#that was supposed to be 'tart' but can you blame me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudcountry · 1 year

Text

why not me?

SUMMARY: They're in love with you, but there's one thing getting in the way. That thing? The fact that they aren't your favorite person (and never will be.)

CHARACTERS: All NRC Students minus Ignihyde.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: Cater feeling like he's second place because your attention is IMMEDIATELY captured by someone else when you're together makes my soul hurt. Did I write it anyway? Yes. Every time I write Epel I'm reminded of how hard it is for me to grasp his character AJHSDFAJHS

This fic is related to the drabble why me?! linked here!! that part is a fluffy part for idia since there was no one else i could write romantic content for in his dorm C: idia kissers get out of this one........

~~~~~

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts fails to see the appeal. And no, he’s not saying that because he’s jealous. He just doesn’t get how you and Ace can talk about anything and everything and do it with smiles on your faces. Riddle’s tried so hard to get your attention, almost pathetically so, and it’s like he’ll never be anything more than Housewarden to you. He resigns himself to his fate of getting over you when he sees the two of you hugging, loud proclamations of never wanting to let go ringing through his ears like a death toll.

Trey Clover can’t blame you. He really can’t, because both you and Cater have such magnetic personalities that seem to just click. Yes, it hurts, because he wishes he could be the one you lean on at Unbirthday parties, taking silly pictures and posting them to Magicam with sappy captions. Though, he supposes that isn’t his style. Maybe he’s too boring for you, he’s been called that before. As long as you’re happy though, Trey supposes he doesn’t mind. He just wishes things could have gone different.

Cater Diamond's content being your friend. That’s what he tells himself, just another lie stacked upon castles and castles of them. Even the Queen of Hearts can’t compete with his towering structure, built of his facade and held up by his pride. He takes pictures with you but avoids the heart emoji, he holds up bunny ears behind your head but avoids pressing his lips to your cheek. He keeps you at arms length, because whenever you’re with Trey, it’s so obvious he’s the one you’d want. He posts another picture, this one of you and him at the Unbirthday party, and it’s only him and you that knows that the failed shot was of you spinning around at the sound of Trey’s voice the second the camera went off.

Ace Trappola doesn’t understand your taste in men. You hang around Deuce all the time and make him all flustered and it makes his blood boil. His heart seizes every time he sees the two of you together and he knows it’s because he loves you. You, who always laughs at his jokes and puts up with his stupid shit and who told him that he wasn’t a burden to be around when he and Deuce got into a fight. That same person who he treasures so dearly treasures the person that could not be more different from him, and for once Ace knows he should just give up because you’ll never be his.

Deuce Spade finds himself getting angry more often than he’d like. It’s irrational most of the time, little parts of his delinquent side coming out when he least wants it to. You’ve seen that side of him before. He wishes you hadn’t. Because maybe if you hadn’t, you’d like him more than his own Housewarden, who you’re currently feeding bits of strawberry tart to. Riddle’s face is bright red and Deuce feels his grip on his fork growing tighter. A pit of ugly jealousy twists in his stomach as Riddle mumbles something that makes you laugh, and Deuce can’t help but wonder where he went wrong.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar can’t find it in himself to care. Not when you’re fawning over Jack like he’s the greatest student NRC has ever had, not when you spend every waking moment with him, not when your conversations with Leona become shorter and shorter. He finds himself waking up alone time and time again, without a cheerful call of his name from outside his door and your blurry form bringing him little snacks. He grumbles as he hears your laugh from outside his door, except you keep walking. Of course you wouldn’t check on him, but he can’t help but get his hopes up every time. Pathetic.

Ruggie Bucchi feels a pit in his stomach as you lean your head on Leona’s shoulder, pointing out something in his textbook that the prince isn’t even paying attention to. Ruggie grips his magical pen tighter, gritting his teeth as Leona grumbles something incoherent and flops on your shoulder in return. You look embarrassed, Ruggie realizes, tearing his eyes away from the display in front of him. He’s never seen Leona this happy. He’s never seen you this happy. Not even when you’re with him.

Jack Howl doesn’t want to question your choices. He adores you, as gruff and cold as his affection may be. He wishes he could express his emotions better when he sees you and Ruggie, laughing and smiling and touching each other like it isn’t a big deal. He feels like he can’t breathe when he sees you two holding hands, and he feels nauseous when Ruggie leans his head on your shoulder. There’s a part of his brain that he hates that whispers jealous little thoughts into his ears, thoughts that he’s ashamed to admit are his. Great Seven, why couldn’t you be like that to him?

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto feels sick to his stomach as he watches you talk animatedly to Jade, eyes shimmering like the stars the Vice Housewarden loved to admire. He sees the exact same look in Jade’s eyes, the look he has when he looks at his mushrooms or when he talks about a new bird he spotted on the trails, except it’s different. Azul doesn’t want to put a word to it, not when you reach for Jade’s hand and he takes it, because all Azul can think of is how that should be him.

Jade Leech is a background character in your life. That’s the role he’s been assigned and that’s the role he’s decided to be content with. He knows you won’t give him anything more than a fleeting glance, not when you’re hanging off Floyd’s arm like he’s everything you see. Jade is just a smear on the window, a blurry afterimage of his brother. There’s no use contemplating what you could have seen if you looked a bit deeper, because you didn’t. You favor his twin, and he can do nothing about it.

Floyd Leech knows what it’s like to want something someone else has, but never like this. It’s always been a feeling that surfaced when Jade got a treat before him, but this is not that. This is you, his Little Shrimpy, giving Azul your undivided attention while he talks about the monthly earnings of the Mostro Lounge. He whines and pouts and hollers into your ear, only to be pat on the head and ignored again like he’s only an afterthought. Azul gets to have all the fun with his Shrimpy, and that’s not fair.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim invites you over as often as he can. He’s cheery and excited and absolutely delighted by your company as he shovels food onto your plate. Maybe he’s an idiot or maybe he's just dense, but he somehow misses the glances you send Jamil when he exits the kitchen. It hits Kalim like a truck one day when Jamil offers you heart shaped cakes, displayed all prettily on Scarabia’s best golden platter. You look taken aback but flustered, lashes fluttering as you turn your gaze to Jamil. He smiles down at you with a softness that Kalim has never seen him wear, and it’s like a knife in the heart. Oh. It’s Jamil. You’re accepting his invitation for Jamil. Oh Great Seven, you’re in love with Jamil. He excuses himself with a fleeting smile, running to his dorm room the second he’s out of view, collapsing onto his bed with a broken sob. Why did it hurt so much?! He should be happy for you.

Jamil Viper doesn’t even bother. You have his heart resting in the palms of your hands, but it’s like the weight of the organ is nothing because you can ignore it so easily. He watches you every day, observing your habits and mannerisms. He brings you and Kalim snacks as you laugh and study and talk, talk as casually as friends do, and Jamil wonders what it would be like to have that with you. He can’t though. He can’t, because he’d be competing with Kalim again and that’s never worked out in his favor anyway. Kalim always has to win, even if Jamil has to give up the one person who took the time to think about how he felt.

Pomfiore

Vil Schoenheit likes to pretend he doesn’t mind. He pretends he doesn’t like you as much as he does, because if he lets his emotions show you’ll surely feel obligated to apologize to him. He watches you as you talk happily with Rook, your hands intertwined and swinging as if you’re together already. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but he says nothing as the two of you prattle on. Leave it to you to capture a few hearts on campus and break most of them, Vil Schoenheit’s included.

Rook Hunt thinks the way you look at Epel is beautiful, though he wishes it were him. He honestly doesn’t mind that much, even if he yearns to see that same affection boring into his soul. He’s content for now, watching you watch Epel, the affectionate look on your face reflected on Rook’s. It’s painfully obvious to him what’s happening in that little heart of Epel’s as he returns your look, and as long as Rook gets to see you bloom with love then he’ll be satisfied. (Rook Hunt is also, unfortunately, a liar, and he knows it will hurt him in the end.)

Epel Felmier grits his teeth as you greet Vil with a cheery “hi beautiful,” and he returns the sentiment in kind. The way you two smile at each other makes him feel sick, so much so that he pushes away his food. Whenever the two of you are in the same vicinity, it's like Epel can't breathe anymore. He refuses to acknowledge what the feeling is, because that would be losing. Of course. Of course of everyone his first love could have picked, they fell in love with the one man he disliked more than anything.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia gets a sinking feeling in his chest whenever he sees you with Lilia. He thought you and him were friends, close enough to act casual with each other. He’s never had that with someone before, and he’s definitely never felt this before you. Beautiful, accepting, kind you. But when he sees you with Lilia, goofing off and laughing and smiling, he realizes that what he thought was special meant absolutely nothing to you.

Lilia Vanrouge thinks the situation is funny in the cruelest way possible. He stares at you with affection blooming in his eyes, and yet he sees you look at Silver the same way. Lilia has lived a long time, and he knows nothing lasts forever, but the fact that he never even got to have you will always eat away at him. As long as he gets to see the growing affection in Silver’s eyes grow for you too, he thinks he will be okay.

Sebek Zigvolt can’t blame you! You’re so obviously in love with Malleus, and what an excellent choice you’ve made, human! There is no one…better in the love…department than...the Young Master...He can’t do this. Why won’t you look at him? There isn’t a single thing he can train or improve that would ever steal your attention from his Master, and Sebek knows it’s blasphemy to try. So why does he want so badly? Why does seeing you and his Master make him so bitter?

Silver shuts his eyes. Sebek is loud as usual, and your attention has been completely captured by him. He’s aware that he tends to blend in, especially when Sebek is around, but knowing that doubles as an excuse. Of course you’re not paying attention to Silver, because he’s sleeping and Sebek is talking. It isn’t until he sees the two of you walking and talking together, his fellow guard’s cheeks red as he turns his head away from you, that he realizes you act like that regardless of whether Silver’s around or not. Because you like Sebek, not him.

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kalims · 1 year

Text

cupping their face

parts. one , two , three , four , five , six , seven

characters. heartslabyul

content. gender neutral reader

riddle

he has very squishable cheeks despite his concerning diet mainly revolving around tea, biscuits, and whatnot (tarts).

you suppose the chubbiness in it comes from the mounts of sweets he can't exactly resist. of which trey is probably to blame.

riddle grew up with his very picky mother with her particular food choice for him so when he arrived in NRC without her eyes he gained a lot of freedom.

so if you hold his face in your hands the fat from his cheeks pokes out of the hole between your thumb, and pointer fingers. it's so cute 😭 so you can't resist the urge to sneak a squeeze.

it makes it all the more comical becomes he looks so confused, furrowing his brows at you like he can't believe whatever the hell you're doing right now.

plus points if you start to randomly caress his face cause he's slowly realizing that this is just a show of affection and is turning more red by the minute.

it would be a flustered riddle without the steam out his ears after all!

riddle avoids your eyes. "what in the world are you doing?" but makes no move to... well, move.

trey

uhh compared to riddle he's not in that level of squishy cheeks despite him being a baker and all.

I mean it's more of a 'you can feel the curve of his cheekbones' rather than the 'chubby cheeks' kind of thing. let me tell yall, the muscles in those damn arms aren't there for show!!

but yeah I firmly believe he just takes bites out of his batter / finished product to check if he should add a certain ingredient from the taste.

but it's usually the other people that do the eating.

though if you pinch hard enough you might be granted the satisfaction of smothering his cheeks (and a trey who is trying his best to keep the increasing pain off his face cause you seem to be enjoying yourself too much.)

anyways yeah cupping his face! from my memory, to me he seems like a person with a more lean face? (I have not seen him in a while lmao) but when you do he just raises his brow a little and watches you patiently.

you won't know if he's caught on what you're doing but you'll know he's starting to enjoy it when your palms are growing heavy from trey slowly leaning the weight of his face on it.

"is this a reward for my hard work?" trey huffs in amusement. "tell me when it's too heavy."

cater

wow he's so cute 😞

cater likes to snack every now and then and all that food just teleports to his face rather than anywhere else so it's prominent even if he laments about it.

I think it just makes his smile cuter cause you can see dimples pop out of his cheeks as well 😭 it tempts you to poke them all the well.

notable. they're also kinda stretchy, you can poke, pinch, and stretch them wow. the versatility. at this point everyone should have a cater to poke, pinch, and stretch out his cheeks.

^ stress reliever.

as you're cupping his face his response is just to automatically cup you back? and he's already giggling about this 'couple bonding' thing so you're not quite sure how to proceed.

but cater's laugh is pretty contagious so you end up laughing along. both of you are cupping each other's face, and you can feel the curve of his grin from your palms.

... next thing you know in a poof of smoke two more cater appears wearing similar pouts, of which are whining about their turn..

"you guys go away!" the cater which you remember to be the original dramatically pours himself over you. arguing with.. himself. "this is og cater and (name) bonding time, shoo!"

ace

is his cheeks squishable or not? we will never know cause everytime your hands are near his face he's flying backwards to avoid you.

what a menace with the suspense and all. ace is always trolling you so it's understandable. he's like: "haha get trolled." AND WHEN YOU ACTUALLY IGNORE HIM HE'S LIKE: "wait no that was a prank too pls."

if his ego wasn't taller than him he definitely would have regretted it 💀 honestly I'm so in dynamics with ace where he thinks he's the dominant one in the relationship and if you tell him to sit he's immediately sat.

it's gonna be more of a challenge to actually get a hold of his face but pro tip: just tell him to stop with a stern face, and he's just gonna go stiff but grumble when he feels your fingertips.

he's looking annoyed the whole way but you notice the twitch of his brows. suddenly he's looking just a little more comfortable in your hands.

point it out it out if you want but his face is just gonna revert to that annoyed look, just honestly let him loosen up (and loosen up he will, don't be surprised if he just starts demanding those face caressing thing you just did in the future.)

^ well he's only doing that if you initiated it a handful of times. if not he's taking that desire to the grave.

"wow. are you really that much starved for me?" ace smirks, and nods. probably praising himself in his head. "just keep doing whatever you want, I don't care." ???

deuce

the most squishable cheeks. I take no objections, I do not care ‼️ (even though certain official art might not say so) I bet he eats with a mouth full of food, it just inflates his cheeks lol.

if we have characters we call baby girl like jamil over here, we got deuce spade our resident baby boy.

probably the one that eats up all your attention even if he's embarrassed. not of you of course! but if you ever do public displays of affection he's just hyper aware of the eyes kqbsjajss.

but he likes you a lot so he just tolerates it <3

cupping his face hmm... honestly he looks like a very innocent puppy, he's watching you with those kind of eyes. curious and patient 😭 he's watching to see what you'll even do next.

he doesn't really speak. was this man even actually a delinquent before? who the hell was that cause all you know is this very endearing, shy deuce of yours.

if there was a tail it would be wagging slowly!

man the inner man is him is wrestling him rn cause where is his pride?! but the person it's fighting is his love for you so the inner man is losing lowkey 😞

"..." there is no words, just a very flustered, pleased deuce.

end notes

trey the gentleman fr.. also ace's part is vv chaotic lamao

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years

Text

IV ║ Strawberry Roan

Jack Daniels x f!reader

{ Part 3: Dapple Grey | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 5: Appaloosa }

Rating: E

Summary: Jack pulls out all the stops for your birthday. All of them.

Warnings: Flirting, yearning, insecurities, sexual tension, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, use of dating app, sexual innuendoes, fingering, protected sex, dirty talk, language, mention of food, drinking, mention of breakup, mention of hair, no use of Y/N

Word count: 8.4k

Notes: It's here. See you on the other side 😉 Palomino will be taking a little break, if you want to see what I'll be up these few weeks, check it out here. See you in November!

I forgot to link to it when I posted this - a deleted scene from this part is published as a drabble - Béarnaise.

Strawberry Roan: A horse with a reddish coat that is liberally flecked with white hairs.

Day 3

The next time you wake up, the sun is high in the sky and Jack is nowhere to be seen. You tap your phone for the time and sit up groggily - by this hour, you’re usually already saddled up and ready to go. Grabbing your toiletries and riding clothes from your bag, and a bottle of water, you trudge barefoot towards the nearest treeline to get ready.

Jack has his back to you, cooking breakfast, when you make your way towards the camp in jodhpurs with mint on your breath. You stop by the horses grazing in the shade, giving all three scratches behind the ears and a pat on the neck good morning, mindful not to get your toes trodden on by accident.

‘Morning,’ you call out as you approach the reignited fire.

Jack twists around to smile at you. ‘Mornin’, darlin’.’

Bending over, you roll up your sleeping bag. ‘Why didn’t you wake me? It’s late.’

‘It’s your birthday, you deserve a lie-in,’ he answers over his shoulder. ‘We’re not far from the Halfway House anyway - we can take it easy today.’

Sitting cross-legged next to him, your eyes light up at what’s sizzling in the pan. ‘A lie-in and pancakes for breakfast? You spoil me, cowboy.’

A bowl of mixed berries sits next to the pancake batter and maple syrup. You pop a raspberry into your mouth, the burst of tart sweetness sharpening your still fuzzy senses. With a tea towel, you grab the kettle carefully from where it’s sitting warm on the fire, pouring yourself a coffee and topping up Jack’s half-empty mug.

Jack flips the pancake over theatrically in the pan, flashing you a smile with teeth. ‘Only the best for my birthday girl.’

You really shouldn’t - and you suppose you can blame it on the fact that you’re not quite awake yet - but your heart lurches at him calling you as his in any way. The kettle lands clumsily on the metal grill with a clatter as your arm gives out.

You’re still floundering when he asks casually, ‘How are you feelin’?’

With four little words, he unwittingly throws you into bedlam, and you go stock-still. Oh fuck. Is he asking you about the kiss? The chaste yet spine-tingling kiss which, in the bright light of day, you can't even quite believe actually happened -

His calm drawl cuts through your panicked thoughts, oblivious to the turmoil inside you. ‘I’m a bit hungover myself, not gonna lie.’

Oh. Okay. Hangover chat. You can do that.

You clear your throat and force a smile. ‘I’ve been worse - just a tiny bit of a headache. Thought you could handle your liquor, cowboy.’

Satisfied that the pancake is done, Jack slides it onto a clean plate and passes it to you. He pours more batter into the pan, and the sweet smell of butter clings to the morning air. ‘Well, luckily, today’s ride is easily managed even while hungover. We chose a good night to drink.’

Except… you didn’t just drink. Revelations, too intimate to even fathom in the waking hours, confided in the dead of night - none of which you had the chance to discuss before throwing in the kiss at sunrise into the ring. And you’re not brave enough to bring up any of it.

Jack flips the pan again, sending the half-cooked pancake somersaulting through mid-air, and shoots you a triumphant grin.

You can’t help but grin back.

Later. You’ll worry about everything else later.

One thing you’ve come to realise about Jack is that he’s a meticulous planner. It’s easy with just the two of you, but the logistics of moving twelve horses and twelve riders across the mountains can’t be an easy feat. The way he equal parts encouraged and pushed you yesterday so that you can have a laid-back birthday today offers a glimpse into his firm grasp on the planning of the trip.

The unassuming way that he both literally and metaphorically takes the reins has you staring at his hands more than once today.

It’s just past half three when the Halfway House appears on the horizon. It has a red roof like the main lodge back on the ranch, and it is bigger than you expected - a sprawling single-storey house with a handsome veranda out front. There’s definitely plenty of space even for a fully-booked pack trip.

A fenced paddock stands next to the house, and adjacent to it is a half-enclosed stables with a free-standing roof. There’s a small outbuilding on the far side which you assume is the tack room. Even from a distance, you can see that three stalls have been done up with clean wood shavings, and there is hay in the nets for the horses’ supper this evening.

It’s a well-rehearsed routine now when you go about untacking Scotch. After putting the tack away in the store room and leaving the damp saddle pad to air-dry on the fence, you give him a thorough hosing down, careful to brush out any sweat that has built up. Then with a rubber scraper, you skim it over his coat to wring out the excess water. By the time you finish, Scotch is impatiently tossing his head, and you let him into the paddock with an affectionate pat on his rump.

Jack’s just about done with Whiskey. Glancing up at you, he nods towards the house. ‘Go ahead, darlin’, your bag will be in there. There’s a bathtub if you feel like it, so take your time. I’ll come in when the horses are settled.’

‘Alright, I’ll see you in there,’ you reply, plucking your pack from where it’s lying on the grass, and a couple of others as well, and walk up to the house.

The stairs to the porch creak under your boots and the door grinds on its hinges when you swing it inwards. It’s stuffy, so you open a window to let the breeze in, and it sweeps through the space as you glance around appreciatively. The house is cozy with low-maintenance stone floors and plush rugs in front of a huge sofa and a wood-burning fireplace. A stack of logs sits neatly next to it.

The kitchen is open-plan and modern, surprisingly high-spec for a house in the middle of nowhere. There are multiple cooking hobs, a big double sink, and high stools are neatly arranged around the kitchen island. The more formal dining table can easily seat a dozen.

Despite the high ceilings held up by wooden beams, you can’t help but feel somewhat closed in with a roof above you.

As you move about the space, your ears pick up on the low hum of electricity, and your phone vibrates in your pocket from new messages coming in - it’s strange to be back in civilisation after just three days away. You idly wonder how Jack jumps between these two worlds.

The bag you packed for the second part of the trip, with a fresh supply of clean clothes, is sitting in the living room. Hitching it onto your shoulder, you venture down the corridor on the far side of the house, ready to clean up for the day.

Pushing open the first door of many, you peer into the comfortable space. It’s roomy and welcoming despite the simple furnishings - but if you’re being honest with yourself, you only need the king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

The bedroom has a clear view of the paddock through the window, and you set your bag down on the desk next to it. You linger for a little while, half digging into your bag for a change of clothes and half watching Jack brush down Bourbon.

His sleeves are pushed up past the crease of his elbow today - the beginnings of the bulge of his biceps peeking from underneath the fabric. Then he bends over by the waist to lift up Bourbon’s hind leg, checking if there are any small stones or caked dirt in the hooves that need to be removed - granting you an unobstructed view of his pert backside and the strong columns of his thighs from behind.

You turn around before you get too wound up. The last thing you need is him catching you masturbating in the shower too.

Taking one of the fluffy towels on the bed, you go in search of the bathroom, which is a couple of more doors down. Jack wasn’t lying - a stately clawfoot bathtub takes prime position in the space, but what you really need after three days in the wild is a deep clean in the shower. The bath will have to wait.

You take your time, relishing the strong shower stream and hot water as it will be another few days before you get the chance to take another one. You condition your hair and run your razor over your legs and underarms. You tidy up down there as well - maybe a bit too hopefully.

There must be a second bathroom in the house. When you finally step out of the shower, you hear another one shut off. Towelling dry, you pull on the cutest outfit you brought on the trip - your favourite jeans with a flattering cut and a long-sleeved blouse that shows just a hint of cleavage.

There’s a hairdryer which you make full use of, and you dig into your sponge bag for the minimal makeup that you brought. You hear Jack puttering around while you dab concealer under your eyes and colour on your cheeks. When you’re done, you pace nervously in front of the mirror, picking off invisible lint from your clothes and studying your reflection critically.

You can’t put off leaving the safety of the bathroom forever. Taking a deep breath and squaring your shoulders, you open the door and walk into the living space.

It’s strange seeing Jack in a domestic setting. You haven’t even been indoors with him yet, if you don’t count the stables. He’s in clean jeans and a light shirt, wearing socks but no shoes. His hair is wet and sits a bit closer to the scalp than it does than when it’s dry.

Prepping bowls and crockery are spread over the kitchen island, but you’re sure there’s a method to his madness. He’s easily commanding the space, wiping a kitchen knife with a tea towel and setting it on the chopping board. He’s humming to himself with his broad back to you, unaware as you pad quietly into his space.

‘What’s that song?’ you ask as you sidle up to him.

Jack doesn’t miss a beat, even when you catch him by surprise. He hums a bit louder before answering, ‘It’s called Strawberry Roan.’

You grin at the name of the song. ‘I love it - cowboy music. I’ll play it on Spotify?’

‘Spotify what?’

You shake your head as you connect your phone to the bluetooth speakers, and brisk guitar chords fill the space. ‘I know you’re old-fashioned, but at least try to keep up?’

I was hangin' 'round town, just spendin' my time

Out of a job, not earnin' a dime

A feller steps up and he said, "I suppose

You're a bronc fighter from looks of your clothes"

"You figures me right, I'm a good one" I claim

"Do you happen to have any bad ones to tame?"

Jack dips in and out of the song as you watch him organise his mise en place, his throaty crooning has you leaning on the table as your knees wobble. A few choruses in, you remark, ‘It’s strange seeing you cook in an actual kitchen. All you’re missing is an apron.’

He narrows his gaze as you pat yourself on the back for your bright idea. You rummage through random cabinet drawers until you find one, in a gingham print with a loud, frilly border, brandishing it triumphantly like a prize.

‘C’mon, it goes with your plaid,’ you tease.

‘No ma’am,’ he says sternly. ‘I’m not wearing that.’

Ignoring his protests, you walk straight up to him and stand on your toes to loop the apron around his neck. You could’ve - probably should’ve - circled around to do up the apron from behind. But instead, grabbing the ends of the strings, you pull them back and tie them around his waist with your nose to his very warm chest, catching the whiff of soap on his skin and fabric softener on his shirt.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you miss the musk of his sweat and the scent of leather that he seems to wear like a second skin - but you might be crossing the boundary of reason if you begrudge a man for practising personal hygiene.

Drawing your hands back to rest on your hips, you tip your face up at him impishly. ‘The apron suits you, cowboy.’

He shakes his head, but a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips as he taps the tip of your nose with a spatula. ‘Don’t get used to this, darlin’.’

What does he mean by this, exactly? Him cooking for you? Him letting you do whatever you want, as long as you flirt your way out of trouble?

Well, it’s too bloody late either way.

Reluctantly, you step back, rounding the counter to sit on a stool. His eyes follow you, and he says, ‘You look nice tonight.’

It’s not fair how even the most mundane of compliments from him sends your pulse racing.

‘Thanks, you too,’ you answer, a sudden shyness creeping in, and you twine your fingers together so they don’t fidget. Changing the subject, you ask, ‘So, what’s for dinner?’

‘Poppy really went all out.’ Jack spins around to open the fridge and heaves a fully-laden tray to the kitchen island, reciting the menu to you. ‘You have three options - a beautiful ribeye from our neighbouring cattle ranch, wild-caught salmon from California or a vegetarian lasagne with produce from our own farm. Or all three,’ he adds with a wink.

‘Steak sounds good,’ you reply excitedly. All the meals on the trip so far have been mostly vegetarian, which is understandable due to the lack of refrigeration, but you can do with some variety.

‘I was hoping you’d pick that,’ smiles Jack, transplanting the two thick steaks onto a chopping board, then pops the rest back into the fridge. ‘And of course, there will be Poppy’s famous chocolate cake for dessert.’

Your tummy rumbles - breakfast was a while ago. ‘Perfect.’

‘You want a drink while I cook? I’m not letting the birthday girl lift a finger today.’

‘Maybe a Coke if there’s one?’

Jack pulls a can out of the fridge and pops it open, then pours it into a glass with ice, setting it in front of you on the counter. ‘I thought you weren’t hungover?’

You take a sip, the carbonation bubbling on your tongue. ‘I’m not, just taking it easy. I’ll have a glass of wine with dinner.’

Elbows on the countertop, you watch Jack bustle about the kitchen, just as at home as he is in the saddle. Steady fingers turn the knobs on the oven at precise angles before five measured steps bring him back to the fridge. One large hand easily holds a bunch of asparagus, shallots and mushrooms from the vegetable drawer, the other grabbing a casserole dish of ready-made potato dauphinoise. There’s no hesitation as he plucks oils and condiments from the shelf, lining everything up on the kitchen island.

‘So, was cooking part of the job description when Champ recruited you?’ you ask conversationally.

Satisfied the oven is preheated, he slides the potato dish in to bake and sets the timer. ‘It wasn’t even a consideration when I first joined. It was sandwiches and cereal bars for a long time, but when Poppy came on board she really turned things around.’

‘When was that?’

Jack tilts his head to the side as if counting the years. ‘About seven years ago. It was like boot camp, we were cooped up in the kitchen all winter, all day long, to get up to speed before pack trip season started. Tequila still needs a bit more help, so Poppy preps more things for him when he’s on duty. But I enjoy doing it.’

The ice in your glass clinks as you swirl it around. ‘So you didn’t cook before that?’

He seasons the steaks with salt and black pepper. ‘Not much, my wife did most of it. But I had to learn to fend for myself pretty quickly. What about you?’

Your heart swells warmly at the spontaneous mention of his wife. It doesn’t escape your notice that it wasn’t accompanied by any wary glance or hesitation. Like he trusts you enough to bring her up in casual conversation with you.

Realising you’re slow to respond, you reply, ‘My ex and I used to take turns cooking, me more than him. It’s a bit more effort to cook for just one nowadays, so I’ve been getting a lot of takeaway.’

He looks up from the shallots he’s peeling expertly. ‘He called you last night, didn’t he? Your ex?’

You pinch your lips. ‘How did you know?’

‘Your face fell pretty spectacularly when your phone rang.’

Yeah, because he was just about to kiss you.

You shrug. ‘I told him not to contact me this week. It was probably about the house we’re trying to sell.’

Jack arches an eyebrow and cuts off the ends of the shallots. ‘You sure he’s not trying to get you back?’

You snort. ‘That ship has long sailed, cowboy. Boarded by pirates. Set on fire. Sunk to the bottom of Davy Jones Locker. Eaten by the Kraken.’

That draws a chuckle from him. ‘So - that’s a no?’

‘A hard no,’ you confirm.

Warm brown eyes hold yours as one corner of his lips ticks up in a smile. ‘Good.’

You chew the inside of your mouth. ‘Yeah?’

He nods in the affirmative. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

Tension hums between you again, but before it gets too heavy, you sneakily slide a hand over to the asparagus. Jack raps you on the back of your fingers playfully. ‘No. You’re not helping tonight.’

You pout. ‘Please?’

He sighs and gives in with a lopsided smile. ‘Anythin’ you want, darlin’.’

The steak is delicious cooked, if Jack may say so himself. It was the right call to make the Béarnaise from scratch, even though it’s a pain in the ass - or rather, in the arm. Watching you happily smear the last of your steak through the creamy sauce makes all the whisking worthwhile.

The two of you are perched at the kitchen island, bookending an intimate corner, a vase of wildflowers sitting between your plates. Earlier that morning, he caught the way your gaze lingered on the meadow as you mounted Scotch, obviously finding it hard to leave. He cut a bunch of blooms with the Swiss knife he keeps in his shirt pocket while you weren’t looking, putting it away in one of the saddle bags.

Your eyes softened when they alighted on the slightly crushed flowers as he laid the table, which in turn, softened his.

Red wine - one sensible serving each - sits low in the glasses when Jack clears the counter surface, setting the empty plates in the sink.

Drying his hands with a tea towel, he asks, ‘Can you give me a few minutes, darlin’?’

Polishing off your drink, you give him a quizzical look. ‘What for?’

He pulls an imaginary zip across his mouth with a shrug.

With a roll of your eyes, you slide off your seat and give him a little shove on the shoulder in warning as you pass by. ‘You better not be planning anything funny, cowboy.’

It’s getting chilly despite the windows being just cracked open. As soon as he hears your door shut with a soft thud, Jack starts with getting a fire going in the antique fireplace which Champ bought from an auction a few years back. He collects the cake from the spare room where it’s been left to thaw from the fridge chill for the past hour - under strict instruction from Poppy - and sets it down gently on the kitchen island.

Hands on hips, he glances about for the birthday candles. An inconspicuous paper bag sits untouched on the counter by the fridge. That must be it. He grabs it and peeks inside -

- only to find a spanking new pack of twenty extra-large condoms.

Thinking he hears movement, Jack hastily closes up the bag and shoves it into the space on top of the fridge in a panic, spinning around with his heart thumping in his ears as he fully expects you to catch him red-handed and sweaty-palmed.

He sighs in relief when an empty living room stares back at him.

Fuck’s sake. He bets that it’s Tequila’s idea of a joke. He scoffs to himself as he shakes his head at his co-worker’s antics. He got the extra-large part right - he'll give him that. But a twenty pack? Really?

He eventually does find the candles in a drawer near the dishwasher, and he plants one delicately in the middle of the cake. Spotting the other party decorations in storage, an idea comes to him.

You’re reapplying a lightly tinted lip balm when you hear Jack call your name.

All the lights in the living room and kitchen are off when you emerge from the corridor, the only source of illumination being the roaring fire in the hearth. It’s strangely comforting to see Jack in the familiar firelight. You cross your arms. ‘What’s all this, cowboy?’

He tips his head towards the door. ‘Someone wants to say happy birthday.’

Only then do you realise that the porch light is on, and a laugh tumbles from your lips when your head finally makes sense of what you’re seeing.

All three horses are hovering at the door, birthday hats hanging from one ear, sparkly tinsel around their necks. They seem confused but not unhappy to hang about the doorway - with the air of teenagers being cajoled into doing something vaguely embarrassing by their dad.

You give each of them a well-deserved cuddle, promising them extra treats tomorrow for being such good sports. At Jack’s smooth baritone singing happy birthday, you turn around and watch him approach with a wicked-looking chocolate cake. Your cheeks ache at how wide you’re beaming when he stops in front of you.

‘Make a wish, darlin’,’ he prompts, eyes flecked with gold as the candle flickers in the breeze coming through the front door.

You do - eyes closed and hands clasped together - and blow out the flame.

‘Ginger did promise I’d have the best birthday ever.’

‘And did we deliver?’

‘You know you did. Thank you, Jack.’

The plush cushions laid out on the rugs are kind on your sore muscles as you lean back lazily against the sofa, the fire warming your bare feet. Your plate of half-eaten chocolate cake lies abandoned on the floor. It’s sinfully rich and delicious, but you’re so stuffed that you can’t bring yourself to have another bite.

A buzz from your phone draws your gaze.

‘You can reply to your friends if you want,’ Jack says.

You wave him off. ‘No, I’ll do it later. I want to send a picture to my parents though - take a selfie with me?’

‘Sure.’

He shuffles closer, draping an arm on the seat of the sofa, brushing the ridge of your shoulders. You fit into his side comfortably, the turn of his strong shoulder pressing into your nape. Boldly, you lean your head against his so his moustache tickles your temple, and snap the photo.

‘It’s a cute picture,’ he comments when you show him, chin brushing your shoulder.

Neither of you move away when you open up Whatsapp to send it to your mum. As you do, you accidentally brush the Tinder notification that appears on top of the screen, which takes you to the app.

You laugh and tilt the screen towards Jack. ‘Look who showed up on my Tinder?’

He snorts, amused. ‘Tequila. I'd be disappointed if he wasn't.’

You scroll through the photos while Jack watches, sniggering, ‘Why am I not surprised that he’s topless in four out of five photos?’

He rolls his eyes, but there’s an undeniable fondness in his tone. ‘That’s Teak for you - always the exhibitionist. We once had a bachelorette party book a private tour and Champ put him on it - he never did tell us exactly what happened on that trip.’

‘So… should I swipe right, or…?’ you trail off.

‘What’s swiping right again?’

‘If you like the look of someone, you swipe right. Like, they’re right for you.’

He stares at you closely. ‘So? What’s it gonna be?’

You swipe left unceremoniously and Tequila’s profile falls off the screen. ‘Not my type.’

You feel a rumble of a laugh in his chest pressed against your side. ‘What is your type then, darlin’?’

Is he being deliberately obtuse?

You nudge him in the ribs with your elbow for his insolence, and he grunts, pretending to double over in pain and catching your wrists to immobilise you.

Heat runs up and down your spine at his touch, and you put your nose in the air. ‘Don’t think I’ll just spill my secrets like that, cowboy. Your turn.’

Any disappointment of him letting go of you is tempered by the way his weight pushes into your side as he struggles to get his phone out from his very tight jeans.

‘Alright, here goes nothin’,’ he grumbles and taps on the fire icon.

A woman shows up on his screen, exuding confidence and sex appeal. You make a noise of appreciation at her curls and red lipstick as he flips through the photos.

With a nonchalant shrug, Jack makes to swipe left when you stop him. ‘Whoa, hold your horses cowboy, what’s wrong with her?’

‘Nothin’, she’s just not my type.’

Your eyebrows reach for your hairline. ‘Not your type? She’s gorgeous.’

He swipes to a photo where the woman is holding a cocktail, wearing a plunging black dress. ‘Look at her nails. I can’t go out with someone like that.’

You scoff, ‘I’m not saying marry her. I’m saying, if you met her in a bar, wouldn't you pick her up?’

Jack gives you a long-suffering stare. ‘Darlin’, I’m not interested. Do I have your permission to swipe left? Please?’

‘Fine,’ you grouse, shrinking into yourself.

If a woman like that can’t sway Jack Daniels’ interest, you don’t know who can.

Certainly not you.

As he swipes the woman out of view, your profile pops up.

His fingers find your shoulder and he gives you a squeeze, along with a teasing grin. ‘Well, well, look who I found.’

You squirm at your own face smiling back at you on the screen. Coming after that beautiful woman, you feel like an absolute sucker. Like the kid who's unfortunate enough to go after the prom queen’s dance and musical number in the high school talent show.

‘What were you doing here?’ he asks, pausing at one of the pictures where you have a champagne glass in hand.

‘It was my best friend’s wedding.’

‘It’s a great photo of you,’ he smiles at you.

‘Thanks.’

After clicking through the rest of the photos, you panic when you see where his finger is poised to go. ‘Wait - what are you doing?’

Jack turns to you, confused. ‘I’m swiping right.’

You shake your head. ‘No, you swipe right if you’re interested.’

He looks amused at how you drag out the word as if it’s four separate ones. He nods slowly, ‘I know, darlin’.’

You blink. ‘But… you weren’t interested in the last one.’

‘Yes, and?’

You squint at him. ‘She’s gorgeous. And I…’

‘What?’ he prompts you.

‘I - I look nothing like her.’

He throws his hands up in frustration. ‘I don’t know how many other ways I can put this, darlin’. I’m not interested in her.’

‘Why not?’ you ask, almost accusingly.

‘Why should I be?’

You sigh, agitated. ‘Because you’re so handsome and she’s beautiful -’

‘You’re beautiful,’ he interrupts you.

That shuts you up. Your heart is set to claw its way out of your chest any moment, especially when he’s looking at you like that.

‘You really mean to swipe right?’ you ask in the smallest voice.

A smile twists his lips. ‘I kissed you, didn’t I?’

‘I thought it was like - a happy birthday kiss,’ you admit with air quotes.

He laughs, the rich sound warming you. ‘You think I just kiss anyone who has their birthday on a pack trip? Like how you get a free dessert at Applebee’s?’

You flush. ‘I don’t know!’

He chuckles, reaching out to brush your cheek with the back of his fingers. ‘Darlin’, I can assure you, I don’t just go ‘round kissin’ guests.’

With that, he swipes right emphatically, and your phone buzzes with the notification that there are new potential matches nearby.

From the corner of your eye, you see his profile, which you set up for him just yesterday, come up.

You turn to meet his stare. Without even glancing at the screen, you swipe right - there’s a matching ping from both of your phones.

Jack’s voice drops an octave, raspy in the tense silence. ‘So - what happens now?’

If you were with another man, your mind would’ve wandered - thinking about how you haven’t been with anyone but your ex for the last three years. Worrying about how you haven’t felt a man’s touch in months, if you’d be any good.

But it’s not any other man. It’s Jack. And he’s kissing you, lips latched to yours wet and restless, every stuttering exhale sending your head spinning. One big hand curls around your waist, the other sliding down your denim-covered thigh to twist your body towards him. Your head is full of him - his earthy scent with a touch leather, hoarse grunts as he swipes his tongue into your desperate mouth. You taste chocolate on his tongue - and dark rum, must be Poppy's secret ingredient - as it moulds around yours.

You can only cling to him, one arm hooked around the back of his neck, fingers sneaking into his still damp hair as you angle your mouth to kiss him deeper. Your other hand finds the seat of the couch as you clamber atop of him, your knees on either side of his slim hips.

You haven’t made out with a man, fully-clothed, in years. Jack seems happy to keep kissing you - deeply and skilfully - like he has all the time in the world. You jump when he cups your bottom through your jeans, nails scratching a path down the back of your thighs, making you whimper.

‘Jack,’ you pant when you pull back for air, eyes struggling to focus on his intense gaze on you.

His next words are unexpected.

‘I have to tell you somethin’.’

Your stomach drops and your body, pliable under him just now, goes board-stiff as dread runs icy in your veins. You jump to the worst conclusion - was he just joking that he wanted you? Is this some kind of elaborate prank? You should’ve known it’s too good to be true -

Jack senses your anxiety and holds your face between his palms, calloused palms grounding you and resting his forehead on yours. ‘Darlin’, listen, it’s nothin’ serious. I just want it to be out in the open between us before anythin’ else happens.’

‘Okay,’ you exhale shakily.

He takes a breath, and says, ‘Champ - I think he meant to set us up.’

You blink. ‘How do you mean?’

He adjusts his grip on you, hands falling to your waist to pull you close. ‘The Kingsman have been comin’ to the ranch every year in the same week for the past ten years. There’s no way they just rescheduled - I know for a fact Champ changed their dates just so he can get us alone.’

A chuckle bubbles in your throat and you let out a low whistle. ‘That’s a bold move.’

He grins. ‘That’s Champ for you. Can’t say I’m too mad at him right now though.’

‘Me neither. In fact - I think I owe him a fruit basket.’

He’s still chortling when you kiss him again. And this time, he pushes your hips into his unequivocally, and you gasp at the hard bulge in his jeans that nudges at you insistently. You rub against him, the heat and tension quickly escalating between you.

Jack skims his teeth along your exposed collarbone and his palms find their way under your blouse. ‘It’s a very pretty top, darlin’ - can I take it off?’

‘Please.’

The hitch in his breath when your bra comes into view goes straight to your head. You bait him teasingly, ‘You’ve seen me in a bra before, cowboy.’

He tries to smile at you, but it comes out as a pained grimace. ‘I remember darlin’ - you made me just as hard that time.’

Your lips part in a question. ‘What?’

He drags a kiss over your neck as he confesses, ‘When you jumped on me in the lake, you got me so hard. I had to rub one out in the shower. Came all over my fist thinkin’ about your beautiful tits pressed up against me.’

You can’t believe what you’re hearing, but it’s alright because Jack kisses his way down the swell of your breasts before sucking a nipple into his mouth through the thin fabric, making you squirm. ‘Can I take this off, darlin’?’

In your delirium, your fingers skid uselessly off the buckle, so he reaches back to help you, working the clasp open with a practised flick. He peels the bra from you, and with reverential hands, he pushes your breasts together and his tongue laves a wet trail from tip to aching tip.

‘Jack,’ you whine. There’s too much denim between you, it’s not enough. You feel the slick dripping from between your legs, probably staining your jeans, even though he’s gone nowhere near it. ‘Want you. Now.’

‘Want you too, darlin’,’ he growls into your skin.

A thought strikes you suddenly, like thunder on a clear day, and you push him back with clumsy hands. ‘Wait - wait. Do you have any protection on you?’

Jack freezes, and your heart drops. It’s not like there’s a corner shop you can nip out to for a quick purchase -

He clears his throat and peers at you sheepishly from under thick eyelashes. ‘Ok this is embarrassin’ - but they sent a box of condoms with the cake.’

Relief floods you as you burst out laughing. ‘You wouldn’t believe the five-star rave review I’m going to leave on Tripadvisor.’

You bounce off the surface of the bed where Jack drops you, bare back hitting the soft duvet. Just that sensation alone is enough to make you moan.

Your top and bra are abandoned where he took them off you on the floor in front of the fireplace. His shirt is discarded somewhere between the living room and your bedroom.

Blood pounds in your ears as you watch Jack take off his jeans, pushing them down and kicking them off impatiently, together with his socks. He crawls over you, cock straining in the confines of his boxers. There’s just something about being underneath this man that has your heartbeat rioting in your chest. Blinking up at him through your lashes, so broad and all-encompassing that you can barely see anything other than his silhouette, you pull him down by the nape of his neck for another kiss. Your lips are swollen but you don’t care, wanting more.

You reach down to unbutton your own jeans and undo the zipper, the metallic purr loud in the stillness. His big hands join yours, shucking the denim from your skin, leaving you writhing in your soaked panties. A low groan echoes in his rib cage as he hovers over you, close enough that you feel his body heat, but not close enough to touch. You arch off the bed for contact, and he deliberately holds back with a cocky smile that has you letting out an almost bratty wail, which makes him grin even wider. Dragging his eyes over your almost naked form, he patiently kisses down your throat and sucks an earlobe into his wet mouth.

Jack drawls into your ear, his voice deep as sin. ‘I want you to show me how you touched yourself that night, darlin’. When you were thinkin’ about me.’

Your eyes widen, biting down hard on your bottom lip. Hooking your fingers into the sides of your panties, you slowly push them down your hips, bringing your knees up to untangle them from your ankles. Jack’s nostrils flare when you part your legs and his dark stare lands on your pussy.

‘You’re so pretty, darlin’,’ he praises you, one hand palming the back of your thigh before pushing it right up against your body, splaying you open to his hungry gaze.

You’ve never done this, never let anyone watch you touch yourself - the debauchery makes your pussy clench. But there’s no taint of embarrassment with the way he’s staring down at you, jaw slack and his hands gripping hard on your inner thighs as if he needs to keep them open - not that he has to, you want him to see.

Dipping into the wetness that’s pooled in your pussy, you trace a glossy trail up to your clit, just like you did that night in the dark. With two fingers, you circle and rub and tease, and you hope he can hear how wet you are over your panting breath.

‘That’s it, darlin’,’ he whispers fiercely, his moustache tickling your ear. ‘Tell me - does it feel good?’

Somehow, you muster the sass to talk back, ‘I bet your fingers will feel better.’

That unleashes a feral growl from Jack, and he surges forward to kiss you, before ripping away from your face to grab your wrist, sucking your fingers into his mouth. Pressing into the cradle of your thighs, his clothed erection grinds into your wetness, making you wriggle beneath him. ‘You taste amazin’. What about my tongue? Please - can I eat this gorgeous pussy?’

Self-doubt pins you to the mattress, unmoving. You avoid his keen eyes that have no doubt picked up on your sudden change in demeanour.

What kind of woman would turn down such an offer? That girl he swiped left on Tinder certainly wouldn’t have. What would he think of you?

A gentle kiss pressed to your lips dislodges your thoughts. ‘You can say no, darlin’. I can make you come with my fingers, and my cock,’ he groans when a shiver runs through you. ‘Or maybe even my words would be enough?’

You mewl, and he hums into your throat. ‘As much as I love these sounds you’re making, tell me what you want, darlin’.’

‘Can we take a raincheck on your mouth?’ you ask timidly.

A gentle thumb brushes your cheek. ‘Of course. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the suggestion.’

Recovering your composure - or lack thereof - you give him a crooked smile and reach up to grip his broad shoulders, letting his weight anchor you to the present. ‘I’m far from uncomfortable, cowboy.’

He chuckles and retorts, ‘But I don’t want you to be comfortable, darlin’. I want to make you come so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.’

You choke on an inhale at his words, but somehow, you manage a brash comeback. ‘Good thing we’re travelling by horseback, huh?’

A laugh rumbles in his chest as he takes your lips again, and you sag under his ministrations. Easing your thighs apart, two fingers glide over your sensitive clit, mapping invisible patterns as he mouths at your neck, your hips thrusting into the contact. You feel him rut against your hip, a shudder running through your bodies in tandem as he pushes one finger into your heat.

‘Fuck,’ he husks as he sinks all the way in down to the knuckle. ‘Such a tight pussy, darlin’.’

‘More,’ you say bossily, and you breathe a yes - both in relief and also not enough - when he reenters you with two fingers.

He shifts, bracing himself on one side so he can watch him emerge from you, shiny with your slick, before pushing them back in. Your pussy is loud, squelching around his thick digits as he pumps deeply into you. You cry out when he brings his other hand to your clit, rubbing insistently, and he grunts at the gush of wetness he feels around him.

‘That’s it,’ he growls. ‘Getting so wet on my fingers, darlin’. Can’t wait to feel you on my cock - fuck, I’m so hard for you.’

‘Harder, Jack,’ you urge him, hips lifting from the bed to get more friction. ‘I’m gonna cum.’

No sooner do the words leave your mouth when you feel it - your stomach starts to tighten and the air gets knocked clean out of your lungs in anticipation of the fall. Jack eases up and over your body again, whispering encouragingly in your ear as you break, telling you in his delicious Southern timbre how tight your cunt is squeezin’ him, how you’re drippin’ on him, how he can’t wait to push his cock into you.

You seek out his mouth, teeth and tongue connecting as your high gives way to a drunken sluggishness. Your limbs are heavy as you pull him down onto you, caging your smaller body in his grasp, still inside you, relishing the snug fit even as your pussy stills.

He kicks off his boxers, and you jump when he brushes the velvety underside of his cock through your wet folds. He slurs against the shell of your ear, ‘Want you now, darlin’.’

‘Yes’ you beg, head thrown back into the soft bed. ‘Need you inside me.’

He fumbles with a condom packet, tearing it open with trembling hands before rolling the rubber over himself. You watch him, running your palms languidly up and down his firm back, which has him preening under your touch. ‘You definitely didn’t photoshop that nude pic, cowboy.’

‘As if I’d know how to do that,’ he chuckles, settling on top of you again. You hook your knees onto his hips, gasping when he runs a finger along your leaking seam. ‘Ready for me?’

With a nod, you reach down to line up his tip with your entrance, your noses bumping together, and you stop breathing as you both listen to the wet give of your cunt as he nudges just the head in. The air is pushed out of your lungs as he inches in, his grip bruising on your inner thighs as he grits his teeth. ‘So tight, darlin’. You feel fuckin’ incredible.’

Too full to make a sound, you can only stare when his face twist into pained pleasure when he finally fills you to the hilt. Your words come out garbled. ‘Jack - you’re so big.’

Something like possessiveness colours his tone, and he pinches your chin so that you have nowhere to look but at him. ‘Yeah, darlin’? Am I bigger than your ex?’

‘So much bigger,’ you whine.

He shudders like it’s exactly what he wants to hear, shifting just the tiniest bit inside you, which is enough to make you moan. ‘Good. You ready for me to fuck you with my big cock, darlin’?’

Remembering the way he reacted yesterday, you scrape together the last of your brain cells to say with all the cheek you can muster. ‘Yes, sir.’

Oh, the way his eyes turn completely black as your words sink in has you squirming and fisting the sheets. He swallows thickly, and you see his arms flex as he holds his body over you to watch your face. He draws back slowly, savouring the slow slide out of the tight clench of your pussy - mercy, even that feels incredible - before plunging back into you with a reckless snap of his hips, eliciting a loud cry from you that he swallows in a hard kiss.

Maybe you’re naive, but you didn’t know missionary can be like this. The way he’s groaning into your throat, into your tits as he sucks on them, makes your insides twist and your nails dig into the meat of his ass. When he’s had his fill, he plasters his firm front to you, pressing your foreheads and your humid, panting breaths together. It’s so intimate your eyes slide shut of their own accord, and you snag onto his dark hair to press him deeper into your skin as he scrapes his teeth from your clavicle to your shoulder, the sensation making you keen. The lewd, rhythmic slap of skin on skin makes you even wetter, the blunt drag of his cock in your pussy makes you keen for more.

‘Harder,’ you whimper. ‘I can take it, Jack.’

Pulling back suddenly, he sits up on his knees, and you have a split second to trace your heavy eyes over him - skin flushed in the moonlight, the firm lines of his arms swelling and contracting as he manhandles you clean off the bed, still buried deep inside you, rearranging your legs around his waist. Leaning over you, one hand by your head and the other holding your curve of your ass, he fucks into you, harder and deeper at this angle. He feels bigger like this, barely squeezing into you without a fight.

‘Like this, darlin’?’ he asks you, but by the way he’s smiling down at you - warmly but with just a healthy touch of confidence - it’s clearly a rhetorical question.

‘Yes, yes, yes!’ you call out anyway even though he doesn’t need the endorsement. You grab onto the pillows behind you as he jostles your entire body, making the bed shake on its frame. His lips catch one nipple after the other as they jiggle lasciviously under his movements.

‘Such a good girl, askin’ for what she wants,’ he grunts, regarding you with dark eyes. ‘Need to feel you cum on my cock. Will you give me one more, darlin’?’

You nod frantically as two of his fingers breach your swollen lips, and you suck crudely on them. You savour the look of utter abandon on his face as he watches your little show, tasting yourself on his skin. Now spit-slick, they retreat - almost reluctantly - from your mouth to find your clit again, sensitive as you shudder from even the gentlest touch. It won’t take much, his cock begins to hit somewhere deep inside that makes you quiver.

This one starts deep inside you. The beginning of a devastating high that swells and builds inside your pussy as he continues to pound into you, granting you no quarter - until you’re clenching desperately around him, tugging on his hair and screaming his name. His rhythm starts to stutter and broken words fall from his lips. ‘That’s it, darlin’ - you feel amazin’ - oh fuck yes, ride it out with me, ride it - I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna -’

Is it wrong that he wishes he’s fucking you with nothing in between? That he’s cumming into your bare, pulsing cunt, instead of the condom? That he wants to see you dripping with him, just so that he can swipe at the dribble and have you lick his fingers clean?

With one last push of his hips, his arms give and he crumples onto you, barely managing to hold his weight so he doesn’t crush you. He hums at the way your body rises and falls against him as you catch your breath. You squeak, voice hoarse from how vocal you’ve been, when he rubs his nose into your throat’s sensitive hollow. Your body instinctively seeks him out as you stretch languidly, movements slow as syrup as the adrenaline seeps from your system, only to leave a deeply sated exhaustion.

The sweat that’s pooled in the dip of his back is rapidly cooling, and he feels goosebumps break across your bare skin as the chill sets in. Shifting off of you, he presses his front to your back and yanks the duvet from beneath him to drape it over you both, pressing a wet kiss on the nape of your neck as his softened cock falls out of you, making you shiver.

The condom is so slippery with your cum that he can barely get any purchase on it. Carefully removing it and tying it up, he throws it at the trash can by the bedside table when you twist around to smile at him. He returns it, leaning over to kiss you.

‘Did you - was it - good for you?’ he asks with a touch of insecurity that you find infinitely endearing.

‘I would count any day with two orgasms as a pretty good one,’ you joke with a lazy grin, your eyelids drooping as you slide your hand over his bigger one, tracing your fingertips over the ridges and veins. ‘But seriously - I think you’ve ruined all future birthdays for me. So thanks for that, cowboy.’

And if you’re being honest with yourself - he’s probably ruined all other men for you as well.

But that’s a whole other can of worms you can’t open right now.

‘Good. That was exactly what I was goin’ for,’ he flashes you a playfully smug smile.

He gathers you into his arms so that your head is tucked underneath his chin, his body bracketing yours with an arm around your waist. Wanting to feel every part of you, he wedges a leg between yours so that he’s entirely tangled up in you.

He knows, without looking, the exact moment you fall asleep - your soft body going pliant in his grasp and your breath evening out all at once.

More often than not, he can’t sleep after sex. In that midnight purgatory, his fingers almost always itch for a cigarette that he has long given up and guilt usually finds a way to settle deep into his bones when the pleasure dissipates, leaving him staring blankly at the ceiling until it’s light enough for him to sneak out and drive away.

But tonight, he lets go of all of that.

Neither of you move until the morning light spills in through the window at sunrise.

Jack's Tinder profile:

Horsey notes (optional reading): Temperament varies widely by breed and by personality of each horse. The school I used to ride at retrains racehorses for schooling, and I don't think any of the thoroughbreds would let you anywhere near them with tinsel 😂 One thing that you could do with a horse is desensitisation training. It's a wonderful thing to do and you have a much safer horse if they don't spook at every little thing or sound.

#jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #kingsman golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #jack daniels au #agent whiskey au

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3mcwriting · 1 year

Text

Any Fan’s Dream, Part 3

Any Fan's Dream Masterlist

Synopsis:

When you look around and see Avengers Tower in front of you and Peter Parker beside you, you wonder how the hell you managed to get into the MCU.

"Why am I training with you guys again?" you asked.

"So you can kick ass." Natasha responded.

"Language! And no-" Steve corrected, "so you can defend yourself."

"Exactly. Kick ass."

"Let's just start, ok?"

No way! You got to train with the Avengers! It was gonna be so-

"-horrible. This is horrible. You guys are sadists."

You groaned, barely able to move your limbs. Everything hurt. You were convinced you were dying.

"In case I don't make it, I just want to say that you guys are both really hot and-"

Natasha laughed. “Thanks, babe, but you're not dying. C'mon, get up."

"I don't think I can."

"Yes, you can. Up you go." Steve hooked his arms underneath your armpits, dragging you to your feet.

You stood shakily, "I thought you guys liked me. This is abuse."

"Uh huh, well, the abuse is over." Natasha's comment made you sigh in relief. "You should go take a shower though, you're sweaty and you stink."

"And whose fault is that?" you sent a pointed look at the two Avengers.

"Yours, for not exercising more often." Natasha deadpanned.

You gasped, affronted. Then you winced because holy shit you were way too sore already. "Blaming the victim. That's not very Avenger-y of you."

"'Avenger-y'?" Steve questioned.

"C'mon, let's go get some clothes for you," Natasha said, "you really need that shower."

You huffed, "I heard you the first time."

Natasha led you to her bedroom and grabbed you some sweats, some undergarments, and a t-shirt that said "Stop undressing me with your eyes. Use your teeth."

"Really?" you questioned.

"What?" Natasha asked innocently. She dangled the shirt from her hand, waving it slightly. A mischievous twinkle in her eyes, when she looked at you. "Bet you won't wear it."

You bristled, really? You grabbed the shirt. "Watch me."

"Well, at least the shirt is comfy." you said, having thrown on the clothes she had laid out for you.

You were still wincing as you moved. You could admit that the soreness was persistent. Also a pain in the ass(pun not intended but very much welcomed).

As soon as you were dressed, you left the room, carrying your bundled up clothes in your arms. You wandered, eventually managing to stumble upon the kitchen where you saw-

You dropped your clothes. It was Thor!! Now I've met both brothers! AWESOME!

But, wait a damn minute. I thought he went back to Asgard after AoU. Well I guess they technically don’t specify where he goes immediately after. They only show when he goes to Asgard during Ragnarok, but that’s set two years after Age of Ultron. Hmmm.

"Ah, Lady (y/n)! Are all things well with you?" Thor bellowed, grinning at you fondly.

I'm Lady (y/n)!

"I'm good, Thor." You tried to maintain some semblance of chill. "How about you?"

"I am well!" Thor smiled, he wrapped his hands around you tightly, excited at seeing you. "I am quite joyful! I was not anticipating seeing you on this venture."

His tight embrace made all the sore spots send a flare of pain. You didn't care though. Thor was hugging you! And he was awesome at hugs!

You remembered that he wasn't supposed to be here. "Why are you here?"

"I came here to inquire about some subjects, Vision was quite helpful in answering."

Ah, you thought, so he had to ask Vision some stuff about the Stones.

"How long are you staying?" you asked, the hug ending.

"I'm departing later this evening," Thor answered, making you frown. "Do not despair! We shall feast on pop-tarts together before I depart!"

You smiled, glad that someone else's excitement finally matched the level of excitement you were feeling. "Sounds great!"

The two of you spent the next hour gorging on pop-tarts. Your stomach hurt from laughter(and the torture from earlier) and the two of you were having the time of your lives. At one point, Wanda had wandered into the room. She joined the two of you on the couch, trying a pop-tart because she had never tasted one before.

The three of you started playing a game, Wanda would fly a pop-tart around the room and you and Thor would try to catch it. Tony interrupted halfway through the third round.

"Why did I just get smacked in the face with a flying pastry?"

Thor did not allow Tony's interruption to stop the game. Instead, he dove to catch the pop-tart before it could hit the ground. He caught it right before it touched the floor, but unfortunately, the pop-tart broke in his tight grip.

"Dammit. I guess you won this round, Thor." you grumbled.

Thor didn't respond, instead, he stared in despair at the broken pastry laying in pieces on his hand. "And yet, it does not feel as if I've won anything." Thor's voice full of melancholy.

You patted him on the back. "Don't be sad. We have more."

Thor nodded, then swallowed the broken pop-tart . "My apologies, but I cannot indulge myself in anymore. I must take my leave."

You frowned. "That's too bad."

You didn't know when the next time you'd see him was. What? Until the events of Infinity War happened and he was angry and depressed about everything happening. Were you really that powerless to stop those circumstances from happening?

Thor hugged you tightly, his embrace warm and comforting. You sank into the hug, wrapping your arms around him just as tightly. You didn't want anyone to see the sadness or worry on your face. You tried to make your mind go blank, not wanting to start crying right there in front of all of them. After all, to their knowledge, for once nothing was wrong.

"It is alright, Lady (y/n)." Thor tried to reassure you, noticing the way you were reluctant to let go. "Everything is alright."

But for how long?

You just squeezed him tighter before letting go. You forced a smile on your face, trying to appear happy. "I know," you managed, "can you promise to come back soon?"

You weren't sure if just asking was enough to make a difference, or even if he would be able to follow your request, but you would take any scrap of hope you could because you were not gonna allow everything to end up the same.

Thor smiled at you softly, the first time you've seen him expressing something other than excitement or joy. It was simple fondness and adoration, "I swear to you, I will return. And maybe then we shall commence another round of this ingenious game you created."

You nodded, relieved at his agreement. "Then I hope you have a good time. Make sure you stay safe."

"Of course," Thor affirmed, before wrapping you up in another hug.

Tony snorted. "He's not going off to war."

After Thor's departure, you hung around the Tower for about another half-hour before you looked at your phone and realized that it was just about time for you to leave. Peter said he would wait for you at 6:30 in the lobby, and it was only three minutes until then. You didn't want Peter to get all worry-crazy again, so you said your good-byes to Wanda, Natasha, and Tony. You couldn't find Steve, but you hoped that you'd see him again soon.

"How was it?" Peter asked, brows furrowed in worry when he saw the limp in your gait.

"Pretty good," you responded, "unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to make the pear shooter."

"That's too bad," Peter distractedly responded, "are you okay? You look like you're in pain."

You couldn't help the way your heart squeezed at the genuine concern in his voice. "I'm alright. Steve and Natasha decided to start training me today, so I had to go through that pain. But by the time they're done with me, I'll probably have like a six-pack or something. Which is cool cuz like, muscular women are hot."

Peter tilted his head. "Are you sure you're fine? Avengers training must be really hard."

"I'm pretty sure I'll live," you managed, "for how long, that's the question.

"Also," Peter added, "when did you get that shirt?"

He averted his eyes when you looked down at the words on your t-shirt. You remembered what it said and smiled giddily when you thought of how Natasha Romanoff gave you a shirt! You! One of her shirts! You owned an Avenger's t-shirt!!

"I got it from Natasha," you proudly stated. "Do ya like it?"

Peter coughed. "It's very...nice."

"I know right!" You nodded. "It was so amazing of her to give it to me, don't you think? She is so amazing."

"Has your crush on Black Widow returned?" Peter questioned, noticing your palpable adoration of the woman.

"Who said it ever left?" you asked. "Besides, how could I not? She's so strong and smart and pretty and so, so, awesome."

You were a hopeless simp, but who could blame you? You had met the Avengers! The frickin Avengers!! And Natasha fucking Romanoff had lent you one of her shirts. She was a close friend of yours apparently, and you loved it.

You were completely right about Natasha, but you remembered that another one of your loves was right in front of you. "Peter, you're strong, smart, and pretty too, not to mention a complete dork which is awesome because I am too!"

Peter grinned, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Thanks, (n/n)."

You winked at him, cheeks warm from excitement. "No problem, honey bun."

The two of you began the journey back to his apartment, talking about random topics the entire time. You felt like your heart was going to burst from happiness, here you were with one of your heroes and the two of you were talking like old friends. You had never had many(any) friends so having Peter Parker be your friend was insane. Especially because of how good of a friend he seemed to be. Granted, you didn't have much to go off of, but he was kind, attentive, funny, and smart, and he seemed to genuinely care about what you had to say.

You couldn't imagine a better companion, so who cared that you didn't have much friend-experience?

"You know you're really awesome, right?"

Peter looked at you and smiled. "You are too, (n/n)."

"Does she seem a bit...different to you?" Steve questioned.

Natasha hummed. "She definitely seems more excited when she comes here, but that's about it. Why?"

Steve's brows furrowed, "I don't know, it's just-"

"You two are just being paranoid," Tony strode into the room, "I, being the amazing person that I am, have decided to make her an Iron Man suit, with her help. That is why she's so excited. Also, that boy who's always with her probably has something to do with it."

Natasha snickered, while Steve frowned. "Isn't he like 15? (y/n) wouldn't break the law like that." Steve's forehead creased as he thought.

"3 years isn't much of a gap," Natasha said, "besides, if you go back a couple months that would be perfectly legal."

Steve's frown deepened and Natasha laughed. "What's wrong? Jealous that the little boy is getting more attention than you?"

Steve protested, "no, I-"

Tony laughed, "Capsicle is just mad that she got over him being a 100 year-old-man on drugs. Sorry," Tony patted Steve on the back, leaving the room. But not without calling out and laughing, "guess you've just gotta settle for being beat by that kid."

You flicked on the light, and stepped into the apartment.

You closed the door behind you, then walked into the kitchen. You couldn't hear anyone else in the apartment, but you knew that "your" mom was going to be here by the time you got home from the internship. She had told you so before you left for the Tower.

You turned the light on in the kitchen/dining room, looked around. You spotted a note on the table, and you moved to grab it. You read it, humming as you did so.

I called and ordered your favorite dinner, went to go pick it up. Should be back by 7:15, your dad will be here around the same time. See you soon and don't burn down the house while we're gone. And if you do, make sure it looks like an accident so the insurance will pay for it.

You were in awe at how different "your" mom was from your mom back home.

All of the lights going out at once interrupted your thoughts, plunging the apartment into darkness.

A noise came from the dark living room. "Ah shit," you cursed. I gotta go. There ain't no way I'm ending up like those people in horror movies. All those stupid motherfu-

“Hello, darling."

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

As soon as you heard the voice calling out in the dark, you were ready to get the hell outta there. Unfortunately, you weren't used to this new apartment so you ran into a wall. As you laid on the floor and cursed, the lights turned back on. Hitting your head on the wall had dazed you, but you could've sworn you knew that voice.

When you saw the person approaching you, you both tensed up and relaxed. You're reaction was confusing but-

How were you supposed to react when Loki broke into your apartment?

"Apologies," he chuckled, "I did not expect my arrival to cause you to attack the wall."

You sat up from off the floor, leaning against the wall you had just run into. "Really? You didn't think that breaking into someone's apartment and turning the power off would surprise someone?"

"Actually, the power went out all on it's own," Loki corrected. "Besides, I have been sitting here for quite a while, you simply never bothered to look up and see if anyone was in your living room"

"Are you-" you stopped. This was Loki, you didn't have the time to argue with him. You would normally be happy to spend time with him, but if "your" mom came in and saw him, you worried she might murder him. "Why are you here? You can't be here."

Loki tilted his head, looking at you in curiosity and delight. "You are rather relaxed considering our last encounter."

"You mean when you kidnapped me?"

"Yes, that." Loki's gaze searched you. "Why is it that you are so calm after such an experience? You don't strike me as stupid. Well, at least not as much as most humans. But you're at ease in this situation. Why is that?"

You swallowed at how his eyes seemed to bore through you, "I'm just in shock right now. I'm sure I'll be plenty freaked out later."

Your feeble excuse only caused Loki to raise an eyebrow, his expression showing just how unconvinced he was. "As lovely as it was to see you again, I'm afraid I have to leave now. I will see you soon."

"See me soon?" you echoed.

He smirked, "you can count on it, darling."

#mcu #marvel x reader #the avengers #avengers x reader #tony stark #clint barton #steve rodgers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #peter parker x reader #loki x reader #thor x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #any fan's dream

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rileyslibrary · 7 months

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Okay, I have to get this off my chest, or else I’ll combust. Thank you all for the love on the recent Price’s Surprise Cake fic, but truth be told, it was posted by accident, and it was too late when I found out. 🫣

And if you happen to ask how something can be posted by accident, I’m here to tell you that either Tumblr decided to act out, or I absentmindedly placed it in queue rather than in drafts. Since I don’t like blaming my shortcomings on others, I believe it’s the latter. I’ve started using the queue on my main for reblogging art, and I think my brain acted similarly in this case.

Although the story was finished, it needed some minor editing (that I’ve already done), adding a title or a description, and, most importantly, fixing some inaccuracies that still bug me but can’t be altered cause they’re part of the fic now.

So, instead of crying over spilt milk, how about I present you with the inaccuracies so you and I can laugh together: 😅

I wanted to change the fruit tart to apple pie or something that doesn’t need to be refrigerated because who the fuck leaves a fruit tart out of the fridge for so long apart from the part where you get to eat it? Fruit will go bad (you know how already cut fruits taste/smell when you leave them out for too long), tart (that bottom/biscuit part, I don't know; I’m not a baker) will get soggy, not to mention how candles don’t sit upright when you place them in the cream.

Candles. Where are the candles?? Although we do know Price’s age, I wanted to include a sparkly question mark candle that the reader would hand to Ghost along with the box to hide. I thought it would add more to his irritability by seeing that 👇

The timing, omg that still bugs me. Price wants to meet in an hour, and Ghost tells the reader to return in half an hour FOR WHAT?? Why hide the cake in the first place if it’s just for an hour?? Might as well lock yourself in the broom closet with the cake if it’s for thirty minutes. Not only that, but if the reader were supposed to pick up the cake in half an hour, that means they would have to take it with them in the briefing room and therefore ruin the surprise. They’d either have to do it BEFORE the briefing or AFTER, where the reader would run down to Ghost’s office to pick it up.

See? The maths. They don’t add up.

Phew 😮‍💨 Now that I let everything out of my system, I can relax.

#i’ll delete this later #but i needed to get it out

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yuurei20 · 8 months

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Riddle Info Compilation part 5: Book 1 (pt1)

Book 1 begins with Ace getting collared for stealing a piece of strawberry tart.

Cater explains that the rules were made up by the Queen of Hearts of the Great Seven, and “Riddle is all about tradition. Probably more than previous housewardens.”

When explaining the various dorms of NRC to Ace and the others Cater says that “Malleus is reeeeeal bad news”, but follows up with “I suppose the same could be said of our own dear housewarden.”

Ace agrees, saying that Riddle’s rule obsession is out of control, and that he is just “a petty tyrants who leans into the whole ‘rules’ schtick as a pretext to keep everyone under his puny thumb!”

Unfortunately for Ace, Riddle overhears this rant, saying, “The headmage’s habit of tolerating rule breakers like you is going to send this entire campus spiraling into chaos one day.”

Ace still asks for the removal of the collar, and Riddle refuses. Trey assures Riddle that he will keep an eye on the group.

We see other Heartslabyul students panicking over the thought of being caught by Riddle, and that evening one of their dorm mates seems to suffer a breakdown beneath Riddle’s strictness. Cater and Trey go to talk to Riddle on the panicking students behalf, with Cater saying that he will prepare tea “as a show of deference to the Queen.”(On EN there is a line earlier on where Trey refers to Riddle’s unique magic as a “weapon”, but this expression is unique to the EN adaption: it is something Trey has never actually said.)

Ace presents a chestnut tart at the Unbirthday Party and Riddle orders it thrown away as “an utterly flagrant rule violation.”

Cater and Trey try to take responsibility for their roles in the tart’s creation but Riddle blames Ace alone.

Ace calls Riddle “foolish” and Cater tries to defuse the situation.

Ace calls for backup from his fellow dorm mates but they insist that they trust in Riddle’s judgement.

Riddle explains that, since he became Housewarden, “not a single student from Heartslabyul House has dropped out or been held back a year. We are the only house that can boast such a feat. Furthermore, of everyone in this dorm, I have the best academic standing. Hence, I am the most correct! If you would simply obey me without question, we wouldn’t need to contend so. It’s not off with their heads because I want to do that. I do it because rules must never be broken."

Ace and Deuce refuse to comply despite Cater's efforts and Riddle orders Trey and Cater to eject them from the premises.

Ace says he is never going to apologize.

Cater asks Trey if he is really okay with how things are going, but Trey insists there is nothing he can do.

#twstriddle #twstfacts #riddlefacts #twisted wonderland #Riddle Rosehearts

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

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Honestly I totally agree with everything you said about the overblot boys. Personally Riddle is my favourite from them, but that's because you can see how hard he tries to change at times. Like actually makes a notable effort. The others, while I do love them, don't. And on that note I hated Riddle when reading/playing the first book. Man did his tyranny piss me off.

But yeah. I totally agree with your assessment. No boy is 100% innocent, and they all have their flaws.

[Referencing this post!]

Riddle is definitely trying! We see him openly dial down on his enforcement of the rules (at the end of episode 1, during the unbirthday party; he also apologizes by making the tart for the celebration). Then, in episode 2 and throughout the rest of the main story, we see Riddle repress his rage and try to hold back from immediately lashing out when something irritates him. He’s really growing, bit by bit, and even I (someone who doesn’t particularly care for most of the dorm leaders) can admire Riddle for that.

Vil also makes a commendable effort to atone for what he’s done. He was one of the few boys who realized he was Overblotting and became self aware of how awful (“ugly”) his actions were, then apologizes multiple times to the VDC team afterwards for inconveniencing them (both at the end of episode 5 and at the start of episode 6).

I think Idia could also count…? He does come over to play video games (socializing, ew), which is something Idia would never normally do. He also comes to terms with his grief and allows Ortho to finally “be free”. This can be interpreted as Idia’s “apology”, both to Ortho, and for his past sins—and an apology to even himself for letting the past weigh him down and prevent him from moving forward.

Yeah, I’m just 🥲 personally bothered by the OBs receiving such different treatment from the fandom. It’s okay to play favorites, but it really feels like the general consensus is that some boys “deserve” more sympathy than others… and that rubs me the wrong way, because that’s not holding the boys responsible and it dumbs down their trauma into something easily resolved by shoving blame onto a third party. It defeats the point of TWST having the nuanced characters that it does 💦

I’ve heard the point being made that “the story holds some boys more accountable than others, so the fans feel less guilty for forgiving certain boys over the others”, and while I can see where people are coming from with this, I don’t really agree with it?? Sure, the case can be made that Riddle was held accountable by Heartslabyul and he then actively tries to be better, but I don’t think this can be said of Azul. He gets off with a slap on the wrist for all the cross-dormitory damage he did. (I guess here you can say the fandom forgives Azul because the story itself lets him off the hook so easily?? But I don’t think we should just blindly go along with whatever the story primes us to do.) Leona was held accountable in that he was still forced to play the other dorms; however, this doesn’t really prominently play into people’s forgiveness of him, as the chapter is so poorly written that Leona wasn’t truly “redeemed” in the eyes of the fandom. Jamil’s issue isn’t small scale enough to be comfortably dealt with. How are you supposed to hold a society and tradition responsible for his feelings? The same goes for Idia, who has to deal with the concept of death itself. There’s Vil, who arguably took the most personal accountability for his Overblot, yet people generally seem to hold disdain for Vil and believe that his motivations were shallow. Vil gets little sympathy despite being the most mature about the situation and accepting full responsibility for it.

Interestingly, this lack of sympathy for Vil seems to be something that’s more predominant in the international fandom; he is pretty beloved in the J-fandom 🤔 which I think speaks to the different demographics of TWST. JP is mostly adult fans, whereas international/EN seems to lean more to the juvenile side (teenagers, young adults). It kind of makes sense if we generalize the groups: younger fans relate to Riddle and Azul, as they can identify with the “I was controlled by an authority figure instead of being allowed to do what I want”/“I was bullied” aspects of their backstories. I would also argue that Leona’s backstory (“I’m never good enough for others”) also plays into this appeal to younger fans, who make seek comfort in media to cope with their own realities. Meanwhile, older fans have enough life experience to be able to relate to and appreciate the more esoteric conflicts of Jamil, Vil, and Idia—topics like societal expectations and norms, public opinion, dealing with death, etc. Of course, this isn’t an absolute, but just a general trend in the groups that I’ve noticed.

#Riddle Rosehearts #Azul Ashengrotto #Leona Kingscholar #Vil Schoenheit #twst analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #Idia Shroud #Jamil Viper #spoilers #notes from the writing raven

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good7luck · 11 months

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VNC non-animated manga latest chapter 58 spoilers

* my personal, negative vent

as the continuation of my previous vent against some fan reactions: “Noe is terrible because he cares about Tarte Tatin more than Domi”.

* but I ended up talking about Jeanne a lot lol

(more under the cut)

* I’m sorry I might be overreacting to some very small minority in the fandom, and also sorry I couldn’t write things nicely and shorter in general.

* I myself sincerely hope this would be my last petty complaints in regards to this (Noe/Domi) matter, for real OTL

Ch 55(.5): *shows Noe/Vani (the main protagonists) reconciliation in detail*

Ch 56-57: *shows Noe/Vani conversation, including Tarte Tatin*

Some people about ch 56-57: Noe himself witnessed his childhood friend Domi jumping to die, and yet now he’s smiling at Tarte Tatin, not actively trying to go talk to Domi right away! Is Vani / Tarte Tatin thaaaaat important? Besides, why does Noe not demand an apology from Vani for insulting suicidal Domi?? What a biased selfish jerk, he doesn’t really love her!! Poor Domi deserves better!!!

Jeanne in ch 56-57: *herself witnessed her love interest Vani getting badly injured by Noe, and yet now she’s talking to Domi forever, not taking care of the physically wounded weak human patient Vani*

Jeanne in ch 58: *smiles at Domi and/or Vani and just leaves right away, not actively trying to go talk to Vani, not demanding an explanation or apology from Noe for hurting her beloved Vani*

Me: Ummm ~~according to their logic uwu~~, I guess now Jeanne is a biased selfish jerk who cares about Domi more than her intense love Vani? Is Domi thaaaaat important?? Jeanne is so terrible, she doesn’t really love him!! Poor Vani deserves better??? Can I say these now--

The SAME people about ch 58: Wow, why does MJ-sensei hate Jeanne so much? Why no long romantic Vani/Jeanne reunion scene?? Why not showing Domi/Jeanne conversation in detail??? Terrible writing choices! I’m sorry Jeanne, the author hates you T^T Jeanne did nothing wrong, I love you no matter how badly (mis)treated by the author!!

Me: So...it’s just that, they love Jeanne and Domi more than Noe and Vani (which is not wrong itself, but), and they simply decided to fully blame and demonize Noe at first (and only him, somehow lol) for the lack(?) of Domi and Jeanne? idk lol ://

Them, possibly: M-Maybe Jeanne already talked to Vani before the Noe/Vani roof scene! Unlike Noe!!

Me: In ch 58, when Domi finally came out of the room, Vani immediately became a blushing mess and tried to run away from Jeanne (who wasn’t actually there XD), remembering some sweet moments of her. No offence but...I believe SUCH dramatic reactions from him highly imply that Vani/Jeanne have never properly talked yet since Vani/Noe got attacked by Shapeless One, oops ^^;;; Vani is feeling awkward and acting awkward (similar to that day when he asked Roland/Olivier for some love advice) because...he still doesn’t really know how to be around Jeanne...because they haven’t seriously interacted yet, much less two of them...I think?

Besides,

to be petty, not pretty lol,

it seems they don’t believe Noe worried about Domi even in his mind off-screen because there was no(?) such explicit panel of Noe screaming, crying, throwing up for Domi after he woke up at the hotel. Then, ~~similarly~~, no reason to blindly believe Jeanne in fact earnestly took care of Vani, much less for hours, before Domi/Jeanne secret conversation started, either lol :/ Come to think of it...there was no panel of Jeanne screaming, crying, throwing up for severely injured Vani at the hotel, so it must be that she doesn’t worry about his wounds anymore now, even if Vani is supposed to be her important person uwu!! ://

Noe: *gets distracted by Tarte Tatin made by Vani, staying near Domi’s location*

Them: How dare he allows himself to get excited, when Domi is suicidal right there. He should’ve only think about Domi now, no one else, nothing else! No more stupid Tarte Tatin!!! He loves Vani, sure, but it shows he totally forgot about Domi and doesn’t take her seriously. How insensitive he is, ugh.

Noe: *gets distracted by JJ/Chloe guided by Dante, getting far away from Domi’s location*

Them: JJ!!! Chloe!!! Wait, why must JJ/Chloe leave now??? They should’ve stayed longer! They should’ve seen Jeanne, too!! Why does MJ-sensei not allow them to meet now?? Poor Jeanne, poor Chloe... We need more of JJ/Chloe!!! We need more of Dante as well!!! There’re still not enough of them!!! Did Chloe meet some other Archiviste person before? It’s a shame JJ/Chloe already left, and Noe missed them ;_; And...oh well, Noe got distracted by cursed Tarte Tatin again, ew. God forbid Tarte Tatin,.plz...

Sorry to repeat, but this will never not funny to me lol I guess this contradiction happened because they love JJ/Chloe/Dante/Jeanne more than Domi/Noe/Vani? idk uwu ://

*sighs*

I don’t necessarily mind seeing people complain about MJ-sensei’s writings or her characters in various ways. But it still depends, within limits.

In this case, I thought Noe was getting falsely accused too much in malice (before ch 58). Now ch 58 is out, and apparently the same people wouldn’t apply their ~~strict~~ standard(s) to Jeanne at all, rather quickly blaming that MJ-sensei must’ve abandoned(??) Jeanne... It’s not that I can’t understand character W fans would always crave for character W related canon contents, but...asdfghjkl

I suppose they forgot that the entire Amusement Park arc was never Jeanne-centric in the first place, and that MJ-sensei still gave Jeanne the MVP hero role who directly and indirectly saved everyone from the hopeless mess...

Not to mention Jeanne already has gotten a LOT of screentime and backstories so far, maybe even the most, except the main protagonists Vani/Noe. Domi’s backstories got revealed firstly thanks to Noe remembering his past in the early Bal Masque arc, and just recently in the Amusement Park arc.

Jeanne has appeared in almost every arc, compared to Luca, Ruthven, Loki, Dante, Amelia, Murr, and so on ^^;;; Even between the Jeanne/Chloe/JJ-centric Gevaudan arc and the Domi/Misha-centric Amusement Park arc, Jeanne still got her long, solid screentime (in regards to her Vani love).

Luca appeared very early, together with Jeanne, but he’s still forever waiting for his own (long) screentime XD In addition, the new arc started with “Archiviste” and “Chasseur”, sure, but I believe Luca’s ceremony is coming soon, too. More Luca inevitably means more Jeanne as well...so, no, Jeanne won’t be ignored! Also, the royal knight Domi would definitely appear, too!

I get that the hiatus was painfully long and recent chapters had been so short, but please don’t be too pessimistic XD

At first, I didn��t mean to write about Jeanne this much at all tbh when this post was originally about the Noe/Domi matter, but it happened XD Not that I’m complaining, it was surprisingly a good chance for me to think about her in detail, kinda :P

I was happy to see Noe hugging Domi tight and both being adorable cute in ch 58 ;w; The panels deserved to be much bigger ;v; It’s so beautiful that I could watch it for 5 hours uwu [insert the meme] XD

However, I was also sad and annoyed to unconsciously think “Now those people will finally stop accusing Noe and be quiet, hopefully” and feel “relieved” :((( *sighs* I really hope my fun and my Noe/Domi wouldn’t get ruined next time...OTL

I sincerely wouldn’t have minded seeing a lot of Noe/Domi/Jeanne/Vani scenes and conversations in detail, as the fandom wanted. But MJ-sensei didn’t show them so much, and I know many people don’t like it (and I don’t particularly blame them ^^;).

I personally don’t have a problem with the lack(?) of their intimate moments, maybe because my top fear had always been “Domi having to leave super quickly asap (again), like a gag” and the fandom exploding in anger XD Even other than this, I just didn’t expect to see “many” interactions of them...because MJ-sensei didn’t make such scenes before the long hiatus and she already published volume 10 at that time, wrapping up the Amusement Park arc “cleanly” that way.

I mean, I personally feel if MJ-sensei genuinely intended to put them there, she would’ve already included them within volume 10...but she didn’t. Vol 10 ends with chapter 56 (except the bonus pages), and the next vol 11 will start from ch 57. Ch 57 has JJ/Noe conversation about Archiviste AND the new Archiviste girl first appearance. So I suppose MJ-sensei really really wanted to make sure vol 11 clearly starts with Archiviste topic, more than anything else.

In any case, I guess I was quite lucky to have had low expectations on detailed “afterwards” scenes of the four haha Of course, I’d gladly enjoy them if MJ-sensei decides to show them at some point in the future :D

PS.

Will we...get to see Noe actually eating Vani’s Tarte Tatin on-screen...? I mean...he didn’t eat any of it yet, cuz Domi was out and Noe immediately stopped caring about Tarte Tatin, unlike those accusations lol Somehow, I...don’t have “high” hopes on this, either, even if I ship Noe/Vani, ooops...XDDD If we don’t get the scene for real, then I sure hope those people (who accused Noe) would apologize to Noe and Noe/Vani shippers in some form (of Tarte Tatin? XDD) lol uwu :’)))))

Thank you for reading my long, incoherent ramblings and personal opinions!

#vnc spoilers #vanitas no carte spoilers #vanitas no carte #vnc #vanitas no shuki #les memoires de vanitas #the case study of vanitas #memoir of vanitas #not tagging anyone #not tagging shipname #good7luck

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jomiddlemarch · 1 year

Text

gingerbread

5. “I’m home,” Gilbert called out. He didn’t have to raise his voice much since the cottage wasn’t very large, but there was a certain pleasure in it he hadn’t had since Susan Baker had come to work for them and expected a reliable degree of decorum from Dr. Blythe and Mrs. Dr. that Gilbert and Anne felt obliged to satisfy, though there were nights they reminisced about the scrapes and nonsense they’d gotten up to growing up in Avonlea which would be bound to horrify Susan if she knew.

“I’m here,” she answered, her tone as glum as when she’d once dyed her red hair green. “In the kitchen, Gil.”

“Why, Anne, what in heaven’s name?” he said. She couldn’t blame him for his surprise, wouldn’t blame him if there had been some disapproval or judgment, for she was sitting on the floor in her stocking feet, streaked in flour, the striped cotton smock Miss Cornelia had made for her straining over her positively enormous belly.

“You’re home early,” she said.

“Old Josiah Simpson took a turn for the better, told me to go fishing or bring home my pretty missus some flowers,” he explained, a charming posy of wildflowers loosely grasped in his left hand. He laid them down on the table and knelt beside her.

“Sweetheart, what’s happened? Are you ill? Hurt?” he asked. “Is it the baby?”

“A fine mother I’d be blaming it on the baby, but I admit, it’s tempting,” Anne said, trying to wriggle into a more appropriate position, as if there could be one on the scrubbed kitchen floor.

“It’s nothing terrible, you don’t need to worry, it’s only embarrassing and frustrating and thank goodness Susan isn’t here to see it!”

“Why don’t I help you up and get you settled, then you can tell me all about it?” He reached over and took her hands, then managed to help her stand up and kept a hand at the small of her back as she lumbered over to the rocking chair in the sunny corner of the kitchen where Susan was wont to sit and knit if she ever managed a moment of quiet. Gilbert dragged over one of the kitchen chairs and sat before her, waiting patiently.

“I suppose it is the baby,” she began. “I’ve never had such a craving for sweets before and you can see by the size of me, it seems impossible to satisfy.”

“You know that’s completely normal and healthy,” Gil said. “I count us both blessed that you want something so unobjectionable. Mrs. Tom Taylor had to have stewed eel with strawberry compote and Mrs. Fred Walker wanted nothing but clams for weeks, I have it on good authority from Miss Cornelia, though I could always smell the clams before I even stepped a foot over the threshold.”

“Yes, that’s as may be. I wanted something sweet and so, I ate the last of the apple tart Susan left and tried a few of the sugar cookies in the jar, but none of it was right and I was still hungry and then I knew what I wanted. What your child was demanding,” Anne said.

“What?”

“The Blythe gingerbread,” Anne said and Gilbert grinned. “I thought it wouldn’t be too difficult, your mother had left a receipt when she visited, but it was impossible—I couldn’t reach anything with this,” she gestured to the curve of her belly, “getting in between me and the shelves, the kitchen table and the mixing bowls, and trying to open the oven door might as well have been Hercules’s thirteenth labor. I’ve made a mess of the kitchen and myself and worried you and I don’t even have one bite of gingerbread to show for it!”

Gilbert chuckled, a wonderful warm sound that had become ever more precious since they’d lost little Joy, and Anne rested one hand atop the apex of her belly, feeling the baby within respond with a reassuring kick.

“Well, that’s easily solved,” he said. “I guess those flowers I brought home weren’t the ones you needed. You just sit here and rest and let me make up a batch of the gingerbread.”

“That’s not fair, Gil, you worked all day and now you’re going to muck around in the kitchen because I can’t manage to make some biscuits,” Anne said.

“This isn’t work and I’ll have you know, I don’t muck around in any kitchen, let alone Susan Baker’s,” Gilbert said, standing up, taking off his coat, and putting Susan’s voluminous pinafore apron on over his waistcoat and trousers, rolling up his sleeves for good measure. It did seem to only be a few minutes before he’d gotten a big crockery bowl full of all the ingredients, his hands as deft in mixing up the dough as they were treating his patients or seeing to her delight in the privacy of their room, a thought which made Anne blush. Within an hour, he was setting before her a plate of freshly made gingerbread, cut into cunning little blossoms exactly like the ones in the bouquet he’d brought home. She took a bite and sighed as she tasted the spices, the rich sweetness of the molasses, the extra little crunch of the castor sugar he’d sprinkled on top.

“I have to tell you, you could never had made it, Anne-girl,” he said, sitting beside her again, the apron and rolled-up sleeves somehow making him look more manly and heart-stoppingly handsome, the touch of flour at his right temple a glimpse of their future. “My mother never includes all the ingredients or instructions in a receipt. She never wants anyone else to make her food as well as she does.”

“That’s iniquitous!” Anne exclaimed, but her mouth was still full of gingerbread.

“It doesn’t signify,” he said. “I know the receipt by heart, in every detail.”

#anne of green gables #anne's house of dreams #anne/gilbert #shirbert #married life #romance #fluff #gingerbread #fruitloopsforlife #the never-ending prompt fill #happy new year's eve #susan baker #miss cornelia #anne pregnant with Jem #tw: pregnancy #pregnancy cravings

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bokettochild · 2 years

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The idea of Legend being older than Wars and maybe even Twi is so funny to me for some reason I actually cannot 😂😭💀

You know, you're right.

I usually enjoy having him as a young teen, but him being an adult could be fun.

I wrote a lil ficlet for you, btw! I hope you like it!

Age doesn’t matter.

Not really, not in their group.

There are some times where it does, like when they go to a bar or that one time in a shady town where Time made Legend and Warriors go to a brothel together (he’d protested but of course Time didn’t listen to it) to retrieve information, but most times it’s fine. The only age people think about it Wind’s, and even that is unnecessary.

Yes, Wind is a child, but when Legend was his age he’d already gone on three adventures and had a pretty good handle on his life, so he’s willing to accept that Wind might as well. Sure, the sailor is still living with his grandmother half of the time, but he had been too at that age. Wind is also helping to found a kingdom and successfully killed Ganondorf, he’s got what it takes to make it, Legend isn’t worried about him.

Naturally though, in a group with so little regard for ages, he’d expected them to just roll with it when they found out about his.

He was wrong.

They didn’t.

Honestly, it wasn’t that big of a deal! They were in his Hyrule for a time and had stopped by his house the night before, and they found out the morning after when Ravio had told him it was their birthday, it shouldn’t have been a big deal.

But apparently it is.

“You’re how old today?” Warriors asked again, staring at the little apple tarts Ravio had made as a birthday breakfast. Honestly, it wasn’t necessary, and he hasn’t cared to celebrate in years, but it matters so much to Ravio so he usually goes along with it.

“We’re thirty today!” Ravio answered chipperly. Too chipperly. Seriously, it’s stupid early in the morning and he has no clue how his house-mate can possibly have this much energy.

Is this because of the coffee? He’s blaming the coffee.

“Thirty?” It’s not the first time the captain has said it like that, and as he passes, he takes a moment to pop the man’s jaw back in place. Hopefully it will stay closed, he does not have the energy for Warriors’ dramatic reactions just yet.

“Yes. I’m thirty years old, today apparently.”

Oh bless the heavens! Ravio made him tea! He sneaks a nod of thanks at his friend as he snatches the mug from its place. It’s still hot, steaming, but the burn is worth it for some life-giving caffeine to help him wake up enough to face the day.

“Happy birthday!” Wild and Wind both say, very politely. Gremlins, what are they planning?

“How are you thirty?” Warriors asks again. Seriously, was the point not made? Is it not yet established that he is, in fact, thirty years old? Sure, it was a bit of a surprise when Ravio reminded him this morning when they woke up, but honestly, was he supposed to be keeping track?

“Simple, I was born thirty years ago, today, and I’ve managed to stay alive until now,” and with as much false enthusiasm as he can muster, he adds, “whoo hoo for me.”

“Whoo hoo for you.” Hyrule agrees, apparently unironically as he smiles at his mentor.

Warriors stares at him. “But, you’re....”

“Eternal baby face, captain,” he drawls over the rim of his mug, “I can’t exactly help it.”

The rest of the chain still seems to be in shock, so he turns his attention away from them and towards joining Ravio for breakfast. The others follow, albeit slowly, Wind and Wild only because they didn’t realize the meal was meant for all of them, and the others because they’re still apparently processing his age.

“He’s thirty years old, I cannot flipping believe he is thirty.” The captain mutters. “he bit me just last week for touching his ice rod, I could’ve sworn he was twelve.”

Ravio chuckles into his coffee. “You bit him?”

“Yep. He deserved it.”

A fist is offered, and though he rolls his eyes, he knocks it with his own. “Nice.”

There are snickers around them, Wind and Wild exchanging glances while Tiem finally sits down at the table and looks him dead in the eyes. “Welcome to the Old Man club, Legend.”

He might or might not make some rude gestures as he slurps his tea, but he’s an adult, it doesn’t matter, just as long as Hyrule doesn’t see it.

The rest of them finally sit down, Warriors last with Twilight tugging him by the arm. The captain promptly drops his head into his hands, but otherwise he seems to be processing everything pretty well. Well, pretty well for Warriors.

“You know,” Hyrule muses around his apple tart, crumbs sticking to his lips as they eat, “I’ve always found it funny.”

“Found what funny?” Ravio asks, innocently.

“That Legend is younger than me.” Comes the return as Hyrule bites into the last of his tart.

There is a muffled scream from Warriors’s seat.

#i like messing with ages :)#i have set ones normally #but i couldn't pass this opportunity up :)#lu legend #linked universe #linkeduniverse #asks and answers #linked universe ficlet #ketto writes

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carewyncromwell · 2 years

Text

[Rowan didn’t leave the Hospital Wing for almost a week. The cursed ice, even just by encasing her feet, had completely drained her strength, making her so weak that she couldn’t even stand.

Carewyn blamed herself completely. Rowan had been trying to help her up when she got hit by the door’s freezing magic, and she wouldn’t even have been interested in the Cursed Vaults in the first place if it weren’t for Carewyn herself looking for her brother.]

I can’t let Rowan get hurt again because of me.

[In a show of solidarity, Carewyn visited Rowan every day in the Hospital Wing, bringing her friend a copy of her notes from class that day, Chocolate Frogs, and books from the library to keep her company. She also popped by Ben’s bedside in the evenings to give him his own copy of her notes, as well as pieces of treacle tart from supper. It didn’t take long for Madam Pomfrey to lose most of her gruffness around Carewyn -- clearly her loyalty to and nurturing of her friends touched the school’s matron.

Ben was released from the Hospital Wing a day or so. When Rowan was finally allowed to leave the Hospital Wing later that week around dinnertime, Carewyn immediately rushed to check in on her at the Slytherin table.]

[Carewyn could believe it -- the tightness of Rowan’s shoulders made it so that Carewyn could practically feel the shivering cold coming off of her. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly.]

Carewyn: “Rowan, I’m so sorry...it’s because of me that you got so hurt.”

Rowan: “Aw, come on, Carewyn -- I told you before, it’s not your fault. I wasn’t paying attention, that’s all...”

[She attempted a weak smile.]

Rowan: “I’m just not as quick as you, I guess. But I suppose anyone who sees us in Flying Class would know that!”

[She laughed self-consciously. Carewyn, however, couldn’t smile back.]

Rowan: “(gently) Carewyn, really...it’s okay. You don’t have to blame yourself.”

Carewyn: “(stubbornly) Well, I do blame myself. And I’m not going to put you in that kind of danger again. I’m going back to that Vault, and this time, I want you far away from it -- ”

Rowan: “(upset) Carewyn, you can’t go into that place alone! Sure, I get it -- I’m not the strongest person around...and I know I’m not the best choice to protect you from whatever’s in that Vault...but you’ll get hurt, if you go in there without any help. You can’t go by yourself!”

Carewyn: “I have to, Rowan. I told you -- those Vaults are the only clue I have that could lead me to my brother.”

Rowan: “(just as stubbornly as Carewyn) Maybe, but that doesn’t mean you have to go all by yourself. I might not be powerful enough to help protect you, but I’m not going to let my best friend go into that kind of danger alone!”

[Through her stubbornness, though, she was smiling in wry determination.]

[Carewyn raised an eyebrow doubtfully.]

Carewyn: “And you think one of them would help me?”

[Rowan’s smile faltered just slightly, becoming more thoughtful.]

Rowan: “Well, Ben certainly would...he was the first person I thought of. And with his talent at Charms, he’d obviously be a big help. But after what happened with the ice, he won’t be feeling up to something like this for a while. Penny’s good at Potions, but I don’t reckon Strengthening Solution will be enough to deal with the ice this time. Merula’s powerful, but you obviously can’t trust her...”

Carewyn: “Obviously.”

Rowan: “So yeah, I quickly came to the decision that you’d have to talk to someone we haven’t talked to yet -- someone more powerful than anyone in our year.”

Carewyn: “That’s logical...but do you really think an older student would help a bunch of second years? Would help ‘that delinquent Jacob Cromwell’s sister?’”

Rowan: “Hey, you somehow convinced Penny Haywood, the most popular girl in our year, to help us! If anyone can convince him, it’s you.”

[Carewyn still looked incredibly wary of this.]

Carewyn: “Which ‘him’ would I be convincing, exactly?”

Carewyn: “Who?”

[Rowan looked taken aback by Carewyn’s reaction.]

Rowan: “You haven’t heard of him? I thought all the first and second years knew about Bill Weasley. He’s a Gryffindor two years ahead of us. He’s always sticking up for younger students, protecting them from bullies and such...some people like to tease him for it, but just about everyone likes him. He’s checked out all the books in the Cursebreaking and Defense Against the Dark Arts sections of the library, so he’s really smart, and he's always training at the Training Grounds, so he’s really good at spells!”

[Carewyn couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows at the glowing endorsement.]

Does he also pass gold dust out his arse?

[She bit down this meaner, more cynical response immediately, though, not wanting to hurt Rowan’s feelings.]

Carewyn: “...Mm...well, I gotta admit,”

If everything Rowan says about him is true.

[Rowan’s face then became a lot more serious.]

I have no idea.

[Despite this, though, Carewyn had made up her mind. Even if Bill didn’t end up being as powerful as Rowan thought, Bill was still an older student who had knowledge Carewyn didn’t have. He’d even read up on Cursebreaking in particular. And if he had a tendency to “look after” younger students, Bill Weasley could be a valuable asset in Carewyn getting into the Cursed Vaults, even if she still ultimately went in by herself.]

However hard it might be...if I’m going to get any help from Bill Weasley, I’m going to have to find a way to convince him.

[And so putting on her bravest, most confident expression, she crossed her arms.]

Carewyn: “...Maybe bringing a gift might help. If I give him something, even if we don’t know each other, maybe he’ll be more likely to give me something in return.”

I have a few Sickles saved up...maybe not enough to buy anything really nice, but maybe enough for a book or something...

[Rowan beamed, clearly liking the idea.]

((OOC: Next part -- meeting future Surrogate Big Brother Best Friend Forever Bill Weasley!! *insert the biggest fangirl squeal in the world here* I’vebeenwaitingforthisforeverrrrrr

The series “Carewyn’s Beginnings” (click the tag to see all of it) will ultimately encompass important scenes from Carewyn’s first three years, largely centering around her entry into searching for the Vaults and the important friendships she forged in those years. I hope to have a full masterpost of the entire series up once I’ve finished with the last installment, set at the end of Carewyn’s third year. By then I should hopefully also be caught up with the game enough that I can continue the gameplay posts for Carewyn’s sixth year where I left off so long ago, before my game glitched up!))

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #carewyn's beginnings #carewyn cromwell #rowan khanna #ben copper #merula snyde #penny haywood #bill weasley

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soapfcrce · 6 months

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Fortunately for Beth, her SAS man is sitting, making it far easier to settle somewhere between his knees, lean in, and enfold his shoulders, his neck, his head with her spindly arms. She might be much of anything but there's something softly sweet, almost maternal in the way she embraces him for a moment. "Dere, dere Sergeant. Is all gonna be okay." She doesn't know what 'all' exactly is, but she saw the look on his face when he permitted entry. What she does know is that it takes a lot for a soldier of any kind to have that sort of fractional expression as she'd just seen. "Let's put on a kettle f' tea, an' mebbe you can tell me about it," she murmurs, still not quite letting go of the hug. "My bes' good friend made me a tin of lindza tarts... which are kinda like jammy dodgers."

Nightmares were just a part of the job.

Supposed to be, anyways, or maybe he could just blame it on this being the first bit of sleep he had managed to get in what felt like a week. Or longer, maybe. Their mark was finally rolled up, so he should be able to relax or something. Something.

“… Jammies are British food, yeah?” Soap had a wince over how strange his own voice sounded in his ears, finding himself leaning against her form. Solid, warm, comfortable, he took a deep breath and found that one of his hands had already come to a much smaller wrist. When did he do that?

When did he even let her in? Eh, questions for another point…

“Don’t got any, but got a bottle o’ Kentucky,” Soap gave a meek laugh. “… Let me help, yeah? Feel better keeping my hands busy.”

#brooklynislandgirl #intel report «¤» ( in character #task force time «¤» ( main verse #debriefing due now «¤» ( asks #beth nothing bad happened and we're pretending 8)

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edensrose · 2 years

Note

would you be open to part two of the “please tell me what im supposed to do” with legolas?? have a lovely day!!

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ legolas ⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. that night in mirkwood's forest was long forgotten, you now lived your life working here and there. but what happened when a face from the past enters the tavern you often work at, and memories come rushing back?

· ⊰ note. absolutely! did I cry like a baby writing this? perhaps. anon, you gave me too much power with this, and now I'm making it everyone else's problem phaha

( part 1 )

Chattering and buzzing exchanges of drunkards, sobers and somewhere-in-betweens danced around the tavern, accompanied by melodies of string and flute. A joyous time it was as people all across the lands of Middle-Earth celebrated the War of the Ring’s end. Weeks at a time, carrying on from dusk ‘till dawn 一 but you could not blame them. It truly was an auspicious occasion. One you understood deeply.

Although you long hung up your life as a ranger, you still saw through their eyes and apprehended the magnitude of this event. Which is why such festivities sat well with you, even if it neared a month.

Cloth in hand, you polish over the oakwood counter in hopes of ridding it of mead and rum stains whilst you awaited a drink request. You found work in various places but by far, manning the tavern’s counters and preparing drinks for the far and wide must have been your favourite. Listening to the tales of dwarves or interacting with resting rangers, from groups of young men bellowing in laughter to the quieter elves who engaged in a conversation or two; it brought you a sense of belonging. From the time that once was, now simply monochromatic memories.

“Hmm?” Without looking up you queer a hum at the newly-felt presence as you had crouched down below the counter to place the cloth in its bucket. “What can I get you tonight? Mead? Perhaps something stronger?”

“Y/N?”

Your breath hitches.

That voice. One which mirrored that of a free-flowing stream, a gentle breeze throughout the forest, a carefree feel of summer’s warmth and glimmer. Your hand which held the edge of the counter coiled with fingers clawing at the wood. Such a soft melody, such a tender tone; sending your heart into a spiral of memories and eliciting a flurry of butterflies within your chest.

Swallowing any tart taste on the back of your tongue and hoisting your form to resume an upright position, you peer over the wooden platform and meet sapphire pools. . . albeit nearly forgotten yet just as breathtaking.

“Legolas?”

The name felt foreign on your lips. When last had you called it?

Ah, that is right. All those years ago, before him in the forest of Mirkwood.

“Y/N,’’ he repeats, ever as breathless, almost as if he questioned whether he stood in reality itself; something you too were guilty of. Was he here? Was the one who stood and called your name. . . Legolas?

Your mouth ran dry, words hiding and refusing to part from your throat as you stared at him starstruck. He dressed not in the attire you remembered, it appeared less dull. Had his hair grown? It now tickled below his biceps. But there was one thing that remained 一 those gorgeous, gorgeous pearls of cerulean.

My, how you recalled losing yourself within them.

And when a smile rose to his lips you swore to heavens the butterflies went wild. “Y/N, is it really you?” You bite back a denial, swallowing and forcing it to the pit of your stomach. Instead, you return his gleam. “. . . Has it been so long that you question your better judgement?”

Bearing witness to his features now lit with the light of a thousand fireflies, bright and glowing, you take note of how he shifts and readies his form to rise from the seat and probably find his way around the counter. . . yet halts. As if an invisible force holds him in place, a realisation. Legolas’ abrupt movement simmered down into an awkward shift as he draws a breath and brings clasped hands to his lap.

“How - How have you been?’’

The waver of his tone tells you everything and concurrently falters your smile. For the realisation hits you too, square in the face and straight to your heart which clenches in response to a dull ache.

“Well, and yourself?” Like a fool you shove down the bellowing of your conscious, telling you 一 pleading with you to simply turn shoulder and ignore the face from the past. It warns you with great effort, blaring through your mind images of that fateful night in Mirkwood’s forest. Turn away, turn away, take your chance and run.

And so, the only voice you disregard in the end is the very one that forewarned you.

“A lot has occurred since our paths last crossed,’’ he chuckles with a dip of brows. “But let’s dwell on them not. It has been forever since you graced my presence.’’ Another waver that leaves an uncomfortable tightening in your chest. He told no lies, for it had been forever and a half since you found yourselves before one another.

Silence settled between two hearts, droning on and blurring out all the noises of the tavern around. As if in that very moment the world around you froze with no one but Legolas before you. And for a second you contemplated whether you should listen to that voice, turn heel and walk away from the man you knew before. Just when you consider excusing yourself from the area, a request holds you in spot.

“Might you share a drink with me?”

He struggles to meet your gaze for a moment or two, eventually finding it with gentle countenance. “I would love to catch up on lost time.’’

There goes your heart again, soaring within the clouds and singing to the heavens. Legolas, oh Legolas. . . he never seizes to bring back memories long forgotten nor feelings once buried with the dead. And when the lingering voice pleads once more to listen to your better judgement, you finally lock it away within the depths of your mind and allow yourself to fall into fantasies of yore.

With faint curls of your lips, you accept his offer with a hushed of course, before finding your way to two cups and set them before him. “And what might the prince desire?” He rolls his eyes at your impish tone yet returns with a grin: “have you any elvish wine? I wish to see if your tolerance is still putrid.’’

You laugh, a warm, almost foreign sensation swelling the pit of your stomach 一 and for the first time in decades, you mirrored his grin. “Putrid? I’ll show you putrid.’’

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ一

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The night faded with dawn’s glimmers and the darkness wavered in its final hours with bursts of faint purples and reds overtaking the sky hung over the tavern. With stars bidding their last farewells together with stumbling customers, hush settled throughout the building.

Well, apart from the series of giggles and merry melodies of two hearts reconnecting at last. Having long abandoned your job for the night you now strode alongside the elf on the pathway not far from the tavern. Despite round after round of shots and glass-fulls, he remained upright, coordinated. Truly, a Mirkwood elf.

“So you have deceived me majority of the night? Tell me, how did you replace the wine with water without my knowledge?”

Legolas glares at your tittering explanations. “What? Did you think I would allow myself to become flat-out drunk?” Albeit a tad tipsy from the few cups you did drink, you managed to remain relatively sober throughout the course of the evening.

“I have been fooled.” “A feat not so difficult to achieve.’’ You sneak a mischievous glance over and bite back a giggle at his offended expression. “Oh, is that so?” Responding with a simple nod you dismiss the jester and instead distract yourself with the calming allure of nature, the crowing rooster, the fading of crickets 一 so much so that you had completely overlooked just who you were dealing with.

Rushes of air find your locks and you release a squeak of surprise at the abrupt pull of your waist by a strong grip. “Legolas 一’’ Eyes widen, a laugh echoing the skies as you push at cladded arms.

“Legolas!”

“Still just as ticklish, as I expected!”

Squealing, you shove at his chest and thump your palms to shoulders in a desperate attempt to flee his tickling torture. You prompt nothing but the tightening loop of his arms around your waist whilst fingers delve at your sides, vigorously rubbing and prodding at the most sensitive of nerves.

“L-Legolas 一 Legolas enough!” Tears threaten to prick your eyes and thrashes become far more laboured. “Enough? You have had enough?” He meets your glistening gaze with hues of teasing mien, never once letting up on his overwhelming torment. Leaning in, he drawls out with puckish linger: “If you beg and plead, ‘oh, Legolas the great, forgive this foolish girl!’ I may show mercy ~”

“A-As if!” Fingers curl into the material of his clothes and, in your haze, you unintentionally hoist him closer rather than forcing him away. The result leaves you both face to face with barely an inch to spare; the of his nose brushes yours and in an instant 一 everything freezes.

Hands once entrapping you in tickling hell now grew rigid and still as muscles tensed in unison. Breaths halted, eyes gaped, all whilst the world around you hitched in time and left you feeling as though only he remained.

Warmth burned your cheeks as did pink overtake his and when you finally pulled yourself from the gorgeous pools of his sapphire gaze, sense flooded back in and battered your brain just enough to prompt a jerk of your form, keeping him at arm’s length. “Ah, sorry,’’ you chuckle in an endeavour to brush off the prior invasion of personal space. Yet just as you unhook fingers’ grip and begin to ease away 一 a pressure encircles your wrist and pulls you back in, further, closer.

It takes you but a moment to realise that it was, in fact, Legolas tugging you back.

With noses grazing once more you find yourself lost within the world of his gaze. Those shimmering gems which rivalled the magnificence of moonlight and held their own against the stars. It held you firm, refusing to allow an ounce of deterring as the prince bore into your entire soul.

“. . . Legolas?” You find your voice, albeit breathy, unhesitant, as you observe his every move.

A gentle touch sheathes your cheek, warmth spreading throughout your skin as the elf cups the side of your face in a single hand. You’re confounded, perhaps even a little nervous. Yet when you draw an inhale to call a second time, his words take your breath away.

“I’ve missed you, Y/N. Dearly.’’

His thumb rubs at your cheekbone, bringing forth a feeling you had long locked away 一 and just when you prepare to find your voice once more, he steals that too. “There has been not a night since you left that I regretted every decision which brought us to that point.’’ “Legolas -” “Please, let me speak this time.’’

What can you do? But grant his quavering request.

Legolas takes a moment to lose himself within your glimmering hues, those which he believed he would never see again, those which ached his chest at the mere memory. And for a moment he halts, contemplating. A mini conflict of his conscious attempting to deter his motives, a hesitant plead of which he ultimately ignores. When he finally swallows any doubt along with the growing lump in his throat, he takes your face into a tender, loving hold.

“I was blind,’’ a quivering breath, he repeats. “I was blind. . .’’

He brings you closer, relishing in your radiating warmth which he missed oh so much, allowing the mangle of your hushed, shaking breaths as his gaze holds yours still. Firm, raw, exposing any and every thought that ran through his mind. “I only realised the starlight in front of me when I could see it no more. When I lost you.’’

A shaky intake to soothe his burning lungs, he watches the glistening of tears in your eyes and preps a thumb to dry them if needed. “Please. . .’’

“Come back to me, please.’’

Air feels foreign to you as you attempt to catch your breath with little to no prevail. And as you stare into the azure pearls which pour out such adoration, such passion, love. . Your heart cries out, wishing to be torn into two as it yearns and beats for him. And at that moment, only him. Words that you desired to hear all those years ago only now reaching your ears, a gaze which you longed to be the object of, now dawning upon you at last. But when the haze faded and the fantasy melted before your very eyes, the dream around you shattered.

“I cannot.’’

He’s taken aback, stunned in spot as you bring two hands up and gingerly remove his touch. It aches, it burns. A blistering feeling overtakes the former fluttering of your stomach and no matter how desperately you sought for breath it did little to soothe the searing agony within your lungs. And his eyes say it all: why? Why can you not?

In-turn you respond with a tattered smile and forlorn features as you reach out to ghost a touch over his jaw. “I loved you, Legolas. . . and I believe a part of me still does,’’ you bite back the crack in your voice and fight the floodgates. “but -”

“My love? What has you out so late?”

A voice stiffens your form entirely, and before Legolas can turn and reveal your hand at his cheek you retract it in a split second.

Standing there with concerned countenance is a tall man, sleep still evident across his features as he holds your gaze for but a second longer before shifting to the elf. “Who is this?” He questions, voice groggy yet tone showing off a twinge of scepticism.

“An old friend of mine, my dear. Did you just wake?’’ Stepping away from the blonde you find yourself at your husband’s side within seconds, leaning up to press an assuring kiss to his cheek which immediately eases the tension in his muscles. “Mm, the bed was cold without you. I thought you promised to be back before dawn? I was worried. . .’’

“Forgiveness, I was caught up in reminiscing.’’ At last, you spare a glance to Legolas who stares in bewilderment. ‘My love’? ‘My dear’? It took not a genius to deduct who this man was to you.

You swore the light in his eyes died as cerulean irises shattered altogether and in a single, devastating moment, a mirrored image presented to you. A look that you knew all too well. . . for it was the exact one you presented him all those years ago.

“Can we return? I’d rather a few more winks of sleep before our day starts again.’’ Your husband smiles, paying no mind to the stranger before him. And with lingering hesitance, you respond with a nod and put on a curl of lips. “Of course, dearest. Let me bid him farewell, I will meet you home.’’ You peck his lips once more and observe him walking back the way in which he came, for your home was but a minute’s walk from the pathway of the tavern.

When you turn to prince, that look still remains and it’s enough to clench your entire chest. Pushing down all heartache, all afflicting strains, you take a step towards him and meet his eyes in his sorrow.

“Y/N. . .’’

You silence him with a touch to his hand, faint yet ever as gentle. “I’m sorry. . . Legolas.’’ For one last moment, hearts face one another and gazes intertwine. And in a single, devastating moment, you cut all losses.

“It was simply not meant to be.’’

#— ꒰🌺꒱ 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐬 ៸៸ the hobbit/lotr ❜‧₊#legolas #the hobbit #lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #legolas thranduilion #legolas x reader #legolas reader insert #legolas x y/n #legolas x you #the hobbit x reader #lotr x reader #legolas angst #angst #unrequited love #mirkwood elves #oneshot #writing

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sanyu-thewitch05 · 2 years

Text

Love Potion Apocalypse: Part 1

Prologue

Tw and cw: Sexual assault

Yuu runs across the campus, desperate to see if her friends are ok. When she comes across the flight fields, she sees Deuce and Ace getting yelled at by Riddle and dashes at them. Poor Yuu is completely oblivious to the odd looks that some students began to give her. The eyes stray to her boobs as they bounce when she runs. The eyes that go straight to her butt, the eyes that look to her face and suddenly have their heart pounding.

"Riddle! It-it's not their fault! Headmage Crowley accidentally scared Deuce, which caused all of this. So if there's anyone to blame, it's the Headmage!" Yuu exclaims, taking breaths every so often due to her running out of breath. "What's wrong?"

Riddle, Deuce, and Ace stare at Yuu, trying to control their heartbeats and breaths.

"Deuce, what's wrong?" Yuu asks, touching his shoulder.

Deuce snaps out of his weird trance with a slight blush following afterward.

"N-nothing! Let's go to Heartslabyul. We have special heart-shaped tarts today," Deuce says, putting a protective arm around Yuu that pushes her closer to him.

Riddle, Ace, Trey, and the rest of Heartslabyul follow behind the two, some with irritation marking their faces. When Deuce gets to the Heartslabyul dorm, his arm has now moved to Yuu's waist.

"Deuce, can you not grip my waist so hard? It's hurting me," Yuu asks, wondering why the Heartslabyul gang of friends is acting so weird.

"Oh! Sure! I just got a bit worried that's all. Especially with all those AWFUL looks, everyone was giving you!" Deuce bursts out, scaring Yuu a little. "Sorry, sorry, here's a tart. Hopefully, you like red frosting."

Yuu takes a bite of the tart and smiles a bit as this is the first sugary item she's eaten in this world. Deuce stares at Yuu again, this time the blush on his face becoming extreme and his face turning into a lovesick look.

"Deuce-why are you looking at me like that?" Yuu questions, starting to get the feeling something is wrong.

Deuce falls to his knees and clasps Yuu's hands, looking directly into her eyes.

"You're beautiful. You're truly the Queen of hearts! Such beauty deserves to only be looked at within our rose-red Eden! Yuu! I love you!" Deuce muses, standing up to make himself eye level with Yuu.

"Sh! Riddle might hear y-" Yuu says, trying to calm Deuce down before he says something he'll regret. Only to get cut off by Deuce slamming his lips onto hers and pushing her against the wall. "Mm, Deuce, stop it! I like you as-"

"I know! I like you too! Just give me your cute mewls every so often and let me indulge in you! Let me make you feel as good as I do!" Deuce states, his kisses becoming more sloppy and slobbery as the warmth in his crotch and chest became unbearable. "Ah! Let me have every inch of you!"

Deuce begins to unbutton Yuu's shirt, revealing a bit of her red bra.

"Deuce, stop it, you bastard! It's not fair for you to take her for yourself!" Ace yells, yanking Deuce off of Yuu, leaving her to sink to the floor, clutching her shirt to cover her scarlet bra.

"Rule 14 states that the Queen of Hearts must be with someone who has equal social standing with her! Which would be me!" Riddle screams, his face becoming rose red.

"Calm down, dude! A true queen belongs to all of her people. Which would be everyone at Heartslabyul," Cater says, giving the dorm a bit of peace. "Besides, a queen should feel her subject's love!"

"I suppose that would be a good idea. We could create a schedule for everyone to spend time with Yuu. Though we have to decide what she does during the holidays and when school is over," Trey responds, pulling out a notepad and writing out possible times for everyone. "That and we have to figure out where she'll sleep. I would love to serve our Queen by giving her the wonderful food that I can produce."

Where's Grim? What's going on? What's wrong with everyone?? I've got to get out of here!

Yuu gets up and sneaks into the kitchen, where she finds Grim eating the last tart. She grabs him, and just as she's about to run into Heartslabyul's maze of roses, she trips. Yuu makes a loud thud as she falls to the floor and instinctively takes the hand that reaches out to help her. She comes face to face with a lovestruck Riddle who has pink irises with severely dilated pupils.

"My Queen, you should be more careful. We wouldn't want you to get hurt," Riddle says, getting close to Yuu's neck.

"Get away from me!" Yuu screams, kicking Riddle away from her and running to Heartslabyul's rose maze with Grim in her arms.

Part 2

Tag list:

@justarandomhumaninthisworld @lizzileth @hipsterteller @shi-mel @wheresmyfuzzysocks @iwant2dienow @nai17 @nerdy-diamonds @naughtybodypillow @kingfargas @felfei @tinnyflute

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere heartslabyul #love potion apocalypse au #twst wonderland love potion apocalypse au #twst ace #twst deuce #twst riddle #twst cater #twst fanfic

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zodiakuroo · 3 years

Text

pierced

idk what to tell you this is just 2k of pussy eating (don’t blame me blame eren brain rot)

18+, minors dni

part 2

“What did you do?!” You say, incredulously. It’s a rhetorical question, you can see exactly what he’s done. Eren stands in front of you, shamelessly, with his pants and boxers dropped to his ankles as his flaccid penis hangs between his thighs. Your attention is mainly focused on the brand new, shiny titanium barbell that goes through the head of his dick.

“Do you like it?” You can tell by his posture and the shit-eating grin on his face that he’s incredibly proud of his newest body modification.

“Why on earth would you get a piercing there?” The bulbous head is just few shades of pink darker than the rest of his pale shaft. You wince in your seat, imagining what it would feel like to stick a needle right through your most sensitive parts.

“Well, it was a dare and Jean bet that I wouldn’t so I had to.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, fully aware of how silly it sounds as he says it out loud.

“Of course.” You mutter. What other chain of events would lead to your boyfriend coming home with a fucking Prince Albert. “Does it hurt?” You lean in just a little closer and notice the little bit of dried blood where the jewelry pierces his flesh.

“Nah. Didn’t feel a thing.” He says with a wink and begins dressing himself again before dropping down on couch next you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest.

“You’re such an idiot.” You giggle, nuzzling your head into his neck, inhaling the heady scent you’ve come to associate with him.

“There is one thing though.” His voice is softer, lacking it’s usual self-assured tone. He can’t say that he’s happy about what he’s about to tell you. In fact, had he known about this small detail beforehand he might not have gone through with that stupid dare.

“Hmm?” You respond noncommittally, too preoccupied by your current task of leaving gentle kisses on his jaw and giving him the soft affection you know he loves but will never ask for.

“No sex for a month. Piercer’s orders.” His eyes drift down cautiously to gauge your reaction.

You stop in your tracks and frown up at him. At first you think he’s kidding but no such luck. “Oh my god.” You groan. “You’re such an idiot.”

Three days.

A grand total of three days.

It’s sad really, but you should have seen it coming. Like Eren Jaeger’s libido would ever let him go a whole 30 days with no sex.

He blames you and the way you prance around the apartment in those tight, short shorts. How is he not supposed to want you when he has to spend the day watching your tits bounce around in that white tank top, nipples just barely visible through the fabric?

It’s not like you put up much of a fight anyways. The way that man has you wrapped around your finger, all it took was a few well-placed touches and whispers of how much he misses the way you feel and the way you taste. Just like that, Eren has you naked, legs hanging off the edge of the bed with his face buried in your cunt.

“Love this pussy.” He murmurs, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Can’t live without it.”

He knows that he can’t be inside you. He knows. And yet he continues to torture himself because this is as close as he can get to what he really needs.

The rough pads of his fingertips massage your wall making you buck into his hand, silently begging for something deeper. He laps at you with his tongue, running it from your clit all the way down to your hole, licking up the slick that leaks out around his knuckles.

You feel the sparks of pleasure heating up your abdomen and you squeeze your thighs around his head, weaving your hands through his long, mahogany locks. ‘Eren’falls from your lips over and over in breathy mewls that only encourage him to keep going. His fingers put in double time hitting the special spot deep inside you while he seals his lips around clit and pulls it into his mouth. You dig your heels into his back to give you leverage to rut into his face as he pushes you closer and closer towards an inevitable orgasm.

You’re so hot and wet inside, squeezing so tight around his fingers. His mind conjures up memories of how good it felt to have your gooey walls clamping down on his dick and the soft cries you let out as he split you open.

He’s rock solid in his sweats right now and his cock hurts, sensitive tissue swelling and pulsating around his still fresh piercing. But he can’t think about that right now. All that’s on his mind is how badly he wants to be inside you right now. Any of your holes, it doesn’t matter which. But they’re all off limits.

Quite frankly, it pisses him off.

There is no choice but for him to take his frustrations out on your body. He slowly drags his fingers out of you, marveling at the way your needy cunt tries to pull him back in.

Before you can even protest Eren presses his fingers, still warm from your pussy and covered in your cream, against your lips.

“Open up.” He practically growls, voice thick with arousal.

You part your lips in response, letting him clean his fingers off using your tongue. Reflexively, you close your lips around them and begin to suck, moaning at the taste of yourself.

“God, princess.” He pants with his jaw slack. “Want your mouth around me so bad.”

It only motivates you to take his fingers deeper. Deep enough to make you gag as your drool runs down his knuckles while you swirl your tongue around his digits.

The way you look at him doesn’t help either. Usually you’d shy away from eye contact when he makes you do something embarrassing like this, sucking on his fingers like you’re sucking on his cock. But tonight is different. You stare straight at him with that heavy-lidded gaze, eyes glossy and full of want. The frustration is killing him, he can’t stand to look at you anymore so instead he gives his undivided attention to your cunt.

“Babe you wanna know something?” His breath fans over your soaked core, making you twitch in his hold. Something gives you the feeling that he’s not really talking to you, he’s talking to what’s between your legs. Although he’s not even looking at you, you still nod your head yes, so wound up you’ll take anything from him at this point.

“I read online,” He goes quiet for a moment, distracted at the way your weeping hole clenches around nothing, almost like it’s begging for him to fill it. “That dick piercings feel real good in pussy. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Eren bends down to lick at your dripping hole, he slides his tongue all the way down, making sure not waste a single drop, stopping just above the tight ring of muscle making your squeal in surprise.

”Can you imagine it?” He drags is fingers from your lips, leaving a path of saliva down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach until he reaches your clit, rubbing the sensitive numb in slow, steady circles with his thumb while you fist the sheets trying to swallow the sounds he’s coaxing out of you. “How it’s gonna feel inside you? How it’s gonna hit that spot that makes you go dumb?”

Sure, he sounds composed but when you look down at him and see the way his pupils are blown wide, pretty pink tongue hanging slightly out of his mouth, you know he’s imagining it too.

“Gonna drive you crazy.” His calloused fingertips dig further into your pudgy thighs, clipped nails leaving little crescents indented in your skin. “Make you even more crazy for my cock than you already are.”

“Yeah ‘ren.” You gasp as he runs his tongue through your folds. “Wan’ your cock.” You babble mindless agreements at whatever filth he’s spewing, too fucked out and desperate for his cock to care.

Like the bastard he is, he chuckles at your response, satisfied with knowing that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

He leans forward and presses the flat of his tongue against your entrance, telling you (wordlessly) what he wants.

Beg

He wants you to beg for it.

And of course you oblige. You chant out ‘please Eren, please Eren, please Eren’ over and over again as if you’ve forgotten every other word.

He rewards for your obedience by pushing the slippery muscle into your hole, nice and slow savouring the way your tart essence covers his taste buds.

“Fuck- more please.” Your back arches off the bed in response but his left hand splays across your abdomen keeping you in place.

His right thumb is still rubbing you, pressing harder, going faster while he drives his tongue even deeper licking up all of your juices like a man starved. He devours you shamelessly, the sloppy sounds only drowned out by your pornographic whining. He thrusts in and out, in and out, in and out, fucking you with his tongue, making sure to taste every inch of you.

Your flavor is addictive, he can’t get enough. He grunts against with his face shoved against you, sending vibrations from your core, right up your spine. His fingers and tongue assault your pussy mercilessly, setting every single nerve on fire.

“Baby- ah- I- I’m close” you whimper, feeling tension brewing in your core, threatening to burst at any second.

“No.” The hand that was playing with your pussy comes down hard on your puffy clit, the sound of the smack echoing in the quiet room.

You let out a cry, so high pitched you can hardly believe it’s your voice.

“Can’t come until I do.” Just like that, he’s off of you completely, leaving you trembling without his touch.

The pain and frustration have tears brimming at your lash line. How cruel of him. To dangle an orgasm right in front of your face before yanking it away. You begin to stammer out pleas, begging him to touch you again, but they fall on deaf ears.

“C’mon princess. ‘S only fair right?” He looks up at you with the sweetest, emerald puppy dog eyes, juxtaposing the lewd way he licks the remnants of your arousal from his swollen lips.

It’s not fair at all. You weren’t the one who decided to get their dick pierced on a whim. Why should you have to suffer? But there’s too much blood in your throbbing cunt and not enough in your brain so you can hardly put together a coherent sentence, let alone argue with him.

“Gonna edge you like this every day yeah?” He shifts his body to hover over you, using his arms to hold himself up so that his nose barely brushes yours and stray stands of his messy hair tickle the sides of your face. “Till I get to fuck you again.” He dips down to kiss you on the lips. It’s barely more than a peck, far too chaste and gone far too soon.

“Christ, I can’t wait to fuck you again.”

#eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren smut #aot smut #eren yaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren yaeger x reader smut

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