, showing off part of her still-wrapped ink.

“What is that?” There’s no playing it off, Ellie refusing to move until Cherry gives her an answer.

“That is a tattoo, and before you ask, no, not until you’re eighteen.” Ellie balks at that, though Cherry is quick to sling her arm around her girl’s shoulders to set them both walking toward the subway.

“Is it– what is it?” Ellie takes the one leftover seat in the train and Cherry hooks her elbow around the rail in front of her, a perfect opportunity for her kid to get a better look at her new tattoo.

“It’s a cherry tree.”

“I can’t believe you got a tattoo.” She says it with a sigh, like somehow, this is the worst news ever. Cherry has to hold back a laugh, knowing that it will only put Ellie in even worse of a tiff.

“What’s wrong with tattoos?”

“Nothing, but you’re my mom, you’re not supposed to get tattoos.” Ellie grumbles out the last words, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff, perfectly petulant. Cherry gives her little episode about twenty more minutes before she forgets all about it and asks what’s for dinner.

When they do get back to their apartment, Cherry just barely catches the ringing phone, surprised, though pleasantly, when she hears Will on the other end.

“Hey, what’s going on? Everything okay?”

“Hey, yeah, I just thought I’d give you a call.” She knows exactly what that means. It’s only been recently that she and Will can talk like this, call like this. She got out, and he did too, and for a while that had to be enough for the both of them, slinking around the past like they could somehow forget it. It was Will that reached out to her first, and she was relieved for it, not sure if he resented her, or even hated her for the way she left. He didn’t, he understood, and he wanted to know how his big sister was doing.

“Mom?” He sighs over the phone, exactly what she thought. For some reason, their mother still reaches out to him, an errant phone call that he somehow can’t seem to dodge.

“She called to tell me that they’re moving to Arizona.”

“Oh, lovely.”

“Yeah, so I guess that means Austin has finally been fumigated.” Cherry snorts, trying to let that be funny, though all it really feels is bitter.

“You’re not thinking about going back, are you?” Because suddenly, she is. An impossibility for so long, now a little more possible.

“Hell no, Portland has been good to me. I only just managed to lose the accent.”

“I liked your accent, Will. I’m afraid mine has started sounding a little too Brooklyn lately.”

“Yeah, you have that kinda eternally angry thing going on in your voice now.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that my eternally angry voice is what gets me book deals.”

“Sure, that’s what it is, miss New York Times bestseller.” She scoffs, a flustered murmur of yeah, yeah, whatever, always quick to change the subject from anything like that.

“You’re still coming for Christmas though, right? I’d– we’d really love to have you. I’ve been telling Ellie about you.” Something new, she never thought Ellie would get any kind of extended family. Definitely no grandparents, but an uncle would be nice.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.” He has something else to say, she can tell by the way his words fizzle out. She doesn’t push though, just waits.

“You don’t think about going back, do you? To Texas?” Her throat tightens, a quick glance down the hall to check that Ellie’s bedroom door is still closed.

“No, why would I want to?”

“Oh come on, out of the two of us I’d say you’d have an actual reason to.”

“What are you talking about?” Like maybe she could bullshit her way out of this, but he is her brother, after all. He always liked Joel, definitely looked up to him. And he was also one of the only people that knew about their relationship, always willing to cover for her sneaking around, for the flat rate price of a new comic book.

“Not what, who.”

“Will, that’s ancient history. That’s– that’s even past ancient history. It was another life.”

“I know, I just– I always thought you two were gonna be it, you know? Even before that summer, y’all were always something else.”

“Careful, they’ll throw you out of Portland for saying y’all like that.” That gets half a laugh out of him, just enough to drop the subject.

“All this talk of Texas must be getting to me. Anyways, just wanted to call and tell you the big news or whatever.”

“Alright, well, big news aside, it’s always good to hear from you. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yeah, sis, love you.”

“Love you too.” That’s new, she’s glad for it.

Afternoons, after school, but before dinner, this is her favorite time. Sometimes, Ellie will still let her help with her homework, or at least allow her presence on the edge of her bed while she works, might even answer a few questions about her day or her friends. Eleven going on thirty, or something like that. By the time dinner rolls around, her girl has warmed up to her enough to sit at the kitchen counter while she chops vegetables.

“So, why a cherry tree?”

“Oh, it’s an old story, a friend of mine from a long time ago, not interesting. Hey, I saw the email from the school about career day next week, were you gonna tell me about that?” A quick change of subject, two birds with one stone, really. Ellie’s face scrunches up at her question.

“Yeah, but like, you’re too busy for it anyways.” She barely looks up from her math worksheet as she says it, like no big deal, though Cherry’s stomach immediately sinks.

“Woah, woah, babe, I am absolutely not too busy for that. I’m never too busy for you, what– why do you think that?” Ellie just shrugs, still intent on her fractions.

“Because of the new book and stuff. You’re very preoccupied.” One of her new vocab words for the week, preoccupied, right.

“Els, will you look at me, please? I am never too busy for you, okay? None of that shi–stuff matters more than you do. And I’d really love to go to career day, if you want me to be there.” Ellie seems to consider that proposition, a big burst of relief when she nods.

“Yeah, you’re cooler than a lot of the other parents anyways. They all do boring stuff for work.” She’ll take it, trying to temper her grin at her girl’s small praise as she gets back to prepping dinner. She’ll have to remember to wear long sleeves for career day, not wanting to give the PTA moms any more gossip fodder than they already have about her. Single mom, single writer mom with no family to be heard of. Not a very good look to all those upper-crust types, not that she could give a shit about it. But she doesn’t want her black sheepness to rub off on Ellie, play dates and hang outs to be scheduled and all that, so, definitely long sleeves for career day.

Much later, Ellie in bed reading, and no impending emails or phone calls, Cherry finally takes another look at the tattoo before getting in the shower.

If nothing else, ever, at least this.

…

“So.” She says it all long and drawn out, her hands clasped behind her back as she sways a little in front of his truck, sooooo. It’s dark out by the time they leave the restaurant, both of them a little loose, a little languid from a few glasses of wine, though he’s still sober enough to feel a lick of nerves run up his spine as he tries to figure out what’s the right next move, what normal people do on a date like this.

“Sarah is at Tommy’s for the night, if you don’t have to be home just yet?” No, probably not what normal people do on a first date. But no, not their first date either, not really. And nothing normal about this either, not really. Cherry, smiles, all crooked shadows in the faint glow coming from the restaurant. She really is a sight. He’s been stealing sweeping glances all night, collecting her up in pieces in his mind. The bare skin of her thighs, just a suggestion of it with the slip of her dress. Her dress, he thinks she knows that it’s just a little cruel that she’s wearing that dress judging by the way she moves, shoulders rolled back, always a ghost of a grin like she’s getting away with something. Instinct or just plain impulse to reach out for her, to let his knuckles graze along the neckline of her dress, the smallest shiver when he trails from the sweet plunge up along the slope of her shoulder.

“Ellie was going to a sleepover, so I don’t have to be anywhere until my chauffeur services are needed tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

He is trying, all of his effort, really, to focus on the road when they start driving back to his house. But Cherry isn’t exactly making it easy with the way her hand is splayed on his thigh, and he has to clear his throat when her nails graze along the inseam of his pants.

“Everything alright?” He only glances away for a beat, though it’s enough time to see the smug curl of her smile.

“You– you’re–” His breath hitches before he can finish that thought, Cherry’s knuckles grazing against his already aching cock through his pants, though her hand is gone just as soon, settling lower, just above his knee.

“What am I, baby?”

“I think you know what you are.” Her laugh comes in bells, chirping high as she tips her head back, the shock-white flash of her teeth in the corner of his eye.

“I think you like it.” High, like wings fluttering each word she says. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes still on the road while he reaches across the console for her, his palm slipping from her shoulder up the slope of her neck, fingers curling around her nape and his thumb stroking the hinge of her jaw, his own silent answer, his.

They’re both quiet stepping inside his house, lights off so the rooms are washed down in dark swaths of shadow. Up the stairs and into his room, she doesn’t look at the books this time, all her attention on him.

No need to rush, no need to hide, no need to lie about what this really is. A first for two decades later, they can take their time with each other, because there will be plenty more of it to offer, to receive.

“I thought about you, you know.” He knows that she’s talking about a particular kind of thinking about him, her eyes heavy with it.

“Show me, Cher.” Broken thoughts that somehow still get pieced together, the easy slip of her dress falling around her feet, stepping out of fabric and laying back on his bed. Perfect like this, her knees bent and falling open to the sides. He finds himself sitting down on the edge of the bed, his palm cupping the slope of her calf before sliding down, fingers curling loosely around her ankle. Something to tether him, to convince him that this is real, that all her want is for him. From the start, she was always surprising him, always finding some fresh way to make his head spin. She still is. Propped up on one elbow, her other palm trailing down the center of her chest, pausing there to let her fingers graze against her nipple, the smallest hitch of her breath making his cock pulse. And then lower, his eyes going heavy watching her hand move over the soft clench of her stomach before settling just over her pelvis. Forefinger and middle spreading herself open for him to see, swollen and pearling pleasure, obscene and a little world-ending.

And it’s his name. His name that she whispers when she dips two of her fingers into her cunt, his hand curling a little closer around her ankle at the sight and sound. A slick smear of heat, the way the tendons in her hips jump with the effort of staying splayed for him, slack and then tense all over when the pads of her fingers catch against her clit.

Please, not enough, please, want you. But he wants to see, her preening pleas falling on deaf ears. Because he wants to see how she thought about him all those miles away, years away, and aching for him. And he was aching for her too. Go on, Cher, just like that. She huffs, brow pulling down in a pinch of frustration, but she still allows, the small jump of her wrist, the veins in her hand jittering as two fingers find a stuttered rhythm, her hips tilting into each thrust. And he’s mean for doing this, cruel even, slipping sorry beneath his palm as it skates up her shin, smoothing and soothing. I know, I know, it’s not enough, is it? Never enough he thinks, it was never enough.

“Stop teasing, come here.” Never saying no to her, and he already knows it, making as quick work as he can of the buttons of his shirt, the warm flush of bare skin against bare skin when he finally settles between her legs, one palm splayed next to her temple and the other bunched in the sheets beside her hip. All brilliant machinery, two bodies moving together like they never stopped, her knee hitching up along his hip as his palm slides down along the soft skin of the inside of her thigh. He rests his thumb over her clit, presence more than anything else, though Cherry doesn’t allow that for long, another huff, another don’t tease that he chases after with a hard stamp of a kiss.

And when he finally spreads her open with one shuddering snap of his hips, his breath gets caught in his chest, pleasure finally catching up to him and crackling down his spine. His mouth rests open and wanting below the dip of her clavicle, the slight press of skin that comes with each of her inhales, like a bird beating around in her ribs, short and stuttered and certain.

Quiet whispers, need you to move, baby, that word never failing to snare his mind, all he can do to give her what she wants with a slow roll of his hips that’s already turning greedy in the way he grinds into the plush of her ass at the end, a high sound stopping itself in the back of her throat.

And no, not taking their time, both of them growing desperate for that tight furl of pleasure settling between them. Just a little obscene in the way the bed scrapes against the floor with every thrust, the sound melding and mixing with the breathy little moans Cherry can’t seem to stop, not that he would want her to. He groans when he reaches between them to thumb at her clit, her cunt dripping around him, a dizzying flutter of heat that he wants more of. And when Cherry says more, right there something snaps in him, animal, incessant in the way he slips his palms under the swell of her ass, lifting her hips up so her thighs rest over his, fucking up into her from his haunches, strong enough that he can do that now, move and make her with his hands like this. Pulled taut, her body one long line of pleasure, he watches the perfect tendons in her throat jump with a whine of his name.

It’s a devastating heat when she does come, spine arching before she slumps down in his grasp. He stills inside her, a whimper in her throat when his hips absent-mindedly shift against hers. C’mere, c’mere, pulling him down, her palms running up his sides before slipping over his shoulders, mapping him out as she catches her breath.

“I love you so much, Joel.” The sound he makes is pathetic at best, a little broken battering in his ribs. And he should ask if she’s good, if he can, if it’s okay for him to, but he needs it so bad, needs her so bad that he’s already finding that rhythm again, harsh breaths with each thrust. Not far behind her, not with the way she’s murmuring all her want into his ear, something that sounds like love when that pleasure finally snaps and shimmers under his skin.

Perfect like this in the after, holding onto each other, mouths finding whatever slip of skin they can, kissing it better.

“It’s you and me, Cher. I love you.” Her fingers still in their gentle sweep through his hair, a little tug to get his eyes up to hers.

“Plus two.” Confused at first, he has to laugh when his brain catches up to what she’s saying.

“Right, you and me, plus two.”

…

Her least favorite time of the day, or night, really. Ellie asleep, just her and the blinking cursor in her word document. It’s about this time every night that it settles back in under her skin. She doesn’t know what to call it. Loneliness feels pitiful, and patently untrue because she has her girl, and that’s all she needs. It’s like an ache, like a physical lack that she manages to forget about in all the fret and fuss of the day, still there, still sore.

Tonight, something particular to soothe that ache. That damn web page, and that damn photo of him. Different, older, but still him. A small part of her, a young part, wonders if he has read her books, if he’s seen her photo on the dust jackets and traced all the small nicks and nips of time the same way that she does now, her face pressed close to the screen of her computer to collect up any new detail.

She quits while she’s ahead, sigh, shut the whole thing off, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes to try to stamp out the picture of him.

An ache, a want, that has been there for nearly two decades. When Will had told her about their parents moving out of Austin, hope had been quick to flicker up and around her ribs, a silly thing. Silly to ache like this, to want like this, to presume that he’s been waiting around for her.

She’s been waiting for him though, she realizes. Wanting for him. So would it be so crazy to think that, maybe, he’s been wanting for her too?

........................................

taglist:

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fics #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller au

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dollhog · 2 years ago

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Can you possibly expand on the type of alchemy/ sex magick? Such as potions or spells that directly help with putting on plot of weight? I’ve always wanted to get more info regarding spells or incantations that help with weight gain. Don’t worry I’m looking for reference for myself and personal use. Anyway I love your blog and thankful for any insight 🖤

Feedee weight gain ritual from a theistic Satanist and herbal alchemist. 200 lbs gained in 15 months

The response on my post regarding weight gain and witchcraft has been incredible! So here’s some information on how I’ve gone about my weight gain rituals in the past. Please be aware that this is not for the uninitiated, results will vary depending on your methods. At the end of the post, I provide names of the demonic divine and herbal correspondences best suited for this working. This is thoroughly intended for you to customise to your liking!

Cross small bones (chicken leg bones will work) and bind them together tightly with the red yarn. This is your doll’s skeleton. Wrap fabric around the outside of your doll, bind with red yarn while retaining the humanoid/cross shape. This does not need to look pretty, but it must roughly resemble a person in crucifixion pose. The bones symbolise your skeletal system, the yarn symbolises your nervous system, and the fabric symbolises skin and fat. Consecrate it with a drop of your blood. Take your chosen herbal mixture and mix with melted lard, pour this over your doll. Wrap and tie more fabric to the midsection of your doll overtop of the lard and herbs to “fatten” it.

Take a piece of paper, write your name and date of birth. Then the amount of weight you intend to gain over what period of time. And the sigil of whoever you’re working under. Burn the paper in a small dish. Add a herbal oil of your choosing to the ashes and dress your candle with the mixture. Dress your candle with saliva and cum. Drip the candle on your doll, then on the areas of your body you want to gain the most weight. This will sting, but it will not hurt nor leave a burn. Close the ritual and remove the wax from yourself. Sleep with the doll beside your bed.

In the coming days, repeat the process of dripping the lard and herbs, wrapping the doll and dripping the wax over you and it until you are satisfied with the doll’s “weight gain”. Leave offerings as curtesy to the demonic force aiding you every time you repeat the cycle. Hard liquor, tobacco/cigars, blood, nice chocolate, etc. Keep the doll in a place hidden from anything or anyone that could interfere. Dispose of it at the crossroads with a good offering when you have gained your desired amount of weight.

Some sex magick ingredients:

* Damiana

* Kava kava

* Radish

* Marshmallow root

* Chilli

* Rose

* Crowfoot

* Dried apple

* Basil

* Tuberose

* Nutmeg

* Blowball

* Ginseng

* Fig seeds

* Blood root

* Holly

* Coriander

* Dill

* Violet

* Jasmine

* Senna

* Cacao

* Endive

* Vanilla

* Peach

* Dried apricot

* Devil’s bone root

* Mint

* Mandrake

* Adam and Eve root

* Orange peel

* Savoury

* Devil’s bit

* Mugwort

* Brown sugar

* Daffodil

* Cherry bark

* Hibiscus

* Garlic

* Maple

* Caraway

* Ylang ylang

* Lemongrass

* Cardamom

* Chestnut

* Clove

* Spikenard

Lust and gluttony demons:

* Asmodeus

* Lilith

* Sytry

* Beelzebub

* Incubi/Succubi

This is obviously not for the uninitiated, if you don’t know how to contact a demon respectfully and you don’t know how to control, manipulate and transmute energy, it has high chance of going horribly wrong. If you insist on doing it regardless, at the very least do your own research.

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crepesuzette2023 · 29 days ago

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Thank you @crumblingcookies for tagging me! I must characterize myself using 10 pictures, without downloading anything new! Hmmm...

I don't know who has been tagged already, so please feel free to play, everyone--and I am tagging @packyourromanticmind , @peaceloveandstarrs , @tenderlady , @tavolgisvist and @the-paper-apricot @wonderwall1968

#tag game #self-documentation

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toomanytookas · 1 month ago

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Hi M!

I have some questions for you inspired by the Office Ladies podcast—

What was your first job?

What languages do you speak?

What is a place you have been to that you love?

What is your favorite midnight snack?

Hi Kat,

Thank you so much for the ask, it's been fun to see everyone's answers! I'm going to start out of order to include a fun photo above the cut. <3

One of my favourite places to visit is called Elkhorn Slough. It's a really lovely wetland area on the central CA coast where a lot of southern sea otters (as well as other wildlife) live. Weather permitting, you're able to rent kayaks and go and paddle around and watch them and it's very peaceful (if you discount the stress of juggling a giant camera+lens combo in a dry bag and the warning that otters sometimes like to get up on the kayaks). There's a fun succulent nursery and a restaurant that serves a nice cioppino nearby, so you can make it a day trip full of several of fun stops! Whenever I know I'm going to be leaving the area for a while, I try and make the trip because it feels very quintessentially California to me.

First job - The first full-time job I had was working at a chain bakery. Some things that my friends knew me for back then as a result were: a. Always being able to procure reject cupcakes for snacking b. Paying for everything in my tip money (mostly singles and coins) that was stuffed in a wax paper bag from the bakery instead of a wallet.

Languages - English is my first language and I speak Spanish fairly confidently. I have also studied small drips of a variety of other languages but none of them have really stuck.

Favourite Midnight Snack - If we're talking something very naughty in the middle of the night, I've been known to make a pot of mac and cheese as a more substantive midnight meal (specifically Annie's white cheddar shells if I'm stateside). But if it's something light, I really like dried apricots! And maybe a few gummy bears. hehe.

I know you've answered these questions in your replies to a few folks, so I'll change it up a little — what's one place you think you'll love but you haven't had the chance to visit yet? And if you're up for answering two, what has been your favourite job you've had?

I hope you had a great week! ✨

#just chattin

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yellow-submazine · 7 months ago

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Welcome!

This blog is a place to gather together art and writing that we had worked on for a future zine. Due to personal reasons the zine can't go ahead in the form we had originally anticipated. We had hoped to produce a paper copy you could hold in your hands, but that was not to be.

We still want to share what we've already made, which includes reviews, short stories, art works, and a free to use template for a project (to be revealed).

We really hope you'll enjoy what we've created, as we post it here over the next few months. Many thanks to our dear friend who suggested the name but couldn't participate in the project.

@the-paper-apricot @i-am-the-oyster

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butternuggets-blog · 4 months ago

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FOR WANT OF A NAIL

@baldwin-montclair @adowobsessed @sylverdeclermont @nicki-mac-me @thereadersmuse @kynthiamoon @wheresthesunshinesblog @adowbaldwin @beautifulsoulsublime @lady-lazarus-declermont @adarafaelbarba-blog @dogblessyoutascha

Part Fifty-Three

Summary: Baldwin Montclair had a string of ex girlfriends, a single child, and a lifetime longer than most people could dream of to make all kinds of mistakes. His family knew one which kept coming out of the woodwork to irritate him every other century

Also on AO3

Baldwin was white-knuckling the stonework as he listened to the laughter echoing from just around the corner.

He'd had hours.. days (Gods, it felt like hours) to get it through his thick skull that he lo-loved his best friend and now he was here and laughing and why the hell couldn't he walk around the damn corner-

Baldwin took a deep breath.

He was going to stand here forever, like an absolute fool, or pry his fingers from the wall and march.

He took another deep breath.

Which promptly choked him as he stepped around the corner and saw Martin smiling at Yvette.

He's glowing.

Backlit by sunshine streaming down onto the courtyard, his skin was dappled caramel by the afternoon sky. His hair was spun up into short, cropped snow, fashionably unkempt and light in the breeze, standing out starkly against the rich turquoise of his tunic and the tan leather of his boots.

He looked like a god and Baldwin was ready to lie down on the altar.

'Well!' Godfrey clapped his hands together loudly and stood up. Baldwin nearly jumped out of his skin; he hadn't noticed his brother sitting behind Martin on a low brick wall. 'I shall leave you all too it!'

Please-do-not-leave-please-do-not-leave-no no no no Fuck!

'Lucius!'

'Still Baldw-oof!'

And now Martin was hugging him, strong arms wrapped around him and his mouth inches from Baldwin's ear. He desperately swallowed the high-pitched whine that was rising higher and higher in his throat and ignored the way his skin prickled and pulsed with heat where Martin was pressed against him.

'Thank you for taking care of Yvette for me,' Martin said, quietly.

Everything was apricot and tobacco and sunshine and Baldwin wanted to cry.

________________________________________________________________

Yvette was beginning to worry that her uncle was going to wear a hole right through the floor of the library.

She had been put in charge of sorting through the enormous amounts of scrolls, books and loose sheafs of paper that were in Sept Tours' library in order to try and figure out what organisational style Hugh's ghost had used to 'tidy up'.

It must be very boring, being dead; relying on the living for entertainment.

Baldwin had come in while she was browsing Great-Uncle Philippe's collection of astrolabes someone had used as bookends for a collection of illuminated bibles. He was focused on something that was troubling him deeply; Yvette saw the oddly-haunted look in his eyes he chased away with a smile and an offer to help her reshelve the manuscripts, but when he turned away the set of his shoulders told her that the look had returned.

He was now pacing the length of the library, Bible in his hand. She had sent him off into the room to put it back but he kept "forgetting" where it was supposed to go as an excuse for him to retread his steps.

On second thought, he may actually have been so distracted by whatever was bothering him that he really had forgotten about the book.

'Do you wish to talk about something, Uncle Baldwin?' Yvette piped up.

'Hm, what? Oh, sorry sweetheart,' Baldwin kissed the top of Yvette's head, put the Bible where it was supposed to go, and zipped back to the table. 'No, it is nothing.'

'Are you sure? Perhaps you should talk to ɸatīr-' a strange strangled expression passed quickly over Baldwin's face, '-he is only downstairs.'

'No, no,' Baldwin swallowed. 'It is nothing we need bother your ɸatīr about.'

'ɸatīr has taught me that when I cannot find the right words, writing down my thoughts can help,' Yvette commented, smiling encouragingly.

________________________________________________________________

I lo

I have feelings f

We have been good friends for centuries and I have never been unsure of this until now.

I am sorry.

I will get better at this. I promise.

Author's Notes

The latest book in the series, The Black Bird Oracle, has just been released. I will be encorporating some background information from the book into later chapters of this story if I deem it necessary, but for the most part I will continue focussing on the first trio of books and the tv series.

#baldwin montclair #bibaldwin #baldwin de clermont #adow #all souls series #all souls trilogy #a discovery of witches #a discovery of witches season 1 #a discovery of witches season 2 #a discovery of witches season 3 #a discovery of witches tv series #all souls tv series

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brokenxmachine · 10 months ago

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WHAT COLOR IS YOUR AURA? - IVORY

lace, marble, china dishes, doves, paper, bones, vanilla shakes. your essence is ivory : you are a piece of history, sturdy and eternal. others believe you to be gentle; they don't see the pressure that is threatening to crack you. you seek control and organize your life into rows. you are the overseer. you are the porcelain. you find kindship in like-minded individuals of grey, noir, pearl and ashen, who share the pressure you put on yourself. you are also drawn to the expressive rose and lilac, who will help you grow and learn that things will be okay even if they don't go right. however, you may struggle to get along with the indulgent personalities of sky and apricot who need to much stimulation and decadence.

i was tagged by @resetme (excuse the delay!!) to do this uquiz and then make a moodboard with the colour. I don't know if i made it right but let me say that i loved the quiz, thank you!!!✨🫶🏻

i'm tagging (only if you want to of course)

@noraincsl @skidrow-seymour @anordinaryextinction @kristines-galaxy-of-blackholes @slamncram @andlatitude @storm-ec @littlesomnus @eachdayyoudrisewme @paperkatana @faeryfromthelake @powerofadyingsun @foster-the-pilots

#tag game #💌

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recitedemise · 1 month ago

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Without a word, the vampire moved behind his lover, his approach soundless, an elegant ripple against the stillness. Arms wound around Gale’s waist, a familiar anchor, and his chin came to rest lightly on the wizard’s shoulder. Astarion's gaze flickered over the paper, part curiosity, part critique.

“They’re not bad…” His tenor lilted a whisper of unfinished thought process. “But… I could use a bit more.” Crimsons lifted, day-dreaming the scene into existence, fingers drummed softly against Gale’s side... always touching, always searching and kneading. “A few gradients, perhaps? Yellow bleeding into sunset orange… or blue fading into purple… Hm…”

Trailing off, Astarion’s cold lips brushed colder against the nook of Gale’s neck, more instinct than intent. A low hum thrummed with every tiny little nuzzle, affection mingling in the space between them. It wasn’t until the wizard’s demand that Astarion, a little too lost in his thoughts, or perhaps in Gale’s scent, was brought back to his senses. “Hm? Ah, yes… of course. I love you, my dear.” Words that hinged on the breath of a kiss, placed just beneath Gale’s jaw.

It wasn’t gratitude—not really. But it was something.

Elegant is certainly one way of looking at it. In hindsight, he supposes lions and tigers are elegant, too. Gale should wonder if it's normal, to feel like all a rabbit in the middle of a hunt, but it says a lot about him, doesn't it?, when the sight of fangs would thrill him? Yes. Astarion is elegant. A Botticelli'd thing.

Vividly, he would recall that memory, them talking of his hair over overpriced drinks. It's difficult to grasp it all, how far they have come from those down-to-earth rambles in that intimate bar. Gale feels the brush of that mouth, so breathless and lovely where his neck would beat and warm with pulse. He lacked the nerve to dream it, to imagine a day where he'd this man in his home, but feeling him lean against the hard of his backbone-- It's baffling. It, in some way, feels oh so familiar. "If we're to talk of gradients, I personally vote for a deep crimson fading into whatever shade of purple you're willing to call my shirt. But you know me," he banters. "I am a man of the arts. If it should help you at all, consider me your canvas."

I love you. His heart feels all jammy. Strawberry. Raspberry! Or that apricot with orange he'd so favored in his youth. It makes him oh so gooey, smiling as he grabs the tub of yogurt from the bag. The moment is kind, his gentle, cozy smile like those ones that'd pale the sun. Gale huffs half a sound, a hand settling kindly along the jut of that wrist. He's got groceries to unpack and a dinner to prepare! But... Shoes bumping, he waits and eggs for overdue kiss. "And I love you, more than words can ever hope to capture, but while I don't mean to seem ungrateful--" his eyes sliver up playfully "--I don't exactly believe that was a 'thank you' either."

#RUBISTELLA #ASK.#MODERN VERSE.#you tease gale #you tease gale as hes standing right there melting into goo ...and you tease him

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holdingup-fallingsky · 11 months ago

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rules: find out what color your aura is through this quiz, and then make a moodboard with that color.

I got tagged by @nessie-stardust and @jmkho (thank you!!!)

I got orange!

guitars, fanta bottles, sunglasses, orange peels, butterflies, popsicles, paper lanterns. your essence is orange: dreams hold you aloft and inspire you to be better. you thrive on creativity; there is always a new inspiration that moves you and takes your heart. you draw friends but may show all of them the same smile. you are the restless. you are the adventurer. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of apricot, amber, fire, and terracotta, who share your enthusiasm. you are also drawn to the pensive souls blue and green, who will help you grow and see which projects and emotions are worth your time. however, you may struggle to get along with the headstrong personalities of grey and purple who are too rigid in their perspective.

I tag @ofthecaravel @satans-helper @joshsindigostreak @currentlyfangirling10 @runwayblues

#tag game #this honestly is not the color I thought I’d get #but I love it

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alstroemeriadissonance · 2 years ago

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Cream Pie (NSFW)

It's been a while since I've last posted. Was too busy with October thing, then had to deal with something personal.

Wrote some oneshot to fill the void for now, I hope it's good enough

This is mostly smut n' fluff.

I also have an ongoing series in my AO3 that I haven't posted here yet. If you're interested, you can give it a read here.

Your hands tremble slightly when you push the door open that leads to warmth, and a little bit of shared happiness. The light at the end of the tunnel. The motivation that gets you through the day, despite the battle scars of paper cuts and criticisms during merciless nine to fives.

Just yet another terrible day at the office.

"Beloved, welcome ho—"

The way he quickly sets aside the whisk and bowl, how quickly he closes the distance to gather you into his arms clues you in just how tired, how worn out you look that evening. Do I really look so exhausted? You wonder as you feel his hands slide up from your back, his touch cool yet refreshing, like a chilled beverage in sweltering heat, and you can only moan as his fingertips ghost your cheeks.

Wordlessly he cups your face in his palms, his eyes lingering on yours before he pulls you in for a deep, soothing kiss—something that you didn't know you needed until that very moment.

You drink his kisses so hungrily that you don't notice him taking your things—your handbag, your briefcase—and placing them by your feet, all without his lips and tongue leaving your mouth.

"Welcome home, love," he whispers directly into your ear. Nourishing honey, down your ears and flowing directly into your heart.

"Oh god, Vyn, I really, really needed that." You pull away from the embrace, feeling much better than how you did when you passed through his door. Still, the weariness in your bones remains, and so you take comfort by leaning against him, your face buried in his chest. "Thank you."

And you notice only now, that he smells of pastry . The almost nutty scent of crumbly pie crust, buttery touched with just a hint of lemon, just the way you like it. Then the tinge of sweet fruit. Peaches? Apricot? You nuzzle his neck, audibly sniffing him trying to discover what kind of sweet treat your lover has in store for you.

"Darling?" Vyn laughs softly, somehow tickled by the touch of the tip of your nose on the crook of his neck. "I thought you were tired," he quips. "We are still by the door, if you have not noticed it yet."

A little bit of heat emanates from his ear as he speaks, and he clears his throat.

Seeing the tips of his ears go slightly red you move to tease him more, only to be interrupted by the all-too loud rumbling of your stomach.

You haven't eaten anything yet since breakfast, something you find easy to forget these days when there's so much work to be done.

Strong, yet gentle hands steer you away from the door and towards the kitchen. "Someone is clearly famished," Vyn says as he deposits your bags into a sofa on the way to the source of the delectable smell wafting into the entire house.

"That smells so good," you note with a smile. "What's baking?"

A ghost of a mischievous smile crosses your lover's lips. "Peaches and cream pie."

===

You take your seat by the counter, quietly watching Vyn as he dons his oven mitts to take out the pie from the oven. "I can't believe you're really wearing that apron I made for you." Your lips curve into a small, tired smile; the cutesy snowy owl appliqué you clumsily sewed onto the pockets was more of a joke than anything else, but here he is, wearing it proudly as he rules over his domestic domain.

You stifle a silent yawn, and allow yourself to close your eyes. Just a little rest…

"And why should I not wear it?" He asks as he carefully pulls out the rack bearing the pie, sticking a toothpick into the crust for doneness. "It is a most treasured gift, one that you made by hand…hmm. Not quite done yet." He carefully rotates the pie a half turn over the rack, then sets it back into the oven.

When he turns to you to continue the conversation, he sees you nodding off, your face almost landing squarely onto the countertop—if it weren't for his quick reflexes, cushioning your head with his hand still wearing the oven mitt before it can make contact with granite.

Vyn shakes his head, frowning slightly as he moves to carry you to the bedroom. "Did your slave driver overwork you again?" He murmurs, not expecting an answer from you; he already knows the answer, anyway.

You're already in a bridal carry when you float back to wakefulness. "Vyn?" You stir in his arms, slightly disoriented. "What…?" In that brief moment you do not know what is happening, where you are going, and—thoroughly confused, now—your attention flits to the scent that lingers all over him. A delicious mixture of vanilla, peach, roses, and wood.

"You need sleep, darling," he whispers as he is about to take the first step up the staircase. "I am just taking you to bed—ah—"

Impulsively you tug at the straps of his apron, pulling him down for a kiss, effectively stopping him in his tracks. "No, I want to spend more time with you, Vyn," you protest, and this time you throw your arms around his neck to indulge in another embrace.

"I am not leaving, pet," Vyn assures you as he pulls away. "I will be with you when you sleep, and if you wake up in the middle of the night feeling peckish I will get up with you and we can eat together." A small kiss on the forehead. "Is that acceptable for my lady love?"

You frown.

No. I did not work hard and do my best to get home on time only to sleep. "It's not the same, Vyn." Mind still fogged with sleep, you find yourself suddenly irritable. "I didn't go through hell just so I go to sleep then wake up to go back to crunch time again." You push yourself out of his carry. "I want to spend more time with you!"

"While I am flattered that you would rather run your body to the ground to spend time with me…" Vyn crosses his arms, his face going pensive. "I certainly do not condone sacrificing your health, which is why I am offering compromises, like accompanying you in bed as you rest."

Still irritable, you find yourself wanting to cry in frustration. Why must plans go wrong even if you did your best? "But—but…"

Words having left you, your lower lip trembles as you teeter to the verge of tears.

Seeing you in such a state, Vyn could only sigh and shake his head. "Very well then. If you insist, we can carry on with our dinner plans…but on one condition."

"Eh?"

Vyn looks at you, contemplatively, as if assessing you for something. "I am proposing a game of sorts, poppet. Well, more like a punishment ." He smiles mysteriously, tapping his chin with a finger. "A punishment for the disobedient patient who does not heed her doctor's orders."

"I really don't feel like playing games, Vyn," you say, too upset to catch the hint he is trying to give you. "If you're trying to get a point across, can't you just tell me upfront?" You cross your arms as well, glaring into his unreadable golden eyes head-on.

"Why not try to listen to the terms before you dismiss the idea?" The smile is still plastered on his face, and you remember that it is the very same smile he wears when he is up to something .

The thought sobers you up. "Fine. Let's hear it then."

Vyn lets out a quiet, low chuckle as he takes you by the hand, leading you back towards the kitchen. "It is a simple game," he casually says, reaching for the opened can of peaches sitting by the edge of the counter. He carefully prises open the lid to reveal the can still half-full with slices of white peaches in light syrup; using a fork he fishes out a thick wedge of fleshy fruit, still dripping with syrup. "Ah, I was saving this for grilled peaches," he murmured. "But this would be worth it, I assure you."

"Peaches?" you tilt your head as you peer at Vyn curiously, mind now cleared of sleep and irrational frustration, your sour mood edged out by curiosity. "What are we going to do?"

"First, sit down on the stool, your back towards the counter, if you please," he instructs you. When you finally comply, he brings the wedge of sliced fruit to your lips, but not close enough to feed it to you, not yet. "The game, Rosa," he begins, his voice now noticeably lower and somehow enticing , "is you bite onto this with your lips, and not let go, nor eat it. The fruit should remain intact. All the while I do…certain things."

You gulp nervously at the mention of certain things .

"If you win," he continues, leaning in closer to you, close enough that you feel his warm breath fanning your cheeks. "We shall have dinner, and you can ask me for a favor. Whatever it is, I shall try my best to deliver."

"And if I lose?" You try your hardest to look undaunted, looking at him straight in the eye; but your heart is beating too fast and too loud you almost think he can hear it and give away how excited you are.

"Then you shall follow your doctor's orders, and stay with me in bed. Tonight, and," his grin spreads a little wider. "You will also spend the entire weekend with me. In my bedroom, to be specific. Plenty of bedrest, plenty of exercise . That way you will be right as rain come Monday."

You gasp a little. While the prospect sounds totally tempting, you already made plans. " This weekend? No…I already made plans with Kiki…" And I have pushed it back so many times now, because of all the overtime we needed to do…

Vyn's grin quickly fades, and is replaced with a small frown. "Ah, so despite how tired you are this entire week you are still planning to be up and about this weekend? You are incorrigible when it comes to taking care of your wellbeing. Your doctor is disappointed with you."

He pouts. Almost.

"Er…" Coming up with a retort is hard, not when you are torn between both outcomes. A fun weekend with your girl friend? Or what sounds to be a weekend sex marathon with your boyfriend? Good grief. "You drive a hard bargain, Vyn," is all you can say.

"Need I point out that this is a game of determination," Vyn says, as he finally brings the peach wedge to your mouth, the fruit dripping syrup onto your skirt and the front of your blouse. "If you are so intent on making your appointment with Miss Kiki, then you need to be determined to win . Do you understand, poppet?"

The fruit is more fragile than you expected; almost mushy, and you know it will easily fall apart should your lips clamp down on it even a little bit harder than you are doing at the moment. Sweet peach-infused syrup drips down your chin, and the fruit in your mouth makes you salivate—any moment now and you know you will start drooling as well.

You try your best to keep the fruit intact between your lips anyway.

Most of your focus is devoted to keeping the delicate fruit between your lips without biting into it, so much that you don't notice Vyn kneeling in front of your thighs, pushing the hem of your skirt up to reveal where your stockings end—and that creamy expanse of naked thighs above it. His hands slide over the soft skin, thumbs just almost touching the crotch of your panties and the gradually moistening mound underneath the cotton.

Vyn laughs quietly, then gives your covered slit a lick.

"Mmmph—!" your lips almost let go of the peach wedge, but you manage to catch yourself. Oh god. This is not good. You might have saved the peach from falling, but there is a danger of overcompensating and biting into the fruit, breaking it, resulting in an instant loss.

He now tugs your panties down to your ankle, and spreads your thighs a little wider. "Do you not think this is quite the silver lining to your fatigue, pet?" His breath teases your moist cunt as he speaks, making you cream hard . "I am certainly enjoying myself." Once again he leans down to your inner thighs, his tongue-tip making circles around your clit but never touching your sensitive bud, sending you whimpering in frustration. Your hips squirm in an attempt to have your clit be relieved of the sweet torture, but Vyn tut-tuts you and stills your hips with his strong hands.

"Stop moving around so much, pet, or else the fruit will break, or drop," he says before finally giving your stiff bud a good, long suck. You manage to let out a moan despite your lips being preoccupied with the fruit, and your whole body shudders as you fully give in to the pleasure from between your legs. "See? Even I play fair." Vyn chuckles in between licks along your now swollen cunt.

"Listen to your doctor, my darling," he whispers, his words slow and measured; voice dripping with dark caramel. "I only want what is good for you."

The effect on you is instantaneous. You screw your eyes shut, desperately trying to concentrate on keeping the peach between your mouth in one piece, even as you are now of half a mind to throw the game and just give in to temptation. Damn it, I'm set up to fail , you realize, and you are now acutely aware of how much you are a mess at the moment: your mouth dripping with peach syrup mixed in with your drool, and your thighs opened as wide as you can over the stool you're sitting on, to receive the man pushing you to lose the game with his tongue…

…and his fingers, two of them slipping inside your pussy, thrusting deep in time with the flicks of his tongue on your clit. "Still not yielding, little pet?" He asks, looking up at your face from between your thighs as he keeps on driving his digits inside your core. "There is grace in conceding from a battle you know you cannot win."

Your eyes are still shut, but you very well know from the tone of his voice that he is smirking at you. Cheeky bastard . You would retort, if it were not for the rules of the game and the fact that you feel the familiar coil of tension winding, and is almost about to break…

"Mm?" Vyn smiles at you, softly this time, warm and inviting. "I can feel you about to come," he says with his lips on your labia; his thumbs casually stroking your inner thighs now tense with imminent release. "Let go, pet. "

Once again he takes your bud between his lips, taking his time to tease and suck on it, with occasional flicks of his tongue until he pushes you off the edge.

"...Aaah, Vyn!" In the end you are not able to resist; your teeth finally bite into the fruit, sending one half rolling down only to be caught by Vyn's free hand. He eats the piece of juicy fruit in one bite, savoring its sweet flavor as his other hand keeps on fucking you with two fingers, all the while your entire body shudders in the throes of orgasm.

"Delicious," he says as he closely watches you cum all over his hand, licking his fingers clean of peach syrup all the while.

"I promised her weeks ago we'd go to the new ice cream parlor and check out the shops down the arcade," you whisper as you sit up and try to gather yourself. "Then it got pushed to the next week, then this weekend…" you sigh at the thought of having to prepare and face Kiki's disappointment.

"I will bake her favorite black forest to make up for it," Vyn reassures you as he stands, holding out his hand towards you to help you up. " Extra cherries. I will—ah!"

"Don't think I'd let you get away untouched, Dr. Richter ," you mutter as you pull him down by his proffered hand, tackling him down to the tiled kitchen floor and straddling his legs. Your fingers quickly pull down the garter of his lounge pants, pushing aside the apron to gain access to his neglected hard on. "God I'm still horny." Your hand slips into his underwear, freeing his cock from its confines.

"Rosa, I was going to carry you to bed so we can continue—ah, damn!" Vyn hisses out loud as soon as you lower your throbbing sex, enveloping the glans with your nether lips. "Hahh—yes, that is good ," he moans out loud, his hands on your waist but letting you lead the pace of your lovemaking.

Each slow, deliberate movement of your hips runs the entire length of his cock; drawing back until only his tip is inside you, then thrusting forward until both hips meet. Your lusty sighs mingle with his needy own—were you tired earlier? If you were, you have already forgotten all about it—and eventually the pace picks up with Vyn leading this time, fully giving into his own hunger resulting from patiently holding himself back and waiting until you are well enough to receive his desire for you.

He drives into your inner flesh in hard, deep thrusts, drawing out moans, sighs, and whimpers from you—you even question yourself why you would resist the idea of a weekend spent with him in bed, this is all so fucking good —until he reaches his own climax, his cock pulsating as he fills you with his cum.

"Hahh—hah—hahaha," Vyn laughs weakly, pulling you down into his arms, both of you lying down on the once cool tiled floor now slightly warmed by your bodies. "That was…that felt good, darling. I think we both needed it."

"Mm. Yeah." You nuzzle his neck, relishing his scent now mixed with his musk, and the thick aroma of sex. "That was nice. Okay, you win. We'll spend the weekend in your bedroom." You try to stifle a yawn, only to fail spectacularly. "I want…more…" Then you remember something. "Um? Vyn? The pie?"

"What about the pie?" Vyn peels himself off the floor and stands up, helping you up along with him. "Do not worry about it. I have set the timer, and even if it is ruined…" His voice trails off.

He looks at you, a tad suggestively. "I filled another pie just now."

You make a moue. "Ugh, Vyn. That's too low-effort."

"Heh."

#tears of themis fanfic #tears of themis #vyn richter x reader #vyn richter #vyn richter smut

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