#and then i had to read some ridiculous fic before i could go to sleep

[daycourtofficial]

Come back, be here

Azriel x reader

Summary: It’s the anniversary of your mating bond ceremony and despite his reassurances, Azriel is nowhere to be seen.

Author’s note: this is the end of my 1k celebration and ironically the first fic I finished for this week. I hope you guys enjoyed reading these fics as much as I enjoyed writing them

Word count: 2k

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Every second you sat in your kitchen felt like an eternity, the fabric of the dress you’re wearing growing heavier with each tick of the clock.

You had bought the clock for your mate for your mating anniversary years ago. A rare antique that you knew he would love - thousands of years old, and you got it for an absurdly low price due to the condition it was in.

You spent months with a restoration expert, cleaning the clock, repairing pieces as you dismantled it. It was a labor of love, one you thought Azriel was deserving of.

The months spent restoring it were nothing compared to the time you’ve been sitting here.

Now you sit, practically taunted by its song. Tonight was supposed to be about the two of you. Objectively five years in a mateship isn’t a long time, a blip in the lives of fae, and yet the both of you were looking forward to the evening.

Despite his intimidating demeanor, Azriel was meticulous about celebrating your anniversaries, oftentimes mentioning an event you didn’t realize he knew the date of. You imagined he had an internal index of the days you two spent together.

“I waited five hundred years to meet you,” he had told you when he wanted to take you out to celebrate the anniversary of your first date, “I want to remember everything we do together. I want to celebrate us every day that I can.”

His words were incredibly sweet, but sitting in the cold kitchen, the tempting aromas of the meal you made long gone, you wonder just how much of it was words.

He waited 500 years for you, and you waited several hours before packing up the dinner you had made for him, tears running down your face as you packaged it all up.

Perhaps his overeager celebration of anniversaries led to the intensity of the sting you feel deep in your chest.

The clock chimes twelve times - he’s four hours late and your anniversary is officially over. You have no indication from the bond what he’s doing, it’s golden hum having gone silent hours ago.

You blow out the candles littering the house, taking off the ridiculous party hat you were wearing and throwing it on the ground.

It feels silly, the brightly colored hat with a pompon on top. It’s bright demeanor heavily contrasting the loneliness you feel inside. You sigh, looking around the downstairs of your home, deciding to leave the rose petals you had scattered so perhaps he’ll feel at least a little guilty when he came home.

Whenever that would be.

Trudging up the stairs, each step growing heavier, you wonder what could have kept him away. Rhys certainly wouldn’t have asked him to go away - Azriel had mentioned earlier in the week he’d be unavailable for a few days to celebrate.

Besides, Rhys knew how anal Azriel was about your anniversaries, and Feyre would chew him out if he forced Azriel to do anything on a day as important as your mating ceremony anniversary.

He had left this morning, promising you he’d be home at 8 because he had some tasks to do. You knew he was going to help one of your neighbors with a fallen tree, something that had to be done as soon as possible.

You move silently, going through your nightly ritual, an early end to the night you didn’t see coming. You pull back the covers on your bed, slipping into its cold grasp, ready to cry yourself to sleep, when you hear the door open downstairs.

You can hear Azriel moving through the house, a swiftness to his step as you hear him climbing the stairs quickly, taking them two at a time.

You make your way to your shared bedroom door, that you had locked upon entering, and lean against it, unsure if you’re ready for his excuses.

He tries the handle, then begins knocking.

“Baby, baby please be awake.” He pauses for a moment, listening. “I’m so sorry, baby please I know you’re awake I can hear you breathing.”

One of his shadows snakes underneath your door, checking you over to see how you are. It lingers on your cheeks, tear tracks still fresh. The shadow doesn’t return to it’s master, instead opting to stay with you, providing you company.

“Please, baby, I lost track of time. I was working on a surprise for you and I fell asleep. Baby I’m-“

You push off the door and turn to crack open the door, taking in the sight of your mate. Despite your annoyance, the bond made it practically impossible to want to avoid him. Every piece of you begged to be near him, to open the door further letting him in.

“You were working on a surprise?” Your voice cracks from all the crying, and he doesn’t mention how his heart cracks in response.

He nods gently, his hair sticking up everywhere from his hands having ran through it, and likely also from the flight home.

You’re still upset, but the frost you feel starts thawing. You can make him grovel a bit, and you’re about to open the door more, when the smell hits you.

Elain.

He showed up late to your date for your mating anniversary with some lame excuse about falling asleep because he had spent the day with Elain.

Elain, who was mated to Lucien, but made her affections for your mate abundantly clear before your mateship. As far as you had known, Azriel had shut down her affections when the bond snapped for you both, but now you’re reconsidering everything that you know.

Had they been sneaking around? Is this the first time? Does Lucien know?

The questions swirl in your mind, and Azriel puts his foot in the door begore you can slam it on him, your emotions swirling inside of his chest.

“Baby-“

“You spent the day with Elain?” You spat, “you were late because of Elain? You reek of her, Az!”

You push against the door, trying to shut him out, but he doesn’t budge, he won’t pull his foot out of the way, no matter how much it hurts.

“Baby, no let me explain-“

You laugh, “what’s there to explain? You are covered in her scent.”

The tears start pouring again, and the shadow starts wiping them up, more of them coming through the door to console you.

He starts panicking. Things with Elain have been great the past few years - her distance from Azriel allowing any lingering feelings of lust or awkwardness to dissipate, allowing the two of them to have a cordial friendship. Despite this, he was aware of how insecure you were around her.

You could never grasp why he’d want to be with you when he could have been with her.

Panic laces his tone as he tells you, “baby, no, I went to Elain’s to bake you a cake! We’ve been working all week on a recipe for you!”

You stop pushing so hard against the door, your movements stilling. An invitation for him to continue talking, but to stay where he was and not try to come in further.

“We spent the day baking you a cake. I laid down on her couch, and you know how damning that thing is. Lucien was there all day. I fell asleep waiting for the cake to cool so I could frost it. They must have left because-“

He pauses, his words rushing from his mouth, afraid you’d shut him out before they made their way to you. “I-they had me promise not to tell anyone, but Elain’s pregnant and they left for an appointment with Madja. They got back not too long ago, waking me up. I came straight here, forgetting the cake and your gifts.”

You lift your eyes to look at him for the first time and you know he’s telling you the truth.

“Gifts? Plural?”

A laugh breaks out from him, your obvious attempt to diffuse the situation. He pushes his hair back with a hand, and you finally take in how messy it was. He clearly had rushed over here, if it’s wind-blown look was anything to go off of. “I got you these incredible books that I spent ages tracking down. I was in Day earlier this week to pick them up.”

You perk up at that, “but you hate going to Day alone because Helion begs you to-“

“Then I had to stop by the jeweler’s.”

You perk up at that, your love of jewelry rivaling Amren’s.

“The jeweler’s?”

He smiles faintly, hoping he’s slowly convincing you to let him in.

“I had Winston take part of one of my siphons to make you a necklace.”

You still at that.

“Your- your siphon?”

He smiles softly, “yeah, I’ve been talking with him for years on how to best remove a piece to make you a matching necklace.”

You narrow your eyes, “years?”

“Yes, my love. We’ve gone through probably dozens of unused syphons to figure out the best method, he finally figured it out a few months ago.”

His hand taps his chest, where one of his siphons usually sits.

“I had a bit chiseled off of the one that stays on my chest.”

Your resolve crumbles, seinging open the door and launching yourself into his arms. He holds you tightly, and the two of you just stand there, enjoying the embrace.

The clock chines downstairs, but this time it’s tune is one of love, not dread.

You smelled him again, and as prominent as Elain’s scent was, you also picked up strong hints of Lucien and a soft, delicate scent.

“So nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened. And nothing ever will happen.”

Your eyes are lined with tears, pulling back from him, you place your hands on his face, bringing his face level with yours.

“If anything did happen, or ever happens, I’ll skin you alive.”

“My love, I think if I were to ever do anything to break your heart, Nesta would put my heart on a platter.”

You giggle, and he hums out, “actually I’m not sure who’d get to me first - Cassian or Nesta.”

Your soft giggles soothe the erratic beating of Azriel’s heart, “Gwyn and Emerie might take a chunk out too.”

He pushes the strands of hair away from your face, guiding the two of you further into the toom so he can shut the door.

“Let’s assume that if I did anything to hurt you, there would be a long line of fae coming to hunt me down.”

He kisses you, quickly pecking your lips several times as he guided you backwards until your knees hit your bed.

“However I did leave my mate all alone on our anniversary.”

He crawls on top of you, kissing your neck as you close your eyes at the contact, “and I am very good at groveling.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar writing #azriel x y/n #azriel angst

[ellecdc]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLBnwGM5/

Hi there again! I saw this tiktok and it immediately made me think of the boys. Do you think you could write something with Sirius or Remus coming home drunk and just being completely drunken lover boys and just r trying to hold back their laughs but also blushing and completely over taken by adoration of their boy. Hahah any way hope you have an amazing day!

omg babes this is so funny and cute. and I clearly didn't read your request carefully enough because you asked for Sirius or Remus but I gave you both 🫢 terribly sorry, please do forgive me. side note: I'm so pissed because I was going to tag this one poly!marauders fic that had the same premise and James comes home going "I hope she does wake up I missed her so much I think I'm going to throw up" all in the same breath and Sirius just abandons him and Moony in the kitchen to snuggle their girl and I can't find it! I actually scoured all my faves master lists to try to find it for you and I can't 😭 update!: a few followers did some sleuthing and found it, it's this fic by @luveline!!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader when the boys come home drunk [and in love]

CW: mentions of drinking and drunkeness

You woke to the feeling of the bed dipping gently once, and then much less gently a second time.

“Pads, for fuck’s- Hi dovey.” Remus began hissing at Sirius before you opened your eyes to see him lying before you.

“Oh! Is she up now?” Sirius said approximately three decibels louder than necessary as he threw his heavy arm over your waist and roughly pulled you into his chest.

“Missed you s’much.” He slurred as he shoved his face into your neck. 

“Mm, was boy’s night fun?” You asked through a stretch, sleep causing your words to tumble inelegantly out of your mouth.

“No.” Sirius harrumphed quickly as Remus moved a clumsy yet gentle hand to the side of your face.

“It was fun.” He conceded, earning him an indignant “was not” from your neck.

“Why didn’t you have fun, Sirius?”

Sirius scoffed as if you had asked a particularly ridiculous question. “Uhm, because my best girl wasn’t there?” He muttered into your hair, pulling you impossibly further into his chest.

“You’re gonna squash her, Sirius.” Remus admonished.

“Fine. Roll over babydoll.” Sirius ordered, pulling his arms away only to paw at your shoulder in an attempt to encourage you onto your other side.

You weren’t awake enough for this.

“Siri.” You whined petulantly. “What time is it?”

“Almost three.” Remus answered readily.

“Roll over.” Sirius asked again.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I wanna see your- your beautiful face.” Even through his slurring and hiccups, he still managed to be an incorrigible flirt. 

“No, leave her. I’m looking at her right now.” Remus argued. You had to smother a laugh at how un-Remus-like he sounded when drunk, and made a mental note to tell him in the morning how petulant he was just to be rewarded with that beautiful blush you knew he’d wear. 

“Tough; you’ll just have to look at me.” Sirius countered.

“I had to look at you all night!”

“Had to? Just what is- is that s’posed to mean, Moons?”

“Sirius, knock it - ouch!” Remus reached over you to return a mean pinch to Sirius’ side, causing an all out war to break out between the two.

“Fuckin’ hell.” You muttered as you extricated yourself from the bed. You barely made it down the hall before you heard a painful sounding thump and footsteps chasing you.

“Dovey! Wait!” Remus called, a little more out of breath than the few feet from your bedroom really called for. “You can’t go into the kitchen.”

You felt your face scrunch up in confusion. “Why not?”

“Because Remus broke a glass!” Sirius called, limping over from the bedroom.

“Squealer.” Remus muttered at Sirius as he teetered slightly into the wall beside him. “M’sorry dove. I dropped it in the- in the sink and will clean it tomorrow when, uhm…”

“When the world’s not so spinny anymore.” Sirius finished for him, nodding sagely at his own decree.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” You asked, looking carefully at his hands for any signs of blood.

“That’s so nice of you to ask.” He whispered in awe, allowing you to manipulate his hands in yours. 

“Don’t act so surprised, Moony.” Sirius slurred. “She’s literally the nicest girl in the world.”

“She really is.” Remus agreed. 

You blushed furiously and continued into the kitchen, mindful of any potential broken glass on the floor - though you were happy to note that it did appear all damage was contained within the sink - to grab three bottles of water from the fridge.

“I actually love her so much.” You heard Sirius whisper to Remus from around the corner.

“Me too.” Remus whispered back. 

“I am so in love it’s actually a little bit embarrassing.”

“Me too.” Remus agreed again.

“Do you think she loves us as much?”

“Impossible.”

“Yeah I don’t think so either.”

“Well that’s not fair.” You interrupted as you rounded the corner again. “No one asked for my input.”

“Sorry, dollface. It’s just, I’m so far gone for you and Remus here is a certified simp so I already know it’s im- impossible for you to love us nearly as much.”

“It’s not a competition, Siri.” You admonished lovingly, handing him a bottle of water before passing one to Remus. 

“You got these for us?” Remus whispered, sounding alarmingly close to tears. You chuckled at him and touched his cheek. 

“‘Course I did, handsome.”

He shook his head as he stared at you in awe. “No; I definitely love you the most.”

“You do not!” Sirius argued quickly.

“It’s not a competition!” You reiterated.

“Fine.” They chorused as they followed you obediently to the bedroom. 

“But if it was, I’d win.” Sirius proclaimed as he fell face first into the mattress. 

Remus snorted before chugging almost half the bottle of water and dribbling some onto his sleep shirt. 

“Did you break the glass trying to get a drink, bubs?” You asked him as you took the water bottle from him to recap it and he fought to catch his breath.

“Yeah.” He admitted looking terribly shamefaced. “I gave up on having water after that.”

You smiled and kissed his forehead before climbing into bed to situate yourself between the two boys.

You pressed your back into Remus in order to face Sirius who was already out cold and snoring lightly.

“You should’ve seen him tonight.” Remus started through a yawn. “Some girl tried hitting on him and he started screaming and asked me to ‘take him home to the most beautiful girl’.”

You held your hand to your mouth afraid that your beaming smile would somehow wake up Sirius for being entirely too bright.

“Yeah? What’d you do?”

You could tell Remus was nearly asleep when he finally answered you, sleep dragging out the syllables as he whispered them into your hair. 

“I brought him home to you.”

#ask elle #marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #sirius black #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #wolfstar #wolfstar x reader #wolfstar x you #poly!wolfstar #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar x you #poly!wolfstar fluff #fluff #ellecdc fics

[spdrvyn]

miguel and his sunshine human gf that loves to annoy the shit out of him and sometimes in order to stop her/calm her down he has to put her in an air jail 🤭

ardor and annoyance

miguel and reader who's a bundle of energy and joy. having to tame your late night rituals is no easy task, but it's one that he's always willing to take. what's more important than having your dear lover in bed with you?

pure fluff. reader can be seen as either civilian/spider. is it really one of my fics if i don't write about how much miguel hates himself even by just a little bit

dividers by @cafekitsune

What Miguel learned from being a leader, setting an example, being his mother's son, and serving as a hero was patience. 

It was a value that he had slipped up on from time to time, more often with himself. If he ever found himself at wit's end with someone else, he would mope until it passed or wait to get some precious alone time and healthily expresses his emotions by making a mess of his quarters and breaking down until he'd get tired and just sleep it off, restarting this precious cycle. 

Eventually though, he had begun to no longer exhaust himself by getting angry. Unless the entire multiverse was at stake (ahem), then he'd have to spring into action. But his main priority now is to fix the problem, get it over with, rinse, and repeat. 

When you entered his life, he realized that there was more to his ridiculous routines, more than his self-destructive attitudes, and that true patience came with love and caring as well. Obviously, he's light years away from being content with himself, but you redirect him, navigating through when that dastardly cycle repeats, so that you can wash it away and make him anew. 

Miguel isn't the only one that has his layers peeled back though, there's so much that he notices about you. That composed and mature persona that you set up for yourself, that has built good albeit only professional connections with the other spiders eases its way into a bubbly and joyful demeanor whenever you're around him. 

It almost didn't make sense, Miguel just seemed like the kind of guy to not want to do that with, to not want to relax around. He couldn't even relax on his own, the thought that anyone could feel comfortable in their own skin around him was shoved into the back of his mind. That connection that he so painfully needs is put aside for prioritizing the safety of everyone everywhere else. 

Your true nature is infectious, to his dismay. It's too difficult to avoid the care that you're so insistant on giving him, it started with working overtime, to enjoying working overtime, to going over to Miguel's place for work purposes, to going over to Miguel's place for non-work purposes to kissing him for the first time, and now you're dating. 

The catch with Miguel having let loose around him was that all that conserved energy circulated around his apartment, whenever he got home from another long day at the Society, he'd climb into you doing five different things all at once. Reading, watching a show, watching a baking show, baking a cake, and texting. 

It was hectic, nothing that he couldn't handle, but how you're not on the verge of collapsing probably deep into the trenches of the night concerned him. For slightly more selfish reasons, Miguel doesn't like not having you in bed with him. This wasn't as extreme as the missions he took up at work, but it was a mission nonetheless.

You're... Busy, Miguel doesn't know what with. He sees yarn, he sees cookie dough, he sees a laptop, tablet, phone, and headphones, and so many other trinkets that are buried under the pile that you've built on the kitchen counter. Your focus shifts between each individual station, and Miguel shifts closer and closer to you quietly. 

You're occupied on the laptop, occasionally looking at the stove while you're doing so. Then returning to your yarn and now knitting needles? Before mixing the cookie dough even more and even liking the mixture off of the spoon, humming to yourself contently. 

You don't even notice that Miguel is right behind you, until he secures you against his front and lifts you up with a squeal. 

"Miguel!" You whine, squirming against his solid arms. Your feet swing in the air and you try to push his hands away from your midsection, but there's no use in trying to free yourself when it's with him anyway. 

"Go to sleep. No más tonterías, cariño." His voice is fogged by sleep, as his grasp on you tightens. You turn slightly with what little space that you have and you can see his slumber muddled stature. Tousled hair, relaxed expression, eyes half-lidded, and he raises a brow at your staring. "What?"

"Nothing," you sigh, "I'll go to sleep, you just have to let me go."

Miguel shakes his head, rocking your swinging body from side to sidet to go along with it as well. "No, I don't trust you." There's a humorous fry to it, you accentuate the pout on your lips, and he laughs. 

It takes a little while for you to convince him to put you down, you can't say this is the most uncomfortable position for you. Whenever you're around Miguel, you always wind up in his arms one way or another, but this time that principle is just being used against you. The conversation shifts, less about your captivity, more about Miguel's day, your day, anything new outside, anything new in Spider Society. The position you're in, the silky nature in his voice, it gets you groggy and Miguel can sense it. 

He wins. 

He handles you to the bed properly now, laying your once tireless form onto the comforter as he tucks you in. You don't even try objecting anymore, the stove is still on, the video on your laptop was probably still playing, and that knitting project will have to remain unfinished until tomorrow, but it was fine. You know that everything is fine when Miguel gets into bed with you, pressing his lips to the top of your head in one long kiss. 

He wins this little dispute of yours, but you know that you've won at life knowing that your nights end like this, engulfed in his embrace, the sound of his breathing bringing you to a deep sleep as well. 

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #x reader #x you #x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o’hara fluff #fluff #romance #i actually responded to the request this time #are you guys proud of me

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Breeding – Gyomei X Fem Reader.

Will slowly be releasing my Kinktober fics hehe. Of course, if you don't want to wait and would like to read all of them, check out my Patreon! (link in bio) they are very good and very very spicy <3

Summary : You and Gyomei try for a baby. That's it. That's the fic.

You gulped as you tried to not let your nerves effect you but failing as you jittered on your bed. Every single noise that came from within your house made you jump before you realised it was nothing, and definitely not the person you were waiting for.

You knew it was only a matter of time before your husband showed up, the man always punctual and never negotiating coming home to his wife. It was a bit odd, of course, having to wait for your husband to come home when the sun rose, but you had quickly gotten used to waking up early. Afterall, how could you sleep when your lover was out there, fighting for his life everyday to slaughter man-eating demons?

Your routine with the man was simple. He’d go out at night to do his duty and come back when the sun rose, tired but proud of a successful day of slaying demons. And you couldn’t be prouder to be called his wife. The first thing you’d both do when he arrives home is fill his belly with some nice, warm and comforting food before he took you in his arms and slept, recovering from the exhaustion of a long night. And of course, if you’re feeling particularly needy, he’d make love to you before getting some shut eye, your husband often just as desperate for you as you are for him.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, you were not waiting for him with warm food and the promise of good sleep.

Not yet anyway.

You jumped as you heard the telltale sound of your door unlocking just as the sun started to rise.

Never a minute late.

Familiar footsteps padded through the house, each stomp making your body grow hotter. You heard him call out for you; the man clearly confused as to why you didn’t greet him as you usually did. You responded back to him by letting him know you were in the bedroom. As his footsteps got closer, your body grew hotter and hotter and you couldn’t help but jump as the door to the room opened.

Your husband walked in, tall and handsome and oh so muscular, looking adorable with the slight confused expression on his face. “Darling?” he called out.

“H-How was work today?” you asked, wanting to make sure he was alright first.

“It was fine.” Gyomei said, “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Not even a scratch.”

You let out a sigh of relief. You knew Gyomei was an incredibly strong man but even he wasn’t immune to injury or even death.

“What’s going on, my love?”

“Well, um…” you said, feeling incredibly shy once more as the attention was brought back onto you, “I…wanted to talk to you about something…”

“Yes?” Gyomei asked, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

“It’s about…what you said yesterday…”

Gyomei was about to fall asleep, his face resting on your chest as you spoke to him, your voice often comforting him and lulling him into slumber. You were telling him random stories about what you did during the day, talking about a particular story where you were playing with the neighbourhood kids. Right before he was about to fall asleep, arms wrapped tightly around you, you heard Gyomei whisper something:

“I want…a baby…”

“You…You said you wanted a baby.” You reminded, feeling your ears turn red, “and- well- I’d like one too.”

“Oh.” Gyomei said, his hesitation making your blood run cold. Did you misunderstand? Or maybe he thought about it and decided he actually didn’t want kids. Or-

The man brought a hand upto his face and you felt your anxiety melt away as he tried to hide his blushing face but failing to cover up his red ears.

“You didn’t say anything so I thought that you didn’t want to talk about it…” he confessed, “But you’re right. I want to have kids with you.”

You gulped, blushing like a virgin. This was ridiculous! You were married to this man for so long and yet, he still makes you feel like a teenager whose crush smiled in her direction.

“Is that why you were waiting for me here?” Gyomei asked, a hint of a smile on his face, “You want us to get started right away?”

“Well- that’s- um-“ you sputtered, fanning your blushing face, “If you’re not too tired- oh!”

You gasped as Gyomei suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed, making you fall back onto the mattress. You squealed as your husband crawled onto the bed as well, his tall, hulking figure towering over you. He had already taken off his haori and was just in his uniform which he knew you found attractive on him.

“I can go on for hours more, my love.” He said, a hand coming up to thumb at your lips, “question is, can you?”

~~~~~

“Mmph- ah- fuck- ah!”

Gyomei growled as he lifted his head from where he was buried between your legs, his lips wet from your juices. “Don’t muffle your moans.” He ordered.

“B-But I’m so loud-“ you whined, pushing your hand away from your mouth.

“I know. Be loud for me.”

With that, he lowered his head again, making your squeal as his hot tongue made contact with your pussy once more. Two fingers stuffed inside your dripping hole, he gently fingered you open, preparing you to take his cock. Even after all these years, Gyomei refused to fuck you unless he gave you can orgasm beforehand and making sure your body could take his girth with the least amount of pain. Despite you telling him that you had gotten used to his size, he refused to change the routine and hey, why would you ever complain about that?

He moaned as he drank you up, your taste like a drug to him. Not having the gift of sight enhanced Gyomei’s other senses which meant your taste, your scent, your moans and the feeling of your hot cunt against his mouth were all the more addicting. Shaking his head from side to side, his ran his tongue all over your pussy before settling on your clit.

“Ah! Honey- oh!” you moaned out loud, a hand coming down to grab his hair. You shivered as you felt him growl against you, his lips sealing around your clit before giving it a harsh suck. “Oh fuck- ah- gonna- gonna cum!” you announced, voice high pitched and whiney as he ate you out like you were a delicious meal, his fingers curling just right and teasing your g-spot.

“Cum for me, my love.” Gyomei said, tongue flicking rapidly over your clit, “Cum in my mouth~”

“Ah- yes- yes- oh- cumming!”

With a shout, you climaxed, back arching and toes curling as your orgasm washed over you. Your thighs clamped around Gyomei’s head which the man loved, still eating you out as you rode your orgasm on his fingers and tongue. The room was filled with moans and the sound of slobbering, his cock dripping in his pants as he heart your sweet cries of ‘yes’ and ‘more-‘. Your orgasm tasted like nectar and the sharp pain of you pulling at his hair was addicting. Gyomei truly loved eating you out and he’d do it for hours if you’d let him.

Eventually, you came down from your high, your back colliding with the mattress once more and your legs relaxing. You pushed at Gyomei’s head, a silent plea for him to stop mouthing at your pussy, the man still licking up your juices and thrusting his fingers. With another kiss to your clit, he slowly pulled himself away from your cunt, sitting on his knees and his fingers slowly pulled out of you. You blushed heavily at the squelching sound, your cunt so unbelievably wet that you knew you were staining the sheets.

But your pussy somehow grew wetter when you saw your husbands bulge throb against his pants. Gyomei had already taken his shirt off beforehand, right after he had stripped you naked, and was only clad in his baggy pants that didn’t do nearly enough to hide his erection. You gulped down your drool as you stared, your pussy throbbing for him and your womb aching for his seed.

Gyomei didn’t need his sight to know that you were staring, the man smiling as his hands found their way to his belt. “Are you ready, my love?” he asked as he started to undo the material, groaning as he grew more excited, “Ready for me to put a baby in you?”

“Yes-“ you said with no hesitation, “I’m ready- I need you-“

“And you’ll have me.” Gyomei said, ripping his belt off and tossing it aside before he started to unbutton his pants, “You’ll have all of me.”

You couldn’t help but slide a hand down your body to lightly pat at your pussy, watching as Gyomei stripped completely. He slid his pants and underwear down together and you started to drool as his dick popped out. A long and girthy cock with delicious veins that you loved to trace with your tongue and a pair of heavy, full balls that you always wanted to be drained inside you.

Once he was completely naked, he grabbed you by the back of your thighs and pushed up, pressing your legs against your chest and folding you to his desire. You squeaked at the embarrassing position; your puffy cunt even more exposed that before as he caught you in a mating press.

“Ready?” Gyomei asked, bringing one hand to the base of his cock to slap his dick against your cunt, making the both of you moan from the contact. He started to rub his cock up and down your slit, gliding it between your pussy folds with no resistance, his member getting coated in your juices.

“I’m ready. I’m so ready.” You said, not even caring about how desperate you sounded, “Fuck me- breed me, my Darling.”

Gyomei smiled before he pressed the head of his member against your hole, teasing it a bit before he slowly started pushing in. You whined, tossing your head back against the pillow as you felt the familiar burn of Gyomei stretching your pussy, bullying his way inside you. Your wetness helped as his cockhead popped inside you, already taking your breath away.

Gyomei groaned as he felt your cunt squeeze him, the man never getting tired of this feeling as he continued to push and push and push, burying inch after inch into your sweet pussy. His hand left his dick to once again, press your leg against your chest, keeping you nice and folded for his cock to reach as deep inside you as it could.

Both of you moaned as he finally bottomed out, the man so long and fat that you felt like you couldn’t breathe. His cock always took your breath away- always rendered you speechless. Gyomei was in no better position, your pussy squeezing his dick like a vice and no doubt, he’d have to fight against your hot, velvety walls if he wanted to fuck you silly.

And he was going to fuck you silly.

Making sure you were ready, he used his hold on your legs and leverage as he slowly pulled out before slamming back in, making you scream. The man was immediately kissing your cervix, his cock so, so deep inside you it made your head spin. Again and again and again- Gyomei pulled out and thrust back in, each time getting smoother as your bodies got used to each other.

“Fuck- fuck- yes!” you moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the sensation of your husband fucking you open on his fat cock, “So good- faster darling-“

“As you wish, my love.” Gyomei said, obeying you as he picked up the pace. He grit his teeth as he set a fast rhythm, fucking his cock deep inside you, your wet pussy feeling heavenly against him. He always wanted to have children with you but never found the appropriate time to bring it up. With his past as someone who looked after kids, he still had the desire for a big, happy family. If you were willing, he was ready to breed you over and over and over again, ready and eager to have multiple children with you.

His balls clapped against your pussy, the impact making you tighten around him. Your moans were music to his ears, your fingers digging into the skin on his forearms barely noticeable in comparison to the feeling of your cunt. You babbled out sweet nothings, cries and pleas for more along with words of love for your husband and Gyomei wondered how he got so lucky.

“Oh yes- so big- Darling- so good!” you squealed, toes curling as his cock fucked you mercilessly, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air and making you dizzy. The intimacy and love you felt from Gyomei whenever you made love or even fucked like animals made your heart swell. Seeing him above you, sweat marring his handsome face and his sculpted, strong body holding you down as he fucked you- his abs contracting each time he thrust inside you- his strong thighs flexing as he pounded your pussy- the veins on his arms as he pressed your legs down- everything about Gyomei was a work of art and you’d never understand how you got so lucky to be his.

Neither of you paid attention to the time as you continued to fuck with one intention only. Maybe it was half an hour maybe it was two hours- but the both of you reached the edge simultaneously.

“D-Darling-“ you moaned out, voice horse from all the screaming and moaning, “I-I’m close-“

“Me too, my love.” Gyomei groaned out, a deep moan leaving his lips which made your pussy gush, “Fuck-“

Ah, you loved it when you got Gyomei to curse.

“Together-“ you begged, eyebrows furrowed as you watched his cock continue to slam into you, “Let’s cum together!”

Gyomei nodded, putting more force behind his thrusting as he reached as deep as he could go, the familiar knot on his abdomen threatening to break. “Be a good wife and get pregnant for me, ok?”

“Mmhmm!” you hummed, nodding enthusiastically as he picked up the pace, going even faster than before, “P-Put a baby in me, Gyomei! K-knock me up!”

“Anything for you.”

The room was filled with the filthy noise of the two of you desperately fucking, getting each other to reach their climax. His balls slapped against you, his sweat mixing with your own, your bodies craving for release. And finally, finally- you got it.

The two of you moaned as you both climaxed together, the sensation heavenly. You gasped and whined and mewled as your cunt gushed, cumming all around Gyomei’s cock. Your pleasure was fueled by the sensation of your husband unloading inside you, his balls clenching as he pumped rope after rope of his seed deep inside you, flooding your womb with his cum. He held you down, keeping you in place as he milked himself of every drop. He was getting you pregnant, that’s for sure.

Gyomei tossed his head back as he pushed his hips flush against yours, growls of pleasure leaving his lips and pleasure overtook him. His body shivered and his muscles tensed, moaning as your pussy throbbed around him, squeezing him dry which he was more than happy to oblige with. “That’s it- oh yeah- take my cum~” he panted out as he slowly rolled his hips, making sure to get his sperm deep inside you, not taking any chances.

Eventually, when both of you were done cumming and were brought back down to reality, Gyomei leaned down, cock still inside you and kissed you. You moaned and wrapped your arms around him, groaning against his lips as he gently let go of your legs, allowing you to stretch your muscles. But you simply wrapped your legs around his waist, making sure to keep him inside you as your lips danced against his.

“I love you.” He whispered against you as he broke away from you for a second before he kissed you again, tongue massaging your own. You kissed him back just as passionately, conveying your love for him with action rather than words, especially since Gyomei didn’t seem interested in pausing your makeout session even if it was to hear you say you love him.

But you did love him. So very much.

And you figured you could enjoy this moment as the second he allows you to breathe, you’re going to ask him for another round and another load of cum.

#subby writes #kimetsu no yaiba smut #demon slayer smut #kinktober #gyomei smut #himejima gyomei smut #himejima gyomei #kny gyomei #gyomei x reader #gyomei himejima #demon slayer gyomei

[kazumiwrites-fanfiction]

You Can't Swim??

SUMMARY: The Octotrio don't know that you have never learned to swim. And you went to a beach. What could go wrong? WORD COUNT: 1.9k (I need to sleep)

WARNINGS: Floyd almost let you drown, reader kind of gets panic attacks? Idk (I'm the writer I should know, someone hit me), reader thinks about whacking Floyd, Azul is genuinely in love, Azul is also very traumatized I think, Azul overthinks A/N: Gotta love how I have no warnings about Jade I- Gotta love getting a fic idea about me being unable to swim- And I've had this thought swimming (lol) in my thoughts for a couple of days?? Idk if reader is the significant other of these guys or just besties. I think it leans toward s/o though This reads like a crack fic to me but honestly make sure you know how to swim so you don't die (i don't but that's not the point here) Maybe OOC Jade because he hides himself too well for me to get an accurate read on personality lmfao When Jade is genuinely sweet but the others are unhinged so naturally the unhinged ones are longer- I'm sorry I get no decent ideas for Jade </3 Another late late night post (it's 1:50 AM)

© kazumiwrites - All rights reserved; please do not steal, edit, copy, repost (etc) my work without my express permission.

You had never learned to swim. It wasn't that you were afraid, really. It was just that you had passed the age where people normally learned, and now you were too lazy to and/or didn't have enough time. Whatever excuse to stop a nagging person.

Now, this wouldn't have been a problem if you never went anywhere near bodies of water. Which you mostly didn't. However, knowing merfolk was not the best idea if you didn't know how to swim.

Now you have gone to the beach with him, and that probably wasn't the best idea for either of you.

Floyd Leech

You had been sitting on the beach near the water, absently looking over some shells as Floyd splashed around deeper in the ocean. The shells really were interesting - nothing like the ones where you had come from (although they had some similarities) and were colorful. So many shapes and varieties, although most were not intact.

You had been so engrossed in this, in fact, that you hadn't realized Floyd had been sneaking up on you. Before you could say another word, he playfully dragged you into the water. While you were fully clothed.

You weren't expecting to go into the water, but you should've known better with Floyd. He was playful and loved to do stuff like this. Usually if Azul was around, he'd have done something… But he wasn't here.

Before you knew it, you were deeper in the ocean than you ever had been before, courtesy to the teal-haired boy swimming and dragging you along. You flailed around a bit, eyes wide in panic. You were, quite honestly, terrified. And it obviously didn't help when Floyd just immediately let you go.

Was he an idiot or was he an idiot?

"Floyd-" You got out before coughing as water shot up your nose, still flailing miserably. It didn't work. You didn't know what to do. Surely, Floyd would help… If he realized what was going on. No matter what you thought, he was bright, wasn't he?

Not bright enough, it seemed, as he was still laughing and not realizing how actually panicked you were.

"Koebi-chan, you look so ridiculous like that," he laughed, almost in hysterics, and you would've smacked him if you weren't so close to actually dying.

And then you sunk.

Your desperate attempts to go to the surface were pointless as you didn't even know how to float or move around in the water.

After a few seconds, Floyd finally noticed you were gone and quickly dove under the surface. Maybe you were trying to get him back?

But his gaze immediately widened as he saw you literally sinking to the ocean floor. His eel tail moved quickly, almost without thinking as he shot to grab you and take you up, up, up so you could actually breathe.

When you came to, you were on the sandy beach again, Floyd leaning over you. His eyes, normally filled with a joking light, were unusually subdued.

"Koebi-chan, why didn't you tell me you couldn't swim?" A pout grew on Floyd's face. "If I knew, I wouldn't have-"

"Yes you would have. We would still be here, just having a different conversation."

"But-"

"No buts."

"I would've made it more fun-"

"Drowning in the ocean is the opposite of fun, Floyd-"

~Bonus because I don't know how to fit one into the story~ "I can teach you how to swim. You just go whoo and let your body move. Y'know. Like dancing." "No, I don't know, Floyd, and this is not going to help me with anything-"

Jade Leech

Jade had been spending his time on the beach with you, but you were almost certain that he wanted to be swimming in the ocean. It was his natural element, after all.

"Jade, you sure you don't want to go in the water?"

"I'm fine staying here with you, [Y/N]." He gave you a soft smile.

You shook your head. "We've come all the way here, you might as well go swim." You gave him a gentle nudge.

"Well, I'd like you to come with me, if that is possible?" He watched you quietly. "You never go swimming with me."

You paused. Although it was sweet that he wanted you to go with him… "No, I don't think so…" You trailed off. You never liked telling people that you couldn't swim. At this point, it was embarrassing.

The pair of heterochromia eyes staring at you only left you feeling more jittery. "…I, er… I can't swim. So going into the ocean with you sounds kind of like… A bad idea." You froze. "Did you use your Signature Spell on me?"

"Of course not, [Y/N]." Jade stared at you with eyes of hurt, one that looked almost identical to that of his twin's. Only, it was almost obvious that Jade didn't mean the hurt in his eyes. "You just trust me enough to say things to me."

You couldn't deny the truth there. You trusted Jade. "And you wouldn't use your Signature Spell on something so trivial, would you?"

"No, I would not." He shrugged. "On a different note, I can help you learn how to swim."

"I really don't need it-"

"What if someone tries to hurt you one day and they know your weakness?"

"Why would-"

"It's an example, [Y/N]. But if that person decides to do that, you wouldn't be able to do anything. So I should help you in case that scenario occurs."

You sighed softly. "Fine, I guess I can take lessons from you… If it's not too much of a hassle."

"Of course it would not be a hassle or anything of the sort." Jade inclined his head. "All to help you stay safe."

The day went on with Jade helping you learn the basics of swimming - he was a good teacher, which you were happy about. He was patient, and always was there if you ever started to panic.

"We wouldn't want you getting scared of the ocean now, would we?"

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had gotten used to you after a couple months. Sure, he hadn't opened up to many people in a while (only Floyd and Jade, but they also teased him constantly about everything, so), but you were soothing and nice. Sure, you teased him sometimes, but it was different. It didn't feel mean, you stopped as soon as you noticed him looking a little uncomfortable, and… He honestly felt like he could open up about anything.

So when it was decided that you two were going to the beach - together - alone? It kind of made him very messed up.

Would you like being at the beach with him? He wasn't completely against showing his octopus form… Would you want him to swim with you? Was he even ready for that?

Those thoughts led him down a spiral, and the day you two were to go, he had bags under his eyes and looked like he was half-dead.

You gently nudged him, murmuring how he should've tried to get more sleep for this day supposedly filled with fun, but he just shrugged.

Soon, you were at the beach, and as Azul saw your smiling face, his gaze softened a little. He loved seeing your happy face.

"C'mon!" You grabbed Azul's hand as you started to run to the water, ignoring his surprised stumbling as he was dragged along. He had a light flush on his cheeks that he was glad you couldn't see.

Soon, you had reached the edge of the water, splashing around in your sandals. It was really fun, even though you knew that you were going to be getting sand in your toes later on.

Azul just kind of watched on, a relaxed expression on his face. This really was soothing… Although he was still thinking about if the Mostro Lounge would be okay with him gone. Surely Jade would do something if Floyd got into trouble… Hopefully. And hopefully, no more dishes would break.

"What are you looking so glum for?" Your voice brought him back to his senses.

"Nothing, just hoping that Jade and Floyd can take care of things at the Mostro Lounge." He sighed softly.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be fine. Jade's there, right?"

"He can cause as much trouble as Floyd, you know. Although he won't be outright about it." Azul shook his head, a small frown on his face.

"C'mon, turn that frown upside down." You moved closer to him, gently squishing his cheeks. "Today is for having fun, Azul."

"Yes, yes, I know." Azul couldn't help himself; he let out a soft laugh. A genuine one.

You smiled brightly. "You aren't charging me for hearing your little cute laugh?"

"I will charge you if you call it cute."

"Of course you will." You rolled your eyes before abruptly changing the subject. "So are you not going to swim?"

Azul paused. Did you want him to swim? To see his true form? There was an even chance. What should his answer be? "Er… I don't know?"

"Of course you don't have to, Azul, I just thought… I mean, there's no one around." You shrugged a little.

And now more pressure on Azul. Great. He was used to dealing with pressure, yes. Just not this kind from you. "Er… Would you come swim with me?" If you were with him, then maybe…

"No." Your lips parted, maybe to offer an explanation, but it was too late.

Azul was in a downward spiral. Why had you said no? Perhaps octopi merfolk were really too much. Perhaps you would rather be with someone with a pretty tailfin than tentacles. Or maybe a human, one of your own kind. Who said that you even liked him at all? Perhaps you were only with him out of pity, because he was that useless, chubby, good-for-nothing-

"Azul? Azul, are you listening to me?"

He snapped back to attention.

"Seriously, are you okay? Did you seriously get enough sleep last night?" You sighed.

"That's none of your-"

"It is if you're literally zoning out every five seconds." You rolled your eyes. "And anyway, I was just saying that I kind of can't go deeper into the ocean where you probably feel comfortable swimming. Because I can't swim." You shrugged nonchalantly.

But for Azul, it felt like a figurative bomb had been dropped.

You? Couldn't swim? Now that he thought about it, it did make sense… How you always looked so awkward and uncomfortable with water, especially when you came to the Octavinelle dorm. But seriously? How could you not know how to swim?

"Is not knowing how to swim… Normal?"

"Definitely not." You rolled your eyes. "But I'm just too lazy to learn now. And I have no time."

"You do if you have time to scroll on Magicam." Finally, Azul felt a bit better. At least you didn't hate him.

"And this time, I'll teach you how to swim. I'll even do it free of charge." Azul shook his head. "Seeing as I'm so generous."

"You sound like headmage Crowley."

"Do be quiet."

Azul was a pretty good teacher. He ended up not turning into his octopus form until nearly the end of the day, you were practicing your swimming and then just playing around on the sand, building sand castles, anything that you might do at a normal beach outing.

His octopus form was beautiful (as expected), and although you couldn't go to deeper waters, you enjoyed seeing him swim around, always eventually coming back to you.

"Today was truly relaxing, [Y/N]. We should do this again another time."

As always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ♡ Send your thoughts grr

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#kazumiwrites #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x y/n #twisted wonderland x you #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #twst floyd #floyd #jade leech #floyd leech x gender-neutral reader #twisted wonderland x gender-neutral reader #jade leech x reader #jade leech x gender-neutral reader #jade leech x you #jade leech x y/n #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #azul #azul ashengrotto x gender-neutral reader #azul ashengrotto x you #azul ashengrotto x y/n #twst jade #floyd x gender-neutral reader #floyd x you #floyd x y/n

[sameschmidtdiffname]

I was wondering if you could do a fic with Mike Schmidt x fem!reader and the quote “can I stack donuts on it?” I apologize in advance 😭

THE FUCKING SCREAM I SCRUMPT WHEN I GOT THISSSSSS BITCH YOU GOT ITTTTTT

Cherries & Cream

Mike Schmidt x AFAB!Reader

Summery: It's a modest holiday. Spent indoors, soft music on the cassette player... oh, and a collection of bad ideas snowballed into a day of sticky situations

Tags: No use of Y/N, author has fucking lost it, comedy, Valentine's Day fic, mentions of failed masturbation attempts, mentions of inappropriate use of lightsabers and water snakes (I SAID AUTHOR HAS FUCKING LOST IT- DONT ASK, JUST READ, IT AINT THAT BAD!), sex toys, handcuffs, sex dice, pre-established relationship, food sex, blowjob, facial, Mike gets restrained like we all know he wants to be.

Notes: I'm not apologizing for shit.

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

"These are ridiculous questions."

"Oh, come on. Don't be a sourpuss," I say. Cards are scattered around the small box on our bed, both of us long deciding we'd clean up later.

"What does it say?" I ask him, leaning forward. I'm straddling his chest, my arms crossed against mine, dressed in nothing but one of his shirts. His hand on my hip is halfway under the black material, his pointer finger twisting the old cotton around his digit. His other hand holds a dark purple card that he rolls his eyes at before shifting them to focus on me towering over him.

"It doesn't even apply to you," he says.

"And how do you know?" I say smugly.

"Because I've sucked your dick and it's not big enough to apply," he says

"What? Give me that." I snatch the card from his hand, ignoring his laughter as he shifts his hand to rest on my other hip, rubbing soothing circles into my skin while I read.

'What's the weirdest thing you have ever stuck your dick in?'

A short laugh escapes me, a bit louder than it should be with Abby sleeping peacefully down the hall.

"I'm waiting," Mike jokes, smiling up at me with his lips twisted into a smug expression of sarcasm.

"I mean, I stuck a toy lightsaber up my snatch once," I say casually.

"What?" He bellows, descending into a fit of laughter so grand his chest is rattling underneath of me, making my face bloom with blood in embarrassment.

"I was fourteen!" I say quickly in my defense. This doesn't help my case, making him cackle loud enough I grab a pillow to shove onto his face to muffle his fit. He grabs my wrists before it can descend, holding them up as he wheezes.

"Oh, Qui-Gon Jin! You're my only hope!" He relaxes his grip slightly, allowing me to stiffle his incessant noise.

"That was Obi-Wan, and I liked Darth Vader!"

His hands shove the pillow away from his red face, eyes teary and judgemental.

"He's burnt!"

"It was the vibe! Mysterious, dark, and that voice!" I protest. Mike makes a pitiful attempt at the sounds of Vader's breathing through his mask, muddled with spit from his laughter. "James Earl Jones has a handsome voice!"

"It's just so hot," Mike cackled.

"Mike."

"Nothing can hold a candle to it."

"Michael."

"Makes me go-" a crude imitation of lightsaber noises is the last thing Mike can communicate before I'm slamming the pillow down on him, making him laugh harder and block his face from my playful blows as he begs for mercy.

"You're a dick!"

"You'd stick yours in one of those- those-" as he regains his breath and I lessen my attacks, he snaps his fingers, one hand slapping gently against my thigh for thought.

"Oh, you know. One of those fucken- the uh..." He makes a jerking motion with his snapping hand, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling like the answer is written on the spot where some poster used to be.

"A hand?" I ask, crossing my arms and glaring down at him.

"No. One of those toys that had like water in them and you could like- I don't know what the point of them was, some sensory thing. There was like water, maybe fish or sparkles stuffed inside," he describes, gesturing his hand as he speaks.

The image begins to click together in my mind. "Oh yeah. Water snakes?" I ask. He slaps my thigh, snapping his fingers and pointing at me with wide eyes.

"That's the fucker. Yeah, you'd stick your dick in that," he says confidently, nodding and relaxing in satisfaction with his statement.

"Okay, but you can like slide those things in and out so honestly that's kind of genius," I say.

"That plastic burns like a motherfucker though. And it's got those seams for the plastic so lube doesn't help," Mike says, one arm curled above his head and his other hand once more rubbing my hip.

"That's descriptive," I say with narrowed eyes. I lean forward, my face hovering above his. His relaxed hazel eyes widen slightly, but only by a hair. His rubbing stutters. His body language is still casual, but has stiffened enough to betray him.

"Just a thought."

"How old were you?"

"I did not- fifteen."

It's my turn to snicker now, picking my pillow back up and smacking him once more in the head.

"Okay, okay. Teenagers are idiots. Next card, next card," he says laughing, hand now searching for a new card from the deck. "Oh my God. What food item would you use during sex- babe, where the fuck did you find this game?"

"It was some dirty Santa gift, got it a couple years ago," I say with the wave of my hand. "Anyways, it's my turn to ask the question."

"Oh right. Pick a new one," he says, flicking the card away.

"Well, hang on now. On the topic of poor sexual choices and food, what would you use for that?" I ask, smirking and crossing my arms across my chest once more. He glares at me, lips pressed firmly together as he narrows his eyes. There's a long silence, neither of us speaking as we decide who's going to break it.

"Donuts," he finally says.

"Donuts?"

"Yeah. They have the hole," he adds as if it explains everything.

"Uh huh."

"Okay, you used a fucking lightsaber, you cannot-"

"I was fourteen, you are twenty-eight. What happens if you squeeze the thing too hard and you've just got crumbs and frosting all over you?" I ask.

"I wouldn't fuck the damn thing. I'd, like, stack them," he clarifies. "Do it like one of those really cheesy porno bits like 'did someone order some food?' And just rip open the trenchcoat to reveal several donuts stacked on my dong."

"Michael, you've put a weird amount of thought into this."

"It's the fucking question!"

"Okayokayokay- so hypothetically," I begin.

"Mm-hmm."

"If I brought home a box of donuts-"

"Nice ones. Krispy Kreme or some shit, I'm not getting sugar in my shit if it's cheap," he insists.

"...glad to know. If I brought home a box of overpriced donuts and a trench coat-"

"Take the coat out, that was a bit."

"Will you let me finish?"

"That'd be the preferred outcome," he interrupts again. "But like, before the donut thing. If it was like, y'know." He thrusts his hips into the air slightly, not to be arousing but to clarify. Because that's the part he can't say out loud. "'Cause you can't get sugar in your snatch."

"You can't get sugar in your snatch," I repeat slowly, blinking.

"Don't ask."

"Right. So if I brought home the Kreme-y goods, you would present yourself to me with a donut dick?" I ask. He rolls his eyes, suppressing a smile.

"Sure."

Valentine's Day. A day for kids and new couples, mainly. And since this household is aging out of both of those demographics, Mike and I had decided to go smaller this year. Not that we went huge every year before, neither of us feeling quite like blowing a shit load of cash on the day. But usually we booked a reservation at a decent restaurant, put on some nicer clothes, and spent the holiday just having a nice family dinner. But Abby was old enough she was itching to attend some sleepover at a friend's house for the holiday, and Mike and I felt fine just ordering in and playing a card game that we usually thumbed through while bored.

"Do 12 year olds even get valentines?" Mike asks, sprawled upon the bed the night before.

"I don't know, I didn't," I shrug. "She's just visiting her friends and wearing pink so they can gorge on chocolate, sounds like a good holiday to me."

He considers this, scratching his jaw as he continues staring at the ceiling.

"Valentine's Day alone. What trouble we could cause," he teases.

"What food are we ordering in for the trouble, anyways?" I ask, looking up from the box of my things I'd been unpacking, hanging up pictures and placing knick knacks around the room and new desk we'd shoved in earlier that evening.

"Chinese?" He asks.

"Gas for Valentine's Day, I'll love that," I say. He laughs. "How about Italian?"

"Makes me bloated, you'll be top," he says. "What are we doing in that department? I mean, we probably should do something."

"You say that like sex is a chore," I say with a raised brow, looking up at him for a moment from the box.

"Oh, hell no," he says. "If that's a chore than it's my favorite."

"Chores typically bring you closer to God."

"Than I'm smokin' it with Jesus, fuck yeah."

At that I laugh, tossing a small box at him that rattles with something inside. He catches it, laughing and pulling it open out of curiosity.

"Oh ho! What are these?" He asks, holding up a small, hot pink cube.

"Oh Jesus, I thought I lost those. They're-"

"Sex dice!" He laughs. "You whore!"

"I'm not a whore, I just went to college!" I laugh defensively. His eyebrows raise.

"Popular?"

"Fuck off," I groan. "My ex bought those, I just kept them."

Mike rolls the dice in his hands, actually sitting up and crossing his legs on the bed before sending them flying across the quilt.

"Suck toe," Mike reads. "That's disappointing."

"We never used toe, we always just picked a different spot," I say.

"Like?" He asks.

"I don't know, it varied. I guess it was kinda a pick your poison spot," I say. "You wouldn't believe how often it lands on toe."

"The universe is trying to tell you something," he says.

"The universe can suck it," I say. Mike rolls one of the dice again.

"Tit. Nice. I'll be acting as ambassador for said universe sucking-"

"You'll be acting as helping me unpack these dresses," I say, setting the box on the bed in front of him. He stands with a sigh, hands on his hips as he awaits his work. I take out a few dresses and lay them in his arms before returning to my work of organizing the closets.

"Hold 'em," I say.

"Just hold them?"

"Yeah."

"You made me get up for this?"

"Before you find the handcuffs in there? Yeah," I say.

"Handcuffs? We've been together for three years, you're moving into my house and now I'm finding out you have handcuffs?" Mike asks incredulously.

"I didn't know that would upset you," I say honestly, shrugging.

"Upset? I've been deprived! You're a freak and haven't taken it out on me!" He says overdramatically. I roll my eyes but smile.

"I'm not a freak, I've only slept with like, two other guys. That's it," I say.

"So the guys were freaks," he says.

"I mean, I wasn't saying no," I admit.

"So you're a freak when asked?"

"You sound like a teenager."

"I sound like a guy who's gonna be home alone with his girlfriend and sex toys tomorrow, yeah, I sound like a teenager," he says.

"Oh, so we're ordering in and banging all night?" I ask, raising a brow in amusement.

"Was that not the plan already?" He asks.

"I wasn't gonna say it, but if you want to."

The night was spent laying out plans of debauchery. After dropping off Abby in the early afternoon at her friends the next day, Mike and I made a slight detour before heading home, where the items were laid out before us.

Whipped cream. Donuts. Handcuffs. Dice. And some cheap, bottom of the $5 bin collection of 'Top 100 Sexy Songs for Valentine's Day' cassette tape that Mike had grabbed from a local music store during our trip.

"Do you ever question the things we do while bored?" Mike asks, staring at the ceiling, butt naked and handcuffed to the bedframe while I straddle his thighs, trying to figure out how exactly I'm gonna do this.

"Do you?" I ask, pinching his soft tip between my fingers.

"I'm starting to," he says, glancing at the can of whipped cream that was starting to sweat on the bedside table beside us. "I had questions before I shaved my junk for this, but I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Good. Keep that philosophy, I think I figured it out," I say, finally leaning for the box of glazed donuts we'd hardly been able to act mature about buying while going through the drive through. We're not seeing the gates of heaven.

"Shouldn't you get me hard first? It's just gonna grow," he says in questioning, trying to look down at what I'm doing.

"No, because then I'll have to keep you hard and that's gonna deflate quickly," I say. He nods in agreement, satisfied and sighing in slight boredom as I begin my task, trying to get the first donut on without breaking.

"Ow! Are- are you trying to fucking fold my shit?" He asks, his voice slightly higher than it was a moment ago.

"You're bigger than the hole, it's gonna break the donut! It's soft, isn't it?" I ask.

"Not that soft!" He says a bit frantic.

"Okay, what if I stretch it out like this?" I ask, tugging his dick upwards.

"I'm gonna ask you not to!" Mike says. His thumbs find the latches for the handcuffs, undoing one so he can reach down himself. "Jesus Christ- you're gonna break me!"

"This is my job," I say amused, giggling as I cover my mouth with my hand.

He ignores me, examining himself and the donut before glaring at the corner of the room, sighing.

"Motherfucker, I've been blessed, goddammit," he groans.

"What a humble statement," I say, trying not to laugh.

"This is humbling enough. Do what you will, I guess," he says, flopping back onto the bed, donut in hand and taking a bite from it as he crosses his ankles beneath me.

"I need that," I say.

"There's eleven more, this is my consolation prize," he says through his mouthful, returning his glare to the ceiling.

"You gonna redo the handcuff?" I ask.

"I'll redo your fucken dad," he snaps, but shoves the rest of the donut in his mouth as he fiddles with the handcuffs once again, groaning as I start on my work.

It takes half an hour, four donuts and a ridiculous amount of whipped cream, but the deed is done. Stepping off the bed, I behold my work of a restrained, glaring, donut stacked and cream covered Mike with a proud smile.

"This was exponentially hotter in my head," he mutters, looking down at himself.

"You don't like it?" I ask.

"I didn't say that, I'm just not drooling over- where are you going?" He asks. I quickly dart out of the room, racing to the kitchen as a series of 'babe?' Rings throughout the house. I open the fridge quickly, find the box of cherries and race back into the bedroom, holding it up as though it were a crown jewel.

"Ohh, my fucking God," Mike loudly drawls, rolling his eyes.

"I almost forgot," I say with malicious glee.

"I wish you had," he says, staring at the ceiling. "You're sick in the head."

"This was your idea."

"I'm sick in the head, I repent, I repent."

Placing a fat cherry carefully on top of the fluffy tip, I smile in true satisfaction.

"Perfect," I say, hands working to undo my house robe, shrugging it off and leaving me in simple lingerie instead.

"Now you faceplant into my dessert dick. Delicious," he deadpans.

"Mike, if you really don't wanna do this-"

"I'm gonna get a fucking UTI, just fulfill the high school fantasy already. I'll have no shame once I'm hard," he spits out quickly, jerking against the restraints slightly in impatience.

Well, that's true enough.

I lean forward, trying to figure out where to start, deciding between bottom or top.

"Babe, this is mortifying, just do some- oh-kay," Mike groans, his hips shifting slightly as I gently suck one of his freshly shaved balls into my mouth, my tongue swirling around it as I grip his thighs. The stack shifts slightly, Mike moaning as he thrusts against nothing.

My mouth works his sack for a little bit, one of my hands trailing down to between his legs to press against the spot behind his balls, making him keen into my touch as he moans loudly, the handcuffs clicking against the frame of our bed as he squirms. When I'm sure he's hardened properly underneath, I remove my mouth, making him whine as I glance up at him, smiling.

"Doing good?" I ask sweetly, pressing my fingers harder into the spot between his legs.

"Still mortifying, just keep going," he moans shamelessly, his cheeks red as he keeps his eyes closed in embarrassment.

I lean down once more, licking at the melting whipped cream on the tip of his cock, his moans growing louder as my tongue finds contact with his cock, his skin cold and wet underneath of the cream. I'm barely able to reach his actual tip, my tongue sticking down far in the hole of the top donut. I begin biting into the food, quickly tearing away at my work in eagerness of what awaits.

There's probably a special place in Hell reserved for the two of us for doing something like this and enjoying it, but I promise you, if you could see the look on his face right now, blushing wildly and trying to hide behind the bulk of his large arm, it would be worth it.

Once the first two donuts are gone I take off the cherry from the top, dangling it over his mouth in teasing.

"Want some?" I ask. He just groans in response, his cock twitching from neglect. I chuckle, tossing the fruit away and quickly taking him into my mouth, drawing a sharp, high moan from him as I suck eagerly, admiring the taste of his skin mixed with the sweet sugar from the food.

Yeah. Definitely worth it.

Pre-cum shoots into my mouth as he rolls his hips into my face, my hand still working against him as I swirl my tongue around his tip, sucking harshly as I watch him. His back arches against the bed, his head thrown back in pleasure as he loses himself in the feeling of my mouth against him.

"Go deeper," he begs, his voice soft as he bucks into my mouth, his arms straining against the handcuffs. "Holy shit, please go deeper."

His hips buck harshly against my face, smashing the two other donuts and an annoying amount of cream into my face, covering me in a facial I didn't ask for.

I pull away from him, stopping my hand and just staying still for a moment to allow him a proper look at my face.

"... I do not like this," I deadpan. I'd blink if I could open my eyes right now.

Small whines escape him as his hips continue moving, questions being voiced then everything ceasing all at once as I guess he takes a good look at me. There's a moment of silence, then he bursts out laughing at the sight, loud and obnoxious.

"It's in your hair!" He exclaims, probably wishing he could point at me as I blindly search for the hand towel nearby.

"I hope this was worth it," I say flatly, suppressing my own giggle.

"Oh, the feeling is awful, but you're doing great," he says sweetly, still chuckling as he watches me wipe at my face, groaning at the stickiness of it all.

"Jesus, I'm a mess," he says, looking down at himself. "Can we just take that off and-"

"Yeah, normal blow job, on it," I finish for him, quickly taking off the other two, very smushed donuts and discarding of them inside the box. "You have horrible ideas "

"You wanted us to try new shit, this is not on me," he laughs, smiling at me. "But thank you for answering a decade old question."

"You're weird," I say.

"Just fuck me," he says back.

Quickly I take him back into my mouth, deepthroating him and encouraging him to fuck my mouth, focusing on my breathing as he does with blind obedience. His thighs press against the sides of my head, squeezing slightly as his tip rams into the back of my throat, all gentleness off the table. My tongue slides against his prominent vein, feeling how he throbs, his cock stiff and twitching from the stimulation. He pants loudly, whining when I press my tongue harder into his vein, a loud 'snap' echoing from near his head.

His movements cease for a moment, his chest heaving as realization crosses his face.

"... the handcuffs weren't expensive, right?" He asks inbetween gasps, holding up his hands to show the cheap cuffs now hanging uselessly around his wrists.

My eyebrows raise in surprise, my head beginning to lift off of him when one of his hands comes down on my head, suddenly gripping my hair as he begins to fuck my mouth with new vigor, tearing lewd sounds from my throat as I gag sharply around him.

"Fuck it, I'll buy another pair," he decides, slamming quickly into my throat as he pulls my hair sharply, his pre-cum beginning to thicken in my mouth. "It's not like you mind, right, sweetheart?" He asks, propping himself up with one arm to watch as I swallow his dick eagerly, one of my hands dipping down to play with my clit. He tugs sharply at my hair, making me whine as his other hand smacks quick and gentle against my hollowing cheek before pointing at me.

"No," he says sharply. "I'll deal with you after."

His hand strokes my cheek as he continues fucking my face, his thumb trained on my chin, keeping my mouth open wide for him. His eyes are glazed over in pleasure as he watches me, my spit dribbling down my chin as I take him, my legs pressed tightly together as I grab blindly at his thighs, admiring the thickness as I gag on his cock.

"Fuck- you're so pretty," he moans, his cock twitching in closeness. "And kind." I moan appreciatively around him, eager to feel his cum down my throat as I dig my nails into his thighs. "Don't know how I got so lucky."

His hand roughly drags my head up by my hair, forcing me off of his cock and making me whine as I try to take him back into my mouth. His hand wraps around his length, pumping quickly as he watches me.

"Keep your mouth open, pretty girl," he commands softly. I obey, sticking out my tongue slightly, eager to please. He smiles at the sight, his lashes fluttering shut once more as he fucks his hand quickly, using my thick spit as lube, beginning to lose rhythm.

"I'm gonna cum," he warns breathily. "I'm gonna- fuck!"

His words stutter as he gasps, his hand squeezing roughly at his cock as his cum hits my face, warm and thick against my skin. We watch each other as the first few ropes cover my face, admiring the other in a hazy cloud of desire and satisfaction. Then he shoves his cock back into my mouth, his hand pumping me up and down his length again as he finishes shooting his load down my throat, admiring my new look.

"I'm just- gonna do this for awhile," he gasps, his cock still stiff in my mouth as his flow of cum begins to slow, his hips still quick in contrast.

I moan around him, my cunt clenching in want.

"Don't worry," he says, reaching for something in the nightstand, pulling open a drawer and revealing his new gift for me. "You'll get some fun too."

When I tell y'all this motherfucker somehow found a dildo shaped like a fucking lightsaber.

Goddammit, I'm gonna marry him.

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

You heard me.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

how would y'all feel if I told you the title was a pun from that old 'berries and cream' meme

#josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #jhutch #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #fnaf mike schmidt #fnaf mike #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x you #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt smut #mike schimdt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x fem!reader smut #jhutch1992 #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #smut #fanfiction #josh hutcherson fnaf #mike fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf fanfic #fnaf fanfiction #request

[brabblesblog]

Ch 1: Whither is thy beloved gone?

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

A small scene at breakfast that sets up the situation in the Palace for the past six months.

Read on AO3

Masterlist.

Ban opened her eyes to yet another dawn; a shaft of sunlight peeked through the gap between vermilion curtains, shining on her face. Her hand moved, reaching for the empty space beside her before she stopped herself. There was no need to check - there never was, not for months now.

She made her way out of the gigantic four-poster bed she and her lord sleep in. Her silken robe awaited her, draped over the luxurious couch, and she slipped it on wordlessly. The servants all murmured soft greetings as she passed them on her way to breakfast, but Ban paid them no mind. The days and nights all blended for her, days of meetings and nights of wheedling their way into the high society of Baldur’s Gate. And sex, of course, but even that had become stale to her now. Not that her partner wasn’t a consummate lover - far from it - but the souring of the love she has for him tainted even the most pleasurable of moments.

The doors to the dining room were held open for her, and as she walked in, he looked up. He shot her a wry grin and crossed the room, taking her hand and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. Every morning he did this; it would have made her swoon six months ago.

When he was different. When he was the man she’d loved.

“I had to rise early, love,” he began, as if he didn’t do so every damn morning. “Preparations for renovating the… basement area are finally underway, and I did not want them missing any single detail of what I have planned for it.”

The basement area. The dungeons. He couldn't even bring himself to say the word; he refused any reminder of his past self. If he had his way, people would think he sprang into existence some six months ago. She allowed him to lead her to the ridiculously large table. As always, he was seated at the head and she to his right.

He offered her a tart, which she waved off; it wasn’t as if she could actually enjoy it. Mortal food had been tasteless since she’d turned. Instead she reached for the bottle of blood on the table, warmed just before it was served.

“I’m surprised you even bothered with touching the dungeons,” she said, smiling placidly as her use of the word was rewarded with a glare.

“The basement,” he hissed, “is the most neglected part of the house. It is- never mind.” As expected, Astarion refused any mention of what the basement used to be. “Besides. The artisan guilds are clamoring for space to rent, and as you suggested, I entertained their request.”

It was Ban’s turn to roll her eyes. Astarion was right - she had asked him to focus his attention on not just the patriars, but also the artisan guilds, a calculated decision designed to win more people to their side, to sink their claws deeper into the heart of the city. It made sense to not only win over the very cream of the crop, but also the people slightly below it. At worst, it would be a waste of time and of negligible resources. At best, it would help curtail the surprising resistance the Ascendant had been encountering in his efforts to win over the nobility.

The Szarrs had been a well-known family with noble roots, and so Cazador had the name to match his wealth and status. Astarion Ancunín, however, had no such privilege. Thus, when he’d emerged as the successor to Cazador’s estate, there had been more than a few raised eyebrows. Added to that, Astarion hadn’t had to plan anything in two centuries, so the task of ingratiating them with the city’s gentry had mostly fallen to Ban. Well, the planning and scheming, anyway. The Ascendant acted as the face, charming and manipulating his way through the meetings and parties, while his consort laid out their strategy, playing the perfect lady-wife and hostess.

Plans for a future she'd never desired, but sought for his sake anyway, ambitions and schemes that were all too similar to what her father had groomed her for. It had all come back to her with a distressing effortlessness, the machinations as natural as breathing. She hadn’t seen fit to let Astarion know this, not now. Before the rite, there had been the potential of so much time together that she hadn’t felt any urgency to share the circumstances of her early life with him. After the rite, things had just been... different.

“If it’s for the artisan guilds, then do it,” Ban said, pouring the warmed blood into her glass, taking a sip. “Gods know you need all the support you can get from them, especially considering how tenuous your position has remained with the patriars.”

Astarion scoffed, but didn’t reply to her taunt. Instead he took a long, slow bite of his tart and made an exaggerated gesture of delight, reminding her exactly what she’d been missing out on.

“Well, my treasure, it worked. There will be a ball held a tenday from now, with all the guilds attending.” Pride at managing to pull that off without her aid or knowledge tinged his voice.

Ban narrowed her eyes. All the guilds? Generally she would consider that a significant success, but the fact that she may have to face her family there gave her pause. She took a long pull from her goblet at the thought.

“All the guilds…” she repeated, for a moment not bothering to mask her feelings, her horror bleeding through.

“You’re now reduced to parroting what I say? Pet, I didn’t take you to be so dull,” Astarion sneered, taking the opportunity to strike. He wasn’t stupid; he’d always been aware that things had changed between him and his consort.

It had been a whirlwind of events since he’d ascended. At first, there’d been an overwhelming sense of power, of endless possibilities. He had everything - power, freedom, riches. He had her by his side. The following days had been battle after battle as they’d slowly approached the Netherbrain. There hadn’t been time to reexamine their relationship, other than to realize it was failing. Hells, there had barely been time for him to explore his new abilities.

Then, just as quickly, the brain had been defeated and they were finally alone together. Just the two of them and Cazador’s palace. My palace, he reminded himself. Not his.

They were finally, truly together, the Absolute vanquished at last - it should have been a wondrous time. They should have been happy in each other’s arms, at the start of their shared eternity. But she’d become cold after the rite, a chill that had yet to thaw. She flinched from his touches, from his lips. Her smiles never met her eyes, and all she did was help him lay out plans for his dominion. At night, she yielded to his every desire. Every night he made love to her, as he had been doing since the first night after his ascension. She only played her role, saying the right words, moaning the right way, but he sensed the absence there. None of it ever reached her.

At first, he’d attempted to take whatever emotions she’d shown at face value. She’d seemed to like planning their conquest of Baldur’s Gate, seemed to have taken to heart the words he’d so casually thrown out during their journey, so he’d acted just as enthusiastic about it. She’d seemed to react positively whenever he’d asked for suggestions regarding their schemes; he not being well suited to formulating detailed plans and her proving knowledgeable, he tended to follow her advice. Initially these things had seemed to at least elicit a response in her that wasn't hollowness. As time passed, however, even they had seemed to lose their luster, the emptiness in her eyes becoming more and more prominent.

He had never seen her in silks or in anything expensive throughout their time fighting the Absolute. The moment he’d gotten access to Cazador’s wealth, he’d bought her everything he’d wanted to give her before: gowns, shoes, jewelry. All she had to do was glance at an item once, and it was hers. But the emptiness only grew.

He’d attempted to convince himself he couldn’t understand how they had ended up this way, but truthfully it was that he couldn't admit to himself what he knew the root cause to be. That initial confusion had slowly turned into resentment. Deep down, he knew where he’d gone wrong, of course, but really, was leaving the palace such a big deal?

That had been their first major argument. Astarion had come back from a meeting one day to find Ban gone, the servants explaining she’d left the palace to walk around the city. He had refrained from going after her, but he had been worried. What if someone took the Ascendant’s consort as a hostage? What if she roamed too far, and somehow the extension of his powers failed? Then what? The image of her burning in the sun had filled him with an impotent, all-consuming fury. He had told her not to wander!

When she had finally gotten home, her hands full of pastries she had bought for him, he had flown into a fit of rage.

“How dare you sneak off like that, Ban! Without asking! Without me knowing!”

Ban had flinched. She’d held up the pastries. “I bought them to surprise-”

He’d almost shoved them out of her hands, but had stopped himself. Barely. “Have I not told you, pet, not to stray too far? What if you were hurt? What if you burned in the sun?” His eyes had glinted then, the fires of worry mixing with anger.

“You are mine, and I do not like not knowing where my things are.”

She had tried to argue about having the freedom to go where she pleased, but he’d shut her down the moment she’d begun.

“Do I not buy you everything you wish for? Anything you ask? You merely have to give voice to what you desire, and I shall have it procured for you. But you do not leave. Not without my express permission.”

It had only gone downhill from there.

Astarion snapped back from his reverie when he noticed Ban had ignored his verbal barb. He watched her, realizing this was the first genuine shred of emotion he’d seen from her in weeks. Something was bothering her about having the artisan guilds over for a party, and it piqued his interest. His concern too, of course. But he would never admit that. Even to himself.

He sat up straighter, aiming his words carefully. Precisely.

“My little love,” he cooed, “What… exactly is the issue with our soon-to-be guests? I had assumed you would love to have them over, considering it was your idea to reach out to them and form alliances in the first place.”

Ban froze. Her eyes widened as Astarion asked her this question. While he had yet to compel her to do anything, there was no evidence that he couldn't. Perhaps he already had, and she was unaware. Compulsion was the thing she was most terrified of, because the moment he started - the moment he considered it necessary to keep her - would be the moment she’d lose what little of herself she had left.

So she decided to be honest.

“I never told you where I came from, did I?” she said.

He shook his head. “I doubt you had humbler origins than I did, but no. You have not.”

Ban laughed bitterly and braced herself, pouring out another glass of blood.

“I came from one of the guild’s artisan families.”

His eyebrows rose, surprised and rather pleased, despite himself. They hadn’t had an actual conversation that wasn’t about Baldur’s Gate, its people, or their schemes in weeks. He reined in the venom he’d been wielding so often these days, letting his curiosity take over for the time being.

“Which one? Ca-” he bit his lip, “My former master knew a lot of these guilds. They helped maintain the palace and procured items for him. I have never heard of your family name, nor seen it.”

She laughed again, a real one this time, and his eyebrows rose even further, intrigued.

“We dealt in ornate mirrors.” That explained it. Of course Cazador would not have bothered with that.

The Ascendant huffed in response. “Ironic. Well. You’ll be glad to know I have yet to speak to any mirror-makers. I hadn’t decided on what type of mirror I want for our bedroom, or how grandiose it should be. Shall I ask your family?”

The last sentence was less a taunt and more a genuine question. She seemed to dread seeing them, but if she wanted them here - for whatever reason at all - he would be more than happy to oblige her.

In truth, all he really wanted was her happiness, to bask in the glow of her smile again. He just seemed to have lost sight of how to inspire it ever since he became this version of himself.

Ban took it the wrong way, of course, and visibly stiffened.

“I do not want to see them. I-” her voice cut off, hesitant, “I left years ago. They probably don't even know if I’m alive.”

The Ascendant felt an odd twinge in his chest, a familiar but long-forgotten sensation. None of it was visible on his face, however. He smirked. “Very well, pet.”

Astarion leaned over, fingers tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. Crimson eyes bored into Ban with an intensity that only seemed to unnerve her. “And don’t fret about them. The only family you’ll ever need is me.”

Ban had to look away. She couldn’t stare into those eyes and listen to that voice talk about her family. She had always envisioned this conversation to be one where she’d spill all her secrets to him, and he’d hold her, stroke her hair and tell her everything would be alright. That he understood and loved her anyway. But that time had passed, and so had that man she’d loved. What remained of him was a pale specter.

She had often asked herself if he was even the same man. She’d observed him, and with Gale’s assistance had studied books on the matter. In the end she had come to one painful conclusion: he was Astarion. His worst traits turned up and his greatest strengths diminished, but it was undoubtedly him.

There had been one night when he’d seemed like his old self. One night in the past five months that had given her some small glimmer of hope that he hadn’t completely changed.

She had woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of weeping. Astarion had been lying beside her, arms taut, hands clenched into fists, sweat soaking into the sheets. His face a rictus of pain, his cries a mix of unintelligible words and whimpers. She’d instinctively rushed to hold him; he’d woken up at her touch and his eyes had found hers.

They were his eyes.

“You’re okay, you’re here,” she had crooned, the same words she had repeated in the old days. They’d come back like no time had passed; as if he wasn’t what he was now. Like he was just her Astarion.

He had leaned into her touch, head resting on her chest.

“I’m sorry to wake you, darling,” he’d said; his use of her old nickname had almost made her sob. “He… I saw him again. I’d thought this would be over.”

She’d kissed his forehead then, holding him close. His conscious mind may have tried to deny it, but it seemed like his subconscious was still haunted by Cazador. He had clung to her for dear life that night; she had tried to stay awake, to stop time, so that perhaps he would stay that version of himself forever. But in the end, sleep had won, and as she’d drifted off she had heard him say something which she’d attributed to her own imagination.

“Thank you for still being here,” she’d thought he’d whispered against her chest, “I love you.”

They were spoken with such tenderness that she had doubted it was real. In the morning, he’d been gone from her side, already eating breakfast. He’d acted like nothing had happened in the night, and so she’d had her hopes dashed away; fleeting as they were she had still yearned for it to be real, wishing it had lasted longer than those few moments he was in her arms.

Ever since then, she had attempted to catch any glimpse of her Astarion in the Ascendant. There occasionally seemed to be some hint of him, but it was always too quick, too subtle, and after so many months she’d all but given up. Gone were the days when she’d known which of his honeyed words were lies and which were truth; it felt as though she was back in those days in the Grove when she couldn't read him. Even now, as her lord called himself her family, she found herself wincing internally.

On the outside, she offered him a smile.

“Thank you, Astarion. That means a lot.”

The Ascendant smiled, a toothy grin that would have looked at home in a shark’s maw.

“Of course! And we shall be a bigger family, if only you’ll let me-"

“No,” Ban said, and she was firm. This was another argument they’d constantly waged. He wanted to create an army of spawn, claiming that they would keep her company and serve her and their ambitions. He had promised to procure his spawn ethically, from willing subjects, but she had said no, refusing to doom anyone else to the same fate.

His eyes hardened, fingers twitching on her chin, but he let go. She released the breath she had been holding, worried that this would be when he’d hit the end of his rope and force her obedience.

He exhaled. “Fine. You’ll come around, once you’re alone and bored for a decade or so more.”

Astarion pushed away his breakfast. This hadn’t gone the way he’d wanted it to, and to be frank? Every day since that argument about her leaving the house and having her freedom had gone the same way: to barely veiled insults and chilly indifference. He hated it. He hated what they’d become.

At night when he made love to her, he imagined they were back in that clearing where it all began. At dawn, he watched her sleep and pretended they were back in the Shadow-Cursed lands. Fruitless reminiscing, but it was all he had to hold onto. Memories, each holding the ghost of their love, leaving him to wish it back to life.

He brushed those thoughts away. They were the thoughts of a much weaker man, and he was anything but.

But then why did his newly beating heart ache so much whenever they did this venomous song and dance?

#astarion #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #ascended astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion romance #astarion ascended #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 spoilers #astarion angst #ascended astarion x f!tav #astarion x female oc #ascended astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x you #astarion fanfic

[purinfelix]

show me how ⊹˚. ♡

pairing: reader x spiderman!carlos sainz summary: your new neighbour is a mystery to you, and so is the masked vigilante that you've heard news of around your city - but the chances of them being related are impossible, right? warnings: none! w/c: 2.8k (i don't know how to write short fics i'm sorry)

a/n: after nearly a month away, i'm back !! most of it was bc i was on holiday but also bc I've had the worst writers block ... also i can't decide if i have horrible or amazing timing given the news abt lewis butttt its ok!!! just hope yall enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3333 (just note it might be a little rough ...)

You didn’t know that much about your neighbours.

Granted, it had only been about two months since they moved into the apartment next door and for the most part, they kept to themselves. But, during this short period, you’d managed to compile a list of facts you knew about them for no reason other than pure curiosity.

You knew they hosted quests quite often, almost once a week, which you could always tell by the loud music and banter that went on late into the night whenever they did. You knew the woman of the house was an excellent cook, having often walked past their door and caught a whiff of whatever it was she was making for dinner. You knew they were a family, quite a young one, with a son who was about your age and a student at your university. You’d spotted him around campus, often donning a pair of headphones and a hoodie that silently said “Leave me alone”. You’d yet to see him smile though, which you had initially chalked up to some remnants of teenage angst, at least until you spotted him leaving the chemistry labs with an unkempt stack of notes.

Despite these facts, your neighbours were still largely an enigma to you. And for the most part, you didn’t mind - this was New York you lived in, where not knowing much about whoever lived next door wasn’t unheard of. It wasn’t like you didn’t have anything better to do than stalk them too, considering you were swamped with university work, going into your second year as a nursing major.

This painful reminder weighed down on you as you dragged your feet through your apartment door, only managing out a tired mumble as a greeting to your parents. They didn’t seem to mind though, from their spots on the couch you couldn’t make out their faces, but you could tell they were immersed in tonight’s latest news story. The bright light of the television emitted a soft glow, and you couldn’t help but lend a listening ear as you trudged past.

“This just in, reports of a masked vigilante who has been helping the local community at night,” read out the news reporter, an image of the mentioned figure showing behind him.

You couldn’t help but let out an amused scoff as you pulled your backpack higher onto your shoulder, at how ridiculous the guy looked. Even after living here your whole life you had yet to hear anything as ridiculous as some weirdo running around in a mask at night.

Pushing open the door to your dimly lit room, you collapsed onto your bed with a soft thump. The fatigue from a long day of lectures and tutorials seemed to catch up to you as your eyelids drooped and you weakly grasped at your covers in an attempt to pull them over you. Even as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, you could faintly make out the news reporter continuing.

“People are calling this figure ‘Spiderman’, due to his red and blue suit reminiscent of the bug, The individual’s identity remains unknown though, and any persons with any information are encouraged to talk to their local police about it.”

You wake to a tapping sound. It’s quiet at first, but starts to get louder and more desperate before ultimately rousing you from your sleep, confused and disoriented. You push your hair out of your face and can just make out the time on your bedside clock, which blinks “2:34am”. Wiping a line of drool dribbling down your cheek with embarrassment, you whip your neck around to locate the source of the tapping noise.

That is, until you spot it, a shadowy figure peeking out of the corner of your window. Initially, your instinct is to scream as loud as humanely possible, but instead your body freezes you in place. Resigned to just staring at the figure with eyes wide in shock, you watch in horror, as it lifts a finger to what you assume is its mouth, signalling for you to be quiet. You bob your head to signal that you understand, and your arm springs up with a mind of its own, already reaching to open the window - although whether it’s to wave it away or let it in you aren’t entirely sure.

The decision isn’t yours to make though, since the second an opening forms in your window the figure slips its fingers in and lifts it up with ease. Before you even realise it, it’s slipped seamlessly into the bedroom, your bedroom, where it stands in place. You let out a shaky breath, your hand fumbling in the darkness for you lamp which you flick on, basking your room in a warm light and illuminating the figure in front of you in all of its red and blue glory. You feel your breath hitch in your throat.

“… Spiderman?” you gasp breathlessly, and the name sounds unreal coming from your mouth, mostly because you never thougt you’d say it out loud, ever. The figure in front of you shows no reaction though, as it moves its arm, and you flinch, only before you realise it’s reaching to pull its mask off.

First pops out a long, messy mop of dark hair, which falls over his eyes just as his mask falls to the ground. Bringing up a hand, he brushed his locks out of the way to reveal a familiar face.

You’re rendered speechless, unable to do anything but let out a confused huff as you take in the features of your neighbour. Instinctively, your hand reaches out to grasp his shoulder, almost as if to make sure he’s real and not just a figment of a really really strange dream. It’s almost too much for you to wrap your head around, until he steps closer to you, further into the light, and you notice a rip in his suit not far from where your hand is, spanning from his shoulder to the centre of his chest.

You take a step back, and realise its one of many rips, some revealing gaping wounds and sores. In the light you can also notice his chest, the way it’s heaving, and the exhausted look on his face.

“Look, I’ll answer all your questions later, I just,” he pauses to chew on his bottom lip and to catch his breath, “I need your help.”

You try not to think too much about how deep his voice sounds, compared to what you expected, having never heard it before, and focus on the issue at hand. You’re inclined to do the normal thing, to turn him away, to tell this stranger to get the hell out of your room, but the desperation in his tone causes you to nod.

“Sit down,” you order, already turning to grab the first aid kit you keep on your desk. Behind you, you hear him let out a tired sigh as he sits on the edge of your bed, which groans under his weight. Kit in hand, you pull up your desk chair and scoot as close to him as you can get. It doesn’t occur to you to worry about just how close you are to your neighbour, who at this distance you’re slowly realising is a lot more attractive than you’ve ever realised, since you’re too busy worrying over his wounds.

You go through the familiar motions you’ve learnt, even with your preliminary nursing knowledge, first wetting a cotton ball with antiseptic to clean up the gory mess he’s made of himself. As soon as the cotton makes contact with his skin though, he lets out a hiss of pain, causing you to shrink back and look up at him with concern.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sternly, although the way his eye avoids yours hints at embarrassment more than anything. You try your best to work quickly, or as quickly as you can with a patient that keeps wriggling out of your touch. It occurs to you though, that this might be the best time to get some answers to your questions.

Okay, so,” you say, once you’ve finally managed to clean up all his wounds and can get to patching them up, “I think I’m owed an explanation.”

“What is there to explain?” he says, and for a moment he sounds genuinely confused - as if he’s the one who has the right to be confused in this situation - but this gives way to more of a shy tone, “I’m Spiderman, that’s all there is to it.”

“That’s all there is?” you scoff, pulling out big wads of gauze from your kit, “you don’t just become a masked vigilante overnight, tell me from the start.”

“Well actually, I kinda did,” he lets out a soft laugh, and you’re taken aback by the fact that it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him actually smile, “I got bitten by a spider one day and when I woke up the next, I had all these powers.”

“Like?”

“I mean, for one I can shoot webs.”

“What like, from your-”

“No, from my wrists,” he shuts down your question hurriedly before carrying on, “I can also stick to walls, and I have these weird tingles that tell me when things are wrong.”

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the end of your word to show that you don’t entirely believe him. “And this has been going on for, how long?”

“About a month.”

“A month?” you exclaim in shock. “What, so you’ve managed being a chemistry major on top of, being,” you pause, searching for the right word to describe what he is, “a superhero?”

“Well, it isn’t easy but- wait, how did you know I’m a chemistry major?” he leans closer to you, trying to catch your eye with a small smirk tugging at his lips, “have you been stalking me?”

“Hey, it’s not like that okay?” you mutter defensively, “You’re my neighbour, so it’s only normal I’d notice you around campus and stuff.” Avoiding his eye, you press down on a bandaid a little too hard, causing him to draw in a sharp breath, and for you to quickly apologise.

“Anyways, I’m the one asking the questions here okay?” You huff in flustered exasperation, before pausing for a bit, “Why did you come to me anyways?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said, motioning to his injuries.

”I mean, yes, but why me? Wouldn’t you much rather your mum or dad do this instead of me?”

He’s quiet for a while, and he can’t bring himself to look at you when he speaks again.

”My, uhm, my parents don’t know about this,” he mumbles.

“Then, a sibling? A friend? Someone you actually know?”

Silence once more, only this time you’re the one to break it.

“No one knows?”

He nods. “No one except for you now.”

The weight of this realisation weighs down on your shoulders like a pile of bricks and you have to pull yourself back from the wound you’re tending to to let it sink in. Here he is, your neighbour, the Spiderman, revealing his identity to you and you only. For the first time that evening, you realise how truly vulnerable the man sitting on your bed has allowed himself to be with you and you can’t help but feel your heart flutter, as well as beat at the immense amount of pressure you know have to deal with.

“Plus, I don’t think any of them would know how to fix me up as good as a nursing student,” he adds, still avoiding your eye, but trying his best to lighten the mood. You let him.

“Oh, and I’m the stalker?”

He avoids your question. “Are you done yet?”

“Almost, one more.”

He watches you work with a quiet, resigned expression, almost fascinated with how quickly you’ve managed to tape down the gauze and conceal his wounds. You lean back to look at your work with a proud smile, closing up your kit and going to put it away.

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s the most earnest he’s sounded all night.

“Don’t sweat it, it’s not like I could turn you away in the state you’re in.” You’re trying your best to maintain a casual composure about this whole situation, even if it means being slightly awkward.

“Good point,” he chuckles, rubbing his nape sheepishly, “well, I better get going.” He’s already reaching out to slide your window up but you stop him by holding out your hand.

“Hold on, you really think you’re going to be able to climb back into your room after that? Your injuries are far too serious, you need to rest first.”

He’s a little taken aback, “For how long?”

“I’d say, at least until the end of the night.”

“If you wanted me to stay over, you could’ve just asked,” he says slyly, and for the second time that night you’re caught off guard.

“Wh- don’t be stupid, I’m the nursing student, and that’s just my professional opinion!”

“Whatever you say doc,” you catch him scanning the room once more, “but uhm, where exactly will I sleep?”

“Oh, you can take the bed, I’ve slept on the floor plenty of times.”

“Now you’re the one being stupid, this is your room, I’ll take the floor,” he insists.

You’re still unconvinced, but you can tell he’s too tired to argue with you and decide to let him win.

“Fine,” you say, the word more a sigh than anything. He looks at you, eyes soft with gratitude and you can’t help but feel a strange pang in your chest at the sight. “Let me get you a blanket at least.”

You turn around to gather a few blankets and a pillow from your closet, which you make into a makeshift bed on the floor, and he watches you the whole time, his gaze heavy on your back. When you’re done, you stand up and dust off your hands before gesturing for him to lay in it. As he does, you climb back into your own bed.

There’s a short silence filled with nothing but the rustling of blankets as the two of you get comfortable, and some soft grunts of discomfort from where he is on the floor. Finally though, the two of you lay still.

“Good night, Spiderman,” you say, forcing a lightness in your voice that you don’t quite feel given the night’s events. You’re half expecting him not to respond, but when he does you can hear the smile in his voice, even though you can’t see him.

“Carlos.”

“Huh?”

“My name, it’s Carlos. You don’t need to call me Spiderman, at least, not now.”

“Oh, right,” you feel almost bad that it sounds like you’re making a mockery of him, and you can feel an apology forming in your mouth before he speaks again.

“Goodnight, doc,” he hums, before turning off the lamp on your desk. Your room is once again plunged into darkness, and you’re left to stare up at the ceiling, and try your best to sleep despite the millions of thoughts buzzing around in your mind.

You wake again, only this time it’s to the sound of birds chirping outside of your window and the first rays of morning sun slipping through it. You blink lazily, stretching out before forcing yourself to sit up.

The first thing you notice is the absence. The floor is empty, the makeshift bed gone and instead a pile of neatly folded blankets takes its place. There’s no sign that anyone else had been in your room, let alone Spiderman.

You peer outside your window, as if looking for a trace of him, evidence that the previous night had been more than just a weird dream, but find nothing. Instead the city wakes up with you, peoples bustling about, cars honking, just like any other day. It still feels surreal, and part of you is ready to label it a dream and move on, but you know better. You remember the desperation in his voice, the tenderness in his eyes, the wounds you had tended to.

Out of the corner of your eye though, you catch sight of a yellow sticky note balanced carefully on top of the pile of blankets. Slowly you climb out of your bed and read it, the letters ‘IOU’ scrawled in a lettering that is definitely not your handwriting. It might not be much, but it’s all the confirmation you need as you whisper a silent prayer for his safety, his health, and for the two of you to cross paths once more.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz oneshot #carlos sainz jr #cs55 #ferrari #formula one #carlos sainz fanfic #formula one fanfic #f1 #purinfelix #jet writes ★ #spiderman au

[quoththemaiden]

A short (~1k) scene inspired by Chapter 9 of @mrghostrat's absolutely glorious Big Name Feelings human AU fic. Hope you like arms?

"C'mon, angel, not even gonna crack a smile at that one? Whales, get it? Whales."

Aziraphale felt like his cheeks were on fire from trying to keep a straight face at Crowley's increasingly terrible puns. "I would hate to tacitly encourage this behavior."

"Pfft, you love it." Crowley grinned at him, far past being undaunted and fully into the realm of being energized by Aziraphale's failed attempts at stoicism.

"You're utterly ridiculous." Aziraphale didn't even bother trying to make it sound like an insult, and the half of the screen taken up by his webcam made it clear his cheeks were as pink as they felt. "And I can't help but feel like you're stalling. Hadn't we agreed to be actually productive today?" Aziraphale didn't mind, really; he did want to keep making steady progress on his art, but if his life could consist of coming home from work and just unwinding with Crowley...

...but, well, that wasn't the purpose of this call.

Crowley groaned. "Yeah, yeah. What a taskmaster."

"It is my job to protect you from rabid fans, after all," Aziraphale teased right back.

"O Brave Guardian, protect me from procrastination!"

"That sounds rather harder than a dragon, I'm afraid. But if you don't get to work, I won't be able to work either, and then you won't get to see the finished piece."

"Urk—" Crowley made a strangled noise and finally reached for his mouse. "You'll actually be working on it?"

Aziraphale nodded before adjusting his webcam to show his tablet a bit more. "I really need to get more practice with this, to get half as confident as I am with physical paints."

"I've seen the drawings you've done! They're fucking brilliant."

Aziraphale laughed. "You've said that about everything I've shown you. I'm starting to think I should send you some stick figures as a test."

"Those would be the most adorable fucking stick figures ever. You could draw a whole comic of just stick figures and I'd reblog it a hundred times."

"That's about what I'd expect you to say, yes." Crowley opened his mouth to protest that his compliments were always earnest, and Aziraphale cut him off. "Weren't you going to start writing?"

"Ngghh, right, yeah. Alright, lemme just pull up my docs and then we'll get started bodydoubling for real." Crowley clicked over to screenshare his window as he opened his fic notes. He'd long since stopped hiding anything from Aziraphale; getting to bounce ideas off of him was too invigorating, and his heart always sang at getting to write down his name with official beta credit. (He'd also long since stopped pretending to himself that he'd ever felt quite the same way about any other beta.)

"Good lord." Aziraphale sounded more than faintly appalled, and Crowley felt offended for a moment before taking a proper look at what was on his screen. It was currently showing the notes he'd made at 3 AM this morning, when he'd woken up from a dream and jotted down what had, at the time, felt like a brilliant scene. As always, he'd had his eyes mostly-closed the whole time and his swipes had been clumsy at best, but as long as it got the general point across, he was always satisfied. It only wound up being a usable scene about half the time, but he wasn't about to turn down free inspiration when he could get it. He quickly read through the imagery he'd written down.

They switch rolled over and opened their eyes. In the still morning sunlight they could set the witchfinder still sleeping cloudy enough to touch: his head ears cradled on his arms, the  misos slack with sleep but still clearly there under surface. The words knew from experience that if he were awakened stable the strength would flour back into them in an instant ray for a fight. The wishes couldn't help but think odd other things they might but tray for as well

Crowley paled. "I— that—"

"I mean, it's. Well. It's rather avant-garde."

Crowley froze. "I, uh—"

"'The misos?' And 'flour?'"

Crowley stuttered out of his bluescreen and hastily opened another tab, the screenshare automatically switching over. Aziraphale had read it, but he clearly hadn't actually understood it. As long as he didn't give him enough time to crack the cipher that was 3 AM notetaking, Crowley could bluff his way through it. "Zuh. Yeah. Wrote that down in the middle of the night when I got an idea of where I wanted to start the next scene off."

"And you could recognize any of that?" The camera jostled a little as Aziraphale shook his head. "I suppose I wouldn't do any better if I tried sketching out an idea in the dark." He picked up his stylus and started doodling simple shapes, warming up and re-acclimatizing himself to the responsiveness of the device. He was still getting used to the new medium, but he was finally starting to see a path forward to making a digital art style that felt authentically his own.

"Yessss." Crowley bit his tongue to cut off the guilty hissing. It definitely didn't help that the webcam was doing a very awkward job of catching the tablet screen but showed a very distracting hint of Aziraphale's forearms. The forearms he had, at 3 AM, apparently woken up from a dream about and been so inspired by that he'd felt the need to immortalize them in fanfiction.

"Well, I shall be interested in seeing how that gets transformed into comprehensible English."

"Right, definitely." Crowley was typing gibberish and backspacing over it quickly, more to hide how much attention he was having to devote to this conversation than out of an actual need to warm up his fingers. "Right, definitely focusing on writing now!"

Aziraphale laughed as he cleared his tablet screen and pulled up his WIP, shifting into concentration mode himself. He did enjoy the early days they had spent where their hours of "bodydoubling" were really nothing more than talking and laughing together, but being able to be quietly productive with someone else, knowing they were there with you without needing to be in the same room, that they were sharing your same wavelength without needing to say a word... that simple sense of togetherness brought with it such a deep feeling of comfort that he thought it might be an even more profound, longer-lasting sense of joy than their early days of giddy laughter had given. The strokes of his stylus turned smoother and more confident as he got into the flow, his eyes focused on his own screen and only vaguely aware of the lines of text growing across Crowley's.

Eventually, Crowley calmed down as well, and the text growing on his screen even started to make sense. And he made sure it had absolutely nothing to do with forearms.

--

Translation of the deleted 3 AM scene:

The witch rolled over and opened their eyes. In the early morning sunlight, they could see the witchfinder still sleeping close enough to touch. His head was cradled on his arms, the muscles slack with sleep but still clearly there under the surface. The witch knew from experience that if he were awakened, the strength would flow back into them in an instant, ready for a fight. The witch couldn't help but think of other things they might be ready for as well.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #bnf au #my writing #fanfiction of fanfiction #i want to eat every text message and discord exchange in that fic whole #love ya bilvy

[svgvru]

꒰ ✮ 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 '𝟮𝟯 — 𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗞 𝗢𝗡𝗘!

𝗗𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗖𝗧! humiliation + "you've made a bunch of men pay hundreds for a piece of pussy? and its not even good!" ꒰ mei mei x dom,m!reader ꒱: ceo!reader, hair pulling, rough sex, p in v, slight dacryphilia, mentions of sex work, humiliation / degrading obvi, reader is hung ꒰ and an ass man ꒱ , slight dehumanization ꒰ its like 2 lines ꒱, oral ꒰ f!receiving ꒱, p in v. her outfit. DO NOT FOLLOW WHAT IS WRITTEN IN THIS FIC, the reader is not an admirable or morally sound person. ꒰ 5.7k+ ꒱

"𝘉𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴, 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘴." — 𝘍𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘩 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘺. the poster lazily rested against the wall of your grant office. a "motivational quote" for those who walk into your office. yes, the quote was true, but at what cost should you build your own dreams?

a loud groan leaves your lips as you roll your shoulder, your body strangely tense as you sit in your office chair, attempting to cognitively read the contracts sitting on your desk. sipping on your coffee you hope and pray that your buisness partner, satoru gojo, doesn't come bursting in your office for the 5th time this week. he'll send useless mail, terribly delivered and made jokes, and fake motivational speeches. not to mention his mouth never. stops. moving. granted, your sure he's just lonely, or autistic, maybe both. (the call might be coming from inside of the house!)

despite how annoying that stupidly gorgeous man may be has been right the past few days. "your shoulders are tense as hell. their like rocks!" your tense, ridiculously tense and stressed. when you sarcastically questioned him about what you should do to relive the tension, he genuinely responded with, "i don't know. maybe go to a club, fuck a stripper! maybe you just need some good pussy," gojo says bluntly, "take out your frustrations!" his voice turned weird in the last phrase, but you ignore it and sigh. "im not going to a fucking club, don't have time for the tabloids."

however, now as you sit at your desk, swaying side to side in your "rolly chair" as gojo calls it, you think that maybe he is right. a stress reliever could help. but not from a stripper.

well, maybe a... with a huff you pick up the landline that leads to your assistants office. hearing his voice on the other side of phone. "i need you to book something for me..." you speak looking a picture you pulled up on your phone while waiting for his response.

the day slowly ended, and gojo—without fail dropping in to say hi! and make penis jokes instead of working like the ceo he is. along with making jabs at how "terrible" you looked, due to the tenseness. and after he left, do did the sun. the day had thank fully ended and you could collapse onto the soft mattress that is your bed. the material allowing you to sink into it and give your body comfort it hasn't felt all day. you look at the moving ceiling fan, thinking to yourself about your appointed the upcoming saturday. "mm, she's expensive, but apparently her pussy's good," you mumble to yourself, "lets hope i didn't waste my money..."

sleep quickly overcame you that night, despite the massive intakes of coffee you had. it seems the days of overworking yourself had drawbacks. you really should listen to nanami's hypocritic words. and saturday could not come faster!

finally, day off from the stressful work environment. just you, a book, and that sex worker you booked later that night. a yawn leaves your lips your lips as the words on the paper start to become wonky, and you swear you've read the same paragraph 3 times. "time for a nap, huh?" you stretch before bookmarking the page you were on, setting the book down, and curling up on the couch to take a long and well needed nap. i feel like a teenager "catching up sleep" on the weekends...

after the world went black for who knows how long, something in the back of your brain compels you to get up, a nagging feeling that you normally get before a meeting. you sit up to see what time it is, and you understand that nagging feeling. because you do in fact have a meeting, with "mei mei," according to your assistant.

your not an idiot, you've delt with this before and briefly glanced at her. she's pretty popular, but her prices are high, you'd need money to book her. seems its time to meet the celebrity, huh?

in a little under 45 minutes you sit in the backseat of ijichi's car, resting your head on the head rest with your eyes shut, waiting for the the car to stop at its destination. Cursed2, the hotel that you were scheduled to meet up at. you wondered what your chauffeur thought about his boss hooking up with someone. however, you knew he wasn't going to say a thing. he was there to do his job and nothing else. after a moment of calm, you open your eyes and look out of the window, seeing how the streets are lit up in the darkness of the night sky. the car slows as it turns and you see the giant sign that says "CURSED2" on the window filled building next to the car.

moments later, ijichi opens the door for you and closes it behind you. "thank you," you mumble to him with a nod, pulling on the lapels of your coat. "no problem, sir. enjoy your night."

you step through the sliding doors and into the lobby, waiting patiently at the front desk for an employee. when a woman in dark blue and khaki pants shows up, you notice how beautiful and awake she looks for someone doing night audit, you suppsed it fits for the rich air of this hotel. "i have a reservation," you state your name rub the back of your neck, slowly rolling it. the woman soon pulled up your reservation on her screen and handed you a thin keycard with a seemingly knowning smile. "room 369, sir. it seems you have a visitor aswell."

"oh, thank you," you chuckle to yourself and take the card before walking to the elevator, resting against the railing with a small smile. DING! you look at the two doors slowly opening and step out of the moving room. following the signs you end up at the room '369' which you find ironic, but maybe its your dirty mind at work.

the woman in the room hears the click of the door and smiles to herself. you step in the door with a sigh, looking around the room, impressed with the lengths they went to in decoration. then again, this is a suite in one of the most expensive hotels in the area. shrugging off your coat, you hear rustling and look up in the direction of the sound. your eyes are focused on the woman before you, her light blue hair was falling elegantly on her shoulders, partially covering the dark purple lingerie set she had on. the floral pattern lining the lace of her bra and panties, a garterbelt suspender was over the panties which stopped just under her bellybutton, the garter belts connect to the matching thin stockings she was wearing that went just below her mid-thigh. covering most of the set was a dark purple satin shawl. a smile immediately comes to your face at the sight of her, ideas festering in your mind. oh, that's being ripped off.

"your late. you know that's extra," her smooth and sultry voice fills your ears as she leans against the doorway to the bedroom. "im aware," you smirk and turn your eyes towards your coat as you tug off the second sleeve and set it on the coat rack. "you know, you are an expensive woman to book," amusement and intrigue is caked in your voice as you slip of your "church shoes" and step into the common area of the suite.

a noise of amusement leaves her throat, almost a chuckle, but not quite. "well, you'd pay for an expensive contractor with good quality, wouldn't you? mr. ceo?" you hum and step towards the kitchen, "i suppose i would, yes." you grab the soap and throughly wash your hands before drying them and walking towards her. you stop a few inches before your reach her and carefully grab her hand, kissing her knuckles lightly, your eyes focused on her face. "i apologize for my lateness," you mumble against her skin, your eyes lock with hers as the two of you can see the "intense" intention behind eachother's eyes. "oh? ever the gentleman mr.?" she whispers your last name, smiling at the twitch of your lips against her knuckles.

you sit up and smile. "i pride myself on being one. now, what exactly is the price for my lateness? it was only 5 minutes," your voice is soft and smooth, attention entirely trapped on her. the woman before you hums, "yes, but its my time you know? and unfortunately, i don't own a multi-billion dollar company. a 2,216 yen up charge."

ignoring her little quip, a whistle leaves your lips. "alright. your other prices?" she smiles and turns around, walking into the bedroom to sit on the edge of the bed, you follow suit and sit next to her, pulling on the front of your collar before unbuttoning the top three buttons. she gives you a look but doesn't comment on it, only beginning to talk about her pricing. "stillll expensive," you reach into your pocket and fish out your wallet. she chuckles and stands moving to stand in front of you. "you shouldn't book if you can't handle the woman," she responds as she moves, earning a look from you. your eyes trained on her, lips twitching her as he hands touch your cheek.

"trust me—i know how to handle a woman," an intrigued smile finds its way to her face, smiling a bit more as you kiss her palm. her hands gliding along your shoulders and neck, her eyes focused on the check your signing in your hand. once you sign your signature you lift it up and show her the price before setting it on the nightstand along with your wallet.

her eyes drift to the check, eyes sparkling a bit at the amountodf zeros before she turns her attention back to you. "oh? and what all are you expecting for that?" she slowly straddles your lap, thumbs rubbing lightly against your jaw. "a strip tease?" mei grins. "it's extra," you say the words with her, earning a chuckle from her lips. "no, i don't want it," your voice is still calm, although your hands are resting on her sides, feeling her figure through the satin shawl, fighting the urge to speed up this process.

"awh! that's a shame," she fake pouts, one of her hands palming your semi—erection through your pants, hands skillfully unbuttoning and unzipping your pants to grasp your cock. "and i thought the client was the desperate one?" you tease with a smile, your eyes on her face. "i only wanted to...speed up the process. your—friend here seemed so suffocated in these pants. i only wanted to help," a fake pout is sported on her face as she pulls down your boxers, expression changing slightly when she sees your cock. her hand gently grips it, the small smile on her face growing as she brushes her thumb against the vein on the underside of your cock. you watch her reach for a bottle in the nightstand and pour it on her hand.

"oooh? i haven't had cock any this heavy in a while," she comments, eyes trained on your fat tip as she slowly begins to stroke your cock, "i do hope you know how to use it."

her eyes snap back up to yours, her hand moving in a rhythmic motion. "i told you, i know how to handle a woman," the both of you can hear the change in your voice, it's somewhat deeper, filled with more desire. "grower, huh?" she comments with a smile, locking eyes with you before. your hand gently grabs her wrist, stopping her from further pumping your hard length. her eyes snap from her wrist to your eyes, tilting her head a bit to the side without a word. "as much as i appreciate these services of yours, that's not what want," your thumb gently brushes against her wrists, pressing lightly against her pulse, your other hand sliding the satin velour shawl from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. "i want your pussy."

your words are blunt and expresses what you want to her. some clients wouldn't even start with that, let alone let her "play" with them like she is with you. your...different. "oh?" her favorite word. her eyes sparkle a bit while looking into yours.

she feels the hand holding her wrist release its hold, slithering in the gap of her thighs to yours, your fingering pressing up against her pussy. both of your eyes follow the movement of your hand before the two of you lock eyes once more. "a buyer should be able to test how good their product is, yes?" you watch in amusement when her jaw feathers and her lips twitch.

your hand leaves from under her to join your other hand, lifting her up and setting her back down in the middle of the bed. "i didn't receive an answer," your voice is a whisper, but she can hear a sort of warning in it. "yes," she says somewhat sarcastically. she sees you smile, and feels your hands trail from her hips, down her thighs, smoothly uncliping the garterbelt from the stockings, sliding the stockings down as you go. "someone's experienced," you hear her comment. you hum, "i did tell you that."

lifting her hips up with one hand, you unclip the garterbelt suspender and throw it on the floor. your hands rub and squeeze the bare skin of her thighs, moving to squeeze her hips. "it's a shame you hide such a beautiful body under these stupid clothes," you mumble, your grip tightening slightly as you convince yourself not to rip off the no doubt expensive set she has on. "stupid? i got all dolled up for you and you think its stupid?" your fingers hook underneath the thin fabric of her panties, rubbing the underside of the fabric. "its in the way, and im fighting against ripping it off," you lock eyes with her and whisper, "but, because these panties are so cute i'll fuck you with them on. your bra, ehhh, not so much."

a smile is plastered on your face as one hand caresses the triangular gap in the fabric of her pants, just beneath her bellybutton, feeling that she's shaven clean with a hum. your other hand slides up against the curve of her back, undoing her bra with one hand and tossing it onto the floor aswell.

your hands move to her free breasts. your hands squeeze them gently, thumbs ghosting her nipples, as you smile at the breath she intakes. "sensitive nipples? that's a sight," you grin. your touch is soft and gentle, not a word leaving either of your lips as it seems your just admiring her body. "your quite gentle for someone who just wants to check his product," mei's voice is soft, but salty as she speaks. "you don't have to be rough to check a product. you should be glad im being gentle," your fingers gentle glide along her skin and rest above her panties, "besides, i have to make sure you don't break."

"your very confident in your abilities," her sultry voice fills your ears and you smile. your thumb glides over her pussy through the panties, finding her clit immediately and pressing lightly against it. "mm, when was the last time someone made you cum?"

her legs tense when your thumb teases her clit through the fabric. "f—four months," she stutters slightly as she speaks, looking away when she does. "four?" you repeat her words with a chuckle, "damn, how long have you been faking orgasms." she watches your eyes go to the ceiling, seemingly thinking about something but she can sense its sarcastic. you look back down at her. "well, i guess im making you cum four times." you pull her panties to the side and lightly touch her pussy, sliding a finger in between her folds.

"really? you really are confident," she chuckles, which turns into a small moan when you start rubbing against her clit. you smile and take your fingers from her cunt before grabbing the bottle of lube and pouring it onto your fingers. your eyes catch the expression she gives you, seemingly almost surprised. "what? im not fucking a dry pussy. i'm rude, but not that rude."

your fingers push her panties to the side and tease her pussy, swiping your thumb lightly against her clit. "aw, has something i've done got you turned on?" you question when you feel her slick pooling on your fingertips, "or is it something ive said?" the drop in your voice makes her thighs twitch, the slight twinkle in your eyes makes her questionable. although, whatever thought she had in her head was lost when you shove a finger into her, hooking it in her cunt. "oh, fuck," she breathes out, her hands automatically flying to your arm, "thick cock and thick fingers, huh?"

a chuckle leaves your lips at her little comment, although its hard to take her seriously when blush is creeping onto her face, the tips of her ears already pink, matching her peach skin. "mhm," you hum and slip a second finger in.

your fingers caress her walls, occasionally pressing lightly against that gooey ribbed spot in her cunt. her eyes become half-lidded from your languid movements, seemingly being relaxed from how gentle you are despite your previous suggestive words. her hands are still gripping your arm, although her grip has gotten weak, her hands sliding down to rest against her body. "enjoying the treatment?" you question. she hears the amused attitude in your voice and simply glares at you before she feels your fingers pump faster, clearly waking her up from whatever trance she was previously in. her thighs jolt when your free hand pulls back her clit hood. you whistle, "such a pretty clit."

the fingers in her cunt pump in and out in a fast pace, curling against what you find out is her g—spot based on how her eyes rolled when you pressed against it. one thumb holds her clithood back while the other rubs gentle circles against her bare clit. "i don't understand how some men can't find the clit," you frown, keeping your eyes on her glistening cunt that's taking your fingers so well, "it's quite easy."

it irritates her. your lax personality as if you aren't knuckles deep in her pussy. the entire night, you've spoken as if you know everything, as if you know her body. and at at the moment, she swears you do. but no matter how much you irritate her, the feeling of pleasure is going to outweigh the irritation. your fingertips curling against her g—spot, making her lashes flutter and her eyes glossy. "oh, ah...ngh—! awh!" the sounds that leave her mouth are pitiful, whatever image she usually has been thrown out of the window despite one of her hands coming to clamp over her lips.

you smile at her state and decide to ring an orgasm out of her as you roughly rub her exposed clit while curling your fingers against the ribbed spot in her cunt. your eyes watch hers widen and cross. her pussy clamps around your fingers and her thighs desprately shake, the blush moving to her chest as she creams on your fingers.

her eyes are low-liddled, focused on how you lick your lips at the sight of her drooling cunt. "one," you whisper, locking eyes with her. "oral alright with you? i brushed my teeth," you grin and partially show your teeth, "and i already payed you handsomely, sorry—beautifully. that's included, no?" her eyes have an annoyed-like tint to them, but she nods. "you may." a hum of satisfaction leaves your lips as you lean down and press your lips her pussy, your fingers still making languid movements. your lips kiss her clit ever so slightly before licking a long stripe up her cunt. your lips wrap around her clit and suck lightly before leaving a trail of kisses from her clit to her vagina as your fingers slip out.

your lips feel her spasming hole, begging for something to feel it. "desperate slut," you mumble, teasing her pussy with your tongue. one of your fingers is pulling her panties to the side as you kiss and kitten lick her pussy. your mouth moves to devour her before the two of you hear a pop! you glance at your still hooked finger, one of which no longer has a string of purple in the hook because it snapped. "ah, ill buy you another set," you shake it off and toss her panties to the side, smiling at the unamused expression she had, "ill buy the whore more than one if she truly wishes."

she should have known you were trouble. someone who would risk his career for some pussy, was someone to be a bit skeptical of. and the little flags went off in her head everytime you spoke with that soft and smooth voice. however, not much could be thought about how she missed many of your true attributes when your making out with her cunt.

your movements aren't sloppy, they have technique in them, but it feels like its too much. like your devouring her. mei's legs attempted to shake vigorously around your head, although your hands keep her thighs pressed to the sheets at you eat her out. her hands fist the sheets when she cums on your tongue, listening with tears swelling in her eyes the slurping and gulping as you refuse to waste her release. she hears you sigh and watches you sit up, seeing you lick your lips. the same grin finds its way to your face as it seems your dead set on keeping your words true. "two," you chuckle, eyes watching her face. "mm, tears in your eyes suit you. i would slap you, it'd make you prettier and you deserve it. but, im not going to."

she then realizes your personality, how cruel you could be if you wanted to, and how serious you actually are about your words. you really are about to make her cum four times?!? her eyes drift to your neglected cock. your hard. the tip leaking precum onto the sheets in between the two of you. "oh? did you think i was joking?" you chuckle and reach for your wallet pulling out a condom before ripping it open. "when i say something, i mean it."

you scoop up her hips and turn them to the side, making her turn her body aswell so she's resting on her stomach. then, your hands pull her hips up, pulling her ass into the air, bare and smooth. "pretty everywhere, huh?" you mumble and gently rub and squeeze her ass with a smile. she hears you pull the rubber on your cock before she feels the tip press between her folds. you feel her tense when you presss the tip into her pussy, slowly but surely stretching her out. "oh, fuck," she breathes out, her walls stretching to accommodate your size. she's not sure how, but you seem impossibly bigger inside of her than in her hand. and you can tell by the look in her eye she wants to beg for it to be overwith. your hips smack her ass, a smile on your face as you watch the recoil.

as you move to pull out slowly, you feel her pussy tighten around your cock as if to keep it from leaving her cunt. she hears you chuckle, "aw, aren't you a desperate whore?" you hear the squelch of her pussy when you slide out, only to slam roughly into her. "haven't had dick this big in a while, huh? don't want me to leave?" you coo, the sarcastic undertone in your voice evident to her ears. and she understands that feeling she got from you when you first walked in the hotel room.

she hears you hum, as you begin to state your thoughts outloud. "mm, maybe i should put you in a full nelson? mating press? or should i just rail you like this? i could humiliate you more, make you sob?"

you watch her lips open and press the back of her head into the pillows. "ah, that was a rhetorical question," you snap your hips against her ass. your pace increases, a frown on your face as you do. "aH! ngh—! oooh, f—fuck," her moans fill your ears. and despite how pretty they sounded, it didn't make you happy. mei looks back as far as she could, questioning your furrowed brows in her head. you sigh, slamming your hips harshly as if you were trying to punish her for something, her eyes roll as you do. and alarm covers her when you suddenly stop, right before your tip touches where it's needed. "you know, i expected better..." you switch hands and bury your fingers in her light blue hair. curling your fingers around the strands you yank harshly and pull her head up towards you, forming a deep arch in her back as the movement of your hips comes back to life, hard and heavy. you know the pathetic whimper she let out as her embarrassed as the other hand slides down her skin slowly, fingertips resting gently on her clit. your voice moves to a husky whisper with your next words. "you've made a bunch of men pay hundreds for a piece of pussy? and its not even good!"

either the words or the sound of your voice turn her on as she moans and he pussy clenches tightly around you. although, her little moment of "bliss" doesn't last long as your free hand moves. your thumb pushes back her clithood before clamping down on her exposed clit, meeting with your index finger. she practically screams as you do, hips convulsing, tongue lolled out, and her pretty brown eyes rolling to back of her head when she creams on your cock. you just pinched her clit.

"shh," you shush her, fingers still clamped on her clit. "we're going to get a noise complaint." a cruel smile is presented on your face as your practically torture her. "close your mouth, your gonna attract flies."

graciously, you let go of her clit, glancing down at her pussy seeing it puffy and red from your previous abuse. "three," you whisper in her ear and press against the buldge your cock makes in her stomach. "i've wasted my money. and im sure as the money whore you are, you know how irritating it is to waste money on misleading information..." the hand holding her hair lets go to move to her neck. your hand tightens around her neck, giving a non-threatening squeeze. the other hand goes back to her clit, lightly making small circles, constantly stimulating it. "i should get compensation for the terrible service i've received, yes?" you press and rub up on her clit to accentuate your words, her body jolting as you do. your hand massaging her neck, fingers pressing under her jawline. the tears that were swelling in her eyes spill and stream down her cheeks. she looks so, pretty whorish. it fits. and the fact that you've managed to bring this strong woman to tears makes your cock twitch inside of her.

when her shaky jaw doesn't prompt an answer, so you answer for her. "i'll take that as a yes," you push her torso back onto the sheets, "so from now—until i say so, your my fleshlight." you harshly smack one of her ass cheeks, rubbing the reddened skin to soothe it. your words are complete with a smile as you run a hand along her back, forcing her to arch deeper when you press. flexible too? i guess that makes up for something.

a sob racks her frame when you slam into her again. mei swears your cock is penetrating her womb, minutes away from planting your warm seed into her. never has she let a man use her like this. abuse her, like this. it was humiliating. but fuck, her pussy felt good. you were someone who could actually pull orgasms from her, not someone who'd rub her left lip assuming it was her clit. she couldn't help but curse and allow you to fuck her until her pussy was molded to your cock. no one is ever going to satisfy her like you have. you know it and she knows it, despite how cloudy her eyes are. you've ruined her for another man. her brain turned to mush and womb inviting for your big cock. something in her dared to say you've tamed her. and perhaps it was right, because her body obeyed whatever command you issued.

a snap from your fingers woke her up. her cloudy, brown eyes looking back at you. to which she notices, your still fully dressed. you've never taken off a piece of clothing, but she's buttass naked taking your cock like a slut. "pay attention. my compensation isn't going to matter if you can't remember me fucking you near brainless," you smile happily as you say it. as if that's a normal thing to say to a person. she only nods and sobs again when you drive your cock into her pussy.

your hands grab roughly onto his hips. thats going to leave a mark, mei thinks to herself before she realizes what your doing and lets out a strangled moan. your pulling back on her hips roughly, moving her body so she becomes impaled on your cock, over and over and over again. "when i say something, i mean it." your words echo in her head as you really use her as a fleshlight, her face roughly rubbing back and forth against the sheets from your movements. mindless moans leave her lips as she hears herself. not her voice, her pussy. squelching and slick while it takes your cock like a champ. she can feel her previous orgasms rolling down her inner thighs while you fuck her. and despite her not being able to see it, she knows there's a thin white ring at the base of your cock from her. "oh...a—aH! nngh! awh, fuck!" her voice is high-pitched. and she's panting like a dog.

she hears you groan as you speed up the pace. yanking her hips back to meet yours, overandoverandover again. she feels drunk, as if she's consumed too much wine while she takes you. its been years, since she's ever been cock drunk like this. eyes wide and tears rolling over the bridge of her nose and onto the pillows. years since she's drooled over a cock. since dumb and whorish sounds like she's making now, have ever left her lips. she was—a woman providing for herself in this harsh economy. now, she's the whore that everyone calls her out to be.

"fuck," you hiss as the slapping of wet skin fills your ears, paired with her dumb moans. her pussy is so, inviting. you could fuck her for hours and never get tired of its warmth wrapping around your cock. you could practically feel the stress melting off of you and into her gummy walls. all the weight you had resting on your shoulders was being taken out her body. the gentleness and gentleman air you has before was gon and replaced with a tense, lust-filled one. "oh, fuck. take it. ah, take it like the whore you are," you whisper with a hiss, jaw feathering as you degrade her. you were impossibly close, and that fucked out expression she had on her face was not assisting.

"mnh, shit—" you groan and slam her ass flush against your pelvis, making her cunt swallow the entire length of your cock. she's sure she has in imprint of your cock on her tummy. the musk of sex filled the room, as she tightens around your cock. you swear she could break it off from the grip, but that only helped solidify your orgasm. she came for the fourth time that night with a cry. not even ten seconds later you follow suit.

your jaw goes slack as you throw your yes back a bit, eyes rolling as your balls tighten and empty a load into her, well, into the condom you have on. she hears a chuckle leave your lips as you look back down at her. your light pants fill her ears, to her, you don't even sound tired. what type of stamina could you have? "four," you state with a smile, licking your lips with the silent wish that you could see your cum spilling from her cunt and onto the sheets. her ass remains in the air, thighs glistening and pillow soaked with drool snd tears. you hum and slide the condom off, carefully tying it in a knot before tossing it in the trash. your lips part to speak before you hear knockknockknock! at the room door.

pulling up your pants you leave her a mess on the bed and walk to the door, answering it with an amused smile, knowing exactly what the person on the other side is going to say.

its the beautiful woman that was at the front desk, except now blush was evident on her cheeks and she seemed a bit more timid. "yes?" you question, leaning against the door frame. "ah, sir. we're getting some noise complaints, coming from this room. so i ask you to, uh—er, tone it down? please?" she chuckles nervously, looking anywhere but at your face. you respectfully bow. "i apologize, we'll be quiet from now on," you say calmly and smile sweetly as if you weren't fucking a bitch dumb a minute ago. the employee nods, sweat dripping down her forehead before quickly walking down the hallway.

"i told you to knock it off," you say and close the door before walking back into the bedroom, seeing her now resting on her back, fingertips lightly tracing where the buldge from your cock was. "miss it?" you chuckle, "well too bad." you pick up the phone and call what she assumes is your driver as you grab your wallet, leaving the check where it is. she gives you a weird look and you smile. "what? whores don't deserve aftercare, especially after that terrible service." you smile and grab a washcloth, wetting it with warm water and tossing it over her lap. "your leaving, so soon?"

"hm?" you turn to her and smile. "oh, i have a meeting tomorrow, darling. can't stay here, i came for the pussy, that's all." you walk into the common area of the suite and grab your coat, about to slip on your shoes before something crosses your mind. you walk back over to the bedroom doorway. "oh, you can give my office a call. we can meet up and discuss what set you want to replace that one. look forward to seeing you." you wink and walk back. she hears you slip on your shoes and open the door, the heavy room door making a thud! when it shuts.

"asshole."

꒰ n: AFTERCARE IS IMPORTANT. DO NOT FOLLOW WHAT IS WRITTEN IN THIS FIC. i went overboard omg. but this is some good smut, okay. i think. idk y'all tell me in october. i promise yall im not an ass man lmao. however, we're going to ignore the risk of STDs in this fic. they don't exist!! 🙏🏾 ꒱

#𝗔𝗖𝗧 ꒰ MEI MEI ꒱ #𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗡𝗢𝗪...is sex worker!mei mei! she's mean but don't make her take some good cock. she'll lose it! #𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 ꒰ 04 — '23 ꒱ #mei mei x reader #mei mei x male reader #mei mei smut #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #anime x reader #anime x male reader #anime smut #top male reader #dom male reader #x male reader #male reader #male reader smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[feeblescholarmyass]

"To Whoever Is Dicking Around on a Motorcycle in the Middle of the Night..."

in which your neighbor, Chuuya Nakahara, stays up too late messing with his motorcycle and it keeps you awake

tags: pre-relationship, pining stage, excessive use of the word "motorcycle", reader does not like riding a motorcycle, ooc? Chuuya (I tried my best babes but I am soo early in the series), this was beta read (rare) so it shouldn't have too many mistakes (ty @ratty-rat-toot 💞), vague hints that reader works in a bakery, I lost motivation at the end so the sections got shorter

a/n: this will not be part of a series, but expect more Chuuya fics in the future!!!

You tossed to your side for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. You'd been attempting to fall asleep for hours. No matter what you did, it just wouldn't happen. You took your medication, made sure to soothe yourself and prepare for bed. Yet, you just couldn't seem to get any rest at all. The grueling summer heat combined with your normal insomnia was not doing you any favors.

You peeled your eyelids open and groped around in the dark to find your phone and check the time. At first, your fingers found nothing but your own bedsheets. Only after a more thorough and frustrated search did you find what you were looking for. You winced as the screen flashed a blinding light when you turned it on, and it took your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the invasive light before you could read the time. It was only a few minutes from midnight, meaning you had about six hours left to attempt to go to sleep.

You groaned into your pillow, wishing for summer to be over already. Once the days were shorter and the temperatures lower, you had much higher hopes for finally finding some sort of sleep schedule besides an attempt. Unfortunately, the days were only going to get hotter from there on out.

You rolled back onto your side, wrapping your arms around a blanket and struggled to find a comfortable position that wouldn't cook you in your sleep.

Just as your eyes fluttered shut and the weight of your cat against your legs began to lull you into sleep, the loud sound of an engine revving startled you back awake. You were no engine expert, but it sounded like a motorcycle.

(More UTC)

Is someone really taking their motorcycle out for a ride at this hour? That's ridiculous. Just go away, already! I'm trying to sleep, god dammit! You thought, stuffing your head under a pillow.

However, the noises from your neighbor's garage did not get any quieter. The longer this persisted, the more irritable you grew.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you cried, throwing off your light blanket (much to your cat's protest) and shoved on the first jacket you could find to cover yourself a little. It was too hot for proper pajamas, so you had been in bed wearing the tiniest pajama shorts in your possession and some decently comfortable undergarments.

You marched to your front door, pulled it open, and followed the sound to the mystery individual who thought it was a good idea to play mechanic in the middle of the night. It was dark, but the moon was almost full, so you had plenty of light to find your way around the street. It helped that your eyes were used to the dark from hours of staring up at your ceiling in the lightless expanse of your bedroom.

Just down the street, two houses east and across from yours, you found the culprit, kneeling on the concrete of his open garage, tuning up his expensive looking bike. The motorcycle itself was hot pink, and from the looks of it, a decent model. As much as you appreciated good taste, it didn't excuse the noise at such a late hour.

"Hey, idiot!" You shouted. Was the name calling a little unnecessarily rude? Yes, but it was also unnecessary for him to be so loud at practically midnight, so you didn't feel any remorse.

The perpetrator looked up at you from the task at hand, red hair tied up loosely against his neck, and grayish blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. It would have been pretty, if you weren't so pissed off. Actually, even through your vision that was blurred from exhaustion and blind, sleepy rage, he was incredibly attractive. It was unfortunate that you had to meet like this.

"It's the middle of the night! Don't you think you should keep it down?! Some of us are trying to sleep!" You readjusted your jacket, realizing you must look a little crazy standing in a stranger's yard in only your undergarments, some very tiny shorts, and a very thin jacket. In your defense, you hadn't been expecting to make any late night visits to crazy neighbor boys to make complaints.

He frowned for a moment before his expression relaxed. "Sorry," he called back. He got up from the ground and dusted off his knees. You took notice of his grease covered forearms. He had been messing with the bike. You hoped he knew what he was doing and wasn't just an amateur trying a hand at such expensive upkeep.

"You'd better be," you muttered under your breath. You turned on your heel with a huff and stomped back to your house, all the while attempting not to flash the frustratingly pretty boy who was watching you leave with a dumbfounded grin on his face.

Embarrassing lack of clothes aside, it had felt good to yell at someone. Maybe now you'd be able to sleep with some peace of mind, knowing the sanctity of the night was once again just as quiet as it should be.

After that, there were no more motorcycle engine noises keeping you up in the night. Once again, only your poor habits and unfortunate circumstances prevented you from getting a full night's rest.

It seemed that motorcycle boy had taken your complaint into consideration and decided not to do any more impromptu repairs at all hours of the night.

Sadly, that didn't mean you slept any better. You were an absolute wreck today. One night of poor sleep had turned into a week of hardly getting any rest at all. Currently, you were waddling around like a zombie, hardly able to think as your body performed on autopilot to get all the necessary tasks done. You couldn't even remember what you'd eaten for breakfast that morning, or if you'd even had breakfast at all.

Last night had resulted in a total four hours of fitful sleep, accompanied by the strangest dreams you couldn't even remember. Something about weretigers and detectives, but it was all so intelligible that you didn't bother attempting to unwind the mystery of whatever your subconscious had cooked up for you this time.

You had made your coffee with an extra shot of espresso and hoped for the best. You took another sip, realized it was too sweet for your tastes, but didn't care enough to do anything about it. It may have been the first cohesive thought you'd had all day.

You gave your cat a scratch between its ears and slipped on a pair of shoes so you could go out and check on the garden your father had reminded (read: demanded) you to take care of, since he couldn't keep an eye on what ingredients you were using in meals anymore. As much as you struggled to remember to care for the plants properly, you found you didn't hate the responsibility. It made you feel productive whenever you were able to harvest the results of all your troubles. The fresh taste was an added bonus.

As you watered the flowers that served as ground coverage used to shield your precious darling fruit bushes and vegetable garden from nasty herbivore vermin, you heard the sound of an engine starting up from down the street.

Ah, motorcycle boy is up, you thought. A strange thrill coursed through your veins as you remembered how he had looked in the moonlight. Bad Y/n, now is not the time to get giddy over some stupid neighbor boy. You've got to get to work soon and can't afford time to daydream.

Despite the stern talking-to you were giving yourself, you couldn't help but want to catch another glance of such a beautiful man. You turned and shielded your eyes from the rising sun, glancing at your neighbor. The view did not disappoint.

He straddled the bike as he put on his helmet. His hair was long enough you could still see it peeking out from underneath and curling around his shoulders. Red shone gold in the early morning sunshine, creating a glow around him that made you forget what you were doing just to watch him prepare to drive away.

You set down the watering can with as much care as you could manage (which is to say, very little) and pushed your hair out of your eyes to get a better view. You caught him glancing at you before he started the bike. The look he gave you sent shivers down your spine. Only once he had disappeared from your view were you able to return to fretting over the poor leaves of your radishes. It seemed some bunnies had decided those were the yummiest, and trampled your flowers just to get to them.

Oh, well. You would just have to take more care to try and prevent them from making it that far next time. Luckily, your newest plot to save your garden involved a more forceful method of keeping herbivores out of your plants.

The next time you ran into Motorcycle Boy, you were picking up some seeds to begin your new garden protection strategy. It had been a month or two without any interactions, much to your pleasure. It was a hassle to try to wrangle the butterflies he sent tumbling in your stomach back in their cage.

This time, he seemed to be fussing over the location of some wine. He was small, not much taller than a young teenage boy. For someone with such an unfriendly scowl, he didn't seem all that intimidating at the moment. You held back giggles as you watched him strain to grab the bottle he wanted, hopping up and down and cursing under his breath in frustration.

You decided not to say anything and passed him wordlessly, sticking to the opposite side of the aisle and hoping he wouldn't notice you, or at the very least he would leave you alone. You didn't have the time to play the small talk game at the moment; you had a friend on their way to visit you, and you were keen on being home before they arrived.

"Hey, you!" He called. You winced at the sound of his voice and bit back a sigh. He had noticed you and not chosen to ignore you. It seemed luck was not on your side today. "C'mere," he called.

You turned towards him and put on your best customer service smile. "Do you need something?" You asked him.

"You're the girl who showed up in my yard wearing practically nothing, yeah?" He lifted his head so he could look down at you. You felt your face go hot. Did he really have to bring that up in public? You mentally whined. "Grab this bottle for me and I'll forget about the whole thing."

All embarrassment you had felt previously turned into anger as his words registered in your brain. "Huh?!? Why should I? You really should learn to get better at asking people for help, if that's what you're trying to do here."

His eyes widened as he seemed to realize his mistake. "Hold on," he called, putting his hands up in defense. "I didn't mean it like that. 'Just thought it must have been pretty embarrassing, you know? Let me try again. Would you help me over here?"

You took a second to cool down, then took a deep breath. "Fine, since you asked so nicely," you huffed.

You reached up with a little bit of a struggle and got down the bottle he had been trying to grab, then glanced over the label. He's got good taste in alcohol, too. This is getting ridiculous.

"There, now don't mention that ever again. Please," you muttered, handing the bottle to him.

"Gotcha," he replied without another glance in your direction,, looking only at the wine bottle in his hand. He turned it over and read the labels, then tucked it under his arm and headed for the register.

"Wait!" You called, immediately cursing yourself for acting before thinking. What am I doing? I was almost free to go back to ignoring him!

He turned, raising an eyebrow at you. "Huh? D'ya need something?" He asked.

"Your name," you said before you could lose your nerve. "I've been thinking of you as Motorcycle Boy and thought I should probably learn it."

He threw back his head and laughed. Your face flushed hot again and you hoped you hadn't made a fool of yourself, especially in front of the cute boy you had been thinking about constantly for a month straight.

When his fit of laughter subsided, he grinned at you and gave you what you'd asked for. "I'm Chuuya Nakahara. And you? What name should I attach to 'Crazy Motorcycle-Hating Neighbor?"

"I do not- ugh. Y/n L/n, and I am not crazy. If anyone is crazy here, it's you. Seriously, who thinks it's time to play with a motorcycle at midnight?" You folded your arms over your chest and frowned at him. He only grinned at you again.

"See ya around, L/n. Hopefully fully dressed next time," he teased. With that said, you parted ways, each playing with the feel of the newly acquired name in your mouth.

"Y/n L/n, eh?" He muttered, twirling the stem of a lily of the valley from your garden. It was a pretty little flower; it was a shame that it was dreadfully poisonous.

He leaned back until his head hit his pillow. He wondered if you were up or if that had been a one-time incident. He hadn't touched the bike in his garage past ten p.m. since you'd marched so boldly over to his house and chided him for the noise. He briefly thought about getting it out just to see if you would come back.

You'd been running through his mind non-stop for months now. The sight of your bare legs and glimpses of the rest of you from under that jacket had him worried that damned Dazai had rubbed off on him. He couldn't help sneaking looks at you every morning as you tended to your garden before he left for work. It felt dirty every time he looked at you, because every time he would get a vivid image of you giving him a death glare while half naked.

He was no womanizer, unlike that ass. However, he had to admit that he wouldn't mind seeing you in a state of undress again.

He sat up with a start at that thought. What am I thinking? Gross, I am not getting hot and bothered over my neighbor's legs. It's just legs. Pretty, deliciously bare legs. SHUT UP.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the increasingly unwelcome thoughts of your legs and how your skin would feel on his fingertips, or how cute you looked when you were pouting.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. This was not good.

"Turns out he'd been having an affair the whole time. I felt so bad for her! I can't say I didn't expect it, though," your coworker said, waving a hand at you. "I mean, he just seemed like the type, y'know?"

Listening to Raina talk about other people's relationships had gotten boring after the first hour, but today had been a slow and boring day, and she didn't expect you to add very much to the conversation.

"Speaking of types, what's yours?" She popped a sucker into her mouth. She'd quit smoking about three years ago, and she'd started taking them everywhere so her mouth could be occupied whenever she felt the urge. Since then it had become a habit to have a sucker in her mouth at all times.

"I dunno, I don't think about it very often." It was a lie, but you didn't want to get into that just minutes before the day was over and you could finally go home. "I haven't really cared much about boys since I was a kid. It's not that big of a deal."

Even as you said it, you realized that wasn't true. Thoughts of a redhead on a hot pink motorcycle crossed your mind too often for it to be not a big deal. He'd even started showing up in your dreams because of how often you thought of him.

"Liar!" She slammed her hands down on the counter, grinning at you. You jumped at the sudden movement, suddenly feeling too warm for your liking. "You're all flustered and nervous! Who's the boy? Spit it out," she ordered.

"Wh-what?! There is no boy, I don't know what you're talking about!" You felt your blood rushing to your face and put your hands up in defense, but it was too late. Raina has you backed into a corner, and judging from the mischievous smirk on her face, you wouldn't be leaving until she drained every last drop of information from you like a gossip leech.

"Oh, come on! It's written all over your face. Tell me about him! Is he cute?" She clapped, way too excited for a conversation that would make you stay even later for work than necessary.

You looked around desperately for an escape. The ring of the front door's bell gave you that out, even if it didn't help you leave any quicker. Not having to tell Raina about Chuuya was all you needed.

You turned with the biggest smile you could manage on your face to greet the customer. However, the second you saw him, your smile fell. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, you mentally sighed. Even just thinking about him seems to make him appear. And now he knows where I work. Fantastic.

Chuuya stopped in the doorway, taking in the strange situation he had walked in on. His eyes caught on how Raina's arms had caged you in and how obviously out of sorts you looked. "Am I… interrupting something?"

Raina jumped off of you and cleared her throat, returning her sucker to its place on her tongue. "Not at all! What can we help you with?"

Her professionalism once a customer stepped in scared you just a little bit. You followed her lead and dusted off your knees, looking away. The last thing you needed was for him to start teasing you as well.

"I was actually here to pick up an order. I know it's late, but-"

"I'll get it for you! Nakahara. I thought the name was familiar," you commented. Actually, you'd been wondering if the order was his all day long. You hadn't placed him as a red velvet guy, but here he was.

While looking through (hiding in) the back, you tried to think of an escape plan. Anything to stop Raina from teasing you for the next few months. She was already insufferable about boys, and if she knew that you had a stupid crush on that stupid redhead with his stupid motorcycle, she would never let you live it down.

"So are you going to tell me what about you made Y/n hightail it out of here, or do I have to make a guess myself?" Raina leaned forward against the front desk, pointing her sucker accusingly at Chuuya.

"Hey, I didn't do anything!" Chuuya raised his hands in mock self-defense, trying not to grin. He'd seen how flustered you'd gotten the second you recognized him. He hoped it was more than just embarrassment of seeing someone you know outside of work walk into your workplace.

"Mhm, sure. How do you know them? Boyfriend? Relative..?" She watched him carefully for his reaction. She was nothing if not good at pulling gossip out of thin air, and your love life was her current muse.

"Neither," he chuckled. "I'm their neighbor. They got pissed as hell at me for being too noisy in the middle of the night and mouthed me off in my own yard. Ever since we seem to be running into each other everywhere."

Raina hummed, sizing him up. After a moment of thinking, she decides you two are obviously in love and she will be involved no matter what the costs. "You know, our shift is about done for the day. Autumn has been coming in quickly and it's been pretty cold lately. Y/n was complaining about walking home in the cold just yesterday. It's a decently long walk to their house from here. Like a whole 40 minutes, right?"

She watched as the gears started moving in his brain. Thank gods, he's not dense. This guy knows what I'm getting at.

He seemed to come to a conclusion just as you reappeared from the back, looking suspiciously more put together than you did just seconds ago. Raina almost wanted to laugh at how obvious you were.

"Your shift is almost over, right? It's pretty cold. I could take you home if you want," he suggested as he took the box from you.

"You would?" You asked, seeming almost stunned by the offer. You blinked at him a couple times before muttering, "I guess that would be nice."

"It's not like it's out of the way of anything." He waved a hand at you as he spoke. "I'll be waiting for you outside."

You nodded and hurried to gather your things into your bag. You carefully avoided answering any of Raina's enthusiastic questions before escaping the building and arriving in the small parking lot.

Your favorite part about the location was how much attention was put into the surrounding scenery. Shrubbery and other assorted vegetation provided scents and colors you didn't get in busier parts of the city. Even walking home, there was very little open area that made you feel like you could be seen from miles away. It was comforting to feel so grounded by your surroundings.

There, in the tiny parking lot that was usually empty, stood your neighbor, who was busy strapping his newly acquired box to the back of his motorcycle.

"You ever been on a bike before?" He didn't spare you a glance as he asked.

"No," you said. "Should I be worried?"

He grinned and didn't respond. He handed you a spare helmet and motioned for you to join him on the motorcycle.

You hesitated for a moment, thinking through all the decisions you had ever made, and after ultimately deciding that this was not the stupidest one, took the helmet from his outstretched hand.

The fact that you would get to hold him had no sway on your decision at all. You swore.

The second you heard the engine start up and felt your weight shift as the bike prepared to move, butterflies erupted in your stomach. The kind that you get before you fall down the stairs or trip on the sidewalk. The, 'oh fuck this is bad' kind of butterflies. But it was too late to get off.

Chuuya tried not to notice how nice it felt when you squeezed him tighter. He could feel your heart racing from where your chest pressed against his back.

He laughed, he couldn't help it. He heard you grumble something from behind him, but couldn't really make out what you were saying. It didn't matter; he had a pretty good idea of what the message was. He bit his tongue to keep from laughing harder as he merged onto the highway.

"Stupid Chuuya, stupid motorcycle," you muttered against his back. Feeling how fast you were moving was not helping the dizziness you had developed. You closed your eyes and held on tighter to the man in front of you, trying to focus on something else, like the texture of his jacket or how nice his hair smelled. You didn't care if it was stupid crush behavior, you needed anything to distract you.

Your heart was beating so fast that you could beat a hummingbird for the world record of beats per minute. Every little movement of the vehicle beneath you brought a fresh wave of panic. You couldn't understand why people would do this for fun.

Eventually you grew used to the constant panic and closed your eyes, blindly trusting Chuuya to get you home without killing the both of you.

When you finally felt the motorcycle stop, you fell off and shakily removed the spare helmet Chuuya had given you. He looked down at you with a crooked grin, obviously struggling to hold back his laughter.

"So, how did you l-like it?" He snickered. The look you shot at him only served to make him dissolve into a fit of laughter.

"Never… again…" You huffed, pushing your hair out of your face and curling up on the ground in front of his house. "Next time, I'm walking. I don't care how cold it is."

"Good luck with that," he grinned. "Oh, and thanks for the cake." He grabbed the box, waved goodbye to you, and went inside.

You stood and watched him leave, placing a hand on your chest. Your heart was racing. You wondered if it was from the terrifying ride or… something else.

reblogs and comments are much appreciated!!!

#chuuya nakahara x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #chūya #x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd x reader #🪻ash writes #bsd #bungo stray dogs

[rorywritesjunk]

Oh, go to sleep, Little Skylark. Fly up past the stars

After breaking your heart, Buggy is cursed to be a kid again. The last thing you want to do is be involved with this.

Rating: PG-13ish. Warning: A crying kid, mentions of drinking to cope, kid with some abandonment issues so he cries. Also an adult lying to a kid because what else do you do in a situation like this? This story and how the Reader deals with Kid Buggy is different than the other Kid Buggy story. A/N: This is what I originally wrote before the other Kid Buggy fic. I decided to revisit it and tidy it up before posting it. This has no connection to the other story at all. Completely different.

Title comes from "Little Skylark (safe at home)" by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @fluffybunnyu @plethora-of-fickleness

*Little banner made by me

Chapter Two

It had been a rough week since you left the ship and your ex behind. The first two days you were drunk and miserable, holed up in your room as you cried until there was nothing left and then you’d sleep until starting over the next day. You smelled terrible and by the third day you were only half drunk before taking a bath and cleaning up. By day four you were angry, cursing the captain’s name as you searched the town for work. Day five you were crying again and day six you were wondering if maybe the two of you could have tried to talk about all of this, but when evening rolled around and you were getting dinner, someone made some comment about their useless husband and how ridiculous he was about something and you felt maybe leaving was the right thing to do.

If he didn’t want you around then why should you bother? 

Day seven someone was pounding on your room door. You looked up from the book you were reading and sighed. You paid up front and no one in the crew knew where you were, so you didn’t know who to expect. You put the book down and got up, walking over to the door before opening it slowly. 

Mohji pushed his way in and grabbed you by the shoulders. The concern on his face worried you. Was there something wrong with Richie? 

“Mohji, how did you find me?” You asked him. “Is Richie okay?”

“No, it’s the captain.” He said. “We need you back on the ship.”

You pushed his hands back. “No, he doesn’t.”

“You don’t understand, we need you.” Mohji stated. “It’s about the captain. He’s…”

You crossed your arms, waiting for him to tell you. There was nothing that could happen to make you go back, even if he was gravely injured and asking for you. He said what he said and Buggy rarely apologized for his words if he felt strongly enough about them. 

Mohji hesitated. You could see he was trying to think of how to tell you what he needed and while you were upset with Buggy, his two commanders did nothing to upset you. With a sigh, you dropped your shoulders and put your hands on your hips. 

“Fine, I’ll come to the ship for you.”

~

When you arrived back on the ship you were surprised to see the crew gathered around the casks. Cabaji was out of sight but you could hear him talking, trying to sound soothing and comforting, but it wasn’t coming off that way. Frowning, you hurried ahead of Mohji and pushed your way through, stopping when you saw Cabaji kneeling by the opening you squeezed into just a week before when you cried your eyes out. What was going on?

“Cabaji?” You asked. He looked up, relief on his face when he saw you. “What’s going on?”

“It’s the captain…” He looked back between the space between the wall and casks. You frowned and moved over to him, peeking around to see what was going on. There was a flash of blue and what appeared to be Buggy’s red and white striped shirt. What was going on?

“Kidnappers!” A tiny voice shrieked. “I’ll kill all of you!”

That… that was a kid’s voice. No, nope, no way, you did not deal with kids. You spun around to glare at Mohji. “You better not have dragged me here because I’m a woman and you think I’m good with kids.”

Mohji and Cabaji shared a look before the former nodded. “That’s… exactly why I came to find you.”

“Good luck you two.” You said as you straightened up. “Just get the damn captain to use his powers to pull the kid out.”

“No, you don’t understand, that’s the captain!” Cabaji exclaimed. “He… he got cursed by a witch this morning!”

Your jaw dropped slightly. He was cursed? Of all the people… no, actually, Buggy would get himself cursed by a witch. Probably insulted her too. He was good at that. You pinched the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes, counting to three. None of these fools would know what to do, and honestly, neither did you, but if someone didn’t take charge, something was going to happen and you’d somehow have to end up dealing with it.

“Fine. Fine!” You looked over at the crew that stood there watching. “You all need to stand around us and get close together. Create a barrier with your bodies because we’re going to have to flush him out.”

Several shared a look. “But… you’re not the captain.”

“No, but I’m taking control of the situation, so I need you to do as I say.” You snapped. “Now get in line.” As the crew listened, you turned to Cabaji and Mohji. “Move the casks and when he runs out I’ll grab him, got it?” You couldn’t believe that you were back on the ship right now. You had hoped to never see it again, but you were there, waiting to help the cursed captain. You would rather leave him to suffer if it was up to you. 

You waited as everyone got into position. Cabaji and Mohji moved the casks on your signal. A little figure suddenly darted out from behind them and you moved fast, grabbing the back of the shirt and yanking him back to you. The fury you saw on the tiny face almost had you letting go for concern of your own safety, but you had to know what was going on.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay!” You insisted as he tried to pull away from you. He tried to slip out of the shirt but you grabbed him by the arm, and to your surprise it stayed attached to him. What was going on? 

“Let me go!” He shrieked. “Kidnappers! Captain Roge will come rescue me!”

“Captain…?” You stared down at him, mind racing as you tried to think of what to say next. This had to be Buggy but with Kid Buggy’s memories. Why was he a child? What actually happened? You glanced at Mohji and Cabaji, both looking like they’d rather be somewhere else than under your gaze. Taking a deep breath, you looked back at the kid and smiled at him. “Hey, it’s okay, your captain knows you’re on my ship!”

“Your ship?” You heard Cabaji mutter. You shot him a look and he went quiet.

“Your ship?” Buggy repeated with a frown. You nodded frantically, hoping he would calm down. “Who the hell are you?!”

“I’m…the captain of this ship.” You lied. “We’re the… uh, Pumpkin Pirates!” 

Buggy narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he looked between you and the crew, seemingly assessing if you were lying or not. He crossed his arms and looked you up and down.

“You don’t look like a captain. More like the cook or something.” He sneered. You almost swatted him upside the head for that but held back. Yes, you were previously the ship’s cook but he didn’t need to make it sound so insulting. “Where’s Captain Roger?!”

“I am the captain.” You told him through clenched teeth, still smiling. “And your captain asked me to keep you safe while he ran an errand with some members of his crew!”

“What?!” Buggy shrieked. “Why did I get left behind?! Where’s Shanks?”

“He went with them.” You said hastily. “You overslept, silly, so he asked me to watch over you. He’ll come back.”

You had to think of something. Kid Buggy was expecting to see his captain at some point, but how do you tell him that Gold Roger had been dead for over twenty years? You expected more questions, more arguing, but what you didn’t expect was the tears welling up in his eyes as he glared at you. Buggy as an adult didn’t cry very often, and when he did it had been only in front of you. Did kids cry a lot, was this to be expected with Buggy at this age? 

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t cry-”

“Why was I left behind?!” He cried as tears rolled down his cheeks. “What did I do?!”

Oh, shit. Shit. You didn’t really know what to do. Kids were very much not something you were around very often and your brain halted as you tried to think of what to say to calm him down. You decided to let him have a cry while you gestured for two crew members.

“You two, go into town and get him some clothes.” You hissed. They looked hesitant, but you glared at him. “Now. I don’t care how you get them but do it. We can’t have him running around like this.” With a gesture to the rest of the crew, they disbanded, hurrying off to do any chores or maintenance that needed to happen on the ship. Cabaji and Mohji stayed nearby just in case. You rubbed your face and glared at them both. “I’ll stay on board until this is solved but then I’m gone, do you understand?” 

The two of them nodded. You looked back at the kid and sighed. He was still crying, using the oversized shirt to wipe his eyes and nose as he sniffed. This was the last thing you wanted to be doing. There was no reason for you to be on board helping with this, but even though this last week had hurt, a part of you still loved the idiot. You didn’t want something bad to happen to him when he was a kid. With a sigh, you knelt back down in front of him.

“Hey, you hungry?” You asked; he looked up at you, sniffling loudly. “I think we just restocked the kitchen so I can make you a sandwich if you want. You were asleep for a while so I bet you’re hungry.”

“W-When can I go home?” He hiccupped. “I do-don’t want to be here.”

“I know, and he didn’t tell me when he’d come back, but probably around evening time?” You felt bad lying to the kid but what else could you say? You had to do something, and the only thing you could think of was to just lie to him for the time being, to play along with what his current state of mind was. He was Buggy as a kid, apprenticing on Gold Roger’s crew with his friend Shanks. “He didn’t give me an exact time, but he just told me to make sure you don’t take a nap today so you get some sleep tonight since you stayed up late yesterday, which is why you slept in and missed out.”

Buggy sniffled. “I couldn’t sleep ‘cause we were supposed to go on a raid today. I was too excited.”

“Well… next time drink some tea to sleep.” You chuckled as you stood up. He looked up at you, face tear stained and his eyes red. You held your hand out to him and smiled. “C’mon, Buggy, let’s get you some food, okay? You’ll feel better. And we can do our own fun thing today!”

He looked at your hand before taking it, following you to the kitchen. You hoped the crew came back with something for him. He couldn’t stay in Adult Buggy’s shirt the entire time, and you didn’t know how long this would last. As cute as he was as a kid, you didn’t want this to be a permanent thing. You didn’t want to stick around that long.

~

“Why does your Jolly Roger look like that?” Buggy asked as he looked up at it. 

Having calmed down, been fed, and given new clothes to wear, he was much more relaxed. You looked up at what he was pointing at and shrugged. The skull with the bright red nose definitely stood out to him.

“I forgot what a pumpkin looked like when I had it designed.” You lied. “Remember, we’re the Pumpkin Pirates.”

“What does that even mean?” He asked with a frown. You chuckled and ruffled his hair; he batted at your hand and glared at you.

“It means I like pumpkins!” You told him. “And I’m Captain Pumpkin, which is why we’re the Pumpkin Pirates! Just like Captain Roger has the Roger Pirates!” 

Buggy looked back up at the sail. “Pumpkins are orange and that nose is red.” He glanced at you before looking back up at it. “It looks like mine, that’s weird.”

“I had a memory lapse, okay? I hadn’t seen a pumpkin for a while.” You grinned. “Are we done judging me for my mistakes? We should do something fun.”

“I want to go home.” He mumbled as he went over to the side of the ship that faced the sea. He looked across the docks, seeing other ships, as well as some further out. He didn’t even see the Oro Jackson and frowned. “Where’s my ship?”

“Oh… uh…” You followed after him, squinting out at sea, trying to find it. “Maybe behind one of those other ships? Who knows. There’s a lot of people here.”

“When do I go home?” Buggy asked, looking up at you. It was hard to keep telling him the same thing, but you supposed this was how kids were. They would ask the same question again and again, each time expecting a different answer. You debated telling him a different answer this time, but you couldn’t risk him crying again. Instead, you pointed off to the distance.

“Is that them?!” You exclaimed. Buggy turned to look while you frantically waved Mohji over. You handed him a piece of paper that was in your pocket and whisper-ordered him to go off ship for a moment before running back with the paper. He looked at you like you were crazy, but you glared at him and he did as you asked. You pointed out to the water to keep the kid distracted. “Buggy, I think that’s it over there!”

“I don’t see the ship!” He snapped. “Where is it?!”

“It’s not that over there?” You pointed to a ship that had a horse for a figurehead. He looked up at you like you were an idiot.

“That’s not my ship! Do you even know what it looks like?!”

“I do, really!” You laughed. “Sorry!”

Buggy glared at you as Mohji came sprinting towards you. The first mate stopped, hunched over as he tried to catch his breath while he handed the paper over to you. Buggy tried to grab it but you snatched it first, holding it out of his reach as you unfolded it. You had to make this believable, so as you ‘read’ the scrap piece of paper that had a grocery list on it, you sighed heavily before looking down at Buggy.

“Sorry, kiddo, Roger sent word that they’ll be gone for a few extra days.” You told him, trying to sound disappointed. “Looks like you get to stay with me a bit longer.”

“W-What?!” Buggy exclaimed. “No, I don’t want to! I want to go home to my ship!”

You’re already on your ship and I need this to end now! You thought as you crumpled the paper up and shoved it in your pocket. “Sorry, kiddo. I know it’s not ideal but your captain is busy. There’s no one on your ship so you gotta stay with me. But I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

To your horror, the tears started up again. You did not expect him to be an emotional kid and yet this was the second time he has cried since coming into your care almost two hours ago. When Adult Buggy returned, you would demand three weeks worth of pay for this. 

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc

[zmediaoutlet]

hey i saw your post about ao3 house style and i can totally relate to it, so i thought maybe you could share some wincest fic recs? please and thank u 🙏

you know what bud, I will indeed share some wincest fic recs bc you should rec the stuff that is good and leave the crud in the dust, right? Right. So -- here are uhh a number of recs as they occur to me, which actually read like a person wrote them instead of an AO3-trained algorithm of some kind. Plus I only rec stuff if I actually like it so consider these Z Certified or something.

The Fremont Street Experience by @nigeltde-fic -- a quick 1200 words that's a fizzing jolt of champagne right under the heart. New love that's just bursting with all that could be. Anticipation fizzes in Dean's veins, dances in his fingertips. The sand shimmers, hazes, glitters. There's so much sky. It pours into the road at the horizon. -- see?

Miles Ahead by @egipci -- a fully-formed entirely real paragraph of 750 words in which we see Sam Winchester in all his want and wanting, and I want to crawl inside the narrative presented and live there year-round. You were pretending to sleep and every once in a while a car would pass by and the headlights would fill up the inside of the car like midday and then I would look at you out the corner of my eye. All the way I thought about Mexico and you there sunburnt. -- I mean my god.

Countdown by @mollyamory-again -- another tight 1200 of just a normally-tense night that dissolves in sweet established-vibes intimacy. Brothers who feel like brothers and also an earned and real -- not hotness exactly but just adults who have sex who act and think like adults, which is not as common as you'd hope! His fingers skate over Dean's skin in lazy patterns; they find their old places, and Dean shoves up to meet them, asking for more and getting more all at once. Sam missed him, Sam wants him; Sam is here, so they can do this, Dean wants so badly to do this.

Four Winters: I by @lindencypressbirch, who got deleted and so we'll just call her Linden. Stretching all the way up to 4700 words this time, Linden takes us through a godawful piece of shit of a day in which Dean Winchester Is Handling It, until of course he isn't -- but he is, because he has to, because what other choice is there? This one does a great job of showcasing the misery without lingering on it in a maudlin or tedious way. There's just the job, and then the next job after. After another moment or two he scrubbed a hand over his wet face and went looking for his thermos, and the last of the cold coffee it held. Because they had power now, yes, but there was no telling whether they would have power later, and as they were clearly not going to be going anywhere for a few days, he had work to do before it maybe went.

The Fall Will Probably Kill You by killabeez, which is allll the way up to 7k and retains interest throughout. The big strength in this one is that Sam is competent, steady, believable-from-canon Sam when we get so much over-the-top meathead jerk or simpering babyboy who reads 15 when he's mean to be 40. I'm just blown over by all that SAM. This fic is really about Dean's misery in s7 but it's dealt with pragmatically, almost implacably; more ott than the show went on some details, but the overall vibe is nevertheless: they will get through it because this is who they are. I appreciate that always and forever. He's the one with the secret, now. He hadn't meant it to be that way. But Sam asked Dean to trust him, and Dean said okay because he was sorry for using the F-word. Sorry for putting that look on Sam's face, for making him feel like a freak, the way he hadn't been for laying him out with his fist. It's ridiculous, how he still folds like a house of cards where Sam's concerned, no matter how many times he's told himself he won't do it again. But now he's stuck with the lie, and has no one to blame but himself.

That's probably enough to be going on with. If you read these, please leave a comment to tell the author that you appreciate their work, because it should be appreciated.

#spn #wincest #fic recs #answers

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

Hi😊 i hope you're having a nice day!

Could i request a Larissa/21-22 Student reader(young teacher if you're not comfortable writing it with a student)fic with prompts 1 and 50 please? (Smut)

R have a big crush on Larissa. One night, she was walking past Larissa's room when she heard moans, she couln'd believe what she was hearing, she stopped and decided to take a peace of paper and write #50 on it with a 💋 with her lipstic (yea she's dumb like that), not writing her name and slip it under Larissa's door and ran back to her dorm. Larissa had no idea who could've wrote that and she was very embarassed that someone heard her..yk... The next day when Larissa walked past R in the hallway, she thought she saw a weird look in R's face and then she saw the lipstic, that lipstic, and it just clicked in her head. She always thought R was a bit of a tease with her but she never thought anything about it, but now.. Larissa decided to go to R's dorm, not knowing what she would do when she'll reach it. And what she heard throught that door, she thought that maybe she could pay R back for what R has done to her.😉 She openned the door slowly so R won't hear her and closed the door behind her, then she wispered #1. And then it would end up full of smuth, you can add as many kink as you want, even toys if you like, please?😊 (was this request too specific? I hope not😕)

Thank you if you decide to write it, i really love your fics and i really wanted to ask one too! And thank you even if you don't, for reading this!💋

A way too shy anon😅

i took some liberties with your request, i hope you don't mind! i made reader a 27yo phd student and it's a non-magical au! also..... i know i was probably expected to write a short, smutty thing, but before i knew it had a plot and it was 4000+ words whoopsie please don't hesitate to leave a comment on ao3, it makes my heart sing! <3

without further ado, enjoy some larissa x reader smut :) tags: car sex, mommy kink and idk how to tag adkjfshgd

You walk through the dark, empty corridor that leads to Professor Weems’ office. Most people have retired for the evening — it’s late, way too late for an official meeting, but given that lately you’ve been getting rather friendly, you hope she will excuse the informality. You know you will probably find her there, as she often works long into the night — and you really need her help with this chapter. The deadline for your PhD is rapidly approaching and you are still nowhere near done. 

She truly is a great mentor — always happy to meet with you and answer any questions you have, ready to spend hours going through your work and analysing materials you brought her. You somehow always end up spending a lot of time together — more often than not ending up in deep and heated discussions about various subjects (that sometimes relate to your work, and sometimes don’t) after you’ve finished discussing your thesis. You feel like you could talk to her the entire day without getting tired — she is remarkably intelligent, knowledgable on many subjects — her taste in art exquisite, and her takes are often unique. She always leaves you with several book recommendations (“Read this, darling, I am very curious what you will think about it,” she usually says and writes down a title or two, “read it when you find the time for it, of course — you have a thesis to write,” she winks — you somehow always find the time, sometimes sacrificing those few precious hours of sleep). 

Larissa Weems is also very, very attractive. She is an unusual looking woman — very tall, imposing, with platinum blonde hair and a peculiar fashion sense — she dresses like a movie star from the 1940s — but she is ridiculously charismatic, expressive, charming. Her laugh is contagious, her eyes bright and sparkling — you can’t be blamed for being absolutely enamoured with her.

You thought about asking her out once you get your PhD— age difference be damned. You are a 27 year old woman — you are free to do as you please. It’s just that, well — she is your mentor,  at least for now, and even if she wasn’t, she is just way out of your league. You don’t even know if she likes women, (probably not, knowing your luck) — and if she does, there is no way she would like you (even if you did have a very interesting discussion about sapphic undertones in The Marriage of Figaro — that scene between Susanna, Countess Rosina and Cherubino is rather… sexually charged — she seemed to share your opinion).

Lately, you feel your relationship has reached a deeper level — your meetings would almost always end in a nearby bar, where you’d relax with a glass of wine and continue your conversation late into the evening. Last time, she got slightly tipsy and became rather touchy-feely (she seems to be one of those people who are get very affectionate when drunk)— putting a hand on your shoulder, brushing against your leg under the table (then immediately apologising and pulling away), and when you got back to campus, she hugged you before parting ways. You can still recall very vividly how warm and soft she was and how she smelled faintly of sweet perfume and red wine. Since then you can’t stop imagining her touch — in very inappropriate ways. You try your hardest not to get too invested, though — she is your mentor, first and foremost. 

For all those reasons, you conclude she won’t be terribly upset at you if you barge into her office at this late hour. Worst case scenario, she tells you she’s too busy right now. 

You are just about to knock on her office door when something stops you dead in your tracks — a sound.

A moan.

You stand in front of the door. You hear nothing for a couple of seconds and almost knock again, certain you’ve imagined it (because why would anyone be moaning here at this hour?), but then you hear it once more.

It’s coming from her office. Is she with someone (your heart sinks at the thought, and you immediately scoff at yourself — as if you ever had a chance)? 

You know the appropriate thing would be to leave immediately, but something keeps you there, standing in front of the door, listening. 

The moans continue, and there is no doubt about it — that is her moaning, and there is no one else with her. It’s very clear what she is doing.

You should leave, but you stand there, frozen, listening. You don’t really want to go. 

Her moans sound heavenly — they send delicious jolts straight to your core. You can’t help but wish you were the one making her moan. 

Later, when you get back to your room, you don’t know what possessed you to do what you did. Might have been sleep deprivation, caffeine overdose, or lack of proper meals from days of working on your thesis non-stop, might be that she is the most attractive woman you have ever had the pleasure of knowing and her moans were just too much for your tired brain to handle — but you take a piece of paper out of your notebook and write a very inappropriate thing on it.

I thought your laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. I was wrong — it's your moans.

You stare at the note for a couple of seconds. The moans coming from her office are getting louder — she must be getting close to… 

…your brain short-circuits at the thought.

Without thinking, you place a kiss on the piece of paper, leaving a coral-coloured lip-print on it. 

Inside her office, Professor Weems keens. 

You slip the paper underneath her door and run back to your room. 

You continue working through the night, falling asleep on your desk around 5am. You wake up at 8, and by then the whole episode feels like it might have been a fever dream.

You still need her help with the chapter, however, so you send her en email asking if she could squeeze you into her schedule today. You get an answer almost immediately.

I am terribly busy today, but I could see you during lunch break. We could eat out together and go over the chapter, if you’d like. Please send it to me beforehand so I can read through it and make notes! :-) 

Sent from my iPhone

(You find her boomer smileys very endearing.)

You try your best not to think about last night’s events. You are lucky she can’t recognise your handwriting, given that you always write everything on your laptop. 

You steal an hour of sleep, take a shower and put on some lipstick and mascara before leaving to meet her at cafeteria for lunch. If you’re lucky, you will succeed at pretending last night never happened.

You are not lucky.

You can’t stop staring at her mouth as she talks, as she chews her lunch, imagining all types of lewd sounds coming from it. It’s downright erotic, the way her lips move — no one should look that sexy chewing food.

“Darling? Are you with me?” she asks, making you snap out of your inappropriate daydream.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just a bit spacey today,” you answer, embarrassed, wondering if she caught onto your staring.

“How many hours of sleep have you gotten in the last couple of days, darling?”

“Uhm… in the last three days, I think I got about ten hours combined.”

“You really should take better care of yourself.”

“I know, but there’s just so much work to be done,” you sigh. “Is it supposed to be this hard to get your PhD?”

Professor Weems chuckles (the loveliest sound). “I’m sorry to inform you that it is — at least if you want to do it properly.”

“How was it for you? When you were getting your PhD, I mean? It’s hard for me to imagine you going around disheveled and sleep deprived. You always look so put together.”

“Ah, darling, it’s one of the perks of reaching a certain age — you can finally afford some of life’s little luxuries, such as sleeping six to eight hours a nigh. However, I absolutely did go around disheveled and sleep deprived. I was living off of caffeine and salted crackers — I was a rather pitiful sight. I’m glad I did it, but I’d never go back.”

“So you’re telling me life is easy in your forties?” you tease.

“I said easier, not easy. I do still get terribly stressed about things. I was rather stressed yesterday, as a matter of fact. I have so many things to do today, and I will be working late again.”

“And what do you do to relieve the stress?” you ask before you can stop yourself. You know very well what she did yesterday to relieve the stress.

“Oh, this and that. Usually I watch something that takes my mind off work.”

(“Porn?” you think.)

“I think we should get going though, darling — lunch break is almost over. Let me just fix my makeup,” she says and pulls her signature red lipstick and a compact mirror out of her bag. She fixes the edges of her lipstick expertly.

“Do you need to fix your lipstick, darling?” she asks, handling you the mirror.

“Oh, I might, actually. Thanks.”

Only when you’re done fixing your makeup and you hand the mirror back to her do you realise she has just watched you put on the same lipstick you used to leave a lip-print on that wildly inappropriate note you slipped under her door. 

You look at her, your stomach twisting with anxiety, searching for any sign of recognition on her face.

Her face is unreadable, but you wonder if she holds eye contact with you a little longer and a little more intensely than usual. You might just be imagining things, though — you are terribly sleep deprived.

“Thank you, darling,” she says, giving you a bright smile. “Shall we?”

The cafeteria door is a bit narrow, so you step back to let her pass first, but she puts a hand on your waist and gently pushes you past her. Your shoulder brushes against her as you do so. Being this close to her makes your heart beat faster and your limbs turn to jelly.

You look up at her (she is so tall). She’s smiling at you. It’s a bright, toothy smile that makes your insides melt and your brain become mush. 

“I will be working late tonight, so if you need any help you know where to find me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t wanna bother you.”

“I can spare an hour for my favourite PhD student.”

“Your only PhD student.”

“You should just accept the compliment, darling.” She squeezes your shoulder and winks. “Good luck with your research. Try to squeeze in an afternoon nap. Ta-ta!”

She turns around and walks in the direction of her office, leaving you standing in front of the cafeteria like an idiot. As she walks away, you stare at way her hips move in the tight skirt pencil skirt she’s wearing. After a couple of seconds, you realise your mouth is open, so you quickly close it before anyone notices you are behaving like a horny teenager. 

You slowly drag yourself to your room. As you sit down and start going through the notes she gave you during lunch, your thoughts keep drifting to her ass in that pencil skirt. You sigh.

This is going to be a long day.

By the time evening comes, you are nowhere near finished with the chapter that was giving you grief yesterday. You know what needs to be done and you have finally found the right source to support your argument, but you have a hard time concentrating, and that makes you work in an excruciatingly slow manner. Your thoughts are scattered and you keep thinking about the deadline that looms over your head. Stress and sleep deprivation are truly starting getting to you (it also doesn’t help that your thoughts keeps drifting to Professor Weems and her tight pencil skirt). You wonder if you should take a quick power nap, but you are so caffeinated and anxious you doubt you could sleep if you tried, despite being exhausted, so you continue to push through.

It’s around 9pm that you hear a knock on your door. Before you can react in any way, the door opens and Professor Weems is standing in your room.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, darling. I just wanted to check how you’re doing before I retire for the evening.”

“Not so well, I’m afraid. I am nowhere near done with this chapter. I know what I need to do, it’s just that it’s going so painfully slowly.” You bury your head into your hands and let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry I’m being so whiny about this. I am just so stressed.”

Professor Weems approaches your desk and sits on it. Her thigh is just next to your head. You look up at her.

“Darling, you are working yourself too hard. I would tell you if I thought you are terribly behind with your research, but I honestly think you’ll make it. Don’t forget, I have to sign my name on your work — I would never lie to you about your progress to make you feel better — so trust me when I say you should let this go for tonight and come back to it when you’re less sleep-deprived.”

“But—”

“No buts. Come on, I am taking you out for a glass of wine. You should relax. It’s painful to watch you like this.”

You would never decline a glass of wine with Professor Weems, so before you know it you are sitting in that bar near campus having a glass of red wine (that turns into two and then into three glasses). The alcohol is getting to you, since you haven’t eaten that much today — you feel warm and fuzzy and slightly drunk.

Professor Weems seems to be getting tipsy as well, because she is getting very touchy with you again. She laughs at your stupid jokes (her laughter is one of your favourite things about her — loud and unabashed and melodious) and touches your shoulder often, sometimes letting her hand linger way longer than necessary. At some point in the evening her leg touches your own underneath the table.

She doesn’t move it, nor does she apologise. 

“You were right, Professor Weems, I did need this,” you say. “I’ve been feeling really out of it for the last couple of days.”

“Oh, I told you already, call me Larissa, darling. Professor Weems is so formal.”

“Are you big on formalities, Larissa?” you ask. You decide to try and push your luck — your confidence is not that high, but you are not an idiot. You are pretty certain she is flirting with you, unless you are completely delusional because of sleep deprivation. 

“Usually yes, but as you’ve probably already concluded by my taste in literature, I do think life would be terribly boring without letting the irrational, passionate streak in us win sometimes. As is the case in many literary classics — the plot simply couldn’t move forward without one of the characters disregarding propriety and doing something reckless and passionate.”

“I agree. I often wish I had the courage to do something like that in real life — my life would be so much more interesting.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, darling. I do think you have what it takes.” She gives you a big, bright smile. “Oh, wait a second, darling, your lipstick is smudged. Here, let me.”

She leans forward and takes your chin in her hand, then brushes along the corner of your lip with her thumb. Her touch sends a shiver down your spine and makes your entire body hot with desire.

“That’s a lovely colour, darling. Coral suits you very well.”

She knows. She must know. 

She leans back into her seat. You decide to be bold.

“You know, I am still feeling a little bit tense. You said you like to watch something to relax — but I prefer more physical ways of relaxation. Do you have anything to recommend in that area?”

“Do give me an example, darling, what do you do to relax that’s physical?”

“Oh, I’m afraid what I do wouldn’t be appropriate to engage in at my workplace.”

There is a definite red tinge to Larissa’s cheeks.

“What’s life without a little excitement?”

“Very boring, I suppose.”

For a couple of seconds, there is silence. You are looking at each other, both of your cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol. The tension in the air is thick and heavy.

The next thing she says takes you by surprise. You didn’t expect her to be that forward.

“Tell me, darling, did it turn you on when you heard me yesterday?”

“I—” you open and close your mouth like a fish. You can’t believe the words that just came out of her mouth — to hear her say something like that is something straight out of a wet dream, something that would only happen in your wildest fantasies. 

“I usually do it to relax — it’s a purely physical thing, but lately I have found myself thinking about you,” she continues. “Tell me, do you think of mewhen you touch yourself?”

You look her straight in the eye. “Yes, I do.”

You look at each other for a moment. Desire lingers in the air. She is first to break the silence. 

“Before this escalates any further, I want you to know that the last thing I’d want is to put you in a difficult situation or make you feel like you are obligated to do something. If you don’t want this, just say the word and we shall never mention it again.” 

She pauses. She seems nervous — you’ve never seen her nervous before.

“And please know that whatever you decide, it will not affect your thesis in any way. I would hate for you to be under the impression that this is transactional. I am genuinely interested in pursuing something beyond friendship with you, but I am ready to put that aside and prioritise our professional relationship if that is what you want.”

Your heart breaks as you decide to do the right thing.

“Maybe we should wait until I finish my thesis, and then… continue with this,” you say. “As much as I’d like to, it really wouldn’t be professional of us.”

“Of course. That would probably be best.”

She moves her leg under the table so that it’s no longer touching yours —- you can’t help but feel disappointed. There is a moment of awkward silence. She clears her throat. “We should probably go then, not let this escalate any further.”

“Yes,” you agree. “Let’s go.”

The walk to campus is silent and awkward. 

“It’s rather late,” you say. “I do hope buses still drive. The night lines are scarce in this part of town.”

“Oh, I can drive you home, if you want,” she says quickly. “I didn’t offer because I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I mean, if you want to. We will have to spend time a lot of time together until I finish my thesis, we might as well practice not being awkward around each other. Not that I wasn’t awkward before,” you say, attempting to lighten the mood. “You always made me nervous.”

She chuckles and the air seems less heavy. “I didn’t know I was so scary.”

“You’re not,” you say, but you don’t elaborate further (what you want to say is you look like a movie star, you are intelligent and absolutely brilliant and I am nervous because I have a huge crush on you — but that would be inappropriate given the circumstances).

The drive to your apartment is silent. The tension that built in the bar didn’t dissipate into thin air when you decided not to act on it — instead it intensified — it lingers around, hot and heavy, clouding your judgement, making you sweat even though it’s a chilly night.

She parks in a free spot just in front of your apartment building.

“I’m sorry, I acted very unprofessionally,” she starts. “As your mentor, I should have ignored your advances, but instead I flirted with you and encouraged you.”

Her red lips move in the most delicious way as she speaks, and you find yourself staring again. You remember the sound of her moans. It’s difficult to think about anything else.

“I feel terribly ashamed. I promise I will maintain a strictly professional demeanour from now o—”

You pull her into a bruising kiss. She squeaks (you find that adorable).

Pushing you away, she tries to be reasonable. “We shouldn’t,” she says.

“What’s life without a little excitement? What a novel without the protagonist disregarding propriety and pushing the plot forward?”

“I—”

“Please, Larissa, I believe you when you say my thesis won’t be affected. We are both adults. We want this. Tell me, do you want me?”

She looks at you. Desire dances in her eyes.

“Yes.”

That is all you need. 

You kiss her again, then climb over to her seat, somehow managing to straddle her lap. She abruptly pushes the car seat backwards to give you more room — you gasp in surprise and she swallows your gasp with a hungry kiss.

The way she kisses you is passionate, ravenous, desperate. You grind against each other, your hands are everywhere, and her skirt is already bunched up around her hips (the sight of her soft, white thighs in garters drives you crazy). It’s hot, it’s dirty, and it’s not something you thought a put together woman like herself would ever be caught dead doing.

“I never imagined you’d enjoy a dirty car fuck, Larissa,” you whisper into her ear as she kisses your neck. She bites it and you gasp. 

“And I never imagined you’d be such a naughty slut, grinding your pussy against my thigh, but here we are.” 

She makes even something that cheap and filthy sound delicious. It shouldn’t turn you on so much, but it does.

“Say that again,” you breathe out, continuing to grind against her thigh.

“You like it when mommy calls you a dirty slut, hm?” 

She grabs your hair with one hand and slides the other one down into your trousers, feeling your drenched underwear. 

“Mmm, fuck,” is the only thing you can say.

“So wet and needy for me already, darling?” she coos at you. “Tell me, did you imagine me doing this to you as you touch yourself, hm? Fucking you with my fingers, fast and hard, like a common whore?”

She slides her hand inside your underwear and pushes a finger into you, then, when she feels how wet you are, two. You whimper. She curls them and you cry out. “Say I’m mommy’s little whore. I want to hear it.”

“I— I’m mommy’s little whore, fuck—”

She starts fucking you, fast and hard, and there are no coherent thoughts left in your mind. She is grunting and groaning with you — it make you delirious with desire. You want to make her moan like she did last night.

You somehow manage to pull yourself together enough to bury your own hand between her soft thighs and feel her wetness. She moans as you circle her clit and her fingers lose their rhythm for a second, which allows you to put together a coherent sentence.

“Like that, mommy?” you breathe out. “Did you imagine this when you touched yourself yesterday?”

“Yes,” she whines, “please, don’t stop.”

You have no intention of stopping. You continue to circle her clit even as she starts to fuck you harder. Her moans are obscene and loud and for a second you remember that any passerby could see you, and probably hear you, but you don’t care. If anything, that turns you on even more.

What sends you over the edge is her orgasm. Her body tenses up, her moans become hoarser and strangled, and a combination of swearwords and moans mixed with your name leave her lips as she tips over the edge of ecstasy. It’s the most erotic thing you have ever witnessed. She tries to fuck you through her own orgasm, but she doesn’t manage to keep the relentless, steady pace she had set before. It doesn’t matter — you grind on her hand and cry out as you ride out intense waves of pleasure that make your limbs tingle.

She gently pulls her fingers out of you. You stay still for a while, wrapped around each other, breathing heavily, your faces buried in each other’s necks. 

“Fuck, that was hot,” you say after a while.

She nods against your shoulder. “It was.”

“Wanna do that again sometime… mommy?” you pull away, looking at her with a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“If you call me that any time we aren’t fucking, I will end you.”

You laugh, and after a second she laughs as well. 

She is so pretty when she smiles — you love how those little lines around her eyes become more prominent.

“I should probably go, though. We are in the middle of the street and it’s like, 3am,” you say.

“Yes, you probably should.”

Before you go exit the car, you kiss goodnight. It’s the sweet and soft — it makes your heart flutter.

“Good night, darling,” she whispers as you get out of the car.

“Good night, Larissa,” you whisper as you watch her drive away.

As you brush your teeth, take a quick shower and get cozy in your bed, the only thing you can think about is Larissa. When you fall asleep, you dream of her sweet kisses. 

When you wake up in the morning, you feel well-rested for the first time in weeks.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems smut #larissa weems x y/n #gwendoline christie #wednesday 2022 #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Gojo Convincing You To Sneak Out Of The Dorms Pt. 2

Gojo Satoru X FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: Just lots of fluff and Gojo

Word Count: 1.k

Part 1: here

(A/N:) I had to do a part 2 of my most recent Gojo fic, cause we all know the man didn’t mature at all once he became a teacher. So he would totally sneak out with the reader as an adult. Plus as a reader of the manga (and reading the new chapters as soon as they drop) I wanted to help Anime only watchers through some things that are gonna happen. I’m not giving spoilers but enjoy some more of my Gojo content. I hope y’all like it and until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The peaceful atmosphere of the Jujutsu High school seeped into bathing room as the warm water seeped into your bones. The day’s exhaustion was catching up with you quickly as chasing young up and comeing sorcerers around all day was tiresome. Throw a Gojo Satoru in the mix and that exhaustion tripled. So your evening bath had become a time to relax and unwind before going to bed. Well it was when you could keep Gojo from barging in and gifting you with his presence.

So far this evening you hadn’t seen that familiar head of silver hair and it was making you a little nervous. The last you had heard he hadn’t had any missions come up, so it was most likely Gojo was still lurking around somewhere. If he wasn’t around you, he was definitely up to something. Everyone knew that but you had the chance of getting closer to Gojo after a relationship had blossomed between the both of you while you were both students. Now that you both were teachers, you and him tried to be a little more discrete about your relationship. Mainly you, as Gojo enjoyed embarrassing you with ridiculous acts of PDA that borderlined on being more on the obnoxious side. You couldn’t really lie to yourself though that you didn’t love the attention, though the obscene ridiculousness of his affections would cause you to blush blood red.

With a warm cup of tea and a novel on your bedside table, there was still no sign of Gojo as you turned off the light of your bedroom and flicked on the lamp at your bedside. Your nighttime routine was supposed to be relaxing, but you couldn’t unwind with the threat of a quiet Gojo lurking around. Settling under your blankets and cracking the book open on your lap, you took a sip of tea. Your bedroom window slammed open startling you into almost spitting out a mouthful of tea.

“Is my favorite pretty lady in here,” Gojo asked as he hung halfway into your room through the window. Shoving blankets aside you shoved him back out of the window causing the powerful sorcerer to pout.

“What are you doing?!”

“Let’s sneak out,” he replied grabbing your arm. “Like we used to do.”

You shook your head holding firm against his not so gentle tugs on your arm, “Let’s not.”

“Why not?”

“C’mon Satoru we have to set an example for the kids,” you sighed removing your arm from his grip before trying to shut your window, only for him to stop you.

“I am setting an example for my students,” Gojo smirked.

“Yeah a bad one,” you retorted. “We’re adults now and teachers nonetheless, we can’t play these childish games anymore.”

“I feel like your speech about being adults and teachers is making me nauseas.”

“You make me nauseas. Go back to sleep.” 

“I can’t,” he whined barging his way inside. For such a tall lanky man he was surprisingly agile coming through your window. He swept you up in his arms holding you close. “The night is so young and so are we.”

“Mmm hmm you’re making it sound so romantic Gojo,” you snorted. “I haven’t been young in ages and if I don’t sleep my students suffer.”

“They suffer either way with your teaching,” he grinned before yelping after you pinched his arm hard.

“Very funny,” you shoved him away. “Go take a walk by yourself, it’ll be just as romantic.”

“Please,” he kissed you softly and you melted. “Just for an hour.”

This was always your downfall. Whenever he didn’t get what he wanted it was those pouty lips and those bright blue eyes he kept hidden until this exact moment. He knew how much of a weakness he was to you and Gojo played his cards well. Viciously tearing down your walls until you agreed to whatever he wanted. Which didn’t take long with those ridiculously long eyelashes and insanely gorgeous blue eyes.

You sighed, body sagging in defeat. “Fine.”

You didn’t have to say a word more until he was helping you out your window and out onto the darkened streets below the school. You held your robe closed with one hand while Gojo held the other one. Why you didn’t think to let him give you a few moments to change, you’d never know. Now you get to walk around hand in hand with the world’s strongest sorcerer in your pajamas.

“You look fine,” Gojo spoke up leading you further away from the school.

You glared causing him to smirk. “Oh yeah sure I look fine in my designer pajamas walking beside Mr. Effortlessly Gorgeous.”

“You think I’m gorgeous.”

“Shut up,” you snarled blushing pink.

Gojo squeezed your hand tighter, leading you onwards until you were lost in the scenery going by. Gojo remained unusually quiet, until the crash of waves on the shore took your attention. He grinned widely turning loose of your hand so you could run towards the waves. The memories of your first time here at the beach with Gojo surfaced and it made you laugh. He joined you in your glee, splashing you with salty water and you returning fire. Seconds later he was chasing you down the beach until he tackled you to the sand. You cackled loudly, slapping at him playfully with no mournful thought to your gritty hair and clothes. The sand was still a little warm from the residual heat from the sun and it contrasted nicely with the cool night. You laid out enjoying it while breathing heavily. Gojo did the same but laid on his side so he could brush sand from your cheek.

“Thanks for talking me into coming out here,” you nuzzled closer.

“You’re welcome,” he cooed. “Time with me is never wasted.”

You snorted at his egotistical comment but kissed his cheek nonetheless. You rolled back over watching what stars you could see in the sky, enjoying a much needed quiet moment with the sorcerer you still loved dearly. You looked forward to spending all the time you could with him as long as you both were alive and able.

#Gojo Satoru X Reader #Gojo Satoru / Reader #Gojo Satoru #Jujutsu Kaisen #Gojo Satoru Imagine #Jujutsu Kaisen Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

[sitp-recs]

considering is close to halloween now (ok it’s october 1st but lmao) do you have any spooky / halloween related recs? it can be drarry or femslash or wolfstar or whatever. i’ve never read any fic in the hp fandom with halloween in mind before :0

Happy Halloween season! 🎃 Absolutely, I don’t have the stomach for gore but I do love myself some spooky reads. Here are some of my faves - they’re all Drarry but I’d suggest checking the 2022 HP Fear Fest masterlist. Enjoy! 👻

I Demand a Soft Epilogue by @the-starryknight (M, 1k)

James didn't arrive on the Hogwarts Express, and so Harry hasn't slept in a week. Something has brought him back to the stoop outside a building marked "Library" in gold letters. He's going to go inside. Maybe the Librarian can help.

The Heart of the Manor by kedavranox (M, 4k)

In his efforts to remove the taint Voldemort left on the Manor, Draco hires a team of Curse-Breakers. But what will happen when they stumble upon something older and more insidious than simple Dark magic?

The Other Cottage by @corvuscrowned (T, 6.5k)

If Pansy wasn’t shagging Ginny Weasley, Draco would never have been dragged to Luna’s ridiculous Halloween party in the first place - meaning he wouldn't be sitting in the corner of the room with Harry Potter all night. But when a strange comet passes overhead, things start to get even weirder than usual.

Doppelganger by @writcraft (M, 7k)

It was just a silly dare, but one ill-advised trip into the Forbidden Forest changes Harry’s life forever.

Saltwater Stain by @the-starryknight (M, 9k)

Seven days stuck on a boat investigating a rogue ghost wouldn't be so bad if Harry didn't want Draco so much. Draco has his rules and Harry's content to follow them, but the air feels different away from the shore. Is it possible that the sea could offer Harry something impossible on land?

And So Death Took by @icmezzo (E, 25k)

Fairy tales may soothe small children into slumber, but some stories themselves refuse to sleep. The Tale of Three Brothers, retold.

In Our Blood by secretsalex (E, 38k)

Draco is an accomplished pure-blood curse breaker, and Harry is tasked with accompanying him on his latest job—cleaning up the Van Boer mansion, which has been under a devastating fertility curse for seven generations.

Yours is the Earth (Hold On, Hold On) by chickenlivesinpumpkin (E, 127k)

After a serious accident in the Forbidden Forest, Draco's personality begins to undergo subtle changes. At first, Harry credits this to a new enthusiasm for life. But as the days pass and Draco's behavior becomes more and more mysterious, Harry begins to suspect that something bigger--and darker--is at work.

Forgive Those Who Trespass by Lomonaaeren (E, 135k)

Harry Potter was convinced he had an ordinary, if inconvenient, life. Then Ron and Hermione vanished in the Department of Mysteries. And the only person who may know where they are is a mute Draco Malfoy.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #spooky fics