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charmed-asylum · 4 hours

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Oh no oh on did Thor buy her hand in marriage w a coin purse . Oh oh oh ( I love it) 😍

I hate to say this but Thor found perfect girl and she doesn’t mean to be but honey nooooooo oh no. Also that add on about other reader and how she didn’t want to open doors but she won’t do that again sweetie ( hi) u lost that second Thor saw you. Because I mean things being misplace the JEEP SWEETIE NMM MMM MMM. This looks sooo good it hurt like a tooth ache

Hidden Treasure 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your quiet life is interrupted by a tempestuous man. (reader is Blair from Follow You Anywhere)

Characters: Thor

Note: I just did it, okay?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You lay out the hand-sewn coin purses along the left side of the table, completing the array of your hand-made and repurposed goods. It’s a good day to sell, sunny but not too hot, the early days of spring when people are eager to get out. At least it should be. Despite your selection, you’re not the most personable vendor along the square.

The last detail is the hand-painted wood sign. You did it yourself; an antique frame you added a gold hue to and filled with a thin sheet of board. It isn’t much but it tells people what they’re looking at; handmade and renewed goods.

You fold your hands and hover behind your table. You’re a one-person operation. It’s your own table, your own money, your own everything. It brings in enough for you to live. Just you and your cluttered apartment.

The coin purses and the sleepers you sew by hand are the more popular sellers. Anything for children goes first, you notice. Everyone seems to be having them. The older crowd radiate towards the old candlesticks you polished to a shine or the glass-shaded lamps you tediously re-wired. Most try to haggle but your prices are fair enough.

You peer around at the produce stands, the soap and candle makers, and the crocheted stuffies of your fellow sellers. You do a bit of window shopping but never follow through on your wandering eyes. You don’t need to waste the money on the pretty new things, you have lots of lovely old things.

The traffic picks up and you busy yourself with the browsers. A woman with a stroller buys several of the infant dresses and headband, a group of older ladies peruse the aged hardcovers and pick out a few, while a couple comments on the brass-based lamp with the dangling chain. You do your best to smile through the transactions.

The rises higher in the sky towards its apex. The steady flow keeps you busy, with some time in-between to work on fixing the binding of one of the old editions. You like to keep yourself distracted, thinking can be dangerous. With how much time you spend alone, it’s hard to avoid.

As you lock up the cash box and tuck it back under the table, a shadow passes over, large than any other. For a moment, you think a cloud’s passing over the sun. You look up at the sky as a broad figure stands across from you.

You don’t know how you didn’t see the man’s approach. He’s huge. Tall and wide. He doesn’t seem the type to be interested in your selection. Still, he leans in to eye the embroidered coin purses and gives a rumbling hum that sounds like distant thunder.

He picks up one with primroses sewn into it. His thick thumb brushes the threaded design and his large hand makes the coin purse look even smaller. You tap your fingers on the table as his eyes flick up and meet yours.

“Hi, uh, how can I help you?” You whittle out of your tight throat. It’s not often a lone man finds interest in your things. You cater to a more femme audience.

“This is nice,” he remarks, “do you make these?”

“Uh, yes, I do,” you give a tight-lipped smile, “I just embroider old used purses.”

“Just? That’s splendid work,” he brings it closer to his face and looks down his nose at the little flowers and leaves, “my mother would love this... mother’s day is coming, eh?”

“Oh, um, yes, I suppose,” you agree. “It’s five dollars. Cash only.”

“Mm,” he traces his thumb over the metal clasp as he taps his back pocket with his other hand, “don’t think I’ve any on me. Could you hold this for me?” He offers the coin purse, “I’ll find the ATM.”

“Sure, I could do that.”

You take the coin purse, fingers brushing his rough skin, and you set it aside.

“Thank you,” he smiles broadly, blue eyes twinkling as lines creases around them and across his forehead.

He reluctantly trails away and you watch him go. His golden hair is longer than most, twisted into a low bun behind his hand as a few strands dangle freely around his face. He wears a denim jacket over dark red tee and grey jeans, along with a pair of scuffed brown boots. He stands out even in his casual attire.

You shrug off the encounter and turn to your next customers. More baby clothes. The women chat about a baby show and you point them to the newborn sizes, telling them about the fabrics you use for each. They buy a few bibs along with the sleepers and diaper covers.

You back up and sit in the folding chair, drinking deeply from your bottle of water. You don’t know if it’s the interactions or the sun making you dizzy. It’s close to noon. You always start to feel it around this time.

The hours surrounded by strange faces and buzzing voices are clustering in your head and chest. Only a little longer; the market only runs until two. If the world didn’t require money to survive, you might never leave your apartment. Yet your table is the only means you have to keep walls around you.

You sit a bit longer and get up again. You’re okay. You should’ve eaten before you left the apartment. How silly of you to forget the overnight oats you had put in the fridge just the night before. You do forget quite a few things.

The market thrums with the late morning rush and you brace yourself for the final stretch. If you can clear off half the table, you might not have to come back next weekend. You’d be all too content to stay in your own little world, the one beyond is too loud and too bright.

🕰️

You fold your table up and push the hook around the peg to keep it shut. You fold up the chair as well and lean both with your boxes. As the market clears out, you pull up your small two-door and load your wares into the back hatch.

You peer over at the other vendors and their vans and trucks. Crews of half a dozen or more pack away goods and chatter just as loud as the previous crowds. It’s an isolating moment. You don’t mind going unnoticed but sometimes you feel so small.

As you put a box in the back of the car, your keys slip off your finger. You bend and feel around the tire to retrieve them and sense a shadow above you. You clasp your hand around the keyring and stand-up suddenly, turning to face the figure behind you. There’s no one there.

You peer around but find nothing out of the ordinary. You return to your task and pause. You don’t remember putting that box away yet...

You shake your head. You’re just tired and forgetful. Your cardinal vices. Your mind wanders too much to rest, too much to keep order.

You put the last box away and close the hatch. You get in the driver’s seat and turn the engine. It putters softly but it runs well enough. The old car has gotten you through the years just fine. There was a time that tiny thing was your home.

You pull away down the lane parallel to the edge of the market square and pull out into traffic. You drive without seeing, led by habit as you stop at signs along the way, turning around corners mindlessly. You stop and wait to pull into your building’s lot and notice the large storm grey jeep behind you. It strikes you as peculiar; you enter from a back street to avoid the rush.

You steer into the lot and the jeep continues down the street past the building. You forget it as quickly as it rolls beyond the faded brick. You find your spot, parking pass dangling from the mirror, and shut off the engine. You linger and take a breath. You're hungry and tired.

You leave your things in the car and go upstairs. You slow as you pass your neighbour’s door. You saw her yesterday, she was in trouble about something. The police came as she hid from her boyfriend in your apartment. You didn’t even know she had one. You tried not to be nosy but she seemed real upset.

Your cheeks tinge as you stare at the numbers on her door. She’s the only person who’s ever been inside your apartment. You don’t welcome people in, not into your home or your life. You hadn’t meant to let her in but you were so tired and confused, you couldn’t stop her.

You cringe and continue down to your door with one last glance over your shoulder. You put the key in the slot and turn with a grind. You scurry inside and quickly lock the door, afraid she might once more emerge and follow you inside. Or that man, the big one with the beard.

You twist the latch back into place and put your keys in the tray on the cramped shelf. The apartment is dark, the windows shrouded in black fabric, and you flip on the overhead light to guide you down the hallway. The walls are made tighter as their lined with endless shelves and tables, all filled with your collection of curiosities.

You go to the fridge and take out the mason jar of steeped oats. You sit and eat the soft, pasty oats and the berries. You didn’t add enough cinnamon. It doesn’t matter, your stomach greedily mulches it. You put the kettle on and wait for it to steam.

As you pace around, you hear a loud rumble. An engine. You don’t think much of it but you go to the window to peek out around the dark fabric. A woman walks a large dog past a grey jeep parked along the curb. Is it the same one you saw before?

The question doesn’t pique your mind much. That’s the way of the world, you find. It’s a lot smaller than it seems, yet to you, it’s inexorably vast. It’s too fast, too unpredictable. You retreat as the kettle whistles.

Your apartment is small and warm and safe. The world can’t follow you back here. Not if you don’t let it in and you won’t be doing that again.

-🕰️

You decide, against your better instincts, to go to market. The weather is nice and it wouldn’t be so bad add a few extra bucks to your nest egg. You never know what might come up, or what you might find! Too many times you stumbled upon an antique you just couldn’t afford.

You go through your usual ritual. You set up the table and the chair, and arrange your things in the same way around the wooden sign. As you put your boxes to the side, you hear a rattle at the bottom of one. You look into the crate and notice the silver ring. How’d that get in there? You didn’t bring any jewelry.

You put down the box and reach inside. You take out the ring and turn it. You’ve never seen it before. There’s a strange stick symbol on the flat face. Maybe another language or a run of some type. You turn it in your hand and tuck it in your pocket. You’ll have to give a closer look at home.

It’s early and a few stragglers trickle in, but they all walk by your table without pause.

You sit and take out the jar of oats. You remembered today. You’d woken up with a hunger so deep, you almost ate before you left. You know better than to eat too early. Instead, you had your tea and got yourself moving.

You stir the blueberries in and eat slowly, trying to measure your bites so you don’t feel sick after. You watch the other vendors, some still setting up, and lazily swallow down the thick oatmeal. It feels like it might rain after all, there’s a touch of damp in the air.

You finish up and put the jar away. As you wipe your mouth with your sleeve, a woman’s voice trills and pricks your ears. Silver hair with a few wisps of gold peak out from her silk headscarf. The teal fabric matches the pattern of her blouse, tucking into a finely pressed skirt. She’s not alone, she has her arm hooked through another.

Her companion is younger than her. His golden hair is pulled half up at the crown of his head as he towers over her lithe frame. You squint, they might be related. As they approach, you get a whiff of deja vu.

“Yes, it was this one, mother,” the man’s voice is deep.

“How lovely, look at all these treasures,” she slips her arm free as she approaches, “hello, dear, is this all yours?”

“Mhmm, yes,” you stand up, “are you looking for something in particular?”

“I think we’re just browsing,” she smiles brightly, her lips painted a gentle shade of rose.

“A coin purse,” the man says, “with prim rose? Do you recall?”

You look at him. Faces aren’t easy for you but his voice strikes something in your mind, and his size. You haven’t seen a lot of men that big, only the one in your neighbour’s apartment. You think you remember holding something but the customer never came back.

“This one,” you point to the coin purse, set back in the row.

“Yes, that was me,” he chimes, “mother,” he pulls the primrose purse to the top. She takes it and he looks back to you, “I apologise that I didn’t return, there was an emergency and I had to be off.”

“It’s okay,” you shrug, folding your hands together.

The woman is looking at you. There’s something in her gaze that makes you squirm. Her eyes linger just a bit longer before she aims them at the purse, admiring the embroidery as she feels it beneath her thumb.

“Yes, I do like this one,” she says.

“I brought cash this time,” the man booms and reaches into his pocket, “five, I believe you said.”

“Yes,” you accept the bill from him, his skin rough as his fingertips touch yours, “thanks. Erm, did you need a bag?”

“For this? No,” she wiggles the purse playfully and reaches for the man, her son, with other hand. She caresses his knuckles as she faces him, “you were right. Very beautiful.”

He smiles broadly, proudly almost. It’s just a purse. You hide your discomfort as you grip your arm at your elbow.

“Thank you,” the woman chirps back at you, sending another grin in your direction, “you might see us again.”

She hooks her arm once more through her son’s and leads him to the next booth. You peer after them as her attention clings to the purse as she continues to feel it between her fingers. She leans into his arm as she speaks to him quietly. They seem close, it’s sweet. Your own mother had never been so affectionate.

You look away before the scene can pluck in your chest. It doesn’t matter. You’re grown up now. That’s all behind you.

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charmed-asylum · 19 hours

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looks like someone is purring while sleeping

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charmed-asylum · 1 day

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i can fix him (no really i can)

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charmed-asylum · 1 day

Photo

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charmed-asylum · 1 day

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charmed-asylum · 1 day

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Dallas Roberts as Dr. Milton in THE WALKING DEAD (2010-2022)

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charmed-asylum · 1 day

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Follow You Anywhere Masterlist

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life. (Captain Syverson)

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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charmed-asylum · 3 days

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Deadpool & Wolverine | Official Trailer

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charmed-asylum · 3 days

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Deadpool & Wolverine, 2024

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charmed-asylum · 3 days

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Girl u got me in tears heart full of pain and shit eeeee. Like damn this was soo damn mmm mm mm good. Like damn I read this and walk away came back read it 10 more times pop on the glasses read it again to come to the conclusion you did it once again lov why u so damn talent it’s a crime I’m grabbing my handcuffs and black shades and arresting you for being to talented joking that it self would be a crime

"Celebration" - Paul Atreides x Reader

a/n: a bday gift for my beloved @prxmitxtv, i adore you my darling! 🩷

Summary: Paul wants to celebrate your birthday by honoring one of your childhood memories.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, fingering, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, p in v sex, semipublic sex

Word Count: 1,135

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

You never knew just how easy falling in love could be. But when it came to Paul? It felt like the simplest thing in the world. You were sent to live at the Atreides home, Castle Caladan, as a young girl. The match between you and Paul was set in stone from your infancy, and your parents wished you to spend time with him in the hopes that this marriage of necessity would grow into something more. And it did. You and Paul were inseparable from the get-go, taking your lessons together, training side by side, sneaking out into the city or to the beach for midnight swims. And by the time you were ten years old, he had stolen your first kiss. By the time you were sixteen? Well, he had stolen far more than that.

Duke Leto saw you as the daughter he never had, as did Lady Jessica. As such, they found themselves just as protective over you as they were over Paul. In certain cases? Even more so. When Duke Leto found out you and Paul had given yourselves to each other, he damn near had a heart attack. It made for a very awkward conversation with your future mother-in-law about safe sex practices, while Paul was dragged away by the ear and scolded within an inch of his life.

But that didn’t stop either of you. Even though you were told, in no simple terms, to keep it in your pants until the wedding, when the two of you turned twenty-one and Paul became of age to rule, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Sneaking away to abandoned areas of the castle became a common occurrence. However, tonight, it seems Paul has something slightly more adventurous in mind.

He pokes his head into your room, finding you reading up on the Fremen, a people who have long fascinated you. He stands there, leaning against the doorway and admiring you for a long moment before clearing his throat to announce his presence. Your gaze snaps up to his, lips parting in a sweet smile that makes his heart skip a beat.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you chide playfully, setting your book aside when he comes to sit at the foot of your bed, “Your father might just kill you this time, Paul.”

Paul gives you a mischievous smile, leaning forward to pull you into a kiss, that one curl of his falling into his face in the way it always does, “Then I suppose you’d better be really, really quiet.”

You roll your eyes, managing to mumble between kisses, “I can be quiet. You’re the one who starts whimpering and moaning my name and- ow, Paul!” You whine as he bites your lower lip, snickering at your annoyance, “Anyway, what is it? You know we have to be up at the crack of dawn to train with Gurney. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get a decent night’s sleep.”

“Well,” Paul murmurs, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip, looking at you with that sweet, lazy smile you’ve loved all your life, “I was just thinking about those times when we were kids and we’d sneak out to the beach. You remember? I’d collect all those pretty shells for you?”

You nod, grinning fondly at the memory, “I remember. We’d go and sit with our feet in the water talking about everything. Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking…” Paul trails off, pinning you down on your mattress, making you let out a breathless laugh of surprise, “That we could go again. I mean, it is your birthday tomorrow and I think we should be celebrating together. Far away from nosy parents who would interrupt our…”

“Celebration?” You finish his train of thought, entirely amused as he begins to kiss your neck, nibbling softly on your skin. His hands move to your thighs, caressing your flesh, gently pushing them apart so his fingers can ghost along your center, your body already reacting to his touch, “Paul, no. We’re going to get in trouble. Last time we snuck out-”

“Last time we didn’t have Duncan covering for us,” he grins up at you, kissing your chest over the fabric of your nightgown, down your stomach, to the apex between your thighs, “Come on. I’ve planned everything out. You, me, a bottle of the finest Caladanian wine, the full moon, a midnight swim.”

Before you can utter a word of protest, his mouth is on you, his tongue eagerly lapping at your slick folds. Paul’s fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, pushing them apart, allowing him to mouth at you feverishly. It’s like he’s a man possessed when he gets to taste you like this, like his mind is completely taken over by the most carnal of desires to feel you come undone beneath him. Any protests die on your tongue as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, making you whine with satisfaction, your fingers tugging harshly at his curls. And Paul? He just moans against you, relishing in your sweet taste, eager to make you come on his tongue over and over and over again until you finally relent and agree to go to the beach with him.

Your back arches up off the bed as he moves to take your swollen pearl between his lips, making obnoxiously lewd noises as he suckles at it, those eyes of his still locked on you all the while.

After several more rounds of this deliciously agonizing torture, your cunt feeling too overstimulated for you to even think straight anymore, you breathlessly assent to sneaking out with him.

The evening you two spend on the beach, the night before your birthday, is one of the most special ones of your life. True to his word, Paul has brought the finest wine, sandwiches to your taste, everything to make this evening perfect. And when he suggests the two of you take a midnight swim, ditching your clothes on the sand, the tide high with the rise of the moon? You let go of your inhibitions and nod, dropping your nightgown and taking his hand, feeling like nothing short of a goddess with the way he admires you under the moonlight. Paul and you make love on the beach that night, his hips rolling against yours at that steady pace that you’ve so come to adore, his brow furrowed, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he makes sure you reach your end before him.

And even though the next day you wake up to a very, very irate Duke Leto and Lady Jessica, you can’t bring yourself to care.

Because your future husband Paul has given you the best celebration you ever could have asked for.

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charmed-asylum · 3 days

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Oh hold me back hold me back . I love how maddy wanna act looks like a hoe of shien but call this girl a slut girl nah . Mm mm mm. Shut oh I left my body moment she slap her then she snatch and tried to dash hell no. Oh and way Jacob got all THIS IS MINE chills down the spine and and across my forehead. Had me doing little dance and shit. I wonder is she or someone gonna tell her dad and what would he do.

"Free Will" Pt. 2 - Nate Jacobs x Reader

a/n: short little sequel to "free will" 🩷

Summary: You and Nate deal with the repercussions of last weekend's actions.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, slut shaming, bullying, physical violence, christianity

Word Count: 1,550 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Euphoria characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

When you get into Nate’s truck, he immediately takes your hand in his, his voice low and soothing as he speaks, “Hey, it’s okay, baby. Today’s going to be just fine. You look gorgeous, you know that?”

His words barely even register as the two of you start driving. You can hear your blood pumping, painfully aware that every turn he takes, every signal he crosses is another one closer to school. To Maddy and Cassie.

You tried to convince Nate that this whole thing between the two of you should be kept a secret. But Nate just shook his head, cupping your face in his hands as he murmured that he’s not ashamed of you, of your relationship. And that you shouldn’t be either. Two days ago, that was enough to assuage you, but now? There’s a pit in your stomach as Nate parks in the East Highland student parking lot. Your breath grows heavier and heavier, your fingers tugging at the cross on your neck. Nate takes your hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“Baby, you’re going to be okay,” he whispers, resting a hand on your thigh, squeezing gently, “I’ve got you. Always, alright?”

You take a deep breath and nod, finally getting out of the car. Though instead of making any move to walk toward the main building, you simply stand there, shifting your weight from foot to foot. Nate holds his hand out to you expectantly, but all you do is gnaw at your bottom lip.

“Maddy’s going to be so angry…”

“Angel, I promise, nothing bad is gonna happen. You’re mine. And I take care of what’s mine, okay?” He tucks your hair behind your ears, a teasing grin on his lips, “Let Daddy see that pretty face. Gimme a smile.”

“You can’t call yourself that in public,” you protest, though a giggle threatens to push past your lips, “Nate!”

Nate sighs, gently grabbing your chin, “Look me in the eyes, baby.” He glances down at your hands, still fiddling with your necklace and gently chides, “Drop the cross for me.”

There’s something so irresistible about the dominance in his tone, combined with the tenderness he seems to reserve only for you, that you immediately listen and drop the cross. You feel his thumb tracing your lower lip, the touch being equal parts thrilling and calming. Nate Jacobs is a walking contradiction, it would seem.

“You’re with me now, angel. You don’t need to be nervous.”

“Yeah, but, you make me nervous too,” you mumble quietly, almost shyly.

Nate grins at your words, “In a good way? Or is the big scary quarterback scaring you, huh?”

You giggle, shaking your head, shying away from him slightly, “Nooo, I mean… I dunno…”

“I think I like it when I make you nervous,” he chuckles, taking your hand, the contrast between how big his is and how tiny yours is, making him smile, “I can’t help that I’m so attractive, baby.”

“Nate!”

The school hallway of East Highland is completely silent when the two of you walk through the door, hand in hand. Nate Jacobs, the bad boy quarterback, and you? The sweet little pastor’s daughter, wearing your little purple floral skirt, your cross necklace, looking like the epitome of innocence. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, but you do your best to ignore them.

Being Maddy and Cassie’s best friend, you’re used to being the one who fades into the background, but not today. Nate has decided that from now on, his baby is going to be the star of the show. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, earning a few surprised gasps from some of his teammates. Though they give him knowing smirks as he passes, congratulating him on pulling such a hottie. Their words make you lower your head, slightly embarrassed, but Nate moves to raise your chin with his finger, smiling at you softly.

“Own it, baby.”

You make your way to your locker, Nate leaning against the one beside it as he waits for you to grab your books. You jump slightly when your locker is slammed shut, only to reveal Maddy and Cassie. Maddy’s glare has you trembling, while Cassie’s is less angry and more… Jealous. You’re curious at her reaction, but quickly, you tuck yourself against Nate’s side, watching as Maddy crosses her arms and scowls at you.

“What the fuck is your problem, you little slut? I have been so nice to your loser ass all this time, inviting you to everything, me and Cassie letting you hang around us-”

“You ditched me at the store in the middle of the night, Mads! Without my purse, my phone, anything!” You protest, “Nate was there and he helped me! And yes, we got together. But you guys were broken up, and I never meant to hurt you-”

You gasp at the sound of her palm colliding with your cheek. Even Cassie looks shocked, almost pitying you, glancing between the two of you. You move up, placing a hand on your slowly reddening skin, lips parted in shock as Maddy’s nostrils flare with anger, moving to smack you again. However, Nate grabs her wrist, fixing her with a glare, and she lowers her hand. He turns and looks around at the crowd that’s gathered around you, his voice booming through the hall.

“Listen up, everyone. This girl, right here? She’s not a slut. She’s my fucking girlfriend. Mine. And if you mess with her? You mess with me. Clear?” There’s a moment of awkward silence before Nate repeats himself, a harder edge to his voice, “I said are we fucking clear?”

“Yeah, Nate.” “Sure, Jacobs.” “You guys are cute together.” “Damn, ain’t that the pastor’s daughter?”

You hear the mumbles and whispers as Nate leans in toward you, pulling you close. He rests his hand against your cheek, frowning when you wince.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“I’m fine,” you say quietly, “I… I deserved it.”

“You’re damn right you did-”

Nate cuts Maddy off, his voice sharp as a knife, “Shut the fuck up, Maddy.” He turns back to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You did nothing wrong, angel. She’s the one who fucking slapped you, baby. Don’t blame yourself. Don’t let her scare you.”

“She fucking slept with her best friend’s ex!”

You decide to speak up for yourself, turning to Maddy and crying out, “You didn’t even want him until you found out I had a crush on him! You didn’t care about Nate until that sleepover we had freshman year! And then all of a sudden, you were making moves on him, Maddy! You just wanted to prove you could get him and I couldn’t!”

Nate’s eyes go wide at the realization. He scoffs, shaking his head at Maddy, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Before he can move your cross from between your fingers as you fiddle with it, Maddy has reached out and yanked the necklace off of you, stomping on it, breaking it in half before walking away. Your jaw drops as you sink down to your knees, picking up the pieces.

“That… That was my grandma’s…” You say quietly, eyes watering.

Cassie almost reaches out to help you, but you hear Maddy, “No, the little slut’s new boyfriend can help her.”

Everything moves fast. Before anyone can say a word, you’re on your feet, your fist flying straight into Maddy’s face. She stumbles back slightly. It wasn’t the strongest punch in the world, but it was enough to send her reeling. She grabs her nose, staring at you in shock.

“Just because I’ve been nice and let you push me around all these years doesn’t mean I have to keep taking it,” you declare.

Maddy looks between you and Nate before laughing bitterly, “He’s going to get bored of you. You’re a terrible friend and you’re going to be an even worse girlfriend, you prissy little-”

“No, he won’t,” you say confidently, taking his hand, “Because what I feel for him is real. Not like you. I love him.”

Nate’s eyes go wide when you turn to him, tugging him down by the collar of his shirt, standing on your tiptoes, and kiss him in full view of everyone in the hall. It isn’t a particularly scandalous kiss, close-lipped and not lasting very long, but it’s enough to send a clear message. Nate smiles into it, his hands resting on your hips, gazing down at you fondly when you finally pull apart. He looks almost proud.

“My brave girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You smile back at him before panic sets in and you realize, “Oh no. Oh no, oh no. What if she tells my dad? Nate, this is so bad. Oh my gosh-”

“Baby,” Nate says, his voice gentle but firm, “I’m gonna protect you, okay? Don’t worry. Now, let’s go back to my car and get breakfast. Fuck this place. Also,” he leans in close, brushing his lips against yours as he whispers, “I love you, angel.”

You giggle, wrapping your arms around him, losing yourself in his embrace as you murmur, soft and sweet, “I love you Nate Jacobs. I love you so much.”

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charmed-asylum · 5 days

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Zaaaaaaaamn that was good

Power Play (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: So, you lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship. It happens all the time. Maybe not quite like this.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Crazy ass 80s Vought debauchery. I might be a little rusty, but it was fun getting back into writing readerfics after two months🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Power imbalance, cheating (Soldier Boy’s with Crimson Countess). Mentions of drug use. Soldier Boy is his own warning. Sexually explicit content involving elements of forced intox, semi-public sex, breeding kink.

You were dizzy. With Vought’s investor gala rapidly approaching, you spent the better part of your day camped out in your office, flipping back and forth through your rolodex to call and confirm catering, entertainment—you still couldn’t believe the board of directors actually approved Duran Duran’s booking fee—and transportation, off the top of your head. You already told Stan Edgar you were taking the following week off, which he had no qualms about—so long as the gala went off without a hitch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you were interrupted by a knock at your office door, which you’d left open in an effort to be available in the lead up to the event.

“Don’t tell me Edgar’s got you working tonight,” Soldier Boy said, walking in when he saw he had your attention.

Keep reading

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charmed-asylum · 5 days

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Oh my was this worth the wait eeee u just did it so perfect oh i love me some CJ AND U MADE ME FALL FOR THIS CHARACTER ALL OVER AGAIN. So good

Good Morning

Pairing: C.J. Braxton x F. Reader

Summary: Your attempts to get your boyfriend out of bed don’t go as planned.

AN: Here's my first ever story for CJ! Hope you enjoy. 💜

Word Count: 1,400

Tags/Warnings: Implied smut, fluff, tinge of angst.

You managed to close the door very carefully behind you while making sure the mugs of coffee you carried didn’t spill. Once one of these old dorm room carpets stained, there was no getting it out.

You turned to find your boyfriend rolled over in his sleep, onto his stomach. The sheets had pulled down to his waist, but a few of his toes were peeking out as his foot hung out from his side of the bed.

Smiling, you went back over to your side. You set down the mugs on the nightstand and, slow and smoothly as you could, you slid in behind him. You laid a hand between his shoulders.

A sleepy, muffled sound reached your ears. You bit your lip in amusement. You sidled in closer, until your head was resting on his bare shoulder.

“Morning, sunshine,” you said quietly.

CJ’s face peeked out from under the messy flop of his brown hair, but his eyes were still stubbornly closed. His groan was more petulant this time.

“It’s not daytime yet, is it?” he muttered.

“Unfortunately, yes,” you replied, though you encouraged his waking with a soft hand drawing up and down his back. “But I’ve got coffee and a kiss waiting for you…after you brush your teeth.”

With a tilt of his head, CJ finally cracked his eyes open.

You laughed a little. “That’s what I thought.”

You sat up and brushed strands of his wild hair away from his forehead. It allowed CJ to get a better look at you in your chosen PJs. AKA: His dark blue sweater from yesterday, and possibly little else underneath. It was a better reason than most to get up.

He let out a sigh and turned over onto his back. He stretched out next to you in bed with another groan as he rolled the kinks out of his neck. But without warning, he hooked a hand into the front of your borrowed sweater and yanked you into his arms.

You yelped in surprise and landed on his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you in close, until you were once again staring down at his amused face.

“This isn’t exactly getting up,” you said, playfully chiding. “You’ve got class in an hour.”

CJ gave you a lazy smile that had a note of cheekiness.

“Plenty of time,” he said.

You quirked a brow as you felt his hands wander, down your sides and hips, and under the sweater. He found the lacy hem of your underwear.

“Time for what?” you asked, despite knowing the answer all too well.

“To have a really good morning,” he replied, squeezing your hips, but your fingers stopped his lips from approaching yours. You smirked.

“I was serious about that toothpaste,” you said. CJ pouted, leaning back against the pillow.

“Fine. Don’t kiss me, see if I care.”

You laughed at his bout of childishness.

“Come on, don’t be lazy.” You pushed off his chest, but before you left him completely, you looked down at him with a smile. “If you stop wasting time, I promise, we’ll have a very good morning.”

Raising his brows, CJ finally rolled out of bed after you sat back and got off of him. He stumbled a bit on his way to the bathroom.

You shook your head, huffing in amusement. It seemed that after a couple years of celibacy, the promise of any kind of activities was too good a motivator.

“We've gotta respect the sun,” CJ jokingly told you one morning, right before he turned you onto your back and slid down the length of your body and…

You’d barely taken a few sips of your coffee when you felt the bed dip behind you. A familiar pair of plush lips brushed along your neck, after a hand swept your hair aside.

“Why’re you staring into your coffee so intently?” CJ asked near your ear. It almost had a shiver running down your spine. You smiled.

“Nothing,” you lied. He hummed in response. His warm hands swept up and down your arms and massaged between your shoulders. You let out a pleased sigh.

“Hmm, you’re a little tense. Knots all up in here,” he remarked, though you heard the smile in his voice. “I think we need to work these out.”

You giggled. And you set down your coffee mug, because you knew what was coming. CJ pulled you back into his arms, where you leaned back and met him with a kiss. He tasted minty fresh.

You soon stopped him with a hand on his cheek. “Hey, before I forget. Would you want to go to a party this Friday? Joey invited me.”

CJ’s expression fell, just a little. You paused, biting your lip.

“But I’d get it if you don’t want to go,” you said. “It’s this thing at Jack and Pacey’s apartment. I know he’s the guy who kind of…introduced your face to a brick wall and all.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t fun,” CJ replied. He was already frowning at the memory, of not only Pacey, but of Audrey, and Jen, and how messy that had been. That whole episode had happened before he started falling for you…but it didn’t mean he wanted to dive back into all that “fun-filled” drama.

“Audrey won’t be there, obviously,” you said. Audrey was back in California, in rehab.

“Yeah, but Pacey sure will,” CJ dryly pointed out.

And Jen, he thought. He knew she still had something of a crush on him, but he’d been able to maintain his distance, especially since things started to get serious with you.

You stroked his cheek, breaking him out of his thoughts and earning his gaze.

“Joey already talked to him. I’m sure Pacey’s chilled out by now,” you reasoned. CJ was still frowning though.

After a beat of hesitation, you leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said at last.

And yet, CJ knew that look on your face. He prickled with guilt inside, seeing your well-hidden disappointment.

“But you do,” he said with a sigh. “You like them, don’t you?”

You smiled, giving a little shrug. CJ released you from his arms so you could turn around and sit across from him on the bed.

“They’re the first real friends I’ve made here in Boston,” you admitted.

You came up to Boston Bay College from New York last year. Joey had been your first friend, not only because you were assigned to be roommates (along with Audrey), but because you two were in the same major.

You and Joey often had the same classes together. Over the past few months, you’d gotten friendly with Audrey, Jack, Pacey, and even Jen, before she started acting a bit stiffly around you.

You grabbed CJ’s hand. “Look, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Like I said, we don’t have to go.”

CJ shook his head and squeezed your hand back.

“No, it’s okay. We can go,” he said. He was just glad you didn’t try to drag him to this thing without telling him all the angles first. He wasn’t one for surprises.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your brows furrowing. CJ smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, why not,” he said. He didn’t want to be the reason you missed out on something, even if it had the potential to make him very, very uncomfortable.

It was worth it to get your smile though. You leaned over to wrap your arms around his neck in a warm hug.

“Thank you, thank you!” you said, giggling in his ear.

It made him smile. With a soft groan, he turned you over and laid you back down on the bed. You let out an oof at the way he half smothered you with his weight, but you didn’t let go of him.

“You’re gonna be late for class at this rate,” you reminded him.

CJ was studious and a more responsible student than most, but today, he didn’t really give a shit if he was late to his Philosophy class.

Instead, he kissed his way up your neck until he found your lips. There he drew it out slow, savoring the feeling of you underneath him, of swallowing your breath with each new kiss.

Meanwhile, his hand once again found its way under your stolen sweater and teased both sighs and moans from your mouth. He parted from you, just for a moment, to see the fairly dazed look on your face. He smiled and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“Well, good morning,” he said.

Your resulting laughter shook both of you. You buried your fingers in his messy hair and wrapped your legs around his hips.

“It’s about to be,” you nodded.

AN: And there we have it! Short and sweet. Let me know what you think. 😘

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