#deep breathing exercises are in order | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

almostempty · 3 months ago

Text

run (marcus acacius x f!reader)

wc: 2k | other fics | rating: 18+ | ao3

summary: general acacius hunts you in the woods for ‘training’ then fucks you, duh [inspired by this post] tags/warnings: explicit, pwp, primal play, size kink, raw creampie, idk what historical accuracy means, darker marcus, no mention of lucilla

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ “It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.”

You tell yourself through hoarse breaths. Your lungs burn. Every muscle screams at you to stop. You push forward.

All you can do is run.

If it were real, you would hide. You’re smart—confident you’d outthink him.

But he’s going to catch you.

The pounding of blood in your ears nearly drowns out the steady rhythm of his footsteps, closing in. The tiny hairs on your neck raise a moment before it happens.

A hand wrenches you back.

You collide with him, shoulders slamming into his broad chest.

His barking laughter rolls across the sky as he digs his fingers into your slick, overheated skin.

“Too easy.” His voice booms, but his heavy breathing contradicts the sentiment.

“I’m sorry,” you pant, gasping in air so deep your ribs might crack.

He doesn’t release you. Instead, he studies you for a moment—assessing. Calculating.

Then, without warning—he shoves you forward.

“Run.”

You stumble, but recover fast enough to hit your stride before he comes after you again.

The purpose of this so-called training makes no sense to you. Soldiers train with weapons, endurance drills, and formations. But you are not a soldier.

Your body is not being conditioned for war—it is being conditioned for him.

Other servants have whispered about the General and his private exercises.

He led troops through heavy weapons training, cavalry drills, long marches. But privately, he had to be sharper, faster, stronger. You’d heard that he wrestled men into the dirt until they couldn’t stand again. That he trained with foreign gladiators, learning their weapons, their fighting techniques.

And that sometimes, he hunted.

That was the part you never understood. The rumors were vague, but the pattern was clear. A servant would be chosen. A beautiful one. They would be taken away for days. Weeks.

And they never returned to their old tasks.

No one dared ask what happened to them.

Some whispered it was an honor. Some believed they were given riches, sent to estates far away. Others, more cynically, assumed they were cast aside when he was done.

But you don’t feel honored. It wasn’t a choice. You were given orders.

You traveled with General Acacius into the forest, leaving his campsite and guards behind. You had just begun to think you were far enough from camp that no one would hear you scream—

That’s when he stopped you.

That’s when he finally spoke to you. Not with an explanation.

Just:

“Run.”

And now—“I’ll give you something to run from.”

The words echo in your skull. A chill streaks down your spine—so icy you shiver despite the heat licking at your skin.

Your tongue feels dry when you force yourself to ask:

“Are you going to kill me?”

His teeth flash, white against sun-bronzed skin, before he laughs again. A sharp, wicked sound.

Then the smile fades, slowly.

“No,” he says, voice dropping low. His fingers grip your chin, tilting your face up. Giving you time to absorb the hunger in his gaze.

“But the next time I catch you will be the last.”

The forest stills. Even the birds seem to quiet.

His voice drops to something darker, heavier.

“The next time I catch you, I will have my way with you. You will be mine to use. And nothing will stop me.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks, curling hot in your gut.

You should be afraid. You should fight.

Instead—your mind betrays you.

Vivid images flood in, unbidden—his body pinning you down, his strength making you helpless.

Your gaze flickers—the sheen of sweat on his chest, the muscles shifting beneath his skin, the thick veins along his forearms. The breadth of his shoulders.

You’ve heard the rumors.

You know how these hunting sessions end.

And you’ve heard that the General’s cock is as massive as his ego.

It’s a game.

It was always a game.

The ones before you played it too.

And none of them returned.

Your voice comes out steady, but just barely.

“Understood.”

His eyes narrow.

“You think this will be a reward.”

Your skin prickles at the disdain in his tone.

Before you can react—his hand is on your throat.

Not tight, not squeezing—just enough to make you feel it. His fingers press against your pulse, slowing the flow of blood. Your body reacts before your mind can.

The reality of his overwhelming strength lights a fire deep inside you.

But the last flicker of self-preservation rises, whispering a warning.

How depraved are his desires, that he must bring you here, alone, to the foot of a mountain, to chase you into the trees as the sun creeps lower and lower?

You shudder at the thought—and he sees it.

And he is satisfied.

“Run.”

You take off before he can launch you with his arms.

Adrenaline gives you an edge, but it’s not enough. Not against him. Every step you take feels too loud, your own breath deafening in your ears. You cut left, thinking you’ve outmaneuvered him—until a low chuckle reaches you from behind.

Too close.

He’s playing with you.

You clamber over obstacles, acting on pure instinct, guided by the fear of being hunted.

He crashes through everything you use to create distance, but he’s more than brute strength.

He doesn’t just chase—you feel him stalking. He lets you think you have a lead, lets you trip and scramble, and then—he’s there.

Always there.

A shadow at your back. Patient. Inevitable. Dragging out the moment before he takes you down.

You’d be embarrassed that a man so much older than you has better stamina, but this is his whole life. In peak physical condition, he trains, he fights, he wins.

And he’s coming for you.

Time means nothing as the woods grow darker. Dusk adds danger, reducing visibility, and before frustration can boil over—he’s on you.

He tackles you into the dirt with a grunt. You yelp.

You claw at the dirt, scrambling for freedom. But he’s never letting go of you now. One firm grip on your waist, and he flips you onto your back.

You kick and twist—a desperate, instinctual bid for freedom. Useless. He absorbs every struggle, every contortion of your body, and then he takes.

He lets you feel it—how much stronger he is, how little choice you have now.

He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t think. Just tears at your tunic, baring your skin to the moonlight.

He doesn’t admire. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t need to. He grips you too hard, pins you down with the sheer force of his body. A beast. A predator. And you—his willing prey.

His mouth twitches to something like a snarl.

“Nowhere to go now.”

“I submit,” you nearly squeak.

He’s vicious, unrelenting. One hand traps your wrists overhead while his teeth graze your throat, hovering where your pulse beats loudest. Your only option is surrender—tilting your jaw to offer him more.

He marks you up, sinking his teeth into your flesh. Bruises bloom on your neck, shoulder, chest. His other hand claws at you, squeezing too hard, digging into your muscles until you cry out—a sound tangled in pain and pleasure.

Everything is amplified. The weight of him atop you. The hard ground beneath you. The low noises in his throat. The breeze in the trees.

It’s not emotional, but it’s raw. Charged. Selfish.

The way he gropes your tits—he’s not a commander of men—this is primitive. Carnal. Unrestrained.

He doesn’t care for modesty or impressions. He’s caught you, and he intends to use you. Just like he warned.

And, fuck, if he doesn’t want you bad.

His ferocity delights you, even as you writhe and arch beneath him. Knowing, at his most unfiltered, when he’s driven by lust—he wants all of you.

It clouds your mind and sends an overpowering wave of heat to your core that nearly hurts.

As if he can smell the wetness between your legs, he looses a strained hum. The sound buzzes between you, vibrating through your bones, and you squirm—all discomfort and unspent energy, feverish with need.

The thrill of the chase still courses thick in your veins as he positions you roughly on your hands and knees.

He wastes no time. His cock is out, heavy, hot. You press your thighs together instinctively, but it’s no use. His hands are relentless, forcing you open, making space for himself. He drags the thick tip along your slick folds, savoring the way you stiffen.

“Still fighting?” he murmurs. “Good.”

Then he thrusts, and whatever resistance you had is only a memory.

He works in shallow strokes at first, forcing you to stretch around the girth of him—but patience isn’t his strength. He slams in deeper, faster, splitting you open with a sharp, brutal thrust that chokes a ragged moan from your throat.

His grunts grow rougher, more strained. You don’t know if it’s ecstasy or frustration bleeding into the noises—your cunt is still gripping him too tight, refusing to let him all the way in.

You have no concern for volume, wholly enraptured by the pace he sets, each thrust pressing deeper into you.

Soon, he’s shoving his fingers into your mouth, quieting you manually, reducing you to a set of drooling holes for him to fill.

Finally, he buries himself to the hilt, and you forget how to think.

His thrusts turn severe, dragging raw cries from your throat as you push back, desperate for more.

For the first time, he hesitates, peeling off of you and sitting upright behind you. One hand yanks your hips into his lap, and you don’t slow down—can’t.

Flesh ripples from the impact as you bounce against his cock, your body finding its own rhythm, lost in the mess of heat and slick between you.

His groan is guttural. His fingers bite into your hips.

“So tight. I thought you were a virgin.” His voice is wrecked. “But you fuck yourself on my cock like a desperate whore.”

You’d be embarrassed, but he doesn’t sound—or feel—very upset.

And you can’t stop chasing the pleasure anymore.

He fills you so deep that tears spill from your eyes, sinking into the dirt beneath you. The tension builds, pulling taut, but you can’t quite break.

A desperate whimper slips from your lips.

With a mercy you don’t expect, Acacius glides a hand down your stomach, pressing hard as he finds your clit. He drags his fingers through your slick, coating them in everything he’s forced from you, teasing and rubbing in slow, precise circles.

Your body shakes, trembles, collapses.

You’re only able to pant, gasp, and moan for him.

He doesn’t stop.

If anything, he finds new ways to devastate you.

Fucking faster. Harder. Deeper.

Your mind was already gone. But somehow, he fucks you dumber—until there’s nothing left but wrecked, ruined need.

He keeps going until you break.

Your knees are raw from grinding into the dirt, your arms giving out beneath you. You’re half-collapsed, unable to hold yourself up, but he doesn’t slow down.

He wants to feel it again.

“Another.” His voice is husked, nearly feral.

“Mmm.” You can’t protest, it’s the closest you get to agreeing.

Determined, he works you up again.

Faster this time. More efficient. His fingers are ruthless, dragging another orgasm from you before you can even catch your breath.

When he finally breaks, his body locks up, muscles tensed, a snarl ripping from his throat as he spills inside you.

Hot, endless.

His weight crushes you into the earth, pinning you there as he catches his breath.

Finally, when he pulls out, his hands slide along your soft, trembling thighs. Watching.

“Poor pussy is just gaping now.” His voice is full of mockery. “So stretched out. She wastes my gift.”

You’re too far gone to respond. Fucked stupid. Boneless.

He drags his fingers between your swollen lips, stuffing his come back inside.

You move to fix your clothes—but he stops you.

“You're not done. And I'm not nearly finished.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ thank you for reading <3 pls tell me if you liked or hated any of it sign up for my new tag list here!

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld @sunshinehaze1 @lilac-boo @ohhoneypascal

#marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius #general acacius #general acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #general acacius x you #marcus acacius x you #pwp

700 notes · View notes

itsnesss · 2 months ago

Text

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 | max & charles × fem!reader

summary | you're stuck between two pilots, praying for them and letting them do whatever they want to you

warnings | smut without plot, threesome, rough, power dynamics, dom!max, dom!charles, sub!reader, fingering, oral, p in v, unprotected

word count | 1.1 k

🖇️ more mv1 🖇️ more cl16 🖇️ f1 masterlist

The dim lights of the hospitality barely illuminate their silhouettes, but you don’t need to fully see them to feel them. Max is behind you now, his hot breath against your neck, while Charles kneels in front of you with that determined look he always wears on the track… and clearly, he has it here too.

"Leave her breathless, mon cher," Max says with that deep voice that vibrates straight through your stomach. "I want to see her beg.

Charles obeys without hesitation, slow at first, almost torturing you with soft touches, barely-there kisses that make you arch involuntarily. Your hands search for support on Max’s shoulders, but he doesn’t let you escape.

"Not so fast," he whispers against your ear. "Hold on. I want to see her lose control for us."

The tension builds. Your legs tremble. Max’s hands slide down your hips with surgical precision, while Charles’s lips explore you like every inch of skin is new territory to conquer.

And when Max finally whispers your name, loaded with restrained desire you know you’re lost. There’s no podium higher than this. No race more intense.

The heat between the three of you is almost unbearable. Max holds you firmly by the waist, forcing you to stand upright while Charles kneels between your legs, impatient, determined.

"Open wider" Max commands in a low, dangerous tone. It's not a suggestion, it's an order. And you comply.

Charles doesn't wait any longer. His tongue finds you with precision, as if he knows every exact point where to break you into a thousand pieces. You moan, one hand tangling in his hair while Max holds your face, forcing you to look at him.

"I want to see you react. I want to see you unraveling for us—he says, his lips almost brushing against yours". Don't close your eyes. Look at me while he makes you tremble.

You feel your whole body burn, an explosive mix of pleasure and desire. Charles growls against you, more impatient, deeper, knowing exactly how to make you lose control. Your back arches, your legs tremble, and you are about to…

"Not so fast" Max says, pulling you back just at the edge of the abyss. Your lips protest, your hips seek more, but he doesn't allow it.

Charles rises with wet lips and an arrogant smile.

"Not yet" Max adds, gently pushing you toward the bed behind you. "Let's take our time with you".

They both surround you, one on each side. Hands everywhere. Lips, teeth, gasps. There's no room for modesty. There are no rules. Just the sweet punishment of their bodies claiming you as if you were theirs.

Because tonight, you are.

Max is the first to remove your clothing, each garment taken off with a mix of urgency and reverence, as if undressing you were a privilege that only he had the right to exercise. Charles is not far behind. His fingers trace your skin as if memorizing every line, every curve, every shudder they provoke.

"So perfect..." murmurs Charles as his lips travel down your abdomen. "Let's make you feel it all".

You are trapped between them. Max behind you, naked, his firm chest against your back as his hand slides between your thighs, playing with the wetness you can no longer hide. Charles, between your legs again, but this time his fingers join the dance. It's two against one, and they know it. They enjoy it.

Your hips move uncontrollably, seeking more, begging without words.

"Do you want more?" asks Max in his gravelly voice, gently squeezing your neck as he bites your earlobe. "Ask for it".

"Please..." you sigh, unashamed, without resistance.

He tilts you forward while Charles stands, his erection brushing against your lips. You look up, swallowing hard. He smiles, caressing your cheek.

"Be good" he says, guiding himself toward your mouth.

As your lips wrap around him, Max thrusts into you from behind, a single thrust that elicits a muffled moan from you. You are completely full, completely trapped between the two of them.

The pace is intense. Max takes you forcefully, without rest, his hands firm on your hips. Charles moves in sync, gasping each time your lips close tighter, every time your eyes look up at him, filled with lust.

"Look at her..." Max says with a grunt. "She’s made for this. For us".

Your body no longer belongs to you. Each thrust, each caress, each command... is fire. And when Max finally comes with a guttural groan, trembling against your back, it's not the end. It's only the beginning.

Charles takes you next, lifting you effortlessly, placing you on top of him on the bed. And then it’s you who moves, who sets the rhythm, as Max watches, still panting, with a satisfied smile.

"I want to see her come on you, Charles"he says. "I want to hear her scream your name".

You don't need much more. You're so close. So on the edge.

And when you break, you do so with a scream that carries both names, both bodies, both pleasures intertwined.

Your body surrenders. But they do not.

Your body still trembles, breathless, muscles relaxing after that first climax that left you gasping. But they are not satisfied. They are never satisfied.

"We’re not finished with you yet" whispers Max, sitting beside you, his hand trailing down your chest to your belly, slowly, possessively. "Can you handle another round, sweetheart?"

Charles doesn't wait for a response. He is already standing again, walking around the bed with that smirk that is pure sin. He grabs you by the waist and drags you to the edge of the mattress.

"Face down" he orders, his accent thickened by heavy breathing. "I want to see you from behind, trembling for me".

You obey, your body still sensitive, but each of his touches ignites a new fire within you. Max positions himself in front of you, tenderly caressing your face while Charles takes you from behind, slow at first, stretching the moment until all you can do is moan his name against Max's belly.

"Open your mouth" Max tells you in a soft, commanding voice. "Let me soothe you".

And you do. Without thinking, without holding back. You take him in your mouth as Charles quickens behind you, thrusting forcefully, hungrily, until the moans blend together, wet, dirty, perfect.

You are caught between two men who know exactly what they are doing. Every movement, every thrust, every word. They are experts at taking you to the limit... and then crossing it.

When Max comes again in your mouth, his fingers tangled in your hair, Charles doesn't take long to follow, buried deep within you.moaning your name as if it were a mantra.

You collapse among them, gasping, body marked by lips and hands and desire. Max kisses your forehead. Charles gently strokes your back.

"Now yes… " says Max, a satisfied smile on his lips. "Now you are completely ours".

And you cannot dispute it.

You do not want to.

#🖇️ max verstappen #🖇️ charles leclerc #max vertsappen fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #lestappen #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader

453 notes · View notes

kayveleth · 1 year ago

Text

Let's start with an exercise. I want you to say, "I want to be a mindless fuckdoll" out loud. Say it normally, as though you were stating your choice of beverage. It requires equally little thought. You've spent plenty of time exploring your other choices, and "mindless fuckdoll" is definitely your favorite. If I ask you what you want to be, the words "I want to be a mindless fuckdoll" will tumble from your mouth with the ease of your name or your birthday. That doesn't have to happen yet, though. You've simply decided that "mindless fuckdoll" is what your end goal is.

In order to help with that, at the end of every sentence, I'd like you to say the phrase "mindless fuckdoll" in as casual a way you can. Mindless fuckdoll. Don't try to sound sexy or blank. Mindless fuckdoll. Just say it normally. Mindless fuckdoll. Over and over. Mindless fuckdoll. With each sentence. Mindless fuckdoll. I want you to get used to saying it. Mindless fuckdoll. I want it to become almost a habit. Mindless fuckdoll. You know, the more you use a muscle in a specific way. Mindless fuckdoll. The more readily your body does it each time. Mindless fuckdoll. And the less your conscious mind needs to be devoted to doing it.Mindless fuckdoll. Can you remember every time you brushed your teeth or buckled a seatbelt? Mindless fuckdoll. No, because eventually these became ingrained activities. Mindless fuckdoll. And you didn't have to think about them at all after a while. Mindless fuckdoll. And that's what you're doing right now. Mindless fuckdoll. You're training your mouth to say

"mindless fuckdoll" without even needing to think about it. Mindless fuckdoll. It's becoming muscle memory. Mindless fuckdoll. And now it's gotten so easy, that you don't need to be reminded to say "mindless fuckdoll." You just continue saying "mindless fuckdoll." This won't turn you into a mindless fuckdoll yet. It will take a bit of time to remove the rest of the brain and body that are needed for your everyday necessities. But the more you hear yourself say it, the more used to it you become.

We'll start with your sense of responsibility. You have many of those things. They range from massive to minuscule. Some days you may have to make a tough decision at work. Some days, you may just have to get all of your laundry done. But when you're a mindless fuckdoll, you won't have to think about any of that. Won't that be fantastic? Nod your head. Now take a deep breath in... and happily sigh away your responsibilities.

Next, let's get rid of your sense of modesty. Normally, you have to negotiate societal norms of dress and behavior. You have to figure out the ever-changing lines of social acceptability to try to maintain your relationships with people. And that can be fucking exhausting. But that's another great thing being a mindless fuckdoll. Mindless fuckdolls wear what they're told to wear and behave how they're told to behave. Isn't it great to not worry about that anymore? Nod and smile. Take a deep breath in... and happily sigh away your modesty.

Now, finally, we will do away with your sense of self. You spend so much time worrying about yourself and your relation to others. How your actions define you. How your decisions have consequences. But you want to be a mindless fuckdoll. And mindless fuckdolls don't make decisions. Mindless fuckdolls exist to be used and useful. That is your dream, isn't it? Smile and nod. Take a deep breath... and happily sigh away your sense of self.

Now there should still be a few scraps of your mind remaining. It's always so difficult to blow out all the candles at once, isn't it? Nod and smile. Now, to get rid of that pesky little brain, want you to imagine something for me. want you to imagine yourself stepping on an elevator on the tenth floor of a building. This elevator is your mind. The tenth floor is where all your everyday thinking and behavior work. The doors close and your mind is closed to your thoughts and will. You look up and see a digital display reading the number 10 in red numerals. The elevator is going to go down, floor by floor. Your mind will fall deeper into trance with each floor. deeper with each number until I reach 1. And with each number, you will say "I want to be a mindless fuckdoll." You will believe it more each time, as it flashes into your head like a fireworks display. And now, you feel the elevator begin to move down. Your heart flutters a little in anticipation, but there's no going back now. And you don't want to go back now anyway. Mindless fuckdoll. The elevator comes to a halt and the display reads

The doors open and you realize that this floor is full of nothing but obedience, and now the elevator that is your mind has been flooded by the orange gas of obedience. There's nothing in your mind now except obedience. That's good though. Mindless fuckdolls should be obedient. Mindless fuckdolls love to be useful. Mindless fuckdolls live to serve. And you want to be a mindless fuckdoll, don't you? Nod and smile. The elevator doors close, but your mind is still permeated with obedience. The elevator moves and stops again. The indicator reads

The doors open and this floor contains submission. Now your mind is flooded with the blue gas of it, filling you with the knowledge that you are just a helpless toy in the grasp of someone else. You yield to your superiors, and everyone is superior to a mindless fuckdoll. And you like knowing that, don't you? Smile and nod. Mindless fuckdoll. Now the doors shut, but the elevator is full of blue and orange vapor, swirling together. And that's right. That's how it should be. Obedience and submission go perfectly together. The elevator moves down again and again comes to a halt. The display says

This is the floor where your arousal is kept. The pink gas rolls in and you are overwhelmed by it. Your eyes roll back in your head for a moment as the pleasurable sensations take over your mind and body. Your nipples harden and your cunt drools. You get excited at the idea of being a mindless fuckdoll, don't you? Nod and smile. The doors close, and now there's pink gas in here, too, with the blue and orange, keeping your mind and body aroused, submissive, and obedient. The elevator moves down to the next floor and stops. The display reads

The doors open and in pours the white gas of blankness. Mindless fuckdolls don't think. They have nothing to think with. Their brains are clean chalkboards for anyone to write on. Your last few stray thoughts are swallowed up by this intense blankness. Then the doors shut, but you barely notice. Now your head is filled with obedience, arousal, submission, and blankness. And those are all good things, aren't they? Smile and nod. The elevator moves again and stops at the next floor. The counter says

You're halfway to being a mindless fuckdoll. The lower you go, the more intense everything becomes. The doors open and a bright yellow vapor rolls in. This is the happiness floor! Your mind is filled with pure joy. The ecstasy of becoming a mindless fuckdoll is overwhelming and you can't keep a big smile from your face, can you? Nod and smile. The doors shut, and that makes you happy. Everything makes you happy. Your mind is filled with lovely gasses of so many colors now, swirling around each other. Orange and pink and blue and white and yellow. You're so happy, and obedient. So aroused and submissive. And so, so blank. You don't even feel the elevator move anymore. Just suddenly, the floor indicator reads:

The doors open and you are engulfed in a green gas of silliness. You giggle as it hits you, and that's okay. Mindless fuckdolls have to do some very silly and stupid things sometimes. And now, the siliness is part of you. Make a silly noise for me and giggle at yourself. Isn't that fun? Smile and nod. The door closes and you are silly and happy, blank and submissive, aroused and obedient. But it's so easy to be all these things because these are the ingredients of a mindless fuckdoll. And you want to be a mindless fuckdoll. The digital display that you're helplessly staring at reads

The doors open and a purple fog surrounds you. You instantly feel your skin come alive with pleasure. This is the floor of sensitivity. Your nerves are primed for pleasure at the slightest touch, at the tiniest little brush. Every hole begs to be filled. Your pussy is so sensitive that you could probably cum from a soft breeze. You looove being so ready for pleasure, don't you? Nod and smile. The doors shut and you are so close to the bottom. Your mind is so blank and silly. So submissive and aroused. So obedient and happy. And you're so sensitive to pleasure. Only one more floor before you hit the bottom. And in no time, that mesmerizing floor indicator reads

The doors open all you an see is red. This is the lust floor, and you are instantly filled with a burning need. You NEED to obey. You NEED to submit. You NEED to be blank. You NEED to be silly. You NEED to be sensitive. You NEED to be happy. You NEED to be aroused. These are not options for you. You are consumed by lust and it intensifies everything. Nothing can stop you. You ache for it. You hunger for it now, and you can't stop can you? Smile wide and nod emphatically. Say "Uh-huh" and moan in beautiful agony of lust. The doors close and you know that it's all over. This last floor will complete your transformation into a mindless fuckdoll and there's no way to stop now. Your mind is a rainbow of colors: blue and green and pink and red and orange and white and purple and yellow. They swirl and dance, filling you with all the right ingredients for a mindless fuckdoll. And as you hungrily stare at the indicator, it changes to read

The doors open one last time and you are surrounded by millions of tiny bubbles. A mindless fuckdoll's head should be filled with bubbles. They reflect all of the colors swirling in your mind so that you see a glistening shiny rainbow wherever you look. And when they pop, you giggle. The bubbles keep coming in until your feet leave the floor. You are literally floating on the bubbles in your head. Any contact with what used to be your mind is lost as you float and drift away.

You did it. You're a mindless fuckdoll. Say that out loud. "I'm a mindless fuckdoll." It's so wonderful to be a mindless fuckdoll. One of the best parts of being a mindless fuckdoll is that you get to be mindless. Mindless things have no mind. And the other great part is, you get to be a fuckdoll. Fuckdolls are brainless beings to begin with. Like any doll, you have no thoughts, no will of your own. You just sit there, with a fixed expression on your face, ready to be played with. Your head is empty, waiting to be filled. Filled with commands and cum and anything else that will make you horny. Because you're a fuckdoll. And fuckdolls are horny. Your brain is gone. Your mouth is open and drooling. Your pussy is drooling, too, and begging to be touched. Your hands and feet, your arms and legs, your tits and ass, are all aching to be of service. Your mouth may groan or moan or grunt all on it's own, but you don't notice. You're too mindless to notice anything but your body and your commands.

Now, when you finish reading this, mindless fuckdoll, your eyes will glaze over. eventually your body will succumb to the lust and you will start to masturbate while repeating the phrase "mindless fuckdoll" over and over until you cum. And when you cum, you will cum harder than you ever have before. Because you are a mindless fuckdoll, and mindless fuckdolls are made to cum. After you cum, you will text me and you will obey any command given to you by me.

feeling better than ever and ready to become a mindless fuckdoll that much more easily next time.

#hypnosis #mind control #hypno toy #mind conditioning #bimboification #cnc somno #bimbo training #mindless #cnc free use #brainwashing

2K notes · View notes

redflagshipwriter · 4 months ago

Text

Snatching Snitches pt 4

Masterpost

“Father.” Bruce yelped as Damian appeared, like a wraith, at his elbow. His hand convulsed to hold the 105 page treadmill manual in his grip hard enough to tear the paper cover. His heart rate picked up in that instant as his hard-won instincts to fight were ruthlessly suppressed by his conscious awareness that he was safely at his home. Bruce could not strike. He strangled his impulses, if barely.

His son ignored the reaction entirely on, blithe about startling someone who might lash out. “I require transportation.” Fuck. Christ. He could have hurt Damian.

Bruce blinked and took a moment to come back to the real world as he put down the manual he was reading. “Ah…�� He racked his memory for his sons’ schedules, trying to make this interaction make sense. Nothing came to mind at 6pm on Tuesday, so he gave up and asked, “Where to?”

“Titans Tower,” Damian instructed. He glowered, his green eyes shining in the lowlight. He was, Bruce thought, adorable. Bruce was still strangling panic at the intrusive thought that he might have harmed his baby. He took a deep breath and put away the frisson of fear in order to exist in the current moment.

He kept the resulting smile off of his face, as his prickly baby would not appreciate it. “Oh?” he said mildly. Bruce stood up and brushed dust off his trousers. “Are you going to meet someone?”

“I require a consultation with one of the trainers there,” Damian reported sharply. He was all but standing at attention.

Bruce went through a mental inventory in an instant– Raven. Damian had to be intending to speak with Raven to get a tracking spell or some such for his cat. That…

Well. She would probably tell him no, but it wasn’t his place to try to shield his kids too much from the world. Besides, Damian was a persuasive young man. Perhaps she could find his kitty for him.

‘I wouldn’t mind knowing where the cat went,’ Bruce thought privately. He fetched his keys for the car in the right city, ready to escort Damian through the transportation relay to San Francisco. ‘Even if he wasn’t heartbroken, it’s troubling that a cat managed to get from Bristol to a bus depot in Gotham Central.’

That was somehow more upsetting than the fact that the cat hadn’t been seen on camera after that bus ride. The cameras were low-quality. The cat could have been hidden under seats or inside a bag. But how had the naked cat navigated Gotham’s troubled public transportation system? Most of his kids didn’t dare try.

Hopefully the damn thing hadn’t been eaten by a coyote or something. Damian would never forgive the bearer of bad news.

XXX

The flock of imbeciles at the tower of stunted titans were useless to his aims. They clustered him with bids for attention and puerile greetings. Damian stoically endured their pleasantries until he had pierced the inner sanctum and then beelined for the quarters belonging to the current head trainer.

“Raven.” He rapped at her chamber door, respectful in the presence of an aged witch. “I wish to speak with you.”

The door opened with no human touch. The buzz of demonic magic rattled around in his teeth, an unpleasant crispness to the air as Raven exercised her powers.

“Come in, Robin.” Her scratchy voice called out. He stepped inside and turned to see the woman sitting midair, cloak and hair dangling down. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” he said, “but not in a world shaking sense.” He confronted her head-on. “I believe that I encountered a spirit or ghost of some variety. It stayed with me for several weeks before disappearing. As I am invested in his welfare, I much desire to locate him again.”

Her eyebrows went up high on her oddly short, round forehead. “Do you have a foci- you have a whole scrapbook. Alright.” She took it from him and then blinked. “He took the shape of a cat?”

“He was clearly intelligent, and capable of walking through solid matter,” Damian laid out his case. “Undoubtedly he is more than the average feline, as he is capable of using a tablet to write in English. However, I am concerned for his welfare. When he came to me, his condition was poor and his stress was obviously high. I cannot rest without confirming his welfare. I have traced his travel to a dank pit of despair known as Amity Park, which seems to be rife with dangers for ghosts.”

If only he knew where Snitches was hiding there, Damian would simply retrieve his boy.

“Do you have any type of contract or bond connecting you?”

Damian nodded and indicated the scrapbook with a nod. “Please turn to page 62.”

Paper flipped. She regarded the gold-lined paper and the paw prints on it dispassionately. “That should work,” Raven admitted wryly. She seemed amused. “Stand by. Let’s do this now.” Her eyes flickered with an unholy light and she lifted her hands, palms-up and fingers splayed. “Let’s see what kind of answer we can get.” She tossed her hair slightly as she looked upwards and started the mutter to herself. Paper rustled in a sourceless wind.

Damian took a judicious step backwards. It was well that he did. A glistening crack in reality peeled itself open. It was virulently green.

“In you go.”

He stepped into the crack and then up a short set of mahogany stairs, into a circular office. Raven followed at his heels, floating in and peering around.

A skeleton in a blue military uniform with some unknown epaulets raised a bony hand in greeting. “Welcome to custody court, how can I help you?” He seemed unpaused by the flying girl.

Damian brandished his scrapbook with the original copy of his precious paperwork. “I adopted a ghost, as you can see.” He pointed to Snitches’s pawprint signature. “He has run away. I am extremely concerned for his welfare.”

The dead man leaned in to examine the paperwork. It very clearly had “Adoption Certificate” branded across the top in ornamental script. “That seems to be in order. You need help finding and placing him, then?”

“He needs to sue for custody,” Raven interjected. Her eyes glinted purple in the dim light. “We don’t know if there are any current guardians, but we suspect the minor is experiencing neglect.”

The skeleton grunted and hit a button on his chest. “Can we get a compliance officer in here?” He asked. “Need to look into a vulnerable minor ghost.”

Damian felt a thrill of success. Finally, he was on the right track. And everyone here seemed shockingly competent.

The compliance officer appeared in the form of a purple tinted middle aged woman, with an extremely dated hairstyle. “Good morning and evening, if you’ll provide me with a record of the child’s ecto signature, I’ll be able to do a home check.”

Damian proffered the scrapbook. “Will something in this suffice?”

She took it with a hum and started flipping through. “Oh, yes,” she said. She picked up the collection of hairs that Snitches had shed onto the pillow and absorbed it into her hand. “I’ll go find him and investigate his condition.”

“Do not alarm him,” Damian said. His stomach twisted. “He is only a little boy.”

The ghost nodded, her glasses slipping up and down her nose. “I’ll be circumspect,” she promised. Then she bustled away as the skeleton man returned with a hefty stack of paperwork.

Raven peered over his shoulder as he worked on it. “Write your name as D. Wayne,” she advised. “I have a premonition.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth and did as she said.

The paperwork was extensive, and it took at least an hour. During that time the compliance officer reappeared. She was significantly more ruffled than she had appeared at departure. “Well!” She slicked down her hair, which had puffed out in shock from its sleek updo and was fizzing slightly.

Damian leaned over to confirm that the edges of her clothing were smoking and torn. “How was visitation?”

She made an odd high-pitched sound, almost like a hiccup. Her whole figure went static momentarily. “Why don’t we all have a look!” She held up an oval. “I would have to concur that the minor is not in a safe environment.” An image of two people in a fight fizzled into being.

Damian squinted. “I do not…” he trailed off as he really looked at them.

Of the two figures, one was a sleek and confident female figure in a rocker outfit. The other figure was awkward and somewhat gangly, extremely vulnerable and yet determined.

How very odd. But there was only one possible explanation:

“The white and black one is Snitches.”

He was not quite as cute as he had been before. Damian straightened his back to military precision and steeled himself. He would adapt. Taking responsibility via adoption was a lifelong commitment, and he would not be deterred by the loss of paws.

‘I will miss the paws.’ Damian froze. ‘The pawprints in that album are the only remaining evidence of how small my boy once was. I have already missed his childhood.’

The custody officer looked pleased. “Yes, 5 months deceased Danny Phantom, formerly Fenton.”

“Five months,” Raven mouthed quietly, appalled.

Damian reeled. 5 months. A pathetic 20 weeks of existence. He was even more a babe than Damian had realized. And now he was out there, helpless and afraid!

‘I only knew him for twenty percent of his life. I have missed almost all of his youth. I must retrieve him immediately.’

“Yes, an infant,” agreed the wellness officer. Her smile went toothy when she looked back at her still image. “He was being harassed by an older ghost when I arrived, and I had to intervene. After a wellness interview with him, I am interested in opening a case to sue for custody.”

“Excellent,” said Raven. “We would like to proceed as quickly as possible.”

“You are, of course, an adult by the standards of your species?” The officer confirmed.

Was that relevant? Damian stiffened, shocked by this turn of events.

“Yea, of course. Dick Wayne, age 32, is suing for custody,” Raven interjected. Her voice was mild and unaffected. “I’m his representation.”

…Damian nodded. He tried to look 32. Should he clutch at his joints? He settled for a grimace, as though pushing bravely through pain. Dick was very noble in his suffering, after all.

“Very well,” said the ghost cheerfully. “I’ll need copies of your personal documents to move further in this, and to do a home check, a few other things.”

‘I cannot have her come to do a home check at the manor. Father will intervene and reveal my impersonation, and then I shall not receive my child.’

“Of course,” Damian said through gritted teeth. Would Todd allow him to use a safe house, perhaps? There must be a solution. “Would tomorrow be acceptable?”

It was in a haze of planning stress that they confirmed the appointment, Raven taking the lead with her strange half smile. They stepped back through her portal into Titans Tower.

For a moment, Damian stood in shock. Then he cleared his throat. “Dick’s last name is unfortunately not Wayne,” he said.

It wasn’t the largest sticking point, but he was concerned. The paperwork had to be accurate to be legally binding.

Raven hummed. “Yes, we’ll have to adopt him for Bruce.” She shook her hair. “He has the paperwork ready, we’ll just take it and file it. Upper left desk drawer in your father’s office, in an envelope.”

“I will retrieve it,” Damian promised solemnly. “Thank you for your legal counsel.”

“No, no,” Raven said mildly. “It’s the least I can do after all that Dick has done.”

“…all that he has done to aid you recently?” Damian confirmed. He glanced at her full-on for the first time in at least an hour, confused. Her support was appreciated, but it was not expected. The situation had escalated. Truly, Dick had cultivated noble companions in his youth!

She hummed in the back of her throat. “Something like that,” Raven said vaguely. “Let’s go make Dick a legal ghost father.”

#dp x dc #dc x dp #snitches the cat au #red snitches

489 notes · View notes

nottswitch · 4 months ago

Text

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN CAPRICORN

venus in capricorn is reserved in showing their feelings, but not for the lack of them – they’re just used to exercising self-control in order to protect themselves. this placement tends to be serious in their intentions, and expects the same from their partner.

bodyguard!mattheo riddle x rich girl!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, gunplay, dry humping, brat taming, employer x employee, degradation/praise, cursing

nav // event / more

"brat."

it was the word that mattheo used for you quite often, so much so that it started to lose its meaning. you couldn’t help yourself, and you didn’t really want to – it was too fun, riling your oh-so-serious bodyguard up, plus, it was just in your nature. and damn did he look hot all bothered…

you teeth sank into your bottom lip as his strong hand pinned you firmly to his lap, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hip under your flimsy nightgown. mattheo watched you with an emotionless expression, yet you could see an underlying hint of desire in his eyes – over the last few months of him working for you, you had grown to notice the little signs, becoming too observant for your own good. his pupils were just a bit more dilated than usual, his breathing was just a little more shallow.

of course, you decided to use it to your advantage. you ground your hips on top of him, expecting the usual hardening around his crotch, and you did get it. except this time, you felt something else, something even harder than his cock.

mattheo raised an eyebrow, watching how your eyes widened at the realization.

"didn’t expect it?" he asked smoothly, yet you could swear you could hear amusement thinly woven into his voice. you shook your head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"you’re off for the day," you muttered, eyes flicking between his stoic face and down, between your bodies, where your inner thigh was pressed against his hipbone. he let out a small huff of air – was it irritation? was it that hint of amusement you managed to catch?

"i’m always on. you should know that by now.”

his free hand moved to the side, and moments later, your suspicions were confirmed – a gun. his gun, hidden somewhere behind the waistband of his pants, now dangling dangerously between his fingers in front of your face. the sight shouldn’t have been so,,, arousing.

"is it…?" you trailed off, somewhat scared to know the answer to your implied question.

"is it loaded?" mattheo prompted, and for the first time, a small smirk made the corner of his lips curl up. "wouldn’t you like to know…"

you very much would, actually, but for some reason, words evaded you at the moment. your tongue stuck out, and before you knew it, you were licking the barrel, cold and metallic, and for a moment, you thought you could taste gunpowder, but it was most likely just your colorful imagination.

"fuck,” mattheo breathed out, the sight in front of him making his hardened cock twitch between your thighs, straining against his pants. to relieve some tension, he gripped your hip tighter and started guiding it to grind against him. "this what you wanted, huh? the fucking gun? gods…"

you moaned, but this time it wasn’t one of those exaggerated moans you always used to tease him, no – this one was deep, genuine, as you felt yourself getting wetter and surely soaking the fabric of mattheo’s pants. he seemed to feel it, and it only heightened the state of his arousal. it was getting harder and harder not to snap, so in order to reestablish some sort of control over his reaction, he pushed the gun further into your mouth. your lips closed around the barrel, and the sensation of it was, for some godforsaken reason, the hottest thing you’d felt in a while.

"so fucking naughty, princess. who would’ve thought." mattheo groaned, his hips pushing up against yours as he felt the wetness starting to seep onto his aching length. "what if your daddy wants to review the cv footage later, huh? he’s gonna see his pretty little daughter behaving like a gun slut."

your eyes widened at the thought of your dad seeing exactly what you were doing right now, but deep inside your soul, you knew mattheo was bluffing. he’d be in as much trouble as you, if not more. it was a calming realization, but it did nothing to soothe the fire building up in your belly as you continued to grind against mattheo’s rock solid bulge.

"god fucking damn, princess. the dirtiest fucking slut i’ve ever seen." mattheo felt his composure slipping, which wasn’t exactly what he was aiming for. his hold on your hip grew painful, and he started moving the gun in and out of your mouth with an intensified pace. you eagerly took it, not in the right mind to think of the fact that it was wrong – supposed to be wrong, anyway. all you could do was feel, feel, feel.

"just like that, fuck… for being such a damn brat, you’re taking this gun so well," mattheo muttered in a low growl. he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, the feeling of your clothed yet heated pussy sliding on his dick turning his usual mask of indifference into something he didn’t want to admit yet. "go on, princess. show me how bad you can really be."

and at that moment, you knew you’d be as bad as he wanted you to be.

#─ ꒰ 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚛𝚊 ꒱ 📜 ˎˊ˗#─ the birth or venus ☾#bodyguard!mattheo #rich girl!reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle drabble #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfiction #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys drabble #slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys fanfiction

684 notes · View notes

zzencat · 8 months ago

Text

Your Future Spouse As A Mythical Creature + Qualities - ⏳

Welcome to the spooky season folks!! Thought this would be a pretty lightweight and goofy type of reading as we settle in. What are your FS’s qualities? Toxic habits?

Choose wisely. Applicable to future lover or spouse.

Warnings: super long read, suggestive comments (bordering NSFW), some exaggerated details for the fun of it (but the theme and characteristics are still consistent otherwise), toxic tendencies

🥀 THE RITUAL: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

———————————————————————

Pile 1 | The Werewolf

Perfectionistic as hell, likely a planner

The horniness comes and stays fellas…

Extremely careful before decision making, yet impatient (more mentally)

Hides what they really feel. Has a hard time expressing their emotions through words, so your person (well, half-person) shows you instead

Might be wealthy or does very well w/ business or business partners

ALWAYS thinks before they act

very PRIMAL tendencies; will bust major nuts when persuading you to be bred…literally. the need to breed you can become suffocating as it seeps into small actions of daily life. will never stop bugging you about it. eventually, these efforts will increase and become more desperate (but hey, if you like that, go for it 😳)

^^the thought of having a family with you gets them down real bad

EXTREMELY overprotective and possessive over how revealing your clothes might be. don’t be surprised if they finally let you out of the house after you choose to wear a hazmat suit

• will do anything for you!!!! provide food, shelter, money… as long as you depend on them, they feel at their highest.

•^^ this can also indicate an incessant need for control and control over you as well

• typically chooses the safe route; sticks to routes they’re already familiar with and practicality

•^^polite with people or at least acts like a civil person, but is easily misjudged regardless

• kind of old school and can be boring; follows reserved traditions very well

• actually is a beast in the sheets, but prob only does vanilla positions

• is very, very hesitant about letting you go out at night and will bust balls to get you to stay inside

• can get overly paranoid over small things that can potentially harm you

slow, sensual, deep lovemaking sometimes—rough and wild, sloppy and fast at others—just totally unable to control themselves. this is bc they exercise so much control during the day that nights leading up to the full moon, or on the night of, are relentless. Also likes doin’ the dirty in the kitchen (i also see boiling soup and an apron if those have any significance)

grumpy in the morning hahaha. grumpy when you order them to do anything for you, but they’ll do it anyway

When they love, they LOVE. Extremely big hearts and easily empathetic, but never/rarely shows it

for some reason, your fs has a solution or piece of advice for every problem in existence

strong or bold looking, big and broad, intimidating, or a very tall person. might have a resting bitch face

a very good listener

• full moons are equivalent to menstrual cycles where their senses are heightened by tenfold, sensitive to everything in their surroundings (ex: ears perk up to sounds as unnoticeable as leaves rustling…), more emotionally reactive, a ceaseless desire for sex everyday—which gets worse as the full moon approaches 🙈—hastier movements, increased moodiness and appetite, goes out hunting more often. 50/50 have a messier diet or a more strict one

• structured or routined day to day

• has probably talked/will probably talk about raising a family with you at least once, becoming more adamant about it over time

• can seem very insensitive or come off as an asshole at times

• EXTREMELY observant; almost nothing gets past their eyes. It’s almost like an intense OCD thing. Pretty sure a lot of FS in this pile are control freaks or have very specific triggers

• can smell when you’re aroused. if you deal with periods, they know exactly what phase you’re in and keep track of monthly cycles. this is also how they can keep an eye on your fertility and “breedability” levels. likely to show clinginess during these times and try to make moves on you. (it’s a manipulation tactic, don’t fall for it!! 😳)

•^^when you get aroused, they get aroused. they’ll decide to make a move depending on the circumstances

• they have good control and discipline over themselves in general. But they’re still prone to control issues, esp over other people, or obsessiveness

Definitely an overthinker. They don’t like to be vulnerable emotionally. It’s very hard to get close to this person, and even harder to open up

doesn’t care about your “flaws” and doesn’t notice until you point them out; will be genuinely surprised to hear you have insecurities, bc to your fs, there’s no such thing. they don’t understand how you could feel that way about yourself or certain things about yourself

In some kind of leadership role (in work, relationship, or the home) or in a high enough position to give and support. Dominant in the sheets—stubbornly prefers to be

Loves to travel or would travel more if they could

Extremely adaptable and an all rounder; does well under pressure and in uncomfortable situations/environments

Likes bantering and stirring things up on purpose sometimes. Sometimes they’re feelin kinda bratty and will instigate. They fight just to fight. They’re usually quiet, reserved, or introverted

• deep down they know this and they’d even admit it to you if you asked, but they’d be totally onboard with you never going outside again and just staying in the house (it’s a possessive wolf thing maybe)

• you might not know at first, and they might not show it evidently, but they love sad karaoke songs or sad songs overall

Primary love language: Acts of service, physical touch, quality time, and gift giving

• *sniffs you with suspicion* “…that’s not my scent…”

• standing watch over you when you use a knife to cut vegetables — says, “are you sure you don’t need my help?” at least 5x in 2 mins, and still doesn’t leave after that

• stare wars with birds on a pole bc they felt offended by the birds staring first

• randomly, abrupt howling on some nights

“You take what I give you”

Acts as your personal bodyguard- will actually fight anyone for you

• loves to smell around your neck area- that shit kinda tickles tho

• (if your werewolf is male): “change out. that’s too revealing. you know men are dogs.” (lmfaooo? says who, the werewolf??)

• scolds you like a damn parent because you went outside at night for a few minutes to get some fresh air

• massages your thighs and feet

• physical contact is a must for them when watching movies with you

—————————————

Pile 2 | The Vampire

• “I ‘vant tu zuck yur blud.”

• a bit of a vanity monster (as most vampires are.) they like the way they look, and also care about how they present themselves to other people and most importantly, looking hot as hell in front of you, maybe too much at times. but from your pov, they really don’t have to try. they’re just naturally…wow. Breathtaking. HOWEVER!!! They use it to their advantage.

• Actual sass-squashes. They’re sassy and for no reason, but you can’t take them seriously when they are 😂😂

• intentionally AND unintentionally funny. like those characters on Disney channel shows that are like “oh yeah? try me” and then some bigger, buffer person comes in and they flinch a little. if you squint, you’ll catch a gulp in there too. it’s funny. endearing even. but they gotta own up to their mistakes and tone down on overcompensating. If there’s one thing they do, it’s to make up for what they don’t have.

• L-O-Y-A-L….by the time they get with you, at least. they might’ve had an…interesting reputation in the past. they might seem selfish bc of it—which is partially true. they can charm people to get what they want. They might/might have had a history of partying, hella socializing, hanging out w/ friends whenever they could (haha get it? hanging out? yk…vampire stuff…)

A total charmer and a flirt. They like to bicker and tease you; playful,, sometimes it’s cute…others, kinda annoying

• if you talk to this person seriously and in a calm and diplomatic manner, they’ll get a little defensive, yes, but A LOT less so than if you were yelling and screaming at them outright. if you both just sit down on the edge of the bed, tilt your head to a 45 degree angle and show your concerns, they’ll reflect and maybe deflect here and there, but they’ll think about it throughout the day.

• I think this person goes through varying phases of heat. (Prob not even the right word here but-) By that I mean, sometimes they wanna get down and dirty for 30 hours straight or just session after session after session nonstop—OR they take what they need and leave for a couple hours, come back again, take, and leave. This is odd at first, but it just comes with the moodiness they inherently have, possibly sticking to them from the past life. They might have suffered with commitment issues, and I don’t mean them per se, but the people around them that didn’t know how to love: family, friends, anyone that was close and left abruptly or never showed love. (Made me a lil sad there...)

• Love is complicated. They didn’t believe in it before and was confident they wouldn’t ever. But when you ask them “What do vampires think about love? Are you allowed to love?”, they turn their heads, take a moment to skim over your face in silence. Love…is what I’m feeling with you. They want to admit this, but vampires can’t feel. Would you even believe them? They don’t even know what love is. They don’t even feel heartbeats anymore, but for some reason, when you look into their eyes like that, there’s a different kind of pulsing. A surge of desire that courses through them, screaming at them to keep you forever. They can’t ever let you go now.

•^ This leads us to possessiveness. They are…*phew* VERY possessive and very dramatic/petty/easily sulky about it. You’ll lose your mind over it. If you do something as simple as shopping, they will follow. Too insistent and stubborn not to. What if you encounter another vampire living among the humans during the day, and suddenly, said vampire wants you too? Sure, they get burnt with a bit of sun, so what? They’d evolved enough to wear a million layers of sunscreen and a million layers of clothing over that, all dressed up like a moving heap of clothes. They care about how others might see them like this, of course, but in moments like these, they don’t care when you’re on the line.

• they’ve never really had their emotions looked at carefully or taken care of. It’s always just been brushed off, not only by themselves but by others as well. I personally wouldn’t doubt if they claimed to never have had real friends or friends that cared about the inside substance rather than the outer. Your fs just seems like they’re trying to fit in, be accepted and validated. You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance, but as you gradually get to know them, you’ll find that their heart is barely being held together by makeshift glue.

Very in tune with their inner divine feminine energy,, not afraid to tap into it and explore that side more

Not that emotionally developed but has major potential to with the right teacher

Nurturing and caring, but might be materialistic or putting too much importance on the material/physical pleasures. Truly lives for the fun of it

Works hard, plays hard—and will shamelessly chase you

Knows exactly what to say and do that will rile you up. Knows all of your weak spots physically

Down to try anything and everything with you, no complaints

Sensual and passionate personality and in the sheets

Super open minded and curious, easygoing and has no expectations. Makes a lot of jokes too.

Daring, optimistic, brave and believes in no limits (but bc of this, they can be seen as naive or have an innocent nature inside.) Gets in half-fights/arguments w/ people for fun

A total switch in bed; can and literally will do/try anything

Now, dare I say…the FS for this pile have the best rizz and sex game

Some fs in here can get too naggy

They have a great fashion sense or an overwhelming appreciation for fashion, beauty, or aesthetics, and is more than willing to be involved in your fashion styles

Red flag moment: solves problems in your relationship w/ sex so that yall will just forget it and move on

In hindsight, this FS is so flamboyant or charming that you could get lost in what they’re trying to express. They’ve got very fiery energy (betting rn that they have extremely prominent fire sign placements).

P.S. yeah after writing this out and reviewing the format, seeing all the back and forth…pile 2 FS def has a perfection mask thing going on. They wanna make themselves appealing in one way or another, or the consequences will just break them into pieces. The last thing that they want is to be alone.

————————-

Pile 3 | The Fairy

Alas, we’ve gotten to arguably the most healthy future spouse here out of the 3 😅 (and the most intuitive)

Introspective as hell and wise. Helps you with really anything

They’re ok w/ being alone; most introverted of the piles

Positive, hopeful, and optimistic when it comes to others. More pessimistic when it comes to themselves.

Balanced and a good mentor; suuuper patient (a lot of times to a fault)

Learns from their losses and mistakes and becomes a better person, improving almost immediately

Mediator type of person, but will defend you against others in argument—which they’ll win btw

They don’t like seeking help from others—if anything, your FS is usually the helper—even when they can ask for help right in front of them- even if it’s recommended to get help, they still won’t do it

Hella infj vibes tho (if you’re into mbti)

Every show of love is their love language. Bonus points if they wear matching clothes or secretly write poems to you that they’ll never tell you about

This future spouse group has the cheesiest and the sweetest person

Your person can lead a life more flexible financially than the other 2 piles

Also an all rounder! But thinks that they aren’t perfect when they literally are; struggles with their own low self-esteem so they try to build other people up

Putting others before themselves is second nature- they ALWAYS prioritize you or others; extremely selfless

^^Now, each fairy got a different role and purpose. The reasoning for your fs being overly selfless and self-sacrificial varies. The easy answer? Insecurity. Second? Obligation or a sense of duty. The list goes on…

They’ve got that Triple A Threat: Amazing Ass Adaptability. Your person has been thru quite a bit, hell and back. Sometimes, life just likes to mess with them for no apparent reason 🤷🏻‍♀️)

They’re always ready to face challenges; Incredibly strong person. They’ll be with you thru thick and thin!!

Strong sense of justice and equality. OH- and also they like traveling or would like to travel more!

A literal inspiration and hope (yes, with sparkles on top.) Not only do they inspire others, but your person—no matter how rock bottom you get—will never leave you.

gets jealous and easily possessive but doesn't wanna show it (shit's still pretty obvious tho)

The type that babbles their heart out when they get comfy with you. They don’t get like this with just anyone

Likely likes museums and art. Things that the media typically deems boring, weird, or unconventional your FS will prob find interesting. They like to look into deeper meanings and interpretations.

In bed, they’re pretty vanilla and soft. But are open to exploring things that aren’t too wild (like our vampire up above)

(Take this bit very lightly: I see that this person has grown up or has been around “broken” people their entire life, so they feel they need to take responsibility on behalf of those people. They might be some kind of counselor, mentor, or therapist. They’re prone to blaming themselves if situations take a bad turn or go unplanned. I’m also hinting here that some of your FS might have a savior complex, and not on purpose. They might always take some kind of leadership role or something directly beneficial to people- nurses, camp leaders, etc…)

They will take all of the burden so that you don’t have to

If your FS had any weirdo or pervy habits, it’d probably be compulsively stealing your panties or building a shrine with locks of your hair on it 😵‍💫 (which hopefully I hope doesn’t happen. I heard in some fairy folklore, they steal babies, like flying away with the newborn-in-a-basket typa thing- and for no reason too! Don’t let them steal yo babies now!!)

———————-

**Ending Teddy note:

As always, thank you so very much for tuning in with us! I hope you have a spooktacular Scorpio season as we are soon heading into it (depending on when you’re reading this), but really you can read this at any time. Rmr to take everything with a grain of salt! Take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. Stay safe out there and rock on people 🤩🤩 Feedback is very much appreciated in any form as it’d help me grow as a reader :)

*This is for entertainment purposes*

896 notes · View notes

theambitiouswoman · 2 years ago

Text

Questions To Ask Yourself If You Want To Become The Best Version of Yourself

What do I really care about? What things are really important to me?

What am I good at, and where do I need help? What am I strong in, and what could I get better at?

What do I want to achieve soon and later? What things do I want to do soon, and what are my bigger, long-term goals?

Am I trying new things and not just staying comfy? Am I doing things that might be a bit scary but good for me?

How do I deal with problems and when things go wrong? What do I do when stuff doesn't work out?

Am I nice to myself when things don't go well? Do I treat myself kindly, especially when things are tough?

How do I use my time, and what's most important? How do I plan my day, and what things matter the most?

Am I learning new stuff regularly? Do I keep finding out new things?

Do I have a good balance between work and fun? Do I make sure to have enough time for work and for things I enjoy?

Do I have good friendships and avoid bad ones? Am I friends with people who make me feel good?

Do I take care of my body? Am I eating well, exercising, and sleeping enough?

Do I think about my feelings and thoughts? Do I pay attention to how I'm feeling and what I'm thinking?

How do I deal with stress and make myself calm? What do I do when I'm stressed out?

Do I help others and make the world better? Do I do things to make people's lives nicer?

Do I have good habits and get rid of bad ones? Are there things I do every day that are good for me? Are there things I should stop doing?

Do I learn from what people say about me? When people give me advice, do I listen and try to get better?

Do I say no when I need to? Do I tell people when I need space or when something isn't okay for me?

What makes me really happy? What do I like to do that makes me feel great?

Do I use money wisely? Am I good at saving and spending money in smart ways?

Do I believe I can improve and get better? When things are tough, do I think I can get through them and learn something?Am I being kind to others and making them feel good? Do I treat people nicely and make them happy?

Do I learn from things I do wrong? When I make a mistake, do I figure out how to do better next time?

Do I try new things, even if they scare me a little? Do I give things a shot, even if they seem a bit scary?

Am I spending time with people who care about me? Do I hang out with folks who like me for who I am?

Do I eat healthy foods and move my body? Am I eating good stuff and getting some exercise?

Am I sharing and helping others when I can? Do I give stuff to others and lend a hand when I'm able to?

Am I paying attention when people talk to me? Do I really listen when others are speaking to me?

Do I take breaks and do things I enjoy? Do I give myself time to rest and do things I like?

Do I say sorry and make up if I hurt someone? When I make someone feel bad, do I apologize and try to make things better?

Do I imagine good things for myself in the future? Do I think about cool stuff I want to do?

Do I stop and relax when I'm feeling stressed? When I'm worried, do I take a moment to calm down?

Do I ask for help when I need it? Do I tell someone when I can't do something on my own?

Do I try my best, even when things are tricky? Even if it's hard, do I give it my all?

Do I pick up after myself and keep things tidy? Am I good at cleaning up and keeping things in order?

Do I use my time for things that matter most? Do I do important stuff before other things?

Do I think about good things that happened today? Do I remember all the nice things that occurred?

Am I okay with making mistakes and learning from them? Do I know it's okay to mess up sometimes and learn from it?

Do I show appreciation for the people around me? Do I let others know I'm thankful for them?

Do I take deep breaths and relax when I'm upset? When I'm mad, do I breathe and try to calm down?

Do I believe I can do better and keep growing? Do I think I can get better at things and keep getting smarter?

Am I happy with who I am right now? Do I like myself just as I am?

Do I feel okay when things don't go as planned? When stuff doesn't work out, do I stay calm?

Do I think about good things about myself? Do I focus on the nice parts of me?

Do I let go of things that make me sad? When something makes me upset, can I move on from it?

Do I notice when I'm feeling worried or scared? Am I aware of when I'm feeling nervous or frightened?

Do I believe I can do things even if they're tough? Can I do hard things if I try?

Do I try to make my mind peaceful? Do I relax my thoughts when they're racing?

Do I find things that make me feel relaxed? What can I do to feel calm and at ease?

Am I patient when things take time? Can I wait without getting upset?

Do I talk kindly to myself in my head? Do I say nice things to myself in my mind?

Am I curious about things and want to learn? Do I like to find out new stuff?

Do I think about good times and happy memories? Do I remember fun things that happened before?

Do I try to understand how others feel? Can I tell what others are feeling?

Do I imagine nice things happening in the future? Can I think about good stuff that might come?

Do I take time to rest and be by myself? Do I give myself breaks and quiet time?

Do I let go of things I can't change? Can I forget about things I can't do anything about?

Do I believe I can do things even if I don't know how yet? Do I think I can learn new things?

Do I tell myself I'm doing a good job? Do I give myself a pat on the back?

Do I stay calm even if things are really busy? Can I be relaxed even when things are crazy?

Do I know that I can make mistakes and it's okay? Do I understand that everyone messes up sometimes?

#personal improvement #personal growth #personal development #self worth #selfhelp #self improvement #self love #self care #journal #level up journey #positive mindset #success mindset #high value mindset #self help #self esteem #self growth #motivationalquotes #motivating quotes

4K notes · View notes

kaysfanficcorner · 2 days ago

Text

The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 1

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader

Summary: What are you going to tell him when he asks about your job again? Lie. That's what.

Author's Note: Hello and welcome to my Harry Castillo story. This unicorn gutted me last weekend with that horn of his and I haven't been able to scrub him from my mind. I needed a little break from Din and his Earthling and Harry was just what the doctor ordered! So please enjoy this fun exercise in the meantime. I'd like to thank my crazy best friends for their encouragement and @whocaresstillthelouvre for inspiring me to want to write a camgirl story with her Din Djarin AU Fifteen (Go read it if you haven't). Harry was giving Richard Gere in Pretty Woman at times and so I found myself struck with inspiration to write a sex worker character. So the inspo here is certainly drawing from Pretty Woman, Anora, and Fifteen but with my own spin on things. This will be a liar revealed story with some angst, so be warned! I'm a big baby about angsty fics usually so we'll see how this goes.

Warnings: Reader is a sex worker/camgirl; Reader is thick/curvy but with minimal physical descriptions; Reader smokes weed; Harry desperately wants to fall in love; Lying is stressful and bad; Cursing; No smut yet, but there is a reference to Cam's sessions; Mild descriptions of sex toys in use; Again, reader is a sex worker so this story is going to be riddled with smut.

Minors DNI, strictly 18+ as always

Ao3

*****

Harry Castillo was fairly certain he was incapable of love. Even after what Lucy said the night she dumped him, he wasn't sure that was truly in the cards for him. God he felt so fucking silly and childish for wanting it so fucking bad. Harry was certain that he thought about love more than he assumed most men his age in his line of work do. Certainly more than he ever expected to as a young man.

He'd wanted to propose to Lucy because she was the closest he's ever come to what he supposed the possibility of it feels like. Creeping up on 50 with his parents breathing down his neck about how he was far too old to be playing the debonair millionaire bachelor routine anymore felt like enough of a reason to wed her. He respected her, he felt like he could trust her, and he definitely enjoyed fucking her. But she'd been right when she said he didn't love her. He didn't, not in that way he felt so foolish for dreaming about. Something was missing with her, and he supposed that was it.

Perhaps, had that final encounter in his kitchen ended differently, he could have eventually felt it with her. But he wasn't sure if that was even true or just more wishful thinking. So, disappointed as he was, Harry knew it was probably for the best not to allow Lucy to waste her life on wishful thinking.

He's dated large handfuls of women and he's sure he's never once felt it. Women from good families and backgrounds, as well as some women with some not so great credentials. All shapes and sizes. Good choices and some not so good ones in his younger days.

But he's never felt that fluttering feeling that gets deep in his chest when he's all by himself indulging in his guiltiest of pleasures; a film with some good romance in it. When Billy Crystal is giving his big speech to Meg Ryan at the end of When Harry Met Sally , and Harry Castillo sits there drinking wine and fighting back tears, there's this swelling ache of wanting deep inside of him. No one's ever made him feel that .

Harry saw that feeling on Lucy's face when the ex-boyfriend interrupted them at the wedding, and again the night Harry accompanied her to her ex-boyfriend's play. Try as Lucy wanted to deny it to herself, the two of them were still very much in love. He heard they'd run to the courthouse and gotten married shortly after his and Lucy's breakup, and that was when he had his assistant return the engagement ring.

A few dates with women from Adore were enough to turn him off of their services very quickly, and he canceled that account after only one month.

Matchmaking, surgeries, expensive dates? How much money was it going to cost him to find someone to share his life with? Poor people fall in love all the time. Constantly. In New York City it's everywhere. People are sickeningly sweet and publicly showing the world that they are it for each other even when they have nothing else. The public displays of emotion have always baffled him, much as he would like to know what compels a person to act like that without a care of who sees.

Perhaps that really is the key, and he's been looking at this all wrong. Lucy said that she was the type to fight in the middle of the street, and then she went and married the guy whom Harry assumes that little anecdote had been about. What does passion like that feel like with another person?

Harry Castillo is a man who has everything in the world a man could ever want. But he doesn't have that. And until he met you, he was certain he never would.

*****

“Stop everything and get your nicest fucking outfit together! Chop! Chop! We've got somewhere to be!” Vanessa, your roommate of eight years and your ride or die comes bursting into your bedroom as you lay across the bed with a book out in front of you. Her tan skin and dark hair are a contrast to the light pink silky dress she's wearing. The frock is far more elegant than things she usually wears to go out, similar to the dress Carrie wore to the prom. She's got her hair up in a tasteful bun with a few locks framing her face, and the nicest jewelry she owns.

Eyes narrowing at your friend, you take in her appearance for a long moment knowing full well that she's once again up to no good. “What are you talking about? We definitely do not have plans. It's my night off and I was finally getting to the good smut in this romance novel. This and takeout sushi are the only things on my agenda for tonight, thank you very much.”

Vanessa scoffs, coming over to the bed to slam the book shut and read the title. She gives no fucks about making you lose your place or pinching your finger, and you glare at her as she giggles and looks back at you. “Do you want to lay in bed and fantasize about some vampire prince all night or do you want to come with me to a super fancy charity event for the Puerto Rican youth centers around the city?”

Eyebrows raising, your interest is certainly piqued. “What charity event? You're not charitable and usually you have to donate to these causes to get into these events.”

“This one is at work,” Vanessa clarifies. She works as a waitress at a prestigious restaurant and events venue. The kind of place you could have never afforded on your own before your career shift and you're certainly not well-to-do enough to get invited to kinds of high-end events that take place there. Vanessa has seen some of the most important people in New York at this job.

Your line of work allows for a very comfortable lifestyle, but life in New York is still expensive and there are corners of this city not meant for people of your social stature. Vanessa's work is most certainly one of those places.

“If you picked up an extra shift, I'm not going to come work it with you if that's what you're asking. I'm doing just fine with money these days if you haven't noticed.” As you say this, you sit up finally and lean over to grab the bong and lighter off your nightstand. Flicking the green bic, you take a decent size pull and enjoy the sound of the water bubbling before blowing it out and sitting it back down.

“Yes, yes. The little internet goth slut routine is finally paying off. Good for you,” Vanessa says with a roll of the eyes. She still hasn't given up on her dream of stage acting like you did a few years ago, but she would never truly shame you for your line of work. You know she’s kidding.

You moved to New York after dropping out of college to chase your dreams. A few years of rejections and a crappy play here or there got old after a while. It slowly became apparent to you that you moved to New York not to chase some dream of being creative in the way that your friend did. You moved to New York to chase after the dream of a very specific high-end lifestyle. A lifestyle which allows for the nicest luxuries life has to offer, and that requires much more money than that of a bartender and struggling stage actress. Now you find that acting behind a camera is more your thing.

Only you tend to do it with little to no clothes on... and most of the time with a toy stuffed in one or both of your holes as you act out whatever depravity your clients are paying you for. The more depraved the more they pay.

You're an online sex worker, though very few people actually know this about you besides Vanessa.

In order to hide your identity you've created a character and a look which, truthfully, doesn't betray who you really are all that much. The market for slightly chunky, vaguely goth girls in the world of online sex is very high. You were already both of those things to begin with, so with some wigs and some drastic makeup, you easily make yourself into someone else when the camera is rolling in the spare room you've turned into your studio. You pay more of the rent to use the extra room, and the investment proved to be well worth it in the end. You've got yourself a nice little empire going, and you're making more money than you've ever had in your life. So much money it's shocking every time you check your bank account.

You used to think that the ultimate dream was to find yourself a rich husband, but learning to take what you want out of life without someone else giving it to you has changed your perspective on the matter entirely. If you meet a man you intend to marry, you want that marriage to be based solely on love. A rich husband wouldn't hurt, of course, but then again what little girl from a poor family in a shitty small town doesn't dream of a Cinderella story all her own? The love of your life could be on the verge of poverty or have the highest salary in Manhattan. So long as he loves you, respects you, and doesn't care that you made your fortune helping lonely, desperate men and women to achieve orgasm starting at $300 a session… Sometimes up to twenty five sessions a week.

And you are so hopelessly and desperately craving real love in the way that your clients crave real sex. It's the one thing you feel you don't have now that you find you aren't wanting for anything else.

$400 haircut? No problem. $500 coat you just had to have and couldn't possibly live without? It's yours. And damn does it look good on you. A weekend trip to Italy just for pasta and wine? Why the hell not?

But the one thing you really crave in the middle of the night is to be held by someone who loves everything about you, good and bad. Someone you can't help but love back.

“Dude, fuck off. I swear I'm going to just go without you since you're not even listening to me. High ass bitch,” Vanessa says with a disappointed huff, but just as she turns to leave your room she stops in the threshold and turns her head to throw a devilish smirk over her shoulder. “I guess I was wrong about you wanting to see our mutual favorite musician perform a super secret private charity concert. Oh well. I guess I'll have to let you know if he's really that hot in person since you're going to stay home and read .”

That pulls your attention from your stoned thoughts, and your eyes widen. “Wait, Van! What are you fucking saying? Are you fucking with me right now?”

“I dunno, are you going to listen to your best friend or not?”

“Yes, bitch! I'm sorry. Tell me!”

“Well you know I'm seeing Charles now,” Vanessa starts, and you can't help but roll your eyes. Charles is the only thing Vanessa has talked about for the last four months. He's British, he’s hot, and he owns the events venue side of the business. They've been seeing each other in secret, so as not to give the appearance of favoritism. If you had to guess, he'll be proposing by Christmas with how in love they seem to be.

You're only a little jealous.

“How could I forget Charles ,” you say his name in a deep, sexy voice. One you use for work all the time.

“ Ew , don't do that,” Vanessa cringes with a scrunched nose. Then she shakes her head, glaring at you playfully. “Anyway, jerk , Charles informed me this morning who the secret guest at the charity event is going to be. When I lost my mind and told him how much we love this person, Charles told me he would sneak me and you in if we promise to keep a low profile and behave ourselves. He made someone switch shifts with me just so we can do this! God, he really is the best boyfriend, isn't he?”

So much for the appearances of favoritism. He's definitely going to propose. But that's irrelevant, as you scramble to get up to your feet and move for your closet to find one of your best dresses. Ignoring Vanessa's gushing over Charles, you ask, “You can't be seriously talking about who I think you're talking about. Can you?! ”

*****

Harry Castillo finds himself bored to tears at yet another hoity-toity charity event. This one is for the Puerto Rican youth centers that are in dire need of renovations and staffing. Being the richest man in Manhattan with a Latin American family background, it's fairly expected that Harry both donate to and attend events like this when it is something that benefits the Hispanic community. The cause itself does mean something to him personally, but that doesn't mean he finds these kinds of events to be terribly interesting. It's always the same, and once one's been to twenty of these things it gets incredibly old. He’s been to countless of them since he was a young man.

The only difference tonight is that the guests are speaking Spanish more than he would hear at this sort of event and the food is culturally influenced. Though it warms him a little to have things feel less stuffy in that way, Harry's still bored out of his mind.

After rubbing elbows with uninteresting people he doesn't really care for and making enough of an appearance, Harry feels on the verge of leaving before the concert even starts. There have been rumors whispered throughout the elegant venue all evening about who is to perform, but even the anticipation of a surprise musical guest isn't enough to make Harry want to stay.

No, not until he accidentally bumps into the shoulder of a woman in her mid thirties waiting to order a drink at the open bar. He was figuring one more before calling for his driver, and he hadn't seen you standing there a moment ago.

“Excuse me, miss, that was my fault.” Harry apologizes, jaw dropping a little as you turn to look up at him through thick lashes.

When your eyes really cast over his face, they widen in a comically cute look of shock. Harry's a little beside himself as he takes in your face. It's beautiful, strikingly so. You're a little thicker than the girl who stands behind you in a plain pink dress, filling out your own tight, form fitting wine-red dress with curves he could get lost in. The garment looks expensive, more so than the pink dress. The pink dress is silky, whereas Harry's certain that the red dress is the real thing. It's got spaghetti straps, and a scooped neckline showing off impressive cleavage. You've paired it with black jewelry and black heels. Perfect hair in a well styled bun, but with pieces falling in your face. Tastefully simple makeup to bring out your eyes, and an air about you that says you do well for yourself. The friend looks a little out of place at an event like this, pretty as the other girl is with similar hair and makeup. The beauty in red, though, you look like you're right where you belong. But he's sure he's never seen you around before. He'd remember that face.

“That's okay, you barely bumped into me.” You say to him with a sweet smile, bowing your head a little in thanks. You seem like a nice girl to him at that moment, and he briefly thinks back to when he told Lucy he just wants a nice girl, and that he didn't care about credentials on a checklist. If you're nice, that also means you definitely don't run with this crowd very often. Perhaps you aren't so stuck up as the rest of the women here. It certainly comes off that way when you smile so sweetly up at him like that. He’s much taller than you are. Thank Christ for that stupid fucking surgery.

“I've never noticed you at one of these charity concerts before. I'm Harry,” he says, extending a hand. You look down at it briefly as if you haven't shaken a hand in a long while, eyebrows raising slightly as your rouged lips part. Again, your expression is so cute that Harry's a little beside himself, stomach lurching as you slowly slip a slender hand into his much larger one. He'd purposefully offered her his left hand so that he can see if you're wearing a wedding ring or not. There's a black ring on the middle finger... a bat? Oddly enough? He looks back at you and notices that your earrings also appear to be black bats, dangling upside down with their wings crossed in slumber. Interesting choices.

You introduce herself, shaking his hand twice before letting it drop. Harry just lets it hang there dumbly for a moment as you add, “And you've never seen me at one of these because this is my first time at one. My friend Vanessa here dragged me.”

“She won't be acting like such a professional party pooper in a little bit.” The other girl, Vanessa, says confidently with a bit of an accent to her speech pattern. He's certain she's a Spanish speaker, but not the one he suddenly finds himself interested in. He can't place the origins of your accent quite yet.

“Ohhh, so you're a professional party pooper? I was just about to ask what you do for a living.” Harry says, flashing his best teasing, but charming smile at you. He worries that he shouldn't have teased you so quickly after meeting you, though, when a look of mild panic washes over your face.

*****

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck do I say?

Your eyes meet the deep brown ones of the attractive man who suddenly approached you at this event that you originally didn't even want to come to, and nervousness floods your system for a brief moment. This man is painfully handsome. So much so that his face is enough to throw you off your game for a good couple of seconds. Then you feel Vanessa pinch your ass, and you sober up enough to quip back with something.

“Oh I'm number one in the business.” You say with a little bit of a giggle, hoping to deflect back to him for a moment as you add, “What about you? What do you do for a living?”

“I run a financial firm my mother started. Nothing exciting.”

“A woman-founded company! That is so exciting!”

“Yeah,” he fake sighs, shaking his head, “but unfortunately for her she had two sons. Her dream of a woman owned company was shattered when I had to take over.”

You nod thoughtfully. “Oh, bummer . Like a reverse kingdom where the king wants sons. I'm sure that gave you a complex growing up.”

Harry grins, flashing perfect white teeth. Lord have mercy on your soul when he does that. “Oh most certainly,” he says, laughing, “but I just drink about it. Do you want one?”

Also grinning, you agree, “Sure, I'll take a vodka soda with a splash of grenadine and lime.”

“So you are sweet, then,” Harry says with a raised brow, grin morphing into a confident smirk.

Your pulse quickens at the flirtation. “When I wanna be,” you flirt back, “I did only ask for a splash after all.”

“I'm gonna go find Charlie before the concert starts, can I leave you here?” Vanessa asks from somewhere behind you. You don't even turn around, nodding as you look up into the brown eyes that have a complete hold over you. She'll understand that you're not trying to be rude. This man is simply too beautiful to tear your gaze from him.

“Yeah, I'll be fine,” you say, watching him as he nods a goodbye to Vanessa and then finishes making his way up to the bar. He slides in next to you and orders your drink, then a Manhattan for himself. As he leans against the bar, you're truly taking in his appearance. About six feet tall, clearly wealthy, and clearly at least ten years older than you. His hair is a wavy dark brown, likely curly when left natural. But tonight he styled it with what is surely an expensive product. There isn't much gray on his head, but there are little patches of it nestled in the neatly kept short facial hair on his chin. His dark mustache adds such an extra layer of sex appeal to his appearance. It's obvious that he works out and eats well. He's got beautiful tan skin, and his hands look big and strong sticking out of the sleeves of his finely tailored black suit. Ironically, his tie and pocket square match your dress almost perfectly.

Thank Christ you went with this one. You truly feel your best in this thing. The first splurge for your closet after you started making serious money from your cam sessions. You'd never spent over two hundred dollars on a single piece of clothing before, and the feeling of trying it on at the high end boutique you bought it from and actually walking out with it was elating. There was no turning back after that. Vanessa had called you materialistic. You'd told her that life is too short not to be.

What are you going to tell him when he asks about your job again?

Lie. That's what.

*****

#harry castillo #pedro pascal #harry castillo x you #harry castillo fanfiction #harry castillo fic #harry castillo smut #materialists #harry castillo x female reader #harry castillo x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff

264 notes · View notes

pshbites · 5 months ago

Text

NO ESCAPE ━ nrk

pairing : bf!riki x fem!reader genre : fluff, est. relationship, angsty, college au warnings : desc. of a panic attack, crying, profanity synopsis : in which your boyfriend helps you through a mini panic attack wc : 0.6k a/n : for anyone who feels weirdly anxious rn <3, everything will get better just take a deep breathe and take it easy!

if u enjoyed pls like & reblog, feedback is always appreciated!!

your face was burning up. your stomach was in knots, you felt your heartbeat racing. the due date of your major project looked back at you, 2 days. you were two whole days late. that was 48 hours, 2,880 minutes, and 172,800 seconds. you were late, you couldn’t do anything about it either.

“fuck” you mumbled, picking the skin around your nails. you flipped through your notebook, going back to the page you wrote the due date on. coincidentally you wrote the date for today as the due date. you looked at your laptop screen, eyes brimming with tears. riki furrowed his brows and looked up from his own laptop.

he watched your chest go up and down, your eyes filling with more tears until one finally fell. “babe? what is it?” his soft voice broke you out of your own thoughts, shaking your head and beginning to sob. riki rushed up from his seat and sat down next to you, holding you in his arms.

everything had been stressing you out lately and this was just the tip of the iceberg, you were helpless. you were stupid you missed the due date and you couldn’t ask for an extension either. the more you cried in his chest, the harder it started getting to breathe, like something was on your chest, stopping your lungs. almost as if it was this dumbbell weighing down on you and it wouldn’t go away.

riki let go of you and held your face in his hands, making you look at him. “breathe baby breathe, like this” he breathed in and out slowly in front of you, making you mirror his own actions. he nodded as he continued to do breathing exercises with you. his thumbs wiped the tears from your cheeks, grounding you.

the room didn’t feel like it was caving in anymore, that weight on your chest was now long gone. “what happened, baby” he asked, still looking into your eyes. you glanced at your laptop and sighed out. “i missed the due date by two whole days” he let go of your face, letting you turn fully to face the laptop. you fumbled with your notebook, hands still shaking. “i have to email my professor and get everything in order. probably cram-“ riki grabbed your hands to stop you from frantically moving around.

he held them together and looked at you, “baby, it’s fine. you can do that tomorrow but right now, let’s call it a night” you shook your head, “no i need to-“ “look at me” riki spoke softly, causing you to look at him. his eyes looked in your own, in his eyes you looked tired and burnt out. one of his hands left yours and cupped your cheek. “you need a break,” he said, making you sigh.

“everything will still be here tomorrow, just relax for tonight? okay?” you hesitated and sighed once more, how could you argue when looking in his own eyes full of worry. you nodded, making him smile softly. he leaned in to kiss your forehead and began packing your things up from the library table.

you watched as he shut your laptop and stacked all your things, putting them neatly in your bag and then gathered his own things. you stood up as he put his backpack on and picked up your tote bag, slinging it on his shoulder. “thank you” you said, as he intertwined your hand with his own. “of course baby, now what kind of ice cream should we get.” he smiled down at you, making you smile back.

taglist : @cupidhoons @leeechin @chobunz @wensurr @ja4hyvn @kozumesphone @17ericas @suneng @hyunnies-world @kiss4noo @jellyluv4eva @heelariously @laylasbunbunny @silquids @squiishymeow @heeambi @yourmomssneakylink @rriribelle @srehyaps @bubblytaetae @t1iqaa @en-heedeungie @wintertxt @sweettaitea @beatrizmel-472 @i03jae @jakef3ver @mamuljji @coqhee @luvyou2ooo @thedemonriot @justalittle-hee @jjongsaengzz @beigerin @mariahxrrera @cherrybeomm @vveebee @mitmit01 @blockbusterhee @yeehawnana @mochamvgz @livelaughluvryanreynolds @ami-soph @sunghoonsperfume @tzyunaes @cripplinghooman @sunooblitz @kolawnk @ningningiloveumarryme @m1kkso @ronniee-26 @wavetokgv (bold cannot be tagged)

enha taglist

387 notes · View notes

anonimusunnoaniswriting · 9 months ago

Text

"You're beautiful"

Characters: Nanami Kento, Sukuna Ryomen (Heian era)

Genre: smut, fluff

Warnings: uhh sex? Sexual activity...? Sukuna is a bit ooc but whatever I know you bitches (me) want that.

Nanami

He had already made you come twice; once on his tongue and fingers, the second time on his cock. The man now chased his own pent-up release.

His eyes were screwed shut and he panted heavily, sweat beaded along his forehead, wetting the strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes. His pink lips softly parted, as soft moans and grunts escaped him, dancing with your own sounds of pleasure.

“Fuck – I’m close, darling,” the deep rasp in his voice made your pussy gush and immediately you were overwhelmed. He thrust up into you once again, pushing the both of you into a different angle where the light suddenly hit his face making his hazel eyes twinkle. The sheen of sweat he had worked up, glistened on his golden skin.

You pulled his head down to yours, meeting his lips in a fiery kiss, that caught him off guard.

“Y-you’re beautiful…”

“Ah– Fu- ck.” the man above you shuddered, stuttering and stumbling onto your body, careful not to hurt you in the interim. Heavy breaths warmed your already hot neck and you felt Nanami twitching inside you as you gently moved your hips against his helping him ride out his orgasm inside you. His mouth latched onto the delicate skin of your neck, softly sucking as your hips stilled. You raised a hand to stroke his hair.

“I love you…” Nanami gasped, before he slid off, collapsing into the mattress beside you. He buried his face between your arm and your left breast; his naked cock spilling the last few drops of cum over your thigh where his tired leg was carelessly thrown across.

You chuckled and kissed the top of his head, taking a deep whiff of his natural sweet musk. “Oi, Mr. Nanamin. Did you come because I called you beautiful?”

There was no verbal response, instead, Nanami just buried his head deeper into your side. The action made you giggle even more.

“Well, you are… You’re the most beautiful man I know.”

You felt his impressive length growing hard once more against your thigh. “Darling… don’t.”

“Oh… are you…? Again?”

Nanami pulled you into him with one arm starting once again to rock against your plush thighs.

“Does my calling you beautiful turn you on, my pretty boy?”

“Fuck, my love, you really shouldn’t have,” Nanami raised himself from his comfortable crook and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your ass up against him. His cock, once again hard and throbbing, prodded at your sensitive clit threatening to slip in at just the right angle.

That was the day you learnt Grade 1 sorcerer Mr. Nanami Kento had a praise kink.

Sukuna

The air smelled heavily of sex, sweat, and perfume. You lay back, barely able to move a muscle. Round after round, thrust after thrust, till the orgasms started to blend into one another. The sheets around you were crumpled and messed up but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The man beside you could handle it later. All you wanted to do now was to lay back and get cleaned up by a warm washcloth.

You turned your head to the side. Sukuna Ryomen, sat at the edge of the bed – his back to you. The dark black lines of his tattooes streched all the way down the muscles of his back, sharpening into points like the legs of a spider. The thick black bands around his arms seems to be alive, rippling as he moved. He got off the bed and walked over to the entrance of his chambers. His thick cock, covered in your come and his, bounced off the side of his thigh obscenely but he wasn't bothered, no one dared look at him but you...

Opening the sliding doors he barked out an order to some poor servant to bring him warm water, then made his way, once again to your side. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. The beautiful markings that painted his skin, framing his eyes, his arms, his torso. The stomach on his mouth hung open, still panting from the exercise you gave it and he gave you. He kneeled before you as you tried to turn your body painfully to face him.

“Was it too much, my queen?” He asked you, uncharacteristically soft. The warm water arrived and the servant who brought it blindfolded so as to not see his master’s woman by mistake, made his way to the foot of the bed on careful feet trying his best not to spill the water. The bucket was set down and the man made his way out.

Sukuna asked again, “Did I go too far?” You shook your head.

As Sukuna brought the silk cloth up to your sticky folds he parted your thighs for the nth time that night. Only this time, he would use the cloth in his hand to wipe off the spilled come off your skin. His fingers dipped into your soft flesh, nails scraping against the fatty flesh, alsmost threatening to peirce through. He worked carefully – meticulously, making sure not to miss any part of you. The warm cloth was washed and placed on your breasts where your bitten, swollen nipples seemed to audibly sigh with relief as they were tended to.

You once again found your eyes drawn to the black markings on Sukuna. This time his wrists. Thick wrists with black bands around them, almost like shackles. You lifted a hand and slowly brushed your fingers over them. It was almost comical how much smaller yours was compared to his. He was monstrous. But to you – so soft, so gentle…

“What are you doing, my queen?” Sukuna frowned above you.

You lifted your hand and ran your fingers down the line of his jaw and muttered “You’re beautiful.”

The king of curses raised his brow and barked out a short mirthless laugh. “That’s a first!”

“I’m serious…” you tried again, your eyes never leaving his, “You’re so beautiful, Ryo…”

Sukuna finished wiping you down, and then climbed into the bed pulling you into his hulking frame. His thick arms wrapped around your tummy enjoying the softness of your skin. “I should be saying that about you, my queen…”

In the security of his embrace you found yourself drifting off but not before you heard him whisper in your ear, “Thank you, my queen.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

A/N: this idea came to me in a dream. I also don't want to go to work tomorrow.

432 notes · View notes

fkinkindagauche · 1 month ago

Text

Great Minds Think Alike

Written for @steddiemicrofic May prompt "delay". Also part of some writing exercises I'm doing with mah bros (g/n), from Ursula K. LeGuin's Steering the Craft.

Rating: General Audiences (this has never happened before and may never happen again) WC: 408 Content Warnings: None

“Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

Steve smiled at the employee, riding high on self congratulation. He was proud of himself. Proud he’d remembered to call ahead and reserve a console. Proud he’d be able to give this to Eddie for Christmas. A Super Nintendo. Of their very own.

“I’m here to pick up a Super Nintendo. I called last week. Steve Harrington.”

The girl typed into the computer in front of her. She squinted at the screen for a moment, and then her face fell.

“Um. Well. Unfortunately there’s going to be a delay.”

“What do you mean, there’s going to be a delay?” Steve’s voice rose to a frankly embarrassing pitch.

“I’m sorry, sir. Unfortunately someone placed an order for our last unit just minutes before you called. The order hadn’t gone through in the computer, and we thought we still had one for you.”

Steve took a deep breath. “How much of a delay?” he asked. It was December 23rd.

She winced. “A week,” she whispered.

Steve doubled over with a wheeze. “December 30th?” he clarified. “Five days after Christmas?”

She nodded. Her lip wobbled, like she was about to cry. He wondered how many times she’d had a similar conversation today.

“Any other shops in the area you could get it from?”

She shook her head. “Everywhere within a few hundred miles is sold out.”

Steve left the shop with a nod. He held his scream in until he was out in his car.

Eddie had finally done it. He’d remembered Christmas. And he’d called ahead to reserve what Steve wanted. He was proud of himself. Steve was going to be so psyched.

“Hello, there,” Eddie called to the girl behind the register, who looked like she was about to cry. “I have an SNES reserved. Munson.”

She looked at him like he might be a monster in disguise, here to bite her head off. She typed something into her computer, and when she saw what appeared on the screen her whole body relaxed.

“I’ve got it right back here for you,” she said.

He paid and left the shop with the much-coveted package in his hands. As he was walking to his van, he noticed a very familiar car. With a very familiar man inside, head in his hands, sobbing.

Eddie knocked on the car window. Steve looked up and caught sight of the box in Eddie’s hands.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

#steddiemicrofic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #gauche writes

172 notes · View notes

nightplvmes · 2 months ago

Text

birthday cake

"i want to taste you," he murmured against your skin before sliding his tongue to your entrance. "it's my birthday present." ☆ sylus x fem!reader — smut, +18, MDNI! explicit content, oral sex ☆ sylus birthday special #3 | one (fluff) • two (fluff) – likes and reblogs are appreciated!! :) ★ masterlist here

Sylus slid into bed, his hands running up your legs to your thighs, where he placed small caresses before spread your thighs. you leaned on your elbows and looked at him confused. His party had ended almost an hour ago. you were about to clean everything up, but Sylus had stopped you, saying someone else would take care of it, so you had no choice but to go upstairs to your bedroom and flop down on the bed. you were exhausted. you'd spent the whole day running around trying to organize everything so it was perfect. even with Luke and Kieran's help, it had been exhausting. "what are you doing?"

Sylus placed a kiss on your knee and trailed a small path to your thighs. of course, you had an idea of what he was about to do. "I want to eat my birthday cake," he said nonchalantly.

you looked at him blankly. he'd eaten cake. you'd tried to figure out which cake he disliked the least so you could order it. of course, he'd eaten cake, but... you knew he wasn't talking about food the moment his fingers slid your dress up to your hips, revealing your black lace panties. he placed a kiss on the edge of your panties, you could feel the warmth of his lips and his breath hit your already heated skin. "Sy... that wasn't part of the deal." a gasp escaped your lips, but you only heard a soft mmmm from Sylus.

"do you want me to stop?" he looked up at you, but you quickly shook your head.

"no, go on." your gaze shifted to the clock on the wall of the room. "there are still 20 minutes left before your birthday is over." you didn't want to admit that you were actually already too wet to not continue, and besides, you weren't going to deny your boyfriend anything on his birthday.

he smiled before placing one last kiss on the hem of your panties and after a few seconds, his is fingers finally slid the fabric down your legs, removing your underwear. his hands lifted your dress, adjusting it around your hips for better access. a satisfied sound rumbled in his chest as he spread your thighs and took the time to place kisses along the skin of your thighs until he reached your center.

he didn't wait a single second before sinking his mouth into your core. a gasp escaped your lips the second you felt his tongue run all over your wetness. he first focused on circling your clit with his tongue, your hips bucked against his mouth, seeking more, but Sylus squeezed your hips to keep you in place and take his time. "I want to taste you," he murmured against your skin before sliding his tongue to your entrance. "it's my birthday present."

a snort escaped your lips when you heard his words because you had certainly already given him a birthday present. you'd always thought everything about Sylus was big, maybe because of his height or maybe because of the excessive exercise he sometimes did, but you confirmed it again when he slid one of his fingers inside you. It had only been one finger, and it had still been enough to make you squirm. "ah—damn... Sylus!"

heat began to build quickly in your body, and he still gently squeezed your thighs to keep you in place, tasting every part of you. you didn't know if he simply had a magic tongue, but you could never reach orgasm as quickly as he did.

"I'm going... I'm close—ah!" your back arched, and you felt him grip your thighs tightly to keep you still.

"hold on a little longer for me," he murmured, taking a deep breath before sinking his mouth back onto you, his tongue swiping over your entrance, tasting your wetness before returning to your clit. Your hips bucked against his mouth, rubbing your needy clit against his tongue.

"I can't, I can't," you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling perhaps a little too hard, making him groan. you didn't even expect him to say anything; you came in his mouth without warning. Sylus savored every drop until your thighs trembled from the overstimulation. "Sy... ah!" you moaned, trying to move your hips away from him. you could swear he'd already cleaned you completely and now you were wet again.

when he looked up at you, his lips glistened with the remnants of your juices. a gasp escaped you as he ran his tongue over his lips; you could see that gleam in his eyes that told you he wasn't finished yet. "happy birthday," you murmured, gently running one of your fingers down his cheek until you reached his jaw, forcing him to raise his face towards you.

#sylus #love and deepspace #sylus x reader smut #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lnd #lads #lads x reader #lads smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x reader smut #love and deepspace smut

204 notes · View notes

urfavrib · 1 month ago

Text

Frost leads his emotionally unstable family in a meditation

(he does it one at a time for the sake of my own sanity)

Kremy

Frost and him do it first thing in the morning

its taken months of pushing to get Kremy to agree but he did

Frost in his tan linen shirt and charcoal grey pants, Kremy in one of Gideon’s Henley shirts and some loose pants. Both barefoot.

Kremy is grouching the whole time and Frost is already practicing his patience

Then finally Kremy and Frost lay in the grass eyes closed

The morning dew soaking into their clothes as Frost gently leads Kremy’s mind

They start with breathing

“Breathe in and out, slowly. Feel where your breath stagnates in your chest.”

Kremy doesn’t want to initially but Frost pushes in his mind and he does as he’s told

He breathes deep, expecting nothing

But it feels like the air sits heavy in his chest a sadness and anger swelling with his breath

“I can feel the anger and pain, breathe it out”

Kremy breathes out and then in. And out hard.

And for once it feels like there’s less of it.

Less weight on him

“Now do it again” Frost urged

They just sat there breathing

Sometimes that’s enough

Once Frost feels Kremy release some of the stress, and become more mindful of his breath and body, they call it quits

They never speak of it again

But every once in a while you’ll find Kremy laying in the grass breathing and Frost will keep you from interfering

———————

Gideon

Gideon struggles with PTSD flashbacks

Seeing the train around him and hearing it even clearer

And Kremy is only so good at handling them. he really tries but he’s not equipped for the situation

Frost noticed, like Kremy he’s smart but unlike Kremy he’s also in tune with the emotions of the Krew and can handle them

He asked Gid to go on a walk with him, one on one

They walked in silence for most of it till Frost asked him to do something

“Plant your feet, and look out. Tell me what are 5 feet things you see and two things you know about each”

Gideon did so, although confused

“Good 4 things you hear”

This continued, till at last Frost asked “1 things you can taste”

“Lunch” Gideon chuckled

“Do you feel more connected to here and now?”

He nodded and Frost smiled

“I want you to practice this with Kremy, tell him to count down 5 and give you the prompts i gave, i think he will be more successful in making this exercise effective”

It took lots of practice but Kremy and Gid seemed to get it

Since then when Gideon gets overwhelmed or distant you can hear Kremy counting slowly down from 5

———————

Gricko

Gricko and Frost started practicing meditation years ago

Gricko was genuinely interested in why Frost would just walk into the woods when he was overwhelmed and come back with a clear mind

So Frost taught him (he was just barely out of the order but teaching Gricko seemed so natural)

Frost was very aware that Gricko very rarely could sit still so he tried something else

a combo yoga tai chi meditation

He and Gricko stood face to face, barefoot in the grass about 3 feet apart

This was the first time Gricko saw Frost take off his robe, he made sure to note it but not say anything

Frost silently lead Gricko through the sun salutations and warrior poses before moving into the fluidity of Tai Chi

Focusing on their breaths, they seemed to reach a point where even though Gricko had never seen this kind of moment before, him and Frost were on the exact same page

Moving in time like a dance with a goal

They slowly picked up speed and when they stopped they both started laughing

They were sweaty but relaxed and felt very very very connected

The do it every time they feel the need to reconnect

Hootsie even joins in sometimes she’s not as adept but she tries and does a great job

——————

Torbek

Frost seems to constantly be aware of Torbek’s anxiety and seems to be able to feel when the other is pushing to be released

So one day when the sun is setting, dinner is over and everyone is shifting to go to bed Frost pulls Torbek aside to sit with him on watch

And at first they sit there in silence until

“Torbek, how many breaths do you think you take in a day?”

This conversation is strange and unprompted, but Torbek indulges Frost

“Torbek doesn’t know, what does Frost think?”

“A lot” he says simply

“Follow me i wanna try something”

And the walk just a bit off from camp so if they make noise it won’t wake the others

Frost drops his robe to the ground and takes off his shoes which Torbek’s jaw drops to the floor for (he’s never seen Frost without his shoes)

“sit let’s begin” Frost sits cross legged and look at Torbek to follow which he does

“close your eyes, and imagine an orb in front of you. you can choose the color the size but imagine you can hold it in one hand.”

Torbek does and a small Green orb appears in his mind (about the size of a large apple)

“Good, now put every negative thought into it.”

Torbek didn’t have to do much to have the other’s grating words of hate fill the orb till it turned from brilliant green to black

“Now listen closely to my words and watch the orb”

Frost said words of praise for Torbek, clearly, with a strong belief in what he was saying. And the orb slowly returned to brilliant green

“Do you see the power of thought? Now you try it let the negative thoughts come, and banish them with my words”

And Torbek did

He let the other say the horrid things he’d become so used to and the orb turned black

And then he took a deep breath and remembered Frost’s words

“Torbek you are kind. Torbek you are irreplaceable. Torbek you are valued above what you can do for others. Torbek you are part of our family. We couldn’t have made it this far without you”

And the orb returned to green maybe a more vibrant one from before even

“Frost that was amazing!”

Frost smiles that knowing smile

“Everytime you feel out of control or that you’re not good enough, fix your orb”

Torbek nodded

“Now go get some rest big day in the morning”

———————

Frost

when frost was first learning to meditate he was very young

easily distracted and excitable

The order was harsh on this

Punishing Frost every time he stepped out of line

But eventually with Frost under a specific master there was promise

The master didn’t hurt Frost when he got out of line just redirected him

He lead Frost through so many different types of meditation trying to find one that stuck

He found that playing a game mentally was the best way

So Frost and his master would play crowns while they meditated

his master expanded the board, made Frost play as every piece, he tried to use it to teach Frost the ability to cut his emotions for the purpose of strategy

But the thing with Frost is no matter how hard you push he is still a man of great emotion

But to practice meditation taught him time and place ( for the most part)

#legends of avantris #morning frost #once upon a witchlight #gideon coal #kremy lecroux #coalecroux #gricko grimgrin #torbek #ouaw #hootsie grimgrin #just a little head canon #I like frost a lot

117 notes · View notes

that-one-ostrich-friend · 6 months ago

Text

just a drink

older!sirius black x reader - just a drink

word count: 4k

summary: after a long meeting with the order sirius invites y/n to stay for… just a drink

warnings: kissing, mentions of age gap, absolutely infatuated sirius (bc i like men who shower me with compliments and affection) also slight dumbledore hate

a/n: once again i went insane with this. there are so many other things i should be writing for you but i just have to share this

The room was dimly lit, the flickering candles casting long shadows across the mismatched chairs and the weathered wooden table. The members of the Order of the Phoenix sat packed tightly together, their faces solemn as Dumbledore spoke. The tension in the air was palpable, the kind that settled deep in the bones and refused to let go.

Y/N sat near the middle of the table, between Remus and Sirius. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her jaw tight as she listened to Dumbledore outline the latest developments. Her patience was thin tonight, thinner than usual. The constant weight of the war, the sleepless nights, and now the decisions being made without enough consideration for their consequences—it was all too much.

Dumbledore’s voice carried on, steady and commanding. “We need to establish a stronger presence near Diagon Alley. The Death Eaters are becoming bolder in their attacks, and we must be prepared for the possibility of a strike closer to the heart of wizarding London.”

Y/N’s fingers tapped against her arm, her brow furrowing. She could feel the frustration building, a knot tightening in her chest. “I don’t see how that helps,” she muttered under her breath.

Her voice was quiet, but Sirius, sitting to her right, caught it. He glanced at her, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. She always had something to say, always pushed back against authority when she thought they were wrong. It was one of the things he admired about her— her fire.

Dumbledore continued, unbothered. “A visible presence in the area will serve as both a deterrent and a warning. However, we must exercise caution. Any unnecessary provocation could lead to—”

“With all due respect, sir,” Y/N interrupted, her voice cutting through the room, “standing around looking official isn’t going to stop them. They already know we’re here, and they’re not afraid of us. If anything, it’ll just make us targets.”

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to her, some surprised, others wary. Y/N felt the weight of their stares but held her ground, her gaze steady on Dumbledore.

“Y/N,” Remus murmured beside her, his voice low and calm. He placed a hand on her back, a gesture meant to steady her. “Not now.”

The touch was gentle but firm, and Y/N felt herself deflate slightly. She bit back a retort and leaned back in her chair, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest.

Sirius’s eyes flicked to the spot where Remus’s hand rested on Y/N’s back. His smirk faded, replaced by a subtle tightening of his jaw. He knew the gesture was innocent—Remus had always been protective of her, just as he was with everyone in their group—but it still bothered him. There was an ease between them, a quiet understanding, that Sirius couldn’t help but envy.

And yet, he had no right to feel that way. She wasn’t his.

He leaned back in his chair, forcing his gaze away from them and pretending to focus on the parchment in front of him. But his thoughts refused to cooperate.

The age gap. That damned age gap.

It was the reason he hadn’t made a move, the thing that held him back every time he caught himself watching her for too long or thinking about her late at night. She was young, vibrant, full of life. He was weighed down by a lifetime of mistakes and regrets. What right did he have to want her?

Dumbledore’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Now, onto the matter of Hogsmeade,” he said, gesturing to the map on the table. “There have been reports of suspicious activity near the Shrieking Shack. I’ll need volunteers to investigate—discreetly, of course.”

Y/N straightened slightly, her interest piqued. Sirius could see the determination in her eyes, the way she was already considering the assignment. But before she could speak, Remus gave her a subtle nudge with his elbow.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his tone light but pointed.

She shot him a look, half annoyed, half amused. Sirius felt a twinge of something—jealousy, irritation, he wasn’t sure—as he watched the exchange. They had their own unspoken language, a bond that had formed over years of shared experiences and trust.

The meeting dragged on, Dumbledore moving from one topic to the next. Y/N’s frustration simmered beneath the surface, evident in the way she tapped her fingers against the table or shifted in her seat. Sirius found it hard to focus. His attention kept drifting to her—to the way her hair caught the candlelight, the way her brow furrowed in concentration.

And then there were the little things, the details only he seemed to notice: the way her lips pressed together when she was deep in thought, the soft sigh she let out when something annoyed her.

By the time the meeting adjourned, Y/N had reached her limit. She stood abruptly, muttering something about needing fresh air.

Sirius watched her go, his eyes lingering on the way her hair swayed as she walked. He wondered if she realized how captivating she was, if she had any idea how much space she occupied in his thoughts.

“You’re not very subtle, you know,” Remus said, breaking the silence.

Sirius turned to him, frowning. “What are you on about?”

Remus smirked, his tone dry. “You’ve been staring at her all night.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Sirius said quickly, too quickly.

“Right,” Remus said, gathering his things. “Just try not to make it so obvious next time.”

Sirius let out a huff of irritation, running a hand through his hair.

But it was hard to look away.

As the room emptied, Sirius stayed behind, slumping back in his chair. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows across the walls. He closed his eyes, letting out a low sigh.

The truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d tried—Merlin, he’d tried—but she was always there, lingering in the back of his mind. Her voice, her smile, the way she carried herself with so much confidence and determination.

━━━━━━━•✧°•°𓅦°•°✧•━━━━━━━

The cold outside felt like it seeped into her bones as soon as she stepped through the door, the chill from the air making Y/N shiver. She had rushed out earlier, frustrated with the meeting and the constant back-and-forth of words that never seemed to result in any real action. But now, standing alone in the cold yard of Grimmauld Place, she realized she’d left her coat and bag behind in the rush.

With a resigned sigh, she turned back toward the house, the heavy wooden door creaking slightly as she entered. The warmth of the house immediately wrapped around her, but it wasn’t enough to shake the unease still lingering in her chest. She moved quickly through the entryway, making her way back to the sitting room where she had left her belongings.

The house was eerily quiet now. The voices, the laughter, the bustling of the meeting—it had all vanished. The flickering candlelight in the sitting room seemed to magnify the silence, making everything feel still.

She paused when she saw him.

Sirius was sitting at the table, the same spot where the Order meeting had been held just a short while ago. His elbows rested on the edge of the table, his hands folded loosely in front of him, and his gaze was distant. He hadn’t noticed her entrance yet, his focus still on some faraway thought.

Y/N’s steps slowed as she studied him for a moment, unsure of what to make of the stillness that seemed to surround him. He didn’t appear to have noticed her yet, his focus still on something she couldn’t see.

She cleared her throat softly, breaking the quiet.

Sirius looked up at the sound, his gray eyes meeting hers immediately, the hint of a smile pulling at his lips. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of the past few hours hanging between them.

“Forgot my coat,” Y/N said, her voice a little more subdued than usual as she gestured toward the chair where she had left her things.

Sirius nodded, sitting up straighter in his seat. “You left in a bit of a hurry,” he said, a wry smile on his face. “Cold out there.”

Y/N glanced down at her coat, then at him. “I guess I didn’t think about the cold.”

“Would’ve figured you for someone who’d remember that,” he teased, but there was something softer in his voice now.

Y/N stepped forward, picking up her coat from the chair. As her fingers brushed against the fabric, she hesitated. The frustration she had felt during the meeting had yet to leave her. The weight of Dumbledore’s decisions, the helplessness of their situation, had settled deep within her.

Sirius observed her, his gaze softening. The silence between them was now something different, something more reflective. "You alright?" he asked quietly, his voice devoid of teasing now, the softness lingering in his words.

“I’ll be fine,” she said lightly, tugging her coat tighter around her shoulders. “I just... I need to clear my head.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You look like you could use a drink. How about you stay for a bit?”

Y/N hesitated. She knew what he was offering: a brief escape, a chance to let their shoulders down after the weight of the meeting. It was a kindness, one she rarely turned down when offered, but she wasn’t sure she was in the mood for conversation—at least, not the kind he seemed to want.

She smoothed a hand over her coat, then met his gaze. "I don’t want to be a bother.”

A small chuckle escaped him, though it didn’t reach his eyes the way it usually did. He was trying, she could see that, but there was a quiet undercurrent in his voice now, one that didn’t have the usual playfulness. It was something else—something deeper.

“You’re not a bother. You never are.” He paused, watching her closely, as though he were searching for something behind her guarded expression. “Come on. Let’s just... have a drink. Relax a little. Please.”

Y/N could feel the hesitation in her chest, that resistance she’d built around herself, but she also knew she didn’t want to go back to her flat alone—not after tonight. Not when she could still feel the sharp sting of everything they had just discussed lingering in her mind. Maybe, just maybe, a drink with Sirius would help take the edge off.

She sighed, stepping away from the doorframe. “Alright. Just one drink.”

Sirius’s smile, though small, was genuine. It reached his eyes this time, and for a brief moment, Y/N caught a glimpse of something in his expression—a flicker of hope or perhaps relief. But then he masked it again, as he always did, with that ever-present, charismatic ease.

“Excellent,” he said, gesturing toward the kitchen. “I’ll let you pick the poison. But if you say Firewhisky, I’m warning you, I’ll be pouring myself a double.”

Y/N shook her head as she followed him through the hall. “I’m not in the mood for something that strong,” she replied, though she couldn’t hide the slight smile that tugged at her lips.

He led the way into the kitchen. It was a small space, cozy even in its slightly outdated decor. Y/N had always thought there was something oddly comforting about the kitchen in Grimmauld Place—it was a place that felt lived in, not cold and sterile like the rest of the house.

He moved to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of something dark, his fingers brushing over it in a way that suggested familiarity. “How about this?” he asked, turning to her with a raised eyebrow. “A little bit of something to take the edge off without turning us into complete wrecks.”

Y/N smiled at the offer. “I’ll try it. But I’m holding you to your word—just one drink.”

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, though there was an edge to his voice now, a quiet sincerity. “I’m not trying to get you drunk, Y/N. I just thought... after everything today, maybe a bit of peace wouldn’t hurt.”

He poured them both a generous measure of the amber liquid, handing her the glass with a soft smile. She accepted it, their fingers brushing ever so slightly as she took it, and she was suddenly very aware of how close they were. Sirius’s presence always had this magnetic pull on her. Even now, as he leaned back against the counter, watching her with those dark eyes of his, she felt something shift in the air around them.

“So, what did you think of the meeting?” he asked, his voice low and steady, but she could hear the underlying edge of exhaustion in his words. He was tired. They all were. But Sirius... Sirius had always worn his exhaustion differently. He carried it with a certain grace, a way of making it look effortless when it was anything but.

Y/N shrugged, taking a small sip of her drink. “It’s the same as always. We talk strategy, we pretend like we know what we’re doing, and we leave with the same uncertainty as when we came in.”

“Yeah,” Sirius muttered, his eyes darkening as he swirled his drink. “The war doesn’t exactly give us much to work with, does it?”

Y/N looked at him, her gaze lingering on his face. There was something about the way he said it, like he had seen the world through darker lenses than most. She couldn’t deny that part of her was fascinated by that—by the depth of everything he had been through. And yet, there was always a part of him that seemed so light, so full of life. It was that contrast that both intrigued and unsettled her.

“I think we’re all just waiting for the next bombshell to drop,” she said softly, her eyes not meeting his. “And in the meantime, we try to keep it together.”

Sirius watched her closely, his eyes fixed on the movement of her lips as she slowly sipped her drink. His gaze lingered, and for a moment, he forgot about everything—about the weight of the meeting, about the ever-present tension of the war. It was just her, sitting across from him, and the soft glow of the kitchen lights casting shadows across her face. His heart seemed to skip a beat as he noticed the way the soft candlelight made her eyes shine, the way the curve of her lips looked even more inviting with every sip.

Y/N felt his gaze before she saw it. The weight of his attention pressed on her, as though his eyes were tracing every line of her face, every small movement. It made her heart beat a little faster, a warmth spreading through her chest despite the cool air around them. She looked up over the rim of her glass, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes were soft, but there was a flicker of something deeper, something more intense. Something she hadn’t noticed before—or maybe she had, but had ignored.

“What is it, Sirius?” she asked, her voice teasing but with a subtle undercurrent of curiosity. “Do I have something on my face?”

Sirius blinked, caught off guard for a moment. He cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts. But the truth slipped out before he could stop it.

“No,” he said softly, “just thinking... you’re beautiful.”

Y/N’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, a small laugh escaping her lips. She set the glass down on the counter and crossed her arms, her gaze locking onto his. “Really?” she said with a playful smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

Sirius chuckled, though there was a touch of nervousness beneath the laugh. The air between them seemed to shift, the tension thickening, and for a brief moment, he forgot all about the age gap that had kept him at bay for so long. The difference in their years had been a wall in his mind, one he had built to keep things at arm's length. But now, standing here with her, so close, so real, it felt like that wall was crumbling away piece by piece.

He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and rough. “You know, I’ve been thinking about something for a while, and I’m not sure if I should say it.” His heart was hammering in his chest, the words threatening to spill out before he could stop them. “But... would you want to kiss me?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the question. It was so direct, so unguarded. And it was like the entire world seemed to stop for a heartbeat. She blinked, the shock of it mixing with something else—something warmer, something she hadn’t been expecting. She felt her pulse quicken, her eyes flicking to his lips before she caught herself.

For a moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a teasing smile, the spark of mischief flickering in her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Sirius didn’t need any more encouragement. The restraint he had held onto for so long—the years of wondering, of doubting—slipped away in that moment. He moved closer, his hands coming up to gently cup her face, and then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers.

The kiss was soft at first, but it wasn’t long before the gentle pressure of his lips grew more urgent, more insistent, as though the need to be close to her had been building for far too long. Y/N responded in kind, her hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she deepened the kiss.

Sirius let out a soft groan as he felt her pull him closer, her body pressed against his. The intensity of the kiss surged, and he could taste the warmth of the alcohol on her lips, the tang of it mixing with the sweetness of her kiss. His hands roamed to her back, pulling her flush against him, his breath quickening as he kissed her deeper, harder, the world spinning around them.

“Y/N...” he muttered against her lips, his voice thick with desire. “You’re... heavenly.”

Y/N’s heart was racing now, her hands tracing the lines of his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, the heat radiating from his skin. She had never imagined this—never imagined that the distance between them could close so quickly, so completely. But now, with him so close, with his lips on hers, she couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her gaze locked on his. “Sirius...” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, but thick with emotion. “Kiss me again.”

Sirius didn’t need any more prompting. He kissed her again, this time with a desperation that was new—raw and hungry. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her with a depth that left them both breathless. The kiss was no longer soft. It was passionate, consuming, as though every doubt, every fear, was being kissed away in that one moment.

He muttered a few curses, his lips trailing down to her neck, tasting the soft skin there. “God, Y/N... you don’t know what you do to me.” His voice was rough, strained, as he nipped gently at her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N gasped, her fingers threading through his hair as she tilted her head back to give him better access. His lips were on her neck, hot and insistent, his kisses leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t want to. Every part of her was alive with the sensation of him, the taste of him, the warmth of his body against hers.

The kiss deepened once more, and without thinking, Sirius picked her up, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pressed her back against the wall. The sudden movement surprised her, but it only made the moment more intense, more real. She gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, and he groaned at the closeness, at the feeling of her body against his.

His lips moved down her neck, kissing her in slow, deliberate strokes, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered her name. “Y/N...” he murmured again, as though trying to make sure she was still with him, still there. “You’re... perfect.”

Her heart raced as he kissed her neck, his lips trailing over the sensitive skin there. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. She only knew that she wanted more.

When their kiss finally broke, both of them panting for air, they slid to the floor. Sirius’s head rested against her shoulder.

Slowly he sat up, his hands still holding her waist. He looked at her, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of longing and something else—something deeper.

“I was... worried,” he confessed, his voice low, vulnerable in a way she had never heard before. “Worried about the age difference. About whether you’d... feel the same. It’s always been in the back of my mind.”

Y/N’s heart softened at his words, and she placed a hand gently on his cheek, brushing her thumb over the stubble there. “Sirius, I don’t care about that,” she said softly. “I’ve never even thought of it.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, but this time, it was only a soft graze, a reminder of how easily he could lose himself in her.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough with the emotions he could never fully hide. “So damn beautiful, so bloody lovely...” He chuckled softly, a spark of mischief lighting in his eyes. “It’s maddening, really.”

Y/N’s chest fluttered at his words, at the vulnerability that she could hear in his voice. She leaned in, gently kissing the corner of his mouth, her lips lingering for a moment longer than expected. “I’m really glad you convinced me to stay for a drink,” she whispered, her fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw.

Sirius’s breath caught at her words, and for a moment, he looked as though he might say something else, but instead, he moved, his hand rested on her leg, a soft touch that conveyed so much more than words could. Then, slowly, he shifted again, lying down with his head in her lap, the two of them surrounded by the quiet of the kitchen.

He gazed up at her, his eyes filled with a kind of wonder, a touch of awe. “You’re so perfect, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low and warm. “I can’t believe I’m here with you. I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. For so long.”

Y/N blushed, a soft smile curling on her lips. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying the warmth of the moment.

Sirius let out a breath, as though he’d been holding it for far too long. His lips turned upward in a small, tender smile. And for a long moment, they stayed like that—him lying on her lap, her fingers in his hair, the weight of everything unspoken and everything new hanging between them, untold but not needed.

262 notes · View notes