#Drinking horn mug

[highbix-vintage-decoration]

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[michaela-o]

Random things i think Cybertronians would find adorable about humans ~♡

1. Humans getting spooked by random loud noises because humans are naturally very jumpy about loud noises

Imagine:

you're sitting over at Swerve's bar, just chatting, having your drink on the counter Swerve let you sit on, because your makeshift little table and chair are work in progress. Suddenly some bot decides to honk their horn near you which makes you yelp and jump (like cats when they get scared of cucumber) which makes you almost spilling the drink as you were about to take a sip.

The whole bar stops and laughs at you. You just look at the bot who did it with the most unimpressed look ever (ㅍ_ㅍ)

2. Watching you stretch yourself because Cybertroniams aren't as flexible as humans

3. Sleeping

this may sound a bit creepy but from what i saw Cybertroniams sleep very eerily still and almost never move when they're in recharge because they're very vulnerable when doing so. So i think when they have their first sleepover with a human and they happen to fall asleep sooner and they start to either sleep walk or sleep talk (which fun fact, i do a lot ( -᷄ ᎑ -᷅ ) ) the bots would look in utter confusion like- "ya all don't stay still?? How???" I think Cybertronians would also find cute how groggy humans are when they wake up and them needing proper time to load into the world around them. Oh god and wait till they hear about the weird ass dreams humans can have or humans trying to explain déjà vu to a bot💀

(makes me think of Sunder being frustrated bc he wouldn't be able to get into a human's brain😝)

4. Physical Clumsiness

The occasional clumsiness and lack of precision in human movements. I think a lot of bots would find this very amusing to occasionaly watch since Cybertronias are typically more coordinated and precise in their actions. Like imagine bot walking with a human who let's say just woke up earlier to a meeting and are slowly walking around occasionaly hitting themeselves or their arm with a corner of a wall because their sleepy processor didn't calculate the trajectory good enough. I think they would find this rather adorable (๑´>᎑<)

5. Emotional Reactions

Yes i think humans are way more sensitive than Cybertronians are. Human's exaggerated emotional reactions to minor events, like getting overly excited about a sports game or being deeply upset by a small mishap, could be seen as amusingly disproportionate. Like imagine you drop your favourite mug on the floor and it breaks as much as your heart in that moment. You walk around the ship super sad, like a kicked puppy, and the bots can almost feel the sadness dripping off of you so they ask: "Hey uh- you okay?"

And then you proceed to explain that you broke your favourite mug and that you'll never find a mug similar to your favourite one. The bot stares like ಠ_ಠ. Oh so that's the reason? Okay so apparently humans don't pack bond with only random things that are alive but even with things that aren't.

6. The uncanny valley effect

I think bots would find rather fascinating how human brain responds to this phenomenon. Like- the human brain can feel that something is off and can't be fooled. Imagine holoforms in Cybertronians. Like yeah they can look very appealing but only up to a certain point which when that point is reached it tickles that one part of the human brain which tells us "na-a-ah something ain't right"

At one point they wanted to wtiness this in real life so some bots (Percy, Brainstorm) made a set up of holoforms and real looking hologram of humans and waited for you to figure out which unsettles you the most. They were surprised that you were 100% accurate in this and that you were able to tell which one are holoforms and which aren't.

7. Expressions of Wonder

the awe and wonder in the human eyes when we are encountering something new or beautiful, such as a breathtaking landscape or a technological marvel. I think Cybertronians would find this pretty adorable, very innocent and reflective of our curious nature.

8. Human Fragility

I think the most popular one. The general physical fragility of humans, along with our tendency to bandage minor injuries or get flustered over small pains, might be viewed as cutely vulnerable for many Cybertronians.

Feel free to add anything you'd like !!😄🫶🏻🫶🏻

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [1.2K]

Written for @carolmunson’s writing challenge. Feel free to join in, you can find the rules here 🧡 everyone say thank you to Carol for taking the time to create something so cute.

“If you don’t stop, we’re gonna have a problem, sweetheart.”

Eddie was grumbling, but it was all affection and barely any real scolding in his voice. It’s why you laughed, a dirty cackle that only came out when you were properly tipsy and you continued your harassment as the boy juggled the his keys and your wobbling frame.

You were still snickering, nuzzling at the boy’s neck, your hands slipping up the inside of his leather jacket and t-shirt. You were bolder after a few drinks, tongue tasting like cranberry and something stronger, tequila shots that Robin brought to the table going down like water and Eddie had declared it was home time when you draped yourself in his lap, glassy eyes on his lips as he tried to talk to Steve.

“You normally - oops - like it, oh fuck, when I touch you,” you bashed your shoulder on the doorframe when Eddie finally managed to coax you inside, your hands still vying for his attention.

Eddie was pink in the cheeks, unused to seeing you like this, the relationship still new, your affection still overwhelming at times. You were a cute drunk, tipsy and hiccuping as you let yourself flop onto his sofa, mumbling something into the cushions. He followed, leather jacket throw on the armchair and he bent, untying your shoes and smiling when you hummed, your toes wiggling in your socks and he pretended to bite at them, snickering when you squeaked.

The trailer was lit by just the streetlights, the rest of the park and the town asleep, quiet in the darkness. Eddie seemed to make the navy shadows a little brighter through, everything about his brash and intimidating exterior melting away to a soft gentleness, just for you.

“C’mon, sit up for me, babe,” Eddie coaxed, pulling at your wrists until he was able to manhandled you into the sofa corner. “M’gonna get you some water and then we’re going to bed, alright?”

“Yessir,” you slurred but the salacious intent was there, all flirt as you tried to wink but one eye simply wouldn’t cooperate.

“You’re jokes, tonight, kid,” Eddie snorted and busied himself in the kitchen, heart overflowing with affection for you, a kind of fondness that clung to the spaces between his ribs and it was times like these he wondered how on earth the town pariah managed to bag a girl like you.

“Here,” he murmured as he walked back over. “We ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?” Eddie handed you a mug in the shape of some sort of creature.

If you’d been more sober, you would’ve thought it was some sort of demonic Bigfoot, but you were too busy eying at spikes that protruded from the rim of the mug. You glanced back at Eddie warily, accepting his offer with a grimace.

“Watch for the horns,” he whispered when your tooth clinked against one. You groaned, flipping him off as you chugged most of the water, eyes slipping shut and Eddie’s hand found the back of your head before you tipped yourself backwards too much. “Jesus, sweetheart, don’t drown yourself.”

“Sounds like an easier way to go than how m’gonna feel in the morning,” you groaned, already feeling sorry for yourself. The third shot of tequila was a horrible, terrible idea. You vaguely remembered Eddie wincing at you from across the table as you knocked it back. You held the evil Bigfoot mug to your chest and waved him away, almost as dramatic as Eddie himself. “Jus’ leave me here to rot.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” the boy pouted, hiding his grin behind pursed lips. He was kneeling in front of you again, warm wide hands running the lengths of your thighs and the guitar string callouses on his fingers scratched against your skin just right. “Don’t rot here. S’an awful place to deteriorate. You can rot in bed w’me.”

“Can’t,” you told him mournfully, your empty mug slipping onto the cushions as you let yourself lean forward, face finding Eddie’s neck. He smelled like smoke and spice and the cologne you’d got him for Valentine’s Day. “I’ll be a pile of sludge. Sludge and tequila. So disgusting.”

Eddie snorted, throughly entertained at someone else being dramatic for once. His hands made their way from your legs to your back, slipping nimble fingers inside your T-shirt so he could skate them along your spine. If he hadn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn you purred.

“Hey now, that’s not even close to being true,” he tsked, nudging your head with his until you whined and pulled back, facing him with a pout. He pushed his nose against your own. “My girlfriend is the prettiest pile of sludge.”

It was still new enough that you both got a kick out of him calling you his girlfriend, your body buzzing with a giddy kind of excitement that made your nose crinkle when you beamed at him.

Your forehead touched his, Eddie’s unruly curls brushing your cheeks and his fingers dipped lower, pressing into the dimples on your back and he held you there, fully encouraging whatever it was you were about to do.

Your lips brushed his, a barely there kiss that probably tasted like tequila and cherry liqueur but you were too drunk to care and Eddie really didn’t mind at all.

“You think I’m the prettiest?” You whispered.

“Damn right,” Eddie nodded, his voice laced with stern fondness and he grinned when you smiled even wider. “All the other piles of sludge don’t know what to do with themselves when you’re around.”

It made you laugh, a hiccuping thing that had Eddie kissing at your cheek, the corner of your mouth and the tip of your nose. It was overwhelming, to be doted on like this - your cheeks warm and the alcohol making you softer and sleepier, Eddie’s big hands the only thing keeping you upright.

“You’re so funny,” you mumbled through a yawn, falling forward again to bury yourself into him.

“The funniest,” Eddie agreed mildly, because he was already coaxing you into standing up with him, your socked feet standing on his boots as you swayed. “C’mon, bedtime.”

“You forgot bad day Bigfoot,” you mumbled, pointing back at your empty mug. “He needs to come too.” You lifted the throw pillow that Wayne had once tried to cross-stitch a dirty joke onto, holding it close to your side like some kind of teddy.

One look at your frown told Eddie you weren’t joking, so with raised brows, he grabbed the offending cup and held him in front of you. “He needs to come to bed with us? And the dick pillow?”

An array of different sizes and colours of badly stitched penises glared back at him from under your arm and Eddie raised his brows at you, unsure.

You nodded, already shuffling off into the direction of his bedroom where he knew you’d ransack his drawers for just the right shirt to sleep in. “S’only polite,” you told him.

You couldn’t see Eddie’s responding grin but he filled the mug back up with water before trailing after you. “Alright, but if he starts gettin’ handsy, he’s out.” He caught up with you just as you flopped into his unmade bed, burying your face into the sheets with a hum. “You’re my pile of sludge, remember?”

From beneath Wayne’s pillow, your hand shot out, a thumbs up offered as a sign of agreement and Eddie scoffed as he bit at the digit playfully.

“Fuck yeah, m’your pile of sludge,” was his answer.

[flowerbetweenfangs]

Cream Filling: Chapter One

Warning: Use of drugs and dubcon.

(MC is dosed with an aphrodisiac and is all too willing... But you know)

This was originally posted on A03 and is my most popular work, so I thought I'd put it here.

I hope you enjoy.

Lightning flashed overhead, lighting up pitch black streets for an instant. Elle Shepard nearly slipped on a horribly placed patch of mud. Windmilling, she caught a streetlight and came to a stop. A crack of thunder made her let go. Another bolt struck, enveloping the buildings and pavement in a brightness that was almost blinding, before a loud boom shook the windows.

Finally, she came upon a neon sign, showing a drink being shaken, then poured into a martini glass. The glass then changed to a coffee mug, the shaker into a pitcher. The words read: Ramses Brew, Bar and Café.

Pushing open the door, Elle stepped inside and pulled down the hood of her raincoat. Closing her umbrella, she stuck it in the container with the rest. Music played, pool balls cracked, conversations blurred together in one continuous hum. A bartender passed out drinks, moving with inhuman speed.

Walking up to the bar, Elle took a seat on the stool near the end. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a stack of papers and set them on the polished wood.

“What will it-” The bartender flinched at her, their nostrils flaring. Their voice sounded like many people talking at once.

“Oh, you’re the human.” They reached into their pocket and pulled out a phone. Tapping on the screen, they sent a quick message and put it away. They dropped their voice and leaned in closer to her. “Sorry, our drinks are a little too strong for your kind.”

They were most likely a demon, with horizontal lined pupils and a pair of antlers. Their sunken face showed a skeletal structure that was more deer than human, with a slight brown fuzz instead of fur. Their hands were coal black, their fingers tapering off to a clawed end.

“Can I just have water?” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, her heart fluttering. Focus! The job was more important than a one night stand.

“Of course.” They bowed their head, before going to a new arrival at the bar.

Sighing, Elle debated pulling her hood back up when she felt the eyes on her. No, she’d have to get used to the stares if she wanted to get this job. A human woman, with dark hair and hazel eyes, wearing dress pants and a button up peach blouse. No horns, fangs, scales, or a tail. Not even markings that would signal she was a mage or tied to someone with magic. 

Swinging her leg back and forth, Elle sipped at her water, looking around the bar. There was a pair of trolls playing pool. A pair of drow were in the corner, looking like they were discussing more… Intimate plans. A human looking man sat on the couch, a cane between his legs. A spread of cards were on the table in front of him, small black wisps curling around them. He seemed to be the shortest occupant, he was probably a head and shoulders taller than her. 

“Ms. Elodie Shepard?” The voice made her turn.

An angular face stared at her. It was human in appearance, but black scales appeared like freckles, shimmering in the low light. A pair of ram horns curled around cheeks, the ends sharpened and looking ready to puncture anything that got near them. He was dressed in a white button up shirt and a red vest, with a black tie. He was young, appearing to only be in his early to mid 30s.

“Yes!” Elle held out her hand. The speaker took it in shimmering black hands that were very large compared to his body. They left a residue on her skin that she tried to discreetly wipe off when he turned around, looking at the loft above. "But please, call me Elle." 

“Let’s go talk more privately.” He walked to the bottom of the stairs, unclipping a chain that indicated the area was closed until the morning.

Elle nodded and followed him. Stepping aside, he allowed her to go first and clipped the sign back in place. Once the links were formed, a small bit of magic rumbled through the floor, making Elle’s knees weak. Gripping the handrail, she kept herself from falling and quickly climbed up.

Once they were in the loft, Ramses clapped his hands and a few candles lit. The light was warm and calming. There were a few couches set up, with a coffee table between each pair facing one another.

Taking a seat, Elle set her papers on the table and cleared her throat. Even with the water, there was still a tickle in her throat.

“Alright,” The man sat down. “So, as you may know, this is my business. Ramses Sesbrun.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I appreciate you coming out so late, but since demons don’t do so well in sunlight…” He shook his hand back and forth like he was tipping a scale. “I still have a limited staff, so I don’t have much of a day shift.”

Elle nodded. “It’s fine. I’ve got this.” She reached into her shirt and pulled out a silver chain, with wire wrapped around an obsidian stone.

Ramses flinched at the charm, before clearing his throat. Elle quickly stuffed it into her shirt and shuffled her papers.

“Alright. So as you may have noticed, we have a bit of a uniform.” He gestured to his attire. “It doesn’t matter if you prefer skirts or pants, just make sure it’s got a white button up shirt under your apron and a tie or scarf.” Inhaling sharply, he adjusted his glasses again. “We have a very diverse staff. If you do get the job, expect to work with all kinds of people.”

Elle simply nodded. “I know it is probably a strange thing, getting a human to apply.” The thought of being around so many demons and patrons of the “other side”, it was somewhat exhilarating.

“A little. But your safety is promised here,” Ramses insisted. “I’ll do what I can to make sure that you and your fellow employees are comfortable in this environment. Everyone here is just looking for a place to unwind.” He smiled at her, showing his teeth were fangs.

Shifting uncomfortably, Elle gave a smile. Those fangs looked like they could leave some decent hickeys. Wait, no, she had to remain professional. “Erm, not to sound too forward, but the job posting mentioned pay?” Right. Stay professional.

“Oh, right.” Ramses picked up a staff of his own papers from a table next to the couch. Flipping through the stack, he left small black thumbprints on each page. No wonder he needed help with the kitchen and other places. He probably couldn’t even touch the food he served his customers.

Finally, he stopped at what he was looking for. “I know the pay is high, but that means I’ll be expecting more from you. But if what I’ve heard about humans is correct…” His cheeks flushed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to rely on stereotypes, but I know humans are known for getting things done faster.” He clicked his mouth closed, not wanting to insert his foot into his mouth.

“Then you’ll be happy to know I fall into that!” Elle said quickly, hoping her tone didn’t sound too desperate. “I promise I’ll be fast and get the work done!” She clasped her hands together. “I just really… Need a job.” A job that seemed to offer a lot of eye candy...

Ramses nodded, taking her papers and flipping through them. “I’ve already read what you sent me, but I just want to make sure…”

He made a couple more noises of affirmation, before setting the now spotted pile down. “I don’t know if you’ll have a uniform on standby, but I think we might have something in your size. If you are willing to come in tomorrow, then I can have Wrecks and Horac show you the ropes.” Tapping a finger to his lips, Ramses’ brows knit together. “You don’t have Arachnophobia, do you?”

*** “Welcome to Ramses!” Elle called out, bowing her head. When she straightened, she ignored the look of befuddlement from the new arrivals. “Just two?”

After seating the pair, she bid farewell to some patrons as they left. They acknowledged her, but seemed more confused than anything else in her presence. When the door closed behind them, she went to quickly clean their table.

Despite looking bulky, the maid outfit they had provided her was light and cool, with a long skirt, deep pockets in the apron. She’d brought her own tights and comfortable shoes. Her hair was tied into a pair of buns to keep it out of her face.

The morning rush was a surprise. Most demons were supposed to be unable to walk in sunlight, but that didn’t stop the clientele from coming in, carrying parasols, charms to protect them, and even wrapping themselves in bandages.

The newly arrived pair were dragonborn, who had quickly fallen into an in depth discussion about maidens and maids. When she approached them with her notepad, pencil to the paper, they quickly quieted.

“Can I recommend one of our Ashburnt Scones?” She asked. “They’ve got an arsenic glaze!”

After taking down their order, Elle quickly scampered to the kitchen and placed the paper on the counter.

“A pair of Coalpressed Muffins with Ashen Dustings!” She called out.

The Drider at the stove nodded, pulling out some blood red pancakes with a tar like topping that he set on plates, the two smaller legs at his waist doing small clean up details. A pair of triple lens spectacles balanced on his nose, which he was constantly adjusting to allow a different pair of eyes to see. Despite his name being “Wrecks” he actually seemed rather dexterous and nimble.

The second was the boarman, Horac, who was frying several cuts of meat and eggs. He seemed immune to the open flames, casually reaching across them to turn over a large slice of ham. Elle tried to not think too hard about the implications.

“Breakfast rush is almost over, rookie.” He said, his voice barely audible over the chaos of the kitchen.

“Thanks!” She took the plates and lined them up on trays, before rushing back out to the main room with the orders.

“I can’t believe a real life human is here,” A goat headed man said as she passed.

“I know. And so fast, too.” Their companion appeared human, but their teeth were too sharp. Enough to pass the line from sexy to frightening.

Just smiling, Elle passed over their food, which they quickly began to ravenously tear into. The remarks, while strange, seemed mostly positive.

By the time the morning rush was over, Elle’s feet were killing her. She collapsed into a chair once the last customer left.

“Elle, can you tell Ram I’m coming in late tomorrow?” Horac said, not giving further details as he went out the back. The bell chimed as he left.

“Sure.” She merely lifted her hand to give a wave he wouldn’t see.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Wrecks said, his voice jolting through her. He hadn’t spoken all morning, only cooked and passed the orders to Elle. The dishes and counters were clean, so she wasn’t going to complain.

Once the ache had mostly gone, she got up and went to change the menus over. The bell chimed again when her back was turned, and she quickly turned back around.

The newcomer had silvery hair, a pair of fox ears twitching on his head. His eyes were closed, his mouth pulled into a vulpine grin.

“Welcome to Ramses!” She tried to pour in the sugary sweetness that customers loved. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” Hopefully, Wrecks wouldn’t mind serving up breakfast still. “So, he did have a human on his payroll.” The new patron muttered to himself. “How quaint.” A bushy silver tail waved behind him.

Elle felt herself blushing. “Can I get you anything? Our Blasterjelly rolls are a customer favorite, along with our Hadesfire Pomegranate Tea.” She reached for a menu to shove in his hands. His gaze seemed focused on her, despite his eyes being closed.

“No,” He held up his hand. “Thank you. You served my friend earlier.” Reaching into his sash, he pulled out a box about the length of his hand, the width of two put together. “He’s too shy to show his gratitude in person, so he sent me in his stead.”

Setting the box on the podium, he turned on his heel and gave a backward wave, the bell chiming as he left.

Frowning, Elle used her pen to open the corner of the box. Inside, she saw a small flat pastry, the side of one showing a beet colored paste. Picking it up, she realized they were covered with powdered sugar. Setting it back down, she closed the box and stuffed it under the podium. How odd she’d been given a human friendly dessert.

“Ready for round two?” Wrecks asked when he came back in, wiping his hands on a towel.

“You know it!” She brushed back her hair, pushing the fox man out of her mind.

The bell chimed, a trio of trolls coming through, looking like they’d gotten off a construction job. A goat headed woman burst through the door behind them, looking frazzled. By the end of the second shift, Elle was nearly laying on the table. Her feet and back ached, her hair was a mess, and the uniform was rumpled.

“And my favorite part of the day…” Wrecks said, flipping the sign to indicate they were closed until the bar opened. He laughed to himself as he went to tally up the totals.

“Count this for me to make sure my math is right.” Taking the cash from the drawer, Wrecks slid it to her. He poured himself a sludge looking coffee, enough steam and heat coming off it to fog up his spectacles. Sweat trickled down his brow.

Elle’s stomach growled, and she found herself blushing. While his lower half made her nervous, his upper half was certainly handsome.

Right. Focus.

“Oh, right.” Wrecks paused. “You can’t…” He struggled to find the words. “Eat anything on our menu, can you?”

“Not without getting violently ill,” Elle admitted, before remembering the podium. “Oh! Right!” Rushing to it, she pulled out the box. “I was going to pack my lunch, but I woke up late!” She’d actually slept in her car because she was terrified of missing her first shift. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for her at home. And driving nearly half an hour both ways seemed like a poor use of her time.

Sitting next to the money, she took out one of the cakes and took a bite. Powdered sugar flew around her in a cloud, sending residue all over the uniform.

Keeping the cake in her mouth, she nursed at the paste and counted out the cash, keeping notes. Once she finished, she paused over the calculations and finished eating. Then, she quickly ate a second, barely tasting it as it went down.

“Get some actual food,” Wrecks chided. “I can smell the sweetness from here. Where did you get that if you didn’t pack your lunch?”

“Apparently one of the customers really liked my service and gave me a gift.” Elle shrugged. She looked down at her tips for the day, her breath catching in her throat. How much money did this damned clientele have!? Pulling out her wallet, she quickly signed off on the amount and collected it. Looking down at her uniform, she excused herself to the bathroom.

There was no way she was going to risk getting it dirty and looking unprofessional. If she was going to be making money like this every day, she was going to take this job seriously. Going to the restroom, she did what she could to clean up her uniform. No way was she going to take a dock in her pay to pay for the outfit.

Her face felt hot. Slipping off the apron, she unbuttoned her blouse and splashed water on herself. Looking in the mirror, she saw her cheeks and neck were crimson. The blush spread even further, hidden by her shirt.

Slipping off her blouse, she stared at the sleeveless shirt, which only showed off more of her flushed skin. It was still hot, but more bearable. And she was NOT undressing more. Splashing her face again, she got her hair damp. Slicking back her loose bangs, Elle took in a deep breath.

When she walked out, she saw Wrecks looking at the cakes. Holding one between his thumb and forefinger, he squeezed it. The paste oozed out, dripping onto his fingers. He had his phone to his ear, waiting for someone to answer.

Elle was about to complain he’d ruined part of her gift, but his expression was serious. It sent a twinge of worry through her, followed by another hot flash. This one made her head spin, and she quickly sat down.

“Where did you get these?” His voice was sharp.

“Some guy dropped them off. Um… Foxy.” She started to recall his face, but all it did was cloud her mind with other details she’d overlooked. The way his collar bone peeked out over his robe. How veiny and strong his hands looked. His lips, perfectly glossy, the fangs peeking out with his grin.

“Shepard?” Wrecks asked.

“Hmm?” She smacked her cheeks to try and refocus. “Where was I again?”

Before Wrecks could answer, the person on the other end picked up.

“Yeah.” Wrecks tossed her a damp towel.

Wiping it across her sweaty skin, Elle began to inhale deeply. She felt hot all over, her body starting to shake. Every fiber of her clothing brushed against her, scraping her raw.

“I’m sure it was him,” Wrecks’ voice sounded like it was coming from the other end of a tunnel. “Bet my first born on it. I could smell fuckery on the box.” He looked over to Elle, licking his lips nervously. “She seems fine now, but I don’t want to touch her, could you get a hold of a human doctor?” He paused, nodding along with the speaker, small grunts escaping his mouth.

“Alright.” He hung up, inching closer to Elle.

“That was Ramses. He’s on his way.” He pulled another towel off the counter and soaked it in icy water, before passing it to Elle. “Those cakes were laced with… Something.” He frowned, brows coming together.

“I guess it was Tanpopo’s way of saying hello…”

“Who?” Although Elle was sure she had a good idea who the Drider spoke of. Her insides twitched, needing to be filled. Sweat trickled down her neck and back. Slowly, she laid down in the booth, her legs facing the wall.

“An asshole who runs the bakery down the road.” Wrecks jerked his thumb behind him. “He thought it would be funny to “prank,” He added air quotes. “Some of our staff last year by spiking some cakes and tea with Hellfire Mint.” Three pairs of eyes watered at the memory. “Most of them were fine, but one of our hosts got sent into early labor and had to go to the hospital.”

Fanning herself with a menu, Elle panted. “I wish I’d been warned.”

“Well, there hadn’t been any problems since then,” Wrecks explained. “Horac was a pretty decent deterrent.”

Elle’s mouth was suddenly dry. The heat was becoming unbearable. Her legs refused to budge, each breath making another flash of arousal go through her. “I’ll get you some water.” Wrecks excused himself, quickly coming back with a glass. He passed it to her. “Now, I’m not sure how long this is supposed to last, but Ramses seemed pretty sure he knew what it was.”

Their hands touched. Elle let out a cry, dropping the glass. She shook, nearly convulsing as the need seized her.

Wrecks jumped back, his legs skittering across the floor, unable to gain traction.

Elle was on her feet, grabbing the front of his vest and pulling him to her. Their lips nearly brushed.

“No no no no no no!” He said rapidly, using his front legs and arms to push her away. “It’s flattering, but you are in no condition to be initiating this!”

His skin was scalding hot against hers. She grabbed his clothing so tight she thought it would rip. Pulling him close again, she ignored the impact of his front legs against her skirt.

“I’m terribly sorry, Shepard.” Wrecks said, before she suddenly couldn’t move.

Looking down, she saw she was covered with white bindings. Webbing kept her still, binding her legs together below the knees, and her arms below the elbows. He then pushed her back into the booth.

The bell chimed. Nostrils flaring, Elle thrashed around to try and sit up as the scent of Demon hit her.

“Oh, thank Arachne.” Wrecks backed away. “You made good time.”

“Of course.” Ramses' voice thundered in her ears. Elle’s lips parted slightly as she continued to wriggle around, trying to get free of her bindings. “Leave us. This is easier if there’s only one target.”

Wrecks didn’t have to be told twice. He picked up his scant belongings and quickly scampered out the door.

Ramses stood in front of the booth, his crotch the perfect height for-

And he was gone.

The door locked.

Then, he was back.

“You’ve ingested Asmodeus Fruit,” He explained, pulling out a knife. “Better known as Lustberries.” Looking at the blade, he set it down on the table. “Hold still.” His visible skin was wrapped in bandages. To protect him from the sun?

The order made Elle still, the only movement was her shaking with desire.

“I’m going to cut you loose. But you have to promise me you’re not going to jump on me. Okay?”

Despite the words barely registering, Elle nodded, her body still trembling.

Ramses cut the bindings, his bandaged hands brushing against her. Unlike with Wrecks, it didn’t send a jolt through her. But his scent, the way he panted with exertion… She found herself leaning forward.

“KNIFE!” He yelled, shoving her back. His hand hit her protective charm, and both of them went flying back. She hit the wall hard, and he slid into the front counter in front of the kitchen. Wincing, he slowly got back up, rubbing the back of his head.

“Are you okay?” Her legs were still bound. She started to climb out of the booth.

“Stay!” He commanded, getting up.

Elle’s legs became weak, and she nearly face planted on the floor. Catching herself, Elle held onto the corner of the table. Her charm hung low. 

Ramses rushed over, cutting her legs free.

“Now. Listen.” He shook his finger in her face.

Nodding, Elle leaned forward.

“Go to the loft.”

She rose up, the charm snagging on the corner of the table, the wire wrapping coming undone and the stone falling to the ground, sliding under the booth. 

Her feet slapped against the floor, she nearly tripped over the chained sign as she ran. But she was up the stairs, lungs and chest heaving. Collapsing onto the couch, she felt the heat rolling over again, almost unbearable. Clothes continued to rake against her skin so roughly she thought it would make her bleed. Her hands went to her top, trying to pull it off.

“Okay, Elle. I need you to listen to me.” Ramses said, coming up in the loft. “Normally this stuff wears off after a few hours. But it’s demon fruit, so humans suffer-” He let out a surprised noise as Elle rushed over to him.

When her hands touched his shirt, she realized he wasn’t wrapped under his clothes. Working her fingers through the gaps between his buttons, she touched her fingertips to his bare chest. The heat of his skin made her shudder.

Dropping to her knees, she started to unbuckle his belt.

“Elle!” He said sharply. “Hold on!” Grabbing one of her buns, he held her head in place. Lips parted, she looked up. Panting, she reached for him. Despite denying her advances, his erection was growing quickly.

“Here.” He pulled out a vial, a white liquid inside. “Drink this first. I know it’ll be nasty, but-” As he spoke, the white liquid suddenly yellowed and seemed to become crusty.

She grimaced.

“I know. But the other cure is… Not ideal.” He offered her the vial. Uncorking the top, he pressed the glass to her lips.

Slowly, he tilted it. Once the liquid touched Elle’s lips, foul gelatinous sludge tried to worm its way into her mouth. Pulling back, she sputtered and coughed. Eyes watering, she shook her head.

There was glass breaking, and the liquid spilled all over the floor. The fog was gone, but Elle suddenly felt so hot she started to claw at her clothes.

“You’re going to hurt yourself!” Ramses grabbed her arms, straddling her. His erection dug into her as he pinned her to the floor.

“Elle, listen to me.” His breath was warm against her skin, caressing skin, the wetness from it sliding down her body. 

Closing her eyes, Elle thrust against him. Ramses let out a distressed yelp, before gripping her tighter.

“Fuck me…” She moaned, rubbing against him. A wet spot was left on Ramses pants, although she wasn’t sure if it was from him or her.

It was getting so hot she felt like she was going to pass out, black spots filling her vision. Her clothes felt like they were tearing large chunks of her skin off.

“I’m… So sorry.” Ramses picked her up off the floor, setting her down on the couch.

“For what?” She grabbed his shirt, pulling him down. Their lips almost touched, but he turned his face so she kissed his horn.

“You’re in no state of mind…” He knelt between her legs. “Just let me try something.” Taking her tights, he clumsily pulled them down. Catching the waist of Elle’s panties, Ramses left her completely bare. At the sight, averting his eyes, Ramses cheeks turned crimson.

“Yep…” He struggled to find the words. “That’s certainly Asmodeus fruit.”

Elle touched herself, spreading the soaking lips wide. Grinding against the couch, she felt herself drenching the fabric.

“Okay.” Ramses draped her legs over his shoulders. “I’m going to try something. If it doesn’t work, then we have one option left.”

Elle nodded, but her mind was buzzing. Grabbing Ramses by the hair, she shoved him into her drenched folds. Whatever response he had was muffled, making her shiver.

His tongue began to trace her lower lips, before he slipped it inside. Ellen held his head in place, biting her lips as he continued to lick. Reaching up, he seized her thighs and spread her legs wider. His breath made her tingle.

Closing her eyes, Elle focused on the sensation, the heat now concentrating in her lower half. Ramses’ head bobbed back and forth, the sounds of licking and sucking so loud in the empty loft. She let out several moans, trying to lock her legs around his head.

Keeping her legs open, Ramses continued to lick, before exposing her clit and swirling his tongue around it. Elle moaned, releasing his hair and grinding against his face. “Come for me, Elle.” He groaned into her, his breath so warm. “Come for me, please.”

Letting her head lull back, Elle moaned and grabbed the couch tight enough to feel the fabric start to rip. She felt the orgasm start to build, each lick eliciting another cry from her. Eyes watering, she nearly screamed when Ramses plunged his tongue inside.

But before she could release, it was like slamming into a brick wall. White filled her vision as the heat became a searing pain. A scream escaped her and she shuddered, falling to the side.

“S-stop…” She panted, tears streaming down her face. “It… It hurts.”

Ramses pulled back, his bandages around the lower half of his face now loose. They were soaked with Elle. Small bits of skin were visible. Despite the pain in her lower half, Elle grabbed Ramses by the shirt. She then climbed on top of him, rubbing her aching groin over his crotch.

“Fuck me, please.” She begged, continuing to grind against his hardness.

“Hold on.” Ramses pushed the table to the other couch, his glasses askew. Picking Elle up, he placed her on the couch. Unzipping his pants, he let them fall to the ground. His fully erect cock came forth, beads of precum dripping from the tip. Elle leaned forward, wrapping her lips around it.

Ramses let out a surprised moan, knees nearly giving out as Elle sucked. Once the few drops of precum were swallowed, the heat drastically reduced. Panting, Elle pulled back and let her tongue swirl around the tip.

Then, she felt herself blushing. The reality of the situation began to crash around her. Pulling her head back, she quickly let go of Ramses cock and put her hands at her side.

“Um…” The wetness between her legs was almost unbearable. “I’m… Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Ramses panted, sitting down on the table. “It wasn’t your fault. I understand if you want to leave now.”

Elle stared at his cock, swallowing hard. It was glistening with her saliva. She should leave. This was not only inappropriate, but they were both in a bad spot. But her body was literally hurting with need.

“Ramses.” Her face was probably tomato red. What had she just done? Ramses probably thought… “This wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. But I should have warned you.” He was attempting to put his dick back in his pants, which seemed to be a challenge.

“Erm…” She prodded her forefingers against one another, biting her lower lip. “This is super inappropriate. But is the antidote for this fruit…” Her voice trailed off as she became more flustered. “You know, demon semen?”

Mutely, Ramses nodded. “I didn’t want you to either get too excited or too disgusted.” He looked up at her when she stood over him. “Because I’ve been told it can be rather potent.”

“So, are you sure you gave me enough of a dose?” She lifted her skirt, showing him her wetness. “Because I would, uh, prefer not to go back to how I was.” Her legs shook, the blush filled her entire body.

Ramses’ eyes went wide, and he took off his glasses, setting them down on the table. “I’m not sure. It’s not an exact science. But…” He was cut off when Elle kissed him, straddling his lap.

“Oh.” He kissed her back, looping his hands around her waist.

“Elle,” He said, his voice muffled by her mouth. His pupils dilated slightly, the blood vessels thickening.

“Hm?” She pulled back, her arms around his neck.

“If you want to wait, the lust will wear off.”

Elle thought about it, but shook her head, “I want to do this.” She nibbled at his exposed skin, hands running up and down the nape of his neck.

“Very well.” He stood, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist.

Setting her back onto the couch, Ramses straddled her, pinning her arms above her head against the armrest.

“Are you still hot?”

She nodded.

Taking Elle’s shirt, he slid it off and let it fall to the floor, leaving her in only her skirt.

“Aren’t you?”

“Sunlight.” He gestured to the windows.

“Oh.”

“Consider this… Paid overtime.” Nudging her legs open, Ramses lined himself up, prodding against her slit. Each touch made Elle gasp, grinding against him.

Then, he slid inside. Elle gasped, instantly clenching around him. Ramses gripped the back of the couch, letting out a surprised whimper. Leaning down, he wrapped his arms around her and began to thrust. Once her arms were free, she let her hands explore him.

The touch seemed to encourage him further and he hilted himself.

Elle screamed in pleasure, digging her nails into Ramses’ shirt. Covering her mouth with his, Ramses began to pound into her, each thrust making her see a flash of color.

“God,” He said between thrusts. “You’re so tight.” His breath was warm against her face and neck. Leaning down, he nibbled her neck. “I…” The blush returned to his face.

Elle pulled him back, their lips meeting again. Pushing her tongue into his mouth, she let them dance as he found his rhythm and continued to pump back and forth. Each moan encouraged him, and he went harder.

As the thrusts went deeper, Elle cried out, her back arching. She ran her hands down Ramses shirt and vest, the fabric chafing against her skin. Unlike her own clothing, it pushed her closer to the edge, but she felt herself hitting the wall again.

Her breasts began to bounce, and Ramses groaned, his legs and buttock suddenly clenching.

“Please!” She begged, squeezing him tightly. “Finish inside me!”

“Fuck!” Ramses yelped, before he released, the fluid spilling out of Elle. Panting, he shuddered, placing his hands on either side of her head. Sweat trickled down his face. Clenching, he thrust against her as he emptied everything inside.

The orgasm finally came, and Elle clenched, wrapping her legs around his and pulling Ramses close. Shivering, she panted and closed her eyes.

“I think… That’s enough.” He slipped out of her and sat up on the couch, his softening cock still shimmering with her wetness.

Elle shuddered, then slowly sat up, rescuing her shirt from the floor and holding it up to her chest. She was covered with the strange black residue from his hands.

“I am very sorry about that.” Ramses zipped his pants up and buckled his belt. “I completely understand if you want to quit.”

“Umm…” Elle worried at her lower lip. “You see, I didn’t exactly dislike it and I really need this job.” She couldn’t even look at him without blushing.

“I could tell.” Ramses eyes went wide and he put his glasses back on. “Although I’m not sure how much of that was me or the Fruit.” He rubbed his face. “I’m going to kill that fox the next time I see him.”

Elle swallowed hard, thinking of the cakes. “Um, before you get all worked up, shouldn’t you get ready to open the bar?”

Ramses rubbed his face with a sigh. “I’ve got some time.” He looked her over. “I know you live farther away, but do you want to get cleaned up at my place? Er, not that I’m inviting you back over for...” He let the silence hang in the air. 

Sighing, Elle nodded. “One thing at a time. I need to get this ‘antidote’ off me before it leaves a stink.” The scent of sex was already making her dizzy and flushed.

Helping her up, Ramses helped her dress and helped her back down to the main gathering area, collecting the charm from the floor. Stopping at the umbrella holder, he pulled out a parasol and opened it. When he took a few steps outside, he suddenly staggered.

Wrapping his arm around her, Elle helped him walk.

“It’s not too far," Ramses explained. “Erm, so, about what happened.”

“My lips are sealed,” Elle mimed locking her lips and throwing away a key. “As long as you don’t tell the others about me trying to blow you. And everything else.”

Ramses stifled a noise and looked away. “It’s fine. Just erm… Expect a bonus on your first check.”

“A bonus?” Now she was starting to feel like it was some sort of hush money.

“I take… Very good care of my employees.” Ramses frowned. “It’s hard to keep them on.” Swallowing hard, he sighed. “Elle, what I did back there, I promise I’m not normally like that. I know demons have a reputation for being sinners, but I don’t want you to feel I took advantage.”

“Too bad, I had a lot of fun.” Elle blushed at her words. “Sorry, was that too much?”

Ramses bit at his lip. “No, but I am your boss. I don’t want rumors to spread.”

“I understand.” She felt the rest of the heat finally leave her body, leaving her head clear. “But don’t… ever be afraid to ask. I um, headed after this job for a reason. Not just for the pay.”

Ramses hid his face and nodded.

If every day was going to be like this, then this new job was going to be interesting. She’d have to apologize to Wrecks tomorrow.

At least there was hazard pay.

(You can read part 02 here!)

[hazbinshusk]

prompt 4 or 26 for blitzy?<3

prompt #4: a kiss to the top of the head.

“Christ on a stick, I feel like microwaved shit.” Blitzø groans, face down on your couch. You smile to yourself as you pour fresh coffee into two mugs, stirring sugar into one. “Why the fuck did your dumb ass let me drink last night?”

“‘Let you drink’?” you repeat, raising a brow as you move to join him. “I’m pretty sure I was actively against the idea of you downing your weight in Beelzejuice.”

“Then you shoulda said somethin’ about it,” he sits up reluctantly as you take a seat on the opposite end of the couch, your back against the arm and your knees bent in front of you so you can face him. He mumbles a reluctant ‘thanks’ as you hand him his coffee. He winces as he take a long gulp of it, the liquid burning his throat.

“I did.” you point out, trying not to smile. “And you told me, verbatim, to ‘go unfuck the stick outta my ass’. After that particular dose of poetry, I let you make your own decisions.”

Blitzø groans again, setting the coffee down and hanging his head in his hands. “I’m too fuckin’ hungover for you to be lecturin’ me in latin.”

You take a sip of your coffee. “Noted. I’ll save it for later.”

“Know-it-all bitch.”

“Uh-huh.”

He shoots you a glare out of the corner of his eye, and you hide your answering smile by taking another drink.

Blitzø watches you for a moment with narrowed eyes before he reaches out and grabs the mug out of your hands. You open your mouth to complain, but before you can he’s shifted to sit between your legs, his back against your chest. His head is turned to avoid hitting you with his horns, and he nuzzles his cheek into your collarbone petulantly.

“Uh…”

“Fix me,” he grumbles, tail curling over your calf. “Fuckin’ head hurts.”

You shake your head in amusement. “I’m not a miracle worker.”

“Shut up.”

You smooth your hand over his horn soothingly, mapping out the invisible imperfections in the keratin. His eyes close as you continue petting him slowly, and without thinking, you lean down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “You got it, B.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[2-dsimp]

Temothy seems like the type to get his coworkers fired by framing them if they were to say even a single bad thing about y/n.

Same if he thinks an employee is flirting with y/n.

He'll memorize y/n's specific schedule down to the when they even take a first sip of their coffee (or whatever beverage they like) while knowing even the exact temperature his darling seems to like the drink, but will never remember his coworkers' names for the life of him.

Temothy the Bull/Assistant wouldn’t really need to resort to framing them, after all he could just make them willingly resign at the drop of the hat. To save you from having to pay them that severance fee. Since digital footprints are real, with just a couple Facebook scrolls, and stalking their pages on Instagram, TikTok, Reddit, or Twitter. And boom he’s got a loaded casestudy ready to blow their chances of having a peaceful life goodbye.

And being your assistant of course he’s gonna remember every single name of your employees written documents. Alongside every detestable mug plastered right next to their calling card. He may be clumsy at times but he’s far from negligent about his duties in serving his darling to the fullest of his capabilities.

Just in case he’d ever need to keep the pests in check. With a few phone calls and a voice modifier he’ll leave death threats. Taking his sweet time in making them become paranoid and anxious. If he ever found them talking shit about his lovely boss or even worse flirt with them.

As if they ever had the privilege of being graced with your attention that was meant only for him. And Being the bull he is, The assistant won’t hesitate on following through via impaling them with his horns as if they were in a bull riding event.

All in all Temothy’s almost like a loan shark, he’ll somewhat remain silent in exchange for some fruitful favors from the pitiful suckers. So in reality Your assistant has a collection of disposable pawns to aide him on securing his boss’s love.

[maleyanderecafe]

Mushroom Oasis (Visual Novel)

Created by: DeersphereStudios

Genre: Romance/Horror

Mushroom Oasis is very cute, and I love Mychael's design a love (I'm a huge sucker for good monster design). @deerspherestudios always seems to make pretty nice games with cute characters and it was really nice to be able to hang out with Mychael! The artwork in it is also very pretty and cozy, much like Mychael himself.

The story starts out with the MC losing their cat, and has become worried about their disappearance. After being unable to look for them, they desperately look into the forest near their house. After wandering for a very long time, they end up stepping in a fairy circle, where they pass out due to the spores after finding their cat's collar.

Waking up in a cabin, they are tended by someone with messy hair. The two of them talk for a while, with the guy revealing himself to be named Mychael. The MC finds Mychael's appearance to be a little bit odd given the horns, his green skin and his pointed ears. The MC tries to ask Mychael where their cat is, showing them a picture of her, but Mycheal doesn't seem to know. Mychael seems touched that the MC is willing to go out of their way to find their cat, and is happy to make conversation with him. While the MC tries to go home, Mycheal seems to convince them using his spores that they should stay. Mycheal brings the MC to the kitchen and offers them food.

If the MC refuses and leaves, Mycheal will reluctantly let them, but as they walk, they end up falling to the forest's influence, passing out. The end is Mycheal walking sadly to see the body of the MC taken by the mushrooms in the ground next to their cat.

If they agree, Mycheal will cook them something and the MC eats it eagerly. The two talk about why Mycheal lives in the woods until the MC accidentally drops their mug on the floor... which Mycheal catches with his tail, later revealing his four eyes. This can lead the MC to either freak out or stay calm.

If the MC decides to calm down, Mycheal will become bashful hiding behind his plate, telling the MC that he'd be willing to hide his eyes if they'd prefer. The MC drinks the tea, and reassures Mycheal about his appearance. Mycheal insists on having the MC stay for the night.

If the MC freaks out, they will try to escape. Mycheal tries to get them to calm down. They can either attempt to take the sewing needles as a defense or leave them.

Leaving them will cause Mycheal to grab the MC forcefully and use his spores to brainwash them into calming down. He cries a bit, sad that he won't be able to love the "real" MC but is willing to play along with the sedated and brainwashed version of them. The MC is then brainwashed into believing that they've been with Mycheal all of their life as Mycheal plays along with this state.

Taking the needles will cause Mycheal to release spores to get the MC to calm down, however, if the MC does attack him, the needles are stabbed into his heart causing him to fall down bleeding. As Mycheal dies on the floor, he talks about how happy he was that the MC was there with him before dying. The MC feels regret.

I gotta say that this artwork is way, WAY too pretty, from the backgrounds to the characters, it's just really cozy and it's great. I love Mychael's design since I love looking at unique monster designs and it's pretty cool seeing a mushroom based monster character. His four eyes are just so expressive, and he has cute expressions. The creator really has to pull on the heartstrings on the ending where he dies though, don't they.

As a yandere, Mychael is pretty interesting because he is pretty much doing the right thing in forcing the MC to stay with him. As we see in the bad endings, if the MC does end up leaving Mychael's cabin, then they end up being taken by the forest much like their cat, so subduing the MC using his spores is probably the best he can do to make sure that they don't leave, even if it's likely out of selfishness as well since he is pretty lonely. The spores do raise up the question of how powerful his mind control is, as we see that sometimes the MC can break out of it, while in others, such as the ending where the MC is braindead, they can pretty much completely erase their memory. It might come down to how much is released in the air or even what kinds are released. It's possible it might come from his eyes as well, since they turn into a sort of pink hypnotic state. Mind control in yandere stories is an interesting topic to get into since it goes into the idea of if the yandere is okay with an MC that doesn't really have a free will anymore and the amount of angst if they do ever snap out of it. Mychael is a curious creature since I'm not sure we know where he came from or if he's the only one of his kind. My theory is that he's some sort of mutation with the forest (since he's able to sort of tell when the forest "takes" someone and is unaffected by it or at least knows how to avoid it) and possibly was chased out by humans at some point as well (thus his complex about his appearance) so he's forced into isolation. Or I'm completely wrong since there can be a lot of reasons why he isolates himself so much. Also, his blushing sprite? Adorable, I love it.

Overall, a pretty cute demo. I like how it's introduced with the MC running after their cat which I feel is pretty different from how other VNs I've played initially introduce their MC. I'm curious to see how Mycheal will develop as a yandere as the story goes on.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Nark with a Fish | Poseiden

Yandere Pantheon College AU (3/7) | Master List

You were among the few teachers who willingly and avidly taught the average students who attended Pantheon College. Enriching your students with an advanced understanding of the topics at hand while also giving life lessons. If you could toot your own horn, your students loved you taking the initiative to understand what you were teaching and even staying longer if it meant grasping the material better. 

It was every passionate professor’s dream, in your opinion. 

This is why you didn’t hide your pride when in the lounge everyone would fuss over their classes’ exam scores in comparison to yours. An average of excelling above the passing grade was a remarkable feat; remarkable enough that it got the attention of everyone on staff. Especially the professor next door.

Knock Knock

“Oh! Principal Zeus, what a surprise! What can I do for you?”

“Ah nothing much, nothing much, do you still have some of those moon pies of yours?”

“I do! Here you are, so why are you actually here?”

“Mmm well a certain someone across the way noticed your students leaving intermittently…care to explain?”

“Oh I let my students go to the bathroom at their discretion, they are adults after all.”

“I see. I see. Well for protocol's sake, let’s have them carry a bathroom pass from now on okay?”

“Ah okay…”

“Thanks for the moon pies!”

It would be this same interaction at least twice a month always routinely in the second and fourth week. By now it was obvious that it was on purpose but whoever was tattle-telling couldn’t exactly be told no. 

Knock Knock

“Zeus.”

“(Y/n).”

“Here’s the moon pies. We left a seat open for you.”

“Oooh goodie!”

“Alright class let’s keep up our momentum!”

“Right!”

There were guesses, your students always being the ones to avidly gossip. Maybe it was the Superintendent Odin or the P.E. instructor Shiva. The amount of elite instructors was endless so it wasn’t something you concerned yourself with. After all, it would do no good to antagonize the teachers you had to spend your off time planning lessons with. 

Even if they were a group of weirdos.

“Oh~He was looking at me with such passion I almost didn’t mind that he was an average cretin!” 

“Aphrodite! So scandalous!” 

Sighing to yourself, you tried to drown out the obsessively loud laughing and chatter as you sipped from your morning mug. Your only comfort was your fellow friendly teacher of the so-called ‘average’ students–Shaka Buddha. 

“Did you ever find out who the snitch was?”

He was munching on a lollipop nonchalantly leaning on the wall beside you. Shrugging you chuckled to yourself as you subtly scanned the room as if you’d find them now. 

“Nope but would it really matter? I’m not in much of a position to do anything.”

“True. But hey at least we’re doing our part! Anything for the kids right?”

You turned to smile at the professor, returning the fist bump he was offering.

“Right!”

For the smallest second you glanced to the opposite side of the room where the elite and arguably most educated professor sat, glaring. You didn’t let your gaze linger letting your drink become the most interesting thing at this exact moment. 

“You’d think for his reputation he’d be a stickler for etiquette.”

“You’d think right…”

The two of you walked away letting the man with his cerulean gaze follow longingly with aggravation. 

How dare you. 

How dare you?

How dare you?!

To exist so casually within his line of sight disobeying the life he has offered to you. It infuriated Poseiden to no end. Week after week, day after day he watched your talent and perfection be squandered on those less than. 

He was outside the office door when you turned down the promotion from an average professor. He stood in disbelief as you turned down Zeus’ encouragement for better books, better materials, and better pay all for those worthless average students. Neglecting the elite student body that desperately needed you. Refusing to share your energy and time with the elite teachers like him, it should be a crime to live as selfishly as you do. 

He was getting so tired of watching you through the blue filter his tank provided. Tastefully Poseiden had his miniature tank on the left side of his classroom, covering all the windows and touching the top of the ceiling. 

It was well placed so that when Poseiden decided to gaze through those windows no one could accuse him of watching the average professor across the way. Smiling and gesturing widely enough he could see you flicker in his peripheral. 

Such an impudent distraction it is. To watch those worthless nuisance students come up to you and disobey every form of personal space that he deemed right. It was only right he’d let his brother and employer know all about your infractions. 

Perhaps if you’d do the right thing and take his inviting gaze as a chance to ask for his guidance he’d gladly give it. You are worth so much more but until you realize this, it’s best Poseidon intervene. 

Maybe minor infractions just weren’t enough.

Maybe you’d only accept your destiny if something major were to happen.

[vanfleeter]

Sick Days

Summary: Jake puts together a care package for you when you're sick.

Characters: Jake x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Illness (basic cold). Fluff. So much fluff. Kissing.

Author's Note: Enjoy this quick and unedited Jake blurb inspired by The Vow, so ignore any and all grammar mistakes.

Parking his car on the side of the street, Jake turns off the engine and pushes open his car door and grabs the brown paper bag containing a bagel and a danish–unsure of what you would be in the mood for today–and the coffee in the cup holder before jogging over to the sidewalk and up to the front entrance of the book store. The cashier smiles when she sees him.

“Are you here alone today?” She asks as he walks up to the counter.

“Uh no, I’m hoping Y/N is here.” He says as he lifts up the bag of food.

Her smile drops and she leans on the counter. “Well you’d have a better chance of finding her at home,” She says. “Y/N called in sick.. She sounded pretty rough on the phone.”

“Oh..”

“I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.” The cashier giggles.

Jake smiles. “Probably didn’t want to worry me.” He chuckles. “Thanks for telling me.”

–

As a rough cough takes over your body, you groan and lean against the counter as you stir the tea in your mug. Hearing a knock on the door, you mentally curse whoever is on the other side of the door. Abandoning your tea for the time being, you go over to the door and pull it open only to find no one outside. Furrowing your eyebrows, you start to step back inside when you look down only to find a box sitting on your porch.

A car horn beeps lightly and you lift your head to see Jake’s car parked in the driveway. He nods his head to you before putting the car in reverse and backing out of the driveway. You giggle and pick up the box before going back inside.

Setting the box on the counter, you take a quick sip of your tea before reaching for the lid on the box. LIfting it off, you find just about everything you need for a sick day.

A note is resting on top of a bottle of cough syrup.

‘Get better quickly’

You giggle and set the note to the side before picking up the bottle of cough syrup. There’s another note stuck to the bottle.

‘For when your cough is being a bitch’

You snort and set it to the side. You notice that every item inside the box has a sticky note stuck on it. Reaching back in you take out a mug that has a tiny box of tea in it with a honey stick.

‘For when you run of tea’

Next is a mug. It’s ceramic with flowers painted all of it. ‘For when you drink your tea. Even though I know you have a million mugs already.’ You smile and set the mug to the side before reaching for the next item.

A book. One you’ve had your list for a long time. One you kept insisting to Jake that you would read. Just like everything else, he put a sticky note on there too.

‘For when you get bored being cooped up inside, you can finally start this’

Picking up a bottle of tylenol, you find another note. ‘For your head’.

A box of tissues. ‘For your nose. Tissues are better than toilet paper.’ You roll your eyes, picturing him in your head and making fun of you for using a toilet paper to blow your nose because you ran out of tissues.

A bag of cough drops. ‘For your stubborn cough in case the medicine doesn’t help.’

And lastly, a picture of him. A picture you said was your favorite of him. ‘For your heart’.

Finding your phone, you pull up his contact and call him. “Hello?” He answers.

“Thank you for the supplies.” You say as your reach for your tea.

“You’re welcome.”

“But you are missing one thing.” You say before taking a sip of your tea.

“Oh I did?”

“Mmhmm..” You drink more of your tea.

“And what did I miss?”

“Something for when I get lonely..”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm..”

You hear a little rustling on his end of the call before he starts talking again. “What is that ‘something’?”

“You.”

“Huh..” A knock comes on the door again. “You sound pretty popular today.” He chuckles. “You should get the door.”

“I should?”

“You should.”

Walking over to the door, you pull it open again but this time Jake is standing outside holding his phone to his ear with one hand and holding a bag of food in the other. He smiles and puts his phone away. “I still have the bagel and danish, though they might be slightly cold. I did have coffee too but that’s definitely cold.”

You bring him inside and he carries the food over to the counter.

“I brought you some soup.” He says as he takes out a couple take out containers filled with soup. “For when you’re hungry.” He says as he slides the soup in front of you.

When the two of you finish the soup, he takes the bowls and sets them in the sink before coming back over to you. He wraps his arms around you and starts to lean down towards you, but you stop him by pressing your index finger to his lips.

“Uh uh.. Do not kiss me.” You say. “Last thing we need is for you to get sick.”

He chuckles, his lips curving into a smile. He moves your finger away and kisses you anyway. “At least it’ll keep Josh away for a few days.” You can’t stop the giggle that escapes you as he goes to kiss you again.

–2 Days Later–

You hear Jake groaning from his bedroom after having another coughing fit. You knew this was going to happen.

Walking down the hall with a bowl of soup in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, you step into the room you walk over to the bed and set the items on the bedside table. Jake’s coughs are muffled underneath the pillow followed by him groaning once more.

“I told you not to kiss me..” You giggle as you sit on the edge of the bed.

“I told you not to kiss me..” He mocks. “Well sorry if I wanted to help make you feel better.”

You smile at him before leaning over to press your head to his forehead. “Good thing is you’re not warm anymore so your fever is gone.”

“Can I take more medicine yet?”

You shake your head. “One more hour.”

He groans and falls back into the pillows. “This sucks.”

“Well,” You stand up from the bed and retrieve the bowl of soup. “I hope we learned our lesson not to kiss me when I’m sick.”

“Lesson,” He coughs again. “Learned.”

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_____________________________________________________

[cespugliodifiori]

[Sooo i’ve recently watched Hazbin Hotel and the character Alastor has caught my eye 😭 like i’m so obsessed with him that it isn’t funny anymore- But anyways i’ve thought about some head-cannons for him(they might not be accurate and english isn’t my first language so if you find grammatical errors i sincerely apologize) THE END IS ANGSTY (sorry i just had to, i added a ‘dangerously yours’ reference)]

How would Alastor express his “love” for you

• The first time you met him he actually freaked you the fuck out, i mean he had that big smile on his face ALL THE TIME, it was creepy. But after a few days he won you over with his ‘personality’.

• I think that he isn’t the type to have a serious relationship with someone, but he would rather have a ‘soft’ spot for you.

• Sometimes he would open the door for you, if he’s ahead of you, but one time he walked faster than you so he could reach out for the door first and say “Ladies first!”.

• One time, while Niffty was playing with your hair (or horns if your oc has horns) you were doing a crossword. When suddenly Alastor sat down next to you and helped you with some words, since his vocabulary is much more expanded than yours.

• He would definitely keep your tea warm if you’re having a conversation with someone and forget to drink it, while he’s around.

• You always wondered why would he do these little things for you, he still made you somewhat uncomfortable when he’s around but that’s just the aura he gives off, right?.

• One time, while you were sitting in the small bar of the hotel, you were eating cookies and milk for breakfast, when accidentally a cookie fell in the mug and you were about to get a spoon, but Alastor used his magic to pick up the cookie, you were weirded out at first and looked at him suspicious but he only smiled at you, “when did he get here?” you thought while munching on the cookie.

• It actually made him smile more when he saw you laughing at his sassiness or at one of his jokes.

• You found his deer ears to be entertaining, of course you didn’t dare to touch them, but time to time he would make them move (like letting them react to noises yk-) just to see a little smile on your face.

• Sometimes you would listen to him on the radio, it seemed like he always knew when you were listening to him, so he would always be extra sassy.

• He would call you “my dear” “sweetheart” “honey” “little one” “my fawn”

• He would make Jambalaya for you

• One time, Charlie putted on some music to make the hotel less depressing than it already was, a Jazz song came on and you noticed that Alastor looked up from the journal he was reading, it was a song from ‘Frank Sinatra’ named ‘It had to be you’. You were looking at Charlie dancing and laughing with Vaggie they were so cute together!. Suddenly, you felt a poke on your right shoulder and looked but there was nobody there, when you looked back Alastor was in front of you. “Hey” you said smiling kinda freaked out but shrugged it off “Care to dance?” he stretched out his hand, you were a bit unsure since the rumors said that he didn’t like to be touched, but he wouldn’t have offered then, right? “Sure” you spoke while taking his hand, his gloves feeling cold as ever and he took you on the ‘dance floor’. Charlie was surprised but happy that you and Alastor were getting along, she seemed excited!. It was the best dance you’ve ever had.

• When Husk pointed out that you would always get the princess treatment with Alastor, you tried to disapprove “it’s not that, he’s just kind sometimes” “oh really? how can you not see that you’re literally the favorite among all of us!” you shrugged it off, and said “well take example Charlie! He treats her like she’s his child” you said in your defense, and Husk rolled his eyes “it’s not the same.” “where are you trying to get with this talk??” you looked at him while he was cleaning a glass “i just… don’t let your guard down. You already know what he’s capable of” you looked at him with concerned eyes, he was scared that you’ll end up like him “don’t worry i won’t” you reassured him with a smile, and he seemed a bit more relaxed. (of course this happened when Alastor was busy)

• After the conversation with Husk, you kept your distance, you only knew him for two and a half weeks and it seemed like he knew you already for his whole life. A few days have passed and one day you decided to stay in your room all day. You were reading a book, your mind was a mess you weren’t even actually reading. Suddenly a radio static could be heard, your eyes looked up and met his red ones, your heart began to beat faster. You gulped and said, looking away “can you leave, please?” his radio static stopped for a second and he didn’t say anything, his look could tell you already that he wasn’t going to. You got out of your bed and went to open the door “please go…” your voice cracked “what is it? what’s wrong my dear?” his radio voice was somewhat soft but his eyes were cold as ever, you held on the knob tightly than before “you know nothing about me, you’ve known me only for 3 weeks!” before you could add anything else he uttered “3 weeks?” he spoke your name softly and added “i’ve known you all my life” he gestured, his smile getting bigger, while his radio voice began to malfunction, he started to get a bit irritated “all your life?” you said in disbelief, you closed the door and stood in front of him “it’s true!” he stated “when i heard beautiful music, i thought: she likes that” “oh please stop!, don’t think i know that you just want me to sell my soul to you!” he stopped and looked away, the radio static stopping for a second and resuming, it looked like he was thinking of what to say. Your heart sank “…is it true?” he had that stupid smile on his face, he kept his hands behind his back holding his cane tightly. He quickly regained composure, he’s shown you enough of his desperate side and spoke “no, my dear of course not, why would i fool you?” you were about to tell him of the conversation with Husk but you decided that it would worsen things “maybe because you’re the ‘radio demon’?” he laughed, his shoulder moving up and down as he did “oh sweetheart, don’t you get it?” he cupped your cheeks and looked down at you “if i ever wanted to take your soul i would’ve done it already!” he said his pupils becoming radio dials for a quick second, that freaked you out and he just laughed it off “smile my dear! you’re never fully dressed without a smile” he stretched out your lips before pulling away “want some Jambalaya?” he said walking past you, you cracked a smile and looked at him wiping the little tear that was about to fall “of course..” you followed him. Strangely enough you forgot about the conversation with Husk!.

[This is my first time writing head-cannons so i’m sorry if i’ve made errors! It was hard to make the conversations with Alastor since he has a very formal vocabulary 😭. The last head-cannon was related to ‘dangerously yours’ so it’s kinda weird but i hoped you liked it! Let me know if i should make more head-cannons or do requests! (i just need to learn how to use tumblr lol)]

[skzstannie]

"We Fell in Love in October"

SKZ -> Seungmin x reader

This is a song fic inspired by "We Fell in Love in October" by girl in red. Song lyrics are italicized!

genre: fluff cw: none, just Seungmin being a soft boy :) wc: ~900

Happy scrolling!

"It's been a long week; I've missed my girl." Seungmin's voice echoes through the stairwell, his soft tone travelling to floors below you.

Walking up the stairwell towards the rooftop of your apartment complex is you and Seungmin. It was your turn to pick what to do for date night, and you decided on stargazing, because what's more romantic than laying on a candlelit rooftop while looking at the stars.

You reach the door to the rooftop, and you walk through the opened door, courtesy of Seungmin. It's an absolutely beautiful scene, the night sky scattered with thousands of stars. One seems to stick out to you, looking significantly brighter than the rest, and Seungmin points out that it's a planet, probably Jupiter.

He grabs your hand, leading you over to the plush blanket you set up earlier. Alongside the blanket are numerous throw pillows off your couch and your small Bluetooth speaker. Your things rest in the middle of the roof, a spot void of the nice outdoor furniture that litters the rest of the space. Seungmin compliments your choice of drink for the night, immediately reaching for the chocolate milk upon sitting. He pours it into the mugs sitting beside you guys and hands you one, offering up the bigger mug knowing the beverage is your favorite.

You two sip on your drinks for awhile, and you bask in the comfort that is your boyfriend. You gently grasp Seungmin's arm and pull him down next to you. He stretches his arm out to you, allowing your head a comfortable place to rest.

"If the night sky was my life, you'd be Jupiter," he comments, glancing over at you with a teasing smirk on his face.

"That is entirely too cheesy, but you know I love it," you chuckle back, leaning into him to give a light peck to his cheek. He blushes slightly, and you find it endlessly precious how he still gets flustered from the smallest amounts of affection.

You sit in silence for a few moments, admiring the beauty of the clear night sky. It's a beautiful evening late in November, one of the warmest days you've experienced since the early days of September. You can hear the sounds of cars rushing below, the occasional horns beeping when people become too impatient.

"Ya know, we fell in love in October, which really wasn't that long ago. I don't know how I survived my whole life without knowing you." Seungmin apparently came prepared with the loving compliments tonight, throwing them out left and right.

"You wanna know something else?" you ask, your gaze sweeping over to him. "I can't imagine my future without you either," you counter back.

Having only been dating for around two months, you were both still relatively new to each other. The other's mannerisms were slowly being learned, the vocabulary becoming shared as the days go on. You learn new things about Seungmin everyday, all his cute quirks and habits that you didn't recognize the day before. You do know, however, that you're slowly falling more and more in love everyday.

"It truly is a beautiful night, thank you for setting all this up."

"I've been wanting to do this for awhile, but I wanted to wait until we were a little more comfortable with each other. It's pretty romantic, so I didn't want to scare you away," you explain.

"You know, honestly, I never thought I'd be here, with you. And I don't just mean here on this roof, stargazing, I mean, like, in this relationship at all." You look at him, your eyebrows knitting together. In your mind, it's the other way around. He is perfect in every way imaginable. Way too perfect to settle with someone like yourself, not that you are complaining.

"What do you mean? We clicked right away, I thought," you question.

"I watched you for so long before we talked, admiring [you] from afar. I'd see you walking down the street, thumbing through your favorite book at the coffee shop, at the grocery store. I was always too nervous to talk to you," he confesses, his eyes roaming the sky until they finally meet yours. "I'd always hoped, 'her, that girl right there, she's gonna be my girl one day', but I never had the guts to make the move."

"I never knew that," your voice fades away, thinking back to remember whether you'd ever noticed Seungmin the day before you first met him.

"And now look at us, you're my world, my everything," his arm tightens around you, pulling you in closer.

Your heart bursts with love for the man next to you, enjoying the way he's finally starting to open up to you more. He's had a hard time expressing himself to you, so hearing such heartfelt compliments from him enamors you.

The rest of your night goes exactly how you imagined it- perfect. You know, in your heart, it doesn't matter what you two are doing, this is how it always feels, how it will always feel. You truly complete each other.

"I told you earlier that you'd be my Jupiter in a sky full of stars," he pauses, his face softening. "I take it back, in a sky full of stars, you're my galaxy. You are the stars, the planets, all of it combined. If there's no galaxy, there is only nothingness." You look to him, expecting to see another teasing smirk plastered across his face. However, you notice the way his eyes stare at you with bliss, all signs of teasing seemingly melted from his features since you're earlier conversation. "Yea, I like the sound of that. You're more than the stars in the sky, you're my galaxy, my own personal Milky Way."

[igotbloodonmyhands]

Nightmares / Part I

Note: I made this two parts since I really wanted to post this but couldn't find the energy to write for the others tonight. Tomorrow you'll get Price, Rudi and Soap tho (I used alphabetical order, that's why they're last). Trope: Fluff, angst, hurt comfort Word count: 1.303 Trigger warning: Mention of torture

Alejandro: Alejandro was no stranger to sleepless nights. It took an eternity for him to fall asleep, worries and sorrows keeping him awake. When he did finally fall asleep, the nightmares came. He'd stand in the town square of Las Almas, having to watch as his family, friends and comrades were put against a wall. He couldn't run or scream, just stand there. When he suddenly stared in the barrel of a gun he finally woke up, shirt wet with sweat, the rooms silence filled by his heavy breaths. "Joder (Fuck)", he mumbled, getting up and putting on a new shirt. It was 0200 (2 am). He decided to get a tea. As he stepped in the community room he was surprised to see the lights on, you standing in pyjamas in front of the boiling kettle, a mug in your hand. "(Name)? What are you doing in the kitchen an two in the morning, tesoro?" You turned around, grinning but tired. "I could ask you the same, Ale" He sighed and grabbed a mug and tea bag (Spanish orange) "Can't sleep. You?" "Same. Do you... Wanna talk about it?", he shook his head. "Not right now, I think.... Just need to think about something else" You shrugged. "Understandable" You two sat down on the couch, sitting in silence, drinking the tea, each lost in their own thoughts. "Would you rather fight one hundred duck sized horses or one horse sized duck?", you suddenly asked. He looked at you like you had grown two horns. "Ehhh, madre mia, the horses, I think?", he answered. "Me too. Even though it would depend on the horse" He chuckled. "Are you trying to distract me?" You grinned "Is it working?" He rolled his eyes "A bit". You leaned you head on his shoulder, and after a moment he put his head on yours. "Good" You continued to banter about random nonsense until, finally, fatigue overcame you and you finally fell asleep. It was the best sleep either of you had gotten in a while.

Gaz: Falling asleep wasn't the problem. But as soon as Gaz drifted off into dream land, he was haunted. Faces of fallen comrades screamed at him for not saving them, the screams of agony of their last moments, the pleas of enemies he tortured filled his mind. With a muffled yelp he shot up in his bed, chest heaving. "Fuck", he muttered, getting up and pacing up and down in his room. His heart was beating like a racehorse. He grabbed his gym bag and decided to head to the training rooms. He was surprised to see the lights on, the thudding of fists hitting the punching bag filling the room. "Not bad, (name)", he stepped closer, looking at you. You sighed. "Can't sleep either?", you asked. He nodded. "Yea. Damn nightmares", he punched the bag, making it swing violently. You stepped back, sitting down on the mat and leaning against the wall. "Wanna talk about it?". He thought for a moment before turning his attention back on the bag. You thought he'd just ignore you and stay quiet, but as he started punching the bag, he muttered under his breath. "I couldn't save them. I killed them" His punches got harder and more aggressive. "It's my fault. It's my fault". You weren't sure who he was talking about, but it didn't quite matter right now. "Hey, hey, Gaz", you tried to calm him down. "Cmere", you patted the mat next to you. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, but then finally sat down next to you. A shuddered breath escaped him as he slumped in on himself. You opened your mouth, but quite honestly you weren't sure what to say. So you just sat in silence, but it wasn't an awkward feeling. It felt... Safe. Suddenly, you felt his head on your shoulder, and smiled, leaning yours against his.

Ghost: For Ghost, a good nights sleep was as common as a unicorn. Everytime he closed his eyes, he was there again. Buried alive, in a coffin, squished next to a decaying body. But this time, he didn't get out. He thrashed and screamed, unbeknownst to him not only in his sleep, but it was no use. He was trapped, he was trapped, he was trapped. Panic flooded his every fiber, but he just wouldn't fucking wake up. His eyes widened when he finally woke up. His breath came in short, shuddering gasps, tears staining his cheeks. He wanted to run, he needed to run or else he'd suffocate. He almost fell over putting on his pants and running shoes before he ripped open his door and ran. He didn't know where, he just needed to run. The sky was still dark, with the faintest shimmer of violet light creeping up the horizon. He aimed for the woods behind the barracks, mindlessly running along the paths. "Fuck, Riley, watch your step, big boy", a sudden voice squeaked. He opened his eyes which he didn't remember closing. He looked down, seeing you knocked over on the ground. "Sorry", he mumbled, giving you a hand and pulling you up. "What are you doing here at this time of night?", you raised an eyebrow. He shifted his weight. "Can't sleep". "Me too...", you looked at him. His gaze was weird... Dead, somehow. "Do you... Want to talk about it?", you asked carefully. "No", he said, voice firm. "Come with me", you grabbed his arm, leading him to a bench nearby, guiding him down and plopping next to him. "I'm here for you, you know that, right?" He gulped. "Yea..." A deep sigh escaped him. "...Thank you". You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "No problem", you mumbled, feeling him relaxing under you.

Horangi: They were here, they'd kill him, fuck, he needed to hide, he needed to hide. Horangi panted, clenching his fist in the sheets. His eyes opened wide and he rubbed the scars on his face. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and stepped outside, sliding down the wall. He lit it and took a deep breath, letting his head roll back and closing his eyes. "Whatcha doin there?", you voice suddenly sound beside him. "빌어먹을!" (Fucking hell, may be a bit wrong since I don't speak Korean) He had jumped up, sighing when he saw it was just you. "Stop sneaking up to me like that, (name)". You chuckled. "Heh, sorry". You sat down next to him. "Can't sleep?", you looked up at him. He nodded. "I don't wanna talk about it". "Then lets just... Sit" You leaned against him, feeling the tension melt slightly from his form.

König: As soon as he closed his eyes, the memories came. He was strapped to a chair, only dressed in boxer shorts, his hood gone. He felt exposed. They whipped, beat and cut him, the scars still evident on his skin. He stood up on shaky legs, the scars on his body aching. A small tin of ointment stood on the table, which he grabbed and carefully rubbed it in. He was not gonna fall asleep anytime soon again. With a heavy sigh he put on his clothes and shuffled towards the armoury. He plopped down on a bench and started cleaning his guns. "Hey there", he hadn't heard you, and immediately pointed the empty gun at you. "Scheiße! You scared me!", he mumbled. You giggled, sitting down next to him. "Sorry". He rolled his eyes and watched him clean his weapons for a minute. "Can't sleep?", you asked. "Nightmares", he answered shortly. You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling his muscles move under it as he wiped down the barrel of his gun. "You can always talk to me, you know?", you mumbled. "Yea... Danke"

[we-loved-once-and-true]

Two's a Party, Three's... a Bigger Party

Reader and Javier are friends with benefits who use the cover of overnight jobs to release some tension. When new guy Charles joins the gang, Dutch insists he joins them on one of their trips. Will the presence of this gorgeous stranger throw a hammer in their plans, or are these jobs about to get a lot more fun?

Chapter Two: Whatever Pleases You

Chapter One Tumblr // AO3

5276 words Read on AO3

The journey into West Elizabeth is tense - not quite the reprieve from the heat as you had hoped. A friendly race fuels the fire between you and you couldn't get to that promised hotel bed fast enough.

F!Reader x Javier / porn with plot / reader not described / pre-Blackwater / the camp is Twin Rocks in New Austin / Charles will be in Part 3 / piv sex / oral, fem receiving / cum eating / creampies / wrap it up, cowpoke

// Sorry it took so long to update, I write bit by bit as a hobby and I have a horrible tendancy to overwrite. I hope you enjoy 5k words of sexual tension and smut!

The sun had barely broken the horizon when Javier nudged you awake, placing a cup of freshly brewed coffee on the trunk you used as your bedside. Mostly dressed in his shirt and trousers, he clicked his tongue at your half-asleep figure.

“Buenos días, cariño,” his voice was distant, muffled by the allure of sleep. “¿Estás pensando en levantarte?”

“Mmwha-?” Your throat was dry, and your brain fought Javier's attempts to rouse you.

A faint chuckle responded, “It's time to get up, hermosa chica. We got plans.” The coffee was placed closer to you, the warming smell of roasted beans pulling you fully from your slumber.

Pouting, you sat up and grasped the mug in your hands allowing the smell to envelope you in a caffeinated hug. Javier laughed as he left the tent, making his way over to Pearson's wagon to stock up. You gave yourself a quiet moment to enjoy your coffee, shaking the last of your dreams from your mind. The stubborn hands of dream-Javier slowly slipped from your mind - you didn't have to hold onto your passionate dreams when the real thing would be waiting for you tonight. Yet still, last night the image of him snuck into your bedroll, caressing your skin with warm fingers, whispering Spanish (or rather, your subconscious’ muddled up Spanish) into your ears, gently laying kisses along your collarbone.

You shook your head again. Downing the last of your drink, you stumbled up out of your bedroll to stretch.

Javier watched you from the food wagon, head cocked and smiling, wondering what thoughts you were trying to shake from your mind.

The clacking of your horses’ hooves against the ground was therapeutic; consistent and rhythmic like a lullaby, you risked falling back to sleep. With the heavy and hot air of New Austin finally behind you, you stretched in your saddle and took a deep breath. The two of you had barely crossed the border but you could already feel the shift in climate.

“Feel better already, mi bonita?”

You grinned back to your riding partner, “Much better, guapo!” You giggled as a blush ran up his face.

“Rein it in, vaquera, or we might not make it to Blackwater.” His voice dripped with sweet threats like honey, promising a punishing reward.

Despite the slightly cooler weather of West Elizabeth, the heat of his words cloaked you - not unbearable like New Austin. The way his teasing rolled off his tongue like one of his songs was a sure-fire way to make you weak in your knees. A small fire started to spark low in your stomach, the fuel provided from your prophetic dream the night before. Thankful to be on horseback and not standing, there was no tremble to give away how affected you were by his attentions.

With a devilish smirk, you wrapped your hand around your saddle horn, leaning slightly to readjust your seat - totally accidently raising your ass and arching your back. You shimmied back into the saddle, “Can't help it, cowboy,” you teased back, “I was born to ride. Wild and free!”

Javier's Adam's apple rose in his throat as your words finally caught up to him. Narrowing his dark eyes at you, his face wore an expression somewhere between hunger and ecstasy.

He loved it when you played along.

He considered your retort for a moment before loudly laughing, “Oh, hermosa. You are funny.” Your smirk dropped to a scowl. You were about to argue when he held up a hand and continued. “You think you can ride, huh? Prove it.” Leaning back slightly, he let his left hand sit on his thigh. You could hear your heart beating louder than your horse's steps as you watched him drum his fingers against the denim. “Prove it to me, cariño,” he pulled your attention back to his face, “Race me. Let's see how well you can ride, ay?”

And so the bet was made, the first one to Quaker's Cove would win. When you asked about the prize, he just responded, “Whatever pleases you, mi bonita.”

You both brought your horses to a stop; you leant forward to hand your steed a carrot, once again arching your back. Beside you, Javier fed a few mushrooms to Boaz, not before giving your raised behind a firm smack.

You straightened out and scoffed indignantly at him. You definitely had to win now.

Horses compensated, you counted down.

“Three.”

“Dos.”

“One!”

Your horse grunted in protest, upset to find out the carrot was a bribe, but trotted forward nonetheless. Javier and Boaz raced ahead of you, sprinting being his horse's advantage. You gradually urged your horse into a gallop, not pushing them too hard but quickly falling into step alongside your competitor. He cursed as you rode up beside him.

You called over the wind whooshing past you, “Thought you got ahead of me, huh?”

A glare met your gaze - even in good fun, Javier was fiercely competitive. He dug his spurs into Boaz and pushed forward, refixing his sights on Quaker's Cove coming into view. It wasn't often you pushed Javier's ego, rarely did you want to, but with the swirling fire in your core the idea of winning the vague prize of pleasure had you poking the beast.

He got cocky. He always did. Huffing from Boaz made Javier slow slightly, his fight never turning on those he loves. He'll win, but never at the expense of hurting Boaz. He'd run on foot if he had to.

You took the opportunity to sprint ahead, your horse at full speed. The wind carried your laugh back to Javier. Your braided hair began to fall loose, and you had to release the reins with one hand to secure your hat. Huffs from your horse made you consider slowing, but with Boaz's thundering steps behind you and the finishing line so close, you cheered on your horse. So close, so very close. You could see the wooden shack, the dock, the birds sitting on the water's surface. You were there, you were going to win-

With a deafening cry, your horse reared up, causing you to grab on to them with both hands again. As you calmed your steed, you saw the tail of a rattlesnake slither into a bush.

“It's okay, shh, baby it's okay. Just a snake, you're safe,” you pleaded reassurances with your horse but to no avail. They reared again, this time throwing you off balance.

A strong arm wrapped around your waist and you were pulled from your seat. Expecting to hit the ground, you were surprised to look up at Javier's smarmy face. He slowed Boaz and circled around to your horse, shushing them and finally managing to calm them. He whistled and trotted Boaz down to the finish line, with your horse in tow.

Your panting chest heaved against Javier's, arms thrown around his neck for balance. Strewn side-saddle on his lap, you felt the burning blush creep up from your chest to your face. One hand held you close to him, close enough to smell the leather of his bandolier, close enough to feel his gun press into your hip. Looking past him at your horse, you ignored the triumphant look on his face.

Boaz settled to a stop by the shack, flicking his mane. Your horse nudged your leg as they arrived, as if to apologise. Sighing, you slipped off of Javier's lap and let your horse nuzzle their face against you.

“S'not your fault, baby, it was just a snake. Sorry for pushing ya,” you offered them another carrot and it seemed all was forgotten.

Forgotten, that is, until a distinct cough turned your attention back around. Javier stayed atop of Boaz, his round hat fanning his face, his other hand once again on his thigh. Maybe it was the way he sat, the way his jeans folded, but you could have sworn you saw the seat of his pants straining a little. You didn't think you could blush anymore until you remembered the feeling of his gun against your hip. Was it his gun you felt?

He cleared his throat again, offering a dramatic bow in his saddle, and replaced his hat on his head. “That was some race, cariño. But I think your riding has much to be improved on, ay?”

Squaring up to him, you placed your hand besides his, lightly squeezing the toned muscle of his thigh. “Oh I can ride, vaquero. Just didn't want to bruise your ego. You're a sore loser, Javi, but an even cockier winner.” You let your hand drape across his lap as you returned to your horse.

That was definitely not his gun.

A few hours of gloating, mocking, then comfortable silence later, and you rode into the east side of Blackwater. Glad to get out of the saddle, you swung yourself off the back of your horse and instead led them on foot. You led your horse, Javier and Boaz to the stables where you opted for the horse care package, partly to prepare for the job but mostly to apologise again. You took a deep breath as you left the stables. Blackwater was a coastal town, allowing the sea breeze to soothe your face and clear out the dusty desert air from your lungs.

“Well, chica, it's lunch time. You hungry? Or do you need another siesta?” Arms looped together, the pair of you walked down the road towards the saloon.

“Hmm, a siesta at the saloon? In a nice big bed? What if I get lonely?” You batted your eyelashes, playing coy was a fool-proof way to get Javier's attention.

“A beautiful lady like you? You'd have no problem finding a fella here to keep you company.” The earnest compliment made you dip your head; as accustomed you are to the playing, his genuine care and appreciation of you was something you could never get used to. The playing quickly returned when he lowered his voice for only you to hear, “Although I'd fight any man who tries to take my place in your bed.”

Appetites (mostly) satiated and a room booked for the night, the two of you returned to the streets of Blackwater. The banking coach was due to cross the river that separated the two halves of West Elizabeth, making its way to the north entrance to the town. Saddling up your horses, you and Javier took to the roads once more, scoping out vantage points and hiding places.

According to John, three coaches pass through. One way up ahead, followed by the main coach and security. Crouching behind a small cover of trees, Javier suggested letting the first coach pass, as to not alert the next two. Then, you would both fire on the wheels from either side, stopping them. By the time the first coach would hear the gunshots and turn around, you should already have the guards taken care of. Javier would fight off the final coach as you broke the lock and filled your bag with the money.

It would be a bloody robbery, but when weren't they?

Despite being the main road from Big Valley to Blackwater, there were scarce few riders. It was a small reassurance that no innocent travellers would get caught up, although there would still be blood on your hands tomorrow evening.

As darker clouds rolled in with evening, Javier suggested returning to the hotel, extending a hand to help you up.

“That eager, eh, Escuella?” You let him pull you up, more eager than you were willing to let on.

He scoffed, “Course. Road's been scouted, and I paid for a bed.” His eyes burnt into you, and the fire simmering in your core lurched into flames.

Trying to steady your voice, you said, “Lead the way.”

The key clinked in the lock as Javier pushed the door open. He extended his arm into the room, and you took the first step in. It took all your energy to not shake in anticipation, your eyes noting the bed and not much else.

His ‘gun’ pressed against your hip as your cowboy wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips tickled your neck as he spoke, “So… what was the prize for winning again?” He raised your chin with one long finger, looking deeply into your eyes, “I forgot.” Your breath shook as he released your chin, trailing his hand down to his belt and unbuckled it one-handed. The gun belt thudded on the dresser. “I asked you a question.” His voice was low and commanding.

You swallowed thickly before answering, “Whatever pleases you.”

“Buena chica.”

Finally he kissed you. Plump, chapped lips pressed against yours, prying them open. His teeth nipped at your lower lip, making you gasp and welcoming his tongue into your mouth. The passion did nothing to soothe your fire, instead stroking it into a blaze. His hat fell to the floor as you tangled your fingers into his hair, kissing him as deeply as you could, letting him arch your back and tip you. A strong hand grasped your thigh through your riding skirt, pulling it onto his hip. A relieved moan escaped your lips as you felt his hard member press against your clothed mound. His other hand pulled your shirt from the waist band and was working its way to your corset binds.

Nothing compared to the feeling of Javier's hands on you, stroking you, squeezing you, pleasuring you. Mesmerised by his lips, his caress, you allowed him to remove your corset as you unbuttoned your shirt. With every button his lips trailed down your throat towards your cleavage. As your shirt and corset hit the floor, he gasped like a man drowning in lust.

“Mierda, I never tire of you,” he sighed against your skin, your chest pressing into him with each shuddering breath. Javier pulled back reluctantly to remove his shirt. Not wanting to waste another second, you made quick work of your skirts and boots. When you turned back to him, you gasped at the sight of your lover, already bare-chested and holding his hand out to you.

Legs trembling, you took a slow step towards him, dressed only in your drawers, stockings and chemise. Your braided hair was still messy from the race, and your heart pounded like your horse's hoof beats.

Taking your hand in his, he pulled you close to his chest and wrapped his free hand around your waist. The cotton of your chemise bunched under his grip as he gently swayed you, the gentle dance sending heat to your core as his firm cock pressed against you separated by layers of clothes. Javier nuzzled his face into the slope of your neck, kissing along your jaw, your throat and your ear. “¿Qué me agrada? Hmm,” he sucked sharply against your pulse. “How long has it been since I tasted you, hermosa?” If it weren't for him holding you up, your legs may have buckled beneath you. His lips trailed along your jaw before returning to your mouth, “Get on the bed… quiero devorarte.”

Limbs numb, you stumbled back until the plush bed caught you. Your pussy throbbed at the sight of him standing in front of you, his eyes hard with lust but his smile soft with fondness. You sat with your feet on the floor, your chemise exposing the lace of your bloomers as you coquettishly swung your knees open and closed.

Javier, ever the devout Catholic, fell to his knees with a reverence reserved for the most sacred prayers. His hands rested on your knees, stilling them and sending electric shocks throughout your body. Large brown eyes looked up at you, always asking for consent. At your nod, he slowly pulled the ribbon ties of your bloomers, exposing your thighs to the air, pussy barely covered by your chemise. Diligently, he kissed the scar on your thigh as he did every time, an apology for the messy stitches, and a thankful prayer for you being there. You allowed him to position you as he pleased, propping your heels on the edge and sliding your hips closer to him. The pull of your body shifted your chemise, and finally you were exposed to him.

His gulp was audible as he shifted his hips, attempting to ease the strain in his jeans. Breathlessly, he chuckled, “Oh cariño. ¿Todo para mi? Gracias.”

You keened as his tongue swiped up along your slit, pausing at the top to kiss your mound. Fingers kneaded into your thigh and hip as he kissed and licked up and down your desperate pussy. You squirmed as he ran his fingers along your slit, tickling and teasing you.

“Ja- Javier, please,” you panted, no longer interested in the playful dance you both enjoyed. Days of restlessness had resulted with his handsome face inches away from burying itself in your aching cunt, and you had no intention of waiting any longer. His hair was soft in your hand as you pulled loose his hair tie, the ends tickling your skin. Getting the hint, he placed his fingers either side of your labia, massaging and carefully exposing your clit to the air.

A firm flick of his tongue against your clit nearly made you black out, the rush of burning pleasure making you lightheaded. Strange, the effect this man had on you. Javier continued his perfected craft, flattening his tongue against you applying friction and pressure at the most sensual pace. He worked his way lower, easing into your cunt with his tongue, nuzzling your clit with his nose. Moans vibrated into you, doing nothing to quench the fire building in your gut. His name stuttered out of your mouth in gasps and shuddering breaths.

Humming in approval, Javier returned his tongue to your clit and pressed one long, slender finger into you. One hand gripped his hair tighter, the other clamped across your mouth, muffling your screaming. With a wet pop, he pulled from your clit to look at you, finger still stretching your hole.

“Now, querida, you know that I love to hear you. How else will I know if this,” he ducked to suck your clit into his mouth, rolling it between his lips, “makes you feel good, ay?” A sob tore from you as your hips canted into his face. He grinned, the desperation to bring you to orgasm overpowering his pleasure at teasing you. “Buena chica,” he whispered, kissing your clit and pressing a second finger into you.

His tongue lapped and flicked your clit as his practised digits stretched you. Every time you clenched around his fingers, he pulled out, keeping you on the edge with his tongue before pressing in again. Three fingers curled inside you, brushing against the sweet spot that made you cry out his name. Spitting on your pussy for lube, he started to press his fingers faster and deeper into your fluttering pussy. Sensing your impending orgasm, he sucked hard on your clit, rolling it, flicking it, as his fingers stretched and pistoned in and out, in and out, in and out.

You yelped as you came, thrusting your hips and arching your back as he ate you out through your orgasm. “S-stop, too much, Jav- oh fuck, Javier,” you threw your head back as he kissed your clit once more. The rustling of his jeans sounded distant and muffled as your head swam with ecstasy. A kiss on the inside of your knee, still covered by your stocking, brought you back from your dream-like state. You sat up, batting your lashes up at him as the bulging press of his cock threatened to break free from the union suit.

“You are so beautiful, you know?” Pulling your hair from your ribbon, he stroked your cheek and ducked down to kiss you tenderly.

Compliments came freely from Javier, spilling from him like his songs, expressive and full of passion. They flowed from his lips, his touches, his thrusts. It was just sex, but you both allowed yourselves the pretence of deeper intimacy at the peak of orgasms. Never saying, but always feeling the split-second of love between you. A feeling that would be long gone by morning, replaced with friendly banter and sex drunk chatting.

Swooning under his gaze, you lowered your eyes to his bulge. Your hands released him and you felt your cunt clench at the sight of his swollen cock. Licking your lips, you leant forward, but a finger under your chin stopped you. "Eager girl," he purred, "but why don't you make yourself comfortable, ay?" His dark eyes watched you scoot back on the bed, tongue darting out to taste the remaining sweetness of your cunt on his lips. Your drawers were left on the floor beside the bed, your chemise quickly joined it. Relief flooded your body as you laid back, the plush pillow cradling your head like a cloud. If it weren't for your lover desperately kicking the leg of his union suit off, you could have fell asleep. Your bedroll was as comfortable as you could make it, but it wasn't a four poster bed by any means.

Your dreamy musings were interrupted when a warm hand pressed against your thigh, “Mi ángel, si tan solo pudieras verte a ti misma.” In these moments, Javier's internal translater often shut down. English just didn't have the words he needed, the words he felt. His panting Spanish was hard to follow sometimes, but in the haze of an orgasm you doubted you could hear anything.

Looking down your body towards Javier, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him kneeling between your knees, cock leaking precum onto his toned stomach. With one hand on your thigh and the other holding his cock at the base, he pretended to take pause. “What will please me?” He hummed as he slowly stroked his dick, “Tasting more of you? Having you scream my name until all of Blackwater knows who you are bedding?” His fingers tapped down your thigh back to your dripping pussy. A slow stroke up your slit in time with his own stroking made you tremble. “Or,” he pondered, sliding his hand back up your thigh, “will that pretty little mouth please me? Hmm? Please me until I am satisfied? Ay, I know how much you love the weight of me in your mouth.” You whimpered under his stare, pliable to him and his whims.

Sometimes he was gentle, sometimes he was rough, but always passionate. He knew your body as well as you knew his; your fingertips would trace his v-line, your lips would find the hollow between his collar bones, your tongue mapping out his scars and freckles in the darkness.

Nights like tonight, he liked to drag out your pleasure for as long as he could. To tease you, tempt you, and torture you was the highlight of these stolen nights with you. Two strong hand grabbed the flesh of your hips, pulling you closer to him. His heavy balls pressed against your aching cunt, promising you a night of endless pleasure.

“I can feel how wet you are, hermosa. Mierda, you're so pretty when you blush like that,” a small roll of his hips gave away his need: brushing his balls against your clit, a shuddering breath escaped him. You swallowed thickly at the thought of him I'm your mouth, your pussy, anywhere. The longer Javier made you wait, the more you needed.

He pressed both hands against your thighs, spreading your legs open in front of him.

“How will I take you? Huh?”

A sharp but gentle slap against your cunt made you gasp. “I asked you a question. Should I spread you like this? ¿Tan abierta y necesitada para mí?” Lifting your ankles to his shoulders, he leant forward to hover over your face, stretching your legs. The best angle for a fast and deep fuck, he considered it for a moment. “You like this one, don't you, mi putita?” In contrast to how he spoke, he kissed you gently, a reminder that you could say no, that he would make love to you. A reminder you didn't need.

“Please, Javier, I need you.”

His eyes widened, “Yeah? You need me, ay?” Suddenly he pulled back, your legs falling back on the bed. “Roll over.”

Excited to finally have him take you, you flipped over, bouncing on the bed as you landed. A hand on your back steadied you as the bounce had him wobble. “Careful, cariño, you're gonna fall off.”

Giggling, you wiggled your ass at him. Another smack against your ass made you sigh. “Ass up, now.”

Getting yourself into position, you could hear his moaning as he stroked his cock behind you. Your body jolted forward as the head of his cock parted your pussy. Groans filled the room like his music as he rubbed his cock in your slick. “Mierda, mi putita siempre tan mojada y lista para mi, ahh-” his words caught in his throat as he pushed his head against your tight hole. Despite his earlier preparation, you were always tight for his thick cock.

The pressure of his pleasure against your pussy made you keen; arching your back, you pushed back against him, thoughts completely consumed by him.

Him. Him. Him.

Every inch of your body buzzed, drowning out Javier's voice from behind you. You had enough talk. A sharp pinch alerted you to his cock entering you, a brief discomfort of that initial breach. Soothing coos and a hand massaging your hip eased the tension and you quickly relaxed against him. His hard and hot cock slowly pushed deeper into you; his hands slammed against the mattress either side of your head as he finally bottomed out.

Heavy pants against your neck made you shiver and clench around him, earning a deep moan from your lover above you.

“Amor, por favor. Déjame, te necesito,” Javier begged, no longer interested in the game. You moaned out a yes and, without missing a beat, he pulled out and snapped his hips back against you.

His strong thrusts rhythmically pounding into you forced you forwards, your chest and face collapsing into the plush quilt. The silky fabric rubbed against your burning skin, building you towards total ecstacy. Two toned hands gripped your hips, as Javier straightened up and angled his thrusts to hit your g-spot.

Stars swam in your vision as all you could feel was Javier. The way he filled you, the way he held you, the way his moaning serenaded you.

Slowed thrusts and a distant call of your name snapped you out of your heady pleasure, “Huh?”

“I asked if you're okay? You're not very responsive.” There was caring and loving kind Javier, concerned for your well-being as ever.

“Huh? Yes, yes it just - fuck -” you panting and pushed yourself up again, “it's just been so long and - God this is embarrassing - I really needed y- this.”

You cringed as you felt him pull out, worried that you had scared him off. Admitting your addiction to the way he fucked you was maybe too heavy for a hook up.

“Cariño, turn over. Look at me.” You obeyed, surprised to see a soft expression in his eyes. “Tell me what you need.”

Tears filled your eyes at his gentle order, your need for him overwhelming you from your core to your heart. “You.”

A sincere smile kissed you, tilting your head back against the pillow and returning his hands to your sex. Gentle stroking of your clit made you gasp into his mouth and cant your hips against him. You swallowed Javier's moan as he again entered you, his cock throbbing as he made love to you.

With one hand lifting your leg over his hip and his over caressing your breasts, he rocked into you, replacing the burning rush of pleasure with a more sensual satisfaction. Your pussy fluttered as his cock pressed against your g-spot and his fingers travelled from your thigh to your clit. Whispered praise and encouragement between kisses made your heart throb.

“Buena chica, tomándolo todo. Joder, no hay nadie como tú, ni coño como el tuyo. I feel you getting close, ay does it feel good when I grind against you like this?”

Little shocks of erotic delight pulsed with every slow, deep, rolling thrusts of Javier's hips. Your heart pounded and your breaths became irregular gasps. Throwing your head back you arched into him, gasping and moaning his name like a prayer.

Encouraged by your reaction, Javier sped up his thrusts, making sure he hit that spot each time, forcing a grunt from his chest.

A tremble shook your leg as your orgasm approached, “Oh - oh! Fuck, Javier, I'm so - oh fuck -”

“I know,” he grunted, his own building orgasm clearly pushing him to the edge, “Let go, cariño, cum for me. Come for your papi, ay?” He teased as you keened and writhed beneath him. The silk sheets creased in your fists as you loudly moaned his name. Electricity sparked throughout your body, blinding you, deafening you, making you unaware of anything but him.

He fucked you through your orgasm, his voice and thrusts getting shakier as you came around him. His thoughts were full of you: your face, your voice, your body.

Your climax descended into post-orgasm bliss and you blinked up at him. Javier, in your opinion, never looked more handsome than the moment before he cums. Loose, dark hair stuck to his blushed and sweaty face. Parted plump lips panted your name between pleading wishes and blasphemy. Toned muscles tense and roll with every shuddering thrust.

Dark and desperate eyes caught yours, “Please, where? ¿Dónde puedo correrme? Por favor, por favor, cariño. Necesito, decirme dónde - joder!” He shook as you wrapped your legs tighter around him, keeping him deep in your pussy.

You kissed him sweetly, massaging his shoulders and back, “You work so hard, do so much for all of us. Let go, Javi, just this once, papi, cum in me- oh!” A hot spurt of cum filled your pussy, sending orgasmic aftershocks through you. Javier thrust weakly a few more times, desperate to not waste the chance.

You laid beside eachother, panting and heaving breaths finally calming back to normal. You went to excuse yourself but Javier pulled you back, causing your body to once again bounce on the bed.

“Let me, just stay for a moment,” he held you tightly. Aftercare was always as good as the sex. Kisses, praises and gentle touches soothed you both.

Javier let go, shuffling to the edge of the bed and picking up his bandana from the bedside table. Returning to his place between your legs, he ran the cloth up and down your legs. Sighing, you relaxed into the bed, eyes dropping closed as your lover removed the excess of sweat and your wetness that had dripped from you moments before. A sudden kiss your pussy made you buck up into a sitting position. Your shocked expression was met with a devious smile as Javier licked up your slit, collecting his spilling cum on his tongue. Open mouthed, you stared back at him. He took the opportunity to kiss you, and you hungrily accepted his cum for a second time.

“Buena chica, always so good for me.” His nose nuzzled into your neck licking and kissing everywhere he could reach.

“I could say the same to you, papi,” you half-heartedly teased.

Javier's attention snapped back to you, “Now, querida, don't get me started again.”

[dragonologist-writings]

Title: Love & War Fandom: Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous Rating: M Status: Complete (19/19) Main Characters: Knight-Commander Cleo Ironbark, Queen Galfrey Supporting Characters: Yozz, Arueshalae, Woljif, Wenduag, Ember, Irahai, Nocticula, Hand of the Inheritor Ships: Knight-Commander/Queen Galfrey Additional Notes: Complicated Relationships, Angst, Rivals to Enemies to Lovers, Demon to Legend Mythic Path, Canon-Typical Themes, Minor Character Death Word Count: 72.8k Summary:

Galfrey was a queen, a paladin, an icon for all that was righteous and just in the Crusades. Cleo was a barbarian, a tiefling, a personification of demonic chaos. By all rights and logic, the two should have been at each other's throats- and often, they were. But somehow, through war and struggle and sacrifice, they ended up finding more in each other than either ever expected.

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Chaper 1 Below:

The first impression Queen Galfrey of Mendev formed of Cleo, warrior of the Ironbark tribe, was not a kind one.

To be completely fair, the Queen’s opinion was not wholly condemning, either. It was quite impossible for Galfrey to condemn the woman who had pulled Kenabres from the burning jaws of the demons. Every report given to the Queen repeated the same story: Cleo of Ironbark had bravely led the charge against the evil cultists and demons who threatened the city. Cleo of Ironbark had stormed the Grey Garrison and saved them all from the poison of the corrupted Wardstone. Cleo of Ironbark was a hero.

But Cleo of Ironbark was also…raucous.

“Another round!” the warrior cried, holding her tankard aloft, and the celebrating soldiers cheered along with her. The tankard was refilled without a moment’s hesitation, and after taking a long drink, Kenabres’s champion resumed her dramatic recounting of the day’s battle. Her voice carried across the tavern, rising above the din of the crowd and filling the large room with echoes of her bravado. Irabeth and Anevia sat at her side, listening to the tale with fond weariness and open amusement, respectively.

Galfrey kept to the corner of the tavern, holding her tongue and a humble mug of ale as she watched the theatrics unfold. Her retinue was waiting outside; she’d ordered them to give her fifteen minutes of peace before following her in. The guards were always so touchy about letting her out of their sight, as if she couldn’t handle herself perfectly well.

The Queen sighed at herself. That was unfair; they were merely doing their job. Under normal circumstances, she would have been content to let them do so. But a procession of guards was something that tended to be noticed, and in this instance, she’d wished to make her observations from a place of relative anonymity. She’d feared she might be noticed anyhow, but no; the people’s attention was centered solely on the sword-bearing storyteller who had already nearly drained her third serving of ale. This could only be the famous Cleo- who else would be drawing such adulation from the victorious crusaders?

Yet, she was not quite what Galfrey had expected.

For starters, Cleo was clearly not of Kenabres. Not a fact all that odd on its own, perhaps, but she was no ordinary traveler, either. She wore the furs and leather armor of the northern barbarians, and when she called out to the crowds, a Kellid accent made itself clear in her words. As if a lone tribeswoman in the middle of a Mendevian city wasn’t odd enough, the people’s new hero was also a tiefling. With skin of deep green and small horns that poked through her dark, close-shorn hair, her abyssal heritage was impossible to miss.

Even so, the notoriously suspicious Mendevians around her watched with high-spirited adulation as she spoke, her tail lashing enthusiastically behind her all the while.

“-and then,” she was saying, “just when we all thought we were well and truly fucked, I charged for the Wardstone. Minagho tried to stop me, but it was too late for her- I had my blade in my hands, and I took the biggest swing of my life, and with just one strike I shattered that corrupted chunk of stone!”

She mimed the motion of her attack, and the crowds shouted their appreciation. Their cheers brought a cocky grin to Cleo’s lips, revealing sharp-tipped teeth.

“And of course once that was taken care of, Minagho didn’t stand a chance. Shame she’s so good at running away, but there’s plenty other demons out there to slay!”

This declaration brought another round of victorious shouts, but Galfrey remained reticent. The scene so far had only served to cement her final impression of Cleo of Ironbark: that she was in possession of a concerning degree of reckless arrogance. Cleo spoke loudly and cursed often; she lauded her own daring exploits; she relished in stretching out her arms to display the scars lining her well-toned muscles to her crowd of admirers.

Galfrey was hardly unaccustomed to such personality. The thrill of victory could go to any soldier’s head, especially when aided by ale and applause. But she had been hoping for something more substantial from the savior of the city, and to find behavior which bordered upon unseemly was…disappointing.

Across the room, Cleo let out a loud laugh and leapt to her feet, very nearly tripping over her chair in the process. She teetered over Anevia, leaned down, and- inexplicably- blew a kiss onto the small charm in Anevia’s hands. They both laughed again at the action, even as Irabeth swatted at her wife’s shoulder in half-hearted chastisement.

In spite of herself, Galfrey felt her lips pull reluctantly into a smile. Her judgments were harsh; revelry could certainly be permitted in times like this. This was a celebration, after all, and here she was sulking in the corner and thinking dour thoughts. It must be the endless war meetings taking their toll, fixing her into this permanently somber state. After so many decades, it was growing increasingly difficult to escape such a mindset, especially when she’d spent the majority of the march to Kenabres half-expecting to find nothing but a funeral pyre.

Instead, she’d found a city in the throes of exhilarating victory. Such a state was infinitely preferable, and the leader who’d made it possible had more than earned herself a carefree night.

With that thought in mind, Galfrey threw back a swig of ale and strode forward to join her subjects at their table. Her fifteen minutes of peace were almost up, and it was time to make her presence known. Better to make a jovial introduction, she decided, rather than be a weight upon the soldiers’ high spirits.

The reactions her reveal garnered were much what Galfrey expected: Irabeth snapped to immediate attention, the nearby soldiers backed away to a respectful distance, and even Anevia straightened her posture and pushed her drink away.

But not Cleo. Cleo just watched, dark eyes giving away nothing as she granted the Queen a lazy smile. “Have I had too much to drink, or are you really who I think you are?”

“That depends a good deal on who you think I am, doesn’t it?” Galfrey countered evenly. She kept her voice lighthearted, welcoming, and held out her hand in a simple greeting. “Galfrey, of Mendev.”

Cleo regarded the offered gesture for a moment, her gaze sliding from Galfrey’s hand to meet her eyes. The edges of her smile grew more pronounced. “I see the rumors were not exaggerated. Pleasure to make your royal acquaintance.” Without breaking her stare, Cleo wrapped her calloused fingers around Galfrey’s, and she brought Galfrey’s hand to her lips.

The kiss she laid on Galfrey’s skin was short, but her eyes stayed fixed on the Queen- testing her, Galfrey realized. Pressing to see how quickly Galfrey would pull away.

Indignation surged through Galfrey’s veins, but she had decades of practice in disguising her annoyances.  She did not pull away, nor did she flinch under that taunting gaze; she waited until Cleo’s touch retreated, and only then did she withdraw her hand.

“Thank you for the compliment,” she said stiffly, and Cleo chuckled.

“Didn’t say what the rumors were, did I? But you are quite welcome, your royal highness. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

The words were simply dripping with mockery, and Galfrey almost changed her mind right then and there. The mission she’d meant to bequeath upon the hero of Kenabres required some modicum of respect and discipline, and she could just as easily enlist any of her current generals who actually displayed those qualities.

Except…none of those generals, in all their years of service, had accomplished anything like the feat this woman already performed. If even half of what Cleo claimed was true, she should be dead ten times over. That meant that this woman was either a braggart lying through her teeth…or she truly possessed the type of power the Crusades so desperately needed.

It was a risk, to gamble on the latter option in such a way. But the war had been locked in a stalemate for far too long. Perhaps a certain amount of risk was warranted.

And besides, Galfrey reminded herself, Cleo was currently deep in her cups. In all likelihood, she would wake in the morning somewhat sheepish and ready to approach their arrangement with a bit more propriety.

“The Queen graces me with her presence, I see.”

Galfrey stifled a sigh as she entered the Cleo’s tent. Outside, troops bustled in preparation for the march to Drezen, their shouts and orders mingling with the familiar clang of plated armor. The soldiers had been all too eager to accept the hero of Kenabres as their new Knight-Commander- much more eager than Cleo was to actually act the part. The obstinate woman lounged at her table of maps, not even rising to her feet as she greeted Galfrey with her usual taunt.

This was a worthy gamble, the Queen reminded herself. This inexplicable hostility was a small price to pay, if her newly-appointed Knight-Commander truly had a chance at cracking Drezen.

“Indeed. This mission is a matter of great importance, Commander,” Galfrey said, happy to hear that her voice came out smooth, betraying none of her frustrations. She allowed the weight of her authority to creep in on that last word, hoping to emphasize the importance of the title. “Reclaiming Drezen would be an unimaginable boon to the Crusades…as I have told you. The people believe in you. You have ignited their courage, and their hope. It is these virtues which will bring us to victory.”

“You can ease off the speeches in here, you know. Save us both the time,” Cleo drawled, not bothering to lift her attention away from the maps spread out before her.

Galfrey scowled and moved closer, setting her hands firmly over the maps and papers covering the table. “We are all putting our trust in you. This is not something I say lightly, and I cannot leave without knowing that we have an understanding.”

For the first time, Galfrey’s words actually seemed to have an effect on Cleo; her lazy smile disappeared, and her dark eyes narrowed as she studied the Queen standing before her. She even rose from her seat so as to meet Galfrey eye-to-eye across the narrow table. She shucked off her fur cloak as she stood, revealing broad shoulders laced with scars and decorated with geometric tattoos which wound around the back of her neck.

“And where will you be,” Cleo asked, steady and sharp, “while we charge off fearlessly to victory?”

Galfrey arched an eyebrow, surprised, but it seemed an honest question. “I shall be preparing the defenses at Nerosyan and its sister cities, and planning the future of the Fifth Crusade. Does this satisfy your curiosity, Commander?”

Cleo gave an undignified snort, a look of self-satisfaction flashing across her face. “Should’ve known.”

“Do you have something to say?” Galfrey demanded harshly. Such a rebuke would have shaken any of her courtiers or generals. Even now, knowing Cleo as she did, she half-expected the other woman to step back at the sound of her cutting displeasure.

But of course the Commander did not such thing. She actually leaned closer, eyes flashing, as she hissed, “Just that what you mean to say is that you’ll be watching the battle from the rear, safe and hidden away in some cushy palace while your soldiers bloody the battlefield. Can’t say I’m surprised. I’m sure a throne room is much more amenable to your sensibilities than a war camp.”

Her sensibilities? Galfrey’s jaw clenched. This feckless stranger hadn’t the faintest idea what she was speaking of- what did she know of the battles Galfrey had seen, the blood she herself had spilled in the name of Iomedae? She knew nothing, and Galfrey owed her no explanation for any of it.

“I have already overlooked many instances of insubordination, Commander,” Galfrey said, her voice low. “Do not test me further.”

The warning was a serious one, and perhaps Cleo sensed it. She paused, her face still close, searching the Queen’s expression for- well, Galfrey still wasn’t quite sure. But at last, she let out a quiet breath and turned away.

“It’s only insubordination if you’re the one in charge,” she said, almost conversationally. “From where I sit, you’re not the one doing the leading on this particular mission. If you’ve really got the mettle, march on Drezen with us. You’ve been making all your speeches about how pivotal this mission is for your Crusade. So prove it.”

A few seconds passed in which Galfrey could not form a response. Cleo made no secret of her disdain for the Queen’s presence- why would she make this offer now? Cleo tilted her chin, boldly staring down Galfrey as she waited for an answer.

“It has been a very long time,” Galfrey said slowly, archly, with as much authority as she could muster, “since anyone has dared to speak to me in such a manner. I must ask, what is it you are hoping to accomplish?”

Cleo shrugged. “Believe it or not, I’m not actually trying to offend. I don’t know you well enough to know whether I want to offend you or not. And that’s the point. Where I’m from, we don’t give respect based on fancy titles. We respect the people who’ve earned it.” She paused, her eyes roving over Galfrey’s polished armor. “Whatever you believe about me, I do want to win this war. But I also like to know the people I’m fighting with.”

“On that, at least, we can agree.” Galfrey frowned as she found herself seriously considering the offer- no, the challenge. That was what this brash, impetuous tiefling had thrown at her feet. A challenge.

“Very well,” Galfrey said. “We march together.”

A grin crossed Cleo’s face, catching Galfrey by surprise yet again. “Looking forward to it.” She laughed, and the grin widened to show off her pointed teeth. “We’re gonna make those demons wish they never crawled out of their mothers’ hellholes.”

When Galfrey left the tent, she told herself this was a sound decision, made for sound reasons. The advance would benefit from her presence, and this way she could keep an eye on her new unpredictable Commander. All her reasons were all true, which made them all that much easier to believe.

But a small part of her whispered that the truth of it was…it had been so long since someone had truly challenged her. Maybe she just wanted to see what would come of it, and of this unprecedented Knight-Commander.

Gods above, Galfrey thought, shaking her head at herself as the thoughts rattled through her mind. What have I just unleashed upon the world?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Up All Night 2

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, narcissim, probably name calling and nasty words, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (older!reader)

Note: I wasn’t serious about this but now I were. Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You wait by the door. Movement sparks in the corner of your eye and you glance over at your reflection in the long mirror above the shoe mat. This entire place is built for vanity; whether it be admiring oneself or showing off. You check your watch and tap your toe.

You think of marching back up those stairs and dragging Drysdale out by his ear. You’re not his mother though. In the end, you’ll have to let him fall on his face. Besides, there are better ways to get him to hurry up.

You exit the house and go back to your car. You settle in the front seat and grab your cup, imbibing in the coffee with a sultry sigh. It’s the simple things in life.

You lean forward and plant your elbow on the horn as you keep drinking. The blare is jarring but you can tolerate it if it gets him out of bed. You ease off and sit back. You twist the cap to seal the lid and turn the engine, turning on some music for the wait.

You thump your hand on the horn again. Short beeps until you see the front door shift, the sunlight gleaming off the glass. Your boss comes out looking hungover. He’s still buttoning his shirt as he approaches your car.

He stands outside but makes no move to get in. You roll down the window and angle to see him through it. You give a trite smile.

“Laing will be there before us,” you gird.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He bends to glare through at you, wincing as his forehead lines with agony.

“My job. Which I believe includes reminding you of upcoming meetings,” you retort.

“Fucking Christ,” he bends an arm along the edge of the window.

“It’s an important meeting, Mr. Drys–”

“I know. I am the editor,” he snips, “go. I’ll meet you at the office.”

He pushes away from the car but you make no move to obey. You watch him feel around his pockets and growl. He stumbles back up the walkway and to the steps, nearly tripping. You wait patiently as he comes out again, searching the ground. You notice that he wears one brown loafer and one white one.

He spins and throws up his hand. You see how the night before chisels away at his posture. You tap your fingers on the wheel as he approaches, fixing the lapel of his jacket as he opens the door.

“Beemer needs a tune up anyway,” he lies as he flips down the visor and checks his hair in the mirror.

You say nothing and get out. You strut up to the front door and pop your head inside; the brown go better with his outfit, the white are tacky. You return to the car and drop the shoe in his lap. He grumbles and switches them as you shift into gear.

You reverse and swerve around to steer down the long drive. You stop at the edge of the trimmed green lawn and turn onto the mainway. Drysdale fiddles with his seat, reclining it too far before fixing it, wiggling around like a nervous puppy. You glance over briefly before focusing on the road.

“Put your belt on,” you say.

“Ugh, do you try to sound like my mom or is that just your personality?” He growls.

You tap the breaks and he slides forward, slapping his palm on the dash to keep himself from hitting his face. You lift your foot and let down the gas without a word. He huffs and clicks his belt into place.

“Coulda rescheduled…”

“Again? The last time took two months, Mr. Drysdale.”

He sniffs and reaches over. He grabs your mug and flips the lid around. He takes a deep swig and empties out the cup. You furrow your nose but repress a comment.

“Ugh, you call that coffee?”

“Dark roast,” you inform him, “if you asked, you would know.”

He straightens the ring on his finger before leaning forward to feel beneath the seat. He slides it back, giving himself more leg room. He pulls out sunglasses from his front pocket and covers his eyes as he tilts his head back on the suede rest.

“I’m your boss. I don’t ask. And you don’t tell me what to do,” he flicks his fingers dismissively, “I could have you fired.”

“With just cause. Don’t think I won’t pursue litigation.”

“Fuck it,” he waves you off, “you always gotta make everything so goddamn serious. I’m hung the fuck over so why don’t you find somewhere to grab some espresso and get me to this oh so important meeting.”

“There’s coffee at the office,” you insist, peeking at the time.

“I don’t want that piss.”

You take a deep breath. Somewhere quick. The Starbucks coming up isn’t as bad as the one downtown. You redirect and join the queue for the drive through. Drysdale pulls out his phone and thumbs over the screen.

“Wild night,” he flicks his finger, “looking at them now,” he holds his phone away from his face, “they’re hotter than I thought. I was most into the whole twin thing. Kinda freaky how they’ll touch the same–”

“Drysdale,” you warn as you putter to the speaker.

You roll down your window and give your order. Another dark roast for yourself and a cappuccino with oat milk and a sprinkle of cocoa powder. You pull up to the window and wait, staring vaguely through the windshield.

“Ha, you remember my order.”

You shrug. It’s not that hard when he’s constantly screaming it at interns. You thank the barista as she hands over the coffee. As you try to put his in the cupholder, he graps the bottom and with intent, tips it out of your grasp. The hot liquid spills onto you and stains your beige pants.

You let out a gasp and hold your dripping hand up. You see Drysdale’s smirk and it assures you it is no accident. You sit back stunned as the barista hovers the dark roast outside your window.

“Sweetheart,” he leans over, pulling that crooked playboy grin at the young girl, “I’m clumsy as hell, you think you could do that over?”

“Yes, sir,” she answers cheerily as he reaches to take your dark roast and puts it into the cup holder.

“Extra cocoa, please, sweetie,” he winks as she grabs a stack of napkin and offers them.

He doesn’t take those, instead waiting until you do. You clutch them tight and work at sopping up the mess from the interior. You say nothing, knowing if you call him out, it will only feed his smugness.

“Looks like we are ahead of schedule,” you gesture to the clock, “I forwarded you my notes, Mr. Drysdale, better catch up.”

He sits back heavily, huffing. A child forced to do the bare minimum. He got his victory. You’ll get yours.

[gokartkid]

smth smth maxiel the bear au (post hookup!)

The morning after they have sex, Max wakes up to the sun blazing on his face and car horns wailing outside the window. If he strains his ears, he can hear people shouting down on the street. The air is hot and crisp on his skin as he stretches, catlike in the warm patch of sunlight on the bed. His muscles feel languid and soft; well-fucked.

His hand splays out across the sheets beside him. The empty sheets. His stomach tightens.

He sits up, quick. The other side of the bed is cool, already devoid of any lingering warmth. It’s almost impressive how quickly his stomach drops from fluttering warmth to swirling nausea. The worst thing is how clearly he can see it in his brain: Daniel, creeping out of bed in the early hours of the morning; Daniel picking up his clothes off the floor and getting dressed as quietly as he can while Max lies prone in the bed; Daniel letting himself out the door with a soft click because he’d rather leave and be cold in just a shirt than lie in bed with Max—

It’s not the first time he’s had a hookup leave in the middle of the night. It’s just that, that isn’t what he’s really upset about. It’s just that after so many evenings stuck in a hot burning kitchen together, backs against the wall and feeling like they were moving completely in sync, them against the world that was packed into the front of their small Chicago diner— well. Max would be lying if he said his world didn’t revolve around Daniel a little, at this point.

Maybe it was a bad decision after all, staring at Daniel’s hands as he gestured into the cold dark air of the alleyway behind the kitchen, already tipsy from just a few drinks after their shift, burning orange tip of his cigarette lighting up his face, the acrid, warm smell of his breath as he leaned in close to Max to make a joke, one eye winking shut; Max leaning into his orbit, and in, and in, and in—

A clatter from the kitchen, then off pitch humming. 

Max jumps, startled out of his thoughts; he’d been planning on lounging pitifully in bed for at least another hour. 

It’s too early to have hope but it’s difficult to dampen the sputtering match in his chest, still so small. 

He can’t find his underwear on the floor and has to settle for track-pants instead before peaking out of his bedroom door around the corner, hope beyond words.

Daniel, curly hair a mess on top of his head, has his back turned to Max. He’s all warm tanned skin, the wide expanse of his back and muscles shifting as he leans over a pan on the stove. He’s humming something, occasional incomprehensible words that descend into what can only be described as scatting. 

He’s wearing boxers, loose and twice folded over, sitting low across his hips and— Max’s brain stutters here, looking at the distinct spatula pattern that his old college roommate had gotten him as a gag gift one holiday season. 

He must make a sound then because Daniel is turning, bright smile and all. 

“Maxy! Good morning. What are you, sleeping beauty? Makes sense you’d wake up now that I’ve made this whole spread, huh?”

The spread in question is a plate of toasted sourdough, yellow pools of butter already melting into the crevices, hash browns on the side with warm golden brown crusts, gooey insides threatening to escape and steam rising into the air from mugs of coffee. Max watches as Daniel expertly swoops his spatula one last time around the pan to release the mass of soft scrambled eggs, fatty and just the right amount of under-done. 

“I—“ he stops, starts again; it’s difficult to find the words when he feels as if he’s experienced the full span of human emotions in the short time since he’s been awake, “wow. Big breakfast.” 

“Yeah well,” Daniel sets down the pan and circles the counter to come closer; still almost naked, still only wearing Max’s boxers, “thought I’d do something nice, yeah? Spent enough time in this kitchen to know where all your stuff is.”

All the days they’d spent together testing menu item after menu item, things that were too salty, too sweet, plated expertly onto Max’s mismatching plates and cutlery, trying to clean as they went in Max’s — comparative to an industrial kitchen — tiny sink. 

“It would make sense if you didn’t remember, old man,” Max’s mouth makes the joke easily, slipping into the age old pattern as Daniel gasps, putting a hand over his heart, big eyes remarkably sincere. 

“Max! After I’ve just done this nice thing for you!”

“Sure, sure,” he puts his hand over Daniel’s and in a pique of bravery— certainly braver than he feels — he leans up and kisses him, light, just a brush of lips against lips. He tries not to blush but can already feel his ears heating up. It’s alright though, because Daniel looks equally struck dumb.

He turns away, quickly, back to the plate. 

“Better eat before this gets cold,” does his voice sound higher? He can’t be sure. “Come on!”