#Semi-Charmed Inbox

[charmfamily]

Ask Game: List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers :)

Sorry this is late lol Thank you for sending this to me!! I needed this today! 🌕🌿 5 drops of moonbeams 🌕🌿 (things that make me happy) 🌕🌿 1. Being up really really late at night/early in the morning. The world feels still, manageable, quiet and almost liminal. I can't do this all the time but when I can it's very soothing and calming which for me is a kind of a big deal. If I've had a day that feels like it's gone off the rails, I'm pretty much guaranteed to be up especially late to try to 'make up' for it.

2. Those slime scooping videos on TikTok, but I have my own rating system for the "scoopability". I don't like slimes that are full of random shit and little trinkets that poke out of the scoop (I make exceptions for little bits that do not ruin the scoop and this is entirely subjective), I don't like em too textured, and with as little visible imperfections as possible in order to get a 10 from me, I'm very scrutinizing with that. Best ones are glossy slimes, Butter slimes, and Gel — sometimes Icee or Cloud Cream and I've seen a few great scoops of sand texture slimes. Seeing one of those accounts achieve a perfect scoop of something (especially if they don't scoop too fast and they let me FRICKING ENJOY IT, which is a big gripe I have 😂) is an instant hit of dopamine. Similarly, as in so close it doesn't really deserve it's own number, are those silicone color-mixing videos where you have to guess what color it's gonna be and you can watch it get rolled real smooth in that spinny rolly machine thing.

3. The Sims obviously! I love working on my little projects and sharing them with all of you. Being here makes me happy. You guys make me happy and socializing here, meeting all of you, has been such a wonderful thing. Going into build mode and CAS and just locking in on something is an outlet for my hyperfixation tendencies too, that's why my builds are usually so detailed and I spend hours in CAS making my sims as perfect (to me) as I can get them. It really annoys me when I miss something but that's few and far between and often times other people that interact with what I post don't even notice and think it's cool anyway. 🥹

4. Lately I've been playing something on steam called A Game About Digging a Hole. I did a regular run (great in the beginning then became VERY STRESSFUL) and now I'm on achievement mode, but I'm never going to get the time achievement of finishing in less than 30 minutes because I'm a completionist. I make sure I get every ore (it pains me when my inventory suddenly pops up as full without warning and I end up destroying an ore because I WAS ATTEMPTING A NO ORES DESTROYED RUN AND THIS HAPPENED 3 TIMES) and I dig until there are zero specks of dirt left at all meter levels. Wall to wall, I even get up under the flower bed and the foundation of the house. I'm determined to 100% this bitch lol

I need the better dynamite radius locked in the garage chest so I can blast that giant rock out of existence. I've tried like 6 times and for some reason IT JUST WILL NOT GO AWAY, like the dynamite will roll off and just explode nowhere and the giant undrillable hunk of metal persists much to my annoyance. Other than that, look at how nice it is! I was going to caption this look at my hole. 😂

5. I am a little sweet treat person all day every day. I treated myself again at the grocery store the last time I went and got the stuff to make mini strawberry shortcakes. Plain pound cake slices, Reddi Whip Extra Creamy, Fresh strawberries for those of you who think that sounds good and want to make your own lol. Having that with coffee? Amazing. Coffee in general by itself is amazing but you pair that with a little cake of some sort? Fuck yeah. Now we're talking. I also got some red grapes for a healthy sweet and my lunch and sometimes dinner these days is a snack-plate type of thing with grapes, babybel mini cheese, garlic cheese croutons and peppered turkey slices. I basically exist off charcuterie, caffeine and little cakes.

[corensweat]

🌲 road trip.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: when your camping trip with scott gets cut short because of a work emergency, you nearly kill him and every member of storm par, intent on making your ire well known on the drive home. but when you push scott too far, his impatience has other plans. or “If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for a week.” Word Count: 13.3k Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, no use of y/n, bdsm, established dom/sub dynamic, pet names (honey, sweetheart, baby), brief mentions of serial killerisms (teasingly… maybe), semi-priv public sex (in a truck), scott has a whore mouth (again), groping, belting (f! receiving), spanking/slapping (f! receiving, breasts & v), oral (m+f), nippleplay (f! receiving), unprotected pinv, orgasm denial, fingering (f), cumplay, breeding A/N: when the "just a quick one shot" turns into a beast... oops? 😬 thank you to my proud sponsor aka the scott rot™️! if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

On hour two of the drive back to OKC, you think you’ve lost your mind.

What had begun as a much-anticipated weekend road trip with Scott — an incredibly overdue escape, though you weren’t exactly keeping track — had swiftly turned from enjoying the fresh, open air and the promise of an entire weekend distraction-free, to a mountain of frustration that battled the ones in the distance. All because your charming, secretly sentimental boyfriend had wanted a picture of you and the sunset for his lock screen.

If you weren’t so upset about it, you probably would’ve laughed.

But this was the fourth (fourth!) time that something had gotten in the way of your Scott Time, and, look — you needed it. So. Fucking. Badly.

Which was why when his phone had gone off again, after Scott had ignored the voicemails Javi left him, you were so, so very tempted to hurl the fucking thing into the pond. Instead, you sat there, already trying to think of a way to get your lick back with the fact that he was the one who’d insisted that going off the grid meant going off the grid and electronics simply took away from the nature of it all, the hypocritical ass. And you’d watched, with dawning realization and equal devastation, as Scott’s entire demeanor had shifted from peeved that Javi even had the audacity, to shutting his mouth and speaking in yes, sir’s and I understand, sir’s.

Oh, Marshall Riggs was going to get an absolute earful the next time y’all sat down for Sunday dinner.

But first, you had your sights set on Scott. And, quite frankly, he deserved every second of petulant that you were giving him.

When he adjusted the air conditioning, you dropped the temp lower. When he found a good station on the radio, you changed it. When he asked for one of the snacks by your seat, you munched on it first, mumbling a fake apology when you passed him a small piece. And when you finally started talking, it was one word answers: yes, no, dunno, sure, fine, whatever.

And every time he gripped the steering wheel just a little tighter, you felt vindicated by the fact that it was ticking him off.

Good. You were ticked off. And unbelievably, atrociously bored. There were only so many things you could do in his truck while you were half giving him a cold shoulder. And, well, after the last time you’d reached for the volume and he’d caught your wrist with a stern ‘knock it off’, like you were a child, you’d resorted to pouting out the window, then sifting through his middle storage, and then snooping through his glove box.

All of which were boring, in the exact way that only a man’s truck could be boring. Who didn’t have a car Chapstick, but could have packs of gum hidden everywhere? And where were the just-in-case napkins? And what did he even use pliers for?

Your brattiness — no, curiosity — wins over the agitation that still simmers just under the surface. You turn to Scott with a mischievous grin as you hold up the pliers. “Be honest. Are you secretly a serial killer?”

Scott glances at you, then at the pliers, before rolling his eyes with a faint smirk. “Caught me,” he deadpans, his voice carrying just enough sarcasm to draw out your giggle.

“I knew it.” You dig further into his glove box like you expect to find a pair of gloves, which stupidly has you giggling because you’d lost your mind, see, and there was no way there’d actually— Oh. Shit. He really did have gloves. “You’re the worst serial killer I’ve met. Your whole murder kit is in here and you haven’t even tried to kill me yet?”

���Getting close to it, honey,” Scott quips, a teasing edge to his voice that makes your heart flutter. His eyes stay fixed on the road, but you catch the slight twitch of his lips, betraying his amusement.

Until you keep it up, making an exaggerated show of pulling out every item you find, each discovery more dramatic than the last. The subtle tightening of his jaw tells you that rummaging through his stuff is getting more of a rise from him than your earlier silence had. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, the whites of his knuckles glowing under the moonlight, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the sight.

Curling your knees to your chest with his newest item in your lap (a bundle of zip ties), you bat your lashes up at him with feigned innocence. “Am I bothering you, baby?”

“Nope.” Scott, to his credit (you pretend it’s not because you’re his girlfriend but because he just chooses to be kind), swallows down whatever shitty retort is on the tip of his tongue as he shakes his head. “Not at all.”

His eyes flick briefly to you, then back to the road, as if anchoring himself, before he plasters one of his obnoxiously fake smiles on that doesn’t reach his eyes. Your own smile slips at the blatant irritation bubbling just beneath the surface, hating that look, knowing he knew you hated when he was fake with you. He reaches over, his hand finding your knee — not in the usual affectionate squeeze, but more as a grounding gesture, a silent plea for you to stop before you push him too far.

“You might want to close that now,” he adds, his voice soft but laced with an unmistakable edge as he jerks his chin toward his still-open glove box. “Before I really lose my patience.”

“But...” you start, pouting a little, your fingers lingering on the edge of the glove box. “I was just having fun. I mean, what else could be in here? Secret spy gadgets? Hidden treasures?”

Scott’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. His patience is fraying, each word clipped and precise as he says, “Close. It. Now.”

You relent, closing it with a dramatic flourish and an equally exaggerated sigh. “Okay, okay. Glove box exploration time is over.”

Scott exhales, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Thank you,” he mutters, though his eyes still carry a hint of irritation as he changes the radio station a couple of times, scowling at the country crooning through his speakers, before just shutting it off.

“You sure you’re okay?” You test, still pushing his limits. You figured that Scott knew you better than that. That you knew him better than that. Nearly seven months together — again, not that you were counting — and he really thought you couldn’t tell when something was off?

You continue, “Just because… Well, you seem a little stressed. Is it because you didn’t get to tie me up and torture me back there by the pond? I mean, I’m sure you’ll get another chance someday, like when cows fly, but—”

“Are you done?” Scott huffs, shooting you a look.

You don’t back down from it, leveling him with your own hard expression. When he’s forced to return to the road, breaking eye contact first, that prideful part of you purrs. He sighs. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but I don’t have any other choice. So sit down, shut up, and stop fucking with my system, please.”

He says the last through gritted teeth, and as much as you loved to antagonize him, you knew when to push and when to not. Putting the last of the stuff back where you’d found it exactly how you’d found it, you stuff your hands under your thighs and pout quietly until he visibly relaxes again.

“You’re not being very nice,” you mumble, the silence that encases you both too much to bear.

Scott runs his tongue over his teeth, then looks over at you, his expression hard. “And you’re lucky I haven’t spanked your ass raw for that attitude yet.” Surprise must flash across your face, because a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth that he quickly masks. “What? Did you think I would just let all that slide?”

“No.”

Maybe.

“Liar.”

Damn it.

Before you can say anything else, Scott reaches over, gently but firmly tilting your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as his eyes leave the road for a second. “Do I need to remind you of the rules?” he asks, his tone shifting from frustrated to something far more controlled and deliberate — each word laced with a quiet authority that sends a shiver down your spine and makes your blood run hot.

It’s a tone you’ve come to know all too well, one that signals a subtle shift in the dynamic between you, a reminder of exactly who’s in charge.

To anyone else, it might have sounded like another classic Scott lecture — a stern word from someone who was used to being in control. But you knew this side of him intimately well, understood the depths of what he was really asking. This wasn’t just about a conversation or setting you straight; it was a command, a subtle but potent assertion of the power he held over you.

“Answer me,” he prompts, his voice dropping to a low, steady hum that makes your pulse race. “Yes or no, honey.”

“No,” you breathe, testing the waters of defiance.

“Let’s try that again.” Scott’s grip remains steady on the wheel, but the weight of his gaze feels like a tightening hold around you. “No, what?” he asks, his voice low and demanding, leaving no room for anything but the correct response.

You swallow. The tension between you is thick and electric. “No, sir.”

He holds your gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity, long enough for you to actually worry about him being behind the wheel. But a quick glance at the road reassures you — he’s in complete control, staying perfectly between the lines, maintaining a comfortable distance from the cars ahead and behind.

His eyes flicker to your mouth, lingering there with a deliberate intensity. “We’ll see.”

A noise of discontent escapes you immediately when he returns to his side of the truck as if nothing happened, all the air leaving your lungs. We’ll see. That was it? No good girl? It’s a reprimand all on its own, defiance filling you quickly.

What was the point of his rules if he wasn’t going to listen to them?

First with his phone, which had gotten you here in the first place, and now this. You pout, crossing your arms as you glare at the car in front of you, hating everything about this weekend. God, you’d both been so exhausted from the drive to the campsite that you hadn’t even touched him like he’d promised you could **— **on top of the week he’d already instructed you not to touch yourself.

And now Scott was going to be buried in work again. He’d drop you off at home just to drive another hour or two to who the hell knew where, and from there it was back to the office to get the paperwork rolling, call the banks, pouring hour after hour into making sure this deal went through. All because Riggs had decided his time off was more important than yours.

But it wasn’t. You’d waited eons for this. And you were damned if you were going to let both him and Scott stop you.

Slowly, so slowly, you angle yourself toward your boyfriend, his eyes distant as he readjusts in his seat and fishes absentmindedly for a piece of gum to smack on. For a moment you can’t help but admire him, appreciating the way he filled out the seat, the way his jaw worked with the gum, how when he got lost in his thoughts and had a particularly interesting idea he swiped his fingers along his perfect, full mouth.

He was masculine without any effort, intelligent and calculating, and, despite this weekend, was the most attentive boyfriend you’d ever had.

And you ached for him.

Just that tone shift alone — from Scott to sir — had spiked your temperature, leaving you warm with the lack of air conditioning. You knew better than to reach for the knobs, even if the thought of him pinning your wrist down had your thighs pressing together. So you shift forward to unzip his jacket you’d stolen, meaning to shimmy it off, when you catch his eyes on you.

Instead of taking it off completely, you let the gray fabric bunch to your elbows. His eyes slide from the way it now sits on you to your white tank top before focusing back on the road, his gum making that unmistakable snap! he always did. “What’re you doing?” He asks, stealing another glance as you wriggle in the seat.

“Just hot, baby,” you hum, which wasn’t a lie.

But there’s no way to be subtle as you collect your hair into a ponytail and tie it with your scrunchie, just like there’s no way Scott can be subtle as he zeroes in on your hair being up or the fact that your tits jiggle with every bump or dip in the road. His hand flexes on the wheel, quick to snap his attention to the mirrors, as if he’d been checking them in the first place.

You bite back a smile.

By the time Scott is pressing on the brakes, an accident brings the two-lane down to one, one foot is propped up on his dashboard, your head turned to face him with every sigh that leaves your lips. With nothing to pull his attention now other than the slow crawl, his eyes catch yours again, his guard dropping as he falsely believes you’ve listened.

And that’s when you make your move.

“Baby,” you groan, wetting your lips as your fingers brush across his sleeve. Your other hand rests against your knee, slipping down along your thigh while you bat thick lashes up at him. “Can you turn the air on, please? I’m dying.”

“Mhm.” Scott does, following the invisible line your fingers paint across your skin as the air kicks on. The cool air is welcomed and the content noise that leaves you isn’t entirely fabricated. When his hand drops to rest on your thigh, you know he feels how flushed you are under his cold touch. And you know he feels you arch into it. “How’s that? Better?”

“’ Little.” Not even close, but you play it up now that you’ve got him. “Still too hot.”

“Sorry, honey,” Scott’s deep voice is genuine, frowning a bit as he squeezes your thigh. “Got it the lowest it can go. Need me to roll a window down?”

You shake your head. “It’d just bring all the hot air in.” Something he should’ve known, but you couldn’t blame him for being a little distracted. You press on, confident, still inflecting that whine in your voice. “Your hand feels good, though.”

His touch inches up your thigh in response, sure that he’s not even aware he’s doing it. As your touch moves in time with his, you drag your free hand across your chest, pressing against the leather of his seats and pushing a strap off your shoulder. The cool air directly hitting you causes a flurry of goosebumps to rise and your nipples to poke through the fabric, chest rising and falling as you make a show of overheating.

Scott snaps his gum again, removing his hand to tug gently on his jacket. “What did I say about going through my stuff?”

“Oh, you left it at my place. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.” You try to play innocent, but the smile you give him is nothing short of mischievous as you intentionally arch up into his touch. “Do you want it back, sir?”

He’s quiet for so long that you think he’s returned to the road. Instead, his eyes are locked on the thin tank top that clings tight around you. A quiet hum echoes in the back of his throat as he runs his knuckles over the swell of your breast, dragging slowly across your nipple, before he seems to think better of himself and places both hands back on the wheel.

“Keep it.” He grunts, “It looks better on you, anyway.”

“Really?” Despite how you try to hide the happiness from your voice, you fail miserably. Scott didn’t offer many liberties, especially not with his personal belongings. You don’t let the distance keep you far, unhooking your seatbelt and leaning over the center divider to beam up at him.

“Really.” Your heart pitter-patters in your chest when he hums again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. His eyes slide back to the road, still at a slow crawl. “Don’t get any ideas, honey.”

Oh, you had about fifty different ones, most of which included seeing how far you could go down this new avenue. You drop a kiss to his shoulder, nuzzling against his cold skin, slipping your arm through his and guiding his hand back to your thigh. Scott squeezes again, a small warning to behave. But since when did you do that?

“Come on,” he taps an index against you after a few minutes, “Buckle up. Safety first.”

“But—” You pout, wrapping your arm around him tighter. He could drive with one hand, and besides, you were barely moving enough for a seatbelt to matter. “You feel so nice. And you’re always away for sooo long, baby. And now you’re gonna be gone again?” Brushing your nose along his jaw, you let your hand drop casually to his thigh. “I just miss you.”

“It’ll only be for a few days.” He shifts under you, chewing his gum slower. No doubt weighing whether he should let this continue or end it early.

“A few days too many.” You feel him inhale as your touch roams, sliding over his muscled thigh and across the zipper of his jeans. He’s already half-hard, the outline of him growing more apparent as you continue, “Do you know how lonely it gets without you? Knowing I can’t cuddle you… Kiss you… Touch you?”

You grope him where you know his weak point is while leaning up to scrape your teeth against his earlobe. His hips lift of their own accord as he instinctively searches for more, his grip on the wheel tightening as he squeezes your thigh in his big hands.

You hide your smile as he thickens under your palm. And smile wider at the growl in his voice as he orders, “Behave.”

“Am I breaking any rules, sir?” With your lips at his ear, every needy breath against him has Scott tensing in response.

Your shorts ride up — and so does his hand, until he’s close enough that you can grind your clothed heat into him. It’s just a single roll of your hips, keeping pressure where you crave him, but it has you whining all the same.

“Please, I missed you so much… I miss touching you, feeling how big you are in my hands…” You drag your palm against his thick length, fully straining against his zipper now, his breath coming out heavy as you grip him. “Please, please, just let me taste you. I’ll be such a good girl, I promise. Wouldn’t I look so pretty with your cock stuffed down my throat? Sounding so pretty as I choke on you?” You whimper against him, the sound small and needy. “Please, sir?”

The combination of your fingers wrapped around him and the feel of your tongue lapping at that sweet spot on his neck has Scott groaning, the noise coming from deep in his throat. Before you can react, he presses you firmly back into your seat, keeping you pinned with his hand across your sternum while you try to fight against the distance he forces between you two.

“Behave.” His gaze meets yours, dark and heavy and no-nonsense.

Your cunt clenches at the authority in his tone, nipples peaking in response. Scott slips his palm under the fabric of your shirt, kneading your heaving chest and rolling the hardened nub between his index and thumb. You writhe at the sensation, a moan spilling out of you, until he pinches you hard enough that you gasp. Just as quick as it happens, he pulls out just enough to bring his palm down roughly against your tit.

The sting of the impact has you arching off the seat as your cry pierces the silence.

Scott presses his index to your mouth in warning as the police lights finally illuminate his truck, the accident off to the side. You’re breathing too heavy to pay attention to it beyond that, not caring about anything happening outside of this truck, and you pass by quickly without any incident.

The air is still heavy as you meet his gaze. And you can’t help when your fingers grip the sides of your shorts to bunch the material in your hands, greedily grinding into the taut seam aligned perfectly with your center.

Scott watches it all silently. “You want to be my good girl?” His fingers draw invisible lines down your thigh, spreading your legs apart with just a touch. You comply easily, nodding as he smooths his hand along your skin and ignites a fire inside you. “Then fucking act like one.”

There’s no warning when he slaps your pussy hard, the denim digging painfully into you. Your hands fly out to grip whatever you can as your hips stir against the pain, crying out as another smack sounds, punishing your disobedience.

And still, you can’t help but whine out for him. “But I need you! I’ve been so, so good this whole time, I swear. Even when you told me not to touch, even when I wanted to so badly— I listened, I swear I did.” Pouting over at Scott, you whimper. “Please, I promise.”

“Go on. Keep it up. Do you think you’re listening now?” His hand tightens to a fist as he rests it hard against the center divider. His gaze pings to the time display on the dashboard, then to you. “The more you misbehave, the longer you wait. Was a week too short, honey? Do we need to extend it to two? Three? Can you even wait that long without disobeying me again?”

You can barely answer, only whimpering out as you press yourself into his arm, careening out of the seat. His hand clasps hard around your wrist when you reach for his zipper again, cutting off whatever noise is in your throat with a low growl.

“If I have to pull over,” he grits out, looking you dead in the eyes, “You won’t be able to walk for a week.”

You level his hard gaze with your own even as your heart pounds heavy, his threat thinly veiled as his grip tightens around your wrist.

And you swear you don’t mean to, but the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. “Can you go that long without fucking me? If I can’t touch, neither can you. Not a kiss, not a hug, I won’t even let you fuck my mouth!”

As your frustration boils over, you breathe raggedly against yourself, fighting to rip your hand out of his strong grasp. He’s quiet as he watches you, the look in his eyes betraying nothing that simmers underneath the surface.

Calmly, too calmly, he continues driving, following the road as the dark trees pass you by. When he moves off the pavement to turn down a dirt road, your heart flies to your throat.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, looking behind you as if expecting anyone else to follow, but it’s just you on the solitary single lane, his tires crunching on the dirt road. “Scott?”

His mouth stays shut, turning into a clearing of trees. You usually love the outdoors, but the forest around you looks foreboding and eerie, the trees looming large overhead. You glance out the window to the night sky, but there’s not even a twinkle of starlight here. Just inky black nothingness.

He shuts the engine off, taking the headlights with it.

You think you stop breathing.

“Get in the back.” His order is quiet against the silence but travels along your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Now.”

As much as you want to protest, the words catch in your throat, refusing to form. Instead, you wordlessly climb over the center divider, dropping his zip ties into the cupholder with a deliberate clink. Your bags, shoved angrily into the back when he’d asked you to pack up, tumble to the floor, landing in a haphazard pile as you settle into the backseat.

The sudden darkness engulfs you, your eyes straining to adjust to the dim light. You can barely make out Scott’s silhouette, his intense gaze fixed on you before he opens his door with a determined click.

Silently, Scott slips out of the driver’s seat, the slam of each door echoing through the night like a final verdict. You hold your breath as he rounds the truck, each crunch of his boots against the twigs and leaves sounding louder than meant to be. The backseat door opens, and he slides in beside you, the leather creaking softly under his weight.

You find your breath again when his hand, warm and steady, smooths around your ankle, his touch both grounding and possessive. He makes room for himself, his presence filling the confined space with an electric charge. The air grows thick with anticipation as you sit there, the darkness around you deepening, your heart pounding in your chest.

Scott’s fingers trail up your leg with deliberate slowness, each movement precise and controlled. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze holding you hostage. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you?” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, searching for some sort of escape. But it was too dark outside to see, the woods maybe terrified you a little bit without Scott by your side, and even if he chased after you — and you weren’t bratty enough to do that — you had absolutely no idea how to get back to a road, let alone the road.

And, well, you didn’t really want to get away from him. Just the punishment you knew he would dole out for your disobedience.

Still—

“I thought we had to get back to the city,” you squeak out, voice trembling against your better efforts as you try to plead your case to deaf ears, “Riggs– Riggs said you needed to be back, right? And you know how far my place is from your office, and—”

“We have time for this,” Scott interrupts, his voice firm, a low rumble that leaves no room for argument. He presses his index to the pout of your mouth, silencing you. It sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath hitching as you squirm under his grip, eyes wide and pleading.

If you were a deer in headlights, Scott was a hunter. And he was a damn good hunter.

Scott’s beautiful mouth curves into a grin, his eyes darkening with a hint of amusement. He leans in closer, his presence overwhelming, the scent of leather and the outdoors mingling with his intoxicating scent. The tension in the air thickens, every sound amplified by the stillness of the night. The rustling leaves outside, the distant hoot of an owl, even the faint hum of the truck’s cooling engine — all seem to echo the pulsing beat of your heart.

You can feel the rough texture of his jeans against your skin as he shifts, making himself comfortable, his body pressing against yours in the confined space. His hand, warm and commanding, moves from your mouth to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips.

“You’re not going anywhere until I say so,” he states, his eyes gleaming, all possession and affection. His words wrap around you like a promise, binding you to this moment, to him.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, the gravity of everything sinking in. Scott’s eyes lock onto yours, a silent command for your complete attention. His other hand slides down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, before settling on your waist, pulling you even closer.

“Relax,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re safe with me.”

Your lashes flutter as a noise sounds in the back of your throat, caught between a plea and a whimper. You trusted Scott more than anything, and knew, without question, without fear, that he would never do anything you didn’t want.

And god, you wanted him bad enough that it ached.

“I need you to understand a few things, honey,” Scott continues, his voice still that deadly calm, his finger dragging slowly down your chin, tracing a deliberate path down the column of your throat. “I can tolerate you being upset. I’m not happy about it, either, despite what you might think.”

He pauses for a moment, letting his gaze lock onto yours, his eyes dark and unwavering. “But what I won’t tolerate,” he says, his tone sharpening as he closes his hand around your throat with a possessive grip, “is your disrespect.”

“But—”

“Shut up.” Scott’s voice is a low, dangerous growl as he tightens his hold on you, his thumb pressing firmly into your pulse. The pressure is confident and calculated — the kind of control that comes from having done this countless times before. “I’m not done.”

Defiance bubbles up and fights Scott at every turn, and despite the way you wriggle under him, your eyes grow hazy with need at the feel of his hand around your throat. God, you knew exactly what those hands were capable of; sweet, delicious torture, doling punishment and reward with equal passion. “But—”

“Why can you never fucking listen?” His voice drops to a growl that vibrates against your ear, his body shifting so that his weight presses down on you. You whimper at the added pressure, your fingers instinctively fisting the fabric of his shirt, trying to hold onto something solid.

Scott notices. With a swift motion, he knocks your wrists away, gripping both of them together with a firm, unyielding hold. When he pins them above your head, possessive and commanding, you can’t help but moan, growing pliant under his weight.

“Maybe I do need to remind you of my rules,” he says, his voice a dangerous purr, “since you seem to like breaking them.”

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. Every word is low and steady, completely in control. “You’re going to pay attention now, aren’t you? You’re going to listen to every word I say.”

Your pulse races under his thumb, the pressure making it difficult to focus on anything other than the commanding presence of his body pressed against yours. The conflicting emotions — fear, need, frustration — swirl together, drawing the breath from your lungs.

Scott’s eyes meet yours again, the dark intensity he’d first set on you softening slightly. “Do you trust me?” He asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, carrying with it both a challenge and an invitation.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe. Always.

“Good.” He presses a tender kiss to your temple and cheek, nudging his nose into the curve of your shoulder and kissing the column of your throat. Your body responds in kind, arching up into his generosity, the calm before the storm, as he slowly releases his hold on you. One tap against your wrist is a silent order to keep them there, and you thread your fingers together, looping them into the door grip as he kisses his way back up to your mouth. “Because you’re going to hate me tonight.”

You want to tell him that such a thing is impossible — there was nothing Scott could do that would make you hate him, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he was sometimes — but he doesn’t give you a chance to speak. Lifting you up, or at least as much as he can in the truck with his hulking size, Scott draws a hand around the curve of your waist, pushing his jacket aside to expose more of you.

“Take this off.” He orders. His expression melts back into one of superiority, one you’re all too familiar with, and you try not to pout when he continues with, “I changed my mind. I want it back.”

“Want what back?” You hum, fingers twitching. You debate the pros and cons of pointing out that you can’t take off his jacket with your hands still pinned in place, but bite your lip instead. You were already pushing the envelope — a lot — by feigning innocence.

“You know what.” Sensing that you’re still… sort of… listening, Scott, taps your wrist twice, freeing you of your position. Under his tone, your fingers close around the material of his comfortable clothing, lifting to slip it fully off your frame. You drop it next to your stuff with your eyes trained on his. “When I’m convinced you can behave, I’ll consider giving it back.”

That snaps your mouth shut. Pressing your lips together, you nod as you place your hands back in their previous position, the only tell that he’s satisfied by your change of heart being a slight twitch of a smile.

“I didn’t say you were done,” he drags his gaze along the length of you, his touch following where his eyes roam until he hooks a finger around the belt loop of your shorts. “Take these off, too, and turn around.”

Electricity charges through you at the command in his voice. Your movements are slow, careful, as you try not to bump into anything as you slide out from under him and remove your shirt. Your shorts follow, but he stops you as you hook your thumbs under the waist of your panties, both of his large hands sliding on your hips to face you opposite him.

He’s massive against you, your back pressing against his chest as his hands roam freely, trailing up the length of you and then down your arms to place your hands back in their previous position, fingers curling around yours in a silent gesture. And then his touch returns, calloused fingertips dragging over every spot of your soft skin, cupping your breast in his hand as he sighs against your neck.

You feel the hard length of him straining against his jeans as he pulls you to him, every caress coaxing a fire in you. Even though you want nothing more than to touch him, to take him into your hands, he has you caught. You really wanted that jacket.

And you hated disappointing him.

His touch wanders to your ass, squeezing the flesh in his hand before he smooths a hand up your spine, signaling for you to bend over. You comply with shallow breaths, the warmth of him missing when he puts even more space between you.

“How many times do you think you disobeyed me tonight, honey?” He asks, the question making your heart stutter. He continues to knead your skin, but with your angle, you can’t see anything happening behind you. “I’ll let you guess.”

You try to think back, but everything is hazy now. When you got in these moods — which was more often than not — you had a hard time telling which rules were broken and which weren’t, because, well, you tended to do it a lot. And you knew Scott well enough by now that even if you guessed any number, it wouldn’t be specific. It wouldn’t be right. Guess lower, and he’d add more. Guess higher, and he’d use your number, then remind you of the true one after it was all said and done.

A gasp escapes from you as your eyes flutter shut. Fuck. “I– I don’t know, sir.”

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he just hums, adjusting the twisted straps of your underwear higher up on your hips. “Thirty-two times.” He lets that sit heavy in the air for a moment, your breath stalling in your throat. “You know what happens when it gets that high, honey.”

“You use the belt,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Scott nods. “Mhm. I use the belt.” The soft, metallic clink of his buckle coming undone is followed by a steady hand against your hip, smoothing circles along your skin as you begin to tremble in anticipation. “Shhh. You know the rules. Count.”

The first point of contact is always the worst. He lets the moment play out, your body tensing and easing as you wait for any sign that it’s coming, but he gives no indication when he stops touching you. And then the sharp sting as leather meets your rear, the folded-over halves biting into you with practiced efficiency.

Your eyes squeeze shut, fingers tightening around the handle as you gasp out, “One.”

By the end, your muscles are taut and your backside is red and flaming, your whimpers spilling freely from your mouth. It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to hold yourself up, trembling with exertion. Scott rubs his hand along your curves, having given equal attention to both cheeks, a content noise sounding in the back of his throat as you still careen toward him.

“Last one, honey. You’re doing so good.” He praises quietly, the only encouragement you need as his belt goes sailing toward you again, leaving another welt in its wake.

“Thirty-two!” Escaping through gritted teeth, you jerk forward with the impact, breathing hard and heavy when you hear the clink of his belt falling to the floor.

Scott taps twice along your stomach as he brings you up to his chest, careful to leave space between you as he smooths over your sore muscles, easing the pain. He presses kisses along your throat, your shoulder, letting you shake against him as you lulls you down from the high, every touch soft and affectionate. “That’s it, I know… Shhh… Did so good for me, honey…”

Each sweet nothing brings you down, continuing to press kisses against your skin until your breathing evens out. Scott sets his hands to your hips, holding you firmly, nudging the space just behind your ear.

“If you just listened, I wouldn’t have to punish you.” He reminds, letting your hands drift over his. Despite the softness of his tone, you still catch the authority seeping through every word, and you know it’s far from over. “I don’t like how you spoke to me today, honey.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you breathe, meaning them truthfully. Scott presses another kiss to your skin in acknowledgment. “I was just upset. I wanted to spend this weekend with you, and—”

“Am I not making this time now?” He questions, cutting you off. When his touch wanders between your thighs, fingers circling your clothed clit, soaked despite his brutal treatment, he groans against you. “What was it you said earlier… That I couldn’t touch you? That you wouldn’t let me?”

Vaguely, through your hazy mind, you remember saying that. But you keep your mouth shut, quiet little noises escaping as he continues to please you, easing away the pain he’d caused. Your desire for him, so neglected because of his orders, coils deep inside you as he recites your perfect tempo — having spent hours exploring, learning, and committing what you enjoyed to memory.

“Let’s make one thing abundantly clear,” he continues. “Every part of you is mine to touch, spank, suck, lick, and fuck as I please. Any time. Any day. Any place. Those are the rules you agreed to. If I want you just like this…” Adding pressure, he holds you up as your knees buckle against him, “I will, for as long as I want. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Your words come out shaky, breath hitching with every skilled circle of his fingers. “I understand, sir.”

“Then show me you understand.” Within a second his touch is gone, leaving you delirious as you search for him. You hear the rustle of fabric behind you, twisting to watch him slip off his shirt, then ease himself down on the backseat with a foot firmly planted on the floor. His fingers hover over the button on his jeans, flipping it open as his dark gaze trains on you. “Come here.”

You comply immediately, drawing forward as his hand slips in your hair. Scott pushes down the restricting fabric, slipping his hand into his black briefs, freeing himself from his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, thick and veiny and dripping with precum, his fist stroking himself as he holds you there, coating his length with his desire.

“Look what you do to me,” he whispers, drinking in every shallow breath, the way your eyes remain fixed on his hand, how your hips stir with every twist like you imagining yourself riding him. “Even when you’re a fucking brat, I can’t get enough of you, honey. Always so fucking hard for you. You have no idea…” He releases himself to cup your chin, spreading himself over the swell of your mouth. You greedily taste what he offers, tongue lapping at him before sucking on the tip of his thumb. “I’d spend an eternity inside you if I could.”

Those words — the claim, the rare admission — makes your heart somersault in your chest.

Without waiting for his command, you crawl between his legs and sink to draw your hand along his jean-clad thigh, a silent plea echoing in your eyes. As he wets his lips, you grip his length in your hand, his girth barely allowing you to wrap fully around him. Scott’s breath hitches as you stroke him exactly how he prefers, your hand sinking lower with each slow, deliberate movement.

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, the tip of his cock as pink as his lips, and you pay special attention to it, thumb smoothing along the sensitive underside of him. The soft action has his hips bucking up into your touch, breath hissing between his teeth as he wraps your hair around his fist.

No matter how many times you were in this position, nothing changed how exhilarating it was to have brief a moment of power over him.

When you move to take him into your mouth, your tongue flat and eager, Scott wraps his fingers around your throat, that playful glint in his eyes replacing quickly with hellish intent.

“Did I tell you that you could touch?” He murmurs, releasing his grip on your hair to pluck your hand off him.

You want to point out that he didn’t seem to have a problem with that when he’d been half-thrusting into your hand, but the look in his eyes silences the retort on your lips. So you let him grip your wrist, and your throat, sure he can feel the heavy pound of your pulse as you whimper at the interruption.

“I just want a little taste,” you plead, jutting your bottom lip out and batting your thick lashes up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze.

Scott just shakes his head. And you feel the coil of defiance begin again.

“Don’t you want my tongue on you, sir? Licking up every thick inch of you? Seeing how much I can take in my hot little mouth?” You know you’re pushing it with how his grip on your wrist tightens, but fuck, you needed to feel him, to touch him, especially after he’d denied you the pleasure of it for so long.

You shift so your free hand wraps around his shaft again. Scott grunts as he watches you play with him, your small hand moving effortlessly along his girth. With both his hands occupied, he has nothing to stop you from doing what you want, what you need, as your gaze flickers down to openly admire his masculinity. “Don’t I look so pretty when I choke on you, baby?”

Despite how his gaze darkens and he twitches in your hand, Scott releases your wrist enough to rest his hand on the edge of the backseat, his brow raising. “You’d look prettier if you listened, sweetheart.”

The condescending nickname rolls through you, your face twisting in disgust at it — he knew you hated it, knew it reminded you of the old men who often tried to make passes at you. It disgusts you enough that you release him from your grip, watching a smile slowly spread on his face.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to sound weak with his fist still around you.

“And I thought I told you to listen, but you don’t seem to be doing a good job of that even after the belt.” He shifts his grip from the front of your neck to the back of it, pulling you closer. “What’s my name?”

You hesitate at how hard his gaze is trained on you. “Sir.”

He nods. “And what did you call me earlier?”

Oh. As the dots connect, realization flickering across your features, Scott’s eyes mirror your understanding. He doesn’t give you a chance to say it, continuing, “Until you can learn to listen, you don’t get to cum until I say so.”

You wait for a day, an end time, something that’ll make counting the days at least a little worthwhile — but it never comes. Instead, he just stares at you, waiting for you to defy him again, waiting for you to open your mouth, to push back. But his fingers twitch like he’s going to reach for his belt again, and the thought of that on your already raw backside makes a whimper escape.

“I understand, sir.”

His gaze softens for a moment — and a small part of you hopes that he changes his mind, that he’ll take it back… But Scott was never that type of man. Once something was final, it was final. No amount of begging or pleading could win your case.

He cups your face in his hands like he knows what he’s asking may push you past your breaking point. Never in the months you’ve been together has he implemented something indefinitely, but you’ve never pushed back this much. When his mouth roams over yours, gentle given the circumstances, you taste the sharp spearmint of his gum as his tongue explores you, soothing your whimpers and whines until you’re somewhat relaxed under his touch.

“Are you going to be a good girl if I let you blow me, honey?” He asks, lips ghosting over your mouth, your jaw, pressing a kiss against the column of your throat. You nod, not trusting your voice. “I mean it. No whining. No pleading. No biting.” His gaze flickers up to yours as a memory passes through both of you, your cheeks heating up, caught. He knew you too fucking well. “If I want you to choke on me, you’re going to choke. If I want you to wrap those pretty lips around my head, you will. And if I want your mouth not on me at all…”

“I’ll listen, sir,” you promise, breathless, squirming with need.

Scott’s eyes flash with approval, pressing one more kiss to your mouth before he settles back down against the leather. You follow, slow, cautious, your hands pressing into his thighs as he grips himself.

And when you wrap your lips around him, everything else fades away. You take him at his pace, slower than you would prefer but dutifully obeying his silent instructions, your hair coiled around his fist. The taste of him on your tongue has your eyes glazing over with desire, flickering up to watch him watch you, your head bobbing around his length, spit sliding down his shaft as he makes you take him deeper, deeper, until he’s hitting the back of your throat and there’s still inches between you.

Scott groans as he pushes you further, trained on how your body instinctively fights him, taking his cock entirely in your mouth when your nose brushes the soft skin of his abdomen. Your core drips with need, soaking your panties, at the guttural sound that escapes him: all masculine and intoxicating. You crave more of it, more of his approval, more of him — but he pulls you off with a pop, a trail of saliva traveling from his swollen head to your mouth, before doing it again and again, each time longer than the last.

“So fucking good,” he pants, pulling you off him again, his eyes blown as you suck on his tip like a lollipop.

Your tongue swirls around his head, wrapping your hands around the rest of him that you don’t swallow, little moans escaping.

And then he’s pressing you back down again, his grip holding you stationary as he thrusts into you like he can’t help himself, every action powerful and erotic as the sound of your throat taking his vigorous pace fills the truck. As he fucks your mouth, you knead your breast in your hand, pinching hard at your nipple when the desire to slip your hand between your thighs nearly overcomes you.

Scott watches it all with a growing arousal, his voice deep as he groans. “Fuck, honey, just like that. Want you to remember this next time you think of talking back,” he says, eyes closing briefly at how good you feel. “So fucking perfect with my cock down your throat. Does that make you hot, honey? Wanna rub that fucking clit while I fuck your face?”

You moan around him in response, something between a yes and a please that sounds more muffled than an actual word. Every time you take him deeper you feel that hot flash of aching desire pulse through you, your blood hot, sure that even through your panties you were dripping all over his leather seats.

The thought has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Scott’s growls turn positively primal as he pulls you off. “Keep making that face and I’m gonna cum right down that pretty throat.” He lifts enough to bring you to your knees, wrapping an arm around you to pull you flush against him as he drags his heavy touch along your naked frame. “You don’t want that, do you, honey? Fuck, I can smell how soaked you are for me.”

He wastes no time as he slips his hand beneath your panties, fingers sliding easily between your slicked folds as he groans. “My dirty girl. You like my filthy fucking mouth, honey, is that it?” Scott pushes a finger inside you, your body arching up into his as you nod, a breathy noise escaping. “Like when I tell you how good you feel? How fucking hard it gets me? How I dream about fucking you every single night when I’m away?”

God, yes. You assumed — but never asked — about what he thought when he couldn’t be near you, but the confirmation that you were on his mind just as much as he was on yours makes you clench around his finger.

“I’m gonna taste you,” Scott promises, his voice ragged. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’ll hear you in the city.”

It’s all the warning you get before he presses you down onto the seat, his mouth capturing yours as he settles atop you. Your body is pliant underneath his, gripping every inch of him, while he trails his mouth along your soft skin. Fuck, you felt like heaven to him — so smooth to his calloused hands.

And you made the prettiest noises when his mouth descended on your nipple, sucking and flicking at the hardened nub before giving equal attention to the other, all too aware of how your hips roll helplessly as he kisses his way down your tummy.

“I love how desperate you get,” he groans, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties, drawing them down your legs. He nudges your legs apart with his nose, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your thigh. Thick fingers spread your folds apart as he takes you in, the touch making you reach for something to hold onto.

“Please,” you whine, running your fingertips along his shoulder, propping yourself up as he sucked a possessive mark into your thigh. Scott just hums, moving to the other, relishing in the sharp intake of breath as he nips at you. “Please make me feel good, sir?”

“You gonna be good for me?” He asks again, blue eyes flicking up to meet yours, his question serious as he nears the apex of your thighs.

You nod, tongue darting out between your lips as his focus momentarily breaks, darting down to watch how his fingers slide effortlessly over you, teasing your clit. “I’ll be good, sir, I swear.” Just as long as he keeps touching you like that, you’ll agree to anything.

Scott hums, playing with you for long enough that you think he’ll tease you into oblivion. But then his tongue darts out. licking a hot stripe up your center, and he groans, and you… You have just enough time to fall back to seat before his mouth is upon you.

The way he claims you with his tongue makes the wait worth it. Scott isn’t shy about feasting on you, his wet fingers slipping to spread your thighs further apart for him, lapping at you like your pussy is a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Every swirl of his tongue, every flick against your clit, every long drag that has you gasping for breath, your mouth falling open while he readjusts his grip to keep you steady.

Scott groans as he collects your desire on his tongue, pulling back enough to revel at how spread open you are for him. He spits, the lewd action making your head spin, before his fingers rub it through your folds, circling your entrance while his other reaches up to knead your breast.

“I wish we had hours for this.” The admission is low in his voice, ragged from claiming you, pressing a kiss to your thigh as you try to still your hips against his torturous fingers. “Just as sweet as I remember, honey. Better. Fuck, you taste so…”

He doesn’t finish his thought, descending upon you again as his mouth attaches to your clit. You cry out at the special attention he gives it, teasing you just right, his tongue swirling and flicking and lips closing around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips move on their own accord, fingers digging into his brown curls as you grind in time with his tongue. Scott gasps as his touch abandons you to stroke himself, the angle uncomfortable in the cramped space of his backseat.

You clamp down on your bottom lip when your orgasm builds faster than you expect it to, hoping to stifle the increase of noise as he brings you closer and closer. Scott just keeps his brutal pace, those dark blue eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“Sir—” Your breath comes out hot when he groans, the vibrations of it nearly toppling you over the edge. You want so desperately to listen, fighting the way he coaxes it quicker, something heady and mischievous sparkling in those eyes, but it’s too much, he’s too much, that invisible rubber band pulling tighter and tighter, your control slipping, the wet sounds of his tongue dragging over your heat too much to bear—

You scream out as Scott pulls away entirely from you, all that tension coiling tight with nowhere to release, and watch helplessly as his expression flickers somewhere between smug and disappointed. You tremble against the loss, little twitches that give away how close you were from disobedience, your whine high and keening.

“Oh, honey, were you close?” Scott coos, his tone full of condescension as he rests his cheek on your thigh, an evil, wicked, vile grin teasing the corners of his mouth. You glare at the dimple in his cheek. “You think I’m dumb enough to not know when you are? That your pussy doesn’t tell me when you’re trying to be quiet? I know all your tells, honey. Every. Single. One.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his palm coming down hard against your open heat. The slap has you spiraling, a cry escaping you as your back arches up off the leather, the pain lingering uncomfortably as your ass grinds against the seat. Scott wastes no time crawling up your body, swallowing all your pitiful noises as you taste yourself on his tongue.

His teeth sink into your bottom lip as he pulls away. “Not tonight, honey.”

Your heart seizes in your chest at the confirmation — having suspected it, but half-hoping that he’d forgive your past sins if you were good enough. Scott just grins, lifting so all his weight isn’t settled atop you, running his hands down the still-twitching frame of your body, pushing his jeans down further as one hand drags along your hip.

“Please?” You beg, taking his face in your hands, blinking big doe eyes up at him. “I can’t—”

“You can.” His confidence in you is unwavering, pausing his movements to give you his undivided attention. One kiss, two, three, to the corner of your mouth, each softer than the last, bringing you down from a high he stole away. “We’ll test those limits properly another time. I have so many ideas…” He trails off with a groan, seeming to think better of listing all the ways he could make you bend to his will. “But you can. And you will.”

A whimper escapes at the finality, but you manage a weak nod. It’s all the encouragement Scott needs to draw your leg around his hip, slotting himself between your parted legs. The weight of him dragging through your slicked folds presses a gasp into his shoulder, your arms sliding around his broad frame.

And then he’s sinking into you, stealing the breath from your lungs as your taut body stretches to accommodate his size.

He’s massive — and delicious and throbbing and every other perfect word in the dictionary as you forget how to breathe, how to think, the more he buries himself inside you. You hear his strangled moan against your neck as your head tosses back, pulling him closer, hissing as he draws back just to press right back into you.

He works you just like that for what feels like hours, pushing and pulling, slow as he presses kisses to your skin, holding your hips steady. You know he’s holding himself back, that he’s letting your body get used to him after so long apart, after little more than a press of his fingers and tongue at your entrance. It makes your heart flutter in your chest — he could have fucked his way ruthlessly through you and you would’ve taken every second of it just the same, but the fact that he pauses to take his time now, to lengthen a moment that he shouldn’t be having in the first place…

God. You loved him.

You both moan as he bottoms out inside you, his hips driving forward just a little further on instinct. “Fucking missed this,” Scott pants, careful as he slides a palm under you, lifting your ass off the seat to thrust inside you again. Your gentle touch trails across his broad shoulders and down his arms, a silent message for him to keep going.

And then he fucks you like he promised.

It’s a combination of everything: the time apart, the time you had left, how neither of you could seem to get close enough to each other. He splits you apart and brings you back together with every snap of his hips, filling you exactly how you need, gasping against each other as you angle up to meet him halfway.

Your mouth presses feverishly to his, the sound of your desperate moans filling the small space against the way your body greedily accepts his. Scott stalls his tempo just enough to pull away, sliding his hands back to your hips to lift you onto him before returning to his brutal pace, the new angle giving you a perfect view of his cock stretching you out.

“Being so good for me,” Scott hums, pleased, his fingers splaying over your belly as he ruts deeper into you. The intensity of it, of him, makes you blink back stars as his heady gaze is trained on yours, grabbing onto him as he continues, “Feels so fucking good, honey, fuck.“

Your eyes slip down to watch as he slides in you, the sight of him hard and coated with your arousal making you moan. Scott grips the back of your neck to keep you there, your body curled up into whatever mold he desires, pressing your knee back to the cushion as he shifts himself closer.

“Dirty fucking girl, you like that?” Scott’s voice turns guttural with how you tighten around him, your pretty moans like music to his ears, “Like watching your little pussy take my cock? Seeing how fucking good I stretch you out?”

You nod, another moan spilling from your mouth, only to whimper when he slides fully out of you. The crude smack of his cock against your clit only makes you hotter, your skin on fire as he plays with you, always in control. “Tell me,” he groans, teasing as he grinds himself against you. “Let me hear you, honey.”

“I love it,” you pant, unable to tear your gaze away from his thick length. You want desperately to reach down and press him where you crave him most, but you resist, fingers curling into fists at his sides as you plead, “Please fill me up, sir, I need it. Need you to fuck me, need you to claim me, need you to make this little pussy all fucking yours, please.”

It’s all Scott needs to press into you again, his pace hard and demanding with your wishes. He slides an arm underneath you to hold you steady, his teeth leaving marks on your neck, your shoulder, your collar, pressing moans into your skin with every rough piston of his hips, the sound of skin on skin, and your hard, labored breathing filling the space. And then he’s flipping you over, your hands and knees pressing into the leather as you push back against him, delirious with the new angle as he tugs you up, your back to his chest.

The possessive, strong grip on your waist slides up to knead your breast while he thrusts into you from behind, his lips at your ear, growling every profanity under the sun.

“This what you want, honey?” His hips snap hard into you, the contact against your sensitive ass making your eyes roll back into your head. The mix of the pleasure and the pain he gives you is unlike anything else you’ve ever felt. Scott always finds the perfect balance, his hand sliding between your thighs to tease your clit, your body wanton against him. “Being claimed? Owning you completely?” At your answering moan, he grins. “Could you handle it? Being mine in every way?”

“Yes,” you moan, trying in vain not to swirl your hips and failing, searching for more while he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I’m already yours, sir.”

“Yeah, honey, I feel it.” They come out strangled as you clench around him, your body responding eagerly to every touch. “So sweet right now, aren’t you? Wanna cum so badly, don’t you?” You whimper out as he angles himself deeper inside you, hitting that spongey spot in time with his ministrations. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think, as he finds the perfect pace to drive you closer to the edge, dangling just on the precipice of release. “Bet you’d agree to anything right now just to cum, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Head tossing back against his shoulder, you dig your nails into his jeans where you hold him to you, looking at but not seeing the reflection of how he commands you, his mouth drawing along your neck. “Please,” you beg, trembling with the exertion of holding yourself together. “Scott— Sir, please, I’m so close—”

“I know.” Cooed, mockingly, along the column of your throat, he ceases every torturous move as he stills inside of you, his hands quick to press your hips down against his. The sudden lack of attention makes you cry out, chest heaving, as he steals your orgasm away again, the frustration and desire mixing until you’re growling through clenched teeth.

Scott just grins, watching it all with a gleeful expression, that dark look swirling in his eyes as he doesn’t dare move an inch. “You can be as nice as you want, honey,” He presses a patronizing kiss to your shoulder, that alone having you twitching against him, small little sounds that you can’t control escaping as he toys with your fraying edges. “I’m still not letting you cum tonight.”

“But—” You think better against talking back, clamping your mouth shut as you whimper again. “When?”

“When you’ve earned it.” Scott slides his hands over your body, dragging along your peaked nipples, taking both breasts in his large hands and groaning as he touches you. “You want to earn it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp automatically, your hands fisting handfuls of his brown locks as he sucks another possessive mark on you. “Please, sir.”

“How far would you go?” His voice carries that inquisitive tone that speaks of danger, the kind that has your cunt fluttering around him in response. He grunts against you at the sensation, still unmoving, just thick and hard and throbbing in you enough to leave your mind reeling. Your breath stalls when his touch wanders down to press at your belly. “Would you let me cum inside you?”

Every thought in your brain scatters at those words, wanting and needing before you can even voice it. He’s never asked; always pulling out to paint your chest, your back, your face. But the way he asks, his voice quiet yet desperate, the unmistakable edge to it that tells you he’s been thinking about it for a while, waiting for the right time, the right moment — suddenly his insistence on if you’d brought your birth control comes to the front of your mind, and you know. Know he’s been planning this. That if it weren’t here, it would’ve been sometime this weekend.

Scott is patient as he lets it all sink in, studying you, waiting for a shift of an expression, or your body responding against his desires. Something dark awakens in him at your whimper of approval.

“You’d look so fucking pretty like that,” he continues, slowly resuming his pace, much slower now than it was before, as he groans every fantasy he’s dreamt of for the past week into you. “So full of my cum… It wouldn’t all fit, would it, honey? But you’d beg me, wouldn’t you? Beg me to fuck it deeper in your sweet cunt?” Your breath labors as he grunts out, teeth sinking into your skin. “Beg me to put a baby in you?”

Fuck, yes.

You writhe against him with every word out of his mouth, your moans spilling freely as you nod, desperate, agreeable, unaware of how much he wanted it, obsessed about it. How the sight of you in his clothes made him want to put a ring on your finger, how every time you came over to his place he had to fight to ask you to move in, how the idea of your belly swollen with his child made him so horny he couldn’t think about anything else some days, how the thought of you and forever were so intertwined to him now that he couldn’t imagine anyone else to spend the rest of his life with.

All sappy, sentimental things that he didn’t dare voice, locked tight between his teeth, letting only a little spill out.

The need to own you, to claim you, was overwhelming. Scott wanted nothing more than to fuck you hard enough to make your brain flicker off until you couldn’t even speak, until you were completely at his mercy, until every drop of him was spent inside you. Possession and desire bleed into one — just waiting, aching, throbbing, bruisingly so, for your voiced consent.

“I need it,” you finally choke out, trembling, your voice utterly broken. “Please give it to me, sir? Please, please, pretty please?”

Scott moans, long and deep and loud, as he buries his face in the curve of your neck. And then he’s pounding into you, every muscle of his body pulled tight as you wrap around him like velvet perfection, his grip hard and unyielding against your hips as every rough slam of his hips into yours sends your body jolting forward. Your hand slaps to the window in front of you, leaving prints against the foggy glass, and he follows greedily, pressing his weight into you as he spreads your thighs further apart with a growl, fucking you into the seats.

Your orgasm painfully lingers, every needy moan spilling from your mouth only driving him further into you, wild with need, no longer the controlled man you knew but something more animalistic, primal.

“Fucking take it just like that,” he growls, not even sounding human, every word gritted through his teeth as you feel every thick inch of him around your slick walls, his hand slotted between your thighs to part your folds, sinking deeper until there’s no space left. “F-fuck, that’s so fucking— Perfect, honey, fuck— Pussy’s fucking made for me—”

He’s close — you can feel it in the way his thrusts grow uneven as he chases his release, the way he roughly grasps your chin to kiss you, sloppy and more tongue than lips, how his fingers leave Scott-shaped bruises wherever he grips you, his blunt nails biting into your hip, your sides, your breasts as he struggles for purchase. You don’t realize you’re sobbing in pleasure until he wipes your tears away, until he praises how good you’re being taking him like this, groaning when your body responds eagerly to his positivity.

You dance in time with him, meeting him halfway, angling your hips up just right. And you feel, rather than hear, the way Scott moans in ecstasy as he finds that perfect spot in your heat, numb to anything and everything that isn’t his thick cock pounding your weeping, used hole.

You think you cum — or maybe it’s just the last shreds of sanity leaving as Scott reaches his peak, nothing but your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fills you with his seed, rutting up against you until it’s painful, the warmth of him spreading into you. His heart pounds against you as he slips his hand to your belly, pressing you closer, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as his hips twitch until he’s emptied out, fucking the last drops of his cum into you exactly like he’s dreamt.

And when you come down your orgasm sits uncomfortably high and untouched, a broken sob escaping you as he pulls out with a wet pop.

You feel his cum slide down your swollen cunt and flinch with sensitivity as he’s quick to collect himself on his fingers, fucking it back into you. The tension coils tightly inside of you until you’re sure you’re begging him to stop, the pleasure and pain completely overwhelming, exhausted with the effort of obeying his orders as he presses his digits into your used hole.

When you think just about to break, he stops.

And you know you’re going to kill him as he steals your release for a third time.

“Good girl,” Scott whispers, pressing kisses along your soft skin, his hands soothing every part of your twitching frame. You don’t have the strength to ask for more as he pulls you into his arms after sliding your panties back into place, letting you come down as he finds his peace in caring for you, murmuring sweet nothings while your body is pliant against him.

You nuzzle into him when you feel more in control of yourself, your heart slowing to a more steady pace. His name falls softly from your lips, your arms snaking around him to hold him close, his fingertips soft along the small of your back.

When he presses his mouth to yours, you melt into his embrace, exploring him lazily until he’s pulling away, brushing your unruly hair out of your face. “Mine.” He praises with a smile, that dark expression gone, leaving nothing but bright, shining blues you could drown in for hours. “All fucking mine. I own you.”

“Mmm,” Despite the weary in your bones, you can’t help but smile back, a giggle escaping, “Do you?”

Scott doesn’t need to slip his hand between your legs for you to get the picture, just hooks a finger along the waistband of your ruined panties. “You just let me prove it, honey.” He leans forward to kiss you again, slower this time, before pulling away with a regretful sigh when the distinctive chime of his phone goes off. “Need help getting back in your seat?”

“Already?” You whine.

“Gotta go, honey.” He taps your hip, twice. Non-negotiable. “Come on, before the bears smell you and want you for themselves.”

That has you cracking a grin. “You wouldn’t fight a bear for me?”

“What do you think the murder kit is for?” One last kiss to your mouth. “’Course I would. Just not tonight.”

You pout further, but let him grab your long-forgotten clothes off the floor, making yourself presentable again before he does the same. And when you settle back into the passenger seat as he starts the engine, you let your head rest against the window, bubbly and content and happy. Even if you know it won’t last when he has to leave.

As Scott drives through the familiar city streets, you hate the knot of apprehension that clogs your throat when your mind wanders too far about him being gone. Out on the field, anything could happen, even if it was just one of his routine visits. The people he spoke with — if he approached the wrong one, it would be so easy for them to lash out. Scott was a big man, he could take care of himself, but that didn’t stop your fears from pressing down against you.

His hand is firm on your thigh, thumb stroking soft lines in your skin as he catches your expression. And then his truck takes a turn in the opposite direction of your apartment, heading toward his house.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice tinged with confusion as you try to shake off your emotions.

Scott’s grip on the steering wheel tightens just a fraction, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “My place,” he answers simply. “You’ve been up all night, and I’m not about to drop you off and leave you alone like that.”

You frown, the earlier emotions fighting to come back; you glance quickly out the window, cheeks flaming as you’re caught, hating that he’d noticed your weakness. “I’m fine, Scott. I can—”

“No,” he cuts in gently, but firmly. “You need rest. And I’ll rest better knowing you’re somewhere comfortable.” His eyes flick toward you, catching your reflection in the dim light of the street lamps. “Besides,” he adds, his voice lowering to something more intimate, “I’ve got a bed that’s been missing you.”

It’s not a request, and the way he says it makes your heart skip. You know he’s right. As much as you’d wanted to protest, the thought of sleeping alone in your own bed feels wrong, especially with the lingering warmth of his touch still buzzing under your skin.

By the time you pull into his driveway, the familiar sight of his place is almost a comfort in itself. Scott’s fingers brush over your thigh before he parks the truck, a silent reassurance. “I’ll be gone for a few days,” he murmurs, shutting off the engine, “but I want you here. I want you safe.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with a meaning he’s too stubborn to say out loud, but you feel it all the same. He reaches over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your cheek. “Let me make sure you’re okay.”

You nod, unable to find the words, so you just lean into his touch. Scott doesn’t need more than that. He’s out of the truck and rounding it to your side before you can even blink, opening your door and offering his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he says softly, tugging you out and pulling you close against him. His arm slips around your waist as he guides you to the front door, his hold steady and reassuring.

Once inside, the warmth of his home envelops you both, and you feel the tension in your shoulders start to melt away. He’s quick to guide you to his bedroom, knowing the layout of his place better than anyone, but still taking the time to make sure you’re comfortable, handing you one of his shirts to sleep in.

As you slip under the covers, Scott pauses at the edge of the bed, eyes lingering on you. “Get some sleep,” he tells you, his voice gruff but tinged with affection. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You reach for him, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide in beside you, pulling you against his chest. For a moment, you both just lie there, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear soothing you into a drowsy haze. Scott presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting protectively over your hip.

“Sleep, honey,” he murmurs, his voice the last thing you hear before sleep claims you.

In the morning, you wake to the sound of his alarm, the room still dark. Scott’s already dressed, but he hasn’t left yet. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with a softness in his eyes that he rarely lets show. He reaches out, brushing his fingers through your hair as you try to rustle yourself awake.

“Go back to sleep,” he says quietly, his thumb grazing your cheek. “I’ll be back in a few days. Promise.”

Before you can respond, he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his lips. You smile, eyes fluttering shut as you drift back into a peaceful slumber, the last thing you feel is the comforting weight of his hand slipping from yours.

When you finally rise, well rested but achey from the night’s exertions, the sun is high in the afternoon sky and his house is empty, his truck missing from the garage. You wander into the kitchen in search of a cup of tea, pulling the kettle out from underneath his cabinet. And when the steaming mug is in your hands, settling into the breakfast nook that overlooks his backyard, your eyes fall upon his jacket, folded neatly atop all the stuff he’d unpacked while you were sleeping.

And you know he loves you as much as you love him.

[andcars]

[ 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗙𝗨𝗟 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 ] Mondays in Monaco

premise. being carlos' girlfriend means getting dragged along the limelight. you're invited to a sponsor's event and the two of you split for a moment. a moment is a long enough of a time for his jealousy to strike up

tags #ㅤjealousy, making out, posessiveness, semi-public display of affection wc #ㅤ 1.1k

ㅤㅤFEEL FREE TO INBOX ME FOR THOUGHTS OR REQUESTS !

| MASTERLIST⠀TAGLIST⠀PATREON GUIDE⠀MONDAYS IN MONACO

The hum of the crowd buzzed in your ears. It was a busy night for both you and Carlos, needing to nurse in some sponsors for the season. You stand near the open bar, a completely full glass of red wine in hand. You’re used to these functions by now, tonight was nothing different. Almost so, anyway. 

Carlos is rather busy. The lights catch the glint of Carlos’s eyes every time he glances your way. You'd think it was worrying about your boredom but it was something else. Perhaps it’s the persistent man who had been hovering at your side for the past twenty minutes, his charm falling just short of genuine.

“So, you’re not interested in Formula 1 at all?” he asks, leaning in a little too close, his breath tinged with whiskey.

You forced a polite smile. Not everyone gets it, you reminded yourself. In fact, more people have just assumed you know nothing of the sports. “Not my favourite sport,” you replied, “much more of a basketball person or wrestling. Carlos has made me deepen my love for F1, though.”

Your gaze drifts over his shoulder to where Carlos was deep in conversation with a group of sponsors. He looks back and a laughs fall short on him.  “Ah, Sainz. Lucky guy.” He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes locking back on yours. There's a strange confidence glowing from him, it's terrible. “But sometimes, it’s nice to get a little attention of your own, isn’t it?”

Whatever that meant.

“I’m good, actually,” you told him. Your drink suddenly seems even more unappetising than it was earlier. He doesn't seem to get the point that you're not interested in this conversation. “You’re from HP, right? That's nice. Must have more important things than listening to the WAG talk about the wrong sports.”

He laughs. It sounds like grazing. “Nothing more important, don't worry, girl,” oh God, “You think you’re up to some drinking?”

Before you could respond (an insult was on your tongue), a familiar presence materialised at your side. Carlos’s arm slid around your waist, his touch warm but almost too tight when it should be soft. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, his voice smooth with an edge that made your heart flutter. You can almost tell what's going to happen next. “But I need to steal her for a moment.”

The man’s confidence falters. His expression neutralizes as he straightens himself, trying to compose himself. Maybe the act of literally hitting on your client’s girlfriend was embarrassing to an audience. “Of course,” he mutters, stepping back.

Carlos doesn't wait for a reply. He leads you away with a firm but gentle grip. His strides were almost rushed, weaving through the crowd until you both reach a secluded corner. The noise of the event fades into a distant white noise. You're far enough to be hidden with some walls but the chatter of people is still present. The moment you two become alone, he turns to face you, his eyes dark with something that sends a gleeful shiver down your spine.

“That guy,” he began, his voice playing with shallow water, “has been talking to you for way too long.”

The excuse is laughable. You raise an eyebrow, trying to play it cool despite knowing Carlos’ pattern already. “Jealous?”

His lips twitched, but there was no humour in his expression. You try to stop a smile. “Yes. And you should be flattered by that.” He steps closer, crowding you against the wall. His hands rest on your waist, body softly crashing into yours to kill the distance..

Your breath hitches as his gaze drops to your lips. You can feel his breath against your face as his fingers twitch to have a hold on you. You start, “Carlos—”

He doesn’t let you finish. His mouth crashes into yours, his kiss demanding and relentless. You feel your body respond in tone with his. Carlos’ tongue swipes past your lips, pushing in for entrance to further claim you. He wants to taste your entire being because it's the way he wants to own you. You melt into him, your hands gripping his blazer as both of you disappear from the world.

Carlos is touchy. One of his hands strokes up and down on your side as the other wraps around. You return the favour by swinging a hand around his neck, feeling that thick neck in your skinnier arms. He loves it. A small gasp leaves him as his tongue directly kisses yours. The feeling of it is dizzying and heartwarming. You're fucking addicted to it.

When he pulls back, you’ve become breathless, your lips swollen and tingling. In his eyes, you can tell that the two of you separated not out of his own choice. It's from the need to breathe. You know that if both of you didn't need air, he would be kissing you for days. 

 “You’re mine, cariño. Don’t forget that.”

A teasing phrase was about to drop from your tongue. It doesn't reach his ears when a cough interrupts you. Both of your attention move to the man—yes, that man—who stands there awkwardly. “I, uh, didn’t mean to interrupt,” he stammers, his eyes darting between you and Carlos. “Just wanted to reach the bathroom, mate.”

Carlos doesn’t move, his arm still around your waist as he fixes the man with an unbothered look. It's as if he hadn't just kissed you like a starved man just for him talking with you. “You weren’t,” he said coldly. “In fact, I was just showing her how much she means to me.”

The man’s face flushed as he mumbled an apology and passed by the two of you, his footsteps a fading noise. Carlos turns back to you, his lips curling into a smug smile. “Now, where were we?”

“Come on, Carlos,” you try to remind him, “you have a lot of people to attend to. I can just hang around for a while.”

“Hm…” he fauxes thinking as he hugs your frame. “Are they so important to me as you are?”

Your cheeks flush but you laugh at his ridiculousness. “I'm being serious. Go out there and entertain them like monkeys.”

He huffs. “Okay,” Carlos starts to pull away and you're smiling—

The ridiculous man turns around and returns with another kiss, this one slower but no less consuming. Immediately, he wraps himself around you in a warm embrace. You unexpectedly lean against him, putting your weight to his. He's loving the way you have to depend on him. Open-mouthed kisses come to your mouth and he breathes out,, “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you moan out. You feed his possessiveness and he is receiving it gleefully.

He mumbles the same thing over and over and you gladfully tell him the same. He's yours, you're his. He doesn't put your lips to rest and it's like the event doesn't matter. You don't push him away because you don't really want him to leave either. You're utterly whipped. Carlos smiles against the kiss and doesn't let you go the rest of the night.

@Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @rtorresblog @Jamie2305 @yourmommyagone22 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144

FOOTNOTE ────── I WANT HIMMMMM i found that front pic of carlos and i just WANT HIMMMMM pls lord one chance... one... one chance....

[stargirlfics]

sweet as silk, just like lavender , butttttt they do get caught 👀🤤

Listen the double take I did seeing this in my inbox and then immediately brainstorming once I was like oh!

Hope you enjoy a little more Alfred Pennyworth filth, picking up right where we left off in the in the library of Wayne Manor 💓 this is…

chocolate fizz, seepin’ down into your bloodstream

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, semi-public sexual acts, exhibitionism, voyeurism, established relationship, no previous reading required, smut: soft dom!alfred, oral, cockwarming, creampie

Blotting beads of dew from your forehead, you exhaled another shaky breath still reeling from the steamy edges of pleasure Alfred had just coaxed from you with his fingers.

​Couldn’t be too surprised anymore at his ability to make you feel so good but you were always left speechless, the yearning both quelled and broadened at the same time.

​​Sweetness lingering from the touch of his lips softened the quiet shuffle of arms and feet making yourselves look a little more put together but you smirk to yourself seeing the pattern of stress lines in the fabric of your skirt.

​​​​To anyone else it may have simply looked as if you hadn’t ironed in awhile but you knew the swirl the material made when it was bunched up in a fist, and his had been a tight grip, perfect to use as leverage and rock you back and forth against the thrust of his hand.

​​It’s distracting really, coming down from the bliss just to drive yourself crazy reminiscing, aching unabashedly and working yourself up for more.

​​The whole point of dragging him into the library in the first place was for his acute knowledge of this particular section of books, he’d been helping you look for a special edition you were sure was here somewhere but from the moment he had rolled up his sleeves and pulled out his glasses to scan the shelves you suddenly didn’t care very much about finding it.

​​Now you were trying not to squirm watching him fix his waistcoat, a smooth adjustment of his trousers hiding the bulge your hands were itching to reach out and play with.

​​​​It didn’t help that he had the most handsome pink tinge to his cheeks and the way you’re both unable to glance at each other for too long because of how risky and crazy that just was joined with the fact that you both liked it.

​​​Having to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together when he carefully knelt down to pick up your underwear, holding up his hand for you to take as he helped you step into them, always so sweet with you that it only fueled the thoughts you were trying to rid from your mind.

​​Heat was still burning in your body as you resumed searching, working side by side with an unspoken bubble of tension forming in the silent pauses and brushes of your shoulder against him, all points of contact he was keeping a tally of.

​​That was a game Alfred quickly found was doing nothing to help keep his mind off the taste of your essence still on his tongue or the look in your eye when you watched him savor the slick release off his fingers, never had he wanted to abandon proper etiquette and principles to have you pressed against that stained glass more.

​​​​“Found it! See, I knew it was here. Think I just needed you next to me, my good luck charm!” You wink and take the book over to the empty reading desk between the shelves.

​​​​Maybe it’s your turn to be distracting, deciding not to sit in the empty chair there but instead setting the book down on the table and facing away from him, leaning over and bending just a little to flip through the pages.

​​​The truth was you were in no rush to leave the quiet sanctuary of the library just yet, loathe to let Alfred return to his study for a few more hours before you had him to yourself for the evening, why not start now?

​​​​You were aware you were being especially over the top about it but there was a certain thrill in teasing, the slight sway of your hips unconscious, a manifestation of the desire blooming at your very center.

​​​A faint but sharp intake of breath from behind you sparked a wave of anticipation and you hoped he wouldn’t drag it out too much longer even though you were most definitely having your fun.

​​​All you needed and wanted most was him.

​​​Then, just as your little game of pretend was starting to slip and you were becoming less and less interested in what was on the pages of the book, you felt the sultry press of his waist against your backside, effectively scooting you in closer against the table.

​​​“Darling, what are you doing to me, hm?” Alfred groans against your shoulder, “Can you feel how stiff you have me?”

​​​​You can and don’t stop yourself from grinding back onto him, a moan at the tip of your tongue.

​​​​“Please…need you!” the words get caught in your throat when you feel his palm slide up to the back of your neck and it’s so easy let your head fall back, whining the more he presses against your core.

​​​​“Just can’t get enough today, is that it?” His breath at the shell of your ear makes you shiver, you hear the pride in his tone however far gone you are and it has you pushing the book away from you to brace both hands flat on the table.

​​“Of you? Never.”

​​​​He’s saying something else about naughty behavior and driving him mad but your mind is a little too hazy to make sense of the words, only that he sounded gruff yet playful and the kneading caress of your neck was too good to resist giving into.

​​​​You were being so patient, pleading to him for more in between heavy kisses, his glasses set aside on the table, his cane resting against the shelf behind you and before long he was spinning you around to face him, guiding you to rest between his legs as he sat down.

​​​​Restless couldn’t begin to describe the buzzing in your limbs, his thighs spread wide, the fabric straining even tighter than before but you kept well behaved, waiting until he said you could finally touch what you wanted most.

​​​​The softened sparkle to your eyes when you looked up had him by the throat, undoing the zipper to his pants before you could get to it not wasting anymore time, letting you have him with eagerness.

​​​​He liked seeing your hands full with his cock, liked how you licked your lips and stroked him, a sick, sweet edge of desperation in the jerk of your fist, it was perfect.

​​​​Sparing no ounce of your attention, you were focused on nothing else but his scent and the taste of his skin as you finally took him into your mouth, humming in delight when you feel the strain in his hips, how he was fighting the urge to push himself deeper into your throat but you encourage it.

​​​​You wished he weren’t still fully clothed, palms braced against his thighs but you know it’d be far too risky to undress so you savored each roll of his hips into your waiting mouth, swirling your tongue along the underside of his length with each bob of your head.

​​​​Alfred hardly knew what to do with himself, fists clenched at first but now they’d drifted to cup your jaw, then sliding up your shoulders when you took him in deeper than you had before and settled your arms against his chest.

​​“Christ, you make such a pretty sight, drooling on my cock like that. That’s it, nice and easy.” The growl in his words makes you whine around him, glancing up to smile at him hoping he’ll see just how much fun you were having, how proud of yourself you were.

​​​​It’s written all over your face and he doesn’t miss a moment, the pretty hollow of your cheeks and the way you massage his balls that pull tight at the thought of finishing on your tongue, knowing you wouldn’t waste a drop, how you suck on the sensitive head and then throat him to the base as if it doesn’t make his knees utterly weak.

​​​And those sounds you were making too, trying to keep quiet given where you were but still humming and softly moaning out your delight and praise in between moments where you surface for air, he feels so far gone, wrapped up and mesmerized by your touch, your entire being a siren song for only his ears to hear.

​​​​You desperately wanted to touch yourself, pressing your thighs together for relief while your lashes fluttered away tears, greedily taking what he was giving you, not minding the messy smear of his precum along your chin just as long as he kept that delightful grip on your jaw.

​​​​It was easier like that, to let him hold the weight of your head setting the pace that he liked, you’d happily keep up, fascinated with the way his muscles tensed beneath you, the steady thud of his pulse urging you on.

​​​​You loved watching what you were doing to him, loved how much looser and dirtier he became with his words.

​​​“I fit so perfectly in your throat, darling. Look at that, keeping me there until you can barely breathe. Do you know how gorgeous you are when you struggle?”

​​​That had you beaming with pride the most, begging as he pulled you off his length to lean in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that told you you’d get exactly what you wanted.

​​​Hauling you up by the wrists gently, he spun you around to face away from him again, keeping you between his knees.

​​​Your breaths quickened as you took a peek over your shoulder, tingles going down your spine watching Alfred admire you, big hands smoothing up the backs of your legs to rest at your waist, applying pressure so you’d lead forward onto the desk a little.

​​​The hungry look in his eye and the way he can’t seem to settle on watching your face or what he’s doing only makes you adore him more and before long he’s hooking your underwear to the side with a groan.

​​​​You’re soaked and ready for him, swaying your hips again, trying to get a patient man to break.

​​​​“I just can’t help myself, baby. You make me so wet all the time.” Your soft sighs make him throb, you know they do by the way he twitches, how he adjusts himself in the chair as you lower your hips so the tip slides sweetly against your clit.

​​​He’s going to fuck you right here in the library.

​​​“Yeah, is this what my little fox needs so badly? You’re going to have to keep it down you know.” Alfred grins.

​​​​“I’ll be good, I promise! Just want you to fill me up, I need you…” another whine when he pushes against your entrance for a moment, teasing you back.

​​​​And then finally, a warm and familiar pressure made your toes curl as Alfred held your hips and lowered you down onto his cock, fingers quick to soothe with his middle finger circling your clit, his focus on the pitch of your muffled moans and gasps.

​​“Such a big stretch, ohh I know sweetheart.” The tone of his voice had you panting, leaving you no reprieve before pushing in another inch, seating you in his lap and giving you a moment to adjust to how full you felt.

​​​​In the best way you weren’t sure if you could possibly take any more, your palm clamped tight over your mouth as he began to bounce you up and down slow, the most intense pleasure spreading through your entire body, your back arched so pretty he was moving in to kiss your spine.

​​​​“That feels so good, yes please!” You’re melting into his arms, clenching around him with each deep thrust.

​​​It’s just when you’re starting to work up a good rhythm when you both hear the oak doors to the library creak open and footsteps following. “Oh fuck…”

​​​You slow down and look back at Alfred in a panic but he only looks annoyed at having to stop, that crease between his brow softened to turn you back around, reaching expertly for the novel in front of you and opening it with a flourish of the hand, his free arm keeping you anchored in his lap.

​​​It took everything in you not to cry out, the thick head of him pressed so deep you struggled not to chase the earth shattering pleasure pulsing through your walls as you cockwarmed him.

​​This was insane and thank goodness from this angle it simply looked as if you were sitting in his lap looking over a page together but you had to hope and pray you could keep up the act as one of the Manor’s security came into view a few rows down.

​​​“Good afternoon, Mr. Pennyworth. Sorry to disturb you both, I thought one of Ms. Kyle’s cats had gotten in again, I’m supposed to keep them from sleeping in the shelves per Mr. Wayne’s orders.”

​​​Keeping perfectly still you don’t think you could manage to look up out of embarrassment nearly getting caught but you could tell by the guard’s voice it was the daytime guy who didn’t put much effort into investigating, still, keeping your head low, you pretended to be intently reading what was in front of you.

​​​“No cat sightings here, thank you, however, for checking. Please do lock the doors behind you I have a spare key and can lock up once we’re done here. Spanish lessons! Lot’s of work to put in.”

​​Alfred clears his throat, ​​sitting up in the chair a little further, making you clench around him once more, a gasp almost leaving your lips.

You can’t even begin to wrap your head around how he kept his voice so cheery and level, always so poised and here you were, sweating and hardly able to string together a sentence.

​​​But it doesn’t matter now, the quiver in your knee let him know you understood the double meaning in his words and he intended to reward you for how well you were doing.

​​So still and quiet, acting the part but all the while, leaking around his cock like the dirty girl you were and he loved it beyond words, loved that he was unlocking a part of you that could only exist with him.

​It felt like you were being watched for an eternity and you don’t bother to try and decipher the rest of their conversation, fixating on playing with the hair on Alfred’s forearms.

​You had to distract yourself, not realizing how close you were already but every now and then he’d flex his bicep and you’d lose almost all your progress.

​​​Surely you were going to explode trying so hard not to fuck yourself back onto him but finally, the guard steps back and fades from your view.

​​​You kept your posture as straight as you can, palms sweating, legs beginning to shake at the effort until you heard the doors close and lock and you gave into the wall of pleasure beating at your core with a strangled moan.

​​“Alfred!”

​​​“Shh, that’s my girl. I’ve got you, that’s it just let me take care of you now.”

​​You don’t protest, handing over your body and what little of your mind was still present amongst the haze of his strokes hitting that tender spot inside you that had you seeing stars, begging him not to stop.

​​​His forehead presses against your shoulder, keeping up a steady rhythm, fucking you with every ounce of lust and love oozing from his pores, needing to feel you cream around him, make a mess of his pants.

​​No one could make him feel as you do, he’d do anything, devoted wholly to your pleasure.

​​“You’re gonna make me come again.” You’re crying out, biting your thumb and squirming with each hard bounce of your ass against his lap now.

​​​“That's exactly what I want. Come on, give me another one, sweetheart.” He coos, loving that your nails have left crescent moons indented in his skin.

​​Helpless to stop the tidal wave of a climax from washing over, you could only listen to his words, hanging onto to every single one as he talked you through it, keeping you immersed in the sensation and nearly letting go himself from how tightly you were squeezing him.

​​Watching you come down from the high for a second time was even better, happy to leave you fucked out and feeling good just as you deserved.

​​His arms were firm but gentle with you, keeping you steady as you bounced you up and down himself for the last few thrusts before finally finishing pressed deep inside your pussy, his moans muffled into your shoulder.

​​“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” You’re panting, a sly smirk forming when he fixes your underwear for you a little while later.

​​​​Once your heartbeats had slowed and you could think clearly again. Coming back to your senses.

​​​​As much as you wished for him to stay rooted inside you, almost having been caught was not ideal and neither of you wanted another close call.

​​​​“This morning I believe but I love hearing it from you regardless, my love. And I adore you in return, maddeningly so.”

​​​​Alfred took your hand in his, kissing the back of your palm so sweetly, there your feelings go being stirred up again.

​The feeling of his cum dripping from puffy lips onto the cotton between your legs didn’t help whatsoever but you didn’t mind so much.

​​​​Something told you he would help you get cleaned up if you only batted your lashes and said please real nicely, just as good girls did and you loved being one of the very best for him.

​​xoxo

Willing to put myself in risky situations for Dilfred club riseeee! But your honor he’s just so fine!! 🤧 This was super fun, please feel free to be feral in the comments cause I need to scream about this lmfao

Title is from DRIP by EVAN GIIA, funnily enough it’s the next line after “sweet as silk, it’s just like lavender” which I think is so neat!

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 💓

[oldiesstationlover11607]

YOU WRITE FOR WATERPARKS NOW????!!

may i pleaseeee ask for an awsten fic where reader is geoff or otto's sister and they dont really get along but when awsten goes out somewhere and gets into a fight while theyre traveling (theyre staying at a hotel) he goes to readers room and she takes care of his injuries and they make out up and end up sharing a bed. maybe could turn into a secret dating thing but yeah.. hope this makes sense <3

ps. happy early/late birthday (depending on when you read this)

pps i will aboslutely FILL you inbox with parx requests. ive been foaming at the mouth for them. youre an angel !!! 🍊

Secrets - Awsten Knight x Geoff's sister!reader

Word Count: 1552

A/N: Sorry this took so long! please request more awsten pleaseeee bc i love waterparks hehe

I never thought I’d find myself in this situation. It was past midnight, the hotel hallway was eerily quiet, and Awsten, of all people, stood at my door with a split lip, bruised knuckles, and a sheepish look on his face.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, voice low but sharp enough to cut through his usual bravado.

“Good evening to you too,” he quipped, his words slurring slightly as if he’d been chewing on them before spitting them out. “Can I come in?”

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “Not until you explain why you look like you lost a fight with a garbage truck.”

Awsten’s hand went to his lip, dabbing at the dried blood as if he’d only just noticed it was there. “Some guy at the bar was being a jackass,” he muttered. “Said some stuff, shoved me. So, I… shoved him back.”

“And then?” I pressed, raising a skeptical brow.

“And then he punched me.”

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. This wasn’t exactly out of character for Awsten, but it didn’t make it any less ridiculous. “You couldn’t go to Geoff? Or Otto? Why are you at my door?”

“Geoff’s asleep. Otto’s…” He gestured vaguely, like Otto’s absence was a problem too complicated to explain. “And, I don’t know, okay? You were just the first person I thought of.”

That surprised me more than it should have. Awsten and I weren’t exactly close. Sure, I was Geoff’s sister, and we saw each other plenty whenever I tagged along on tours, but our relationship mostly consisted of bickering, sarcastic jabs, and the occasional begrudging truce.

“Fine,” I said, stepping aside to let him in. “But if you bleed on anything, I’m sending you the cleaning bill.”

“Noted,” he said, brushing past me into the small hotel room.

The room was cramped, with barely enough space for the bed, a tiny desk, and a chair shoved awkwardly into the corner. Awsten collapsed onto the edge of the bed with a dramatic sigh, cradling his injured hand like a war hero nursing a battle wound.

I grabbed the first-aid kit from my suitcase, setting it on the nightstand. “Stay still,” I ordered, pulling out a cotton pad and a bottle of antiseptic.

“Yes, doctor,” he said with a smirk, though it faded the moment I pressed the cotton to his lip.

“God, that stings,” he hissed, jerking away.

“Stop being a baby,” I said, grabbing his chin to hold him still. Up close, I could see the faint shadow of a bruise blooming along his cheekbone. His eyes—usually sharp and mischievous—were softer now, a hint of vulnerability peeking through.

“What happened to the guy who hit you?” I asked, dabbing at the cut.

“Got kicked out,” Awsten muttered. “But not before landing a solid punch. Lucky me.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “You really are a magnet for trouble, aren’t you?”

He grinned, even as I pressed a fresh pad to his lip. “What can I say? It’s part of my charm.”

“Charm isn’t the word I’d use,” I muttered, though I couldn’t entirely suppress a smile.

We fell into a rhythm after that—me cleaning up his injuries, him cracking jokes to fill the silence. Despite my annoyance, there was something oddly comforting about the banter. It was familiar, easy in a way I didn’t expect.

“There,” I said, stepping back to admire my handiwork. “You’re semi-presentable again.”

“Thanks,” he said, flexing his fingers experimentally. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“I’ve had practice,” I said. “Geoff isn’t exactly a stranger to dumb injuries.”

Awsten chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “Guess it runs in the family, huh?”

I rolled my eyes, but before I could retort, he shifted awkwardly on the bed. “Uh… actually, can I crash here? Just for tonight?”

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “What?”

“I just… I really don’t want to run into that guy again,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “And, I don’t know, it feels safer here.”

The vulnerability in his tone was unexpected, almost disarming. I hesitated, my instinct to say no warring with a pang of sympathy. Finally, I sighed. “Fine. But you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed.”

“Deal,” he said, already kicking off his shoes and flopping onto the mattress like he owned the place.

I shook my head, climbing in on the opposite side and pulling the blanket over myself. “No funny business, Knight.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, though there was a teasing lilt to his voice that made me wonder if he was lying.

I woke up to warmth.

At some point in the night, Awsten had shifted closer. His arm draped over my waist, his face nestled against my shoulder. My first instinct was to shove him off, but… I didn’t. There was something oddly comforting about the weight of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing against my back.

“Awsten,” I whispered, my voice groggy.

He stirred, mumbling something incoherent before his eyes fluttered open. When he realized where he was, his face went red, but instead of pulling away, he smirked. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Don’t start,” I said, though my cheeks burned.

“Too late.” He propped himself up on one elbow, his grin softening as his eyes met mine. “You know, you’re kinda cute when you’re not yelling at me.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I said, but there was no bite to my words.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His gaze flicked to my lips, and before I could overthink it, he leaned in. The kiss was soft, tentative, like he was waiting for me to shove him away. But I didn’t.

When we pulled apart, his grin was back, full force this time. “So, does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?”

“Don’t get used to it,” I said, though I couldn’t hide my smile.

That should have been the end of it. A one-time thing, a weird blip in the universe that we’d both laugh about later. But it wasn’t.

The rest of the tour passed in a blur of stolen moments. Glances that lingered too long, hands brushing when no one was looking, whispered conversations in dark corners. It was maddening, infuriating, and completely intoxicating.

We didn’t tell anyone—not Geoff, not Otto, not anyone on the crew. Part of me liked the secrecy, the thrill of sneaking around. But another part of me knew it wasn’t sustainable.

One night, a week before the tour ended, Awsten showed up at my door again.

“This is becoming a habit,” I said, though I stepped aside to let him in.

“Can’t help it,” he said, grinning as he plopped onto the bed. “You’re just so beautiful.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart did a little flip anyway. “What do you want, Awsten?”

He hesitated, his usual bravado faltering. “I wanted to see you.”

Something in his tone made my chest tighten. I sat down beside him, the bed dipping under our weight. “What’s going on?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just… scared.”

“Of what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between us. “Whatever this is. It’s… different.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Part of me wanted to agree, to admit that I was scared too. But another part of me—the part that had grown used to keeping people at arm’s length—wanted to push him away.

“I get it,” I said finally. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be so scary.”

Awsten looked at me, his eyes searching mine for something I wasn’t sure I could give him. Then, without a word, he kissed me. This time, there was no hesitation, no waiting for permission. It was messy and desperate and perfect.

When we pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine. “You know this is gonna get complicated, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But maybe it’s worth it.”

The tour ended, and life went back to normal—well, as normal as it could be when you were secretly dating your brother’s bandmate.

Awsten and I fell into a rhythm, sneaking around whenever we could. It wasn’t easy, especially with Geoff constantly hovering, but somehow, we made it work.

One night, as we lay tangled in each other’s arms, Awsten turned to me, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “We should tell him,” he said.

“Who?”

“Geoff,” he said. “I mean, he’s gonna find out eventually, right? Might as well rip the band-aid off.”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting into knots. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

Awsten shrugged. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to keep hiding, either.”

I sighed, resting my head against his chest. “Let’s wait a little longer. Just until things settle down.”

He nodded, though I could tell he wasn’t happy about it. “Okay. But promise me something?”

“What?”

“Don’t let this be a secret forever,” he said, his voice soft. “I don’t want to feel like I’m hiding you.”

I looked up at him, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “I promise,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I believed it myself.

For now, the secret was ours. And for now, that was enough.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

The Art of Healing: Chapter 8

pairing: wanda maximoff x agatha harkness

summary: intense smut and job applications... Wanda discovers that she has to live a life of her own choosing.

content warnings: smut, cunnilingus, enchanted strap-on, deethroating said enchanted strap, overstimulation

word count: 3.8k+

Series Masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The Start of New Beginnings

Scarlet wisps flowed smoothly around the room, Wanda’s fingers barely moving as she silently controlled her magic. Seated on the couch, she commanded her magic to paint the walls a dark red color, the order seeming almost thoughtless as her magic leaped at the instruction. 

Smiling, Wanda let her features morph into a pleased expression, the ease of controlling her magic both exciting and calming her. She can hear Agatha padding around in her study upstairs, the footsteps slow and heavy. Tilting her head, Wanda reluctantly looks back at the laptop in front of her. 

A clean logo sits innocently on the screen, the neutral colors unwavering even as Wanda’s concentration fails, scarlet wisps dissipating as she sighs. 

Who knew that applying for a job would be so fucking difficult.

Honestly, Wanda hadn’t given much thought to her future. She’d fully expected to work for HYDRA with Peitro by her side until they were no longer of use. Besides, it’s hard to plan your future when you’ve been orphaned in the streets of an impoverished country. 

Agatha was the one who introduced the idea of a job, blue eyes kind as she urged Wanda to think about her future. How to make a living, and be an actual citizen. Of course, Wanda had protested, pointing out that Agatha lived by herself in a remote cabin, but the brunette had just cackled and told her that she deserved it after hundreds of years of working her ass off. 

Returning her attention to the screen in front of her, Wanda exports her resume after giving it one final cursory glance. It was good, really good. Agatha had helped her, making it look professional and subtly lying to make Wanda appear more experienced than she was. 

‘Confidence is key, sweet cheeks,’ Was all she’d said, ignoring Wanda’s questions about how she’d somehow acquired all the forged skills written on the resume. 

After a few more grueling minutes, Wanda has her cover letter and resume attached to an email, her cursor hovering over the send button. She hesitates, sitting back slightly as she stares at the screen. 

Waves of self-doubt flood her, the company’s logo mocking her from the site she had pulled up. She felt inadequately prepared, having only attended one event at the company, Agatha’s smooth voice charming anyone within five feet of them. That’s how she’d met the current owner of the business, a formidable-looking woman whose sharp eyes had assessed her quickly. 

The company was well known within the BDSM community, offering a multitude of classes and events for members of the exclusive kink community. Wanda had been impressed at the professionalism of the whole event and somehow had managed to not make a fool of herself in front of the CEO. 

The rest of the night had seemed slightly absurd, time moving quickly as Agatha and she had been given a tour of the building. The woman, Elenor, had turned around abruptly at one point, gray eyes boring into Wanda’s, and uttering a single sentence before turning around and continuing the tour. 

“I want to see your application for my position in my inbox before the end of the week.”

Agatha had thrown her an approving look, and Wanda had simply nodded once, a soft ‘Yes, ma’am,’ leaving her lips. 

That had been two days ago, and now Wanda was stuck in a state of semi-panic and hopefulness as she stared blankly at the screen. Absent-mindedly realizing that Agatha’s pacing had stopped, Wanda blinked as she reached out with her magic. 

The lavender-tinged magic she’d grown used to lingered near the kitchen, and Wanda smiled as she tried something new. Reaching out, she sent a single wisp towards Agatha, commanding her magic to curl around the woman’s wrist and gently lead her towards the couch. 

“Ah, a new trick. Very clever, dear.” Agatha remarked, sipping on her water as she allowed herself to be led towards Wanda. Her blue eyes glanced towards the computer, taking in the unsent email before understanding dawned in them. She moved behind the couch, fingers grazing Wanda’s cheek briefly as she scanned the brief message. 

Hovering over her shoulder, Agatha placed a single hand on Wanda’s sternum, her thumb resting lightly against her throat. Plump lips grazed her ear, Wanda’s breath hitching as Agatha murmured, “If you hit send, I’ll reward you.”

That was all the encouragement Wanda needed, her finger only shaking slightly before clicking the blue send button. She took a deep breath, feeling a wave of nervousness and… relief. 

Chuckling slightly, Wanda marveled at how nervous she’d been. Really, it was a single email. One fucking email, and she’d stressed about it for two days. 

“Good girl,” Agatha murmured, and Wanda felt her panties dampen, blood rushing to her cheeks. “Come with me.”

Wanda didn’t need any additional encouragement, her fingers closing the laptop and reaching for Agatha’s hand within seconds. Strong fingers tangled with her own, pulling her closer until her body hit Agatha’s with a soft thump, lips colliding desperately as Wanda let out a soft groan. 

Making their way towards the bedroom, Señor Scratchy’s eyes following them from the kitchen, Wanda couldn’t help but grind against Agatha. She desperately needed friction, the arousal soaking her panties almost unbearable. 

Then, she felt it. The bulge in Agatha’s slacks, a telltale sign that she was packing. 

Pulling back briefly, Wanda let her hand wander down, fingers squeezing the strap through the silk fabric as Agatha groaned. Her eyes widened, shooting towards Agatha’s. 

The woman’s blue eyes were dark, her pupils dilated as she pulled Wanda’s towards the bed with a sense of urgency. “Yes, I can feel it.” She muttered in between nips and kisses on Wanda’s smooth neck. “It’s a new enchantment I’m trying out.”

Wanda felt a wave of arousal shoot through her. Something about intelligence really got her going, and Agatha was constantly showing her new spells or rune combinations she’d created. Of course, most of their lessons ended with Wanda on her knees, not that she minded. 

Strong hands grabbed the collar of her sweater, pushing backward until Wanda felt the back of her knees hit the mattress. An errant wave of Agatha’s hand slammed the door closed, the woman’s attention focused purely on the redhead seated before her. 

Green eyes locked onto the slight tent in Agatha’s pants, a tongue peeking out and swiping lazily across Wanda’s lips as she felt her thoughts run wild. God, she wanted to pin Agatha down and take the strap so far down her throat. She wanted to hear the brunette moan unabashedly as Wanda forced orgasm after orgasm out of her until the last drops of pleasure were wrangled from her enchanted strap. 

Then, she wanted to tear the toy off of those perfect hips, and absolutely devour the juices that would leak messily from Agatha’s needy pussy. She wanted to…

“Fuck.”

Agatha’s raspy voice tore Wanda from her thoughts. Looking up, she smiled slightly at the sight in front of her. Pupils dilated so severely that only a sliver of dark blue was left, sharp teeth biting desperately into a plump lip, strong thighs clenching together. She looked absolutely perfect. 

“On the bed,” Wanda commanded, keeping her voice soft. 

She’d learned that less is more when being dominant. Some people might like the yelling and sharp words and angry tone, but most submissives yearned for the quiet, strong dominance Wanda offered. 

Almost robotically, Agatha obeyed. The slight tilt of Wanda’s head only encouraged her to move faster, and she discarded her sweater before sitting against the headrest. 

“Did you wear this just for me?” Wanda asked, slowly pulling Agatha’s slacks off. She took the brunette’s slight head nod as an answer, humming briefly in response as her eyes locked on the dark purple strap. 

Agatha wasn’t wearing a harness, but the toy was snug against her, and Wanda practically salivated at the thought of the other end that must’ve been buried inside the woman’s pussy. Her fingers reached out, one hand caressing and pinching Agatha’s nipples, which were rock hard through her bra. The other hand reached down, until Wanda’s fingers were in her underwear, collecting some of the juices that had escaped. 

Blue eyes watched hungrily as Wanda pulled her fingers free, wet strands of arousal threatening to drip from them. They were glistening, and Agatha’s breath caught when that same hand wrapped loosely around the tip of her strap. 

It took everything she had not to thrust her hips feebly into Wanda’s relaxed grip. The scent of Wanda’s juices made Agatha’s head swim, driving her mad. The frictionless movement of those long fingers against her strap, smearing Wanda’s arousal over the silicone made Agatha desperate for more. 

Agatha never begged, but she was about two seconds away from whining. And she couldn’t lose her composure that soon. 

“I want to use your throat until I cum, and then I want to keep fucking you until I’m satisfied,” Agatha practically growled, growing tired of Wanda’s teasing. She took one look at the slow smile spreading across the redhead’s lips before she moved. 

Her hands were tangled with Wanda’s silky strands before she could even think, pulling the woman closer to her strap. Those sparkling green eyes locked with hers, and Agatha felt her arousal grow impossibly stronger. Then, those soft, perfect lips were wrapped around her and moving down and taking her deeper and…

A sultry moan erupted from Agatha, the satisfied sound encouraging Wanda to take her fully. With the strap nestled deep in her throat, Wanda held her head against the woman, breathing in her arousal, before coming up for air. 

Moving her head down again, Wanda sucked the strap sloppily, her tongue wrapping around the tip and swirling teasingly before she bobbed her head down again. The weight of the strap against her tongue sent arousal coursing through her, jolts of electricity making their way straight to her clit with each small rut of Agatha’s hips and every little moan and gasp that escaped from her lips. 

Breathing deeply, Wanda let herself enjoy the slight pain of Agatha’s hand gripping her hair. Every time she moved her head up, the woman would tighten her grip, not wanting to lose a single moment of pleasure. Taking a quick break, Wanda locked eyes with Agatha’s half-lidded ones, resting her chin on the woman’s hip and letting the strap slap lightly against her cheek. 

Agatha let out a low groan at the sight. She was so horny she could barely even think. She needed stimulation, and she needed it now. She could feel her breaths coming out in short bursts, and briefly thought that she should care about how desperate she probably looked, but pushed it aside in favor of flipping Wanda onto her back. 

Wide green eyes peered up at her, Wanda’s surprise at the change in position evident. Her hands wrapped around Agatha’s legs, her hands squeezing her ass as the woman rutted the tip of her strap against Wanda’s lips. 

“Take it,” Agatha muttered, her hand pressing on the back of Wanda’s head as she eased the strap into the redhead’s mouth. “Take it all like a good little slut.”

Wanda moaned around the strap, enthusiastically bobbing her head as Agatha fucked her mouth. She felt her own arousal increasing as the strap moved between her lips quickly. She didn’t care about the spit dripping down her chin and smearing over the strap, all she wanted was to make Agatha cum. 

Fuck, she wanted to be used for Agatha’s pleasure. 

As soon as the thought passed through Wanda’s mind, Agatha felt her orgasm overtake her quickly. She came with practically no warning, the only indicator of her orgasm was the painful tightening of her hand in Wanda’s hair. 

Agatha continued to fuck Wanda’s throat, giving the woman no reprieve as she prolonged the pleasure. She felt another orgasm building, increasing exponentially when she looked down and saw Wanda’s hungry eyes roaming her form. 

The hands on Agatha’s ass squeezed again before a resounding slap sounded throughout the room. Wanda internally smirked at the gasp Agatha let out, moaning when the woman retaliated by shoving the strap as far down her throat as she could manage, holding her there for a few seconds. 

“Don’t be a fucking brat,” Agatha hissed, eyes boring into Wanda’s as her orgasm crept up. She dragged the strap almost fully from the woman’s mouth, allowing her a few seconds to breathe before she slammed it to the back of her throat with no mercy. 

Fucking Wanda’s mouth like it was the last thing she’d ever do, Agatha arched her back, eyes raising to the ceiling. The sound of her strap as Wanda’s tongue slurped around it sent her over the edge once more, her thighs trembling as she rode out her orgasm. 

Reaching out her other hand, Agatha felt her strap pulsate as it was buried in Wanda’s mouth, her breath ragged and muscles seizing. She gripped the headboard, knuckles whitening as she slowly fucked in and out of the wet heat wrapped around her strap. 

Nails dug into Agatha’s ass, and she groaned as the pain caused her arousal to feebly jump. She pushed it down, nerves overstimulated as she moved to pull her strap from Wanda’s mouth. 

Wanda’s eyes flashed scarlet, and before Agatha could properly think, she was flipped over and pushed flush against the mattress. Scarlet wisps held her wrists tightly above her head, another thick tendril of magic pinning her hips down as Wanda eagerly took her whole length in her mouth. 

There was something intoxicating about the way Agatha moaned, the sound high-pitched and bordering on a whimper. Wanda let her hands rest on the woman’s thighs, fingers curling tightly as her short nails dug into the soft skin. 

Taking a moment to breathe, Wanda swirled her tongue around the tip of the strap before dragging her tongue down the length of it, enjoying the raspy groans erupting from those pretty lips. 

Agatha’s hips jolted violently, causing Wanda to choke slightly as she wrapped her lips around the strap. With a firm glance, she commanded Agatha to remain still, before using both her hand and mouth to bring the women to yet another orgasm. 

“Oh… fuck. Wanda stop, I can’t… it’s too much. Wait. Please, I’m gonna, fuck, please. I’m coming… I’m fucking coming. Don’t you dare stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

Endless words streamed from Agatha’s lips, her brain having finally dipped into a comfortable vanilla haze. She knew that Wanda held more magical power than she did, and even the hundreds of years of experience she held had nothing over the raw power the redhead controlled. Given this fact, she knew escape was fruitless. 

All she could do was lay there and take it. 

“That’s right. I’m glad you finally understand your place,” Wanda practically purred, and Agatha was too overstimulated to berate her for reading her mind. She felt her muscles twitch, her pussy leaking around the strap, threatening to let the toy slip out from inside her. 

“Ah ah,” Wanda’s voice was low, her hand firm on the base of the toy, holding it steady. “None of that now. You’re going to take everything I give you, understand?” 

“I-,” Agatha couldn’t do much else but nod, green eyes watching her as she felt her cheeks flush. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

Agatha drew a shaky breath, Wanda’s hand slowly pumping up and down her strap. It was sending her into a delirious haze of pleasure, and she just barely managed to squeak out a ‘Yes, ma’am,’ before Wanda was moving. 

With a flick of her fingers, Wanda’s scarlet magic whisked away their clothes, leaving Agatha’s chest exposed to her nimble fingers. The dripping heat of Wanda’s pussy hovered over her strap, anticipation and want filling Agatha as she watched the redhead straddle her hips. 

“Beg.”

It wasn’t a question. Wanda’s eyebrow rose expectantly, her head tilting slightly as her fingers roughly pinched Agatha’s nipples. 

“Fuck, please.” 

“Please, what? Be more specific, dear.”

Groaning, Agatha threw her head back against the pillows. She sucked in a few deep breaths as Wanda’s fingers pulled and twisted her sensitive nipples before she let her remaining dignity go. 

“I need to feel your pussy around my strap, please. You can use me however you want, make yourself cum all over my cock. Please, Wanda. Just fuck me.”

The words had barely left Agatha’s lips before Wanda was sinking fully down on her strap, their moans sounding out at the same time. The fingers abusing her nipples briefly stopped, Wanda grabbing her breasts and squeezing as she steadied herself. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Wanda’s words were slightly breathless, her eyes shining as she began to fuck herself on Agatha’s strap. 

Grinding down, Wanda felt her own orgasm slowly building. The strap slid easily in and out of her pussy, her juices leaking down around the toy and smearing on her inner thighs as she worked herself up. 

Agatha had begun to let out a series of moans, the sounds reverberating around the room and sounding suspiciously like whimpers. Her fingers wrapped around the scarlet tendril restraining her wrists, the power from it sending her head reeling. 

Wanda continued speaking, her accent wrapping around each syllable and pushing Agatha’s orgasm closer to the surface.

“You’re going to make me cum, fuck. You look so good, all tied up beneath me. God, I could do whatever I wanted right now, and you’d just have to lay there and fucking take it.”

With a sudden thrust of her hips, Agatha threw Wanda off balance, the redhead’s upper body colliding on top of hers with a soft thump. The sensation of her breasts against her own sent firefly bolts shooting through her, and Agatha valiantly fought her impending orgasm. 

“Go on,” Wanda challenged, “Get me off like the good little whore you are.”

With a guttural moan, Agatha canted her hips up roughly, Wanda’s soft moans against her ear sending her over the edge. She felt the redhead’s pussy walls clamping down on her strap as they orgasmed together. The sensation of Wanda squeezing around her sent her headfirst into another, smaller orgasm. 

Eventually, Wanda slowed down, lazily grinding against the strap still buried deep inside her. She milked the last remnants of her orgasm, feeling Agatha’s chest heaving against her own. Her fingers slowly massaged the brunette’s chest, nipple taut and hard under her ministrations. 

Agatha whimpered, a whispered ‘yellow’ falling from her lips. 

Pulling back, Wanda moved her hands up to cradle the woman’s face, thumbs gently stroking over her flushed cheeks.

“Too much?” She asked, and hummed softly at Agatha’s weak nod in response. 

“Alright,” Wanda’s voice had a note of finality in it. “I’m going to ride your face then, you still owe me another orgasm.”

Well, Agatha certainly wasn’t going to complain about that.

—

Both Agatha and Wanda were slightly slumped over their morning coffee, exhausted. Wanda was slowly eating a piece of avocado toast, her eyes half closed as Agatha fed Señor Scratchy bits of carrots and cucumbers. 

Wanda’s open laptop sat near them, the screen shining innocently as Agatha pulled her rune book closer to her. She’d instructed Wanda to research a few sites, but judging from the sluggish movements of the redhead across from her, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. 

Besides, Wanda was far too anxious about the job she’d applied for the day before to get any real work done. 

An email pinged through, and Wanda’s green eyes eagerly scanned it, her form no longer bent over the table sleepily. 

There! An interview time and location, the words swimming before her eyes before Agatha’s touch grounded her. 

“Good job, hon.” Agatha’s voice was proud, her blue eyes warm. Wanda practically beamed at her, jumping up from her seat and rounding the table before wrapping her arms around the woman’s waist. She could hardly believe it, and her chest twisted as she thought about starting a new chapter in her life. 

Wanda didn’t really want to leave Agatha but knew that she had to get back into the world. Training had been a nice break, and so had learning to trust her dominant slash mentor slash… friend?

Almost as if reading Wanda’s mind (oh, wait), Agatha chuckled, turning her around to face the mirror. She played with Wanda’s red strands briefly, before sizing her up and murmuring in her ear, words dripping like honey as blue eyes blazed warmly.

“Time to go shopping for a professional outfit, and maybe a whole new wardrobe.”

—

Wanda walked through a set of glass doors, trying not to stare too hard at her surroundings. She resisted the urge to tug on her new blazer, the beginnings of her new wardrobe still feeling slightly foreign to her. Luckily, Agatha had good taste. 

Her new apartment was a mess, her limited bags strewn all over the place. Even with all the chaos surrounding the rounds of interviews she’d gone through, before finally getting the position under the CEO, Wanda only felt a vague sense of pride. 

Her anxieties had faded the second she’d received the phone call confirming her new position from Elenor herself, lessening even further at the amount of money she’d receive while training to take over the company. Agatha had been proud, a smug smirk on her face as she’d helped Wanda move in, purple and scarlet wisps dancing around each other to efficiently unpack. 

And now here she was, her first day. 

Wanda resisted the urge to smile, instead nodding once at the receptionist before smoothly brushing past her toward the elevator. 

Upon reaching the top floor, Wanda felt a thrill go up her spine at the sound of her heels clacking slightly on the floor. Who knew such a simple sound could instill great levels of confidence?

The morning was long, information being thrown at her by her new boss. Luckily, Agatha had taught her how to take effective notes, and CEO training had nothing on experimental rune combinations. 

The afternoon stretched on, filled with meetings and countless handshakes, and Wanda remained steadfast through it all. She was relieved when they finally returned to the top floor, settling gratefully into a chair as her new boss started talking, pulling something up on her computer.

“Of course, you'll have to choose a stage name of sorts. It sells the mysterious illusion that surrounds your position.” The woman said, brown eyes peering at Wanda over the top of her computer. 

A small smirk formed on Wanda’s lips, her mind thrown back to the small cabin in the woods. Visions of purple wisps, lavender perfume, and bright eyes danced through her thoughts, a name popping into her head almost immediately. Blinking away the memory of strong arms wrapped around her waist as a white rabbit watched from the countertop, Wanda looked up, eyes sparkling.

“The Scarlet Witch.”

Next Chapter

[kuroppiii]

LOVELY RO !! IVE MISSED BEING IN HERE I BROUGHT A BROOM AND DUSTPAN TO HELP CLEAN UP MY CORNER OF THE INBOX <3

how have you been I saw you just moved into ur dorm 🙂‍↕️ it looks super cute and very you I hope you have the best semester and year 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

I just watched uncut gems and made my letterboxd comeback so I’m in dire need of film recs bc I’m not a real filmbro if my watchlist isn’t unreasonably long 👊 can u believe there are only 59 films on there? SEND THEM OVER PLZ I TRUST YOU

signing off with this and this to remind you that we’re legally married even tho there’s no ring. those links are the ring

MY BELOVED REE !! excuse me for a moment as you sweep so i can hang up a small “welcome home” banner in ur corner ♡♡♡♡

and WOOOO yeah i’m in my dorm rn! i’ve been doing great these first few days!! have met a lot of really nice ppl. i’m actually not as depressed as i thought i’d be being away from home 😭 but also i’ve always been on the more independent side so lowk this university shit is kind of liberating

and i LOVE my ring thank you very much i will flaunt it and shove it in the face of every passerby on the street (I HAVE THAT PAT ONE SAVED 💀 redbone and his smile? GODDDD and the second one is literally me hugging my snorlax every night in my dorm LMAOOO)

( FILM FREAK FESTIVITIES UNDER THE CUT )

omg i was seeing mentions about uncut gems under the letterboxd reviews for this one film i recently added to my watchlist—do you recommend it??!!

as for film recs here are my offerings today 🤲 yknow recently i realized i watch a lot of sad and dramatic films so here’s my fav lighthearted ones </3 minus guava island but shhh

(loser bf cillian murphy and manic pixie dream girl lucy liu what more can i say really)

(suchhh a pretty and chill film. doesss have a semi-sad ending though. good music in it though, ofc)

(brought back the feeling of seeing spiderverse’s animation style for the first time!!)

(genuinely i think it’s so campy and funny i quote lines from it very often (“SHUT UP LOSER, I FUCKED YOUR MOM!” 😭😭😭))

(maybe it was a mix of the cool animation style and the voice actors doing a good job that it was charming enough to excuse the few times it could’ve been a cringe attempt at gen z humor)

and that’s all of them <<33 lmk what you think if you end up watching any of em!! love love love ya ree ^^ (the video is us)

[zestyaahbutler]

any nsft headcanons on Walter/ or young adult Walter?

Nsfw Headcanons for Walter

MDNI 18+ ONLY 🔞

This is such an old ask and I'm not sure why I was so intimidated to answer. Whoopsies

FYI as the asker said, this is all young adult to old Walter. Don't be a goofy and go in my inbox asking for young Walter. No seriously you're gonna get blocked.

That being said, enjoy!!

--------------------------🧵----------------------------

While Walter acts as the Hellsing butler and is seen as polite, I reckon its different in the bedroom.

He grew up while serving Arthur Hellsing who is a known womanizer. His practices definetly rubbed off. As a vampire hunter, butler, and university student at one point, he would've barely had time to commit to a relationship. Prostitutes would've been a semi regular indulgence for him.

Hes likely had flings but they never last too long besides a few dates.

It was never a problem about whether he could pull, he's always been a handsome and charming man, it was how well he felt he could commit. He never wanted to ruin a relationship because he was far too busy and wasn't ready.

As for orientation, I personally see him as a closeted bisexual. Only because of the time period he grew up in, I don't think he would ever admit to himself that he found another man attractive in a romantic/lustful light.

With his partners he's typically a dom to account for the whole family butler role. Its not neccesarily that he dislikes his job, but it's mainly just taking control in a part of his life that he can't get in his work life.

How rough or unaccomodating he is really depends on his mood. He's capable of being a gentle dom who gives praise for how well his partner is pleasing him as he is with using them like a means to an end that only benefits him.

@aristocraticpeasantgirl once mentioned that he would be the type to being his partner tea with extra sugar for energy as aftercare. On the topic of that, he'd be great at serving his partner after the fact. If he's with someone then he definetly goes the extra mile to make sure they feel loved and comfortable afterwards.

It's common concensus among Walter simps that he would be one kinky mother fucker. But that man definetly knows he needs to make sure his partner's boundaries accommodate that. He always asks before doing and when trying something new, he eases his partner in. There is always a plan in case he oversteps. Yeah it's a bit of a joke that he is that formal even during love making but he aims to please even when he is the one on top.

Walter is a leg man for women bur definetly someone who enjoys good arms on a man. The girl doesn't neccesarily have to be slender or more on the plump side, he's all up for whatever his partner has as long as he gets to run his hands up their thighs. He mainly enjoys whenever his partners contrast his own slimmer physique. He's up for the more toned or plumper individual.

For him he loves it when his partners are either way shorter or taller than him.

As for kinks, BDSM, rope play, role play, knife play, wax play. I don't think there's anything he hasn't tried or atleast thought about. Doss he have ones he won't do, of course but relatively he's up for anything. He's a sadistic bastard. That being said, he'd let his partner take control if we're able to wear him down enough.

He enjoys the journey more than someone who only wants the destination. Foreplay is a must and he enjoys torturing his partner and making them beg.

👏LET👏IT👏BE👏KNOWN👏

This man still definetly would fuck in his older years. So you too, can yearn to grind this man's bones into dust. It becomes less pressing as he gets over but it doesn't mean the desire ever ceases. We literally see this dude do acrobatics at 69. He still has it in him to break someone else's back. He is definetly still healthy enough to still have a good libido. If anything, he likely regrets not being more impulsive when he was younger. If he lived as a vampire, he would definetly explore his more selfish desires more.

@hellogreyeyedathena has a great post for that.

Thank you for the ask! If anyone else has any specific headcanons they'd like for other characters, just ask! I'm bored and will someday get to them when I'm motivated enough.

[writtenbyadriana]

Open for requests

Inbox open like Dean’s flannel – gimme those prompts!

Hey lovelies 💫❤️

If you’ve got fic ideas or prompts floating around – especially involving Jensen Ackles or any of his glorious characters (you know the vibe 😉) – my inbox is open!

Whether it’s some classic Dean-and-his-baby fluff, gritty Soldier Boy angst, or small-town charm with Beau and his sheriff hat – I’m all in. I adore diving into Jensen’s characters (pun semi-intended 😏) and bringing your thoughts to life.

So feel free to drop prompts, headcanons, or wild AU dreams – I don’t bite...unless we’re talking about pie 🍰

Let’s fangirl/fanboy together 💥🫂

[mothcpu]

answering asks (clearing out months of inbox clutter, oops!) ⬇️

@wine-82 @mandelamoth @hsc-001 @blinder-8080 thank you for reading!!!!! I never mean to sound like a broken record when I say this but I mean it genuinely every time!!!!

maybe I've mentioned it before, but writing it helped me work through some things (by merit of it being a sort of conversation with myself), and it means the world to know it affected others in a similar way. I hope it keeps inspiring people, I can't think of a more important thing for it to do.

once I have the time and mental capacity I'd like to write a commentary track for it... I don't know if it'd take away some of its charm to talk about how I cobbled it together, but I do have a lot of thoughts about it (such as the semi-unintentional themes of predestination).

it doesn't have a meaning beyond the one you give it honestly, but if you're interested in my personal interpretation: the best way to live your life is to live it one day at a time and care for yourself and others! find beauty in the mundane, even if you feel silly doing it! it's never too late to change and never give into the sunk cost fallacy! and it's also pretty gay to die in the arms of the only friend you've ever had!

another one joins the army.... thanks, had a lot of fun drawing that one :)

@specterpants thank YOU that's very kind!!!

I am fairly neutral on my work most of the time, but your love for it makes me love it, even moreso when it's something i enjoy drawing (aka robots) :3

don't know how to sign this off so. go listen to Western Teleport by Emperor X

[peachymilkandcream]

Break Me Slowly|Part 14|Yandere Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: Part of me has been avoiding this simply because I'm a dub watcher so I haven't seen the new episode and I've been kinda avoiding social media to not get even more spoiled than I've already been. However, degenerate Levi and Evelyn cannot wait! Also hit up my inbox I am in such a writing mood help me out!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

================================================

The candles were dimmed as the end of the day drew near. Poor sweet Levi just continually worked himself to the bone, and without his wife nearby to keep him in check he was pushing himself to the limits. His loneliness had gotten the better of him, which is exactly what Petra had hoped for, especially when she enters his office.

Immediately the smell of alcohol hits her, the whole room assaults her nose with it. Petra wasn't sure if his blushing bride new about his bad habit, granted, he had really cut down after marriage but clearly he needed a woman's touch to keep him in check. Her footsteps are silent as she creeps up to him, his head was down on the desk asleep, never had she seen him so peaceful. Her fingers caressed his cheek, trying to wake him up as softly as possible.

Being the light sleeper he always was Levi woke easily, stretching to loosen his shoulders. Petra was shocked to see him in this state, Levi prided himself in being well kept and professional. It looked like he hadn't slept in days, his dark circles more prominent. Stubble lined his jawline, a rare occurrence for the man who hated facial hair since he deemed it "unhygienic". His clothes were wrinkled and he stunk of liquor. What had happened to the Captain she knew and loved? How could one woman reduce him to such a sad state? Rage burned within her as she thought about how much Levi had suffered since Evelyn left.

"Oh, Petra, it's you. I guess I fell asleep. Don't worry I'm going home." He starts to stand when she pushes him back down into his chair, he stares at her in confusion, not expecting this. "Excuse me?"

"Oh Captain.." She laces her voice with charm and suggestive tones. "You poor thing, you look absolutely worn out..." Reaching behind him, Petra gently rubs his shoulders.

Levi frowns and twists out of her grip. "I'm fine thank you. I'll just head home and rest."

She giggles, trailing her fingers along his sleeve, working her way up to his chin and circling his ear. "You're so tense Levi, and lonely...my heart goes out to you, and I feel like I have to help..."

"I appreciate your concern Petra, but really I'm fine. It's been a rough week but I'll make it."

She pushes past him and sits on the desk in front of him, her legs parted just enough for him to see the fabric of her panties. Much to her annoyance he glances and then bounces his eyes away.

"Get off my desk." He states plainly.

She throws her head back to laugh, exaggerating it enough to try and give him the hint. He was so adorably dense sometimes he didn't even know how much she wanted him. "Come on Levi, don't be like that."

"For the last time, Captain."

Petra bites her lip. "Captain~" Her tone is sultry and she bats her eyelashes at him.

"Better. Now off my desk."

"Or what? Are you going to punish me?" Oh how does she hope he does, he seems like the type to get a kick out of that.

Levi sneers slightly, not liking her tone at all, and dressed the way she was, he should get out of here before she gets the wrong idea. "I think it's time for me to leave." He tries to be at least semi-polite, she did work hard enough for him she deserved some respect.

As he stands to leave, Petra acts immediately, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her lips to his. Fireworks in her head explode, her dreams coming true, his lips were even softer than she thought. Truly Evelyn didn't deserve to have this slice of heaven every day, and Petra bet she didn't even appreciate it like she should.

However all of her high hopes would come crashing down as Levi aggressively pushed her off, sending her back on the desk. The look in his eyes was different, he seemed, different. She had seen him angry before, but never with this level of rage. Face to face with his wrath she understood how some Scouts quietly transferred to the Garrison regiment after having a run in with the ruthless Captain.

"How dare you- What could have possibly possessed you in thinking it would be already to assault me like this!?"

Now she's the one scrambling for answers, a way somehow to calm him down. "You seemed really lonely, I thought I could give you some comfort-"

"Do I need your fucked up version of "comfort"?! What part of 'I'm a married man" don't you understand you stupid bitch!" His eyes were glaring with hate as he inched towards her.

Petra started to tear up, never had Levi treated her with such aggression and coldness, he had never taken it this far. What had she done to deserve this treatment after all the things she'd done for him? Evelyn had changed him, surely that was the reason why they both had started acting differently after that fucking wedding.

"You're not yourself Levi, you're just lashing out because you're needy, you haven't been the same since your wedding I thought things were going wrong-"

"You're even more stupid than I thought." He continues his advance, the veins in his hands bulging out of his skin. "I have never been better since marrying that woman. Do you hear me? The best fucking thing I ever did was decide that girl was mine. You think I could want you over her? She is perfection you scum. I want a woman who will fight me tooth and nail while I hold her down and fuck her until she looses feeling than a whining lapdog. You get that Petra? You're nothing but shit under my boot, I kept you around because you do your job well. But apparently you lack an ounce of common sense that would think I'd take your loose cunt over my wife's. The fact you thought I was low enough to be unfaithful to my wife is the highest form of an insult. You disgust me." He pushes past her. "Now get out of my way."

As he walks out of his office Petra watched him wipe his mouth with the back of sleeve and spit onto the ground. That was what he thought of her kiss, it was revolting. Little did she know all this would cause was Levi throwing his weight around so Erwin would agree to up the extraction date and bring his wife home.

Hurt, rage, grief all filled her. She knew now that any chance of having Levi was gone so long as Evelyn was alive. Part of her admired him for being so true to his marriage, but the sting of rejection was still prevalent. Lost in her own thoughts she barely recognizes the solution until it presents itself in her head again. That was it, as long as Evelyn was alive. If she fixed that problem, then it would level the playing field. That was what she had to do, eliminate the problem.

=============================================

Peace in the Braun household was shaky at best, she was one of them sure, but still an island devil, Evelyn supposed in time that would opinion would change. Although that was never the real purpose of her mission, while the surprise pregnancy had thrown a wrench into it, she still had a job to do. It wasn't about them liking her, it was about them trusting her enough to wander around and hopefully find Eren so she would at least have something to report back.

Her room was really Reiner's, him being the gentleman and offering to sleep on the floor downstairs to make sure she was comfortable. The first night was the worst since she could barely sleep, always thinking she heard Levi's footsteps on the stairs or him moving in the shadows of the dark. A good portion of the annoyance her fellow housemates felt was no doubt attributed to her screaming in the night when it felt like the shadows were reaching for her.

She was ashamed, but more often than not these nights ended with Reiner checking on her and him sleeping on the floor beside the bed by her request. Evelyn couldn't help but feel guilty, despite everything she was married, and while their marriage was hell her thoughts conflicted as far as if what she was doing was adultery. However the fear that gripped her every night soon outweighed her doubts of what Levi would think.

Truthfully, she had deluded herself into thinking that she would just never find Eren and have to remain here. While freedom was limited due to her Eldian blood at least it was existent. She was no longer imprisoned in that forsaken house, left to the scorn of the staff and Levi's whims. Her taste of freedom was precious and treasured, she hoped he never came back. If she deluded herself in this she could do the same for when the child was born, delude herself into thinking it was someone else's. Maybe she could have a half decent rest of her life.

It had now been a few weeks since Evelyn had come to Marley, she felt that if anyone, Reiner trusted her. Whether it was guilt over the past or something different she wasn't sure. She found herself in the quiet wondering what would have happened if she came back with Reiner and Bertholdt all those years ago, he had a boyish crush on her back then, he was older now, would anything have come of it? He was sweet and handsome and treated her with respect, something that was in short supply these days. When he caught her looking at him like this, he'd blush and look away, the delusion slipping more and more.

She had come to know his world, the world he grew up in, the one that told him to do the horrible things he had done. Reiner was the enemy, but she forgave him, he needed that, he so desperately needed that. When she had told him he broke down into childish sobs, desperately asking why, how could she forgive him for everything? In honesty, Evelyn had no idea how, but she did, she understood him, felt sorry for him. It seemed like it was only natural.

Reiner had trusted her with being in his home, and eventually introducing him to his closest family and comrades. Seeing the look of joy in his face when she interacted with them warmed her frozen over heart. Her delusion was stronger than ever, forgetting about the horrors awaiting her at home. Maybe this could be home, Levi gone forever, Erwin gone forever, everyone, she could be free. This ideal life, happy with someone who could really take care of her, of two who could take care of each other. They were the same, broken and naive once. They had both been punished for the sins, what was the shame in living on from that?

Evelyn forgot about her mission, she forgot about Eren, to hell with all of them. They had left her in her time of need to that monster the law called her husband. Paradis could burn to the ground for all she cared. No one rescued her, why should she rescue them? Flatten the place and Levi with it, maybe then she'd finally feel safe. So when Falco had mentioned bringing Reiner to meet an old friend of his the thought of the past coming back to haunt her never crossed her mind. She simply watched the show, blissfully oblivious to the scene just below the stage.

But when Gabi had offhandedly mentioned that they had been gone a while she felt a trickle of cold sweat on the back of her neck, that familiar fear of Levi sending chills down her spine. It was impossible, he was hundreds of miles away, hopefully rotting in a jail cell, he couldn't be here, he wouldn't be here. She was letting her paranoia get the better of her again. She was safe, nothing could hurt her, no one was coming to get her.

These were the last thoughts to cross her mind before the eruption, the sound of screams and terror, the bright lights, the gunshots. There was panic, chaos, everyone trying to run away from the fifteen meter Titan slaughtering all of them where they stood. Evelyn could only sit there and watch as she was blindly tugged along by someone she didn't care to recognize.

Dumbfounded she trudged along, eyes glued to the scene. It was when she caught the look of those eyes, those damned eyes did terror come over her. Levi's eyes met hers, recognition filling them, the way he was motioning for her, he was telling her to go to safety and he would come find her. Only as he flew off to rejoin the carnage could Evelyn recognize exactly what that chilling feeling was.

It was the feeling of her delusion shattering around her.

[charmfamily]

not sure if i sent this back but 🌟✨🌟✨🌟 Send this spark to 10 (or more 💌) mutuals to brighten their day and let them know they're amazing! 🌟✨🌟✨🌟 i eat up your posts!!!

AAA THANK YOU 🥰 I eat up your post reactions and commentary and beautiful sims 3 sims on my dash!!! And their little headcanons that you put out and story bits too ILY 💓

[rearranged-fanfic]

New Chapter of REARRANGED out!!! Finally!!!

This chapter is the last bit of fluff before we get some seriously hard discussions on depression and whatnots. It was hard to type. I am a broken man (and I'm not even a man) now. Lol. But I got it out. Yeaaaaaah!

Sorry if you've left a message in my inbox on AO3 and I haven't gotten back to you. This has consumed me.

Excerpts after the cut.

*Spoilers Below*

Excerpt 1:

How am I supposed to look at Gojo when he’d caught me with my hands in my metaphorical pants?! Oh, God.  Somebody kill me now.  Please, I send up a quick prayer, make it quick. And I do what I’m good at when I feel uncomfortable: I immediately get defensive.  Crossing my arms and attempting to school my face into the meanest glare I can scorch him with, I let out a disgruntled, “Th-that’s what you get for spying on me in the bath.  Creep.  Pervert,” I hiss out, face so unbelievably hot that I think I’m going to faint. He tilts his head in confusion, expression blank.  Looking the perfect picture of the clueless himbo.  “Spying?  You think I was spying on you?” Pointedly, I remove the glass bead necklace from my cleavage and show him.  “That’s what this is, isn’t it?  You said it before: it links us somehow.  So, how exactly does it link us, huh?” And that seemingly gets it through his thick skull.  The man’s eyes widen and he puts his hand over his mouth, letting out a puff that says he’s trying to hold back a laugh.  And, call me crazy, but I can’t quite find the humor in this gross breach of trust and privacy.  I regret not smacking him when I had the chance! “You think that’s funny or something?” I grit out, teeth clenched. He shakes his head again, wet hair flopping onto his forehead.  “Pfft.  You’re just so cute when you’re flustered, my little miracle!  Is that all you’re worried about?” I growl at him in response. “Ah, no need to be upset with me,” he tries to soothe.  “The protective charm doesn’t give me specifics.  All I know is that your Cursed energy shot through the roof, like you were in danger.” “Th-that’s all, right?” “Why do you seem so nervous, Oracle-chan?” I glower at him.  “I was in the bath, you pervert!  I’m just making sure that you can’t—I don’t know—see through the necklace or feel what I feel!” He mimes being hurt, holding a hand over his chest.  Dramatic.  “So mean!  Do I really seem like the type to do something so awful?” I don’t even miss a beat.  “Yes.”

Exerpt 2:

“You’re going to have to find something professional, you know,” the black-haired girl announces to me.  “I think you’re super cute dressed the way you are—don’t get me wrong—but a lot of businesses here are pretty concerned with appearances.  They like for their employees to always look their best.” I blink at her.  “It’s a cosplay café.” Akemi shakes her head.  “Doesn’t matter.  Are they providing a uniform?” I think back to what Saki had told me when I’d been asked to come in for my first day at the end of the week.  And she’d mentioned getting a shirt in my size, but nothing else.  And when I tell my friend this, she asks if I have any formal or semi-formal bottoms to pair with a top.  And… I don’t think I do.  Shoko and I had mostly focused on comfort during our Gojo-funded shopping spree.  Which means nothing starchy or stiff.  Thus, no formal stuff. And when asked about my shoe options, I unhelpfully show off my skater shoes that are in no way even the tiniest bit professional.  So, I’ll need shoes, too. Green eyes shining with something I can’t quite name—not mischief, but also nothing innocent—Akemi slaps her hands down on my countertops.  “You know what this means?" she asks, voice tinged with excitement. “Err—” “Shopping trip!” I perk up at the thought.  Oh, those two magical words.  I mean… I do still have a few of my own funds to dip into.  And the expense is necessary.  So, a little shopping can’t hurt… right?  I wiggle in my seat, excited.  I used to love going shopping with friends, way back when.  Honestly, I miss those trips to our local mall, trying on the ugliest clothes we could find and snatching deals off of the discount racks. It makes me a little homesick… Takuma calls out to us from my sleeping platform, where he’s got Mrs. Ukki clutched in his lap, petting her leaves lovingly.  I’m always so amazed at how much he loves that damn plant.  He babies it every time he comes over.  Honestly, I think he visits just to see it.  “Yeah, you girls can count me out.  Not interested in being roped into the bag boy.  Again,” he grouses, eyeing his sister with a glower.  “You an’ Ma worked me to the bone last time.” “Just consider it strength training, Takkun.  If you can hold that many kilos of clothing for six hours straight, imagine the damage you can do to Curses!” she responds, voice a little evil. I jump in before they can start with their usual sibling bickering. “That’s fine,” I tell him, pacifying them both in one fell swoop.  “I don’t want to make you do something you want.  But you’ll have to come back over later to let us back into the Veil.”

Enjoy!

[ax-y10]

❝ semi-charmed kinda life ❝

ax 𖦹 in highschool𖦹 any prns

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[x0401x]

Do you think making a masterlist of currently active animanga blogs in a post to pass around perhaps would help? I try my best to find new ones since I don't know too lany, but as one anon stated previously in response to your post, a lot of orginal blogs are either inactive or deactivated. There are some series I love that have no content on here at all left since all the content is from blogs that are deactivated. Unsearchable.

I have the ambitious project (not now since I am in tremendous medical struggles/possible eventual end of life, but if I make it through it) of making some sort of semi regular gifset-manga-animanga contest of sort, with small money prizes, both for winners and smallers ones given at random for participation. Trying to bring back the old blood or bring in the new, you know? I am extremely far from that point and may never make it there, but I have always loved the animanga community of tumblr. It was always so cozy for me after my accident and after I ceased being a game developer. There is a charm to it!

Anyway, all of that to say you are not crazy, it did shrink and it is a relief to know I am not alone amongst those who miss the larger community that used to be there. Especially the content creators who deleted everything.

Hopefully we see a renaissance 💕❤

I hope you don’t mind me answering this publicly because Tumblr has been weird with asks lately, so I can never trust that my reply would go through if I answered privately.

And damn, I sure wish it helps because it’d help me, at least. I really wanna follow more blogs. My dash is dead lately. And wow, money prizes??? That’s very generous but are you sure about that? Not to rain on your parade or anything, but if you’re in tremendous medical struggles, maybe it’s best to save up all you can, even in the aftermath of it. By the way, I’m very sorry to about your condition. Hoping for the best to you.

I’ve been on this site for almost 15 years now and it’s the complete opposite of what it used to be at the beginning. It’s changed for the worst in every aspect except features and functionality. I really, really miss how it was before. I miss how the internet was back then in general. Just an entirely different thing. And that’s why I think it’s gonna be hard to get a renaissance, even with monetary incentives.

Don’t get me wrong, I think you should totally do the thing if you’re ever able to! It sounds pretty neat. But what needs to happen for things to go back to how they were before is that people have to start using the site as it was intended to be used. This place isn’t like other platforms, and although there are lots of posts explaining how to use the site properly, I feel like the people who want Tumblr to return to its golden are are the only ones passing them around. The message isn’t really getting to who it should be getting. I wish there was a way to teleport the new users back in time so they could experience the peak of this hellhole. But unfortunately, we have to find other ways to make them understand why they should reblog, make their own posts and follow/interact with other users. Perhaps that’s where the money could go to? A reblog/edit/follow spree challenge/contest? I don’t know, but either way, that’s a neat idea you have.

Again, hoping for the best to you! And thanks for coming by my inbox!

[historixally-accurate]

forward rolls into your inbox :3

good evening.....morning.....teehee....(i am assuming you are seeing this at 9am, which in case....hope you are enjoying your breakfast! and also. wow, that is a healthy sleep schedule for an SG student newly lavishing in the freedom of the holidays.) im rewlly happy you dont mind me rolling into your inbox every day. i love doing it. seriously. like you said, it feels like using Singpost and writing letters. its part of why i love tumblr and its askboxes.

saying that youre struggling with MOE past year papers/different school papers is so damn relatable. i'm just grateful im not in pri sch anymore where teachers woukd be dispensing that shit like water at the water cooler. LMAO

youre a kazuha liker huh? my friend is too. so as a birthday present, i drew kazuha with weed on the class whiteboard once for their birthday. i knew next to nothing about his lore but their expression of utter despair was worth it.

YOU MADE YOUR PLD LOCKSCREEN TALKINGMIME?!?!?!?!? thats kinda genius too. i woukd scream and panic if i saw this in public btw. and flounder in panic and joy like a pathetic fish. blub

Im still pretty new to mcsr in general, but i actually followed an unusual pipeline into it: unlike most people being introduced via couri or feinberg, i actually entered via 21mustard.... more specufically the vid about his online friend trying to find him again. i like 21mustard and zylenox :3 and emerald (ithink), fein, mr lewis fulham, poundcake, fyroah and ofc mr mime. im still exploring though. im charmed by k4's mic peaks. it took me ages to strart putting names to faces and then voices...

as for my own speedrunning, i unfortunately do not play any noteworthy speedrunning games. however, i am currently trying to speedrun Minesweeper! its going pretty well.

as always, i hope youre doing well, whenever youre reading this. - sgmcsr anon

GOOD MORNING.. I'm replying to this a little too late (it's 12pm), but IDGAF LETS ROLL!!

I love opening inbox and answering asks, it's like. you get a silly letter every single day to answer and. i get why the people in the past really fucked w this... it's really awesome. anyway.

about MOE and exams, ohh thank god I'm not in primary school anymore, that PSLE grind was HORRIBLE. having to do like. what, 20 page papers for math (paper 1 or 2 alone!!) and all of them being really difficult questions really fucked w my brain... at least papers now are semi tolerable and I can do them 🤷 I remember in primary school my science teacher handed us like.. 5 past year papers to do over June holidays, and I was COOKED. anyway

about genshin, LMAOOOO FUCK THATS HILARIOUS... I'd be terrified too if I saw kazuha smoking a blunt for my birthday like. the aura that exudes. holy schmoly

about talkingmime, YEAH.. my PLD lock screen is actually that one silly art piece of everyone who played pico park, and on my home screen is a small talkingmime doodle... I am normal, totally! I must be normal! fun fact, my phone lock screen is silverrruns. Hehe. this photo specifically

yeah. Hehe. and my home screen is a really pretty nEmerald drawing... :3

about speedrunners THOSE ARE A BUNCHA GOOD PICKS... k4's mic peaks are legendary.. yay. NEMERALD AND FYROAH.. ohh. I love them very muchie. I even drew them. they're so skibidi to me.

about speedrunning, minesweeper speedrunning is verg cool. I've always wanted to learn how to play minesweeper... but it's always so scarrryyy... I should learn how to play it one day, on skibidi..

IM FINISHING THIS AT 1 34 PM. IM STUCK IN MATH TUITION RN. I love your singposts , thank u sg anon have a skibidi day