#*points* look ma i made it

[flowercrown-bard]

Why is the Roche/Ciri ship always only crap for you all?

Hey, i once read a draco x apple fanfic. I have no room to judge anyone's ship and I don't think I ever did that (outside of private conversations). What i am judging is someone ruining the fandom experience for other people. If you really are as upset and hurt by people hating on your ship as you say, I'm sure you understand why people don't like you hating on their ship. (btw it's hilarious that you sent me hate for rorveth and cirys. Literally the only character included here that i even know is Ciri. If you sent me geraskier hate there would at least be context since i actually ship it, but i have absolutely no opinion on those ships you mentioned. I don't even know them) You've been told by others why they are annoyed by your asks and obviously it has no effect on you, so i won't bother repeating what they've already said, but i do occasionally love hearing myself talk so i wil still write a far longer response than i should So this isn't a hate response, it's a love letter to fandom. So here's what made being in a fandom so special to me:

The support.

Fandom to me is, at its core, strangers sharing their excitement, inspiring each other and admiring what other people do. When i started writing i was so self conscious, i couldn't sleep after posting a chapter because I was so anxious. And i received so much support even for works that are really not that great. There's something so wonderful about cheering others on and getting cheered on. That sort of open and heartfelt support is not something you experience in real life and it made some hard times much better for me. It's incredible knowing that people across the globe collaborate, send each other prompts or getting really excited about something someone else did.

2. The possibility to just…not engage in conversations i don't want to be in.

It's so freeing to have the option to block people of just not respond. There's always some sort of controversy or just some takes i don't like. How wonderful that i can just not look at those things

3. Getting to be creative and knowing it makes people happier

Your fic or art isn't brilliant? Who cares. It's so freeing to create something out of love, for people who love the same thing. I started writing for the first time since i was a child because of fandom. I dabbled in creating fanart (and realised the medium isn't for me, which is also great to find out), i wrote poetry (which I never wanted to do) and badly recorded songs (which i felt so self conscious about). Was it all good? Ha, absolutely not. But i got zo try it out and i wouldn't have done that without fandom. There is no external pressure to be good (or if there is pressure from other people to create and be good, there are always a ton of others telling you why this pressure is unfair and should be ignored). There are no grades, no deadlines. Just the love and joy of creating and sharing your creation. Or not sharing them, if that's what you want. Both is fine and that's the point

4. Seeing people of all skill levels share their works

And all of their art is beautiful and meaningful, no matter if they qre a master of their craft or someone who pickef up a pen for the first time to try out this medium

5. Seeing different interpretations

I don't like many of them but it's so interesting to see how others are interpreting something. That can be anything from the question of who's a top to some in depth meta analysis. People enjoy different things and it's so cool to see what they focus on

6. The people in general. I pretty much left the witcher fandom months ago (i tried writing for it again but it was so hard that I gave up) but through it, i met incredible people, some of who have become irreplaceable parts of my life and i am so thankful for fandom for bringing us together like this. When i was in the fandom, i got to know people are so talented, unbelievably creative, kind, funny, supportive and so many other wonderful things (even those i never talked to directly. If you left a comment on something i wrote or made my days brighter with your own creations, you are amazing and i appreciate you a lot)

Basically, fandom for me was an experience that brought me joy and a sense of community. It's on you to seek out the fandom experience you want to have. If you want that experience to be one of bitterness and hate, I'm really sorry for you. But more than anything I'm sorry for the people who you drag into this by harrassing them even after they blocked you. If you want to stew in bitterness over shipping a rarepair, that's your decision. But if other people want to enjoy the fandom in a more joyful way, then that should be their decision too and you don't get to take it away from them and ruin their love. Because ultimately that's what fandom is to me and i treasure the memory of that love more than I value the opinion of someone who apparently takes joy in trying (and hopefully failing) to take that love away

[snackugaki]

and now, for my next descent into fandom hell: au edition

* backflips into oblivion *

[ all of my other comics stories with partially mapped plotlines with underdeveloped and barely designed characters ]: 🌚 

why yes I DID bring back Keno, it’s october— happy filipino american history month motherpotas

[pastel-rights]

more sona oc shenanigans because they make me feel things 🫶 /pos

[i-bring-crack]

Jinhae Exes AU not in the "ones of us cheated" or "it was all a big misunderstanding that separated us" kind of way.

But in the "one of us realized the world is significantly different than what we were thought to believe and now we are fighting in different sides of the war and I still love you but I think I'm right in this ideology game and just want the other to understand and come back please—"

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 10:00 A.M 」

SUMMERRR @ohimsummer you’re so responsible for this infinitely adorable idea omg🤧 based on this ask & this video !

a part of gojo's love entries

“papa. come on. pa-pa~ say it after me!”

sunday morning. the first sight you saw after getting up was another shenanigan staged by your husband—

in the form of him shoving your humongous wedding photo in front of your one-year old boy’s face.

“this is pa-pa~” satoru’s singsong voice echoed through the baby room, full of enthusiasm, pointing at his face in the photo. “pa-pa~ easy right? now…”

your baby merely blinked though, chewing his pacifier in pure ignorance. his eyes—a pair blue marbles—glancing between his desperate papa and the wedding picture with little interest.

“hmph,” satoru clicked his tongue, and then he pointed at your beaming figure in the photo, voice visibly flat. “this is… mother.”

you quirked an eyebrow, totally snorting.

but he succeeded in grabbing your baby’s attention this time, as his crystal blue eyes widened a bit in wonder, staring at you in the picture.

“mother is pa-pa’s wife. she makes your food, nice on some days, but be careful! she can put a ban on our supply of mochi if she is in a bad mood!”

“oh, do i?” you walked over to him with a bark of a laugh, crossing your arms.

satoru made an exaggerated spooked look, mouth curving into an ‘O’. “uh-oh, mama dragon is here.”

“look, you big bully. why are you bothering our baby first thing in the morning?”

“i’m not bullying him! it’s education! he has to see that his papa is the gallant sorcerer—”

“—ma!”

. . .

silence. both of you stiffly turned towards your little munchkin when you heard that little, feeble sound.

your baby and his clear, watery eyes made a grabby motions towards you from his bouncer chair, lips wobbling with effort. “ma—ma!”

...another silence before you snapped—

“my baby!!” you squealed, immediately plucking him, giving and smothering him with the tightest hug and kisses, whereas satoru’s jaw dropped to the depths of soil behind you. “kyaaaa~! i love you soooo much!”

“h-how—!”

“i definitely didn’t go through the pain of giving birth to you so you can call your deadbeat papa first!”

“—?! hey! i’m fully responsible for child support!”

and so you left him in his sorrows, walking out while cooing at your bundle of joy, leaving trails of your baby son’s happy giggles along the way as your defeated husband, who felt so betrayed, sulked in the background.

epilogue

“come on… just once, please? say papa.”

this time, satoru has his baby son open a book beside him, as he points at the father figure in that storybook, still urging his mini-him to call him.

but contrary to his expectations, his little boy just aggressively turned the pages over, only seemingly interested in seeing the illustrations on each page.

“papa. come on, buddy, hmm?” he prodded his chubby arms and tickled his tummy, and once again, his prickly baby retorted with—

“ma! ma!”

satoru sighed in defeat, but this time he relented, as the way his son was all energetic while calling you somehow wormed its way to his heart too.

he was still babbling incoherently, and yet this time satoru only pinched his cheeks together. “you sure adore your mama, huh?”

“mwa!”

“yeah, me too, kiddo. me too.”

[emmyrosee]

Sukuna hates how petty you can get when you’re fighting.

There is a part of him that loves your stubbornness, sure, like when you huff at him and make him work for your affection, but right now, you’re on day three of the silent treatment, and he’s losing it.

You enter a room and he’s already in it, you leave. You’re talking to yuuji and he comes in, you stop talking immediately. You haven’t been staying the night anymore, and you haven’t given him a kiss goodbye any time you’ve left. Even his ma is questioning what he did wrong, and he can’t give her a concrete answer.

He’s losing it.

Hes spammed texted you, he’s been trapping you in rooms by leaning in the doorframe, he’s been trying to get yuuji to be his messenger, but nothings working. You’re not biting.

“You’re over complicating this,” yuuji shakes his head and thumbing through channels. “Literally just apologize.”

“At this point I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for!”

“Well they’re on their way over, thinking you’re going to apologize, so you’d better figure it out.”

“You’ve been an immense help, thank you, asshole.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door, and when Sukuna takes a deep breath and answers it, you nearly spin on your heel to leave.

“Oh I don’t think so,” he snips, grabbing your hand and pulling you in the house and trying not to focus on how you’re not even fighting against him, and that’s how indifferent you are to him. “We’re talking. Like it.”

“Hey dawg!” Yuuji cheers, clicking off the tv and waving. You wave back, your streak of not talking in front of Sukuna continuing. The younger chuckles, “I’ll let the adults duke it out. See ya!”

The room fills with silence as yuuji leaves, making Sukuna immensely uncomfortable. The way you’re looking at him has him uncomfortable, you’re making him so uncomfortable, and he just wishes you’d toss your pride to the side and talk to him and cuss him out or something.

“You look… good.”

Nothing.

“I’ve missed you.”

Nada.

“I made out with someone else because I got sick of you ignoring me.”

You scowl at him.

“Okay, I was lying. I was hoping you’d cuss me out.”

No dice.

“You’re acting like a fucking child!” He takes a deep breath in to try and ground himself, and you merely watch him with a hurt expression.

Okay. That didn’t help his situation.

“Fucks sake,” he grumbles, making a move to guide you backwards. He’s got you backed into a wall, hands on your shoulders while your arms stay nonchalantly crossed.

“I don’t get why you’re so mad at me; what did I even do?” He snaps, leaning close to your face threateningly.

You blink unamused.

Oh.

You’re gonna speak alright. He’s gonna make sure of it.

“Speak.”

You merely look him up and down and turn your head.

“Talk! Now!”

You let a tired exhale through your nose pass.

“I said i was sorry, and i know you know that was hard for me, why am i still being punished by you?” It’s bait to make you mad and talk, he knows he hasn’t apologized to the most sincere of his ability, but he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Maybe I’ll tickle ya, how about that?”

That, does, have your eyes widening but you still don’t spare him a breath. He smirks, “I’d bet you’d hate that, huh? Holding in all that laughter and begs for me to stop, knowing I’m not going to until you talk to me… and I’ll do it too. You know that.”

You merely cross your arms over your chest tighter.

He shrugs, “you asked for it.”

And he’s gotta say, he’s impressed with how little you’re fighting back from him scooping you in his arms and tossing you on the couch, straddling you, even taking your two wrists in his massive paw and holding them above your head. Your lips wobble in anticipation, and he’s got you booked now. “Any last words? A quick ‘I hate you,’ maybe?”

You blink, bored, almost calling his bluff, and he comes up to smack his face in frustration. He wasn’t actually bluffing, he did have full intentions of making you scream, but he was so sure you’d crack under his gaze, even a quick kick to him as he was adjusting your body.

No dice.

With a shrug, hands come down quickly to tickle the meat of your ribs, settling in the dips and scratching at the bones maddeningly. He sees your lip become wobblier, and he smirks down at you. “Nothing? Not even a giggle? You must be pissed at me.”

You screw your eyes shut to ignore him and he clicks his tongue, “now you can’t even look at me? That sucks.”

He leans down to nibble at your neck and ear, whispering little words against your skin to make you squeak. But it isn’t until he cheats and uses his mouth to blow a raspberry on your sensitive neck, an area he’s so used to pressing loving kisses to, that you finally crack.

“YOURE SO CHEAP!” You scream, followed by a flurry of laughter and struggling from his tight hold. Your laugh is whiny and desperate, feet digging into the couch while his fingers merely slither up and under your arms.

He smirks against your skin, “gotcha.”

“Fuck off!” You squeal, tugging as hard as you can in his grasp. “Stohop it!”

“Are you gonna keep ignoring me?” He asks. You shake your head back and forth, but he cocks a brow. “Is that a no? Are we going to talk about your issues with me, or am I going to have to tickle you for the next few hours?”

“HOURS?!” You howl.

He shrugs, “you ignored me for three days, least I deserve is to tickle you until you sob.”

“I wasn’t-“ you’re cut off by a flurry of your own giggles. “This isn’t-“ a few more yowls of your laughter when he digs in more. “FUCK OFF!”

“Nah,” he snickers. “This is more fun.” He does, however, stop his torment and pulls back, but he does look down at you impatiently. “Speak,” he echos from earlier.

You let out a few more titters slip past your lips, but you do sober up slightly, “you don’t even care that I was mad at you.”

“Uh, I was about to tickle you until you died, I think I cared too much-“

“No, Sukuna. You just didn’t want me to be mad. You never apologized and you never even bothered to try and make it better…”

This, oddly, has Sukuna’s heart twisting, squeezed with emotions and realization that he did mess up, pride couldn’t save him now and if he wanted to fix this, he’d have to prove it.

He sighs in truce, “I’m sorry, babe.”

“….”

“What?”

“That’s it?”

He rolls his eyes, “what else do you want me to say?”

“I want you to care that I was hurt!” You whine, raising on your elbows. “I want you to understand I was hurt, that you messed up! Not be so prideful and not admit it!”

“Alright, alright, jeez,” he groans. He locks eyes with you, and he knows you’re not going to like it, but he leans down to kiss you, using his two hands to cup your jaw, letting his thumbs stroke your bone lovingly. “I’m sorry. It must’ve sucked having to deal with my shitty ass apologies before. I never should’ve pulled that shit, and I hated not having you by my side.”

This, has you softening.

He presses another kiss to you, “I missed your laughter. I missed you scolding me. I missed you being sarcastic… don’t pull that silent treatment shit again, will ya?”

You hum happily, “don’t piss me off and I won’t have to.”

He blinks unamused, and as the thought of tickling you again crosses his mind, you lean up to kiss his lips giggling softly in the warmth. “I’m kidding. You and I both know you’re not going to stop pissing me off.”

“Love when you answer your own demands,” he chuckles.

The tightness in his soul loosens as you submit to his affections, and he does make a mental note to never piss you off so bad again where you go back to happy to never talk to him again. He hates it more than even he knows, drags him down and he feels like he’s missing a crucial part of himself.

But it is good to know he can get you back out of that funk.

[cherienymphe]

Everybody Knows That I'm A Good Girl, Officer (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

WARNINGS: Dub-Con, power imbalance, abuse of power, degradation, manipulation, slight stalking, choking, semi public sex, mentions of cockwarming, mentions of gun kink, dom/sub elements, free use elements, jealousy

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

summary: ...and everybody knows. Everybody knows...that he fucks you.

~

You didn’t know a thing about Coriolanus Snow.

Not until he quite literally cornered you in the meadow one day.

Peacekeepers came and went, especially in District 12, so you never took it upon yourself to pay attention to any new face that appeared on the streets of your district in those blue uniforms. In truth, you never took it upon yourself to pay attention to any of their faces. They all perfectly blended together into one faceless being that was merely a puppet of The Capitol, anyway.

However, standing in front Coriolanus Snow, you wondered how you missed him. Not because he was handsome—and he was—but because there was a hard glint to his blue gaze that told you he wasn’t the average capitol dog. Gun tight in his hand at his side, he stared at you like he wasn’t at all surprised to find you there.

He wasn’t.

You learned that Coriolanus Snow liked to watch you, silent footsteps shadowing yours as he wondered what you were up to when you crossed the district line. He liked to watch you pick flowers and write underneath a tree and bring back the occasional caught animal for your ma and pa. He watched you play with the children in your district and help that old neighbor with her window…and steal food on occasions when your family couldn’t afford it.

“You could get into a lot of trouble for that.”

His tone was even and strong, but something about it told you that he didn’t want you to get in trouble for that.

“I know,” you told him, jutting out your chin as if challenging him to do something about it.

You said nothing, merely pressing your back to the tree when he moved closer, the gentle breeze ruffling the tall grass around his feet. You said nothing when he stood so close that you could smell him, wondering to yourself what a peacekeeper could possibly have access to that would make him smell so good. You even remained quiet when his free hand reached for yours, the softness of it shocking you, a sharp inhale when he turned your hand over.

Your palm was lightly stained from the bird you’d killed.

You curiously eyed him, a slight frown between your brows as he studied the skin. You drank in his prominent nose, full lips, and those unsettling blue eyes. Staring at them for too long actually made you uneasy, and when his gaze lifted to meet yours, you couldn’t look away fast enough. It only then occurred to you that you were out in the woods alone…with a peacekeeper who could do absolutely anything he wanted to you.

His next words surprised you.

“If someone other than me were to catch you…I can’t imagine what they’d do to you,” he murmured, making your frown deepen. “So, I would advise you to stop.”

By the way the corner of his mouth twitched, you knew that your shock and confusion was all over your face. When he dropped your hand, he pointed his gun at your catch of the day in a gesture for you to get your things, waiting for you to grab your dinner and your book.

You thought that he was letting you off the hook.

You thought wrong.

You learned that Coriolanus Snow was not a good man.

“Your daughter dropped these, ma’am, and I knew she’d kick herself if I didn’t bring these home.”

That smile on his pink lips was perfect, blue eyes twinkling when your mother thanked him profusely for bringing home your groceries—groceries you both knew you didn’t buy. When your eyes met his over her shoulder, that charming smile didn’t move an inch, and the longer he stared at you, the more uncomfortable you felt.

“Thank you,” you told him the next day, seeking him out.

He wasn’t technically on duty, and you found your gaze lingering on the dog tag around his neck. However, you found your gaze lingering on his face instead when he took a step closer, gaze unreadable.

“Anytime.”

It was a strange thing to say about bringing you food that you didn’t buy, and when he took another step towards you, your face pinched ever so slightly. You were all too aware of your close proximity, and when you felt his chest lightly brush against yours, your lips parted in realization. The moment it clicked had your blood running both hot and cold, uneasy and conflicted.

As you stared at each other, there seemed to be a lot of unspoken words between you, Coriolanus with one hand on the wall and you with one hand fidgeting with your shirt. You looked between his eyes, looking for some hint of hesitation, some evidence that deep down this wasn’t something he actually wanted to do…but there was none. There was a resolve in his gaze that felt all too familiar. It was the same determination you were sure was in your gaze anytime you swiped food for your household.

The same determination when your desperation won.

You took a deep shuddery breath.

“Anytime…?” you wondered, keeping your eyes on him.

Something in his face relaxed, evening out as he completely crowded you, now.

“Anytime.”

When his lips met yours, you didn’t exactly know what to do, feeling both unsure and sure at the same time. You were sure that you wanted to live comfortably and not have to wonder how you’d get your next meal, but you were so unsure of how this would end and what this would mean for you. You wouldn’t be the first girl to give herself to a peacekeeper or the mayor or whoever else she needed to just to ease the weight in her chest.

Coriolanus kissed you like he was the hungry one, lips moving against yours in a way that left you breathless. His hand wouldn’t stop kneading into your waist through your shirt, and his other found a home on your face, thumb brushing over your skin and tilting your head back. The only thing to pull you apart was a noise coming from inside the building you were pressed against, and when the blond man told you to hurry home, you did.

You learned that Coriolanus Snow liked obedience.

He wasn’t the kind of man who enjoyed repeating himself, and you learned that quickly, so now when he told you to get on your knees, you didn’t hesitate. When he told you to open your mouth, you did, and when he practically begged you to look up at him, you did. Coriolanus would never beg, he would never do that, but it was evident in the way his voice strained—the way the words left him breathlessly.

Or maybe that was because you had your lips around his cock.

With a hand in your hair and a hand on your chin, he gently guided you to take him into your throat again and again. You were no virgin, but there were still a lot of firsts to be had for you, and sliding your tongue over the tip of him was one of them. The feel of his fingers massaging your scalp soothed you, made this less nerve-wracking, and to your surprise, it even stroked a slowly burning fire between your legs.

There was such a stark contrast between the gentle touch of his fingers in your hair and the harsh hold of his hand on your chin. It wasn’t the easiest to take all of him into your mouth, and you couldn’t swallow down the noise that escaped when he hit the back of your throat. His smooth baritone reached your ears when he gently shushed you, softly telling you to use your hands.

“Wrap them around me,” he whispered in the otherwise quiet room.

Coriolanus liked obedience…so you did.

Your hand slid along his length in time with your lips, twisting around his cock, an easy task with the help of the mess you were making. He didn’t seem to mind though, only groaning above you, and when you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes, you took in the way his head was thrown back, the skin of his throat straining and bobbing as he swallowed.

When he lowered his head, you started to look away, but the tightening of his hand in your hair told you not to. You kept your eyes on his as best as you could, sucking your cheeks in and flattening your tongue against the side of his cock. Every bob of your head made him shudder, and you dropped your hand when his hands came to rest on both sides of your head.

Remaining still for the man standing over you, you kept your mouth open as he slowly began to push his hips forward. With every surge of them, his cock dipped into your waiting lips, sliding over your tongue and against the inside of your cheeks. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks as he lost himself in his movements, blue eyes gazing down at you as he filled your mouth.

You didn’t know why—couldn’t understand it—but something about his outright use of your body and your lips had you squeezing your thighs together. It made heat settle in the pit of your stomach, twisting and burning violently until your not-so-subtle movements became noticed by him. In between his uneven breathing, a soft chuckle reached your ears.

“You’ll get your turn.”

…and he was a man of his word.

With the taste of him still on your tongue, Coriolanus had one forearm completely pinning your hips to the bed as he pressed his face between your thighs. Another first ripped away from you, wide gaze on the ceiling as you fought to keep from squirming. The feel of his tongue inside of you was jarring, and you couldn’t stop your toes from curling at the warm feel of it quite literally lapping at you.

Your hands came down to rest on his short blond hair, hips attempting to lift from the mattress, chest arching upwards towards the ceiling. When he hummed between your legs, you felt it all over, and you couldn’t stop the moans that climbed out of your throat. With him holding you down, the only appropriate thing to do was claw at whatever you could, turning your head from side to side.

It wasn’t enough for you to come into his mouth once. Coriolanus needed to know that he was the best you’d ever get, and even when you were out of breath and exhausted and overstimulated, he didn’t let your thighs go, only using them to drag you closer as he knelt between them. His perfect teeth winked at you when he leaned in to kiss you.

If your ma and pa wondered what kind of job you lucked out with to afford all of the food and clothes you started to bring home, they didn’t ask. Although, something in you suspected that they had an inkling of just what you had to do to bring home the freshest bread and the warmest clothes they’d ever had. You started to suspect that everyone did.

Coriolanus wasn’t exactly the most discreet, and you learned that he didn’t intend to be.

On the off chance you crossed paths in the street, he stopped you for all to see, voice lowering as he got really close and asked you how you were. You would feel the eyes of his peacekeeper friends on you as the unspoken questions lingered between you. Did you need more food? Did you need a new dress? You would tell him that you were fine, code for you didn’t need anything at the moment, and he wouldn’t try to hide his perusal of you, those unsettling blue eyes slowly dragging over your frame.

He didn’t seem the kind of asshole to brag about such things, but you weren’t stupid. Even without saying it, he made your arrangement abundantly clear. The way he talked to you, studied you, and ran his fingers over the back of your arm without a care as to who saw. Coriolanus had staked a claim on you, an unspoken display of ownership, and you wrote it off to some sick power trip.

…but you learned that Coriolanus Snow was a very jealous man.

That revelation struck you as odd because you didn’t think anyone would have anything he’d be jealous of, and you certainly didn’t think he’d be jealous over you. You were some average thieving girl whom he exploited the first moment he saw an opportunity to do so. Considering that he was willing to do it to you, you didn’t doubt that he was willing to do it to someone else should he find himself unable to have you anymore. That was what you believed anyway…

Until his fist was ruining the face of some District 12 boy you’d grown up with. You were far from friends, but he’d been a familiar constant in your life for years, and so sharing a drink with him while everyone danced to the live music on stage seemed like nothing at all to you. You didn’t even think there were lines to cross, a sentiment that was quickly corrected.

With one hand curled around your throat—holding you in place—there wasn’t any other option but to take Coriolanus’ thrusts. The sound of guitars and flutes and fiddles bled through the thin walls, everyone quickly moving on from the brief display of violence they’d witnessed. You could still remember the shock on your face as other peacekeepers pulled him off of the unsuspecting man who’d never been anything more than an acquaintance, really.

Your horrified gaze had met that of a familiar blue, and there wasn’t much time to do anything before Coriolanus neared you, reaching for the back of your neck as he walked you away from the crowd. It had been hard to ignore the numerous eyes following your movements, and you wondered now if they quickly moved on from the display because it was nothing or because they were too nervous to get involved with Coriolanus and the girl the whole district knew belonged to him.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out in some back room, your chest pressed to the table.

Your eyes were squeezed shut as he stretched you out, cock pushing into you and throbbing with every push of his hips. You knew that the words wouldn’t change anything, but you felt compelled to say them, anyway. His fingers were tight against your neck, and every time you reached up towards them, he only squeezed tighter. Despite the discomfort, you couldn’t stop your stomach from squeezing, coiling tight as you gripped him.

When he pulled you up so that your back was firm against his, his hold on your neck loosened a bit, and you took a deep inhale. His thumb was pressed to your jaw, and he brought his face down to rest on the other side of your neck where his arm didn’t rest, pressing open mouthed kisses there.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” he whispered against your skin.

It was the truth, and at your silence, he squeezed your neck again.

Your nails scraped against the table he fucked you on, upper body straining as he kept you upright and against him, hips lifting to push his cock into you with the kind of thrusts meant to make a point. When his teeth grazed your skin, you shuddered in his hold, and despite the fact that you couldn’t hear his laugh, you felt it deep within his chest.

“He can’t give you what I can…”

You started to tell him that you knew that, but Coriolanus didn’t let you.

“…so, don’t go thinking he can.”

“I wouldn’t…”

Your words died in the air when he pushed you back down, completely pressed against you and pinning you between him and the table.

“Wouldn’t you?” he hummed, his free hand trailing over your visible cheek. “Everybody knows your price.”

The demeaning words made your stomach turn, but the way he curved his hips against you only had you clenching down on him at the insulting insinuation.

“They see the nicer clothes…the better living conditions…and they know why. They know what you did to get that.”

His lips brushed against your skin with every word, and as if it make his point, he reached down between your legs to brush his thumb over you, making you gasp. With the circling of his fingers, you fidgeted beneath him, toes pushed to the absolute tip to get some reprieve and lips parted as you scraped and clawed at the table.

When he came inside of you, something he never did before, he held you down, forcing you to milk his cock until he was completely satisfied. The nice dress he’d gotten sewn for you was ripped, and you reached up to touch it with trembling lips the moment he let you go. He was so determined to get his hands on you the moment the door was shut that you liked to think it was an accident, but the way you were forced to wear the jacket of his uniform as you walked out made you think otherwise.

Even though Coriolanus was nowhere near you once you rejoined the crowd, his presence was still loud and clear. No one needed to be a genius to figure out where you’d been, and as you glanced around, you realized that he was right. The discreet looks and nervousness around you… Everyone knew.

…and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

You learned that Coriolanus Snow liked to have you whenever and wherever he wanted.

Whether it was in his bunk when he should’ve been on duty or in your room during the early hours of the morning when your pa was in the mines and your ma was asleep or between the openness of the trees when you were only amongst the grass and the birds. He didn’t like disobedience, and so, he didn’t like the word no. So, you never uttered it.

Even when you wanted to.

“Good girl,” he purred into your lips when you did as he wanted, reaching down between you and sliding yourself onto his cock.

It was late when he knocked on your door, gently telling your ma to go back to bed when you answered it. You didn’t know if you wanted to see the look on her face when you left with him, afraid of what you’d see. There was a rare stillness about District 12 when you crossed the district line, Coriolanus’ fingers brushing over your neck the entire way.

The only light was from the moon, his soft hands gripping your hips and guiding you over him. His gaze alternated between your face and his lap where you two connected. Occasionally he lifted his own hips, driving his cock up into you and making you gasp. His hands ran up and down your frame, kneading your skin and basking in the thin layer of sweat that clung to you—to both of you.

“Show me how bad you want it,” he’d murmur in the darkness, completely letting you go.

He opted for leaning back on his elbows, his own pink lips parted, blue eyes glinting under the light of the moon as he watched you fuck yourself onto his cock. Your hands pressed against his chest, keeping yourself upright as your lashes fluttered. There was a burn in your hips that ached too good to stop, the sound of you squeezing him and sliding up and down him loud to your ears.

“Make yourself come,” he’d whisper, refusing to touch you as his voice lowered. “Work for it.”

When you finally did tense on top of him, shuddering and pressing your nails into his chest, the blond man wouldn’t hesitate to circle his arm around your waist, flipping you before you could even catch your breath. Back pressed into the grass, he snapped his hips against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the air.

Under the cover of darkness, Coriolanus allowed himself to lose control, holding your throat and pushing into you—taking full advantage of having you at his mercy. He plunged his cock into your walls, praising how wet you were for him and how snugly he fit inside of you.

“Whenever I want,” he told you.

“Whenever you want,” you agreed, nails digging into his back.

When you returned in the early hours of the morning, your ma never acknowledged it. She never acknowledged how the house stayed stocked with food despite you never going to the market. Her only acknowledgement of the clothes sewn for her were quiet ‘thank yous’…but she knew. Everyone knew.

…and it bothered you less and less until it didn’t bother you, at all.

It couldn’t bother you.

…because if it did you would have to say no when Coriolanus wanted you to rest in his lap, cock fitting snugly inside of you as he held you there. You would have to say no when he brought you another dress he had made or the freshest groceries you would’ve never been able to afford. You would have to say no when he asked if you were his good girl, demanding you prove it as he slid his gun between your legs, telling you to remain completely still.

…but you didn’t say no to any of that because it didn’t bother you—because it couldn’t bother you. Even when the discreet looks were hard to ignore or your ma started to ask if you’d be out late or you started to feel cheap and used. You couldn’t let it bother you.

You were his good girl, and that was what he told you when he tied a pretty delicate ribbon around your neck for all to see one evening.

It was soft.

White.

Just like snow.

[understandableparadox]

a comprehensive list of everything wrong with hazbin hotel.

quick note before i lose myself in madness, my standards for helluvaboss are non existent because its a free show on youtube. also i kinda like helluvaboss and i will indulge in any bias i damn well please.

oh and spoilers. i guess.

the greater narrative of the entire season is "White lady civilize inner city hoodlum". ex: The blind side. rich girl, affluent family yadda yadda.

the story is set up to be like amphibia, owl house, svtfoe, steven universe, that being starting as something episodic then transforming into story driven narrative. why? because we know the benefits and drawbacks, episodic starts allows us to wander the world, it allows us to understand the dynamics, we are not forced to reckon with anything because there is no deadline. characters are allowed to bloom and shine and the audience can actually get attached.

the source material is Vary Clearly formed from remnants of something out of a middle school edgelord narrative. the usage of transformation, the big spooky grins, the "and then i smile as my eyes glow and-"-isms which in most cases i don't mind because in some instances but in a vary Particular case its astoundingly annoying and that annoyance is like a mold, shit spreads quick.

the color Red. as a lover of homestuck cherubs and karkat and aradia, as someone who fucking loves the color red, it is so painful to say but holy shit tone it the fuck down, i know its hell but their are so many other colors that you can use, its everywhere, the streets, the air, the windows, the screens, the characters, i know the pride ring is represented with red but change up the palates every so often for backgrounds

the rush, this ties into the second point made but i think the story itself is rushed. we know everything way to early. i know way to much and it makes it hard to care about anything because im still trying to digest the last chunk of info. "oh ok, so they clear out hell once a year. oh hell has a heaven embassy? ok. oh that adam the angel, i though he wou- oh its every 6 months now. wait the exterminators die a lot? then why is everyone sca- people in hell already have weapons that can kill angels? w- oh we are in heaven now, ok ma- no one in heaven except for the elites know the exterminations occur? how do-" and its that, just this incessant rush to explain everything to you. notably that's just the god damn spark notes, we need to know everything about the characters now, every single bit of their story, their insecurities, what charlie needs to fix, how she can fix them, the major bad guys, everything. you are never allowed to dwell on a character because we need to rush towards something else. it almost feels like this should have been like... season three, it would have been a fantastic season three if you dropped the introductions honestly.

the concept of redemption. for a story of redemption to work you need to look at three things. What is there crime, Do they want to change, What is preventing them from changeing? there is only one single character that has a notable path of redemption, angel dust, but if you look through their story it feels off. What Exactly is he guilty of? he has sex, does drugs and drinks. his apparent nymphomania is tied to his sad backstory as someone forced into the sex industry so how is that their fault? then if you think about it you start to spiral and notice "hey why are most of these people in hell?" like sure some of them may deserve punishment but then you see the fucking dichotomy and its like "I was a inventor in england and died of the fucking plague, i may have made evil little contraption hoohoohoo" vs "I was a cannibal, a full on cannibal, i fucking killed people and ate them and then someone shot me". ONE OF THESE THINGS ARE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING EXTREME. i'm going to go fucking nuts, the thing they went to heaven with when presenting a case to angels on the idea that redemption and becoming a better person is actually real was angel dust not drinking at a party and not having sex with consenting adults and i want to go fucking insane. WHAT IS THE CRIME, WHO IS THROWING THE BOOK, WHAT DOES THE BOOK INTEL, ARE WE ON GOOD PLACE RULES?! half the cast dont Need redemption they need fucking help, and the other half of the cast do need redemption but they do not seek it making the point moot. sir pentious acts like he has the brain of a hyper intelligent toddler tossing about toys, its almost like he did his one bad thing of spying and then got caught, sank his little diddy about forgiveness and second chances and become a null point through out the rest of the series, sure their was Some weight to him sacrificing himself, he was a decently funny character and he had good moments but him popping up in heaven felt like a fore gone conclusion, he didn't deserve to be in hell so why do i care that he is suddenly in heaven? because its working on the concept the good place already made. no one actually deserves eternal punishment they just need help processing what makes them a dick, but instead of looking at all the parts of the afterlife that make it bad, inefficient and then creating and trying ideas to see if it work instead over a few seasons, we crash dick first into all the major plot points in regards to that and say "tada, we fixed it.".

having a sub-plot about sexual assault and its victims then having multiple sexual assault related gag ruins your point.

don't make a bunch of stereotypically jewish characters into cannibals, that was a big thing, really shouldn't have to say it.

if you are going to make a character black, make them black, you can say alastor was black but sweet seren-fucking-dippity that's not a black man.

pot meet kettle but yeah the cursing could be a little less liberal. maybe just blue hair or the pronouns, not both.

there is a very distinctive art deco/jazz aesthetic which normally i love but i feel as though it is not used to its full extent and in some cases really hurts the character design in and of itself.

this is a vary obvious bit but the story is a million times more interested in gay men then it is of lesbians, which culminates in this insane thing where the writers clearly have more talent or perhaps it would be more abt to say practice writing male gay pining then they are with lesbian pining. which i personally think is hilarious because i did not know you could min max fujoshi-ism that hard.

this next section is more to do with each character on a fundamental level, for the sake of brevity whatever there is left, i'm just doing ones with speaking roles.

13. Charlie:

(see what i mean about that red thing?)

as originally stated charlie fits rather comfortably into every white saviour narrative, though that seems to be part of her joke. though i'm not entirely sure how much of a joke it can be when its rewarded and expected to advance the plot.

her character design says nothing, it has the motif of old puppets or dolls, she wears something vaguely similar to service suits, her demonic form is just some extra horns.not to say every character needs to have their life on a clothes rack but some more snake and goat imagery would be nice

its not the chol design of charlie with snake hair, not an actual problem but its a problem to me, damn you @cholvoq for ruining my ability to look at any of the characters without wishing i was seeing your designs instead.

character wise aside from the white savoir bit, i'm having a bit of trouble understanding what the arc of the character is. she is shown to be naive, someone who doesn't understand how the world works but everytime she says something its something astoundingly clear like "people can actually get better". and its treated like someone demanded faygo in every water fountain. is the joke that the world around her to cynical or is so to naive? please pick one or the other.

now if you know me, you know i fucking hate overpowered characters with a blinding passion, one that would set alit the god damn abyss but in this one special instance, i feel like its warranted, she's the direct descendant of fucking God, she can swing her weight around a little, i mean god damn. she in so many instances looks like shes cowering so often, why would the daughter of lucifer get backed down by some rando pimp? why wasn't she the one to fight adam? sure you can say she is young but how young? her parents were there since pre-abrahamic times, most of the characters showed up in hell in the 1900s, some of them showed up in the 1600s, how old is charlie??? how long does it take for her to learn how to be strong? The story does not suffer if charlie is strong and knows she is strong. it can easily be a case of "i don't believe in violence to a weird degree". fit it into her apparent naivety about the world to believe that violence is never the answer even when dealing with a being that is unilaterally horrible and abusive and monstrous.

she ga- no im kidding, i do think her romance was waysided a bit, it would have been fine to have more scenes of them togather and in love you know?

14. Vaggie

why did you name the lesbian vaggie...? Don't do that maybe?

I like how her design is almost moth like but again i feel as though you could have amped that up.

she feels as though someone tried to combine undyne and pearl from steven universe, same story beats and design elements. it makes it hard to really distinguish her as a character.

i honestly dont have much to say about her. she is fine.

christ kill me, lets just get the big one out of the way

15. Alastor.

God Damn

where to start.

"alastor is mixed race" mixed with fucking what? concrete? there is not a single black feature on that creature, now im not saying you have to make him a png of louie armstrong but it wouldn't hurt to add a curl to the hair maybe? make it a tiny bit more wavy? Something? a crumb i beg of thee?

his symbolism is all over the god damn place, native american monsters (you know the one), voodoo, radio, puppets, stitches, circuses??? and Tentacles i guess. two of those are from closed religions so if you dumped those you would actually get a more concise character focused on the concept of vox populi as a means of societal control and influence as we see in his first song. but again that gets drowned out repeatedly by all the other random toy box bits shoved into him.

tumblr sexy man bait

he serves no purpose in the story. he does spooky stuff, pretends to do things and then goes back to sitting around looking spooky. i understand that his motif is supposed to be aloof mastermind but maybe have him do more mastermindy things? if you remove most of alastors scenes, bar the songs, it doesn't change all to much. husk and nifity can still be at the hotel, they could be looking for outs in their contracts the same as angel dust. hell it even helps with the one scene where he dose some spooky shit, asking charlie for a favor in exchange for his help in the fight with the angels instead of asking him about angel weapons which should have remained a strictly vaggie scene.

his presence in a way delegitimize the story, as I noted in in the section regarding redemption, the three parts are "what is the crime, do they want to change, what is stopping them?" and alastor kinda just spits in the face of that. he is a serial killer cannibal that has no qualms about how evil he is and apparently must continue being evil due to being under the control under someone legitimately called the Root Of All Evil. show him take a slight interest in the idea that maybe shit for him could be better, make him Want Change at the bare fucking minimum or dont have him at the hotel.

his stupid little fucking horns, big shot the troll liker wants characters to have big fucking horns, make them noticeable or dont have them.

he looks more like a dog boy, which could have been an interesting thing with the collar motif but fuck me i guess.

personal pet peeve but i fucking hate characters that have a million plus powers, stick to a set number, be creative.

im getting more petty as i go on so last point: he could have been in less episodes, he didn't need to be in dad beat dad, that should have been just a lucifer and charlie episode. inverse the red and black and i think he would be fucking great color wise, his body type is the same as ten different characters, he isnt radio enough, aside from the voice and and staff if you told me he was the fucking Cat Demon i would have been just as convinced.

16. Angel Dust

what the fuck, gay spider? its hard to actully articulate all the thoughts i have on angel dust, not in the sense that he is a deeply thought provoking character but in the fact that there is not much meat on the bones.

all around i think angel dust is kinda middling. he has a decent enough romance with husk, he has a decent enough story line that revolves around battling addiction and removing yourself from an abuser (which the story tries to brand as "Redemption???")

I dont like that most of his jokes would qualify as sexual harassment, i don't mind him being sexual as a character but continuing on when clearly someone doesn't like the jokes hurts the character.

not a critique but he is pink, which honestly ill fucking take at point, as long as its not more fucking red.

i think his design is an improvement over some of the old vivzie designs but it feels like it could have done with going a few more rounds of design changes.

same thing with alastor, charlie and vaggie, there is not enough of the animal that they are supposed to be. You could have told me angel dust was a fucking bee or something and i would have had to believe you. nothing about angel dust initially says spider, hell he dosent even have enough limps to be a fucking spider.

17. Carmilla carmine

are... are you supposed to be a rabbit...?

Big Yoai Hands

ballet fighting style, could have been cool, wish she fought more like sanji or chun li.

A single mom that works to hard, who loves her kids and never stops-

her song was decent, not great, decent. it feels as though the actress has experience singing but not in the way they tried to make her sing during her two songs. they have a obvious mexican influence, honestly just let her sing in spanish in the english dub. go listen to the spanish dub, "out for love" sounds great in spanish.

i wish i had more thoughts on them, fucking rip.

18. cherri bomb

that's not a punk aesthetic that's 2010s alt

decent character, they showed up once or twice i guess, no real thoughts.

19. egg boiz

absolutely perfect, i have not notes on them, these are perfect creatures.

20. Emily

im so fucking happy to see a singular blue character

does the naive dreamer bit better then charlie

We really shouldnt have seen her until the end of season two or middle of three.

good contrast with the other angels on screen.

Wait she is supposed to be black??? Where???

21. Husk

keith david you absolute delight, Why on gods green earth did they only give you one singing part?

one of the few charecters where its clear husk is a cat, i do like the kinda... marquee design, he is a magic cat, thats neat. i still think you can toss the wings and eyebrows and still have just as good of a charecter.

has a deeply intresting story of someone who died as a nobody, became the fat cat of hell and then was forced back to the bottom by their own vices, not used at fucking all.

huge potential, little pay off.

22. lillith

I know nothing about her except she ditched her kid and husband to vacation in heaven and i think thats kinda funny.

alot of werid things floating around her, again she shouldnt have been shown in the show at all until next season.

23. lucifer morningstar

no notes, funniest charecter, did a song based on friend like me.

few notes: i do like the idea that the immortal symbol of pride is a constant emotional wreckage constantly seeking approval through grand showmanship and manic energy that threatens to take over anything they touch.

would have liked more snake stuff on him, maybe some more goat things like horns.

that is such a stupid fucking staff lmao.

24. Adam.

alex brightman you absolute fucking delight, you should have had more songs.

I wish his design was more focused on the idea of him being a glam rock wash up

I fucking hate his mask

We shouldn't have met him until the end of the season.

25. Niffty

again she is supposed to be a bug or cockroach but nothing about her points to that.

token straight

keeps rocketing back and fourth between sexulization and infantilization

you had kimiko glenn but didnt give her a single fucking song?

26. Sir Pentious

the secret season one redeemed.

the pilot version of him felt more like someone that could do a season one redemption arc, a megalomaniac constantly attempting territory grabs, there is something you can work with, actual character flaws to work through.

essentially a child after the first episode.

actually a snake which i appreciate.

no where near steampunky enough.

27. the villians of the show dont make much sense, each one feels like they should be season long deals on their own instead of a bunch of team rocket esque idiots that show up on occasion, do a bad thing and then leave.

28. Valentino

gOD THERE IS SO MUCH RED

only a moth some of the time.

sucks as a villain, maybe they need more screen time to show why they suck in a more substantial way aside from being told that he sucks.

it is interesting that angel dust is only under his magical control when in the studio, it shows that angel dust has to make a conscious choice to return, which in turn can be made to show how abusers can draw back their victims. I do not think it was done well in this circumstance as it shows him to be cartoonishly evil, constantly flying back and fourth between sweet and utter psycho, there is no actual reason for angel dust to ever actually go back to the studio, he just does so every so often.

29. Vox

legit who cares? the only thing about him that is in any way substantial is all the dope ass fan art we get.

propaganda machine angle that is not explored at all, just hinted at. no actual barring on the story whatsoever.

why didn't he try to do the same shit as alastor by the way? he knows its bad if alastor gets in good with charlie so shouldn't it be a ass kissing race?

same body shape as literally every other male character.

tumblr sexy man version of pyrocynicals fursona.

30. Valvette

the actual poster child of the shows huge problem of "Show me, don't tell me".

apparently the glue that holds the villains together. never shown.

apparently the one that makes the love potions that valentino is famous for. had to learn about that in the fuckin wiki trivias

we know so much about her from things outside of the show.

was there to call carmilla a coward, that's her plot contribution. she shows up every now and again but its never anything substantial and serves to more around take up run time for people We Don't Need To Know Yet.

im not trying to be mean, animation is animation, we need smaller studios to have success in the industry so that other indie studios can have that success, felling a tree makes it easier for others to follow. showing that its possible to number brain rot exacs helps all animators.

but this show has so much bullshit attached to it, it has so much fucking potential that it fries my brain with unyielding frustration.

this took a bit to write, im tired, thanks for reading.

[hellishjoel]

cherry thrill | lights

9.2k / pairing: daddy dom tattoo artist!joel miller x sub virgin f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi chapter summary: your tattoo artist, joel miller, takes your virginity. chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, implied age gap, swearing, virginity loss, dom&sub dynamics (/not lg), size kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, swearing, dirty talk, pet names (princess, bunny, baby girl, sweetheart, etc.), oral (m&f receiving), fingering, protected p in v, joel talks you through it, protective!joel, slight pov switching, reader is described as having no tattoos or piercings, as well as hair, but otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n series summary: Trust and devotion. Ink meets innocence. Your tattoo artist, Joel Miller, shows you what it really means to give up control. Reeling from the loss of your job, you’re running out of options, until a passing comment from Joel and a video camera give you just the right idea. A/N: this was supposed to be a one shot but just like everything else I try to write, I expand on the characters too much for it not to become a series. also, thank you for 2,000 followers, I promise to do something soon to show my appreciation <3 I'm bad at giving thanks and receiving attention so anyway - dividers by @firefly-graphics (thank you, daisy!)

During your first consultation, there was something in the air. 

Glances that lasted a few seconds too long, a charged energy replicating that of two strong magnets.  You stand frozen in a dark office down the hall from the shop’s main entrance. The walls are painted black. A gallery wall displays different art and posters in gold frames. There’s a large red neon sign with your tattoo artist’s initials, J.M. 

Joel Miller. 

You sit opposite of him, leg anxiously bouncing and nails subconsciously piercing the chair’s leather arms as he listens silently to your request before his mind starts to work. It doesn’t take much time to draw up an example or two with your guided tweaks and fixes. 

Other than the scribble of a graphite pencil, silence falls over you both. And observation takes over. 

Joel surrounds himself with scattered drawings on loose paper that litter his desk. You watch the way his eyes screw inward to focus on the sketch he is drawing up. A small vein protrudes from his temple, his jaw shifts from side to side with tension. 

He’s a blunt sort of handsome. With harsh edges and lines, jaded and carved with precision like precious marble. It makes your pulse jump a bit in your neck and wrist. 

You think your first tattoo should be something special, especially since you’ve waited so long to pull the trigger. He was a bit intimidating like you imagined a tattoo artist to be, what with his brooding demeanor and how he looked you up and down upon taking one step inside his parlor. 

Virgin. 

That’s what he called your skin, untouched by any ink or piercings. 

He didn’t know that it described you down to your core. No one had popped your cherry, taken your virginity, made you theirs. Untouched.

Now, half an hour later and sitting anxiously in his back office, he finishes drawing up the sketch and asks about the precise placement you had in mind. 

“I was thinking here,” you mindlessly point to a spot on your upper thigh. There was a level of secrecy to it, in case any future employers cared about that sort of shit. 

You can’t help the way your skin vibrates under his touch, when he aids you in taking off your bottoms and runs his calloused palms up the smooth skin of your thighs. 

You shakily exhale as he warms you. 

You definitely don’t let yourself fantasize that he’s feeling you up, or even think about wanting him to explore every inch of your body. You know he’s just doing his job. 

But the way his eyes flick up to yours when he feels the goosebumps he knows he’s created is otherworldly. Like he knows you want him to fuck you. The way your muscles twitch under the warmth of his palm, feeling pliant under his touch. Fuck. 

His eyes gleam as his mouth forms into a barely-there smirk. 

There was no point in playing coy. Your body changed at the contact and Joel knew it. 

It was damn near degrading the way he let you simmer. It set a light inside of you no one had before. So that’s when you knew you’d let him, Joel Miller, take your virginity. 

It would be no easy task. You didn’t know how to pursue him, or anyone for that matter. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have said virginity. 

You try not to stare for too long, but even with his gruff demeanor and silence being second nature to him, he was handsome. A rugged sort of handsome with different facial piercings. 

A septum in his nose highlighted its aquiline structure. And a small hoop in his right eyebrow, with greys tickling through like pretty streaks in the hair. It made him look deliciously too old for you. Perhaps that’s what you enjoyed most, though. He was no amateur. 

The moment his fingers dipped into your flesh to work on your tattoo's placement, you knew he felt it, too. Supple under his touch. Squishy. Something he could sink his teeth into. Something that obeyed. 

“You prepared for the pain, sweetheart?”

His southern drawl is sweet like honey, deep and husky nonetheless. 

“I think so.” 

Your response is meek. It’s your wavering nerves from having him so close and unsure what the feeling of being tattooed will be like. Joel looks for certainty instead. He insists on it. 

“Need ya t’tell me. Not that you think, that you know.”

“I’m sorry. I know so.”

Joel squeezes the back of your thigh fondly, a proud little smile twitching at the edges of his mouth. “Good girl.”

The praise alone was enough to make your thighs sticky with arousal. Joel sent you home that day with an ache between your legs that your fingers had to fix. And you thought about him the entire time. 

How his cold tongue piercing would feel against the warmth of your clit. Holding you with his strong, protective arms swirled with black ink. How his staggering dark eyes would look into yours as he fucks you. 

But thinking about him wasn’t enough. 

You tried to string out the process, anything you could do to fix more time with him. Anything to get his tough palms on your skin. 

You fiddled with different placements, opting to show a little skin as you rid yourself of your top and pointed to your ribs during your next appointment. 

A breath hitches in your throat as he eyes your bra's innocent pink color. Lacy and pretty. Delicate. He clears his throat and runs his fingers along your side, evidence of his touch causing an effect on you displayed with more goosebumps. Your body could simply not hide the attraction you felt towards him. 

“Would hurt. A lot. The ribs move every time you breathe, which makes the tattooing process more painful.” Joel gently cups your side with his large palm and squeezes your ribs, holding you in place as you shakily breathe with the hold he has on you. “Can’t tell ya where to place it, can only advise. Just don’t want such a pretty girl to shed any tears.” 

That’s when you knew you could trust him. That even a man as hardened as himself could treat you with such care. 

He excuses himself for a moment, opting for more transfer paper and leaving you topless in his private office. 

Your ears were ringing, you could hear the quickening beat of your heart. You slowly inch off the portable tattoo table, glancing around Joel’s dark academia-style office. 

He’s an enigma, you think, the more you look at his surroundings. Quiet but dark, you knew he was concealing a hidden desire. You hope to unlock it. That he’ll trust you enough just as you trust him. 

Articles of clothing start to drop to the floor, one by one. You knew you’d be ambushing him; you didn’t want to scare Joel. So you left yourself in your soft pink-colored bra and panty set. You thought it was classy and cute. Not too forward, but sweet. Definitely planned out, you hope he doesn’t notice. 

All your confidence quickly disappears as soon as he comes back in through the door. You could feel your heart slowly sink to your stomach, your lips parting to come up with some sort of reasoning. 

“I-I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say. Joel is stilled at the entrance of his office, door still ajar as he blankly stares at the delicate angel standing in the middle of his office. 

He clears his throat and finally closes the door, leaving the two of you in silence. You can’t read his expression. 

“What do ya think you’re doin’?” He asks, sweet southern drawl dripping with tension as his heavy boots slowly make their way closer to you. 

You can only shake your head, unsteady hands concealing as much of your body as possible. You decide to face the mirror, keeping your back to him. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I was just-” Lie. “I was just looking at your full-length mirror to see other placement ideas.” 

Joel merely shakes his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “I can tell when you’re lyin’ t’me, baby girl. You wanna try tellin’ me the truth now?”

His tone only makes the ache in your core grow with desire as your pulse quickens under his eyeline. 

You feel embarrassed, heat coursing through your body and making you tingle as his stare lingers selfishly, basking in the glory of your figure. You watch with want in the reflection as his eyes stare at the curves of your hips and your ass. A handful, he probably thinks. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, moving closer and enveloping you in his musky pine and whiskey scent. It’s almost knowing what he says next. “Tell me what y’want.” 

You swallow the lump protruding in your throat before you decide to be honest with him. Like you said, you could trust him. You play with your fingers and pick at the skin by your nails.

“I want you.” You say barely above a whisper. 

Joel simply shakes his head, takes another impossible step closer, and cranes his head down to hear you better. His lips and coarse beard hairs tickle at the shell of your ear. 

Your eyes close shyly as he speaks again amid your silence. 

“Say it again, baby. Can’t hear ya.” His toned front meets your back, forcing a whimper past your lips. 

You work up the nerve to take a glance at the two figures in the gold-framed mirror. Perfect opposites. Young, beautiful, a little inexperienced. Older, handsome, sure as hell looks like he knows what he’s doing. 

His height looms over you. His eyes are an unknown shade of obsidian and he’s radiating a comforting warmth. Your hand reaches for his, only able to look him in the eyes through the glass as you guide his hand to your hip. 

Your thumb rolls across the faded tattoo on the backside of his hand. There used to be a cross there, but it looks to be covered up by some sort of python now. With a shaky sigh, you try again. “I want you, Mr. Miller. I want you to take my virginity.” 

You’ve prepared yourself to hear his laughter, a snickering, degrading comment of disbelief. You felt ready to experience shame. But you were wrong. 

Joel places his pointer finger under your chin, using his other hand to guide you in his hold to turn and face him. His thumb grazes over your lower lip as he guides your head to tilt up and look at him properly. Your soft eyes meet his lust-driven ones and your heart surges at the sight. 

You’ve never seen a man so hungry. 

“You want me to take your virginity, little bunny?” He hums seductively. Suddenly, you don’t feel so doomed. It’s placed with a little bit of eagerness now. You wanted your spoils. 

“Yes. Want you to do whatever you desire with me, I’ll do anything you want.” You sound like a devoted cult member, but the energy you feel is undeniable. You’re sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point. 

Slowly but surely, Joel begins to nod. He’s mulled it over and he’s made up his mind. 

“Whatever I desire, huh?” He tuts almost degradingly. Your nod of enthusiasm makes his blood rush. 

He hesitates, untrusting of his own words. 

“Want you to call me Daddy,” He starts haphazardly, gauging your reaction. “Think you can do that, sweet girl?”

Your wide eyes soften, a notch of confusion knotting your eyebrows. 

“You- what?” 

“Want you to call me daddy. Want you to be a good little girl for me and hop up on that desk. Can ya do that for me, princess?” His chin juts up and signals toward his office desk. 

The swirling in your stomach just won’t stop. 

“Go on now.” His orotund voice projects his instructions. You back up a few paces until you feel the cool metal of his desk hit your backside, slowly moving to sit on it with hidden excitement and a shiver up your spine. 

You do want to be good, if there’s anything you want in this world right now, it’s to play along and be good for him. Knowing he would take care of you was making you leak. 

His fingertips delicately touch your skin, starting at your wrists and moving upwards to the straps on your bra. He’s intimidating to look at, so you fixate on something behind him. But it doesn’t help when he clouds your vision. Even his aroma, from the smoke of his cigarettes to the musky spruce cologne, was putting you in a tailspin. 

You don’t anticipate the way your body moves for him. His hands skim to the back of your bra, and your spine straightens. It makes the right side of his mouth twitch up into a smirk. 

“Nervous?” He belittles.

Your long lashes innocently flutter, you think you might be doing it on purpose. You sort of like playing along. 

“A little… Daddy.” You test cautiously, the word tangling on your tongue. But it’s unforgettable the way his eyes light up at the name. You find yourself already willing to do whatever it takes to recreate that signature look of his. 

Joel hums appreciatively, thumb making minuscule circles over your chin. “I’ll take care of ya. Ya know that. Or else you wouldn’t have chosen me.”

All you can do is nod. Because he knows that your selection process was a real thing. You had danced around it once during your first consultation when he asked if you had a boyfriend. All you could feel was heat rising to the back of your neck, shy eyes evading his warm brown orbs. 

“No, definitely not.” 

“What’d’ya mean definitely not? You’re a pretty girl.”  

You shrug in a noncommittal way. “I’ve never had to really worry about stuff like… boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Any of that sort of stuff.” 

His eyes flicked up to yours in an instant, a mutual understanding of your underlying words. “I see. I understand, angel.” 

Joel works your bra off with one hand, you gasp as you feel the material loosen around your body. His opposite hand taps at the top of your thigh. You’re all too aware you are eagerly sitting half-naked on his desk. 

“Open.” He directs, voice laced with smoke. 

You nip at your lower lip and slowly inch your clamped-shut thighs open for him. He instantly makes eye contact with the wet, dark little circle that’s ruining the pristine innocence of your panties. 

He decides not to make fun of it, but it’s truly a compliment. Your adoration for him. “This all for me, angel?”

You work up a few quick nods. Now that he was so close, you wanted him to hurry the hell up.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

You feel heat tingle at the sides of your neck. This would be your first time really talking like this with someone. He made it feel safe to talk so dirty. To try, to learn. 

“Yes, daddy.”

You can’t deny how proud you feel to be the reason a certain warmth brightens in his eyes and on his smirk. You did that, you pleased him. Little did you know how he’d thank you for it. 

“You said you’re a virgin? Hard to believe.”

A shaky sigh leaves your parted lips as his warm palms slowly pull your bra down, revealing your breasts to him. “Just never found anyone I really trusted or liked enough.” 

He mutters something quiet in understanding, all too distracted by how damn pretty you look. 

Joel is silently observing your body, he can’t help but want to touch the delicate flower in front of him. A gasp leaves your parted lips as his calloused hands come up and cup your breasts. He starts to squeeze, and a happy little whimper leaves your mouth with a small smile. 

“I like that.” You tell him, hoping it improves your chances that he’ll do it again. Which he does. 

“Good.” He compliments, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, turning them into peaks that send electricity down your spine. 

A sweet and experimental moan leaves your lips. Joel stands between your parted legs and you feel his erection for the first time against your skin. You can tell by the shape protruding through his pants that he’s a large man, already thick and swollen for your taking. 

“No one’s ever been inside of you?” He damn near growls, raising an eyebrow after the beat he offers you to answer.  

You shake your head again. “I’ve tried my fingers, but I’m sure it’s not the same.” 

A scoffy little breath echoes out of his nose. “No, not quite. Lay back for me, bunny.” His hands release your breasts, pebbled nipples left abandoned as you slowly move down onto your elbows and then onto your back. 

There was a sudden peak of anxiety, not being able to fully see him. But perhaps this was the point, to fully surrender yourself under his touch. To trust him. 

His rough hands grip the sides of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. He gets about halfway down your thighs before you quickly sit up on your elbows again. 

“Joel?” Your voice anxiously chirps. 

He stops, eyes flicking up to you from your cunt still concealed by your sticky thighs. 

“We can stop,” He says before you can explain. “S’okay if you’re not ready.”

“No, no, that’s not it, God, that’s not it,” You rid his worries, feeling your chest quickly rise and fall under his all of a sudden protective gaze. 

“I uh-... I know you don’t owe me this, we’re not together, but… can you talk me through what you’re doing? I want to learn, and I can tell you’re experienced, I know it’s a lot to ask but-”

“S’not too much to ask.” He quickly intervenes, gently taking your hands and guiding you to sit up fully once more. Your soft eyes graze over all the layers he’s still wearing, and suddenly you’re reminded how naked you are. 

“Use your voice, sweet girl. Can tell you wanna say somethin’. This is your time.” 

The sentiment means a lot. It is your time, your first time, and just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean it should be any less special. So you decide to make it your time, the way you want it. 

“Can you take your clothes off too? And is the door locked?” You trail off upon seeing his amused smirk. 

“Go on.” He nods again, letting you list your needs and wants. 

“And can you kiss me, please, Daddy?” You ask more softly than the rest of your demands. You know that kissing is romantic, but you think it might help settle you. Pull you back from drifting away, keep you here with him.  

He watches you for a moment, a bemused grin on his lips before he gently cradles your face. “The door’s locked. I’ll take my clothes off. And I’ll kiss you as many times as you like as long as you keep askin’ that nice.” 

For the first time during your interaction, your face lights up with a smile. It’s small, it’s thankful, but it’s there. There was an undeniable connection you shared with Joel, it made you feel safe under his curious eyes. 

With his large hands cupping either side of your jaw, he leans down while simultaneously guiding your chin up as your lips meet. It’s gentle at first, soft. His mouth tastes like a cigarette, it’s oddly intoxicating and you find yourself wanting more.

You know how to make out at the very least. So when you gently bite down and tug on Joel’s lower lip, both of your eyes open as a throaty little groan escapes him. 

He kisses you a little harder this time, hands falling to your hips as he pulls you closer so your fronts align. The force makes your lips part and Joel takes the opportunity to let his tongue invade your mouth. He moves fluently to explore, both of you falling into a sweet lull as your bodies meld into one. 

Inadvertently, he hooks his pointer finger into your panties halfway down your thighs and finishes pulling them to your ankles. They land somewhere on the floor in a pile of your other clothes. 

Unbeknownst to you until he took his hands off your body to pluck open his belt do you realize how you were on fire for him. 

You wonder while he pushes down his trousers and tugs off his shirt if he’s ever slept with a virgin before. If you’d be his version of a first time just like he’d be yours. No, not his first ever, you weren’t that foolish. But maybe you could teach him a thing or two as well. 

There’s no way to mask your surprise when he pushes down his boxer briefs, the dark band revealing all that was underneath. His half-hard cock raises towards his stomach, rosiness fluttering at his tip. You were pleasantly surprised to find that it was a little hooked, deliciously curving upwards. 

With a new sense of confidence, your hand reaches forward and you start to shift your hand up and down his length. Joel’s quiet grunt shatters your thoughts. He gently cups the side of your neck and twirls a piece of hair around his finger. 

Joel takes your hand off his cock and you worry you’ve done something wrong already. He holds it palm-side up and nods encouragingly. “Spit on your hand, baby.”

He nods after you look up at him with shy, blown-out eyes. But you obey. 

You spit into your hand and let him guide your hand back around his member. That seems a lot better. He glistens with your spit and you have the urge to keep shocking him with your confidence.

You lean forward and directly spit onto his tip, looking up to see his approving little smirk. 

“Fuck- That’s- mmm, that’s good, angel,” he sighs with a certain happiness, loving the feeling of getting his cock taken care of. “Feels real good.” 

The praise sets off a million pistons in your brain, feeling yourself scrabble off the desk,  dropping to your knees as you continue to pump him. 

He’s heavy in your hand, and you gently lean forward to give sweet kisses to the tip. You swallow the lump in your throat before parting your lips, taking the head of his cock into your mouth. He’s salty, musky, but not dirty. In fact, he was rather well-kempt in his nether regions. 

You force yourself deeper and Joel already has his hands in your hair to pause you. 

“Woah, slow your roll, pretty girl.” He says with shortened breaths. Heat floods your body, you hate being so new to this. 

Joel continues to stroke your hair back, gently gliding a thumb up your cheekbone before he cradles one side of your face. “I see you gettin’ all shy, I know this is your first time, but I’ll teach you the basics. And no one’s perfect on their first try, okay? So just get that thought outta your head now.”

Your chest swells at his eagerness to relax you, so you nod gently and lean in to kiss the base of his stomach in appreciation. The right side of his mouth tilts up as he swipes his thumb across your plump bottom lip, a silent thank you for the kiss. 

“You’re a real good girl, you know that?” A bigger smile breaks across your lips and you eagerly tug on his cock with eagerness. Joel sighs, already in defeat at how you’re willing to get it right for him, to learn, to listen. To obey. 

“You’re gonna wanna relax your jaw,” his fingers guide you, your lips parting and letting your jaw drop lower, lower, lower for him. “And the whole part is to suck, not just put your mouth on it, okay, peaches? So hollow your cheeks, no teeth, and only go as far as you feel comfortable.” 

You shake off your nerves and clear your throat, feeling your mouth fill with spit intended for him. You place your hands on the back of his thighs, feeling the dark hairs under the pads of your fingers. 

Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip once more. You swirl your tongue around him, adoring the way he hisses when you glide your tongue across the slit leaking a salty substance. 

Over the introduction, you try to take him down your throat properly. And he’s a mouthful, literally. He’s a lot. But you try to just enjoy that there’s no real pressure. 

A lot of saliva starts to build in your mouth, and you swallow it around him. You’re awestruck when he lets out a low moan, strong hands weaving through your hair and lightly tugging. Your eyes flutter up to him through your lashes, and he’s looking at you so deliciously. 

You can tell he wants to fuck your mouth, holding his hips back from really letting you have it. And maybe he could do that to you someday, but for now, today was slow. And Joel knew that too. 

Joel gently tucks your hair back, your lips suctioning around his length before he drags you back towards him, indicating for you to start moving, to bob your head. 

It takes a few tries, but you really feel yourself going further down his cock. You breathe through your nose, but it’s hard when you’re trying not to gag around him. Finally, after little to no error, you slip up. His tip unexpectedly hits the back of your throat and you gag around him.  Joel must feel your whole body tense with anxiety because he’s quick to gently hush and console you. Your eyes well up with tears, but your first instinct is to keep him inside your mouth and swallow around him. 

A long, low groan leaves Joel’s mouth, a compliment to your first big challenge. 

“Holy fuck,” he pants, weaving his fingers into your hair and fisting eagerly to keep himself grounded. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ well, princess, you have no idea, fuck,” he grins. “Try using your hands on what you can’t take, come on, baby.” 

You can feel yourself physically gush at his compliments, your stomach swirling with a newfound desperation. To please. 

With new instructions, you work your hand at his base and pump up and down with the rhythm of your mouth. You worked on gently squeezing and releasing your hand, making Joel go slack-jawed as a husky groan leaves the back of his throat. Sucking and licking and bobbing your head in earnest, he’s already twitching in your mouth. 

“You’ve done this before baby,” his voice drips with a smirk, pulling yourself off for some deep breaths and a few desperate swallows. 

“Haven’t, promise, Joel,” You coo with a proud little smile, your voice thick and wrecked as you continue to pump his cock in the absence of your mouth. 

Joel lets your hair go and guides your hand off his cock before helping you up from the floor. 

Your face is obviously written with disappointment, you could have continued. You sort of wanted to continue despite the ache hanging around in your jaw. 

“You were gonna make me come, don’t wanna come yet, angel,” Joel pants weakly, ducking down and connecting your lips. You’re a little taken aback. Not by the kiss, but by the fact you already had him nearly ready to finish. 

“Really?” You murmur hopefully against his mouth, wishing he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you. 

The way that his features started to twitch and his tummy and chest fluttered with his jagged breathing, it would have been quite a sight to see him finish. Maybe he would have even done it right on your tongue. The thought alone gives you goosebumps. 

Your insides swirl as he licks inside of your mouth and gently runs his tongue along your bottom lip, moving you back towards his desk. You hop up without his instruction, feeling him smirk against your pouted mouth. 

“Now you’re gettin’ a hang of things.” He murmurs into your mouth, carrying on where he had left off before, sinking down to his own knees at the edge of the desk and positioning your feet to rest up on the edge. He seems to stare at the glistening arousal you’ve been creating for the last hour straight. 

That nervous feeling settles in your stomach, completely bare and open for him. A shocked gasp leaves your mouth, not prepared for him already to be diving into your pussy. 

The breadth of his tongue slowly swipes up the center of your core, purposely flicking off of your clit and making you yelp at the contact. His cold tongue piercing against your sensitive bundle made a shiver shoot up your spine. 

He gently smirks as he places a sweet kiss on the inside of your thigh. “You’re jumpy, kitten. Take a breath. Wanna make you feel real good.” 

You let out a shaky sigh and move off your elbows, back flat on his desk as your eyes slowly drift close. Then, as he starts to truly taste you, learning you and what you like, it’s unexpected how much you enjoy it. It never really dawned on you that some people truly enjoy eating pussy, but Joel Miller sure does. 

Your broken little whimpers and strung-out moans turn into writhing on his desk under him. He was such an expert, meticulously swirling his tongue around you and suckling your clit into his mouth. 

It didn’t take long for your fingers to wind up into his hair as his shoulders lay bracketed between your thighs. It was heavy, it was stomach-twisting, in fact, it was rolling through you like a storm. The it in question was your first oral orgasm. 

“J-Joel,” you gasp, your jaw dropping down as he slowly prods the tip of his finger at your entrance. 

“Need to get you ready for my cock, sweet girl, keep focusing on how good you feel,” he encourages. Your face pinches as his finger slowly sinks into your entrance, but you realize how grateful you are for all the extra spit and arousal Joel has provided. 

It doesn’t necessarily hurt, it’s a weird ache at first. But then his finger starts to slowly pump inside of you, and it’s a new craving. Especially with the way his tongue moves around your clit, the pistons in his brain firing all to figure out what you like. 

Do you like when he flicks your clit with his cold metal piercing?

“Ohmygod-” you gasp. 

Do you like when he swirls his naughty tongue around you in tight figure eights? 

“Joel, please,” you say, needing more. 

Did you like it most when he suckles around your sweet bud?

“Joel!” You cry out, tugging tighter at his hair, not sure if you want to tug him closer for more or push him away because it feels too good. 

“O-Oh, oh my god.” Lying still was a foreign thing to you now, all you could do was wiggle and grip your fingers into his hair, tugging harshly as he grunted against your core in enjoyment. 

He actually likes pleasing you, he likes tasting you! It’s a compliment without words as your eyes dip close and your head digs back into the desk.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to drop like you’re on a rollercoaster. You’re not unfamiliar with the feeling of an orgasm, but this, oral, it hits differently. 

“Fuck,” you curse unexpectedly, making Joel cock up an eyebrow as he glances up at you. All you can do is watch as his mouth suckles harder around you, his finger pumping faster and adding a second. 

Because if there’s anyone in this world that can break you out of your shell, Joel wants it to be him. 

Now you’re really aching for him,  wishing that it was his cock slotted between your walls, pushing you towards euphoria. 

“Know you wanna come for me angel,” his fingers quirk upwards in a come here motion, and a long, strung-out moan of his name leaves your lips.

God forbid any of the shop’s workers or clients hear you, but you can’t think of a singular reason to care right now. 

Your walls flex and squeeze around Joel’s two fingers, truly feeling the stretch as you come around his digits. It leaves you a whimpering mess on his desk, hot pants leaving your pretty lips. 

Joel is in heaven, lapping you up and moaning against your core as your clit starts to twitch with the overstimulation. His hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs before he sits up and kisses up your body, his own lips meeting yours. He’s hungry, and you’re still bouncing back. But you want it so bad, and you’re so close to finally having it. 

“Joel, I’m ready.” You coo, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He breathily laughs and pecks your lips once more, tasting your own arousal and making you feel warm inside. 

“Desperate for my cock, ain’t that right, pretty girl?” 

God, he was such a menace with his mouth. Your adorably shy grin is all the answer he needs. But you give him one anyway, because he likes when you talk like that with him. 

“Yes, daddy, I just wanna feel it already,” you try out, Joel’s lust-filled eyes meeting yours as white-hot heat spills into your stomach. 

“I’ll give it to ya, baby girl. Wanna give that tight little virgin pussy my cock, don’t want anyone else to have ya. Mine.” Joel huskily grunts, a choked moan leaving your lips. 

Joel reaches past your head and to the drawer on the other side of the desk. He jimmies it open and searches his hand around blindly. He flips open his wallet and pulls a small square foil package from the slot. 

Oh, duh, a condom. In all your excitement, you sort of forgot to be safe. But you’re glad he was prepared. 

You watch with adoration on your features as Joel lifts the condom to his lips, pearly teeth ripping the foil off but not hurting the condom. His other hand rests sweetly on your hip, thumb running soothing circles into your pretty skin. 

It’s a soothing feeling, one that he doesn’t have to do, but he does because he’s being considerate and maybe even a little protective. You gently lay your hand on his forearm, fingers tracing fresh black ink and older green ink on his arm’s sleeve. 

A shaky sigh leaves your lips as he uses both hands to glide the condom down his shaft. It’s nearly invisible, the way it’s so thin and tightly wrapped around his cock. Besides the band that rests at the very bottom of his shaft. He grumbles something incoherent, probably his annoyance with the fussing of the condom and how tight it probably felt around him.  

You take in a shaky breath and nod at him once he comes to rejoin your centers. 

“You’re sure you’re ready for this? Don’t wanna wait for someone y’love? Or trust? Or just... Anybody but me?” Joel’s face is pinched with genuine concern. 

You smile softly and gently cup his cheek. “I do trust you. It takes a lot of trust to allow someone to alter your body forever with a tattoo. So, you’re giving me a tattoo, and you’re taking my virginity. You’re sort of doubling down for me right now, honestly.” 

Joel flashes a genuine little smile. It’s the most you’ve said consistently all day with him, even with a little drip of sarcasm and wit. 

“Okay. But ya gotta say it.” He says more seriously. 

“I’m ready, Daddy. Want you to make me feel good. I know you can.” You can already feel yourself picking up his dirty talk. It makes your smile twitch as you gently grip both of his forearms, his hands spreading your thighs open for him. 

He enters the space, his heavy cock resting over your core and slowly slipping up and down your wet folds. 

You let out an unexpected little scoff as he grinds himself down against you, your arousal soaking the condom. He holds himself at his base and taps his tip down against your already throbbing clit, making you hiss out a desperate whine. 

“M’not usually this… gentle.” He admits through gritted teeth. You’re sort of shocked by that. Sure, he has a rough and tough exterior, but he’s treated you with such delicacy that you assumed he was like this all the time. 

“So, what are you usually like?” You pose, your breath hitching in your throat as one of his hands abandons your thighs and guides his tip from your clit to your entrance, up and down, several times. Your thighs twitch impatiently. Your entrance squeezes around nothing. 

“M’just... not this gentle,” is all he can say without breaking into a bemused smile. 

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.” 

Joel playfully scoffs as his face starts to pierce with concentration. “Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.” 

“I’m sure I-” your words are cut off by a loud gasp, your lips parting as his tip penetrates your walls. You’re phased for a moment before you gulp and recollect yourself. You whimper, louder and louder as he pushes on, watching Joel move with such caution. 

He really is holding back, you think. You wonder what he’s like when he can just fuck how he pleases. 

“Baby,” Joel’s voice breaks your concentration. “Breathe.” 

A loud huff of air leaves your mouth that you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. The ache in your hips and core only builds with tension as Joel pushes on, his length and girth surely parting your tight walls. 

“So fuckin’- tight.” He says with gritted teeth, his fingers piercing into the delicate flesh of your outer thighs, making you whimper. 

“Joel,” you quietly cry for him, tears threatening to spill at the pain. It’s just- a lot. It’s a lot for your first time, and maybe you wouldn’t have signed up if you knew what he was packing, but in a weird way, you loved it. He felt made for you. 

“M’here, angel, look at me.” In all the excitement and overwhelming feelings of pain and pleasure, you hadn’t even noticed you were clenching your eyes closed. You slowly peek them open, greeted by his heavenly features. 

“There’s my girl.” He compliments, warmth and sweetness shooting through your body. 

“Fuck,” you say, your voice a bit wet as Joel comes down closer to aid you. He’s all the way in now, you can feel his balls flushed against your sopping wet cunt. 

The arousal helps, the condom sort of doesn’t but it’s fine, that’s life, you think. You’re torn between pain and pleasure. Honestly, you just feel so fucking full. 

He tells you between breathy pants that he would have used lube if he had any, but he didn’t, and he’s sorry, and his pretty voice starts to turn into static with how fucking good he feels inside of you. 

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praises, sponging a few kisses along your cheeks and tasting your salty tears. You feel like some weak pathetic being under him. He’s been sweet, but you’re sure he’s just treating you like he found a wounded animal. 

“Move, Joel, please” you weakly demand, lassoing your arms around his neck and holding him close to you. 

“No.” He says through gritted teeth. “Just-” he pauses and takes a deep breath, knowing that you’re dealing with a million emotions right now as he’s trying to breathe around the death grip you have on his cock. “Just wait a minute, sweetheart, let yourself adjust.” 

A pouty, bratty sigh leaves your lips as you continue to blink away tears. You eventually nod and he only smiles adoringly as he returns to kiss at the tears.

Your senses are spiked. You can smell his cologne, feel each gristle of hair from his salt and pepper beard. It’s erotic how much more you can feel while at the edge of your emotions. 

One of your hands roams into his darling chocolate curls, instinctually going to gently scrape your nails delicately against his scalp. You’re sweetly surprised to hear him mutter a sweet little moan just for you against the shell of your ear. 

Your hands flutter across dark tattoos on his shoulders and arms, your blurry vision trying to make out the shapes as you trace a pretty angel on his upper bicep. 

Joel Miller was inside of you. Joel Miller has taken your virginity. The hottest man you’ve ever set your eyes on is fucking you at his place of work, on his desk. And you convinced him to. 

Joel was right. The pain, ache, and burn slowly turned into a real yearning for him to move. It felt like what was right, a certain neediness to be filled and fucked.  

“Daddy,” you whisper more sweetly this time, more to your character. “Please fuck me, you feel good now, I can take it. Promise.” 

It takes him a moment to gather himself as well, smiling sweetly as he keeps his mouth by your breasts where he is sucking a gentle hickey into your soft skin. Color flushes to the area, feeling his teeth gently nibble on the spot before he finally lifts off. 

Marking you, you think. It makes another gush of arousal flood your core, liquifying your spine as you become putty in his hands. 

His mouth twitches in a small smile as he captures your lips. Unbeknownst to you, the sweet kiss was just a distraction. 

Joel slowly began reeling his hips back which was a whole new sensation. His strangled moan harmonized with the gasp you let out into his mouth, moaning out the breath you were holding as he plunges himself fully back inside your warm cunt. 

You whimpered weakly, needy and anxiously happy, you wanted more. More, more, more. 

“Oh- my god,” you whimper, feeling him start a steady rhythm inside of you. Your jaw slowly drops and your eyes flutter closed, feeling your tits start to lightly bounce every time his hips perfectly align with your own. 

“So goddamn tight, still,” he grunts each word, forehead against yours as he watches your face unfold with a million reactions. 

Something primal switches in Joel, knowing he’s the first one to do this sort of stuff with you. 

It’s strangely possessive and arrogant, he knows it, but being the first man you trust to fuck you properly was feeding his ego. You’re a beautiful young woman with big doe eyes who waltzed into his shop and insisted he rail you, take your sacred first, talk you through it, and carry you through this dark and fearful forest. 

You trusted him. He wouldn’t break that bond. 

You came here wanting something, knowing how to get it. You came here asking, and Joel was open to teaching. The last thing he wanted was for some asshole to hurt you, something your sweet nature couldn’t afford was poison. 

Maybe he could teach you more, if you wanted. If he offered you an invitation to his world, would you take it? He only shared a slice of his lifestyle with you today, would the rest scare you, or entice you? 

Joel can’t help the way his hips buck faster at his thoughts, a little sob leaving your lips. He’s absent, just for a moment, feeling your skin slap against his as he holds you down and fills you fully. His tip hits your cervix for the first time and heat floods your stomach as you cry out his name. 

“Shit,” he panics and quickly comes back to his senses, wide eyes meeting your bleary ones, “you okay, angel? M’sorry” Joel whispers, returning to his original rhythm. 

“Yes-yes, fuck, please keep going, keep doing that, I can’t believe how good it feels.” 

Joel weakly smirks, proud to see you taking him so well.

The desk squeaks and juts with each of his heavy thrusts, that’s how you know it’s fucking good. You came here wanting to lose your virginity, but now that you’ve unwound Joel Miller, you want him to fucking rail you. 

Licking your lips, you lean up and pepper kisses up his wirey jawline, feeling the patch of hair that fades out and then back in again. He’s so sweet right now, but you wonder what he was talking about before. What was he when he wasn’t gentle? How good would rough feel? Would you like it? Maybe you could learn, explore, adventure. Surely Joel with his experience could be a guiding light. 

You watch with glittery eyes as Joel pulls his head off yours and licks across the pads of his fingers. 

“What are you- shit,” you whimper as his fingers start circling your clit, taking a moment to find your sweet little rhythm, one that somehow matches his hips. Now, your skin is slapping and it’s echoing around the room. Your moans are louder and uncontrollable, as are Joel’s. Your hips ache but you don’t find the will to care, he feels like fucking heaven. 

His cock is somehow inching deeper, as if your walls have decided to invite him in further, where he hits this perfect little spot inside of you that makes you squeak Joel’s name with robbed breaths. 

You’re not sure if you can hold on much longer, your stomach starts to swirl as all the knots inside your belly begin to untie themselves. 

You brace Joel at his shoulders and look into his eyes as you moan his name. A certain hunger flickers behind his dark brown orbs. His jaw clicks and he starts fucking you in earnest, filling you up each time as his hips snap with vigor. He feels fucking amazing, piercing your walls and marking you as his. 

“Joel-”

“Say what I wanna hear, baby,” he rasps. You quickly nod and gulp. 

“Daddy, please, I-I’m so close,” you moan sweetly as your head digs into the desk, jutting your chin up and arching your back. Joel takes full advantage of your breasts in his face, burying his nose in between them and nipping at the sensitive flesh, nearly making you yelp. 

“M’right there with you, angel baby, come for me,” he insists breathlessly.

His hips were losing their precision, going buck-wild, so you knew he was close. But he was holding out for you. 

You clench your eyes closed, feeling yourself lose all control. Your heart races in your chest, beat thrumming in your throat as you hold Joel against your front as his hips continue to snap and fill you. You don’t know what to do with your mouth, so you feverishly land your lips on his and make him mask the moans of your orgasm. 

Joel’s groan echoes loudly into your mouth as you gasp against his lips. Your walls clench eagerly around his cock as he spills into the condom. 

It’s blinding, deafening even. Your face goes slack and your eyes see stars. You think you might be shedding a tear or two because Joel is cupping your face kindly, thumbs swiping under your eyes as he encourages you out of your haze. 

“Lemme see those eyes, pretty girl,” he pants sweetly, watching for any sign of doubt. But he wouldn’t find any. 

You’re not so sure where he starts and you begin, your mind is so fuzzy. 

A soft hum leaves your lips as you soothingly run a hand through his dark hair again, gently stroking the longer curls away from the sheen on his forehead. Both of you were so warm, it felt like a fire was set between you two. When you curl a strand around your finger, you weakly smile as it coils back up and bounces. 

“How was your first time, angel?” Joel pants, still buried balls deep inside of you. Your hips ache, but part of you wasn’t ready for him to pull out yet. 

“I can’t believe I finished twice.” You admit with a shy smile, running a thumb up his cheekbone and glancing up at his eyebrow piercing. He notices you staring but keeps his eyes on your own.  

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head. 

“What about the one in your nose?”

He shakes his head again, this time with a smile. 

“Or your tongue?” 

This one made him ponder before he finally gave a light shrug. 

“You don’t remember the pain after a while. Just like tattoos. The pain is temporary.” 

Your mouth tilts in a lopsided smile, feeling messy with both of your spillages still puddled around your centers. 

Joel grunts as he slowly stands up from his bent-over position on the desk, pulling himself out of you and tying up the condom before he tosses it into the waste bin. 

You whine quietly to yourself as you close your legs. It hurts a little more now. Your hips and your core, a certain soreness. Or maybe it was missing him already. 

“Oh,” you whisper, starting to feel a little bit of leakage glide down your thigh. “Joe, do you-” 

“Course,” Joel says assuringly, hands already on a towel as he neals down and gently glides the material up the inside of your thigh. You bite down on your lip as he cleans you up with the soft towel and a little bit of water. 

You glance around the sterilized room and realize he’ll probably have to scrub this place down for the most part. Whoops. 

You’re slow to dress. Joel’s already buttoned his pants by the time you find your panties. He snickers quietly and helps you dress with a smirk. 

It’s not awkward like you feared it would. It sort of felt like you guys were friends. Then, something sort of unexpected happens. 

Joel fondly strokes a hair out of your face, pushing it behind your ear and smoothing out the little knots he had caused while fisting your hair during his blowjob. He’s soft and gentle with you. It makes you oh so curious what he looks like when he’s not soft and gentle. 

You sigh softly as you look at yourself in the mirror. You sort of felt proud, like you’d be a whole new person leaving the shop today. Even without a tattoo. 

“Joel, I don’t want anyone to see me leaving your office.” 

“That ashamed of me, huh?” He scoffs at you playfully, running his hand up and down his chest hair before he finally throws on his shirt. “I have the back office, so we can just go out that door.” He juts up his chin to behind you and you follow his eyeline. “Goes to the alley behind the shop.” 

You note the dark green painted exit door, and you’re thankful you don’t have to parade through the front of the shop or go past any other clients. 

The gentleman that he is, Joel walks you to your car as dusk settles in, marking the sky an orange and red horizon.  

“I gotta clean up the shop and close. You gonna be okay until I see you next?”

You nod meekly, a sweet smile on your face that twinges with a little shyness. “I’ll be okay. I still need that tattoo.” You tease to which he grins. 

“You do. I’ve worked real hard on it, so you better come back an’get it.” 

You nip at your lower lip as he stays guarded by your window, like a handsome pierced, and tatted bodyguard. 

It’s itching at you too much to let it go. You’re just too curious. “M’not this gentle.” 

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.” 

“Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.” 

You gulp and clutch his hand before he fully stands up to walk away from your car. “You’ll show me again sometime? Like you said?”

Your eyes glimmer with a certain hopefulness, but his own seem to harden out of caution. 

It was just insane that he knew so much more than you. You wanted to unlock all forms of pleasure you were comfortable with. You like that he was holding something back. 

You were wet clay in his massive hands, he could mold you to his liking. You could learn his pleasures, his kinks, what unravels him beyond repair. You could learn a thing or two about yourself in the process. 

Joel sighs. 

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.” He warns, lips crooked in a snarl. His eyes beg for you not to want him, not to want this. 

But nothing set your nerves on fire like seeing him in control of you, just that brief second where his eyes flashed from amber to black and he fucked you like nothing or no one was stopping him. What if you gave it all up to him? 

Submissiveness dances behind your eyes, and Joel’s a sucker for that sweet look on your face. He debates if this is what you really want, or if it’s something else. He can’t deny he enjoys the trust you put in him. 

Joel quietly sighs with hesitation, eyes the way your small hand desperately holds his before he finally squeezes back. 

“You don’t know how t’take no for an answer, do ya?” He asks, a small smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. “That’ll have to change.” 

You grin and nod, biting down on your lower lip as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Joel takes notice, not wanting to see you in any sort of discomfort, especially from something he caused. 

“Take some pain medicine and relax tonight, angel. You were perfect.” 

Your heart swells at the compliment, the appreciation, the care. He gently pats your window a few times before standing up straight and backing up from your car, moving back towards the dark green exit door. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Driving away, you’re giddy with excitement of the unknown. It was a dark path you wanted to pursue. And maybe it was fucking stupid how you could trust a complete stranger like this, how none of your past partners felt worthy of your first time, but the tattooed and pierced old southern gentleman did. It was fucked. But you were sort of fucked for Joel Miller. 

You hum to the radio as you experience pure adrenaline, thumb gliding over the raised numbers on his business card. You glance down and notice a small stamp of a fern in the top right corner, adjacent to his name and professional title. 

The Obsidian Gallery 

Joel Miller

Senior Tatoo Artist

You can’t explain how your heart inadvertently races as you remember flashes of his hips rutting into yours, those same delicate fern leaves decorating the front of his hips. You were so fucked for Joel Miller. 

next chapter ->

[nervoussagittarius]

a vlog that’s pretty much just y/n’s day in the life

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: your boyfriend and his brothers film a day of their life, including their time with you. request

warning: fluffy, slightly suggestive (if you look hard enough), language

“wake up sleep heads,” nick said focusing the camera on yours and chris’s sleeping frames. “we’re filming our lives today and you guys need to get up.”

a slight groan could be heard from your boyfriend, but you made no efforts to acknowledge it. you were to focused on the deep sleep you were attempting to fall back into. “what nick?” chris’s voice had sleep prominent in it. his words made you more alert than before.

you picked your head up slightly but quickly threw it back down, loudly sighing at the light nick pointed at the two of you. you head came in contact with chris’s arm, slightly scaring him. “nick what the fuck are you doing kid. can’t you see she’s trying to sleep.” chris was less concerned about his own comfort then yours. he turned his body into you, blocking you from the light.

“can you two just get up and start yapping so this video is entertaining?”

“yea nick, just get the fuck out”

with nick leaving the room, chris started getting out of bed as well. becoming more coherent, you looked over at chris as he was picking both of your guys clothes off the floor from last night. “chris, get back in bed with me” you said to him giving him a slight smirk. he smiled at you before launching himself back in the bed.

the boys had a couple meetings that morning, so they picked up the camera again as you all were shopping for ingredients for dinner. since you volunteered to make them food it was the boys job to figure out everything you needed.

nick walked behind you, chris, and matt so he could film what the three of you were doing. matt pushed the cart as chris kept his death grip on your hand, pulling you with him and pointing out every interesting thing he saw. “look at the flowers, baby. do you want flowers? i’m gonna buy you flowers. what kind do you want?” chris dropped your hand walking away from you as he looked intently at the flowers trying to choose the prettiest ones. “you don’t need to buy me flowers” you had to raise your voice a little so he could hear you, but in response all you got was a little hand wave brushing your comment off.

nick turned the camera on you. “your boyfriend is like a child. he doesn’t listen.” you gave his a shrug and a laugh. “i think i have to have a talk with mary lou to see what went wrong with that one” you said pointing at chris, who was now walking back over to you three with two different bouquets of flowers.

“you referring to your amazing boyfriend, who’s buying you flowers might i add, as ‘that one’ is crazy.” chris found his place at your side. he handed you the flowers and pulled a piece of lint off of the fresh love hoodie of his that you were wearing. “i don’t know what you’re talking about, honey. also, i said you didn’t have to buy me flowers.” “exactly that why i’m buying you two.” he said kissing your forehead nodding in matt’s direction for you to start walking.

poor matt had been done most of the grocery shopping himself. none of you were paying enough attention to him, so when you got home to make dinner the ingredients were definitely a suprise. luckily you ended up with chicken and pasta so the rest came easily.

chris came up to you with the camera as you were cooking. “what are you making chef?” before you even got the chance to open your mouth and respond another comment was being made by chris. “vlog, look at how pretty my girlfriend is. she’s actually perfection” he put the camera on the counter so it was facing both of you. he grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the stove so you were in frame. “give them a spin ma. wearing my brand and everything”

you faked annoyance as you spun beside chris. not being able to keep a straight face for long you broke into laughter. when you returned to facing him he pulled you into a hug. he released your shoulders so he could hold your face him his hands. with your arms still around his waist, you leaned up to give him a small kiss.

matt came over to you guys, looked at you in disgust, and grabbed the camera off the counter. “sorry for you had to see that. chef matt is taking over because our original chef has become distracted.” matt tried to take your spot at the stove, but you weren’t going to allow it. “matt do not touch that you’re going to ruin it.” the bickering went on between you two for a while before realizing you could just work together.

that night, after eating and cleaning up the dishes, top golf was suggested by none other then chris sturniolo. his love for the activity was one that you’d never understand, but you went nonetheless.

a few rounds went by before you inevitably realized you’d never win against those three so you took over vlogging for them instead. the camera pointed at nick as he took his swing. “ohhh well that was definitely something.” you said from behind the camera. nick was far enough away that he couldn’t hear your comment, but you’d definitely get shit for it while he edited. the two boys to you left of a kick out of it though.

matt and chris broke out into laughter catching the attention of nick. “what are you two fuckers laughing about? try to do better.” he said, giving them attitude. you held back your laugh as nick sat to the right of you.

for entertainment purposes (and also to annoy him) you started narrating everything matt did. “and… matt sturniolo picks up his golf club. he waves it in front of the sensor. he gets his golf ball. he gets ready to hit. is it going to be good ladies, gentleman, and nonbinaries? we’ll see. and he hits, and it’s…… not as good as nicks shot.” matt side eyes you as chris starts laughing uncontrollably. he falls into your side sending you and the camera to the right into nick.

nick takes the camera from you since your posture has been infiltrated by chris’s body. chris is still laughing when matt gets back to the seats, so like any brother would, matt slaps him upside the head. chris groans as he pokes your shoulder. you’re conversation with nick gets cut off when you look over at him. “matt hit me” chris says with a childish tone. “okay and what do you want me to do about it babe? i’m not your mother. hit him back. i don’t fucking know” you say with a laugh.

the game quickly comes to an end with matt coming out in first place. the four of you decide to call it a night. and start walking back to the van.

when you guys finally got to the car nick started to outrow the video. “alright guys that’s it for this weeks vlog thank you so much for watching” he turned the camera towards the front of the car as you leaned over chris’s shoulder.

“chris can you please play 34+35 remix for nick and i.”

“no y/n” “absolutely not”

and with that the video concluded.

an: i didn’t have much motivation to write the past couple of days but i hope y’all enjoy this 🤍

[lightsoutletsgo]

the one where ollie lives alone (cl.16 x bearman!reader)

pairing: mainly ollie bearman x oldersister!reader for this part but there's a plenty of charles leclerc x bearman!reader here and there!

word count: 4.2k

warnings: a whole lot of stupidity mentions of death, seemingly angsty in some parts (you'll see what I mean) this might be one of my favourite parts I've written for any series ever 😭 it's so dumb but so funny (according to the people who proofread for me!) as always let me know what you think! your comments are always appreciated. happy reading! mimi 🤍

taglist: @arieslost @iamapersonwholikesunicorns

“Jesus Y/N, what the hell is in here?” Ollie wheezed as he staggered past you, arms straining under the weight of the box he was carrying. You rolled your eyes, “You’re so dramatic Ols, it’s literally just makeup.” 

“Is that the last box ma belle?” You turned and saw Charles in the doorway, staring at you fondly. “Mhmm! Everything else is in the van.” You held your arms out to him and he crossed the room, pulling you in by your waist and kissing you softly, “I can’t believe you’re finally coming home with me…” You smiled, looping your arms round his neck, “Me either,” He booped your nose with his own, a loud cough making the two of you jump apart as Ollie leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised, “Are you two done being gross?” “Shut up dummy.” You punched his arm as you walked past him towards the front door. You inhaled deeply, it felt strange but exciting to be moving out and into Charles’ apartment. 

Behind you, Charles watched Ollie stare at you, looking like he wanted to say something. He quietly padded up behind the younger driver and nudged his arm,  “Are you going to miss her?” Ollie was startled but quickly scoffed, “Hmm? No way!” Charles gave him a pointed look, “I get the whole place to myself! I can’t wait!” Charles gave him a smile and punched his arm gently, “We’re only ten minutes away if you need us.” Ollie laughed, “Thanks but I can manage!” 

♯ incident 1 - the dishwasher ⊹.∿  As it turned out, Ollie could in fact, not manage. Mere hours after you’d left him, you found yourself sprinting back up the stairs, cursing the old apartment building for still not having an elevator. You reached the floor of your old apartment and checked the door to see if it was open, turning the handle and entering you called out, “Ollie? I got your text!” You poked your head into each room as you went, searching for him, “What’s the emer…gen…cy…” You trailed off as you reached the kitchen, Ollie staring up at you with wide eyes, crouching next to the dishwasher that was… pouring out soapy bubbles? “Ollie!” “I think I made a mistake.” He said dryly, suspiciously poking some of the bubbly foam next to his shoulder, “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” You said sarcastically, thinking of a solution, “You put dish soap in didn’t you?” He nodded sheepishly, “There were no dishwasher tablets left so I just… thought on my feet?” You facepalmed and sighed, “Okay well, we need to- DON’T OPEN IT!”

You looked on in horror as Ollie pulled open the door and a torrent of soapy warm foam spilled out and all over the kitchen floor, creeping further into the centre of the room, was it… growing? You looked over at your brother to see him staring back at you with comically wide eyes. “So that’s why we don’t do that.” You said, face deadpan. Ollie giggled nervously, “Oops?” A snort from behind you had you turning round to see Charles filming the whole thing, “Oh some help you are babe.” Charles coughed to cover up his laughter as he put his phone away and entered the foamy bubbly monstrosity that was now the kitchen. “Somewhere under here there’s a bucket and mop.” “Ollie?” “Yeah?” “You’re going in.” 

♯ incident 2 - french toast ⊹.∿ A few days had passed since the dishwasher incident and you dozed in Charles’ arms, enjoying the lazy Sunday morning sun slipping through the bedroom curtains. The previous night’s activities had left you a little worn out and with no plans for the day, you had wordlessly agreed that a cosy day in bed was just what you needed. A shrill sound pierced the air and jolted both you and Charles awake. You scrambled to find your phone, as Charles groaned, hands rubbing his face as your hand came up to feel how quickly your heart was pounding. You glanced at the screen as your hand met your phone and you scowled, Charles rubbing your back and doing his best not to laugh as he saw who was calling you,  “Ollie Bearman, you better have a damn good reason for calling me this early on a Sunday morning.” There was a pause, “It’s eleven o’clock?-” “That’s not the point!” You sighed, “What do you need?” “Well, you see… I have a question.” “Go ahead,” “So I was making french toast right? And I followed the recipe exactly as you wrote it out! Right amount of eggs, milk and sugar.” “So what’s the issue?” Ollie sighed, “It won’t cook but it smells a bit smokey…” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Then turn it down?” “I don’t know how!” “Turn the hob dial down dummy!” Ollie went silent for a second, “Did you say hob dial?” Alarm bells started ringing in your head, “Why would I adjust the hob when I’m using the toaster.” You froze for a moment before pulling your phone away from your ear and putting it on speaker, unable to believe what you were hearing, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Charles gave you a concerned look, sitting even closer to you and wrapping one arm around you while the other rubbed your knee comfortingly 

“I said, I’m using the toaster.” You stared at your phone, mouth slightly agape, “You’re making french toast in the toaster?” “Correct.” Charles snorted and choked back a huge guffaw of laughter as the hand he’d placed on your knee came up to cover his mouth, his face turning pink with how hard he was laughing, “Ollie! French toast isn’t made in the toaster!” “It’s called french toast!” You pressed the video button and changed the call to facetime. Your brother stared back at you, looking rather dishevelled, “That’s a rather deceiving name if you ask me!” You groaned, facepalming, “You make it in a frying pan” Charles was no help next to you as he wheezed silently, grabbing his own phone to record the conversation for later use and hilarity. “Well how was I supposed to know that?!” Ollie was indignant as he pleaded with you through the screen, “OLLIE! You’ve watched me make it hundreds of times!” He pouted through the screen letting out a little ‘hmmph’ “Well if you hadn’t abandoned me, we wouldn’t have this issue would we!” You rolled your eyes, “For the last time, I did not abandon you! I live a 10 minute walk away!” 

You sighed before laughing at your brother lovingly, “Alright then silly, head over for lunch and I’ll show you how to make french toast the proper way.” Charles snorted once more and you both burst into giggles as your brother scowled at you, “Stop laughing at me!” Ollie whined, you caught your breath and wiped your eyes, heart warm at the silly moment you knew would turn into a fond memory, “Uhhhh Y/N?” You looked back at the screen to where Ollie was turning the camera round to show you a sparking, smoking toaster, “I don’t think it should be doing that…” You cursed as Charles scrambled out of bed, pulling mismatching socks on as you grabbed a hoodie, “Change of plans Ols, we’re on our way!” 

♯ incident 3 - Gerald ⊹.∿ Things were peaceful for a couple of days after the french toast debacle - something you were more than thankful for, wrapped up in your perfect little bubble with Charles. Of course you continued to text Ollie, but there had been no major crisis that required your immediate attention. Until there was. 

It had been one of those long lazy days spent at home, until Charles had announced he was taking you to dinner and told you to get all dressed up. You’d slipped on one of his favourite numbers and he’d shown his appreciation more than once, sliding his hands round your hips and squeezing while you waited to be seated, pulling your chair out for you to sit down and sliding his hands down your arms once you were seated, moving his chair round the table to sit closer to you so he could place a slow smooch against your neck. You hummed happily as he fed you a mouthful of his dish, “I knew you’d like it!” You smiled at him, “I like most things you suggest…” He bit his lip as his eyes darkened slightly, “Is that so?” You nodded, eyelashes fluttering as your lids close, “What if I suggested something a little… more intimate?” You giggled, picking up your wine glass to take a sip and hide your face, too shy to keep the eye contact, “I wouldn’t mi-” Your phone blaring cut you off and you gasped, rushing to put your glass down as other customers in the restaurant glared at you, Charles chuckling quietly next to you, his hand resting on your thigh and rubbing soothingly. 

“Ollie I swear to go-” “He’s dead.” You heard your little brother sniffle and adrenaline kicked in, “Ollie, who’s dead?” You kept your voice as calm and quiet as possible, you heard him sniffle once more before a sob left his mouth. That was all you needed to hear before you were grabbing your clutch and nodding towards the door. Charles tilted his head and you mouthed your brother’s name. He nodded understandingly and rushed to pay the bill before you were both scurrying back to his car. As soon as you were buckled in you put your phone on speaker, “Ollie… Honey… what happened?” Charles also looked panicked as he heard Ollie’s choked sob, “He was fine and then he just… wasn’t.” “Who Ollie, who’s not fine?” You pleaded, “Ge-” You cursed as the call cut out, “It’s okay ma belle, his phone probably just died, we’re almost there okay?” You nodded, hands nervously twisting and wringing together in your lap. Charles eyes darted to your hands for a second before looking back at the road, one hand leaving the steering wheel to gently hold your hand in his. You looked at him and squeezed, a wordless thank you. 

As soon as Charles pulled up, you were racing out of the car, slipping your heels off and carrying them in your hand as you sprinted barefoot up the stairs of the apartment building. You reached the door and rang the bell, knocked, called his name, anything you could think of to attract his attention. The door opened slowly and it wasn’t Ollie that appeared but Arthuer Leclerc, looking ever so sombre, “Arthur?” Your eyes were panicked as you looked him over for any injuries or obvious isses. He simply held his hand out to indicate to you to enter and you slowly stepped through the door, “Where’s Ollie?” Arthur nodded, head down towards the ground and the panic rose in your chest again, “He’s in the living room, saying his goodbyes.” “Goodbyes to who?” You paced down the hallway and burst into the living room, your jaw dropping at the sight you saw.

Ollie stood in front of the coffee table that was lit with candles, dressed in a suit and your brain suddenly registered that Arthur had been dressed the same way. You were even more concerned when you saw Arthur’s girlfriend fully dressed in black,  standing next to Ollie with a comforting hand on his shoulder. You approached him slowly, arms opening and your expression softening as he turned to you with a red splotchy nose and red-rimmed eyes, he fell into your arms and you patted his back, gently shushing him, “What happened, Ols?” “He’s gone.” Ollie croaked out, “Who’s gone honey?” Your voice was gentle as you stroked his hair, the same way you did when he was younger and couldn’t sleep, “Gerald.” “Oh.” You said softly, “Was he a friend?” Ollie nodded and you held back a wince as he rubbed his snotty nose onto your shoulder, knowing he needed you, “He was such a good friend.” You led him over to the couch and sat down, his head falling onto your shoulder as you continued to play with his hair. 

You were aware of Charles appearing in the doorway and you gave him a brief smile, before turning your attention back to Ollie, “Would I know this friend?” Ollie nodded, his sobs quieting to sniffles, “You were his friend before I was.” Your stomach dropped as you frantically thought of who Ollie could possibly be referring to, feeling guilty that your mind was blank, “The funeral was lovely.” Arthur’s girlfriend nodded solemnly, a hand over her heart as the other hand came up to dab her eyes with a tissue, “The funeral has already happened?” You were confused as Arthur nodded, “Just before you got here.” Your eyes shot to Charles who was just as concerned and confused as you, “Wait, the funeral was here?” Ollie scoffed, “Well where else would it have been?” “Wait Ollie,” You held his face in front of yours, “Why was the funeral in your apartment?” “He wanted to be remembered in the place he was most happy…” Ollie sighed wistfully, his head turning to look at the coffee table once more. 

You squinted, focusing on a shape amidst the flickering candles and once more your mouth gaped as you stood up and stormed over to the other side of the room. “Ollie. Bearman.” You gritted your teeth, “Don’t tell me that this was all about a fucking cactus?” “Succulent!” Ollie snapped at you, wiping away a tear from under his eye, “He was a succulent,” He whispered as he looked down at the floor. Charles broke first, snorting in the doorway and you watched as he did his best to choke down his laughter, coughing and shaking his head, you watched as he excused himself from the room for a moment to force a solemn expression back onto his face. He returned but you could see the laughter threatening to bubble over as he took in the sight before him. Ollie, his younger brother and his younger brother’s girlfriend all dressed in black and in mourning for a succulent that sat sadly on the coffee table and looked like it had been watered a little too much.

“I’m glad you got here,” Arthur spoke up suddenly, “Oh goodie, do tell me why.” Your tone was sarcastic. “We’re about to do the funeral exit.” Charles was holding in his laughter so much that he now had tears streaming down his face and Arthur patted his back with a ‘there, there’ and handed him a tissue. “Arthur’s girlfriend has agreed to sing the exit song and we’re so thankful she has.” “Who is we Ollie?” You brow furrowed as you looked around the living room,  “I-I…” You sighed. “Go ahead.” You all stood still, heads to the floor as Arthur’s girlfriend launched into a rendition of ‘Memory’ from Cats, “Miiiiiiidniiiiiight, not a sound from the paaaaavemeeeent.” Charles quietly crossed the room to stand next to you, nudging you gently with his shoulder, “Interesting date night hmm?” You growled, “Don’t you dare encourage him.” Ollie approached you,  “Do you want to say your final goodbyes?” “Ollie, why would I care about a succulent?” He gasped, “It’s Gerald!” “Yes Ollie so you said, but why would I care that it’s name is Gerald?” Ollie shook his head, “Don’t even recognise your own friend…” Arthur tutted and even his girlfriend gave you a disapproving look as she continued wailing in the background, you mentally made a note to apologise to the neighbours the next time you were here during normal sociable hours. 

You rolled your eyes at your younger brother and stepped forward to ‘pay your respects’ to the succulent. Your eyes narrowed, “Oliver. James. Bearman. That’s MY fucking succulent!” “It was nice of you to wear black.” He continued, nodding towards your dress and Charles blazer and pants, ignoring your exclamation. “We were on a date!” You screeched, Charles once again powerless to help in any way, instead just collapsing with laughter. You growled as you lunged for your brother, “Ollie, I swear there will be a funeral tonight.” You hissed, “Yours!”

♯ incident 4 - spiderman ⊹.∿ After everyone had said their goodbyes to Gerald, he had been unceremoniously dumped into the rubbish bin and that had been the end of it. Ollie had promised to buy you a new succulent and had learned that they did not, in fact, require watering every day, and you now forever had ‘Memory’ stuck in your head. Once more, peace had been restored but you doubted it would last much longer. 

Your theory was proved correct when a few days later, your phone rang. An unknown number. You ignored it at first, all too aware of strange reporters and crazy fans who would do anything to get closer to Charles. You simply went back to reading your book, until your phone rang again. It was an unknown number still and you grumbled, rolling your eyes and answering quite snappily, “Yes? Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line seemed almost taken aback, “Umm excuse me is this Y/N Bearman?” You sighed, “Yes it is, no I won’t give you a quote and yes Charles is great in bed, goodbye!-” “No wait please! I’m from downstairs! You live in 10B yes?” You stopped as your finger hovered over the end call button and brought the phone back up to your ear, “Uhhhh I used to, yes, can I ask why?” “Oh, well there’s a man trying to climb onto your balcony and I was concerned that’s all.” Your stomach flipped, your mind rushing to thoughts of someone breaking in when your little brother was home alone, “I’ll come over now! My younger brother still lives there.” You raced to grab your keys and jumped into your car, deciding to get there as soon as possible rather than walk. Who was stupid enough to break in in broad daylight? You briefly considered calling the police but you were sure the idiot would be gone by the time you got there. Your car pulled up and you craned your neck to look up at the balcony of your old apartment. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you spotted that there was indeed a man hanging off of your balcony, “Holy shit,” You mumbled, scrabbling to open the door and race towards the apartment complex. The closer you got you squinted as you realised the hoodie looked ever so familiar. “Ollie?!” You yelled up and shrieked as your brother looked down at you, giggling nervously as his feet kicked back and forth as he desperately searched for a footing, “What the fuck are you doing?” “Uhhh I can explain!” He yelled back to you, “H-hold on, I’m on my way up!” You hurried up the stairs, once more cursing the lack of elevator as you finally reached your floor, unlocking the door and rushing through the apartment to french doors out onto the balcony. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” You screeched, leaning over the balcony and diving to grab him and pull him up, “Ollie that’s so fucking dangerous!” “Look!” You heard a kid shout from the street below, “It’s Spiderman!” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "He wishes!" You paused for a moment to yell back, before resuming hauling your brother over the apartment balcony. “How did you even get up here? Why are you up here?” Ollie chuckled, panting slightly as he finally threw one leg over the ledge, “Funny story actually…” You raised an eyebrow, “Well please share,” “I forgot my key…” “I-” In your shock you almost let go of him and his scream attracted the attention of yet more passers by below, laughing and pointing at the odd sight they were witnessing. You smiled down awkwardly before turning back to Ollie once more, “Why didn’t you call me?” Ollie whined as you began to tell him off, “Because I didn’t want you to find out…” “Oh so this was a better idea- Ah!” You squeaked as Ollie tumbled over the ledge and onto the balcony. Landing on your stomach in a tangle of limbs, “Your foot is up my butt!” “Yeah well it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t been being stupid! Anyway, get your elbow out of my eye!” “Oh I’m sorry, I was making sure I wasn’t about to fall to my death!” You shoved Ollie off of you and led there on your back, panting, Ollie much the same,

“For the record, you are the shittiest spiderman there is.” “Thanks, that’s really boosting my confidence.” “Glad I could help.” 

♯ the resolution ⊹.∿ “We need more protection.” You announced loudly, stepping into the kitchen “Excuse me?!” Charles choked on his protein shake, cheeks turning pink and you heard Max snort on the phone, “God, no! You pervs… I meant like, we need protection from Ollie and his dumbass incidents.” Max cackled, “Charles has sent me the videos, I was dying at the dishwasher incident.” You groaned, crossing the room to stand next to Charles who sat at the breakfast bar. He grinned as you rolled your eyes at Max who you could now see was on facetime.  “Yeah, well I’m turning grey way sooner than I should!” You joked. You chatted with Max a little longer before Charles signed off with the promise of joining him to game later. 

You sighed, leaning against Charles’ side,  “What’s wrong ma belle?” You took another breath and paused, “I’m just… worried about Ollie…” Charles put his arm around you and rubbed your back soothingly, “What has you so worried mon amour?” His expression was warm and you knew he wasn’t angry with you, rather genuinely curious, “I just feel like… maybe he isn’t ready to live on his own yet?” Charles nodded at you and you took that as a signal to continue, “I mean, he’s always had me there to help him and I know someday he’s gonna have to get used to me not being there but I just feel like right now…” You trailed off with a sigh, “He still needs you.” Charles finished and you gave him a grateful smile and nodded. “But, I don’t wanna leave you. I love living with you and having you around and I love just... living life with you. Am I selfish for not wanting to give that up?” You bit your lip, moving away from Charles to pace the kitchen floor. Charles shook his head with a fond smile, 

“Ma belle… You’re not selfish for wanting to do something for yourself and I’m proud of you for wanting to pursue that, especially since it’s me you want,” he slid his arms around you as you stepped next to him and dragged you backwards to him, making you giggle, “but I also know that you want to be there for family and I can understand that, you guys are close, the same way that me and Thur are, probably even closer.” You hummed, leaning back against him, “Thank you for being so understanding.” You sighed, “Now I just need to work out how to fix it…” Charles smiled and turned you round in his arms, nudging your nose with his, “Well… we have a spare room?” 

Which is how you found yourself hauling boxes upstairs a week later, “Jesus Ollie, what the hell is in here?” You wheezed out and Ollie simply smiled at you, patting you on the head as he walked past you, arms empty, “You’re so dramatic Y/N, it’s literally just a few bits.” You poked your tongue out at him as he mimicked your words from just a couple of months ago. “Is that it mate?” Charles head appeared from behind the apartment door and Ollie nodded, as you finally conquered the stairs and planted the box down on the hallway floor. “Now let’s go over the rules one more time Ols.” He sighed, “Fine…” “Rule one?” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, “No dish soap in the dishwasher…” He grumbled, Charles chuckled, “Rule two?” “No cooking without supervision.” Ollie recited as you nodded, “Don’t worry, that rule applies to Charles too.” “Huh?!” “Shush baby, rule three?” You turned back to Ollie, “No watering the succulents unless instructed, no matter how sorry I feel for them.” You nodded, “I am not having a repeat of Gerald and the… funeral.” You shuddered, as Charles snorted before asking, “Rule four?” “Always call one of you two if I forget my keys…” “And?” You raised an eyebrow, “No climbing balconies under any circumstances.”  You clapped your hands together and smiled, “Good! Well I can’t think of anything else, can you?”

You turned to Charles who shook his head and Ollie who just shrugged, “In that case, let’s go! Pizza for dinner sound good?” The three of you walked into the apartment and the door to the hallway swung shut, your arguments about pizza toppings muffled through the door, but the happiness and love you felt for each other not dulled in the slightest.

[crunchycoookies]

Art for my country Branch au 🥰 Details abt it under the cut ⬇️

Here's my silly little au! So basically Branch ran away from Pop village because everyone (minus Poppy) treated him terribly. While exploring he stumbles upon the outskirts of Lonesome Flats, where he trips and sprains his ankle. Delta finds him and is like "What tf you look weird but ig ur my son now." And from then on she takes care of him. Somewhere along the way Branch starts to call her Mom (or Mama/ Ma). Clampers is born at some point, making her Branch’s cousin. They love/hate each other and have that unhinged sibling dynamic. They just turn into a cute little family and I love em sm.

Delta also helps Branch regain his colors, although they are slightly muted tones of his true colors. Because the county trolls are so adept at dealing with grief, Branch is allowed to process his grandmothers death and his fear of singing with a good mentality. This leads to him slowly gaining his colors back (hence the blue streaks in his hair) and learning to be happy again. He does start to sing again but it's a mix of country and Pop. (Which comes into play during TWT, but more on that later).

Also I made Gary (the remote Imao) into a goat critter. He's stupid and I love him. Delta has an ongoing feud with Gary bc he constantly tears up the garden but she can't do anything brash because Branch absolutely loves him.

There is more but that's it for nowww! Feel free to ask questions and I’ll do my best to answer them! Give me ideas for this aus name pls I have nothing

[selineram3421]

*writing down taglist* Dodadoo, that's a lot.

Hissy Kitty

Part 1

Prologue

Alastor X Reader

Warning!⚠

⚠ cussing, bold italics = sound affects, italics = thoughts, catnip, cat demon reader doing cat things, hehe ⚠

Husk stared with a scowl behind the bar at the red deer demon standing a little too close to you.

Its been a week and that piece of shit would not stop touching you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, grabbing your hand, and even patting you on the head. The last part he's seen the asshole do more often after noticing you purr at the action.

"You've done a wonderful job! I know Niffty appreciates the extra help.", the Radio Demon grinned.

"Are we going to do anything about the ripped up wallpaper?", you asked, looking at one of the lobby walls with peeling wallpaper.

"Don't worry about those. I'll take care of them soon.", the red demon waved it off and pat your head.

Purrrrprrrrrr

"Hands off you slimy fuck!", he threw a bottle at the deer.

Alastor easily dodged and made a tsk noise of disappointment.

"Honestly Husker, you must stop throwing bottles."

You just crossed your arms and sighed. "I'll take my break now."

Husk brought out a cup and a bottle onto the counter, opening it up and waiting for you to notice what drink it was. Not a second later you gravitated towards the bar with dilated pupils.

"Is that..", you mumbled, staring straight at the bottle.

"That's right."

The cat demon flipped off the deer, who was already walking up to the both of you.

"And what is this beverage?", he asked, tapping his fingers on the bar counter.

"Its my favorite.", you whispered, still staring at the bottle. "Husk, hurry up and pour the damn drink."

Your brother chuckled and poured the liquid into the cup, watching in amusement as you snatched it once he lifted the bottle back up.

"Enjoy you gremlin.", he said while putting away the bottle.

The cup was empty a second later.

Alastor was curious.

What is that? Why did the drink have their full attention like that? What a funny reaction.

"Can I have another?", you asked.

"No.", Husk said without a beat, cleaning the cup you used.

"Awwwwwwww!", you whined and rested your head on the counter. "Pleeeeeeeeaaase?"

"No."

Alastor felt his eye twitch at your pouting face.

"I don't see a problem with having another drink.", the deer commented.

You perked up immediately and looked over to the red dressed demon, ears pointing towards him and Husk's ears going back.

"I'm saying no for a reason.", Husk warned.

The Radio Demon rolled his eyes and had his shadow retrieve the bottle.

"I'll take care of whatever problems they cause.", he laughed and swiped the cup from the cat, pouring another drink. "Sound fair?"

"I'm gonna need that in writing."

In writing? He thought placing the filled cup on the counter. Why would that be necessary?

"Surely nothing bad could happen.", he laughed the bartender's concern off and looked towards the cup, only to find it empty.

Alastor looked towards where you were standing and also found that spot empty.

"Better start running deer boy.", Husk said taking the cup. "They have a knack for causing all kind of hell."

Before the Radio Demon could ask what the cat meant, there was a shout from the kitchen.

"WHO ATE ALL OF MA POTATO SALAD!?"

.

Alastor quickly wrote up a small deal, promising to take care of any problem you might cause while under the influence of the strange beverage.

There's nothing too serious. He thought as he went walking around the hotel to find you. Just minor little things like eating Angel's potato salad and scratching up some couches.

He walked into a common room.

Nothing too bad.

CRASH

Both of you made eye contact after you pushed a cup off of the table you were perched on.

"Dear, I'd advise you not to make anymore mess. I'll have to clean it up later."

Ignoring him, you slowly pushed another glass.

"No.", he said in a warning tone.

You stopped and stared at him for a moment before continuing.

"Oh for the love of-", he sighed as the other glass broke. "Fine. Let's do something about your current state.", he walked over to you.

It didn't even take a second for you to shift into a full on cat and dart out of the room.

Now I see what Husker meant.

"This is going to take a while."

Husk watched with a smug grin and took a sip from his bottle.

"No! Get down from there!", the Radio Demon ran over to the middle of the lobby.

You were on the chandelier.

"Oh yeah, they like tall places.", Husk pointed out.

"What in the devil was in that drink?", Alastor said, trying to use his tendrils to get you down.

All you did was swat and paw at the dark things. Moving out of the way and scratching.

"It's catnip tea."

There was a record scratch.

Alastor felt his eye twitch at how obvious it was.

"Figures."

The cat demon felt a little better that he got you to be a problem for the deer. Maybe after this the smiling fuck would leave you alone. Then he'd finally get some peace.

"Husk? What the fuck is going on?", Vaggie walked over, gesturing to what was happening in the lobby.

"Nothing much, just my sibling giving the deer a hard time.", he responded.

There was a crash.

The chandelier having fallen and you running off again.

"Damn!", the red demon snapped his fingers, bringing up some creatures to clean up the mess before going after you.

"Can I watch?"

"Be my guest."

The two watched as the deer demon chased you around the hotel. Trying and failing at getting a good hold on you. After a few hours, Husk and Vaggie left, having been satisfied with all the random shit you did to keep the smiling demon occupied.

Alastor, having run around the hotel all day was tired and had his shadows chase you instead.

Walking over to the couch with the least amount of scratches, he sat down with a tired sigh and leaned back into the cushions.

"Never again.", he told himself.

There were growls and hissing coming from the other side of the lobby, no doubt you scratching the shadows that tried to grab you.

"Do be gentle, there can't be any fur out of place.", Alastor told the shadows as he rubbed the side of his head.

I'll have to go over our original deal later. He thought about the first contract he had Husker sign.

It got quiet for a moment and he saw that you had torn apart his shadows.

"How did you do that?", he asked as you trotted over and jumped up on the couch.

Even now you were still a little cat, fully embracing your cat side.

"You are a menace, you know that?", he said to you, watching as you 'made biscuits' on one of the pillows.

I didn't know you could cause such chaos. Though you did end up in Hell so that should have said something. He thought and leaned his head back, closing his eyes from being tired and up all day.

Then he felt a weight on his lap.

Snapping his eyes open and looking down, he found you resting like a loaf of bread.

"All I had to do was sit down..", he said annoyed before just giving up. "Alright, alright. You have the honor of besting the Radio Demon."

You were comfortable, eyes closed and adjusting just a bit before staying put.

Such a calm thing when they aren't running about. He thought and started to pet your head, which had you purring immediately.

"You know, I never liked dogs. And with you I can see myself being a cat person."

His hand was yanked back by the wrist.

"You better get your fucking hands off of them!", Husk yelled. "They aren't your fucking pet. This is your last warning."

You had run off and hid from the barking cat.

"They had just settled down.", Alastor said and turned to look at your brother, pissed. "￦h¥ wθμ|d y¤U rμ¡n +h@t?"

"Oh calm your ass down.", Husk took out a bell and dropped it, letting it roll on the floor.

You pounced on it and started messing with the ringing ball.

"You think I don't know how they act? I spent years taking care of them before officially becoming an overlord."

"This would have been useful information earlier.", the deer snatched his hand back.

The cat demon rolled his eyes and went to pick you up along with the ball before turning back to look at his boss.

"I just wanted to see you annoyed.", Husk smiled, walking over to the stairs to take you to your room.

"And stop touching them. Read our fucking contract you dumbass. You're not supposed to lay a hand on anyone I genuinely care about."

Alastor stayed for a moment longer before shadow traveling to his hotel room, going over to his desk and rummaging through it for the contract.

"Where is the blasted old thing.", he mumbled, going through his papers before remembering he could snap it into his hands. "Looks like I really am tired."

He did just that and looked over the contract, skimming through it until he reached the part about protection.

"No touching, holding, dancing or any unnecessary physical contact with any demon I, The Gambling Demon, deem important enough to care about. This includes any blood relatives still alive in Hell."

The Radio Demon laughed.

What a clever cat.

"Let's see where I can find a loophole.", he grabbed a pen to take notes.

Let the game begin.

If you asked to be added but don't find your name in the taglist, please let me know through messages. I'll try to tag you again, and if it still doesn't work then I'll send you updates through messages.

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @jane-3043 @chocolat3pudding @chewbrry @dewdropsposts @danveration @jyoongim @iloveblogging2 @elaemae @hallowedandhungry @fandom-nobody @nevermore-ramblings @creepylilneko @perilous-pasta @xdolls-crownx @scary-noodlesblog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙 | HK ChL😾

[donatellawritings]

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🐇 introducing princess!reader, ugh i love her sm <3

you were fairly new to kildare island, completely wet behind your chanel-adorned ears. it had only been a few days, since your parents had made the switch from the cozy countryside of puerto rico, unpacking their final cardboard box that harshly clashed against the dreamy interior of your bright and sunny lakeside home. you weren’t surprised that your parents had chosen such a picturesque home of grandeur, they always had a niche for the finer things in life, a trait that was undoubtedly passed down to you.

you see, you had always been a spoiled princess, always insisting of having anything and everything that you wanted — and it was always given to you, without question. perhaps it was the fact that you were an only child? who cares, you were the precious little girl that your parents would go to the ends of the earth for, so why should you accept anything less, from anyone else?

as privileged as it may seem, you did have to admit that you loved living a life where you were pampered and had every single need, no matter how minute or ridiculous, fulfilled without question. you always wore the finest of fabrics from the most upscale brands, exercised in the cutest athleisure wear as you worked up a sweat on your peloton, i mean, you even made it a point to get your hair and nails done every other week. your parents’ banking statements were essays long, detailing your multiple visits to sephora, mainland boutiques, your hefty car note, and monthly spa membership fees.

but, you were far from a ditzy girl, in fact, you were so entitled to the point where you turned your button nose upward at every guy who approached you. you had yet to find a man who didn’t allow you to walk him like a pathetic little dog, you knew that you needed a man who would put you in your place, yet shower you with adornment and lavish gifts.

carefully scraping the tiny smear of residual lipgloss with the tips of your long almond french-manicured nails, you huffed as you flipped your blown-out hair over your shoulder. “ma, m’going to drop this off now!” you called out, tugging on your light grey mini skirt, your fingers dancing over the black lace and pink ribbon adornment, before you grabbed ahold of the white ceramic tray of lemon squares that your mother prepared the night prior.

you’d been given the task of introducing yourself to your neighbors, especially since you father had made it a point to extend the services of his construction company to the fellow members of the country club. your parents had praised you for being their sweet little girl who would be staying home for college to the community, so it was now your turn to seal your reputation as the perfect girl next door, and help uphold your parents’ fresh reputation as newcomers on figure 8.

your perky tits were cutely pushed up against the undone buttons of your undersized button up top, your gold rosary glinting against the sunlight as you made your chanel mules stepped out on the floorboards of your front porch.

𝜗୧

after about an hour of walking from door to door and exchanging your rehearsed pleasantries, while offering the sweet and tangy sticky treat, you’d finally made it to the final home that seemed to overlook the entirety of the community. your puffy cheeks ached from your stretched smile as the soles of your french-pedicure feet throbbed — maybe wearing heels as you walked from porch to porch wasn’t the smartest idea? balancing the tray of lemon gooey lemon squares onto one hand, you brushed a strand of hair from your extended lashes, letting out a small huff, before you mushed your finger into the doorbell.

it didn’t take long before the front door was answered, your rehearsed introduction flitting away from you as you looked up at the blue eyes that stared down at you. your lipstick stained lips parted as the twenty-something year old man stood, his jaw tight as he raised his eyebrows at you, before his eyes shamelessly fell to your pushed-up tits, “i, uh, hi! my family and i recently moved in, so i just wanted to introduce myself,” you smiled, a blush creeping to your cheeks as you revealed your name to the tall man.

“ah, s’that right?” he questioned, clearing throat with a nod to himself as he took it upon himself to lift the plastic wrap that concealed the melted lemon squares, before his curtain bangs fell in front of his eyes. “y’walked all the way here, by yourself, huh,” he mumbled, placing the wrapping to close around the tray, before bringing his intimidating gaze to yours.

with a nod, you nudged the tray in his direction, “would you like one? my mother made them fresh!” you beamed, restoring your role as the mannered girl next door, your trained resolve slowly burning away under the unforgiving north carolina sun.

oh, how he saw right through you.

wordlessly, the young man lifted the plastic wrap, one more, being the small gooey treat to his lips as he kept his eyes on yours, not missing the way you swallowed thickly as he wiped the corners of his pink lips with his ringed index finger and thumb. you watched pathetically with your lips parted as he licked over his lips, “rafe cameron,” he smiled smugly, extending a hand to you.

there was something dark, yet tantalizing about the young man that towered over you, it even brought an undeniable ache to the bundle of nerves between your plush thighs.

accepting his hand, you batted your dolly lashes at rafe, a warmth growing in your tummy as his large hand enveloped yours in a firm grip, his thumb barely kneading into the soft skin between your forefinger and thumb.

deciding to fall back into your stuck-up persona, you were the first to break the hold between you and race, your eyes squinting a bit as you took one step backwards, “it was a pleasure, rafe,” you sang, clutching the empty tray to be tucked into your side.

spinning on your heels, you could feel rafe staring at the under-curve of your soft ass that peeked beneath the tight knit fabric of your skirt, watching as your hips swayed with each step you took. it wasn’t until you were far enough from the young man that you tugged on your skirt to remain secure around your thighs. internally, you scolded yourself for losing event the slightest bit of your cool. you were too good for him, you were too good for him. way too good.

rafe knew this as well, yet he was always proactive when it came to getting what he wanted — even if he had to get a little dirty.

[multifariousqueer]

can you write miles 42 having readers bank account, card ALL that on his phone and gets mad if she purchases shi with money he didint give her. its really crazy but its miles 42....what do you expect??? hehe

Sure love!!!

A/n: y’all I love you so much but I need you guys to start requesting regular miles fanfic pls. Although 42 miles owns my 🩷

It was just a simple necklace. It was the Vivienne Westwood necklace that you saw everyone around you wearing and wanted so badly. You knew Miles would get it for you in a heartbeat but a part of you wanted to get it for yourself. It had been a long, stressful semester but you struggled through it all and got to a point where ou were passing with A’s and B’s. Coincidentally, you had gotten a job at Starbucks after months of applying and you had about $1000 saved up of your own money that you were waiting to spend on something special. That was, until that “something special” came along in the form of Miles.

You never knew what he did but you knew he was making 8x your salary in a month. It seemed like anything you wanted, you got when you were with Miles; shoes, clothes, books, makeup any and everything you wanted, it was yours in a matter of days. It’s worth mentioning that Miles is extremely overprotective and wants to know everything about what you’re doing and buying because he loves you and cares about your habits.

Even on Miles’s birthday when you dipped into your savings to get him the latest Jordan’s, he was furious that you had to use your own money:

“Damn Ma, these are valid. How much were they?”

“Oh don’t worry about it” you said

“I said, how much were they.” His eyes narrowing in on you because he knew how much they were because he was gonna buy them 2 weeks ago but decided not to.

“$500. I’ve been saving for them for you, baby. It’s all good” you tried to assure him

“Aight. thank you.” He said, pulling you close to him, the scent of the Dior Sauvage cologne you also bought him, filling your nostrils

But deep down you knew he was pissed off and mad that you spent your own money, so after a long talk about how he should be able to keep tabs on you and keep you safe, you gave him your Apple Pay and banking info for emergencies only but of course it’s Miles and being the overprotective boyfriend he is, he checks it everyday for any “extravagant purchases” made by you or someone else.

Of course he isn’t crazy, he set a $25 limit for you before he steps in and asks what’s up. Once, you were at a mall with your friend and found the cutest shirt at Urban Outfitters and decided to buy it. The price tag read $50 but you went ahead and got it; the same happened at Bath and Body Works and Tilly’s and as you made your way to the bathroom, you got a text from Miles:

Miles: did someone take your card?

You: no why??

Miles: why’d you spend $150 in an hour??

You: I’m at the mall

Miles: so? I pay for your shit

You: dawg it’s $150. It’s not that deep 💀

Miles: I ain’t yo “dawg” and yes it is when Yk I buy you shit

You: you aren’t my sugar daddy

Miles: I basically am atp. I’m sending you $1000, buy something cute

You contemplated leaving him on seen but you remembered how he hates that so you replied:

You: Okay

You had saved up enough to get the necklace and when you got it, you were ecstatic. You thought about all of the possible outfit combos and how good it will look against your brown skin but your thoughts were interrupted by a certain someone:

Miles: what’d I tell you, Mami?

You: ?

Miles: don’t play dumb, yk I would’ve bought you that necklace in a heartbeat but instead you wanted to be miss independent and buy it yourself. I guess since you’re so independent, I’ll stop sending you that $1000 every week. How about that?

You: ok

Miles: ?

You: we can discuss this when I get home

Miles: K

You: k

It was a long ride home but eventually you accepted that Miles was gonna rip your head off and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

When you got home, he had three of the necklaces, two huge teddy bears, a bouquet of your favorite flowers and the newest pair of Jordan’s waiting for you:

“What’s all this?” You smiled and asked

“I told you I’ll pay for your shit, y/n” miles said, with a small smirk on his face

[stvolanis]

oh nothinggg, just thinking about Spooky x Bimbo! Reader

god, Spooky can’t stand you. always wearing those shorts—the ones that your ass cheeks hang out in. running around with your flimsy tube tops, nipples peeking through. Somehow being mixed into his brothers friend group, but not being involved in their messes. You were kinda just the friend they kept around cause your daddy sells weed to the people in Brentwood, so they got major discounts! but of course they loved you.

god, the amount of times he’s gotten a flash of the thin little hot pink thong straps you wear—or when you bend over to pick up something right in front of him; he thinks you’re doing it on purpose at this point! So he’s puzzled when you stand back up and whip around with an oblivious smile and innocent look in your eyes. He always has to do the thinking for you cause your silly brain can’t really comprehend what’s going on with the freakin roller world money your friends keep blabbering about that spooky wasn’t supposed to know about! Too bad, you already told him when you were mindlessly yapping about your day!

he would totally say something like, “didn’t know I was gettin a free show, baby.” After he walked in on your trying to shimmy off your skin tight, mid thigh dress. You blushed and weakly tried to shove him out of the room, only in your panties and matching bra. But it was like pushing a brick wall, and the way your clothed breasts pressed against him had him going crazy! So he felt like his body acted on its own when he grabbed the flesh of your ass with one hand, and your throat with the other.

He inhaled your scent, muttering a string of profanities in his mother tongue as he kissed the side of your jaw. “Been tempting me too much lately, cariño. M’only a man at the end of the day.” He breathed against you, watching the way your shorter body trembled under his touch. “I have needs. N’ it’s your job to take care of them like I always take care of you, ma.”

so of course as soon as he said that, his hand harshly pulled your bra down, exposing your breasts to him. He pinched one of your nipples, pulling it a little before releasing. Soon, your knees collided with the hard wood beneath you’d, and his cock was slapping against your cheek, leaving a trail of his sticky pre-cum. “S’right, niña. Put that pretty mouth to better use.” He smirked—that fucking smirk. The one that made you week in the knees.

You knew you were done for.

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