#against my better judgement? yes. but still

[tojirights]

Ong your Alastor showing you off to Vox one was so😍😍🤤🤤

Can you make do an enemies to lovers? Like how maybe Alastor’s been possessive of you and he hates how much he likes you, and one day your dressed in something scandalous (maybe Angel helps pick it out) and Alastor can’t take it anymore. Much degradation on the side pleeeeeease🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

a/n: degradation is my specialty 🩷 requests open!

tags: 18+ smut nsfw, slight coercion, degradation, choking

words: 1k~

ever since alastor met you, he struggled to understand you. rather, he struggled to understand what you did to him. you wore down the walls he so carefully built and did it effortlessly and it drove him mad. your smile, your voice, the genuine care you showed for him and everyone in the hotel.

you took up his every thought and he hated it. he hated that he couldn't stay away either. he just couldn't trust anyone else to protect you. he wants you more than he'd ever admit, and while everyone told him that you felt something for him, he chose to ignore it. but when he sees what you've decided to wear tonight, he nearly has a heart attack.

"what on earth are you wearing?" alastor speaks, cocking a brow when he sees you walking out of the hotel with angel. you smile shyly, out of your element in the flashy and revealing outfit angel styled you in. "oh this? yeah, i know." you laugh, covering your chest with your arms. it does nothing but push your tits further together, threatening to bust out of the barely there top.

"its a little much, don't you think?" alastor's eye twitches as he tries to suppress his anger. how dare angel dress you like this! "you don't like it." you frown, looking down at your outfit. he sighs, rubbing his temple. "it's not that..." he speaks before shooting a look at angel that would have burnt him to a crisp if possible. "i uhh.. i'll let you two talk." angel quickly scurries away, blowing you a kiss as he does so.

alastor's blood was boiling at this point. "do you understand the attention wearing this would earn you? is that what you want?" he's tugging you into the shadows with him before you're brought to his broadcast tower. "alastor what is going on?" your frown deepens when he bumps into his desk.

his final straw is watching you bend down to pick up the papers that fell, your entire ass on display as your skirt falls forward. he's behind you in a flash, one hand pressing your face into the wood of his desk while the other pins your arm behind you. all you can do is gasp for air and wiggle under his grasp but its no use. "now deary, you must be doing this on purpose." he growls, trying his best not to be too rough but he's having a hard time holding back. "a-al don't-" "keep your mouth shut." his harsh words make you shudder. "if you so desire to dress like a whore, you'll be treated like a whore."

alastor releases your arm, causing your eyes to widen when you figure out what he's doing instead of holding you. his clawed finger tears straight through your panties in a single stroke, exposing your pussy to him. "w-wait alastor, it's not what you think." you gasp out, but he's already sliding a finger through your folds. "what's that? are you saying that your cunt isn't basically begging to be used right now , hm? that you don't want to be fucked over my desk right now? because that's what that outfit was telling me. and now your pussy is telling me the same thing, darling."

he's slowly pumping a finger in and out of your now soaking cunt, the sound of your wetness filling the otherwise quiet room. "you'd let me, wouldn't you?" the second finger has you moaning into his desk, and against your better judgement, you nod your head as much as you can while being held down. "yes, i-i wanted you to see me." your eyes sting with tears as embarrassment fills you. god yes, you wanted alastor to see you in such a skimpy outfit. but you didn't expect him to lose it on you like this.

and still, every harsh word has you dripping and approaching orgasm faster than you could have expected. "now there's a good girl." alastor coos, a sense of pride filling him, rather, filling his aching cock. he hopes to never forget the sight in front of him, the way your skirt still hangs around your hips, your panties torn in two just enough that he can see your pretty pink pussy peaking between the slit he ripped.

"all you had to do is be honest, you didn't have to have angel dress you like a little sex doll just to get my attention. you shouldn't dare dress like that for anyone but me, do you hear that, sweetheart? i don't want to have to leash you as well, but i have no issue doing so if you can't behave." he ends his sentence by finally pushing his cock passed your puffy lips.

your eyes roll into the back of your head, fire scorching through your body as alastor plows his cock in and out of you. "a-al fuck, too big." you whine, bracing your hands on the desk with every thrust. alastor snickers behind you, only pulling out to flip your body around. being able to look up at him only makes this worse. the sinister smile on his face, his hooded, dark eyes. his clawed hand wraps around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air. "don't you worry your pretty little head about that, darling. you can take it." he grunts when you clench around him.

alastor's pulling out just in time to paint your thighs and stomach with thick ropes of his seed. you whimper as you feel it splashing on your skin, covering you and your clothes. you feel dirty and used, and my god do you want this to happen again. alastor catches his breath before planting a kiss to your forehead.

"are you going to cum already? with my hand around your throat?" he would laugh, but it's possibly the hottest he's ever seen you. your eyes glassed over with tears, you nod. "'m s-so close, al." you pant, barely making the words out before waves of pleasure crash into you and you're cumming hard on his cock. your vision goes black, choked moans escaping as alastor fucks your sensitive pussy.

"the next time i catch you wearing something like that, i won't hesitate to make an example out of you." his words lack the same bite from earlier, but you still shudder at his implications. he turns to grab something to clean you up with but stops dead in his tracks when you speak.

"y-yes sir..." you whisper.

[janaispunk]

come morning light

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.5k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury

a/n: i'm finally finished with chapter 2, and once again nervous af about it haha. there's not terribly much happening in this one, but i promise we'll get there, it just needs the buildup :)

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading <3

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

You don’t feel like you’ve slept at all, but after hours of tossing and turning in the darkness of your bedroom, you think it’s probably time to get up. 

You’re halfway convinced that last night’s events were a product of your imagination, that your mind has felt so lonely that it conjured up the whole scenario. But when you step out of your bedroom and find the door of your parents’ bedroom only halfway closed, the way you have never left it before saying good night to Ellie earlier, you have to come to terms with the fact that this might actually be your reality. 

Ellie seems to be sound asleep, a lump under the covers, softly breathing, but when you head to the living area and switch on one of the smaller lamps, you’re met with the piercing glare of Joel. He’s still lying on the couch, much like you left him, still pale, still dark shadows under his eyes, but he’s much more awake now, his gaze following your every move. 

“Hey,” you say softly, sinking down on the same armchair that you sat in when you watched him last night while Ellie took a shower. You suppress a shudder at the way he regards you, his eyes flicking up and down your body, taking in your size, you presume, searching for weapons. Your gun is tucked into the waistband at the back of your pants, which you’re sure he’s already aware of. You don’t like the way he makes you feel, like somehow you’re intruding on him. You should have the upper hand, this is your home and he’s injured, you helped him for crying out loud, and here you are, nervously watching his every move. You did the right thing. It’s gonna be fine. 

“Where’s Ellie?” he asks, ignoring your greeting, his voice gruff. 

“Sleeping,” you reply, nodding your head to the bedroom door. “She’s okay, I promise.” 

Some of the tension seems to release from his body and he slumps back down a little, but the distrust in his expression when he looks at you doesn’t waver. Then again, you’re probably not much different. 

“Look,” you sigh, “I’m not playing some kind of game here. You came into my house, I saw that you needed help, so I helped.” You try to infuse your voice with as much confidence as you can. “Don’t make me regret that, okay?” 

He shrugs, a noncommittal grunt the only verbal answer. It could potentially be interpreted as a thanks, you guess. In a less tense situation, you’d probably grow annoyed by now. Shrugging yourself, you get to your feet and head to the kitchen. Anything to escape the way he’s watching your every movement.

“Hey, do you want coffee?” You don’t really want to offer him any, but you’d feel weird drinking it yourself without asking. 

He pipes up at the question, head turning in your direction, his face the most open that you’ve seen it yet. “You have coffee?” 

“Yeah.” That’s why I’m fucking asking. 

“I– yes.” A breath, a second of him not meeting your eyes. “Thanks.” 

You smile, small, fleetingly, busying yourself with the ground beans and the boiling water, reveling in the smell that slowly spreads throughout the room. It reminds you of happier times, when the world was still normal. 

He has pushed himself into a sitting position, breathing heavily, when you walk over to hand him the steaming cup, still careful to keep your distance. 

After you sit back down, the both of you stay silent for a few minutes. You enjoy the bitter taste on your tongue, the way you slowly feel your energy rising. 

“Does it hurt much?” you ask eventually, gesturing towards his stomach. 

Another grunt, the hint of a head shake. 

“So it does.” He opens his mouth, the protest most likely already on his tongue, and you raise an eyebrow. “I have painkillers, are you sure that you–”

“No.” It comes fast, his voice raised, no room for arguments.

You instinctively flinch back at the unexpected louder sound, the cup shaking in your grip. You set it down on the table in front of you. Have your hands free, just in case.

There’s a hint of regret in his eyes, his free hand slightly raised, palm open. He’s trying to calm you down, you realize. 

“Okay,” you breathe, working hard to keep your voice steady, “no painkillers, got it.” 

“Sorry,” he mutters, his face half hidden, words almost lost behind the cup. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s alright,” you tell him as much as yourself. 

You’ve gotten jumpy, not used to loud sounds anymore, raised voices, not used to humans in general, you suppose. You hadn’t fully realized it until now, until there’s other humans around you again.

“Thank you,” he continues unexpectedly, “not just for the coffee, but– you know.” He’s struggling, the words not coming easily, but you think that he’s being earnest. “Patching me up.”

“Of course.” You nod hastily, your heart still beating a little too fast. 

Another moment passes in silence, both of you slowly sipping the coffee. He’s looking around, taking in his surroundings, eyes lingering on the closed wooden doors and the stairs leading up. You try not to get nervous about it. It’s normal that he would want to know more about where he is, after all. 

“This is the basement, right? Is it safe?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “No way to get in from outside.” As long as you stay inside, you’re safe.

He hums, appreciatively, you think.

“How long have you been living here?” 

“Always. It’s my parents’ house. I mean–” you laugh, but it comes out hollow, “we lived upstairs, obviously. But my dad was… kinda crazy. Or– not that crazy, I guess, all things considered.” Your lips curl into a wry smile. 

Your mind flashes back to long lectures about survival techniques, learning how to shoot, your father going on and on about first aid, hunting, all the things that you couldn’t have cared less about as a teenage girl, but were ingrained in your brain nonetheless. You’re grateful, now, but it’s laced with guilt about how often you snapped at your father, how often you told him he was paranoid, seeing dangers that weren’t there, that he was wasting your time. You couldn’t have known, the rational part of you argues. But you can never take it back now, the guilt whispers. 

When you look up, Joel’s eyes are on you, eyebrows raised in question. You shake your head, trying to clear it. Stay in the present.

“Sorry, what did you–?” 

Worry is painting his expression. “Are you okay?” 

Don’t show weakness. “Yeah, of course. Just spaced out for a second.” 

You force a smile onto your face and stand up rather abruptly, gathering both cups and putting them into the sink. Joel hasn’t moved, but you feel his eyes on you as you move. 

“Do you, um, do you want to shower, maybe? Or just wash up, I don’t know, how–” You gesture towards the dried bloodstain on his flannel, forcefully keeping your tone light. “I have clean clothes, too, if you want.” 

A shiver runs through you at the thought of going through your dad’s things, of someone else wearing them. He doesn’t need them anymore. He’s not coming back. 

You know that you’ve gone silent for too long again even before you see Joel’s expression. He doesn’t ask this time, but there’s something in his eyes that you can’t place, something that almost looks like understanding. 

“Yeah, I guess cleaning up a bit would be nice. I– thank you. Again” 

His voice is gruff and he avoids your eyes. You think that he doesn’t like it, having to thank you. Owing you. 

Giving him a nod, you head to the bedroom, hoping not to disturb Ellie, but she’s awake already, her eyes glinting in the light that’s falling into the dark room from the living area. You clench your jaw, heading for one of the drawers, trying hard not to think about what you’re doing. It’s not like he ever wore this stuff, it was just sitting down here. It’s fine, you’re fine. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not about you,” Ellie says quietly from beside you, breaking through your racing thoughts. 

You turn towards her, confusion on your face. “What is?”

“Joel,” she shrugs, still keeping her voice low. “He’s like that with everyone. He’s a bit of an asshole, really.” She sounds fond, saying it, like it’s an endearing character trait. 

A surprised laugh escapes you. “I– okay, thanks, I guess.” 

She waves it away, swinging her feet out of the bed. “No, thank you for not murdering me in my sleep.” 

“Yeah, likewise.” You shake your head, still laughing to yourself. It’s so easy to like the girl, to feel like you already know her. 

You hand Joel a pile of clothes, purposefully avoiding to look at them too closely, explain where the towels are and he grumbles his approval before the bathroom door closes behind him. 

You release a breath and close your eyes for a second. You are undeniably warming up to Ellie, finding it almost impossible not to, but her companion is a different story. 

“Hey, do you drink coffee?” you ask in the direction of the bedroom. 

“Ew, no!” comes her reply as she steps out of the door, collecting the wild mess of hair on the top of her head and securing it in a ponytail.

Her offense at the mere suggestion makes you chuckle under your breath as you busy yourself with preparing breakfast in the form of porridge instead. She’s leaning against the doorframe, watching you, her eyes wide as she takes in the cupboards full of supplies. 

You’re glad that you don’t need anything from the storeroom, keeping that door in the corner firmly closed. You want to trust her, want to trust them, but a feeling of unease still lingers at the thought of letting them know just how much you have.

Instead, you voice another question, a thought that fills you with unease as well. 

“Hey,” you begin, keeping your eyes trained on the stove, “I’m sorry, but you and Joel, there– there isn’t anything weird going on, is there?” 

“Like what?” She sounds slightly defensive, but when you steal a glance at her, she’s eyeing you with curiosity. 

“I don’t know, like…” You shrug, stirring the mixture of water and oats, “you want to be here, he’s not forcing you to come with him or anything, right?” 

“No, don’t worry about that,” comes her reply, almost amused. It was a bit of a stupid question, when you think about it, considering how worried she was about him last night, how protective. 

“Okay,” you smile at her. You’re curious nonetheless, how they ended up together and where they’re headed, but it’s probably not really your place to ask. 

You divide the porridge into three bowls and hand her one, while you carry yours and one for Joel back to the living area and set them down on the wooden table. 

Ellie starts shoveling the food down immediately and you’re left wondering once more what happened to them and when they last ate something. 

“So…” Ellie begins, her mouth still half full, “you’re just down here with all this food? Because your dad stored it here, before… things went to shit?” 

You can’t blame her for her curiosity, you’re aware that you’ve probably found yourself in a better living situation than most people. Your thoughts go to the storeroom again, basically stuffed with enough supplies to last you multiple lifetimes, especially now that it’s just… No.

You hum in affirmation, not trusting your voice and you’re thankful that she’s too distracted by her breakfast to notice anything weird about your reaction. 

“So you don’t go out hunting or anything?” comes her next question. You freeze. 

You did go hunting, back when you cared about variance in the meals you prepared, about using fresh ingredients when you could. Until there was no need for that any more. 

You realize that Ellie is saying your name, not for the first time, judging from the look on her face. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, your hands tightening around the bowl. “No, I- I don’t go hunting.”

If she finds the situation weird, she shrugs it off impressively fast. 

She nods to herself, eating quietly for a minute, before she speaks up again. “So what do you… do? Down here all day?” 

“Uh…” What is it that you do all day? Time has been blurring together, days without anything happening repeating on a constant loop. You realize that you don’t remember, can’t talk of any activities that are part of your day. How long has it been like this?

You’re relieved from having to answer by Joel emerging from the bathroom, his face pale and his breaths going heavy. He has put on the sweatpants you gave him, but his torso is bare, the skin around the injury still an angry red. 

He sinks back down into the cushions with a heavy sigh and you quickly get to work, cleaning the wound once more and giving him more antibiotics before you redo the bandages and hope for the best. Your hands don’t shake as badly as they did last night. 

Ellie gets him some water and pushes his bowl of porridge into his hands, urging him to eat, before she turns to you. She’s trying to be strong, to hide her worry, but the pleading look in her eyes when she asks you if he’s gonna be okay tells a different story. 

“Of course,” you say, giving her what you hope to be a reassuring smile. 

Joel does look better after he’s eaten something, but his eyelids are drooping and after a few more minutes, his eyes close and his breath evens out. You do the dishes and check the cameras, calming down a bit more when you’re sure that everything seems to be quiet upstairs. 

When you return to the living area, Ellie is rummaging through her pack, muttering to herself, until she pulls a book out of, proudly turning the cover for you to read it. No pun intended - Volume Too.

She starts reading them to you while you settle back down with a second cup of coffee and you share her laughs, enjoying the way it makes her look lighter, allows her to be a kid who can laugh at stupid jokes. You ignore the sting it causes in your chest because you once knew someone who would have loved this book just as much as Ellie does.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

[enchantedbarnes]

Uncle Buck

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Summary: You take your nephew to a Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson Q&A event. The mischievous 8-year-old asks if he can get in line to ask a question. Against your better judgement you agree and let him go up by himself.

Word Count: 626

Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

A/N: I had no intention to write anything on this account but here we are. Excuse the mess.

A young boy - 8 years old, dark hair and eyes full of mischief - walks up to the microphone.

"Hi, I have a question for Bucky..." He asks shyly.

The moderator nods, "What's your question for him, little man?"

The boy looks over at the seats nearby behind him and smirks, turning back to the stage with some more confidence this time.

"Will you marry my Aunt?"

The crowd let's out collective gasps, giggles, and awws. There's some cheering and a loud "OW OWWWW."

You inhale quickly and choke on your own air supply, trying to compose yourself. "BENJAMIN!!!"

You're horrified and shrink down in your seat while pulling your hood up over your head for added cover.

While you contemplate the fastest way to snatch the little traitor and get out of there as swiftly as possible you hear Sam's loud laugh echo through the room.

"I assume that was your Aunt and you're Benjamin?" Bucky asks while smirking.

Tiny traitor nods while grinning ear to ear. "I'm Benji, Auntie's name is Y/n and she thinks you're sooo handsome," he exaggerates with an eye roll, "and she's super fun and pretty and you'd be the coolest unc--"

Exit plan secured you jump out of your seat and rush over to cover his mouth and pull him back from the mic. Your hood still up and head ducked down.

"You said you were asking about the mechanics of his arm, you tiny little punk," you mutter at him but the microphone still picks up what you said.

While you have him secured in a headlock you quickly speak into the mic, avoiding all eye contact. "I apologize, I've never met this child before... I'm going to return him to the proper authorities immediately."

Picking your nephew up as quickly as you can, you toss him over your shoulder. His fit of giggles exploding while he tries yelling out again, "But he hasn't answered yet!"

"He's free later tonight, Aunt Y/n!" Sam shouts while you retreat to the back of the conference room towards the exit. "Your future family seems nice," he jokes while nudging Bucky's arm.

Benji tries to shout back across the room, "SHE IS FREE TOO!! EVERY NIGHT!!"

You shove the exit door open, "You're so dead. On my pick up days for school I will be blasting every embarrassing song I can find with the windows down. I'm going to start saving now and I will be buying every ad space available in your future yearbooks and I will be plastering them with your baby photos. And not the cute ones." Like this kid ever took a photo that wasn't cute.

***

The two of you walk around a food truck area set up outside the conference space. Benji is happily eating a pretzel you only bought so your sister wouldn't kill you for neglecting her child. You grab a seat at a small table to people-watch while he finishes up his undeserved treat.

You let your hood down, setting your vibrant and wild hair free. The color is easy to pick out in a crowd.

Benji is explaining in great detail the plot to a video game he has been playing with his friends and how one level keeps tripping them up.

The chair next to you slides back, "Is this seat open?" A deep voice asks.

Benji grins, "Yes!"

You already know who it is, but you're still startled when you look over and see none other than Bucky Barnes sitting with you and the small trouble matchmaker.

"So... is the potential cool Uncle position still available?" He smirks, hand on his chin looking over at both of you.

This little punk might be getting free pretzels and ice cream for life.

Alright folks! By popular demand, here is part 2!

Uncle Buck Returns

[benedictscanvas]

silly, lovely fool - remus lupin x reader

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

word count: 0.5k she’s just a baby

warnings: i went HAM on the pet names, apologies if that’s not your thing but i think they’re sweet :(

a/n: i have nothing interesting to say, except i am in such a little remus cocoon rn. please enjoy this little blurb and let me know your ideas for any others <3

- - -

“You’re so silly,” you murmur, so quietly you wonder if he hears you. He gives no indication. His cheek is pushed firmly into your hand, and he’s just staring at you through his lashes, eyes flirting across your face and back again. Looking up at you between his legs as he sits on the lid of the toilet, and he still looks at you like that.

“Remus,” you admonish lightly, “I said, you’re so silly.”

“I know,” he hums, “But I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking at you. Always looking at you.”

“Remus,” you say again, more warning in it this time. He sighs, and you feel the warmth of it across your wrist. You have to fight a shiver.

“You’re ruining it. Shush.”

It’s against your better judgement to give in to him, but you stop talking anyway. It’s nice to look at him too, even though he laughs when you tell him so. It’s not as nice as it usually is right now - there’s still flecks of dried blood under his nose from the nosebleed that had only just cleared up, and a nasty bruise forming on the bridge. You wince and he sighs again.

“I’d rather you speak than look at me like that,” he says, finding your hip with his free hand.

“You shushed me,” you argue and he pinches your hip, “I just- you’re an idiot. A silly man.”

“You said that already, my darling girl.”

You scrunch up your nose at the endearment. He always thinks he can talk his way out of anything with you. It’s because he always can.

“I still think you could have pulled me out of the way without getting hit yourself.”

“I had to think on my feet,” he argues, but his tone is passive and his thumb is rubbing circles around your hipbone, “My favourite face was in danger.”

You shake your head at him.

“So pull me towards you, dork. Don’t jump into the path of a bludger.”

“A small sacrifice,” he murmurs, reaching up to trace a featherlight line down the slope of your nose, over your cupid’s bow, lips, then tapping your chin twice.

“A silly sacrifice,” you push, but your heart isn’t in it anymore either. He’s so pretty, nosebleed or no, and he thinks you’re pretty enough to take a bludger to the face for you. Lovely man.

“Okay, I’m silly,” he says lazily, “Very very silly for you. Mad for you, stupid for you. A total fool.”

“Remus,” you mumble to stop him, pulling his face upwards towards yours to plant a chaste kiss to his lips. You don’t want him to hurt any more than he is already. You’re ever so fond of him.

“Sweetheart,” he says, millimetres from you, “I’m feeling awful better now. Think I could kiss you properly?”

“I think you should count your lucky stars that I’m kissing you at all, handsome.”

And with that you step out of his reach, because otherwise he’ll most certainly convince you. He reaches for you but comes up short as you move to throw away the bloody tissues. His arm hangs limp in the air between you.

“I do feel lucky,” he affirms, “Look at that face. All perfect and everything. I did that.”

“Yes you did. Thank you, by the way. My hero.”

You decide to let him have this one. He’s too genuine to tease much more.

“Anytime. You just shout, gorgeous.”

You bark out a laugh as you return to him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, then another.

“You’re such a flirt,” you speak into his hair, pulling back to look at him and unable to keep yourself from smiling.

He just grins.

[buckets-and-trees]

Mob Bucky walking into the kitchen and picking you up to carry you out to the bedroom when you spent whole day cooking. You argue that you still need to bake two pies and make a salad, or something, but Bucky doesn't care.

"You spent the past two days on your feet. Now you're gonna spend the next twenty four hours on your back. Maybe on hands and knees, if I feel like it."

Hahahaha! Because we WOULD. But it's our chef heart!

Fandom: MCU Collection: Devour Title: CUSTARD Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!Bucky x female!Chef!Reader Word Count: 687

Content Warnings: referenced smut (vaginal penetration/fucking, oral: female receiving), mob boss Bucky

Logistical Notes: Takes place after the series (shh, I know I'm still working on the final chapter). Prompt from the ask in bold italics, and notching a Naughty prompt from @the-slumberparty's Naughty or Nice challenge in plain bold.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

James was calling your name, but you didn’t hear him until he was in the kitchen with you.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You didn’t register the dangerous chill in his tone either, too busy skimming your fingers back over the recipe you were studying, frowning back at the mixture in the metal bowl whipping up in front of you.

“Mmm,” you hummed, completely focused on your work, “will you taste this?” You reached for one of the small spoons in a jar on the counter, dipped it into the bowl, and held it out for your mob boss.

He crossed the kitchen and was at your side in an instant. You only looked his way briefly enough to thrust the spoon into his mouth just as he opened it to speak again. You reached for another spoon to taste the custard’s current status for yourself.

“It definitely needs the nutmeg,” you murmured, wondering why the recipe you were referencing didn’t have any listed.

“You definitely need to be out of this kitchen!” James ordered.

You whipped your head back to glare at him. “I promised I would bring pie to the brunch, James.”

“And you’ve already made one.”

“But I didn’t make that pie for the brunch! It’s the backup pecan pie, and everyone deserves to have pie that was intended for the brunch. Pecan pie is not a proper brunch pie,” you argued. “I really should make a fruit pie to go along with this buttermilk pie, too,” you added for yourself, tone dropping back to your concentrated cooking tone.

“No! I forbid it!”

“You forbid it?”

“Yes, I forbid it! Against my better judgement, I tolerated you cooking the holiday meal with our families, but you spent the past two days on your feet when you’re supposed to be off, chef.”

He pulled the spoon out of your right hand and the spatula out of your left, flung them onto the counter, and flung you over his shoulder.

“James Buchanan Barnes!”

He didn’t speak as he walked you out of the kitchen and down the hallway. You squirmed a bit – knowing with all his strength there was no way he would let you fall, but also wanting to protest over being dragged away from your task.

He tossed you unceremoniously onto the bed and was on you immediately.

His large frame trapped you beneath him, though you tried to squirm away. He took each of your hands and pinned them in one of his above your head, while his other hand grabbed your jaw and angled your face for him to perfectly capture your lips in a kiss. He forced his tongue against yours, and immediately you could taste the sweetness of the custard still lingering in his mouth. He kissed you until you stopped struggling, softening beneath him. He released your hands, and you wound one around his neck and the other through his hair. His free hand didn’t stay free for even a second before it was palming your breast through your shirt, and you moaned.

Finally, he broke of the kiss, but only moving his head back a fraction of an inch.

“Damn you,” you breathed against his lips, but you knew from the look in his eyes that he knew he’d demanded and earned your utter and complete surrender.

“You’re going to spend the next twenty-four hours on your back,” he said. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then drew the heat along your jaw and down your neck. The desire in your core was fully ablaze, and you could feel how wet you were already growing between your thighs.

He nipped at your collarbone, and you gasped.

“Maybe on hands and knees if I feel like it,” he added as he ripped the front of your shirt open.

The audacity of this man! you thought while you could still think.

An audacity that you gladly put up with until well after midnight as he had you cumming more than once on his cock, then woke up to first thing with his head between your thighs.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I PROMISE ONE DAY I WILL FINISH THE FINAL CHAPTER, I JUST CAN'T HELP IT THAT PEOPLE KEEP SENDING FANTASTICALLY INSPIRATIONAL ASKS THAT TURN INTO THESE LITTLE ADDITIONAL SCENES FOR THEIR FUTURE!

[tripleyeeet]

I'M STARVING, DARLING (8)

SUMMARY: For the first time in a long time, you and Astarion find yourself experiencing a sense of normalcy through the chaos.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,346

WARNINGS: Sexual tension (there always is with these two, whoops), a bit of bloodsucking, mentions of past abuse, angst if you squint.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this took so long! I'm back from vacay at work and died for four days straight but now we're back! Sort of!

Updates from now on might not be as frequent but I'm going to try and post weekly; maybe on Saturdays?

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

 “Don’t you dare.”

At this point, you’ve been lying there for what feels like hours, locked inside his arms —unable to bring yourself to move thanks to the comfort you feel surrounding your frame. A comfort you haven’t felt in a long time as you listen to the raspy way his voice tickles your neck, prompting you to sigh and give in, knowing that resistance is futile.

“They’re going to kill us, you know.” 

Shifting awkwardly to face him, you try not to smile when he peaks one eye open, quickly closing it when he catches your own. “I’d like to see them try considering I’m already dead.”

“Yes, well I’m not.”

He huffs, clutching you further into his chest. “And that’s my problem?”

Rolling your eyes, you playfully smack his face before wriggling from his grasp, moving to sit upright with a groan. As you do, you quickly remember the events of last night and slowly roll your bare shoulders, feeling them click in and out of place before you raise your arms to the sky with a yawn. 

Despite your better judgement, you stayed up far too late, enjoying the ever-growing intimacy the night had to offer. All of the lingering touches and longing gazes mixed between small bouts of passion and a rather lengthy dip in the tub were nothing short of worth it. In fact, if you were honest, it was better than anything you could’ve imagined. A proper break from the chaos you’d been unwillingly thrust into as of late.

You knew because of that it’d be hard to wake up. To let your mind move from fantasy to reality as the sun hit your face and the reminder of the oncoming doom filtered through your tired mind.

What you weren’t prepared for however was Astarion’s lack of restraint as his curious fingers begin to slip across your back. Carefully drawing up and down your spine, his fingers move in delicate motions, sending an onslaught of shivers down your spine that have him chuckling under his breath, shuffling closer toward your frame. 

“If you told me last night I’d be enjoying such a delicious view…”

When you turn to give him a narrow-eyed look he trails off, looking at you with feigned innocence as he kisses your shoulder blade, allowing his lips to linger as you stare him down. 

“You’re lucky you're cute.” 

“And you’re lucky my blade’s still attached to my clothes. Otherwise it’d be at your throat threatening you back to bed.” 

“Kinky.” 

Immediately he snorts, pressing his forehead against your back. “For fuck sakes— come back to bed, please. I won’t ask you again.” 

Biting your lip, you look around the room for a moment, picking apart the disaster of discarded clothes and muddied floors mixed between half-opened packs of supplies. Somehow despite the disarray of it all you still manage to smile as you crane your neck back, knowing that you should get up but ultimately give in to temptation, shuffling around Astarion’s frame to rest your head back on your pillow. 

“Fine. You win.”

“Win?” He slips effortlessly into your side, leaning over to place a chaste kiss to your cheek before tracing the edge of your jaw with his finger. “And what pray tell is my prize?” 

“My company.”

He scrunches up his face in false disgust, softly taking hold of your chin. “I was hoping for something a bit more exciting.”

It’s apparent then that he’s looking for a repeat of the hours prior. More moments of shared ecstasy before the inevitable shift in focus occurs and you’re most likely left wanting for another few weeks.

It’s tempting for sure. Especially when he slips a leg between your own, gently pushing his thigh against that spot that has you swallowing hard as you close your eyes. 

“You and I both know—“

He cuts you off with a long kiss. One that’s devoid of anything other than the hunger of a starved man, reaching for that initial bite. It’s all tooth and tongue —a mess of movements that have him shifting upright to straddle your leg, breathing hard against your open mouth as he slots his teeth against your lower lip, making you groan.

“Sorry darling, what were you saying?” His grin is wicked when he pulls away, using the moment of dazed confusion to stroke your cheek as you open your mouth to speak. When nothing comes out he merely chuckles and places a much softer kiss in the same spot, resting against you for a second or two before pulling away. 

“You’re awful.”

“And you’re easy,” he muses, moving his thigh against you. “Desperate even.”

Immediately, there’s a part of you that wants to argue that the feeling of your legs suddenly tightening around his own as your breath begins to falter isn’t the result of your desperation, but his. That you’re merely just a victim to his charms like always. However, the bigger part of you knows he’ll probably make you feel otherwise. More than likely, he’ll retort with something far too clever and make you second-guess your words.

So instead, you merely give in to his claims, humming quietly as he explores your frame, quickly laying waste to your neck with an open-mouthed kiss that makes you crave that feeling again. The cold nothingness brought on by his teeth latching against you.

Despite its somewhat violent cause, you still long to remember the feeling. The incomparable bliss of that icy jolt before total numbness occurs, leaving you lightheaded and empty. Suddenly, it takes over your mind, flashing amongst the current movements of his mouth trailing down your torso.

All of it’s enough to say his name. Quietly through the haze of desire, you feel him pause and look up, raising a brow at your heavy chest as you cup his cheek. “Are you hungry?”

He looks at you confused. “If this is some sneaky way of trying to get out of bed, I can assure you—“

“No.” You shake your head, moving it slightly to the side to showcase your throat. “Are you hungry?”

For a moment there’s an undeniable tension that grows. Festering amongst naked skin and scratchy sheets, it builds by the second, making your chest ache with the kind of nervous anticipation that has you wondering if maybe you shouldn’t have spoke. 

He may be a vampire but thus far he’s managed to keep himself from feeding on you since that first time. Something you were both surprised and disappointed by, considering you had expected him to ask for more. Especially after the reaction of his previous feed. It was obvious that it was enjoyable. A moment of pure decadence that left him wanting more despite the consequences.

“Wait a minute, am I dreaming?”

His face is suddenly inches from yours, his breath wafting against your face through a grin that makes you chuckle. “No.”

 “Are you sure? Because I’m sure I’ve dreamt of this exact scenario once or twice.” 

“Have you now?” 

He hums with a nod, leaning forward to kiss your cheek. “Yes. However, the only difference is that I was in a castle and Cazador’s head was on a stick in the corner.” 

You snort and wrap your arms around his head, pulling him closer. “Sorry to disappoint. Hopefully you can consider my offer the next best thing?”

“I suppose. But only because you were my first.”

First?

Immediately, you wonder if it’s a slip of the tongue —another one of his flirtatious lies sent to woo despite already having you. Given the nature of his past, it wouldn’t be all that surprising. Considering his role under Cazador’s thumb was to charm and lure, you know that lies like this are still second nature. A mechanism of lust ingrained into his psyche. 

Plus, it’s not like it’s possible for you to actually be his first. Having spent most of his time in spaces like this, a bit of bloodletting was bound to happen at some point. It was inevitable really when you think of Astarion’s voice and face and overall ability to manipulate. 

Surely it’d be hard to resist. But then it dawns on you —the severity of his abuse. The tightened leash so carefully tied around his neck for hundreds of years. There’s no way Cazador would’ve allowed him such pleasantries. Despite his efforts —despite the countless opportunities to take his fill, it quickly becomes apparent that he wouldn’t. 

Because he couldn’t. 

Because despite the allowance to explore the city, he was still considering nothing.

It makes your heart simultaneously skip and break, watching the sudden nervousness that clouds his features. The way his cheeky grin sort of falls out of place, showcasing an underlying fear that has him licking his lips and searching your face.

“Is that true?”

All he does is nod his head, looking at you with such sincerity that the only way you’re able to respond is to inhale slowly. To stop and stare and subtly nod back, hoping that he understands.

When he does you’re met with nothing but anticipation. A breathless series of moments leading up to Astarion’s mouth against your throat, warming up the skin with languid licks that have you closing both your eyes, waiting for the pain. 

“I don’t understand what I did to deserve you.” 

The edges of his teeth scrape gently over your skin, making you swallow and sigh, unable to answer because you’re too busy preparing. Too busy expecting the pain before it eventually subsides into that numbness you so desperately crave. 

“Thank you, for this. Truly.”

His voice feels like velvet on your skin. The way it coasts the expanse of it in the softest of praise before it’s surpassed by that first initial jolt, ripping through your flesh in one quick push. Groaning lowly, you feel the presence of his teeth slide inside before you can even process, his lips haphazardly slotting over top to suck.

Without much warning you find yourself lost. Laying slack against the bed, unable to even bring yourself to grab his hair like the first time, you merely ride the wave of pain and pleasure that repeatedly breaks against you. Allowing it all to sink in with a quiet hum that has him smiling against your throat, lapping up bloodshed after bloodshed until he hears the door crash open. 

“It's way past sunrise what the hell are you —oh fucking— Astarion, seriously?”

Both of you look over in horror to see Karlach looking down at the floor —her one hand covering her face as she disapprovingly shakes her head, realizing what she’s just witnessed. 

Upon noticing, you know she isn’t all that surprised —just disappointed. A feeling that makes you sick to your stomach as you work to sit up, swearing under your breath and reaching for the nearest sheet despite your head starting to spin.

“I know we’ve been without proper shelter for months but for god's sake Karlach doors exist for a reason!” 

Mortified, you look between them as Astarion scolds, noticing the subtle smirk that rises over Karlach’s lips. “Well, maybe if the two of you got up when you were supposed to instead of lying around sucking each other off I wouldn’t have to fucking come up here in the first place!”

“To be fair, we never got to the part where I suck him off.”

Immediately, Karlach groans while Astarion snorts, prompting you to press your lips together to suppress a laugh as the energy in the room shifts toward your favour. 

“You two are just —just… come downstairs, please. Gale was supposed to cook breakfast but his hand’s still sore from the fight yesterday.”

“What the hell does that have to do with us?” Astarion asks but unfortunately, you already know the answer.

“You know how protective he gets over the cooking duties.” Annoyed, Karlach rolls her eyes, dropping her hand from her face to motion to you. “He won’t let anyone else but Blood-Bag over here do it.” 

Both of you groan but relent, telling Karlach you’ll be down soon before she grumbles a low you better be before shutting the door. 

When she’s gone you let out a sigh of relief, moving to sit up and shuffle towards the edge of the bed, trying your best to ignore the aching in your neck and the piercing gaze of Astarion’s frustration honing in on his handiwork. 

“Don’t even think about it,” you tell him then, narrowing your eyes at the hunger that lingers beneath the surface, threatening to rise all over again at the sight of your bloodied skin. 

Despite this, you know he’s most definitely thinking about it. Intensely and angrily, it’s probably the only thing he’s thinking about as he watches you push off the bed and move to your pack to grab a washcloth. 

“Can’t I just finish you off?” 

As you wipe down your neck, watching the way he frowns at the waste of blood you groan. “Astarion—“

“Please?” 

He’s at your side in an instant, wrapping his greedy hands around your waist, pulling you in all over again. Convincing you that despite the importance of your compatriot’s breakfast, his fill still reigns supreme. 

“Fine but—“

“I promise to return the favour.” He cuts you off with a smirk. One that’s laced with lust and quickly finds its way back to its home, stopping at the entrance with bated breath.

You can’t help but roll your eyes through your suppressed grin in response, feeling his fangs hit your neck only to stop when the door rings out in a series of knocks causing you both to close your eyes and groan, knowing it’ll have to wait till later. 

A fact that stirs an anger in both of you as you begrudgingly clean and throw on your clothes, attempting to ignore all the tension as you head downstairs to the communal kitchen space. 

Inside there’s about half a dozen bodies, slaving over pots and pans and chatting with their peers as they await their meals. In the corner, Gale and Shadowheart stand chatting amongst themselves, unaware of your presence until you’re standing before them, hands crossed grumpily over your chest. 

“Ah! About time you two showed up! We were beginning to think you’d abandoned the crew —or worse.”

“What could possibly be worse than leaving all of you behind?” Astarion asks dully, prompting you to shoot him a glare that has Shadowheart cocking her head.

“Where’s Karlach? Did she find you?” she asks.  

Both of you nod, trying your best not to reveal the events of her findings before quickly changing the subject, signalling Gale to go into some long-winded rant about the importance of breakfast. 

After that Astarion zones out completely. Standing alongside you, you can tell his mind is elsewhere as you and the wizard discuss the various ingredients you have on hand, working together to ultimately decide on a simple breakfast hash you could’ve easily whipped up without the lecture. 

“Do you want me to supervise or?”

You shake your head. “Seriously Gale. I’m fine. I’ve been cooking since I was five. Go rest with the others.”

It takes some further reassurance; mostly from Shadowheart who insists that you’re right because of how starving she is. But eventually, he manages to set aside his pride with a sigh, muttering something about spices before being dragged away, leaving just the two of you. 

“I swear I’ve never seen a more uptight wizard.” Astarion shakes his head while you wander over to the nearest prep table, producing a cutting board and a blade from Gale’s leftover pack. “I mean, I know they’re all pretty tightly wound but him—“

“Can you start peeling potatoes for me?”

He looks at you like you’ve just insulted his character. With widened eyes and open lips, he takes a minute to look around the room to see if you’re speaking to someone else before he realizes he’s the only one there. “Me?”

“Yes, you. C’mere.”

He does, but only to further stand there and stare, letting out a laugh. “Oh darling, I don’t cook. Hunt, yes, but obviously considering the fangs and all that you and I both know I no longer have a need for culinary skills.”

Ignoring his words you hand him the knife and motion to the spot next to you, watching as he reluctantly obeys. “Peel these then cut them into chunks about this big.” You show him the sizing with your fingers, hoping he’s smart enough to understand before tossing a couple of potatoes in front of him. “Then cut these peppers about half that size.” 

As you hand over the peppers, Astarion continues to look at you in disbelief. “You can’t be serious, darling.”

“Dead, actually.” You grin mischievously, procuring some eggs that Gale managed to trade off of one of the other cooks before you arrived along with a bowl. “Besides, I recall a moment earlier when you said you’d return the favour?”

“Sexually,” he states. Then, he grabs the nearest potato and begins to peel, shakily slicing off a piece of potato skin. “Also, if I recall we didn’t even finish your end of the bargain.”  

“Yet.”

Realizing that you’re right, he merely huffs and continues to peel, wreaking havoc along the knuckles of his fingers in the process. 

It makes you frown, watching him struggle as you crack your eggs and mix, remembering that he probably hasn’t done this in years. For the last two centuries, he was too busy hunting whatever he could find underground, desperately consuming whatever crossed his path —meaning he probably hasn’t used a knife for anything other than violence since before he was turned. A depressing fact that has you reaching for his hand and examining his wounds with tired eyes.

“Can I show you how to hold it?”

There’s a moment where he goes to protest but ultimately accepts, looking at you half-annoyed as you explain the angle at which the knife should sit in his hand and the amount of pressure you should use. 

“I don’t know why you insist on having me help. I don’t eat any of it.” 

As he speaks he still takes your advice, letting the knife carefully slide across the potato, avoiding his knuckles entirely, making you grin. “It’s not about eating. It’s about making something you’re proud of.”

“How can you be proud of something that will no longer exist in an hour?”

You shrug your shoulders, unsure how to explain as the two of you then work in silence. As he peels and cuts, you prep your eggs before moving on to the sausage, dumping the meat into a pan with some simple spices that most definitely weren’t on Gale’s list. 

You discover then how easy this all feels. From the moment you woke up, it’s as if you’ve been transported to a new life. One where the threat of danger is lost just like the stagnant tadpole behind your eye. In your mind, there’s not a care in the world other than Astarion’s knife skills and the hungry bellies that impatiently sit and it’s nice. Simple. The kind of life you quickly find yourself longing to have as the two of you continue to cook, occasionally joking about your peers between flirtatious touches and suggestive comments that have your chest feeling warm.

“You know with some practice you might actually be a handy prep cook.” 

Bumping your hip against Astarion’s you notice a flicker in his gaze. One that’s filled with something foreign and happy as the two of you begin walking out your freshly cooked meal. “I’d say you’re wrong but considering my toxic pride, I’ll merely agree.”

Before you can respond the whole table catches your attention. Their eyes are wide with want as you set the bowl of hash at the centre of the table, barely blinking before they’re shovelling it onto their respective plates and expressing their thanks; filling Astarion with a new kind of pride that makes him fully understand just what you meant earlier. 

-

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[sc0tters]

Wanna Bet | Quinn Hughes

summary: when Quinn tries to put you in your place it lands him in your sheets.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, oral (fem receiving!), p in v, swearing, choking.

word count: 2.51k

authors note: okay I liked this smut like way more than the Luke one from this morning. Quinn with enemies to lovers is something I don’t remember writing before but this was fun so we are gonna allow it.

Seeing Quinn always felt weird to you.

Since the moment you joined the Canucks you two just didn’t seem to get on, the constant bickering was enough to make anyone want to avoid you both. So eventually you both just accepted the fact that you were destined to be colleagues who tolerated each other. It was a silent yet assumed to be mutual agreement.

Yet it seemed that Quinn felt like testing that agreement as you were walking to your car as you were only meant to be working during the first groups practice session. Quinn had been apart of it and with what felt like the worst practice of his life especially after getting the C when you started asking him questions about his performance it only felt like a twist of the knife.

Quinn swore he was seeing red as he was hot on your tail “what the hell was that today y/n?” He spat as the door to the rink shut behind him.

You two were the only ones in the parking lot as you sighed “Quinn I did my job-” you spun around to explain it to him when you realised just how close he was to you.

The hockey player sent you a glare “your job is not to make me look like an idiot.” He pointed out crossing his arms that tightened as he was still in his compression shirt due to the rush he was in to get to you “don’t need to do that when you seem to do it all by yourself.” You flashed him a sarcastic smile as you turned back to your car where your face quickly dropped to a frown.

Quinn furrowed his eyes seeing that you had stopped “you forgotten how to walk to your car or something now?” The boy smirked “forgot to plug my car in.” You pointed out as you walked over to the plug your car into its charging station.

He couldn’t help but laugh “c’mon,” the hockey player motioned to you to follow him “you think I’m going home with you then you’ve got another thing coming Hughes.” Your eyes formed a glare as he walked over to you “princess I hate to be the one to tell you that it’s starting to rain so without me you’re shit out of luck right now.” Quinn’s harsh words made you look up at the sky to see the grey clouds that loomed over Vancouver.

Against your better judgement you nodded “where is your car?” You asked avoiding his smirk not wanting to see him win.

The drive back to your place had been awkward to put it lightly “you know you interviewing me like that was fucked up.” Quinn spoke as you stared at the traffic lights that illuminated a red glow in front of you “Quinn if you can’t handle the truth from me then maybe you need a reality check.” Your words were honest as you pointed your finger at him.

It made the boy scowl “I’m starting to see why Tito turned you down.” The Hughes boy mumbled as he started driving again “what happened between him and I is none of you business!” You groaned as you had helped the Canadian settle into the team when he got traded, and one night he ended up in your bed. The same thing happened twice more before you both agreed to simply be friends.

Quinn took your irritated state as an encouragement to go on “that must have been a bad night for him.” The boy continued driving on as the light changed to green “please I was a great fuck!” You blurted out no longer caring about your desire to have a filter “if anything I feel sorry for the girls that you sleep with.” Your words made the boy tense up as he turned to your apartment building “in fact I don’t think you could even make a girl come.” If you knew the response your words would get then maybe you wouldn’t have said it.

His knuckles turned white against the steering wheel as he gripped at it “don’t think you’re ready to eat your words.” Quinn confessed as you leaned against the centre console “I think you’re not ready to see that I’m right.” The car almost crashed as the boy kissed your lips.

It was strong as he brought his hand behind your head making sure that you couldn’t pull away “where do I park princess?” The boy asked as a hoot car from the car behind his “just up here.” Your cheeks turned pink as you could still feel his lips against yours.

He slipped his arm through your bags strap as he smiled watching you direct him to the elevator “who would have thought that the way to get you quiet is just by kissing ya?” Quinn cocked his head as your back was pressed against the elevator wall after you pressed the floor number “shut up,” you grumbled placing your hands on his cheeks as you pulled him into a kiss. His tongue danced over your lip as you moaned letting him slide it into your mouth “sorry,” a voice came from the doors as someone let out an awkward cough. You sent the guy a smile as Quinn pulled away from you. Thankfully you only had to stand there for a mere few minutes before you two got to your floor.

Your apartment door called your name as you dug into your purse to grab your keys when Quinn’s hands went to your waist “Quinn behave.” You pleaded as you felt his head drop to your neck “have I ever told you how much I love this skirt?” Quinn asked letting his lips nip at your neck as his fingers trailed over the shirt skirt “n-no,” you shook your head as you finally got the door open.

The two of you barely got into the apartment before he spun you around “want to see me make you come?” The hockey player smirked as he pushed your body against your door shutting it behind you “don’t think you could.” You tried to remain calm.

Quinn let his lips hover over yours “was gonna take you to your bed.” He confessed as he clicked his tongue “but now I’m going to make you come right here.” Your eyes went wide watching him drop to his knees “like to see you t-try.” Your palms grew sweaty as the hockey player pulled your skirt up revealing your white panties.

He let out a whistle hooking his fingers in either side of your panties “think you knew that you were gonna get fucked tonight.” Quinn pointed out as he let your panties slide down your legs “told Tito to come o-” your words were cut off as Quinn lay his tongue flat against your slit licking a straight line before he practically pecked your clit “not so talkative now are you?” The hockey player smirked setting his tongue back on your clit as he let his two fingers thrust into your cunt.

Your hand slapped over your mouth as the boy comfortably found himself between your legs “let me hear you princess.” Quinn’s words sent shivers up your spine as you looked down to nod.

If you didn’t know any better you would have sworn that he was a starved man as he let his tongue work on you like you were his last meal “shit Quinn.” You groaned forcing your hips further into his face as your head pushed against the wood of your door.

Quinn left his pants grow tight at the sheer squelching noise that left your core as his fingers formed his scissoring motion as they thrusted deeper into you “you want to come princess?” He asked using his free thumb to rub against your clit “c’mon I know you want to just let it go.” With that the hockey player brought his lips back to your clit finally setting you over the edge “don’t stop.” You cried out as your fingers locked into his hair as you rode his face feeling him smile beneath you.

The hockey player pulled his fingers out from your core watching how they shone begin covered in your juices “taste how sweet you are princess.” Quinn ordered bringing himself back up to his feet as he tapped his fingers on your lips “pretty good for a guy that can’t make you come huh?” The boy smirked as your tongue swirled around his fingers like it was his cock in your mouth.

When you moaned it made him realise that his pants could no longer take simply watching you “where is your bedroom?” Quinn asked furrowing his eyebrows as he picked your panties off of the ground shoving them into his sweatpants pocket “you can get those back if you are good in bed.” The boy reminded you about the claim that you had yet to make good on.

You giggled beginning your walk to your room as you slowly began to shed your clothing starting with the Canucks polo that you were sporting revealing your black bra “you’re playing a dangerous game princess.” Quinn warned as you sent him an innocent grin “what are you going to do about that?” You clicked your tongue as you slipped behind your bedroom door pulling the skirt off of your legs as you were left in nothing but your bra when he came into the room.

Quinn took in the sight of your gorgeous body as he smiled eyes meeting yours “isn’t fair that you’re in so little is it now?” His voice was soft as your fingers danced over his compression shirt “leaves little to the imagination.” You pointed out shaking your head “knew you liked looking at me in this.” The hockey player lightly pushed you onto your bed as he pulled his shirt over his shoulders revealing his abs that made your mouth water “like what you see?” Quinn teased as he repeated the same action with his sweatpants leaving himself in his boxers.

Your eyes were practically glued to the bulge i that was barely hidden by the material “think you do too.” You teased as you watched him grab a condom from his wallet before he came down onto your bed with you “you’re taking your time cap.” You pointed out as you smirked seeing his expression harden.

What you didn’t expect was that he would flip you over causing your face to land in the fluffy blanket that sat on your bed “fuck princess I wanted to fuck you good but I guess I’m gonna have to fuck you like the brat you are.” Quinn grunted reaching down to break the clip in your bra letting your breasts hang free.

A whimper left your lips as you heard the sound of the condom wrapper ripping behind you “please Quinn.” You begged waiting to feel him against you.

Quinn smirked “you know that you aren’t calling me that anymore.” Before the hockey player gave you a chance to respond his cock was running over your clit before he let it thrust into your cunt.

Your hands could barely keep your body up as you adjusted to his size “Jesus cap!” You groaned letting your head drop into the mattress.

His hands grabbed at your hips bringing your body back to meet each of his thrusts “god princess you’re so right.” Quinn let out a grunt as he watched how your cunt repeatedly swallowed his cock as he made sure to bottom you out.

All you could do was nod as your hands grabbed at the comforter beneath you “shit Quinn.” You moaned as you began grinding your hips against him when the boy brought his hand down to slap your ass.

The gesture made you jump “you know that’s not what you’re calling me tonight.” The boy mumbled increasing the pace of his thrusts “you got a captains kink huh cap?” You asked letting your head turn to look at him as you smirked “get all hot thinking about me-” you were cut off as a moan left your lips “calling you cap when you fuck me?” You got your words out before he slapped your ass again.

Quinn felt his breath waiver as you clenched around his cock “should be finding a way to get you to keep quiet before you start running that fucking mouth.” With one movement he leaned down picking your body up “guess I’ve got to take matters into my own hands.” His words vibrated in the shell of your ear as his hand wrapped around your throat bringing you flushed against his torso.

The angle caused the boys cock to slide deeper into your cunt and that combined with the decreasing blood flow to your brain meant that you were overwhelmed with pleasure “fuck cap.” You cried bringing your hand down to rub at your clit as your head lay against his shoulder.

He took it as encouragement to go faster as your pussy began clenching around his cock more frequently “I’m gonna come,” you announced not seeing him shake his head “fucking beg for it.”

His order rang through your ears as you forced your eyes open “please let me come cap, I need you.” You pleaded almost having tears from in your eyes as you feared him saying no.

Quinn felt his cock throb “I’ll be your good little girl.” You added making him laugh “think you are already that baby.” The hockey player pointed out as he pressed a kiss to your temple “got you right where I want you right now and you can’t do shit about it.” His reminder made your cunt clamp down on his cock.

The boys hand squeezed around your throat “let me hear you go.” He smiled as you let out a min forcing your fingers to go even faster on your clit.

Your orgasm caused your body to shake against him “fuck fuck fuck!’ You cried not realising that your actions spurred on his own orgasm “so good princess.” Quinn cooed as he coated the inside of the condom with his come.

As his hand released your throat your body came down onto your bed as you let out a large breath “was I too rough?” He asked letting his cock slide out of your soaked cunt.

Quinn lay next to you as he watched you look up to him with a smile “not that was hot.” You blurted out leaning up to grab a hoodie off of your floor “where do you think you’re going?” The hockey player furrowed his eyebrows.

You turned to him with a smirk “I’ve got to go pick up my car.” You explained as to your surprise he shook his head reaching out for your hands as he pulled you back onto your bed “we aren’t done just yet.” Quinn mumbled cupping your face in his hands as he kissed you.

Clearly you were in for a long afternoon.

[malehypnofantasy]

Muscle Head

"Morning, muscle head,"

"Ugh.....what do you want? I literally pounded your ass to oblivion as if that's my girlfriend's tight sloppy pussy last night, what else now?"

"Can you calm down for me, muscle head?"

"Y---yes, sorry about the outburst. I just didn't think you'll wake up this quick,"

"This is 9 AM, this ain't early, muscle head. I noticed the damp towel so you already worked out. Well, last night was great, but don't you think you need to eat again after that draining workout before going on about your day? My feet can get used to a passionate sucking,"

And just like that, the muscular bodybuilder dropped to the floor and grabbed the nerd's hazel brown feet. The bodybuilder sucked each toes with the utmost care and attention while moaning in delight on how delicious of a treat it is and the nerd just smiled proudly while holding his laughter due to the ticklish sensation of the handsome bodybuilder's tongue and saliva.

The whole feet worship lasted for about 5 minutes before the bodybuilder went on another body parts. He lost himself to his Master's barely hairy pits and thin arms while his Master caressed his hair and whispered sweet nothings to his ear. Eventually, he blew his Master's cock before going on about his day as he got some brand partnership talk with one of his sponsor during lunch before another gym appointment with two clients and his own coach throughout the evening. During the stretch of hours he's outside of the house, he behaved normally as if he didn't just swallow the cum of his nerdy loner of a neighbor earlier today

Around 8 PM, the gym is already quiet as the bodybuilder already asked his coach for a 1-on-1 session in his prep to Mr. Olympia so the gym is closed early. When he's doing his set, someone called his coach, so the coach excused himself to pick it up. It's an unknown number but against his better judgement, he picked up

"Hello dumb tool. You must be in the gym, this is your Master speaking, Tobias. Is Aaron still with you?"

And just like that, the Coach reverted to his tranced and enslaved self as he answered monotonously that Aaron is indeed with him and he's currently working on his muscle and poses for next week's Mr. Olympia

"Well, Aaron's little brain probably forget that he's also my subject even though he's out of the house and I told him to be back home before 8:30. That's not going to happen now since this is 8:10 already so I want you to punish him, dumb tool. This is what you're going to do---"

A couple minutes later, the Coach, Tobias, stared at his disciple.

"Are you done with all the reps?"

"Yes, I'm done. Who called? You spent quite some times," he said while taking out one of his earbuds

"It's none of your business, muscle head," said the Coach smirking while Aaron's pupil went wide as his consciousness started slipping away and his entranced self started to resurface once again. But, he's wearing one of his earbuds still so he resisted and started begging

"Coach, what the fuck? Don't say that word again,"

"What? Muscle head? Why? Aren't you a muscle head? Stop resisting and let that bitch ass power bottom out, Aaron. Our Master already told me to punish you for breaking your curfew,"

"Wait.....our Master?? Oh no...." he said, still fighting even though his Coach bombardment of his trigger word clearly made this a losing battle

"This is 8:25, muscle head. Don't you remember your Master's order? Maybe that's why our Master called you muscle head, because your little brain barely have an original thought of its own. You know what, kneel. Kneel to the floor and start repent, muscle head. Beg for your Master's mercy,"

Aaron didn't want to, but his Coach grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed his form as his trembling knee eventually caved in to the pressure. The coach also grabbed the still plugged earbuds and then smirked as he whispered Aaron's trigger word with his gruff voice. Aaron looked up and eventually realized how glazed his Coach's eyes are, and then he started to be pushed to his own subconsciousness as the other Aaron's fully resurfaced

"Now worship me, muscle head. Master is on his way to pick you up and he ordered me to train you to become the biggest slut in this year Mr. Olympia. So let's take this slow so we can still have something to show to our Master when he eventually comes around,"

[ilexdiapason]

It's not every day you almost hit somebody with your car - but then again, it's not every day that the somebody in question falls directly out of the sky and into the road in front of you.

Oli slams the brakes as fast as he can physically manage, parks the car, hops out. (If traffic comes up behind him on a little road like this, only a couple of streets from his house, then they can wait for him to check on the body before he lets them past, alright?) Lying in front of him, tensed but not appearing to be grievously injured, is a man.

"Hello?"

The man's eyes flick open, his gaze wild and alert at once, and he scrambles back across the tarmac. "Who are you?"

"No - no, I'm not - you just fell in front of my car, that's all, I'm not a cop or anything."

"Don't need to be a cop to be dangerous," the stranger insists, fists balling against the road as though he'd rather be reaching for a weapon. "Where is this?"

"You're - we're in Sheffield," he hazards, "like, north Sheffield, not in the middle of town or anything. How did you fall out of the sky like that?"

"Sheffield?" the man repeats.

"Yeah?"

"What's your name?"

"Er - I'm Oli. Oliver."

The stranger stares at Oli like he's trying to bore a hole through to the other side of his skull. "OrionSound?"

Oli pauses. How in the everliving fuck does this random stranger know his gamertag, of all things? "What? Yes. What?"

"Right," the stranger mutters, "not over yet, I guess." He hops up, offers a hand, which Oli, bewildered, shakes. "My name is Martyn."

Ah - that would explain it. If, albeit, it is still a fucking insane coincidence. "You've been in some of our lobbies before. How did you work that out from name and location?"

Martyn stops short. "Hold on. Lobbies?"

"Yeah - on Pirates, right? And Rats. I always just sort of assumed you must be mates with Owen or something."

"Lobbies like - like in-game?"

"... Yes?"

Martyn looks around, as though he's processing this quiet side street for the very first time. He flexes his fingers on either side, half-concealed under fingerless gloves. Then he makes eye contact with Oli again. "Let me just get this straight. You've met me in-game, and this is not that. This is real."

"Yeah," Oli frowns, "what? Of course this is real. I'm sorry, am I missing something?"

And Martyn laughs, mirthless, like Oli's not privy to the greatest cosmic joke he can imagine. "Little bit, yeah. Right. I did get out. And I'm in Sheffield, and OrionSound of all people found me. And… I need to call my mum."

"You want my phone?"

"Oh, god, not now, I need a minute."

Against his better judgement, Oli makes a choice. "Well, if you need somewhere to go, just for a bit, we're not far from my house?"

Martyn laughs again. "Right! Sure. Let's do that. Fuck. Fucking hell, you've got a car, been a hot minute since I've seen one of those. Let's go."

So that's how Oli ends up letting Martyn, a man he's never met before but also knows quite well, into his car and into his home. It's not even one o'clock yet.

(part two here)

[hiimawarish]

too soft for all of it

s. mutual pining with jing yuan (and a very uncomfortable yanqing). cw. fluff. maybe a little crack? mutual pining. funny misunderstanding. maybe a little suggestive, but not too much. female/afab reader. tw. none. not proofread. wc. 0.69k a/n. i have no excuse for this more than i love this man and he has ruined me. credits. dividers by @/cafekitsune.

As Yanqing hesitates outside the door, he wonders if you really think you’re fooling anyone. You’re not. He is sure of that. Knowing the General, there is no way he is convinced that whatever you two had going on was kept a secret. The soft echo of laughter within the Seat of Divine Foresight tells him as much—the poor boy recognized your voice as soon as he had arrived, with his hand up balled into a fist, almost knocking, yet he stopped. He stopped. And he has been here, stuck in front of the door, for what feels like an eternity.

“I need to go,” He can hear you say. The voice is muffled, but his training makes it easy to strain his ear to understand. “My break at work will be over soon.”

“I’m sure I can come up with a good excuse for Lady Fu to allow you more time.” 

Ah, there he is. 

Yanqing feels himself blushing, then. What is he doing here, frozen in front of the closed door, listening to this conversation? The truth is that the General had called for him. That is the first reason. The second, well, he had some pieces of information to report. Now he wonders if they are important enough to knock and interrupt whatever is going on inside. The boy shakes his head at that—no, maybe he is merely imagining things. As laid down as the General is, he truly doubts that he would make use of the Seat of Divine Foresight for such inappropriate acts.

Right?

Right?

God, he just wants to get out of here.

“General?” Yanqing finally knocks, feeling both ashamed and upset that he seems caught in this position. Honestly, who does he think he is fooling? Although the office’s expanse is more than enough, it isn’t as if the giggles and whispers do not make it outside at all. Ugh. “You called for me?”

“Yes. Come in.”

Yanqing feels himself freezing again at that. He had… He had actually asked him to come in? 

“Yanqing?” The General calls, again. 

“Coming!”

The boy pushes the doors open against his better judgement. His mind runs wild with all the possible scenarios, with all his possible outbursts… only for him to be left speechless. There is no state of undress, no inappropriate scene. The only thing out of place is the starchess. You’ve been playing… All this time, all those whispers, everything… For a game?

Yanqing feels himself blushing, then, furiously. General Jing Yuan watches him with curiosity first, and then the molten gold eyes of his gleam knowingly—ah, he has been discovered. 

“Yanqing,” You call him. He seems startled, and still flushed, but if you notice, you do not mention it. “Tell the General that he cannot move this piece like this. He’s cheating.”

Ah, his old antics.

“I am not cheating,” Jing Yuan crosses his arms across the expanse of his chest, an amused smile curving into his lips as he glances at you. Yanqing observes the exchange in silence. Neither of you say anything, and yet the General’s eyes seem to soften as they lay on you. “You’re a sore loser.”

“Says the one who’s always hiding pieces of chess,” Yanqing adds.

Jing Yuan makes a face. “That’s different.”

“How so?” You retort, almost exasperated. 

Though your voice sounds upset, Yanqing can see beyond that. He can see the longing in your eyes as you glance at the general, those secretive looks that you both think no one else can see, but for the Lieutenant are evident. He notices the lingering touch of your hand on Jing Yuan’s shoulder as you nudge him, playfully, the way he smiles at the feeling of your hand on him. 

Yanqing realizes, then, that perhaps the General is softer than he once thought.

It’s apparent. 

“I’m leaving now,” you announce, taking a few steps toward the exit. “I already wasted my break on a game with a cheater.”

A rumble of laughter parts Jing Yuan’s lips at your words. “You wound me.”

Yanqing stays silent, watching you banter—yes, the General has definitely gone soft.

Soft for you.

more works.

©2023 hiimawarish do not translate, repost, copy, modify

[astro-royale]

Observations : Part 1✨

⚠️These are my personal observations & opinions:

- Saturn in your 7th house can usually mean that all your intimate relationships are of a karmic nature & to do with past lives. Soulmate after soulmate… there’s always a sense of fate.

- I believe Pluto is a feminine planet in a masculine energy.. much of what happens to a wounded female when she is in survival mode. Yes , Pluto is represented my a male God, but intuitively I believe there is something deeply feminine about Pluto. Astronomers have discovered that Pluto has a HEART. Cold seeming on the outside but very deeply passionate on the inside.

Gen Z has Pluto in the libertine sign of Sagittarius, it makes such sense that this generation is so obsessed with freedom and so obsessed with rebelling against the norm to gain said freedom. Also using knowledge as a weapon to gain freedom…

Scorpio Risings have deep rooted trust issues. They most likely don’t trust you even if they said they do. If a scorpio rising insults you and loves you in the same breath, it means they’re comfortable with you and they like you to a certain degree, consider yourself lucky.

Capricorn Sun/Risings are so tight pocketed…

Shadow side of Virgo; Virgos are probably one of the most judgemental signs. They criticise as a way to make themselves feel better and superior, and also as a way to keep distance and detach themselves. (They’re still probably right though😅)

Aquarius Venus men can display high signs of disinterest in people but rather display more interest in things.. especially knowledge. They give off a very asexual vibe, kind of like Isaac Newton vibe.

Cancer sun people are easily taken advantage of in ways they don’t realise because their ego relies so much on the validation of other people.

If a man with Venus in Scorpio is not interested in you, you will know, because he is not obsessed with you.

Virgos are one of the signs that care most about people yet that gets overlooked because they don’t like taking credit, and their pride can give off the wrong impression as if they don’t care due to their sharp tongue; yet they do care because they take care of the little details or they show love in more action oriented ways.

If a Virgo starts talking about how much they do it’s because they’re tired of lack of appreciation and reciprocation.

Taurus in 6th house will make you obsessed with improving your looks, especially your body. It will also make you want to improve your eating habits.

Geminis will really just say anything on their mind, sometimes knowing it will hurt you, just because they like to see the look on your face. It brings them amusement to have the upper hand because it plays on their ego to be “intellectually superior”.

There can be very strong alternation of like and dislike between Scorpio Rising and Scorpio Sun individuals.. always some kind of tension.

I’ve noticed Pisces Sun men tend to easily give into addictions and escapism, and often use spirituality as an excuse to stay in their head. They have a lot of willpower; yet they get distracted by the need to avoid their trauma and suppress their emotions through their addictions . They have a lot of potential.

Cancer men tend to be very sensitive and have fragile egos, quite reactive too if you brush them the wrong way.

Libras can be very fake but also extremely caring and nurturing.

Virgo men… can be quite messy and poor with hygiene.

If a Gemini cares about you, you’re in their pile of “special” people because 9 times out of 10 they don’t give a fffffff.

Scorpio in sun or rising will often have bird like or vampiric features.

There is something very tender about a Scorpio man, even when he is honest with his darkness, you can still sense a sweetness and sensitivity in them. They’re the kind of guys you want to help and think you can change, until they prove you wrong because they self sabotage so that you don’t like them…

Leo in Venus will spoil you!! Male or female, doesn’t matter how long you have known them. If they like you they will pay for lunch, take pictures of you and show you off on social media, etc.

If you want to support this blog as well as my research there’s a Tip option in the bio. Or you can cashapp me £astroroyale .This way I can keep posting high quality content for you as it encourages me in the process <3 :) Thank you & Much love

Anyways, stay safe 😊☀️✨

Gif is from the anime the wallflower

[realwitchieshit]

Bad Idea, Right?

Summary: Your ex, Melissa, invites you over when you’re out with friends. Despite your better judgement, you go see her.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, implied cheating (kind of?), gender neutral!r but there is one use of the word “girl”, lmk if i should add more! :)

A/N: this fic is inspired by “bad idea, right?” by olivia rodrigo. this is my first fic so i’m sorry if it’s bad. enjoy!

part 2

The beat of the club’s music vibrated throughout your chest as you danced with your friends, the dim lighting making it hard for you to see anything but black silhouettes. This had been one of the only times you’d all been able to go out this month, your friend group having your own things going on. You were pretty tipsy at that point, having thrown back a couple of vodka shots reluctantly.

Despite the booming of the bass, you still felt your phone buzzing in your back pocket. You pulled it out, looking to see who was calling you. The words DO NOT ANSWER were plastered on your phone screen, the contact name you gave Melissa after you went to see her “just to catch up”. Before you had the chance to scurry off to the bathroom to answer the call, there was a hand on your elbow.

“Girl, do not answer that,” Your friend, Mira, warned, wearing a look of worriedness and sternness.

You watched the phone screen as it turned black, your stomach turned, “I’m just gonna tell her I’m busy…”

“You’re doing so good, babe. Don’t let all that work go to waste.” Mira was right, you hadn’t been alone with Melissa at all in the last month. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating. Would it really be that bad to call her back and tell her you’re busy?

“I’m just gonna call her back and tell her I’m busy, I swear.” You said, causing Mira to drop your arm and drop her with a look that said “are you serious right now?” She seemed like she wanted to say something but decided against it, instead just shrugging and turning back to the group reluctantly.

You pushed through a sweaty crowd of people to get to the bathroom. Once there, you opened your calling app. You chewed on your thumbnail, second-guessing yourself. This was practically a routine now, Melissa would call you and you would drop everything you were doing to go see her. The only reason the routine had stopped was because the last time you were there, Melissa had rudely woken you up in the morning by throwing your clothes at you. She told you Gary was coming over and you needed to either leave or pretend to be sleeping in her guest room.

Yes, she’s your ex and is actively talking to someone else, but she’s also your coworker. It’s good to be friendly with your coworkers. And besides, can’t two people reconnect?

With that, you clicked on Melissa’s contact and called her. You placed the phone to your ear, still nibbling on your thumbnail. The line rang for a total of two and times before you heard a quiet “hey”.

“Hi, I saw that you called.” You muttered around your nail.

“Yeah, I was gonna ask if you would wanna come over.” There was a beat of silence before she added, “I made some tiramisu for Barb and I have some leftovers.”

Tiramisu. You hadn’t had tiramisu since you and Melissa broke up. You had attempted to make it yourself one night, but you failed miserably. Melissa probably knew that.

“I don’t know, Mel. I don’t think we can keep doing this and I’m–” Before you could say that you’re out with friends, Melissa interrupted you.

“C’mon, hon. It’s just tiramisu, nothin’ else.” Her tone lowered in that way it did when she was trying to sound serious, it made you smile lightly. “Nothin’ else” usually meant Melissa would wait at least five minutes before she began trying to get you into bed, and she would often succeed.

“I’m tipsy.”

“Great, so am I. I’ll order you an Uber.”

You sighed, leaning your head against the bathroom wall. Here we go again.

“I’m… on the way.” With that, you told her where you were and said goodbye.

You went back out onto the dancefloor, finding your group and telling them goodbye, feigning illness. A chorus of “aww”’s and “we have to go out again soon”’s broke out in front of you while Mira looked at you disappointedly while shaking her head slowly. You shot her an apologetic smile and made your way to the exit. You stood outside the club, the late summer night breeze caressing your skin gently.

The ride to Melissa’s house was quiet, the Uber driver having the music set to a quiet volume. When the car pulled up to her neighbor’s driveway, you stepped out and thanked him. You waited until the car was out of your sight before walking down the road to Melissa’s house, just like she’s told you to. Due to the lack of clothing your clubbing outfit included, the once cool breeze made you shiver as you waited for Melissa to open the door.

She opened the door with a shit-eating grin on her face and a glass of wine, making you crack a smile and look down at your shoes. She sidestepped to let you inside, looking you up and down. You ignored her gaze and walked in, enjoying how her house always seemed to be set at the perfect temperature. You walked straight to her kitchen, telling yourself that you would only have a piece and take whatever leftovers she had.

“Did you get all dressed up for me?” She asked playfully, earning her a quick glare from you.

“No, I was out with some friends.” You answered, cutting a piece of tiramisu and setting it on the plate you had already gotten from the cabinet.

Melissa’s brows furrowed, “Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt your gathering. I could’ve just brought you some on Monday.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t having that much fun, anyway.” You and Melissa both knew that was a lie, when you were out with friends, especially Mira, it was damn near impossible to get you home. Even so, Melissa brushed it off and watched as you moved about the kitchen to get a fork before settling across from her at the island. There was a silence in the room as you ate your tiramisu, a sort of tense silence.

“Well, can I make it up to you? Barb recommended this really good red, so we can sit on the couch and have some wine.” She offered, you gripped your fork tighter.

You were about to tell her no, you really were, but then you looked up at her. She didn’t look different from the last time you saw her, which was yesterday, but your heart still skipped a beat when you looked into those green eyes. It’s like all higher-brain function had stopped abruptly, the voice of reason drowned out by a certain redhead’s voice. You tapped your fork against the plate and looked at your watch. It was still early. Just a glass of wine or two, then you’ll order an Uber and go home.

“Sure. But no funny business.” You pointed your fork at her with a playful smirk.

She raised her hands, “No funny business. Just wine to make up for your lost night.”

A glass of wine turned to two, and two turned into three, and before you knew it Melissa had you laid down on the couch while she kissed down your neck. In this now much more inebriated state, all you could focus on was how Melissa’s lips felt against your skin and how nice her perfume smelled. You felt Melissa’s hands begin fiddling with the button of your shorts and you snapped out of your haze. This is a bad idea, right? This is a seriously terrible, stupid, idiotic idea, right?

“Melissa,” You breathed out. She pulled away from your neck, lifting herself to look at you. She looked breathtaking, her hair falling around her face, her lip gloss smudged, her cheeks lightly flushed from the wine and the makeout session you just shared.

“Yeah?” She asked, her voice just as breathless as yours. It made your heart jump.

Fuck it, it’s fine.

“Bedroom.”

She smirked at you, lifting off the couch and grabbing your hand to pull you with her. She leads you to her room, fingers intertwined. Tomorrow, you’ll be telling your friends that you just tripped and fell into her bed.

[hidden-snow]

‿୨♡ Ｄａｄｄｙ＇ｓ Ｌｉｔｔｌｅ Ｐｒｉｎｃｅｓｓ ♡୧‿

Warnings/ content:// p in v, daddy kink, age gap, pregnancy kink, heats, fingering, oral - female receiving, pet names, slight orgasm denial, queue pulling

Characters:// Jake x Na’vi reader

Word count // 1,785

You have always been daddy’s little princess. Covered in cum and and sweat, with slick wetness pooling down from between your thick thighs, you were the sight of pure pretty perfection in his eyes.

Even more so, when he imagined you swollen with his child, belly full and rounded. Fuck, he wanted to see you pregnant more than anything in this world.

Unfortunately, between your numerous duties as the teacher and mentor of future hunters and warriors and his duties as the olo’eyktan of the clan, neither of you have had the time to just sit and talk over the possibility of a future baby. And he wasn’t one to do as he pleased when it came to your body in the long run.

So you both waited, dancing around your heats, staying apart until the last of the effects had subsided and you were in the safe zone again.

He always made it up to you; fucking you dumb all night long for multiple nights straight afterwards, but it was getting to be almost not worth it.

Your heats were horrible, hazy but full of fucking yourself with your own fingers buried knuckle-deep inside of your pussy while thinking about your daddy and how much better he could fill you.

Choking on sobs, covered in sweat, you trembled on your mat, thighs spread apart while fingers bobbed in and out of your heat, squelches sounding as your fingers moved within your soaked cunt. And all you could do was yearn for daddy, wishing he’d come and help you.

Your ears perked to the sound of footsteps, your fingers halting in their thrusts, and you wait, body trembling on the mat, tail slowly slipping back and forth on your bedding.

“Kid? I know we agreed to wait till after yer heats and everythin’…. But I-“

He didn’t even get the chance to finish before you were pulling him into your alcove, pressing your lips tightly against his, hands sliding up to wrap around his shoulders while you began to grind your cunt against his clothed cock.

“Daddy,” you whine out, panting softly at the friction you’re giving yourself and, judging by the growing stiffness against your wet folds, Jake’s just barely keeping himself restrained.

“If you do this, we’ll have a baby coming. Are you sure you wanna do this?”

His voice is paper-thin, stiff and a little jostled.

“Wanna have your baby, daddy. Please?”

“You’d look pretty with daddy’s baby, yeah? My pretty little princess, full with my baby.”

His voice was soft, gentle purr, his fingers sliding down to cup your ass, digging in to the soft flesh of your cheeks to leave little crescent shape moons in your skin.

You can’t speak, too focused on the firey-hot heat burning in your core as his breath ghosted your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Answer me,” he growled out softly and you nod.

“Y-yes, daddy.”

He didn't waste anymore time, pressing you flat against the mat beneath you, his body wedged in between your thighs, palms planted on either side of your head. His lips met yours, crashing into a heated kiss full of desire and love, sending sparks of heat spiraling down your body, adding to the mounting heat in your body.

At some point between laying you down and climbing on top, he’d discarded his loincloth, his cock resting against your bare belly as he kissed you, and you slid your hand down, wrapping your fingers around his thick girth, bobbing your hand up and down, pulling soft moans from his mouth.

“Fuck, baby girl. H-hold on,” he panted, reaching down and removing your hand, causing you to whine out in frustration.

“Watch it,” he warned, throwing you a sharp look. “Don’t be a brat.”

He knew you couldn’t help it, knew that you were just so eager to have him in you, judgement clouded by your heat and sexual desires, but you were still expected to behave. And you’d have to if you were going to get what you wanted.

Jake sat back, taking in your flushed appearance, skin prickling with sweat, eyes lidded with desire and mouth open as you panted softly. Your legs were spread wide, folds glistening with slick, and your thighs were already sticky with your own fluids.

“Jesus, princess. Lookin’ so good, aren’t you? Daddy’s gonna fuck you so good, isn’t he?” he murmured and you nod eagerly, like a bobble-head toy, bouncing around excitedly.

“Good girl.”

He dropped down between your thighs, tongue flicking out to lick up the sweet juices soaking your heat, and you jump, moaning softly at the sudden jolt of pleasure spiking through you.

“D-daddy,” you groan out, whining and gasping as his tongue slips in between your folds, lapping at your pussy, savoring the flavor of yours, his fingers coming down to rub shapes into your clit. All you could do was hold on for the ride, wriggling and moaning, gasping out cuss words and pleas for “more”.

As you felt your orgasm approaching, he pulled his face back, lips covered in your slick, and switched places with his fingers, latching onto your clit, tongue swirling around the nub as his fingers thrusted into you, providing a better stretch than what your own could do. He could feel your walls twitching around his fingers, a sign of your approaching orgasm, and that seemed to fuel his efforts further, thrusting and sucking mixing into a delicious mixture that sent you quickly over the edge of your climax, crying out as your back arched.

His fingers continued to thrust into you as you rode out the waves of intense ecstasy, leaving you a panting mess on the floor, but it was pretty clear by the way he moved around, pale blue mushroom-shaped head of his dick slipping in between your soaked folds, that he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Ready, baby girl?” he murmured softly, gaze flicking up to meet yours, and you nod, swallowing back the lump that had woven its way into the middle of your throat. With a hand on his dick to guide himself, he slid into your “properly prepared” warmth, sinking in until his waist met the backs of your thighs, buried deep inside of you.

He groaned softly as your walls squeezed around him, taking him in eagerly. The feeling of his thick girth, stretching you to delicious lengths, feeling him move inside of you, before dragging it out slowly, you can’t help but whine at the loss as he slid out, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him back in.

He swatted your thigh sharply, startling you out of your pleasure-filled haze, his golden orbs meeting yours with a warning. In response, you pucker your lip, tears stinging in the corner of your eyes.

“Fine. You wanna be a brat? Then be a brat,” he grunted as he pulled out, flipping you over onto your stomach, face pressed into the woven mat beneath you. He plunged back into you without a warning, sending sparks of electricity through your body, your toes curling as he settled into a fast, sharp pace, pounding you into the ground. You could barely think, could barely make a sound, gasping and crying out as his tip slammed against your g-spot repeatedly, no mercy for your body within sight. Not that you wanted any mercy.

You could already feel the orgasm building up inside of you again, like a coil in your belly, tightening and tensing up, preparing to snap, but then Jake stopped, buried deep inside of your weeping cunt, his hand grabbing your queue and pulling it to force your head up, neck arching uncomfortably.

“No. Wait until after I’ve cummed. You’ve been a naughty girl,” he hissed softly into your ear as he pulled himself closer to your face, forcing himself deeper inside of you. You whine out, frustration building up inside of you. You open your mouth to protest but the words were immediately stolen away as he went back to pounding you into the ground, hand still wrapped tightly around your queue, holding your head back.

His fingers squeezed your ass, digging his nails into the plump skin, before wrapping around the base of your tail, pulling on it as he moved.

You listen, feeling the breath punched out of you with each thrust, as he grunted softly, the snap of his hips against your ass so hard and loud that you’re sure you won’t be able to sit for the next couple days.

You could feel him dragging inside of you, the coil in your heat burning so hot, tightening up so hard that you’re sure you’ll break if you keep denying your own orgasm.

“P-please, d-daddy,” you sob out, pain and pleasure mixing into your body as you struggled against your own desires.

“Please, what?” he grunted, too focused on the way you wrapped around his cock, taking him in so deliciously.

“N-n-need to cum, daddy. Please?”

“No.”

You could feel yourself fall apart at that word, wiggling and struggling underneath him as you do your best to be a good girl for him. He wanted you to be a mess. He wanted you to turn into a moaning, groaning pile beneath his body. And he was getting what he wanted. His hand moved from your ass, sliding down along your hip to dip in, fingers once again falling to your clit. Another jolt of pleasure and he couldn’t stop the moan as you tightened even more around him.

“Fuck, baby girl. I am never missing one of your heats again.”

His rhythm is becoming jostled, erratic, and you know from experience that it was only a matter of time before he hit his own orgasm. So you do your best to help, leaning your hips back to meet his thrusts, cheek pressed to the mat after he’d released his hold on the long braid of your hair.

Jake lets out a soft groan before slamming into you again, both of you cumming at the same time. He moves slowly, riding out his orgasm as your walls squeeze around him, milking him for his cum.

“Jesus. That was… I don’t think we’ve ever had sex this good before,” he grunted softly, pulling out and guiding you down on the mat, curling around you gently, cradling you close.

“You know daddy loves you, right?”

His voice is soft now, just as gentle as the fingers that brush your braided hair out of your face so that he can see you better. You nod, smiling softly at him.

“Yeah. Daddy’s little princess.”

[seravphs]

confectionery

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — SUNA x MAID! FEM READER; KAICHOU WA MAID SAMA AU

Suna becomes a regular at your maid cafe - a regular thorn in your side, that is. 

wc — 1.4k

tags — fluff, reader works at a maid cafe 

next: omakase | shoujo series masterlist

“Yes, master,” you practically bite out the words.

Suna raises an eyebrow at you. “Aren’t you missing something?”

Ugh. This man is insufferable. With a pained smile, you wince through the last part of your mandatory response to orders. “Nya! One Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait coming right up!” 

In the back room, you drop to your knees, cradling your head in your hands now that you're safely hidden from the eyes of your customers. 

You have to do it. 

You have to kill this man. 

There’s no way you can keep serving him these ridiculous orders. You’re going to die of embarrassment. If it’s him or you, you’re going to choose yourself. 

Working at a maid cafe only started because of your best friend. She convinced you to do it with her, only to quit a few weeks in. You had stayed, against your better judgement. 

“Please,” you remember her begging, tugging on your hand beseechingly. “The pay is so good! Just think about it - 20 dollars an hour?”

To a high schooler, that was a crazy amount of money. Both of you gasped when you saw the flyer, imagining everything you could do with that kind of cash. 

“But if I saw someone I knew, I’d die of embarrassment,” you remind her. Sometimes it feels like it falls to you to be the rational one of the pair of you. She dreams and you keep her grounded. 

“No one will see! Who comes to this part of town anyways?”

Rintarou Suna does, as you find out one day when you’re taking out the trash. 

A heavy hand lands on your shoulder, making you yelp. You spin around, ready to scream for your manager. You can never be too careful as a young girl flouncing around these streets in a maid dress. 

“I thought it was you,” he says, wide-eyed and clearly stunned. 

You drop the trash in the bin and sprint away from him, only to hear the distinct sounds of footsteps after you. You’ve seen Suna play for your school’s volleyball team. There’s no way you’re out running him. 

Luckily, the cafe is just ahead. 

It might be embarrassing for you to be caught in your black and white frilly lace and poufs of tulle, but it’s just as embarrassing for Suna to be caught entering. He’s one of the star athletes on your school’s incredibly strong volleyball team - he can get any girl he wants. Why would he come in here?

Suna crashes through the open door a split second later, interrupting your monologue. 

“Hi,” he says, not even breathing hard. “Table for one, please. Oh, and I want her.”

You should’ve known that thinking rationally would never apply to men who have no social awareness. Suna simply does not care. More than anything, that lack of interest is what makes him such an unmanageable beast.

“What do you want?” You whisper furiously, under your breath. It’s still not low enough for your manager to ignore, though, and she shoots you a reprimanding look over the counter. “Master,” you tack on to the end of your sentence. 

“I think I’ll start with a Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait,” he says with a smile. “With the add on.”

You stare him down. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“If you share my parfait with me, I’ll tell you.” 

“One Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait. That’s all?”

Sharing dessert with Suna in an inappropriately adorable cafe feels much too close to a date for your liking. The parfait is a frothy work of art. It’s a monstrosity of a confectionery, starting with a base of hand crumbled crackers. Each layer alternates between warm biscuit, sweet cream, or fruity jam, all topped with a swirl of whipped frosting and slices of fruit.

To be honest, you didn’t think it would be to Suna’s taste. You hate to judge by appearance, but Suna doesn’t strike you as someone who would like dessert. He’s not a bad boy exactly, not in the conventional sense, but he’s not the target audience for this cafe, either. His nonchalance and blank expression makes him feel unapproachably cool. 

The underclassmen look up to him. You see them crowd outside your classroom during break, waiting for the chance to talk to him. Part of the legend is his style. He rolls into class looking effortlessly tousled, his jacket hanging askew on his shoulders. He only has one piercing in his left ear. You heard a rumor that he let Osamu pierce it for him at an away game, only to get benched by Captain Kita as punishment. 

Suna wears mostly black. He blasts rap on the way to school in his headphones. He likes sneakers and he’ll wait on a queue for hours at a pop-up just to snag his dream pair. When he smiles, one side of his mouth lifts higher than the other. He wears rings that his younger sister makes for him. Sometimes he comes to school with colorful butterfly clips in his hair to hold his bangs back if he hasn’t gotten a haircut in time. You know that’s his sister’s work, too. 

You hadn’t realized you knew so much about Suna. You hadn’t realized you were looking. 

His spoon clinks against yours gently. 

“You can eat, you know.”

Mechanically, your spoon starts to move. As soon as the tartness of the berry hits your tongue, it’s immediately followed by the sweetness of the cream. Your eyes widen. Despite working here for a while now, you’ve never had one of the desserts. It’s surprisingly good. 

“Right?” Suna chuckles. 

Because he’s usually quiet, eating and talking with Suna feels strange at first. You’re not used to having his undivided attention on you. The ice breaks as soon as you notice the way his hair is sticking up in the back, like a duck’s tail. When you point out his messy head, he shrugs and makes no move to fix it. 

“Brushing my hair is a pain,” he says. 

It makes you giggle. It might be lazy, but it’s strangely charming. Before you know it, Suna’s drawn you in with his insouciant smiles and effortless ability to lead a conversation. It’s not that he’s naturally charismatic, but something about the way he listens and responds has you preening under his attention. 

You’re almost upset when he calls for the check. He seems to notice.

“I’ll be back!” He calls as he leaves. 

“Don’t-“ 

He’s already gone. 

You realized he never told you why he came. 

Most teenage boys would be embarrassed to make a maid cafe their normal hang out spot, but Suna comes on the dot every single day. Your coworkers have taken to referring to a table in your section as Suna’s table. He always orders the Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait, and he always makes you draw a little chocolate heart on it. 

You love your coworkers, you really do. You don’t think you would’ve worked here as long as you have if they didn’t feel like family to you, but sometimes older sisters can be annoying. 

Case in point: Shizuka, one of the older maids, just ruined a con you’ve been running on Suna for a long time. 

“You’re not doing it right,” Shizuka scolds you. “You forgot the ‘nya!’”

You flinch. 

Suna’s eyes widen. “Oh? Tell me more.” 

“When you order a Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait, we’re supposed to go ‘Nya! Of course, master!’” 

Suna pins you underneath an uncompromising stare. “Do you know how many of these I’ve ordered? You owe me a lot of ‘Nyas.’”

“Suna,” you say pleadingly, your face burning with mortification. 

He relents, a little. Something about your expression makes him melt, his eyes softening a minuscule amount. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. “Fine,” he smiles. “You can just start now.”

The minute you finish your humiliating speech, you vow revenge on Suna, but he just laughs. It’s too easy to get used to him. If you don’t actively remind yourself that he is your classmate, that you don’t actually know him that well, and that you first spoke to him just this week, it would all be too easy to feel like you’re friends. 

That’s why you have to draw a line in the sand before he can get even closer. You’re scared to find out how this ends. You’d rather cut him out of your life now. This is probably a game for Suna, but for you it’s something else.

It’s hard to remember all of that when he waits until the end of your shift to walk you home. He’s standing by the door, making small talk with your manager, who adores him. 

“Ready to go?” 

When you nod, he grabs your bag from you. The way he acts is so straightforward. You wouldn’t describe Suna as confident, but rather flexible. He takes everything that happens as it comes, and never lets it break his stride. Things are easy for him because he chooses to let them be. When he walks, his hand bumps yours once, twice. 

It’s easy. The hands. The act of being with him. 

It’s not a long walk home, but you wish it was. Fifteen minutes isn’t enough time for you to work up the courage to tell him what you need to say. Thankfully, he breaks the silence first. 

“You’re quieter than usual. What’s up?” 

“You need to stop coming,” you tell him, hating the words even as they come out of your mouth. 

He stops, forcing you to stop with him. “Why? Are you actually mad?” 

You wish you could say yes, but you can’t. You shake your head, praying Suna can just take the hint and leave you alone. 

He blinks at you. “Then no can do, ma’am.” 

“Why do you even come?” You hope his answer can push you to take the step you need, but it only cements him further in your heart. 

He smiles at you in a way you’ve come to associate with Suna, sweet and uncomplicated. “I just like cute things.” 

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Milk theory? 👁️👁️

ANYTHING FOR YOU TWO!!!!

ok this is gonna be short and mildly insane. i would like everyone to understand that this is pretty much Entirely unfounded & i'm just reading too much into a teeny little thing. however i've convinced myself that this theory is viable against all better judgement

take these mad ramblings with a Monumental grain of salt. im not to be taken seriously ever

so it all boils down to This

Little

Motherfucker.

the milk carton behind Barnaby's house.

it was added with the last large update, and it Immediately made me lose my mind. it's such a... strange thing to add to the map, which already has Teeny Secrets - along with other choice objects that make me narrow my eyes. but this isn't about them.

The very first thing I thought of when I saw the milk carton was the phrase "no use crying over spilled milk". which, of course, essentially means that there's no point in crying over things you can't change / things already done. There are a couple ways i'm interpreting it with this context

Something is going to happen that Barnaby feels personally responsible for. or is responsible for - either indirectly, or maybe he'll do something terrible. i think it's entirely possible that he might do that possible something for Wally. and again, take this with salt, but Clown has implied through trivia and fun hypotheticals that Barnaby would go to lengths for Wally. and yes, i know. taking evidence from "what would the neighbors do in Among Us" is absurd. IN MY DEFENSE! while the trivia isn't really to be taken seriously, there's always a thought process behind character roles and dynamics and behavior, and that is something that can be (carefully) looked into and applied. like in Among Us, apparently Barnaby would, and i quote, "Barnaby does all the Dirty work if Wally is an Impostor- Anything to help his little Buddy out...". anything to help his little buddy out, huh? like, it's been stated that Barnaby knows things about Wally that no one else does. and it's been mildly implied that he's fairly protective of Wally. and we all know that Wally is getting into some deep shit, and whether he means to or not he's likely gonna fuck everything up for everyone. it's not that big of a leap to speculate that Barnaby might do something drastic/horrible/regret-worthy in Wally's name / for his sake.

2. something terrible is going to happen to Barnaby / directly related to Barnaby, and he's going to be absolutely powerless to do anything about it. though i think that's kind of a given... yeah this section is pretty self explanatory

3. Barnaby is going to go missing. because what used to be on milk cartons? Missing Posters! yes yes i know this one is even more of a reach, since milk cartons didnt have missing posters on them till the 80s, but yk. it's a Thought.

my second thought was "oh ok so when the carton spills, it's curtains for Barnaby." this part of the theory is just me being paranoid that Barnaby is going to wind up kicking the bucket - though i suppose if that were the case, there would be a bucket, not milk. well, if a bucket ever appears, i'm going to start prematurely mourning. Still!

the point is - at some point, that milk is probably gonna spill. it may be just a detail as things get better Worse, or it could be indicative of something terrible happening to / because of Barnaby. the milk spills, Panic Time.

Milk Theory.