#they taste lovely but for some reason they spread out too much. it’s possible I over creamed the butter+sugar or flattened them too much

[cr0wc0rpse]

I’m thinking about that lighthearted post that was about a person and their bf having the cooking vs baking divide and it was a fun post but I also saw a version with an addition with the tags (screenshotted, not tags from someone I follow) that said something along the lines of “baking being a ‘science’ is so stupid it all goes in the same bowl in the end” and I want to strangle that person. Baking IS a sort of science. Specific measurements and specific steps. I’d like to see you try to make macarons. Or cream puffs. Or doughnuts. Or brioche. Or anything sourdough. Mother fucker. Bitch.

[gyusimp]

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨 [𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭]

ᴹⁱⁿᵒʳˢ ᴰᴺᴵ! | ᔆᵐᵘᵗ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ | ᴬʳᵗ ᵇʸ⠘ ˢʰᵃᵈᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ ᵒⁿ ᵀʷⁱᵗᵗᵉʳ

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Kenji will always be very sweet. No matter how stupid he made you after sex, he will treat you gently and help you get back on your feet. He will clean you up first and then himself and he will be happy to take a shower together if you are okay with it. Although he is a bit of a fussy person so it is 100% certain that he will not go to sleep without changing the sheets for new ones. For your comfort and his, and he might put some air freshener in the air lol.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I feel like Kenji is very proud of his entire body, but especially his arms and torso. Have you seen that broad back? That man is to die for and he knows it, that's why he loves sleeping shirtless and teasing you. As for you, he loves everything about you, but he definitely has a fixation on your thighs and touching your ass whenever he gets the chance.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He's open to possibilities as long as you are too. Besides cumming inside you, he likes to do it for some reason where a few drops get on your strands of hair or a few drops run down your collarbones. He has a habit of teasing you by kissing you after taste you, so you'll taste yourself on his lips.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's fantasized about doing things with you in his Ultraman form, why? Because yes. It's really nothing more than a fantasy because not even his pinky finger could fit inside you, but imagining you so small and needy in the palm of his hand has made his thoughts go beyond the limits he thought he knew.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Nothing. Kenji has no prior experience, not even a little. As famous and handsome as he is, we know that he suffered from bullying in his childhood years which affected his social skills so if I can't imagine him with friends, much less having encounters of that kind. His first time with you was an adorable disaster but you took care of making him feel safe always and over time he managed to improve his technique quite a bit.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any one where he can see your face but is also addicted to you riding him or if he's too needy he'll let you on top and spread his legs for you to do whatever you want.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on his mood. He usually acts normal but if he wants to tease you or is really excited he might tell a couple of dirty jokes to make you blush.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

This man is a total grooming person. I can see a shelf in his shower full of hair products, aftershave, skin moisturizers and all that stuff so yes, Kenji pays attention to detail and if he isn't completely shaved there will always be a neat, impeccable trim. You're never going to see a mess down there. Ever.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

There are times when you two are too horny to get romantic but that doesn't mean it's just sex without love. But, when he's truly focused on making love to you in every sense of the word, he's the most romantic man in the world. He makes you feel like you're on cloud nine with his soft caresses and kisses, his words are so deep that when you both finish, you end up seeing everything in rose-colored glasses and even loving your insecurities after he completely praised you from the bottom of his heart.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don't see Kenji doing this kind of thing, he's a mature adult and quite busy too so if he ever did it, it was in puberty out of pure curiosity. Now he has you so if he's horny he knows you can always help him and if he's lonely he'll just get moody.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I think after taking care of Emi and researching parenting and fatherhood issues he had some praise kinks left, but nothing serious. He doesn't show it anywhere other than the bed and you discovered it little by little on your own when he told you things like how he was eager to fill you with his seed and how excited it made him to think of you carrying his baby in you one day. Whenever you bring it up he doesn't completely deny it but it's because he's a little embarrassed to admit it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Nothing like the comfort of his bed or yours but he's open to new places to make it more exciting. Places like his basement or the stadium locker room when the team has left have been the perfect spots for a quickie.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He likes you touching him, your hands are his weakness. Also for some reason when you are dressed up nicely, like clothes he is not used to seeing you in for example a skirt and heels to go to work or a nice dress for an event. He always thinks "is that my girlfriend?" and feels the need to rip your clothes off already.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn't agree with the idea of hurting you so he's against BSDM. If you were to ask him to do something related (like asking him to hit you or call you names) he would try to do it at first to fulfill your whim but after a while he would feel uncomfortable and maybe not want to continue. Maybe what he would tolerate a little longer would be to call you names just by seeing your intense reactions and they would be mild words like "slut" or "bitch".

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As I mentioned before, he is inexperienced in person until after a couple of times. He likes to receive but he prefers thousands of times to give. The feeling of your folds against his tongue and your pussy between his lips is indescribable for him. He loves to grab you by the thighs and wrap his arms around your legs while he gets lost between your crotch for hours being blessed with the sound of your voice before his actions.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It will also depend on his mood. A happy, romantic, sweet Kenji who longs to spend time with you after a long week at work will be deep and slow but careful. But a Kenji who is stressed out from losing so many games, fighting with players from other teams and tired of being a baby kaiju's single mother and breaking his back being Ultraman will throw you on the mat face down and grab onto your hips to pound you like there’s no tomorrow and then flip you over to put your knees on his shoulders because you’re dumb enough to do it on your own (of course you’re okay with all of this).

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He is a fan of quickies, he couldn't live without them. He tends to have mental breakdowns more often than you think and between so many games, interviews and training sessions he sometimes comes home too tired to do it slowly and formally, so you can also offer him several quickies a week so that they are little breaks for him and he can de-stress and continue.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He has a slight interest in doing it where he can get caught, like the time where his hands got too far with you in the stadium locker room before a game and his teammates were feet away getting ready in the hallway outside.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He is a professional athlete who is used to hours of training, cardio and all that stuff. His average is 3-4 rounds when he feels mentally stable and physically rested. You usually ends up with pain in your lower back and the back of your knees.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't have any toys and he wouldn't use them on himself. If he ever bought one it would be to use it with you so you could both experience something new together.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to embarrass you but in a good way. Maybe he'll mention things about how desperate you are or how abundant your release was today with just a few touches. This man's ego is big and it expands to the sky when he can see you under him sweaty and moaning his name repeatedly so it's the perfect setting for him to joke around in more egotistical and arrogant ways with you to make you blush.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

If you're in a completely safe and alone place, Kenji will never shut his mouth. He's unconsciously very expressive in that aspect and will say whatever he wants and needs to say, even if something bothers him. His tone of voice is thicker and more desperate as if he's throwing little tantrums asking for more from you. Sometimes it confuses you when he claims that you're too tight around him. Is he complaining or is he grateful for it?

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves to make dirty calls with you when you are at home and he is away from you. He feels very proud of himself knowing the power he has over you and how he manages to make you wet even when he is not present, calling you with some dirty nicknames that he saves just for you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's not too far from average. When the baby is asleep he's pretty normal sized although still noticeable in tight jeans or his Ultraman form. But when the baby wants action he's maybe an inch or an inch and a half taller than average. Kenji is a tall, thin young man so his strengths would be more length than girth.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

In the middle, not too low or too desperate. Although sometimes his thoughts are the ones to blame for making him feel horny and that's when he asks you for help to solve it, but on a scale of 1-10 I'd leave it at 7. He knows when it's more prudent to let himself go and when not to.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He won't fall asleep until you do unless he's had a bad day and all he wants to do is sleep in your arms right after he's cum. If he's tired enough to sleep on the same sheets you two made out with earlier.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。look my way, you’re what i crave | gojo satoru

wc: 2.6k

summary: you and gojo made a promise to yuuji.

contains: f!reader in mind but no pronouns used, food trip/taste-testing, many food descriptions, a little bit of (playful) jealousy, pouty gojo, yuuji calls reader sensei, established relationship (but no label).

a/n: a small extra scene that takes place some time between col 2.5 and col 3! not a food expert nor am i japanese, so food descriptions are just based off first-hand experience and some research i’ve managed to do! there are some switches in povs (gojo-reader-gojo) but i tried to keep it as distinct as possible! this is also my birthday gift for you, niku @stellamancer!! thank you for sharing this idea with me and for loving the col couple as much as i do!!

collection masterlist: conversations on love 2.5. and my body keeps saying (it's yours) <- you are here -> 03. so this is what it means to be in love + (extended scene) too good to be mine

‘Losing’ isn’t a word in Gojo’s vocabulary. 

If it is, it’s usually addressed to the other party. 

He’s been a winner ever since he was born, two blue eyes and an extra four hidden, holding power that manifests itself only once every few centuries. Some argue that he was born for that reason: to win, without doubt, incontestably. 

And he supposes, most of it is true—which is why he can’t believe the loss he’s feeling right now, standing in front of the Daifuku stall across from you. 

Never in his entire life did Gojo ever anticipate himself losing to anything. But with the way you’d casually nodded off, signaled so nonchalantly that you’d follow him but clearly didn’t—it has his head turning, finding you midbite a singular, shared stick of Yakitori.

He thinks he might have just experienced his first loss. 

And the victor is none other than Itadori Yuuji. 

.

You made a promise to Yuuji. 

Back when he was still up for execution by virtue of being Sukuna’s vessel, you’d laid your confidence in Gojo. 

“Sensei, do you really think it’s possible?” he asks, voice hesitant but eyes tinged with hope. You were discussing the ways his execution could go down—if it even will go down. 

Shoko’s always pointed out that the most dangerous thing about you is hope, and how you hold onto it so deeply that you pass it onto others like a disease, spreading it to seep into skin and bones.

Gojo calls it your hidden technique, the trump card you pull out when everyone’s knocked down, spirits low. It’s what sets you apart, he thinks, how you’re able to survive in a world that serves as an antithesis to the values you hold. 

“If Satoru said to leave it up to him, he’ll find a way,” you answer immediately, like you’ve known it all this time, experienced it first-hand—a memory. Then you add, an affirmation that sounds so close to fact, it reassures him, “he always does.” 

“Let’s go to Osaka and eat all the street food when everything’s done.”  

You made a promise to Yuuji, and here you are now, with Gojo, keeping it. 

The streets of Osaka are bustling, crowded pretty much any time of the year—carts of all sorts of street food lined up with restaurants hidden in every corner. Neon banners and LED signs light up overhead, a twinkling food heaven reflected in Yuuji’s eyes. 

It must be his first time here, you surmise, because he’s looking at every food stall like he’s ready to devour. You glance at Gojo, hands tucked in his pockets with his blindfold sitting snugly on his face. His presence is bright, blending in with the light, and he turns his head to you slightly, flashing you a small smile. 

You tell yourself the warmth you feel is because of the heat radiating from all the vendors’ stoves. 

“Sensei, what do you want to try first?” Yuuji interrupts your train of thought, but you’re sure he doesn’t mean to. He’s just excited, and his energy has always been infectious, spreading to both Gojo and you. 

Gojo isn’t too big a fan of savory things, so you know you’re going to end up having to choose. You take a look around you to survey each stall, before turning back to Yuuji with a plan on how exactly you’re going to eat and conquer. 

.

Gojo watches—the way you zig-zag across the street, following Yuuji as he walks up to each vendor. It’s both amusing and endearing seeing you being just as, if not more, enthralled at all the savory options in front of you. 

Between the two of you, he’s always had the sweet tooth, so it tickles something in him that even when you don’t, your food-tasting game plan still consists of alternating savory-sweet-savory food.

Yuuji’s first pick is of course, Okonomiyaki, an iconic must-have in Osaka. He orders one piece at first, but you insist on two, knowing that the boy is more than capable of finishing a single one on his own. On the frying sheet lie columns of the pancakes–a simple mixture of flour, eggs, and cabbage–fried and coated in flavors bursting of sweet, savory, and smoky. The lady vendor is generous with the toppings and sauce she pours over it, packing the two pancakes in separate plastic containers before handing one to you and the other to Yuuji.

You turn back to find Gojo a few steps behind you, so you beckon him closer.

“Let’s share,” you whisper, once he sidles up next to you. The plastic crinkles in your hand as you try to slice a piece, Yuuji’s muffled ‘whoah’ heard from the side. 

You blow on the slice, lips shaped into a small ��o’; he doesn’t want to stare, not with Yuuji right there and neither of you having made anything official yet—

—but this is really tempting him to kiss you. 

He doesn’t know if you can tell—any hint of his desire concealed by his blindfold, but you shove the slice right to his lips. And while it isn’t graceful at all, with the sauce probably smeared all over his mouth, it’s a good distraction from how much he wants you instead of the food right now. 

The texture of the Okonomiyaki hits right every time, the crunchy and creamy combination providing a great contrast that complements how sweet and savory it is. The bite you take after his has your expression mirroring Yuuji’s, and he takes out his phone to capture this memory.

“Gowo-shunsheh! Tek a shulfeh!” Yuuji shouts, mouth still full as he lifts his fingers up into a peace sign. You grin, ear-to-ear, evidence of your happy tummy; he wants to pinch your cheeks. 

“Okay, copy!” he raises his phone up at an angle, fingers hovering over the volume button as he grips the edges, “ready! 1…2…3… say Okonomiyaki!” 

Only Yuuji shouts it, and when Gojo reviews the photo, you’re halfway through a fallen smile—face contorting into disbelief that he said something that cringey, in typical, loud, Gojo fashion too.

“Hey!” he points out, zooming into your face in the photo, “Again! You’re not smiling!” 

You shoot him a look. 

“We can try it with a .5 this time, the kids love it these days.” he suggests, flipping the phone and gathering you and Yuuji closer. 

He takes two photos: one with flash and one without, and the moment he counts down, you mumble right by his ear to please not say ‘Okonomiyaki’ when you have to smile—he chuckles. 

And he says it again. Both times. 

You expected no less, but at least you tried. 

“You should be our human tripod next time,” you tell him, letting Yuuji go ahead. 

The photos look good, with you tiptoeing as you balance a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, Yuuji at the back with his hands raised, holding the empty plastic that used to house his Okonomiyaki.

“Knew you were just using me,” he pouts, hand reaching behind to rest at your lower back. 

It’s been the subtleties with him this trip, tonight especially. 

“Yep,” you play along, smiling oh-so-sweetly, “I knew those freakishly long arms were good for something.” 

Before he can retort with something cheesy, along the lines of: ‘to hold you’ or ‘to hug you in your sleep’, you move away, catching up to Yuuji. 

Your pick, for Gojo, is Taiyaki. It’s not his favorite thing to eat, but it’s sweet, and is still a good, nostalgic dessert, you’d like to think. Batter is poured all over the fish molds before being filled with the red bean filling. Then, after a few minutes of waiting, it pops out perfectly, ready to be eaten by the three of you. You ask for two again, only because this time, you know Gojo can finish one whole. 

But when his eyes land on the Taiyaki you’re biting from and he realizes very quickly that it isn’t his, he feels a pinch. 

It's a good thing the crunchy outside and soft, full inside of the Taiyaki is enough to make him shrug off the feeling. For now.

As the food trip goes on, you end up in many more stalls—

—a Takoyaki one, where Yuuji’s ‘ooo’s’ and ‘aaa’s’ are heard every time the balls are flipped and formed. The cooking on it is perfect, the pieces of octopus sitting just right with enough bite as flavors of soy and Worcestershire come through in its glaze. Gojo only eats one from the set of six that you ordered, and he wishes he just waited, because now Yuuji is eating half of the last one you couldn't finish. 

—a Kushikatsu one, deep fried beef and vegetables coated in crispy, crunchy breadcrumbs and dipped in Tonkatsu sauce. Yuuji ends up finishing three whole sticks, while you manage to eat one. It’s an animated conversation between the two of you that Gojo can’t seem to insert himself into. A part of him feels a little pathetic now, tailing you both like a dog, but he just wants a little bit more of your attention. 

—a Soba shop (not so much a stall) that serves amazing Cold Soba he definitely isn’t missing out on. Yuuji is practically buzzing, excited for anything noodles; it’s the main reason you’d suggested Osaka in the first place. He ducks in the shop last, Yuuji first with you in the middle, and when you settle in your seat right beside him, he snickers endearingly. Gojo can see everything, you’re reminded of that everyday and in moments like this especially. Right now, it's the way you sigh as soon as you release the top button of your pants immediately.

You pout at him as you’re served an order each, the dipping sauce in small ceramic as the noodles lie in bamboo boxes. It’s refreshing and light, just the right balance of sweet and savory; the buckwheat noodles have a lovely bite to them, not at all mushy. When he glances at you, halfway through your bowl, he can tell that you’re already full. 

But just as he offers to finish yours—

“Sensei, are you going to finish that?” 

—there’s Yuuji.

You shake your head, pushing your bowl towards him; Gojo feels that pinch returning. 

A few good minutes of walking find you on the way to another stall—

—a Yakitori one that Yuuji practically skips to, as if he didn’t just finish a bowl and a half of Cold Soba, three sticks of Kushikatsu, three and a half pieces of Takoyaki, a half of one Taiyaki, and a whole order of Okonomiyaki.

Gojo decides to sit this one out, eyeing the Daifuku stand across the street. He’s gone here plenty of times before, but never with you—and if there's anything he wants you to try out here, it's fresh, special mochi, all soft and delectable, delicate in the way its decorated.

He takes off his blindfold, ruffling his hair. With Yuuji having gone ahead, it’s just the two of you. 

“I’m going to buy Daifuku, there’s a special one I want you to taste,” he whispers excitedly, wiggling his eyebrows. 

The expression on your face is the last thing he was expecting. 

Your eyes are dazed, half-lidded, almost like you’re sleepy, and you blink at him twice before you’re able to fully process what he just said. You could be having a food coma right now, just standing. 

“Oh, okay,” you hum, nodding as you smile, dopey, “I’ll follow.” 

He considers just waiting for a bit, because he wants you to go with him. But you insist and shoo him away, telling him that the Daifuku might run out by the time Yuuji reaches the front of the Yakitori line.

So he goes, and maybe it’s a little petty, and immature, and stupid-silly, but he hates how this entire food trip has felt like a battle for your attention between him and Yuuji. 

Even though he’s probably the only one who feels it.

So it’s one-sided. Definitely. 

And he’s losing. Terribly. 

Each individual piece of Daifuku looks majestic, pink mochi with red bean filling, sliced in the middle to leave room for a whole syrup-glazed strawberry. He orders two boxes to bring back home and an extra two pieces, one for the two of you to share and the other for Yuuji. 

Gojo’s mouth is watering and he really wants to take a bite already, but you aren’t anywhere near him. So when he turns around and spots you, mid-chew on the last few bites your stomach can take from that shared Yakitori stick—he feels that pinch again. Because throughout this trip, all you’d done was split savory food with Yuuji, and all he wanted was a bit more attention, sharing half-bites with you. 

When you finally meet his eyes across the street, signature blue amidst bright reds and neon greens, he’s pouting, and he hopes he’s making it very obvious that he wants (needs) you to go to him. 

Your eyes widen before crossing the street, Yuuji right on your heel. 

“Whoah, Gojo Sensei! That looks good!” Yuuji’s voice booms, earning a few looks.

Gojo holds one Daifuku on each hand, the other two boxes tucked in a plastic bag hanging by his elbow. 

“It’s their special one!” He smiles at Yuuji, handing it over. 

You look at him curiously, head tilted to the side as you watch him closely—how his smile doesn’t really reach his eyes. 

Once Yuuji moves out of earshot, his series of ‘mmm’s’ blending in with the bustle of market chatter, you face Gojo and open your mouth wide, “Aaaah,” 

Gojo doesn’t move for the first few seconds, but you meet in the middle eventually, his hand inching towards feeding you while you move your head closer. He keeps his palm open under your chin, cupping it to serve as a catch tray for any filling that might spill out. 

There’s something about the look of you, half-sleepy and asking to be fed, that makes him feel warm and fuzzy—like that pinching feeling earlier never existed. Like he’d gladly do this everyday if you asked for it. 

The soft, plush exterior of the mochi touches your lips, and you bite, the filling oozing out just enough for you to get a good portion of it. Flavors of red bean and strawberry hit your palate, and the filling doesn’t leak, but the syrup coating the strawberry catches onto your nose when you move away. 

At the tip of your nose is a shiny red spot, glistening under the busy lights. The expression on your face is pleased, content—your head doing that side-to-side sway whenever you like the taste of something. 

“Mmm,” you smile at him, “it’s yummy.” 

And he doesn’t know what it is, if it’s the look you’re giving him, or if it's something in the air tonight, but he feels warm and full and still very much like he wants to kiss you. 

So he decides, damn all the passersby.

He does one quick scan around him, making sure that Yuuji, at the very least, is away from the immediate vicinity. And when it’s all clear, he leans in. 

Gojo kisses you on the nose in the middle of a busy street food road, and his lips are soft, almost feather-light, swooping in quickly before anyone can notice. You’re stunned into silence, but the moment you come to, he’s already swiped the strawberry syrup off you. 

His cheeks are starting to turn pink, the sides of his neck already as red as the signs on the food stalls. And he can tell you feel it too, with the way your sleepiness seems to have faded into what now looks like surprise.

Still cute though.

(Always will be, in his eyes). 

So, ‘losing’ isn’t really a word in Gojo’s vocabulary. 

But if it is, he thinks he’d gladly lose to you. 

(Still not to Yuuji though. He maybe still has to keep an eye out for that one).

thank you notes: to niku for being there always!! from answering my questions, brainstorming together, and just all-around everything!! col wouldn't be what it is now without you!! i love u, i hope i gave your love for food justice, niku!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[sandwhitches]

Hello! For you summer writing event, may I request a cherry popsicle with sakusa, osamu and kuroo and falling asleep on their shoulder on a bus/train?

a/n: one of my favorite tropes hehehe. thanks for requesting and enjoy!!

genre: fluff

content: gn. reader, all of them are pining messes

wc: 676

this is a part of my summer writing event!!! please feel free to send some requests my way :3

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈

Sakusa wonders how he’s managed to amass such a crush on you, impossible to ignore, it slowly eats away at his sanity with each time he sees your face but can’t kiss it. But this? This takes the cake. How long can a person go without needing to breathe? Kiyoomi asks himself that as he tenses under an unexpected weight on his shoulder, his lungs have suddenly forgotten what they were made for it seems. 

Cautiously, his eyes dart down to affirm what he already knows. Your face has never looked easier to kiss all over than it does now, peaceful with the slumber he’s been watching you trying to stave off since getting on the train.

Now you’ve done it, you’re killing him without even needing to be conscious to do so, nothing less of what he’d expect given how he’s been head over heels in silence for too long. 

Swallowing thickly, Kiyoomi makes an effort to lower his shoulders a bit, hoping you won’t wake with a sore neck. This can be okay, he thinks, he may very well die like this if he can’t figure out how to breathe, and maybe he won’t be so upset about whatever happens as long as you stay close to him like you are now. 

𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

“Isn’t yer stop comin’-” Osamu’s breath catches in his throat as he’s interrupted by the foreign feeling of your warm body pressed up against his. You can’t possibly be asleep, can you? He can practically hear his own heartbeat as his eyes are met with the most beautiful sight he’s sure he’ll ever get the privilege to see.

Your upcoming stop is now long lost on Osamu, who has since leaned his head gently atop yours, trying to time his breaths with the rise and fall of your own chest. If he could choose one moment to stay in forever, this might be the one, he thinks.

A nervous hand drapes over the one you’d planted on his knee in a half-asleep haze, roughened fingers brush over the soft back of your palm, and Osamu is asking himself what good deed he’s done in his life to deserve this. 

There's a taste of something new on his tongue, the sugary weight of words he wishes to shower you in: confessions, secrets, desires. It’s funny, and his opinion, a bit pathetic, that this is all it takes for him to start dreaming so ardently over the rest of your lives.

In that moment, Osamu feels as if the only reason he was put on this earth was for you to lean on like you are now, for him to do anything in his power to spark even the smallest of joys in your heart. 

𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎

It’s an absolute mystery to Kuroo how you can manage to doze off like this on such a crowded train. Squeezed into a tight corner at the end, he’s beginning to lose his mind over the fact that he can hear the airy breaths you let out so slowly.

While he’s still grappling with the fact that you’ve fallen asleep, he’s also trying to ignore that it feels like he’s going to pass out when your head lolls onto his shoulder. 

How can he be cool about this? Kuroo can just barely bolster the wave of nerves he gets when being with you as it is, but this is impossible for him. He cringes at the warmth that spreads across his cheeks, undeniably tinting the apples a blushy red, and he knows it’s obvious to just about anyone on the train who looks his way that he’s suffocating on the dizzying sensation of love. 

The worst part about this? It’s going to be impossible for him to keep his feelings stifled under the guise of camaraderie for any much longer. Now that he knows what it is like to have you so close to him, it’s clear that he wants that as much as he possibly can. Kuroo was doomed from the very start, wasn’t he?

[the-demonus-aunt]

What if the brothers found a Vibrator in your room (how would they react)

Hehe. Yes, thank you. Apologies for the delay, I hope you're still thirsting for this 🌚

CN nsft. sex toys. reader has a vagina. rough sex.

Belphie

He'll tease you with such a straight face, it will take you a while to even realise what's going on

He's merciless about it. It's his way of trying to provoke you enough that you will take the first step

Frankly, it might end in tears, which shocks him, which ends in hugs

On the other hand, if you have a humiliation kink? Best night of your life.

He's gonna overstimulate you until you use the safe word, holding that wand against your clit like his life is depending on it

How practical that he can use his other hand to tease your nipples

How delicious that he can kiss you like this and feel your desperate moans on his lips

"I didn't know you were such a needy little slut. Will you be a needy little slut for me?"

Beel

No, listen, it's right next to him and he doesn't notice

You gave him cookies, are you really expecting him to take in his surroundings?

If he finds it, it's because you wanted him to

You left it there, right next to the space he usually sits in, still dripping with your juices, because you knew he would smell it

And you knew it would be the one thing that smells more delicious to him than his food

Oh, he gets one wiff of it and you're already flipped onto your back, as he claws on your pants

It takes some nudging for him to actually use the toy on you. Why would he, if he can just taste you like this?

But when he realises how wet it gets you - how there's even more for him to taste - you have a long night ahead of you

Don't forget he's the Avatar of Gluttony. I hope you prepared for this when you sat the toy down near his cookies.

"How are you so delicious? I can't take it anymore. I- aaaah."

Asmodeus

He immediately asks you about it - he knows the model, do you love it as much as he does?

Btw, he figured out how to make it feel even better - do you want him to show you?

He's surprisingly gentle, kissing his way down your legs, as he pulls down your pants

Orders you to tease your own nipples with it while he prepares you

Asmo takes out an aphrodisiac cream and slowly spreads it right over your clit

He hasn't really touched you before, so your hips jolt up as heat shoots through your body

He teases you for hours before he goes all in

When you cum, he cums. He hasn't touched himself. You screaming his name is all it takes.

"Oh gorgeous, I'll make you feel so good, you'll see. How does that feel? Good? Yeah, I know, darling."

Satan

At first, he pretends he doesn't notice

Unfortunately his gaze keeps coming back to it

Is there...is there still cum on it?

Well, now there's precum in his pants

He palms himself until you notice and blush

Then he can't take it anymore. He throws you onto the bed and rips your clothes off

The only reason he doesn't just stuff himself into you without any hesitation is that he can feel you need some prep

He uses his fingers. They'll be better than any toy, you'll see

When you're finally wet enough, he plows into you until you have tears in your eyes

He presses his open mouth onto yours, his tongue finding its way to yours

Fuck, he wants to be in you in all ways possible

When you come and moan his name into is mouth, he almost blacks out

"You think you can tease me like this? You're not ready for what you got yourself into."

Levi

Mass panic in a room with only two people

He can't even hide it, he just shrieks when he sees it

You probably shriek, too, grasping for it so that you can put it away

You couldn't hide your vibrator, now he can't hide his boner

You might have to take the first step, ask if you can help him out, give him a kiss

Well, 5 seconds later you're on your bed, Levi helplessly thrusting into you

He cums almost immediately but he makes up for it throughout the rest of the night

Only after he feels you, tastes you, experiences you, will he get up and get that vibrator out again

"Show me how you use it. I wanna see. Please?"

Mammon

He enters your room. He sits down on your bed. Why is he standing up again? He's heading to the door, mumbling some sorry excuse, is he actually leaving?

Your gaze shifts to your bed and the realisation hits fast enough to stop him

Oh but now you're so close, and you're both thinking about the same thing and why are his hands on your hips?

His kiss is firm, the grip on your ass needy, he might be blushing but he does not hesitate. Not anymore.

You're both too lost in each other to remember the toy

The adrenaline, the pleasure - it turns the night into a blur of highs and heat and indecipherable whispers

"MC. I can't take i- I can't- fuck, you feel incredible."

Lucifer

This demon has The Audacity™️

He picks it up. Holds it nice and high, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and smug smile

He tells you if you needed help, all you had to do was ask. There is no need to resort to such mundane experiences when he can take you straight to heaven anytime you wanted, right?

You don't dare object. Which is good bc you also don't want to.

He takes you right on the table.

The things he can do with his tongue

The moans he extracts from you with his fingers

The whimpers his hard cock presses out of you

None so sweet as the way you dig your fingers into his arms as you cum

As your nails break skin and his name falls from your lips, he fills you up to the brim and makes you his

"You're cumming already? Pathetic, but I'll allow it. Ok then, cum for me, love, but show me exactly how good I'm making you feel. Yes, just like this. Yes."

[elllisaaa]

hi lovie✨✨💘💘 ur blog is so cute! May I request a Joshua hong from seventeen bf!thoughts😇🎀 ur Scoups one is AMAZING seriously the level of detail was so lovely

thank you so much !! i'm glad you love my aesthetic as well as my writing, i hope you'll love this too <3

BF!JOSHUA who's literally the definition of a gentleman and who would do quite anything for you if you ask for it.

joshua always does little acts that proves how mindful and attentive to your every move he is : putting his hands over the corners of tables, counters or cupboards when you bend down to get something, opening doors and things like bags of candies and water bottles for you, doing your shoelaces or helping you put on your heels and taking them off, refilling your snacks at your apartment and always carrying something for you. all of that comes to him so naturally, like he doesn't even think about it only because you're always on his mind, his number one priority. when you're talking, he's focused entirely on you, eye contacts and all to make sure that you know he's listening to you intently. plus, he always remembers all the little details you mention. that means that joshua is very aware of your emotions, so if you're tense, he will definitely notice it and offer you a massage to help you relax.

"come here my love, i'm gonna help you feel better, yeah ? you can talk to me if you want, you know that i'm here for you anyway."

he always makes sure to show you that he's there for you in social outings by letting his hand rest against the small of your back or by wrapping his arm around your waist and keeping you close to him. and when you're away from each other, his eyes are always drawn back to you, a smile spreading on his face when he crosses your gaze. joshua also loves to do that to show everyone that you're his, and that he's proud of being yours. he would give so many compliments, literally all the time - about how pretty you look, about how smart you are, about how good the food you made that day tastes. anything you do is worth a praise in joshua's mind. knowing how easily you can blush and get flustered from his comments, he would love to tease you a little by whispering some compliments to you while you're with other people, grinning as your cheeks grow red and you hit his chest for making you shy again.

"what ? can't i tell my girlfriend that she's incredibly gorgeous ? you wound me love."

you would get so many random kisses from joshua. he just can't help it - when he's bypassing you at home or when you look too cute, no matter the place, he's going to kiss you as soon as he gets the urge to. he would kiss you anywhere he can reach - your nose, your temples, your cheeks, your forehead, your lips, the top of your head or even your shoulders if the outfit you're wearing allows it. these little marks of affection always make you melt, especially when it's followed by a new love confession that makes your heart skip another beat. joshua is the type to bring you flowers randomly because he says that he doesn't need a reason other than love to gift his girl flowers. you always try to keep them alive for as long as possible, and when they do die, he helps you dry them to keep them - and he falls even more deeper for you when he discovers that you've been doing this with all the bouquets he gave to you since you started dating. he also definitely loves to make you handmade gifts, and you have matching bracelets that he created with a meaning behind every charm and that you both wear all the time.

"i made this thinking of you, i hope you'll like it."

BF!JOSHUA who doesn't stop spoiling you when it comes to sex, on the contrary, it's even harder to stop him from giving you everything he got.

to me, he's 100% big on overstimulation. firstly, because joshua loves to smother you with his love and that making you cum as much as possible is a form of love to him, and secondly, because you're very pretty and cute when you're trying to push him away because he already made you cum on his tongue three times and you can't get any more. but joshua always entices you in giving him one more, and one more, and one more until you're shaking and moaning his name uncontrollably underneath him. he'll let you sit on his face whenever you want to, but once he starts, he doesn't let you go until you soaked him in your juices - because he likes how squirmy you get and also because he loves your taste a little too much. by the time he pushes his cock into you, you're already so fucked out that all joshua has to do is hit your sweet spot a few times for you to cum again, and he loves how sensitive you get after a few orgasms and how easy it becomes for him to bring you to the edge.

"that's it love, give me one more… yeah, just like that."

praises extend into the bedroom of course, every word leaving his lips during sex being compliments and basically he's worshipping you and your body like a goddess. joshua never stops himself from telling you that you look hot or pretty, or that you feel amazing, or that you're doing very good, perfect even. he knows you kind of seek out his approval, and he cannot resists the urge to compliment his little angel when you're sucking him off and you look up at him with your big doe eyes - of course he has to tell you that your mouth feels so good he might cum down your throat. joshua is even more high on praises when it's intimate, lazy, morning sex. he loves the feeling of waking up next to you, limbs entangled with each other's, and just making out with you slowly until both of you just need to feel even closer. it's always so romantic that joshua just feels the need to confess his love again and again. but he's also spurred on by the fact that his praises turn you on and make you go weak in the knees.

"you're doing so good baby, such a pretty good girl."

sometimes, joshua also enjoys laying back and letting you do all the work, but it's very rare, and you'll have to do a lot to convince him to not move a finger while you're the one spoiling him for once. he surely loves the feeling of having you being all over him and being taken care of by your sweet hands, but he prefers to be the one making you go crazy. joshua particularly loves it when the pleasure he gives you gets so intense that you can't control the noises you're making anymore, nor the words that are spilling out of your mouth. when you're getting dirty is when he knows that you're really into it. that also goes with the way you don't even notice how strong you're pulling on his hair sometimes, but joshua doesn't mind because it brings him a different kind of rush that he loves. however, his favourite is when you dig your nails into his back and scratch it, when you leave your marks all over him. he's not too fond of marking you himself, but the way you're silently claiming him plus the slight pain the next morning gets him going more than anything.

"don't feel guilty, i love it when you get freaky baby."

[cabinette]

A Chilshi Selkie AU I have been thinking about for a while. (by A While i mean like 3 hours)

assorted thoughts below ! (QUITE unorganised lol)

I like to think chilchucks already formed something of a surface life. and he's so so enthralled by things like beer and alcohol and indulgence but he has to deny himself of so many things because he's utterly convinced that no one will look at him the same if he reveals he's a selkie. he keeps a lock on his heart because. he LITERALLY has such an insane secret to keep

people think that he's just an ass who doesnt like talking about himself(or a closeted queer of some kind but you didnt hear that from me ;)) and it doesnt matter if he always leaves first when at the bar. it doesn't matter that he never seems to be anywhere but the beach. it doesn't matter because he's never going to tell you and you're never going to believe him

he's left behind the life he could have possibly lived in the ocean among his friends, his family, he's still in contact with them but…. He's more in touch with his facade than his selkie form. yknow ?

and now he's got this stupid man who found out everything he was trying to hide on, what, a silly little fishing trip? His life is going to be ruined ! (he's eating nice hot fish soup and feeling the warmth in his bones. he's experiencing the understanding and acceptance of a stranger. he can't paint himself as a bad person because somehow they already know he's just a sad, lonely selkie seeking companionship far above the shallows. and how his life is going to be "ruined" because this mackrel soup tastes so good and he doesn't know how he's going to hold himself back if this is how good it can be.)

Senshi's just a guy who goes fishing sometimes :-) And he's a struggler bcause he doesnt usually socialise- people joke about him being an ocean man, yknow? Never really leaves the sea, and so he's become sort of… isolated from the people he used to know. And you know, he has his reasonings. Incidents concerning his friends that happened far too long ago and guilt that spreads him too thin, but he still loves the sea. He still loves her for all her storms and her peace and her cruelty and her kindness. When you're a lonely man there's no better place to hide than the wide blue, you know ? So what happens when he meets someone who's so intrinsically connected to the sea, who's whole life is based around the sea?

Chilchuck knows the sea. knows how dangerous it can be and how to manoeuvre it. He doesn't necessarily love it but he's very in tune with it, he knows where the current is strongest and that you'll be swept away if you're not careful, but Senshi just loves the sea because... it's the sea. he helps fish that are stuck in rocks and he thinks. oh yeah. the sea is my friend. it may have caused him pain but he knows his way around it too. Only half-accepting the sad fact that the sea isn't yknow, a person but still a very much massive thing, a force to be reckoned with, and as he learns more about Chilchuck he too learns more about the sea, and having to sort of fully accept that he's never going to know it as a friend, or an acquaintance. His love for the ocean can never be staved but it can also. never be reciprocated.

guh. but even if the sea isnt his friend he can still feel the connections he makes. he can still learn and grow and and and and and anwlihsbdjk23wbearkudwhgjA#BEUKFJHGUKAEFH theres something THERE I CANT WORD IT!!! BIUT ITS THERE

[mowu-moment]

ranking food tokens by how much personally i want to eat them

- Throne of Eldraine -

i have reason to distrust this meat pie thing, not only because of its wails of anguish but it also seems to have burst a bit in the oven. still not honestly opposed, at least the dishes are clean. 5/10.

how does one unpeel a curly banana? why are there sliced-open fruits on what appears to be a stone in the woods? where is the light coming from? i'm going to be taken by the fae and it's not even gonna taste too good while i'm at it, these things look dirty. but idk i don't mind someone else taking the wheel of my life rn. 2/10.

again, concerns about the floor food, but at least it looks more like some deliverygirl got eaten by a wolf and dropped her basket than a trap. someone already took a bite, though, maybe i should leave it be. 4/10

i have been invited to the Goblin King's Feast and while i don't fully agree with his choices i will certainly partake. boar looks wonderful apart from the hair. 7/10

- Commander 2020 / Strixhaven Commander -

i'm pretty sure cattails are poisonous to humans (not to mention the actual poisons in there) so i unfortunately can't oblige gyome's swamp soup. that crusty bread looks pretty nice though. i'll pick this thing apart like high school cafeteria lunch. 3/10.

- Modern Horizons 2 -

i at least know who cooked this one, and i trust asmor a decent bit, but this is still food for demons, so maybe it's not too good for me. goddamn do i wanna know what it tastes like though. 4/10.

- Unfinity -

i'm considering these two together. as a filthy american, i am allured by these fat-filled foods, but as a lad with a tiny stomach, i doubt i could eat enough to feel good about not wasting it. astrotorium's about excess, goddamn. the only funfair burger i've had was the best thing i had eaten in months, but it also made me ill the rest of the day. i really do want some infinity fries though, those look like the golden mean between a steak fry and a curly fry. 6/10.

- March of the Machine Commander -

meanwhile this looks like a texture nightmare. like i respect it, i imagine it's filling and fulfilling, but i don't think i ever could eat more than a bite or two. bread looks a little worse than gyome's but only a little. 5/10.

- Lord of the Rings: Tales of Middle-Earth -

my white ass loves a charcuterie board. and i'm not going to be intimidated out of it by not eating enough, since it's all in snack-sized bits already. definitely gonna overindulge this sucker. i'm nervous about some of those spreads though. 9/10.

this looks like i'm in a dream, is it actively cooking? or still hot? i can't identify what's in that pan anyway. i'm leaving it alone out of respect. wouldn't mind a drink though. 2/10.

this is not food. for humans. 0/10.

- Wilds of Eldraine -

this is a king's feast i am properly intimidated by. i'm more into it than the Goblin King's, particularly that triple-layer blueberry pie or whatever that is, but i'm going to have to be as polite as possible lest i get a face full of flaming beer. 8/10

i'll probably be eaten before this can eat me, and it barely looks like food, but at least i go down with sugar in the mouth. 1/10.

ogh. that egg looks divine. the bread looks amazing, there's a full glass, i've got like beans or mermaid tears everywhere. we've even got seasonings back there. the best damn breakfast i'll ever have. 10/10.

i would still probably eat this over nothing. there's onion, at least. i will either be hexed or violently ill, but like i could at least get it down. and maybe the witchmother is testing my strength and she'll reward me after slurping an eyeball. a convenient lie to tell myself. 2/10.

- Doctor Who Commander -

y'know, four, i think i would like a copyrighted candy. they look sad and british, which is on point. but like it's not actively killing me like half of these. i think anyway. i don't know doctor who. 6/10.

what is this? i have no idea. custard? raw batter? giant dunkaroo? is he dipping fishsticks? it doesn't look like it's done cooking, like do we need to put it in a fryer again? i'd say it's inedible but it's not poison stew so i have to be nice. 4/10.

get AWAY from me. this is a PERSONAL vendetta. i would rather try to eat spiderwebs. plus he's already eaten half of it. -10/10.

- Fallout Commander -

i can't be too mean since this is literally apocalypse food. i think i prefer this over poison stew? like i recognize it at least, even if it's foul and moldy. man has to eat something. 3/10

i'm not convinced there's actual soda in here. is this just a perspective shot or is this a giant prop soda? i don't like cola anyway. again, worth it in an apocalypse i suppose. 4/10

this soda i trust even less. it glows? does this give me magic powers in the fallout world or does it just kill me slowly? i think it'll kill me slowly anyway. i need fluid to survive in apocalypseland but damn i hate for it to come to this. 2/10.

[kates-dump]

My experience with Analog Horror/ARGs and why you should check them out

Marble Hornets: the classic, and a big favorite of mine for obvious reasons. I cannot stress enough how good and spooky that series is, and the ToTheArk videos gave me nightmares, love it! <3

If you're into Slenderman stories, you should definitely check it out. The acting is very well done and the story is awesome overall :)

The Sun Vanished: the ARG that started my interest for ARGs, and especially enigmas/internet puzzles. Unfortunately I was not smart enough to figure the stuff out by myself, so I just watched explanations on it. Highly recommended if you like post-apocalyptic settings and subtle horror.

The Mandela Catalogue: possibly the series that brought back my interest for these things. I have only watched the first two seasons of it, as I sadly lost interest after a while, but from what I have watched, I would recommend it to those of you who like horror with religious themes (which is a big thing for me) and most importantly, trust issues. Do keep in mind this series deals with more serious and dark topics, though you have probably heard it already.

Local58: the analog horror of all analog horrors, Local58 barged in before TMC took the spotlight. There is so much going on and all of it is very interesting and scary. America's pride leads to its doom, the moon can control electronic devices, and weird creatures spread through the world. If you like stories that leave you not understanding what the hell just happened but loving it anyway, you will love Local58.

Rocket Archives: A single-video series that has unfortunately been taken down for reasons I am not certain of. But if you're curious what it was about, the video presented a reality where us humans were forced to leave Earth with how hot it was getting, and moved to contained bubbles in space. Suddenly, uh oh! The sun's getting closer! Outer Wilds moment! Everything is melting! Humans are gone and the sun is... alive???

Analog Archives: made by the creator of Rocket Archives, has also been taken down but can still be found re-uploaded. The series is slightly similar to Local58, as in it also focuses on broadcast hijacking used for ending off humans. The series also includes a few religious topics that can get very dark. I love it. "Nature Show" makes me tear up with fear every time.

Gemini Home Entertainment: ALL-TIME FAVORITE MOMENT!!! I don't think I need to explain why I love this one so much. GHE leaves a lot to your imagination/speculation, while also twisting your head directly into the direction of the threat and forcing you to look at it while you squirm in fear. GHE is subtle in the most obvious way, obvious in the most subtle way, and most importantly, IT'S COSMIC HORROR, BABY!!! THERE IS A PLANET IN OUR SOLAR SYSTEM THAT GOT HERE UNINVITED AND NOW IT WANTS TO EAT US!!! UGHHHH I can't put in words why I think it's so good, it just is. Watch it. The Gardeners are cute, I swear. There's even a plush of them.

Monument Mythos: something something alternate realities, something something time loops. I have not watched all of it, barely even half, but I deemed it a little bit too confusing for my brain. BUT! If you're into things that boogle your mind, you might really like this series! I mean, world monuments are alive, what could be scarier?

Vita Carnis: EW. (affectionate)

But, seriously, if you like gross, you are certainly going to like this series. It's meat, and it's alive. Although, I did stop watching it because it got a tad too graphic and violent for my taste, but if that doesn't bother you, then I recommend it a lot! The editing is soooo good, and some of the creatures are very likable and cute ^v^ (the others are gross and I do not want them near me I do not WANT FUCK OFF)

Don't Look at the Moon: Minecraft spooky. Do I need to say more?

[fernandopiastri28]

hi can u do a one shot smut of oscar fucking a virgin reader gently in front of a mirror with praises? thank u <3

ofc! hope u enjoy :))

look at yourself ~ op81 (s)

word count: 3.5k

Y/N’s head tilts back, revealing more of her neck to Oscar’s hungry lips. “You got second place,” Her fingers tangle up in the hair on the back of his head, “You fucking bastard- you just had to do it at the once race I couldn’t get to in time?”

Oscar snorts, pulling back enough for her to see his expression, “Sorry, I’ll just mess up every time that Uni coincides with a race,” His voice was seeping with sarcasm and fondness. “Next time, I’ll book you out my private jet so you can always be with me,” His nose nudges against her jawline, his teeth scraping her soft skin.

“Osc, can’t do that- we’re going to see your parents tomorrow,” Her hand presses against his chest, trying to create some space between their bodies.

“What, booking out my jet? What does that have to do with my parents?” His voice is bated, no control or restraint within him.

“The hickeys, stupid,”

Oscar laughs, not letting up. ‘You have makeup,’ He reasons. He knows what he wants, and he wants it now.

Y/N sucks in a heavy breath, finally caving. Her body melts against Oscar’s- giving in to what she wants so badly too. “Fine, go crazy,” Yet, she doesn’t give him the option to mark her neck up as her lips meet his- sloppy and eager mouths battling for dominance.

“I love you,” He smiles against her lips, his hands mapping out the curve of her waist and hips.

She hums contently, tilting her head to get better access to him. “Mm, already?” She giggles. It’s only been a few short months of them being official after months and months of being ‘just friends’.

They’d met at a dinner party (emphasis on party) that Liam had hosted, Y/N’s friends with Liam’s girlfriend Hannah, and obviously Oscar’s friends with Liam, and after seeing each other for the first time that night- they both knew they didn’t want to be apart unless they had to be.

Obviously though there was a lot of time that they were forced apart, namely, most race weekends. With her being at university full time and Oscar racing- there was near to no overlap where they could spend more than a few hours or days together. There had only been 2 races she’d been able to attend so far, which made sense given they were still keeping their relationship on the downlow.

“Yes, already,” His hands slide up the back of her shirt, fingers spread across her lower back. “Always, infact,” His nose nudges against hers, bumping against each other when they kiss.

Oscar’s lips trail down her neck, kissing along the skin that’s only just visible above her strapless top. “Oh- fuck, Osc,” Her hands move up into his hair, yanking it probably a bit too hard.

“This when you’re supposed to say you love me too,” His voice isn’t too serious, more joking around and casual.

“You-“ Y/N looks up at him with bright eyes and sore cheeks, “You know I love you, I loved you first,” Her hands move to undoing the buttons of his polo, cursing him for doing them all up like some posh school-boy dork.

“Not possible,” He grins into her mouth, pushing back into her. They end up with her back to the wall and his arms caging her in- typical.

When he pulls back, his lips are dark and shiny from her lipgloss. He drags a rough finger along it, then puts it against his teeth, sucking on it. “You taste good,” He murmurs, dipping down again to kiss her jaw.

The whine that leaves her mouth is pathetic, not sure what to insinuate next. Oscar’s hard, understandably, and she’s soaked, even more understandably. Usually by this point, she drops to her knees and sucks him off, then he lays her down on the bed and goes down on her until she’s had at least 5 orgasms.

Because Oscar refuses to be the one to gain more pleasure from the experience. It’s a blessing and a curse, because as much as it feels so good, it also leaves Y/N’s legs aching and her body spent the next morning.

But she doesn’t want another night of blowjobs and head- despite that she actually loves both. She wants more, she wants what she has with Oscar to seem like more than a casual post race hookup, because it is. What she feels for him is more than she’s ever felt for anyone.

“Hey, you okay?” Oscar’s thumb slides down her cheeks, his voice calm and his eyes soft. “You still with me?”

It’s that kind of care and softness that Y/N craves. She wants to see Oscar in the most intimate ways- more than when she has his cock in her mouth and he’s weak at the knees and rough with his hands in her hair.

“Let’s have sex,” The sentence tumbles out of her mouth before she can word it more elegantly, “Tonight,”

Oscar’s mouth drops into an O, his pearly white bottom row of teeth only just in view. His eyes are dark and wide- his expression unreadable. “Really?”

“Yes, god, a million times yes,” Her hands hitch up the back of his shirt, her fingers dipping into the taut muscles across the back of his waist. “Please, Osc, I’m ready,”

Oscar has this look of panic and discern spread across his beautifully masculine features, yet buried below, he’s excited- he’s fucking thrilled. This has been a long time coming, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“You’re absolutely sure?” Y/N fights back the urge to roll her eyes at his intense need for reassurance. It is sweet though, she’ll give him that. Better than the opposite of him acting without permission.

“I am absolutely sure,”

“You tell me if we need to stop, okay?” His fingers drag along her forearms, cold fingertips along hot skin. “We’ll use the light system. Green if you want me to keep going, orange if you want me to change something, red if I need stop,”

He doesn’t move an inch until she gives him confirmation that she understands, “Gotcha, go for green,” She visibly cringes at her own words, but Oscar doesn’t quite catch it.

“Go for green,” He nods, laughing to himself. “Yeah, indeed,” One of his hands squeezes into her waist, his thumb pressing into her front so hard Y/N’s sure she’ll have a purple oval bruise as evidence of this tomorrow morning.

Their mouths slot in together, as naturally as they have every time they’ve kissed before. This time though, it’s different, they’re about to have sex.

Sex for the first time together, sex for the first time ever for her.

“Is it gonna hurt?” She whispers into his mouth, worrying the words might disappear into the dark and wet heat.

Oscar pauses, his other hand drifting through her hair with a feather soft touch, “It might,” He replies truthfully, “It won’t be intentionally, but it’s your first time- so it might be painful,” His thumb rubs continuous circles into her hip.

“You tell me if it hurts- okay?” His head tilts enough for his eyes to each the same level as Y/N’s. “Red light, remember?”

“Red light if it hurts,”

“Good girl,” Butterflies swarm her stomach at how prettily it comes out of his mouth. It’s not in a weird and kinky way, but genuine and full of love.

Oscar’s hand that was in her hair moves down to her skirt, which is too long to hitch up, so his thumb runs down along her inner thigh through the silk material. He applies just a bit of pressure, enough to where his fingertips hit the soaked material of her panties.

Oscar bites down on his lips, his eyebrows tightly knotted together- it’s his concentration face, sans his tongue poking out between his lips. “You can take it off,” Her voice barely hits his ears, but it’s enough.

He hooks his index fingers into the waistband, tugging it down. It pools around her feet, her body running cold without the addition of her skirt on her body. “Beautiful,” Oscar murmurs, kneeling down in front of her. “May I?”

Y/N nods, her lips pressed tightly together as to not puke all over Oscar. She’s never been more nervous.

Oscar’s tongue laps along the wet material of her panties, his eyes huge as he stares up at her. He would happily spend the rest of his days like this, hours between her legs without a single interruption from the outside world.

On any other day, she’d be content with this. She’d be happy to just get off on this, being forced to walk around on shaky legs the next day, but it’s different tonight. She has her heart set on having sex, and she’s not a force to be reckoned with.

Please, Osc,” The voice that comes out of her own mouth is unfamilar, so much more desperate than she’s ever been. “Need you ‘nside me,”

A switch seems to flick in Oscar’s mind- determind and chasing for victory, his mindset in the car. He’s back up on his feet before she can blink, his hands gripping the backs off her thighs as he picks her up with one smooth movement.

“God, you taste like heaven,” He suckles on her neck, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass while her legs wrap around his waist.

On the track, Oscar is patient and calculated, he knows how to control himself. It’s what makes him such a great driver- makes him world champion material. But of it, when he’s with Y/N, his brain goes white hot, unable to string a coherent thought beyond her, her, her.

Especially now, when he’s about to be inside her.

One of his thumbs nudges against her clothed clit, and her back arches automatically. “Fuck, need these off you,” He murmurs, unable to stay occupied with one part of her still for more than. a single moment as he makes the way into his hotel room.

He’s got one hand permanently planted on her ass, keeping her upright, while his other hand slides her top over his head and tosses it across the room, and his hand goes back down to rub her clit. He fiddles with the door handle, finally getting it open after far too much effort.

He lays her down on the bed, kneeling hovering above her. One of his knees rests directly between her thighs, his elbows on either side of her head. His mouth is hot on hers, wetter and more intense with each tug his teeth makes on her bottom lip. “Are you trying to consume me or something?” Her arms gently wrap around the back of his neck, laughing to force away the nerves.

Oscar calms down, grinning against her mouth. “Sorry,” His cheeks are hot to the touch, flushed across his nose. “Just, wow, you,” He doesn’t have to say another word, his bright eyes are enough indication of how fond he is.

He fumbles with the button of his jeans, tugging down the tight material. Y/N isn’t one for liking skinny jeans on men, but Oscar might be the only exception in the world. His muscular thighs straining against the dark fabric, and his perfect ass, yeah- wow.

One of his hands tugs his jeans fully off, tossing them off somewhere in the dark room, while his other hand sneaks under her shoulders and unsnaps the clasp of her bra in one swift move.

Just a reminder that he’s much more experienced in this field then she is. In all fairness, before Y/N, he’d had one girlfriend back in highschool, so it’s not like she’s having her first time with a guy who’s been with a million girls- but it’s equally as daunting.

He pulls it off, biting his bottom lip at the sight of her bare chest, “I’m a weak man,” He groans, dipping his head to wrap his pink lips around one of her nipples, the bud immediately hardens in his mouth.

“Shi- Oscar, fuck,” Her vocabulary is pretty damn limited tonight to different variations of his name and curses. Her hips rut up against his shamelessly, like a dog in heat.

Oscar grounds his thigh into her cunt, letting her rub up against it. “Yeah, so good baby, use it,” He nods against her shoulder, kissing her cheek and jaw. “So good for me, baby,”

Y/N is about to cum, she’s so sure of it. It’s so embarrassing, humping her boyfriend’s leg, once again- like a dog. “Osc,”

“It’s okay, baby, just let it out,” His voice is the only thing keeping her from fucking falling into pieces right now. The tight coil in her stomach goes warm and the same heat spreads across her already damp underwear.

“Fuck,”

Oscar tugs her underwear down, scrunching them up in his palm and tucking them under his pillow. Dirty dog was probably going to use them later to get off.

His eyes go bright at the sight of her spent and exposed cunt, as if it’s his first time ever seeing one. “I love you,” He whispers, scooting down so he’s face to face with her heat again. “I love you, baby, so much.” He kisses along her inner thighs, up to the neatly cut hair over her sex.

“Not just because we’re-“

“Don’t say that, you know it’s not just because we’re about to make love,” He looks up at Y/N with big round eyes and an earnest expression, “Because I love you, and I want to make you happy,”

“I love you too,” Her thumb flicks a curl off his forehead, idly wrapping another lock around her index finger. She stares up at the ceiling, trying to imagine how this is going to play out.

Oscar’s taking a while, she thinks, but maybe that’s how it’s supposed to go. He’s not fingering her, or using his mouth, he’s just staring at her cunt, the air out of his nose cold against it.

That is until the click of a tube lid breaks the silence, then a squirt, then the whiny groan of Oscar’s moans. Oh, lube. Oscar’s touching himself.

He’s getting ready for her, he’s getting ready to be inside of her. Her insides go warm and her skin goes clammy, she’s not scared- she’s just.. it’s a lot.

“Baby?” Oscar hums, his lips unmoving against her inner thigh. The saliva from his prior kisses in that spot begin to dry over, sticky and unpleasant. “I’m gonna touch you now, alright?”

When he doesn’t receive a proper response, his lays his palm out on her stomach, “Colour?”

“Green,”

“Good,” A slicked up finger slides past her tight walls, her body loosening around the invasion. It feels better than when she does it to herself- Oscar’s fingers are thicker and longer, more experienced, embarrassingly enough.

Oscar moves his body so he’s hovering over her again, his hair falling over his face as he looks down at her. She could cry, it’s so much all at once.

The finger pushes all the way in until the last knuckle, then out, then back in again, pulling a string of whines from her mouth. Oscar swallows each moan up eagerly, smirking proudly. “Please, more,” Her eyes flutter between open and closed, unable to keep herself looking at his smug expression for more than two seconds- she might cum if she does.

Oscar nods once, retracting the finger and sliding in one next to it. It burns slightly, nothing too painful or uncomfortable, but nice. It feels good, hot and pleasantly tingly.

Oscar’s free hand drifts over her hair as he pulls his fingers out, the wetly lubed up hand moves to stroke his cock a final few times, before he nudges the head against her hole. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Then it all goes quiet. Oscar pushes inside with one swift move, his hands framing her face, his lips on hers. It doesn’t feel like anything she’d get before- there’s nothing to compare it to. It’s a lot about the heat of it, the coldness even. Her blood feels cold inside of her, hot flesh keeping it in.

It feels amazing. “Oscar,” She moans, pushing her ass down and curving her back up. She knew Oscar was big, she’s felt it pulsing inside of her cupped hand, she’s felt it in her mouth- but it’s completely different properly inside.

Oscar seems captivated by the twitch of her face and body, the way her eyes open to only reveal the whites, the way her mouth hangs awkwardly open as she tries to find something to say. “I want you to see yourself,” Oscar hums, his nose nudging against her cheek, his hips dragging back and forth.

“Can I?” Her eyes narrowed, hazily and blissed out. Based on how Oscar was acting, she must look good, plus, she’d love to see the full image of him inside her. Her head turns to look at the full length mirror across the foot of the bed, ideas lighting up in her mind.

Oscar pulls out, pecking at her lips when she whines at the loss. “Onto your hands and knees, face the mirror,” He instructs her, turning on one of the bedside lamps. It’s dim, only enough to help her see herself vaguely when she rolls onto her stomach.

“Tired?” Oscar laughs as he watches her lay there unmoving, feeling spineless and weak. She groans, looking over her shoulder at him. His arms are crossed over his chest, his body pale and thick with muscle. His features are delicately crafted, he’s beautiful. “Here we go,” His arms move to scoop her up, manhandling her into the exact position he wants.

Then he kneels between her, and before he even pushes back in, her eyes go wide. Oscar’s got both hands gripping her hips, pulling them back towards him, his thumbs pressing into the curve of her ass. His hair curls over his forehead, floppy and uncontrolled. His face glows with a healthy sex brightness- if that’s even a thing.

He looks bright and perfect, she looks wrecked. Her lip gloss is smudged, bits of it rubbing onto Oscar’s neck, her tits are marked up with pink bites and bruises, her hair is a mess.

It’s an Oscar mess, she’s been ruined by Oscar. “God, you’re so pretty,” His face moves next to hers, his eyes meeting hers in the reflection in the mirror. “Can’t believe this is real,” He sounds a bit starstruck.

“Can’t believe you’re real,” She bites her bottom lip, turning her head so their noses touch. “Cmon, Oscar, fuck me already,” The grin on her face can’t leave, it’s permanently indented on her.

“Okay,” His lips curl up, his hips nudging forward until he’s fully inside of her. His back straightens up, leaning back as he thrusts in and out of ehr, “Fuck, you’re so… so beautiful,” He hums, smoothing his palms over her back.

Y/N cranes her neck to make eye contact with her reflection, groaning at the sight. It’s perfect, Oscar looks perfect. He keeps telling her she does too, so maybe he’s right.

She moans with each movement he makes, “Osc, Osc,” She’s chasing her high, and he’s helping her towards it. Oscar places his thumb under her chin, tilting her head back enough that when he leans over, their mouths meet in a clash of spit and teeth.

It’s probably the most awkward kiss they’ve ever had, but it feels like pure ecstasy. “You feel so good,” Praises seem to spill from his mouth, his lips kissing along her shoulders from behind. “Look at yourself, what a sight,”

She does, her head tilts back down to look in the mirror- watching him go in and out, consuming each bit of her. Soon enough, he reaches a hand down in between her upper thighs, two of his fingers rubbing against her aching clit.

A burning white sensation feels her body as the tightness in her stomach releases, her back arching into him and a whine pulls from the back of her throat.

She doesn’t register when Oscar finishes, only when he pulls out and lays her down. “You were so good,” He whispers, breath heavy against her ear. He leaves for only a moment, returning with a damp cloth to clean her off. “How was that?” Each movement is soft and calculated, soothing to her worn out body.

“So good,” Her smile is probably stupidly dopey, but she couldn’t care less- she feels amazing.

“You were perfect, always are,” He dips in to kiss her lips, scooping her up. “Let’s take a bath, yeah?”

She doesn’t respond, just buries her face into his chest and goes quiet. He doesn’t need her words, just seeing her tired smile on her face is enough.

[maddie-dog-story-blog]

Sarah's Playground - 4

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

"You know, Sarah, you've changed enough of my dirty diapers this last few months that I know you must really love them," Lidia said as she continued to pin me to the couch by pressing her shitty diaper into my face. "You seem to love my dirty diapers so much that, maybe I should let you wear this one? I bet you'd like that, right little Sarah?"

I tried to protest, but I couldn't get words out given the smell enveloping my face. Everytime I opened my mouth, I couldn't do anything but gag.

"I wish that Sarah was wearing my messy diaper instead of me," Lidia wished.

Suddenly, I didn't feel the plastic cover of the diaper pressed against my face. Instead, I was suddenly nose deep in Lidia's admittedly beautifully round and toned ass. At the same time, I felt my legs spread apart and my backside lift up as something soft and bulky suddenly replaced the now too-large lingerie that was previously covering my ass. I could also distinctly feel the lumpy, sticky sensation of Lidia's shit pressed up against my ass cheeks and pussy. I couldn't believe I was actually wearing Lidia's messy diaper.

"Ah! That's much better, don't you think Sarah?" Lidia said, looking over her shoulder to inspect her handy work. She laughed at the sight. "Oh yes, you look like you are right back where you belong , little one. Sitting on the couch like a scared little toddler in a poopy diaper. Oh, don't pout, I know you love it," Lidia continued. "Actually, why don't you show me how much you love it. Why don't you lick your new Mommy's pussy to show her how much you LOVE sitting in her shitty pampers!" Lidia ordered.

I pulled back from Lidia's exposed ass and pussy in disgust as Lidia pushed it closer to me. In response to my movement, Lidia grabbed the pendant in her hand and showed it to me.

"Ah, ah, ah, baby girl. You do what Mommy says, or this can get worse for you. Do I need me to show you what I can do? I have some wonderful punishment ideas," Lidia said menacingly.

I swallowed nervously, looking at the pendant in my former captive's hand in fear. I knew precisely what she could do with that. I'd been doing it to her for months, after all.

"Please, don't! I'll be a good girl, I promise!" I said rapidly, not wanting to give Lidia any reason to believe I wasn't going to comply.

"That's what I thought, now show Mommy how much you appreciate her, my precious little poopy princess," Lidia commanded, leaning back further and shoving her clean shaven pussy into my face.

I shuddered at Lidia's new nickname for me, but knew what I had to do to survive this situation with as much dignity as possible. I opened my mouth and leaned forward on the couch, grimacing at the feeling of Lidia's shit moving around in my pants. I opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue, and began going to work on Lidia's vagina.

I began by slowly circling my tongue around Lidia's labia, feeling the folds of her soft pussy with my taste buds. Doing this, I felt her hard button of a clit, and redirected my attention, alternating between gently flicking it and pressing on it with my tongue. As I worked, I could here Lidia beginning to moan. Due to my machinations, she had been deprived orgasms other than those she could get while humping her messy diapers for months. I could tell she was enjoying this.

"Good baby, just like that!" Lidia told me as she sat back harder on my face, nearly suffocating me as I started alternating between licking her clit and darting my tongue in and out of her slit. Despite my tongue getting sore from my efforts, my difficulty breathing, and the disgusting mixture of Lidia's pussy juices and my saliva dripping down my chin down to my exposed breasts, I felt a growing feeling of arousal. As I continued to pleasure my lifelong bully, I couldn't help but start to rock back and forth in my seat, humping the messy diaper I was wearing, just like the naughty little diaper slut I turned Lidia into months ago.

As I continued to work my magic with my tongue, Lidia's pleasure reached it's peak. She suddenly shoved her groin into me with all of her might as she started to scream. My tongue, was inside of her, feeling her vagina clinch and unclinch as Lidia orgasmed over and over again.

I couldn't help myself. This was all too hot. Despite my embarrassment, I reached my hand to the front of the shit filled diaper strapped to my waist and started rubbing my own vagina over the padding. The stimulation felt good. I started to moan myself, the vibration of which sent more shivers of pleasure pulsing through Lidia's body, causing her to cum again.

I started to rub myself harder, desperately trying to bring myself to orgasm before this was over. However, just as I was about to finish, Lidia quickly pulled herself away from my face, turned around, and looked at me with a mischievous grin on her face.

"Well, what do we have here? A naughty little baby trying to cum in her babysitter's messy nappy? What a disgusting little pervert you are! What am I going to have to do about this?"

I temporarily stopped rubbing the front of my diaper, petrified as Lidia reached for my magical amulet again, smiling darkly.

NEXT CHAPTER

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Promises Six: The Patron

Dark!Morpheus x (female)reader, fantasy/medieval AU, 18+

Master List

Chapter warnings: language, violence, (temporary) character death A/N: You're all fucking fabulous. 💖Aiming for another update next week. Wish me luck.

Only two thrones waited in the main tent. The king’s servants rushed to move a third chair to a place of honor beside them, layering it in swaths of silk and velvet designed to hang over the canvas walls, like they could veil the differences in quality and size with a few curtains.

They needn’t have bothered.

Lord Morpheus refused to sit as his sibling lounged on their impromptu throne with the grace of a cat and a shark’s smile. Familial enmity crackled around the two like a storm, and Desire basked in the attention. The King of Meiren hovered, clearly aching to take his seat, but anxious should he disrespect the guest who would not.

Quite a tableau. If only the bard could paint.

She saw her patrons settled before she went to study the drama unfolding around the two Endless and the king who would dare consider himself an equal. Even the most delusional suitors kept their distance now. Alluring as Desire may be, they did not hem in the waves of power as their siblings did. The bard recognized the overwhelming presence of an Endless even when they tried to shutter the worst of the tidal crush when walking among mortals. She’d felt it with Death. She felt it with Dream. But Desire didn’t even pretend to care for the humans’ comfort.

Every scent was sweeter in their presence, every whisper of taste carried on the smoke of the outdoor cooking fires a draw to addiction. The company looked finer. Everyone murmured about the heat and struggled to meet each others’ gaze as they shifted in their tight clothes, fanning away glittering drops of sweat that drew the eye down, and down, and down to the curious places hidden from view by cloth and lace.

Plenty of mistakes would be made that evening. More than the usual wild carousing inspired by fantasies of bloodlust in the woods. She’d already advised her friends and supporters to avoid as much of the spectacle as possible. To keep a hair pin in their pocket to prick themselves and their loved ones back to good sense if needed. She pointed out the horse troughs and water buckets, and reasoned the king couldn’t complain if a few members of his court felt poorly and left before dark after such a long day.

She couldn’t follow them back, of course. Her curiosity forbid it, and she wanted to be near if a spark caught that might ignite the entire kingdom.

Desire made no effort to hide their conversation from the fragmented assembly. Most were too busy wrestling with their influence to take notice, but the bard knew Desire’s family, and – what was far more important – she knew herself and her desires too well to be so easily swayed.

“I heard you’d been offered a bride, and I simply couldn’t help myself.” Desire treated the seat more as a kind of low couch, spreading over the arms in a pose to draw the eye to their long limbs and fiery eyes. Their red lips looked bloodstained as they grinned. “And a mortal at that. What could have possessed you?”

The king stuttered to join in the conversation, his eyes so dilated even the bard could see the dark hollows swallowing his mind. “I-I offered, your… grace? A bargain for the King of Dream’s aid some years ago. He has not chosen, but there are still many days…”

“Hmmm.” Desire dismissed him effortlessly, not even bestowing a wave. Their eyes never turned to his face, and the king finally slumped into his seat, unseen and unheard by his betters. The bard had never seen him so cowed, and gods knew she’d put in the work.

“An offer only.” The Dream King’s hands flexed into fists. Although the bard had thought he couldn’t grow any paler, his knuckles looked deathly white against his pallid skin. “I have accepted no one, and no one in this host has so inspired my attention or affection.”

Somehow, Desire’s smile grew wider, and as they let their head fall back over the arm of their throne, they chuckled through their teeth. “I wonder, big brother. Really, I do. Ah, well.” They straightened, spinning with unnatural fluidity to properly face their kin. “At least I didn’t miss the hunt.”

The close air within the tent fostered the unnatural heat. It stuck to the roof of the bard’s mouth, and she licked her teeth to scrape it off her tongue. The warmth ached where it dripped into her chest, clenched and hungry for every good and wicked thing she could not or should not possess. Her dead mother’s hand to hold. A good cup of tea in a quiet place beside a trusted friend. Wind in her hair, songs in her throat, and someone –

She left the tent.

Out of sight, the waves of Desire’s power didn’t strike with such force, and the bard walked with her hands on her hips, taking deep breaths of fresh air to clear the scent of longing.

A breeze cut through the clearing where the king’s court set camp, and she imagined it cleaned the stench of foiled passions as it combed through her hair, that it brushed aside the bitter shards of unshaped dreams from her mind.

Sometimes she forgot how much harder intrigue and politics were to wash off than dust from the road. It worked into crevices and scars, surprising her with old filth every time she thought herself free of it.

Her time with the Endless would stain her, surely.

Her mother’s acquaintance with Death left more than a mere mark. If she wasn’t so proud of her own legacy and legend, she’d say it defined her. If she had any sense, she would’ve stayed with the dragon and sung him pretty songs until the Endless had fucked off back to the realm he governed. When Desire appeared, she should’ve turned her mare around, packed up her things at the castle, and left a note of apology. But she hadn’t. Couldn’t, honestly. She wanted to know. She wanted to see. She wanted to witness history – or add a few lines of her own.

Really, what was the worst that could happen? She had manners and a frustrating inability to die, so the chances of lasting consequences for her recklessness were slim.

Gradually, her hands slipped off her hips, and she felt she could breathe easily again. The world wore familiar shades, and no one’s power but her own threaded through her blood. Half finished stories and snarls of old songs half forgotten filled her head. The air tasted of dirt and smelled of sweat. All good and human things.

Strolling through the camp, she found an old fortune reader laying out her tools on a red blanket. The woman chose her spot well, a patch of shade that would only grow as the sun set, just beside the smaller tents where the noble families rested.

The bard nodded in passing, but a wizened hand seized her wrist, bringing her up short. Stumbling to a halt, she blinked down, bemused, but only a little surprised. The woman didn’t have many other customers passing at this hour, when most were resting or preparing for the hunt, and plenty of folk stopped the bard in the street.

All her cards, bones, and runes sat in tidy piles and dishes, untouched, but the reader glowered at the bard with a fortune on her lips.

“You have already caught your doom’s eye.”

Smiling, twisting her wrist in a vain attempt to thwart the old woman’s grasp, the bard said, “You must be mistaken, mother. I have no doom.”

Ridged nails sank into the bard’s palm as the fortune teller squeezed.

“Just because you are deathless does not make you fateless, girl.”

A presence too much like the ones she’d left in the king’s tent coursed like deep roots through the old woman’s words. They tapped unseen waters and sprouted a gravity beyond the woman’s ken. Her glare cut across realms, and the bard’s hair stood on end.

“You are become an ache that preys on the heart. A yearning made flesh. And your doom will tear you from the world if you continue this way in the Garden of Forking Paths. Heed my warning.”

A shadow cut across the sun, and the bard looked up, expecting a thunderhead. That sort of fortune ought to be followed by forked lightning and rolling thunder. But as the light returned and the shape passed through the sun’s glare, it roared, and the bard cursed, ripping away from the fortune teller even as the old woman released her grip.

“Fucking hells!”

She tore through the camp, running before she thought to move, knocking guards and bemused nobles out of her way as they stared up at the great, winged beast above. A dragon. A dragon had come to the king’s hunt.

And the bard knew just which idiot dragon it was, too.

She recognized his scaled bulk. His petulant, flaming rumble.

The absolute twat.

What did he think he was doing?

Time rushed against her, precious seconds slipping beneath the soles of her boots as she found her horse, fumbled on the bridle, and swung onto her back. By that time, knights and hunters had stirred themselves. The bard cantered between men-at-arms rushing to their mounts and young archers half-armed and eager.

She flew by the entrance to the king’s tent where the two Endless stood observing the chaos like it was so very far below them. Fair enough. But at the moment, the bard couldn’t care less. Kingdoms and fates be damned. Her patron was going to get himself killed. She barely felt their gazes wash over her, burning like molten gold, sharper than diamond stars. After a life of dragon’s fire and executioners’ blades, they did not make her tremble like a sensible mortal.

Out of the camp, into the woods, galloping along the path in the direction the dragon wheeled. A goodly field stood some distance away, and it was the nearest place her patron might land without risking his wings on the treetops. So she rode, aware the crash of arms and hooves behind her was growing.

She hadn’t stopped for a saddle. Her thighs clenched tight around her mare’s heaving ribs, every bit of energy and intent straining forward, trying to yank the distant break in the trees closer with sheer force of will. The woods pressed too dark and thick, and she couldn’t tell if the crush of noise in her head came from her heart or the dragon ahead.

The ride lasted half an age, but she cleared the tunnel of trees at last, and blinded by sun, she heard rather than saw the huntsfolk who’d gathered from where they kept the caged beasts and dogs. A dragon was much better quarry. As the glare faded, she wheeled her mare between the humans and the fiery beast. They stumbled, clutching weapons and glaring as she swung down, facing the thing they’d planned to capture.

Hands raised, seeking to draw his eye, she marched towards the dark gouges in the earth where her patron landed.

“Glistiven!”

He turned from the lancer he’d been snapping at, flaring his nostrils wide to smell as well as see her. The wind carried her scent across the field, and he lowered his head, creeping low to be on her level.

She hissed at the hunters as she passed, “He’ll burn you all if you scratch him. Your lives aren’t worth the coin the king will forget to pay you.”

A few, convinced, moved back into the trees. The rest at least backed away, cautious, ready to see if the beast would incinerate the bard before they pushed their luck.

Glistiven stood taller than an oak, and his wings could shade a whole village. He looked a fine prize with his glittering scales – and the gold trapped between them – but he’d not grown to such a size for his tame love of humanity.

He’d burned the bard to ash three times before his curiosity won over his bad temper.

A month of stories, songs, and negotiations convinced him that it may be easier to let the local villages sell him their sheep. It was easier than dealing with unwanted visits from every bounty hunter and monster slayer in the kingdom. Every year, she carried his order down from the mountain, and the farmers let the chosen sheep run wild into the dragon’s territory.

He ought to be in the mountain now.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, marching through the tall grass and struggling to look dignified. As if she didn’t have enough to worry over. Two Endless, a fool of a king, and families looking to her for protection she was wholly unqualified to promise. Just because she was old didn’t mean she was powerful. “You great, flaming… Why are you here?”

Though still many yards away, his great sigh sent ripples through her clothes. “You have not finished your story.”

Hells above and heavens below. The petulance in his voice. She noted the remaining huntsfolk shift even further away from the corner of her eye, disturbed by the voice like a landslide in a wildfire. Crackling, and rumbling, and doubtless inhuman. A voice they all felt rattle in their bones. It reminded them that though they be hunters, they might yet be hunted. Many of their kind fell to dragons’ appetites. This one may yet have them.

The bard dropped her hands, forcing her way through the swaying weeds. She’d give her patron a piece of her mind and sort out this mess. He ought to fly home, but if he didn’t, she could tell him where to hide, where to sleep away from the hunter’s hooks and the castle’s ballistas.

A sharp twang cut the words she went to speak from the air.

Pain struck. It pierced through and out, scattering thought and breaking breath. A strange weight sat in her flesh, and as her mouth fell open, desperate for air that would not come, her hands rose to find the wound, the hurt, and the thing that made it. An arrow tip sliced her fingers. A bolt from some great weapon meant to take down boar and the scaled wyverns that sometimes came this far north.

It had taken her heart out of her body. She could feel it with her bleeding fingertips, fluttering around the wooden shaft, half-pinned by broken ribs.

She fell. To her knees. To the grass. To the waiting arms of Death. Her blood pooled ruby over her hands, her body shuddering and jolting with the determination of a broken clock still trying to tick.

The ground shook with Glistiven’s rage, and the heat of his fire curled over her like a blanket as the last heat of waning life bubbled onto the grass.

Here you are again.

A gentle touch settled over the crown of her head. Cold, but soft. A familiar companion she hated to bother. The bard relaxed into the entity’s hold as she lost all sense and feeling, swaddled in the dark.

What have you gone and done to yourself this time?

[swallowedbyfandom]

Darling sister,

Is Colin still alive? If he has survived the night may I remind you that you are much too pale for mourning colors. Also I am entirely too busy right now to attend a funeral.

If he has not survived, I am sure your mother knows a questionable doctor that can make it look like alcohol poisoning. Or I can help you hide the body? We can say he ran off to the continent out of fear for your response.

Your ally in sanity, against all things Bridgerton,

Kate

Dearest Kate,

Death would be a mercy I shall not provide my boorish husband with. Did Anthony tell you what that drunken fool did? Last night Colin drunkenly boasted to all of White's Gentlemen's club that his seed is so superior even spilling on my bosom managed to impregnate me! As if it was not enough that he has gotten me with child, again! That bastard did it without even spilling in me! How is that even possible?

The beautiful simpleton I married does not even realize that now every horrid gossip will question our new child's legitimacy. I have my staff packing for Colin. I am sending him off for an extended stay with his mother. Let me look Violet in the eyes and explain why he has been exile from our home. I would love to watch that show. He can come back home once he has groveled sufficiently.

I swear the first time some Cad makes a comment about spillage or my bosom I will burn White's club to the ground. Perhaps then Will and Alice can reestablish their club. Their clientele were much better than the entitled snobs found at Whites.

Your irate ally,

Pen

Sister,

I assure you, I warned everyone present that I would not tolerate disrespect towards you. I was very clear that I would not take kindly to any rumors or comments getting around over my brother's inappropriate statement. We also gave Colin a good ear boxing before sending him home to you.

Please do notify me if anyone makes a comment that makes you uncomfortable. There is no reason for you to sully yourself with arson, our family is rich enough that I already have someone on retainer for that. It seemed like a prudent investment when Berbrooke made himself an issue. Lady Whistledown saved me a lot of coin running him out of town when she did.

There is no need for you to physically exert yourself, sister. You should be resting. I know how difficult the early stages of pregnancy can be on you.

Fondly,

Your favorite brother

Dearest Colin,

Albion bought me the most disturbing tale about your conduct at White's last night. I did not believe it for a single second. Sadly I can see you have been exiled to your mother's house. Which must mean there was truth to his accounting of your behavior. Perhaps I set my expectations too high. I am so very disappointed right now.

Oh Colin, I thought you were done drinking to excess and using your words to bring shame to my daughter. I had believed you learned from your mistakes. Instead I hear you were careless in discussing your martial relations. I didn't think I needed to tell you this, but what happens in the bedchambers between a husband and his wife is private. It is not fodder for tales or boasts. Commenting publicly about the intimacies you share with your wife is practically an invitation to others to do the same. I hope we both agree that Penelope deserves better. I hope you understand that I expect better from the man I trusted with my daughter's future.

Love,

Mama Portia

Colin,

Who is Portia's favorite son now? Thank you for blundering in such a spectacular manner. How does defeat taste? Is it as overly salted as you claimed my last cheese spread was?

Ha ha,

Albion

(Note slipped under Colin's door)

Col,

Ben saids Pen sent you here on a time out for your "fool antics". I love you Col but don't get too comfortable. If your presence here means she won't come for tea and tutoring then you will have to move in with Ben. I won't let you ruin this for me! You will not come between us.

Love,

Hyacinth Bridgerton

Apprentice

[mushroom-creacher]

Car Troubles

Chapter 2

< - >

“Wait, so you’re telling me, that Eddie Munson, the local scary badass of Hawkins High, gave you, his number?”

“I’m starting to feel offended by what you’re insinuating, Robin.”

Steve was organizing the shelves of the horror movie section while Robin stood at the front desk. The video store was practically empty this time of day.

“I’m just saying, you two seem like complete opposites in every way possible. Do you even have anything in common?”

“As a matter of fact,” He said, propping his elbow on a shelf to face his coworker, “We have a pretty similar taste in movies. And you know, we both hang around the kids. And, uh, oh! Apparently, we both know how to do hair, so we traded some tips, he’s got this amazing homemade hair mask- “

“O-K, you’ve proven me wrong! Just please do not start on the hair lectures again.”

Steve scoffed at her dismissal. “You know, Rob, if you’d listen to those ‘lectures’ every once in a while, you wouldn’t have to spend so long taming those curls in the morning.”

“You spend more time with your hair than I do!”

“Not detangling it! You could do so much more with your hair if you didn’t spend so much time getting all the knots out.”

“Have you considered the fact that I don’t care?” Robin’s voice dripped with playful sarcasm.

“That arrogance will be your love life’s downfall,” Steve warned with his hands on his hips.

“Like your love life is doing so much better than mine with your fancy hair?”

“...Touché, Robin. Touché.”

Robin laughed at the man’s lack of a rebuttal. “Do I need to get a new scoreboard?”

“Another way for you to mock and humiliate me? No, thank you.”

Before either of them could settle back into silence and continue with their work, the small bell at the door rang softly.

Robin turned to the customer as they approached the front desk. She was about to recite the usual customer spiel when she recognized the oh-so-infamous face of Hawkins High’s loudest misfit. 

“Is Steve here?” The young man asked.

Robin grinned before turning towards the horror movie shelves. “Stevie! Your new bestie is here to see you!”

Steve whipped around to face Robin; a blush spread across his face.

A short laugh escaped Eddie as he looked at the other man. “Hey there, Stevie.”

“I hate you both. I mean it this time.”

“Oh, you love us, and you know it!” Robin said, leaning against the top of the desk.

“I have to agree with your rambunctious friend here, Harrington. I’m too cute to be hated.”

“Haha, you’re both hilarious.” Steve put the last movies on the shelf before making his way to the two. “I guess introductions are due. Robin, Eddie. Eddie, Robin.”

Eddie dramatically bowed to the young woman behind the counter. “The one and only! A pleasure to meet you.”

“No offense, but you are not at all what I expected, Eddie. A lot less, you know, scary and intimidating.”

“Unsurprisingly, you’re not the first to tell me that,” Eddie chuckled. “I guess I just look scarier than I am.”

“Mhm, like a punk vampire.”

“I love that! I gotta put that on a business card!”

Steve watched as the two continued to talk. He was really happy they were getting along, but, for some reason, he couldn’t shake this feeling in his stomach. It sort of felt like... Jealousy?

No, he thought. It couldn’t be that. He didn’t have feelings for Robin like that. Maybe it’s protectiveness? Yeah, that’s it. He’s just looking out for his friend.

“Steve, come look at this!” Robin’s voice brought Steve’s attention back to the two at the front desk. She was examining Eddie’s hands over the counter.

“This guy’s got like 15 rings!”

“It’s only eight,” Eddie chuckled. Steve looked at the man’s hands. There were in fact around eight large, metal rings adorning his fingers. A few skulls, a bat, and most just plain rings in different colors.

“Nice, where’d you get ‘em?” Steve asked, looking back up at Eddie.

“This guy I sell to runs some kind of jewelry business, sometimes I let him trade in some cool shit like this.”

Robin was fidgeting with a ring that had a black skull on it. “I wish I had rings like this.”

“Wanna trade? The one on my pinky is kinda small, was supposed to be a middle ring but I got the size wrong.”

“Hell yeah! Here you can have...” Robin looked over the four rings she had before plucking a small band with a purple rhinestone heart off her index finger. “This one! I won it at the fair one year.”

“You have a deal!” Eddie slipped off the small skull ring and traded it for Robin’s. “Perfect fit.”

There was that feeling in Steve’s gut again. Maybe he should talk to Eddie. Just tell him that Robin’s not interested now so it doesn’t get messy later.

“Hey, Eddie, can I talk to you real quick?”

Eddie snapped his attention away from his new ring and towards Steve. “Uh, sure, man.”

Steve led Eddie to the back of the store.

“So, what’s up?”

“I first want to state that me and Robin are not together and I’m only telling you this because she’s my best friend and I try to look out for her.”

“Ok?” Eddie chuckled; the confusion clear on his face.

“I don’t know if I’m reading the room right or something, but I’m gonna let you know now, that Robin isn’t looking for a boyfriend. So, trying to shoot a shot with her isn’t going to work. Like she is 100% not looking for dates or hookups or anything like that-”

Steve’s rambling was interrupted by a barking laugh. It was coming from Eddie. Now Steve was the confused one.

“Dude, that’s not what’s happening at all.” Eddie calmed himself with a chuckle. “No offense, but she’s not my type. And I didn’t think I was her type either.”

“Oh. Well good, then no need to worry.” Surprising relief washed over Steve. That gut feeling was definitely gone now but it still felt different than just protectiveness. Oh well, it doesn’t matter now.

“Yeah, man, that’s never going to happen with us. However, she is really cool, and I will be attempting to get her to join Hellfire.” Eddie grinned.

Steve let out a small laugh. “Good luck with that, Dustin’s been trying to get us to do a campaign with him for ages. She never budges.”

‘Who knows, maybe my rouge-like charm will win her over,” he joked.

“Hey man, you can try all you want but Rob is a stubborn person.”

“Are you two going to start including me in the conversation or should I just go grab lunch while you two flirt all day?” Robin yelled across the room to the two men.

Eddie laughed as he walked back over to the front desk.

“And very blunt,” Steve muttered as he made his way to the other two.

“Now that we’re all back together, that brings me back to my original reason for visiting. There is a Rocky showing tomorrow night, and I was wondering if you’d like to join me. Both of you, now that I know you have cool friends, Harrington.”

Robin gasped. “I didn’t even know they did Rocky showings around here!”

“Well, technically, they don’t. However, some very anonymous rebels were able to get a tape and access to the theater after hours.”

“What’s so special about a Rocky movie? I mean it’s just about boxing, right?” Steve had spoken up, brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m pretty sure he’s talking about Rocky Horror, Steve,” Robin chuckled at his misunderstanding.

The look on Steve’s face only grew deeper. “What’s that? A horror movie or something?”

Both teens’ eyes shot wide open as they stared at Steve.

“Oh, you sweet summer child… Just- Meet me in the alley behind the theater tomorrow at 10. Trust me you won’t regret it.” Eddie’s eyes had a mischievous glint to them. Steve didn’t know what he was in for, but he could help to be curious now.

Robin cleared her throat, bringing their attention to her. “Can I bring a friend?”

“Absolutely! The more the merrier!”

“Great! Nance will love this.”

“Well, I gotta get going now. The band can’t practice without their star! See you guys there.” Eddie winked before heading out of the video store.

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 54

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming. READ MORE

Author’s note: Slight TRIGGER WARNING for this chapter. Nothing explicit though.

SOTR SPOILER ALERT!!

Did you guys read the new Sunrise on the reaping chapter 1 excerpt? Excited and/or freaked out? 😉 What did you think of the new details and the new canon names?

We won’t get a Leonore Donner for Maysilee’s sister but at least we got Lenore Dove for Haymitch’s girl, so that’s close enough. 😊 You might notice there’s a tiny none-spoiling easter egg from SOTR in this chapter. See if you find it. 😉 END OF SOTR SPOILER!

I also wanted to remind you of the edit I did like a year ago: Haymitch only slept with two people in his life in this fic. His girl and Effie Trinket. So, no drunken Capitol hookups with strangers during the Games for our beloved mentor. This builds on what Haymitch told Katniss during Finnick’s propo in Mockingjay, about F being sold while H wasn’t.

I will be reading SOTR with my heart in my throat for yet another reason, because what if Haymitch lied about it? There’s a very real possibility that he did, but hell it never even crossed my mind before (kudos to @effieotto for bringing that headcanon into light on Tumblr recently) but still, this 2012-born and 2015-published story will follow what Haymitch said in the trilogy. It’s too much to go back and change it now, again.

Chapter 54, All we used to be

“Have you slept with a lot of men?”

The honesty behind the question was so Haymitch. Effie had to admit she appreciated his direct ways. His ability to ask something deeply personal without any trace of judgement. Direct, yet compassionate. A rare gift in a world filled with sharp tongues and no mercy.

Seated comfortably against the pillow fort she’d made of the bed, Effie reached for her cup of milk. Warm milk with spices.

Save for the woolen blanket and the soft, knitted socks – all “borrowed” from Haymitch’s guestroom – she was stark naked.

Fingers curled around the handle of the mug as she contemplated her answer.

“Yes … and no.” She warmed her hand against the china. Sought comfort in its gentle heat since she didn’t have Haymitch’s body at her disposal. Only his voice over the phone. “I mean, by district standards, I guess so. But if you ask someone like Plutarch or Flavius or Fulvia Cardew, they’ll tell you I’m a complete bore.”

“Ever been with a woman?”

“Um … once or twice.”

“You and Annabel?”

“No”, laughed Effie. “Although it was her stories that made me want to try. A lot of people in the Capitol are bi. Or pan. Cressida for instance. But Annabel, she’s been into women exclusively, from the get-go. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who loves lady parts as much as she does. She’s always been very vocal about it too, so naturally I was curious. And it was nice. No question about it. Women are gorgeous. I don’t fancy myself 100 % straight, but I’m afraid I do love men too much, for some reason. And those earth-rattling orgasms Annabel spoke about, I only ever experienced them with you.”

“Oh, you poor girl”, Haymitch yawned. “If I’m the best you’ve ever had, I feel sorry for ya. I really do.”

They were several days into April now. The air crisp with the freshness of spring. At daybreak – in just a few short hours – a delicate blush of pink and lavender would spread across the Capitol skyline, chased by the golden warmth of the sun.

The lingering touch of winter was still present, but it was like the breeze grew more playful than harsh this time of year. Snowmelt from the mountains fed the rivers and streams and there were budding leaves everywhere.

Yes, Effie loved springtime! Always had. She only wished Haymitch had been here to share it all.

Or better yet, that she and the twins could visit him.

A proper stay in District 12. For Amy and Ian’s birthday at the very latest.

Their second.

She would have liked to go as early as May. For Katniss. Effie positively itched to plan the girl something special for her big big big day.

But she wasn’t so clueless that she didn’t realize it would be a thankless job. Pearls before swine, honestly. Katniss would just run for the hills, well the woods. Her and Buttercup. They’d hide out there for all of May 8.

And Haymitch said Katniss and Peeta were thinking about going to District 4 anyway. They hadn’t seen Mrs. Everdeen in ages. Nor Annie, Johanna and Finn.

But even without a party, Effie had bought her a gift at least. One Katniss might actually value.

Seeds. For her and Peeta’s vegetable garden. Several neat packets, ready to use. Carrot seeds. Seeds for tomatoes. Peas, radish, lettuce. Boxes of spices too, for cooking. Cans of condensed milk and some fine, organic ground cocoa. So that the girl may brew a pot of the hot chocolate she loved so much.

All district brands. Nothing that said Capitol. She didn’t want to upset the girl on her own birthday.

Effie had herself a final sip of milk and settled the cup on the nightstand.

“Why is that such an odd concept?” she said, in answer to Haymitch’s earlier statement. “You being a great lover?”

“Cause I didn’t know shit before you”, Haymitch said. “You had to teach me everything.”

“That’s how I know, silly”, Effie said. “You were willing to do the work. And I didn’t teach you everything, mind you. Only roughly 80 % of it. Sex isn’t some innate gift. It takes practice. At least you admitted you were clueless. Most men won't. At least not the ones I’ve met. And the more conventionally attractive, the worse they are in bed for some reason. It’s like they don’t have to try as hard. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to polish myself off in the shower after cutting a guy short because he was so bad at it.”

“Picky.”

“100 %. If a man can’t be bothered to find my clit, even when offered a map and compass, I’d rather just get up and make myself a sandwich instead. Much more satisfying. And just so we’re clear”, she added, “you were never bad. ‘Room for improvement’ does not equal ‘awful’. Even when you were so butterfingered it was positively endearing, I loved the things you did to me. And our bed lessons remain some of the best conversations I’ve ever had in my life. ‘For REAL??’” She mimicked his voice, chuckling. “That’s my all time favorite. When I told you the clitoris is twice as sensitive as the head of the penis.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that.”

“You even got me off without your fingers for aid, our first time. That really floored me. Because up until then, I just barely knew I could come from a guy’s thrusting alone. Then again”, she couldn’t help but tease, “pining for each other, year after year after year, certainly work as a brilliant form of foreplay. All that pent-up sexual energy. And I love that, ever since we became lovers, it’s become a dare of sorts. You wanting to outdo yourself, every time.”

“Mm, you certainly made sure I didn’t excel with any of your fellow neighbors.”

“Come again?”

“Well, did you or did you not cockblock me all throughout the Games?”

The words curled Effie’s lips.

“That I did. And would again. No need to thank me or anything.”

“No, of course not. Who wouldn’t wanna die a fucking nun?”

“You’re no nun!” Effie laughed. “What do you call this? A prayer circle? And let’s be honest here. We both know you didn’t really want to sleep with any of those women. Right?”

“How would I know?” Haymitch said. “I hardly remember ‘em, do I?”

“That’s exactly my point”, Effie retorted. “If you’re so blind drunk you get blackouts, you have no business getting naked with someone in the first place. As I’ve already told you. A hundred times.”

“I really didn’t get any tail back then? Not even once?”

“Correct.”

”How the fuck did you pull that off?”

“Language.”

“I’m like twice your size, Eff. Why didn’t I just … throw you over one shoulder, lock you away in a closet?”

“I’d like to see you try, mister.”

“You called the peacekeepers on her? On me?”

“No. Well, yes. Sometimes. But I knew a better way. A more effective course of action to get you back to the penthouse safely.”

“Alright. Enlighten me then. How’d you do it?”

“Easy”, Effie beamed. “Piece of cake. Whenever you were drunk and confused and some lady drooled over you, getting you drinks and refused to take no for an answer – my no, that was – I just pulled you aside and said, ‘Alright, Haymitch. If you need it that badly, I will sleep with you’.”

“Really?”

“And boy did it light a fire under your butt! I had to hold you by the scruff of the neck, waiting for the elevator, or else you would’ve scrambled those twelve stairs on all fours. My poor sweet. So excited. Every time. You pulled me by the hand, into your room. There you started squeezing me and cover my neck with sloppy swamp kisses, only to stop short when you realized I didn’t reciprocate. ‘You don’t wanna get it on, Eff!’ you whined. ‘I never said I did’, I replied. ‘But I am an escort so …’”

“… ‘so I guess I must accept this as part of my job description’”, Haymitch filled in, remembering. “Damn! How many times did you pull that trick on me, Trinket?”

“Oh, too many to count. Because it worked like a charm. Bulletproof! I knew you could never sleep with someone who didn’t want to sleep with you. No matter how drunk you were. And I also knew that in your current state, you’d never find your way back there again. Not without my help. You were so sulky about your ruined one-nighter anyway, you just collapsed on the bed and passed out and I made sure you didn’t sleep with your shoes on.”

“Well played, sir. Well played.”

“Thank you”, Effie grinned with an elegant bow. But she quickly sobered. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt. The thought that someone might take advantage of you while you were passed out drunk – I couldn’t bear it. Had you asked me come morning: ‘Remember that woman last night? What’s her name? Can you get me her number?’ then it would have been another situation entirely. But you never did.”

“Course not.” Haymitch drew a deep sigh. “Alright. Fine. You win, sweetheart. You’re the only piece of Capitol ass I’ve ever really wanted to put my hands on.”

“Oh, God”, Effie grimaced but giggled. “That’s so cute and gross at the same time.”

She gave a light stretch. Glanced at the alarm clock. Goodness, it was so late. Or early. She would fall asleep at the breakfast table.

“Did we …”, Effie said but trailed off.

“What?”

“Well … if you don’t mind me asking … was I your first? I wasn’t, was I?”

“No.”

“Then what did you see in me? Why was I so special?” Feeling the conversation treading onto dangerous ground – lots of emotional mines hidden in the soil - she answered herself quickly. “Well, I am exceptionally attractive. Classy too.”

“Don’t do that”, Haymitch said. Serious now. “That’s not the reason and you know it.”

“I don’t know it.”

Silence. Five seconds. Ten.

“It’s because …” He paused again. And just when she thought he wasn’t going to answer, he said, “Because when I’m with ya, and all my other bullshit calms down, you make me feel like ‘life’ … maybe isn’t just a sentence I have to serve.”

“Oh, Haymitch …”

“Yeah … and you’re super fine. Especially without your clothes on.”

Effie laughed.

“Preaching to the choir, handsome.”

She tugged the blanket tighter around herself. Snuggled in.

“Can you play something? Something lovely, just for me?”

“No”, Haymitch groaned.

“Why not?” she said, unable to hide her disappointment.

“You conk out whenever I play.”

“No, I don’t! Not all the time. And tonight, I am extraordinarily rested.”

”You say that, then two minutes in you’re snoring your little head off.”

“No, no, no. Not if I really really try. I’ll enjoy it, sitting upright in a chair. You can’t fall asleep, sitting upright in a chair. Please, Haymitch. Pretty please, with strawberries on top? I bore you two children. What’s one teeny tiny little song?”

“Oh God”, Haymitch groaned. “How long are you gonna milk that?”

But he indulged her. He always did.

“Fuck the floor’s cold.” The old boards creaked on his way to the nursery – where the grand piano lived. “The things I endure for ya.”

“What happened to the socks I bought you?” Effie asked. “What does it matter if they’re pink? I won’t tell anyone.”

“Pink’s fine. They’re itchy.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Oh, OK.” She could practically hear him roll his eyes.

“Alright, alright. I’ll talk with Hazelle. See if I can order some of the ones she make.”

Wrapped in her blanket, Effie got out of bed too. As promised. Her eyes lingered on the hard chair, by the table under the window, and then she sank into the welcoming embrace of the rocking chair instead, feet tucked in beneath her.

She adored this piece of furniture. Had had it for as long as she could remember because, miraculously, it survived the war.

When she was little, it was her pirate ship in full storm.

As she grew older, she used it for reading. Glamorous fashion by-monthlies, several publications about architecture and her beloved Capitol Girl Magazine.

And later, when she had children of her own – Alex, Amy, Ian – it was the perfect place for nursing. Because if there was one thing her three babies had had in common, it was that they loved the gentle rocking of the chair, when settled to her breast.

While she was still pregnant it was a good place for resting too. Her back. Her swollen ankles.

And then there was Haymitch. All the memories connected to him.

One day, while they were still going out, she made the bad decision of telling him all about her reading habits in that very chair.

“A spot of tea, a blanket, a fresh magazine that I’m the first to ever leaf through. It’s become a holy ritual of sorts.”

Big mistake. You didn’t share such tidbits with Haymitch Abernathy. He never let you live it down.

Because the next day, when she tried to do just that – rocking chair, blanket, tea, magazine – Haymitch stalked in and out of the room at least ten times. Dressed in nothing but a pair of underpants she bought him, with lemon wedges stamped across his butt, and some pretend excuse on his lips.

“Sorry, looking for my razor.”

“Sorry, I reckon this bedspread looks nicer than the old one, yeah?”

“Sorry, my hands are a little dry, I just came for my bottle of lotion.”

“You don’t own a bottle of lotion!” she finally said, fed up. “Get dressed, it’s almost noon!”

“Why? You fuckin’ love this, can’t get enough of it.” He gestured toward his hairy chest, pouchy belly and even hairier legs. Head tilted, he eyed the magazine. “Ooh, is that Capitol Cowturd?”

”Couture!” Effie exclaimed. “Capitol Couture, not … hey, get off! You’re squashing me!”

But she spoke to deaf ears. Haymitch had flopped down on her lap and now made himself comfortable. With one arm around her shoulders, he flipped through the pages with his free hand.

“This magazine’s so relevant”, he said in awe. “Thank God you have a three-year subscription.”

“Don’t make fun”, Effie said and gave his shoulder a playful slap. She squirmed under his weight. Groaned.  “Goodness. Have you been in the cookie jar again? I can’t feel my legs. You will turn them all black and blue. Can you get off me, please?”

“Nope. I like it here.”

“I didn’t even get a kiss”, she pouted. “I always kiss you when I’m on your lap.”

Haymitch grinned and immediately let go of the magazine. Cupped her cheek instead.

But their lips had barely grazed for a second kiss, before his hand darted to her waist and tickled her in the side.

“Stop!” Effie squeaked. A sound that immediately deteriorated into a mad giggle. Haymitch’s fingers flew over her ribs, to all her sensitive spots and Effie smacked his hand away, laughing. “Manners!” The magazine dropped to the floor and she pulled him to his feet, toward the bed. “I’ll show you how to treat a lady properly!"

Haymitch grinned.

“Yeah, you will!"

“OK.” His voice fluttered to her from over the phone. The stool groaned as he settled in front of the piano. Flexed his fingers until the joints popped. “Whatcha wanna hear, sweetheart?”

“Oh, everything you play is delightful”, Effie said. “You pick. Maybe something fitting tonight’s mood?”

“Alright.” A moment’s pause. Effie could just picture him, in the twins’ glade of a nursery, fingers poised over the ivories.

She nestled deeper into the comforting embrace of the chair. It creaked softly with every sway and she closed her eyes.

To enjoy Haymitch’s music to the fullest. Not because she was sleepy.

And Haymitch played. Just for her. By your side. She recognized the song from the radio. Tender and slow, like the opening of a love letter.

The screen of her phone glowed faintly as the melody unfolded. Swelled. Filled the bedroom, and her heart.

Music that told her of what still lay unspoken, in the spaces between their words. Each note a whisper of reassurance. A promise that they were never truly apart.

The rocking chair swayed with a soothing rhythm. A cradle of comfort. Drowsiness settled over Effie as her breathing grew slow and steady.

Before long, she let out a contented sigh. Surrendered to the gentle pull of sleep – where dreams were peaceful and free of fear.

The wick of the last candle, now a mere stub, struggled to keep the flame alive. It panted with a quiet determination, but the shadows crept closer.

And then, with one final, faint flicker the flame surrendered. A wisp of smoke curled gracefully toward the ceiling, before it vanished as well.

Author’s note: Oh, those poor sweethearts, living in a soap bubble of happiness.

By your side is a real song. Performed by Sade. Haymitch’s love serenade is a slower, longer rendition of a piano version I heard on YouTube. “Sade – By Your Side, Piano Cover” by YifanMusic.

The lyrics are absolutely lovely, and very fitting I think, for both Haymitch and Effie’s heart of hearts.

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Who Killed Teddy Bear

Quick, name a film directed by Kevin Kline’s father-in-law. If you have a taste for failed sleaze you’ll come up with the third film in my “stalker trilogy,” Joseph Cates’ WHO KILLED TEDDY BEAR (1965, Prime, Plex, YouTube). The other two are SCREAMING MIMI (1958) and SATAN IN HIGH HEELS (1962), and though the middle one is clearly exploitation, the other two are more exploitation adjacent. SCREAMING MIMI exists to display the physical endowments of Anita Ekberg without showing any naughty bits. WHO KILLED TEDDY BEAR is more exploitation in the C.B. DeMille tradition of wallowing in decadence while seeming to condemn it. It’s altogether possible that Cates, writers Arnold Drake and Leon Tokatyan and producer Everett Rosenthal were seriously concerned with the culture’s growing sexualization, and you could hardly accuse its talented stars — Sal Mineo, Juliet Prowse and Elaine Stritch — of spreading smut. Yet it still has a smarmy feel about it, compounded by the low budget and unfortunate, choppy editing that seems to indicate they ran out of money before shooting everything in the script.

Prowse is an aspiring dancer making ends meet as a platter spinner at an early disco. She starts receiving obscene phone calls, but who is it? The vice cop (Jan Murray) who takes a particular interest in the case seems somewhat preoccupied with sexual perversion (he plays tapes of victim interviews while his ten-year-old daughter listens from the next room). But  he doesn’t have the body displayed in the shadows as the man calls her. When the stalker calls while Murray is there, the camera cuts to reveal it’s the club’s busboy (Sal Mineo). Meanwhile, Prowse’s boss (Elaine Stritch) seems to have her own designs on the woman’s body.

This is all shot rather primitively, with cameras following Mineo as he prowls 42nd Street, ogling suggestive lingerie in a shop window, looking at porn magazines and entering a theater showing CALL GIRL 77 (1962). The dancing at the disco is shot from a low angle to make it seem somehow sinister and hyper-sexualized. There’s also a flashback to Mineo’s past, when his seduction by an older woman led to an accident that left his young sister with brain damage. It’s all very sex-negative, yet for some reason there’s also a scene — beloved by gay men, their magazines and their porn sites — in which the camera makes love to Mineo as he works out in a tight Speedo. Is this to associate working out with sexual perversion, or does it possibly include our gaze in the film’s attack on sexuality?

The film’s main virtue is that it was shot in New York, offering a glimpse of the pre-Disney Times Square and theater actors like Rex Everhardt, Frank Campanella, Bruce Glover, Tom Aldredge and, of course, Stritch. She fares the best of the four stars, possibly because her part is too short to be burdened with the inconsistencies facing the others. Her pain when Prowse rejects her advances is touching (she had been directed to play the scene angrily but suggested what she considered a more realistic approach). Mineo probably suffers the worst from the inconsistent writing. He has solid moments, but there are other places where he doesn’t seem sure of where the part is taking him. Murray is unspeakably bad, not endowing his lines with much of anything so his painful story about his wife’s murder is almost funny. The role needed a George C. Scott, and they got a stand-up comic and game-show host, though I doubt even Scott could salvage the moment in which the detective suddenly remembers how mirrors work. Prowse is so beautiful it almost doesn’t matter how good she is. She gets a nice moment of dancing toward the end, and in her final shots, her body language is devastating. Just before the climax, she’s putting away records at the disco while humming “My Desire.” It’s an almost poetic comment on the action with a lot more resonance than the film’s usually shrill attacks on sexuality. If it was her idea, it suggests that, absent any directorial artistry, the actor sometimes has to function as auteur.