photographyv-blog1

[artacetinker]

So regarding the recent splatfest...

I'm actually disgusted at the behavior of Shiver, Frye and Big Man fans equally

Obviously not everyone was involved so if you weren't then don't worry this isn't targeted at you

But

I've seen so much drama happen over a simple game and I'm angry and maybe even terrified at what's happening to some people

Splatoon slurs started a while ago mainly targeted at octolings and was dismissed mostly but this has been taken to a whole new level and I'm disgusted at this behavior it's just a small 2 day event in a game

I personally had a busy weekend and whilst I was able to play the fest I didn't get to play as much as I was hoping

Not that I mind but from what I've heard I think I'm happy I didnt

People making alt accounts just to disconnect from games out if spite, squid bagging which is just disrespectful, falsely reporting people as gr00m3rs and such because they didn't pick the team you were on

I'm just...

And ive seen a lot of stuff on tiktok and this one person I follow (I won't reveal their identity but if yk then yk) had been doxxed by a Frye fan because they were on shivers team for the splatfest and the shiver fans friend in question is scared that their ip was leaked and is worried that the Frye fan will show up at their house

...

If this was me I would be fucking terrified and calling the police

I do hope this person is okay and is not hurt

But this?

Over a game about squids and octopi?

...

I'm devastated that this is what it's come to

I enjoy Splatoon for the fun of it and playing with my sisters or online friends

It's a wonderful trilogy and I couldn't be happier that it exists

The splatfests in my opinion are fun changes from just turf wars or anarchy, just small simple competitions but now I don't know if I want to participate in them anymore

I'm upset this is what it's become

It's not like the splatfests are going to affect anything

Let's see:

Splatoons side order dlc is already being created using the 'what if side order won' idea and will most likely not have any influence from the splatfests

Splatoon 4 has been confirmed but has also been confirmed to be a whole new storyline and won't the with the trilogy we currently have. Squid sisters, off the hook, deep cut, squid beak Splatoon, DJ octavio NONE of this will have anything to do with Splatoon 4 it'll purely be it's own thing with no input from anything else

If you've made it to the end I sincerely thank you for reading this as it's probably a lot to take in

To put it frank I'm disappointed in anyone who took part in the drama and ruined the community

To everyone who didn't as a member of Team Frye I want to sincerely apologize for the behavior of everyone else and I hope you are all okay

Thank you for reading and I hope you all have a wonderful day/night

[kindnessoverperfection]

Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.

NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.

I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.

The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.

Because it's so hard to exist in this world.

My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:

Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)

Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.

Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.

Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.

Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.

Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s

I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.

So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".

Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)

Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.

If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.

NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD

Stigma in the DSM

Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)

"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."

(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Unconsummated -Aemond T.

Aemond finds himself quickly falling in love during the week long celebration of Aegon and Helaena’s wedding. Sadly his perfect lady is already married to a Baratheon. Happily, the idiot has yet to consummate their marriage as he never wanted to marry Y/n Arryn in the first place.

Aemond sets out to take the sweet girl for himself and he will not take ‘No’ for an answer…

It was much too loud for her tastes.

Y/n’s husband lived for parties like this, being honored that he was invited to the wedding of Aegon and Helaena and enjoying himself in every way he could. He was drunk 10 minutes after the ceremony and would be for the entirety of the next 6 days that the week long party went on for.

Y/n left the room as soon as it was acceptable for her to do so, her husband being locked on another noble woman, one who would happily spread her legs for him in a dark hallway later that night and she could do without the embarrassment of that. She ended up locating the library on her walk through the castle and she couldn’t help but stop. The room was huge, 10x the size of her husbands library as his father, his fathers father and on and on before had never been able to read (and neither could her husband).

He forced her to read all of his ravens to him in private as if he believed that no one was aware that he couldn’t read them himself. Y/n ended up knowing quite a lot about the houses and their leaders, her husband threatening to kill her if she ever breathed a private word of it. She was privy to quite a bit of sensitive information because of his illiteracy, knowing that many houses had secretly sworn to follow Aegon as the true born King or people like her husband who were sworn to Rhaenyra as the King commanded. She honestly didn’t care who ran the realm, all Y/n cared about was her small life, her duties, and her children (of which her husband didn’t seem to care to give her). He was too busy with his whores to give her a child.

She found herself a book that interested her, it was a book on High Valyrian which she had always wanted to learn. She had been teaching herself for only about 20 minutes before she heard a throat clear and she jumped up in fear, the book landing on the floor as her eyes met with one purple one staring back at her.

‘My Prince! I am so sorry! I did not know anyone would be here while the celebration went on…’

He stared at her for a moment before responding. ‘No reason to apologize, I understand more than anyone not wanting to celebrate with drunken strangers.’

‘Thank you for your hospitality…I will leave you be then-‘

‘No!’ He insisted, startling her a bit. ‘I’m sorry, I mean no, you don’t need to leave. Please, sit.’ He moved to take the seat beside her, picking up her book and looking at it before smiling. ‘Teaching yourself High Valyrian? Impressive…I am Aemond by the way, might I know my beautiful company’s name?’

‘Y/n Baratheon, my Prince. It is an honor.’

The two of them spent the next 3 hours by the fire in the Library just talking. They got to know each other very well and Aemond even gave her her first lesson in High Valyrian which he admitted she was a quick study at. It wasn’t until Aemond asked about her family that any of their conversation became uncomfortable.

‘You’re married to the eldest Baratheon son, are you not? I knew he had a wife but I did not know he had brought her with him while he-’ Aemond stopped himself as if he was unsure if she knew what her husband was up to.

‘I am aware of his indiscretions. It is how he has always been, nothing to concern yourself with my Prince.’ Aemond’s face was stoic as always but she sensed sympathy like she got from most other people. ‘He never wanted to marry me, his father wanted my name and the alliance of certain supporters. He had hoped marrying me to his son would stop his…activities and make him happy to have a family…he has no interest in such things however and I am left 6 months after our marriage unloved and childless…I’m sorry…you don’t care about that.’ She laughed though Aemond could tell it was hollow.

‘Your husband is an idiot if he does not want you my lady. I have known you for mere hours and I know that you are a smart, kind hearted girl without a judgmental bone in your body. You would be a good mother, of that I am sure.’ Aemond had no clue where that came from. Seeing this girl all alone and feeling unloved was breaking his heart…what is she doing to him?

‘Thank you my Prince, you are too kind.’

Y/n retired not long after, in bed hours before her husband joined her, collapsing into the bed in his clothes and for once she did not move to take care of him, Y/n left him in his clothes and on his chest in the bed.

Her days went on like that for most of the week. She would have breakfast and enjoy a walk in the gardens before finding her way to the library again and spending the rest of the entire day with Aemond. They both made an appearance at the party every night as was expected before abandoning the noisy, drunken mess and enjoying each others company again.

Aemond continued teaching her Valyrian and they could hold conversations now (albeit simple ones) as she was a fast learner. He also told her all about Vhagar, loving her interest in his dragon where most ladies were terrified.

She had raged when he told her of how he really lost his eye, furious that his nephew would do such a thing, all of them. She also condemned the ladies in the court who had made Aemond feel ugly just because of his injured eye. She swore to the heavens that he was one of if not the most beautiful man she had ever seen and she would not take his negative words into account.

Aemond had quickly come to love Y/n and she loved him as well, they both knew but neither of them crossed the line to say it. Though as her husband had never consummated their marriage Aemond had decided that he was going to ask his father to annul the marriage so that he could marry her instead. It would be a good match for his family, Y/n originally being an Arryn, and he knew that her father would take insult from the Baratheons for not taking care of his daughter or making their marriage legal. He was determined to convince her that night, the second to last day of the celebration, however his soon to be Princess never arrived.

Aemond waited for over an hour before searching the party. He found her husband, nearly as drunk as Aegon and with his tongue down a ladies throat but Y/n was not there.

He then left the castle and walked the gardens in search of her as he knew she enjoyed the Red Keeps gardens. After about 5 minutes he found her sitting on a wall overlooking the beach.

‘You are difficult to find, my dear.’ She jumped, turning slightly but not looking at him, turning back to the view.

‘I am sorry my Prince. I have enjoyed our time together but it must come to an end, please forgive me but I wish to be left alone now.’ He was stunned, unsure of how to respond but knowing that he wasn’t about to leave her like this.

‘Whatever I have done, please forgive me Byka Zokla? I do not-‘ (Little Wolf)

‘You have done nothing my Prince! It is I who is in the wrong. I have led you to believe that we could be friends and that was wrong of me. My job is to be there for my husband and I have not been doing my duty-‘

‘Your duty? What about him? He has not taken care of you as is his job as your husband and protector! You’re not waiting on him hand and foot anymore so he is upset, yes? Please? Do not push me away Y/n, I can help you to-‘ he cut himself off as he turned her head to make her look at him and he finally saw what she was hiding from him. Her right eye was black and blue, her bottom lip was split in 2 places and her throat was bruised, clearly in the shape of hands. ‘Oh my Love! No! This will not stand! Come with me.’ He insisted, holding out his hand. She hesitated but he looked down at her softly, giving her time to decide. ‘Trust me?’ After another few seconds Y/n took his hand and allowed him to whisk her off and they arrived in the Small Councils meeting room where the Queen walked in not a moment later having been fetched by a guard for her son.

‘Aemond…what is the meaning of this?!’ Alicent snapped, storming over to the girl and seemingly thinking that her son had done it but she changed her tune when the girl flinched away and hid behind him instead.

‘Mother. This is the girl I spoke to you about, her husband has proved…ungallant. I wish to take her as my bride.’ Alicent was looking over his ladies face when she fully understood what he had said and jerked her head up.

‘My son, she is married already. You cannot just take another man’s wife, even as a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. You-‘

‘Their marriage has not been consummated.’ She stopped speaking and looked between them in shock.

‘Well…that changes things…she will need to testify it to the King and he will need to annul the marriage before anything else can happen. It will take time. I will speak to the Hand and start the process for it, we will find a room for her here to keep her safe from now on.’ Alicent turned to Y/n and held out her hand. ‘Come, let’s get you out of those dirty, bloody clothes and put you to bed.’

‘I will come and say “Goodnight” in a bit. You have a bath and relax…I will take care of you, I promise.’ Aemond swore, kissing her hand and watching her blush before she walked off with his mother.

Aemond straightened himself as she left the room and turned to head back to the party where he almost immediately found the man he was looking for.

Y/n’s husband was holding a full goblet of wine with his arm around a ladies waist looking quite content. Aemond moved beside him to grab himself a cup of wine, purposefully causing the idiot to bump into him.

‘Fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.’ He laughed obnoxiously and Aemond found himself wondering how Y/n ever stood being around him at all.

‘Evidently.’ He rolled his eyes and could instantly see that this man didn’t appreciate the action.

‘You may be a Prince but you’re still only a second son, and no where close to Daddies favorite. Watch yourself. I am the head of Storm’s End and soon enough the Vale, you are nothing and even less than that without your Dragon behind you.’ The man was clearly drunk as fuck but Aemond was happy with that. It would make this easier…

Aemond smirked as he leaned in close, the young Tully girl that he had had on his arm long gone, not willing to upset a Prince, let alone the one eyed prince himself. ‘I fucked your wife.’ He mumbled, close enough that only he could hear and he absolutely did.

‘What the fuck did you say?’ He snarled, eyes nearly catching fire in his instant rage but Aemond stayed calm. He needed to control himself for this to work.

‘I fucked…your wife…Gods knows you weren’t doing it. Such a lonely girl, desperate for a man’s affection and all she was given was an insolent child. It’s pathetic. Don’t worry though, soon enough she will be raising my son and she won’t be worried about you anymore.’ The boy was practically shaking in his rage, fists clenched and men were beginning to take notice, several of the women moving to alert the guards so Aemond would need to do this quickly. ‘Give it 9 months and everyone will know exactly who your wife strayed from you with, the silver haired boy suckling on her tits will be evidence enough. I’m sure with enough words to the King I can ensure my son will inherit all of your lands when you die. Too bad you weren’t man enough to impregnate her yourself or y-‘ He was finally cut off by a truly pathetic punch to his face but he played into it, falling dramatically to the ground and biting his tongue, spitting blood out to make it seem worse than it had been.

He was grabbed instantly and held back from coming at Aemond again who smirked up at him, the boy only seeming to now realize what had happened. ‘Chain this drunken fool and take him to the Black Cells for-‘

‘No!’ Aemond snapped, cutting off his Grandsire. ‘It was me that he assaulted and as a Prince of the realm it is my decision what happens to him.’ He declared and though Otto looked at him strangely he nodded nonetheless. He reached out, grabbing the collar of the drunk and yanked him forward, dragging him from the party and outside through the front gate.

‘Aemond-‘

‘He dies tonight, would you like to argue?’ The one eyed Prince hissed at his Grandsire who knew not to argue with him in this state.

Vhagar peeked her eyes open at the sound of men approaching her beach, seeing her rider dragging along a man that was trying very hard to get away or hurt him making her bare her teeth and hiss instantly.

‘Dokimarvos Vhagar! Umbās!’ He spoke to her and she sat her head up and waited for her rider to speak. *Pay Attention Vhagar! Wait!*

‘This is a message to anyone that thinks to defy me or Gods forbid, harm the people I care about. I am not merciful, you can find mercy with my family but not here. Anyone who wants to disagree with this will not end up in the Black cells, but with my Dragon as their punishment!’ Aemond ignored Otto who was trying to stop his rushed decision. ‘Dohaerās Vhagar! Kisās!’ *Obey Vhagar! Eat!*

Everyone watched on as the giant she-dragon lifted her head over the abusive asshole and opened her mouth wide before chomping down on the man and seeming to swallow him whole which had several people screaming and one man actually fainting.

Aemond was proud of himself, he had saved his girl and it barely took an hour.

He quickly made his way back into the Red Keep and up to the room that he knew his mother had put his soon-to-be wife in. As he entered, knocking softly as to not frighten her, he saw her in a sleep shift and he couldn’t help but stare. His girl was beautiful and she was going to be all his now.

‘Did you have a nice bath?’ He asked, moving to pull the blankets back for her and enjoying her soft blush as she crawled into the bed.

‘It was very relaxing. I’ve never had servants to wash me like that before.’ She teased, though Aemond was surprised by that.

‘You are a lady, are you not? How-‘

‘My mother took care of us as children and when we grew she insisted that we were able to bathe ourselves. My husband however, did not want anyone seeing me in a state of undress…it was strange but nice I suppose. A lady could get used to such treatment.’ Her soft laugh was everything Aemond loved as he reached out and cupped the side of her face.

‘You will get used to it. You are to be my wife, and my wife will have the best of everything. I will bathe you myself if it brings you happiness.’ He teased her, kissing the side of her head before standing again. ‘Get some sleep my lady, no one will bother you, you have my word-‘

‘Will you stay?’ She asked and though he was startled he did not let it show, knowing she was still probably feeling afraid after all that had happened, especially now that she’s in a strange place that she’s sure to never leave again. She would need to get used to being his and knowing that she is completely safe here, she would learn to trust what he said when he told her that he would never let anyone harm her again-let alone another husband. Aemond removed his shoes and coat, as well as his weapons before crawling onto the other side and feeling her head rest on his shoulder. He was careful not to touch any of her injuries as he let her drift off to sleep. He knew his mother would be upset at his sleeping here but he didn’t care. Y/n would be his wife by the weeks end and he would give her everything that bitch of a “husband” could not.

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

[moonstruckme]

hi! I loved your fic with reader and sirius in a situationship and he comes over for a hookup and reader is super stressed and he helps. Can you please do another one with that dynamic? Maybe angst where they’re hanging out at a party and Sirius is all over reader but then says they’re just friends? Possibly smut ensues 👀

I love reading you work!!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: smut mdni, p in v, semi-public sex, hurt no comfort

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Shh.” Sirius nips at your earlobe, eliciting another half-suppressed mewl from you as he presses you into the wall next to James’ shower. “You want everyone here to know what’s going on? James’ll have a field day.” 

“He’s already gonna know if I walk out all marked up.” 

“S’not my fault, is it?” he hisses, fingertips digging into your ass as his teeth scrape across your pulse point. “Why’d you have to wear this fucking dress, huh?” 

 “No idea what you’re talking about,” you pant, but you’re laughing, tits bouncing almost completely out of the tight bodice as he thrusts into you, the lace lining barely covering your peaked nipples. Sirius’ eyes had gone nearly all black when he’d seen it in your closet. Dollface, when did you get this pretty little thing? You’ve been waiting for the opportunity to undo him with it ever since. 

Part of you wonders if he’d had a similar plan tonight. Sirius is wearing—or, well, he had been wearing—the black jeans you’d helped him thrift last weekend, slung low over his hips and paired with a tank top that shows ample expanses of his inked-up torso and arms. He’d watched as you drank the outfit in, and the pretense of socializing at James’ party hadn’t lasted long before he’d drug you into the bathroom by your elbow. 

Sirius shifts, pushing you harder against the wall as he takes your weight with one hand, freeing the other to paw at your boob. It plops readily out of its confines and into his palm. You moan as his thumb brushes your nipple, ducking your head to smother the sound against his shoulder. 

You start kissing the tattoo there a second before he finds the spot he’s been searching for inside you and your head lolls back. Your hands spread over his shoulders to ensure you don’t topple over, lightheaded and cock-addled. 

“Easy, pretty girl.” Sirius’ tone is smug, his hands coming back to your ass as he hits that spot over and over again. He presses his lips to yours sweetly, swallowing your sounds. “I know you didn’t have that much to drink, try to stay upright for me.” 

Pathetically, it warms your heart to think that he’d been keeping an eye on you. You use what leverage you have against the wall to grind your hips into him. Sirius groans, pounding into you so hard you think you must ascend, your vision all starry and wild as pleasure shoots out from your core, tingling all the way to your fingertips. 

Distantly, you’re aware of Sirius covering your mouth with his again, thrusting into you a few more times before he comes too and bites down on your bottom lip as his grip tightens on you. Your chest hurts. You feel almost like you could cry, which is new. You both stay there for a minute, him relaxing his hold on your ass until it’s a bit kinder and you idly pulling a strand of his hair through your fingers, until Sirius breaks the kiss. His eyes meet yours, the color of heavy clouds, and you have the sense that he’s peeling you like a tangerine. Seeing down to your hidden, squishy bits. 

“You alright?” he asks you. 

You swallow. “Yeah,” you say, pleased to find that your voice holds no trace of the emotion spreading like a blight behind your sternum. “You?” 

Sirius’ lips tilt. “I’m fantastic, dollface.” 

He adjusts his grip on you, letting you get your legs underneath you before lowering you to the floor. Your panties bunch around one shoe, getting slick on your ankle. 

“Ugh,” you sigh, sitting down on the lip of the tub while Sirius takes his condom off. “Can you pass me some toilet paper? I can’t put these back on like this.” 

“Just throw them out.” 

“I can’t, I really like these.” You start to reach for the toilet paper on your own and Sirius finally obliges, passing you a wad. “Thanks.”

He tugs his jeans back up, buttoning them before leaning on the wall to watch you. You keep your focus on your task and not on ogling how his biceps bulge when he crosses his arms like that. “I can just get you another pair,” he says. 

“You don’t need to do that.” 

“Oh, come on.” His tone takes on a familiar quality. You look up, and sure enough, he’s smirking down at you. The expression does things to your stomach you can never let him find out about. “I’m the one who ruined ��em in the first place, aren’t I? Let me make it up to you.”

You would say it’s been sufficiently made up, but you only shake your head, folding the toilet paper over to a dry part. “I’m not throwing them out. I just need a minute, then I can put them back on.” 

“Suit yourself, darling.” Something in you flutters at the pet name, but then Sirius pushes off the wall. “I’m gonna head out, get back out there so nobody sees us leave together.” 

You keep your gaze downward. “Good idea.” 

You notice him flash you a smile in your periphery. Even without really seeing it, you can guess what it looks like: flirty, impersonal. “See you out there.” 

He opens the door, and you see only a flash of light brown hair before he’s slipping out and shutting it behind him, shielding you from view. 

“Hello,” Remus’ voice says slowly. He must’ve just been passing by, but if the extended occupation of the bathroom hadn’t caught his attention, Sirius’ hasty exit certainly has. “Don’t suppose I need to ask where you’ve been.” 

“That,” you hear Sirius say in his jovial way, “would be terribly nosy, Moony. Unlike you.” 

You creep closer to the door, pressing your ear to the crack in time to hear Remus’ amused hum. “Don’t suppose I need to ask if you know where y/n is either, do I? Mary’s been looking for her.” 

“I’m sure she’ll turn up shortly,” Sirius replies. 

There’s a short period of silence wherein you wonder if they’ve walked away, but then Remus says quietly, “I hope you’re being careful.” 

Sirius laughs, the sound derisive. “Thank you for your concern, but you’ll find a condom in James’ bathroom trash if you’re worried enough to go looking.” 

“Not what I meant. She’s a sweet girl, Sirius. Don’t fuck her about.” 

You can practically hear the lewd joke forming on Sirius’ tongue, but his voice lowers, unexpectedly sober. “I’m not,” he says. You stop breathing. “She’s under no false impressions, alright? We both talked about what this was before we started, and she doesn’t want a relationship any more than I do.” 

Remus’ sigh is long-suffering. “Sure.” 

“Honest, Moons. We’re just friends.” 

Your heart—your stupid, mutinous heart—shrinks and withers like a balloon without air. You move away from the door as quietly as you can, sitting again on the cold lip of James’ tub. Sirius says something about taking charge of the music selection, and you breathe carefully as he and Remus go off. You’re furious with yourself, humiliated for feeling so dejected. Sirius is right; you had been clear about what you wanted when you first started this thing. Boundaries had been laid down. Just because your feelings have changed, that doesn’t mean his have. It was unfair of you to look for more from him. 

Your underwear are a lost cause. You bury them underneath more toilet paper in James’ bin, hiding the condom while you’re at it. You’ll get yourself new ones without telling Sirius. What you do shouldn’t be his problem anyway.

[rainerioun]

𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤 𝖶𝖨𝖫𝖫 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖡𝖤 𝖨𝖭 2 𝖸𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖲? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hello! I know this is a shorter post, but I wanted to share something. This was requested anonymously, so thank you for the suggestion! ♥

ORIGINAL DATE POSTED : JUNE 16TH, 2024.

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST. | KO-FI.

PILE ONE

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? The Empress [Reversed], The Chariot, Knight of Wands [Reversed].

In two years, you're definitely the one in control. If you're facing any hurdles, especially with dreams left unattended or ideas just lingering without action, that fades away over time. You might still encounter creative blocks and timing issues, but you'll handle them much more effectively, learning self-control and taking decisive action. You'll realize that your accomplishments don't solely define you; they're just an added bonus. You should know to slow down, it will grant you a clearer perspective to seeking security.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Networker — Light : Enhances unity through sharing of information. Engenders social awareness and empathy. Shadow : Conveys information only for person gain. Spreads fear and falsehood.  The Merchant : Self-worth, Trade. 

You could find yourself in a more social setting or perhaps in a higher position in your career, whether it's the same job or a new one. You're confident but not cocky, aware of your self-worth, and others notice this too. In some way, you seem to be a messenger, spreading kindness. This doesn't have to be taken literally; it could relate to anything. Whatever came to mind when you read that might be it.

PILE TWO

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? Ten of Pentacles, Knight of Swords, The Tower.

If you're starting something you've been wanting to begin or have been thinking about it, know now is the right time to do it. The next two years will be intense and different from what you're used to, but you can handle it. All your hard work will definitely pay off. In two years, you'll achieve what you wanted—be it wealth, security, or some kind of success. This will finally become permanent. However, expect significant changes, some of which you may not like at first. Any upheaval or chaos is just a way to build an even stronger foundation. For those considering starting a family, think about your circumstances carefully. Don't rush. This aspect will bloom within the coming years.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Queen — Light : Radiates the regal feminine. Uses her benevolent authority to protect others. Shadow : Becomes arrogant when authority is challenged. Controlling and demanding.  The Adventurer : Responsibility, Expectations.

Again, for those considering starting a family—if not, feel free to skip this part—you'll find yourself strongly in the parental role. This doesn't necessarily mean with a human child; just know you'll feel content. Some of you might be stressing over the mere thought, but rest assured, it'll bring fulfillment. As for the rest of you, you'll develop a stronger sense of responsibility. However, this doesn't mean you can't explore. The next few years are about stabilizing, rebuilding what's been lost, but in two years, you'll regain your 'freedom' once more. You are always the one in control, don't get lost in a little box.

PILE THREE

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? King of Swords, Seven of Cups, Four of Wands.

Pile three, you'll find yourself in a place of mental and physical clarity. It's a very calm and peaceful state. You're enjoying life, with a sense of harmony and relaxation. Home feels like a welcoming place. You deserve this, so keep following your instincts. There are many paths and decisions ahead, but there's no wrong choice. You get to decide for yourself. Whatever starts now will lead to peace in the future. While life won't be stress-free, you'll accept the struggles, not rushing to figure everything out immediately.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Hermit — Light : Seeks Solitude to focus intently on inner life. Serves personal creativity. Shadow : Withdraws from society out of fear or negative judgements of others. Refusing to help those in need.  The Vengeance : Overcoming Slights, A Choice. 

In two years, I envision you embracing the homebody life, in your own zone. It's all about you and your close circle. You'll find contentment in solitude, focusing on the little things with acceptance—chores, hobbies, and everyday routines. When I think of this scenario, I see someone sitting in a chair, leisurely watching their pet play without a worry in the world. It's a heartwarming scene; some of you might even welcome a new pet into your life. In two years, it's a time for retreat, and if you believe you can get there, you will.

[anisangeldust]

Alter is my hips 𝜗𝜚⋆

Summary: After finally getting the meal he deserves, Panems president finds himself with an opportunity from a mistake.

Part: ← iii →

Warnings: coercion/dub-con, oral (f and m), smut, p in v, unprotected sex, Snows interesting internal monologue, dumbification, spanking, fingering, hair pulling, back scratching (all that good shit), misogyny, premeditated murderous intentions, domestic violence/abuse, slapping, punching, mentions of bruising, mentions of blood, mentions of broken bones.

A/N: DDDNE, please don’t read if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable. Your internet consumption is not my responsibility.

When Coriolanus pulled away from your lips they were red and swollen, his eyes glazed with a dangerous mixture of lust and greed. He had kissed you, you had let him kiss you. This changed everything, because now he was aware that you wanted him too. The air in his office now felt thick, your dress was all that much tighter, your lips that much more plump. You were a tease, put on the earth to test his patience - a test he failed. Without another word he scooped you up and set you down on his desk, his grip on your waist was tight, and his gaze was predatory.

“So fucking beautiful, so pretty” The young president grumbled as he captured your lips again. Coriolanus’ hands traveled down and under your skirt. He hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties and tugged them down “hips up” he commanded as he pulled them down your legs. He broke the kiss and looked down, smirking at the obvious damp mark in your panties “oh pretty baby, so needy” he cooed and brought your panties up to his nose. The smell of your arousal almost made him cum, he’d done that, fuck he made you wet, Coriolanus balled up the fabric and shoved it in his pocket before gently pushing you onto your back and hiking up your little maid uniform.

“What.. what are you doing Coriolanus?” Your tone was almost cute, so endearing, so innocent

Young Snow looked at you like you were his death row meal. “What I should’ve done weeks ago” he growled and leaned over you “and if you don’t like it-“ he started kissing up your thighs “-you can get the fuck out of my office.” His icy blues were blown black as he met your gaze. A beat of silence went by, which he took as consent. “Oh you do want it? I should’ve known, such a patriotic whore.” He teased and kissed all around your aching pussy “so beautiful, all for me my precious dove..” he murmured as he used two fingers to spread open your folds.

The sight in front of him was almost too arousing for his already too-tight pants and rock hard length. Strings of your arousal all so pretty and ready for him to use, your swollen clit that peaked out from your pink folds, such a beautiful cunt he was about to savor. Coriolanus licked a fat stripe up from the bottom to the top of your slit, gently placing teasing kisses on your sensitive bud. One of his large fingers teased your entrance as he applied kitten licks to your clit.

“Coriolanus — oh! Mm.. oh my gods oh!” His ears soaked in the sounds of your moans, each shaky breath, every gasp and groan, all of it because of him. He used his free hand to explore up and down your bottom half, the other was prodding your desperate whole, eventually pushing in while he simultaneously sucked on your little pink bundle of nerves.

Coriolanus would never get over your taste, you were oh so sweet, a nectar of the highest quality, he thanked whatever god there was for the privilege to savor you. Every swipe of his muscle made you sticky and beautiful, as your cunt became deliciously glossy he become more insatiable. He lifted his head periodically, only to coo or groan. “Fuck me baby, taste so fucking good — feels good doesn’t it my little dove? Yes it does” he murmured as we dropped his head back down.

“Gods! Oh I’m gonna come Coriolanus!” You cried out, back arching off the sleek mahogany of his desk, nails hooked around the edge and head thrown back. This was ecstasy you could only dream of, no past boyfriend or stupid hookup could compete with the skilled tongue of Panems’ president. His fingers thrusted in and out of you, first one, then two, then three of his large and veiny fingers stretching out your little pussy and curling to hit that sponges spot inside you so deliciously.

The corners of his mouth curled up in a beautiful smirk. “C’mon, come for me, show me how much you love your president—mmmhh, patriotic slut, have you no shame? Having your pussy stretched on the presidents desk. Tsk tsk tsk” he half teased, half degraded. He slurped and sucked like you were an oasis in a desert, the words of degradation hit your ears like a pornographic tsunami, they snapped the tight coil in your abdomen, almost involuntarily making you buck your hips as you rode out your orgasm.

Coriolanus helped you through your intense pleasure, gently pulling his fingers out of your hole and using the three of them to rub soft circles against your clit. When your body had calmed, he took his fingers and gently sucked the cum off of them, groaning at the delicious taste of your release. “So sweet baby, so good” he praises and gently cupped your face in one of his hands. “But I haven’t had my fill yet..” he grumbles as he kissed and sucked on your hip bone, using both his hands to hold your thighs.

Making his way down to your sensitive cunt, he licked and kissed your throbbing clit. You whined something about being sensitive and while trying to push his head away, an action that pissed him off. He rose and caged you under him on his desk. “I decide when you’re done, I decide when you’ve come enough, and if you try to keep what’s mine away from me I’ll turn you over my lap and spank you raw.” He growled, eyes dark.

You should’ve been terrified, you should’ve got up and ran, yet something about his controlling made you even more wet. With a nod and a quiet “yes sir..” you submitted to his will. You couldn’t help but crave the danger, a fly willingly landing on a spiders web, a lamb lying on their back for a wolf. He eagerly started on your sensitive and wet pussy, drinking up every drop of you. The tenderness of your last orgasm made your next one wash over quickly, and despite your almost painful bouts of labored breaths, he didn’t stop. Coriolanus didn’t stop until it was unclear whether the thick sheen coating your thighs was your come or his spit, he didn’t stop until you were spasming in your hips and felt like your legs would fall off.

Coriolanus lifted his head once more, viscous drops that fell from his chin and a string of saliva connected to your cunt. He placed one last kiss on your puffy clit before using two fingers to scoop the wet mixture off his face. The young president then used his free arm to lift you back to a sitting position on his desk. The sight of your fucked out face with puffy lips and glossy eyes was indescribably satisfying.

He pushed his clean hand to play with your bottom lip. “Did that feel good dove? That was your treat for all your hard work, for being one of the few women I can tolerate” he cooed, almost mockingly. A small nod from you made him smile, you were so easy to please weren’t you? “On your knees now baby, I’m no where near done with you.” He urged gently. Coriolanus then carefully used his arm to help you on your knees, once again using his clean hand to tilt up your chin as he sat down in his chair, peering down at you. “Open your mouth.” He gently commanded again and he placed his slimy fingers on your tongue.

You eagerly sucked his fingers, letting out a said “mmm..” and swirling them around with your tongue, savoring the taste like it was the best lollipop on the market. Coriolanus groaned and held the back of your head with his other hand, raking your fingers through your soft hair. He let his fingers out with a *pop* and licked his lips. Such a good girl you were, following his rules so obediently, so pretty and perfect for him.

“Alright sweet girl, ready for my cock?” He cooed and tangled his hands in your hair, gently forcing you down onto his leaking shaft. You took it upon yourself to lick up the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, one hand gently fondling his balls and the other wrapped around the base. Coriolanus could have came on the spot from how good it felt to finally have someone who knew how to properly please a man, a woman who knew her place. As you took as much of him as you could, he started to really take control, giving you a few moments to adjust before he started to fuck your face. What a gentleman!

“Been dreaming about fucking those lips, you’ve got a throat made for bruising” he huffed, head thrown back and hand moving while he used you like a fleshlight. The sounds of you choking on him made him feel powerful, and the tears that pricked your big eyes aroused him impossibly more. The feeling of his fat tip bullying your throat should’ve raised red flags, but every choke, every gag, you felt yourself fallen deeper and deeper into his palm. The soft grunts of “fuck.. so.. good- ah; good fucking girl-“ drove you do take him deeper, faster, be better than Livia, though that was easy.

There was something so indescribably cathartic about coming down your throat he decided, sure he’d fucked his fist, came in an old rag, even fucked another woman all in attempt to relieve the ache that sat in his heavy dick. Finally having the real thing? Nothing compared, and nothing would compare to when he’d finally be all in the deep, wet, warm pussy. “Swallow it all baby, wouldn’t want it to go to waste now would you?” He teased and wiped up a bit of the salty dribble from the side of your mouth, forcing his tongue on your mouth and making sure you swallowed all of his cum.

Part of him, a deep, closed off part of Coriolanus almost felt guilty. You deserved soft and gentle, In a bed, as his fiancée, not as the other woman.. no, Livia was the other woman, every touch, every kiss, every look he shared with her felt like he was cheating on you, how was he supposed to touch the wretched woman after this? How are you supposed to go back to rotten fruit after being given nectar from the heavens? The more he looked down at your gorgeous face, the longer something unfriendly tugged at his chest. Love? No, he didn’t love you. He swore he’d never love another, love was a weakness. He did care about you, yes, he cared. He cared about you more than he’d ever cared about Livia, he looked forward to seeing you, you deserved to be Mrs Snow.

In a moment of weakness perhaps, Coriolanus gently lifted you up into his arms bridal style, laying you down on an adjoining sofa with a warm, crackling fire. “So beautiful..” he whispered in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, looking at you like some sort of irreparable treasure. Coriolanus sat down and started to slide his hands up your thighs, taking you by the waist so you were straddling him as he sat. “You’re gonna take me..” he started “and you’re gonna like it okay? I’ll stuff you full of my cum and then you’ll have to keep doing your job little dove” he mumbled as he slid down and gently nipped at your throat. “Words baby, I need words.” He softly commanded.

“Yes sir.. yes” you nodded shakily, your own cum still dripping down your thighs and now ruining the Presidents dress pants. You let out a soft groan as he bit and nipped at your jugular, tasting the saltiness of your delicate skin.

A satisfied smile crosses Coriolanus’ lips. “Such a good girl, I’ll make sure you get rewards for how well you listen to me.” He chuckled and gestured for you to kneel up “gonna help you ride me, don’t forget who’s in charge my little dove.” He drawled, voice laced with warning. As Coriolanus aligned his newly hard cock with your still dripping fold, he mentally shuddered. As you lowered down and the tip slid in, he growled with desire. Every inch more you took of his thick shaft was another piece of his resistance being chipped away. He fully growled out when you bottomed out, the little yelp sound was enough for him to finish right then and there. Coriolanus really had every intention of being soft, but a predator is still a predator. And what kind of lion would he be if he refused the soft underbelly of such a willing lamb? With little (no) warning, he snapped his hips up and started to fuck you hard.

“Oh! Ah! Too much! Coryo.. it’s—!” You yelped and he snickered under his breath. It would’ve taken a tranquilizer dart and a barrack of peacekeepers to pull him out of you, your warm, wet cunt. His cock buried in you was the solution to all the problems he could think of as of that very moment. Coriolanus had really never felt more peace than when he was guiding your body on and off his cock. If lust was truly a deadly sin then send him to the 2nd circle of hell, if there was a heaven then it paled in comparison to you. And if all else; this was the moment that he decided that you would take Livias place, even if it meant bloodshed.

The wet squelches and loud moans merged together in a symphony of desperate pleasure. Coriolanus shut you up with a sloppy, albeit slightly romantic, kiss full of tongues and teeth. Your nails raked down his back, so hard that if he wasn’t wearing a shirt it would’ve drawn blood, and his hands had your waist in a rib-crushing hold. His long shaft and pillowy tip hit that spongy spot inside you so deliciously, eliciting a harmony of moans from both of you. Your bodies fit together perfectly, though the scene was less romance and more sexual desperation, built up desire from over a month of unresolved sexual tension that finally got let go.

The pleasure was so good that you devolved into a thoughtless puddle of a woman, jaw hung open and head thrown back, only soft whimpers escaped your throat as you reached your climax. Coriolanus was grunting and groaning like an animal in heat. He would never get tired of this pussy, so wet and tight, all for him. Coriolanus’ climax came too soon, he wanted to spend eternity buried in your cunt, but he couldn’t deny how badly he needed to paint your insides with his seed. Deep moans turned into soft pants as Coriolanus drew closer “gonna fill you up you slut, you beautiful, sweet little slut.. gonna make you mine— have you dripping..” he croaked and landed a harsh spank to your butt, the action making you cum and squeeze around him. Feeling you grip him was what made the blonde lose it, bucking his hips as he shit ropes of his pearly cum into your eager cunt, making sure to ride out until he was satisfied.

Coriolanus felt your head on his shoulder as you both cooled down, labored breaths and the smell of sex filling the confines of his office. As much as he hated to let you go; any onlookers to this scene would mean bad press, so he gently laid you down on the couch and kissed the side of your lips. A small grumble leafy his chest as he murmured “you have to go back to work dove, and so do I..” he whispered.

“Then I’ll need my underwear back..” you mumbled and he almost growled. There was absolutely no way in any dimension that he’d give you back a pair of your soiled panties, not when they smelled so delicious. The president sighed and looked over you “I’ll go get some from Livia, don’t move from here.” He commanded while getting up and shoving his softening dick back into his boxers and, now ruined, dress pants. Coriolanus walked into his room and then closet, getting a new pair of pants and stealing a pair of Livias panties. He quickly changed and went back down to his office.

Like the good girl you were, you hadn’t moved a bit. Young Snow smiled and walked over to you, “such a good girl, didn’t love a muscle. Hips up” he commanded and slid the panties on, making sure to keep as much of his cum as possible inside your pussy. “So good, now give me a kiss and get back to work.” The words were both soft and authoritative, as you got up and stretched your muscles, he delivered a hard smack to your ass and chuckled “so good, always so good for me.”

——

As always, Coriolanus watched out his big window as you spent your lunch break in the presidential gardens. He leaned forward with brows furrowed as he watched you whiny pick up an animal by a patch of berries, he could tell by the saddened expression that crossed your face that the animal was dead. It looked to be a little white rabbit, feeding off what looked like the gardens blueberry plant. Coriolanus chuckled gently to himself, of course you’d be compassionate enough to care for an animal that served you no purpose. The young president knew that you’d run in after your lunch break and tell him how the bunny died, you always had a knack for telling him all about your day, no detail too minuet.

Just as anticipated, when you walked in with his tray of afternoon tea, you started immediately with the story. “I found a dead bunny in the gardens at lunch. Poor thing.” You shook your head solemnly while fixing up his tea “the gardener thinks it’s the berries. He grew a patch of nightshade berries and I think he accidentally planted poison nightshade instead.” Your story made him almost smile, it was very plausible, though he made a mental note to talk to the gardener to see if it was truly an accident. “And then..” you continued, setting the tea on a saucer and handing it to him “I found flowering hemlock weeds in the bed of the berries. He swore he weeded it all out last fall but he probably left some roots. So we’re both pretty sure they grew into each other and made some super poisonous deadly nightshade hemlock berries.” You rambled on.

“Super poisonous deadly nightshade hemlock berries? Well I’m glad you two caught it before we picked them. My smart little dove” He chuckled while sipping his tea “come, sit on my lap.” He patted his thigh and you complied, sitting down in his leg so he could wrap an arm around you. His large hand played with your hair absentmindedly. “I’m sure we’ll find some use for them, like a repellent to get rid of unwanted animals and keep them away from the garden plants..” he murmured. Something about that statement flickered a light in his mind. Keep away unwanted animals? Super poisonous and unassuming berries? This was perfect, almost too perfect. He looked down at you and was clearly lost in thought “What were you saying a few days ago about that flower? Baby’s breath?” He murmured at you.

“Gypsophila? It’s toxic and sometimes lethal for consumption?” You murmured back and leaned into him petting your hair “kinda reminds me of these weird hybrid berries” your smile was so cute, so innocent. How adorable. “Why do you ask?” You mumble as your face gently rests in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

What was he supposed to say to that? ‘Oh to kill my fiancée so I can marry you instead’? Though he was sure you reciprocated his feeling of lust and care, you had to. And what woman would say no to being his wife? He softly cupped your chin and kissed you softly “I refuse to spend the rest of my life with Livia.” He simply drawled between your lips. The words hung heavy with implication, he’s going to kill Livia. Coriolanus’ hand slipped down and patted your still cum filled pussy, reminding you of the days earlier activities. “I never intended for our rendezvous to be a one time thing. I don’t think you understand how deeply you’ve sunk your claws into me, my little dove. You’re mine now, but for that to happen I have to get rid of Livia.” He grumbled against your lips, looking down at you with both need and care.

Your eyes widened at his words, head lifting up to so you can look him in the face. “So.. wait. You- want.. me? To take her place? As your Fiancée?” You mumble, uncertainty painting your words. A small shiver ran down your spine, were you dreaming? This was a scenario you hadn’t dared to even humor, you could live with being his mistress, but wife? Your mouth hung open with shock.

“Yes. I do. You deserve the life of luxury she takes for granted. You’re a worker, and I care for you more than I’ve ever cared about her.” He said smoothly, hand starting to rub over your clothed cunt. “I can’t just break up with her, she’d spread some bullshit rumor about me. She has to go, and when she does I’ll make you the First Lady that Panem deserves.” His words were smooth and clear. Coriolanus’ middle and ring finger ghosted softly over your clothed pussy, making sure to get you wet and squirming again “I’d advise keeping this between us. I’d hate for you to meet the same fate I have planned for her.” He threatens as I kisses you softly, a walking contradiction with the voice of a siren. “Now get up, finish your work for the day and tell Marcus to pick the nightshade hemlock berries. Grab some hemlock flowers and babies breath too, tea and pastries with jam always pair nicely.” He leans back and continues on his work.

There was maybe 10 minutes of peace (impressive for the state of tension in the mansion) before the sound of broken glass and the screams he could only deduce were from Livia. A few quick strides and Coriolanus was met with one of his many hosting rooms, a bar area complete with his betrothed sobbing and screaming while you were sweeping up a broken champagne flute. “She.. she threw it at me! She hates me!” Livia sobbed, though any sane person recognized her crocodile tears. A quick once over confirmed that you were unharmed, which meant that 1. You had thrown the glass at her, which he wouldn’t blame you if you had. Or 2. She threw it at you and missed so she’s blaming you. Coriolanus was very much betting on the latter.

“Yes. I’m sure our presidential palaces maid threw a champagne flute at you for no reason. That sounds like something she’d do” He rolled his eyes “get up off the floor. You’re a grown woman who’s acting like a toddler.” The president scoffs and tilts your chin up to look at him “once you finish cleaning this mess just go home. You deserve it.” He mumbled gently before looking down at Livia and turning on his heel.

“You don’t believe me? Coriolanus! She attacked me!” Livia gets up and pulls at his jacket “please, fire her! She’s been nothing but rude to me since she got here!” She whines and pleads. Quite frankly, Coriolanus had been toeing the edge of insanity because of Livias lies and attitude. In a spur of the moment flash of anger, he grabbed Livia by her shirt collar and backhanded her harshly, his rings leaving an imprint and the mark already red.

“Know your place and shut the fuck up.” Coriolanus growls as he lets go and she drops to the floor, cradling her hurt cheek. He leaves before he can see your wide eyes, or before he can hear her soft cries of pain and confusion.

——

The bullshit started just as Coriolanus set out to go to bed. He shrugged off his jacket and shirt, setting his pin on a little dish and unbuckling his belt. He made sure to hide your used panties in the pocket of a different suit jacket for later, his boxers pooled as his ankles and he slipped on a robe for getting unready. Coriolanus didn’t like to be shirtless in front of his fiancee, he didn’t like having to remember that he was stabbed saving someone who would end up at the noose anyway, too vulnerable, too much. He swears he could hear her wretched voice from across the mansion as she made her presence known “Coriolanus!” She whined as he finished washing his face.

“I’m still not happy with you.” He grumbles and dries off with a towel. “Shes been nothing but kind to you and you’ve been a bitch.” He scoffs out at her pleading puppy eyes. How pathetic was she?

“I know, but I thought I could make up for it..?” She pulled the string of her robe to reveal a lingerie set. Livias eyes, full of lust and want, trailed up and down his body, yet Coriolanus felt nothing but disgust as he looked at his fiancées body. His dick, which was already semi hard the whole day due to your activities, became harder as he remembered how you looked with your uniform hiked up. His erection sat heavily on his thigh, barely visible through his robe.

“Put some clothes on. I don’t want pity sex, or sex at all for that matter.” He grumbled and pushed her out of the way, moving to their closet as he filed through potential sleepwear.

But Livia was dedicated if nothing else, coming up to him and trying to strike a sexy pose against the wall “but I can see that you’re hard, please? Let me make it up to you..” she smiled and tried to reach out and touch his hard cock.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, scoffed, and smacked her hand away. “No. And that’s not because of you. I can’t control my dick 24/7, I’m not sleeping with you. Now get half decent and stop being a pain in my ass.” He scowled, putting on some boxers before shedding his robe.

“This is about her isn’t! She’s poisoning you against me!” Livia pouts out her bottom lip, immediately blaming you for her shortcomings, though she wasn’t completely off. “You don’t understand! When you’re away.. she— well she just hates me!” She starts her crocodile tears again. “And I’m not a pain in the ass! Shes a skank! She’s trying to make herself look good and make me look bad! She’s trying to take you away from me!” Livia cries out, acting like she hadn’t hurt you for no reason on multiple occasions, including multiple bruises and several scars.

Coriolanus was at his breaking point. “Yeah? And you’re just a saint aren’t you? God you’ve been a pain in my ass since this whole proposal deal! She’s just cleaning the manor!” He scathes while shoving Livia against the wall. “You’re trying to frame her, she’s done nothing wrong. Stop being a bitch or I’ll correct your attitude.” He growls and lets go of Livias shirt. She opens her mouth to protest and he physically can’t stop himself, he punches his fiancee right in the face. Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that her nose starts bleeding.

“Doesn’t feel good does it? Being pushed around. Next time I’ll crack your fucking nose. You tell anyone and I’ll ruin you.” He seethes out, momentarily remembering that he had plans to kill her on the days following. “Now get the fuck out of my room. Go sleep somewhere else. I don’t want to see your fucking face.” The young blonde let her fall to the floor and tuned out her sobs.

After she got up and left the room, blood dripping form her cupped hand and tears streaming down her face, Coriolanus shut and locked the door. He went to the closet and pulled out your used panties, god how good they smelled.. Putting them up to his nose, he breathed in and moaned. President snow sat down on the bed, pulled off his boxers, and immediately wrapped his fist around his erection. “Fuck.. mphff.. oh fuck..” he groaned out as he started to work up and down his angry cock, the tip red and oozing pre. Coriolanus took a large breath in of your panties, imagining in was your cunt sat on his large nose. It didn’t take long before her was bucking up his hips and holding your underwear against his face as he came all on his hand. Usually he would be ashamed of masturbation, but this marked a new beginning, a reality that he would no longer have to deal with Livia. And as he washed off his hand and abs, he almost let out a sigh of relief. Coriolanus had never slept better than when he knew your panties were under his pillow.

Taglist!

@daenerysqueenofhearts @caramelandvenus @yoursrosie @wearemadeofstardust0 @kay-lla @mrsriddlenott @sleekervae @ianales @qoopeeya @arzua10 @matcha-muses @jitsuki12 @nojeicintjzonfhw @poppyflower-22 @lustforrush @jefferson-in-the-tardis @aurabambi @royal-sunflower @rovckwells @rubys-rere @iydImsydxoxo @lucyisdoingfine @nyxxoxo @paradisepoisons @miserableblood @poppyflower-22 @anonymous14261703170309 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @sqct @anakinluvr4ever @tmblrsexyw0man (comment if you wanna be added🫶)

[writingwithcolor]

Hey folks!

It has been a while! Well, we wanted to announce some big things coming your way!

WWC Askbox: Soft Re-Opening

Wednesday, Nov 1, 2023 to Thursday, Nov 30, 2023

In light of the recent attention WWC has received by the writeblr community, and the reception to our Guide to Academic Research—the mods have decided that we will temporarily reopen to your questions and test some important changes to the site! As you may have noticed, we've taken a much-needed break to catch up on our personal lives and restore our inspiration to answer the hundreds of Q&A that we receive. 

Once the submission window is up on Nov 30, we will evaluate how our new system is going, tinker some more, and reopen once again once the construction dust clears.

New Rules and FAQ! 

We are pleased to announce our new and improved Masterpost, which we hope will be a more centralized, more informative resource for those new and returning to WWC. 

Brand-new FAQs, with new answers and content for further reading

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[sadprose-auroras]

Distraction – Hazel Callahan x reader

Hey, loves! Thank you everyone for all of the love for On Top, I appreciate it so much!! I’m happy to take requests, just send me an ask <3

Content: violence, cursing, kissing.

Summary: Have you ever wanted to be PJ in this scene? Me too! So, I rewrote the final scene as a self-insert. Most dialogue is from the movie.

Please let me know what you think! Word Count: 2.2k

“Oh, now you want a bomb.”

------------------------------------------------------------

Holding your breath, you watched Hazel set up the bomb on the tree across the field. You could only cross your fingers that it would work properly; the last time did not go as expected.

“Hazel, it’s starting!” Annie shouts, as the football team begins to make their way onto the field. Panic setting in, you briefly consider running over to help her out. Suddenly, she’s sprinting over to the group, diving to take cover. You all bow your heads down, grabbing onto whoever is closest, holding your breath. You try not to think about Hazel’s head buried in your shoulder. Now is not the time. After a few moments, you all collectively raise your heads. It didn’t go off.

Everyone begins to talk over each other as Hazel starts fiddling with the remote.

“Maybe turn it on and then back off?”

“Why isn’t it working?”

“Did you set it to 15 minutes this time?”

You remain silent, eyes darting around trying to think of another solution.

“Okay, Plan B!” you say suddenly standing up. “We need to get the cheerleaders to make out with each other!” You begin to stalk over to the cheerleaders performing for the crowd, most of your friends following you. You briefly turn around to notice Josie crouched down looking at something and frown but decide to continue on your mission. You know how much this school fetishizes queer women. This has to work.

You all begin yelling, making cruse gestures.

“Guys, kiss each other!”

“Make out with each other!” Hazel shouts from the stands. Even your best friend saying the words ‘make out’ makes your knees weak. Despite the adrenaline of the situation, you still feel it. You feel every effect she has on you, always. The too-enthusiastic announcer comes over the loudspeaker, so loud it shakes the ground.

“HIDE YOUR CHILDREN, HERE COMES HUNTINGTON!”

Oh shit.

The yellow-clad team begins their entrance, and the crowd goes absolutely wild. The sense of dread that was gnawing at your stomach begins to grow. You have to do something. Now.

PJ nudges your side, giving you a knowing look. You furrow your brows. You were close, but you couldn’t read your friend’s mind.

“Go kiss her,” she says impatiently.

“Who?” you ask, your heart rate picking up.

“Oh my god, just do it! People will watch, trust me. Go, go!” You swallow heavily, your gaze meeting Hazel’s. Somehow, she understands exactly what your panicked, questioning eyes are asking. She gives the slightest nod. Blood rushing to your ears with nerves, you gather all the courage you have to walk over to her, pushing past some people in the crowd. You don’t look away from each other for a second.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she says, a smile ghosting her lips. You slot your lips together gently, hands finding the sides of her face, hers settling on your waist. The feeling makes your head spin. It takes a few moments for you to find a rhythm, awkwardly bumping noses and hitting teeth a couple of times. Once you do though, desire spreads from the pit of your stomach to your entire body. You had no idea kissing could feel this good.

You’re vaguely aware of people shouting, “look!” clapping and looking at the two of you. Which is what you wanted, of course. It’s the only reason you were doing this in the first place… right? And yet, you didn’t care. About saving the football players, about being a distraction, about anything else. It truly felt like time was suspended and you were the only two people in the world.

As the kiss deepened, you moved closer, bodies pressing against one another. You can feel the coolness of Hazel’s rings on your skin as she thumbs at your hips, your shirt riding up. Just as you were thinking that you could do this forever, an announcement over the loudspeaker brought you back to reality.

“CAN EVERYBODY STOP LOOKING AT THE DYKE PARADE? WHO DO I HAVE TO BLOW TO GET THIS GAME STARTED ALREADY?”

You pull apart quickly, in sync as always, as Hazel’s big blue eyes bore into yours. You touch your lips, which are still tingling, as she rubs the back of her neck which she always does when she feels nervous.

You both rush down to rejoin the others, as they were all frantic about what you were going to do now.

“You guys kissed! With tongue!” Sylvie says, apparently very excited about it. You make eye contact with Hazel as she smirks, your stomach doing a little flip, before looking away.

“Yeah, and we could do it again, if necessary, I mean-if we need another distraction, y’know like I really feel like it worked…” Hazel trails off.

“It certainly worked for me,” you murmur, before you can think about what you’re saying.

“What?” Hazel asks. You open your mouth as if to answer, absolutely mortified, when Josie runs up to you all in a panic. You weirdly find yourself grateful for the distraction, albeit news of the life-threatening situation.

“Look, I found empty barrels of pineapple juice, they’re going to poison Jeff! Where the fuck could it be?” she says frantically, eyes wide. You all look at each other, realisation setting in.

“What if it’s in their mouths, and they’re going to swish it around, and then spit it out midgame?” PJ asks, and you bite back a laugh. You loved her, but sometimes she made no sense.

“I don’t think-“ you begin to say, when Hazel speaks up.

“I hate to say it, but it might have something to do with their semen,” she says, sounding genuinely concerned.

“No, it wouldn’t, what is wrong with you?” you ask, baffled but amused. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Annie moving away from the group, looking out onto the field. You follow her gaze, realisation settling in at the same time.

“They’re gonna spray the field, we’re gonna have to run!” Annie shouts. You take off after her, muttering “oh god, oh shit, fuck fuck fuck, I have a stitch,” under your breath.

“It’s okay, we’ve got this,” Hazel says, voice surprisingly even despite how fast you were all running. You turn your head briefly to smile gratefully at her.

“Yeah, we do.”

“PJ, cover the sprinklers!” Josie yells, picking up Jeff, quite literally hoisting him over her shoulder and starting to run off the field. You were impressed at her strength. As if in slow motion, Huntington began moving towards you in formation. You took a deep breath, turning around to look at your group of friends. Isabel, Brittany and Stella Rebecca appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and you smiled to yourself. Huntington let out a scream in unison, and you all responded by doing the same. It was cathartic, quite frankly.

The next few moments were a blur. As the two groups came together, people paired off to fight each other. One particularly large football player came at you with his arms outstretched as if to push you over, but you dodged out of the way, then swung your elbow at the back of his head with a satisfying crack. He stumbles, coming at you with a raised fist, but he’s too slow. You duck as he misses, then, with all of your strength, you kick out your leg at his knees, knocking him over, hitting his head hard on the ground in the process.

You take the opportunity to glance around and notice that you’re actually winning. There are several Huntington players sprawled on the ground, unconscious, while all of your friends remained upright. (Albeit, covered in blood, but you were trying to be positive)

You scan to look for Hazel, and notice her holding a football helmet over her head, swinging it down on a Huntington player who is choking Tim. The guy rolls off him, and Tim coughs and stands up. You want to rush over to her, grab her, hold her, ask if she’s okay, protect her, before you’re suddenly tackled roughly to the ground by somebody behind you. You scream, try and scramble out of his grip, using your knees and legs to kick out, arms pushing at him, but nothing. He brings his fist down in the centre of your face, and you cry out. The pain is like nothing you’ve experienced. You lock eyes, and the wildness in the man’s eyes makes your heart sink. He wasn’t going to stop for anything.

Just as your life begins to flash behind your eyes, you hear Hazel yell your name, and she brings down the helmet with force on his head. You push him off you, as he lays there unconscious. You look up to Hazel in shock, panting heavily. Her eye is swollen red, blood splattered on her shirt, her hair is mused, and the stadium light just behind her head is casting a glow around her not dissimilar to a halo.

“Are you okay?” she asks, stretching her arm out to help you up. You take it, standing up with a grunt.

“I-yeah- th-thank you.” You notice you’re still holding hands, and drop it, both of you chuckling awkwardly. The brief respite from the dreaded feeling doesn’t last long when you notice a player twice Hazel’s size coming up behind her menacingly.

“Watch out!” You scream, grabbing her shoulders and moving her to the side as she stumbles slightly. Mustering everything you have, you roundhouse kick him with a yell of effort, aiming for his head but getting him in the neck instead. It doesn’t matter though, as he falls to the ground with a thud. Hazel comes up and punches him square in the face, leaving him unconscious.

“Thank you,” she says between heavy breaths, holding onto her fist in pain. You try not to think about how attractive her hands are covered in cuts and bruises.

“Don’t mention it,” you respond, wiping some blood that is dripping out of your nose. You look around, and can’t see any Huntington players left, instead your friends moving around the bodies on the ground, blood covering their clothes and faces.

“Did we do it?” you vaguely ask. Before anyone can answer you, you notice one last player coming up behind PJ who is on her knees on the ground.

“PJ, look out!” you all shout in unison as he moves towards her. Suddenly, he is knocked heavily onto the ground. Josie had come up behind him, swinging a baseball bat. For a few moments, nobody moves. Nobody speaks. You all look at each other, taking in each other’s appearances. You lock eyes with Hazel, breath catching in your throat. The entire crowd is completely still, mouths hanging open. A hissing sound begins, and the sprinklers begin spraying a liquid over the field.

The first person to speak is Tim.

“It’s pineapple juice! Turn it off!” he yells. With a squeak, they stop. Slowly, the crowd begins to clap, increasingly getting louder and louder. Soon, the cheering is deafening.

“Yes, this is the viking way!” Tim yells. You finally allow yourself to let out a breath. The group begins to celebrate, hugging each other. You give PJ a big hug, pulling away to notice Josie and Isabel kissing in the middle of everything. You look at each other and laugh in disbelief.

“Love that for them,” she says, and you nod. PJ moves away to hug somebody else, when you make eye contact with Hazel. You both glance over to Josie and Isabel, then back to each other. She smiled shyly, and your cheeks burn as you look down, unable to help from giggling to yourself. You walk over to Hazel, and you wrap your arms around each other. You let out a shaky breath, holding onto her tightly. When you pull away from each other, you’re not sure what to say.

“I-uh-“ you begin, then chuckle awkwardly.

“I meant it when I said we could kiss again,” she says, her hands in her pockets as she shuffles back and forth on her feet, looking up at you beneath her lashes. Your heart quite literally skips a beat.

In response, you move closer to her yet again, tilting her head up with your fingers on her chin.

“Is this going to ruin the friendship?” you ask quietly. Hazel barely gets her next words out before your lips meet.

“I don’t care.”

Your eyes flutter closed, exhaling through your nose as your lips move together in sync. This time, you know exactly how to kiss one another. You briefly wonder how many girls Hazel had kissed to be this good at it.

“Oh my god,” you murmur against her lips, giving her one last soft kiss.

“I know,” Hazel says, smiling in the way that she does that makes your insides twist in the best way possible.

“Um, so, I have a really important question,” you say cheekily, twirling a piece of Hazel’s hair in your finger.

“Yeah?” she asks, frowning.

“Why the fuck do you know how to build a bomb?” Hazel immediately laughs. As if right on cue, you hear a boom. You whip your head around, gasping to see the tree on fire.

“I still think we were a better distraction,” Hazel murmurs, not answering your question, before she leaves a soft kiss on your neck. You sigh, eyes fluttering at the feeling.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

All She Wants, Part Two

Summary: Y/N decides to leave the bunker for good when Dean reiterates that he can never give her what she wants. Struggling to adjust without her, Dean turns to hormone suppressants, unable to stomach the thought of going through a rut with anyone else.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Hormone Suppressants for @j3bingo

Warnings: omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, angst, arguments, heats, ruts, language, Dean’s still a bit of an asshole.

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: The response to the first part of this angsty, angsty fic has been overwhelming. Thank you to every single one of you who read and commented and reblogged. It means so much 🥹 Now, without further ado, I hope you love part two!

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Being back in the bunker is suffocating, and you haven’t even been back twelve hours yet. The mild cramps in your stomach are now an annoying and constant discomfort, and being near Dean is only making it worse. Your body is so used to the green-eyed hunter that his scent has you craving him. If you don’t get out of here and find another alpha, you know you’ll cave and go to the man who keeps breaking your heart.

Digging into the depths of your meagre closet, you pull out one of the few dresses you have and get ready to have a night on the town. It’s nerve-wracking; you haven’t done this in a long time, but you need to kick old habits and rid yourself of your addiction to Dean. It’s no longer a healthy relationship—maybe it never had been—but your last time together opened your eyes and proved that he doesn’t see you as anything other than a fuck toy.

Walking through the hallways of the bunker, your heels click loudly on the cold, concrete floors as you head towards the library. You know at least one of the boys will be there, and you pray to Chuck it’s Sam. You’d skip this part entirely, given it’s none of their business, but as an unmated omega going to find someone to satisfy a heat, it’s probably best that someone knows your intentions.

As you turn the corner into the room, the scent of Dean’s agitation slaps you in the face. If you’re not careful and can’t control your emotions, it’ll end in a fight and a tumble in the sheets, and that’s really the last thing you need.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” Dean asks as soon as he sets eyes on you.

“Out,” you respond.

“You’re in heat, Omega,” Dean growls.

“I’m aware,” you can feel your body warm as his gaze on you intensifies.

“Do you think it’s wise to go out in your condition?” Dean questions, and you fight your biological instinct to shrink in on yourself and submit to him. 

“I need to find an alpha who’ll help me through this, so yes, I do think it’s wise.”

“You have me, Y/N.” Dean’s tone softens, and the hurt that flashes in his eyes almost makes you run to him.

“No, I don’t. Not anymore.” You don’t wait for his response, walking out of the library and up the stairs because you’re so close to saying screw it and making him take you right there in the library.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” you call out and shut the bunker door behind you.

You know you won’t find what you’re looking for in the bar a few towns over, but at least you’ll find someone who can scratch your current itch and make you forget about Dean fucking Winchester.

At least for a few days.

DEAN’S POV

Dean feels his heart shatter as he watches Y/N walk out the door. This isn’t how he wanted things to go with her. He wanted to talk to her and apologise for his behaviour during his last rut. At least if he’d done that, there was a chance they could still have some kind of relationship.

What they had is gone. He knows that. He’s hurt her too much. If he’d dealt with things differently, they’d still have had the potential to at least be civil to one another, but his gut’s telling him that the opportunity for civility has gone.

He can’t blame himself entirely; she hasn’t let herself be alone with him since he’d realised how much of an asshole he’d been to her. Dean had expected her to come to him last night when the scent of her heat became stronger and carried through the bunker, but she’d remained shut in her bedroom. He isn’t even sure she’d eaten since yesterday morning.

“Hey,” Sam says as he sits beside his brother and hands him a beer. “I heard you and Y/N talking. You alright?”

“No, Sammy, I’m not. You know, it never once occurred to me that what Y/N and I had could end?”

“It doesn’t have to,” Sam says softly, noticing tears in Dean’s eyes.

“Yeah, it does. I can’t give her what she wants—”

“Can’t or won’t?” Sam interrupts, and Dean’s heart pangs at the implication he’s being his usual stubborn ass alpha self.

“I can’t, Sam.” Dean didn’t usually show his vulnerabilities to Sam. He’s the pack leader and can’t afford to show weakness. The only person he’s ever shown vulnerability to is Y/N.

“Why?” Sam’s question is simple, but the weight of the answer is something Dean’s not sure he’s ready to admit out loud.

“It’s complicated,” Dean answers and takes a long swig of beer, drinking half the bottle in two swallows.

“Enlighten me, Dean, because from where I’m standing, it’s not complicated at all. You already have an emotional bond with her. You’ve been mating with her for what, six or seven years? Why is it so hard for you to claim her, have that deeper chemical bond, and make you both happy by having a couple of pups? It’d be nice to have some little ones running around here.”

“Because the second I claim her, she has a target on her back. She’ll become the hunted. Every monster on the continent will want to tear her apart to get to me. And that’s something I won’t survive.”

“So you do want to claim her?” Sam confirms, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Of course I do!” Dean’s voice booms across the library. “I love her. More than anything. I always have, but I would rather die than put her in danger because of me and who I am,” Dean can’t keep his turmoil to himself anymore. Now it’s out in the open with Sam, he can’t shut the hell up. “I have thought of every way possible to give her what she wants… for years. Give us what we want, but in every scenario, she ends up dead, and I end up alone.”

“Dean, if you keep going the way you have been, she’ll die, and you’ll be alone anyway. And if you let her walk out of here and into the arms of another alpha, you’ll still be alone.”

“I know that, Sam! But I’d rather spend the rest of my life alone and know she was safe and happy with another alpha and a few pups than put a target on her back by claiming her! What part of that don’t you understand?”

“You think Y/N would be happy with another alpha? You think she wanted to go out hunting for someone else to fuck her through her heat? You think she’s not wishing it was you? You think she doesn’t love you? Because she does, Dean! It’s clear to everyone!” Sam’s frustrations reach boiling point, and he no longer has the patience to hold back. “That curse she saved me from loosely translated to stealing what your brother has broken and making it yours. If she hadn’t got between me and that witch, and I’d been hit by that curse, I’d have claimed Y/N for myself because you’re too chicken shit to do it. You know what that means, right? That even the witch knew you were in some kind of relationship. Even just being associated with you in the way she is makes her a target. And she’s an even bigger one without a claim.”

“Then maybe it’s for the best that she’s out there trying to find someone to take care of her,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows at Sam’s exasperation.

“No, Dean! It means that, claimed or not, monsters know what Y/N is to you and you to her. It means she’s already a target, and you’ve been protecting her from the monsters for a long time. Claiming her and having pups with her isn’t going to change that.”

“Look, can we just drop this? Y/N is better off without me, okay? And nothing you say will change my mind. She deserves something good, and I’m not good.” 

Pushing his chair back, Dean stands from the table and enters the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of Scotch from the cabinet and locks himself in his bedroom to lick his wounds.

It may not be the healthiest way to deal with things, but at least getting blind drunk on whiskey will stop the images of Y/N presenting for another alpha or taking another’s knot from playing like a video in his mind.

FIVE DAYS LATER

Y/N’S POV

“You’re alive, then,” Dean’s voice greets you as soon as you step into the bunker.

“I am,” you respond, warily making your way down the stairs. You’re on high alert, knowing this could turn volatile very quickly.

“You alright?” he asks next, his eyes scanning your body for signs of injury. His gaze lingers on your neck, and when he notices it remains unblemished, he releases a breath, and his shoulders relax slightly.

“I’m fine.” It feels like you cheated on Dean, and it makes you feel so sick you want to cry.

“Good. I’m glad you’re okay. I mean, you could’ve called. Let us know you were fine. It would’ve stopped Sam and me from worrying about you every second of the day. For all we knew, you were lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“My phone’s GPS was still…” you pause and sigh, knowing you don’t need to explain anything to him. “Look, can we not do this, please?” You plead. It’s been a rough few days, and you just want to shower and sleep.

You stop next to him, waiting for him to let you pass and frown when he rears back with a snarl. 

“Go shower, Omega. The stench of sex and Alpha makes me want to vomit,” Dean growls and walks away, leaving you standing at the entrance to the library, no longer able to keep the tears in.

The decision to leave is one of the hardest you’ve ever had to make. The bunker is your home, too. Still, you know you’re no longer welcome. Dean doesn’t want you, and you’ve hurt each other beyond repair. You could’ve tried to sort this mess out. You could’ve done that rather than look for a heat buddy, but had you not gone out, you’d have fallen straight back into bad habits and Dean’s bed. You had to break ties with him completely, and the only way to do that was to sleep with someone else, even if it broke both your hearts in the process.

Between the anxiety from you and Dean’s argument after the witch hunt and your heat, you’ve barely eaten for the past week. Before you leave for good, you head to the kitchen to grab something quickly, knowing it’s late enough that both Winchesters will be in their bedrooms, and you can eat and leave undetected.

“Sneaking out on us, huh? That’s mature,” Dean scoffs, and you jump, startled by his voice coming from somewhere in the dark kitchen.

“Any particular reason you’re sitting in the pitch black, Dean?” you ask, your hackles raised and ready to flee if needed.

“Answer my question first, then maybe I’ll answer yours.”

“Come on, Dean. We both know it’s not a good idea for me to stay here,” you reason.

“But this is your home,” Dean says, and where before you only heard contempt, you can now detect hurt.

“Not anymore.” You turn to leave, deciding to just forget about food so you can get the hell out of here.

“Please don’t walk away from me, Omega.”

“I told you I’m not your Omega, Dean. You’ve made that abundantly clear over the years.”

“Y/N, please, sweetheart,” he begs, and you turn to face him, your anger rising.

“No, Dean. I can’t do this with you anymore. We can’t keep doing this same dance over and over again. I want more. I need—” Your voice catches in your throat, and you swallow down the emotion that wants to spill from you. “I need to be claimed. I need to have pups. It’s in my biology, Dean, and I can’t change that. And I can’t change the fact that if I don’t settle down soon, I’ll go feral and die.”

“And you’re gonna do that with the asshat from the bar?” Dean spits back at you.

“No! I want to do it with you, but you don’t want me!” The tears spring from your eyes, and once again, you will Chuck, or whatever fucking angel is standing in his stead, to give you the strength you need to finally leave. To break this toxic bond that’s been forged under false pretences for years.

“Y/N, I do want you. I just can’t give you what you need,” Dean pleads.

“You can,” you nod with a tearful smile. “Because even if it wasn’t in the traditional way, you gave me what I needed for years. You just don’t want to.”

“No, Omega, please.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

DEAN’S POV

Y/N has been gone for two months, and there hasn’t been a peep from her. If Sam has heard anything, he’s kept it quiet, and Dean hasn’t asked. She’s turned off the GPS on her phone and removed the tracker from her car, and anyone he’s asked in their network either hasn’t seen or heard from her or has just told him she’s fine.

He misses her laugh and her smile. He misses her comforting scent that would linger around the bunker. He misses her soft, warm body sliding into bed next to him when she’d had a nightmare or wanted to cuddle in those first few hours of her heat before her need for him changed to something more carnal.

Yet, never once did he reach out to her. She’d made it pretty clear they were done, and he’s accepted that. What he did to her was unforgivable. Still, he’s hurting, too and feels betrayed by what she did. He may not have the right, but it’s how he feels, and try as he might, he can’t change it.

As the telltale signs of his next rut make themselves known, Dean knows this will be the hardest challenge he’s faced since Y/N left, but if she could so easily toss him aside and find someone else to mate with, so could he.

Standing at the bar, Dean preens under the attention of several omegas surrounding him. It’s been a long time since he’s had so many women fawn over him, and he guesses that being with Y/N has kept them at bay all these years.

Looking towards the other end of the bar, he does a double-take. The woman has similar features to Y/N: same eye colour, same shaped face, and from what he can see, a similar figure. It’s not her, but Dean is on his feet and making his way over to her before he can think twice about it.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean gives the woman his most charming smile and feels his confidence soar as she giggles and looks down briefly before raising her eyes and batting her lashes at him. “The name’s Dean.”

“Carly,” she responds shyly, and Dean smirks.

“Pretty name. It suits you, Omega. Can I buy you a drink?” he drawls, using his alpha tone.

“Sure, Alpha,” she smiles sweetly, batting her eyes at him once more, and Dean knows he’s found a rut partner for the next few days.

“So, what’s your poison?” Dean asks, grabbing the bartender’s attention.

“Appletini,” Carly says, and Dean fights a scoff at the girly concoction. Y/N would’ve ordered a whiskey or an Old Fashioned if the mood struck her, none of this fruity shit that makes you question whether there’s even any alcohol in it.

“Whiskey, neat, and an appletini for the lady,” Dean says to the bartender.

“So, Dean, what’s a handsome alpha like you doing in a place like this?” Carly asks.

Glancing at her kind eyes that remind him so much of Y/N’s, he finds himself spilling everything to her. He’s not sure why he finds it easier to talk to a stranger than his own brother or even Cas, but he does.

“Look,” Dean says after an hour of talking and a few more whiskeys. “I came here intending to find an omega to ride out my rut with, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he confesses. “I’m not even sure I could… physically… uh, you know.” he chuckles.

“I think that’s a wise decision, Dean,” Carly smiles kindly. “I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to be mating with someone new. You haven’t fully accepted that your mate left you, and it could be dangerous for both of us if we leave here together.”

“I wouldn’t say she’s my mate. I never claimed her, so…” Dean shrugs, feeling a little bad for leading her on.

“Doesn’t matter, Dean. You bonded with her intimately, and I’m guessing you stayed faithful and only had her the entire time, right?”

“I only ever wanted her,” Dean nods and swallows another whiskey.

“So, you were together like a beta couple would be, right? Like dating but not married?” Carly replies with a knowing smile, and Dean has to admit he’s never looked at his relationship with Y/N in that way before.

“I suppose we were,” he responds with a nod to the bartender for another drink.

“Do you know where she is? Can you go to her?” Carly asks.

“No,” Dean sighs. “We have some mutual friends, but they are very quiet about her whereabouts. Don’t get me wrong, I get it. I hurt her. A lot. And I wish I’d handled things differently.”

“You’ll get there, Dean,” she smiles. “And if you don’t, try begging your friends to tell you where she is and grovel until she forgives you!” Carly chuckles and squeezes his hand. “It could be an easy fix if you can overcome your fears. It’s clear you love her, and if you can give into those feelings, you’ll work it out.”

Carly hops off the barstool and pulls her purse strap over her shoulder. “Goodbye, Dean. I hope you find your girl and make things right,” she cups his cheek and winks at him before walking away and leaving him alone.

Downing the whiskey in one, Dean throws some bills on the bar and heads to the Impala. If he’s going to see himself through his rut, he’d need a lot of provisions.

It took six days, three bottles of lube, and the help of various knotting toys for Dean to come through the other side of his rut. He can’t remember the last time one had been so brutal or unforgiving. However, now he’s out and can start taking the suppressants he got from the drugstore, so he doesn’t need to go through one again.

“Hey, you alright?” Sam asks, seeing Dean at the hob, frying bacon and eggs.

“Still feeling rough, but some food and fresh air should do me good. Please tell me you found a hunt while I was out.”

“Yeah, looks like there’s a ghoul loose in Stillwater, Oklahoma.”

“Alright, then. We’ll get everything together and leave in a couple of hours.”

“Dean, are you sure you’re up for this? You still look a little… off.”

“I’m fine, Sammy. Just ready to get out of here. Been cooped up too long.”

For the next few months, that’s what they do; move from small town to small town, saving people and hunting things, and Dean? Well, he’s just peachy.

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Dean always knew the suppressants would take some getting used to. They’re the drug store variety and weren’t for long-term use. Still, the nausea and headaches are getting worse and are now accompanied by bouts of fever and a loss of appetite.

He knows his age probably isn’t helping, and the fact he’s been rejected by his mate in a roundabout way, so rejection sickness has been on his mind the past few days as his symptoms got worse.

Sam’s said he’s easier to anger than usual too, and Dean’s starting to feel constantly on edge now. He can only hope whatever this is will end soon because this fucking sucks.

Swallowing down another pill, Dean throws the pill bottle into his duffle so that he and Sam can get home, put this vampire hunt behind them, and take some time off.

Although sceptical at first, he’s now grateful he’d agreed to take a break from hunting for a couple of weeks to recoup and relax. They hadn’t stopped hunting in close to twelve weeks, and he feels awful. A little time off might be just what he needs.

“Ready to go, Dean?” Sam asks, frowning when he notices the pill bottle at the top of his brother’s bag. The younger Winchester walks over and picks it up, huffing loudly. “This is what you’ve been taking? Over the counter suppressants?”

“Yeah, so?” Dean replies.

“Dean, these aren’t for long-term use. They’re supposed to only delay a rut for a couple of weeks, not for taking every day. Why didn’t you go to a doctor and get the right thing?”

“Oh, because we have that luxury, Sammy!” Dean snaps. “‘Do you have insurance? No. What’s your address? An underground fortress in the middle of fucking nowhere.’ Seriously, you don’t see anything wrong with that? And they say you’re the smart one!” Dean scoffs and shakes his head.

“We would’ve found a way, Dean. We always do. These are probably doing more harm than good. I think it’s why you’re feeling off, and it’s only going to get worse.”

“It can’t get any worse, Sammy! Y/N left me. Nothing will ever be worse than that!” Dean yells as he grabs his bag and stalks out of the motel room, and slams the door.

Dean is agitated. So much so that even he can’t deny it. And the more he tries not to be, the worse he gets. He knows it’s annoying Sam—it’s annoying him, too—but it’s not something he has any control over. Everything is going haywire; his skin itches, sweat drips down his back, and he just wants to pick fights. That’s why he had a go at the idiot at the gas station and the douchebag from the diner. He blames Sam for that one. He wanted to keep driving, but Sammy just had to stretch his freakishly long fucking legs now, didn’t he?

When Sam finally rejoins him in the car, Dean tries to avoid his baby brother’s puppy eyes. He knows he’s fucked up. He knows he should’ve found a way to get the real thing, but the fear of a doctor telling him he’s a lost cause, that because his mate left him would mean that suppressants can’t fix him stopped him. Besides, it can’t take the ache of Y/N’s departure away. It doesn’t change the fact that as an alpha, it was his duty to claim her.

“What am I in for, Sammy?” Dean finally asks, breaking his silence on his suppressant use. He’s not sure he wants to know, but he needs to keep what’s left of his pack safe. If this ends the way he dreads, he needs to put a plan in place.

“You’ll go into a rut that can only be satisfied by uhm… your mate,” Sam says, avoiding her name so it doesn't set the older alpha off again. “And because she’s not here, you’ll go feral,” Sam sighs.

“And when I go feral, I’ll be dangerous to any omega who isn’t Y/N,” Dean finishes what Sam doesn’t say.

“I think it’s already started. I can smell your rut pheromones, but they’re… off.” Sam said.

“Listen to me, Sammy. I’m going to the safe house in Montana. I’ll let nature take its course. You will leave me there and take the Impala so I can’t get out.” Dean begins, but Sam’s quick to intervene.

“Dean, no. I can track down Y/N. When she hears what’s happening, she’ll—”

“Laugh and tell you to tell me to go fuck myself! I made my bed, Sammy. I gotta lie in it.”

“You’re signing your own death warrant!”

“Then so be it!” Dean roars, but Sam won’t back down.

“I can’t let you do that when someone can help you!”

“She won’t come because she doesn’t want me, Sam!” Dean yells. “How many times do I have to say it? She left me because I couldn’t give her what she wanted. For all we know, another alpha has already claimed her.”

“I have to try, Dean! I can’t just let you die!” Sam is trying to stay calm, not wanting to upset his brother more.

“Yeah? Well, maybe it’s what I deserve.”

“It’s not, and you know it. I’ll lock you in that cabin and take the car with me to keep you safe, but I will find Y/N.”

“Fine. I can’t stop you,” Dean relents. “But when she tells you she’s done with me, you will leave me there, and whatever happens, happens. Deal?”

“Deal,” Sam agrees reluctantly.

Next Chapter>>

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567

[edenfenixblogs]

hello! I’m not a Jewish person (ethnically or religiously), but I was wondering if you know of any ways that I can help Jewish people right now? Like if you know of any donation programs or volunteer work or food drives or anything of the sort that I could do to help? I want to help fight antisemitism and help Jewish people beyond simply spreading awareness on Instagram, but I’m not exactly sure how or where to start. This is a very dumb question, I’m so sorry, you can ignore this if you want

(CONT'D) also, I have another question, I’m so sorry To preface this question, I’d like to say that I’m a very stupid individual who knows absolutely nothing about anything. So the question is, do you have any book or article recommendations that showcase Jewish people’s experiences, values, perspectives, etc. Like for example, are there any books written from the perspective of an Israeli/jewish person who had moved from wherever they were to the state of Israel in 1948 (I apologise if this is a horrible example, I just know absolutely nothing about anything and everything, but I’m open to learning)

Thank you so much for asking these valuable questions!!!!! (And thanks for being patient until I was able to answer!)

Neither of your questions are dumb, and you don't need to be sorry! You're not stupid and I hope you can be as kind to yourself as you have been to me and my community in your questions.

I was wondering if you know of any ways that I can help Jewish people right now?

Truly the very best thing you can do to support Jews at this time is routinely check in on us, speak up for us, and correct misinformation or antisemitism if you see it happening. This means not running away if your Jewish friends mention two antisemitic experiences they've had in one week. This means adding a media bias/fact check link when someone sends you antisemitic propaganda from Al Jazeera. This means saying "Hey. That doesn't help Palestine. That just hurts Jews," when someone's "activism" veers too far in the wrong direction. That means that you don't just shout ceasefire now without also acknowledging that Hamas and Hezbollah also need to cease firing. This means making sure your donations and your links to donations go to sources that do not fund Hamas, like Anera. It also means making sure your donations for the I/P conflict support interfaith efforts whenever possible. I routinely promote the interfaith and intercultural organizations represented within AllMEP; https://www.allmep.org/ Also, steer clear of culturally expropriating organizations like JVP.

Like if you know of any donation programs or volunteer work or food drives or anything of the sort that I could do to help?

Ones that specifically help Jews, you mean? I don't actually! Unfortunately, the international conversation since 10/7 has had very little to do with how to help Jews in Israel or in diaspora. I would say that you should look into and perhaps even email or call your local synagogues and see if they have any kind of fund for their buildings or if they're trying to raise money to pay security and donating to them. Aside from that, I'd love for my followers to weigh in on this, as they'll know better.

Book Recommendations!

These aren't exactly what you're looking for. But I believe deeply in my heart that every single non-Jewish person should read:

Jews Don't Count by David Baddiel

People Love Dead Jews by Dara Horn

Night by Elie Wiesel

There are plenty of other books that are less of a bummer to read than those, too. But I think for any non-Jew to truly understand us they need to understand the unexamined antisemitism they carry with them and they need to have true, first-hand accounts about the holocaust to understand the legacy it left to us as well as what it took away.

Followers with more specific recommendations, please offer your advice in comments or replies or reblogs or tags! I'm just one person. I don't claim to speak for my entire community, nor have I ever. But I think, as a larger community, we can all steer you in the right direction, Thank you!!!!!

[kinkyrafe]

Please and Thank you

Kinktober, October 02

THIS WORK IS 18+ ! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary:

You and Rafe have recently started hooking up for some intense fun. You both enjoy every second of it, but Rafe sometimes needs a little reminder to mind his manners - which you don’t mind giving at all. Or: The one where Rafe is pegged and teased.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, domme!reader, sub!rafe, very explicit

biggest thank you for beta-ing this at the very short notice goes to @nemesyaaa

taglist: @yagirlwrites @audzss @valyrianflower @aariahnaa

Read on AO3

Rafe is kneeling in front of the bed as he eyes the toys in front of you. 

“That is going inside me?” He can’t help but ask incredulously.

It’s not a huge dildo per se but it is bigger than the plugs and massagers that the two of you usually use.

You raise your eyebrows and look at him sternly. This alone suffices to silence him and make him avert his eyes but you decide to remind him verbally as well. 

“Manners, Rafe,” you scold.

Then you step in between his wide legs, put two fingers underneath his chin and tilt his chin upwards until his throat is stretched and he looks at you. “You’ll take what I give you,” you remind him slowly, “and you will beg me for it, and once it’s in you, you will thank me for it.”

You can see as much as you can feel him swallow. His gaze flickers around the room.

You can't grab his chin tightly and you can't slap him across the face as you normally would do to a sub in this instance but those are huge triggers for Rafe, so you quickly decide to use your foot to press against his crotch instead. Not hard enough to hurt but the implication is clear and it makes him look at you. “How about a ‘yes, mistress?’” You ask from above and repeat what you said before to give him another chance. “You’ll take what I give you, and you will thank me for it. And if I want you to beg, then you will beg. Do you understand?” You look down at him, expectantly. 

There's a hint of challenge and mischief in his eyes. “Yes, mistress,” he answers quickly this time.

You nod as you release his chin and take your foot from his crotch.

You direct him onto his hands and knees, taking in the willingness he shows to obey you even though he was hesitant only moments before. The amount of trust that he shows to you nearly overwhelms you sometimes.

“I’ll prep you nice and slow, promise,” you say and gently rub the palms of your hands over his ass and thighs. He shivers at your touch. “Ass out, present yourself “ you order and praise him when he obeys, “There you go, good boy. Stay there.”

You give him a brief warning of the coldness before you drizzle lube over his hole. He flinches slightly nevertheless. It always makes you smirk - and you take a mental note to use ice on him at some point in the future. 

You gently rub your hand along his hole, spreading lube and caresses from his hole to his balls and back up, reveling in the fact that he presents his most intimate body parts to you just like that. It isn’t new to you, not at all, not with Rafe and especially not with other people, but it still manages to astound you. To be fair, you could never. 

“Let’s get you nice and wet,” you hum as you slide in a finger. He sighs with pleasure. 

You finger him with one and then with two fingers until he starts to moan with every movement. “Does that feel good?” You tease grinning, absolutely aware of the answer no matter what he would say. His ass is clenching around your fingers - and not in a tense I want them out kind of way but in a more, faster, deeper kind of way.

This is one of the things you admire most about Rafe - the level of vulnerability he offers you simply by not holding back and showing how he loves to get his ass fucked. “So good, mistress,” he answers, his voice hoarse already. 

“What do you say when I make you feel good?” You ask.

“Thank you, mistress,” he breathes out instantly. 

You nod and spread your index and middle finger inside of him even wider so there's enough room to first drizzle more lube inside and push your index finger of your other hand in. You immediately massage his prostate with it so he feels pleasure throughout the stretch and his answering moan is almost obscene. 

His knees seem to give out momentarily and he comes out of the position you told him to stay in. “Where do you think you're going?” You ask sternly but smugly nonetheless, as his hip and ass moved away from you a little bit. You remove one hand from him to guide him back into position while the finger of the other hand presses against his prostate.

He gasps loudly as he pushes back, increasing the pressure against his prostate. “I'm sorry, mistress,” he rasps out.

“Stay in position this time,” You order as you slide the other two fingers back into him. His body reacts again but he manages to stay still this time. “Good thing you're not standing up, huh?” You ask him mischievously. 

He breathes out a laugh. “I don’t think my body would manage,” he replies.

“I'll train you, don't worry.”

His laugh stops and you hear him swallow but you can see his already hard cock twitch in answer to your statement.

You take your sweet time with him, giving him a time of his life with your fingers - completely ignoring his cock that is leaking with precome already - until he completely forgets about the dildo laying next to him.

When he nearly loses himself in the pleasure of having his ass played with, you stop. You slide out all three of your fingers , leaving him empty. 

He whines at the feeling, his breathing fast and shallow with pleasure.

He doesn't stay empty for long as you immediately grab a plug - not thick but long, just as the dildo he's so afraid of - slick it up with a good amount of lube and push it in.

He flinches a bit with surprise when you line it up with his hole and push it in just like that. He flinches again when it fully settles into him - as you said, it's pretty long and he's not used to it - but he takes it more than willingly.

You give him a couple of seconds before you swat him across the ass. “What do you say when I put something in you?”

“Thank you, mistress,” he says immediately. 

Then he looks back to see you grabbing the strapon. “Eyes to the front,” you order when you find him staring uncomfortably at the dildo you've picked out for him, “We'll have fun, don’t worry.”

You don't pull the strapon up just yet. It's one of the double strap-ons where one dildo also goes inside of you and while he still looks a bit uncomfortable, you almost cannot handle your excitement.

You can't touch your vulva with the fingers that have just been inside of him but you know it's wet. You're super turned on since the moment Rafe knelt for you, so the wetness doesn't come as a surprise. 

You move around him until you’re kneeling on the bed in front of him. 

“Sit up,” you instruct simply as you spread your legs wide, “I want you to finger me and put this-” You point at the dildo that would go into you, “- into me.”

He swallows, eyes wide. As of now, it's not often yet that you allow him to touch you.

You make him sit back on his heels - which adjusts the plug inside of him deliciously - before you move until your legs frame one of his thighs. You stay like that, your thighs in the air, not sitting back yourself. This way for one, he has better access to your vagina and for the other, you still can look  down on him and create physical hierarchy. 

“Touch me,” you instruct him, “See how wet you've made me.” 

His breath hitches as he does. “Thank you mistress,” he rasps.

“Good boy,” you praise him, your voice breathier than usual as you feel his fingers rub along your vulva. “Show me what you can do with these beautiful hands of yours,” you instruct.

You know he's good at it. You let him finger you before and it was awesome every single time. He seems to know exactly what you like and just like the other times, this time it doesn't take long at all until he has you coming for the first time today. The powers of this man…

“Such a good boy,” you praise as you ride out the orgasm on his long fingers.

Once you've come down a bit and your breathing evens out, you pull up the straps. “Put some lube on it and help me put it in.”

He swallows. He is rock hard as he rubs lube first over the smaller dildo of the two and then over your vulva. “Can’t I put something else in you?” He asks smugly.

You grin and flick his nipple for his trouble. “And how would I fuck you at the same time.”

 “You already put a big-ass plug-” he starts but you put your hand over his mouth. 

“Stop arguing,” you instruct immediately, “And put the dildo in me right now.”

He swallows and does as you ask. 

It feels wonderful to have something inside of you that you feel with your every move. Something that you can clench on when you feel like it.

You fasten the straps tightly before you make your way back behind him and make him bend over again. “Hands and knees,” you instruct, “And you'll take it without moving out of the position. No moving away from me, do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress.”

At that, pull out the plug, lube up the dildo and his hole generously and line up the dildo, the tip already pushing in a little. 

“How about you show me how much you need it?” You tease him as you pulsate your hips a little bit to increase the pressure on his hole.

“I don’t really need it at all,” he answers incredibly smugly and that’s enough. This brat.

You thrust your hips forward and push it in halfway in one go.

The sound he makes can only be described as a roar. Then he groans with displeasure. 

“You deserved that, didn’t you?” You ask sweetly. 

He makes another sound that could both mean agreement or disagreement.

You keep your hips steady so he can bottom out but you spank his ass twice. The smaller dildo inside you makes you wanna fuck him right away, just because you know you’ll get something out of it as well, but with this, you know, you have to control yourself.

“Did or did you not deserve it?” You ask instead.

He breathes out heavily. “I did, mistress.” You nod appreciatively.

“Yes, you did,” you say softly.

You rub your hands softly all over his body. It's such a beautiful body. Beautiful for sure is the right word for it. Rafe is a man for whom handsome just doesn’t cover it. You rub your hands over his ass, over his thighs, over his back. Nothing helps to make him relax a tiny bit.

At first, you think about checking in with him, maybe changing position, but then you decide to remain persistent for a bit longer. 

“Maybe it's best if you start to relax now, so I can finally move, otherwise I'm gonna help you relax your ass with a spanking.” You back up your statement with a smack on his ass cheek.

He groans again. “Always so strict,” he mumbles, but you can almost see the muscles in his back loosen a little bit. That’s a start. You want him in full sub space, though.

“Mh,” you hum, “Just how you need it.” You try to push in further and he is more relaxed now but not by much.

“Just take it, babe,” you tell him and let your finger caress over his half-hard cock. “Just embrace it. Accept your place and let me fuck you into the mattress until you feel so good. Come on. The more you submit, the more you get rewarded.”

That seems to have done the trick. As you push only a little, the dildo slides in more willingly now. “There you go,” you praise immediately as your hip points finally touch Rafe’s ass. The dildo is all the way in now, finally. 

He makes soft little noises. "It’s so big," he whimpers.

"It's really not,” you tell him as you slowly pull out almost all the way before guiding it back in, “Stay still and take it." You pull out again and push back in again, a little faster this time. You can feel the thrust inside of you as well.

You can see that Rafe is having trouble staying in position. “Drop to your forearms,” you order to make it a little easier on him.

He does and he gasps loudly at the change in angle. 

“It's uh… uh… it's… Y/N, mistress,” Rafe rasps.

“Yes, babe?” You ask teasingly.

"It's too big!" He whimpers and comes back up onto his hands. 

"Aww, no, it's not, baby. It's been in you before. You even came on it before and you will come on it again!"

His answer is a loud groan. 

You decide to make it both easier and more intense for him. “Put that leg forward,” you instruct and tap on his left knee so you can guide it in between his hands. Splitting the legs like this makes it easier to slide the dildo in but at the same time, it goes in deeper. Your smile is devilish.

He moans loudly when you push in fully for the first time, reaching a point inside of him that probably no one has ever reached. You slide in easily, no resistance whatsoever. He's finally fully relaxed. 

"Look at that!”, you exclaim with pride as his hole relaxes and seems to nearly swallow the dildo. “Your body wants it, even if you say otherwise."

He doesn’t respond but just lets you have your way with him. 

You start fucking him more fluently now, establishing a steady rhythm in which you thrust into him as deeply as you can. It’s more than just sliding in and out of him. You actively thrust your hips forward - this way it is even more intense for him but you yourself feel more at the same time. 

You change the angle a little so that you brush his sweet spot with every push.

When you hit it the first and immediately after the second time, he starts to scream. “Ah, mistress, it's too much,” he cries, “It's too much!"

You put a hand on the small of his back to prevent him from getting up. “You can take it baby, I know you can,” you remind him calmly.

He shakes his head. “I can’t, no, mistress, I really can’t.”

This makes you pause. “Safeword or I'll continue,” you say strictly.

He whimpers but he doesn't say anything else.

“What’s your color, Rafe?” you follow up urgently. 

“Green, mistress,” he murmurs. 

A smile spreads across your face. You can’t bite back a comment. “Thought so,” you tease as you push in your strap on, “Now, stop the whining and let yourself enjoy it.”

You take a magic wand to his teint where you can additionally stimulate his prostate from the outside while you fuck your strap into him. His cock is rock hard again, completely neglected for now, but leaking streaks of precome never the less.

You continue hitting his prostate on the inside and massaging it on the outside. This way, you continue to make him scream. 

Your part of the strap-on feels absolutely amazing inside of you as well and make a promise to yourself to use it much more often, even though it probably won’t be Rafe’s favorite toy. It doesn’t take you long to be very close to cuming yourself, already so turned on by the scene and by this beautiful, whiny boy in front of you, but you make yourself last as long as you can before you take the magic wand between your legs from behind and add vibrations to the dildo inside of you. You thrust harder now, trying to make yourself cum, “Stay right there!” you instruct Rafe so you can use him as counterpressure for the strap-on and then you are cuming with a shout and stuttering hips.

So, so good.

“Good boy,” you praise him as you're coming down from your orgasm again. “Made me cum again just by letting himself be fucked.”

Rafe groans and you figure, he has finally earned a real treat. You bring the magic wand to his balls again and this time you just concentrate on giving him the ultimate pleasure, fucking him and simultaneously stimulating every erotic zone of his body - his dick, his balls and his prostate, first and foremost. Rafe’s screaming and shouting and moaning only intensifies when you take your other free hand to his cock and start to stroke it in rhythm with your thrusts.

By the time you have finally fucked him speechless, you are close to cuming a second time as well. You quickly decide to put him first now as he probably won’t take another round without cuming without permission and you’d rather torture him a little bit.

You know it’s time, when he speaks again. “Mistress, may I cum? Please?” It’s whiny and soft but it’s clear and it's the first coherent sentence he has uttered in a while. 

You almost give in, feeling how hard and turned on he already is but then you decide to not give in this easily. “How about you beg me for it after you've put up such a fight before?”

He whines with frustration. 

“The better you submit, the faster you get rewarded,” you remind him again and it definitely is the right thing to say. 

He gasps, drops of sweat trailing down his spine. "Please, let me cum," he whimpers, the words almost broken. "I can’t take it anymore. Please, Mistress, please." He stops begging after that.

“Oh no, Rafe,” you scold him, turn off the magic wand and spank him again, while you keep thrusting steadily into him, “You can do better than that—come on, beg like you really mean it.”

He whines but takes a deep breath in and starts begging again. “I… I’ll do anything, anything you want, just—please, Mistress, I’m begging you!" His voice cracked, raw and frantic, every word dripping with desperation as you finally have him exactly where you want him. "I can’t take it anymore… I need to cum so badly. Please, I’ll be good, I’ll be perfect… please, Mistress, just let me cum, please! I’m begging you, Mistress.” He is basically sobbing now, his voice barely holding together, probably humiliated by how far gone he was, but unable to stop either way. “Please, I can’t breathe, I need it… I’ll do anything to be good for you, I’ll take whatever you want, just please, please let me cum.” His entire body shook, trembling with the effort of holding back.

“There you go, good boy,” you praise and decide to not let him off the hook just yet, “How about you thank me for putting up with your behavior.”

He whines again before he takes a deep breath in and does as he’s told. “Thank you so much for fucking me so good, Mistress. I know, I put up a fight before and I shouldn’t have. It feels so good now. I’ll always take everything however you want. Just… please, I need you to… let me cum. Please, Mistress. I’m so close.”

“Close, isn’t close enough,” you tease him, turn on the magic wand again and hold it first to his prostate and then to the tip of his cock.

His whole body shudders at the feeling and he screams in surprise.

“How about that?” You ask calmly. “Are you even closer now?”

“Yes, Mistress, please,” he shouts hoarsely, “I’m so close, I can’t hold it anymore, please, let me cum, please, Mistress.” You notice that his hands have gripped the sheets tightly at one point, and his body is trembling, waiting for you to decide his fate.

“Ask nicely one more time,” you demand, pressing against a certain point of his cock to prevent the cum from shooting out.

He obeys before you even stop speaking: “Please, Mistress, may I cum?”

“Yes, you may,” you allow and it’s only a matter of seconds before he cums with a shout. He cums violently. He cums and cums and it doesn’t even seem to end. His arms and his legs begin to shake and as they almost give out, he tries to lay down on the bed. “Hold your position as you cum!” You remind him sternly as you grip his hips tightly with one free hand so you can fuck him properly through his orgasm. He tries to keep his body where it’s supposed to be and that is enough for you for now. There is another thing that irritates you, though.

“What do you say?” You ask him and as you ask it, it really rubs you the wrong way that you have to ask at all. You clearly need to train him a little bit better.

“Thank you, Mistress,” he replies immediately. So he knows what to say. He always knows. He just keeps forgetting.

“I don’t want to have to ask you over and over again,” You say and you pass the point where you should stop stimulating him as he is getting more and more sensitive. “You know exactly what to say and when to say it.”

He whines loudly, when he realizes what you are up to, and moves away from you. Apparently, whining is all he can do today.

“On your back,” you order strictly, “Quick. Now.”

And he does, without a fight. You quickly slide a pillow underneath his lower back.

“Legs up, grab your thighs with your hands,” you instruct. Your tone doesn’t leave any room for talking back. He knows not to disobey right now. His eyes are fixed on your every move. You have him how you want him in a matter of seconds.

You slide your strap-on back into him. He squirms away a little bit but quickly recovers without your instruction. “What do you say when I put something in you?” You ask him as you start to thrust into him again. 

He groans at the overstimulation. “Thank you, Mistress,” he rasps out nevertheless.

You take his spent cock back into your hand and continue to stroke it. He shouts but you ignore him. “And what do you say when I touch your cock?”

“Thank you, Mistress!” He screams, his voice high. 

You can tell that he is fighting to stay exactly how you want him and he manages despite the pain of the overstimulation. There’s a good boy.

“And what do you say when I allow you to cum?”

“Thank you, Mistress!” There are tears in his eyes now but he doesn’t safeword out, so you don’t stop. You continue to stroke his cock until it is hard again while you thrust deep inside of him. In this position you can even see the strap-on push against the muscles of his abdomen from the inside and the mere sight of it almost makes you cum again.

“That’s right, Rafe,” you praise. “You thank me immediately when I let you cum, are we clear about that?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he whines. There he is, the whiny little submissive. 

No more groaning, no more screaming, no more talking back. He can do nothing more but whine. This is all your doing.

“Good boy,” you praise him and rub your free hand over his chest. “Now let’s try that again.”

“No!” He looks up in shock. “No, Mistress, please.” He lets his head fall back down with a cry.

"You don’t get to decide when it ends,” you remind him sternly, “That’s my job. So what you’re gonna do is, you will lay there and let me fuck you until I cum again and then, if you’ve been good, I’ll allow you to cum another time as well. Are we clear?”

He swallows and hides his face under his arm but doesn’t say anything. 

You flick his ball. Hard. His whole body jolts. “Answer me, Rafe,” you demand, “Are we clear?”

“Yes, we are clear, Mistress,” he answers.

“Good,” you smile down at him, “Push through the pain, baby, come on. You know there’s nothing but pleasure on the other side.”

You know you are right and the good thing is, that he knows it, too.

#

The room is quiet now, the shared intensity still lingering in the atmosphere. His body lies limp on the bed, utterly spent, every muscle relaxed after being pushed beyond his limits. His breath is still uneven, his chest rising and falling in slow, deep waves as he tries to steady himself. His skin, still flushed from the overstimulation, glistens faintly under the dim light, soft tremors running through him as he comes down from the high.

You are right beside him, your touch featherlight as your fingertips trace soothing patterns along his torso, grounding him. 

"Well done, babe," you whisper, your voice soft and full of warmth, a stark contrast to the dominant authority she wielded just moments before. Your fingers slide into his hair, gently combing through the damp strands, and he sighs and it almost sounds like a sob as he melts into your touch.

“I’ve got you,” you murmur, your lips brushing his temple as you press a soft kiss there. "Just breathe. You're okay now, babe."

He blinks up slowly and locks eyes with you, searching for something in them that you don’t know whether or not he finds. 

After a couple of seconds, he looks away and pulls at your arm until you are lying next to him, cuddled up against his chest. 

He blinks slowly, as he looks at you, his eyelids heavy and you can’t help but cup his face in admiration and awe. 

“Did you put up a fight to be a brat and rile me up or because you really felt uncomfortable?” You ask him quietly. 

He chuckles softly and tugs you closer against himself.

“The dildo really is big and it felt like it was too big, for real, but yeah, once it went in without hurting, I loved every second of it.”

“Okay good,” you say, almost a little relieved, “I’m not too much into the whole talking back and being a bitch. I like my subs to be well-behaved so that I can spoil them properly.”

He tenses and swallows ashamedly. Your eyes go wide and you continue talking quickly before he gets the wrong impression. 

“Oh no, sorry!”, you clarify immediately, “Don’t be ashamed or anything. I loved this scene so much. Every second of it. It was perfect. I just meant… in general.”

He nods and relaxes back against you.

The two of you are quiet for a little while.

“I love when you have me so… desperate,” he swallows at the word but continues to speak anyways. His voice is softer now, as he admits, “I can’t believe, I can get like that with you,” he says it in wonder but despite his words, there are still traces of shame in his voice.

“Even the overstimulation?”  You ask carefully.

He smirks first and looks away then, ashamed once again. 

“Don’t be ashamed, Rafe, please,” you beg him, “I love that I get to see this vulnerable side of you and it turns me on incredibly.”

“Really?” He asks, his eyes wide and once again, you want to smack the whole world for telling men that they couldn’t be like this. Hot and bothered and desperate and wanting and submissive.

“Yes,” You say firmly, “Really.”

“I love the overstimulation,” he admits sheepishly. 

You laugh. “What’s there to be shy about?” You ask incredulously. “This is amazing, I love overstimulating my partners.”

“It’s just… it’s the best mixture of pain and pleasure,” he answers, “You want it to stop because it hurts and at the same time it hurts because it feels too good.”

You nod. There are lots of people out there hating overstimulation who would never go with Rafe’s description of it but you’ll take it.

He really is perfect, this new(-ish) sub of yours. You are perfect for each other. 

You can’t wait to see where this is going.

[dollwrites]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 — 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ this is a dark fic! smut ( minors dni ), fem!marleyan!reader, noncon ( and eventual dubcon ), virgin!reiner, gagging, size kink, noncon oral sex ( f! ), lots of manhandling, overstimulation ( him ), noncon creampie and dubcon breeding mention, tension between marleyan & eldian obviously, spoilers for late s3 / early s4, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ originally posted on 01.01.2023. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ unholy by hey violet

he was watching you again.

it seemed like he always was. quietly ogling from the corner. you knew, of course, and every now and then, you would cut him a glare that seemed to burn right through him. the furrow in your brows brought forth the memory of a soreness in his jaw, that he discreetly reached up to rub with the back of his hand— the sensation of your fist making direct contact with it wrenched to the forefront of his mind. you’d decked him, hard enough to dislocate it, because you’d woken up to find one hand inching up under your shirt. he hadn’t been able to control the urge to touch you any longer, and although his fingers had not made it far above your belly button, he’d paid for their misdeeds severely: first the punch from you, and then a savage beating dealt from the hands of your peers— Marleyan soldiers.

but maybe he was lucky.

had he been any other Eldian, anyone of lower ranking, he would’ve been beaten to death for touching you. but did that stop him from wanting you so bad it tortured him? did that stop him from thinking about you late at night, from gripping the sheets of his bed so tight in one hand and himself in the other, whispering your name under his breath and trying his best to imagine it was you wrapped around his hard and desperate cock instead of his fist?

not even for a second.

“Going home,” Zeke announced his presence as he approached, the cherry of a cigarette burning and a dull, gray trail of smoke following him, “are you excited?”

“Yeah.” a pathetic excuse for a reply, actually, but Zeke hadn’t seemed to expect any less. he didn’t bother following Reiner’s eyeline, he already knew where it would lead, and that you were on the end of it. Reiner hadn’t even looked away when Zeke approached, so the War Chief was aware he was deep in his hapless abyss of desire for you.

Zeke sucks on the cigarette, and the end singes furious red as he draws in a deep breath and contemplates the silence between them.

but Reiner wasn’t. he was lost in his thoughts of you. the shape of your body, how effortlessly enticing you were just sitting there with your comrades. that damned unreadable expression you always wore— and that fiery hatred in your eyes when he caught them. did you loathe the weight of his gaze so much? did you feel every ounce of lust he poured into it, tracing each curve of your figure, wishing he could kiss every inch of you? you never held his gaze long, just enough to grimace in disapproval, stare down your nose at him.

it should’ve turned him off completely.

it didn’t.

because Reiner was convinced that, if he could just get you alone, if he could just get his hands on you, he could make you like him. he could rip away that hatred, and replace it with affection.

or, maybe it was just wishful thinking, and he didn’t care to talk himself out of the lie he fed himself because his time was running out and he needed to feel you ( even just once ) before he passed his Titan down.

as if fate was winking her eye at him, you said farewell to your peers and got up from your seat, disappearing behind a closed door. it wasn’t to go to the bunker, he knew that. behind that door was a small room where you spent most of your time— a broad desk in the middle of the room and maps spread out. you were in charge of reading them, marking attack points, rendezvous, and escape points.

and, more often than not, you were alone in there.

Reiner’s hands clenched into fists, and the muscles in his jaw tightened.

Zeke glanced at him, eyebrow quirked, and murmured, “What if I ordered you against it?” Reiner didn’t have to tell Zeke what he planned to do, it was painfully obvious already.

“I would tell you to have me punished for insubordination after we reach home.” Reiner didn’t mince words or intentions, and pushed himself off the wall. this was, quite possibly, the only opportunity he’d have to catch you alone, as he watched the other Marleyans filtering towards their bunks, leaving your little office completely unguarded.

Zeke pondered his response.

Reiner seemed decided already, and he knew that he couldn’t be swayed. so, the chief sighs. “Then, I’ll order you not to get caught this time.” Zeke said, instead. he knew he shouldn’t allow Reiner out of his sight, and especially not to disappear behind that door, but Reiner also wasn’t a child anymore. he wasn’t so easy to control. “I need my Vice Chief alive.”

Reiner blinked, expecting more resistance, but when it wasn’t pressed, he didn’t look at Zeke. he nodded, and crept off, slinking through the shadowy corners until he reached the door.

Reiner slipped inside, but made no real efforts to hide his arrival, staring at your back. you were standing at the desk, both hands on the maps, and you don’t say anything to the intruder. his eyes don’t leave you, hand drifting to the push the lock on the door into place.

“The war’s over.” he mutters, and he watches your shoulders stiffen. you hadn’t expected it to be him, it seems. “You can stop staring at those maps.”

you don’t look back at him, and he uses the opportunity of stealth to reach up and grasp his armband, his marker as an Eldian, and snatch it from his bicep as he approached.

“As long as Eldians exist, there will be other wars.” you spit in return, but your eyes widen only slightly when you hear how close his footsteps have gotten. your heart skips a beat, and you stare at your own fist on the table. “Get out of here.”

“No.”

a lump forms in your throat— he was right behind you. when he whispered it, his breath shifted the hair that rested against your ear, and the heat from his breath sent a shiver up your spine. did he… did he say ‘no’? to a direct order from a Marleyan?

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” he added, and you felt the sturdiness of his body against your back; his head dips low, so he can breathe your scent in deep.

your fist flew back towards him as you started to turn to face off with him, but he must’ve been ready for it, because he caught your arm at the wrist and bent it up behind your back until you cry out, “Son of a —!”

your expletive is muffled, and you gag on the taste of cotton. for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s shoved in your mouth, until he cinches it in a tight knot behind your head, pressing his weight on you, and you realize it’s his armband. rage fills your stifled obscenities as you writhe, desperate to get free, and stomp your feet, hoping to catch his toes under your boots. “I didn’t want to do it like this,” he growled in your ear, bringing his knees up into the back of yours, bending you over the tabletop with a rough shove. one, massive fist secures both of your wrists together at the small of your back, “but, I’m almost outta time. And I can’t wait on you to come around, anymore.” the more you wiggle, the harder he squeezes your arms, and you bite down hard on the gag. you were no match for his strength, and you knew that, but your pride wouldn’t be easily broken.

you kicked and flailed as wildly as you could, blindly, screaming slurred and incoherent about all the gruesome, bloody ways you would make him pay for this if he didn’t get off of you, but even that didn’t stop him.

his free hand grasped your belt and the hem of your trousers at once, jerking them down your thighs. leather screamed until it pools with your pants at your ankles, restricting them, and Reiner sucks in a breath behind you. “I really wanted to take my time with you,” he husks, placing his powerful palm on your ass and digging his fingers in, groping rough handfuls. you bite down to push a moan back into your throat, brows furrowed. both of your fists uncurl, and you hook your digits into the waistband of your panties, instead, in a vain attempt to keep him from tearing them off of you. it doesn’t matter; Reiner’s calloused fingers seemed to rip right through the cotton and shred them until they sagged in threads against your thighs. and then, he lets out a low, awed moan, squatting down to stare at your core, inches from it.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of this? Imagined how sweet your pussy must taste?” you shook your head, gurgling in defiance— demanding he not even dare, but it was too late. your fingers push at his forehead, hoping to pry him away, but his mouth was already sealing against your netherlips, suckling on them. you pushed your tongue against the gag to keep yourself from moaning; you couldn’t admit to him how good it felt, especially when his tongue slipped between his lips and flicked your clit to life. the throbbing nerve swells against his tastebuds and he snorts like a beast in rut, lapping at you. his mouth then travels over one ass cheek, sinking his teeth in deep, sucking on the skin to leave his signature on you. you squeak, clenching your legs together, but it hid nothing from his devious mouth. “I’ve never felt a cunt tremble in my mouth before, soak my tongue…” he admitted, panting already as he gets to his feet, “how does it feel having the first and last pussy I’ll ever kiss?” and, then you felt the firmness of a solid cock through the trousers he was working down against your thighs, his mouth finding the back of your neck. “The first and last pussy I’ll ever fuck?”

you squirm underneath his weight, muffled screams of protest hoping to reach outside the door dying in the room you’re trapped in, and before long he grabs hold of the base of his massive cock at its thick base, worming it between your folds until they stretch and slot around the swollen head. you could tell his hands were shaking, his breath ragged and excited against your neck. “You’re wet,” he breathes in awe, and you shake your head, crying out the word ‘no!’ as loud as you could, but it was ultimately a lie. you were dripping, coating the tip of his cock as he rubbed it back and forth against your sex. “Wet enough to take me right now.” the way he said it, with his voice uneven, you knew it wouldn’t matter if you hadn’t been.

he wasn’t giving you a choice, and any preparation was better than none at all.

your palms press flat against his clothed abdomen and you squeal in fervent protest when he jabs his way inside of you— it’s none too gentle and his size is enough to have you coming out of your skin. your walls flutter and scramble to stretch wide enough to allow for the intruder’s rough entry.

it isn’t long before Reiner, grunting and groaning, has fallen into a brutal, greedy rhythm.

crying out, drool soaking the armband digging into the corners of your mouth, you push with your hands, blindly, as hard as you can, to try and push him out, and you squirm atop the table, hoping to wriggle free, but once he’s fully nestled inside, Reiner takes your wrists in each hand. your hands ball into fists again as he uses your arms like levers, pulling your body back to meet the mighty snapping of his hips. each thrust fills you entirely, hard and fast. he’s not saving any energy, or trying to make the sensation last— deprivation has clearly sank into him, and he couldn’t control himself.

“So— so tight,” he moans, nuzzling into your neck, “so warm.. so… fucking… good!” your vice tightens around him when he hits your limit, and his hips stutter; Reiner elicits a broken, gurgling moan that churns your stomach, “Oh, fuck, right there? That’s— that’s what I want— tighten up—!“ shifting with all of his weight bearing down on you, his palms pin your arms to the table, and he pounds that same, sensitive spot relentlessly. his brutality encourages your body to clamp down harder around him, shudder and spasm. you scream and beg him to slow down, but your resolve is weakening, and the screaming is starting to shift into moaning.

no, you didn’t want this.

you didn’t like it.

was he simply breaking your body into submission, and in turn, your mind?

“Close,” he stammered through grinding teeth, “so fucking close.”

for a moment, you mewled; the prominent vein massaging a delicate knot of nerves inside you as he plows against your hips. your eyelids fluttered, and you didn’t hear his warning. his rhythm didn’t change; it remained as cruel as one could be, battering your insides, but that nerve bundle was screaming each time he rammed it. your toes curled in your boots, and you moaned out loud.

and that was when Reiner lost it.

you hadn’t had time to react before he buried himself as deep as he could go, pumping you full of warmth, and you snap out of the pleasure trance too late to utter a disdainful but weak, “Shtp…“ amongst his huffing and puffing. your feet stomp against the floor, but sluggish.

your thighs quaked. your head was spinning. your stomach was tied up in knots. and your walls were trembling and sore from being stretched and abused. but Reiner was still rock hard inside of you. he’d cum, but he was still solid and bulging his shape against your belly.

“I need more.” Reiner grunted, and before you knew it, you were being flipped over. he did it with so much ease that you must’ve weighed nothing at all to the brute, and somehow managed to keep his cock deep inside of you. the breath is knocked from your lungs when your back makes contact with the desk, and your head rolls to one side, as if admitting your defeat. you didn’t want to look at him— you knew if you took one look at his red cheeks, or saw the sparkling sweat against his temple, or even caught a glimpse at his eyes, pupils blown out until they’re all black, you would want him. “Fucking you once was never going to be enough.” his hips were already rocking again, finding a deep, hard rhythm, and his own release frosts his length and dribbles out from your core when he retracts, then squelches when he drills his way back inside. both of his hands flee to his own body first, making short work of the buttons on his shirt before he peels it off of himself, and it flutters to puddle at his feet.

when his hands found you again, he started by pushing your legs open and down against the table, but when he saw that you weren’t going to fight him, he released them, and you kept them spread for him to violate you however he wanted. “Good… Good girl…” he panted, one hand reaching up to grab your face and turn it back to him. this time, you did make eye contact, and you moaned through the gag when you saw the pleasure you were giving him on his face, “Take it, just take it for me.” his fist wraps around the armband and he yanks it down, leaving you sputtering and puffing. “You want it, now, don’t you?”

for a moment, you just glare at him, or try to, but your eyes are becoming harder and harder to keep open. Reiner caresses your cheek, possibly tracing the irritation caused by how tight he’d tied the gag, but the gentleness of his touch was a startling juxtaposition to just how fervently he fucked into you. he was staring into your eyes, too, combatting the ferocity you tried to pour with pure adoration, the kind that must’ve even diluted his mind.

you didn’t answer, and he didn’t seem to care either way, because his hand travels south over your heaving breasts and down to your cunt, strumming experimentally. you pant, your eyes averting from his when he finds your engorged clit and presses the rough pad of his thumb on it to rub it hard. you couldn’t stifle your moans anymore, no matter how hard you tried, and let them punctuate each, maddening slam of his body into yours. your eyes trained on the muscles in his arms, veins bulging, everything pulled taut like a rubber band ready to snap. you wanted to reach down and push his hand away from your bud, the sensations overwhelming you, but decided against it. he’d overpowered you in every aspect of the word so far, you might as well take the role of the weaker, helpless one. your hands lay up near your head, backs of them resting against the table, and your legs were splayed wide, cramping from the position, and you whimpered. your back arched when his thumb pushed in just the right way, and you knew he’d rip an orgasm out of you if he didn’t ease up.

and he didn’t.

when he felt you pulse, when he saw your back arch, he rubbed more furiously in the same spot, and pistoned his powerful hips until you were babbling and squirming and coming undone on his cock, and he was panting and gripping your hip with his free hand, murmuring about how beautiful you were and how much he’s always wanted this.

his second climax wasn’t far behind yours, and he traded his fingers pinching your clit for both hands gripping your hips and pulling them to meet his reckless fucking. “I love you,” he panted when he was right on the cusp. “I love you so fucking much.” and somehow, even though lust might’ve been puppeteering him, you believed it. Reiner was obsessed with you, infatuated, since before he left for Paradis Island, and now he was finally getting to force that obsession on to you. with no more resistance. no one there to stop him or beat him for laying his hands on you.

it was only after he’d pinned you to the table with his whole weight that he whispered in your ear, “I want to give you babies.” your eyes widened at that, “I want to see your belly swell, and I want to know that you’ll bear my children, it’ll make giving over my Titan easier…” a couple of deep, slow pumps and he’s filled you once more, this time the excess spurts out around his base and dribbles down his thighs, too, as he moans and pulls back, to smother your mouth in a sloppy, needy kiss.

you should’ve turned your head, pushed him off and told him that you would rather die than birth and Eldian bastard, but you didn’t do any of those things. because you weren’t entirely sure if that was true anymore.

[rainstormwrite]

The new update is now public.

Hello again, people!

That's it. This is the day.

The new update is now public.

(You're required to start a new playthrough if you don't want any game-breaking bugs, by the way.)

What's done:

All three routes are finished.

All the POVs are rewritten to be in the third person (they actually feel way better than I thought they would be).

Some parts of the first fight scene are fixed and clarified.

Some pronoun bugs are fixed.

What's planned:

…

Writing another update, obviously.

Word count:

Including command lines: 271245 Excluding command lines: 260837

But, I would ask you to temper your expectations in terms of the new content's single playthrough length. I'm going to paraphrase this from my previous post: the actual amount of content that was added with this new update is somewhere between 15 to 25 pages (approximately).

Even though the word count increased from 53k to 260k, the only event to happen in this update is one conversation/confrontation (ridiculous, I know). This is primarily due to the overwhelming amount of variable text that changes depending on your earlier choices and due to the number of routes you can take. If you're interested in the reasons for me to decide to do that, check out my previous post.

So, basically, each reader will experience the new content very differently but may not get as much satisfaction due to its shortness. If that is the case, I can only suggest you make another playthrough with different choices, but, if that's not your cup of tea, I would totally understand. But, overall, the game is very… how do I put it..? Multiple-playthroughs-friendly, I'd say.

Safe to say, the update will be incredibly polarizing, no doubt, but I'm always open to feedback.

And, even though I haven't found any bugs or inconsistencies, I am obviously aware that someone else may find them, so, if you are that someone, please report the bugs to me.

I think that's all regarding the update itself, so go ahead and play it. Hope you will like it!

PLAY THE UPDATE

Now, onto other interesting things…

From this point onward, I'm starting to take writing seriously, and that's why I've finally decided to open my Patreon page.

I've made a free introductory post there that explains what I'll be offering, but, right off the bat, I want to tell you that I can't offer you things that other creators are usually offering: Q&As and What-if scenarios. If we're talking about Q&As, I don't want to do them because I consider mystery to be a big part of my work, so I don't really want to wiggle around every question that people will ask me because it won't be fair to them and won't feel good to me. As for What-if scenarios, I don't want to write out some hypothetical scenarios when I can spend that time to progress the plot forward in the actual story. And, trust me, if I'm going to spread my attention too thin, I'm never going to finish this project… And I don't think you and I want that.

What I will provide, however, are progress updates, sneak peeks, early access, and monthly side stories, which the community will be able to choose by voting.

So, I'd advise you to read through the new update first, decide whether you're willing to put up with my approach to the content, and then consider subscribing if what I offer on Patreon is enough for you. If, after all that, you decide to become a member, I'll be very grateful to you. If not, I will still appreciate you being interested in my work and taking the time to read through it.

Thanks for tuning in, and have a pleasant day or a peaceful night!

[lucozadehulahoop]

A Question of Time (Astarion x afab!Tav) part 4/?

Chapter summary: Astarion comes to terms with the peculiar effects of Tav's blood running through his veins, and leaving her is becoming more difficult than he'd originally anticipated.

Also: Astarion unwillingly finds himself reading a smut fic.

Tags and T.W.:pre-bg3!Astarion, slave!Astarion, demi-goddess!tav, kinda NSFW (minors stay away kindly, thank you darlings).

words: 2.5k

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

Tav felt the bite before she could even see it coming.

In her complete state of confusion, he twisted her hands even tighter in Astarion's shirt, frightened yet seeking comfort from the strong hold he had on her at the same time.

They were completely locked in on each other, almost as if letting a single breath of air between them would have been a fatal mistake.

Tav whimpered softly as her mind finally caught up with the sharp pain in her neck, the languid pull of her blood being drained from her flesh. She would have been lying if she said she hadn't already suspected something about Astarion's nature, but it had never quite mattered to her in the grand scheme of things.

"A-Astarion..." She pleaded with him, uncertain on whether he'd be able to stop himself. Tav wasn't human, she could withstand most perils situations that others couldn't, but neither of them could know the consequences of a vampire drinking her blood of all people.

Astarion was completely lost in his bliss. Not only had he just broken one of his Master's cardinal commandments by drinking the blood of a thinking creature, but he'd just switched from two centuries of eating rats and dogs to sipping on the very ambrosia of the gods.

He felt strong. No, more than that, he felt invincible, like he could walk right up to Cazador and snap him in half if he wanted to.

The next thing he felt was warmth begin to spread through his body in the first time since forever. He let out a groan of relief, sinking his teeth even deeper into Tav's neck, making her cry out. "Astarion, please!" And that, was when he finally remembered himself and what he was doing, his eyes flying open in alarm.

He was very careful to hold her still as to not hurt her while he retracted his fangs in the most gentle manner he could muster. "Oh what have I done-- what have I done?" Astarion cursed himself as he looked at Tav' vacant eyes and the giant gaping wound he'd just given her. In a fit of panic, he first attempted to stop the bleeding by putting pressure on her neck with his hand, then opted to do the same with the nearest, cleanest piece of fabric he could find.

He brought her over to the bed so she could lay down, never once stopping the pressure he was keeping over he wound. "Tav? Tav, darling, keep those pretty eyes on me now--" Astarion tried his best to keep her from drifting further away from him, but his attempts were seeming more and more fruitless by the second. "No, no don't you do this to me, okay? I made a mistake --- a truly wretched mistake. I never meant-I never wanted to hurt you please-"

Astarion suddenly heard the words he was speaking out loud in his own head. Was he worried? For someone else other than him? Was he afraid to... lose Tav? He blinked a single tear and realised his face wasn't just wet with Tav's blood. He was... crying.

"Tav, just... just say something... please darling, I'd give anything to... hear that bratty little voice of yours right now..." Astarion pleaded with her silently, undecided if he was more afraid about her dying in his arms or how much it hurt to care about another person again after so long. And why did he care so much about her? The two of them weren't lovers, nor had they known each other long.

Maybe it was the fact Astarion was now aware of what she'd sacrificed for him. That despite appearances, she was just as much of a prisoner inside the Crimson Palace as he was.

It could have been because he saw an affinity in their rather different tragidies. Or maybe... Tav had been the only person he'd met in his undead life that had tried her best to help him without seemingly wanting anything back from him. It could have been that Astarion may have possibly been harbouring the small hope of having found a friend, someone who didn't treat him like a monster or use him for his body. Someone he was beginning to like, that drew him in with her insufferable self righteousness and her pouty lips---

"Shh, quiet..." Her sweet voice came to him finally. "Can't you hear it? Your heart... it's beating." She murmured weakly before falling asleep with her head on his chest.

Astarion feared the worst. Tav was clearly delirious, thinking that she could hear the heart beat of a vampire --- then he felt it too. Incredulously, Astarion put a hand over his chest and listened. His heart... was truly beating.

He laughed in shock, welcoming the tears of joy that ran down his face as he tried his best not to hurt Tav while his hand was still keeping pressure on the wound.

For five more minutes Astarion lay in bed and revelled in the fact he had a beating heart once more. Then, slowly, the steady rhythm began to de down until it finally came to a familiar halt. Tav's blood had briefly, but undoubtedly made him human.

With a cool head once again, Astarion managed to rationalise the intense feelings he'd felt while he'd been worried sick over Tav. He wouldn't have been able to fret over her so much in his normal state, but that didn’t mean they hadn't been real. For a brief moment he'd been yanked out of the hardened selfish shell that came with being a vampire and he'd remembered what it felt like to care for someone else.

So... he hadn't always been such a bad person, he thought as he gazed down at Tav, who was still sleeping on his chest. Thankfully, he wound had been healing fast, at almost unnatural speed.

That still didn't make things right.

He'd taken something from her forcefully, used her for his own needs. And he would have been a dirty liar if he said he hadn't liked it too. A single taste of her blood and he'd been brought to ecstasy.

Now back in the seat of power, his selfish mind told him Tav was too valuable to let go. She made him strong, gave him unimaginable pleasure. What if... he could walk in daylight if he just drank enough of her blood? Even if only for a few hours...

Things would be even more complicated if Astarion were willing to openly acknowledge how deeply he desired Tav. The mere thought of it scratched at a possessive itch at the back of his brain he hadn't even been aware he had. She may have been powerful, but she was too sweet, too trusting of the world despite the environment she'd experienced. Shouldn't it have been... Astarion's responsibility to keep her from harm? From the terrible monsters out there who wouldn't have thought twice about exploiting her? After all, he owed her, considering everything she had done for him...

...☆...

When Tav woke up, she found tea and biscuits on the bedside table. She tentatively touched the cup with her fingers and found it to be cold, almost as if the beverage had been prepared hours ago.

She looked around to find she was back in her room, snugly tucked into her bed. Reaching for her neck, she let out a slight hiss at how tender her flesh still felt.

"Thought you might like to know... prince charming himself is here... and I doubt he's looking for me..." Astarion sneered as he looked out the window, his sharp eyes zeroing in on the valiant young knight who'd come to court Tav. It should have been none of his business. The sun had nearly almost set and it was about time he himself go going before he wasted another night.

Tav barely managed to sit up on the bed. It didn't usually take her so long to recover whenever she got hurt. Yet, she was feeling rather... sluggish and warn out. "Oh... is it one of those people asking for handkerchiefs again?" Tav huffed, closing her eyes and rubbing her midriff a little. "Just throw one down for him, will you Astarion? I don't understand... is there a shortage of cloth in the city? There's always a new one coming around... singing a song or asking very nicely..."

Astarion gave Tav a look of pure confusion. Did she really think that knights and nobles trying to serenate her at dusk were simply people who needed handkerchiefs? It clicked in his head then, that when a lady would give a token of her favour, the token usually resembled something akin to an embroidered cloth or handkerchief.

When the realisation hit, he burst out laughing in Tav's face.

"What?" Tav searched his face for a reason to his hilarity, now she was the one to be confused. "The first time it happened... this gentleman showed up, he was a terrible singer, kept me up all night with his... whining... so I started throwing things at him. Out of the pile, he picked at a handkerchief, seemed pretty happy, and left. Never saw him again. The others have been more or less the same."

It wasn't hard to believe they never came back. Trespassing on Cazador's grounds at night was dangerous business. Astarion grinned to himself in a rather evil thought. Tav had been unknowingly drawing in a fair amount of unsuspecting prey, and for some reason, it gave him great satisfaction to know all of her suitors up to that point had come to a rather sticky end.

"Darling, let me explain something to you—" Astarion began to say as he walked towards her, but he was interrupted by the lousy notes of a poorly strummed lute. The terrible sound of it made him visibly cringe.

"My lady — oh, fair lady —" The voice outside began to sing out of tune.

"Oh no..." Tav whined. "Just, throw something down the window of the tower for him, will you? I really am not in the right state to deal with this right now..."

"Sure, how about that priceless pianoforte in your music room?" Astarion snickered. "I bet that will keep him quiet. For good."

"No! I do not want you to flatten the poor man with my piano!... just... let's just try to ignore it..." Tav searched through a pile of books next to her bed, deciding to attempt reading as a distraction.

"Oh lady, lady of the tower-

Why, oh why would you leave me so... sour?"

"Oh sweet hells, is this guy actually serious?" Astarion cursed and shook his head, marching over to open the window and peek his head out. The knight was unsurprisingly taken back by seeing him instead of Tav.

"I say, are you incapable of taking a hint?" Astarion shouted down at him. The man was gobsmacked, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "The lady of the tower is rather indisposed at this moment..." He said languidly, purposely making the man draw the wrong conclusions. "In fact, she is completely bedridden... if you catch my meaning... I do apologize as it is completely my fault..."

Okay, so maybe he was laying it on a bit too thick. But it wasn't as if Astarion was jealous or anything. He just enjoyed messing with people. It was one of life's little pleasures.

"Now get lost, the last thing you want is to get caught out there after dark..." Astarion gave him one last warning before closing the windows shut.

"You didn't have to be so mean to him, you know?" Tav said as Astarion turned back to face her.

He took in the state he'd left her in and hated the fact he was sprouting a sense of empathy at an incredibly inconvenient time for him. Tav had done so much for him, and he'd yet to hear her screaming at him for taking a chunk out of her without permission.

Astarion didn't want to say goodbye. He decided then and there he was going to leave as soon as Tav fell back to sleep, which in her condition was probably going to be soon. All he needed to do was speed the process along.

He picked up the first book he could find on her drawing desk and sat down in a chair next to her bed.

Astarion looked at the title on the cover and tried his best not to roll his eyes. Tristan and Iseult. Of course, he had to go and pick a love story.

"You really don't have to read to me just because you feel bad-" Tav began to say, but Astarion cut her off.

"Excuse me, I'll have you know I am a very prolific reader, and you, my dear, seem to have a lack of understanding when it comes to courtship so this will be... an informative way to pass the time." He said, and swallowed thickly, already dreading the experience.

"How so?" Tav asked, blinking up at him curiously.

"Because-" Astarion huffed, already feeling uncomfortable in his chair. "This-" he said, wagging the book up in the air. "Is one of greatest love stories of all time and maybe you'll be... more aware of what's going on the next time some fool comes singing underneath your window..."

Tav raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, but asked no further questions. Astarion cleared his throat and began the reading. He was surprised to find the story was a lot less boring than he'd remembered, clearly catching on to the fact it was an unofficial re-telling of some sorts, due to new characters and extra encounters he'd never known from the original version.

Unfortunately, Tav was very interested too, hanging off his every word. She didn't seem like she was about to fall asleep any time soon. Astarion did his best to counteract this by letting his voice drone on in a deep soothing tone, yet his eyes almost jumped out of his skull when the tender love story took a very unexpected turn.

"Tristan watched as his fair love drank down the potion so hastily, the liquid spilled down her perfect neck and between the curves of her---" Astarion coughed nervously and turned the page, hoping Tav wouldn't notice as he skipped to the following passage. "Both drunk on the intense effects of the love potion, with trembling hands they reached for----- t-their, um, thriving bodies---"

"Hey! You skipped a section!" Tav protested.

"No, I didn't!" Astarion huffed back, pressing a hand to his forehead. How in the hells had he ended up recanting some bard's published smut-fic, he would never know.

"Let me see that..." Tav snatched the book from his hands and it was all Astarion could do as he jumped on her bed like a cat to get it back.

---

tag list (if you want to be added to the tag list, just let me know!): @d0nutkaky0in @i-just-want-to-sleep-97 @omggiannarosa @dead-giirl-walking @warbwarts @mrsfullbuster500 @uwomina @iyaesakura @cheeslyy @dragon-kazansky @bambamwolf87 @chibi-chi @orsomethingelseentirely @davenswitcher @adequate-superstar @ophelias-flowerss @tragedybunny @yaimlight @the-golden-ouroboros @candyladycry @babygirlbrainrot @mariposakitten @blobs-away @biganddrunkunicorn @astarionmisc @the-garbage-central @raviolixxx @banana-beans-police @screechingphantommaker @sunnanse @faefanatic @in-the-bleak-midwinters

[moonstruckme]

i sent the marauders question, tysm for answering :) could i request reader being embarrassed about her stutter and getting reassurance or maybe ordering at a restaurant? your writing always makes my day - thank you for doing it!

Thank you for requesting lovely!! I based the way I wrote this on a friend I had with a stutter, but that was some years ago so if it's inaccurate please let me know <3

cw: reader experiences anxiety/insecurity around stuttering

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 817 words

Remus can feel the tension radiating from you before the waitress even stops at your table. Your knee starts bouncing lightly. 

“Hi, are we ready to order?” She glances between you, and Remus lets you nod for the both of them. “Perfect!”

Her eyes go to you, but you turn to Remus, a desperate look in your eyes. He clears his throat. 

“Um, may I have the chocolate crepe?” he asks. The waitress blinks, refocusing on him. 

“Sure, with bacon or sausages?” 

“Sausages, please.” 

“Alright. And for you, love?” 

Your jaw is already tight, an anticipatory act Remus recognizes. He sets a hand on your knee under the table. You stop jiggling it, taking in a subtle breath. 

“May I please have the b…blueberry p…p…” Remus glances at the waitress. There’s new awareness in her expression, but otherwise it reads of nothing but patience. He rubs the side of your leg, and you try again. “Can I have the blueberry p…” 

Your hands have started to shake. Remus gives your knee an encouraging squeeze, but it’s no use. You look to him, a silent plea in your eyes. 

“The blueberry pancakes,” he says to your waitress. 

“Sounds good,” she says easily. “Short or tall stack?” 

Remus looks at you, but you’ve turned your head down towards your menu. 

“Tall,” he says. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” She gathers up your menus. You don’t look up. “Let me know if you need anything else.” 

He waits until she’s well out of earshot to take your hand in his. It’s still trembling gently, like a butterfly flittering against his palm. 

“Sweetheart,” he says softly. “Hey, you’re okay.” 

You shake your head, angling your body towards his and away from the rest of the restaurant. He’s glad when you look at him, though the shame in your expression has spiderweb cracks spreading across his heart. 

“I’m s…so emb…b—” Your eyes pinch shut, and you blow out a harsh breath. 

Remus hates when you do this. When your tongue gets stuck and you let it lie. There’s so much defeat about you afterwards, it floats over your head like a gray cloud. But he knows this isn’t the time to push you. 

“You don’t need to be,” he tells you honestly. “You were doing great. Really, you know I don’t mind stepping in for you, but you could have handled it on your own.” 

You press your lips together and try to pull your hand from his, but Remus interlaces your fingers. He can feel your pulse pounding against the butt of his palm when he presses down. 

“Relax, dove.” 

You take a breath. Swallow. “She was annoyed with me,” you say.

He shakes his head. “She didn’t care.” 

“I was using up t…too much time.”

“How do you figure?” 

“She has other tables.” 

Remus smiles slightly, stroking his thumb up the length of yours. “Look around, sweetheart. This place isn’t packed. I don’t think she was in any rush.” 

A flicker of uncertainty crosses your expression. Your knee starts to bounce again, but this time Remus only setting his thigh against yours gets it to stop. 

“I think,” he says quietly, “that you have a tendency to assume you’re bothering people when you’re not.” Your gaze flits away from his eyes, then back, and Remus holds it there. He hopes you can see all the sincerity he feels in them. “She didn’t give a shit how you were speaking. She wasn’t annoyed with you, she was probably just thinking about the next question she’d have to ask. Anyway, everyone likes pretty girls. That’s just basic psychology.” 

You snort. “If you want me to really start stuttering, keep flirting with me in public,” you say. But something about you has loosened, and Remus feels himself relaxing in response. 

“If you want to keep me from it,” he replies, “you’re going to have to come up with a legitimately troublesome consequence.” 

You turn away from him, but not before he sees the edge of the smile you’re trying to hide. He gives your hand a little tug. 

“I have a question for you, darling.” 

“No, I think you’re d…done.” 

“Come on,” he urges, “it’s a serious question.” 

When you turn back around, you’ve stowed away your amusement but it’s poorly concealed, shining through your eyes. “Hm?” 

“Are you going to be able to enjoy your pancakes here,” he asks sincerely, “or would you rather I get us boxes so we can eat at home?” 

You think on it for a minute, your gaze wandering about the restaurant. Remus can speculate what you’re looking for: gawping tables, kids turned around in their booths to listen, your waitress whispering furtively by the host’s station. You don’t find any of it. 

“I think I’ll b…be okay eating here,” you tell him, turning your eyes up to his almost sheepishly, “thanks.” 

Remus gives your hand a squeeze. “Attagirl.” 

[bananawafers]

heyyyy

kuroo drunk kissing you at your house? (lip biting and sucking and AARRRGGHHHH)

no smut please!! just make it a steamy session of making out!!! like REAL REAL STEAM! (idk how to express it lol)

thanks in advance !! take care <33333

I love this idea! I hope you don’t mind I had to switch up the setting a bit to match the storyline :)

The Wedding Guest - Kuroo Tetsuro x Fem! Reader

Today’s date has been marked on your calendar for months. It’s your childhood friend’s wedding day, and you couldn't be happier to be there on her special day.

As you settle into your seat at the winter wedding, you can’t help but feel a sense of awe at the stunning scenery unfolding before you. The candle-lit indoor venue, with its panoramic glass windows offering a view of the snow-covered mountains bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun, is nothing short of breathtaking. You’re so mesmerized by the beauty of the moment that you fail to notice the tall dark haired man settling into the seat beside you.

“Quite the view, isn’t it?” He remarks, jolting you from your thoughts. You turn to him, and you’re caught off guard by his appearance. He has captivatingly sharp features, broad shoulders and a tall frame. His eyes are so dark they could peer into your soul, and you can’t help but note how clean he smells. You suddenly become embarrassingly aware of his proximity to you.

“It’s stunning.” You utter in response, and he nods.

“So, what’s your connection to the happy couple?” He asks.

“I’m a friend of the bride’s. You?”

“The groom happens to be a relative of mine.” He replies. You open your mouth to ask him his name, but before you can utter a word, the room falls silent and the officiant steps forward. The gentle rumble of voices dies down and all eyes turn to the front of the room. You close your mouth, the question left unspoken.

As if he could read your mind, he leans close to you. “It’s Kuroo, by the way.” He whispers. “And you?”

You curse the heat rising to your cheeks at his confidence. “Y/n.” You reply quietly. He hums in acknowledgment, before returning his attention to the ceremony.

•••

As the ceremony concludes, guests begin to filter out of the venue and make their way to the reception area. You linger for a moment, taking in the joyful atmosphere and the sight of the newly married couple exchanging kisses and laughter.

You look away in time to catch Kuroo’s gaze from across the room as he’s caught amidst a conversation with a few other guests. You smile and offer a half-hearted wave. To your bewilderment, he appears to mutter a goodbye to the other guests and begins to make his away across the room to you.

“Long time no see.” You joke when he reaches you.

He huffs a laugh. “Enjoying the festivities?"

You nod, a playful twinkle in your eye. "As much as one can in these uncomfortable clothes," you remark, gesturing to your dress.

Kuroo laughs, a knowing look in his eye. "Tell me about it," he said, shifting on his feet. "These shoes are killing me. I can't wait to get out of them."

You nodded in agreement. "I'd give anything to trade places with you," you say with a smirk. "At least you have the option to take them off."

For a brief moment, Kuroo hesitates at your comment, as if contemplating something. Then, he cracks a smile. "You have a point," he concedes.

Before you can continue your conversation, the groom approaches with mischievous grin on his face. "Kuroo! You have to come join me for a drink," he exclaimed, slinging an arm around Kuroo's shoulder.

Kuroo glances back at you, a silent apology in his eyes, before allowing himself to be dragged away by the groom.

•••

As the reception winds down, you find yourself at the bar, sipping on a glass of champagne as you watch the remaining guests mingle. You lean against the counter, lost in thought, when a familiar figure sidles up beside you.

You turn to find Kuroo, looking slightly disheveled and very clearly drunk. A playful grin spreads across his face as he leans in close to you. "Hey there, fancy feet," (sorry) he slurs, gesturing vaguely toward the dance floor. "I must say, you've got some unique dance moves."

You drag a hand across your face. “Oh god, you were watching me?”

“How could I not?” He teases.

“Someone’s had one too many drinks.” You utter sardonically. “Shouldn’t you be getting home?”

Kuroo blinks at you, momentarily puzzled. “Home?” He repeats, as if the concept is foreign to him. “Oh, right… I’m staying at a hotel down the street.”

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, it’s… that way.” He says, pointing vaguely in one direction before changing his mind. “Actually, no… It’s that way.”

It’s frustratingly clear to you that he has no idea how to get home by himself. You hesitate for a moment, weighing your options, before making a decision. “You know what?” You say, placing a hand on his arm. “I’ll walk you to your hotel. It’s no trouble.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off with a firm look. “No arguments.” You say firmly. “It’s late, and you’re in no condition to be wandering the streets alone. Come on, let’s get you back.”

With a resigned sigh, Kuroo accepts defeat, following you out of the venue into the cold winter air. As you walk together down the deserted streets, your amusement at the tipsy man stumbling beside you distracts you from the cold.

As you arrive at the hotel, you guide Kuroo up the steps and into the lobby. The dimly lit corridors feel like a maze as you make your way to his room, staggering as he leans heavily on you for support.

Finally, you reach his door, and you fumble with the keycard until the lock clicks open. You push the door open, revealing a cozy hotel room bathed in the soft glow of lamplight. The room is simple yet inviting, with a plush bed adorned with crisp white linens, a small desk tucked into one corner, and a large window offering what you assume to be a perfect view of the mountains in the daylight.

As you step inside, you let out a sigh of relief at the warmth of the room. Kuroo walks past you and sinks into the bed, and you kick off your heels to sit beside him. The mattress dips under your weight, and you allow yourself to sit in silence for a moment.

As you unwind, you reach up to undo your hair from its uncomfortably tight updo. Your curls fall limply to your shoulders, now taking the form of soft waves. You suddenly feel Kuroo’s silent gaze on you, and your pulse quickens slightly at the intimacy of the situation.

“You know,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “I think I prefer your hair like that.”

His words hang in the ear, and your face begins to feel hot. You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest as he reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, and you allow yourself to lean into it, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers brush against your skin.

Even though you can see it coming a mile away, it does nothing to calm your beating heart as he leans in closer, his lips meeting yours in a tentative kiss. At first it’s slow and gentle, a delicate exploration of each other’s lips as you find your rhythm. His mouth moves against yours in a way that feels almost practiced. Even in his drunken state, his precision sends shivers down your spine.

You let out a wanton sigh and finally melt into his kiss, your fingers tangling in his black hair as you pull him closer. He hums against you, taking your response as an invitation to add more pressure. His hands begin to roam freely over your body, tracing your curves with a reverence that makes your head spin. You return the gesture, your hands roaming across his chest, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

The kiss grows more fervent now, as your bodies press closer together. It’s a desperate embrace; he kisses you with urgency, like he’s been starved. You have to part to catch your breath, and he wastes no time to litter your collarbone with love marks. He skillfully traces up to your sensitive pulse, where he lingers, his hot mouth drawing an involuntary gasp from you. Just as you begin to feel light headed, your phone starts to buzz in your purse.

The two of you are pulled from your reality, and you take a moment to breathe. You allow your gaze to focus on him, and in the dimly lit hotel room, his eyes somehow appear a shade darker. They flicker across your face as his breathing calms, and a crooked smirk spreads across his painfully handsome features.

“You’re almost as good at kissing as you are at dancing.”

You scoff before reaching up and yanking a piece of his hair, earning a playful wince from him as he draws away from you. You suddenly feel cold again as you shift to pull your phone out of your purse. You answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Y/n? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. We’re leaving, where are you?”

You immediately stand, cursing. “Sorry, I’ll be there in a few minutes!”

~~~

Thanks for reading! I know it was a bit of an abrupt ending and I could definitely still use some experience writing steamy scenes— but I hope this satisfies ;))