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milkycarnations · 1 year ago

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I've been bored and can only write for shit when I want to impress someone. Since y'all are putting out good shit all the time, I think y'all deserve to read good shit while you're busy working on your book. This is your fault for making me realize I have a knife thing via Helen. Enjoy my monarchs: @itsabee @13tinysocks

Here's a link if you want to read on Ao3, otherwise it's under the cut!

Brian x afab!Reader | Whet Your Appetite | 5k words

one-shot masterlist | mdni | cw: consensual as always, knife and bloodplay, gunplay but only briefly mentioned, exhibitionism but just a threat, cunnilingus, fear play, missionary, creampie, begging, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, sexual tension

Thursday nights forced you into a nasty habit.

Perhaps “nasty” was a bit too strong; too harsh. Thursday nights grew into something shameful. Embarrassing. Your spontaneous behavior evolved into a habit you kept to yourself - because if anyone found out you’d simply die. Brian cooked on Thursdays for as long as you can remember, but everything started roughly two weeks ago. Two whole weeks of being far too horny for your own good.

That night, you sat across from Brian and watched him intently. From your seat at the kitchen bar, you eyed him as he wielded the knife. That was what killed you. It was a simple chef’s knife with a lengthy steel blade, perfect for sharp, quick slices. Over the couple of weeks that you watched him, it became clear that Brian was skilled. You watched as he diced an onion into perfectly uniform cubes. Now, after washing his hands, he was busy peeling carrots before cutting them into coins.

At first, you were only impressed at how fast he moved, slicing each coin precisely without hurting himself. That interest swelled until you became fixated.

Shifting your weight on the barstool, you leaned forward as you watched him prep.

Why did it feel so wrong to find it attractive - Brian cutting fucking produce? It made no sense in your mind, leaving you heavily embarrassed at how much it turned you on. He cooked again that Saturday. Again, on Monday. You had never given it much attention before, but now every time he pulled out the green plastic cutting board and the knife you were there looking on from the sidelines. Brian certainly noticed the change, but you were sure he had no clue as to why. It wasn’t like you could explain it to him. There was no way you could tell him the way he chopped up that red cabbage last night was sexy. Regardless, he accepted your company and sometimes chose to chat with you while he cooked.

After a while of trying to cope and pretending you didn’t like it, you came to a conclusion. It was all in his arms and the way his hand gripped the handle of the knife. It made his forearms flex and his biceps bulge out under his shirt. Once that first week ended, you only got worse. You were down bad and it was horrible.

That second Thursday, the four of you got lucky and ended up with some extra cash to spare. These days, it wasn’t often that you found someone with six hundred dollars cash in their wallet. You treated yourselves and Brian wanted quality beef cuts for dinner. He chose a stir-fry. Tim requested cold beers.

There, you sat pathetically as Brian cubed the raw meat, a light layer of blood speckling his hands and the knife and pooling onto the cutting board. It was fair to say you had become desensitized over the years - you had both killed people, oftentimes together. However, it had not clicked into your head until now that you enjoyed watching Brian cut into things. The blood was a bonus. You had realized that you’d never witnessed Brian do such a thing before. To be fair, wasn’t his style. Blades were more of a Toby thing.

That revelation made you even more confused because it forced you to come to terms with your attraction to Brian. You didn’t feel this way watching Toby do the same. You tested it and nothing came up.

On a mission with Toby two days later, you kept your eyes on him like a hawk. Enamored with the scene, he sliced and hacked away at the flesh with those hatchets. Skin and muscle split. Blood spilled and coated everything in vibrant, slippery red. There was nothing. Sure, you were full of adrenaline and the adrenaline always left you a bit tingly for hours after, but you decided that it did not relate to Toby. Sure enough, when Brian cooked that Saturday night - a quick meal hours after - it happened all over again. You could only feel so intensely needy with Brian in front of you and a knife in his hand.

From there on, you were obsessed. You ate dinner, scooping the pasta with freshly minced garlic into your mouth, and only thought of him. You took your second shower of the day that night and in the steam-filled bathroom, only thought of him. You lay in your bed, tucked under the covers, and only thought of him as you slipped your hand into your shorts. Holding back from moaning his name, you fingered yourself desperately with a heavy ache in your stomach.

It was your most shameful orgasm yet, cumming to a man who was sleeping in the next room over who had no clue about your weird attraction to him. Strangely enough, the whole situation was the first thing in years that made you feel depraved, and you had done some sick shit. You slept well through the night but woke the next morning with an obvious wet spot in your shorts. This time, you couldn’t fall asleep to ignore your racing thoughts.

As if a conversation with him weren’t awkward enough, now that you’d masturbated to the thought of him, you could barely stand to look him in the eyes. It was impossible to hide how strange you’d been acting and everyone was catching onto you. Toby gave you way too much space, practically avoiding you at all costs. He recognized how you were avoiding Brian and assumed you needed a break from everything going on in the house, including himself. Tim got way too close, assuming you needed help. Though he never asked outwardly if you were depressed, it became obvious when you found a plate of fruit cut carefully into stars and your favorite snack. Tim looked out for you more than before.

Brian knew that the attention was fixed only on himself, even though the others hadn’t noticed. However, he hadn’t quite pinned why. All he gathered was that it was between you and him. That led to today.

Exactly two weeks and three days after it all started. You had done the same thing nearly every night in a row, each time growing needier and downright lustful. In the morning, you showered in an attempt to wash off the thoughts from the previous night, which did nothing to help. The afternoon was quaint: nobody had plans, which made for a relaxing Sunday evening. You were lying in your room, the door cracked open, daydreaming about nothing in particular and enjoying the rare silence.

A knock rapped on your door.

“Come in!” you called as you sat up on the mattress.

Brian pushed the door in and shut it closed behind him. You hadn’t expected to see him, instead anticipating Tim to come in with a tray of snacks again. It didn’t take long for you to grow nervous. Brian walked up to the bed, his socked feet pattering softly against the hardwood floors. He paused right in front of the bed.

“Can I sit?” he asked, his hands hidden in the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Sure,” you managed to choke the words out and shifted to hang your legs off the side of the bed. Brian sat down beside you.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Brian’s words hurt. It was obvious that he’d assume he did something wrong - you were avoiding him like the plague. Though, it was far from the truth and it wasn’t fair for him to believe it. Still, you couldn’t get yourself to tell him everything.

“No. You’re okay,” you spoke.

Brian shuffled for a moment beside you, “Then what’d I do? Tim said you’re acting fine around him and Toby hasn’t brought anything up. So I know it’s just me,”

You sighed. Was there a point in bringing up silly little lies to save your ass? You valued your relationship with Brian far too much to hurt his feelings over a crush, but you felt like a schoolgirl admitting it. Brian sat in silence with you the entire time, waiting patiently for you to respond. He was never a nervous person at all, but you could see him grow almost desperate as you thought of what to say. The right words never found you, so you spoke with little filter. Brian sat up a little bit straighter as you started.

“I think I’m attracted to you, Brian.”

The words fell foreign off your tongue. Brian didn’t respond. He hardly moved, but you gathered the courage to look him in the eyes. A wide smile spread across his face. Your face flushed with heat until your cheeks turned blistering hot. Brian either didn’t notice or refused to comment on it.

“You think?” he asked.

The tension broke once he talked. You breathed out a chuckle and let the anxiety shed away.

“Yes, I think,”

No hesitation.

“Do you want me to help you find out?”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to squirm in your seat and kick your feet in the air, but you tried to play it off. Though you were mentally losing it, you simply smiled and looked away.

“I think I would like that,” you admitted.

Brian’s hand came out to touch you lightly on the knee, pulling your attention back to him. You looked his way to catch the hungry gaze in his eyes. Heart thumping in your chest, you glanced down at the way his hand flexed around you. It brought you back to the kitchen with that dumb knife in his hand. Between your legs, you grew more excited and could tell you were becoming wet. It made you ache - he hadn’t even touched you there yet and you wanted him.

“Is that why you’ve been watching me cook all of a sudden?” Brian smirked and gently squeezed.

It wasn’t why, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Sure,” you muttered, trying to subtly rub your legs together.

“That’s cute. I felt like you were a bit too interested. But I thought, hey, maybe you were bored.”

“You’re a good cook,” you complimented him back, trying to ignore what he said. You were too interested in what he did, but he didn’t have to know why.

“I’m curious, then. When did it happen?” he asked you, smirking.

You tried not to panic. You didn’t want him to find out the real reason why, maybe sometime in the future, but not now.

“I don’t know exactly when,” you lied. It was odd lying to Brian. He was an excellent liar and that set you on edge. It was obvious you weren’t telling the truth and it was evident he caught you in the way his eyebrows lifted as he smiled.

“You’re not so sure of yourself, you know.”

Quieting, you paused next to him as his hand trailed slightly higher. It made your stomach tighten.

“I wanna know what you were thinking when you were looking at me like that. Be honest.”

Brian’s words poured like honey. When you managed to meet his eyes, they stared deep into yours. He was an intimidating, coercive man and it was strange being on the other side of it. You froze in his touch, but he waited for you to speak. Outside the room, the sound of Tim starting dinner could be heard: pots and pans were moved and water was running in the sink.

“I was impressed,” you admitted. Brian pried further.

“Impressed with what? ‘Cuz it wasn’t the food. I saw you at the dinner table with your head in the clouds. Should’ve known something was up. What were you thinking about?” he repeated.

The pressure he pushed onto you was intense. You could only imagine what it was like to be on Brian’s bad side - a victim being threatened by him.

“I was thinking about the knife,” you finally came clean. This piqued Brian’s interest and his stare grew into something different. His hand now rested on your upper thigh and his body moved to face towards you.

“Keep going. Help me find out what this knife has to do with me.”

“I liked the way you held it.”

Brian chuckled at your response. Though he had caught on, he played along and continued to pry. It was clear he wanted you to say it out loud.

“What’s so special about me holding a knife?”

You were sure it was the thing with his arms and hands; the way he looked so powerful with it, but that was hard to explain without monologuing the past 2 weeks. You thought carefully about what to say and how to make sense to him.

“I guess the way you did it was just attractive to me,”

Brian took a big breath in. He had a way about him that was good at appearing disinterested, but the way he gripped onto your thigh was a major tell. He was into this as much as you were. He wanted it as much as you did. You thought about how much frustration you could’ve saved yourself from if you were ballsy enough to tell him earlier.

“You’re very special, you know that?” Brian’s face seemed to fluster pink down his neck.

Embarrassed with how he spoke to you, you shouted out, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you’re into dangerous men. Especially dangerous men holding weapons, and you didn’t even notice. How long have you gone along feeling this way? If I knew you’d be ogling at me, I’d have teased you a bit more on our last mission.”

“Only recently,” you told him, “But the guns they don’t really do it for me.”

Brian looked down at you. It made you wish he were easier to read.

“How interesting. Perhaps it’s cause you want something a little more hands-on. Everyone knows that guns are cheating. Too impersonal, huh?” you silently nodded along, “But I like that. The fear of a gun doesn’t do it for you, you need the threat of a knife. Delicate when you want, but just as deadly when you let it touch the right places.”

Something thumped in your ears, the sound of your heartbeat, and the blood rushing to your head. You could feel your slick pooling in your panties and your legs slightly parted. Sweat dripped down your back, making you shiver harder as his hand traveled to your hip.

“But it’s my turn to be honest. I want to fuck you. So tell me, you okay getting a bit more personal?”

“Yes, please. Keep going,” you were shaking and your words came out as whispers.

Outside of the room, you heard Toby join the chatter and turn on the television. Though you thought Brian would shove you over and take you right there, he remained beside you and reached into the pocket of his jeans. As he pulled out his hand, you noticed the small pocket knife. He held it out in front of you and pressed a small button. The knife folded open with a click. It wasn’t anything fancy and it was a far cry from the eight-inch chef’s knife in the kitchen. It was black (including the two-inch blade) and it was clean - but it wasn’t like you could die of tetanus regardless.

“And do you mind if I use this?” Brian whispered to you, now closer than before. His breath was hot and it only made you more antsy underneath him. You had no idea he kept the knife on him, but it made sense. It looked more for utility than stabbing anyway.

You shook your head.

“Tell me,” Brian urged you.

“No, I don’t mind,”

As Brian pulled the knife closer for you to look at it, you realized you’d never felt so dizzy beside him before. You were now throbbing as you waited, desperate enough to skip foreplay entirely.

“You like it?” he asked.

“It looks sharp,” it was true. The pocket knife had a more serrated edge than the chef’s knife, which came to a whetted edge across the entirety of the blade. The tiny black knife looked like it could saw into things.

Brian nodded in agreement, “You wanna see how sharp it is?” he said, running his thumb perpendicular across the blade. It made a chime as the metal ran across his thumbpad.

“Okay,” your face burned.

“Lay down,” he ordered you. You turned and swung your legs back onto the mattress and laid back to rest your head against the pillow. Stiff, you lay there with your legs pushed together and your hands resting on your stomach. Brian crawled over to you, the bed squeaking slightly under his weight. Breathing heavily, he sat above your legs and straddled you. At that moment, you felt like prey beneath him, but you knew he wouldn’t do anything you didn’t ask for.

A finger hooked your belt loop.

“You like this pair?” he asked you.

Confused, you looked down. Your shorts? They were stolen, but they were nice and fit you perfectly.

“They’re my favorite,”

With the knife still in his right hand, he unbuttoned your shorts and tugged them down. You helped him pull them past your ass and kick them out from your legs. Truthfully, you were still sheepish about being in your underwear in front of him. His fingers traced up your leg and danced along the waistband of your panties.

“What about this one?” he questioned.

“They’re old-” before you could finish your sentence, Brian eased the knife between your right thigh and the fabric of the panties. He swiftly pulled up and sliced the fabric. Tugging down the ripped cloth, he did the same to the other side, this time sliding in the knife from the top of the garment and slicing laterally just above your hip bone. He pulled the shreds of fabric off of you and tossed the destroyed pair onto the floor.

Closing your legs, you squirmed underneath him. The knife was held in his hands in a white-knuckled grip and it made the veins in his forearm pop. Your gaze drifted to the very obvious bulge in his pants.

“You like a little more than just me holding a knife, don’t you?”

As he asked, he fiddled with the hem of your shirt. Could you deny it? Both of you knew you had some kind of complex.

“I think so,” you answered.

Brian lifted your shirt to run the blade of the knife across your stomach. With a knife, Brian was capable of many things.

“You like the fear, too. You must, ‘cuz me and you both know how easy it’d be for me to gut you right now. I could get excited and slip. Then it’d all be over until you wake up again a few hours later.”

Moaning out, you felt yourself drip beneath him. That, you didn’t quite ping about yourself. Of course, you’d imagined Brian hurting other people with the knife, but never yourself. You were putting every ounce of trust you had into him. It strangely felt liberating, knowing you could tell him to stop or tell him to go further and he’d do it all for you.

“Don’t you agree?” he called out your name. Maybe he was onto something.

“Does it make you feel that way, too? Scared that you might lose control? Does it make you burn inside?” you turned the question back onto him and watched as he genuinely thought about it for a few moments.

“I’m a sadist. The thought of hurting you only makes me excited, but the thought of breaking your trust is something different. I’ll go as far as you want, but that means you have to say something if it’s too much.”

It could not get more perfect than that. You smiled as Brian pulled your shirt off, tossing it to the floor, and unclasped your bra before slipping it off. Instantly, your nipples hardened after being exposed to the cold bedroom. You felt vulnerable under Brian, still in his jeans and tee shirt. He continued to trace the blade across your chest with care, the chilly flat of the metal gliding over your nipples. Huffing out you clenched your hands into the bedspread.

“What about blood? Everyone in this damn house had a blood kink, but how do you feel about your own. Want me to see it?”

Trembling under his words, you nodded again before remembering to answer him properly.

“I like that. You can cut me a little.”

Brian smiled at this, but simply kept tracing the blade gently. He did so for what felt like many minutes before he shifted the pressure to the tip of the blade. It dug into your skin, but simply poked at you, not drawing any blood. You whined at the sensation as he moved the blade to your stomach, right beneath your breasts. Suddenly, you gasped as he sliced the blade in a small cut. It was swift and he was done before you noticed it had happened. The two of you watched as the blood trickled out. It was light, close to a scratch. You knew he was going easy on you, in case you changed your mind.

A heavy sigh rang out from above you. He enjoyed watching you like this, his cock pressing hard against your leg through his jeans. You doubted it was comfortable. This time, he grunted as he cut your flesh again.

“Why don’t you take your pants off?” you asked him.

“I want to fuck you but I don’t want to do it yet. The foreplay just started. Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for?” he explained himself.

“Yes it is, but we can do it again - and I’m already wet enough I just need you now. Please.”

Your pleading came out meek and pathetic. You were sure you looked pitiful, but Brian seemed more pleased by your begging than he was before you’d started.

“Don’t worry your head over it. I’ll help you manage… but maybe if you beg a bit more I’ll change my mind.” his voice came soft and sweet but his words were far from it. Left hand pulling down, he reached to play with your clit. Moaning out again, you sounded like a wounded animal as he cut you while he rubbed, this time harder than the last. The slice left a stream of blood that trailed across your waist and met the bedspread.

“This help?” the circular motions of his thumb on your clit were skilled as if you’d taught him exactly how to do it. As perfect as it was, you wanted so much more. “Does it hurt?” he asked when you didn’t respond.

“It’s good,” you mumbled. It was hard to focus on anything but his thumb as he moved from circles to upward stroked, but the knife forced you back each time. His thumb stroked up, and your body bucked, shaking as you waited for him to do it again. Up again, and this time a small nick to the side of your left breast. The whine you let out was strangled and he stopped, leaning in close to you.

“You want everyone to hear you? ‘Cuz if so, I’ll open the door and invite them in. If not, you should be a bit quieter.”

When you whimpered this time, you pressed your lips tight together. You weren’t sure if Brian was serious about it - could that be his dark secret? Instead of playing into it, you shook it off. You’d bug him about it later. Right now, you were too focused on the way he kept snapping his thumb up and the way the knife returned - this time to your thigh. Shifting his weight, Brian moved down your body, his face close to your pussy. He was staring at it intently as he trailed the knife across your thigh and moved it inward.

Breath hitching, you tried not to twitch under his grasp. Yes, toying with the knife along your chest was dangerous, but there were femoral arteries in your thigh and not as much protection. Arteries spray - you’d make a mess on the bed and Tim would certainly get involved when he would inevitably find out you needed stitches from being alone with Brian. That would open a completely new doorway. It forced you back to what Brian said. You didn’t want anyone to know yet, so you sat still as he held the knife tight against your skin.

Instead of snapping up, this time Brian snapped his thumb down, trailing it across your entrance.

“You didn’t lie about being wet. You’re everywhere.”

Holding the knife against your left leg, he played with the slick between his fingers before leaning in, propping your other leg up with his free hand. Teasingly, he took an experimental lick and laughed as your body tensed, but no noise came out.

“Just because we have to be quiet doesn’t mean you have to hide from me,” he said before sucking at your clit.

“I know,” you breathed out, “but I’m scared I’ll fucking lose it.”

Humming against you, he started to eat you out. You were near tears. It was hard not to cry out for him like a slut at this point, so you slapped your arm around your face and muffled your sounds. Brian knew just as well as you, so you also struggled not to shake too hard as he held the knife against your inner thigh. How could he know what you were thinking? How did he know that spot was what you worried about?

He sucked and lapped passionately like a dog, the sounds filling the room. He started moaning into you, each time louder than the last. You panicked. Though you were trying so hard, he was the one who was going to get you caught and he was doing it on purpose. As he moaned again, you pushed your entire body further into the bed and shot your other hand out to shove his face into your cunt. With the sounds he was making, it would be obvious that you were fucking, but he was fucking with you, so he moaned louder.

The vibrations from his mouth made you cry out, the noise muffled by the crook of your arm. Hard, you gripped Brian’s hair and pulled on it. This time, he groaned out, but it felt less purposeful and more accidental. Once more, you tried not to buck your hips into him.

“Okay, really. Stop teasing.” you begged him, but he made no effort to move, “Please, I need you inside me I can’t take it anymore!”

Once the harsh whispers fell off your lips, Brian dropped your right leg onto the mattress and you let go of his hair. At first, you were confused that he still hadn’t pulled away, until he pushed two fingers into you at once. Arching your head back, you gasped. You could easily take one, but both were enough to stretch you a little bit. This far in, you were so wet and needy he could slip in without fingering you. Still, he began to work his fingers in and out.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Dammit!”

A tongue flicked across your clit.

“Just making sure you’re ready…”

“Fuck!” you choked out as the pressure built. The pace was quick and steady; you knew it wouldn’t take long. You were panting now and you took both hands to grab his face. Looking him in the eyes you begged again.

“Please, I want you to fuck me! I don’t want to beg for it anymore, I want your cock inside of me.”

Each word came out between gasps. Your entire body felt like a spring coil ready to burst back into place. Brian pulled his fingers out of you and tore the knife away, tossing it beside you. His shirt came off first, followed by his pants - which he barely managed to pull off. Once his boxers were out of the way, his cock sprung up. In the light of the bedroom, you could see the gleam of precum leaking from his tip. Grabbing onto your hips, he yanked you towards him. Without being asked, you bent your knees and held your legs in the air.

Pushing his body in between your thighs, he picked up the knife beside you and flashed it, placing it against your neck just as fast. He didn’t give you time to think about it before he pushed his dick into you. Leaning your head back, you whined; it was much better than two fingers. He set a harsh pace, fucking deep into you as he held the blade to your neck. His other hand grabbed your shoulder and pushed you into the mattress.

You were dizzy all over again. Fear. Your cunt clenched around him and he groaned, hardly able to keep his eyes open, but boy he loved the sight of you.

“Fuck!” you cried as your orgasm crashed around you. Though you felt it building, the release was sudden. With no warning, your pussy fluttered around him uncontrollably.

“Oh shit,” he breathed out panicked, and tossed the knife off the bed, away from your neck. It clattered on the ground and slid across the floor, hitting your desk chair with a ping . Gripping onto you tighter, he set a ruthless pace as he rode out his orgasm, pumping his cum into you.

With the two of you spent Brian collapsed onto you like a human-weighted blanket. Sighing, you closed your eyes. There was no way they hadn’t heard you, but for now, you would ignore it. Brian hadn’t caught his breath, but he was cocky, “So, did you figure it out?”

Smiling, you laughed, “Yeah and we’re gonna do that again.”

Arms wrapped around you and you sunk further.

“I still think you look hot with a knife in your hands.”

“I’m glad. Next time, you can help me figure something else out, huh?”

#creepypasta #ao3 fanfic #hoodie x reader #marble hornets smut #creepypasta smut #🤍 nova's one shots

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aesethewitch · 8 months ago

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Pumpkin & Squash Autumn Soup

‘Tis the season for autumnal dishes and treats! A few weeks ago, I had a delicious autumn harvest soup at a little mom and pop restaurant, and I just had to create one of my own. This recipe is the result! (You might've seen me #soup posting about it recently!)

This recipe makes a lot of soup! It can feed a crowd all at once, provide lunches all week long, or even be frozen for long-term soup enjoyment. Just be careful reheating!

Enjoy!

Ingredients:

1 Butternut Squash

1 Small Pumpkin

2 T Oil

1 T Honey

1 T Salt

1/2 Small Onion, diced

2 Cloves Garlic, diced

Chicken or Vegetable Stock

1 1/2 c Apple Cider or Apple Juice

1/2 c Brown Sugar

2 T Cinnamon

2 t Allspice

1 t Salt

1/2 t Pepper

Apple Cider for pureeing (optional)

3/4 c Heavy Cream

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Peel and halve the squash. Halve the pumpkin. Scoop the innards out of both gourds. Drizzle the cuts sides with oil and honey, then sprinkle with salt.

Lay the pumpkin cut side down and the squash cut side up on a lined baking sheet.

Roast for 45 to 50 minutes or until easily pierced with a fork.

Allow to cool slightly to avoid burning yourself. Peel the skin from the pumpkin, then cut both gourds into large cubes.

In a large soup pot, saute the onions and garlic until soft and translucent.

Add the pumpkin, squash, stock, cider, brown sugar, cinnamon, allspice, salt, and pepper. Mix thoroughly.

Simmer gently for 15 to 20 minutes.

Allow the mixture to cool some, then puree in batches. If needed for a smoother puree, add 1 tablespoon of cider per batch.

Transfer the pureed soup to a clean pot. Stir in the heavy cream gradually.

Heat the soup gently over low heat. Do not allow it to boil.

Serve with a sprinkle of cinnamon and brown sugar and a drizzle of heavy cream.

Recipe Notes:

If your stock is particularly oniony or garlicky, omit the onions and/or garlic. The soup will end up tasting of onions otherwise, and that’s not the flavor profile we’re looking for! If the stock isn’t strongly flavored, you can use as much as 1 cup of stock; if you do, decrease the amount of cider or juice accordingly. The liquid should add up to about 2 cups.

If you’d rather use milk than heavy cream, I would use no more than a cup. It should make the soup creamy but not watery or too loose — this soup is meant to be quite thick! If you substitute with a non-dairy milk, I would suggest unflavored soy milk. Something with added flavors will change the soup’s overall taste, possibly even overpowering the other ingredients.

It’s really important to let the pureed mixture cool before adding the heavy cream, and to bring the soup back up to serving temperature gently, without boiling! If you add it while the mixture is hot, it has a chance to curdle and break, ruining the soup’s texture. Similarly, boiling the mixture with the cream in it can cause scorching. Be gentle in your reheating. If it becomes too thick due to evaporation, add a couple tablespoons of water or cider to loosen it.

On that note, this recipe makes quite a bit of soup. When reheating leftovers, I recommend not using a microwave. Instead, I would reheat it on the stovetop. You can use a microwave, of course, but I would heat it in short increments, stirring in between to keep it from boiling in the microwave.

This soup is on the sweeter side. It would make a solid companion to a salty sandwich or spicy salad. It would also go well with a savory biscuit like my rosemary biscuit recipe! If you’d prefer to have it be a little less sweet, you can reduce or completely omit the brown sugar.

When you scoop the innards out of the pumpkin and squash, don’t throw everything away! Separate out the seeds and give them a rinse and let them dry. Then, toss them in a light coating of oil and sprinkle some salt on them before roasting in an oven at 325 degrees F for about 15 minutes (stirring halfway through). Pumpkin and squash seeds make a tasty, crunchy snack! Or, you can use them to garnish your soup!

Other spices you could add that would fit well include clove, nutmeg, and ginger. These flavors are ones you might recognize as being part of a pumpkin spice blend! If you would prefer, you could absolutely substitute a pre-mixed pumpkin spice blend for the cinnamon and allspice in this recipe.

Magic Notes:

Pumpkin and squash are both emblematic of the autumn season where I’m from. They’re classic harvest foods. I most often use them for abundance, gratitude, and reaping what I’ve sown. I’ll also use them (particularly the seeds) to “replant” luck magic that lasts all year long. It lies gently dormant over the winter so that in the spring, it’ll sprout and grow throughout the following year.

Apples are another symbol of the autumn harvest where I live. I grew up harvesting them with my family, communing with the same orchard of trees since I could walk on my won. Each variety has its own particular energy. The cider I chose has a blend of apples, but it’s primarily made with bright, sour-sweet, early-season apples. In general, I use apples for love of all types, joy, and health. Cider also often has spices in it, but this orchard makes their cider without. I prefer it that way so that I can control the flavor and magic impact more closely.

Speaking of spices, we’re adding cinnamon and allspice to this recipe. Both are warm, fiery spices. I tend to use cinnamon as a sort of “battery” to give spells a bit of get-up-and-go. Allspice is a spice I frequently use for general good luck purposes and the sort of warmth you’d find near a hearth fire. It’s a comforting, soothing sort of luck.

Brown sugar is brown because of the molasses in it. Molasses is sweet, but it’s sticky and slow. I tend to use brown sugar for a gentler, slow-burn sort of affection. I find that it lasts longer than white sugar’s effects, but it does also tend to be on the subtler side.

The primary magic in this recipe is in the sharing. If you’re using whole gourds, you’re going to end up with a lot of soup. I would strongly suggest directly serving this to others, speaking or thinking a short incantation, blessing, or prayer over each individual bowl to bring that person prosperity and comfort for the upcoming cold season. Serve yourself last, wishing yourself the same.

As with many of my other recipes, a cup of this soup makes a wonderful autumnal offering for a spirit altar. Pair it with a cup of warmed cider, salty biscuit, and chocolate dessert, and you’ve got a really solid dumb supper.

This recipe can have any number of magical effects, depending on what you choose to focus on. My top suggestions are: gratitude, love (familial and platonic, in particular), joy, and luck.

I hope you enjoy this delicious soup recipe!

If you enjoy this recipe or like my other content, consider throwing a couple dollars in my tip jar, commissioning me (for a unique recipe of your own or for divination services!), or buying a recipe card from my shop! Supporters of all types saw this recipe a full week early, and they get full access to all locked posts — even ones from last year! Monthly members get even more perks like discounts and exclusive monthly tarot readings.

You can also view this recipe over on Ko-Fi here.

Happy soup season!

#aese speaks #recipes #spells #my spells #my recipes #witchblr #soup posting #witchcraft #food magic #kitchen witch #witch community #kitchen witchcraft #soup #soup season

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hotchs-big-hands · 2 years ago

Note

dbf!hotch gifts reader a nannycam for their room. Fun ensues. Send tweet.

(basically reader being a camgirl but for hotchy’s eyes only) 😩

Okay okay I have to get this out FIRST like you don't understand this makes me fucking BARK ROME your mind is literally stunning babe OKAY LETS GO

Dbf!Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

NSFW minors dni please!

Warning(s): consensual voyeurism, daddy kink, masturbation, just smut LMAO it's so filthy!! Also changes to Aaron's perspective after first break.

Should probably note idk exactly how nannycams work I just did some reading up and I'm sort of basing off that. Anyway, ENJOY!

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

There it sat on the pristine dining table of your father's friend. A small, black cube no bigger than a dice awaited your response to its presence. Your eyes flicked to the man who had just placed it in front of you with a smirk, and you bit your lip.

"This is..."

Aaron raised a brow, the smirk growing.

"A little camera for you to place in your bedroom. Do you like it, sweetheart?" He said gently. A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes returned to the tiny nannycam.

"Holy shit..." You felt heat rising in your face and burning in your abdomen. "I do, yes. Thank you, Aaron."

Aaron cupped the back of your head with his hand and leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead.

"This, pretty thing, is so I can check in on you when I'm away with work. You understand, right?"

He was close to your face, his eyes focusing on your bitten lip. You moved to straddle his hips and his hands were immediately on your thighs, squeezing them possessively. A little hum reverberated from you as you nodded at him and you placed your hands on his firm chest to help balance yourself as you shifted around on his lap.

"Mmh... come by mine later so you can help me set it up?" You asked sweetly, batting your eyelids innocently at him. He chuckled and the hands slid round to your ass and firmly gripped onto the flesh there.

"Of course, sweetheart. Gotta make sure it's working, after all."

Yes, much later in the day did you both finally make it to your home and set up the little camera on a shelf attached to the wall, cushioned between some ornaments. And the rest of the evening was spent "testing" the angle of the camera out with a feed linked to Aaron's phone. When you eventually collapsed against the pillows together, entangled and breathing heavily, your mind wandered to the possibilities you had to have a bit of fun whilst your lover was away. A tired, but excited smile pulled at your face as you snuggled into his bare chest and you drifted off to sleep.

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Three days had passed by after Aaron gifted you the little camera, and in that time he had, of course, been pulled away on a case. He hadn't yet had a spare moment to check in with you to ask if you were okay with him watching (he had made it clear that he wouldn't look unless you specifically said it was okay to do so) and admittedly, he was a little frustrated as a result. But work called, he had to focus on the current case instead. However, all was about to change with a simple text from you.

---

Sweetheart❤: How's everything going? xx

---

Aaron raised a brow as he stared at the text. You didn't normally contact him whilst he was working. He stepped away from the rest of his team for a moment to respond.

---

Me: As well as the average case goes. Are you alright? X

Sweetheart❤️: I'm heading to bed now, but I'm not very sleepy...

---

He felt himself tense a little, swallowing as he felt himself twitch in his slacks. He eyed his surroundings before he began to type.

---

Me: Sweet thing, you've got to try and get some rest, yeah? X

---

Moments later a photo came through from you, Aaron's breath hitched at the compromising position you were in, biting your lip and looking at the camera seductively.

---

Sweetheart❤️: Guess you'd better check your footage later then 😇

---

He quickly moved to press his back against a wall and typed furiously, slacks tightening.

---

Me: You really think you can just tease daddy like this and not be punished when I return?

Sweetheart❤️: Gn, daddy 🥰 xx

---

Aaron groaned quietly and pocketed his phone, glancing down at his crotch and willing the slight bulge to disappear. You were in so much trouble when he finally returned home, but he had to admit he was eager to return to his hotel room that night to see what you'd been up to. With a sharp exhale out of his nose he slowly returned to the room to continue working on the case.

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Driving at the speed limit couldn't have been harder for Aaron than right now, desperate to make it back to the hotel and lock himself in his room. He knew the others could tell he was extremely tense and chalking it up to the difficult case, which admittedly, he was stressed out about, but he hadn't been able to keep you or the implications of your earlier messages out of his mind for the rest of the day.

So when he finally pulled into the hotel parking lot with Spencer and Derek in the car with him, he couldn't slam his door fast enough nor rush off into the hotel. He even took the stairs, two steps at a time, so he could get there quicker than waiting for an elevator. Finally. With his door locked his jacket and tie were quickly removed and his shoes toed off at the door, he crossed the room to the bed and he settled down on the edge of it and pulled his phone out.

He was eager, almost embarrassingly so but he didn't care. His thumb hovered over the app that was linked to the nannycam; his slacks were uncomfortably tight already. With a quiet exhale, he unbuckled his belt to give himself a brief sense of relief, then he clicked the app icon.

He remembered the estimated time you'd messaged him, scrolling through the footage from within the 12 hours of the day in the timezone you were in. Most of it was blank, obviously you'd been out for the day, but he slowed down the progress when your figure appeared, entering and leaving the room as you went about your evening. He smiled slightly in complete adoration of you, there was something so serene about watching you going about your time, a part of him secretly wishing he could witness all of it someday.

His thoughts were brought to a halt when you entered your bedroom dressed in a fluffy towel, having just returned from a shower. He shifted on the bed, settling back further as his eyes stared at the screen. At first, your back was to the camera when you unwound the towel from your body. Aaron narrowed his eyes slightly, wishing you would turn around. Then you did. Casually, you began drying your body off, dragging the fabric down your arms and across your neck. You paused, a little smile spread across your face and you moved the towel slower down your body.

His eyes followed the movement of your hand on the fabric, drifting down your chest and lingering. A deliberate, light brush against your nipples, then slowly drifting lower down your body. Tauntingly, you covered your crotch and Aaron groaned, holding his phone in his right hand whilst his left slid down to squeeze the growing bulge in his dress pants. You knew how he felt about you teasing him given you'd been punished for it already recently, brought to a point of begging him through tears to let you cum, to feel his cock inside you. Just the memory of it only made him strain against the fabric of his trousers more, so he unbuttoned them and slowly pulled the zipper down, a quiet grunt escaping him at the release in tension. His hand slipped inside, palming his cock over his boxers.

In the footage, you'd turned from the camera again and bent over to dry your legs, giving him a full view of your ass to him.

"Nngh, fuck." Aaron hissed, squeezing himself tighter. You walked out of frame, seemingly to hang the towel up to dry, but when you returned to the frame you were still in all your naked glory and there was no indication of that changing anytime soon. His eyes widened when you pulled open your bedside drawer and from it you took out one of his button down shirts, but his brow raised when you also picked up a small bottle, one that he knew very well.

"Oh, you naughty thing..." He whispered as you spritzed his cologne he thought he had misplaced a few weeks ago over the shirt he must have left behind at some point. You placed the bottle back into the drawer and held the shirt to your nose, climbing onto the bed to kneel, eyes closed as you inhaled deeply. Aaron groaned again quietly. He didn't know you did this, he would have to ask you if you did it all the time. It made him feel good to be so desired as this, he never expected anyone to want him as much as you clearly did. His cock was painfully hard now, and he pulled it from the top of his underwear with a hiss. The rosy red tip was already glistening with precum, he smeared it with his thumb and dragged it down the impressive shaft with a deep exhale.

Holding onto the shirt, you slowly pulled it down your body, rolling your hips as you brushed across your nipples again. And then, to Aaron's utter surprise, you moved the shirt down to your crotch and began to grind into it. He shuddered, cock twitching in his hand at the scene. You moved to the end of the bed, shirt still rubbing against your crotch, and knelt down, head against the bed with your ass angled towards the camera's general direction. Aaron swore under his breath as he began to slide his hand up and down his cock, squeezing his tip and using the precum that continued to leak out to lube himself. You were laying on top of the shirt, hand between your spread thighs as you touched yourself. Oh, how he wished he could hear your sounds right now.

He could imagine himself touching you in this position, teasing you as he rubbed his cock against your entrance. He wanted you to always have your face shoved against one of his shirts from now on, picturing you biting into it with every caress of his fingers or cock.

Your hips swayed and shuddered forward, your hand moving faster as you masturbated. Aaron moved his hand faster on his cock, thrusting up into his hand eagerly in time with your movements. He could tell you were close in the video, body shaking and back arching, it brought him closer to cumming as well. His chest heaved as he moaned, hips bucking when he watched you finally cum hard, staining his shirt no doubt, and pushing yourself until you collapsed, boneless. Not a moment sooner, Aaron groaned deeply as his cock shot rope, after rope of cum onto his hand and clothed chest. Slightly shaky, he quickly snapped a photo from his torso downward, hand still gripping his sensitive cock, and sent it to you.

---

Me: Sweetheart, look what you've done to me. I'll be having a word with you about taking my cologne...

---

Once the text was sent, Aaron let the phone drop onto the mattress beside him and groaned. His cock twitched in his hand, still aroused. He grimaced, knowing he needed to take a shower and shove his soiled clothes in the bottom of his bag. And so sluggishly, he forced himself to stand and make his way to the shower room.

When the new morning would come round, you'd wake up to more than just a picture.

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AWOOGA OKAY thank you so so so much for reading !! I hope this was kinda what you were thinking of babes, but I could defo expand on this in future tho should the demand be there 👀

Taglist: @cr1minalskies @modern-mermaid @aaronhotchnersgirlfriend @aaronhotchswife @crimeshowjunkie @igotanidea @gogococopuffs @prentissesredtanktop @howabouticallyou @lalalove-56 @constantwritingblock @boredelle @powerlvr25 @idkbubs @mrs-ssa-hotch @emptybagofchips77 @yourmomsmilfmistress @jesuisbenny @nplumb22 @supercriminalbean @elijahmikaelsonbitch @wowzabowza69 @frostingway @simpingfortoomanypeople @munsonsposts @spenciesprincess @creepysweetie @bruhhvv @regulus-black-223048 @brasspistol @0nex-is-dead0 @livingdeadmak @myescapefromthislife @sebastiansstanswhore @bumblebea-xo @hangmandruigandmav @sareim123122 @magical-spit

#beloved rome #a answers #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #hotch smut #aaron hotch smut #smut #nsfw.

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thevanillerose · 6 months ago

Note

Hi could you please create a

Yandere meursault dazai x fem prisioner reader? [Like prisioner is fellow inmate]

Your writing is awesome btw :>

CONFINED | YANDERE!DAZAI x PRISONER!READER | BUNGOU STRAY DOGS

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators. Content Warnings: Yandere / Unhealthy relationship / Confinement A/N: Request [7/10] for my 100 Followers Celebration! (I'm glad you like my writing, thank you!) Note: Fem!Reader

Meursault.

The very existence of this place had always been a secret, buried deep beneath layers of classified government files. You had heard the rumors before—a prison for the irredeemable, the untouchable, where escape was impossible, and survival itself felt tenuous. But nothing could have prepared you for the reality.

Your cell, like the others, was a stark cube—custom-made, cold, and unyielding. The transparent walls gave you a good view of the dull void beyond, only the sight of endless identical cells stacked around you like a labyrinthine nightmare. Each door had a biometric lock, requiring palm prints, voice recognition, and central authorization just to open. The implants beneath your skin monitored every breath, every heartbeat, and the guards—heavily armed and unsympathetic—patrolled with shoot-to-kill authority.

They’d thought of everything. They had spared no expense to ensure that every person here was under the strictest lock-and-key.

Far below the Regular Prison, lay this place, the Infinite Dice Room, the space where the truly dangerous ability users were kept, their powers suppressed and contained.

It was awful in many ways, and you still resented that you had been locked away here in the first place. You felt it was very undeserved, that you were nothing like the rest of these criminals. True criminals.

Evil.

However…if you could count any tiny blessings, at the very least, at the very least, you had your own space. It was a little lonely, yes, but at least you had some privacy. Some. Some.

Because despite the fact you could physically move around and not worry about accounting for another, the glass panes that surrounded you meant that if anyone wanted to peer across and look in at you, they could.

And someone did. Frequently.

Him. That shaggy brown-haired man who always smirked.

While he seemed handsome from what you could tell, he severely creeped you out, to the point you were just immensely grateful he couldn’t touch you.

But everything changed when one day, you were moved.

They didn’t give you a reason, not that you expected one. The guards had stormed your level one day, brusquely ordering you to pack up your minimal belongings. The implant beneath your skin buzzed ominously as they escorted you through the levels of the prison, the mechanical hum of the elevator system pressing against your ears. Your destination was another newly built level of the Infinite Dice space—that much you gathered from the faint murmurs of the guards.

Here, things appeared slightly different. The hovering cells were tinted darkly, actually, finally, providing some sort of privacy. Your heart actually lifted a little. This was like an upgrade!

But when you arrived and stepped into your new cell, your heart sank.

You weren’t the only one who’d been escorted to these shiny new quarters.

That man, the man who always loved to stare at you, was already there, lounging casually on the cot as though he had been expecting this little visitor. His dark eyes lit up the moment he saw you, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across his face.

“Well,” he drawled, his tone tinged with amusement, “it seems the higher-ups are feeling generous today.”

You froze, your mind racing. This had to be a mistake. No one shared cells in Meursault. It was part of the design, part of the unyielding isolation that defined this place. And yet, here you were, standing in the same cold cube as the man who had been watching you from across the way in your previous cell for weeks.

Swiveling his legs around over the edge of the bed, he let his cheek rest against his knuckle, head-tilted, smiling at you the way he had so many times before. But it had always been from a far enough distance that it never made you feel so on edge as you did right now.

“Osamu Dazai. Such a pleasure to finally meet my neighbor properly.” his words flowed smooth like honey.

“This can’t be right,” you muttered in sheer, horrified disbelief.

Dazai chuckled, the sound low and unsettling. “Oh, I don’t think so. They don’t make mistakes here, you know. Everything happens for a reason. Isn’t that fascinating?”

You backed up sharply, pressing yourself against the wall as far from him as possible. But in a space this small, there was nowhere to go. You wished you could smash right through this cage, you’d rather drop straight into the void than face this man a moment longer.

Dazai remained seated, his posture deeply and deceptively relaxed, but his eyes never left you. They were sharp, calculating, and filled with something else. Something which made your throat tighten with nerves that any woman would understand all too well.

“Why are you doing this?” you demanded, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

“Me?” he replied, feigning innocence. “I’m not the one who put you here. But I’d be lying if I said I’m not thrilled by the arrangement. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this.”

“An opportunity for what?”

He tilted his head, his smile widening.

“To get to know you better, of course.”

Your stomach churned. He had been fixated on you from the moment you arrived, his gaze a constant, stomach-curling presence even when you weren’t looking at him. Now, there was no escape. He was here, inescapable, his eerie aura filling every corner of the cell like some big, all-engulfing shadow.

“This isn’t right,” you spoke again, more to yourself than to him. Your fingers brushed against the cold, unyielding perimeter as though searching for some hidden way out. There was none.

Dazai rose to his feet then, his movements slow and deliberate. Despite the small space, he somehow managed to close the distance between you without seeming rushed. You pressed yourself tighter against the darkened glass wall, your heart pounding as he stopped just short of touching you.

“You’re scared,” he murmured, his voice low and almost gentle. “That’s good. Fear keeps you sharp. But you don’t need to be scared of me.”

You met his gaze, forcing yourself to hold it even though every instinct screamed at you to look away. “I don’t believe you.”

His smile faltered, just for a moment, before returning with a dangerous edge. “That’s disappointing,” he said softly. “But understandable. Trust takes time, and we have plenty of that now. Plenty.”

You clenched your fists, trying to bear this. The thought of having to endure his constant presence was a worse punishment than you’d ever imagined facing. What were they thinking? Putting this (innocent, mind you!) girl in a cell with a dangerous criminal like him? It was a recipe for disaster, and worse.

“Finally. You’re mine now, [Y/N],” he said, his tone almost tender. “There’s no one else here, no one to come between us. It’s just you and me. Isn’t that perfect?”

Before you could respond, his hand reached out, bandaged fingers brushing the side of your face. The touch was light, almost reverent, but it sent a jolt through your entire body. You flinched, pressing harder against the wall, but there was nowhere to go.

“Don’t be so nervous. I’m not like the rest…”

His hand lingered against your skin, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek with a softness that belied the sharpness in his probing gaze. Those dark eyes of his raked over you briefly, invasively, and you dreaded to think what he was really thinking about you. What he may have planned already in his mind…

“See?” he whispered, his tone almost soothing. “I’m not so scary, am I?”

Your breath hitched as you fought to steady yourself and keep your knees from buckling beneath you.

“Don’t touch me,” you managed to say, though the words came out weak.

He withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly, his smile softening. “I’ll wait,” he said, stepping back just enough to give you the illusion of space. “You’ll come around.”

Dazai had called it ‘perfect’. It wasn’t ‘perfect’.

It was a nightmare, one you couldn’t wake up from. As he stepped back smugly, his smile never wavering, you realized with chilling clarity that you weren’t just a prisoner of Meursault anymore.

You were a prisoner of him.

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