#well something longer than a oneshot at any rate

[thr3eguess3s]

All. My. Projects. Are. Stalling.

Probably because my brain itself is also stalling

[thefrogdalorian]

The Bake Sale

Husband!Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: When Grogu brings news of an upcoming Bake Sale hosted by the little school he attends between missions with the New Republic on Nevarro, his father enthusiastically throws himself into baking the the sweetest treats to impress his classmates. Din's devotion to the task makes you feel like there is a third person in your marriage as he constantly asks for your opinions on recipe combinations. Still, you are nevertheless charmed by his determination. Ultimately, while the fruits of his labour are delicious, you soon discover that Din Djarin's love is the sweetest treat of them all…

Word Count:  3.8k ✯ Rating:  General ✯ Content Warnings: One suggestive line, but apart from that, fluff (and cakes) so sweet they might rot your teeth! ✯ Author's Note: Took me like a month, but I finally got around to finishing this fluffy little baking oneshot inspired by a conversation I had with the lovely @suresnips about Din being a chaotic but enthusiastic baker! This one is also dedicated to you, Senna. Thank you for all of your help on TBOBW, much appreciated! Anyway it was a DELIGHT to imagine Din doing something so sweet and soft, now that he finally has his own home. I would love to explore more of this in the future! I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Din Djarin is a man who throws himself into any task with every atom of his being. Your riduur’s determination is never more apparent than when said task is for the benefit of someone he loves.

You have been privileged enough to observe Din’s love language firsthand and experienced how his love is all-encompassing, absolute and unconditional without suffocating. You know that if Din truly cares about someone, he will stop at nothing, no matter how tall the task, to improve their lives and ensure their happiness, even if the task demands everything of him for only a fractional improvement in their lives in return. 

That fact is particularly evident when it comes to his son.

Since their first meeting on Arvala-7, Din has been wrapped around each of Grogu’s tiny green talons. The hulking Mandalorian would do anything to ensure his boy’s contentment. 

Lately, that pursuit of Grogu’s happiness involves an activity utterly alien to Din—baking. 

Training his son in the ways of being a Mandalorian is important to Din. A task he has thrown himself into with the absolute devotion it requires. 

However, it is also important to Din that Grogu mixes with other children and learns how others view the galaxy. Din has told you on numerous occasions that he wants Grogu to be the best Mandalorian possible. 

Yet, even more than being a great warrior, it is more important to Din that he brings his son up to have a well-rounded perspective. 

After all, Din would never want Grogu to swear the Creed when he is old enough because it was the only path his father ever showed him. Din is determined to ensure that Grogu wants to be Mandalorian. 

Din is also in the unique position of raising a child who is actually older than him. As such, Din is not blind to the fact that Grogu’s lifespan will be far longer than his. There will come a time when Grogu has to fend for himself. Din wants to ensure that his boy is well prepared for that eventuality. He wants to ensure Grogu is well prepared for the multitude of fates and destinies which possibly await him throughout the galaxy.

That is precisely why Din insists on sending Grogu to the local school on Nevarro whenever there is a gap between their missions with the New Republic. It allows Grogu to be around other children, while also granting you and Din the opportunity to spend some precious time alone together. 

For the few hours that Grogu spends at school each day, you and Din enjoy time together without a mischievous toddler running around and causing mischief. 

However, as soon as Grogu returns from school, Din’s attention is fully turned towards his boy. You love watching Din as he dutifully helps Grogu with whatever projects or homework he brings home from the small school which Grogu attends whenever there is a gap in the steady stream of jobs that flow in from the New Republic. 

You are eager to see how Din is progressing with the task you left him in the middle of when you departed the small cabin you share near the lava flats to pick Grogu up from the repurposed Cantina in the centre of town. 

Din had been busy weighing out the ingredients to make Uj’alayi or Uj cakes, a Mandalorian delicacy that Grogu will take for his school’s Bake Sale. You are eager to see his progress when you arrive home. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greets you in the cabin’s small kitchen when you return home, however.

You and Grogu can barely stifle your giggles as you notice how the shine of Din’s gleaming beskar armour has been dulled drastically by the flour that, somehow, Din has managed to cake himself in from head to toe. 

“Oh, hi there, you two!” Din exclaims, slightly flustered at your presence, “Wasn’t expecting to see you back so soon!”

“Patu!” Grogu chirps from your arms and nods towards the chronometer on the wall above the stove. 

You smirk at the child’s sassiness, a trait he has learned well from his father. 

“Sorry, pal, I must have lost track of time,” Din apologetically shrugs. 

It is not the first time that Din has unintentionally let time get away from him. Baking the perfect Uj cake for Grogu’s upcoming Bake Sale has consumed Din’s every waking thought for the past few days. You and the little boy who brought home the assignment have served as Din’s tasters, checking each combination of ingredients until he settles on one that he is happy with. 

A few hours later, after dinner, it is a role you find yourself fulfilling once again. 

Usually, you and Din would spend quality time with Grogu, either inside or outside the cabin; mainly in an attempt to wear him out so he settles in his bunk without much fuss.

Tonight, however, as evening descends across Nevarro, you are alone with the tiniest member of Clan Mudhorn. Din has once again excused himself to the kitchen, mumbling something about how he needs to get the combination of nuts and dried fruits just right so that the sticky batter is not overwhelmed and weighed down by the fillings.

You would never have considered Din to be a baker when you first met him. You would certainly never have imagined he would throw himself into the pastime with as much enthusiasm as he has. 

Grogu’s task has seemingly reawakened the passion for baking that had lay dormant for some time. He told you it reminded him of his childhood, and you had learned that food played an integral role in Mandalorian culture. 

Despite his imposing demeanour, you have been privileged to see Din’s softer side evident beneath his armour. As you grew closer to him, you learned that he not only enjoyed baking and cooking but also tended to the assortment of plants he was cultivating in the fertile volcanic Nevarrian soil on his tract of land. 

Your husband is a man of multitudes, and Din continues to surprise you each day. 

As he does, once again, when he stands in the cabin's doorway and softly calls your name. His familiar deep voice travels through the warm Nevarrian evening towards the spot by the pond where you have crouched next to Grogu, who is enjoying his favourite pastime, levitating frogs. 

“I’ll be right back, pal. I think your father wants me to be a test subject for his latest creation,” you say as you playfully roll your eyes at Grogu, who responds with a giggle. 

You cannot help but smile as you return to the cabin, amused by Din’s determination to create the perfect Uj cake. Despite how endearing it is, you cannot help but be somewhat relieved the Bake Sale is tomorrow. If only because you fear the toll it is taking on your husband’s sanity. And his bank balance. 

Even though he is one of the New Republic’s most valuable employees with the wage to match, you fear you may have to take on debt to keep up with Din’s supply of ingredients. 

You hold your breath as you enter the cabin, mentally preparing yourself for the sight you that will greet you after Din’s latest attempt at baking. 

Fortunately, the kitchen is mostly clean. 

The same cannot be said of the man who occupies it. 

Din’s mouth is smeared with batter from his creations. His dark hair, which curls slightly at the ends, is stood up in every direction as though he has been furiously running his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down. Your gaze travels down his body. You notice that he has changed into comfortable cotton clothes. It is an outfit you know is supposed to be cream-coloured, but in reality, Din's garments are stained with various shades of brown from the Uj cake batter.

You cannot stop and gawp at him any longer as Din motions for you to come closer to him. A giggle escapes from somewhere in your chest. You are so endeared by his determination to perfect the recipe. 

“Try this, cyar’ika,” Din rasps as he holds the wooden spoon covered in a dark, lumpy batter towards your lips. 

Din watches as you lick the batter from the spoon he is holding. You savour the sweet flavours as they dance across your tongue, forming your opinions with a thoughtful expression. When you look at Din again, you see his eyes momentarily darkened with an emotion you might even consider lust. It marks the first time he has allowed himself to think of anything except crafting the perfect Uj’alayi for the past few days. 

Before the moment can continue, Grogu chirps from behind the two of you. In response, you and Din hurriedly jump apart as though you have been caught in a compromising position rather than the entirely innocent gesture of tasting the batter. 

The child whines unimpressed at the sight of his buirs dedicating more attention to the Uj cakes than towards him. To keep him happy, you scoop Grogu up into your arms and take him to the fresher for a bath before you put him down to sleep. 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

With Grogu finally tucked up between a mountain of plushies, you wander through the narrow hallway of the cabin in the direction of the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, Din is still hunched over the countertop, working on the Uj’alayi. 

“Din, it’s getting late,” you sigh, gesturing towards the chronometer, much like Grogu had hours before. 

“Just one more batch!” Din pleads, turning towards you with a frenzied look across his features. 

You shake your head and let out an exasperated sigh, simultaneously amused and concerned by his antics. Din throws himself into everything with nothing less than one hundred per cent devotion, so you know better than to fight him on this matter.

Slipping beneath the blankets on your own is a lonely, miserable experience. You are used to it when Din is away, of course. But it is a strange sensation to know he is here in the cabin, and yet he is unable to be here with you. 

Too devoted to baking to cuddle you.

You sigh forlornly at the emptiness next to you, a stark reminder of Din’s absence. Hoping that sleep, instead, will cocoon you in its warm embrace…

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The other half of the bunk is still empty and ice cold to the touch when your eyelids flutter open sometime later. When you reach out to feel for him, the frigidity of the bunk beneath your fingertips makes it obvious that Din has not joined you. His absence is confirmed when your eyes finally focus and recognise the light streaming in from the hallway outside.

Din is still up in the kitchen. You groan, far too comfortable and warm to truly want to leave. Still, the buckethead’s well-being is somehow more important than your own.

You pad down the hallway towards the kitchen, groggily rubbing your eyes as you go. As expected, Din is still furiously mixing the batter.

“Din, have you seen the time?” you ask exasperatedly. Despite the late hour, Din is determined to perfect the recipe ahead of the Bake Sale. 

“I have to get it perfect,” he mutters, shaking his head in exasperation as he looms over the mixing bowl. 

“Darling, you look exhausted,” you whisper against Din’s neck as you wrap your hands around his waist, looking concernedly at the dark bags underneath his eyes as you pepper kisses along his neck. 

It might be a shameless attempt to seduce him. At least it would get him into your bunk. Still, Din is too hyper-focused on baking to acknowledge your advances.

“I’m fine,” he huffs, continuing to mix the batter, “Go back to sleep.”

You shake your head and retreat, knowing when you are not wanted. You know that Din will make it up to you and apologise once the Bake Sale is over. Although if he offers to bake you something to make up for his behaviour over the past few days, you may resort to using one of his weapons against him… 

You drift off for the second time, fantasising about which blaster from his armoury you would turn your hand to first…

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

When the alarm sounds next to your bed the next morning you thrust a clumsy hand towards the buttons to turn it off. You immediately notice that you are, once again, alone.

Din is nowhere to be seen.

It is a miracle that he hasn’t burned the cabin down.

Before waking Grogu up, you decide to see what kind of condition his silly buir is in. The rage that burns in your belly is extinguished the second you make it to the kitchen and lay eyes upon the adorable sight before you.

The golden light streaming in through the windows illuminates the entire room, where Din is slumped over the kitchen table, surrounded by plates piled high with Uj cakes. You shake your head and smile at him, not wanting to wake him just yet.

You busy yourself by getting Grogu up and ready for school, which is easier said than done, considering how lazy the child can be at times. 

When you return to the kitchen, you place a soft kiss on Din’s forehead. He stirs slightly, warm brown eyes flecked with honey in the sunlight and as thick with sleep as Uj’alayi batter. 

“Come on, sleepyhead,” you grin when Din finally focuses on you, “We need to leave for the Bake Sale in a few minutes.”

While Din dashes to the fresher and hurriedly pulls his beskar’gam on, you carefully pack up the Uj cakes. Grogu watches you, doing his best impression of a Porg as he looks up at you with pleading eyes, desperate for a taste of the sweet snack.

“You can have one later, Grogu,” you tell him, tone firm. 

You ignore Grogu’s whines as Din reappears, fully armoured and ready for the Bake Sale. Enthusiastic, despite how little he has slept.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The enthusiasm gives way to darker emotions when you and Din finally make it to the town centre of Nevarro.

As you begin setting up your stall, it appears that the other parents at Grogu’s school have not taken the assignment as seriously as your household. Most of them, it transpires, have used self-rising mixtures to hastily contribute to the Bake Sale. A fact that disappoints you as you watch them setting up their respective stalls, ready for the children to take over shortly.

Only Din had taken the task seriously, a fact that fills you with pride rather than embarrassment. How lucky are you to have someone as dedicated and driven as your riduur?

Despite how much more impressive your wares are than other stalls, the flow of customers is slow at first. Not helped by the fact that every unfortunate soul who comes to examine the Uj’alayi gets a lecture on their origins from an overly enthusiastic, sleep-deprived Mandalorian. 

When Grogu and his classmates appear to take over from their parents, you and Din make yourselves scarce. It is their Bake Sale, after all. 

You are intent on enjoying the rest of the fair; by exploring the stalls, sampling the food and playing traditional games which have been set up by the children.

You begin wandering through the fair, appreciating the effort that has gone into each stall. The children deserve a better school building and you have no doubt the fair will raise enough money to move them out of the former cantina.

But, when you do not feel the presence of your riduur at your side, you halt in your tracks and look around for him as panic sets in. 

Being the only Mandalorian on Nevarro, Din is not difficult to spot. You discover him pacing up and down, arms behind his back and helmet tilted in the direction of the stall. Although you cannot see his face, you are fairly certain that anxiety lingers behind the blackness of his T-visor. 

“Din, why don’t we go and enjoy some of the other stalls?” you plead, hoping that Din will relax and enjoy what should have been a fun event. 

Din shakes his head, “Can’t,” he murmurs. 

“Standing and watching them is not going to make them sell any quicker,” you huff, growing increasingly exasperated by his antics.

“You go on, I’ll catch up to you,” Din murmurs as he waves you away absentmindedly.

“Please, Din,” you beg, reaching out to take his gloved hand in yours, forcing him to look at you, “You’ve been so preoccupied with those kriffing Uj’alayi, it’s like you’ve been having an affair! Now that they’re finally out of your hands, can’t we please spend some time together?” you plead, hating how desperate you sound.

Din stands there motionless for a few seconds. Your breath catches in your throat as you notice him clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, a mannerism of his that you have come to understand is a sign of anxiety. Your heart drops as you realise you have upset him.

“Of course, cyare,” Din finally breathes, clearly conciliatory and not annoyed as you had feared, “I'm sorry for neglecting you. Let's go."

Din follows you without hesitation.

You are ecstatic at finally having a chance to enjoy the delights of the fair. So much effort has been put into organising such an event by the people of Nevarro, and you are happy to support them.

The Mandalorian by your side seems less awed by the assortment of stalls, however. The various traditional games and food are tricky for Din to enjoy from behind his helmet.

There is one stall you suspect he may succeed at, however. 

Your eyes lock onto a high striker, a familiar game synonymous with fairs. You stand back, watching a man cockily sidle up towards the stall. After exchanging credits, he picks up a heavy mallet and nods towards the woman who accompanies him. You think you sense him straining under the weight slightly. Especially when he draws it back to strike the base of a tower with a heavy mallet.

The puck rises pathetically, not even managing a third of the tower's height. Yet, if struck with enough force, the puck would strike a bell and the competitor wins a prize.

You do not doubt that Din could win. 

“Din, why don’t you have a go?” you nod in the direction of the high striker.

Din looks towards the stall, as the man who just attempted it murmurs something about how they are rigged. You aren’t so sure, convinced that your hulking Mandalorian could win you a prize.

“Sure,” Din shrugs, clearly not fazed by such a challenge.

Unlike the cockiness of the previous contender, Din approaches the stall with his usual calm, understated confidence. You enjoy watching him swagger towards the man, getting a kick out of the fact he is all yours. 

After exchanging credits, Din picks up the mallet without a hint of strain, nodding towards you as he raises it above his head. Sure enough, when he brings it back down in one smooth movement and strikes the base of the tower, the puck seamlessly rises to the top and strikes the bell. Announcing Din’s victory to the entire fair with a ding, to which he receives a smattering of applause.

“Congratulations!” the stall owner chirps, “Which prize would you like?”

The man gestures towards a collection of brightly coloured plushies in various shapes and sizes. Your eyes roam across them, stunned by the collection. 

“I want that one,” Din nods without hesitation, pointing towards a bright green frog plushie. 

You smile, knowing precisely who that is for. Grogu can barely sleep in his cot as it is, but you have no doubt he will find room. Especially for a frog. 

Yet, Din is unable to bask in the glory of his victory for much longer. A familiar booming voice behind you soon causes both of you to turn around.

“Mando!” High Magistrate Greef Karga exclaims, “I hear your Uj’alayi went down a treat. Perhaps if your job with the New Republic does not work out, a future as a baker lies ahead of you,” the kindly old man chuckles as he brings a hand to clasp Din’s vambrace in greeting.

“Seriously?!” Din questions, clearly taken aback by the apparent success of his Uj’alayi. 

“All sold out! Before I even got a chance, can you believe that?” Greef smirks, “Perhaps you’ll have to bake me some?”

You cannot help the way your entire body tenses up at the thought of your kitchen once again being overtaken by Din baking. Still, as Greef disappears into the crowd, those thoughts are far from your mind as Din laces his fingers with yours. 

Now he has confirmation that the Uj’alayi were a hit, perhaps your husband will finally return to you.

As you stroll through the remainder of the stalls together, the sweet treats that Din had been so preoccupied with are far from your mind. The sweetest thing is being in his presence, proudly strolling around the Bake Sale and being unable to stop the feeling of pride that spreads through your chest at the knowledge this man is yours.

No matter how many passersby stare at him admiringly, Din Djarin’s heart belongs only to you. 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Later that evening, the two of you are standing in your kitchen back at your cabin long after the sun has set. Din is clearly in a pensive mood as you work together, drying the last of the plates which you used for the Bake Sale. 

“Cyare, I’m sorry for being so focused on making the Uj Cakes that you felt neglected,“ Din offers apologetically.

“It’s okay, Din,” you smile, “Thank you for apologising.”

“I was thinking,” Din pauses, raising a single eyebrow cheekily at you, “That I could bake you a cake to make up for it.”

“Din Djarin, you better sleep with one eye open tonight or so help me Maker, I will help myself to your arsenal!”

“I’d like to see you try,” Din smirks smugly, as he snakes his arms around your waist and brings his lips to yours. 

The sound of your laughter carries throughout the cabin, all the way to Grogu in his room. Cuddled up to his new froggy friend, with his little belly full of Uj cakes, he is blissfully unaware of the strain his school’s Bake Sale placed upon his parents’ marriage.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

[erxxi3]

nsfw jill w fem reader? headcanon or oneshot (whichever you’re comfortable with), just what do you think she’d be into w her partner things like that :> tysm

I think I can do both possibly my mind is kind of foggy on the difference between headcannon and oneshot just because my lack of sleep and people that I remember who had pissed me off today, but I think that I can conjure up something to your liking. :)

I hope you enjoy reading and thank you for requesting lately my inbox has been fucking empty 🥲

NSFW Jill Valentine x Fem! Reader

Cw. A lot of sexual themes, more so, NSFW content.

A/N: I don’t have time to put all the warnings in so bear with me here. I’m sorry on some of these idk what I’m doing or thinking half the time and that this is very short. 😭

SMUT WITH PLOT AHEAD! MDNI!!

****************************************************

— She is definitely the type to have a bad day at work and come home to angry fucking you and would feel guilty afterwards because she didn’t tell you what happened.

You heard the front door open and loudly slam shut as you looked back down at your phone, jill went closer to you with heavy footsteps and grabbed your hand gripping it dragging you to the bedroom as she locked the door behind her. She pushed you down into the matress spreading your thighs as one of her knee’s held them open, whilst she puts on her dark blue silicone strap before continuing to let her anger out in a way much easy for her.

She removes her knee as she puts both of your legs on each side of her shoulder, kissing your inner thighs and leaving small bite marks out of love. Without hesitation she slides right inside your cunt, maybe it was because the sight of seeing her mad to the point where it makes her angry enough to fuck you looks hot as hell and turns you on?

She starts at a slow before her pace picks up at a very fast rate, the strap getting deeper and deeper with each thrust till you almost can’t speak a sentence. “God— Fuck!” You cry out, she starts to kiss and suck on your neck while she grips harshly onto your hips bound to leave a bruise sooner or later.

You can see the sweat beads rolling off her body as her hips begin to rock harder and harder causing you to moan louder every time her hands hold on tighter. Skin on skin filled the air along with your sweet precious moans, soon your breathing became shallow as well as her movements becoming more frantic until you couldn’t take it any longer.

Your walls began to tighten around the strap, “I didn’t say you can cum yet, so be a good fucking slut and wait for me to say you can.” Jill said with a smirk and then rutted into you again making you yell even louder than before but this time in pure bliss.

“Fuck— Fucking— Yes!” The last word slipped out of your mouth, she slowed down her thrusting making sure to make it last as long as possible. It took her some time until she let you cum which made you squirm in pleasure as a feeling of pleasure and satisfaction flooded through you from the inside out.

“Good girl,” Jill whispers softly kissing your cheek before pulling out of your cunt before laying back down next to you with a smile. She takes off the strap and pulls you against herself holding you close feeling a sense of guilt she let her anger out on you, but it was worth it.

————————————————————————

— whenever she’s doing paperwork in her at home office you like to try and gain her attention by bothering her, although this time is different because instead of her trying to get you off you have to do all the work as she does her own work. But when you release she likes to praise you for doing such a good job at obeying her and gives you attention.

Jill is in her office doing paperwork as usual, while you mess around with things in her office hoping to gain attention from her because you haven’t gotten any all day.

“Y/N, stop being a nuisance and making my office a mess.” Jill demands you, but you had other plans to try and gain attention.

“Why don’t you make me then, hm?” you said with a very snarky tone. You walked up to her desk and sat in front of her smirking at her before putting your feet on the edge of her desk and leaning over to look at her better, she just glared at you.

“Or maybe I should help myself to your office instead?” You suggest with a wink, she glares at you more with that same annoyed expression on her face before standing up.

“Get off my desk, now, Y/N.” She ordered you, it was kind of hot the way she said it too. Jill grabs your arm harshly untying her sweatpants, which you were watching her every move whilst she rubbed lube on her strap and plotted down on without hesitation facing her. “Since you want to gain my attention, you can help yourself to getting off.” Jill says sternly, you pout like a child before obeying as she continues what she was doing. You rest your head into the crook of your neck breathing heavily as your hands grip onto her shoulder trying to get off.

Your pace was very slow at first but it began to quicken, Jill bucks her hips up to tease you a bit. Feeling her gyrating hips and her chest pressing against yours and you wanted more. You felt more of your arousal starting to make a bigger pool in between your legs which leaked onto jill’s sweatpants.

You started to pant and groan as you tried to focus all of your energy into moving your hips faster, Jill finished with her work and started to kiss and leave bite marks on your neck as she gripped you even tighter. Her kisses were getting shorter and shorter until you couldn’t take it anymore. You bucked your hips up quickly as your climax hits you and your release came.

Cum threatening to leak out of you and onto Jill’s sweatpants, which it soon did “Such a good attention seeking-whore for me, aren’t you?” She chuckled as she cleaned up your mess with a towel before removing her sweatpants and throwing them into the laundry basket.

“Was my baby that needy for my attention?” you hummed in response, as you wrapped her in your arms to comfort her.

“Of course she is, after all, I am your only source of stimulation, aren't I, dear?” She asked as she kissed your forehead, you nodded in response to her question while nuzzling her cheek with yours.

————���———————————————————

— If you ask to try new things like being restrained or tied up she will use a pair of fluffy handcuffs or ropes, which are now her favorite thing to use on you besides toys.

When you asked jill that you wanted to try something new in bed, she was questioning the new thing to try. At first she was hesitant, but she went with it as you pulled out a pair of fluffy handcuffs you bought out of a box underneath the bed with every other item you have used.

“Won’t this be too restricting?” Jill asked looking worried, you scoffed at her.

“This isn’t like actual handcuffs, Jill. They are only used during sex, but the possibilities are endless.” You explained to her as you handed them to her, she restrained your arms behind your back as she bended you over the edge of the bed and put you in a face down-ass up position.

Spreading your legs open, so your pussy is on full display just for her. She licks her lips at the site of your dripping cunt, you gasp when she gently inserts her fingers inside of your slick entrance. You felt her fingers moving slowly at first, teasing you by stroking your folds slowly. Hips already swaying to her motions in order to increase the friction as she moved her finger in and out of your wet hole. Your pussy was beginning to throb in need for more, Jill continued to lick her lips before removing her fingers lowering her head down kissing your inner thighs, she then sucked on your clit causing you to moan loudly as your entire body was heating up.

She continued to lick as she slowly bobbed her head up and down your clit sending waves of pleasure throughout your body, she let out a small chuckle to your reactions.

The sensation was unbearable and made you arch your back as your pussy convulsed beneath her. Soon after your orgasm subsided, she used both her tongue and a few fingers.

“Mmh— you taste so good~” As she kept slurping your juices right up, her hands gripping your thighs to keep them from closing as you squirmed. Your thighs began to shake rapidly, “Fuck….Jill— m’gonna cum!”, she picked her pace up causing you to scream her name loudly, your orgasim washing over you as you came. Juices squirting all over her face as she licked it off and finished eating you out like there was no tomorrow.

————————————————————————

MORE TO BE ADDED.

[eveningserenityyy]

Home for The Holidays | Oneshot

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x reader

Word Count: 4268

Summary: Upon bringing you back home with him and his family for the holidays, Luke realises that he misses having you all to himself.

A/N: Merry Christmas! Decided to do something for ~slutmas~, and I do hope you enjoy! The editing isn't as heavy with this one, but I really like how it turned out.

Coming home for the holidays is perhaps the best part of college, now able to relax with family and the perfect aesthetic of the christmas season as school is but a small worry in the back of one's mind; meant to be ignored and dealt with at a later time when the tidings end with the 25th.

Luke had brought you home with him to spend this Christmas with his family, all of whom were perfectly amiable and so very welcoming towards you. A response any partner is lucky to receive.

Your friend Han had tagged along too, being Leia’s guest as well. It made for quite the amusing holiday season, for Han was by no means the favourite of the Skywalker patriarch. Anakin, their father, gave him a hard time even for the simple act of breathing; nevertheless, Han made a great effort to impress the man that he hoped would become his father-in-law in the near-ish future.

You got off lucky, more than Han, at least. Anakin was a very protective father, weary of the partners of BOTH his kids. He made that quite clear the first time he had met you, but your advantage was in the fact that you made a far better first impression than Han ever did.

…That particular incident of Han’s misfortunes gets passed around quite a bit, as often as Anakin can mention it at least. No mere words could truly explain the extent to which this first meeting had gone so poorly, for you simply had to be there; all that shall be said is Han offended his mother, broke two chairs, and almost caused the death of the beloved family dog, Artoo, in less than ten minutes.

Furthermore, you found yourself to be having a wonderful time, perfectly fit for the season. Padme was generous with each of you, making sure that you felt welcomed and loved by the family. You baked cookies with her, helped with the tree (the whole family did, really, but you did almost pull a muscle collecting the boxes of ornaments from the basement), and she even took you around town to enjoy the beautiful Christmas lights as you bonded. 

You adored how much she loved both her children, always gushing about her son to you, or showing you terribly embarrassing photos of Luke. Anakin was certainly rough around the edges on the other hand, but you too adored how much he cared about his kids just the same, the only difference being the intensity of it. Yet, despite this you had your moments with the father as well; and at one point had even made him laugh, which is quite the win in your book.

Luke was ecstatic that things, for the most part, were going so great. He absolutely adored and cherished how his family took to you, treating you like one of their own as you fit right in. He hoped many more christmas’ and other such holidays like this were to come, with you by his side each and every time. 

He found himself unable to look away every time you smiled, or laughed at one of his dad’s terrible jokes. He was wholeheartedly in love with you, not at all regretting his bringing you home with him for even one second. This was, in all honesty, the perfect christmas- he had you to thank for making it all the more merry.

He got you under the mistletoe any chance he could, watching your cheeks deepen their rosy tint as you got utterly and completely flustered, especially when a member of his family was close by. 

And when you were helping bake some holiday goods, he always “innocently” made sure to come up from behind you, rubbing against you as he pushed by. At first, it had been a mere accident on his part, but you suspected that it no longer could be when he kept doing it over and over again, leaving you able to feel him growing hard as you put on a poker face. He always came up with little excuses, such as how he forgot a cookie cutter, or needed a glass of water despite the fact that he never actually got one- it made your cheeks ridiculously rosy, constantly blushing every time you felt him against you as his mother asked if you were feeling feverish…

Oh, you were feeling something, but not the kind of feelings you could confide in her about. Ahem. Just imagine what Anakin would think of all the things you wish to do to his son…actually, dont.

He was getting more handsy as the days went by, forgetting that his family is constantly around the corner. He didn't even think about it at times, only driven by the need to touch and hold you close without considering the consequences.

The cons of staying with his family had begun to bother him, never really getting a moment alone with you as of late. As Anakin didn’t like Han, you weren’t even allowed to sleep in the same room- he had to bunk with Han, and you with Leia.

None of you were exactly fond of this, and even Padme fought against it before the horrors of pregnancy and a stagnant college career was planted in her mind. She very much wanted her children to be successful, therefore that was enough to cause her to agree with her husband. 

…okay, there's also the fact that she could understand the uh, the needs her children had…but as long as you’re safe, then for the love of everything keep it out of her house- that was also something she needed to be respected, but would never say when her husband is close by. He just didn't want it. Period. He would rather strangle himself with the tinsel than have such a conversation.

Poor Luke was aching to touch you, missing the privacy you had in a dorm room this past week. He found himself constantly having to hide how hard he was, his pants getting tight every time he even so much as looked at you. It was embarrassing, always sitting with a pillow in his lap when you all huddled together to watch a Christmas classic.

It's just the way he was; easily turned on (By you, specifically- he was head over heels for you, truth be told), and terribly needy for your attention and delicate touch. He had to stop himself from dropping to his knees and begging for you to touch him as he usually would when he got aroused, this not being the time nor the place for that.

You observed how flustered he got himself, how bad he was fighting away the thoughts…and perhaps it was mean, but you couldn’t help but tease him just a little for it. 

It started with brushing a hand against his bulge, or hungrily making out with him in the car before abruptly pulling away as he whined and tried to pull you back into his lap, or kissing his neck in a quiet hallway; which, for the record, you knew quite well would set him off like crazy. Your lips on his throat could have his knees buckling any second, hell- the mere scent of your perfume had him locking himself in a bathroom to stroke the desires away, silencing the noises he couldn’t help but make when he thought of you.

The poor boy was just burning up because of you, so close to fucking you on the family dining table no matter who walked in- okay, i mean…he cared a little about that, but still. Point is that he is so terribly desperate, to the point his brain is heavily fogged and clouded with images of you at all times, images where you adorn the prettiest lingerie as your fingertips trace along his skin, exciting him immensely as he bucks his hips into you…

That's why when he heard the family was going out for some snowmen building competitions, he made damn sure to fool his family into thinking that he was sick, and insisting that you go to the pharmacy and come back whilst his family went without you two.

You genuinely thought he was ill, therefore thought not much of it. Padme was, of course, concerned but relented after Luke argued he didn’t need his mommy to take care of him constantly and that she deserved to go enjoy herself. She laughed, going along with it as she hugged him goodbye.

Han, on the other hand, shot him a look of envy yet said nothing more. He only cared about impressing Anakin, therefore thankfully kept his mouth shut. At this point, there was no room for acting like a little shit- this was, in their horny minds, a time of war. They stood in solidarity with one another.

As soon as you got back and walked through the door, he pounced on you once you’d rid yourself of your winter layers. He pressed you hard against the wall, lips on yours and tongue locked with your own as you let out an involuntary moan at the surprise sensations. The vibrations of your aroused moans were enough to make his erection almost painful.

His grip on you was firm, hands slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt and feeling every inch of your flesh as he so ravenously felt you beneath his finger tips. You were like his perfect little paradise, providing everything he could ever need and love. 

“Luke…luke…” You breathed out, pushing back against him. “You-youre…sick.”

He shook his head, breathing just as heavy as his pupils grew like the grinch’s heart. “I lied, star, I lied, okay? Please, please I need you so bad- will you let me, please?”

Oh, his begging was all you needed to hear. He pleads to have you melted your heart, and you just wanted to wrap him up with a pretty red bow like the cutest christmas present one could ask for. You felt your lips curve into a smile as you nodded, giving him the very answer he desired as you violently tugged you upstairs and to his childhood bedroom. 

He couldn't wait a second longer as he shut the door behind himself, violently slamming shut as he immediately began to unbuckle his belt, letting his pants drop to the floor as he tugged his christmas sweater over his head, messing with the golden brown locks on his head. You loved how he had seemed so pristine one moment with his hair neat and brushed back, to messy and ravenous the very next. 

His hands were on you without you getting a second more to undress yourself, almost ripping your blouse from your body as he then pushed you onto his bed, allowing giggles to slip from between your lips as he tugged the pants off from your legs.

There was so much he wanted to do to you, but so little time, it was almost unfair. He couldn’t spend all the time in the world admiring you as he usually would, needing to be quick with you instead- he loved to kiss every inch of your flesh, playing with your breasts and eating you out for hours before he could even think of being inside of you.

Shivers ran throughout your skin as you gazed at him, watching as his eyes were glossed with love and lust as he looked over you, noticing how your bra and panties matched; a bright red bow on the front of your panties that made him feel like he was about to unwrap the best christmas present ever received by man. He could feel himself throbbing, craving nothing more than to be inside you while you moan for him.

Yet you had other plans, immediately sitting up and tugging at the waistband of his boxers. You couldn’t take the sight of him like this much longer, knowing how bad he needed to be touched. His eyes said it all, and the way his mouth hung open when he looked at you. “Did I do this to you? Oh Luke…let me make it better, hm?”

“Please…” It was as if that was all he could say, all he knew as he begged and begged again. His lips were in a perfect pout, and you would have kissed them if it wasn’t for the idea of placing them somewhere more useful.

He wanted to treat you, but the feeling of you tugging the fabric that felt so tight against his cock broke him completely. He felt like a mess, and he certainly was; but a beautiful one in your eyes. 

In a second his boxers were wrapped around his ankles as your hand came to grip the base of his cock, hard and ready for you as precum leaked from the rosy tip. He was sure he might just cum right there, already letting out a strangled hum of a moan the moment you touched him.

You gave him a few pumps, nice and slow as you felt the pulsing of his veins against your palm, every inch of him begging for more. You thus ran up and along to caress his tip, a whimper falling from his lips as he pouted all over again. He was so sweet, sweet and pretty as he surrendered to you.

“-Need your mouth, oh star…please. It feels so good…” His voice was shaky, needing you more than anything right now. You couldn’t believe the state that had overcome him in only a week of being denied you. 

You adored how he begged for you like this, feeling so wanted and as if you held so much power over him all at once. You could feel the arousal pooling in your panties as you listened to the noises he revealed all because of you.

You licked a stripe up his length before you pressed your lips to the tip, placing a gentle kiss as he shivered under your touch. You couldn’t just let him wait any longer when he needed you so badly, feeling terrible for torturing him in a season so full of love and giving. 

You wrapped your lips around his head, pursing your lips to gently suck the sensitive pink head as he whimpered, fighting off the urge to thrust into your perfect mouth. Your eyes met his own as your lashes framed them so beautifully, and he thought you to appear so delicate as you pleased him like this.

As you took more of him into the velvety warmth of your wet mouth, caressing the length of his cock with your tongue and suctioning your cheeks to suck him off better as you gave a light bop of your head, he was already so very close to drifting off into ecstasy. Every stroke of your tongue had him moaning your name, craving more as his hands slipped into your hair and began to grip either side of your head, carefully guiding you to take him further until tears brimmed your eyes due to his head thrusting against the back of your throat; his mouth hung open as unintelligible noises symphonized from within him, unravelling into a true mess of a man.

He had no time to warn you as the waves of pleasure were released upon him, causing his legs to shake rather violently as he came in your mouth. Fortunately, you already found yourself quite familiar with the telltale signs, having felt the coming of his orgasm as you happily swallowed what he gave you. You took great pride in making him feel so good, such raw pleasure- you enjoyed when he lost himself in it just a little, his grip becoming firmer in time as a desire for more was spoken through moans, knowing it was okay to do so with you.

He was panting as you pulled back, his cock still hard with arousal and need as you looked up at him with the sweetest glossy eyes. You were highly aroused yourself, almost considering grinding into the mattress beneath you as you watched him calm down from the high you’d caused. He thus dropped down next to you at the edge of the bed, looking at you with nothing but love and affection, a hand on your cheek. “I’m- i’m sorry…I didn’t…didn’t mean to do that so soon.”

You placed a hand on his thigh, caressing it as he sighed so heavenly. “Don’t be sorry when you know I like making you feel good too.”

“C’mere…” He murmured, placing his fingers upon your chin as he guided you towards him, pulling you onto his lap as you gave a light gasp at the surprise of it.

He pressed a kiss to your lips that was so sweet and perfectly gentle for the few moments in which it lasted, still breathless as he so suddenly turned the two of you around in order for you to be on your back beneath him and he above you. He grinded himself against your dripping cunt, causing you to moan aloud as his pupils grew again. “Need to be inside you, pretty star…will you let me fuck you?”

The request itself melted you into a little muddle, nodding aggressively to encourage him as a smile tugged at your lips. “I’ve wanted that since we got here.”

You both chuckled, faces pink with lust as he stopped himself from ripping your panties off, instead tracing a finger over the rim in adoration before gently prying them off your legs. It felt like he was unwrapping a perfect present, just as he suspected. He noticed how wet they were, the slick of your arousal dripping from between your thighs as he removed them. 

He lined himself up between your legs, caressing your waist as he did so. He slid his tip through your slit, rubbing up against your cit as you found yourself to be the one whining this time, wanting more of him- needing more.

It wasn’t solely Luke who had been desperate. Both of you had deeply yearned for each other, already quite unable to keep your hands off of each other for more than a day as it is- and even that is impressive.

Neither one of you had time for teasing, that being quite clear as his head penetrated your entrance, causing both of you to moan in unison as he buried himself inside of you after having dreamt of it for what felt like so terribly long. His cock dragged along your walls as he drifted further inside you with ease due to the pool of arousal that he’d been the reason for.

A great fog clouded your mind as he was finally buried as far as he could go, filling you to the brim as he took this moment to relax and catch up to his very much needed breaths. He was so wound up from the past week, so eager to please both you and himself that he forgot he needed to breathe too.

You gripped the toned muscles of his upper arms, keeping him close as you pulled him flush against you. Him now acting almost as a weighted blanket. “Stay like this for a minute for me, if that's okay.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He nodded, pressing a sweet kiss to your neck as you enjoyed the feeling of him inside of you, a feeling you had missed. He could barely speak when he was revelling in the feeling of you squeezing his cock.

“I love your family but…maker…it's so hard.” As you confessed, it did not take much time for you to realise how that sounded, beginning to giggle as he did just the same.

“I mean-”

“I know, I know what you mean.” He had the cutest grin on his face as he lifted himself up just enough to press another kiss to the tip of your nose, resting his arm next to your head as he swiped a piece of hair away from your face. “I missed having you all to myself.”

He felt you clench around him as he spoke such words, holding back a grunt as he was reminded of the effect he has on you when he's being so sweet on you. “Then fuck me before they get home, hm?”

That was your signal for him to pry himself off of your chest, of which he did quite swiftly as his hands flew to your waist, holding you down firmly with care. He began to pull out, feeling the warmth of your walls around him as he pushed himself back, starting slow and steady before warming up to more.

Immediately did you throw your head back against the mattress, a muffled moan struggling to sneak past your lips as your brows furrowed together. He never took his eyes off of your face, enjoying how he affected you with just one thrust inside your cunt. You were too deprived to be less affected. 

It's funny how he was supposed to be the needy one, yet here you are, impaled on his cock as desire fills your head.

Although, it does indeed affect him just as much. His previous pleads with you for pleasure are now happily satisfied by more moans of his own as his cock drifts in and out of your pussy, picking up the pace with every thrust he takes each one faster than the last. Soon enough, he finds himself snapping his hips into your own, his thighs beginning to shake as he tries his best not to cum yet; his lips are in a pout as he finds himself whimpering all over again, denying himself to make sure you get to cum before him.

You're writhing beneath him, the head of his cock pounding into you at the perfect angle as his name passes your lips over and over again. You can feel the heat build within you as your walls clench around him, looking up to catch a glimpse of him when your eyes capture him mid moan, his lips quivering and all. 

“C-cum with me, honey…” You bring a hand to his face, pulling him down towards you as you connect with his lips. The kiss is sloppy and open mouthed as he nods, each of you erupting with sounds of pleasure as the floodgates of ecstasy begin to unleash itself.

At once, do your orgasms hit in unison, feeling his cum fill you up in strings as the warmth coats itself inside you. Your lips meet his neck as he lurches upwards on account of his release, still pounding his cock into you until the waves come to a calm halt.

You wrap your arms around him as he collapses over you, panting as one after such a climax. It takes a moment for either one of you to say anything, for you find yourselves content with the comforting silence, your breaths the only thing to be heard at this moment in time.

You love these moments, the intimacy together; whether that be before, after, or during. You like to listen to the change of his breaths, wondering what he may be thinking as he calms himself down from the high each of you were just on. 

And he likes to do just the same, of course. He could never have this with anyone else, nothing so special as what he has with you, and those breaths of which stem from a session of love making remind him of how absolutely lucky he is to have found you.

Finally, when you do eventually speak, it's to make a joke as your hot breath hits his flesh. “One hell of a christmas present.”

He snorts, feeling his lips curve against the flesh of your neck as you say it. He only then stands up, pulling out of you as his release leaks out of you and onto the fabric of the bed. With that, he pulls you up and into his arms and onto your feet before him, holding your chin with his fingertips. “You’re already mine.”

You blush, shaking your head as you attempt to hide in his chest. Of course, only Luke could make things romantic when you have his cum dripping down your legs. 

You thus chuckle a moment later, finding peace in a moment such as this once again, despite the fact that your legs may give out any second now. You pull yourself back to look at him, taking his hands in your own as you press a gentle and warm kiss to his knuckles. “I love you, Luke. Your family, just…everything.”

“I love you too.” He says back, your words remaining in the back of his mind as he pictures you as a permanent member to the Skywalker clan. “Now come on, we should get cleaned up before my parents come back- i’ll never hear the end of it if they, you know…”

You hold back from commenting on how such a sight would cause Anakin to replace all the presents with coal, knowing it would cause Luke to cringe at the very thought. 

Once each of you are showered and dressed, now safely wrapped within blankets in each other's arms with hot cocoa and a steady fire, you truly do think it to be one of the best christmas’ you've ever had.

You kiss his cheek, causing him to erupt with butterflies in the same way he did when you each had your first kiss. “Merry Christmas, Luke.”

“Merry Christmas, starlight.”

[enobariasdistrict2]

the heat of your electric touch by enobariasdistrict2/enobarias on ao3 | clato oneshot | word count: 2.5k

"You were lucky. Probably didn't get any major arteries. Come on, let's get you more comfortable," he tells her after his assessment. A brief glance downward proves him right - the blood loss doesn't seem too concerning. She only nods vigorously, breathing slowing to a steady rate as she waits impatiently for her body to adjust. When he holds out his hand between them, Clove accepts his help, allowing him to guide her to a nearby rock, his palm flat against the relatively small plane of her back. The relief she feels once seated on the cool grey stone and having pressure off her foot is immediate.

Clove accidentally injures herself and needs her district partner's help. Cato comes to the rescue with first aid that might just be too effective.

Read on ao3 or under the cut.

The steel jaws of the snare clamp around her ankle with a vicious, unforgiving clang of metal, teeth grazing the skin of her foot and tearing, before she can yank it away in time. This torturous pain draws an involuntary gasp from her, and every amount of self control she has prevents her from stumbling around clutching her foot like an idiot. The screaming of her nerve endings in that region, and the accompanying sight of blood pouring forth from the recesses of her foot, contribute to her own personal hell, but are not nearly as unbearable as the shame that squeezes her heart, a self-loathing that comes only from her own carelessness and incompetency.

Really, she is, or should be, better than this. A decade of training under her belt, only to be injured by some strange animal trap like a half-witted lower district imbecile? Much like some of the blood vessels of her foot, her pride is torn into pieces.

Clove at least has the strength to not curl into a ball and whimper on the ground the way she desperately wants to. Being idiotic enough to land in an easily avoidable trap is bad enough, but she doesn't need to look like a weakling with low pain tolerance as well. The reputation of her District is too important, the consequences of betraying a home that gave her everything too great. Unfortunately, her nervous system doesn't seem to agree, continuously attacking her with sharp signals of pain that she won't be able to ignore for much longer.

"Clove, come on, why the fuck did we stop - oh," Cato responds to his own question once he sees the issue.

Right. Yet another miserable aspect of her current situation: her ally (and the boy who has become almost an extension of her) is present to witness her humiliation. Although his words are harsh, she detects none of the frustration typically characteristic of her district partner, only a weary exhaustion that she too has been feeling the effects of.

"Listen, I can help you out with that," he offers his assistance quietly. She doesn't face him, instead glaring daggers at her traitorous foot confined by the snare trap at the base of a tree. Judging by the proximity of Cato's voice, so intense that she can almost feel the pulse of the vibrations in the air between them, he is now far closer to her than he strictly needs to be. Clove wonders if she's imagining that heat at her back being a result of his body's closeness, or perhaps it's just the Gamemakers and their sadistic temperature controls.

She removes her boot quickly and tosses it to the side of the path - whether or not she retrieves it later isn't something she cares about at the moment. Clove releases her foot, tentatively setting it on the ground to right herself, taking great care not to place too much weight on the sensitive area, and uses one of her hands to lean against the tree. Unfortunately, her hands are now both very much covered with thick blood, like messy paint splatters across skin that will congeal into a rather lovely if mildly disgusting paste, but Clove can't bring herself to think about hygiene right now.

"God, your ankle is fucked up," Cato murmurs, staring at with widened eyes in morbid fascination. Clove briefly turns her attention away from catching her breath to glower at him for his asinine statement. Unfortunately, he isn't worth the effort it would take to deliver a scathing comeback, and her rapid breaths wouldn't allow her to form a coherent insult anyways.

"I'm fine. We'll rest for thirty seconds and then keep moving," she grinds out between clenched teeth, her voice too high, blinking back tears. Cato's polite enough not to point this out, and she might have considered it a kindness on his part, that he had no interest in extending her indignity, but he could also very well be afraid of the fact that she'd tear him apart for daring to tease her. (Both possibilities are strangely heartwarming.)

Clove is not pathetic enough to be in this much pain, but they've spent hours hunting for the damned wonder-kids from Twelve and if she's being entirely honest, the tediousness of the task is getting to her - to them both. Besides, even if she did experience the sick euphoria of taking her competitors down that everyone back home had promised her, spending her days killing people was unbelievably tiring, even more so than Training had been.

(It's a secret she will carry deep down in her bones, never to be known by anyone other than herself...

or the boy who wordlessly stares at her across the campfire every night with silent understanding.)

"We both know you're not going to be just fine in thirty seconds, Clove," the boy in question mutters softly. The fact that he isn't yelling at her or degrading her for her mistake is jarring. Clove isn't used to him being so subdued. She can see his jaw clenching with irritation, but there are no signs of a classic Cato meltdown, no traces of the boy who could go ballistic at a moment's notice for even the slightest provocation. The absence of bulging veins against a reddening face, and the general lack of a hysterical outburst, is more terrifying to her than anything.

"Yeah? Then what's your plan, genius?" she replies bitterly. Her voice is far more shaky than she wants it to be, frayed at the edges with little of her typical venomous edge to her otherwise mean-spirited words.

Clove has never felt more weak in her life, especially for a technically benign, non-life threatening injury. She can only imagine the disappointment of their family and friends back home, staring at the large screens installed in the Square, watching their chosen Tributes repeatedly disgrace what the Games stood for with their failure to kill Twelves - Twelves, such easy opponents, the laughingstock of Panem. The additive pain of an incoming headache joins the ache of her ankle, the effects of both making her dizzy.

Her partner doesn't answer right away, and only conducts a silent once-over of her from head to toe, mouth slightly parted with concentration in a way that's oddly distracting. His gaze snags on the torn skin at her foot, narrowing in on the wound.

"You were lucky. Probably didn't get any major arteries. Come on, let's get you more comfortable," he tells her after his assessment. A brief glance downward proves him right - the blood loss doesn't seem too concerning. She only nods vigorously, breathing slowing to a steady rate as she waits impatiently for her body to adjust. When he holds out his hand between them, Clove accepts his help, allowing him to guide her to a nearby rock, his palm flat against the relatively small plane of her back. The relief she feels once seated on the cool grey stone and having pressure off her foot is immediate.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. We can just continue on," Clove concludes, her voice a light, breathy gasp, a fragile band that is worryingly close to breaking. She knows she has no chance of convincing him, but sheer stubbornness might work out well in her favor...

"Absolutely not," he snickers, more fond amusement than mocking. Clove inhales sharply when he suddenly drops down to his knees, unfortunately maintaining eye contact - if she didn't know better, almost deliberately. She spends far too much time viciously fighting off the salacious mental images that plague her diseased mind.

Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice what effect the sight of him kneeling before her has, setting to work with the resolute purpose she's more familiar with from Cato. She watches him more intensely than she should as he shrugs off his backpack, taking in the ripple of his muscles and his confident movements as he pulls out a first aid kit - one of the few salvageable items from Fire Girl's little stunt on the mines. He unravels the white gauzy material and flings it over his shoulder before grabbing the ball of her foot gently and wiping away the blood with a damp cloth.

"I'm cleaning it," Cato grunts in answer to her hiss of discomfort as the searing liquid makes contact with damaged skin. "Last thing we need is you dying of something stupid like an infection," he reminds her, not unkindly, looking up to meet her eyes. Clove is stunned into silence by the impossibly soothing effect of his gaze, the delicate way he handles her foot. The little circles he rubs on the sides of her ankles render her placid, a serene calmness enveloping her as her eyelids flutter, tempted to close and simply let him massage her foot for eternity.

That simply won't do.

"You're taking too long," Clove feels the need to complain, rather childishly - if only to save face, to distract from what she's sure is very visible evidence of the effect he has on her.

Cato only grins at her cheekily. "Yeah, yeah, then do it yourself," he snaps back at her with little fire behind his words. He returns to his task with determined focus, and she's transfixed by the way he dutifully approaches his work, efficient in the way he takes care of the wound for her.

She knows that he's right - the curriculum back home had extensively covered first aid and injury recovery. Clove could have certainly taken care of this on her own - and really, before their circumstances had so drastically changed, she would have had to.

There is no help, no guide, for anyone in the Arena. Although alliances and partnerships were of incredible importance in the initial part of the Games, self-sufficiency was quite literally essential to survival. A Victor that needed assistance beyond the generous gifts of sponsors and the efforts of Mentors was practically a waste, and their Academies would never produce a Trainee who couldn't stand on his or her own, let alone clear them for the Games.

Training had in fact prepared them well for the physical demands and psychological impacts of killing 23 kids, and endowed them with practical survival/first aid skills, but the teachers never told them about some of the unsavory realities.

Long nights staring at the stars after seeing hazy electric-blue images of dead people flash across the black canvas of night sky - lives they had taken, a revelation that Clove knows should have brought exclusively pride with no residual guilt.

Or what to do with the silence that is a natural effect of fellow Careers having long since been knocked down like flies, a stark reminder that just nights before their sleeping space had been alive with the crackling of the fire and the sounds of teenage chatter.

The Academy had also never taught them how to work as a team for so long - by now, had the rule change not intervened, she and Cato would have gone their separate ways or, more likely, fought among each other for the honor of being labelled Victor, as was the expectation of any worthy representatives of Two. Instead, they'd been forced to retain the alliance for convenience.

But alarmingly, it was beginning to not feel that way. Clove had grown rather accustomed to him being an irritating thorn in her side, but somewhere into their partnership he became something other than a meat-headed brute, transforming before her eyes into someone more logical, focused, even receptive to her ideas. It certainly wasn't overnight, but she finds his ego more manageable nowadays. Rather than assuming he had automatic executive authority, he instead deferred to her. Cato constantly checked if she'd had enough to eat from their sponsor gifts, listened respectfully when she suggested something, and had even granted her Fire Girl, the kill that he wanted the most.

These were the signs of a more functional partnership, but none of this explained him holding her foot with such reverence as he cared for the wound, helping instead of hurting, willingly submitting to her needs... It should have been impossible. If anything it is unnatural for people like them to act this way.

Predators, rivals, enemies. This is what they were always meant to be, but Clove isn't sure anymore of this simple fact. She isn't sure of anything, really, only that her foot hurts less now and he managed this small crisis so well she can't help but swell with gratitude and pride for him.

The deep, throaty timbre of Cato's voice cuts through her thoughts. "Clove? You're real quiet up there. Don't tell me you're going to pass out on me over a little blood," he teases lightly, even as his pretty blue eyes glance up at her in wary concern.

Suddenly, she wants to scream in frustration for reasons that have little to do with pain. Doesn't he know who they are, where they are? He really can't be staring at her with such obvious affection, or handling her injury so gently instead of taking advantage of her weakness the way he was trained to. It isn't right, nor is it fair for him to treat her this way, to look at her so softly it hurts, to have a touch that makes her crave more.

"I just know when to shut up, unlike you." It's easy to slip back into the sultry, apathetic voice she usually speaks with, now that the pain in her ankle has been reduced, calmed into dull throbbing.

For as much warmth and concern he dares to show her, Clove will be twice as hard, twice as cruel. It's better this way, for them both.

He narrows his eyes at her in disbelief, then tightens his grip on her foot. "Way to show some gratitude, Clove, really." Cato squeezes her ankle one final time in the wounded area, not enough pressure to exacerbate the pain but certainly enough to make her flinch, before repacking the kit and rising to a stand. She ignores the pinpricks of guilt that prod at her chest when he refuses to meet her eyes.

Clove also will never admit that maybe she wouldn't have minded if he'd taken slightly longer to heal her. The heavy warmth in her foot, left behind from where he'd touched her, would have to be enough.

"Come on, Clove. We still have hunting to do," he reminds her. Hobbling over to her discarded boot, she manages to pull it back on, wincing at her ankle's protest. When Cato wordlessly offers his arm for support, still not looking at her, Clove has no choice but to ignore her pride and accept, leaning into his body far more than was probably appropriate.

"Thank you," she whispers softly into the space between them, not expecting an answer. He pulls her closer to his side in answer, almost compressing her into him. They didn't look like classic warriors, the loyal Tributes their District and country expected them to be. She doesn't even withhold the small smile that pulls at the corner of her lips.

Clove wonders how they must look to everyone back home in Two. Ruthless, courageous soldiers acting like best friends, dangerously teetering towards something more.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she didn't care.

[resowrites]

On Hold - oneshot.

Summary: Phone sex between Henry and his girlfriend goes awry…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only, light smut (mention of f masturbation)/innuendo, dialogue heavy, banter/British humour, fluff, language, pet names, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 1170

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

On Hold - oneshot.

"Oh, yes, good evening. Er, before we get started, can I just check the rates per minute?" She laughed.

"For the third time this week, you’ve got the wrong number. Now, piss off."

"Wait! This was the number advertised!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. In a phone box about twenty minutes from here." Henry could practically hear her pursing her lips, annoyed.

"Well try ringing from there cos you’re blocked on this number."

"Wait, I don't need long, just tell me what you’re wearing…" She grinned into her screen.

"Hang on… are you that knobhead who plays Superman? Can’t you find some actresses to bring back to your hotel?"

"Nah, they think I’m too old."

"Aww, have you told them how much you're worth?" He roared with laughter.

"Are you gunna touch yourself for me or what?"

"You’re an hour late darling, sorry."

"What d'ya mean? Did I wake you? I thought you sounded sleepy."

"No, I'm just laying in bed."

"At 9 pm? What you been up to?"

"Oh I didn’t tell you did I… got a new wand delivered. Great fun. Submersible too." There was a slight pause.

"Well, careful… don’t electrocute yourself." She smirked.

"Don’t worry, it’s rechargeable."

"Wow, and it lasted that long?"

"Longer than you." Henry snickered.

"Well you haven’t broken up with me yet, so it can’t be that good…"

"I was waiting till I got my strength back," he scoffed, "I’m not joking, I still can’t move my legs."

"Hang on, let me lie back for this," she giggled, "well you can hardly blame me! It’s been days since I’ve seen my beloved. She won’t even send me any pictures…" She rolled her eyes.

"Does she know you’re calling me right now?"

"Oh stop it, one bloody woman’s enough. Now take ‘em off."

"Take what off?"

"You know fine well."

"I really don’t."

"Yes you do. Off, now. Or are they still on the bathroom floor?"

"Says the man who probably took his off in the lift." Henry scoffed again.

"Christ, I’ve never known a woman make me work this hard for it from hundreds of miles away," she yawned followed by a long pause, "hello?"

"Sorry, if the line goes dead again it means I’ve fallen asleep." He giggled.

"That’s it, I wanna speak to someone else."

"What, like a manager?"

"D'ya know what I’ll just hang up and dial again shall I?! I might get through to someone nicer!"

"Sorry, it’s only me and Big Sandy tonight."

"And is she busy?"

"Well she’s only got two hands." Henry snorted.

"Fucking hell, why me Lord?"

"Oh darling, are you having trouble? You might wanna take something…"

"Well it'd be bloody wasted on you!"

"You’re telling me, fuck that wand is good."

"… How many times?"

"Six." He frowned.

"Yeah, right."

"What? That’s only six more than you’ve given me."

"Well it’s not my fault I can't vibrate! What do I do? Stick a battery up my arse?!"

"Tsk, typical man, always putting his needs first." Henry cackled.

"Did you even think of me at all?"

"No more than usual."

"Oh, I see. Still got the hots for the new weatherman on channel five then?"

"You mean the one who looks like you ten years ago but with a straighter nose?" He harrumphed.

"You know you're lucky I'm not there right now, you’d be getting a smacked arse."

"You wish."

"I do! You’re going over my knee the minute I get back."

"Only if you make it past the porch…" Henry smiled fondly.

"Christ I remember that time, how long had I been away?"

"Six weeks. You even tripped over a parcel." He laughed.

"… God I miss you."

"You’ve only got one more week, soppy bollocks."

"Way too long… please come visit me. You’re missing out big time on the food here."

"Darling you know how busy I am with work. How are the interviews going?"

"Awful, thanks."

"You poor sod, I know how much you hate talking about yourself…" Henry smirked.

"Oh fuck off, there’s only so many times you can answer: ‘so what’s the hardest thing about playing Sherlock Holmes?’”

"And what do you say? The accent?" He almost choked on the drink he'd been sipping.

"You know, all things considered… you're not in a very good mood."

"Can’t smile wide enough, thanks. I’m just knackered."

"Oh sorry darling. Do you want me to let you go?"

"No, it’s alright… gotta wait for it to recharge anyway."

"Oh, well then you better rest up for tomorrow."

"Hmm, think I’ll aim for ten." Henry sniffed sharply.

"Yeah well, enjoy it while you can cos the thing's going out the bloody window when I get back."

"Well there’s no rush…"

"Oh yes there is. I'm gunna drown you in how much I've missed you."

"Right, I'm hanging up. At least I don’t have to talk to the wand."

"Wait!"

"What?"

"What position you lying in?" There was a short pause.

"On my side, why?"

"… Which tit’s pressed into the mattress?"

"You’re a perv."

"Tell me!"

"Hang on, let me check…" He laughed, exasperated.

"For fuck's sake, why can’t we just have phone sex like a normal couple?"

"Cos you’re a pillock." Henry smiled.

"You love me though."

"Eh… you’re alright."

"Say it!"

"Ugh, don’t make me."

"Say it, or I’ll call you every hour on the hour until you do," she gave a heavy sigh, "oooh."

"What?"

"… Make that noise again." She tutted.

"Definitely not."

"Oh go on, you know I need you."

"Why, what happened to your hand?" He bellowed with laughter for what felt like the hundredth time since the call began.

"I love you darling."

"Me too. Seven times, in fact." Henry's eyebrows shot up.

"I thought it was only six?"

"It was but then my phone rang and it startled me." He started laughing so hard she could hear his headboard shaking.

"It wasn’t the weatherman by any chance?"

"I wish. Oh wait a minute, you work in entertainment. Try and get his number for me."

"If I do it’ll be to warn him."

"Mmmm you should have seen him today, talk about a warm southern front." Henry sighed.

"Why aren’t you like this when I’m around?" She bit back a laugh.

"I dunno, it’s like some terrible weight’s been lifted."

"Right well then I’ll bid you goodnight, shall I?! Tuck yourself up warm okay? And kiss our boy for me."

"Will do. Oh and be sure to rinse that shower floor, wouldn’t want you slipping tomorrow morning." She could almost hear him grinning.

"I mean it, I love you darling." There was another brief pause.

"Love you too."

"See! that wasn’t so hard, was it?"

"Either way, I’m disappointed in myself." Henry chuckled.

"Night-night wagon."

"Night, buggerlugs."

It was just as she hung up that a thought crossed her mind. He meanwhile sighed and switched on the tv. A few minutes later his phone pinged and he beamed once he opened the message.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@marytudorbrandon @luclittlepond

[abitohoney]

All I Want for Christmas Is You

Chapter 2 of 6 - There's Nothing Sweeter AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5 || CH6

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, AU - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Lesbian Sex, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Humor, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm Delay (nothing extreme), Begging, Strap-Ons, Face-Sitting, Corny & Cheesy Dialogue, kinda sappy

Word Count: 3.9k

Fic Summary: It’s your first year spending the holidays with Sevika, and though the two of you couldn’t be any different in your level of holiday spirit or view of the traditions that come with it, your shared adoration (and sexual attraction) for each other is more than enough to get both of you through it together.

A collection of little holiday-inspired scenes, technically chronological, but really could be read in any order or as stand-alone oneshots. Includes a nice blend of sugar (fluff) and spice (smut).

Chapter Summary: With an upcoming holiday party to attend, you decide to bake cookies as your contribution to the potluck. Despite Sevika's insistence not to be involved, you're not about to let her get out of this one so easily. (A good dose of fun, a bit of fluff, and just a hint of smut if you squint.)

AN: Another fic already complete on AO3 that I'm bringing to Tumblr. Guess it's Xmas in April. 🤷‍♀️

“C’mon Sevika!” you plead, “It’ll be fun!”

“No.”

“What can I do to change your mind?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

Determined not to let Sevika weasel her way out of yet another holiday tradition, you take a moment to mull over a way to convince her. You lean forward over the kitchen island as your eyes wander over her stoic expression from where she sits at the kitchen table nursing a drink. It’s a quick movement, but you catch the moment her gaze drops to your exposed cleavage before flitting back to your face.

Gotcha!

“Tell you what,” you start, a playful lilt to your tone, “If you help me with the cookies, I’ll let you have your way with me after we finish them.” Confident you’ve got this in the bag, you make no effort to hide the smile that knowledge elicits.

“You’ll let me have my way with you regardless,” she replies with her own cocky grin.

Well that didn’t go as planned.

“What if I don’t let you this time?” you challenge her. It’s a long shot, but by Janna you are going to get her to drop the Grinch act.

Sevika raises a single dark brow, calling your bluff.

“Don’t give me that look!” you snap, “I can turn down your advances.”

She simply keeps that damn smirk in place for a moment longer, testing your resolve.

When she suddenly stands, chair scraping noisily across the floor, you immediately straighten up. Unsure what exactly she intends to do, you nervously watch as she strides around the island and towards you. You spin to face her as she comes up behind you. Crossing your arms across your chest, you crane your neck to stare up at her with as much defiance as you can muster beneath her towering height.

Her smirk softens into something more… suggestive , and you realize there’s no way you’re winning this round. Slowly- purposefully- she places her hands against the side of the counter, one on either side of you and effectively cages you in place.

The combination of her proximity, the confidence she exudes, and the anticipation of her touch- it all makes short work of what little resolve you have remaining. Your once furrowed brows relax and your arms slip down to your sides. Peering up into her stormy eyes, you silently plead that she let you have this. For once. But, it seems she isn’t going to as you watch her slowly lower her head and bring her lips towards yours. Eyes fluttering shut, you feel her soft lips ghost over yours, but when you lean in for the kiss, she pulls away.

Damnit! She did it again!

She played you. Just as she did with the damn Christmas tree decorating the other day. You even knew that was what she was doing and yet you still fell for it. However, this time, rather than feeling frustrated and angry, you feel hurt. The holidays are important to you, so she should make an effort to spend them with you regardless of how silly or frivolous she finds it all. You turn your head away from her, unwilling to let her see your defeated expression, but her thumb and index finger gently catch you by the chin.

“Hey,” she says softly, but you can still hear the remnants of mirth in her tone. She guides your head so you’re forced to look up at her again. Releasing a deep sigh, her broad shoulders slump in defeat. “I’ll help you.”

The way your face lights up brighter than the fucking Christmas tree has her lip twitching and threatening to turn into a genuine smile. Still gripping your chin, she finally presses her lips fully against yours.

Wrapping your arms around her neck, you try to return the kiss, but you can’t contain the wide smile that spreads across your face.

When she pulls back to gaze down at your expression, she shakes her head and releases a quiet, short chuckle. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmurs and pushes herself away from the counter and subsequently you. “Now what the hell do you want me to do?”

Still beaming with excitement, you try to keep it in check before it drives her to change her mind. “You’re going to help me roll out the dough and cut some festive shapes. It’s simple. I’ve got two stations set up. Just watch me and do what I do.” You explain and make your way to the other end of the counter where you have a large bowl of dough prepared. Several cookie cutters, a bag of flour, several cookie sheets and a pair of rolling pins line the rest of the space.

Sevika releases an exaggerated sigh -one that you choose to ignore- before moving to stand in her designated spot.

“So start by putting some flour on the counter, so the dough doesn’t stick. Coat your rolling pin too,” you instruct while performing the actions. You turn to watch Sevika, and although she’s donning her typical grumpy expression, she proceeds to repeat the process as instructed. Once satisfied with her performance, you grab a large portion of the dough, set it on the flour coated counter and start rolling it out. “You need to get the dough flat enough for it to bake properly. About the width of your pinky finger.” Glancing at Sevika’s human hand, you quickly amend that statement, “ My pinky.” That at least earns you a hint of a smirk.

The two of you work in unison while you occasionally peer over at her work. Impressed with how well she’s followed along so far, you decide to let her have at it on her own for a while and concentrate on your batch. Dough at the right thickness, you grab a cookie cutter and start making an assortment of holiday shapes. “Once you have the right thickness just start cutting out as many cookies as you can before placing them on the cookie sheets,” you explain.

With your first round all cut, you turn to check Sevika’s process, only to find she’s been cutting hers using her fucking prosthetic fingers. “Sevika! What the hell?” you holler, face contorting in disgust.

Sevika turns to you, brows furrowed. “What does it look like?”

“Like you’re cutting the cookies using your fucking nasty ass prosthetic finger!”

“Would you prefer I use the fingers I fucked you with this morning?” she asks, arching a brow.

That - catches you completely off guard. “What?! I- No! I mean- you did clean them afterwards, didn’t you?” You had planned to tell her to just use the cookie cutters , but the fact that her statement seemed to imply her fingers are dirty has completely derailed your thought process.

“No. You cleaned them… with your mouth,” Sevika replies. Her dark lips curl into a haughty smirk as she waits for your reaction.

Again, you’re unprepared for that response. “That- that is not cleaning them, Sevika. Janna, please tell me you’re just messing with me!”

She simply grins at you for a long moment, just taking in your dumbfounded expression with a sick satisfaction.

Throwing your hands up in the air dramatically, you decide it doesn’t even matter at this point. “Just use the damn cookie cutters please. And make sure your hand IS clean.”

“Guess you need to work on your instructions,” she sneers.

You’re tempted to form a retort to that snarky remark, but you opt to bite it back when she does- in fact- grab a cookie cutter and start using it. You can’t help but wonder if her act was simply an attempt to get out of doing the task. If she sucks at it, you won’t ask her to do it.

Ha! Not getting out of it that easy.

Both of you return to working in silence until all the dough is used up. Sliding the baking sheets into the oven and setting a timer, you turn to regard Sevika with a pleased smile. “See! That wasn’t so bad now was it? Kinda fun, right?” If the scowl she’s wearing is any indication, you’d bet she’s got something less than positive to say.

“Yes and no.”

Brows furrowed in confusion, you ask, “Yes and no… what?”

“Yes it was bad and no, it was not kinda fun ,” she replies, her tone particularly snarky as she mocks your words.

Grinch.

Determined not to let her spoil the fun, you reach a hand into the flour. You grab a small handful before allowing a devious grin to spread across your face.

“What are you smil-” Sevika’s question halts as you toss the flour at her forehead, covering the top of her head and a good part of her face in little flecks of the white powder.

“ You … need to lighten up,” you tease, making no effort to hide the mirth in your tone. Your smile only grows as you watch her stand there, eyes shut tight and nose scrunched up. She looks downright adorable. “Look! It snowed!” you continue to tease her.

Sevika slowly opens her eyes, and oh boy does she look very displeased. Her brows form a deep v-shaped line.

You should probably be worried, but you’re too caught up in just how clever you think you are. It isn’t until her entire expression shifts that you realize just how in trouble you are.

Her brows relax, causing several bits of flour to slide down her cheeks and onto the floor. Then, ever so slowly, her tight lined lips start to curl up at one corner.

Oh shit.

Starting to back away cautiously, you watch with worry as Sevika dips her human hand into the bag.

While slowly removing her hand- which is clearly overflowing with the white substance- her eyes never leave yours.

About to spin on your heels and run, you find you’re just a bit too slow. An absurd amount of powder hits you smack in the center of your face. You manage to close your eyes in time, but only just. It coats your face. After swiping as much as you can away from your eyes, you carefully open your eyes.

Sevika stands before you, grinning wide and looking ever so proud of herself.

From your periphery you spot the leftover flour coating your station and you withhold your smile this time. You can’t let her know what you’re thinking. Moving swiftly, you scoop up as much of the remnants into both hands before chucking it in her direction.

She raises her hands, but too late, as you manage to get a decent chunk on her face, hair and neck.

Now you’re the one grinning- not to mention cackling- as you watch her attempt to dust herself off. Before she can return her attention to you, you grab another good handful and throw it in her face. And luck must be on your side, as you manage to time it just as she opens her mouth to say something. As she sputters and coughs- white clouds of flour shooting from her mouth- your giggles burst into full on belly laughter. One hand on your chest as it shakes, you raise the other to swipe away a tear as it slips from your eye.

“You little-” Sevika growls, withholding the curse that she'd let follow if she were talking to anyone other than you.

“Don’t be such a sore loser!” you tease between your fits of laughter.

Stormy gray eyes catch yours, locking onto them as she snatches the entire bag of flour in her metal hand.

Your laughter stops immediately.

Oops!

She stalks towards you, closing the gap almost immediately.

“Sevika! Wait!” you cry out. You turn to book it in the other direction, but she catches you by your forearm.

With one swift tug, she spins you around to face her. She grins down at you with the most sinister- no- just downright evil look on her face as she raises the bag above your head.

You are so screwed.

Throwing your free hand up to shield as much of your face as you can, you try one last time to plead with her. “Sevika please! Don’t! You’re gonna waste-” Your plea is cut short as you feel the entire contents of the bag come raining down on your head. You close your eyes and mouth while holding your breath. The hand over your face proves to be useless as the powder easily slips down and over every square inch of your topside.

When the dust- or, rather, flour- finally settles, Sevika releases your arm and you clear your face as much as you can. It’s almost a losing battle, as more just falls down from the top of your head.

I’m the ridiculous one?  

Her wide smirk is still well in place when you finally blink up at her. And oh does that just irk you even more. Peeved that she wasted the entire bag of flour, you’re now the one wearing a nasty scowl.

“Don’t be such a sore loser,” she sneers.

Although you don't appreciate her mocking your words yet again, it's hard to be mad at her when she gently runs a thumb across one of your cheeks to brush more flour off. It's a tender gesture, meant to subdue you. And of course it works.

“You are just awful sometimes,” you grumble. You're not truly mad at her. Looking down, you find your sweater is- as expected- completely coated. Slipping your fingers beneath the hem, you pull it up and over your head, trying to keep it inside out to prevent further mess. Not that it matters. The floor is just as much of a disaster as you are. It even seeped beneath the sweater and between your cleavage. “It’s in my bra!” you gripe.

“You could take that off too.”

Not gonna happen. You know what that would lead, and it's going to have to wait until later. Tossing your sweater onto the counter, you shoot Sevika a glare. You dust off your breasts and try to shake any remnants out of your bra. You’re about to throw her a smart comeback when the timer goes off. Sighing, you head to the oven, trying to ignore how powder falls from your head with each step you take. Grabbing an oven mitt, you pull out each cookie sheet and set them aside to cool. You release another sigh when you turn to look at the floor. “Guess we can clean this up while the cookies cool.”

Sevika says nothing as you move to fetch a broom and dust pan. She just watches you with a smirk from where she leans back against the counter.

Holding the broom out for Sevika to take, your eyes flit to hers when she doesn’t take it. “Don’t think I’m cleaning this by myself,” you scoff when she simply raises a brow. She finally takes it after you shove the handle into her chest. You kneel on the tile floor, grumbling to yourself as you wait for her to sweep the flour into the dustpan you place near the messiest area.

It takes a good six or more rounds of filling and emptying the dustpan to get the majority of the flour cleaned up. Just as you’re collecting the last chunk, you see Sevika’s index finger come into view before she slips beneath your chin.

She guides you to look up at her. She’s still smiling, but it’s much softer now. “That was… entertaining .” Her words come out forced, but sincere.

She had fun - and damn if that doesn’t bring your smile right back. You feel her apply a gentle pressure beneath your chin again and allow her to guide you up and to your feet. Eyes locked on hers, you set the dustpan off to the side while she leans the broom against the island. Remnants of flour remain in her hair and on her face. It’s a rather humorous site. Your smile grows, as does her lopsided grin. You assume she must be thinking the same thing about you.

Stepping closer, she cocks her head as she brings her lips to yours in a tender kiss. It’s brief, but sweet and she releases your chin when she breaks away.

As she smiles down at you, and you up at her, you’re certain she feels the same level of adoration for you as you do for her.

“What’s next?” she asks quietly, breaking the silence.

Feeling a bit disappointed that the tender moment is over, you avert your gaze to the cookies. They should be cool enough by now. Now comes your favorite part, and that at least helps keep your spirits up. “Time to decorate them! Why don't you move the cookies to the counter while I grab the icing and sprinkles.”

Sevika, obviously less enthused, reluctantly follows your instructions and starts moving the cookies to the island.

“So there’s no right or wrong way to decorate them really,” you say as you return to the counter with a fairly large plastic tub full of sugary toppings. “Just make them look fun and festive.” You’re not surprised when she says nothing in response, but what does surprise you is that she starts taking out various items and turning them over in her prosthetic hand.

She silently watches you decorate a wreath shaped cookie before starting to work on her own. She mimics yours, using the same colors in the same places. And though she could definitely work on her technique, you’re impressed by her attempt.

“Nicely done,” you say with a smile.

Your praise earns you a quiet, disinterested hum from Sevika while she grabs another cookie and starts decorating on her own.

The two of you work in comfortable silence until there are only a few cookies remaining.

Grabbing a gingerbread man shaped cookie, you decide to test your own skills and make something a bit more… unique .

“Is that supposed to be me?” Sevika asks just as you finish.

You turn to her, a proud smile plastered to your face. “Yes. It is actually,” you reply and hold up the little gingerbread man- or, woman- for her to better see. One arm is decorated in copper and purple icing. The head is covered in short, black hair. You even gave it a little cropped top and low-cut pants. “You look so sweet! I could just eat you up!” you tease. “Get it? Cause this is you- as a cookie- and cookies are sweet.”

Releasing an exaggerated sigh, Sevika shakes her head at you before returning her attention to her Christmas tree shaped cookie.

“Oh come on! It was funny!” you insist. You catch the corner of her mouth twitch despite her clear attempt to hide her smile. “You think I’m cute and funny. Admit it. I saw you smile.” Not really expecting her to admit it, you simply smile to yourself and grab the last cookie to decorate. Just as you’re adding the finishing touches, you see Sevika’s prosthetic slowly slide across the counter and into your view, pushing a cookie along with it. You stare at it for a moment. It’s also a gingerbread… woman . If the fucking tits she put on it are any indication. “Sevika! Seriously?” you ask incredulously. It even has little nipples.

“It’s you,” she replies, no hint of shame in her tone. Not that you’d ever expect that. “Now you look good enough to eat. Again.”

Your attention flits to her face to find her smirking. Janna is she only ever happy when she’s toying with you? Damn sadist. Damn gorgeous, sexy, sadist who seems to have forgotten these are for a party. “You can’t decorate them inappropriately like that! We’re bringing these to Silco’s holiday party!” you chastise her and plant your hands firmly on your hips.

Sevika reaches for the cookie, keeping those gray eyes- full of mirth- locked on yours as she raises it to her mouth- and fucking licks the icing tits right off. “There,” she states simply and places the cookie down with the rest of them.

“For fucks sake Sevika! We can’t bring ones you’ve licked either!” Oh you are just so done now. The way she just grins so arrogantly at you is a clear indication that she’s doing this on purpose. Probably has something else brewing in that wicked mind of hers-

“How about I lick your real tits instead?” she asks and steps closer, invading your space- for the second time this morning.

“Stop- stop distracting me,” you stammer. Damn she’s got you so flustered. How does she just use her presence- or that deep, raspy tone- to switch the mood of the room in an instant?

“Stop distracting you ?” she chuckles. “Babygirl, you’re the one who's been distracting me all morning with your tits on display.”

Ok. She’s got a point.

Mouth open, you’re about to tell her to control herself, but that thought quickly empties from your head the moment you feel her hands on your bare waist.

She gently turns you so you’re facing her and crowds you, forcing your back against the counter. Gray, hungry eyes watch your wide, innocent ones for just a moment before she lowers her head. Pulling down one of the cups of your bra, Sevika presses a kiss to the curve of your breast. Her other hand- the one made of flesh, skims up your abdomen to cup the other breast.

You sigh, letting your head fall back as you feel the warmth of her large hand through your thin bra. Her name spills from your mouth in a soft moan when she sucks at your flesh in time with the squeeze of her hand. You thread your hands into her hair to pull her face closer. The familiar ache of arousal spreads from your core and down your legs when she takes your nipple into her mouth and sucks gently. Then she clamps down with her teeth and your legs threaten to give way. She must notice this, as you feel her metal claws sink into the flesh just below the breast she’s currently teasing with her tongue.

Finally releasing you from her mouth, Sevika straightens up to admire how you gaze up at her through hooded eyes. “Shower?” she asks, tone deep and suggestive.

You nod, not trusting your own voice with how turned on you are.

“You got a little something on your mouth,” she purrs.

Before you reach up to wipe away whatever it is, you catch the glint in her gray eyes. She’s got something planned.

She brings her hand up with a small amount of icing on the pad of her thumb and spreads it across your parted lips. Leaning down she captures your mouth in a passionate kiss. Her tongue teases over your lips, withdrawing another soft moan from your throat. When she breaks the kiss, leaving you breathless and dizzy, she bends down to scoop you up into her arms bridal style.

Wrapping your arms around her neck, you smile up at her as she carries you towards the bathroom. You give her a quick peck on the cheek. “How do I taste? As sweet as sugar?” you ask playfully.

With a cute, crooked grin, she replies, “Babygirl, there's nothing sweeter than you."

next chapter >

[sloanerisette]

Sloane Writes It - Writing Commissions

Hi everyone!

I'm currently going through some rough financial struggles because of medical stuff and insurance, so I'm opening up writing commissions! Have you enjoyed my work and want me to write something for you? Do you want some smut and need someone to manifest it for you? Good news! I'm here to do that for YOU!

Here are all the details you need to know!

All prices are in USD

Rate is 1.2 cents per word. This totals out to $12 for 1000 words, $24 for 2000 words, $60 for 5000 words, and so on.

Original fiction and series/fandoms I am unfamiliar with work at a rate of 1.5 cents per word.

For something I am unfamiliar with, I promise I will research characters, relationships, and dynamics to the best of my ability, but as a result, it may take longer to get your story to you.

All commissions may take anywhere from 1 week to 1 month.

Payment will happen after I finish your story. I will reach out with an invoice with the exact word count, and upon receiving payment, I will send you your story as a PDF.

Commissions can be kept private on request, otherwise are permitted to be posted on my AO3 or elsewhere.

When reaching out, please pitch your idea (setting, characters, upper range of words you would want, and general idea). As a note, a particularly dense story idea might need to have a longer word count, be split into multiple parts, or pared down in scale if you want a specific word count.

If I don’t feel comfortable with an idea for any reason, I will turn it down. However, you’re free to send another idea my way! While I am pretty open there are still some things I might not want to write, but that does not mean I’ll turn down all ideas from you!

All of these apply to SFW and N*S*F*W stories

If you want something other than a story (maybe help conceptualizing a character or setting, or writing a oneshot for a tabletop campaign as examples), I will be able/willing to work with you still, but it might require more time or a different pay rate.

Writing Specifics

Here’s just a few noted specifics in terms of genres, fandoms, and other things that I prefer to write or am best at writing (by no means should you let these limit you when commissioning)!

Fandoms: Digimon, Pokemon, Marvel (please ask regarding specific characters, settings, etc.), TWEWY, Persona (3-5), Fire Emblem (7, 8, Awakening, Three Houses, Engage), Danganronpa (1 & 2), G-Witch, Life is Strange 1, Dungeon Meshi, Sound! Euphonium, Armored Core 6

Genres: Romance, Slice of Life, Action, Science Fiction, Fantasy

If inquiring about a N*S*F*W story, please let me know whether you want a focus on plot or not. With plot will lead to a longer word count, but a bigger buildup to the acts, alongside a greater focus on the characters and their relationship/dynamic, while without plot will be much shorter, to the point, and with more of a focus on the act than the characters.

I will write M/F, F/F, and M/M stories. Trans characters are ALWAYS open to be written, as well as making characters trans.

Examples

Emblazoned With Divinity: Fire Emblem: Awakening smutfic focused on Chrom and Olivia. Set before the end of the Gangrel arc, this fic explores the whirlwind romance between the two, including carriage breaking sex and character accurate awkwardness.

Chimera Eggs/Elf With Semen Glaze: Dungeon Meshi smutfic focused on Marcille and Chimera!Falin. An AU from the series itself, trans!Falin takes her girlfriend away from the party, going into heat, and impregnating her with eggs.

At The End Of The Day: Post-series Gundam: The Witch From Mercury fic focused on Suletta, Miorine, and Eri. While at home, Eri relentlessly teases Miorine, leading to frustration from her and laughter from her wife.

You Never Forget Your First Time: AU Life is Strange smutfic focused on Max and Chloe. During an afternoon alone, trans!Max and Chloe decide to share their first time together, and have intense oral sex.

Take Back The True Mask: Persona 5 AU fic with Joker as a trans woman. This fic is part of a series recontextualizing Persona 5 through the lens of Joker being a trans woman, while this fic in particular focuses on the Third Semester arc with Joker being the one pulled into Maruki’s reality.

What You Are To Me: Digimon fic set between Last Evolution Kizuna and The Beginning focused on Kari and Yolei. With her best friend frequently away from Japan while studying abroad, Kari feels herself losing the connection they hold dear, and Yolei shows her there’s nothing to worry about.

A Voice On The Ice: Armored Core 6 fic set during the Ice Worm mission, focused on C-621/Raven and Ayre. During the mission to take down the Ice Worm, Raven speaks her first words in a long time, and Ayre loves the sound of her voice, no matter how rough it is.

[5eraphim]

Thinking about Medic fucking up his captive s/o so bad that they develop psychotic delusions of him being a god.. (Medic would probably just enable it because he loves the idea of his darling worshipping him and obeying everything he says <3)

YOUR MINDDDDD!!! This was so fun to write, thank you so much for the request ＼(^o^)／

(I didn't know if you were expecting a oneshot or headcanons, but I really wanted to write something lewd about this, hope that works for you! Reader is kept gender neutral here ✌️)

Summary: Reader suffers visions of lust for the divine, a secret kept hidden for some time now. But the darker the confession the more painful the penance, especially when Medic is the enforcer. And while atonement is necessary for salvation, the guilt always remains.

Character: Medic 🕊️ (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: X (MINORS DNI!)

Content Warnings: Heirophilia, priest kink, guilt tripping, BLASPHEMY, yandere, mind break, blood, needles (Or whatever the hell you want to call the vita saw), abuse of power, handjob

Word Count: 5k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

(Song Inspo- Cirice, Ghost)

"Call upon Me in the day of trouble: I will deliver you, and you shall honour me." (Psalm 50:15)

"The Lord favors those who fear him, Those who wait for His faithfulness." (Psalms 147:11)

Breaking the room's silence, you heard a heavy wooden door creak open, sending a shiver down your spine. All day dark storm clouds covered any sunlight which might've peaked through the glass windows of your homemade chapel domicile, but even without sunset, you knew it must've been hours into the night. And for hours, you knelt on the lightly padded kneeler in front of the makeshift stone table you called your alter. The chapel was humble, hardly more expansive than a garage, but constructed with the utmost reverence to your Holiness. The small space allowed for little more than the altar, a pew, a few kneelers, a foldable wall to serve as your confessional booth, a bookshelf that held all your precious scriptures, and some candles to adorn the place, as well as to provide the only source of light in the room. Once, you kept a bed to rest on behind the pew, but now you slept on the bench, using nothing more than a towel for a pillow and a single sheet as a blanket. It was uncomfortable, but you would endure any discomfort to prove to your divine one that you needed nothing but this to get by.

There was a numb ache in your knees from remaining in this position for so long, becoming harder and harder to ignore the longer you forced yourself to stay in this position. Some candles around the altar burnt themselves out long ago, casting angular twisting shadows along the walls surrounding you. But despite how the serpentine darkness unnerved you, causing you to jump every now and then at an odd flickering shape just out of the corner of your eye, you dared not move. The only sound in the room, save for the steady pattering of rain outside, were the verses of scripture you resited again, and again, and again, murmuring under your breath. At the same time, you nervously fiddled with the beads of your rosary. You tried your best to focus all your energy on praying the rosary, but your mind was restless, and no force of will was enough to distract you from the guilt gnawing away at your conscience.

It was agony to endure this guilt, and you prayed desperately to see your Holy Guardian return soon, though upon hearing his arrival, you were far from comforted. Your vespers halted when the heavy wooden door creaked open, causing you to instinctively look over your shoulder behind you. Your beloved Father was finally home. "Are you still up, my Child?"

You swallowed nervously, unable to formulate any words. All day you dreaded the moment your Holy Father would return home, and now here he was, several paces away. Then, for just a moment, he stood at the door as you watched him remove his glasses to try and wipe away the raindrops. You watched him walk forward, withdrawing his damp overcoat, which fluttered like bird's wings behind him as he ran a hand through his wet hair to push away some of the water. Medic wasn't precisely drenched, but you couldn't help but notice how his damp clothing clung to his body, his broad athletic build clearly visible, even in the low lighting. You were so momentarily distracted by this you completely forgot he asked you a question until he stood almost directly behind you.

"You look unwell, little one. How long have you been here praying?" "I am unsure, Father." The concern in his eyes only worsened the suffocating guilt inside you.

"Sit with me then. Tell me what is troubling you." Medic watched as you attempted to pull yourself up. Still, the tension and numbness in your body were too great, and you stumbled a little, catching yourself on the high part of the kneeler, almost dropping your rosary in the process, which you quickly stuffed into your pocket. While still clearly concerned, Medic smiled gently, using his own hands to help hold you steady as he gently pulled you to your feet. You couldn't help but flush slightly, feeling his strong hands against your shoulders and back, aiding you to walk to the nearby pew. Time must've really escaped you, as standing upright and walking aggravated the ache in your knees. You held onto his hands for balance as you gingerly sat down, your legs trembling slightly, threatening to slacken at any minute. He sat beside you, causing you to unconsciously scoot away a little closer to the corner of the bench, and you bit your lip nervously, feeling your knees touching as he turned to face you slightly. The guilt you tried so hard to keep at bay all day now felt all-consuming. Still, despite the anxiety written across your face, Medic smiled, his eyes gentle and loving. It took all your strength not to wince when you felt his hands around your own. His gloves did nothing to downplay the intimacy of the moment.

"Tell me your troubles, Child. Open up to me, and I will listen." It was too hard to look him in the eye, to see the compassionate affection exhibited by your Savior, which you knew you didn't deserve. But, if you wanted to do the right thing, you knew it was time, to tell the truth.

"Heavenly Lord, I fear I have- um, I find myself troubled by certain, um… These awful visions in the night. Deep while I am sleeping. I see things I don't want to see and think things I don't want to. I feel this awful burning in the night, but when I awaken again, I can't- well, I can't describe it, but I feel so ashamed."

He squeezed your hands a little, causing you to briefly meet his eye, now colored by curiosity, before looking back down. You wanted so badly not to have to tell him what you saw, hoping naively simply confessing to the visions would be enough, but you could tell he wouldn't be content with that. "Oh? And what do you see?"

"I don't want to say… It's embarrassing, and I feel wrong thinking about it now." He leaned a little closer, his voice still gentle but with a definite edge.

"I can see that, but my Child, how can I absolve you of a sin you can't even confess? Am I not your salvation incarnate?" Your head jolted straight up, eyes wide.

"Yes, you are, my Lord! You are my light, my life- I would never doubt this!" Although he remained unconvinced, he could tell you were hiding something, and you weren't about to get out of this until he knew what it was.

"And do you doubt there is a sin so severe I can not absolve you of?" Chewing your lower lip nervously, you shook your head no slightly. Looking at his hands around yours as you spoke in a frail, unsteady voice.

"I see you, my Lord. But, I also see us together, but not as we should be." He said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

"I see us, or rather, I see you over me… I don't know how to describe it, though-"

Medic interrupted in a firm voice. "Tell me the truth." Your shame brought you nearly to tears.

"I see your body over mine- over my naked body… I see your hands stroking my skin and your mouth against my neck and shoulders. A-and everywhere you touch me, I burn, and it hurts, but I can't stop wanting more! We're on the altar bed, and-" Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers moving against your hands as though trying to urge you on, clearly sensing how bad you wanted out. And you couldn't help but fluster and stammer at this smallest, seemingly innocent, caring act.

"I know this is wrong- I don't want to think like this, I swear! But once these- these awful dreams start, I cannot stop them! And all I am so blinded by the image of my body against yours, as we- As we become one, my Lord."

Getting those final words out took so much effort, but now it is over. You told Medic everything.

Your heart wrenched as you saw his expression form into one of an almost pitiful disappointment. "I always feared it would come to this…." He trailed off. He pulled his hands away from yours as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He removed his glasses with one hand, rubbing his eyes tiredly with the other. Medic looked as though he somehow saw this coming, like he was privy to something you were utterly blind to. You pulled your hands back to your own lap as your fingers fidgeted restlessly. Nothing hurt more than letting down your Lord; sitting with this feeling only amplified your considerable guilt. Finally, you forced yourself to look him in the eye. He was already disappointed. You didn't want him to think you were more pathetic than you already felt.

"My Lord, I'm telling you the truth- These awful dreams, these visions disrupting my sleep at night, I can't understand where they come from. I don't mean to offend you; I just-" Your gaze dropped from Medic's face to your hands wringing anxiously in your lap. You no longer had the strength to look him in the eye, summoning all your resolve to force yourself not to cry. After all, what right did you have acting so pitifully before him? You were the sinner after all, yet here you were, cowering before your Lord. Weak, feeble, in need of his mercy and guidance.

"I suppose this isn't entirely your fault… I always knew this was coming. Perhaps I didn't expect this so soon, is all." You snuck a peek up at his face, and to your surprise, he didn't look disappointed as you feared, but something different you couldn't understand entirely. Still, you felt too unworthy to look upon his face much longer, bowing your head a little, facing your lap, trying not to think about how despite the situation, you felt so warm sitting so close to your Holiness, knees only barely connecting.

"Please, Father, I don't understand what you mean." He shifted his weight away from you slightly, leaning against the back of the pew, sighing through his nose, contemplating his following words carefully.

"I thought I noticed how your eyes seemed to follow my hands as I guided you in prayer. Or how some evenings you wouldn't follow my eyes, somewhat- distracted by my lips. Yes, I've always known how the human mind can be swayed by thoughts of lust and decadence… But maybe I was wrong for thinking you were strong enough to resist such… carnal impulses. You were all too aware of the tears prickling in the corners of your eyes.

"But I told you- I never asked for this! You know I'm not to blame here!" All in an instant, you felt a cold shiver run up your spine as you watched all former warmth and kindness vanish from his face all at once as he stared you down with his icy cold, narrowed blue eyes. "You think this absolves you of anything, sinner?" You were about to speak to try and defend yourself, but he cut you off before you got the chance.

"You are nothing but full of pride and arrogance if you think you're somehow holy for merely wishing your sins away! I never thought you were so foolish, so childish, but it would appear I was all wrong about you-"

"Don't say that, please, my Lord, I didn't- I mean no offense, you must believe me! I need you now more than ever! I'm so confused. Please tell me how I can atone for all of this!"

Your hands were clasped tightly as you begged the Medic to show you mercy. You didn't mean to offend him or cast doubt upon your devotion, but you were terrified. You desperately grabbed onto his hands, tears beginning to fall, your breathing erratic. You couldn't think clearly. You were too desperate to somehow prove to him you were worthy. But he continued to look at you coolly, his blue eyes harsh and stern. It was impossible to hold eye contact. Your mind was so wracked with guilt for what you'd done. Thankfully he spoke next in a more level voice.

"Tell me, my Child, and I want to hear the truth. When you think of these dreams, have you been touching yourself as well?" Instantly on the defensive, your face heated as you try to explain yourself.

"No! No- I haven't! I wouldn't do that to you- I wouldn't dare!" He looked at you skeptically, his lips pressed firmly together in a straight line. You could feel fresh tears sliding down your face. "My Lord, you must believe me! I'm sorry I was so greedy- I'm sorry I dreamt such perverse things while you were gone, but you know I wouldn't go so far!"

Unfortunately, he appeared to remain unconvinced. Medic softly petted the top of your head with a gloved hand, he didn't seem convinced, but at least his anger appeared quelled. Once again, you felt so overcome by the shame of your own actions you buried your face in his chest, momentarily forgetting your sense of restraint, unable to think of anything but doing whatever you needed in the name of forgiveness. Murmuring apologies and pleas for mercy between sobs, no doubt streaking tears into his vestments. Over and over in your head, you screamed at yourself. "Why did I have to lose control like that?" "How could I be so weak!"

"Please, my heavenly Father, I would rather die than betray you! I love you more than anything! But, just please, please, please tell me you believe me!"

He waited for you to quiet down a touch before he responded. "I wish I could have my Child. But you've disobeyed me." The moment these words left his lips, your heart sunk like a rock, as you felt frozen in place, unable to believe what was happening. It was like you'd just felt the air knocked from your lungs. You felt Medic's hand continuing to pet the top of your head.

"My dearest child, I'm afraid if you want me to believe you are faithful and to believe you are pure, you must pay." With your head still pressed against his body, your voice mumbled but still understandable, "Heavenly Father, whatever I must do to prove my faith, I will. Without fear and without any doubt." Medic's hand drifted from the back of your head to the side of your face to guide your head up to meet him at eye level.

"You'll do anything?" Without missing a beat, you answered. "Anything."

Medic nodded. "There is a way. I can absolve you of all your sins, but only for a price. If you truly wish to purify yourself of such… carnal thoughts of yours, all your distractions leading you from Holiness. I can forgive you of your perversions and restore your devotion to your Father. But, this will cost you." You could tell he was testing you, but there was no threat of pain dire enough to sway you now.

"My life is yours, My Lord. Do to me whatever it takes to make me pure again." He studied your face briefly, trying to tell if there was any final hesitation, but you were resolute. "All you need to do is obey. Follow my word, and have faith. Believe that I am your God and your Savior."

"I can." And with that, he nodded, rising. "Kneel at the pulpit for me. I'll join you there in just a moment." Eagerly your rose. Whatever ache you felt earlier was forgotten entirely. Kneeling once again before the altar reminded you of your cause. You were to live and serve your Divine Lord; if he wanted you to prove it, then you would. But when you saw the Medic returning, you couldn't help but shudder, all too aware of the fear you tried so hard to silence.

Medic held a kind of insidious instrument in his hand you'd never seen before. Your eye instantly draws to the wicked sharp tip, the awful needle easily the length of your forearm over a shorter yet wicked sharp blade. The hollow bulb at the back of the device made the thing look like some kind of mechanical mosquito, and you were about to be its prey. Your mouth went dry, and you felt dizzy just looking at the thing. Still, you forced yourself to remain as still as a statue, turning your gaze from the device to Medic.

"The price you must pay for your penance will be a blood price." The closer he walked, or rather, the closer the weapon got, the more sinister it appeared. If looking at it was terrifying, the idea of it going inside of you was even worse, but deep down, you knew this was what you deserved, and you brought this on yourself. So no matter how terrifying the punishment, you had no one to blame but yourself. Medic drew close enough to stand right behind you. With his free hand, he held yours, turning it upright, before using his fingers to try and find a vein in your upper arm, right above your elbow.

Goosebumps prickled all across your body when you felt the tip of the needle make contact with your arm. You could feel yourself breathing a bit heavier, your knuckles going while as you gripped the edge of the kneeler with your free arm, your other palm disappearing as you closed your hand into a tight fist.

"Now focus on me, think of only me. Let your God guide you back to the light, it will hurt, but only for a moment, and you'll be restored once it's over. Do you accept your penance?"

It will only hurt more if you watch, you reasoned with yourself, so with your eyes squeezed as tight as possible, you spoke. "I accept." While the initial pick of the needle's tip against your skin terrified you, the feeling of the needle digging into your flesh hurt all the more. The sting was far, far worse than any needle before. It was impossible to keep from wincing or to hold in your yelp of pain as you felt the needle burrow in deeper.

"Steady now. I need you still. If you move too much, we'll have to start all over."

You let go of your grip on the kneeling, biting down on your own knuckle to keep from screaming. If only you had something to hold onto in the hand being drained, but you had nothing but your own fist to tense down on.

"Now I'm going to pull blood. This is going to hurt. Just remember this is for your own good."

It was almost impossible to talk, but through grit teeth, you tried anyway. "Thank you, my Holy Father." And without another word, you felt Medic begin to drain your blood.

He was right. It hurt. The unbearable tension you felt from your teeth and skull all the way down to your curled toes burned like hell. It was hard to hear anything over your heavy breathing and the occasional whine of pain, but that was for the best. The idea of listening to this awful thing as it sucked your life away sounded far worse. How long has it been like this? How much longer would he keep you here? You had no idea, but it was becoming harder and harder to stay still by the second, and you were afraid you wouldn't last much longer.

You wanted to look at the altar, to remind yourself why you were doing all this, to think of anything to distract from the pain, but it was impossible to open your eyes. But instead, you swore you could feel a numbness in your fingertips and in your toes. Your head felt so heavy and tense, and you found yourself wondering, if only for a second, if Medic was done with you all together and if this was your last moment before death.

Then, just as soon as it started, you felt Medic pressing down over where he injected the needle before pulling out in one decisive strike. This was far worse than the insertion, the pain white hot, causing you to arch your back, your head falling back as you screamed in agony. The ache was terrible enough, but the nausea was just as miserable. When you felt Medic's hands leave your body, you slipped forward, panting, your upper body clinging to the top of the kneeler for dear life. It felt like the room was spinning or like the floor was about to give out at any second. The pain you felt before in this spot felt like a joke compared to what you felt now.

"Blessed are you, my Child. You have come to me with your sins, and I send you forth, cleansed and pure again. You have put yourself at the mercy of the divine, and you have been granted forgiveness."

"I don't feel so good…." You were still slumped over the kneeler. It was impossible to think of anything but the pain. You weren't even proud of yourself for withstanding it. All you wanted was to fall asleep. To wake up to a new day and to pretend none of this happened. Medic must've put the device away as you could now feel both his hands rubbing little circles against your back. You didn't want to think about what he wanted to do with your blood, the terrible needle was gone now, and that was all that mattered.

"Without sin, salvation is empty. You hurt now, but take comfort knowing the pain you feel is all your sin and weakness leaving your body."

You tried to nod, but you were too weak to remain upright. Your head began to bob forward as your body went limp. Fortunately, Medic immediately caught you, keeping you from falling directly to the ground. You didn't even know how you were still awake, but you felt like a rag doll, limp and no longer in control of your body. You could feel Medic supporting your total weight, guiding you back to the pew, laying you down, your head resting on his lap. You felt so terribly cold, curling up into a ball on your side. You were about to give in to the drowsiness all together, but only in turning your head to the side did you notice the straining fabric of Medic's trousers. "You did well for your Savior. Would you allow me to reward you for faith?"

For a second, you considered if this was a trick if Medic were baiting you, giving you one last test of the night. After all, actually seeing your Holy Lord in such a state after dreaming about him for so long, it all felt too good to be true. But to your surprise, when you turned your gaze upward to look Medic in the eye, you noticed how wide his pupils were, the flush or arousal on his cheeks, the teasing half-smile. You realized just as likely as this was a test to see if you really could fight back against your lust. Perhaps this was another test of your loyalty? It was impossible to tell, and you felt a familiar confused fear resurfacing.

"My God, I'm honored, but I fear I am unworthy…." Fortunately, he wasn't offended by your hesitation.

"To indulge in the sins of the flesh would be a mortal sin for any other, but you must know- I am no man. I am your Divine. To service me is an act of Holiness. Allow me to guide your hands." Your mind was caught in a whirlwind of exhaustion and desire, it was impossible to think clearly, but you were helpless to feel the need burning inside you. It was weak, and you didn't have the strength to give in together, but you were ready to take the opportunity while you could. The unstoppable desire to serve and to give everything you had to your Master.

He looked at you with eyes glimmering, shining with love and the faintest smile, "Sweet lamb, your desires are only unholy when you indulge in secret, away from me. But now that I am here to bless and guide you- If it is my mortal vessel you are so taken by, show me your devotion." You knew he was right, and you wanted to give in. You wanted to trust and have faith, but you couldn't help but hesitate. It was almost impossible to remember life before Medic, but you were confident you weren't nearly experienced enough to please him as he deserved. The idea of being put on the spot, of your Lord coming to you of all people for something like this? The opportunity filled you equally with anxiety as ecstasy.

"You are my salvation. My sole purpose for living is to worship and serve you. I owe you everything I have. To indulge myself like this- I don't understand how I could be worthy. I adore you, but am I enough?" Your words had no effect on him. If anything only spurred him on.

"Don't be so shy, my little saint. You've done so well to prove to me your devotion, and now I want you to show it. Take my hand." And with that final command, you obeyed.

You dumbly felt your head repositioned on Medic's lap as he undid his pants, pulling his undergarments down with them enough to comfortably free himself from the restrictive fabric. If you weren't feeling half-dead, you might've had the shame to look away, but now, all you could do was take in the sight before you. You felt like an outside observer, out of body and entirely at the whims of another, but still, you couldn't deny it felt good. Better than good. You were somehow flushed and tingly inside, feeling so pure and yet filled with lust, a sensation you'd never known before, as though your entire life had built up to this moment. All in the service of your God.

Medic was already quite hard, and you watched intently as he took your hand. His glove already pulled off, and you couldn't help but shudder at the skin-to-skin contact. With your hand open, he licked along the length of your index finger before he closed his lips around the digit. You never realized how many sensitive nerves were in your hand until you felt his mouth around your fingers. His skilled tongue wrapped around your fingers, coating each one with a bit of saliva. You felt his cheeks sucking in as he sucked a little harder, the lewd noises making the moment feel all the more erotic.

After he had his fun with this, you felt the chilly draft against the now wet flesh. Though for only a moment as your hand was pulled down to make contact with his warm flesh. He sharply breathed in through grit teeth, using his hand to tightly wrap yours against the shaft before applying a little friction. Even in your current state of mind, you could feel the tension in his body, and you felt so honored and privileged to witness your Holy Master consumed with lust. He was more beautiful than any man, angel, or devil you'd ever dreamed of.

It was hard to keep up, but you did your best to use your slick fingers to massage the flesh beneath his tight hold. You felt a holy kind of pride as you watched his brow scrunch, a breathy moan amid his panting, knowing you were doing so well to honor your God like no one else. Then, despite the vertigo, you forced your head to move, to use what little strength you had left to connect your lips to the wet head of his cock, and to kiss your Master, tongue out, ready to merge. It felt like your lips only connected with his anatomy for a moment before you felt him reach his climax. His breathy moaning and thrusting against you put all your initial erotic dreams to shame. You couldn't believe your Lord allowed you to see him like this, more charming than ever before. Even in your haze, you could feel the warmth of his body against yours.

When you rolled onto your back to lay on the bench more comfortably, you felt as though you could still feel his vitality, the essence within you. You were too numb to sense if any of the mess landed on you, but you were vaguely aware of the sensation of him rubbing around his lap and maybe even on you with a cloth to collect what he could of the mess. You wrapped your arms around yourself, sighing with bliss. With a gentle touch, Medic caressed the side of your face with his four fingers before you felt his thumb tap against your slightly parted lips.

"Swallow. This is the salvation you've awaited."

Your eyes were already shut, and you were thankful his touch was so gentle as he pushed the cum stuck to his finger into your mouth, which you happily allowed to pass your lips as you suckled. Then, finally, he pulled his finger out, running his thumb over your lips, trailing your saliva over them as he stroked the side of your face. But moments before you nodded off, you whispered, "My Lord, will you promise to pray for me? Will you pray I will one day be worthy to receive your grace? That we can become one?"

You weren't even sure if he heard your final words, everything was going black, and your mind was lost in the haze. Before slipping away into oblivion, your last memories were the lethargy possessing your body, his fingers in your hair, a salty aftertaste on your tongue, and the pattering of rain, sounding further and further away.

[2dboisloyal-devotee]

i decide to post something and as my first post, it's about my first husbando.

>)~ONESHOT

This Wish I Hold (Yandere Toshiro Hitsugaya x GN reader)

Please make sure you're at least 16+ and proceed with caution, well the yandere jazz and all that is more apparent in the end anyway

Warning: fluff, manipulative behaviors, angst, reader's death

Momo Hinamori; the name of your savior from a dire situation and since then you had been trying to return the favor. By becoming good friends, you got along well with her.

It wasn't long around that time too when she brought you two together. Despite Momo calling him cheerfully in a nickname of 'Shiro', you met the renowned child prodigy, otherwise known with the 'cold as ice' alias.

White short spiked hair and a sharp turqoise eyes complement his striking appearance all the more besides just looking like a literal child. He narrowed his eyes. “...Captain Hitsugaya from the 10th division of Gotei 13. Nice to meet you.” The way he brought upon himself in a levelheaded manner made you quickly mutter an apology before introducing yourself....to which he just nodded at.

He soon excused himself, bringing Momo to block his way. “Geez, Shiro! That's not how you treat my friend!”He sighed. “What more do you want, Hinamori...? I'm busy already right now and it's not helping at all since I'm also doing the job she's supposed to do!” While he grumbled about someone named Matsumoto, you realized you would try to be good friends with him too as you thought it would be proper since he was a childhood friend with Momo, along with some other reasons rooted from curiousity.

And what better way to do that than helping with what was he frustrated about?

At first, Momo was a bit hesitant leaving the two of you alone because you just knew each other but after hearing your reassurance, she then left to take care of her business from Aizen. Arriving in his office, you were told not to be trusted on managing the important documents. He simply reasoned that he didn't want to have more incoming headache from it.

So you just stood there while thinking what could you possibly do before suggesting to buy his favorite drink to cool off or considering his instruction to do something about his useless lieutenant.

“Just do as you like without causing trouble,” he ordered sternly. His eyes were now focusing on the paperwork with furrowed eyebrows as if they were already a permanent part of his expression. So you followed what he said, getting to know many more people along the way and being friends with them. That still included you getting closer with Momo and Captain Hitsugaya.

You spent many breaks with them by eating lunch or snacks together, being told many stories from Momo about their childhood including the embarrasing parts which Captain Hitsugaya liked to get worked up over.

There was a tiny difference you noticed too. After gradually having spent time with them, Captain Hitsugaya's anger was only a flustered one most of the time. And that one was more warm to witness than his usual serious demeanor.

You were tidying up the paperwork on his table to a neat stack while he was stretching and you affirmed at the same time. “You're actually quite a warm person huh, Captain.”

He fell down along with his chair. “WHAt—”

“Uh sh—... Sorry, Captain. Are you alright?” Your hand was outstretching, but he already stood up so fast without sparing a moment to let you see the scene longer.

“I'm! Of course I am! That was because—and, what were you thinking, huh!? Saying something like...” He glared while blushing more apparent. Then he cleared his throat. “At any rate, that was rude to a Captain so don't say stupid things like that again.”

Whether he heard your explanation that you just wanted to say the truth as a praise or appreciation, he still turned around and replied. “Fine, I'll only let this one slide. And... Thank you.”

Momo often says Captain should change the way he acts around people because he could be rude sometimes, but you thought that he was fine as he was. Though, maybe you would save those words for another time as he seemed already agitated enough just by walking near you.

As days passed, you had to watch out for the right situation and even asked for permission if it was okay for you to say some stupid things like before. “Just say what you want. And you don't need to always say that, I won't let your words bother me that much anyway.”

It was becoming a fun routine for you and possibly him, judging by the subtle smiles you catched upon his relaxing face from time to time.

He was willing to loosen his creased eyebrows and smile even if that meant Matsumoto also got the chance to saw it herself then teased him for it, added with Momo who tried to play a matchmaker. He had tried not to let it show in public but failed many times and instead gave punishments of adding work to whoever teased him or you.

Bit by bit from fun to a fulfilling routine, you adapted quite pleasantly. It was overall rewarding. The Captain trusted you on many jobs. Yet he still managed to be considerate in his own way by taking breaks together every so often. It became a fact that he was getting more comfortable in your presence with how often he rested his head on your shoulder or lap and fell asleep.

Although because of the work schedule becoming busier, you had less time to meet Momo and even Captain Hitsugaya needed to remind you to rest. One time, your body still ended taking a toll so he stayed by your side almost the whole day. After few scoldings, he had taken care of you until you were back in good health. “Don't fall ill again, at least for a while... I don't enjoy seeing you like that.” He sighed.

It seemed like you couldn't fulfill those words. You got carried away and was too nonchalant of the world that could be in danger anytime.

Laying down on his lap, you coughed and came along a sharp pain in your chest as you tried to breath. “...will you end my suffering, Captain...?” Your trembling hand reached to his cheek with a pained smile.

“Stop.” He gritted his teeth. Toshiro knew that he would not be as capable as you said once you die. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

A ragged breath was let out from you before a choked gasp for the ache you felt. You spoke again. “..plea..se? I know, only you can numb the pain... Even thou—..gh you, such warm, person...” Toshiro quickly clutched your outstretched hand with a firm grasp as he voiced his rejection. “I refuse, and please, stop talking, (Y/n)! This isn't the time for ... Just—hang in there!!”

Deep down he knew that there wasn't any choice he could do anymore even after going through all sort of methods, left only a last resort for who knew how long. You were the one who gave those words a meaning and warmth to make him thought he was actually a warm person even after he had gone used to those ignorant rumors of him. He was in fact fine with you to be the one whom melted the guard he had built up like a chilling, rigid ice for years.

You should have taken responsibilities for making him feel this way. “Sor..ry.. honestly... I, want it to be, you..  who end..s it, please. Don't let it... end this way..” you responded. Your energy had been sapped away to every words and effort trying to keep your grip, then your eyes drooped...

At that second, your moment had become frozen in time. None other than in the eternally graceful ice he made himself, despite your words and self had gone cold. Finally he could do it using the reason you wished yourself. He will do anything it takes to have you keep your words true again.

He makes sure that you'll return.

[mythicamagic]

Of early mornings and slumbering dragons: a Zhonglumi oneshot (Genshin Impact)

Summery: After an eventful night spent together, Lumine is intent on enjoying breakfast. Zhongli has other ideas.

Rating: T with some suggestive themes

You can read this on Ao3 - here.

AN: very short, sweet and fluffy oneshot. This idea just attacked me and I wrote it in a stupor.

----

The sun had already begun to sluggishly climb into the sky when Lumine lifted her head from the pillow. She gave a yawn, unfurling herself from where she’d slept- wrapped tight around her bedmate in a nest of tangled sheets and sprawled naked limbs. A full-body stretch worked wonders for her grogginess, and she stumbled out of bed more or less as gracefully as a Liyue crane. 

A dusty noise rumbled out from beneath the covers. A coaxing, warm sound, as if crooning for her return.

Paying him no mind, Lumine smiled, picking up one of his stray shirts and slipping it on over her head. Her stomach was rumbling far more incessantly than the dragon behind her and she padded toward Zhongli’s bedroom door with every intent to find food. Sunlight was faintly filtering through the swaying curtains and from what she could glimpse it would be a beautiful day. May as well start it-

“Lumine.”

She stopped. Darn. She was unable to ignore the use of her name when it was spoken in those low silken tones. With a sigh, she turned to face the former Geo Archon, arching a brow.

Her lover had poked his head out from beneath the depths of his mountainous covers. His appearance mimicked a mortal man’s now, though last night he’d sprouted impressive golden horns and scales. Lumine mourned them, but couldn’t exactly complain about the alternate view ethier. 

“Come back to bed,” he rumbled, eyes closed.

“I’ve had enough time in there, thank you. And I’ve no intention of rejoining you any time soon. It’s a struggle to leave.”

"My dear, you exaggerate…” Zhongli gave a half-smile as if still asleep and dreaming of her. “I wish to remind you of the long term benefits that would result from you returning to our lovely bed."

"Oh? And what would those be?" She humored him, propping her hands on her hips.

Zhongli's eyes slid open languidly, the gold flashing in the sun. He fixed her with a half-lidded stare that coaxed heat into her lower stomach the longer he gazed, dragging hungry attention down her body to where his shirt stopped mid-thigh. 

"You- oh-" Lumine waved a hand, blushing furiously as laughter bubbled up her throat. "I find it hard to believe you're not satisfied after last night."

"Never underestimate a Dragon's greed," he gave a smile that exposed his sharp canines, those eyes twinkling.

With his cheek nestled against a pillow and disheveled bed hair scattered about the covers, and tempting bare skin gleaming in the morning sun; he certainly made a compelling argument.

"A-anything aside from the obvious…'benefits' I should know about regarding my returning to bed? Because breakfast is looking very tempting, no offense," navigating the conversation back to safer waters lest she be swayed, Lumine focused on the rafters above their heads.

"Breakfast can always be brought to us," he paused, becoming thoughtful. "Oh…now that I think about it…Zhongli of the Wangshen Funeral Parlor doesn't have servants to order around. Pity. There are some things about Godhood I do miss from time to time."

"You don't seem like the type to employ servants even with all the power in the world. You had the yaksha out of necessity," Lumine murmured, glancing at him. His gently furrowed brows pulled her back toward him like a moth to the flame, and she rubbed her thumb at the crinkle on his forehead, smoothing it away. She swept an absent hand through his silky bangs, cupping his cheek. "Besides, I don't need someone to make breakfast for me. I'll cook something up for us-"

Too late did she realise her mistake. His soft confusion had been a means to lure her closer. Golden arms caught her about the waist, the covers fluttering white above her head as the world spun and she landed atop a strong body. The covers came fluttering down atop Zhongli's triumphant expression. 

"Of all the dirty tricks," Lumine huffed, cheek smashed against his firm chest. His heart beat strong and sure beneath her ear. "This does nothing to solve the hunger issue."

"I happen to have prepared a trayful of goods right here," his voice rumbled smoothly. What sounded like a bedside drawer sliding open could be heard and Zhongli shifted, putting a tray of something beside them.

Ah, so he'd planned this. What a crafty man she'd entangled herself with. Lumine settled closer, breathing him in by the lungful; Earth and metal masked by his natural masculine scent. 

"Breakfast in bed with my favourite travel companion sounded too good to pass up," he continued, lifting the covers gently off her head as if it were a veil. Lumine glanced at the offering of food. Fresh fruits and packaged meals awaited her, wrapped in Wanmin restaurant's signature paper. 

Take-out food. It clashed horribly with the fruit yet even that felt perfect in its imperfection.

She couldn't hide her fond smile. Sometimes Zhongli struggled with mortal gestures but others he stumbled into them by accident, much like now. In all honesty, she'd felt too sore and tired to cook. Perhaps he'd anticipated that. 

She leaned up from his chest until they were nose to nose, bridging the distance with a light peck.

"I'll share a secret with you…you're my favourite too," she whispered in the space between them. "Don't let Paimon know I said that." 

"I promise. Our contract is sealed."

She reeled back. "Contract? Wait, what are the terms here?"

"I uphold my end by not telling Paimon she has been replaced as the Traveler's best companion and you simply remain here in my humble abode until we both finish breakfast. Preferably; we do so while overlooking the harbor together and snuggling, but I am very open to other suggestions."

"I see," Lumine straddled his hips nonchalantly, reaching over to drag their food closer. "Then I agree too, despite the massive oversight your nebulous phrasing will lead to."

"It is not an oversight on your part if you willingly stepped into my trap. You surely know I don't intended to finish my breakfast for quite some time…yet you entered a contract with unspecified terms of fulfillment anyway? I shall have to revise our lessons thoroughly."

Lumine fed him a slice of apple to shut him up, smiling to herself. 

He seemed mollified while chewing, eyeing her within his arms. 

"You look very good in my clothes."

"I feel very good in your clothes."

Claws tickled her thigh, the sharp points dragging up in a lazy caress. They dipped beneath the hem. "Despite how they become you so….I prefer you bare."

She bit her lip, suppressing a shiver. "The food, Zhongli…"

He tugged her abused lip free with his teeth, brushing his tongue against her mouth to soothe the bite. "Shh, who's to say we cannot enjoy both at the same time? Eat if you wish- but my hunger is primarily focused on the nectar gathering between your legs."

Lumine sucked in a hard breath. Sometimes the God of contracts drove a hard bargain. She looped her arms around his neck, fighting the urge to react as his voice turned cajoling and his kisses turned sultry, peppering her neck.

"You wouldn't make a God starve a second longer than needed, would you?" he purred, lifting his head to look at her, and- Lumine stopped. Zhongli in the morning was certainly something to behold. It was like he’d been made for early mornings. Made to bask in the glow of sunrises. 

"That depends which God is asking,” Lumine gave a breathy laugh, urging him on with the faintest rock of her hips against his. “I only feed one. He's quite the handful."

His eyes glittered. "Sounds like a catch."

"Oh he is,” she nodded, leaning in and capturing his lips with a fond kiss. “I think I'll keep him for a long time coming."

-------

End

[baileypie-writes]

~Not Human~

Kurumi Mimino/Milky Rose x GN!Reader

Part 2 here!

~~~🌹~~~🌹~~~🌹~~~

Fandoms: Otona Precure, Yes! Precure 5 GoGo!

Fanfic Type: Oneshot

Reader: Gender neutral

Relationship: Platonic to Romantic

Genre: Fluff?

Rating: PG

Synopsis: You finally confessed to your crush Kurumi. But then, she tells you about being a Pretty Cure, and how she’s not exactly human.

Warnings: Drinking(Reader stays sober)

~Masterlists~

~Yes! Precure 5 GoGo! Masterlist~

A/N ~ This fic became longer than expected, so there’s gonna be a part 2.

~~~🌹~~~🌹~~~🌹~~~

It was your weekly hangout with your friends, something you looked forward to every week. Every Friday night, you’d meet with them at Cafe and Bar Time, and have a few drinks. Well, a few drinks usually turns into half of you being completely drunk.

But this time, you were determined to keep one of them sober. To be specific, your best friend, Kurumi Mimino. She’s the prime minister of some faraway kingdom, apparently, though you don’t know much about it. What you do know, is that you’ve had a crush on her for a while. She’s so confident and straightforward, and she doesn’t have any trouble saying what’s on her mind. You wanted to keep her and yourself sober, because you planned on confessing to her that night.

~~~~

The cafe was filled with the sound of laughter and the smell of alcohol. As expected, Rin was already drunk as a skunk, and Nozomi had to practically hold her to keep her from falling face first on the table. Kurumi had already had a few drinks, and was getting a bit tipsy. You decided that it was a good place to stop her from drinking any more.

“Hey, Kenta!” Kurumi shouted over to the man behind the counter. “Refill please!”

“Ah, hey, I don’t think you should drink anymore.” You nervously stopped her.

“Eh, why not?” She asked, a bit annoyed.

“Um..” You tried to quickly come up with an excuse. “You still have work tomorrow, don’t you? You don’t wanna have to deal with a really bad hangover.”

Kurumi sighed, and folded her arms. “Guess you’re right…”

You let out a sigh of relief, and turned your attention to Rin, who was crying over nothing.

~~~~

The hangout was over, and you and your friends all said your goodbyes. Karen headed back to the hospital for work, and everyone else began going home. Nozomi was taking Rin home first, as she was on the brink of passing out from being so drunk.

Before Kurumi could part ways with you though, you called out to her. “Wait!”

“What? What is it?” Kurumi asked, turning around to face you.

You took a deep breath. “Can you come with me for a minute? I want to talk to you.”

“Oh. Okay.” She said, and walked over to you. She playfully linked arms with you, making you laugh.

You led her to a bridge overlooking a road. There weren’t too many cars out, as it was pretty late.

“So what is it? Don’t keep me waiting!” Kurumi said.

You sighed, preparing yourself. “I like you. I have for a while. I understand if you don’t feel the same, but I just needed to get this off my chest.” You looked at her, awaiting her response.

After a moment, Kurumi laughed a little. “Yeah, I know.”

“What? Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah. The whole group knows, actually. I mean, it was kind of obvious.”

“Oh.” You turned away, embarrassed. It was really that easy to tell?

Kurumi smirked, and placed your hand on yours. “Aww, don’t be so flustered. It’s cute that you’re that into me.” She teased. “And just so you know, I feel the same.”

You quickly turned your head to look at her. She was looking at you with full confidence, but a slight blush was on her cheeks. Or was that just from the alcohol? You couldn’t tell.

You smiled at her. But after a moment, Kurumi’s faded, and she turned away.

“What’s wrong?” You asked her.

“There’s something I’ve been needing to tell you too. I should’ve told you this a long time ago.” She said.

“Oh. What is it?” You asked.

Kurumi sighed, and looked up to the night sky. Thousands of stars were visible, and the clock tower was also in sight. It was the perfect view.

“So you know the whole Pretty Cure thing?” She asked.

“Yes, of course. How could I forget? The town was almost destroyed.” You laughed. She did a little as well.

To be fair, you didn’t know a whole bunch about the event. You just knew that these young girl superheros saved the town from shadow monsters.

“Well… I was one of them. In fact, all of our friends were too.”

You were silent in shock. That was the last thing you expected her to say. Also, the fact that you’ve been friends with superheros and had no idea was something you needed time to think about. But you didn’t exactly have that time. You needed answers.

“What? How? Everyone? But those girls were so young! And how did you even-?” Kurumi stopped your rambling with a hand to your shoulder.

“I’ll explain everything to you.”

And she did. You learned of the first time they transformed when they were all in middle school. You learned of Bell and the shadow monsters. You learned about the Palmier Kingdom, where Kurumi’s from. And the Time Flowers, and how they gave her and the others the ability to transform back into Pretty Cure.

But the end of it, you had no words. It was just so much.

“You gonna say anything? Or are you just going to stand there?” Kurumi asked, a bit annoyed at your lack of response.

“Yeah I just… wow. I’ve been friends with the Pretty Cure the whole time and had no idea. Not to mention, you’re from a kingdom that’s not even on Earth.” You said, still blown away.

Kurumi laughed. “Yeah. But there’s still one more thing.”

You turned to her. “What? There’s more?” You were a bit scared. What now?

She led you into an alleyway. After checking to see if the coast was clear, a puff of smoke enveloped her. When it cleared, she was no longer there. Until you looked down. Where Kurumi was standing, was a small, pink bunny-like creature.

“What?”

(To be Continued…)

~~~🌹~~~🌹~~~🌹~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[edwardsparkleblood]

"I Will Sing Your Song, but I Won't be Ignored"

Fandom: Wizard101

Relationships: The Old One/Manticore (Wizard101), mentions of The Old One/Stallion Quartermane

Word count: 3,303

Rating: M (could maybe be considered T, but raised it up to M because of soft tentacle play and licking)

Tags: Gay, Gay Old Man, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Emotional Manipulation, Jealousy, Tentacle Play, Licking, Neck Biting, Manticore is a pretty Toxic, Abusive, and Manipulative Bastard Overall

Summary:

Manticore and the Old One are working together in the lab late into the night when Manticore feels he's not getting the attention in he feels he deserves. Trigger warning for manipulation and abuse (physically and mentally).

TW: Manipulation and Abuse (physically and mentally)

A/N: Oh ho ho ho, Did I really just spend the weekend writing a toxic Manticore/Old One Oneshot? Yes, yes I did. I said I would. Over a month ago You can find my continued work on Ao3 under E_SparkleBlood

-

Manticore stood behind the Old One in the lab. His arms were crossed and he buried his hands in his armpits to keep warm. He did not like the cold, and Polaris is the coldest place in the spiral at any given time. He leaned against a paperwork-ridden desk, being careful not to knock anything off, and onto the equally paperwork-ridden floor. 

They only recently started tonight's work and Manticore's eyes already grew tired. He gave up trying to make sense of whatever it was that the Old One was doing on the large(and quite loud, probably because of fans and cooling system, an unfortunate necessity which only made the room that much colder) computer. The screen, and the blinking lights, funny colors, and shapes on said screen, were giving him a headache. He comfortably resigned to spending most of the night simply staring at the attractive and slim figure of the Old One instead, silhouetted by the screens blue/green glow.

The Old One's hands worked quick. His eyes worked even faster as they darted around, glancing up and down at the intricate blueprints of "Project Lemuria". 

Project Lemuria... To create a new "First World". To make the mistake called the spiral, no longer necessary. It is an... interesting idea, Manticore thought. Though, likely an unobtainable dream. Recreating the first world, even if it's just a smaller clone, is an insurmountable task. Well, that's what Manticore would have said a month ago if you had asked him what he thought of the idea. But these days he's not quite sure of his true feelings regarding that subject.

The Old One has a natural ease of pulling people in with sweet promises through his songs. And many in the organization are enveloped. For this latest "song of creation" that so few knew even about, none other were enveloped so tightly as Manticore himself.

The Old's One's wings fluttered in excitement as he moved from one screen to another, glancing at a certain piece of code, which more closely resembled a musical scale than anything mathematical. Every day it was like watching a child playing with a new toy. Or rather, building something new out of building blocks. Then tear them down, only to rebuild them into another structure. Again and again, until he's made the perfect monument. 

Watching this side of the Old One, where he's hard at work, in control of his own world, roused something in Manticore.

Manticore bit his lip.

"Project Lemuria..." Manticore said so quietly the Old One likely didn't hear him. And he was about to ask the same question he's asked many times since he's fallen in love with this man. Or, fallen in love with the idea. Maybe, both? He doesn't know. "...This vision. Do you really think a project of this scale is feasible?"

"Feasible is... not quite the word." The Old One said.

The Old One turned from the blueprints to meet the stony gaze of the much-larger-than-himself moosetaur, and continued. "Even I admit the undertaking is great. It will not be a quick, nor an easy process, Manticore."

And just like the question asked many times before, the Old One responded back with the exact same answer.

"Every blueprint, every note, every schematic diagram, and every hour spent in this lab brings us one step closer to Lemuria becoming more than... Well, just a vision." The Old One made his way over to Manticore, his wings fluttering again with exuberance, rather cutely Manticore thought. 

The Old One continued. "To even think that it couldn't be done would hold me back. If I am to make Lemuria a real place, then I have to give it my all. And I'm not alone in this endeavor, Manticore. With other great minds and bodies like you and Quartermane helping me, it will all be real just that much quicker."

Manticore scoffed at hearing the other mans name. "I suppose that... mule... does have his qualities, doesn't he?" Manticore didn't like Stallion Quartermane. He was loud and boisterous, the complete opposite of Manticore. And the fact that the Old One got along with him so well only made the disdain for that one grow even more. 

The Old One chuckled.

"You two don't get along very well, I know. But he is just as important as I am, and you are. Who else is going to get out there and see the spiral? Neither you nor I are the outdoorsy type, are we?" The Old One said.

The Old One placed a hand on Manticores resting forearm. Anybody could see Manticore's arms were thick, but comparing them to the Old One's own, who were quite scrawny, Manticore's size was especially noticeable. 

The Old One's touch... On the outside Manticore stood as still as a statue, but on the inside he shattered like Glass. And his blood boiled with the desire to shatter the Old One far, far worse. Beyond repair. Gods, if only The Old One knew what his touch did to the unconquerable Manticore. 

Old One continued. "But please know that I'm grateful for you and Quartermane putting up with each other. To have the both of you with me even this far in, already means everything to me."

"Hmm..." Manticore moaned, weighing the meaning of those words as he stared into the Old One's eyes. They glowed with affection for that of an equal. Manticore didn't like the thought of being an equal to anybody... Even if for a beloved. It made him uncomfortable. It made him feel weak. He needed to be the one on top. 

As the Old One's touch lifted, Manticore's large, sturdy hand found it's way under the Old One's chin. He wrapped his fingers around a tentacle and gently stroked it. The Old One's body froze except for his tentacles. A few twitched, and one wrapped itself around Manticore's wrist, probably unconsciously.

"You talk far too long for my liking." Manticore said.

"M-Manticore?" The Old One said.

Manticore continued. "But the response I got is satisfactory to keep me around for a little while longer."

Manticore leaned in, his powerful frame drawing closer. The temperature in the lab seemed to grow as their faces drew nearer, and for a second Manticore forgot he was in Polaris, even. Manticore's gaze never broke, even as his tongue hung out of his mouth to get a taste of The Old One's flesh.

It was only for a second though as the Old One pulled back, and his tentacle untwined. "I appreciate you, my friend.-" (My friend...) Manticore's hand closed into a fist. Surely the Old One cannot be this oblivious to Manticore's feelings. Or perhaps he was? This isn't the first time Manticore's thrown out remarks or gestures, gotten intimate, only to be ignored. Humiliated. So the Old One continued."-But this relationship must stay strictly... professional."

Manticore glared down showing no change in emotion from the rejection, but internally he was grinning. (Ah, he's not so oblivious after all. That is good. If it is eating way at him, that's enough for now.)

There are matters of great importance I must attend to tonight. I cannot... have any distraction on my mind."

(This is good enough for now... Right?) 

Manticore gritted his teeth as the Old One turned back towards the screens. 

Manticore grew very frustrated, very quickly. It was one of his habits. A good habit or a bad habit, depended on the day and subject at hand, now that was up to others to decide, really. Manticore let out a deep sigh. "Can't it wait? Clearly you and I are feeling one and the same. Don't let it just sit there and fester when I am ready and willing in mind and body." Manticore's voice grew louder, and so too did the reverberations off the metal walls that enclosed them.

"Your desire for the goal is admirable and everything you have built is magnificent. But if I am not getting my deserved attention why should I bother sticking around?" He walked back and forth to compose himself, otherwise the desk behind him is going to be toppled. He wouldn't really just leave, but it was important to make the Old One think he would. "I am not a blind follower like everybody else. I need compensation and reasoning."

Then Manticore raised his voice even more.

"You never have difficulty stepping away from those controls when it's Quartermane who seeks to have a word with you." Manticore said. This part came out unbidden, which infuriated himself just a bit.

Manticore could see the Old One Pause, but only for a second.

"With the part Quartermane plays in all of this it... only makes sense I would have to hear what he has to say, quite often. Also he is not at cognizant of the plan as you are. It takes time to explain things to him without getting too in-depth, to keep everything running efficiently." The Old One said, now turning towards Manticore's way once more. But then just as quickly as the Old One looked his way, the Old One turned back around and continued his work. 'Suppose that was all that needed to be said, Manticore thought.

The Old One wrote a string of code, and then another, and then another. Manticore just stared at his back once more, and this time the silhouette wasn't quite attractive. It was irritating to look at. Pathetic, even.

"Should I go? Am I just being a distraction to you?" Manticore asked.

The Old One lifted his head. "What-? No."

Manticore stomped over and grabbed the Old One's arm forcefully and turned him around, almost causing him to fall. The Old One's free hand met Manticore's chest. A hopeless motion to keep Manticore at a distance. Manticore was built like a brick wall and he'd trap the Old One in with ease if that's what he desired. "I'm asking if I should go. If I am not getting your full attention then I have no desire to be here." Manticore's eyes glowed with the reflection of lights and a series of notes on the screen. Manticore almost wanted to kick himself... feeling jealousy over both a music scale, and another man.

The Old One's tiny wings drooped and his eyes were wide as he steadied himself. Manticore's grip didn't loosen. "Manticore, I... never once thought of you as a distraction. How you could even come to think that, I don't..... If Quartermane is the one who put that in your head it's only because he gets me to ramble sometimes. I do tell him... things, but me sharing personal things with him does not mean I put him above you."

Hearing the other mans name was enough. Manticore tossed the Old One aside, and into the computer with such strength that the computer screens flickered. The Old One caught himself just in time from falling, but still let out a gasp.

Manticore turned and stormed out of the lab without saying a word.

The Old One hurriedly followed Manticore out of the lab and into the corridor, his tiny wings flapping with concern. The air out here was colder than it was in the lab. Not cold enough that ones breath could be seen, but still quite chilling. "Manticore!" He called out to Manticore, but Manticore remained resolutely silent. His rigid posture and stern expression conveyed his anger and disappointment, and he presented them proudly.

When the Old One caught up to Manticore he wrapped his hand around Manticore's arm, sinking it into the much larger mans inner elbow. "Manticore, wait. Please. This project needs you. I did not mean to dismiss your feelings in any way, though I admit I did." The old One's voice tinged with remorse. Manticore kept facing away.

(Yes... That's good.) Manticore thought. To be able to put the Old One in this position, and so easily, it excited him to say the least. Even if it was frustrating to get to this part. This was the part of the game he enjoyed the most. He turned to meet the Old One's gaze. "Understand, Old One, that I won't be second to your project. We can work together, but I won't be ignored. When I ask, you answer. When you need help, I will provide. And when you sing your song, I will make sure everybody hears. And I am conjoined with you and the organization, only. I do not wish to hear Quartermane's name unsought when he knows only a couple steps in this grand dance of ours."

"Yes." The Old One said with a sigh, seemingly just satisfied at the outcome of this short little ordeal. "I will be more considerate of such things, Manticore."

Meanwhile Manticore leaned in close. Manticore let out a long, heavy breath. "Very good." His voice was heavy with desire.

With one hand on the Old One's hip, and the other cupping the Old One's by the chin, Manticore's tongue traced a path across his neck. The Old One, this time, resigned and let it happen. 

And in an escalating desire to prove his control, Manticore bit down on the Old One's neck. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to make the Old One feel it in his whole body. Enough that it would Make the Old One crave so much more to happen to him, even when Manticore is not around to provide.

The Old One let out a noise that pleased Manticore, and Manticore dug his fingers deeper into the Old One's side, so he couldn't get away if he wanted to.

"Manticore. This is... too much." The Old One said, but Manticore ignored him.

The Old One's tentacles seemed to have minds of their own, anyway, as they wiggled and squirmed around Manticore's head. Some wrapped around him begging for attention, others jolted, and others lay still. Manticore wasn't completely heartless, so he gave just one the attention it sought. He took into his hand the one closest to him and ran his large tongue along the length of the quivering appendage.

The way it stiffened and the way the Old One's fingers dug into his jacket, Manticore knew he was doing sublime. And Manticore stiffened as well. His groin pressed up against the Old One's own, growing one. A physical symbol they both had to convey their yearning, and to be yearned for. But this... is enough for the evening, Manticore knew.

So then just as quickly as Manticore initiated this intimate moment, he ended it with a push. "Ahh!!" The Old One grunted and he stumbled backwards, falling down on his butt. His hat fell to the floor too, and rolled. 

A self-satisfied smirk tugged at Manticore's lips. Manticore knew that his displays of affection for this man, especially that which were more on the physical side, would be better saved for a later date. One with a more rewarding outcome, or simply when he's troubled again. And he will be troubled again, he knew that. There's simply no need to push things further, as much as his body would desperately like to.

The Old One watched Manticore adjust what was stirring between his legs, to make himself more appear decent, then he straightened his jacket. Then he reached down to pick up the hat. Manticore wiped the dust off, turned it around a couple times to make sure he didn't miss a spot, and held it forward.

"Your hat, Old One." He held it out, almost as if he were playing the part of a valet. As if what just happened hadn't happened at all.

The Old one took it back.

"You are... quite the unpredictable one, Manticore." This was even more evident by Manticore's next display, where he gently took the Old One's hand and brought him back to his feet. The Old One was still a bit wobbly. Clearly his mind and body were both still adjusting to the sudden switch in this atmosphere of raw emotions. The Old One continued. "Your emotions are always swaying. I cannot tell if you're... angry with me or disappointed in me."

"No. Just satisfied." Manticore said, fronting a smile. "Forgive my impertinence, Old one. I was being selfish. Thinking only of myself when I pulled you away from your work. My passing needs and lusts are of little importance compared to the project Lemuria. As you said, every hour matters. It has been... a long week for me. "

Manticore's eyes never left the Old One's hand, from when it placed the hat back on his head, to when it was gripping the side of his pitch black coat.

"It has for the both of us. We've been working tirelessly, yes? I will make time for us, soon. I promise. To spend the time together outside of business. That will surely do us both good." The Old One said.

"Hmm." Manticore nodded. The Old One didn't have a mouth, but the wrinkles under his eyes raised, so Manticore could tell he was smiling. It was faint, and trembled, but it was there. Manticore couldn't deny that his heart skipped a beat, and for a second he wanted to embrace the Old One all over again. But he held himself back.

They stared at each other. Manticore's chest rose and fell one time, an act of bringing this moment to a nonverbal close. The Old One didn't say anything either, just adjusting his own sleeves. Probably an act of steeling himself for a night full of a lot more work, if Manticore had to guess. And Manticore hoped some of that work would be trying to not be fully consumed by the whirlwind of emotions now in his head.

The Old One's gaze rose and he was about to say something more, but Manticore didn't find it necessary to hear, so Manticore walked past him and back towards the lab. He heard the Old One's heels turn and follow behind him. The Old One never opened his mouth again that night when they were in the corridor, so it probably wasn't going to be something important.

The lab door opened.

Manticore made his way to the same paperwork-ridden desk he had chosen as his designated spot at the start of the evening. "I will be here if you need anything, like usual." Manticore said, nonchalantly.

He watched the Old One walk past him and towards the computer. The mans feet found their place in the same spot as always, marked by the faint impressions of two shoe prints etched into the floor. Weeks of nighttime work had left their trace. For a second Manticore looked down below his own shoes to make sure he wasn't caught in the same cycle, but he saw nothing.

"If you get tired, don't pressure yourself into sticking around. I can always call you in if necessary." The Old One said looking back, pressing both palms against the cold metal desk.

Manticore acknowledged the Old One's words with a nod.

The Old One started to type away.

Manticore's eyes wandered, and they quickly found their way to the papers on the desk. He wondered if there was something there to distract him from the coming hours of, well, nothing really. One piece of paper caught his attention, so he picked it up. There was a name. "Stallion Quartermane". Manticore set the paper back down on the desk, then in one swift motion, slid all the papers off the desk, and onto the paperwork-ridden floor.

He didn't need a distraction anyway. 

Manticore folded his arms and turned, and stared at the back of the Old One. It was much less irritating than it was before.

[ginneke]

⭐️!

--- Ask meme: Director's Cut! Send a title / passage / line from one of my fics, or a ⭐-emoji, and I'll tell you a bit about it ---

For Only Say My Name (note—fic is rated E):

Well, this was the story that entirely got away with itself, despite being the short version. (I appreciate there is a certain level of irony required to be calling an almost 13k oneshot “short”.)

Here’s where it all began -- under a cut for length, apparently I'm rambling tonight:

(Seriously, though, the potential of a Revalink dynamic where Link isn't The Chosen Hero (yet), but merely an exceptionally skilled Hylian warrior) (and Link and Revali actually managing to get along... until Link draws that little sword of destiny)

It’s been said dozens of times before, by people far more familiar with the AoC dynamics than I, but even so, the Link & Revali dynamic in that game has bothered me for a long time: between Revali still having beef with BotW’s Link, despite this not being BotW!Link, and the whole nonsense about “mistaking you for monsters”…

Revali has some fun moments, excellent gifset potential, and an honestly fairly incoherent narrative he’s been shoved into, because they just didn’t care enough to properly untangle his canonical perspective on Link.

And that’s where this story started: trying to explore what Link and Revali’s dynamic could have looked like if 1) Revali didn’t have the knee-jerk reaction to Link’s sword-mandated destiny that he did in BotW’s canon, and 2) Link had slightly fewer barriers in his way, and was able to hear a challenge – possibly a slightly more achievable challenge than the deliberate provocation Revali chose in BotW – and respond in kind.

They’ve got a lot in common, after all.

The following is one of the earliest passages, if not the earliest passage, that I wrote for this idea. (About 6-8 hours after the plotbunny first occurred to me, when it was already becoming clear that they would not be keeping this T-rated.)

It was easy, the first time, to pretend it wasn’t serious. Just the cinder-flare escalation of attraction, a shared camaraderie of being the only members of this group of warriors without any divine legacy or grand inheritance: just Link, fiercely dedicated to the blade and skilled besides, passionate determination driving him to greater feats than any other Hylian could boast; just Revali, equally devoted to his bowcraft and stubbornly rejecting any notion that the skies were something that could not be conquered, despite suffering more injuries in the pursuit of that goal than he'd ever admit.

Oh, how I wish I could have kept this passage in the story this became! That contrast of [boast | admit], with the words attached to the opposite character one would usually expect to see them attached to, gave me such delight; but as the story turned away from a longform retelling*, and focused on that single, solitary location of the guestchamber, there was no longer any room for it.

*I realised that I just didn't have the time, inclination, or willingness to write All That at that point in my life, and also the story that I did have the inclination to write was fun in its own right, so!

And so it became a darling to be killed for now, though nothing is stopping me from recycling it at some point in the future...

[fandoms-ruin-life]

Trope Rating Game Rules: how much do these tropes affect your decision to click on a fic?

-10 -> very dissuaded

0 - don’t care either way

+10 -> very enticed

nope -> if it’s a hard no and you’d never click on a fic with that tag or you even have the tag blocked or you’d insta click out of the fic if it wasn’t tagged.

Bonus points for explaining the rating and whether it’s conditional.

***

Thanks for the tag @glitter50000 ! I love these kinds of things lol, they're always so fun (even if it always takes me a million years to respond)

Age gap: 1 I'm usually indifferent about age, idc either way if they're the exact same age or have a super big gap lol. But I didn't put 0 because I have seen some situations where it is done in a way that's super fun and can make the dynamics more interesting. Codependency: 10 Gimme allll the codependent unhealthy pairings! I will say that I tend to prefer super codependent friendships who prioritise each other over their significant others, and the partners just have to deal with the permanent +1. But honestly I'm always there for any codependent dynamics in fiction lol.

Obsession/possessives or Jealousy: 5 Depends on how its done. If its done well and the story is juicy? Hell yeah, that's gotta be one of my fav tropes. But if it's done in a way that doesn't quite tickle my brain right, it can be a squick and I wont be continuing the fic

Opposites (grumpy/sunshine, etc): 10 Most of my OTPS fall into this trope lol

Enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits: -10 I need the love to be there. I can't deal with any sort of hate sex or even too much conflict. It isn't a "nope" though because I have read maybe one or two enemies to lovers fics that were pretty good- they need to meet very specific standards for me to click on the fic and continue it, so most of the time I just don't bother.

Friends with benefits: -8 Ehhh... I can enjoy these on a rare occasion, but again, definitely not something I seek out.

Sex with feelings: 0 If its in a fic, then great love to see them connect. But I'm not gonna seek out a oneshot that's just this trope. Sex just doesn't do anything for me lol

Fake/pretend dating relationships: 3 These can be good, but only if there are no misunderstandings (my least favourite trope). Unfortunately they tend to go hand in hand, so I don't click these fics often, but when they're good, they're good.

Friends to lovers: 8 Super cute! I love when they already have a foundation to their relationship

Found family: 10 Found family is my kink

Hurt/comfort: 9 As long as the comfort is super good and lasts just as long (if not longer) than the hurt, I'm all for it. Makes for some of the best fics, the roller coaster of emotion is always *chef's kiss*. But I'm def not a fan of when the comfort is literally there for all of two seconds before the fic ends. If fics tagged with this trope reliably had long comfort scenes then this would easily be a 10, but it's -1 point due to those blue balling situations lol.

Love Triangle: Nope Hell no. I hate that it's so prominent in media, I'm not about to seek it out in fic too.

Poly, open relationships: 0 Don't care either way. As long as its an interesting storyline and characters that I care about, I'll read it

Mistaken/hidden identity: -5 Not usually something I look for or enjoy, I have read some good ones tho.

Monsterfucking: 5 As long as the focus isn't on the fucking (again sex doesn't do it for me lol) then sure, super interesting dynamics at play there

Pregnancy: -1 Will only enjoy if I'm in the mood for it

Second Chance: 9 I love a good grovelling fic... as long as the second chance isn't due to cheating or some other major betrayal/literal crime against the person. That's not something I can forgive, and as such don't like seeing it in characters. It also only works when the one giving the second chance doesn't immediately forgive whatever the hell happened... we need gradual progress where the one in trouble proves that whatever happened will not do so again.

Slowburn: -5 The only time I will read is if it is secondary to the plot. An entire focus on two characters either just not communicating or taking their grand ol time realising what we all already know? Nah, not for me. Tagged next, if you want to!: @penguinsr4ever @fantasy2739 @disney-marvel-starwars-blog @a-wraith-in-the-mountains (I mean it when I say if you see this and want to do it but aren't tagged, please do. I'm not very good with names so I've also almost definitely forgotten someone I would usually tag in these things. Sorry if I have!)

[ladyfogg]

Words of Advice - Part 1

Words of Advice – Part 1

Fic Summary: Months after being so spectacularly rejected by Lauren, Ralph finds his interests being drawn to the pretty new maid. Having no idea how to approach you, and not wanting to repeat mistakes of the past, he seeks advice from everyone and anyone who’ll provide it, which is probably not the wisest decision. (Part 2) Fics Masterpost. 

Fic Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Pairing: Virgin!Ralph (Timewasters)/Female Reader

Warnings: Canon Divergent, It’s Not Unrequited Love They’re Just Idiots, Mutual Pining, Attempts at Flirting, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, First Time, Unprotected Sex

A/N: Hey there, lovelies! Originally this was going to be a oneshot, but it became a lot longer than I anticipated (that’s what she said) so it’s been split into two parts. I don’t have an ETA on part 2 but I hope you enjoy part 1!

Ralph decides that he won’t run off and join the French Foreign Legion.

While Lauren’s harsh words and rejection broke his heart, he begrudgingly admits to himself that he may have rushed things a bit. Proposing marriage after knowing her for a few days was on the fast side. Perhaps he should have waited for a more respectable amount of time, like a month.

Regardless, he has no interest in chasing a woman who clearly wants nothing to do with him. Unfortunately, he hasn’t met one who does

It’s a bleak and confidence busting realization. Ralph resigns himself to bachelorhood and takes solace in the notion that he at least has his many interests and hobbies to occupy his time. Although, there are only so many times he can play his ukulele, read, or any of the other skills he’s picked up over the years.

Currently, he is in the dining room, just about to sit down for lunch, when the doorbell rings. Normally, one of the servants gets it but at least two quit the week before and replacements have yet to be hired. It seems no one else in the house deems it necessary to stop what they’re doing because after a few short minutes, the doorbell rings again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” Ralph says to no one in particular, throwing his napkin down in annoyance.

He walks through the dining room and into the front hall. If he’d realized who was on the other side of the door, he could have done something to prepare. He’s not sure what could have prepared him for opening the door and finding himself face to face with the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen.

“Hello, sir,” you say, giving him a warm smile. “I’m here about the servant’s position.”

Ralph is frozen, brown eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. It’s like every word or thought is plucked out of his head, leaving nothing but the sound of his heart pounding.

When he doesn’t say anything, you shift nervously. “Sir, did you hear me?”

“Ralph.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ralph. My name. It’s my name. I mean…” Ralph clears his throat, remembering who he is and that he shouldn’t stand there floundering like a fish. “Please, come in.”

You smile and Ralph swears his heart stops beating. “Thank you.”

You cross the threshold and Ralph barely moves out of the way in time. The scent of flowers wafts off you and Ralph closes his eyes, savoring it before he catches himself and closes the door.

“And your name is?” he asks, turning to face you, his back pressed against the door in a subconscious attempt to keep you from leaving. Though, judging by the suitcase in your hands, that doesn’t seem to be happening any time soon.

You tell him your name and extend your hand towards him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Ralph takes it, desperately wishing you weren’t wearing gloves so he could feel your skin on his. “I’m delighted to meet you as well.”

From the upper level, he hears his twin’s boisterous voice say your name. Victoria glides down the stairs, immediately grabbing your attention away from Ralph.

“It’s so good to see you!” she says. “I appreciate you filling in on such short notice. We’ve had a bit of a turnaround lately and are in desperate need of help.” She turns to face her brother as if she’s noticing him for the first time. “Ah, Ralph! I see you’ve met our new maid.”

“Yes, we were just getting acquainted,” Ralph says, eyes never leaving you.

“He was being most hospitable,” you say with a smile Ralph’s way that has him clutching the doorknob for support.

Victoria doesn’t miss it. She narrows her eyes suspiciously but it only lasts a second because when you turn to her, she’s smiling once more. “Let me give you the tour and explain your duties,” she says, motioning for you to walk ahead of her.

As if being pulled by an invisible string, Ralph makes a move to follow. Victoria stops him with a hand in his chest. “Don’t you dare, brother,” she says in a low voice. “I’ve already had to put an embargo on all the hired help to keep Jason from going through them. I won’t have you scaring this one away.”

“But…”

“No! Stay!” she says, flicking his nose.

Plastering that big smile on her face once more, she turns to lead you down the hall. Ralph leans on the nearest doorframe for support, watching your swaying hips as you go. He swears it’s giving him heart palpitations and he may need to have a lie down until his head stops spinning.

“Wow, she’s…” He can’t think of another word and whispers the last to himself. “Wizard.”

“Well, you move on fast, don’t you?”

Ralph whips his head to the side to see Lauren standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking highly amused at the unfolding events. How long has she been standing there??

“I mean no disrespect,” he immediately says. “I am well-aware your…feelings towards me. Or rather, lack thereof. My infatuation faded some time ago.”

“Glad to hear it,” she says. Then she shoves her hands in her pockets and sighs. “I am sorry for that, by the way. Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Water under the bridge,” he says, turning his attention back to the hall you vacated seconds ago. He sighs dreamily and leans against the doorframe again. “Under the most beautiful bridge I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, bloody hell. Alright, look mate. You didn’t ask for my opinion but I’m giving it anyway,” Lauren says. “Word of advice: if you’re going to go after that one, don’t be yourself.”

With that, she gives him a firm slap on the back that makes him stumble a bit and, with a smile that seems like she’s given him the most important piece of advice in the world, she heads out the door whistling to herself.

Don’t be himself? Then who the bloody hell is he supposed to be?! Ralph turns to ask but she’s already gone.

Well…bollocks.

Between that and his sister scolding him, he’s thoroughly confused. Alright, he can figure this out. He can work around his sister’s rule. He may not be able to go after you, but what if you came to him? He could hardly be to blame if you became infatuated with him. It would be rude not to reciprocate and if Ralph is anything, it’s a respectable gentleman.

Besides, it falls in line with Lauren’s “don’t be yourself” suggestion. And a beautiful woman such as yourself falling for him would absolutely be the opposite of his usual go to.

Not that he knows how to even begin to make that happen. Lauren’s gone so he can’t ask her for clarification. But maybe her brother will have better insights!

Ralph scours the house looking for Nick, almost running into Victoria and you as she gives the tour. He ducks from room to room, hoping you don’t see him, but stealing fleeting glances when he can. He finds Nick in the quarters he shares with his bandmates. He’s standing at a chalkboard, scribbling what looks like gibberish.

Ralph knocks on the open door. “Knock, knock! Nick, do you have a minute?”

“Lauren’s not here,” Nick says over his shoulder. “Sorry, mate.”

“Oh, I know. I’m not looking for her, I’m looking for you. I was hoping you’d give me some advice.”

That seems to get his attention and his eyes light up when he turns to face Ralph. “You want my advice? About what?”

“Women…well, a woman specifically.”

Nick sighs and puts down the chalk, placing his chalky hand on Ralph’s shoulder. “Ralph, you really should move on from my sister. I appreciate your dedication but she’s made it clear she’s not interested.”

Ralph huffs, knocking his hand away. “I’m not talking about her. I’ve met someone else.”

Nick looks pleasantly surprised. “Oh, that’s fantastic! Well, what can I do for you, then?”

“How do I get her to notice me?” he asks, discretely wiping the chalk dust from his suit jacket as Nick turns away to regard his work. “Well, I guess more than just notice me. How do I get her to fall madly in love with me?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Nick says, waving his hand. “Show her how smart you are. Girls love a guy with a brain, you know what I mean? Smart is sexy.”

Huh. Ralph hasn’t tried that angle before. “Smart is sexy,” he repeats. “I can work with that. I’m not one to boast but our library has over a hundred books and I’ve read almost all of them.”

“Right, yeah, books. Reading,” Nick mutters, going back to his work.

Sensing he’s lost his attention, Ralph leaves Nick to whatever the bloody hell he’s doing. Smart is sexy. Smart is sexy. Is this a common phrase that everyone knows about except him? Typical. He’s always the last in the loop. Ralph’s mind is racing, trying to formulate what his next move should be.

Two days later, he’s ready to act. He chooses a time he knows you’re going to be cleaning the downstairs and makes himself comfortable in the library. He sits in his favorite wing-backed chair in front of the fireplace and picks the biggest book he can find.

He then spends the next several minutes trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. How should he sit? Should he lean back and be comfortable? Or possibly sit up straight and seem intrigued? He does have excellent posture, that might be the way to go. When he hears footsteps coming, he scrambles to grab the book and appear as though he’s deeply engrossed. Unable to decide between comfortable and upright, he settles on a strange combination of the two which is decidedly uncomfortable.

The door opens and he “casually” glances up. His heart races when he sees you standing in the doorway.

“Oh, hello, sir,” you say with that same smile you gave him when you first met. In your hands you nervously twist a feather duster. “I hope you don’t mind but Miss Victoria asked me to dust in here.”

“Of course, do what you need,” Ralph says, attempting to keep his demeanor calm and collected, eyes shifting back to the page in front of him.

You go about your business and Ralph watches, staring over the top of the large book that he’s hiding behind. Or rather, that he’s pretending to read.

You’re in uniform now and he swears as many servants as he’s seen over the years, none of them have ever looked the way you do in those clothes. They hug every inch of your frame and he finds himself having all manner of impure thoughts. Which he promptly scolds himself for. You’re a lady and should not be thought about in such a way. Anytime you turn in his direction, he quickly shifts his gaze to the book in his hands, trying to appear pensive and deep in thought.

As minutes drag by, Ralph begins to fidget. He’s waiting for you to notice or say something but it’s not happening. Occasionally, he clears his throat but you’re focused on your work. It’s not until he angles himself in your direction as you turn to dust the mantle that you finally speak.

“Quite a hefty book you’re reading, sir,” you say.

Thrilled to have a chance to speak, Ralph lowers the book so fast it slaps his lap painfully. He tries not to flinch. “Oh, this old thing? I must have read it a dozen times already,” he boasts, throwing you what he hopes is a charming smile. “In fact, I’ve read almost every book in this library.”

“Wow, impressive.”

Ralph’s heart flutters. It’s working, he thinks excitedly. “Do you enjoy reading?” he asks.

You’ve stopped your work and are giving him your full attention, which is more than he could have ever asked for. He doesn’t remember the last time anyone’s done so. Normally, people half-listen or brush him off.

“On occasion, when I have the time,” you say. “What’s it about?”

Ralph is so busy staring at your beautiful face he forgets the conversation for a second. “What’s what about?”

You smile. “The book.”

“Oh, right, yes, the book.” Ralph scrambles, having not thought this far ahead and trying not to look down at the cover to give himself away. “You know, the world, the philosophy of man, life. Very deep…smart things.”

Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, he’s messing this up.

But instead of looking bored or uninterested, you just smile once more and say, “Sounds delightful. Well, I’m done my work in here. If you won’t be needing anything, I’ll excuse myself to the kitchens to begin dinner preparation.”

Ralph wants to beg you to stay, to keep talking and learning about you. But he tries to play it cool and sits back in his chair, lifting his book once more. “I am all set, thank you,” he says.

“Great.” You head towards the door and Ralph’s eyes track your movements like a hawk. When you turn around again, he doesn’t have a chance to avert his gaze. “By the way, sir. That book is upside down.”

With a giggle and a flourish of your skirt, you’re gone and Ralph stares down in horror, realizing that indeed, his book is upside down. With a heavy sigh, he tosses it aside and buries his face in his hands.

So much for looking smart.

Needless to say, he avoids you for days after such a fiasco. At least until the crippling embarrassment goes away, then he’s back at it. Ralph is undeterred. If anything, his desire to converse and get you to notice him is even stronger now that he wishes for redemption.

Since Nick was of no help, he decides there’s one person who certainly knows much about the opposite sex. He finds Jason lounging in the salon, casually admiring that blasted advertisement he posted for. “Hey, bruv, what’s up?” he asks, barely looking at Ralph. “Where you been hiding?”

“I haven’t been hiding, I’ve been…out of sight,” Ralph says.

“Whatever, same diff.”

Ralph decides to get this over with and cuts right to the chase. “Jason, what advice would you give to someone who is trying to get a woman to notice him?”

Jason chuckles. “Still pining over Lauren? Seriously, bruv, there are other fish in the sea.”

“No! Not Lauren…someone else.”

Jason perks up. “Who? What’s her name? I saw her first.”

“You most certainly did not and it doesn’t matter who,” Ralph says. “Just answer my question. How do I get her to notice me?”

Jason sits up and tosses the ad aside. “Easy. You gotta show her the goods.”

Ralph frowns. “I don’t know what that means.”

“You know…” Jason stands and immediately starts to open his shirt. Ralph protests but it falls on deaf ears. “Show her the goods. Let her see what she’s missing!”

He does what Ralph assumes is intended to be a sexy pose. Ralph raises his hands to block as much of Jason’s exposed chest for his view as he can.

“So your advice is to flash her my half-naked body? That doesn’t sound like an appropriate idea.”

“Don’t just do it without warning,” Jason says, despite the fact that he definitely just did. “Work it into the conversation.” He looks at himself and then back to Ralph. “Of course, your body isn’t like mine, so maybe try to bulk up first or, you know, step into the sunlight. But I’m telling you, bruv, flashing some skin is a guaranteed way to get her eyes on you.”

“Yeah, alright, I don’t know why I thought asking for your advice was a good idea,” Ralph says, still averting his eyes as Jason has not even attempted to cover up. “I’ll take your words into consideration.”

He hurries out of there as fast as possible, rolling his eyes when Jason calls after him, “Wait, seriously, though, who is it? I’m telling you, I saw her first!”

Later that night, in his room, Ralph is getting changed into his sleep clothes when he pauses to contemplate Jason’s advice. He’s never really thought about his physical appearance.

He’s aware that he’s quite dashing and impeccably dressed. But he’s never thought about the state of his body. After all, he hasn’t shown it to anyone so it’s never come up. The idea of showing it to you, however, makes his face flush and he has to take a few deep breaths to calm himself.

Once he does, he turns to his full-length mirror and eyes his reflection. He’s in his underclothes and thinks for a moment before removing his under shirt. True, he doesn’t have the muscle definition that Jason has but he thinks he looks relatively well-defined.

Ralph stands up straight and tries to puff out his chest a bit.

Hmm. Maybe this can work.

Perhaps Jason isn’t a complete nutter. Ralph studies himself a bit more, wheels turning as he tries to figure out how to go about following this latest piece of advice. He practices in the mirror, trying to perfect the nonchalance that failed him in the library.

“Oh, hello there,” he says. “Pardon my state of undress…absolutely not. That’s not going to work. She’d probably run screaming, thinking I’m propositioning her. Then she’ll quit and Victoria will have my head.”

He puts his trousers back on and grabs his undershirt. Now he is more respectfully covered, though it doesn’t show skin, which was the point according to Jason.

Ralph removes the undershirt and grabs a freshly pressed white button-up. He slips it on and keeps it open. Without the undershirt, this state of undress is not too forward and still flattering. The longer he looks at himself, the more he thinks this might work. He hopes it’ll be enough.

On the morning of the next laundry day, he stays in his room and waits. Any other day, he’d promptly dress and leave his clothes for the maids to gather. Instead, he paces back and forth, listening for the telltale sound of footsteps, noting how cold he is without his undershirt. The urge to dress properly is strong but he fights it.

When he hears someone approaching, he hurries to his closet. Suddenly, fear and uncertainty seize him and he realizes how ridiculous this is. His hands attempt to quickly button up but then there’s a knock and he’s calling, “Come in!” before his brain catches up.

He’s able to turn his back the moment before you enter.

“Oh, excuse me, sir,” you say. “I just came for the laundry but I can return—”

“No, no, it’s alright. I’m decent.”

Sort of, he thinks.

Ralph hears the door open and close and the sound of you crossing to the laundry bin. He’s so nervous he can’t get his fingers to work properly. There’s a beat of silence before…

“Do you need some help?” Ralph turns to find you watching him with a smile. “I think you’ve missed a few buttons.”

Ralph looks down and swears to himself. Yes, yes he’s missed buttons. Several actually. Can nothing go right in front of you?? “Oh, bully me.”

Laughing, you cross the room towards him and before he knows what’s happening, you’re reaching out to undo the buttons he so thoroughly messed up. It takes him a moment to register what’s happening and when he takes in how close you are and that your hands are on his shirt, he feels the heat rise to his face.

Equal parts embarrassed and interested, Ralph suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself. Should he look away? Look at you? Look at his shirt? He opts for the ceiling until you straighten his crisp white shirt and re-button it properly.

“Which bowtie are you going to wear today?” you ask.

Ralph looks down only to find your eyes staring into his. “Pardon?”

“I asked which bowtie you’re going to wear today. I notice you wear one every day. I think I favor the blue…if that’s not too bold to say, sir.”

Ralph shakes his head vigorously. “No, not bold at all. I like the blue one as well. And…you don’t need to call me ‘sir’. Ralph is just fine.”

He can’t get over your smile. It makes his heart feel like it's bursting from his chest. Without prompting, you pick up the blue bowtie from his dresser where he has all of them displayed in neat rows. You carefully lift his collar, tie the bowtie for him, and then fix his collar once more.

“There, all set,” you say.

Ralph struggles to find his voice. “Th-Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome…Ralph.”

With that, you return to the laundry bin, gather the clothes, and leave. Ralph stands there for some time, not quite sure what to make of the interaction. Did Jason’s advice actually work? Or did you take pity on Ralph after seeing him struggle? God, how pathetic he must have looked, especially after the whole book fiasco.

Ralph honestly doesn’t know what to think and spends the next several days dwelling. If his goal was to get you to see him, it’s worked. You’ve certainly noticed him. He wishes it had been under more flattering circumstances but he decides that beggars can’t be choosers. However, now he’s run out of advice and aside from those particular interactions, he hasn’t had many with you. He can’t. Every time you’re in the same room, he gets so flustered he has to leave. Or Victoria is there and he can’t try to converse with you.

His plan is quickly becoming a miserable failure.

About a week later, he finds himself in the sitting room, contemplating his situation, when Horace sits next to him. “Alright, Ralph, you’ve been pouting for days. What’s wrong?” he asks.

Ralph purses his lips together. “I am not pouting!” However, when Horace simply raises an eyebrow, he sighs heavily. “I’m hopeless. Absolutely, hopeless.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I’ve met someone, Horace. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I’ve been trying to get her to notice me, but I feel all I’ve done is embarrass myself. And before you say anything, it’s not Lauren.”

“Mate, I know that. You’re talking about the new maid, yeah?”

Ralph looks at him, eyes wide with surprise. “How did you know?”

Horace chuckles. “I see things most people don’t. You’re always looking at her when you think she can’t see you and ducking out of the room. It’s pretty obvious.”

Ralph groans and buries his face in his hands. “What am I to do, Horace? Victoria has made it perfectly clear no fraternizing with the help. And all the advice I was given backfired spectacularly.”

“Whose advice?”

“Jason, Nick, Lauren…”

Horace laughs, shaking his head. “See, there’s your problem right there, bruv. Never go to those three for any life advice. What did they tell you?”

“Show skin, smart is sexy, don’t be myself.”

“Yeah, sounds about right. What’s wrong with being yourself?”

Ralph shrugs, throwing his hands up. “I don’t know! Lauren didn’t elaborate.”

Horace sighs heavily and shakes his head. “Don’t listen to her. Of course she would say that because you’re not her type. That doesn’t mean you’re not anyone else’s type. Look, throwing away all that you’ve been told and forgetting Victoria’s silly rule, what do your instincts tell you to do?”

“To woo her!” Ralph says, excitedly grabbing Horace’s arm, vibrating with energy. “To shower her with gifts and affection, to tell her she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and I want to write songs about her smile.”

Horace laughs and pries Ralph’s hand off his arm. “Alright, alright, relax. Now think of all those things and push them aside. Don’t forget them, just, scale it down a bit and let’s start smaller.”

Ralph searches his mind, trying to think of a romantic gesture he could do that wouldn’t be too ostentatious. “Dinner,” he says. “A small dinner. Intimate, just the two of us. She cooks for all of us though so I would cook for her.” He grins as Horace and boasts with a shake of excitement, “I’m quite skilled in the kitchen. Pastries are my specialty.”

“See, there you go!” Horace says. “I think that sounds nice. Simple, romantic, while also discreet.”

Ralph’s mind is alive with ideas and he can’t wait to get started. He flings his arms around Horace in a tight hug. “Thank you!” he says before bolting for his bedroom.

When he gets there, he runs to his desk and sits down. Going through his stationary, he begins to draft an elegant invitation, crumpling page after page to start from scratch several times.

It’s late in the evening when he finally finishes, proud of his work. He selects a blue ribbon, almost the same shade as his bowtie, and carefully ties the invitation closed with it.

Ralph checks the time, going through your schedule in his mind that he assuredly observed and committed to memory days ago. Now is the perfect time to deliver it personally. He catches you as you’re coming out of the kitchen, having just finished evening clean up. The other servant is already down the hall when Ralph shows himself, suddenly stepping out in front of you.

You jump in surprise. “Ralph! You startled me!” you say, hand over your heart. “Jesus.”

“This is for you,” he says, handing you the invitation.

You stare at it in awe as he shoves it into your hands. “What is it?”

Ralph fidgets with excitement as you carefully open it. “I would like to ask you to have dinner with me on Friday night. I am aware my sister has her party and you will be in the kitchen all day, so once the party is underway, I would like to personally provide a meal for you…if that’s agreeable.”

You clutch the paper to your chest and stare at him with wide eyes. “Ralph…this is…”

He tries not to be nervous, tries not to imagine all the horrible ways this can go wrong. Is too much? Too little? He should have done more. Blasted, he should have went and bought a dozen roses before the stall closed. What kind of a man offers a woman a romantic invitation without a dozen long-stemmed red roses!

“This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever asked of me,” you say. “I accept the invitation. I would love to have dinner with you.”

Ralph reigns in his excitement, though he does give you a wide grin. “Lovely. Wonderful. Excellent.” He pauses for a moment. “And to be clear, I do mean this in a romantic courting sense. Though, if that’s not something you’re interested in, I completely understand and would not expect you to do anything you’re not comfortable—”

To Ralph’s amazement, you lean forward and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. He’s stunned into silence, his hand reaching up to lay over the spot.

“With.”

“My answer is still the same,” you say. “What time?”

“It’s…it’s…” Ralph points with his free hand to the paper in your hands. “Says there…the time. And attire. Formal. Well, causal formal.”

You nod excitedly. “I’ll be ready. I cannot wait!”

And with that, you leave him right where he is, his hand still pressed to his cheek. When he’s alone, Ralph jumps up and down and pumps his fists before pulling himself together and hurrying back to his room.

He has a date to plan.

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat​