#Trigger finger placement

[historyofguns]

The article "Ayoob: Is Your Trigger Finger Placement Wrong?" by Massad Ayoob on The Armory Life examines the significance of proper trigger finger placement for accurate shooting. Drawing on traditional handgun training wisdom, Ayoob explains the importance of finger positioning—using the pad for short, light trigger pulls and the distal joint for long, heavy ones. The article highlights the impact of "trigger reach" dimensions and the advantages of the "power crease" for efficient shooting. Ayoob also advises caution against the "h-Grip," illustrating potential long-term hand injuries. Overall, the piece encourages shooters to experiment with their finger placement to find the most effective approach for their shooting needs.

[poguehearted77]

Hi!! I've watched the scene where Sarah is starving and Rafe is pacing around and knowing he has cash in his pocket and doesn't care that his sister is starving and pregnant. I can't help but imagine it if it was reader, and they hooked up once twice or however you see fit, and she's pregnant with his baby.

Would it be any different? Could you write something about that? Take the idea and run with it because im bad at articulating 🤣

Oh yeah, Rafe is a class-A asshole, but he might show just a little remorse if the baby is his.

Love the requests, keep sending em' in!!

The Moroccan sun was beating down on the group relentlessly, sweating you out and drying you up with the shine of its bright light. The only reason your sweat wasn't dripping off you was because it was quickly soaked up into the modest fabrics around your head.

You'd been travelling tirelessly for the last few days, dangerously too, if you might add. The boat nearly capsized multiple times just trying to make it to Morocco. As if the boat ride wasn't abhorrent enough with your seasickness....and morning sickness...

The constant smell of saltwater and the rocking of the ship had amplified the awful experience and you would spend the first hour in the bathroom regurgitating your insides every morning. It was not fun.

None of the pogues know you're pregnant. Although, Cleo was on to you. One pregnancy was more than enough for the group to worry about. You figured this was something you'd keep to yourself despite the fact the father is currently trekking with you through the hot sands.

The day was only getting hotter. You're thirsty, your lungs hurt and it felt like your own organs were weighing you down. You naturally began to fall behind the group, little by little until the gap was hard to ignore.

"Come on, Y/n. We're not far from the city, just a few more miles." Pope encouraged but it triggered a laboured breath. You're exhausted. A small smile crept on your lips when you noticed John B holding Sarah's hand the whole time, never letting her out of his sight.

For what feels like the eighth time, Rafe looks over his shoulder, more annoyed than ever. "Jeez, would you hurry it up?" You scoff, mustering up enough energy to kick up some sand at his legs. "Nice. Real mature, Y/n." His sarcasm rolls off his tongue and you ignore him as you walk past him.

Once you finally made it into the city, you all needed something to eat. Sarah wasn't feeling so great and neither were you. Babies are nothing but greedy entities consuming all the nutrients you need.

You leaned against the cool rock wall, watching the others run off to help themselves to a five-finger discount. With your eyes closed, you tried to distract yourself from the ache in your abdomen. Not sure if it was the baby or your hunger, possibly a mix of both.

Without even realizing it, you let a hand rest lightly over your stomach. It was still early, you weren't showing and you thank god.

"We're wasting time!" You hear Rafe yell, it doesn't even faze you. He's somewhere near you when he mumbles to himself, "Sitting around on the streets when we should be going after Groff, unbelievable."

What was supposed to be a quick glance your way turns into an elongated stare. His eyes raked over your posture, your shut eyes, brows crunched in distress. He slowly looks down at the placement of your hand.

"Y/n." He says, tugging you into a corner out of sight from the others and you swat him. He shockingly accepts the reprimands and backs off, taking a step back. "What do you want, Rafe?" Your arms cross, waiting for him to say something.

"Is it mine?" Your arms fall slowly, caught, but you deny it. "I don't know what you're talking about." Hardly able to take two steps away before he's barricading you in the corner with his body.

"Don't bullshit me, Y/n. The baby. Is it mine?" You chew on your lower lip, avoiding his chilling gaze. Apparently, that was enough confirmation. "How long have you known?" He takes on a defensive stance.

How the hell were you supposed to know the answer to that? The last week alone has blurred together in memories of rough waters and dry deserts.

All you knew was it happened sometime between the various times you and Rafe swore it would be the last time you fooled around. Unsure if it was the time on his yacht, in the back of his truck or one of the dozen times you somehow ended up in his bed when you swore you were only in figure eight for a 'walk'.

The group had no idea the two of you had been involved with each other aside from the occasionally tense argument, but anyone could admit the two of you can't seem to stay away from one another.

"I dunno, a month maybe?" He pressed both hands to his forehead, fingers spread wide, and slowly dragged them down, smearing the tension all the way to his chin.

"Let's go." His grip on your hand forces you to follow his long strides between the bustling kiosks until you land inside a Delhi. You're too stuck inside your own mind to process what was happening until you watched Rafe lift the bottom of his shirt, revealing a fanny pack with a considerable amount of money.

"Of course. Of course, you had money this whole time! Of course, you let the others go stealing--!" He hushes you as the owner flashes you a look of concern, "Listen, I'm not the one who told those pogues to go looting. I've got money for more important shit than their sad jewel hunt." He explains, paying for the items with a small nod of gratitude towards the man.

Turning to you, he placed a sandwich in one hand, and a cool bottle of water in the other. "This," He starts, his palm gently resting against your stomach. For the first time in a long time, his brows relax and his gaze softens when he looks at you. "This is more important."

[hellishjoel]

cherry thrill | lights

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

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

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

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

Joel Miller. 

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

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

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

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

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

Virgin. 

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

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

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

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

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

You shakily exhale as he warms you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You prepared for the pain, sweetheart?”

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

“I think so.” 

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

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

“I’m sorry. I know so.”

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

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

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

But thinking about him wasn’t enough. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve never seen a man so hungry. 

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

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

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

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

He hesitates, untrusting of his own words. 

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

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

“You- what?” 

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

The swirling in your stomach just won’t stop. 

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

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

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

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

“Nervous?” He belittles.

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

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

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

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

“No, definitely not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

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

“Yes, daddy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joel?” Your voice anxiously chirps. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ohmygod-” you gasp. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joel-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head. 

“What about the one in your nose?”

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

“Or your tongue?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel sighs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Obsidian Gallery 

Joel Miller

Senior Tatoo Artist

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

next chapter ->

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Indulgence 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, obsession, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: King!Thor (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you take a new placement without knowing the full details.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The queen rubs her stomach. Her skirts drape over the bump, higher over her toes than her heels. She is taller than most and carries the extra burden well, though her expression does not betray blissful expectation.

"Your highness," you are struck by her beauty; dark hair, bright eyes, effortless grace. Your last employer was a merchant's wife with five sons. "I am honoured--"

"Please, let's not," she dismisses you with a flutter of her long fingers. "You are here for a job and I am here to ensure it is done."

"Yes, your highness." You gulp.

"He will need a travel companion. I trust you can manage that."

You bow your head, "the prince?"

"My son is remaining with me. He is too young for such travel." She snips as lifts a crystal goblet. "The king. My condition prevents me from travel, thankfully. Not that my husband has bothered with all that in... eh, I am not sad for it." She goes to the window and peers out. "I only ask that you keep him focused. He is to travel as king, not as the young menace he thinks himself to be."

Your brows rise in surprise. "Your highness, I am a child minder. I haven't much idea how to handle a king--"

"Discreetly. I needn't more whispers." She snarls as sets the glass on the window ledge. "He isn't much preferential to hand or mouth--"

You gasp at her tawdry suggestion.

"I am not... Your highness, with all deference, I could cradle a child or put them to bed, but I am not in that frame of employment--"

"You are now," she spins on you. "I don't need some diseased whore dirtying my bed. I only need one who can keep him in hand. Men are simple as children and I know your former master. He assured me you are obedient."

"But I... I am..."

"Or you can make yourself at home in the dungeons. Someone of your station could hardly hope for such an opportunity. To travel to a new kingdom in the company of a king? You will be recompensed and you would keep your head."

You stare, stunned. You've heard tales of the nobles and their unsavoury antics. Affairs, secret marriages, and betrayal.

"But... he is your husband--"

"But you are a peasant. Your tongue would see you to the gallows. Now be out of my sight. You are to depart on the morn. Be assured, I have prepared all you will need." She snarls. "Be wary of wasting my efforts with your misplaced modesty."

You do not tarry. Her tone nips at your heels as you flee to the hallway. You nearly collide with another. A man in armour who stops you with the wave of his gauntlet.

"Queen says to keep you in the tower until dawn," he bids.

You gape at him. Your heart sinks with your hope. You'd come all this way with a spark in your chest. You thought you would be the royal nurse or something akin to it. That you could live in the castle with the royal heirs and see them up. This is beyond anything you could imagine. Why a woman in your employ rarely weds lest she wishes to become a wet nurse as well.

You follow the soldier through the corridors, lost not only in this strange place but in your fears. Perhaps the queen is mistaken. Perhaps her husband will remain loyal. A companion need not be anything more than that.

As you're shut into the chamber beneath the high peak, doubt swells in your temples. You sit and stare at the wall. You dreamt of these castle walls but you could never have imagined this.

👑

You are summoned by a thump on the door. The soldier enters without pause. You sit up from the bed, still in your wool gown and cap. He has a swath of silk in hand. He tosses it on the mattress.

"Queen says dress," he barks.

You move across the bed and lift the gown. You look at him. He huffs and turns his back to you. You get up and change quickly.

He peeks over his shoulder and points to the chest. There are slippers on it and a thin cape. You take both as the soldier watches. You look at him and twine your fingers together.

He growls and opens the door. You follow him. This is all very disorienting.

Upon the castle grounds, carts and luggage are ushered back and forth. You dodge between the furor as the soldier marches through undetered. He stops you beside a pair of large white horses attached to a litter with a canopy. The curtains are drawn and booming laughter come from within.

"In," the soldier demands.

Your eyes round, "sir?"

"In!" He grabs your arm and nearly throws you against the wheels.

You don't resist further. You put a foot on the step before the litter and the curtains part ahead of you. You look up at the sparkling eyes of a large man with wavy blond hair and sapphire irises. He chuckles.

"Ah, and what is this?" The man you can only assume is king asks.

The soldier chuckles, "did you not say to bring you something warm, your highness."

"I thought of mulled cider," the king grabs your wrist and yanks upon your arm. "But she burns hotter, eh?"

Before you can think, you fall through the curtain into the litter. The king catches you upon his lap and turns you over. You press against his chest as you writhe in a panic.

"Your highness," you squeal. "Please."

"Oh, do not squall," he slides you down next to him upon the feather mattress that lines the litter floor. "I've taken care of my morning sword. It lays in its sheath awaiting the next battle." He chortles and rolls onto his side, tucking you under his arm. "It is early and I am tired yet."

You squirm as his thick arms trap you. He is large and barely clothed. His arms are naked, his chest too, and beneath the blankets, you're not certain he has anything below.

"Do not fidget or you might just awaken it," he purrs into your hair. "The beast is hard to tame once stirred."

[eth3real-ess3nce]

My Astro Observations (Part 8)

🚫If your Mercury, Mars, Rising placements are water or earth influenced, you probably prefer that your phone is on silent or DND 🗣️If your Mercury, Mars, Rising placements are air or fire influenced, you probably don't mind your phone being loud af 😂

⚖️Natives with their Mars in Libra grew up taking the role of the "mediator" in their family or other environments. It is observed that when people around them seem to disagree or experience conflict, they ask this native to pick a side rather forcibly at times. This might lead them to develop people-pleasing tendencies. It's also the "lawyer at heart" placement.

😏Aquarius men usually look awkward in photos so they just decide to throw their signature smirk in there from time to time (ex. Ashton Kutcher, Joseph Gordon-Levitt)

🥵Mars in Aries natives' physical bodies react so dramatically to stimuli it's hilarious! I know someone with that placement that, whenever he eats food that is just SLIGHTLY spicy, his head starts sweating like he jogged for 2 hours! Another friend of mine, has this thing where every time she laughs for a bit longer than needed her eyes will fill with tears. But I'm talking BUCKETS of tears😂

💪Your 9th house sign represents your philosophy in life. But your 10th house sign represents your life motto.

For example: My 9th house is in Pisces, I do have a humanitarian outlook at the end of the day and I'm deeply spiritual My 10th house is in Aries, my life motto is "Fortune Favours The Bold". Self-explanatory. My philosophy: ✨🔮 My motto: 👹⚔️

👨‍🍳I've noticed that men with Virgo placements, one way or another, like to practice their culinary skills. They won't let you lift a finger in the kitchen and this is a way for them to show their love for you. Also, they're usually specialists when it comes to food or wines/alcohol in general

🏎️I have never met a Leo sun, moon, rising that owns a vehicle and has NOT received a speeding ticket before! Also why do you have 0 patience? And you end up driving clumsily! Leave that one to Aries please 😂

👹If one of your dominant planets is Mars or Pluto, you probably literally get high off horror content. Either films , books...horror subreddits👀. You just love being thrilled, especially Mars, you like to chase the andrenaline. And you don't even care if you won't be able to sleep at night. It was worth it😂 Honourable mentions: Mercury-Pluto , 8H Mercury , Scorpio Mercury

🖤If your natal Black Moon Lilith makes hard aspects (conjunction, square, opposite) to your personal planets (especially luminaries, sun and moon) you were born to be the Black Sheep. It's easy for you to stand out in the crowd, usually because you are not afraid to embody your "dark" wisdom. You might be minding your business yet your authenticity can deeply trigger people. This placement attracts envy and obsession, be it acquaintances or lovers. Beware of stalkers. One pro though, is that, you can be immaculate when it comes to manifesting.

The rest of my observations appear on my profile x

[picturetobcrn]

contents: josh washington x fem!reader, fingering, anal, && unprotected sex.

josh going at it with you from the back. being concentrated at two things at a time: your pleasure and his placements.

he first starts of with one of his didgets, prepping you hed call it. you were a moaning mess under him. "josh.. hngh!" you moaned. he'd continue, just wanting to pleasure you accordingly.

"youre doing so well, how does another one or two sound." he speaks by your ear. you desperately agree, nodding. he thinks it's the most adorable thing to see, you so needy for his touch.

he adds in two more digits, making it seem like you made it into paradise. josh and you, both knew that you weren't going to make it for much longer. so josh started pumping his fingers in and out of you.

making it so much harder to hold everything in. you feel your self clenching and throbbing from his touch. "josh-so close." you gasp before cumming undone all over his fingers.

he cleans it off, licking his fingers and then gets back to what he planned. he slowly enters you from behind and thrusts as soon as he gets fully inside. he has you slightly arch, keeping his hands on your waist to guide you through it.

he stays extremely touchy, touching you all over. from your neck to where your cunt was. "she's so good for me," he says pussy drunk.

his thrusts start to get more faster, overwhelming. he was close to bottoming out. he let's out grunts and moans "mmgh, good girl."

he manages to hold off a little longer and lightly slaps your puffy folds. wanting to feel how wet you were. he chuckles at what he gets.

"josh if you keep doing that im going to cum again!!" you mumur.

"then come sweetheart,"

he thrusts all while wanting to prioritize your pleasure first.

your moans were already getting him off and seeing the shaking mess you were was the cherry on top. as soon as the trigger went of on you and you came again josh bottoms completely out.

you twitch from the feeling of being filled by josh. he lazily thrusts getting to see all his cum oozing out from you.

before the either of you could say anything you heard the sound of mike and jessica knocking at the door.

[v3nusxsky]

Hi! Request from prompt list 🔥17

Dom Emily Prentiss x sub reader with overstimulation kink

Thanks :)

You can take it baby 18+

*Authors note~ 3 days into a particularly stressful placement and of course I want Emily Prentiss in completely normal ways right now. Full confession this was meant to be posted last week but I had the week from hell. I apologise guys*

Trigger warnings~ dom Emily, sub r overstimulation kink sub space mommy kink fingering oral strap on referenced as the real deal praise degrading humiliation kink spanking edging oral fixation aftercare hinted at threesome

Prompt~ see ask^^^

————————————————————————

Really, it was amusing that you sat here pouting at a situation you had walked straight into. Willingly. All day you had been bratty, distracted and just plain disobedient to Emily and that was something she would never accept from you. As her wife, you knew damn well what you’d done and yet you still had the audacity to sit here squirming, despite the command to kneel and remain still. However, your wife was no stranger to recognising the cues of what you needed, perks of living and working together. Well and she is a profiler while you are just a technical assistant.

On the rare chance that no psychopathic serial killers were out on the hunt, the team stayed home bound and worked on paperwork that was so long since needing to be attended to. That was the soul reason you’d been able to achieve such a great result in annoying your lover with your behaviour. The instructions had been simple, go and strip bare, move so your nose is touching the wall and your knelt on your knees with your palms resting comfortably upon the tops of them.

Timeouts are something you hate, especially after you’d been edged on the drive home. All you wanted was her and that was something you knew you’d have to earn forgiveness before you could even think about having. You’d lost count how long she left you alone in the room, thighs coated in your need, craving the raven haired woman’s presence. You’ve always been told to be carful what you wish for, never understanding fully the meaning. Until now.

Ending up over your shared bed with Emily behind you was definitely not the attention you wanted. But it’s what you got. Her hand coming down against the soft globes of your ass and the backs of your thighs as she forced you to count and thank her for every hit. “Such a little slut, just needed mommy to give you a good spanking didn’t you baby?” She would taunt as an obnoxiously loud mewl slipped past your lips at the delicious sting her palm left behind. “Oh, you really are a little whore , wonder what the team would think? Their little mini PG over my bed whimpering like a bitch. Do you like it when mommy hits you baby?” You never confirmed it, you didn’t need to, the fact your enjoyment was dripping down your thighs told her everything she needed to know.

By the twentieth spank you no longer felt the same pleasure in the sting, your voice wavering as you counted for the woman. “Surely a slut like you can take ten more, right? Or are we not even capable of doing something so simple for mommy?” Her words only motivating you to take more. The brat in you simmering down into her pliant little girl. “I can mommy! I can please! Wanna be good” you whimpered causing the last ten wacks to be laid down on your ass faster than the speed of light.

You didn’t even have a breath to dry your falling tears before Emily’s slender fingers trailed down to the apex of your thighs, fingers playing with the copious amounts of slick that took residence there. “That wasn’t enough for my little whore was it? I think you need more, what do you think?” She murmured as if you were just discussing what to have for dinner. “No please mommy I’ll be good now, I swear!” you whined trying to squirm out of her hold despite there being no where to run. “Oh you poor girl” she cooed with her words dripping in faux sympathy, “You are mommy’s bitch to play with so why would I take orders from you? Remember your place little girl” she growled into your ear leaning down to grab your hair and roughly manhandle you into her desired position. “There’s so much fight here, a pretty slut like you doesn’t need it. Let mommy do all the thinking, just lay there and look pretty for me. Can you do that? No, you will do that or I won’t be as kind with my next move. You didn’t like that last time did you sweetheart?”

Last time flashed between your eyes as you remembered being left with your thighs covered in your sticky need for days on end, Emily refusing to touch you, no touching yourself and most definitely not allowing any of the potential friends into the bedroom touch you either. Your mama would’ve given into your crocodile tears and whimpered pleads too easily for Emily’s liking. But that didn’t mean that JJ wasn’t clued up on why you tried to hang around her more at work, subtly pleading with her to have her way with you, in fact the whole of the BAU had gathered you were very much on a punishment as time trickled on. “No mommy! Please! No don’t want that” you cried hoping to avoid the situation.

“The behave” she snapped back at you before yanking your legs apart and settling between them. Her lips trailing all over your exposed skin, nipping, biting and marking every inch of it from your neck to thighs. You could’ve sobbed in relief as she took your rock hard clit into her lips, allowing you some form of relief. “M-mommy” you choked out in between mewls of pleasure. Emily was always so skilled in every aspect of the bedroom but you often told her how this was your favourite way to let her take you. And when she added two fingers into your weeping hole as her tongue focused all its attention on your clit you swore you were ready to see stars. Until you didn’t.

“Mommy!” You sobbed in poor frustration at being edged once again. You really couldn’t think of anything but her. You’re cunt being sensitive and in dire need of some relief, clenching around thin air causing her to smirk at your pathetic state. “Pathetic. Can’t even handle a simple edging. Why should mommy give you and your pathetic pussy my cock hm? Do you deserve something so special?” Her teasing triggered a string of incoherent begging and pleading for her to take you with her cock that you knew was attached between her legs from the moment she’d had you knelt on the floor.

Knowing and seeing however are two very different things, seeing her cock was definitely better than just knowing it was there. In fact, you were practically drooling at the sight. “The sight of Mommys dick really does just turn you into a mindless bitch in heat doesn’t it my love? Oh my girl do you want it in your mouth? Say please, beg me” she murmured as she now approached you bare apart from her not so little hard friend. “Mmm please mommy, I want it” you whimpered, eyes never leaving the woman’s new appendage. It’s a deep maroon colour, that just so happens to be one of your favourite colours on the woman. And naturally Emily just had to buy one for her sweet girl.

“Open slut” she demanded looking down at your blown wide pupils with a smirk plastered on her lips. You instantly did as she asked of you and was rewarded with her veiny cum filled cock in your mouth. Your gags were music to the profilers ears, so much that she would pull out and forcefully thrust back in testing your gag reflex. Tears again now flowed freely as you did your best to take her abuse on your throat. Emily couldn’t lie, seeing you on your knees, her cock in your mouth was enough to have her on the edge with a simple look but that’s not what she wants tonight so she unhappily pulls her shaft from your now puffy and abused lips.

Simply deciding you’d slipped deep enough now she threw your plaint body on the bed and positioned you to be on your hands and knees, spread apart and ready for the taking. And taking you she would be. You couldn’t help but sigh happily as the tip of her cock teased the wetness all over your glistening folds. Those sighs soon turned into a gasp as she thrusted herself into your warm awaiting hole, stretching your soaking walls to accommodate her sheer size. “Mommy hurts” you whimpered adjusting to the stings and burns she’d created until they faded into blissful pleasure. “Oh, poor baby” she cooed not bothering to slow her pace or shorten her thrusts. The woman may as well have been a wild animal with how she was pounding your oversensitive pussy. Any whines and cries of protest were swiftly ignored and met with words that practically oozed dominance and sex.

“Gonna take my cum baby?” She panted into your ear after tugging your almost limp body towards her chest. “No mommy, too much can’t” you mewled quietly as the woman did nothing to slow the abuse on your core. “Shh, just a little more my love, such a sweet girl for your mommy. Mommy wants to make her sweet girl nice and full hmm? Can you be a doll and let mommy do that baby?” She murmured sweetly causing you to nod, giving Emily that okay to let herself and you fall over the edge as you both came rushing over the edge at the same time. A sneaky right arm squeezed at the base of her cock causing her cum to spurt into your awaiting walls with ease. The sensations causing you to go dizzy with pleasure and everything went black.

Now to say Emily wasn’t proud of her ability to fuck you like this wasn’t her secret joy of life would be a lie but she was always there jumping straight into aftercare. In scenes, your nothing more than a means to an end, how you both like it, but now your her wife, her sweet lover who deserves the world, sun, moon and stars. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do to be that for you so it was no surprise that she sprung into action, ridding herself of the strap on, heading to get a warm wash cloth and lotion for you as well as drinks and snacks for when you came round to the world of the living.

Like always she had been able to care for your sore body before you’d even roused yourself, and when you did the familiar haze covered your beautiful eyes showing the woman how far down you are. “Are we with me sweet girl?” She murmured softly, a stark contrast of what she’d been earlier on. A pitiful whimper was all she received as a response as you slowly rolled onto your stomach knowing the routine well enough. “Thank you sweet girl, mommy just wants to make you feel all better now darling. I’ll be gentle love” she murmured to you lowly as she took your desired cream and applied generous amounts onto your sore arse. Next on the order would be a drink, trip to the rest room and a snack if you desired.

Before you knew it you were laying your head on Emily’s chest as she gently stroked your cheek with her index finger. Truly you looked nothing short of perfect in this state and it’s one she always wanted to commit to her memory. Although a sub drop didn’t appear to be on the cards Emily always easily let you back to the real world but slowly easing out of the scene, something that had worked well. What she had never seen you do is poke your tongue out to swipe at her finger before moving your hand to grab at her rest and bring the finger to your mouth.

On instinct really, you began to suckle on her finger as she watched on mesmerised. Oral fixation isn’t something you have discussed or discovered about yourself but it appears to be a needed conversation. “You’re okay darling, mommy is here okay?” She murmured to you watching as your eyes fluttered shut, contentment filling your body. Happy murmurs surrounded her fingers as you tried to snuggle even closer. “Good night sweet girl, mommy loves you darling” she whispered as you appeared to be falling into a peaceful slumber, not letting her finger slip from between your lips.

Word count 2144

[daryltwdixon]

also do u have advice for writing smut?! i really really want to make one and have a draft but i’m so so bad at describing the actual act as well as the build up towards it— like i know what plot i want to do and have a solid beginning typed out but it’s just so difficult going past that considering i’m so inexperienced with writing 🥲 thank uuu

First of all, it means so much to me that you trust me for writing advice! I am not a professional nor do I think I write smut as well as some of my fellow writers on here, but here is what I will tell you:

warnings: this post is nsfw below the cut

I think smut can be super overwhelming and hard to write well! Bringing a person into the sexual experience is tricky because there’s a fine line between “okay, now they’re fuckin’” and “oh my god, I feel everything they’re feeling, and it’s like I’m really there with them.”

One piece of advice I read once that really helped was to remember the five senses in writing. I find this especially important in smut!I

I kinda went off the deep end here cause you really got me thinking 🤓

Touch

What does their skin feel like? What does the reader’s skin feel like? What sensations run through the body?

Is he warm? Do his hands feel rough with callouses, or does he run smoother knuckles down my face as he caresses me?

Do I get goosebumps when he kisses my neck? What does his tongue feel like when he soothes the feeling of his teeth on my flesh?

Is he hot and sweaty, desperate? Or is this slow, gentle, and warm?

As someone who has had sex before, I often try to remember what something felt like when it was especially good—the way my thighs shake after coming down from an orgasm, how flushed my cheeks get, the ache in my muscles after being held just right.

Joel's hands are rough, broad, his fingers spanning the width of your ribs as he pulls you closer. There’s heat radiating off him, the kind that seeps into your skin, prickling up your spine. His palm drags down, calloused fingertips catching on the soft skin of your waist, like he’s memorizing the feel of you. 

Taste

This one is easy to forget but can seriously pull the reader into the moment.

When I kiss Joel, I taste whiskey or coffee on his tongue, the salt of sweat lingering on his upper lip from a long day.

When I kiss Daryl, I taste cigarettes, maybe even something metallic—he’s always biting the inside of his cheek.

When I kiss their neck, is it salty with sweat? Or do I faintly taste the Irish Spring soap they used last night?

Taste changes depending on placement—a dick in the mouth is gonna taste much more heady, salty, depending on cleanliness. Both of them would taste so masculine (imo, hot as hell) but in different ways.

Daryl's mouth is cigarettes and salt, the dull lingering taste of cheap beer still clinging to his tongue. When you kiss him deeper, there’s something rough beneath it, something metallic from all the times you saw him biting at his own lip, the taste of sweat and sun. He groans low in his throat, his fingers tightening at your waist, and when he pulls back, you can still taste the smoke, the heat, the grit of him.

Smell

This ties into taste, because our nose and mouths are often linked together to create one sense. Smell is also linked HEAVILY to memory, emotions, and attraction.

Instead of listing smells, describe how they affect the character. Does it make their stomach tighten? Does it trigger a memory? Does it make them dizzy with want?Layer smells together for realism.

Sweat doesn’t just smell like salt—it might mix with leather, gunpowder, or something more personal.

Use scent changes to track pacing—sweat, heat, breath, the lingering smell of sex afterward.

As you lean in, you catch the distinct smell of him, of your Joel. Warm skin, sun-baked sweat, and the lingering scent of sawdust and earth, it's enough to make your head spin with desire. He carries the scent of wood and sweat, the byproduct of long hours fixing fences, moving supplies, hauling weight over his shoulder. His shirt holds onto the faintest trace of laundry soap, worn thin from too many washes, but beneath it all is him—something clean, masculine, steady.

Sight

Of course, this is a big part of explaining smut. Sight gives the reader something to follow in a scene. It’s about body language, micro-expressions, the way desire changes someone’s face.

Don’t just say what the character looks like—show how they react. A character’s body tells a story. How their chest rises, how their hands shake, how their eyes darken.

Make use of focus. What’s the reader paying attention to? A clenched jaw, the way their partner’s fingers dig into their skin, the way their body tightens before they moan?

Daryl’s mouth is kiss-bruised, swollen from where you’ve been biting at his lips. His hair clings to his forehead, damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed, but his eyes—his eyes are locked onto yours, dark, sharp, hungry. His hands are gripping you too tight, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, but when you roll your hips, his head tilts back, his throat bobbing as he lets out a breathless, wrecked moan.

Sound

other than dirty talk (of course my personal fave) what kind of sounds are we making?

Think about sound variety. It’s not just moans—it’s grunts, gasps, growls, the rustling of sheets, the creak of a bed, the hitched breath between words.

Use sound to show loss of control. We know Joel and Daryl are pretty stoic, quiet men. So when they start out just breathy and quiet but then eventually they make noises like whimpers, curses, groans and growling. Whewwwwwyyyyyy

Dirty talk is sound too. Think about how it’s said—breathy? Rough? Stuttered? Is their voice cracking?

He’s not loud. Not at first. But you feel every sound he makes—the way his breath stutters, the way his chest shakeswith every exhale. When you drag your nails down his back, his jaw clenches, his hips jerking up involuntarily. He growls, deep and low, his voice gravelly as he mutters, “That what you want, darlin’?” But when you clench around him, slow and teasing, he finally breaks—a wrecked, shaky groan, his head dropping forward, his forehead pressing against yours as he grits out, “Fuck.”

HOWEVER. Adding descriptive words like these only make sense if you have reasoning for them. What emotions do they tie to the experience for the reader x Joel/Daryl? Just like in any fic, sensory details in smut should serve a purpose beyond just making the scene feel “hot.” It’s not enough to describe touch, taste, and sound for the sake of it—those sensations should be tied directly to the characters, their emotions, and the tension between them.

For characters like Joel and Daryl, who aren’t overtly expressive or traditionally romantic, the way they touch, react, and move says more than words ever could. What they do, how they do it, and what they don’t do all carry weight. Sensory details should showcase their personalities, their dynamic with the other person, and the emotional undercurrent beneath the physical act.

Joel isn’t someone who spouts flowery praise or gets lost in the moment—he’s gruff, restrained, but deeply physical. His touch is deliberate, heavy, his body language always saying more than his words do.

Instead of just describing how he grips her hips, think about what that grip means—is he steadying himself, like he doesn’t want to lose control? Or is it possessive, grounding, a silent way of saying you’re mine because he won’t let himself say it out loud?

Daryl is rough around the edges, but there’s a quiet intensity to him. He doesn’t have the same verbal restraint as Joel (though I’d argue they are similar) but he’s gruff, hesitant in his own way, always balancing between rough and careful because he doesn’t always trust himself with softness. (Cries into pillow)

The way he tugs you closer isn’t just about proximity—it’s about need, about how he doesn’t always ask for things, but right now, he’s taking what he wants.

Smut isn’t just about bodies meeting—it’s about what’s being said without words. Whether it’s slow and reverent, rough and frantic, or taunting and full of defiance, the way they touch, hesitate, take, or surrender is what makes it feel real. The physical act is important, but the reason behind it is what makes it linger.

Whewyyyyy anon! Hope this got your gears turning and inspires some good smut!!! Love you!!

[historyofguns]

In the article "Ayoob: Is Your Trigger Finger Placement Wrong?" from The Armory Life, written by Massad Ayoob, the focus is on the critical detail of trigger finger placement in shooting accuracy. Ayoob discusses the conventional wisdom in handgun training where the pad of the trigger finger is used for guns with a short, light trigger pull, while the distal joint is recommended for firearms with long, heavy pulls. He explains the "power crease" technique, used by double-action revolver experts, where the distal joint provides better leverage and control. Ayoob illustrates this with examples, such as the 1911 pistol and the Springfield Armory XD and Echelon lines, which offer a short trigger reach favorable for distal joint placement. The article advises against the "h-Grip" approach due to its potential to induce arthritis and negatively impact recoil control. By experimenting with different finger placements, Ayoob suggests shooters can explore techniques that might improve their shooting performance.

[khywren]

❛ pairing: Astarion/f!Tav; Astarion/f!OC (Ysera) ❛ word count: 4.6k ┊ ❛ rating: 18+ MDNI ❛ tags/cw: canon-typical violence, piv sex, rough sex, fingering, hair pulling, blood/blood drinking, soft dom Astarion

‣ preview: Ysera pulls away, flashing him a grin so smug Astarion is positive she couldn't have gotten it from anyone but himself. His swollen lip throbs. The traces of crimson on her lips do something unspeakably wicked to him, a tremor of desire thrumming through him and sending a delicious wave of pleasure straight to his groin.

“Something wrong?” Ysera asks, barely bothering to pretend she doesn't know exactly what she's doing. Her eyes narrow, twin slits of molten amber that flicker with the embers of her frustration. 

“This is the game you wanted to play, so now we're playing it.”

AO3 ┊ series masterlist

No matter how many reanimated skeletons Ysera sends back to the grave, the one thing she'll never get used to is the unnerving sound of their rattling bones, the way they creak and groan with every stuttered step they take. She and Astarion have been surrounded by the things, a trap triggered by the chest Astarion was all too eager to lockpick the moment they broke their way into this dusty expanse of a tower.

The placement of the chest in question had been conspicuous at best, hardly hidden away like one might expect for something so heavily laden with gold and other precious gems. And that was without accounting for the disturbing amount of skeletons littered about the room, many of them still wearing gold and silver trinkets that would likely fetch quite a large sum of money. It was odd to think no one had bothered looting them in all the time they must have been here, rotting away in the dark.

“They're dead, darling – lucky for us, they won't be needing them,” Astarion had assured her, waving away her concerns only moments before the chest had popped open and the trap-that-was-so-obviously-a-trap had been sprung.

An arrow had whizzed past Ysera's head only moments later, burying itself into the chest as she had barely avoided being struck. Another shot had pierced her straight through the shoulder only moments later, pain ripping through her like searing fire before she wrenched the shaft from the wound and roared with rage. Astarion had leapt into action like a feral beast the moment he smelled her blood, slashing and cutting his way towards the skeleton who had dared to harm her.

They're standing back to back now, Astarion sending arrow after arrow into the farthest targets and deflecting their returning blows with quick flourishes of his dagger between shots, kept clenched between his teeth until he needs it. Blood trickles down Ysera's forearm as she weaves a bolt of lightning between her hands, hurtling it at a group of skeletons shambling towards them. Their dry, brittle bones burst on impact, but no sooner have they collapsed than do others take their place, hellsbent on making the pair of them the latest addition to their ranks.

“Are you all right, love?” Astarion asks, glancing at her over his shoulder as he looses another arrow without looking; the noise it makes when it hits its intended target confirms it's found its mark.

“I'm fine,” Ysera says brusquely, rearing back to unleash a searing fireball into another pack of skeletons. With so few left, they separate to pick off the stragglers, making quick work of them. When no more enemies remain, Ysera fishes inside her pack with her good hand, her left arm numb and immobilized from her injuries. The potion she pours down her throat tastes bitter and earthy, the way she imagines it might feel biting into a pine tree, and she sputters a bit at the foul flavor of it but sighs in relief as her torn flesh begins to knit itself back together once more. She flexes her fingers to make sure everything still works.

Then Ysera turns her attention to Astarion, finding him across the chamber.

“All right, what the hells were you thinking?” she admonishes him, kicking her way through scattered bones and ash as she storms towards him and fixes him with a withering look. “You almost got both of us killed back there!”

Astarion wrenches his dagger from the empty eye socket of the last skeleton he felled, crushing its grinning face with a swift stomp of his boot for good measure. He sheathes the blade and turns to face Ysera, incredulous as she sets her jaw and waits for his explanation.

“Excuse me?” he snipes back, a flash of fangs and furrowed brows. “I saved you from being sliced to ribbons –” he holds his fingers aloft as he counts “– one… two… three times! Minimum.”

If anything, she should be thanking him.

Ysera merely folds her arms across her chest, the golden amber of her eyes narrowed in frustration as she appraises him. Her shoulders heave with a heavy sigh.

“They shot me,” she counters, rolling her shoulder. “And at any rate, you wouldn't have had to if you had just listened to me,” she groans. “I told you something was off about this place.”

Astarion mirrors her expression and crosses his own arms. He's being petty on purpose, and they both know it. When Ysera says nothing, Astarion swallows thickly; far easier than swallowing his pride and admitting he made a mistake. He feigns disinterest and shrugs off her accusations with practiced ease, pretending to pick at a piece shattered bone on his sleeve.

“Yes, yes,” he says with a wave of his hand, “that's all well and good, but it turned out fine.” A few gold coins scatter over the open mouth of the chest as he gives it a swift kick and adds, “And look at what we have to show for it. Honestly, darling, sometimes I swear you hate good news.”

Flames flare hot between Ysera's clenched fists as she advances towards him, and Astarion flinches when he finds her face mere inches from his own, scowling up at him. She's far more fearsome like this, with her magic finally under her command, able to wield it with frightening precision. Her tail thrashes in frustration, spaded tip slicing through the air so violently he can hear every twist and turn it makes behind her. Even without saying anything, her fury is palpable, her shorter stature doing nothing to diminish its impact.

Astarion clears his throat and averts his gaze, but he can still feel her eyes boring into him, the heat of her skin as her face flushes – not in embarrassment, but in anger. But then he affixes a grin to his mouth, risking his own safety when he leans in closer and murmurs against her lips, “Darling… have I ever told you how adorable you look when you're angry?”

Ysera seems to savor the feeling of his lips against her before reason kicks in and she jolts back, face cut into a deep frown. She shoves a single finger into his chest, practically snarling when she says, “Oh, no. You're not flirting your way out of this one, Astarion.”

Astarion chuckles softly and cocks his head to the side, reveling in his handiwork. The fact of the matter is, he wasn't lying; she really is something else when she's riled up, all pouting lips and exasperated sighs that he so rarely gets to see.

And if he happened to purposely give her a little nudge in that direction for his own amusement? There's certainly nothing wrong with that, as far as he's concerned.

“Is that what you think this is, my dear?” he teases her, pressing the tip of his finger against her nose and smirking triumphantly when she scrunches up her face but doesn't pull away any further.

“Tell me I'm wrong, then,” she goads.

Astarion pretends to take a moment to consider, placing the finger on her nose on his chin instead as he hums thoughtfully. 

“You’ve got me dead to rights,” he says eventually, hands held up in surrender. The irony occurs to him, then, and he giggles mischievously, “Well, even more dead than I already am, of course.” When she doesn't laugh at his joke, his expression sours, lips pursed as he pouts miserably at her and sighs. “My humor is wasted on you.”

Astarion doesn't expect the stones to be so sharp when Ysera pushes him back against the wall, and he squirms uncomfortably when the edge of one of the bricks digs its way between his shoulder blades. He watches her, her breathing measured as her eyes rove slowly over his face, daring him to test her patience any further.

And Astarion takes the bait, because of course he does. His brow lifts slyly, and he lets a single fang poke out from behind his grinning lips, knowing the effect it will have on her. 

“What's this? Eager to kiss and make up, are we?”

Astarion doesn't have time to enjoy his victory before Ysera unexpectedly crashes her lips against his, pinning him flat against the wall with a growl as her tongue sweeps into his open mouth. His satisfied groan is cut short when she sinks her teeth into his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood and make him curse instead.

“Mmmph… fuck.”

Ysera pulls away, flashing him a grin so smug Astarion is positive she couldn't have gotten it from anyone but himself. His swollen lip throbs – as does his cock, straining against his trousers. The traces of crimson on her lips do something unspeakably wicked to him, a tremor of desire thrumming through him and sending a delicious wave of pleasure straight to his groin.

“Something wrong?” Ysera asks, barely bothering to pretend she doesn't know exactly what she's doing. Her eyes narrow, twin slits of molten amber that flicker with the embers of her frustration. 

“This is the game you wanted to play, so now we're playing it.”

She kisses him again, tongue delving into his mouth, and he can taste the metallic tang of blood. His blood – her blood, not so long ago, before he fed from her the night before. The traces of her magic still linger, if he cares to search for them. But he doesn't, because nothing is more enticing than the way she fists her hand in his hair and moans hungrily against him.

He much prefers to focus on that. On the way she slots her body against his, the familiar curve of her hips beneath his broad hands. How strong and warm and alive she feels.

“Fine.”

A primal growl rumbles low in Astarion's throat, and he uses his superior strength to flip them both around so this time it's Ysera pinned and squirming beneath him. She is so delightfully feisty, fighting in vain to overpower him as they exchange heated kiss after heated kiss. Her muscles tense and undulate as she wrestles with him, but the moan that tears itself from her throat as Astarion pins her hands harshly above her head tell him that she's anything but unsatisfied with her current predicament.

And then their eyes meet for a brief moment, searing red and simmering gold. Their shared breaths mingle in the space between them, an unspoken understanding of what they both need from one another in this moment. Their lovemaking is rarely quite so intense – Astarion quite enjoys taking his time with Ysera, after all, taking her apart piece by piece before building her pleasure to an intense crescendo – but there will be nothing soft or tender about what Astarion intends on doing with her now.

His free hand pushes open Ysera's robes, fumbling with the buttons of the shirt beneath it as he searches eagerly for more of her bare skin. The damned thing gives him more trouble than he intends, and with a huff of exasperation, Astarion sinks his teeth into the neckline for leverage before weaving his fingers between two buttons and wrenching the thin fabric apart, exposing her belly and the heavy swell of her breasts beneath her stays. He tugs at the laces impatiently, and the last barrier between his hands and her body falls away, swept over her shoulders to fall to the floor with the rest of her robes as he takes her eagerly into his hand.

As he cups one breast, he dips his head to take the other into his mouth, feeling the way her nipple pebbles beneath the broad sweep of his tongue. Ysera's breath hitches as he bites down into her tender flesh, fangs piercing her skin like a hot knife through butter. Astarion laps lazily at the blood that spills from the puncture marks he's made, restraining himself from taking even more from her.

Ysera groans, teeth clenched as she arches her back, throwing her hands into his soft curls to hold herself steady. She tugs on his hair hard enough that his eyes drag a lazy path upwards, even as his mouth remains on her.

“Astarion,” she grumbles, “That was my favorite shirt.”

Ysera can feel the way he smirks into her skin before he pulls back enough to murmur absently: “Was it? A pity.” He clicks his tongue and pinches her other nipple between the soft pads of his fingertips, dragging a soft cry from her. She glowers down at him through clenched teeth, and he laughs.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” They have more than enough gold for it, after all. He'll get her a whole new wardrobe, if she asks. “How do you feel about silk? Lace?” He busies his mouth with more of her delicious blood, sweat and her floral soap mingling with the familiar taste of iron.

“I'm fine with either, naturally,” he prattles on, “but you do look quite lovely in –”

Ysera tugs his hair again, pulling him from his thoughts of her half-naked body, hidden from him only by lacy scraps of fabric that leave little to the imagination. He files the thought away for later, when they're back in the city and he can have something made.

“ Astarion. ”

“Hmm?”

She's trying so hard to stay angry with him, her expression stern even as desire blazes in her eyes. Her nails rake over his scalp, one hand twisting between their bodies to palm his cock through the infuriating barrier of his trousers. There's just enough friction to entice him, and Astarion rolls his hips into the curve of her hand, breaths ragged as he chases his pleasure. Ysera's grip tightens, halting his shallow thrusts, voice husky as she makes her demands.

“No. You're going to make it up to me, right here. Right now.”

Astarion's eyes darken as he reluctantly abandons her breasts, choosing instead to bury his face in the junction of her neck and shoulder. Here he can feel the steady rhythm of her pulse, fangs pressed against her throat as he drags an agonizingly slow path of pleasure towards her jawline. A violent shudder tears through Ysera like lightning, prickling her skin as faint traces of the Weave dance across her skin. Her magic is electrifying, alighting his nerves with a strange, intoxicating sensation that feels a bit like sinking into a warm bath as it caresses every inch of his body.

“Wicked little thing,” he purrs. “I’ll enjoy watching you come undone on my cock.”

Astarion descends upon her once more, drinking in her desperate moans as his hands slip beneath the waistband of her pants. Her hands make quick work of his own laces, greedily slipping inside his underwear in search of his cock. He's achingly hard when she finds it, slick with precome that she spreads over the tip with a swipe of her thumb. His hips stutter, pushing his cock deeper into her hand once again, unable to stop himself from groaning obscenely into her mouth.

It's a miracle Ysera's pants and underwear make it off her body in one piece as Astarion all but yanks them down around her knees before she kicks them off along with her boots. When they part for breath, Ysera jerks her head towards the center of the room, her voice trembling almost as much as the rest of her.

“Desk,” she mutters, helping him lift his shirt over his head, where it joins the rest of their hastily discarded clothes. “I am not about to let you fuck me next to a pile of pulverized skeletons.”

“Darling, where is your sense of adventure? I thought you might prefer an audience.”

“I think I've had enough ‘adventure’ for one day,” she says icily, the last threads of her patience stretched thin. Astarion sweeps her off her feet with little effort, hiking her legs up around his waist as he makes short work of the distance between their current position and the old desk piled with papers and books of various irrelevant subjects. He sets her down gently and chuckles softly.

“No audience, then.”

By the time Astarion has fully undressed, Ysera's taken the liberty for him and bent herself over the desk, back arched in such a way that he can see how eager she is to take him. Her thighs are slick with the arousal between her legs, tail swept aside so he can fully admire the view of her dripping cunt.

“Mmm…” Astarion makes a noise that sounds downright feral, lining himself up with her entrance as he braces a hand on her hips. “Aren't you quite the sight, love?”

Her cunt clamps down on his cock as he pushes inside her, hot and wet and tighter than she's ever been. A keening whine tears itself from her throat, her hips adjusting to accommodate him as Astarion slowly seats himself inside of her. They both gasp when he bottoms out, overwhelmed by the sensation of how good he feels inside of her. Astarion digs his fingers into the plush curve of her ass at the same time his free hand presses down on the base of her tail, thumb stroking the sensitive underside as he rolls his hips slow and deep to work her open.

Ysera buries her face against the polished wood and releases a single guttural moan, the sconces scattered around the room flaring to life as her magic surges through her. The glide of his cock is sinful, her body molding perfectly to him as his pace quickens with every punishing thrust. 

She's far too quiet for his liking, stubbornly withholding her pleasure from him even as she digs her nails into the desk and throws her head back in a silent scream. Astarion grunts as he angles his hips to hit the sensitive spot deep inside her core, kneading the ample flesh of her ass before bringing his hand down and smacking her roughly with his palm.

Her hips jerk and her knees buckle, and Astarion spanks her again at the same time as he slams his hips into her, her skin blooming red and hot beneath his hand.

The desk splinters beneath her nails as Ysera lets out a ragged cry, babbling and whimpering as Astarion soothes the angry marks on her skin and squeezes the base of her tail.

“There, see how easy that was?” he coos. “You give me what I want, and I return the favor.”

“Nnn…nhnnnn…” Ysera murmurs, straining to find her voice. Astarion runs a hand along the curve of her spine, deceptively gentle before he fists his fingers in her hair and yanks her head back, her back bowing as she goes rigid beneath him.

“Say my name, Ysera,” Astarion growls, fangs bared as he snaps his hips forward, fucking her hard and deep. Ysera gasps for breath, her throat parched and raw as she mouths the first two syllables.

“Asta – ahh!” When the tip of his cock strokes against a particularly sensitive part of her cunt, Ysera's concentration frays completely, leaving her helpless but to succumb to the pleasure that wracks her to her very core. Stars burst in her vision, but the hand still tangled in her hair keeps her upright even as the strength leaves her body.

“Ysera,” Astarion says darkly, catching her eyes as she tilts her head back to look at him. The pace of his thrusts remains just as relentless, the way her cunt flutters and pulses around his cock almost enough to make him spill inside her then and there.

“Say it.”

“Astarion,” she whines, her tongue lolling out over her kiss-swollen lips as her mouth falls slack.

“Oh,” Astarion says slyly, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “You can do better than that. I know you can. Try again.” Astarion wets the pad of his thumb with a pass of his tongue before bringing it down to press against her other hole. He kneads her open delicately, the contrast of his brutal thrusts inside her cunt against the tender way he slowly eases the digit inside past the first knuckle so intense that she loses whatever control she had left and screams his name as she comes hard on his cock.

“Astarion!”

Astarion grunts as her walls contract around his cock, fighting every urge he has to follow after her as he fucks Ysera through her orgasm. “Good girl,” he huffs, amused by the way she clenches even more tightly around him when he praises her. His thrusts slow but don't quite stop, enough to bring him back from the edge of the pleasure that claws desperately at him and begs him to keep going until he's completely spent.

“Don't stop,” Ysera wines piteously beneath him as she comes down from her high, head turning so she can look at him beneath the curtain of her hair when he releases her. Her brows knit together in consternation. “Don't you dare stop.”

“I'm afraid that's not how this works, love,” Astarion admonishes. Ysera bucks her hips back against him, but they're pressed so close together that she doesn't even have the luxury of being able to fuck herself on his cock. She lets out a wail of frustration and balls her fists tightly.

“What was it you said earlier?” he muses, a flash of fangs beneath his wolfish smile. Realization dawns on Ysera's face as the consequences of her actions come back to haunt her.

“Ah, I remember now. This is the game you wanted to play, so now we're playing it.”

“Astarion…” Ysera's eyes are dark and wide with desperation, pupils blown as she silently pleads with him to give her what she wants. She barely has the strength to prop herself up, but it's not enough. She needs him to find his own release, wants him to make her come for him again as he empties himself inside her. She's furious that he still has the patience to play with her like this, while she's been reduced to this.

His voice is low and husky as he leans over her, tipping her chin up and capturing her lips in a long, languid kiss. 

“Beg for it,” he growls against her mouth, biting down and sucking her bottom lip between his blunted teeth. “Beg me to let you come again.

Astarion straightens, hands splayed over her waist as he spreads her open and teases her with several long, drawn-out thrusts of his hips. Ysera's face falls back against the desk, her teeth grit every time Astarion rolls his hips forward.

“No,” she groans through her teeth. Her nails dig into the desk again, cutting deep gouges in the wood as she drags herself back up and fixes him with a stubborn scowl. 

“You don't want to come again?” he asks, tutting. “And here I thought you were enjoying yourself.” He stills inside her, and her cunt clenches tightly around him as if trying to draw him deeper inside. Pinned beneath him as she is, all she can do is snarl and writhe, unable to even slip a hand between her legs to finish the job for him.

Astarion arches a brow and smirks devilishly at her. In this battle of wills, he knows he will come out the victor. He can tell by the way she quivers and pants for breath, squeezing her eyes shut when she feels his cock pulse inside her cunt.

Ysera turns away from him and buries her face in the desk.

“Please.” 

“Hmm?” Astarion hums. “Speak up, love, I didn't quite catch that.”

“Please…” she says again, louder than before. The anger in her voice is tempered steel, but she can only deny herself for so long.

“Please let me come, I need…”

Astarion gathers Ysera's wrists and pins them behind the small of her back, arms bent at the elbows as he tenderly smooths his thumb over her skin. A sheen of sweat glistens over her entire body, capturing the firelight that still flickers throughout the room.

“What do you need?” Astarion prompts, voice firm but not unkind. As feisty as she is, she's been so good for him, and he's only asking a little more of her, after all. He wants to hear her say it, will never tire of knowing how badly she aches for him, the same way he aches for her.

“You,” she says obediently. "Your cock. Need to come for you again…” Her words become a mantra as she mumbles a breathy, “Please, please, please.”

Astarion hums in approval, slowly increasing the pace of his thrusts. “I’ll allow it,” he murmurs, as if he hasn't been fighting every instinct in his body that tells him to drive himself into her as hard as he can, to make her scream and writhe as she falls to pieces beneath him. “Since you asked so nicely.”

The raw passion and desperate fervor from before is replaced by sensuous rolls of his hips, the intensity no less pleasurable for both of them as Astarion settles back into his rhythm, bottoming out with each thrust as the lewd sounds of their skin slapping together mingles with their shared moans. Ysera bucks against Astarion's fingers when his hand snakes down to attend to her neglected clit, the taut bundle of nerves slick with both of their arousal as he circles it in time with his thrusts. It doesn't take long before her thighs begin to shake, signaling the imminent orgasm building within her as she whimpers beautifully beneath him.

“Astarion!” she cries out, “I'm –!”

Astarion continues to tease between her legs, stroking and kneading her with skillful movements and wasting no time bringing her right to the edge. He will not last – and neither, he ensures, will she.

“That's it, love,” he encourages her, groaning through clenched teeth. “Come for me. Let's hear you sing.”

It's all she needs before she's coming for him again, voice breaking around the syllables of his name as she all but shatters. The way she cries out tugs him spiraling over the edge and into the raging torrent of his own orgasm, hips frantically thrusting as he fills her hot cunt with his come. It leaks obscenely down Ysera's thighs even as he fucks the rest of it deep inside of her, bent over her back to keep himself from losing his footing when his legs threaten to give out from the intensity of it all.

When they've both recovered and Astarion has mustered enough strength to move, he pulls out of her slowly, mourning the loss of her warmth immediately as he sinks limply to the floor and leans back against the desk. Ysera stumbles down after him, crawling into his lap when he beckons her with open arms and sighs against his chest when he pulls her into a tender embrace.

“You're not still mad at me, are you?” he murmurs against her temple, pressing a few soft kisses just above her brows. 

“Not really,” she admits, tail curling around his leg and nuzzles her face against his neck. “But I'm awfully tired now.”

“I suppose you'll want an apology for that as well,” Astarion sighs, grinning wearily at her. Ysera huffs, reaching up to pinch him by the cheek and causing Astarion to swat her away in protest as she giggles affectionately.

“You idiot.”

[lovelypastelsweets]

♡{Onychinus' Kitten:}♡ [Part #6]

Sylus Qin X female!Cat-Hybrid!Reader

{Notes:}

This is my first fan-fiction, if you have any tip/suggestions please let me know!In this story, the 'reader' is NOT the MC, and is female(I don't have an issue with males reading, but I don't know anything about guys, and I want to be authentic. If you'd like a male-reader fan-fic please collaborate with me to deepen my understanding of the male-mind)

{Trigger-warnings:}

This story will contain mentions human-trafficking(not in-detail; Technically hybrid-trafficking), the experimentation of humans-subjects, mentions past-trauma. ALSO; The reader is described as having all limbs, having the ability to use all senses, and as having hair. I'm sorry if this is an issue, I'm trying to be as universal as possible, but if you'd like a specialized part, please message me.

After dinner, the man, who you came to know as "Sylus", ordered his henchmen to escort you back to your room. He referred to them as "Luke" and "Kiren", but he didn't explain which of them was Luke, and which one was Kiren.

You now sat idly waiting for the two to arrive, with the bare, jet-black oakwood table before you. The crimson-red placement-mat gently cradling your hands as you softly rested them upon the table.

Sylus had left soon after giving his orders, so now it is just you and your new-found crow-companion.

Time seemed to stretch on forever as you waited. You were part cat, of course you get bored easily. It definitely didn't have anything to do with having a lack of a maturity level.

Little did you know, this wait was too, a test; To see what you'd do if you were left alone.

As boredom crept in, you leaned forwards onto the table, reaching out to pet the crow that sat perched on the table.

Y/N: "Hey, little.. Uh..? Me-? Meo-? Me-thh?.. Ah, little guy. I-ah, ha.. I can't remember your name.. He, he.."

You put you fingers through the the crow's feathers; It felt as odd as it looked. The feathers had a metallic texture, it was like dragging your hand across the handles of lined-up, thin silverware. Each feather had a soft texture and had some give, yet they were sold and firm, like a folding-fan.

As you petted the crow, it made a slight machnial "Iiia" noise.

Y/N: "Aw, do yo- Ah!"

Suddenly, you could hear footsteps as you went to speak. There seems to be two people walking towards the dinning room.You jolted into a proper sitting-position, retracting your hands to sit in your lap; The reaction rote.

The door opens to reveal the two hooded people who escorted you earlier.

"Wow, you're still alive? The boss really does like you."

One of them said.

"Surviving an entire meal with the boss definitely speaks volumes."

Said the other one.

"It seems we've been tasked with escorting you, again. So, let's go."

As they spoke, they walked to you, then gestured with their heads to leave. If you weren't imagining it, One of them seemed more flamboyant than the other. Looking closer, you realize that on their hoods, they have differing numbers; "06" and "07".

As you walked down the same hallway you walk earlier, gained the courage to ask for the subordinates' names.

Y/N: "Uh, h-hey? Is it alright if I.. Ask for your names?"

"And, what would you do with that information?"

"Just telling you wouldn't be any fun."

"Yeah."

"Why don't you take a guess?"

They turned towards you, and leaned in.

These two, they seem to be the very definition of "Mischief".

Y/N: "Uh.. Um, You're Kiren and.. You're Luke?"

You pointed at each of them, guessing a random answer.

"Wrong answer! Try again!"

"You only have one chance left!"

They spoke as if you were a contestant on a game-show.

"Um, okay. Then.. You are Luke and you are Kiren."

You said, reversing who you pointed at.

"Nope! That's incorrect!"

They said in unison, laughing as the began walking again.

You let you a small "Wha-!?", before walking with a quickened pace to catch up with them.

As you continue to walk, you caught sight of a window that you were nearing; Going outside was such a scarce thing, only done for training purposes.

Luke and Kiren immediately lifted their guards when noticing your reaction when seeing the window; A glint in your eyes and your fluffy ears gave a twitch. But, after a moment, your expression changed; Eyes drifting downwards and looking dejected. After all, 'why would they let you go outside?'. The twins could understand. And, against their better judgment-

"Do you want to go over there?.. To the window?"

"We can let you."

They spoke with such fragility. They sounded nostalgic. They sounded so gentle. It was like they had just out a band-aid on a old, ugly scar, that was left as a gaping wound since it was made- Not just to cover it, but to treat it with the care it never received. Your heart, it felt tight.

It was odd, but you wanted to take this chance. It may not come again.

Y/N: "O..Okay."

They kept walking, changing the directory to stand in front of the window.

You stood in front of it, the twins stood silently behind you as you slowly came closer.

The window was clean; Shiny and reflective.

You took a glance backwards at the twins, the thought of someone standing behind you while your guard is down makes you uneasy, but they keep at a distance, which at that, you decide to move look back at the glass before you, moving even closer.

Looking at your reflection, you looked odd, but you liked it. You looked so different, you were hardly recognizable. You didn't mind it though, it.. It felt right.

You came even closer to the glass, to see the world beyond it.

Leaning in gently, you hesitantly put your hands on the glass- It's cold. You jerk your hands back at the unexpected chill. After a second, you return your hands on the glass, intakiing the coldness with curiosity.

The dark cityscape sits below. It's a marvelous sight. Your lips curved into a smile, driven by your awe. You breath comes out in little huffs, wonder spreads through your thight-feeling heart and into your nerves. Your eyes widened, sparkles of excitement igniting within them.

Under their masks, the twins wore matching -as always- soft smiles.

"You seem to be enjoying this, but..We need to get going."

Y/N: "Ah.. Oh, okay.."

The sudden statement, brought you out of your awed-state.

Feeling sort of disappointed, you solemnly walked back to your room.

Before you reached the door, the twins came in front of you; One of them stood on the side of the door where the hinges are, holding the doorknob, the other faced you while gesturing the door as if it were a win-able prize.

"Are you ready?"

They gleefully said in unison.

Y/N: "Uh? Yeah..?"

You said, your voice unsure and confused.

"TA-DA!"

The two said with a flourish.

Your breath catches your throat- Before you, on the floor of an originally bare, dark room, is a large verity of bags and boxes filled with girls' clothing, plushies, and other items.

You're frozen in shock. "Did-did they.. Do this?" You thought.

Y/N: "Are.. Are these things.. For me?"

It was self-absorbed to assume, but you had to ask.

"Of course!"

"Who else would all this belong to?"

They replied. The one with "06" on his hood picked up a pink, plush bunny toy.

"As funny as it would be, the boss probably would kill us if we gave him this!".

He said while laughing.

The other twin walk to the gift-filled area and lifted a dress.

"If the boss wears 'this', death would be worth it!"

They both laughed as they pretend to wipe tears from their masks.

Their laughter was infectious, you began to giggle, too.

Without you noticing, they both stopped to witness you smile- It wasn't the forced one you gave before, it was real. It was beautiful. It was pure. It was something rare for the twins to experience, not just because it was from you, but because of the genuine, honest, and raw enjoyment in your smile.

Y/N: "Thank you. This- This is- .. A lot.. And, so.. So nice.. Thank you, both."

Through your slightly embarrassed and awkward laughter, your sincerity seeped through.

Nobody's ever done something like this for you. Nobody's ever went to such lengths for you before. Your chest felt so tight, it, and your stomach hurt. But you couldn't help but to enjoy this feeling.

Would this feeling last, though?

Were they just tricking you into lowering your guard?

["What does the word "Home" really mean?", it's a thought that always plagued you.. Would you ever learn the answer? Could you learn the answer here?]

[simp2537]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔄𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔢

A/n: Hey y’all, hope y’all enjoy this. I’m gonna put a picture of what the base of Alice!reader’s costume looks like at the ends. It’s not prefect and doesn’t have all the details but it’s just the base. Hope y’all enjoy this.

Word Count: 2,189k

Trigger Warnings: Gore, Blood, Horror, Cursing, Child Abuse, Human experiments, Child abandonment, Angst, Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Insomnia, etc

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔢𝔫

Y/n sniffed softly as she rubbed her eyes. She stood in the circle holding tightly onto the softball. Rolling her shoulder her hand began to glow. Her classmates eyes widen slightly. 

I wonder how far I get this thing

As her hands began to glow in many different colors she threw the ball forward. With searing lights the ball flew through the air.

“989.7 meters.” Aizawa voiced holding his device up. 

“WOAH! So manly!” The bright red head yelled. Y/n turned to her classmates, a small smile on her face. She slowly exited the circle, going to sit next to Shoto when a group of boys surrounded her.

“Hey there, my names Denki Kaminari!” The Pikachu looking boy said sliding his arm over her shoulder. Y/n smiled softly with a small giggle.

“Eijiro Kirishima!” The red head announced. Y/n quickly turned to him, her eyes meeting his crimsons. Immediately she moved to his side pulling at his spiked hair. 

It’s so soft, and it’s so smooth. 

His face flushed the same color as his hair as she played with it. He laughed softly down at her as she played with his hair.

“And I’m Hanta Sero.” The boy with tape on his elbows voiced. Y/n hummed softly as she stood next to Kirishima.

“You’re so manly!” He voiced happily. With a small tilt of her head she stared up at him. 

“Manly? But I’m a girl.” Kirishima’s face fell in a nervous chuckle. Aizawa watched his daughter with a small smile. While he wanted to pull her away from the boys she was getting older.

It did break his heart that she wasn’t so small anymore. She wouldn’t crawl into his lap as he graded papers. She wouldn’t sit on his shoulders as they walked around.

From her side Y/n glanced over at Aizawa. Her eyes were soft and looking for guidance. She was nibbling in her lip, her fingers were twitching in Kirishima hair. 

He gave her a small nod and she smiled brightly. Y/n turned to the boys talking softly with them as they all gushed over her. 

………………………

The cool breeze sways gently across Y/n’s figure. She slowly drank her juice as Aizawa showed the quirk placement test rankings. As she stared up at the rankings she offered a small pink candy to Shoto.

He took it from her hand gently and popped it into his mouth. She stared at the hologram as her names popped up. 

1st place that’s kinda neat, didn’t even realize I was doing so well

As her whole class looked down at her, she stared back. Her eyes caught the angry blondes and she couldn’t help but smile. The way his body seemed to quiver as she simply sat on the ground. 

No drive, not a care in the world that she’s beat him. He growled softly as he turned his head away from her. As Aizawa informed the class no one would be expelled Y/n just stood from the ground. Dusting off her pants and plopping a green candy into her mouth. 

“I'm surprised the rest of you didn't figure that out. I'm sorry, I guess I probably should have said something.” Yaoyorozu told the panicking green haired boy. 

Yeah, you should have 

Y/n giggles softly as her classmates sighed. Her eyes followed her father as he walked away handing a slip to the green haired boy. 

Slowly she moved to him with a smile. Snapping her fingers her the white porcelain tea pot and cups floated in the air around her.

“Tea?” She asked with a small smile. His brow furrowed as the pot pour out. The tea itself was a milky white. A small cream pitcher full of a red velvet looking milk poured in. The blue flower covered sugar bowl spooned out yellow sugar into his cup.

Then one of the painted blue roses flew into the cup dissolving instantly. The teaspoon swelled around in the cup, mixing it all together, and slowly, the tea turned into a royal blue color. She offered the teacup to him with a gentle smile.

“Drink it’ll make you feel better.” She offered with a smile. Slowly he took the cup and brought it to his lips. Drinking the cup dry its contents the cup lifted away from his mouth floating in the air. His finger cracked back into place as a healed over completely.

“Woah that’s amazing. Is that your quirk? Healing tea?” He asked amazed. She tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“That’s incredible. You’d be an incredible rescue hero with a power like that!” Uraraka yelled happily. Y/n smiled softly as she grabbed her tea pot.

“What a lame quirk! You’ll never make it pro with that!” The blonde yell laughing. 

“Dude! So not manly!” Kirishima voiced. Humming softly while staring at Bakugo Y/n held her tea pot up. She point the snout to his head. 

“Boom.” It was like an explosion went off. A mass of fire and ashes flew past the side of his face. A small piece being at his skin and she laughed. Her classmates back away from her at the noise. Staring at his bewildered face she turned away. 

Bakugo stood there, his eyes ablaze. He thought to himself, “whoever that girl is, I’m gonna crush her.”

………………………

Aizawa watched as his daughter stood holding her tray of food in the cafeteria. She looked indecisive and small. He never wanted her to feel small again.

“Why can’t we just bring her to the teachers lounge!” Hizashi whines wanting to grab Y/n

“Because Hizashi she needs to socialize.” Aizawa said through gritted teeth. The obnoxious blonde at his side pouted and crossed his arms. He wanted just as badly to grab his daughter. To pull her to the safety of his classroom. 

“Look at her just standing there all alone!” He squealed. “I just can’t take it anymore!” The blonde went to grab Y/n. He moved two steps away from Aizawa when the familiar scarf wrapped around him.

“Don’t you think I want to grab her. I know this is all new to her. Do uou honestly think that the most selfish parts of me doesn’t want to pull her away!” Aizawa declared quietly. Her gaze traveled back to her. The red head from his class was by her side.

They were smiling and talking. He hated it. I hated that she was no longer his little girl. He hated that she had to grow up now. He hated that he had to stand here watching her and he couldn’t just be next to her. But he knew better. 

She was growing up. That was a fact he’d have to accept. He could only want what was best for her. 

“As her father… I know she needs to do this. I have to let her go sometime. At least here I can still watch over her.” Aizawa admitted quietly. The scarf was pulled away from Hizashi. His blue eyes bore at Aizawa’s sighing gently. 

“Well I’m not her father! So I’m gonna pull her away from that stinky boy!” Just like that the scarf wrapped right back around him. Aizawa sides softly, pulling him away from the scene. At least it looked like she was having fun.

………………………

Y/n napped quietly when the door to her class was thrown open. Look up through her hooded eyes there stood All Might.

Really uncle might, you always wake me up. 

He stood in his older costume, it looked tacky to her. But not everyone had 𝒜𝓁𝒾𝒸𝑒 as a style console. She looked out the window staring as the gentle flow of the wind. She watched as the walls expanded revealing cases with bright neon green numbers. 

“But one of the keys of being a hero is... looking good! These were designed for you based on your Quirk registration forms and the requests you sent in before school started." All Might announced. The whole class jeered loudly. 

Quickly Y/n’s hands flew to her ears. Trying to drown out the noise. It buzzed in her ear annoying. She watched as one by one her classmates grabbed their costumes. She felt a gentle hand in her shoulder.

“Lost in your own world again?” Shoto asked softly. Nodding her head softly she took the case from him. 13 was plastered on it in blood neon green. 

“What if I think it’s really ugly?” She whispered as his cold hand helped her up. He shrugged as the pair began to walk towards the locker rooms.

“You’ll figure it out.” She smiled and walked into the locker room. The other girls were already half dressed in their costumes. Slowly going to the corner she began to take off her clothes. 

Piece by piece she removed them till all that remained was her shirt. After a few seconds she pulled it off. Left in her bra and underwear she went to open her case when an audible collective gasp rang through the room. 

From behind her the other girls stared at her. Her body littered with scars, on her back especially. Yaoyorozu blinked herself out of her trance quickly trying to break the other girl.

“What?” Y/n asked softly opening her case. 

“It’s nothing!”

“Yeah totally nothing!”

“Your set is just really nice!” Nodding her head she began to dress

“Would you like for us to stay a minute?” Mina asked with her bubbly smile.  Shaking her head, the girls filed out of the room, leaving her to her thoughts. As she dressed she couldn’t help but scrunch her nose

They gotten the design all wrong. She looked messy and dare she say ugly. It was mess of colors and different fabrics. The air behind her warp as the families green eyed short blonde stood next to her.

“𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒’𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓂 𝐼 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉!” Y/n giggled softly as she was sat down. Ribbons, fabrics and lace float through the air. A black ribbon weaves itself through her hair pulling it up into a ponytail with tiny braids. 

The messed colors were quickly changed into the more desired look. The ugly stitching was fix up. Y/n sat patently as 𝒜𝓁𝒾𝒸𝑒 moved around her quickly. 

“𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼’𝓂 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊… 𝓎𝑜𝓊’𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝓈𝑜𝓁𝓊𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝑜𝓊𝓈.” Y/n could only smile at her words. 

………………………

In the training area All Might looked around nervously. He’d counted for all his students but one. The one student he trust had to watch over, lest he endure Aizawa’s wrath.  As all he students stared at one another’s outfits he panicked silently.

Y/n was the only student other that Midoriya really matter to him. Y/n was practically U.A. royalty and he’d just got there. He couldn’t have already lost her. 

“I’m Mr. All Might sir, are we gonna start the lesson soon?” Uraraka asked with a bright smile. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he nodded. 

“Yes but where is young Aiz-“

“I’m right here!” The sound of running footsteps echoed don the dimly lit hall. As she stepped into the light the class stared in awe. She was red in a blue laced top with some velvet fabric under it. A blood red side skirt attached to her waist with different card sewn into it. A light blueish scarf fell around her waist.

Silver armor like curls went up her side, along with shoulder and a chocker with a key around her neck. Similarly cuffs were around her hands. Her eyes were shield by dark blue like glasses with a blood scarf like thing around her mouth. If you looked closely small hearts were laced into it. 

Her blue socks had small rabbits carved into them, they were torn in a few places. Bright red boots were covered in what looked like brunt up deck cards. 

Around her waist was a corset like belt with small charms hanging from it. Colorful mushrooms in small jars, a deck of playing cards, as tea saucers, a stopwatch, a small mirror and other random objects. 

She looked odd, some colors didn’t completely match. Black ribbons and lace held up her hair. Small braids were laced with royal blue roses. The roses looked like there were small music notes on them. So light in color they were barely visible. Blackened thorns curved around her boots. They seemed almost bloody, almost animalistic ready to strike. 

Gently embedded into her corset like belt were small crowns. They weren’t silver like the rest of her armor like pieces. But green and gold. On her hip going down her left like was a chain of cards. They were hand painted and the Ace card has a pair of golden twin girls on it. That card seems to be splattered with blood.

“Sorry didn’t mean to be late.” She answered softly. She s,okay walked over yo the ground as they followed her every step. Her costume was the most intricate. The details alone most have been difficult to do.

“You designs this yourself?” Tsyu asked with ribbit. 

With a knowing smile Y/n answered, “I had some help.”

This is her base, ignore any of the features that don’t correlate with you. Also ignore the yellow lighting. And the hair, I couldn’t find a better way to do it. But this was kind my thoughts.

[vandermorgans]

And his mother didn’t try to hold him back. Nor did she call after him.

Her gaze was solemn and face was stoic.

She knew she’d lost her son to the grand delusions of her husband. Knew she’d lost him when he died.

The funeral for two souls instead of the only one being begravad.

He has always been a little excitable. Too curious. Even as a child he’d stutter over her words. Mimic her lip placements and straighten when his father told him.

Walked too fast. Tried to talk too fast.

Delusions of grandeur and glory.

A boy hell bent on changing the world.

Forcing his will on it.

A fool with a fool’s errand.

His father died and he’d never looked back.

There was blood dripping out his asshole and he refuses to cry. The man now long dead. Resembling his father in gait and smile. Tall and imposing but kind.

Eyes crinkle at the corners and he felt Dutch’s eyes. Claimed himself a priest. Smiled right. Laughed breathy and dreamy. Scooted closer. Put his arm around him. Laughed heartily around him.

Soothing.

Reverberating.

Tells him of his mission. Of youths misguided and in need of a hand. Dutch tells him of his grand plans.

Of a paradise. A gang. A people of his own.

He laughs but he lets him stay with him. A hungry young boy— of just fifteen and Dutch snuggles into him in his sleep.

They spend days. Months. Together.

They walk everywhere together and he trains Dutch’s trigger finger. Lets him aim with his beloved Sabrina. A gold encased revolver.

Lets him feel the kick back and laughs with him. Takes him to the shops. Buys him his own. Buys him drinks.

Every night they sleep together. In one bed.

He likes to take bounties sometimes, the priest. Says it’s easy money. Doesn’t have to commit.

Dutch rides alongside him. The law is full of fools who think themselves above everyone, Henrik tells him. They love to bend you over and fuck you over.

Dutch laughs for a long time. Ain’t you a priest? Fairly sure God’s got something to say ‘bout your swearing. His eyes crinkle and he scoots closer in the rank bar, rankles the hairs on Dutch’s nape and tells him, God doesn’t care.

They walk around the neighborhood later, Dutch’s falling over himself. Look, Henrik says, look at how hungry they are. Deserted. No God is coming to save them. We are all heading for oblivion.

Dutch shakes his head. Everything hurts. Too light. Too many smells. Too many hungry eyes bleeding from the pupil. Chained by a system meant to swallow them whole and spit them out as bones.

I believe, he starts but he’s too unsteady, believe, in God? No. My mother did, but God took my father so I have no use of that. I believe we, the people, we are the answer. I think, and his eyes must sparkle the way Henrik looks at him, I believe we are meant to save each other. Hold fast and hold tight.

His lips are soft and its not a good kiss but Dutch moans and clings. So delirious and everything bleeds orange and gold, the people’s dirty rot invested skins bleed away to wash with the pavement.

They’re in their little room and Henrik is shushing him. He turns him on his stomach and he drags Dutch’s pelvis to him. His ass high in the air. And he spits on his hole and it’s so good. He pushes in him slow and nice and strong and drapes himself over his back.

Tells him to, call me daddy and Dutch spasms so hard he hits his head. Breaks his nose and Henrik groans and laughs, heartily and happily. Ah— Youth. He exclaims and he fucks him hard and long and keeps fucking him long after.

Dutch’s in his chest, snuggled warm and fuzzy. Kissing his chest when Henrik hums. A man, you see, a man that allows another to bend him over is no man. He says ans everything freezes over. There is lead in his stomach. But you, you are a boy. He tells him and then he smiles at him.

The moon shines him blue and ethereal. When you take a woman, you have to show, he instructs him, you have to show that you are a man of statue. A man of import. You have to take the prettiest thing. Sometimes? Sometimes, you have to kill for the prettiest thing. The younger, the better. Women you see, they are made, preconceived to bend and obey. And they desire for someone to take them. Young or old. They crave a man like they crave air. It is how they are made. It is their duty.

Dutch scoffs. Doubt that’s all their duty is. My mother hated my father. Cringed from his touch. Awful, uncaring woman.

Henrik laughs softly. Puts a lock behind his ear even softer. When you become a man, you will have to walk high. Tall. You will have to kill for respect. It’s the only these savages understand. You will have to see to it that your men, this little dream of yours? You will have to make sure they respect you. A dream is noble but one hinging on people is never a sure thing. They will burn you if you falter. They will eat if hungry. You must never show weakness, little boy.

Little boy? Dutch is quiet for a bit. Must I kill you for my respect?

Henrik laughs softly. No. I quite respect you, mister Van Der Linde. You are noble. I have enjoyed our time together.

Hopefully, we can more of this. Longer.

And Henrik does not say anything. Withdraws his arm and turns away.

Dutch sleeps with leads in his belly. Eyes on his back.

Its three months later and Henrik is drunk.

Foul mouthed and angry. He is breaking things. His face paints his fathers touch but none of his gentleness. He rips Dutch’s blouse off and he pulls out a knife. Cuts open everything and holds him down, down, down.

You are but a boy, he’s angry, what do you know of adults? Of dreams? Of living? Of sacrifice? You are but a fool hearted boy. And he fucks him, and it hurts but its so good. It tears at him, in places he wasn’t aware could tear. And it hurts and it breaks and his heart shatters.

The knife adorns his chest, his arms, his face and Henrik leans in. God, but you are so pretty, aren’t you. Just the prettiest thing. Do you like this? Do you, Dutch? Do you like this? Me taking what’s mine? What’s ordained for me? Do you enjoy it? And he pushes in, brings the knife down and stabs his thigh. He screams before his throat is cupped and his head slammed into the floor. I think you do, and Henrik snuggles in, kisses his throat and ignores his heaving coughs. Here, he says, and turns him on his stomach.

Holds his head down with all his strength. Dutch’s pulses and hurts. Feels like breaking. Everything hurts. You are my woman, in a way. Did you know that? Look at you, so readily available for me and all I had to do was say a few pretty words. A few measly words. Children can be so naive. How will, ah, Dutch, he moans, shivers his orgasm, how will your gang respect you when you are a little man’s whore?

And his breath is rank. Suddenly.

Suddenly, he looks nothing like his father.

He pulls out and his spend squelches and glides out his ass but Dutch sits up, calm as the ocean and he puts his gun in his palm.

Turns and fires. Clean through. Headshot.

His hand clutches a white napkin with his spend.

Dutch removes his ruined clothes and gets up. His legs shake and the silence screams shrill, the bleeding eyes awake and aware. He rips the remaining cloth and cleans himself best he can. Strips Henrik and wears his black pants. His black vest with his red handkerchief. His golden cufflinks and it fits him snuggly.

The outfit adorning his frame beautifully. He closes Henrik’s eyes and takes him up the mountain on horseback. Feeds him to the wolves and watches from afar.

He sleeps in the bed next to the bloodstains and leaves the next morning.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Indulgence 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, obsession, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: King!Thor (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you take a new placement without knowing the full details.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stand by the litter and watch as the king approaches his horse. He told you her name is Lightning. He says she is fast. He greets her with a stroke along her nose and she snaps her teeth at him. He chuckles and musses her main.

"Ah, I know, you've missed me. The ladies always do when I go away," he drags his hand over her shoulder and grabs the reins.

He hauls himself up as several guards shift, almost as if they mean to catch him. He lands in the saddle and chortles. "Still got it, haven't I?"

The horse steadies and he prances her in a circle. He raises his head high and keeps up his booming laughter. When the hooves still, he looks around.

"What is this then? Let us be off? This road exhausts me already," he thunders.

The soldiers and nobles disperse to be about their own mounts. The king catches your eye and bows his head. He smiles. You dip your head and bend your knees before turning to climb into the litter. Your protests that you could slip in with the servants were unheard in his tent and the conversation didn't last as he was soon snoring like a storm.

You cannot gripe. The mattress is soft and the motion of the litter is almost soothing. The horses clop by and the wagons roll along, the day unfurling as the sun traces its course across the sky.

It feels longer than the day before. Perhaps because you are alone. When camp is called, the sky is worrying shade of grey blue.

"Flip the wagons," the men holler, "should a tempest fall, it will keep safe our supplies."

As a furor picks up across the train of travelers, you emerge from the litter. You are uncertain of how you might assist, or even where to go. You watch the activity all around. You might ask one of the maids how you can help.

"Kitten," the king's voice draws you away from the whim. "Ah, there you are. What a rather dull ride without you."

You face him and bow. He approaches with stiff steps as he braces his lower back.

"My steed is not so accommodating as the litter," he tuts. "But I did enjoy to see the bounty of my kingdom."

"Your highness," your eyes stray to the darkening clouds.

"Aye, I've been forewarned of the storm. I never worried for them. I was born in one. The horse will kick up but have no fear," he assures. "Come, they ready my tent."

He leads you through the camp. Wheels are turned to the sky as luggage is hidden beneath, passengers too. As all prepare for the fury of nature, the king is unbothered.

You enter the tent set on four poles. He sighs and sits on a stool awaiting him. He groans and drops his head forward. "The hips, I expected, but my neck..."

You watch him brush his fingers through his hair. There are knots from the wind as some beads hang loosely from unwinding braids. He sits up and tosses his hair back over his shoulders.

"Your highness," you approach. "Might I?"

You gesture and he tilts his head, "so long as you don't meant to tug my ear."

You catch a tangle and work at undoing it. "It will mat should you leave it."

It's habit, you suppose. Your charges run in with their dirty faces and mussed hair and you just go to work. Be he a king, Thor tends to share their heedlessness.

"Thank you, kitten," he purrs.

"You've a comb?" You wonder.

"Ah somewhere."

"A king should wear tidy braids," you gird. The task with keep you busy. Him too. You are still wary lest he grow too bored. You shudder at the thought of your first meeting.

"Fastidious woman," he praises. "Try not to yank too much."

"Be certain to be still and I will not," the retort escapes before you can think. You always say the same to the children. "Your highness," you still your hands and look at him. "Forgive me, I didn't mean--"

His laughter interrupts you.

"You are right to be cautious. I am stubborn," he shakes his head and his hair catches on your fingers, tugging at the root. "Already I do challenge you."

"I was only... I will be gentle," you assure him.

You carefully untangle his strands, bit by bit. He sits, moving only to roll his shoulders or shift his posture. When you have the knots under control, you let down his braids and re-weave them. He yawns.

"I think that's better, my king," you step back.

He reaches to touch his hair. He grins. He plays with the end of one lock.

"I'm am rather much a mess for a king," he scoffs.

"No, I wouldn't say it," you coax. "You wear a mantle of responsibility. And you rode your horse proud today. You will lead us to this new kingdom and do as you must. As you always do."

"Oh, will I?" He challenges as he traces a line on his large palm. "We've only just met, kitten. How do you know this of me? What have you heard of your king, eh?"

"I've heard of your courage. I recall the tale of Crow's Cliff. And the children do love to re-enact the Battle at Wolf's Den."

"Legends. Fancies," he shrugs and winces. "The same as the stories you tell the little ones. Victories but not without loss. Crow's Cliff I was dragged away by horses with a split in my skull and Wolf's Den, I was abed for a year as I could not breathe without a stabbing in my guts."

"But you survived and made certain we all did."

"Ha, is that how you see it? My wife, my father even, did not. Gods rest his donkey's ass but he could never see the good I did. Perhaps, I could not see the bad." He clutches the muscle between his shoulder and neck. "And now, I am weathered. How can I ride in a tournament when the road has me such." He leans his elbows on his thighs. "What king am I?"

"You've many days to practice, haven't you?" You suggest. "Sit your horse and get your balance, your highness," you near. "Show me wear it hurts."

"Eh, kitten, too kind are you. I'm better to find the stabler that soothes the horses of their cramps."

"But I am here."

He growls and keeps his eyes down. He points to wear he kneaded before, just across his shoulder. You move around him and hover your hands over him.

"Tell me if it hurts."

"It all hurts," he chuckles. "But I can bear it for a pretty maiden."

[pureastrologywisdom]

𝔏𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔶

I have had some experience with this personally and with a few of my clients chats so want to talk about it

! disclaimer !

I have only personally worked with this energy in synastry charts between men and women so far so I will be talking about the dynamic between the females Lilith and the males personal planets.

if you have any experience with Lilith in a same sex relationship I would love to hear your thoughts :)

Here I will be talking about when a woman limit interacts with an important part of his chart, this includes ascendant, sun, moon, Venus, mars and angular houses. These are the placements I have the most experience with so until I have further knowledge I will not speak for other aspects.

There is a great amount of tension between these two. She is everything he desires, she fullfills his darkest fantasies and wildest dreams he has about a woman. The attraction is immense

There is a marker side to this. The Lilith woman may trigger this mans wounds, especially with women. If he isn’t self developed and lacks self assurance, confidence and security he will find this connection very hard. He will want to handle it but will struggle, even when a man is developed she is playing with some of the darkest parts of him.

To her this can be fun, seeing how in some ways he is wrapped around he finger or dotes on her every move, how he does what he can to please her, this can be a placement where she will find it easy to manipulate him if she wants to. I repeats if she wants, she doesn’t have to and that is also dependent on how developed she is.

If the man isn’t secure this can take a bad turn, obsession is somewhat Inevitable anyway and isn’t always bad, however what can happen is he will start to try and control her. This often happens when he cannot handle the feelings she creates and triggers in him so he projects it onto her.

Desire is the big words that comes into play here. He sees her as someone who is highly desirable , not only for himself but to others. He finds her irresistible able but worries that other men feel the same way, this is where fear, jealousy and control arise if he is not equipped to handle such a woman at this point in his life.

Remember that Lilith is also a woman’s personal power which people, predominantly men have tried to undermine or take. This connection can go one of two ways and it depends of the development of the people involved and maybe how Lilith interacts with their own natal charts also. A man can either love and cherish his woman’s power or seek to control it, take it away or use it for himself.

If both people are developed this can create a powerful connection. One where he respects and values her in all her power without insecurity. She can help heal him of his female caused wounds, if she has the self awareness to see where he is being triggered and instead of use this for power use it for healing him.

thanks for reading,

pureastrowisdom x

[v3nusxsky]

Hello! 👋🏻 I would love a little smutty Larissa x Morticia x Reader oneshot if I'm the first ask. Please and thank you 😊

Can we keep her? 18+

*Authors note~ I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a while placement has been hectic with so many assessments needing to be done for me to pass the year which ends in two weeks! But have this little brain child*

Trigger warnings ~ established relationship Mortica x reader, mommy dom! Mortica, sub r, sub leaning switch!Larissa, talks of past Tish x Larissa, oral fixation (r), thigh riding (L-M), praise kink, degrading kink, oral sex, fingering, sensory play?, blindfolds, overstimulation kink, mirror sex, aftercare obvs

Prompt^^^

Being Nevermore’s Literature professor was in all honesty a dream come true. Ever since your time as a student in the school you’d wished to end up here. And that you did. Larissa couldn’t wait to offer you a position after being your last placement before you qualified. The skills you possess are honestly some of the best she has seen and therefore makes you an asset to her staff.

But if you know Nevermore, which you do, it always provides the unexpected. The youngest member of staff just so happened to unknowingly gain the interest of a certain raven haired beauty. Morticia Addams. But it was not the only time you’d been on her mind, no, when you were studying you often ended up shadowing her class as Larissa felt you needed to be well rounded in classroom management. Your nature making you quiet and reserved and a little afraid to assume your natural authority over the class. Which is why Mortica was perfect for you.

Thinking back to how it all started out with you and your girlfriend always brings a smile to your face. When things got tough she was always there, rain or shine to support you. Also you’d be utterly insane to not notice her radiant beauty she so effortlessly wears. Everything about her was perfect. Beautiful skin like the pale moons reflection on the lake. Raven hair as dark as night, perfectly straight and never out of place. Dresses that hugged her body as if they were her skin. And the height that woman has often brings you to your knees. Truly, she’s magnificent. So of course it was only natural to see her celestial being in your dreams.

You knew of her psychic abilities and she knew that you process the ability of mental projection. Now you have a higher ability than most would assume which allows you to project thoughts feelings, create alternative worlds with your imagination and even switch realities. Mostly, you enjoyed your ability and the fact you could use it to help others, but you’d never would’ve thought that your own mind would let out your secret desire.

You’d been utterly exhausted the whole day which resulted in your head snuggled into the woman’s neck as she read a French book out loud to soothe you to sleep. And like always the smooth silky voice and the steady thumps of the heart bellow you worked like a charm. Only to send you into the spiciest dream you’ve ever had.

“Mommy” you whined pitifully as you squirmed under Larissa’s gaze. The blonde seemingly confident as she towered over you, not even throwing her past crush a glance. “She is a pretty thing Tish, I could do so much with her” the shifter murmured thoughtfully, clearly talking about you and not to you as she ignored your desperate state.

“Ah, mon amour, you aren’t in control here are you darling?” Your lover reminded the principal, clearly stating that she is in control of both you and the blonde. “Will you be good for me sweet girl?” She practically coed at the older woman while actively ignoring you. “Yes mommy” came the mumbled response, her shyness soaking the words. “Oh my dear Rissa, we both know you aren’t shy in this department darling” came her chuckled teasing words. You’d know there was something with them in the past, but purposely not spoken about until this interaction.

It was then that you became overwhelmed with your thoughts of the two women together in the most intimate and inexperienced ways that your grip of control faltered and everyone in the room was blessed with the image of Larissa Weems in her youth, riding your Tish’s milky thigh in a frantic rhythm. “Oh! You’re so good Rissa, keep going for mommy, I want to feel you cum for me darling” she would murmured into the blondes ear before taking it between her teeth and tugging gently.

Unbeknownst to your slumbering self you’d given your girlfriend the opportunity to hopefully bring her first crush and lover to the bedroom without fear of upsetting you. Seeing the sexual dream that had caused you to entangle your legs to hers, effectively pressing your now dripping warmth to her leg was enough reassurance. All she needed now was the principal to agree.

To say Larissa was expecting the potion teacher to barge into her office with such a personal invitation during school hours would have been insanity, but then again the Addams family love to make keep her on her toes. Truthfully, Principal Weems kept her ex lover former crush on the staff for many reasons. Her teaching for one, to be close to her for another, and the third being those pesky lingering feelings that never left once she left the gates of Nevermore with Gomez. One swift divorce had her back where she belongs it still not hers. No. Because she wanted you.

Meetings with the principal after hours were not uncommon for you as a first year qualified teacher however, seeing Tish sat on her desk as their lips fused together like a centuries old dance was definitely a first. Not that you were complaining at all. In fact, you decided to let them feel the affect they have on you, causing Larissa to let out a whimper of need. “Patience sweetheart, this isn’t about us yet” Morticia reprimanded as she pulled herself away from the shifters body. “Would you care to join us sweet girl? I know just how much you enjoyed your dream the other night, and mommy wants to give that to you baby.”

That’s how you found yourself reliving your first part of your dream, word for word squirming on the sofa by the warm fire. Two pairs of eyes drinking in your now semi naked form. “Much better sweet girl you’re so pretty for mommy baby” your girlfriend praised before swiftly moving to grab the blindfold she’d stashed away before your arrival. From there you were promptly ignored by the older women as Mortica claimed her dominant stance causing Larissa to slip into a happy medium, content to please everyone.

Slender fingers trailed your exposed abdomen ever so lightly that it may as well have been a ghost. A phantom feeling only to be chased away with a rougher texture on your plush thighs. “Mm” you purred happily, Morticia always knew just what you craved without you needing to say it. So there was no surprise when she instructed Larissa to fetch a cold water bottle and roll it over your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. “C-cold mommy” you whimpered with an adorable pout on your luscious lips. “Oh my poor baby” the faux sympathy rolling off her words in waves. Soon enough there was a soft tassle being dragged all over your body like a snake looking for its prey as it slithers over your bra clad chest.

Soon enough both women grew tired of their little game, deciding that you were all simply too clothed for the occasion. Tish instructed you to try and undress her while your vision was not present but you ended up reaching for Weems instead. A quick tut of disapproval soon had you swivelling around to please her only to lose your balance. “Such a silly baby, can’t even undress me. Well Larissa will have to do it seems I know she can be a good girl for me.”

Only when Larissa freed the older woman from her garments did she get permission to strip down herself while Morticia ripped the skimpy lace off your body. “Please can I play with her Mommy?” Larissa mumbled completely star struck by your bare body. With a wave of the other woman’s hand Larissa immediately yanked you onto your hands and knees and settled under your body. Mortica coming to sit on the arm rest and spreading her legs for you to be eye to eye with her aching core. “Get to work little slut, be good for me baby.”

You immediately delve into her awaiting cunt, blindly missing your target by an inch causing your lover to grab a fist fall of hair to guide you, all while Larissa happily began to kiss and lick your pillowy thighs before eating you out like a starved woman. Soon enough the office was filled with the sweetest moans where French and English words blended together in the height of her enjoyment. Larissa simply moaning shamelessly into your soaked pussy causing you to mirror her with the raven haired woman’s clit pulsing between your lips. “Oh fuck baby! Right there pretty whore. Best whore for mommy” her praise only spurring on your determination to please her. Only when you decide to plunge two fingers into her greedy core did she cum as you happily lapped up your reward before tumbling over the edge yourself.

“Oh sweet girl your blindfolds all wet.” She mock gasped before ripping it off your head to examine it. “Messy whore” was offered by the blonde whose mouth was coated in your arousal and cum. All while you were blinking rapidly trying to maintain your position not wanting to disappoint them. Inevitability your shaking legs failed you causing you to collapse against the sofa earning a time out.

That’s how you found yourself sat on the floor, let’s spread wide, hands behind your back as you watched Tish bring Larissa over the edge time after time, lavishing her on sweet praise with ever orgasm, while you sat untouched and ignored. Every little needy sound that slipped past your lips bought the blonde another high. Every time you moved from your position brought your girlfriend a chance to feel the bliss while you sat there watching another woman have her screaming and crying out with pure pleasure. On one hand you were jealous as sin on the other it was hot as hell and what a spectacular show to be blessed with. Perhaps that’s why you behaved.

Tish had simply lost count of how many times she’d rode the waves of pleasure, simply forgetting how good Larissa is in the department before she had some experience. However, she’s not as young as she was back then and her body simply requires a break which is why Larissa gets you resting against your mommy’s front, legs spread as she instructs you to keep your gaze on the ceiling. Fuck. Mirrors. Everywhere, you realised. “Gonna make you watch how much of a filthy slut you look like as you fall apart for another woman” she stated before setting to work in trailing her fingers through your slick. “So fucking messy sweet girl, eyes on the ceiling or I’ll make mommy hold your head that way” the blonde threatens before unleashing a whole new burst of energy on your pleading core.

“Tish, the whore won’t look” Larissa grumbled noticing how your head had dropped to the side after the second orgasm. “Mommy, too much” you slurred letting out a little squeal when Larissa touched your oversensitive clit. “One more sweet girl, mommys right here, one more baby you can take it. Look how pretty my girl looks.” Her praise combined with the principals three fingers curling just right to hit the perfect spot had you seeing stars and drenching the sofa below you all. It was only after working you down from the high did you let out a sob of “no more” over and over.

Larissa hurrying to find the pre set out aftercare things while morticia hummed a French lullaby, your favourite when this deep into sub space. Your eyes filed with a haze as you immediately began to root around for more skin to skin contact. When Larissa returned with water and sugary treat you seemed to far down which worried her. Yet Tish seemed to know just what to do. After sipping her water and encouraging you to do the same with the support from both women you settled in between them both. Completely submerged into your subby mindset you gently grabbed Larissa’s hand and brought her fingers to your lips before ever so lightly drawing them between your lips. Immediately a content sigh left your body as you snuggled more into your mommy muttering around the slender fingers, “mm we keeps her?” Without knowing Morticia already planned on it.

Word count ~ 2161