#the pink one smells like star fruit

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

I don’t know if anyone following me keeps orchids but I’ve gotten these three as birthday presents and I’m obsessed ✨✨ the red and white one smells like raspberries and chocolate

[teaboot]

One of the best parts about working at a sex shop is the employee discount, and yeah that means excellent deals on sex supplies but that's not the big brain part.

You come to my house. Something is cooking in the kitchen- it smells wonderful. What is it? It's novelty dick-shaped pasta. I've set up a sensual sexy Italian dinner. There are candles set up on the table. They're melting too fast, dripping everywhere- they're low temp waxplay pillar candles. For dessert, I serve you a delicious ice cream topped in penis-shaped rainbow confetti sprinkles and strawberry body paint drizzle, and afterwards, serve coffee with roasted hazelnut warming lube.

We play a board game while we drink. It's sexy monopoly. It's your turn. You roll the dice. They come up as 'whisper into' and 'butt'. I lost the original dice. We're using the sexy dice. You move four spaces.

After dinner, I run you a bath. A bubble bath. The bubble gel? Sensual ocean breeze. There are candles lined up around the tub. The scent is overpowering. Why? They're three-in-one fruit flavored massage oil candles. I'm using so much. It's so wasteful. Do you want to shave? I have conditioning shave cream that smells like limes. And an electric body razor, but you can't use that in the tub.

How about a bath bomb? You toss one in. It's cherry blossom scented. As it dissolves, three sexy bath sex suggestion cards fall out. They're all variations on doggy style, probably because fucking in a bathtub is probably the easiest way to break your hip.

The water cools. You get out an dry off with a novelty towel. If you wrap it around your chest, it looks like you have gigantic tatas bursting through the fabric like the Hulk.

You walk into the bedroom. I'm there, reading an instructional book titled "The Housewife's Guide To Every Day Stripping". I'm wearing a neck pillow designed to look like a massive curved weiner. Also a pair of fake leather bondage leggings and an oversized men's christmas T-shirt that says "Jingle My Bells" across the front.

I see you come in. I put down the book, take off the pillow. Offer you a massage. You accept. I already burned up all the massage candles so I pop a new bottle of CBD massage oil that says something wrong about Chakras on it. It's very gritty. That's because there's little chunks of amethyst in it for some fucking reason. It's fine, though. You say you don't mind.

I don't do massages very often. It's bad. You end up more tense than before. One of your muscles starts to cramp- it's okay. I whip out a bottle of Lidocane topical masculine performance numbing spray. You immediately feel like your shoulder went to the dentist. It's not ideal, but it's better than cramping.

You're not in the mood to bone after that. Which is good, cause I'm actually pretty asexual, but it hasn't come up yet so I'm relieved to avoid the conversation. Instead we get ready for bed. (The weather is terrible, and I insist you stay over.) I set up the futon, then realize it smells like cigarettes from the previous owner and shyly ask if you wanna cuddle in my room. You're down.

I crawl under the covers, placing my penis-shaped pink glitter pride bottle on the side table in case one of us wakes up thirsty. Once you're settled in, I turn off the glowing bare ass night light and the room goes black.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you look up at the ceiling. It's dotted all over with little green flourescent lights. Are they plastic stars? No. I've pinned up a thousand glow in the dark condoms. God bless

[starboye]

starring: simon "ghost" riley x male reader

request: ghost with a femboy reader <33 can be both nsfw or sfw which ever one you r comfortable with!!! :33

warnings: some smut, mentions of male pregnancy + breeding, sexual mentions, femboy!reader, mentions of drinking

SFW-

simon was shocked to say the least when he first layed eyes on you at a farmers market, seeing you dressed in a cute pink skirt as a full face of makeup as you shopped for fruits and veggies.

approaching you slowly to really get a good look at you and confirm if he was seeing things or not (this is the first ever time he's seen a guy dressed like you) and with further investigating following you around the store he realized you were in fact a guy.

he waited patiently till you dropped something to swoop in and helping you pick up your dropped items, using the situation as an opportunity to spike up a conversation on the kinds of apples you were getting and somehow leading to you giving him your number.

he was nervous to actually call you but with some help from the team after showing the a picture of you (that of which you still don't know how he snapped the picture) they were urging him to not let the "fine gentleman go to waste" in the words of captain price and ghost nervously called you.

he was definitely surprised when you answered his call, he had asked you on a date and you somewhat eagerly accepted the mans request, simon silently cheering when he hung up the phone.

and oh. my. god. when he saw you enter the restaurant in the most beautiful suit and all dazzled with your little accessories with the most fine make up he's ever seen he was adjusting his pants the whole night and always excusing himself to the bathroom.

once the date was over he was itching to see you again, not being able to get you off his mind during mission debriefs or even the mission itself, only thinking of your handsome face the whole time.

once you guys finally scheduled your second date he was happy as a clam at high water, smiling the whole way to the park where you planned to meet just for him to get there to see you in a pretty slutty skirt and a crop top, it's like you wanted the man to keel over and die right there.

but he managed to hold himself together the whole date (although he can't deny that he didn't sneak a few peaks at your ass when you'd bend over to smell the flowers and feed the ducks at the lake and also during that date you both finally agreed to now be dating one another.

NSFW-

when he finally got you in his bed it was one night when you were a little drunk after a night out with the team and you were all but throwing yourself at the man, basically begging the man to fuck you with how you caressed his thigh under the table and hiked up your skirt when you 'drop' something on accident.

but simon wasn't complaining when he had been imagining fucking you forever now but the only thing that held his dick at night when he was hard was his own fist and the though of your mouth.

he had made you a moaning, babbling, and incoherent mess by the end of the night after fucking load after load out of you and plowing load after load into your tight hole.

with how good you looked and the way you dressed he had been imagining putting you in all sorts of positions to take his cock and when he finally got the chance he didn't disappoint, putting you in sorts of positions like mating press, missionary, and full nelson, thoroughly impressed by how well you took him in every position.

during it all simon had to keep reminding himself that you can't get pregnant and walk around base all swell with his kids in your tummy but he'd be damned if he didn't try to at least give you a stomach full of his cum.

next day you woke up sore, aching, and barely remembering where you were but with the sight of simon tightly holding you in his arms with that cute but smug smile on his face you nuzzled back into him, maybe even rolling your leaking ass on his crotch just to start a little something.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @kadenvatsune @fuckshft

[vantetaes]

SPRING FLING🫧🥂

COUNTRY BOY! EREN X CITY GIRL BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! yn goes back to visit what once was her home 15 years ago, only to meet a new face.

WARNINGS!!! 18+!!! high sexual themes! oral (f receiving), penetration, slow burn before smut

a part of you missed it. waking up to the fresh smell of sausage sizzling in hot grease while grits simmered on a burner next to it. feeling the cool summer breeze whip around your sweltering body from playing kickball in the large mowed field with some of the towns kids. drinking freshly squeezed lemonade your grandmother made before tending to her garden.

as the driver slowly approaches your grandparents estate, your heart couldn’t help but to let up a little. the large white house still sat perfectly on their plot of land.

“yn, sweetheart!” the houses screen door flys open with a screech. your grandmother dressed in a flowing white dress, tan beach hat, arm decorated with small gold bangles and her wedding band catching rays of sun.

the driver places his car in park, opening his door to retrieve your suitcase from the trunk. hopping out of the yellow vehicle, the older lady meets you halfway. wrinkled hands caressing your face, she smiles.

“it’s been too long. you’re all grown up on us!”

before anything could leave your lips, a grunt comes from around the bend of the house. your grandfather, covered in motor oil and dirt caked overalls. he removes his gloves, walking towards you and his wife, smile reaching his ears.

“ah i would hug ya honey but im dirtier than the pigs!”

your grandparents liked the life they lived away from the city. the way they could sit on the wrap around porch, grandfather sipping a beer and grandmother some lemonade, their towns newspaper tucked in their palms. watching as the sun ducked their bright red barn, casting a golden glow over the crops and animals grazing on the lush landscape. the stars peeking through transparent clouds, moon creating its atmosphere in the sky.

your grandmother enjoyed picking fresh fruits from her orchard, baking pies and making jams with the delectable fruits. your grandfather loved the lake that sat on the other side of the large property. growing up you’d grown to love these things about them.

as for yourself? you wouldn’t be caught dead doing half the things they do.

your career path led you to pharmaceutical consulting. working for one of the biggest companies in the world. it wasn’t something you enjoyed, but it funded the life you wanted.

living in a penthouse, well off from the city below you. the work was intense, demanding, and you needed to stay on top of it. anyone is replaceable in jobs such as those.

which is why you put in every single pto hour you had into a month long vacation.

to the middle of nowhere.

the wheels of the suitcase clank against the wooden stairs as your grandfather lugs it up the flight. following behind the older lady, excitement bubbles out of your grandmother while she quickens her pace, rushing to the door at the end of the hallway.

when she pushes the door open, it gives way easily, the hinges murmuring softly. the air that greets you is faintly cool, laced with the sweet scent of spring. someone had left the large french windows cracked open, the lace curtains drifting in slow, ghostly ripples.

“just like you left it, darlin’!” the lady says cheerfully.

stepping in feels like stepping back into a memory too fragile to hold in your hands. the room is pale, almost dreamlike. soft white walls, still wearing faint shadows of posters long torn away, frame the space. A canopy bed sits against the far wall, its sheer, pastel pink and ivory drapes spilling down like delicate water, pooled at the floor as if waiting for someone to step through them. the bed itself is made, layered with quilts of faint creams and frilly edges, whispering of afternoons spent sprawled on its surface with a book or diary.

“mary anne, we gotta get back to town to pick up some more feed for the chickens! ‘for the sun go down! i ain’t got my glasses either.” after placing your suitcase inside the threshold, your grandfather gives the back of your head a slight hold before placing a small kiss to the top.

“okay! okay! you ain’t gotta rush, clyde!” the two eventually leave you alone to unpack and do as you need.

to the right, a dresser waits, its porcelain knobs cool and familiar, though you can see chips where small hands must have struck too hard, too often. a vintage vanity mirrors the scene beside it, its surface cluttered with an array of glass perfume bottles, now dulled with dust. the mirror above has started to haze, its edges flecked with age, but you can still catch glimpses of yourself. a cushioned stool still sits beneath, its ruffled seat faded and threadbare.

the light here is alive. golden and warm, it pours through the cracked windows, catching on floating dust motes that swirl like restless fireflies. outside, unseen branches scratch faintly against the frame, their new leaves brushing with the weightlessness of spring. the breeze curls in through the cracks, carrying the faintest hints of magnolia and freshly turned earth, slipping beneath the canopy and rustling the skirts of the curtains.

there’s a rug in the center of the room, its edges frayed, and around it—near bookshelves that haven’t been touched in years—small details stand out like relics: a porcelain music box with its lid still half-open, a stuffed rabbit missing one eye perched on the window seat. all of it feels caught in a quiet kind of waiting.

your footsteps are softened by the wooden floor beneath, the boards groaning faintly under your weight. you look around and inhale deeply. it smells faintly of lavender, of clean linens, freshly cut grass, and mahogany wood.

the hot water washes away the weight of the morning and plane rides, the steam curling in soft, misty clouds that cling to the glass. you stand under the spray longer than you need to, letting it loosen muscles you hadn’t realized were tight, letting it strip the last remnants of dust from your skin. when you finally step out, the room feels cooler, the steam clinging to the mirror and walls in beads of condensation.

lathing your body in cocoa butter and applying a fair amount of lip balm.

you pull on something simple: a soft white tank top and a pair of loose cerulean cotton shorts, light enough to let the sun find your skin. carefully pulling your shower cap off, the water droplets falling down to your shoulders, running off your moisturized skin. you grab a new bottle of sunscreen from your spwarled out suitcase, the book ‘if cats disappeared from the world’, and your black chanel sunglasses.

as you make your way barefoot down the creaking staircase, everything tucked in between your arm. the house warm and bright in a way that feels both lived-in and empty. you’re halfway to the back porch when the front door swings open, and your grandparents call for your attention.

“hey, hold up a minute-” your grandfather says, pausing just inside the doorway, his hat in one hand and the keys to the truck jangling in the other. Your grandmother lingers behind him, hands resting on her hips, her face soft but serious.

“-we’re headed into town for a bit.” she says. “need some supplies for the farm and a few other things.”

you nod, shifting your weight onto one foot as you glance toward the back porch, toward the promise of sun and quiet.

“‘fore you run off-” your grandfather adds, pulling the hat onto his head.

“one of the town boys is ‘posed to be stoppin’ by. hes gone take a look at the barn, see about fixin’ up some of the beams we been neglectin’.”

“you’ll know him when you see him.” she says, a touch warily.

“so just keep an eye out. he’s probably fine, but you know how folks can be.”

something about their tone. half warning, half habit. makes you bristle. you know how quickly people judge someone based on a name, a family, a shadow cast long before them.

“all right.” you say lightly, hoping to end the conversation before it becomes something heavier.

“i’ll be outside if he shows up.”

your grandmother nods, giving you one last lingering look, and then they’re gone—boots on the porch steps, the truck’s engine growling to life and disappearing down the road. you linger by the door for a moment, watching the dust settle in the empty yard. the house feels quieter now, a little too still.

when you turn toward the back porch, the sunlight calls to you again, warm and golden, a balm for whatever comes next.

the back door opens swiftly, letting in gusts of spring air to sweep across the floors. trudging through the plains of grass tickling your thighs, you find yourself at the small floating pond your grandfather built. it sat in front of the large red barn, creating a scene of what farm living actually is.

the pond is fairly quiet, except for the hum of cicadas and the faint lapping of water against its banks. the cows deep moo a little in the distance. the sun hangs high, drenching everything in gold, and the heat wraps around you like a second skin.

you’re stretched out on a reclined lawn chair, a thin towel draped beneath you to catch the sweat. your sunglasses shield your eyes, and a book rests open in your hands, though the words blur a little under the laziness of the afternoon. a half eaten sandwich and a glass of fresh strawberry lemonade sweats beside you, the condensation leaving rings of water on the tiny wooden table. it’s sweet and cold against your tongue, a small relief in the heaviness of the heat.

your top is flung casually over the back of the chair, leaving you in a white bathing suit, comfortable and unbothered as you let the sun soak into your skin. the soft breeze off the water kisses your shoulders every now and then, rustling the pages of your book.

it isn’t until the sharp, uneven sound of boots on gravel carries over the quiet that you lift your sunglasses, brow pinching.

at first, you only catch a shadow moving toward you from the far side of the reservoir. someone tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly not your grandparents.

“hey!” the voice calls, deep but rough, like he hasn’t spoken much today.

you sit up a little straighter, your sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you look him over. he’s closer now, close enough for you to see the sharp lines of his face, the way dark hair falls a little too messily over his forehead. he’s wearing a plain t-shirt, worn jeans stained at the knees, and scuffed boots that kick up small puffs of dirt as he moves. there’s a toolbox in his hand, which he sets down carelessly at his feet.

“you’re, uh…-” he trails off, scanning you quickly before looking away, his jaw tight. he was issued to seeing old people on this property. but you were a sight for sore eyes. he couldn’t help but fixate his green eyes back onto you. watching as the beads of condensation dripped from the glass to your exposed cleavage, sliding down between your moisturized boobs. that were too big for the swim top your sported. his eyes fed off the way your e/c* eyes shined in the light under the black shields, lips glistening under the rays.

“im here for the barn. your grandparents said someone would be around.” his words are tight and frigid.

you blink, caught between annoyance and curiosity.

“yeah, they mentioned you.” you let your sunglasses slide back into place, leaning back in the chair as if his presence hasn’t disrupted anything.

“didn’t realize you’d be here so soon.”

“you’re welcome.” he mutters, a hint of sarcasm threading through the words as he squats to grab the toolbox.

you raise a brow, bristling.

“didn’t say i was thanking you.”

that makes him pause, glancing up through his lashes like he can’t decide whether to be amused or annoyed. a scoff releases from his lips.

“you sure are a real warm welcome, huh? and you’re reading a book about.. cats?”

“and you’re a little grumpy for someone who just got here. not that it’s any of your concern, i prefer cats over mutts.”

he huffs out a breath, maybe a laugh, but it’s hard to tell, and shakes his head, muttering something you can’t quite hear. you watch as he straightens up again, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead as if to dismiss you entirely.

“look, i’ll stay outta your way. just here to fix the barn, ma’am.” he says, nodding toward the distant structure.

“you can go back to… whatever this is.” his gaze flickers briefly over your lemonade, the book, your sprawled-out figure in the sun, before he turns on his heel and starts walking toward the barn.

you glare after him, irritation bubbling to the surface. the nerve of him, showing up out of nowhere with a chip on his shoulder like you’re the one invading his day.

“you’re welcome.” you call after him pointedly, though he doesn’t stop, just throws a hand up in a half-hearted wave of dismissal.

the barn door groans open in the distance, and you sink back into your chair with a huff, flipping your book shut. for the first time all day, the quiet doesn’t feel so peaceful anymore.

he had been long gone by the time your grandparents arrived back at the house. watching the sun set on the horizon out of the kitchen windows, casting a warm orange and pink hue to the house. you couldn’t help but to think about how strange of an interaction that was today.

“some’ wrong, darlin’?” your grandfather asks, pulling apart a small peice of his dinner roll, slipping it into his mouth.

“nothing papa. just tired i think. not really used to the time difference again.”

-

the kitchen smells like sugar, butter, and lemon zest. thick and warm in the morning light streaming through the windows. you stand beside your grandmother at the granite counter, your hands dusted in flour as you work a soft, pliable ball of dough, rolling it carefully under her watchful gaze. the little puffs of flour catch the light as they float lazily to the counter, turning the morning into something hazy and dreamlike. outside, the morning doves are already humming, and the breeze carries the faintest whiff of honeysuckle through the cracked window above the sink.

“not too thin now, dear.” your grandmother says gently, leaning over to inspect your work. her hair is pinned back neatly, and there’s a streak of flour on her cheek that she hasn’t noticed.

“these tarts need some structure, or they’ll fall apart ‘fore they make it to the church. we can’t have a lock in with no tarts, honey.”

“yes, ma’am.” you mutter, suppressing a small smile as you focus on the dough, guiding it into perfect little circles for the tart shells.

the table is cluttered with bowls and ingredients. deep red raspberries, bright and glistening, piled in a pale ceramic dish; a glass juicer with lemon pulp still clinging to its grooves; a small jar of sugar, the lid left slightly askew. your grandmother moves around the kitchen like she always has. calm, methodical, humming a hymn under her breath as she fills the air with the scent of baking pastry. you help her spoon the tart mixture into the shells, carefully pressing a few raspberries into each before she slides them into the oven, her hands covered in oven mitts patterned with sunflowers.

while the tarts bake, she chats softly about who will be at the church service, about old friends and new faces, her voice lilting as if trying to bridge the years that you’ve been gone. it’s comforting, her easy way of speaking, and you let it wash over you as you wipe down the counters, the scent of caramelizing sugar growing richer by the minute.

“i really appreciate your help this mornin’.” her sweet voice fills the silence.

your grandfather appears in the doorway just as you’re checking the tarts, a small grin tucked beneath his mustache. hes holding a set of keys. old, scratched, and gleaming faintly in his calloused hand.

“got something for ya.” he says, the words light but carrying a weight that makes you stop mid-step.

your grandmother glances over her shoulder, smiling softly as if she’s been expecting this.

“go on, now. see what he’s got.”

you follow your grandfather outside, the morning sun already high and hot, the light pooling across the gravel driveway. parked just off to the side of the house is a truck—not new by any stretch of the imagination, but clean, its pale blue paint shining faintly in the sunlight. it’s an older model, rounded and boxy in that classic way, and you can see where he’s spent hours tinkering with it. fresh tires, a polished hood, the faint scent of oil and steel lingering in the air.

“you’re givin’ me this?” you ask, a little breathless.

“sure am.” he replies, pressing the keys into your palm with a nod that’s gruff but affectionate.

“i’ve been workin’ on it a few months now. runs smooth s’ever. figured you might want somethin’ to get around while you’re here.”

the gesture hits you harder than you expect, and you swallow against the sudden warmth building in your chest.

“thank you,” you say softly, running your fingers over the keys before looking back at him.

he pats your shoulder in that firm, no-nonsense way of his.

“you go on, take her for a spin. just don’t let it sit idle too long, y’hear?”

you decide you can’t possibly drive your new truck around town in the same pajama bottoms and rumpled tank top you’ve been in since morning. after a quick shower, you stand in front of the mirror in your childhood bedroom, brushing your hair as the sun filters softly through the lace curtains. you choose something easy. a flowy white sundress, the fabric soft against your skin, cinched at the waist, flaring out below. it’s the kind of dress that moves when you walk, catching the breeze and making you feel like youre floating. slipping on tan sandals and grabbing your sunglasses.

sliding into the truck feels surreal, the leather of the driver’s seat warm beneath your legs as you turn the ignition. the engine rumbles to life with a satisfying purr, and you grip the wheel with a grin you can’t quite suppress.

the drive into town is nothing short of idyllic. the windows are rolled down, the warm breeze tugging at your hair and the hem of your dress as you cruise past fields of tall grass and wildflowers. radio crackles softly, static giving way to an old country song you don’t recognize but hum along to anyway. the town comes into view slowly. a handful of streets lined with brick buildings, white picket fences, and storefronts with painted signs. it’s small and familiar, a place where everyone knows everyone, and yet it feels entirely new through your eyes.

you park the truck just off the main street, slipping the keys into your bag before heading toward the square. the town is quiet, but there’s enough movement to remind you that life trickles on here. people chatting on porches, kids weaving through alleys on their bikes, a group of guys sitting on the bed of an old truck parked near the general store.

you don’t notice them at first, too busy taking in the details of the place. but their voices, loud and lazy—drift over as you pass.

“well, well.” one of them drawls, amusement curling through the words.

“ain’t expect to see you all the way out here.”

you glance over sharply, your gaze landing on none other than him. eren jaeger. leaned back against the tailgate of the truck, his arms crossed and a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. his friends exchange looks that border on curious and entertained.

“didn’t expect you to talk to me.” you shoot back without missing a beat, stopping just a few feet away.

eren raises a brow, clearly enjoying this already.

“oh, don’t worry. i’m just surprised you’re not still sunbathing by the pond, princess.”

“princess? it’s yn to you. and all of you.” you repeat, folding your arms across your chest.

“also, big talk for someone who can’t even find full jeans.” your acrylic points to the dirty man-made holes decorating the boys jeans.

that earns you a snort of laughter from one of his friends, but eren just tilts his head slightly, the smirk never faltering.

“guess you’re still mad about yesterday. why you so upset at me, darlin’?”

“mad? please.” you say, rolling your eyes. “nothing even happened.”

“mmh. sure you aren’t.” he says, pushing off the tailgate to stand up fully, his height a little more imposing up close. there’s something sharp about him. his voice, his gaze, but beneath it is something else, something less certain. you get the feeling he’s used to being looked at sideways, just like your grandparents warned you about.

“you always this charming, or is it just for me?” you ask, tipping your chin up slightly. eyes meeting his low green ones.

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as his friends snicker quietly behind him.

“you’re somethin’ else.” he mutters, more to himself than to you. turning on your heels, you rush to excape the uncomfortable encounter.

“see you around, princess.”

-

the next day stretches out slow and quiet. the house feels bigger without your grandparents, their absence leaving a stillness that clings to every corner. you’ve taken full advantage of the solitude, padding barefoot through the rooms in an oversized t-shirt and little else. the fabric brushes against your thighs as you move, worn soft with age, like an old friend. the back of the shirt reads something about a fishing derby from a year that predates you, and you’ve rolled the sleeves haphazardly up your shoulders, letting the collar slip wide against your collarbone.

you spend the morning lazing on the couch, your legs sprawled across the cushions as you flip halfheartedly through a book you aren’t really reading. somewhere outside, birds chatter, and the cicadas hum their slow, pulsing chorus.

it’s the kind of day where time feels like it doesn’t exist. you shuffle into the kitchen whenever you’re hungry, toast a bagel you don’t finish, drink lemonade straight from the pitcher, and leave the radio on low just to fill the silence. some soft, crooning voice filters through the speakers, adding to the lazy weight of the afternoon.

you’re perched on the arm of the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, flipping through an old fashion magazine you found tucked in a drawer when the knock comes, sharp and sudden against the door.

it startles you, your head snapping up as the noise echoes through the quiet house. the second knock follows quickly, impatient this time. you glance toward the clock on the wall, but it’s no help, just another reminder that time isn’t real today.

frowning, you slide off the couch, tugging the hem of your t-shirt self-consciously as you head toward the door. the knob feels cool beneath your fingers as you pull it open just far enough to see who it is.

and there he is.

eren, standing on your grandparents’ front porch like he belongs there, though his posture suggests otherwise. hes got one hand braced against the doorframe, his other hooked loosely in the pocket of his jeans. a thin white t-shirt clings to him in the heat, faint smudges of dirt streaked across the fabric like he’s been working outside all day. his dark hair looks even messier than it did before. some tucked into the cowboy hat, other strands falling over his forehead and curling faintly from the humidity.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his gaze catching on your bare legs before he flicks his eyes up to meet yours. his expression shifts, something unreadable dancing just beneath the surface. you realize too late how you must look: hair messy, t-shirt oversized and sliding off your shoulder, a little breathless from having rushed to the door.

“what?” you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest as if that might protect you from the way he’s looking at you.

“nice greeting.” he says dryly, his voice low and a little rough around the edges.

“well, you did show up uninvited.” you shoot back, arching a brow.

“what do you want?”

eren exhales through his nose, almost like he’s amused but trying not to show it.

“your grandparents asked me to stop by. said there’s a busted pipe in the barn and they didn’t want to wait until they got back to fix it.”

you frown, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe.

“and they sent you?”

“clearly.” his lips twitch, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“believe it or not, i know how to do more than just piss you off.”

you roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“well, the barn’s out back. you know where it is. the big. red. building.”

“i do. smartass.” he says, but he doesn’t move, and there’s a spark of something in his eyes. mischief, maybe. that makes you suddenly aware of just how much skin your t-shirt doesn’t cover.

“what?” you ask again, sharper this time.

“nothing.” he shrugs, the movement lazy as he pushes off the doorframe and takes a step back.

“just didn’t peg you for the type to lounge around in your underwear all day. but what do i know? you wore a bikini outside.”

heat flashes across your cheeks instantly, and you grip the edge of the door tighter.

“it’s not underwear, creep. it’s comfortable.”

“sure.” he says, smirk fully formed now as he starts toward the barn, hands tucked into his pockets.

“looks real… comfortable.”

you slam the door before he can say anything else, the wood rattling in the frame.

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of his boots on the gravel, his laughter carrying faintly through the cracked window.

the hum of the radio drifts on, and sunlight still slants through the windows, but something about the space feels restless now. like the air has been disturbed and won’t settle again. you find yourself standing by the door, chewing your lip and staring at nothing in particular.

it’s curiosity, you decide. that’s all it is. you’re just curious about him. about the boy who showed up at your door unannounced, dripping sarcasm like it’s second nature, as though he thrives on pressing your buttons. that’s why, after pacing the kitchen once or twice, you tug on a pair of shoes and head outside.

the barn stands at the back of the property, worn and familiar, its paint faded and roof patched with tin that glints under the afternoon sun. the gravel crunches beneath your feet as you cross the yard, your shadow stretching long ahead of you. you can hear him before you see him. something clattering against metal, followed by a low muttered curse that drifts out through the open barn doors.

you pause just outside, peeking around the corner. eren is crouched low near the base of a wooden post, his toolbox spread out beside him, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. sweat glistens faintly along the line of his neck, dark hair curling slightly against his temple, though he seems too focused on whatever he’s fixing to notice you.

“i hope you don’t talk to the pipes like that.” you say, stepping into the doorway.

eren glances up sharply, his eyes narrowing as soon as he sees you.

“what are you doing in here?”

“just checking on you.” you lean against the frame, arms crossed, the hem of your t-shirt fluttering faintly in the breeze.

“you could be in here stealing, for all I know.”

he snorts, turning back to the pipe.

“yeah, im gonna steal an old tractor and a pile’a hay. that’ll really set me up for life.”

“you’ve got the attitude for it.” you shoot back.

eren doesn’t respond right away, just reaches into his toolbox and pulls out a wrench, testing the pipe with a faint metallic screech. you take the opportunity to wander further into the barn, your bare legs brushing against the dust-speckled air, the smell of earth and old wood thick in your nose.

“don’t distract me.” he mutters after a moment, though there’s no real heat in it.

“distract you from what?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“you seem like you know what you’re doing.”

“i do.” he replies quickly, then pauses to glance up at you again, that familiar edge of sarcasm tugging at his voice.

“but I don’t need you hovering over me like a supervisor.”

“im not hovering.” you say, wandering toward the ladder that leads up to the loft. You trail your fingers along a beam as you go, the wood rough and splintered beneath your touch.

“im just… observing.”

“observing me.” he corrects, the corner of his mouth twitching.

you shrug, tilting your head to look at him.

“maybe. you’re hard to figure out.”

“well… why are ya tryin’ t’figure me out?” he fires back, turning his full attention to you now. his gaze is sharp, but there’s something behind it. something curious, like he’s trying to pick you apart the same way you’re doing to him.

you hesitate, feeling your face heat up despite yourself.

“im just bored.”

“bored ?” eren repeats, his voice dry.

“well, sorry im not here to entertain you, princess.”

you bristle at the nickname, pushing off the beam to face him fully.

“will you quit calling me that?”

“what?” he says, smirking now. “does it bother you?”

“obviously.”

“good.” he huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he goes back to the pipe, adjusting the wrench with a sharp twist. the muscles in his forearm flex with the movement, beads of sweat dripping from his body.

“you’re insufferable.” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn and start to climb the ladder to the loft. the wood creaks faintly under your hands and feet, but you ignore it, needing to put a little distance between you and him.

“where are you going?” he calls from below, sounding more amused than anything.

“away from you!” you shout back, hoisting yourself onto the loft and brushing the dust from your knees. the space is dim, beams of sunlight filtering through the slats in the walls, catching on cobwebs and hay strewn across the floor. you sink down near the edge, letting your legs dangle as you glance back down at him.

“don’t worry. i won’t distract you from all your hard work.”

eren glances up at you with a look that’s half exasperation, half something else. he stands, tossing the wrench back into his toolbox with a faint clatter.

“or you could just gone back in the house. you’re a real piece’a work, you know that?”

“you’re one to talk.” you shoot back, swinging your feet slightly.

“you act like you hate me, but you keep showing up.”

“i don’t hate you and i keep showing up for your folks, not you.” he mutters, scrubbing the back of his hand across his forehead as he looks away.

“you just talk too much.”

“and you’re just cranky.”

he lets out a soft laugh, one that seems to surprise even him. when he looks back at you, his expression is different, though it’s hard to tell in the dappled light of the barn.

“you don’t know anything about me.” he says finally, his voice quieter this time.

you tilt your head, studying the man below you.

“maybe not. but I know you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

eren stiffens slightly at that, his jaw ticking as he averts his gaze. for a moment, the only sound is the wind pressing against the barn, rattling the boards, and the distant hum of cicadas.

“you don’t know that either. and what about you, huh? showing’ up outta nowhere. bein’ as bossy as you are?” he says eventually, his tone flat.

“im a pretty good judge of character. and i used to live here. a lot changes in fifteen years.”

he scoffs, but there’s no real bite to it.

“you’re annoying.”

“and yet you’re still here.” you say, letting a smile creep onto your face.

the loft creaks beneath you, but you don’t think much of it at first. it’s old, worn by years of weight and weather, and the barn itself seems to hum with the memory of its age. eren is below, fiddling with his toolbox, muttering curses under his breath as he wrestles with some stubborn pipe or post. you’re perched on the edge of the loft, legs dangling as you watch him, not bothering to hide your smirk.

“you’re taking forever.” you tease, your voice carrying through the barn.

eren pauses, glancing up with an annoyed glare.

“if you think you can do it faster, darlin’ , be my guest.”

“oh, i didn’t say that.” you reply, leaning back with a huff of satisfaction.

“i’m just observing how inefficient you are.”

he mutters something under his breath, shaking his head, and you’re about to push his buttons again when the sharp sound of splintering wood freezes you. the beam beneath you gives a slow, aching groan. erens head shoots up, noticing the lift giving in right where you sat.

you don’t have time to react. the wood cracks loudly, shattering the stillness, and suddenly you’re falling.

it happens in a rush. your stomach lurching, air rushing past you, hands scrambling for anything to grab. you hit something solid but not the ground. the impact knocks the wind out of you, but there are arms around you, holding you tightly.

“jesus christ!” eren’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and alarmed. “are you stupid?”

your brain catches up slowly, heart still slamming against your ribs as you look up to find eren staring down at you. his face is just inches from yours, his arms wrapped firmly around you where he caught you before you could hit the floor.

“i—” you start to say, but the words catch in your throat.

eren lets out a breath, long and shaky, as he lowers you carefully to the barn floor. his hands linger at your sides, steadying you. “are you okay?”

you try to nod, but then you feel it. the sharp, searing pain radiating up your leg. you wince, shifting slightly, and his eyes dart downward.

“you’re hurt.” he says flatly.

“no, i’m fine,” you lie, but as soon as you move your leg, the pain worsens. you look down to see a gash along your shin, blood streaking your skin where the wood must have splintered against you.

eren notices immediately.

“shit-” he mutters, reaching for you before you can protest. “don’t move.”

“eren, i’m fine,” you insist, but your voice wavers when you try to put weight on your leg.

“yeah, sure you are,” he shoots back, already scooping you up before you can argue. his arms slide beneath your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly.

“stop squirming, unless you wanna make this worse.”

you freeze, stunned at the way he carries you, like you weigh nothing at all. his face is set, focused, though you swear you can see a flicker of concern beneath the irritation.

“you don’t have to carry me.” you mumble, feeling heat creep up your neck.

he doesn’t look at you. “and what, let you drag yourself back to the house? don’t be stupid. now imma have to fix up the loft.”

the walk back to the house feels longer than usual, the silence stretching between you save for the crunch of his boots against the dirt. you steal glances at him—at the way his brow furrows in concentration, at the way his arms flex slightly beneath your weight. his grip is careful, like he’s afraid of jostling you too much.

“you’re really dramatic, you know.” you say quietly, trying to lighten the mood.

eren snorts, glancing down at you with a raised brow.

“me? you’re the one who decided to fall through the damn barn.”

“it wasn’t a choice.” you mutter, pouting slightly.

“whatever you say, princess.”

he carries you through the front door like it’s nothing, kicking it open with his boot before setting you down gently on the couch. the shift makes you wince, and he notices, crouching beside you immediately.

“last door on the left, under the sink.”

“stay put.” he says, voice low but firm, before disappearing into the bathroom.

you sigh, leaning your head back against the cushions as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind nothing but the dull ache in your leg and the embarrassment settling deep in your chest.

when eren comes back, he’s holding the first aid kit and a damp towel. he drops onto the floor in front of you, his knees brushing the edge of the couch as he sets everything down.

“this might sting.” he warns, wetting the towel before carefully pressing it to your shin.

you hiss through your teeth, nails curling into the couch cushion. “you could be a little gentler, you know.”

“i am being gentle.” he says, though his tone lacks its usual bite. he works quickly, cleaning the blood and dirt from the scrape before carefully dabbing it dry.

you watch him quietly as he unwraps a roll of gauze, his movements surprisingly careful, his expression softer than you’ve seen before.

“you didn’t have to do all this.” you say softly.

eren doesn’t look up, focused on securing the bandage.

“yeah, well. you’re not exactly good at taking care of yourself.”

“is that your way of saying you care?”

he pauses for half a second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. the look he gives you is unreadable, but there’s something there. something warm.

“just… don’t do anything stupid like that again.” he mutters, his gaze dropping back to the bandage.

you bite back a smile, watching as he finishes and sits back on his heels. his hands linger on your leg for a moment, testing to make sure the gauze is secure before he finally stands.

“thanks.” you say quietly, your voice soft.

eren just shrugs, grabbing the first aid kit and standing to his full height. “don’t mention it.”

you try to mimic his movements, grabbing onto the arm of the couch for support until the pain shoots you right back down. eren wastes no time meeting you at eye level again, frowing a little.

“you need to stay put. stop being so damn hardheaded, yn.”

“finally you use my name.” his eyes burn deep holes into yours, brown chunks of hair framing his face.

“eh. i still like princess.”

he pauses, just for a second, as if he’s considering something. then he turns, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“both are real pretty though.” he mutters, but his voice is quieter now, softer. there’s an edge of something else there, something that’s hard to place.

you feel your heart pick up, and before you can even process the thought, before you can even think to stop him, he’s closing the space between you. his hand comes to rest gently on the side of your face, and then, with surprising tenderness, he leans in. the kiss is slow, hesitant at first. just a brush of lips against yours. but it deepens quickly, and for a moment, it feels like time itself is holding its breath. maybe you were holding your breath. his hand curls around the back of your neck, and you instinctively lean into him, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his lips presses against yours, soft and urgent.

the kiss is over almost as soon as it started, and when he pulls back, his face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your skin. his eyes are dark, a little unsure, but there’s something raw there too.

“eren?” you whisper, breathless, unsure of what to say, what to do with the sudden surge of emotions.

he doesn’t speak at first, just looks at you like he’s trying to figure you out. his fingers linger against your skin for a second too long before he pulls away, stepping back.

���um, guess i’ll get going then.” he says, voice low, almost like he’s unsure of himself for the first time.

he basically rushes out the front door, leaving you with a bloody gauze pad wrapped around your shin and a sense of confusion.

-

the farmer’s market buzzes softly with life. the air smells of ripe peaches and freshly baked bread, and the sunlight filters through the trees, dappled and golden. you weave through the crowd, your basket swinging lightly on your arm, filled with a small loaf of sourdough and a jar of honey. it’s your favorite part of the week, wandering between the stalls, picking out produce and listening to the steady murmur of the townsfolk.

you’ve got a small crumpled list tucked into your hand: oat milk, a jar of honey, maybe some fresh greens, and you’re weaving your way through the market when you spot him. eren. he’s standing with a man you can only assume is his father. the resemblance is impossible to miss: the sharpness of the jawline, the same dark hair, though his father’s is streaked with gray, and the way they both carry themselves. quiet and a little standoffish. they’re posted at a vegetable stand, crates of carrots, onions, and cucumbers spread out before them. eren’s arms are crossed as he listens to something his father says, his brow furrowed like he’s only half paying attention.

something about the way eren glances around, almost restless, makes you hesitate. you watch for a beat longer, tucked slightly behind another booth, debating whether to approach. but then eren looks up, and his gaze lands on you. for a second, he’s still, his face unreadable. then his eyes shift slightly, narrowing, and it almost feels like he’s warning you.

you step forward anyway, hobbling a little on your sore leg.

“eren.” you say, your voice soft but steady. his name feels strangely loud against the background chatter, and both he and his father turn to look at you.

eren’s face tightens slightly, but he doesn’t look away. his father, on the other hand, gives you a long, slow once-over, his sharp green eyes cutting into you with a coolness that makes your chest tighten.

“who’s this?” his father asks, his tone mild but clipped, like the words have edges.

“yn, sir.” you offer quickly, stepping closer and giving him a polite smile.

“i’ve been staying with my grandparents for the spring. i’ve seen eren around, so i thought i’d introduce myself. he helps around a lot.”

you hold out your hand, but his father doesn’t take it. instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the booth’s counter, his gaze steady and unwavering.

“introducing yr’self, huh?” he says, his voice light, almost amused, but there’s something underneath it, something just sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

“not many of the town folk bother to stop by our booth, let’lone introduce themselves. guess you must be curious.”

you pull your hand back awkwardly, your smile faltering as you glance at eren.

“i just thought it would be nice, sir. i apologize.” you reply, trying to keep your voice even.

“your vegetables do look great.”

his father lets out a soft huff of a laugh, barely more than an exhale.

“yeah, they do, don’t they? we put a lotta work into this land. more than most people around here would know.”

eren shifts beside him, his jaw tightening.

“dad.” he mutters under his breath, but his father doesn’t even glance at him.

“you stayin’ with the wrights?” his father asks, tilting his head slightly.

“figured. they’re good people, always minding their own business. shame not everyone in town does the same.”

you blink, the words settling in your chest like stones. there’s no malice in his tone, not directly, but the weight of them is unmistakable.

eren’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his shoulders tense.

“she’s just trying to be nice.” he says, his voice low, almost resigned, like he knows it won’t make a difference.

his father finally straightens, dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“nice is fine-” he says, glancing at you again. “-but not everyone ‘round here is friendly as they seem. might be worth ‘membering.”

the air between you feels tight, uncomfortable, and you’re not entirely sure if his words are meant as advice or something closer to a warning. you force another smile, even though your face feels stiff, and take a small step back.

“well, it was nice meeting you.” you say, your voice a little quieter now.

“i’ll let you both get back to work.”

eren looks at you then, his lips pressing together like he wants to say something but can’t. his father, however, just gives you a small, curt nod.

“have a good day, darlin’.” he says, the words clipped and formal.

you turn quickly, your cheeks burning, and make your way back into the flow of the market. the cheerful voices and warm sunlight feel duller now, muted by the lingering tension.

it’s not until you’ve stopped by another stall, pretending to inspect a bunch of lavender, that you feel eren’s presence beside you. you glance up, and there he is, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face pulled into a scowl.

“sorry about him.” he mutters, his voice low. “he’s… he’s just like that.”

you shrug, trying to act like it didn’t bother you, though the knot in your stomach hasn’t quite eased.

“it’s fine.” you say softly, but the look he gives you says he doesn’t believe you.

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the market swirls around you, full of life and sound, but between you, there’s only a quiet tension. finally, eren sighs, tilting his head toward the edge of the market.

“come on,” he says. “let’s get out of here.”

-

you’ve learned to move quietly, to slip through the back door of the house when no one’s looking, to meet him at the edge of the woods by the lake when the sun has set and the stars are just beginning to prick the sky. everything feels like it’s wrapped in silence, soft and secretive. even the air between you seems charged with something unspoken, something thrilling. for two weeks.

he was addictive.

soft whispers under your large quilts as his lips traced kisses from your neck to lips. engulfing you in a warm embrace. wind blowing through the windows he snuck into.

he loved seeing you drive past him casually in your truck while picking up groceries for your grandmother. watching your hair whip in the wind and the low hum of the trucks engine passing by.

when you and him sat in his living room, playing with the golden lab he named ‘scout’ when he was four. your fingers comb through his mane, tilting your face upwards to avoid from being licked by the drooling animal.

whenever your grandparents gave him yet another daunting task around the farm, he’d watch as your sprawled out in a bikini. sipping the sweet tea, beach hat shading your face. watching as the droplets of water dripped down your chest. he’d hate to admit how many times he’s almost nailed his hands to the barn.

“you okay over there?” your arm, half up in a wave, drawling his attention from your new position. you lay on your chest, slowly pulling at the strings holding your top up. letting them dangle off the side of the chair, you slide the waistline of your bottoms down a little.

“eren! why don’t you come have some lemonade with me?”

you were driving him nuts.

he loved how lively you would get after spending the afternoons in a tiny, quaint bar located on the outskirts of town.

the drives back usually consisting of you halfway out the passenger window, eyes gazing up at the sky as you took advantage of the open landscape. eren would watch you intensely, eyes bouncing from the road back to you.

pulling into erens dirty path driveway, he pulls your body across the long front seat, carefully tucking his arms under your knees and around your back.

“im not drunkk!” you whine, face buried into the crook of the man’s neck while he places you down softly on the dark leather couch. closing his front door, his hand runs through his brown locs with an exasperated sigh.

“you need to sober up so i can take you home, yn. i ain’t trynna deal with a angry mob of old church people.” his height blinds out everything in your path as he stands over you. his large hands cup your face gently.

“boy im grown, come here.” you whisper, pulling him down by the forearm, eyes never leaving his. green eye flicker from your eyes to your glossed lips. your essence was like a gravitational pull.

lips locked onto one another, you can’t help but to notice he much softer his lips have gotten.

“you been exfoliating?”

“i’on know what that is, shut up and kiss me.”

it was hungry. borderline filthy the way his hands rubbed you down slowly. caressing the dips of your waist, cold jewelry slides across your stomach, hitching your breath. the tank top you wore stood no chance. brown nipples poking through the sheer cotton fabric.

hes smiling. feeling his hands roam you so freely. he couldn’t help but to take his thumbs and pointer fingers, slipping them into his mouth and out with a quick pop! going back under your shirt, he takes your perky buds in between his fingers, rolling them slowly as the rest of his hands cup your breast.

“oh! eren- oh my god.”

his lips pepper kisses all over your exposed skin, nipping at spots before kissing over the pain. hands roam down to your thighs, giving them tight grips before sliding down the couch.

eyes latched onto each other, you can’t help but to whine.

“please eren.”

this was the first time in years you’ve felt this strong of an attraction towards someone else. crazy for it to be eren of all people.

“please, what?” he’s slowly tugging at the drawstrings of the shorts you wore. eyes locked on you with a burning passion. sitting up against the arm of the couch, your shorts make it to the other side of the room.

your jaw is wide , eren hissing when you tug at his long brown locks. the moment he’s sliding his middle fingers into your burning core, stretching you open as his thumb slowly teases your clit. his body proceeding lower, all you can feel is slight gust of air hitting your cunt. his lips wrap gently around the swollen bud, sucking agonizingly slow, saliva and slick stick to the man’s face. he hums into your taste, wrapping his arms around the base of your thighs. he laid fully out on the couch.

instantly, you’re falling apart. moans breaking out in short whimpers and high gasps, grinding into his palm and nose. feeling his tongue slip inside your clenching hole, only to add two of his slender fingers.

his fingers scissor up into your throbbing cunt, hitting your sweet spot.

“babyy” you whimper, barely able to get anything out with the man’s face devouring you below. eyes closed in euphoria and concentration. hands interlocked into his head full of hair, your moans grow louder.

“doin’ such a good fuckin’ job, princess.”

feeling how he used his thumbs to spread open your pussy, using his tongue to penetrate your clenching hole. his tongue dips into you, coating his tongue in your cum, before coming back out and circling your swollen bud. the repetitive sensation sends you into a fit of louder moans, enticing the man to keep going.

“oh! ba- fu,fuck eren! im fucking c-“ the pressure builds, coiling tighter in your abdomen until you can't hold back anymore. not even when you’re cumming all over the man’s face, does he stop. he wants more now. he needs more.

from the first day he saw you out by the water, he knew he wanted you for himself. he watched the way you interacted with the townsfolk and farm animals. how sexy you were effortlessly. walking around your grandparents farm with nothing but a bikini on and practically see through shorts.

he hated to see other men in town look at you. the way the old, decrepit men would sit in the farmers markets and watch you browse around. whispering to each other while you naively chose your fruits and vegetables.

he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

his body jolts to a standing position, with ease he’s dipping down to pick you up off the couch. a large wet spot decorated the leather where you lie. he’s carrying you over his shoulder down the narrow hallway of the house.

“where we goin’?” you ask, eyes low and hazy.

you make it to the well decorated room. posters and band prints scattered on the wall , a radio sat in the corner, humming random songs from the station eren left it on. his bed was royal blue and well kept.

that was until you were being pounded into the bed.

you nails grip for anything they can reach. digging straight into the bed set, while his throbbing cock dips in and out of you. he has your right leg thrown over his shoulder, hands pinned to your waist as he draws out. face twisting in pleasure. his dick coated in the slippery substance, a faint white line forming the base of his cock as he moves in and out of you repeatedly .

“makin’ such a mess on me. pretty fuckin girl.”

he waste no time, throwing your other leg over his shoulder, locking you in as he quickens his pace. shallow breaths escape his mouth, eyes locked in concentration. you’re stuck with your mouth in an -o- shape as the man pounds you relentlessly. with a swift pull out, he taps against your side.

“on your knees, princess.”

on all fours, he wastes no time reinserting himself, bottoming out while his nails dig into the supple skin on your waist. the sound of skin slapping together and the wet squelches of your abused cunt bounce off the walls, filling your ears.

“i’ve wanted you for so long, you’re so good to me- fuck!”

the more your honey coated words fall from your lips, the more the man wants to ruin you. he wants to see you beg for him. he needed to have it.

pulling your arms from under you, he pins them to your back, locking you in an unforgiving arch. he feeds you slow, agonizing pleasing, strokes. loved watching the way your pussy desperately gripped around him as he pulled out.

trying your hardest to escape the abuse of your cervix, you try to pull away, only to receive a fire fueled spank on your ass.

“take this dick, baby. you had all that mouth ‘member? you can do it, i know ya can.”

his pace quickens, yearning for your release. the only thing you can form is small gasps of air as the man shows no mercy on your smaller frame.

“eren! oh shit- im cumming again ple-“

he releases your hands, using his free hand to rub at your clit as he continued fucking into you.

your body goes limp, clear liquid spewing out onto the man’s blankets. he flips you back over, eyes dark and full of hunger still.

“gimme just one more? please, honey. she just so good.”

folded into a middle split off the bed wasn’t something you ever thought you could do. yet here you were, on your back, eren standing in front of you, holding your legs apart.

his hips roll into yours, digging at your inside slowly. head tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed and eyes low. your hands hold onto his muscular forearm, trying to keep grounded as the man was wearing you out.

with a few more thrust, he pulls out. long white ropes decorate his chest.

“you’re something special, yn.”

-

after your grandparents had gone into town for their usual errands, you find yourself at the edge of the lake, hidden in the soft embrace of the willow trees. the faint glow of fireflies flickers in the warm spring air, and the world feels still, like it’s holding its breath for what’s to come. eren’s there before you, waiting, leaning against a tree with a smile that always makes your stomach flip.

“thought you’d never show up,” he teases, his voice low and smooth, like it’s a secret only meant for you. his eyes flicker over you, and the corner of his mouth pulls into a crooked grin.

“you just like being dramatic,” you reply, though you can feel the flutter in your chest as you walk closer, the pull between you too strong to ignore.

he steps forward, closing the space between you, and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours. quick, soft, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless. it’s always like this, quick, a rush of feeling that neither of you can seem to contain. he pulls away just as quickly, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“you’re insane.” you whisper, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

he grins, taking your hand and guiding you down the worn path toward the lake. the grass brushes against your bare legs, soft and cool under the fading light. the blanket he’s spread out by the water is a patchwork of colors. faded reds and yellows that look almost too bright against the darkening sky.

you settle down beside him, the scent of wildflowers heavy in the air. the lake reflects the dimming stars, the quiet ripples in the water mirroring the racing of your heart.

“y’know. ive been havin’ a lot of fun with you.” he playfully nudges your body, rocking you to the side.

“i know. imma miss you, country boy.” the fake southern accent rolled off your tongue sarcastically. although the tone was funny, something about erens aura shifted.

“what’s up? why’ve you gone all quiet?” you ask, eyes fixated on the male. the moonlight illuminated his face, exposing every freckle, unshaven parts of his face, and his eyes locked onto yours.

“i jus’ really don’t wanna let you go, princess.”

“don’t go all sappy on me now. i’ll visit when i can, you know that right?” he just nods, taking a drink of the beer he had before your arrival. the air was thick and warm, your knees pressed together, watching the water reflect the bedazzled night sky as eren just shuffles in his spot.

“yn, promise ya wont forget me?”

“eren-“ you try to stop the conversation before it happens. instead ending up in a tight hug from the man. his arms latch around your waist, head resting over your shoulder.

“im serious, yn. i ain’t ever felt this way for nobody.” pulling away, all you can see is his bright green eyes burning into yours.

“how could i ever?”

you lean in, your free hand brushing against his jaw as you kiss him. it’s slow, deliberate, and familiar, yet it feels new in the way it sends warmth flooding through you.

his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, his touch firm but gentle as he deepens the kiss, like he’s trying to hold onto the moment for as long as he can. the world around you fades. the quiet lap of the water against the shore, the soft hum of the crickets. until there’s nothing but him.

when you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. eren’s thumb brushes over the curve of your jaw, and his lips curl into a small, almost sheepish smile.

“you ever thought about visiting the city?”

© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.

random inspo pics at the bottom? yes!

[mistyorchid]

White Lipgloss

Logan Howlett x mutant fem!reader

summary: Your lips are chapped after an intense mission in the heat. Logan is more than willing to help. warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, age gap, student/professor, reader is 21+, praise kink, pet names (doll, bub, sweet girl, baby), size kink, oral (male!receiving), mention of exhibitionism, cum play. wc: 790

Pink, cherry-flavored oasis. Gleaming with your natural spit or a sickeningly sweet gloss. Logan compared your usual appearance to the pouty pair that was frowning in his direction.

"What, somethin' on my face?" You asked, slightly annoyed by Logan's persistent stare.

Before walking towards you with a snarky grin, he waited for the rest of the team to head inside the mansion.

It was no secret that you both celebrated after successful missions. The thick wood walls were no match for whatever sex symphony you were composing.

Logan stood with a hand on his hip, jutting out his right leg to assume the position of a smug boyfriend. He always distributed his weight when standing, like his dick weighed five pounds. Cocky motherfucker.

Lightly tracing your bottom lip with his index finger, he vaguely explained, "Nothing's on your face. Actually, you're missing a 'lil something. . ."

Your eyes widened at the sudden contact. The team completed the mission without any injuries, and that only meant one thing. Logan was celebrating where anyone could see you.

Swiftly removing his hand, you hissed, "Inside. Now. I don't want Charles to write us up again."

Logan chuckled, reasoning, "It was only one time. How could I have known that Dr. Phil would stray from his usual route? All he saw was his star student inspecting and repairing the frayed belt fibers of a respected member of faculty. You know how Charles gets when I'm not business casual."

Before Logan had the chance to embarrass you further, you wrapped an arm around his waist and instantly traveled to your room, placing a hand behind his neck to prevent whiplash.

It was Logan's turn to use his mutation. Unsheathing his claws, Logan gestured towards the band t-shirt you were wearing.

With an argumentative snarl, you shook your head. "No way in hell I'm letting you tear my favorite shirt. It's vintage."

Raising his eyebrows, Logan quipped, "But, doll . . . I'm vintage."

You slowly removed the shirt, haphazardly tossing it onto the floor. Wearing tennis skirts during missions wasn't standard protocol, but Logan accidentally shredded your uniform. He was burning holes with his eyes into the delicate fabric, watching you shimmy them down your leg.

Logan stopped you from undressing fully. "Keep it on. I love seeing you on your knees in this skirt," he whispered.

Taking the hint, you kneeled on the floor. Thankfully, a rug softened the impact.

"No hands. No sucking. Just need your eyes on me, bub." Logan hastily stripped out of his uniform, spending extra time on the zipper leading to his half-hard cock.

Placing the palms of your hands on your thighs, you arched your back, pushing your tits forward. "Since you mentioned it, my lips are feeling a bit parched . . ." you teased.

Logan spit into his open palm and languidly stroked himself. A bead of precum bubbled at the tip. Catching the way your eyes widened, Logan warned you not to taste him . . . not yet.

"Sorry, doll. How's this, I'll tell you what I'm thinkin' of." Logan picked up the pace, tugging his cock with more vigor. "The first night we 'ran in' to each other in the kitchen, you were on my mind so much I thought I dreamed of your presence."

Logan's breathing labored. Furrowing his eyebrows, he paused momentarily to spit again onto the head. "I fantasized about fucking you on the counter top. Knocking over the fruit basket and the beers I just finished . . ."

His hips stuttered. With a sharp inhale, Logan continued, "We went back to bed without so much as a handshake. I could smell that you wanted it. Caught you staring at my ass when I turned to close the fridge. Jerked my cock to the sight of your glossy lips until sunrise."

"I fucking love you, bub. Wanna give you everything," he panted, signalling his release. "My sweet, sweet girl."

Heart warming at his praise, you opened your mouth, tongue outstretched to accept his generous load.

"I love you too, Logan," you professed.

His hips frantically stuttered with pulses of cum, heavily streaking your face. "Oh, fuck . . ." Logan cursed, slapping his cock on the soft expanse of your tongue.

Stepping backward just enough to leave the tip bobbing against your chin, Logan grasped his softening cock and started smearing his cum on your eager lips.

After a couple passes, he focused on applying it like he would a real tube of lip gloss. "That's my girl, so good for me," Logan admired. His cum crudely dripped down your chin.

You slowly licked off the cum Logan applied, which prompted a confused brow arch from your drained boyfriend.

With a shy smirk, you teased, "Guess I need you to retouch my lip gloss, baby."

[we-are-maladaptive]

little dreamer ♡

contents: fluffy stuff, a little bit a children mentioned characters: katsuki bakugou, izuku midoriya, shouto todoroki, denki kaminari, eijirou kirishima (separate) authors note: hello (╥﹏╥) very sorry for being inactive recently!! my mother's ex boyfriend is in jail for attempted homocide and ive been helping her get it together since then ( not even kidding ) so therefore here is a hello present from me as an apology ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Husband Katsuki, who sits with you on the porch swing in the late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun casting long shadows across the yard. The scent of jasmine fills the air, mingling with the sound of distant laughter from children playing nearby. He wraps a cozy blanket around your shoulders, pulling you close as the evening chill begins to set in. You sip on hot cocoa, marshmallows melting into sweet swirls, and talk about the little moments that made your day special. His arm around you feels like the safest place in the world, and as the first stars begin to appear in the twilight sky, he softly hums a tune that makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the universe.

Husband Izuku, who wakes you gently on lazy Sunday mornings with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of birds singing outside your window. He brings you breakfast in bed, a tray laden with your favorite pastries, fruits, and a delicate vase holding a single rose. As you share bites of buttery croissant and sip on coffee, you talk about dreams you had the night before and make plans for the day ahead. His fingers trace patterns on your arm as he listens, his eyes full of a love that makes you feel cherished and safe. Later, you both linger in bed, wrapped in the warmth of the morning sun and each other’s embrace, content to let the world outside fade away.

Husband Shouto, who takes you on evening walks along the beach, where the sky blazes with the colors of the setting sun, painting the waves with hues of orange and pink. As you stroll hand in hand, you collect smooth pebbles and seashells, giggling like children whenever you find a particularly beautiful one. You sit together on the sand, watching as the stars begin to twinkle into existence, and he wraps a blanket around your shoulders to keep you warm. His voice is soft and tender as he whispers stories of your future, of a house by the sea and children who run along the shore, their laughter mingling with the sound of the waves. You lean into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart and the promise of a lifetime of such evenings together.

Husband Denki, who plans a cozy movie night at home, the living room transformed into a haven of comfort with soft pillows and warm blankets scattered everywhere. He dims the lights and lights a few scented candles, their flickering flames casting a soft glow. You snuggle together on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn and exchanging quiet laughter over inside jokes. As the movie plays, he holds you close, his fingers gently stroking your hair. The outside world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. When the credits roll, you find yourselves talking late into the night, about anything and everything, his voice a soothing melody that lulls you into a peaceful sleep, your head resting on his shoulder.

Husband Eijirou, who dances with you in the living room, the only light coming from the flickering flames in the fireplace, casting a golden glow over everything. The soft strains of a love song fill the room, and he holds you close, your feet moving in a slow, gentle rhythm. His hand rests on the small of your back, and you feel the warmth of his touch seep through your clothes. As the song ends, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache with love. He presses a kiss to your forehead, murmuring words of devotion, and you know in that moment that this is where you belong—dancing in his arms, forever and always.

[sulumuns-dootah]

can I request a Paimon fic where they and MC go on a picnic date?

Paimon x gn!Reader - Chocolate covered strawberries♡

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: I haven't written anything for Paimon in so long and only now realised how much I missed it! No relationship is specified, but it is one where you two are okay with a lot of physical contact ^^

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

'Y/N~! Come quicklyyy! I'm at: ' a rather alarming message from Paimon read. The lack of emojis or any other indicator of tone or context made you worried about their safety after they sent you a location which indicates they're on the outskirts of Gehenna where angel attacks are more common.

Your fear is quickly replaced with confusion once yous tart nearing the place Paimon sent you. There are no signs of angels nor attacks. Instead, upon getting closer, you notice Paimon under one of the gorgeous, ancient Hell oaks on something that looks like pink tartan blanket.

It takes a second to shake away the adrenaline from thinking you're rushing to help a dying demon and only after the initial shock you finally realise what's actually happening.

"Pai, what is this? You almost scared me to death! I thought you were getting attacked!" you scold the adorable demon, still catching your breath from running most of the way and then having to climb the rather steep hill.

"Oh~?... I'm sorryyy, Y/N! I didn't mean tooo... It's just that I noticed that the chocolate on the straberries I made was starting to meltttt." Paimon sadly pouts, looking down at the red fruit in their hands.

Looking around you notice all the various foods and snacks alongside two full wine glasses and a bottle of your favorite drink. A... picnic?

Paimon notices your puzzled expression and giggles while getting up from the ground, handing you one fo the glasses that are now in their hands, "Well~, you did say nobody's ever invited you to a real dateeee, so I wanted to be the first oneee!"

"Aw, that's so sweet of you! Thanks!" you light up and accept the drink handed to you. Your legs slightly shake from the workout as you're sitting down while trying not to spill your drink.

"I hopeee you like what I've gotten for youuu! I asked His Majesty Satan to help me pickkk~!" Paimon takes their seat beside you and you only now realise why all of a sudden Satan liberated you of all duties for the rest of the day. He knew all along.

"Don't worry Pai, I'll like whatever you've picked for me! Sometimes you even know me better than I know myself!" you smile widely with genuine happiness.

"Aw~! Y/N~! You're so cuteee!" the demons queals and squishes their cheek against yours. A sweet smell of cotton candy and fruity bubblegum only now reaches your nose and it reminds you why you like Paimon so much. Their cheery attitude is a breath of fresh air amongst all the demons with dark auras.

The two of you sit, eat and chat for so long, the sun's gone down and the first shy stars start appearing on the darkening horizon. When you first came to Hell, you didn't expect to see stars with Heaven right above you, but as it turns out, there are visible stars, and even more beautiful than those on earth.

"Y/N~ I'm glad you're hereee. And I don't mean here as in hereee, but here in general~! You make us all so happyyy~" Paimon sighs, leaning back against a pillow next to you as you're both staring up at the millions of glowing dots.

"Aw, Pai! I'm super glad to be here too!" you giggle and lean back next to Paimon who pulls you in for cuddles.

As the night progresses, the two of you eventually fall asleep together only to be woken up in the morning by Zagan who was tasked to go look for you to make sure you're both okay.

[magiccath]

How could you not know?

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which an alien fortune teller lets your feelings for the Doctor slip

“5027, the outskirts of Alpha Centauri,” The Doctor explained, landing the TARDIS with a flourish. The ship retaliated with a shake making you wobble a bit in a desperate attempt to not fall over. Sometimes you wondered if the Doctor actually did know what he was doing when it came to the TARDIS. He claimed she was a finicky ship, but you had your suspicions regarding his flying abilities. 

Once you had regained your footing you exchanged a childish grin with the Time Lord, both of you excited for your next adventure. Without warning, you bounded excitedly out of the ship, anxious to see what was on the other side. 

The sky instantly caught your attention, its purple hue so different from anything you’d seen before. Multiple moons littered the skyline, and cars zoomed through the air above your head. The grass was soft and emitted a faintly sweet aroma. You turned your face to the sky, allowing the light rain to fall on you. With an over joyous giggle you looked back at the Doctor “It’s fantastic!” 

He smiled at you lovingly from the TARDIS’ doorway, leaning on the frame slightly. He loved seeing you like this. 

“Allons-y?” He asked, more a question than an exclamation. You nodded enthusiastically and held your hand out for him. He locked the door before running to your side, slipping your hand into his. 

“By now you lot have spread yourselves across the galaxy,” The Doctor explained, “Mingled with aliens and traveled amongst the stars.” 

You watched the Doctor as he talked, completely smitten with his knowledge and passion regarding the vast universe. He talked about it with such passion and enthusiasm, that you had no choice but to listen intently. 

“Planets like this sort of turn into a melting pot,” He continued, “you can find just about any species here,” He looked down at you with a smile. “The center of the city is a big ‘ol market of sorts. You can get goods and foods from all around the galaxy,” He explained.

“Kind of like an alien farmers market?” You asked with a laugh. 

“Sort of,” He shrugged, “you’ll see.” 

After a short walk, you had found yourselves in the aforementioned city center. The Doctor wasn’t joking when he called it a big market. For as long as you could see there were rows and rows of vendors selling everything from oddly colored fruits to exotic fibers, and everything in between. It was almost too much, all of the sights, smells, and textures hitting you at once. 

Much to the Doctor’s dismay, you asked to stop at every single booth. It was your first space market, and you wanted to see everything. After all, there was so very much to see. 

“Where do we even start?” You breathed, still trying to take it all in. As much as you wanted to run wild, the Doctor was the expert here. 

The Doctor scanned the area quickly before leading you to a wooden booth selling what appeared to be bread. Surely the Doctor hadn’t taken you to an alien planet for bread? You were almost certain he was aware of the numerous kinds of bread on Earth.

The Doctor paid for two small loaves and handed one to you. 

“Did you really just buy bread?” You laughed, looking at the food in your hands. 

“Just try it,” The Doctor grinned. 

You examined the loaf, finding it to be more of a pastry than a simple loaf of bread. Deciding it was safe enough you bit into it warily. A slightly sour taste assaulted you, catching you off guard. You pulled the bread away to examine the bright pink jelly that filled it.

“What is this?” You asked the Doctor wide-eyed. 

“Neo-fruit,” he smiled, taking a large bite out of his own. “Like it?” He asked, mouth half full. You nodded and took another bite, letting the combination of sweet and sour melt on your tongue. The Doctor finished his treat quickly,  but you savored yours as the two of you walked along.

At some point you found yourself stuck at a small booth displaying beautiful scarves. Their silky smooth texture had initially drawn your attention, but the longer you looked at them the more interesting they became. In your hands, you held a scarf the same blue as the TARDIS, with lighter-colored swirls and small yellow dots littered throughout. You must have been holding it for a while because the Doctor noticed.

“You like it?” He asked, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“Reminds me of the TARDIS,” You smiled. The Doctor nodded and pulled a few coins from his jacket pocket before handing them to the vendor. 

“It’s yours,” He smiled back. 

“I- um. Thank you.” 

“May I?” He asked, gesturing to the scarf. You nodded quickly, handing it over to him. He ran his fingers through the fabric, unraveling the scarf, before wrapping it gently around you. The action felt so shockingly intimate you couldn’t help but turn a bright scarlet. The Doctor, per usual, had become too distracted to notice. He ran off, leaving you starstruck in his absence. 

By the time that you caught back up to the Doctor, he already had two pints of steaming liquid in his hands. He shoved one into your own hands before clinking your glasses together. You stared at the drink, shocked. 

“Hot chocolate,” He explained before taking a gulp of his. Foam from the top stuck to his upper lip. You smiled and sipped your own drink, getting the foam on the tip of your nose. Without a second thought, the Doctor used his thumb to wipe it off, the simple touch sending shivers down your spine. 

Always in motion, the Doctor kept making his way through the market as you enjoyed your drinks. 

You loved spending time with the Doctor like this, taking and laughing while you held hands. His hand always seemed to find its way into yours, almost as if he was scared he might lose you amongst the chaos that followed him. 

By the time you had walked through all of the booths, both you and the Doctor were carrying small purchases and laughing comfortably. You decided to loop back through the market on the way to the TARDIS. You walked hand in hand, taking in all of the sights around you. 

Your eyes caught on a small booth you hadn’t noticed before. The setup was akin to a fortune teller’s booth. You tugged on the Doctor’s sleeve, excited to see what an alien fortune teller looked like. 

You slipped your way through the drapery and into the booth. Inside was a beautiful alien. Her skin was an iridescent white with large ears poking out of her long, silky hair. As your eyes settled on her face, you instantly became aware of her eyes - or lack thereof. 

“Greetings!” She hummed, gesturing to the seat before her. 

You looked at the Doctor, warry of the stunning creature before you. He nodded, and you took a seat before her. She grasped your hands lightly with her own, her touch feather-light. 

After a few moments of silence, she spoke up.

“You love him.”

You cast a wayward glance back at the Doctor, panic coursing through you. 

“Yeah,” you laughed, “he’s my best mate.” 

“No,” she continued, “you truly love him.” 

You stammered, not knowing how to react. 

“He’s just a friend,” you smiled painfully. It was true, that’s all the Doctor was.

“But you want more,” she said plainly. You were almost certain if she had eyes they would be baring into your soul. 

You looked back at the Doctor, panicked, but he was already walking out of the booth. You pulled your hands from the aliens and dashed after him.

You caught up to him quickly, but he didn’t seem to fully register your presence. The walk back to the TARDIS was silent. The Doctor didn’t seem to have anything to say, and you were too scared to speak up. Was he angry? Your greatest fears settled around you like a very uncomfortable blanket. This was it, the Doctor was finally done with you. All because of one stupid alien. 

The Doctor unlocked the ship silently and made his way straight to the console, busying himself with flicking switches and pressing buttons.

You peeled your coat off slowly before draping it over the railing. Absentmindedly your hands went to the scarf around your neck, pulling at the threads anxiously. 

“I don’t know what she was talking about,” You laughed, though it wasn’t very convincing. 

“No?” The Doctor asked calmly, looking you in the eye. His gaze was so heavy it was almost impossible to look away.

“Really, honestly!” You said, trying to hide your voice crack. The Doctor pulled his eyes away from you and back to the console in front of him. Anxiety built within you again. When the Doctor never responded you spoke up again, “Please say something.”

The Doctor turned his attention back to you, his usually expressive eyes impossible to read. 

“Please.” You whispered, pulling at your new scarf desperately. 

“You really are oblivious,” He said, pulling his eyes from yours. 

“W-what?” You stammered. 

“After all this time you still don’t know?” He asked, shoving himself off of the console and walking over to you. “You don’t realize just how hard I’ve fallen for you?” 

“Me? Are you sure? Out of the whole universe you fell for me?”

The Doctor laughed brightly, “How could I not?” He asked, his hands ghosting on the sides of your body. You looked up at him, finally seeing all of the love hidden within his honey eyes. You crushed yourself for never noticing it before. 

“You’re the most magnificent person I’ve ever met,” he whispered.

Tired of waiting, the Doctor wrapped his arms around you with a newfound urgency. His lips connected with yours, sending all kinds of sparks down your body. You quickly relaxed into the kiss, allowing your arms to drape over his shoulders. 

He pulled away briefly, wanting to make sure this was what you wanted. He didn’t even get to open his mouth before you cut him off, a more desperate kiss erupting from you. The Doctor was more than happy to oblige, his arms wrapping even tighter around you. One of his hands moved upwards to cup your face delicately, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin. When you finally pulled away, gasping for air, the Doctor grinned at you. 

“Can we do more of that?” You asked, breathlessly. 

[novlr]

What are some ways to describe summer ?

Summer is not just a season; it’s a vibrant setting that can add life and color to your writing. Whether you’re crafting a sun-soaked romance or a beach thriller, the way you describe summer can immerse readers in your story. Let’s dive into how you can capture the essence of summer, focusing on the various senses and elements that make this season unique.

Sights

Sunsets that paint the sky in hues of orange, pink, and purple.

Children chasing ice cream trucks down suburban lanes.

Sunbathers dotting the coastline.

Sprinklers casting rainbows across freshly mowed lawns.

Flower gardens in full bloom, a riot of colours.

Sunglasses showing reflections of the bright world.

Sun hats and flip-flops scattered around pool decks.

Fireflies illuminating the night.

Street markets bustling with locals buying fresh produce.

Hikers on forest trails.

Sounds

The cacophony of cicadas in the late afternoon.

Waves crashing against the shore in a constant rhythm.

The sizzle and pop of barbecues in backyards.

Children’s laughter as they play outside.

Ice clinking in glasses of lemonade or cocktails.

The distant whirr of lawn mowers.

Splashes and shouts from swimming pools.

Chirping songbirds greeting the morning.

The crackle of bonfires during cool summer nights.

The melodic chimes of ice cream trucks roaming the streets.

Smells

The salty tang of sea air at the beach.

The overpowering scent of chlorinated pools.

Freshly cut grass after morning lawn care.

The scent of sunscreen and tanning oils on warm skin.

The smoky aroma of grills at a neighborhood cookout or family barbeque.

Fragrant blossoms like jasmine and roses in full bloom.

The earthy smell of rain on hot pavement.

The mix of fruits, vegetables, fried food, and flowers at an open-air market.

Melting tar with an accompanying heat shimmer on hot roads.

Campfire smoke clinging to clothes and hair during outdoor adventures.

Activities

Beach volleyball games, sand flying as players dive for the ball.

Leisurely picnics in the shade of ancient trees.

Hiking trips taking advantage of the long daylight hours.

Sailing and boating, the wind filling sails on sunlit waters.

Outdoor concerts, where music floats on the warm night air.

Road trips with car windows down, hair whipping in the wind.

Fruit picking in orchards and berry farms.

Camping under the stars, a tent and a sleeping bag for a home.

Water fights with hoses, water guns, and balloons.

Attending summer festivals full of food, music, and dance.

Character body language

Wiping sweat from the brow or fanning themselves to cool down.

Squinting against the harsh sunlight or seeking out spots of shade.

Sipping cold drinks, or gulping down water.

Lounging lazily, limbs relaxed and sprawled out.

Applying sunscreen meticulously.

Adjusting sunglasses or hats for better protection.

Dipping toes tentatively into the sea or a pool.

Tugging at clothes sticking to sweat-dampened skin.

Laughing with carefree abandon, a reflection of summer’s ease.

Turning pages of a paperback with fingers damp from pool water.

Positive descriptions

The liberating feeling of diving into cool water on a scorching day.

The tranquil peace of a sunrise beach yoga session.

The simple pleasure of ice cream melting on the tongue.

The bliss of a hammock nap swayed by a gentle breeze.

The joy of endless blue skies promising adventure.

The warmth of sun-kissed skin after a day outdoors.

The satisfaction of a well-tended garden coming to life.

The contentment of sharing a sunset with loved ones.

The thrill of catching the perfect wave while surfing.

The comfort of balmy evenings spent on porch swings.

Negative descriptions

The oppressive heat making the air feel thick and suffocating.

The relentless buzzing of mosquitoes on a muggy night.

The sting of sunburn after a day of neglecting sunscreen.

The frustration of packed tourist spots and overcrowded beaches.

The exhaustion induced by long days and sweltering heat.

The discomfort of air thick with humidity.

The annoyance of sand finding its way into every nook and cranny.

The disappointment of a rained-out picnic or canceled event.

The lethargy of a heatwave, energy sapped by the relentless sun.

The discomfort of trying to sleep in an overheated, uncooled room.

Helpful Adjectives

Scorching

Balmy

Sultry

Languid

Radiant

Dazzling

Parched

Breezy

Rippling

Sweltering

Sunny

Lush

Blistering

Tropical

Vibrant

Humid

Verdant

Golden

Glowing

Fragrant

Torrid

Tranquil

Crisp

Sizzling

Flaming

Steamy

Refreshing

Shimmering

Lazy

Stifling

Invigorating

Sparkling

Zesty

Fervent

Stuffy

Arid

Saturated

Juicy

Sunbaked

Fetid

[radio-fmm]

Dance with me

Sanji x gardener!reader

Gn reader + fluff drabble based on this post by @misslovasstuff 🫶🏻

The orange light that hangs from the kitchen roof contrast with the dark skies and shinny stars all across it, the sea is calm, almost trying to lull everyone on the ship to close their eyes. No danger awaits the crew as they sleep soundly

Well almost everyone

Every night after dinner, Sanji stays to clean up and maybe do some breakfast prep or some quick snacks to toss Luffy tomorrow day

You sit content on the table, feet hanging as they move at the rhythm of the music from the den den radio, humming along completely lost on its melody as you make your dear chef some company

Sanji can’t help but smile to himself, this rare uneventful night that gifts him this moment that feels so domestic and just so right. He steals you a glance, your humming turning into a quiet singing, every note swiping him off his feet

He wipes his hands on a towel before he approaches you, his eyes never leaving your sight. When he comes across your line of vision you smile brightly at him, melting him into a puddle in front of you. He turns the volume of the den den radio up, an offering hand extended your way as he does a little reverence making you giggle at his well known antics

“Would you please be so kind as to gift me this dance, my love?” He says peeking at your expression, expectant

Without hesitation you take his hand and stand up with him, your hands growing fresh flowers at his touch

“I should warn you, I am not a dancer” a slight pink sits on your cheeks, a little nervous to follow along

But Sanji doesn’t listen, one of his hands travel to your waist while the other extends your arm to the side, naturally making your free hand to sit on top of his toned shoulders, the so familiar feeling of the fabric of his tailored shirt settling your nerves

“Just follow me”

Carefully he sways your bodies to the rhythm of the song playing, eyes locked into each other like a bounding spell. The kitchen floor creeks with every step you take, but it doesn’t bother you

The intimacy of it all makes you feel like you’re suspended on air, light as a feather as you move around completely lost on the moment. Maybe the lighting is a little off, maybe you’re both very sleep deprived and exhausted from a long hardworking day, but Sanji looks so happy, so beautiful, so unreal

Ocean eyes looking back with so much tenderness; his hands delicately gripping on your form, as if making sure you’re real, that you’re there with him; his blonde hair moves along with his steps revealing his handsome face; the so comforting smell of smoke and fresh fruit and his sweet smile

You could have this forever

He makes you turn which earns a laugh out of you, and in that moment Sanji feels like the luckiest man on the seas, your laugh even more beautiful of a melody than the music on the background

“And you said you weren’t a dancer” he whispers playfully, his breath hitting your neck

“I guess I just needed a prince to come and show me how to really do it” he immediately blushes, stumbling as your voice calling him a prince echoes in his head over and over again

In a swift move to the right, you remove your hand from his as you make petals fall from your hands all around you. You circle back to Sanji as he remains perplexed at your action, he keeps dancing but his mind is full with you you and you

The song ends and you stay entangled in the middle of the kitchen, smiling back at each other completely lovesick

“I love you” he whispers out of breath, your hands leaving to reach for his face, your lips find his like they always do and you kiss effervescently, like a dream you don’t want to wake up from

“If life by your side is like this, I want it to be forever you”

[lowkeycasanova]

Idk if your requests are open if not respond to the Privately but So idk if you actually feel comfortable writing for Luffy I am looki for one piece x reader writers who have the requests open and came across you anyway I request takes place after the time skip where reading I ask Luffy if next year they can celebrate Ace with Luffy aka next year on the day of his death instead of feeling sad they want me make sure Luffy is happy so they will spend the entire day doing things would love like eating us favorite foods and doing things he would love

A Day For Him

The sun was setting over the Thousand Sunny, casting a warm, golden glow over the deck. The rest of the crew started heading inside while Luffy stood at the helm, staring at the horizon. His straw hat cast a shadow over his eyes but you could still see his fixed gaze. It's been a year since the crew reunited and tomorrow will be three years since Ace died. Luffy had come to terms with his death, but the pain still lingered.

From a distance, you watched. Your heart aching for him. When you had first heard the news of the events at Marineford, the only thing you wanted to do was to be by his side. You'd seen Luffy smile, laugh, and fight with unyielding determination, but you also knew the quiet moments when the weight of his loss pressed heavily on his shoulders. You then took a deep breath and resolved to make tomorrow a day filled with joy and love, and where Luffy could remember Ace without the shadow of sorrow.

As the first light of dawn broke, not a single cloud marred the sky. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm and inviting glow over the calm sea.

"Land, ho!" Nami's voice rang out, breaking the serene morning silence. She pointed to a lush, vibrant island on the horizon. You all gathered around, excited by the prospect of a new adventure.

When the ship docked, everyone disembarked with eager anticipation. The island was a paradise of beautiful flowers, towering trees, crystal clear streams, and a vibrant village. Luffy led the way with a wide, genuine, smile on his face that made your heart soar.

The crew split up, each member heading off to explore their own interests. As you wandered through the bustling city, the air was filled with different scents. Luffy's eyes sparkled with excitement as he didn't know where to look first.

After a while of being on your own, you went looking for your crew mates.

"Oi, look at this!" Luffy shouted, his mouth full of some fruit he had stuffed in there.

Didn't take long to find him at all.

He dashed from vendor to vendor, barely pausing to chew before sampling the next delicacy. His as appetite insatiable as ever.

"Don't eat the whole thing in one bite Luffy!" Usopp reprimanded.

"Yeah, save some for us!" Nami chided, although her tone was more playful. This time.

As the day wore on, the crew reconvened at a local bar. Zoro had already been there, as you saw the empty sake bottles in front of him. Nami arrived with an armful of shopping bags, eyes glinting with satisfaction. Luffy, of course, dived into his food head first. You founds yourself caught up in the camaraderie. It felt good not to worry about enemies and just have fun. Plus, the pain of the past was momentarily forgotten in the warmth of the present.

When the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, you all made your way back to the Thousand Sunny. Anchored near the shore, the ship felt like a safe haven, a place where you could relax and simply be together. The deck filled with laughter and the smell of Sanji's cooking.

Luffy, surrounded by his nakama, felt a sense of peace. The words, "I still have my crew" rang in his mind. But y'all weren't just his crew, but his family. And today, was a celebration of the man who had meant so much to him.

You took a moment to admire your captain.

He sat cross-legged, his hat tipped back as he gazed up at the stars beginning to dot the sky. You joined him, sitting quietly by his side. The silence was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that today had been a good day. The stars seemed to shine a little brighter that night and you know that Ace's flame would never truly be extinguished.

[homoquartz]

welcome to class

lesson one, most words and objects can be sorted into two categories. for the sake of clarity, we'll call the categories kiki and bouba. let me give you some examples:

KIKI

all even numbers

italics and exclamation points

english, math, history, and gym

north, east, up, and right

morning and afternoon, the sun from sunrise to sunset

summer and autumn

(specifically may through november)

thursday and sunday

sharp, dry, hot, bright

squares, triangles, and stars

warm colors, including pink

mammals and birds

insects

indoors

natural materials (rattan, wicker, wood, etc)

coffee, cigarettes, and needles

classical art and portraiture, percussion and string instruments, but not piano

people who shake your hand without a shred of kind intent

the smell of a library, cinnamon, and citrus fruits

ambition

money and business professional clothing

powering through the discomfort in hope it will be fun at the end

the feeling of falling in love

the words "thank you" and "forgiveness"

the beginning

BOUBA

you guessed it - odd numbers

bold, underlines, and question marks

and yes, science, art, and language

south, west, down, and left

evening and night, and of course the moon

winter and spring

(specifically december through april)

monday, tuesday, wednesday, friday, and saturday

round, wet, cold, dark

circles and trapezoids

cool colors, including green

fish, amphibians, and reptiles

microscopic organisms

outside, especially when it rains, including outer space and all its planets, but not the concept of infinity

metal, stone, and plastic

soda, pills, and wax

abstract art, finger painting, and sculpture, as well as wind instruments

people who keep fucking up

the smell of the backseat of my parents' car, mint, and fruits like apples, pears, and plums

gentleness

co-ops, nonprofits, hiking boots, and sandals

letting go, having fun, and then spending hours in spiraling regret

the feeling of loving and being loved safely and fully

the word "please" and also "i'm sorry"

try it yourself! ska, techno, and jazz are bouba. pop and classical are kiki. your warm hands are kiki, and my flop sweat is bouba. a cut is kiki, but a punch is bouba, and the blood is always kiki regardless, until it curdles. when it dries, it's kiki again. eye contact is kiki, and a kiss is kiki too. a long hug is bouba, especially if you cry. bouba is the lump in your throat, and kiki is the cough to clear it. the deep breath in is kiki. bouba is the one you breathe out. and i forgot one last thing:

the end

[dewsgremlin]

- Hc -

*The ghouls and cooking*

Rain:

Rain follows every recipe exactly. He hates deviating from the recipe just like he hates messiness. That's why the kitchen is always spotlessly clean after Rain has cooked.

Dewdrop:

He doesn't stick to recipes, spills the ingredients and seems to pour lots of chilli into everything. Tends to burn down the kitchen if something doesn't go the way he wants. No wonder no one wants to let Dewdrop cook.

Aether:

He sticks to the recipes, although not quite as strictly as Rain. His particular passion is baking. The other ghouls like to sit in the kitchen and chat with him when Aether is baking. Especially because he often lets them lick the sweet dough off the whisks.

Cumulus:

Cooks very well. Often makes jam from the fruit that Mountain grows in the garden.

Mountain:

He makes the best ratatouille in the world.

(Copia loves his ratatouille. Especially since Swiss told him that Mountain has a rat that helps him cook. Mountain always wonders why Copia winks at him every time after dinner and asks him to give the little assistant cook his praise too.)

Swiss:

Considers himself to be an absolute Michelin-star chef, but only makes sandwiches.

Aurora:

All she really wants to do is decorate. Pour pink sugar pearls and stars over cupcakes or sprinkle edible pink glitter over the cake.

Phantom:

He can't read. So he tries to go by the pictures on the packaging. Sometimes he just randomly throws things together that he thinks smell good. For example, his chocolate - cheese - chicken - orange - stew with cinnamon and garlic.

Cirrus:

She places a lot of importance on healthy eating. Cirrus regularly sneaks vegetables into Dewdrop's food.

Sunshine:

She doesn't cook. If no one cooks for her, she will eat chips and chocolate.

Copia:

Still thinks that rats actually run all the restaurants. He is disappointed every time he brings his rats into the kitchen to cook and they just start nibbling on the ingredients.

[not-orphaned-account]

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

I'm keeping to my break from writing, but I love the holidays and wanted to do a little something for Christmas. Just some well-deserved love and rest for the boys with cuddles and gifts. I hope you enjoy!

“It’s really coming down.”

Satoru glances up from the TV to see his boyfriend standing by the window, peering out into the street below. They’re far up, so he has to crane his neck a little; they’re technically on a mission, but thanks to the Gojo family fortune, they get to spend their downtime in a hotel room that’s more like a luxury apartment. It makes Satoru feel a little smug—the fancy digs don’t really faze him, but the fact that he gets to technically treat Suguru while they’re on business makes him feel good. 

He loves stuff like that: getting him gifts, taking him out on fancy dates and lavish trips. Suguru has never really liked the latter—he let him know at the beginning of their relationship that he really prefers date nights in, or simple things like going the arcade or the botanical gardens. So, Satoru does what he can, like splurging on missions and gettting him too many presents (in Suguru’s words.)

“Yeah?” he sits up, stretching his arms above his head and letting out a yawn. Suguru hums.

“Yeah. Look, it’s like a blanket out there.”

It’s not like they’ve never seen snow before, but Satoru just smiles to himself and pushes himself to stand, joining Suguru by the window.

It really is snowing pretty hard; the streets are covered by over a foot of powder, and more is falling fast, thick, fluffy flakes dancing in the golden glow of the street lamps. The twinkling lights from the Christmas decorations outside almost every building down the block paint the snow with colour, watercolour splashes against a frozen canvas. It’s pretty, but Suguru—standing in front of the window, staring out at the snow as the multicoloured lights from below reflecting in those dark eyes—is breathtaking.

There’s something so enchanting about the way Suguru looks at beauty. It’s a quiet sort of joy, something that lights up his face and makes his eyes shine. Satoru sees it: he sees it when they’re walking through the forests bordering the school, when they fly above the clouds on the rainbow dragon, when they gaze up at the sky on missions that take them outside of the cities, away from the light pollution where they can actually see the stars. When Suguru looks at Satoru.

And, more recently, when he looks at the twins. At a different point in his life, Satoru might have thought that he’d feel jealous seeing that look directed at someone other than him; as things are now, though, he couldn’t fathom the thought. The girls have only been a part of their lives for a few years, but already they’ve taken over every part of it, and it shows in the little things: in the little pink socks that got mixed in with their laundry and turned Suguru’s uniform shirt pink; in the juice boxes in the door of their fridge, the gross ‘fruits and vegetables’ stuff that Satoru turns his nose up at, but are perfect for growing bodies; in the pattering footsteps that run and dance through their house, the chattering voices that fill the silences that Satoru finds he doesn’t miss at all. The girls are only theirs on weekends and holidays—they need a proper education for now, one they won’t get on the Jujutsu Tech campus where he and Suguru have made their home. But they are still such a big part of their lives, and he really wouldn’t have it any other way.

Suguru looks like that now, that same soft glow in his eyes that he loves with, and Satoru can’t help but wrap his arms around his waist and press a kiss to his shoulder. His hair is silky and soft, dried from his shower and smelling of vanilla and spice, and his skin is warm where Satoru’s lips meet it, just above the collar of his sweatshirt.

“Come watch the movie with me,” he murmurs, tugging at the hem of Suguru’s shirt. Suguru snorts, but allows himself to be walked backwards toward the couch, and subsequently pulled on top of Satoru as he lays back down, sprawling out against the cushions as he holds Suguru against him. 

“There’s no point,” Suguru murmurs, but he tucks his bangs back and rests his head on Satoru’s chest, turning his eyes to the screen. “I don’t know enough English to get most of it, and the sound quality is so bad that I doubt I could understand it anyways.”

“It’s the Grinch, how much do you need to understand?”

“Not all of us grew up taking international trips all the time, Satoru. I don’t know all of these Christmas movies you keep watching.”

“Well, there’s not much else on,” he says with a shrug. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

Overseas missions aren’t all that common, even for them, given the scarcity of curses outside Japan. Still, he thinks this is one of the better times they could’ve been sent to North America; there’s a sort of energy in the air, a thrumming excitement that he supposes comes with the holiday.

They watch the movie together, Satoru absently running a hand up and down Suguru’s back, Suguru tracing idle patterns into the base of his skull, occasionally scratching his fingers up into his hair. It’s comfortable, and Satoru finds his eyelids getting heavy as he watches the cartoon on screen, finding himself a bit lost every so often with the nonsense words thrown in.

It ends soon enough—too soon, really, now that Suguru is acting as his personal weighted blanket. Still, there’s something that’s been itching under his skin for days now, and he despite how comfortable he is and how it’s technically not Christmas yet, he doesn’t think he can hold it in any longer.

“Hey, Suguru?”

Suguru hums, eyes still fixed on the screen. He seems half asleep, and Satoru almost feels bad, but he nudges him anyways.

“You should go look in my bag.”

That gets him looking up, a confused little crease between his brows that Satoru desperately wants to kiss.

“What do you need? Why can’t you get it?”

Satoru suppresses a sigh, kisses the tip of his nose.

“Just do it.”

Grumbling, Suguru pushes himself up and wobbles to his feet, clearly still sleepy. Satoru watches him as he disappears into the bedroom, keeping track of his movements with Six Eyes as he finds his suitcase on the floor and opens it.

A beat of silence, then two. Then, Satoru hears a sigh from the bedroom, and his face splits into a grin.

When Suguru emerges holding a long, flat, messily-wrapped box, he looks like he can’t decide whether to be amused or exasperated.

“What is this.”

Satoru’s grin widens.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Satoru, when have we ever celebrated Christmas?”

Satoru pouts up at him.

“What? It’s the spirit of the season. Ho ho ho and all that.”

Suguru looks up at the ceiling for a few seconds.

“You’re…”

He trails off, shaking his head. Satoru just laughs and sits up, crossing his legs and impatiently drumming on the cushions in front of him.

“Come on, open it, open it, open it!”

“Alright, alright.”

Taking a seat on the other end of the sofa, Suguru turns the box over in his hands, clearly trying to find a good place to open the paper. Satoru bites hard on the inside of his cheek to resist the urge to just grab the box from him and rip it open himself.

Suguru starts to carefully open the gift, but not even he is immune to the rush of tearing open a present. He rips the paper off and throws it on the floor, slitting the tape on the box lid with his thumbnail and carefully opening it.

He stares down into the box for a long few seconds, and Satoru tries not to squirm. The look in Suguru’s eyes when he finally raises his head, however, is worth the wait.

“Satoru,” he says, and his voice is soft and sweet and Satoru falls a little more in love with him. “It’s beautiful.”

“Do you want to put it on?” he asks. Suguru brushes his fingers along the polished wood base of the kanzashi. 

“I don’t have my hair done.”

“We can do something quick. Come on, let me help you.”

He all but drags Suguru to the bathroom, unable to stop grinning. Suguru looks a little exasperated but oh so fond as he lets himself be positioned in front of the mirror, meeting Satoru’s eyes as his own crinkle in the corners.

Satoru ties half of his hair up at the back of his head as he gently lifts the kanzashi from the box and hands it back to him. He places it carefully, arranging the rest of his hair to keep it in place. The white jade dragon adorning the dark wood stands out beautifully against his hair, the delicate dangling chains giving the appearance of glittering water trailing down and falling between the strands.

Suguru tilts his head to admire it, and Satoru grabs the hand mirror from the counter to show him the back. His eyes glitter like the silver strands, and Satoru wraps his arms around his waist and rests his chin on his shoulder, watching him in the mirror.

“Do you like it?” he asks, softly, unwilling to break the spell. Suguru rests his hands over Satoru’s, stroking the skin of his wrist.

“I love it,” he murmurs, tilting his head to catch Satoru’s lips with his. Satoru smiles into the kiss, melting a little when Suguru brushes his fingers against his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You look beautiful,” Satoru hums, kissing his jaw and looking at him in the mirror again. “I’m so lucky.”

The tips of Suguru’s ears turn bright red, and he averts his eyes, missing Satoru’s grin in the mirror. 

It quickly turns to a frown when Suguru reaches up and deftly removes the pin, letting his hair fall free.

“Hey!”

“I don’t want to ruin it,” he says, carefully placing it back in the box. “It’s too pretty to sleep in.”

He tucks it ever so carefully into his suitcase as Satoru flops onto the couch again, turning his attention back to the TV where a new movie has started playing. When he comes back, he lays back down on Satoru’s chest, loose hair falling over his shoulders as he rests his chin on his chest and brushes his knuckles against his cheek.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

“Don’t,” Satoru tuts, pressing his thumb between Suguru’s brows. “I like getting you pretty things.”

“I don’t need any more pretty things,” Suguru says with a sly little smile. “I already have the prettiest thing all to myself.”

Satoru feels the blood rush to his cheeks, confirmed by the way Suguru’s grin sharpens and his eyes sparkle. He grumbles, tugging lightly at his bangs and pointedly ignoring his chuckle.

“I got the girls some stuff too,” he admits, watching the screen and willing the flush in his face to go down. “They’re probably a bit tourist trap-y but I think they’ll enjoy them. And I sent Riko and Kuroi theirs already.”

“Dangerous,” Suguru hums, though he doesn’t sound too serious as he continues stroking his cheek, watching the antics of the dancing snowman on the television. “You shouldn’t really be sending gifts to dead people.”

“Nobody’s going to track them down,” Satoru waves him off. “We did a good job. They’ll be living peacefully and anonymously for the rest of their lives. Oh, and I got the Fushiguros some stuff as well, but I’ll give it to them when they come back for the break.”

Suguru doesn’t answer for a moment, and when Satoru looks down, he’s staring right at him with stars in his eyes, lips slightly parted. He raises an eyebrow, and Suguru blinks, an unreadable expression passing over his face.

“You’re soft,” he eventually says, pinching Satoru’s cheek. He yelps, batting his hand away.

“Ow!”

“Shush, I can’t hear the movie.”

And Satoru calls bullshit, he can barely tell what the canned voice from the TV is singing, but Suguru’s eyes are trained on the screen, and he has the feeling that he should just drop it.

So he does. He tangles his hand loosely in Suguru’s hair, lightly scratching his fingers against his scalp and holding him against his body with his other hand. He’s warm, and he’s comfy, and at this point Suguru’s eyes are closing and his own are starting to feel heavy, and they should really move to the bed so they don’t wake up sore. He really can’t be arsed to move, though, and he thinks Suguru might bite him if he tries to get him up now, so he just lets his eyes close as the television drones on in the background.

*~*~*

Satoru wakes up with a crick in his neck, pins and needles in his foot, and a headache beginning to scratch at the back of his skull. The curtains are drawn but there’s a sliver of light shining in, too white and piercingly bright from the snow outside. He grunts, then stretches his arms and legs, groaning as his joints crack and his blood starts flowing again. 

He sits up and opens his eyes, squinting around the room. Suguru is nowhere to be seen, but there’s the smell of coffee lingering in the room, and when he looks over his shoulder, the pot is sitting on the counter beside the coffee maker. It’s empty, only a thin layer of coffee at the bottom, which is odd; Suguru is the only one of them that drinks coffee, and he always complains about wasting it as if he has more than one cup in the morning, he gets all jittery.

Footsteps thud against carpet, and he looks to the door of the bedroom just in time to see Suguru, still in the clothes he was in last night and holding a mug of coffee. He looks surprised to see him up, but Satoru feels like he’s the one who should be surprised; he’s usually the first one awake, and it looks like Suguru has been awake for a while now.

“Morning,” he says, yawning so hard his jaw cracks and ruffling the back of his hair. “You been awake long?”

“No,” Suguru says quickly, then hesitates. 

“Yeah.”

Satoru snorts a little, resting his chin on the back of the couch and grinning up at him.

“Okay, what’s going on? You’re terrible at secrets.”

Suguru looks like he wants to argue, but he just bites his cheek, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“I got you something too,” he says finally. Satoru blinks.

“You got me a Christmas present? But—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his questions before Suguru spins and brusquely walks back into the bedroom. He stares after him, sleepy brain a little too sluggish to process what exactly is going on.

When Suguru returns, it’s with a bundle of something that takes him a second to recognize as the same wrapping paper as last night.; he must’ve used the scraps from his gift to wrap Satoru’s. Everything about his behaviour is strange, but Satoru knows that it’s best to let him gather his thoughts before he speaks, so he just sits and lets him do what he has to, quietly watching as he sits on the sofa beside him and stares down at the gift in his hand.

After a few seconds, he takes a deep breath and turns to face him, extending the bundle of paper. It’s a little hard to tell there’s anything in there, and the tape is barely sticking, but Satoru thinks it might be the best present he’s ever gotten already.

“Merry Christmas,” Suguru says, the heavily accented and a little stilted, and Satoru grins.

“Sap,” he says, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re getting soft, babe.”

“Just—open it.”

Satoru chuckles but obliges, sitting back and tearing at the paper.

It’s pretty heavily wrapped, but after a few seconds, he manages to pull out a small wooden box, plain but pretty, with a delicate carving of two swimming betta fish on the lid. He thumbs over the design for a moment before going to open the box, but Suguru’s hand over his stops him, and he looks up.

Suguru is staring down at their hands, but he lifts his head to meet Satoru’s eyes. He looks a little pale, and his lower lip is red where he’s obviously been biting it.

He looks like he wants to say something, but instead just pauses for a beat before closing his mouth, slowly removing his hand from Satoru’s. Satoru watches him for a moment, heart beginning to beat a little faster as he slowly opens the box, still staring at Suguru.

When he looks down, his breath catches in his throat.

The ring is beautiful: a modest opal set in a gold band, the stone cradled by delicate gold detailing, making it look like a rose in bloom. It’s not overly flashy, nothing overstated; a quiet sort of beauty that settles in Satoru’s heart, familiar and warm. He goes to brush his finger over the stone, but pauses, looking up instead.

Suguru is staring at him, lower lip caught between his teeth. Moving slowly, Satoru catches it with his thumb, gently tugging it free.

There’s no words to be said, so he doesn’t say anything; just leans forward and presses his lips to Suguru’s. All of the tension appears to leak out of him, and he lifts a hand to cup Satoru’s face, tugging him closer. When the kiss breaks, his pupils are blown, and he stares at Satoru like the sun.

“Is that a yes?” he croaks. Satoru can’t help it; he bursts out laughing, thunking his forehead against Suguru’s.

“Depends on what you’re asking,” he teases. Suguru makes a pained noise, and Satoru grins, holding his face.

“Idiot,” he says fondly. “In what world would I ever say no?”

They embrace on the couch for a few more moments before Satoru pulls back, just enough to look at Suguru. His ears are red, but his eyes are starry, and he looks a lot less freaked out than he had a few minutes ago.

Still, Satoru is Satoru, and he can’t help but tease.

“I can’t believe you proposed on Christmas, you sappy fuck. Who was it going on about not celebrating, again?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Suguru huffs, bumping his knuckles against Satoru’s forehead. “I got it a while back, been keeping it on me. Kept going back and forth on whether to give it to you.”

“Hm, I don’t know. I think you’re getting sentimental in your old age.”

Suguru snorts.

“Ah, yes, the ripe old age of twenty-four.”

“Hey, your birthday is coming up. You won’t be youthful for much longer.”

Suguru shakes his head, but he can’t seem to stop smiling. 

“Are you going to let me put it on you, or are you going to keep bullying me for the rest of the day?”

The ring fits him perfectly, and Suguru keeps his hand cradled in his own, running his thumb over his knuckles. As if he can’t help himself, he lifts it to his lips, pressing a kiss to his fingers and making Satoru swoon a little inside.

Something pricks at the back of his mind, and Satoru’s brow furrows a little. Suguru catches it immediately, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong?”

“You said you’ve been ‘keeping it on you,’” he says, grabbing the box from the sofa cushions and holding it up. “No way you’ve been walking around with this in your pocket.”

Suguru winces a little, and Satoru narrows his eyes, pulling his hand away.

“What?”

He chews on his lip for a second before sighing. His cursed energy spikes in a brief moment before a familiar purple worm appears over his shoulders.

Satoru stares at the worm. Stares at Suguru. Stares at the worm again, eyes boring into that ugly baby face.

And then he recoils.

“Ew!”

“It’s completely sanitary!” Suguru protests, pulling out a small knife, ignoring the slime-like saliva before dispelling the curse. “See? All traces of the curse disappear when I recall it.”

“You put my engagement ring inside a fucking—a gross purple baby worm!”

“It’s no different than the cursed tools!”

He summons the curse again and feeds it the knife before letting it go again. Satoru pouts, glaring at the spot on his shoulder where the thing was sitting.

“Given where that thing came from, I’m frankly offended.”

Suguru sighs.

“You’re being dramatic,” he says, pinching Satoru’s cheek. Satoru scowls and bats his hand away, and he raises an eyebrow.

“I can take it back if you want.”

Satoru gives an offended gasp, clutching his hand to his chest.

“Don’t you dare!”

Suguru rolls his eyes, pinches him again, then catches his chin between his fingers and draws him into another, deeper kiss. He uses Satoru’s indignant squawk as an opportunity to slide his tongue over his lips and into his mouth, curling it against his with a practiced, dirty move.

This time, it’s Satoru’s turn to be starstruck when the kiss breaks, mouth hanging open and cheeks hot. Suguru smirks, tilting his chin up a little.

“Still mad?”

“‘Bout to be, if you don’t do that again.”

Suguru presses his laugh into Satoru’s mouth with another kiss, placing a hand on his chest and pushing until he sprawls onto his back on the couch, wrapping paper crinkling under him.

Outside, the snow continues to fall.

[serene-faerie]

Canon Mortal/Elf couples as aesthetics:

Andreth/Aegnor— a pale sunrise over the mountains, reading a well-loved book beneath a maple tree, long braided hair, autumn leaves, beaded jewelry, the golden hour, a tranquil lake, kissing the freckles of one's face, silver courtly robes, earth-coloured dresses, morning horse rides, shy smiles, the ache of nostalgia, herbal tea, writing love poems, campfire stories, forget-me-nots, flickering candles, red robins, the smell of cinnamon, a bowl of mushroom soup, amber gemstones, the taste of lingonberries, bittersweet memories, tears of regret, parting ways but never letting go.

Beren/Lúthien— hot summer nights, dancing barefoot in a glade, daisies, gentle warrior hands, sweet blackberries, fiery sunsets, flower petals caught in strands of hair, stubble tickling smooth cheeks, fireflies lighting up the night, stars that glitter like diamonds, crystal clear waters, shimmering skin, dark-green capes, flowing blue gowns, kisses upon fingertips, nightingales, blue butterflies, strolls through the forest, the sound of rushing rivers, the smell of lilacs, undying loyalty and love, the pale blue dawn, a crackling campfire, silver jewelry, emeralds, always keeping promises, a life of peace and bliss together.

Tuor/Idril— baroque architecture, eyes as blue as the ocean, braided golden hair, white doves, grandiose fountains, sparkling white towers, the smell of rosewater, grand baths with petals in the water, citrus trees, stolen kisses in flower gardens, an instant connection, rich silks, gold jewelry, blue summer skies, a shining city, snow-capped mountains, chandeliers of crystal and gold, sunlight filtering through stained glass, high ceilings, marble floors, the warmth of falling in love, romantic paintings, pink roses, rebuilding a broken home together, staying strong for others.

Aragorn/Arwen— elegant wooden archways, pale pink evening skies, all-knowing smiles, quiet moments in a library, holding hands, flowing velvet gowns, jewel tones, whispered reassurances, undying faith, a crystal pendant on a silver chain, the smell of lavender, twinkling stars above, cups of fruit wine, the taste of dark chocolate, sweet nothings, words of love, juicy pomegranate seeds, impressionist landscape paintings, romantic architecture, love sonnets, cursive handwriting, marble towers, thrushes, accepting the impermanence of life, bittersweet grief, bare trees, a cold winter.

[whorediaries-09]

inside this place is warm

pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s)- fluff a/n- some bonding time hehe.

little train. series masterlist

it's dark when you step out of your cabin. you twist your shoulders, crack your back before you start collecting your stuff. water bottle, pens, notepad, documents, stamp...and a note. you quickly read through the lines you'd scribbled in a hurry...and totally forgotten about. it reminded you of the fact that sirius would be at your house...for the tasting of whatever dish he'd decided to make.

and your house was in total shambles. fuck, you needed to be fast. at the least, make your house look presentable. your shoes rubbed against the polished tiles as you rushed out of the office, putting up your hair in a bun with the help of your wand.

as the breeze hit you, your wrist was grasped by an oddly familiar hand, pulling you towards them. you opened your mouth to scream before stopping midway as your eyes met sirius'. he was smiling boyishly, holding up a bouquet of yellow flowers and a cup of coffee. he hands you the bouquet, before he pulls you into a dark alley.

'sirius where are we going!' you scream, famished as you run after him, your footsteps faltering compared to his long legs. he laughs,

'you'll see, sweetheart!'

'come one sirius, i'm tired as fuck, i want to go home,' he doesn't answer. instead he stops, and you notice his bike parked against the wall.

'you will. i'm not kidnapping you,' he chuckles. you blow a raspberry at him. he hands you the cup,

'it's not a salted caramel this time. it's a brownie latte,'

'sounds like a shit load of diabetes,' you comment. he smiles,

'does it now, sweetheart?' you shrug taking a sip from the cup.

'yep, definitely tastes like it.' you say. he rolls his eyes, handing you the helmet.

'prat. wear this, we're going home.'

*-

the sound of the gravy sizzling spread out throughout the kitchen. he sways his hips, whistling a tune as he tosses and turns the curry. you stand beside him, your hips pressed against the counter, watching him cook the food. he rolls the dough into little balls, taking the rolling pin and flattening it out into a perfect circle.

you watch the ends of his hair tickle his face. the dough sticks on his fingers, and he's unable to move them away. he tries to brush them off with his shoulder, but his attempt bears him no fruit. so, you move closer to him, and standing on your tiptoes, you tuck the stray strands behind his ear. you watch the little star earring twinkle before his curl covers it from the back of his ear.

'enjoying the view are you, sweetheart?' he teases, nudging you with his elbow. you roll your eyes, huffing, but your smile gives your teasing behavior away,

'oh yes, very much. who wouldn't? who doesn't like the sirius black cooking in their kitchen?'

'then it would be very wrong of me not to be a gentleman, and not please you everyday, wouldn't it?' he chuckles.

'definitely. but don't burn the fucking pan or i'll toss you out of my kitchen,'

'i think you meant you would toss the pan out of the kitchen,'

'no, i didn't,' he scrunches his eyebrows,

'where do you keep the little spoons?'

'uhm, that drawer-over there-wait i'll get it for you-' you move at the same time as him, colliding with him. he loses his balance, falling on the floor, following you tripping over him. he instinctively catches you by your waist as you fall.

the contact spreads silvers of shocks down your spine and you gasp. the words stick at the base of your throat, not escaping your mouth. you feel yourself lose your sanity as you stare into the depth of his gray eyes. they remind you of the storms, the hurricanes. your hair tickles his face, and he stares into your eyes.

you could smell the faint scent of cigarettes that escaped his mouth infused with the tea he so religiously drank. he smiles, a soft curve of his pink lips. with slender fingers, he tucks your hair behind your ears, tracing your jaw.

'as much as i'm enjoying the view, we wouldn't want the food to burn would we?' he teases. you feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, warming up your cheeks. you hit his chest lightly, as he laughs.

*-

'you know i can handle a spoon right?' you ask, raising an eyebrow. he rolls his eyes,

'i know, but i need you to shut up and taste it for me,' you jab your knee into his thigh, as he presses your cheeks together, separating your lips and pushing the spoon into your mouth. it's sweet, milky when you taste it. you swallow it.

'what's this?'

'kheer,' (a/n-it's sort of a rice pudding)

'no like what is it made up of?'

'do you like it?'

'i quite literally love it. now please don't gatekeep your recipe,' he laughs.

'i'm not. i'll teach you how to make it. this is chilled. it takes a long time to make. approximately four hours,'

'you've been standing in the kitchen for four hours!' you exclaim. he smiles, flexing his hand,

'i'm magic sweetheart,' the both of you chuckle at his joke. he sits down opposite to the chair. he pulls out four chapatis from the casserole, putting two on your plate, two on his. he serves you what he calls 'paneer bhurji'.

'i thought you wanted to make paneer-what did u call that-'

'palak?'

'yes,' you say, breaking a piece of the chapati.

'well, palak translates to spinach. not the season for good spinach. i'll make you some when the season comes,'

'you plan on cooking for me? i'll have to pay you cause holy shit this is so good,' he smiles. you watch as his porcelain skin turns red with your compliment. your heart warms at his smile. it's cozy, enrapturing you into an every growing fondness. his eyes lingers upon you.

and perhaps, there's not much difference between the both of you.

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original idea posted by - @lilwnet

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