#it was a good outside my comfort zone test

[glorious-spoon]

i respect the school coach/counselor steve movement, but in my heart of hearts i know that steve is going to grow up and become a hairstylist. he'd love it. the bitchy gossip, the human drama, the satisfaction of making someone feel comfortable and look how they want to look

maybe he follows robin to the big city for college. tries a couple of classes, drops out, goes to cosmetology school

(does NOT tell the kids until after he's finished. they still tease him within an inch of his life, but like - whatever. he fought interdimensional monsters on like five different occasions before he was old enough to legally drink, he can handle dustin hassling him for knowing what a strand test is)

(eddie is not around to hear about this. he lit out of town as soon as he finished summer school, diploma in hand. steve can't blame him. hawkins was never a good place for eddie munson, and even after the murder charges were cleared, it got worse)

(he still misses the guy, though. they ended up hanging out a lot that summer, and it sort of felt like the start of... something, but it'll take years for steve to work out exactly what)

anyway, eventually he uses some of his government hush money to set up a salon. he settles into his life as a regular person, and it's nice, it's good, it really is. eventually he gets around to figuring out why eddie's over the top flirting always made him feel clumsy and thrilled, and that's another part of himself that he settles into. finds some more family. some more community

he still keeps in touch with the hawkins crew, of course. robin lives nearby, and dustin calls all the time. nancy, too, when she can. she's overseas now reporting in war zones. it was never gonna work out between them

he hasn't seen eddie munson in almost ten years on a brisk day in february when the door to the salon swings open to admit a swirl of snow and a lanky figure wrapped leather, and steve drops the clipper he's holding and thinks, shit, what happened now and then, absurdly on the heels of that, he's going to freeze dressed like that

and then he's crossing the salon to yank eddie into a hug and getting hugged back just as hard, and ten years feels like nothing all of a sudden, and maybe he wasn't too late, maybe neither of them were, maybe they were right on time.

(eddie drifted out of touch with almost all of them other than dustin, who was tenacious, brilliant, and just unprincipled enough to track him down every time he moved

he told eddie to look up steve when he moved to the city, and eddie did, then dithered outside the door for twenty minutes freezing his ass off before he could make himself go in)

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic #sort of? #or a headcanon that spiraled out of control anyway

[everparanoid]

Wholesome Delinquent Behaviour┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , smut, light Angst

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: consent is hot, it's all good till the backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Reader is Not Traveler, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Squirting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, biting kink, inappropriate use of cuffs, spoilers for wriothesley story quest, No use of y/n, Past Murder, Minor Original Character(s), Facials, PWP, Blowjobs, handjobs, everything between reader and wriothesley is consensual

wordcount: 9.5K

synopsis: The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well; if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You are a prisoner at Meropide who meets and falls in love with Wriothesley over the years of knowing him, and he falls harder.

Originally posted: 30.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: ''Safeword'' by TV Girl.

I don't own any of the artwork used.

If everything could come to a stop, just for something she says,

The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well, and if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You wiped away the sweat coating your brow with the back of your dirtied hand, heaving a deep sigh. The production zone, despite being at the bottom of the ocean, was like what you imagined the hot springs of Inazuma to feel like. You wanted to go there one day—to Inazuma. Although the borders were closed to the outside, the stories you heard of the beautiful Sakura blossoms filled you with the determination to get there. One day, you would. You were sure of it. If you didn’t get struck down by their archon first.

“Inmate, stop slacking! Unless you don’t want to eat tonight,” the guard manning the floor yelled at you.

You rolled your eyes and continued hammering at the heated chunks of metal. Your arms were weak, and your palms were sweaty. It was times like this when you wished you had a cryo vision. You wished for many things. You wished you hadn’t been caught. You wished Fontaine were a better place. You wished that Monsieur Neuvillette felt even an ounce of sympathy for your case, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the court of Fontaine was as ‘fair’ as they came. The sky had down poured the night you were sent to Meropide. It was the worst Fontaine had seen in four hundred years. You hadn’t seen the sky properly since you probably never would. People rotted down here. So, all you could rely on was the glistening memory of bitter water, and your dreams.

It was better, you decided, to be punished here than in Sumeru, Inazuma, or even Monstadt. You’d been to Liyue once, but you weren’t there long enough to have a clear judgement of whether their form of justice would be any better. Then again you had been arrested before you got out of Liyue and they handed you straight back to Fontaine to be judged by your home region’s laws.

“Inmate!” The guard yelled snapping you from your thoughts. “You’re wanted at the administration area.”

You dropped your hammer, relieved for the break, and shoved past the guard on your way to the lift.

I thought the whole point was you were living on the edge,

“It’s your lucky day, kid,” another guard said as you meandered leisurely toward them.

This guard you liked.

Meropide inductions didn’t happen often. Most of the time the convict was thrown into their dorm and made to figure it out themselves. In the instances of special cases, you were brought out like a friendly face before the storm. You had no clue why it was you they chose, but you always got paid handsomely in credit coupons, so the particulars didn’t matter to you. You had long since abandoned the idea of fairness down here where the sun doesn’t shine.

“What have we got this time?” you asked cracking your knuckles.

“A kid, your age.”

You paused. It wasn’t often you met people around your age down here. Everyone was either one foot in the grave or an adult.

What could this kid have done to end up down here with the downs and outs? You looked out the large glass window, it stared out into the deep blue Fontainian waters. The sea was dark, so you guessed it must be night. Time was more of an idea, a concept if you will, down in the depths. So, you enjoyed rare moments like these to re-calibrate yourself. It was a shame. You had hoped to at least feel the sun’s rays through the water’s refraction, but it was like you said beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The lift lowered down behind you, and you turned to greet this so-called new inmate. You were greeted by a tall scrawny boy, probably not even a year older than yourself with dull icy eyes and jet-black hair. He was drenched in that same bitter water.

You put on your brightest smile and offered your hand.

“Welcome to hell,” you said.

Not your best work but it caused a small snicker from the boy, and your favourite guard who stayed close by. Strange. They never stayed around. Were they that concerned about your ability to induct a fellow teenage delinquent?

Wriothesley paused. When he was given his verdict by the Monsieur Neuvillette he didn’t expect such a warm welcome. Well, warm as far as being greeted at its entrance.

He didn’t take your hand, instead opting to stare at you with those haunted eyes. You were disheveled at beast and downright filthy at worst. Nothing to sing or dance about. Nothing to fall head over heels in love with either, but you didn’t care. Who wanted to find happiness in misery anyway?

“Hell?” Wriothesley echoed. His voice was steady and stern like he was aged beyond his years; by the lack of life in his eyes, he probably was. “Is it that bad down here?”

You shrugged one shoulder.

“Depends,” you said.

“On what?” he asked, calculating. You could feel his brain working from where you stood. 

Fascinating.

“Depends on how stupid you are,” you looked him up and down, chewing the inside of your cheek absentmindedly. Then, as if a rocket had been shot up your butt, you spun on your heels and gestured for him to follow with a lazy flick of your wrist.

He did so, catching up to you easily with his long legs and just as long stride.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you said as the lift doors closed behind you taking you down to the actual entrance of Meropide not the fancy entrance for visitors too afraid to see the truth. Fontaine was a giant opera, and you lot in Meropide were the hidden stage crew, slaving behind the scenes after losing your spot in the limelight.

“You didn’t ask,” he responded flatly from beside you.

“Clearly that was the hint for you to tell me.”

“It’s Wriothesley,” he said.

It didn’t sound like it was his actual name. Hell, it didn’t sound like a name at all, but who were you to judge? Meropide was a place to start a new; to redeem yourself from your sins, and nearly burn to death in the production zones breaking your back for an administrator who was a tyrant. What was a kid reclaiming their identity going to do to you?

“Nice to meet you, Ricecake.”

“Ricecake?”

“Hey, you give me a name I can’t pronounce you live with the consequences, Ricecake.”

The doors opened and the lift groaned as steam poured out of its pipes and vents. Some unfortunate soul was going to have to clean those later, and you prayed it wasn’t going to be you. You had a burn on the inside of your arm from the last time you cleaned those steaming pipes, it was a jagged ugly thing to look at, so you kept it hidden. Out of sight out of mind, right?

The receptionist sat behind the desk looking as melancholy as everyone else in this place. Wriothesley was going to fit in just fine, you thought, as you remembered that same almost dead look in his eyes.

“You coming?” you asked the boy who stood gawking at you from the lift. “It won’t take you back up you know. I mean you can try. It’s your sentence you’re lengthening.”

“You don’t recognise me?”

“No?” you said. “Should I?”

You tried to recall when you would have seen him before but only drew blanks. You’d seen so many of the same faces and watched so many of them die that telling anyone apart was a pipe dream for you. However, for some reason, you knew that Wriothesley would stick in your head. Not just because the name was so peculiar but because something about him intrigued you. He didn’t seem upset down here yet. No, he looked curious. Curiosity was dangerous. Curiosity got the smartest people in here killed or beaten half to death. No, Wriothesley stuck in your head because he reminded you of hope.

So, when those sounds start to drift down the hall, and stat to freak out the neighbours,

“No coupons, no meal,” the chef said, his voice booming through the place. You wondered over questioning who would be stupid enough to get into conflict with the head chef. He was a burly man, tall with a glassy eye and a wooden spatula the size of a person. The rumour was that he had been a Fatui skirmisher in the overworld. The truth was he was like every other soul in here, beaten and trapped. Upon seeing the familiar woolfy black hair, spiked in random places you inserted yourself into the conversation.

“Sorry about that boss. He’s new,” you said to the chef.

He waved his beefy, greasy hand at you to leave.

“Don’t let your friend come back unless he has coupons. This isn’t charity,” he said with a thick Snezhnayan accent.

“Gotcha,” you said and gave the chef a salute. Hooking your arm under Wriothesleys, you pulled him out of the cue. He nearly tripped over his foot. You dragged him to a secluded table a little away from everyone else, where your singular special box of bread and curry waited for you.

You let him go.

You pointed to the wall where it read, ‘If a man will not work, he shall not eat.’

“Sit,” you commanded pointing to the chair opposite yours.

Wriothesley stared at you like you had grown four heads.

“I have no food,” he said.

“I can see that,” you responded, opening your box and letting the steam waft out. Both of your stomachs groaned at the same time. It had been a while since you had had decent food from the chef, it would be even longer till you had another one; credit coupons weren’t easy to come by and they were better spent on other things like making sure you didn’t get smothered in your sleep.

“How much did that cost?”

“More than you’ll make in your first year,” you said breaking up the bread in your hands.

He gulped dryly.

“How do you know that?”

“You’re a fresher. You’re basically free labour until you have some experience behind you, and some meat on your bones. You’ll be lucky if they pay you a tenth of what you should be getting in your first year. Unless you can fight.”

You let your words settle in the silence between you.

“What did you do?” you ask.

“What?”

“Your crime? What did you do? The guards treat you like a danger to humanity,” you said glancing at the guard who watched you both intently. You could understand them glaring at you but why him?

Wriothesley shifted in his seat, straightening up as if preparing for something.

“I killed my parents,” he said.

He didn’t say anything more than that, he didn’t need to.

You blinked.

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

You let it sink in for a minute and then nodded.

“I will not be offended if you run, after all this is the entire truth,” he said bluntly. His stomach growled again, and he clutched it willing it to silence itself.

“We’re all crooks and criminals down here,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean we are all bad.”

He lifted an eyebrow at you. You supposed it was because he was expecting you to run. Which meant he obviously didn’t know you. 

“What if I am just a bad guy?”

You shrugged. It was not like you were the dog’s bollocks yourself.

“I have a good enough instinct to know that you aren’t, Ricecake,” you said and pushed your now broken-up bread and curry meal toward him. You were going to regret it. You hadn’t eaten a full-fledged meal in three months, but still, you gave it anyway. “Eat.”

You would have wanted someone to do the same for you when you got here. Friends weren’t made under the sea. His eyes widened and his pale face brightened for the first time since you had met him.

“This is yours,” he said, sounding flabbergasted.

“Now it’s yours,” you said. “Eat up and get some rest. You need to be strong if you want to survive around here.”

You noticed something in his eyes then, a spark. It was dull but it flickered. Your stomach flipped again.

You took a sip of your water before pushing it over to him. He was going to need it more than you.

“Thank you,” he said.

You shook your head.

“There is no need for thanks between us. See it as me looking out for a fellow delinquent.”

“Delinquent?” he said taking his first bite of the bread drowned in curry sauce and rolling his eyes in bliss at the flavours. He began to hoover up the box like it was running away from him.

You remembered when you were like that with every small crumb of bread you got when you first got here. Your stomach flipped. What kind of hell had Wriothesley come from?

“Slow down buddy meals like this don’t come around every day,” you said. “Take it slow, no one can kick you out of here to work anyway. Seems they’re too afraid of us.”

He did as you said. Licking off his fingers, he looked around the floor at the glaring stationed guards and occasional inmates. He faced you his eyes glimmered with light like a shooting golden star flying across an icy sky.

“So, how do I get them to trust me?” he said leaning in.

 You leaned back in your seat, your arms crossed and a smile on your face. You were sure now, that feeling in your stomach was hope.

remember that it's good, clean fun,

“Happy Birthday!” you grinned, setting down a box you had smuggled up from the cafeteria into his room. He raised a brow up at you. It was the 23rd of November, the day he’d decided was his birthday; the same day he was sentenced to Meropide.

“Ah, thank you,” he said politely. His stomach growled at the delicious aroma coming off the box revealing, despite his calm thanks, his eager anticipation for your yearly gift.

Guilt riddled him, as he dropped the gauntlet he had been upgrading, next to the cashflow machine he had found and tinkered back to use. He had wanted to pay you back. Every year, on the day he arrived you came with a box and another ten pieces of meshing gear for his tinkering, and as much as he secretly loved it, he felt like he wasn’t doing enough to pay you back.

It had been six years and yet he hadn’t gotten you a single thing he considered worth the amount of your kindness. Aside from a necklace with a piece of meshing gear that he had forged into a Cerberus insignia. You wore it everywhere. You wore it then, the rustic insignia rested on your chest. He had already put aside the pieces for a matching bracelet, a little trinket from him to you. A subtle hint to show that you were his, even if he hadn’t said it yet.

He unravelled the box and two tea bags fell out of the wrapping.

You picked them up and shook them before him.

“Tea for the occasion,” you said.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

“I fear, you know me too well.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know your favourite colour,” you said, brewing the tea in the teapot he kept on the wonky table.

“I don’t have one.”

Meaning he couldn’t choose one without them all tying to you. Maybe it was the colour of your hair, or eyes, or even the colour of your lips, he’d stare at those often. Too often lately. He was staring now. He looked away.

“Well, I guess I do know everything about you,” you chirped.

He thanked you as you handed him a cup of tea with two sugars just as he liked it. You knew these things. It wasn’t like you had spoken about them.  No, you had been around him so much in the last few years that these things came naturally to you. It was like breathing. You sat beside him on the ground. Your tea warmed your hands.

“What else does the birthday boy want on his birthday?”

He fought back the blush though he was sure the colour still painted his skin.

“Nothing.”

“Come on! There has got to be something?”

Wriothesley shook his head and opened the box.

“Okay then if you insist. Share this box with me?”

“But it’s yours.”

“And I want to share it with you. Are you really going to deny me on my birthday? Remember, you are the one who asked what I want.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine.”

He broke up the bread inside one of the compartments in the box, the same way he'd watched you do it countless times. You reached in and dipped a large unbroken piece of bread into the soup before bringing it up to his lips. He stared at your hand.

“Open up. Come on, birthday boy, if we are sharing then you’ve got to have the first bite,” you said.

When it became apparent that you weren’t going to give up any time soon, he opened his mouth enough for you to slip the bread between his teeth. Both of you without the other's knowledge held your breath when he bit down, and his lips brushed the tips of your fingers.

A shiver ran through your body, one you knew would follow you to bed and into your filthiest dreams.

He pulled back and quickly cleared his throat, as he chewed without tasting.

“It’s delicious,” he said.

“It is,” you choked out, though you hadn’t tried it yet.

He didn’t bother to correct you, too lost trying to calm the riot in his chest. When he felt like he had better control of the battle in his chest he picked up a piece of bread, dipped it into the curry sauce and held it toward you. You blinked.

“You should try some too. You know since we are sharing and all.”

You took a bite from the bread letting the flavours wash over you. They too were lost to the way you noticed his eyes watching your lips enclose around the bread. You nodded and covered your mouth as you chewed.

“It is good,” you agreed, with a mouth full of mush.

He nodded and looked away from you, scooping up another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. You would have thought he was unaffected until you saw his ears were deep shade of crimson.

Just wholesome delinquent behaviour,

“What’s this about?” You asked as he guided you with his large cold, calloused hands over your eyes. You envied his cryo vision, and his ability to stay cool down in that heat pit. He hid it well, but you knew he had one. You’d seen it one day by accident and not breathed a word about it since. Vision holders were targets down here and the last thing you wanted was to put him in any more danger.

“Patience. Don’t you know all good things come to those who know how to wait,” he said.

 He had dragged you out of the production zone after finishing his work and disappeared off like he usually did only to reappear an hour later with that confident stride he had. You barely ever saw him these days, but when you did it would be like he was still the fresh-faced delinquent but older. You were both older. He guided you into a seat and then removed his hands. You missed the cool touch on your skin. It took a second for your eyes to adjust to the poor lighting.

“What is this?” you asked, staring at the giant box in front of you.

You looked up at Wriothesley. It had been twelve years since he came to the fortress and the once soft baby face was gone, lost to the grit of Meropide. Wriothesley commanded the trust and respect of everyone around him much to the administrator’s dismay. When you were working away in the production zone, to he would be off swaying the inmates and the guards, working his natural charisma on those around him.

“What happened?” You asked reaching up and grazing his split lip with your finger. He caught your wrist and dipped his head out of the way flashing you a half smile. He had grown even taller over the years and now you had to reach up to touch him. He glanced at the ring on your finger, and you snatched your hand away, your face flushed with embarrassment.

“I won some more coupons,” he said.

In reality, he had scrapped up the coupons that he’d hidden away in the case of a rainy day and used them to buy you the meal. A week earlier he had lost all his accumulated credit coupons in a single night to the Fortress’s administrator.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Is that so?” he sassed. “I suppose I should write a will.”

Your expression darkened.

“Kidding, of course,” he said.

“Of course.”

“I went to Sigewinne,” he assured you. “She said I would be fine as long I rested.”

“Good,” you said.

You turned back to the box.

Metal screeched on the floor as Wriothesley pulled his chair closer directly across from you. The place was unusually empty—only a few guards manned the area, but no other inmates could be spotted on the floor.

“So, what is this?” You could smell the faint fragrance of something familiar. Something you hadn’t smelt in years.

“Open it,” he said and gestured with his chin to the box.

You gave him a cautious look and lifted the lid. Inside sat four rolls of bread and two bowls worth of curry. Your heart fluttered. When you looked up at him, he was already watching you; his icy eyes shining like stars. You didn’t want to think anything of it… to hope. Hope was stolen from you. Hope led to you becoming trapped in a loveless engagement with one of the crooked guards.

“You really did it?” you said and ached a little inside.

This was supposed to be a happy moment but all you wanted to do was weep bitter water.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his toned scarred arms over his chest. He looked so broad and solid; all that boxing had morphed his physique into something godly.  “I told you I would pay you back.”

“That was twelve years ago, and this is more than triple what I gave you.”

“I added the interest,” he said.

“Why now?”

He looked down at your ringed finger again and frowned. His brows drew together in the way they did when he was annoyed or thinking more than he was going to let you in on.

“I’m going to fight the administrator,” he said bluntly.

You paused mid-snap of your bread.

“You’re going to fight the administrator?” you repeated, unsure of whether you heard him correctly. “Your sentence is up. Why would you do that? You’re going to die.”

He shrugged.

“I refuse to watch people suffer under the crooked ruling of a tyrant,” he said and eyed your ring again. Your finger felt like it was on fire; you dipped a bit of bread in the curry and handed it to him. He waved it away.

“Why are you like this?” you said, and dropping the piece of bread into the curry, you watched it drown and disappear into the thick liquid. “Is it not enough that you’ll be free?”

You blinked back tears, your hands clenched on your thighs. You had watched nearly all of his fights and every single time your heart was in your throat. Every time he bled, every time he shook hands with his opponent; every time the ringleader held up his beaten-up arm to declare his victory. You hated it. You hated all of it.

He said your name with a tenderness he reserved only for you. A tenderness you didn’t want to hear. A tenderness you blocked out with everything in your soul.

“Is it so strange that I would want to fight for those whom I promised a better life out of genuine care?”

“Why did you do that?” you yelled, your voice came out harsher than you intended but it was too late to take it back. That was the thing about words, they could never be unspoken. He cleared his throat.

“As I recall, I didn’t come here to live under the thumb of another driver, and I thought you would understand that more than anyone else, but I see now that I was wrong and clearly you have been broken down after all.”

You bit down hard on your lips, and your jaw clenched so tight that you were sure you would crunch a tooth.

“Ric—Wriothesley. That’s not fair,” you whispered.

“Indeed, it’s not but it’s the truth.” He glanced away for a second. “Look, I am in love with you, and I have been for the last twelve years. I can’t simply watch you be with someone you hate just to get a sentence lowered that you still won’t tell me about. I could have helped you. I am helping you. I’m helping everyone,” he pushed his chair back and stood.

“…What?”

“I’m fighting tomorrow. Show up, if you have some time, of course; or don’t, but I’ll be looking out for you. You can find me in my dorm before then.”

You fought back the urge to chase after him, to slap him, to kiss him, to hold his hand, to hold him so tightly and cry the way you haven’t been able to since the day you were convicted. Instead, you didn’t. You sat in silence and ate the bread and curry watching your heart walk away from you.

Oh, remember your safe word,

His dorm room was across from yours. It was sparse like everything else in the underwater fortress. A pillow and scatty blanket lay atop a barely functioning mattress in a corner. Wriothesley sat at the small table barely standing on its uneven legs. A tiny pot brewed a herbal smelling tea, and two teacups sat in front of him.

“You came,” he said barely above a whisper. His confidence was a quiet one.

“You love me.”

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, gesticulating to the second cup in front of the spare chair.

You had been in here countless times; shared many cups of tea with him; helped pierce his ears and manage his wounds; watched him shadowbox the air as you sat crossed-legged on his bed; you had wondered what life would be like if Meropide was a better place; you had wondered if the people you left behind missed you as you laid next to each other on his floor staring at the giant fan on the ceiling. Not that either of you had anyone but each other. Wriothesley had said his siblings were strangers to him, and he was probably a ghost they would never want to see again. An unfortunate reminder of something they’d all rather forget, but he never forgot. He refused to. He lived his truth.

 Every time he told you about his past you worried about how his view would change if you if knew your truth. However, Wriothesley never pressed too hard, never touched buttons he knew you didn’t want to be touched. Instead, he watched and observed, and took in all that you were willing to give him, just to see a glimmer behind the cracks of your mask.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

“Please.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit.” he filled your cup.

You took your seat and shifted around, unable to find comfort despite it being your usual chair. Feelings always made things feel different—uncomfortable. You knew this. Yet you still felt the discomfort, nonetheless.

“How did you know I would come?”

“I didn’t but I hoped and thankfully you didn’t disappoint, but you never do,” he said, filling his cup.

“No need to be modest with me, Wriothesley.”

“I am anything but modest with you,” he said your name softly.

You gulped. Wriothesley wasn’t one to mince his words, though tact was his favourite game.

“You must have heard about it already?” you brought the teacup to your lips taking a sip of the liquid. Credit coupons bought anything in this fortress, even the finest tea. “It’s all people can talk about when it comes to me.”

His expression darkened.

It was only a matter of time.

“You do, and yet you still love me?” you asked.

“I recall someone once telling me that we all are crooks and criminals down here but that didn’t mean we were all bad,” he recounted the words you had said to him when he arrived nearly verbatim. He leaned onto the table, and it shook on its uneven legs from the added weight. “Besides, I like hearing stories from their source.”

“Then ask.”

“What got you incarcerated?”

You took a deep breath. What did you have to lose? He had heard worse rumours.

For some reason, you cared about what he thought of you. You knew that feelings were fickle things, and yet, you cared that he loved you. You loved him too.

“Mariticide,” you said cooly, breaking the ice.

“But you were—“

“A child, I know.”

“I was illegally married off when I was eight years old to a man, twenty years my senior.”

Wriothesley remained neutral, you took it as your sign to keep going.

“He didn’t do anything to me until my twelfth birthday and then it started. At first, it was just touching and then it got worse. He was an influential Fontaine nobleman. One of the maids tried to help me report him but it didn’t work. So, one night when he came to my room, I had hidden a butter knife under my pillow. I castrated him and ran away, fleeing Fontaine. I wandered through Sumeru and then to Monstadt but even the city of freedom couldn’t protect me. So, I kept moving. It was when I was on my way through Liyue that the authorities caught up to me. The maid who had tried to help me was sleeping with the man and hence reported me. The hearing was quick, and I was put away fast. No one wanted to consider the implications of a thirteen-year-old being married to a thirty-three-year-old whom they all dined with. I heard he died a few years ago but my sentence keeps getting extended every time it gets close to the date of my term. I suspect it’s the maid. I was supposed to be here for eight years and well, I am still here. That’s why I must marry that Guard.” You took a long sip from your tea and then placed the cup down. “I’m damaged goods,” you said.

Wriothesley remained silent. He looked to be thinking of something and you had never seen his expression so dark.

“You’re not damaged,” he said, “and he’s lucky he lived after that.”

You smiled. It was a bitter smile; one filled with more exhaustion than remorse.

“Luck favours the rich.”

“If a man will not work, he shall not eat,” Wriothesley said, reciting the famous lines that painted the walls of Meropide.

You raised your teacup at him before taking another sip.

“Jokes aside, thank you for telling me,” he said.

He stood up and you feared he was going to ask you to leave. You wouldn’t be sad, at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself, but the sinking feeling came all the same.

He offered you his hand and you stared at it. Your brows furrowed before you hesitantly took it. He pulled you up to your feet. His cold hand intertwined with yours.

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

He’d never asked this before. Did you look like you needed a hug? Because you wanted one.

“Please,” you choked out.

You would never have described Wriothesley as warm, but when he held you in his arms and you heard his heart racing you couldn’t deny that he was undoubtedly warm. A single tear rolled down your cheek. Then another, and another, and another until you were sobbing into his shabby inmate shirt.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I know.”

You’d been holding onto these feelings for so long. Letting them fester inside you like a sickness. No one had ever stopped to hear your side of the story and you thought you were okay with that. You thought if they stayed away from you then you could pretend to be like every other inmate brought in for stealing a slice of cake meant for Lady Furina. You thought you could hide your truth, but behind every fake smile, you wore it on yourself like a body of armor.

His shirt crumpled in your hands. He swayed from side to side and traced tiny circles on your back with his thumb.

“You did what you had to do. If he was alive, I’d kill him,” he said.

You wiped your eyes and looked up at him. “Please don’t fight tomorrow.”

He brought a hand up to your cheek and brushed away your tears. He decided then that he hated your tears, and he would do anything to see to it that you didn’t feel that way again.

 However, he hated the idea of you living with this pain more. He hated seeing that diamond on the finger where his should be. He hated it even more that you knew that he hated it before he had admitted his feelings for you. If his resolve hadn’t been solidified before now it would be completely. He would free you, and if you decided you wanted to be with him once you sprouted your wings, then he would accept you with open arms. He wouldn’t put you in another cage. He’d hate to see your heart break because to him you were his heart.

Wriothesley’s attention dropped to your lips; they were wet with your tears. He leaned down and brushed his lips to the corner feeling your sadness.

You turned your head at the last moment and captured his lips.

He froze.

You gripped his shirt tighter and reached up on the tips of your toes pressing your mouth further into his; willing him to reciprocate. Your first kiss with Wriothesley tasted like bitter water. It was soft and desperate. It knew what it was without the need for words or discussion.

His chest heaved as he pulled away.

“Don’t leave me,” you whispered.

“I won’t…” 

He wouldn’t—at least not tonight. Although, he didn’t know whether it was day or night outside of Meropide. The underworld was a different world entirely. It never truly slept. It didn’t adhere to the rules of the sun or the moon. It was filled with endless possibilities. Possibilities that could alter both of your existences and if he couldn’t free you above ground, he knew sure as hell would free you below. Although, one night of keeping you safe in his arms couldn’t hurt.

You sat down on his mattress. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, then again it had been twelve years.

He recalled your soot-covered face, and dull eyes when you had greeted him, the day he arrived at Meropide. The day he had begun his new life; his birthday. Although the circumstances weren’t great, he knew from the moment you said, ‘Welcome to hell,’ that he would love you.

He sat beside you.

“Tell me what you want?” he said, earnestly.

You leaned into him.

“I want you to be yours.”

It was true. You wanted him. Engagement be damned. Even if it was just one night, you wanted something for you. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was asking for too much, but you didn’t care. You had spent too long denying yourself the things you want to maintain a peace no one else upheld.

Wriothesley gripped your wrist and groaned what sounded like your name, but you couldn’t be too sure.

“Give me a word,” he said.

“What?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he began.

“I am not fragile.”

Though in front of him, you were.

“I know you are not. Give me a word so I know to stop if it gets too much for you.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and rested his forehead against yours.

“Time,” you breathed.

That’s what you wanted—time. Time to love him, time to live, time to take back all the things you regretted and start again. Time to meet him before you both became who you were.

“Okay,” he said, leaving a kiss behind your ear. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

Only tonight. He reminded himself.

He could promise you that for certain. He couldn’t promise tomorrow, not because he was a pessimist but because he knew tomorrow was never certain. He had you now. He would make sure he had you forever but now would have to be enough. He would make it enough.

“Yours. Completely,” you said.

Another tear rolled down your cheek.

He pulled off his shirt. 

Your mouth merged with his, your tongue slipping into his open mouth tangling, exploring searching. He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes closing despite the desire to see every expression on your face.

You broke the kiss and leaned back pulling off your shirt. His eyes dropped to your breasts.

“Just for me,” he whispered, taking them into his hands and kneading them slowly.

He traced kisses down your neck, wishing to mark you, to lay his claim to you. He wouldn’t however, not yet…not tonight.

You fiddled with the string to his bottoms, untangling it and reaching in to feel his erection. He groaned against your neck unafraid to let you know how good it felt. You grasped his cock. It was thick, thicker than you expected, and so hard.  You needed both hands to grip him properly.

“Take off that fucking ring,” he hissed upon feeling it on his skin. You did, taking off the ring and dropping it with your shirt on the floor. You gripped his cock again, your hands feeling so much lighter without the mental weight of the ring.

“Harder,” he growled as you stroked him.

You tightened your grip watching as the crease between his brows grew. He rolled his hips into your hand.

“Oh, that’s it,” he panted.

You bit your lip and focused on the reddened tip.

Your thumb brushed the crown wiping away the drops of precum. He jolted, his jaw unhinging, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. You froze and released his cock. He opened his eyes, worried, only to see you on your knees between his legs.

He opened his legs wider and slid closer to the edge of the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face and gripped it in his hand as he used the other to keep him up on the bed.

“Go on,” he said. “Show me how much you want me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Gripping, his cock you gave the tip a lick listening to his pleased grunts. Slowly you took him into your mouth, enjoying the sensation of his hand gripping your hair.

“Good girl, taking me so well.”

You were soaked just from listening to his praise. You slipped a hand into your underwear and began rubbing your clit.

His breath quickened, and his mouth felt incredibly dry from his inability to close it. His hips jerked, as you took him deeper. He heard you gag as he felt your throat quiver around his cock. He pulled out, letting you catch your breath before he thrust back into your throat. Your eyes rolled and drove a finger into yourself.

You bobbed your head keeping up with the brutal pace he was setting. You loved hearing his grunts and groans; you loved feeling his cock twitch and his pace stagger as he got closer. Despite how hard it was, you looked up at him. His mouth was agape, his eyes barely open. You released him just when you knew he was going to cum.

Wriothesley opened his eyes to see you waiting, mouth open, your mouth and chin dripping with saliva. You looked glorious.

“You’re stunning,” he breathed and released your hair, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it until the first spray of cum splattered your lips. “So perfect, with such a pretty mouth.”

You licked your lips and opened your mouth again, leaning closer till the tip rested against your tongue.

Wriothesley felt like he was in a dream or heaven or both.

“Swallow it all,” he panted as he pumped the rest onto your tongue.

You did so, licking your lips and opening your mouth to prove it.

At the sight of your flushed face, your blown lust-filled eyes, and your hand deep in your pants, he found himself hardening again. He had promised tonight, and tonight he was going to have. If he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

“Get on the bed right now, naked and on your back,” he ordered.

You shimmied off your work pants and your underwear, laying on the bed under his hungry gaze. He stood and stripped the rest of his clothes away before joining you on the bed. It was barely big enough for both of you, but he was going to make it work. He kneeled before your closed legs.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good.”

“Just good?” he teased, a smirk on his lips.

“Mhm just good,” you responded, reciprocating the expression.

“Oh, we’ll have to fix that,” he said, and scooping under your thighs, he opened your legs and pulled you closer to him.

You giggled at the speed at which he had your legs wrapped around his waist and his hard cock pressing against your soaked folds. He caged you between his arms as he rolled his hips slowly.

“I love you,” he said, staring into your eyes.

“I love you too,” you responded.

“I know.”

He kissed you with everything in his soul. At some point, he knew you loved him even if you hadn’t said it till just now. He knew it like how he knew the back of his hand but hearing it made it even better. It made it real.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked hole, pushing in the tip just enough to feel you quiver before pulling out and running it over your pussy again.

“If I fuck you, you’re mine. No one touches what is mine. Do you understand?” He asked

Your heart stuttered.

“I understand.”

“After all, no one will be able to fuck you the way I can. Once I’m inside you unless you tell me otherwise, I’m not stopping until we both see stars,” he said, making sure he looked straight into your eyes as he did.

This wasn’t a game for him, he meant every single word and you knew it.

“Wriothesley, there will never be anyone like you.”

He groaned and slid in. Your back arched at the sheer size of his cock stretching you beyond your limits. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, grabbing onto the sheets for support.

“Breathe, relax,” he whispered. “Hold onto me.”

He continued to slowly push in bringing his knees closer giving him the right angle to get in as deep as possible. He gasped upon seeing himself completely disappear inside you. You tightened your legs around his waist, and dragged him down gripping his back, locking you into a mating press.

He waited till the need for release subsided before he began to move. The shitty bedframe, not built for the purpose it was being used for, squeaked, and hit against the wall. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and stifled cries joined the air disturbing whatever sorry soul had the misfortune of being on the other side of the wall. Neither of you cared at that moment. Within minutes you had already come twice.

Your chest heaved, and Wriothesley cupped them leaving bites all over your breasts, he avoided any place people would be able to see but needed to mark you somewhere. He moved back up to your ear and nibbled on the lobe.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he said quietly.

You slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and began to rub your clit. Wriothesley leaned back till he was kneeling. Gripping your waist, he continued to fuck you watching with hawk-like focus the way your fingers played with your clit. It was like you were under display, laid out for him to observe and study, and you were.

“So, that’s how you like it?” he said, feeling your walls clench around him for the third time that night.

You whimpered in response, your words had long since failed you. You began to slow as your hand grew tired and your body became closer to a collection of jolting nerves than functioning limbs.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You can give me two more, right?” he said.

You moaned as he replaced your hand continuing to rub your clit just as vigorously as you had started.

“Wriothesley,” you cried,

“Ssh, you’ve got this. Let go. Be a good girl and give me two more,” he urged you on.

You bit your lip and threw your head back letting out another cry which he swallowed eagerly. Your walls clenched again, and your body began to show the signs of a squirt. You sprayed, your legs shaking, your toes curling.

“Shit, you’re incredible. One more,” he captured your lips. “You’ve done so good. Just give me one more, my love,” he said against them.

One more and he would be satisfied. One more and he could guarantee that he would have enough resolve to follow through with his plans. Just one more.

You shivered again and bit down on his bottom lip as your final climax washed over you barely a minute later. He growled at the pain, tugging his lip from your mouth, and kissing you properly.

“Well done,” he said but continued thrusting at the same brutal pace. “I’m nearly there.”

You used what little strength you had to keep him inside. He said your name for what was the thousandth time that night.

“Not tonight,” he panted, smiling against your lips. “Trust me, I want to. I do, but not tonight.”

He pulled out and kissed you softly, stroking himself until his release painted your stomach. He kissed your forehead and rolled off you to not squash you under his weight.

You turned onto your side and cuddled into him. He wrapped his arms around you and entangled your limbs. You faced each other on the damp sheets.

It felt like time stopped. Everything melted away, you didn’t know whether it had been forty or four hours, and you didn’t care. You felt sticky and wet, the only thing cooling you down was the natural coolness of his skin on yours. Sleep drifted over you like a blanket not soon after. You tried to fight it off, wishing to talk to him longer; to try and convince him against fighting the administrator; to find a way with you because as long as you had each other you knew everything would be okay…

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said quietly as if he had read your mind, sending you off to sleep. “It’s all going to be okay.”

When you woke the next morning, well when the sound of the guards woke you from your sex-induced coma, Wriothesley was gone.

Remember your safeword.

You woke to cool scarred arms wrapped securely around your waist. Wriothesley’s head rested on your breasts. Flecks of grey mixed seamlessly into the stream of black hair reminded you that you were no longer in the past. You shifted slightly to free an arm. He grumbled something and nuzzled his head further into your breasts, securing his arms tighter around you as if afraid you were going to disappear. It was a habit he had developed over the years, an incessant need to hold onto you when he slept. You didn’t mind it too much, you liked being cold when you went to bed; it helped you sleep better.

“Wriothesley,” you whispered and ran a hand through his hair. You laid a peck on his forehead, and he stirred.

“Is it morning already?” he grumbled, though his eyes remained closed.

He had been awake for as long as you had been lost in your thoughts, silently listening to the sound of your pounding heart. He couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts ailed you on nights like these.

You admired the thick dark lashes casting shadows over his face.

“No, I just can’t sleep,” you said.

You knew his skin like the back of your hand. The scar under his eye, the scar on his neck that led down to the center of his breastplate and stopped on his sternum. The ones wrapped around his arms, the ones that scattered his waist and stomach, the ones on his thighs; even the small faint one on his calf from when he fell over as a kid. He told you that was when he knew his skin was going to be littered with scars. Wriothesley scarred easily and he scarred badly. However, despite their jagged appearances, none of them were too hideous for you to bear. You didn’t like them, but you loved Wriothesley, and as they were as a part of him as any other part of him, you learnt to love them too. They represented how many battles he had won. They represented every promise kept.

You lifted his head up and kissed the scar on his face, the one right under his eye.

You could feel his hardened cock pressing against your thigh. His pupils were blown when he finally opened his eyes.

He loved you so much it hurt. Yes, physically but also mentally. He loved how you accepted him, he loved how you chose him, and he loved how you chose you too. Most of all he loved how you looked when you teased him, so raw, so ripe, so ready to dismantle you completely.

“Oh, I can think of ways to help with that,” he murmured.

“I don’t know if I have the stamina, your grace,” you teased.

He let out a guttural noise.

He nibbled and sucked on your nipple, messaging your other breast in his cold, rough hands. Your breath staggered as you gave in to his touch. The sound went straight to his cock. He had fucked you into the sheets earlier that night, till you were blubbering and couldn’t remember your own name. Still, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough; he would never get enough of you. Despite your fear that one day he would disappear, he never would. It was Wriothesley who worried that one day you would grow tired of his incessant need to be near you; to have you, to consume you. So, he savoured every squirm, every shiver, every breathy gasp of his name that you would spare him, terrified that they’d be his last.

“Ah, well it’s a good thing that I have enough stamina for the both of us,” he said switching his attention from one boob to the other. The earlier hickeys had already darkened on your skin. “Think you can cum again?”

He would kiss each one later wishing for them to last forever.

“You’re insatiable,” you blushed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have my favourite meal right where I want her,” he said and began to trail his tongue down your stomach towards your sensitive clit. He wanted you on his tongue, in his senses… everywhere.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. It was what he always did before you both did anything sexual beyond intimate fondling and brisk kisses.

“Time,” you said.

“Good girl.” He half grinned.

He continued teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, absorbing every twitch and shake of your body.

“Wriothesley,” you spluttered. “I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he said.

He slipped his tongue into you, circling, lapping, like a man possessed he devoured you. His nose brushed against your skin. It was knowing his eyes were on you the entire time that made everything feel ten times more stimulating. You let out a quiet gasp and gripped his hair.

“You’re so good for me.” He gave you a broad lick. “So perfect.”

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them inside you and scissoring them open to stretch you out not that you needed much with how well he had fucked you before. Still, it was the thought of giving you pleasure that spurred him on.

“Wriothesley,” you said.

He hummed to show you he was listening, the vibration made you quiver.

“I want your cuffs.”

He paused and pulled away, perking up. He secretly loved it when you surprised him.

“Oh? What for?”

You smiled and gestured for his cuffs. He scrambled off the queen-sized bed and walked butt naked to where he left his cuffs. You admired his ass from the bed. He had a great ass, he knew it too, it was why he wore his jacket around Meropide. His nickname Ricecake had gotten around the Fortress years ago and whilst it was okay when he was a convict, he didn’t need that level of familiarity as the Duke. Besides, you were the only one he wanted observing his ass.

He climbed back onto the bed and handed them to you, the spiked metal looked so good in your hands. His eyes flickered to the rings on your ring finger—his rings. The ones he gave you when he officially proposed.

He never ended up fighting that day due to the administrator’s sudden disappearance.

He recalled how you had run around Meropide searching for him, your hair a mess, the beginnings of one of the love bites he had left dauntingly close to view, poking out of one of his shirts that you had thrown on instead of your own. He recalled how you had slammed open the door to the administrator’s office, breathless, beautiful, with your eyes full of tears to him sitting behind the desk organising the abandoned files. He recalled how he claimed you again there, in that office over and over and over again. The other man’s ring was long gone somewhere down the many drains of Meropide, and your sentence cleared not long after. There were perks to becoming the administrator of the fortress of Meropide. Perks that had the maid of that man who hurt you disappear to a place only known by Celestia, the Archons, Navia, and Wriothesley. Neuvillette knew too but unless there was a trial, he would keep his nose out of it.

You knelt on the bed swinging the cuffs on your fingers.

“Where have you gone?” you cooed bringing him back to reality.

“Mm, nowhere, just admiring the view,” he said coolly.

You shook your head and pushed him to lay back against the pillows.

“You’re working too hard, your grace. I can fix that,” you said and straddled him.

Reaching above him, you cuffed his arms to the bed frame.

He cocked a brow and playfully tugged against the restraints.

“Ah, I hope so,” he said.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, smirking.

His cock twitched at the memory of your first time together.

“Remember the safeword?” you asked.

Seeing you sat on him, your eyes filled with life, he couldn’t care less that you didn’t remember your past before Meropide. He didn’t care that you didn’t recall how he was the boy you gave bread to once when you spotted him wandering away from his home. How you had given him, a complete stranger what looked like your last piece of food because he was sitting alone. He didn’t care if all you remembered was your last two and a half decades together… because you were here now with him. You chose him just as he chose you.

“Time," he responded.

masterlist

Reblogs w/ tags and comments are very much appreciated! If you enjoyed this, please feel free to consider dropping a follow as well! <3

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#wriothesley imagines #genshin impact #wriothesley fanfic #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #genshin smut #fluff #smut #angst #light angst #angst with a happy ending

[physalian]

In Defense of Fanfiction (Or the perfect starting point for your original novel)

Fanfic gets a bad rap pretty much everywhere except Tumblr. It’s misunderstood and misrepresented by its average works, seen as juvenile and cringey, or a banal point of contention between a famous person or piece of media and its fans.

Outside of fanfic that writes about real people, especially smut fics of real people, I support the art wholeheartedly. Fictional characters are one thing, but personally, caricaturing a celebrity’s life for public consumption and writing or drawing them in compromising content without their consent is a little weird. You do you. Don’t like, don’t read, as they say.

Fanfic is the perfect starting point for a few reasons:

It places you in a creative box and forces you to work within those constraints

It does all the worldbuilding and character concepts for you

It lets you write way outside your comfort zone

When published and receiving feedback, it boosts your self-confidence

It's incredibly flexible

It’s practice. All practice is good practice

—

Behold your creative box

When I was little I had no idea the majority of fanfic was shipping fics. I always pictured and looked for canon-divergent alternate universes. Like, what if X happened in this episode instead of Y? What if this character never died?

Fanfic demands you work within someone else’s canon, whether it’s an OC in the canonical world, or the canonical characters in an AU. These are like little bowling bumpers saving you from the gutter, but also keeping you on a straight-ish path toward the pins.

The indecisiveness of too many choices can be too intimidating when you’re first starting out. You want to be a writer but you have no idea where to begin, what genre to pick, what characters you want to chronicle, what themes you want to explore.

Even if it sits on your computer never to see the light of day, you still got those creative juices flowing.

Pre-packaged worldbuilding

Sometimes all we want is to get to the good stuff. Maybe I want to write a story about elemental magicians but Last Airbender already exists and I just want to play in a pre-existing sandbox. So I write some OCs into that world and have a free-for-all.

I don’t have to come up with my own lore, world history, magic system rules and mechanics, politics, geography—any of it. I get to just focus on the characters.

Even if you’re writing an AU, like say a coffee shop AU, you don’t have to think about brand new characters, you can just think “What would M do?” and go from there. The trade-off is your readers will expect canonical characters to behave in-character, but I think it’s worth it.

Stretch beyond your comfort zone!

Do you hate writing action scenes? Go practice with a shonen anime fic. Need work on dialogue? Write some high-fantasy fic, or a courtroom drama. Practice a fistfight by watching fistfights and writing what you see, and do it over and over again until what you read makes you feel like you're watching what’s on screen.

But beyond that—practice genres that you aren’t super familiar with. If you’re new to fantasy, write fantasy fic. Or a mystery novel/show, thriller, comedy, satire, adventure, what have you. The nature of fanfic still gives you those “guardrails” and you can get some brutally honest feedback on how you’re doing.

And, of course, the realm of M-rated romance and smut fics. I haven’t because I think I would die of embarrassment if I tried and I never intend to include sex scenes in my works anyway, but if you do want to, use the internet as your test audience. Post it on a throwaway account if you’re nervous.

Build that self-confidence!

The fandoms I used to write for are super dead, so it’s insane how I still get email notifications that so-and-so liked my fic to this day. Comments are as elusive as ever, but random strangers on the internet telling me they liked my work is a magical reassurance that my writing isn’t actually awful.

Random strangers on the internet are, as we all know, beholden to no moral obligation to be kind to your little avatar face, or be kind to be polite. So a rando taking the time to like my work or even leave a positive comment can feel more honest than one of my friends telling me what they think I want to hear.

I tend to avoid the more present aspects of fandom like online communities, forums, social media, what have you, so I get a delayed and diluted aspect of any given fandom through completed works. Which means, in general, I get to avoid the worst and most toxic aspects of fandom and get to sift through positive feedback and critique.

Even if your fanfic isn’t written with stellar prose, it’s fanfic. We don’t expect Pulitzer-prize winning content. And if your work isn’t up to snuff, people are more likely to just ignore it than put you on blast (at least in my experience, I never got a bad comment or a “flame” in the old FFN days).

Fanfic doesn’t care about the rules of published literature

On the one hand, try not to practice bad habits, but with this point I mean that your layout, punctuation, formatting, paragraph styles, chapter length–all of it is beholden to no rules. I get as annoyed as the next reader with giant blocks of paragraphs, or the double-spacing between pages of single-sentence paragraphs, but if the story’s good enough I might ignore it.

There’s more than just straight narrative fics, though. People write “chat” fics, or long streams of text and group chat conversations. The scene breaks can come super rapidly–I’ve seen fics with a single sentence in between line breaks to show the passage of time. And without the polish of a traditionally published novel, I’ve never seen a purer distillation of author voice in any medium more than fanfic.

All practice is good practice

Even if it’s crack fiction, or a one-off one-shot, or something meant to be lighthearted and straightforward and free from complex worldbuilding and intricate plots. It really helps break writer’s block when you can shift gears and headspaces entirely and you can get relatively instant feedback to keep you motivated.

Beyond that, the “guardrails” help you stay consistent as far as character growth and personality if you struggle with designing rich characters.

The most recent fanfic I wrote was just a couple years ago, for a dead fandom I didn’t think would get any traffic whatsoever. It wasn’t my original works, but the feedback on that fic gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get back into writing more seriously.

—

In short, I support fanfic. I may not be proud of my earliest fics' prose now, but I am proud that they walked so I can now run.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #fanfic #fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3 #ffn

[sv5hive]

take a break | sv5

pairing: sebastian vettel x fem!reader

warning(s): unhealthy studying habits(?), self-doubt, academic failure etc, etc.

word count: 797

note: this is incredibly self indulgent bcos guess who failed their chemistry exam!!! hahahaha you guessed it it's me!! (if i don't laugh i'll cry.)

masterlist!

hours of staring at a bright computer screen in a pitch black room had clearly began taking its effects after the words began to warp and swirl around. a dozen empty cans of redbull sat at the bottom of your bin along with several scraps of paper you had torn apart in frustration.

you couldn't even remember when you sat down at your desk to study. all you knew was that you had an important exam the next day and you felt hopelessly unprepared. you tore your eyes away from the blinding screen to look outside your window. the moon shone through sparse clouds illuminating the desolate streets. usually, the roads were teeming with cars trying to get home but at this time of night you were the only one awake.

"schatz? what are you still doing up?"

in the midst of zoning out, you failed to hear your boyfriend entering through the door.

was it really that late?

"i'm almost done, seb. i just have to finish this little bit now."

"come on, how long have you been sat at that desk, hm? studying for hours on end does more bad than good."

"i know, i just- i'm almost finished i promise. this test is really important and i have to do well."

"hey, hey, what's wrong?"

he rushed over to you with furrowed brows and outstretched arms.

without even realising, tears had brimmed your eyes and began tumbling down your face at an alarming rate.

"nothing, it's nothing. uhm, i'll finish this and then i'll come to bed."

you hastily wiped away your tears with your sleeves but they seemed to be never ending.

"it's obviously not nothing, schatz. if it's making you cry like this it's something to talk about."

the seconds ticked by as you debated whether you were ready to reveal what had been plaguing your mind. clearly sensing your inner turmoil, sebastian tugged you out of the chair and towards the kitchen.

"come with me to the kitchen, i'll make us some tea so you can calm down."

after two cups of hot chamomile tea had been made and placed on the counter, sebastian sat opposite you and patiently waited for you to speak without pushing you. your tears slowed down to faint sniffles as you sipped on the tea silently. annoyingly, sebastian was right and it did help you compose yourself. you put down your half empty cup and cleared your throat.

"i've been struggling with my studies. there's just so much to remember and it just gets harder and harder to keep up but everyone else is fine and i don't understand why i'm the only one who can't do the simplest tasks."

at this point, it was difficult to see through your hot tears and your face was burning up with embarrassment. sebastian was quick to place his hand over yours to try and bring you some sense of comfort.

"schatz, you are the smartest person i know. if you're finding it difficult then you're probably not the only one. i'm sure everyone can see how much effort you're putting in and that's all anyone can ask of you. if you don't do well on the test tomorrow it's not the end of the world, ok? but i think you will be completely fine, im certain."

you nodded half-heartedly, not fully convinced despite his little pep talk. you rubbed any remaining tears away and attempted to put a smile on your face.

"yeah, sorry i just feel like an idiot dumping all this on you when you just got home from work. how was your day?"

he got up from his seat to encase you in his arms. he might not be able to help with your assignments but he could definitely be there to support you with anything and everything else.

"don't apologise for your feelings. i'm sorry i didn't realise you were having a hard time. i should've noticed you weren't coping well. and my day was good, thank you for asking."

you smiled into his chest at his heartfelt apology for something that was never his fault to begin with.

"don't be silly, seb. it's not your job to constantly watch me. i should be able to do that myself."

"i know you can take care of yourself but it doesn't hurt to ask for help sometimes. it might feel like you're alone but you're not. i'm always here for you, you know that right?"

he tightened his hold on you as if to reassure you further and peppered the crown of your head with soft kisses.

you leaned up to place a peck on his cheek to express your gratitude in a way you would never be able to do justice with words.

"yeah, i know."

#f1 x reader #f1 x you #sv5 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 imagine #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel fluff

[gyusimp]

°• 🍡 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚜 🍡 •° [Dom Mitsuri Kanroji x Fem reader]

Ok, I know this post is a bit different so let me explain. I have a friend who's sickly in love with Mitsuri, so she literally paid me to write a fic for her hahaha. I had never written femxfem before, doing this took me out of my comfort zone and even helped me unblock myself! It was a new experience and at the same time fun, I was satisfied with the result so I wanted to post it here in case anyone is interested lmao otherwise just ignore it. I'll post it on AO3 later too.

°•Read Part 02 here!

🍡WARNINGS: NSFW | Fem character x fem reader | Smut | Modern AU | Both of them are adults | Minors DON'T interact.

You were outside her door, in the hallway of her apartment after ringing the bell. Mitsuri would not take long to leave and so it was. After about 10 seconds she appeared on the other side of the door with a big smile on her face as she invited you in.

You had a math test in 1 week at university, you weren't exactly good at math so your friend immediately offered to give you some lessons, practice some topics and help you pass the test with the highest possible score.

"Welcome back, y/n-chan!" She greeted you, excited.

You took off your shoes and left them at the entrance and then headed to Mitsuri's room, the sound of your bare feet and hers walking on the floor accompanied their voices down the hall until she entered her room. The study desk was clean and tidy ready to work so you put your small backpack on the floor next to the bed and sat on one of the chairs that Mitsuri had brought.

"Thank you so much Mitsuri, you have no idea how much this will help me, you are amazing." You thanked her, for the thousandth time since she offered you her help.

"It's nothing y/n-chan! Anything for my friend" she said with flushed cheeks, moving one of her hands while holding her face embarrassedly with the other. "How about we start now?" One took a seat next to the other, you took out some graph paper, your pencil case and your math book. You told Mitsuri what you had to study and which ones were difficult for you, she was not only very good at math but she was also very sweet and patient with you so that gave you enough confidence to ask all the questions you wanted.

She was as sweet as a kindergarten teacher, she even congratulated you when the answer in the exercises you did was correct. It had already been 1 hour and a half since the study session began so the best thing was a short break to clear your mind and prevent you from falling asleep.

"You're doing great! How about a 20 minute break?"

"Cool, I didn't want to fall asleep." You joked, laughing with Mitsuri.

"I'll go get a glass of water, do you want water too?" She asked.

"OK thanks."

Mitsuri stood up and stretched raising her arms, you looked for no reason in her direction without thinking and watched just as she adjusted her skirt after standing up making your chest jump. Mitsuri always wore tight or short clothes, and this skirt was very short so you could see the beginning of her butt as she started to walk towards the door. When she left the room you tried to erase that image from your head and think about something else, maybe read your notes again and thus distract yourself quickly but all that came to mind was the scene when she opened the door of her apartment and the first thing you saw after her face was her tight bust under the little t-shirt she was wearing and that prominent v-neckline showing a big part of the beginning of her boobs. Was it starting to get hot? You decided to take off the cardigan you were wearing and freshen up, luckily you were wearing shorts and a tank top.

After a few seconds, the pink-haired girl entered the room with 2 glasses of water in her hands, the water was so cold that small drops slipped down the glass.

"Thanks girl, this was what I needed." You said, hoping that drinking something cool would stop your pulse racing.

ೃ࿐♡ೃ࿐♡ೃ࿐♡ೃ࿐♡ೃ࿐♡ೃ࿐♡

About 25 minutes of class passed after having had that little break time, you were starting to get bored and despite putting all your effort into paying attention you couldn't solve this exercise. The problems were the most difficult and Mitsuri noticed your frustrated expression trying to solve it.

"Do you have any question?" She asked attentively.

"I can't understand this part, do the exponents have to be multiplied here too? Agh! I feel so stupid..."

"You're not stupid y/n-chan! You've already managed to solve other exercises, you're very smart!"

You looked at the clock on the screen of your cell phone, there was still time to complete the agreed 2 hours of study so you sighed tired when you thought about it.

"So far you've done really well, so I think we can take another break." Mitsuri said, trying to cheer you up.

"Ok, I hope that helps." You got up from the chair and stretched again as did Mitsuri. She got up from the chair and walked to her bed to get on and crawl on the mattress towards the pillows, you looked behind you and realized two things that made you feel too nervous again. She sat cross-legged but her skirt was very short so inevitably you could see her panties and because of the position of her legs you could have seen more but you decided to place your eyes elsewhere.

"Even I feel a bit tired" Mitsuri said.

"What are you talking about? I'm the one who's been burning out her one neuron." You teased, both of you laughing in unison.

"I mean, I've never spent so much time sitting in those chairs, I usually use my bed as a study area so now my back is tingling haha."

"Me too!" You said, sitting on the bed next to her.

Mitsuri sighed and ran one of her hands over her shoulder and back. "Do you mind?" She asked. You didn't have time to react when she reached under her clothes to unhook her bra and remove it, throwing it elsewhere.

"N-not at all, don't worry." You and Mitsuri were quite confident so she was used to doing things like this in front of you without knowing that you were trying hard to hide your nerves.

"These things can be really uncomfortable sometimes, especially when, well...you know." She said, pouting as she massaged her breasts. Why had she done that? Now you felt bad for not being able to stop seeing her. Her little shirt was so tight to her body that it hugged her breasts perfectly, making her nipples stand out from under the fabric. Her breasts were large and the way they bounced under her clothes when she took off her bra kept replaying inside your head. "Sure you're not hot? I can turn on the fan if you want."

"Oh thank you. I'd like that very much."

You stayed sitting on the bed hugging your knees while Mitsuri stood up to go turn on the fan. When you felt the cool breeze hit your skin, you couldn't help but close your eyes and lie down on the pillows while leaving your legs bent. You felt a movement on the mattress so you assumed that Mitsuri had returned to the bed but then she didn't move again and remained silent so you wonder if she was still there or had left the room so you opened your eyes to find out. When you opened your eyes, you caught Mitsuri looking directly at your thighs and between your legs, with your knees bent that way she could easily see your panties under your shorts. This definitely made you too nervous, you were about to sit down and close your legs but another thought came to your head faster. She was also watching you like you were a while ago so that got you a bit horny.

Your face was very red just like Mitsuri's when she felt trapped by you but despite that she didn't try to hide what she was doing or at least try to look a little shy so that only made you keep moving forward.

"All in order?" You asked, spreading your legs with the excuse that your knees were blocking the view of her face in front of you.

At this point it was quite likely that you didn't care anymore and both of you would completely lose your shame.

"What are you talking about?" Mitsuri asked, starting to crawl towards you on the mattress.

"You didn't stop looking at me, it's unfair if I have my eyes closed." You answer.

Sometimes you two used to joke around in similar ways but now, things were getting a bit further, you both subconsciously expected one of you to stop but you kept going. You kept your legs open and Mitsuri lay on your abdomen between them, causing your core to rub dangerously against her and feeling her breasts lean against you.

"Of course that's fair, you were looking at me too so now we're even." She said, making you blush.

Both of you fell silent, Mitsuri staring at you while you tried to look anywhere but her face and that included the low neckline of her t-shirt in front of you. Mitsuri moved in place, at first you thought that she was settling into her place or she would just get up and the class would continue but everything changed when you realized that she started rubbing on you provocatively. Mitsuri settled her legs on the bed keeping one straight and the other bent to rub her own core against her panties and the mattress making her large breasts massage over you. The position of her legs made her little skirt mess up, leaving her butt exposed, showing you her tight little lace panties.

You didn't say anything, you just gasped and spread your legs more so that she could fit better in the middle of you. She smiled at you with desire so that she felt more confident to move as she wanted. Mitsuri placed her arms on each side of you to hold on better and continue rubbing on the mattress and on top of you, she even had the courage to start panting a little just to annoy you and increase your blush. Mitsuri wouldn't stop looking at you and see  doing this kind of thing made you feel too nervous and even more when she was so close to you; but you'd be lying if you thought this moment was weird or awkward, each passing minute turning you on more and more and just waiting for one thing to lead to the next. You wondered if at some point she was going to touch you.

"This feels s-so good..." Mitsuri gasped. She settled between your legs and lowered one of her hands to her panties to take them and rub them better against her wet core. "You've never tried this before y/n-chan?...it feels really good."

"N-no..." you managed to reply, feeling her breasts on you turned you on more and more besides the sight in front of you.

"Really? Never before?...self-satisfaction is just as important as self-love, girl." She told you.

You didn't know what to answer, Mitsuri settled back and took her hand out from between her legs. She held on to the mattress again and it was after that when she groped her hand directly between your legs inside your shorts, over your dressed cunt making you arch your back in surprise. You were about to say something but you didn't even have time because she started rubbing her fingers against your panties causing a lot of friction with each brush of the fabric.

"A-AAH!" You moaned, surprised to feel her fingers in your panties.

Hearing your voice like that made Mitsuri turn on more, causing her to start moving her fingers faster as well as her hips against the bed. With every movement, she could feel her wet panties brushing over and over again in the middle of her slit, right on her slippery clit. The feeling was perfect so she wanted you to experience it too.

"Y/n-chan...I want to make you feel really good, aah-ah." she moaned.

Mitsuri took her hand out of your panties for just an instant, grabbing your shorts and pulling them down over your hips and butt until she took them off and tossed them around, exposing your black lace panties fitting your pussy on her face.

The pink-haired girl's fingers took the center of your panties and she began to rub the fabric making sure that each touch was right on your clit just like she did until little by little you were wetting the fabric of your underwear; you even started to move your hips to get a better feel. Mitsuri noticed that you began to get wet very quickly and slowly began to moan in need.

"D-doesn't that feel amazing?" Mitsuri asked. "The rub on the clit is perfect-aah! I'm so-so wet! And you too...mmhh."

You were both about to cum if she continued like this, but Mitsuri didn't want this to happen, at least not yet. She wanted to try more things and at the same time make sure that you enjoyed it as much as she did. Mitsuri stopped and got up, tooked off her skirt and sat up to crawl over to you.

"Don't you think it would be better to feel…closer?" She proposed to you, biting her pink lip. She traced a line with her finger all over your slit, feeling your wet labia. "We are both very wet." You stayed in the same position and Mitsuri imitated it in front of you, legs spread and leaning on her arms on the bed. "I'd like to feel you…here" she said, spreading her legs and making her panties shift to let her cunt peek out from under the fabric.

"Then do it..." you replied.

Hearing that made her heart jump with happiness. Mitsuri came up to you and took your panties off, then she got rid of her panties as well and left them lying around. She took your thighs squeezing them sensually to accommodate your legs around her waist and make you hook her between your legs. She did the same and that's when you realized how flexible Mitsuri was when she spread your legs and hers and hooked you in the same way against the bed, letting her breasts crash against yours almost on your face. When he was in the position she wanted, she dropped putting some pressure on you and sat down so that her pussy was exactly on yours, making you moan when you felt his wet labia. Mitsuri leaned over and settled on your hips, holding onto her arms on either side of you and beginning to move her hips, slow movements in circles and back and forth. The contact between your most sensitive points was direct, the position of the open legs of both and each of the movements made your lips move and your cunts open to collide and slide against each other.

Wet sounds began to accompany your and her moans throughout the room, you moved your hips against Mitsuri's to cause more friction. Both cunts wet rubbing each other, your clit massaging against Mitsuri's was the most perfect sensation you've ever felt in your life. You looked up or squeezed your eyes but when you looked ahead and saw Mitsuri's neckline you completely sank in pleasure and didn't take your eyes off her. Her tits moved and bounced on you with each of her thrusts, her hard nipples standing out under her tight t-shirt. Mitsuri's movements began to get faster and faster, crashing and bouncing off of you, she began to grind her vagina against yours increasing the odds of bringing both of you an amazing orgasm. You realized something, Mitsuri's t-shirt was too small and her bust was too big, her boobs began to bounce more and more forcefully from her cleavage and seeing that made you crazy and she didn't seem to care at all; she just kept moving on you, getting wet on your vagina until the position she was in and her strong thrusts caused one of her breasts to come completely out of her clothes bouncing on you and then her other tit did the same. You didn't take your eyes off her, her pink nipples were rubbing on your chest so you decided to take them to massage them with your hands and make her as aroused as you were.

"Y-your boobs are so big-aah! I love them."

"You're also...a-aah- you're beautiful y/n-chan! Your little wet cunt is so cute ah-mnnh!" Mitsuri moved away from you a bit and took off her shirt, making her breasts bounce even more when she took it off. You didn't stop seeing her for a second, moving more.

When she returned to the position she was in, you put both hands directly on her butt to massage it and put some downward pressure so that your cunt was closer to hers, you squeezed and touched her ass making her moan for a long time until that you felt the need for more. Your left hand slid between her buttocks until it reached her wet pussy and your right hand began to play with your own pussy or the part that Mitsuri's couldn't cover, wetting the fingers of both hands, pumping your own hole and feeling this made Mitsuri squirm on top of you, leaning her head back moaning with all her might and moving faster on top of you. Your juices and hers splashed between her slippery cunt and your legs spread wider to rub you with each of her folds.

"AA-AH! Yy/n...y/n-chan! Mmghh-aah!! D-you think you're gonna cum already?"

You couldn't even answer because you were about to, you moved your hips hard to feel Mitsuri on your clit while you tightened around your fingers, you squeezed Mitsuri's ass again making her moan as you did when a warm sensation it went down from your abdomen straight into your pelvis.

"AAH-AAH MITSURI!! I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum! AAH!!"

Your legs spread wide, your back arched and a sticky white discharge shot straight out of your vagina drenching Mitsuri, causing her to do the same and cum in your pussy. Both wetting each other while she was still bouncing her pussy against yours in reaction to the orgasm until her speed slowed down.

Her thighs and yours were wet and sticky, you saw Mitsuri's breasts and as they glistened with sweat, sweat dripped from the back of your knees to your feet and your legs trembled as did your breath. Mitsuri lay down next to you and let both of you stretch out your legs after staying in that position for so long. Before she fully pulled away from you, you could see thin white threads coming from her cunt joining yours, leaving you wet and feeling slippery between your legs. Mitsuri's chest rose and fell with her heavy breathing, even though neither of you spoke it wasn't an awkward moment at all. You two looked into each other's eyes and different parts of your body at the same time. You didn't know what time it was, you even completely forgot the reason you were here, you saw the desk and looked at all your study material and then you saw the time on the clock next to the bed on a small table. 6:44 pm It was already getting dark outside and that worried you a bit.

"That was a very interesting lesson." You said, breaking the silence.

"We should repeat it another day, don't you think?" Mitsuri spoke, sensually.

"You think so? Then you won't be able to get me out of here that easily in a study session." You joked.

"You don't have to go today, I know it can be dangerous to go out at night so you can spend the night here..."

"You mean...a second round?" You said, getting up to approach Mitsuri.

"If that's what you want."

"Only if you let me go above you this time..." you replied, straddling her.

#kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #mitsuri kanroji #mitsuri #mitsuri x y/n #mitsuri x reader #mitsuri smut #mitsurikanrojismut #mitsurixfemreader #fem x fem #kimetsu no yaiba smut

[stuckinapril]

u don’t have to answer this if u don’t want to or u feel u don’t have anything to say on it (obvi) but how do u deal with jealousy and comparison?

i genuinely just like my shit. i love how i look like, i love my stuff, i love where i come from, i love my family and friends, and i appreciate all the circumstances (good and bad) that have led me to be the person i am today. i've done a lot of esteemable things that have bolstered my confidence growing up, like getting an extremely hard degree and pushing myself outside of my comfort zone more than ever before. i treat other people w kindness and respect. i make sure to be a source of support rather than needless negativity. what people think of me (or have) doesn't get under my skin anymore, bc i've already proven my worth to myself. the fact of the matter is, i'll always hold my own opinion of myself higher than i do other people's opinions of me. i'm at a place where i just don't care that much. i've lost the need to correct people on their takes of me a long time ago.

my own happiness is king--everything else is secondary. if i like it, that's enough for me.

i find it pointless to compare myself to somebody else, simply because no two people have been dealt the exact same cards. i wouldn't compare a rose to a lily, so why should i be comparing myself to people who're--no matter who they are, no matter where they're from--never gonna be me? i'm me. the only person i should be comparing myself to is my past self. i am only in competition w myself. that is all.

as for jealousy, viewing people who have things i want as proof of concept has really helped. if another person gets a higher score on a test, i don't get jealous that they outdid me. i just view them as proof that i can get that score if i studied more efficiently. someone else's success isn't a lack of your own--it's just proof you can reach that success, even if the route doesn't look exactly the same, even if it might take longer.

contentment is entirely subjective. i've known wealthy people who're incredibly miserable. i've known people who struggle financially but could not be happier. other people's advantages don't rattle me, bc i don't care about them, bc i'm so eternally grateful for what i already have. i've also never really been that materialistic to begin with, so i've always understood that a person's worth lies in who they are rather than what they own (whether it be things, money, opportunities...). i can say w my whole chest that i wouldn't swap places w the most famous, most rich celebrity there is. i legitimately don't want to. i know that even if i have to work harder for things, i'll have more to say by the end of it all, and that in and of itself is so profound. not to mention the satisfaction from having challenged myself to get there--and i love a good challenge.

i've unleared the idea that i should view other women as competition. life is hard, we all struggle, we'll be living in a man's world for a long time, and it's just not worth the energy. yeah i'm ambitious, but not at the expense of other people. there's enough room for everyone. another woman's achievement doesn't mean less space for mine. we'll all be fine.

w all that said!! there are bad days. no human is just confident all the time, doesn't feel jealous all the time, doesn't compare themself all the time, doesn't let people's opinions get under their skin all the time. don't feel bad for doing it every now and then. it's natural and normal and just part of the human experience. nobody is perfect. just focus on you, view other people as inspiration rather than competition, and compare your progress to nobody else's but your own. it's been a game changer for me :)

#ask

[brights-place]

Hey so like, I was wondering if you could do like a Branch or JD x Metal troll s/o One shots? (Rock or punk if you can’t do metal) but if you can’t do it in general, that’s totally OK. I totally understand ^^

-🪐

Branch and John Dory dating an Metal! S/O

Pairings: Branch X Reader, JD X Reader (Seperate)

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff

A/N: As an metal head I'm SCREAMING SO LOUDLY WITH EXCITEMENT! I enjoy this request so I hope you like it since I've been getting very lazy to write more since I have some tests coming up but hope you like it (,,>﹏<,,)

John Dory

- You and John dory meet inside of a metalhead concert... Well more like john dory was going to go drop Floyd off to the concert but his eyes met yours pulled in by your tall figure and your messy like state but the bat wings on your back aswell. - John dory shyly asked you about well Metal music - It turns out that you have many interests in common with each other, both inside and outside of the metal music genre about you. - It was the mutual love of music well your love for it and John dory nodding his head pretending he understands! - that forms a deep bond between you two. As you spend time with your boyfriend and listen to metal, you begin to appreciate his passionate personality and unique style, and begin to fall more and more in love with him as he does with you - You are good friends with Floyd after meeting John dory's family which is acutally pretty cute - When John dory wakes up and see's you looming over him with corpse makeup though he screams so loudly it isn't funny... It is funny - John dory knows yoy have a passion for the genre and always find ways to express yourself through it - He does get freaked out when you play it out of nowhere but hey! he loves you - He sometimes asks you to turn it down which you comply with of course - John dory tries to get you to listen to pop but when you just stare and bop your head slightly he knows you like it but it can't ever replace Metal - He wears your metal shirts just for fun and whenever you see him in them you rush over to hug him - He loves having you kiss him if your wearing black lipstick he likes the kisses since he is touch starved.

Branch

- You met at a concert accidentally bumping into each other - When Branch became a rock zombie and turned back to a pop troll he still enjoyed some rock music and maybe he would enjoy metal music too! - To branch you were a total rockstar - Branch knows how you love everything about metal, from the clothes to the music to the attitude.

- But, behind the confident and tough exterior, Branch has a soft side that only you can see

- You and Branch are a perfect example of opposites attracting. (name) is daring and unpredictable while Branch is reserved and thoughtful.

- You and Branch have a deep connection and understanding of each other despite their differences in genre - Branch is a true supporter of your ambitions and talents especially when you want to jam out and singing metal songs. - You love helping branch grow and gain confidence. - (name) loves talking about metal music with Branch and educating him on the different genres and artists as he stares at you lovingly with an soft smile

- (name) and Branch have a strong sense of loyalty toward each other. - branch always see you often head banging to your favorite heavy metal tunes. - (name) pushes Branch to be the best version of himself by challenging him and encouraging him to step outside of his comfort zone. - You have a wardrobe full of edgy and trendy metal shirts with graphic designs and slogans. - Since your a metal head if he ever finds something he knows you would like for example when vising barb with poppy he bought an Rock and Metal band shirts when he gave it to you he laughed when you kissed his cheeks

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

#fluff #headcannons #trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 #dreamworks trolls #john dory headcanons #john dory x reader #trolls x reader #brozone x reader #john dory trolls #trolls fandom #trolls dreamworks #brozone #john dory #branch trolls #branch #Branch X Reader #trolls world tour #x reader

[deandoesthingstome]

Holiday Angel

Pairing: CEO!August Walker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 18K; Um. You’re welcome? Get some snacks and water.

@fvckinghenrycavill asked nicely, so I'm releasing this earlier than planned. Also, I think @mayloma might be waiting patiently?

Warnings: age difference (m 40′s, f 20′s; it’s your best friend’s dad for god’s sake), mention of cheating, mention of phone sex, masturbation (f), light!dom (m)/sub (f), praise kink, lingerie, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, p in v sex in various positions, protected sex, light bondage, spanking and ass play; if this doesn’t sound like something you’d be into, I won’t be offended if you scroll on by

A/N: Let's be clear: I've only seen MI:Fallout once. I really only know August from Tumblr. This is an AU, where he is not a traitorous anarchist. I also am not comfortable writing a strict dom, so please take a softer August than you may be used too. Additionally, you are a US college Junior in this story (21-ish). Don't worry, I'm not 21 either. Trust me. It's okay. This is a fantasy.

I've also been extremely self-indulgent here. You're gonna see some names you might recognize. You might wonder what college you go to, where in the US you are, or what year it is. I have taken many liberties. Please absolutely enjoy them. (And if anyone was following along with this post, you may notice a scene change. Trying out my inclusivity options.)

And I have a Spotify playlist I used for various scene inspiration if you're interested.

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker (could anyone really tie him down?), but I do own these words and this story. Do not repost as your own. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are more than welcome. It’s how I get my nourishment.

Header by me. Dividers by the ever wonderful and giving @firefly-graphics.

You dropped the Blue Book for your last final on Professor Marshall's desk and skipped out of the room with glee, suppressing the urge to turn back and grab one more mental image of the grumpy professor for the road.

Christmas break was officially on!

Gemma was waiting in the loading zone outside McKinney Hall, her brand new Audi packed with both your bags and ready for the five hour road trip home.

"Bitch, what took you so long?" she teased, knowing you were actually a little early. You had breezed through the test and ran back to the dorms to meet her. She handed you your favorite iced coffee indulgence, a special treat for making it through the week.

"Let's hit it!" you shouted, turning up the volume on the Spotify playlist Gemma had primed and ready to go.

You swapped driving duties halfway, stopping at a drive-thru to grab french fries to supplement the cut fruit and snacks you packed for the trip.

"God, I am craving salt right now!" Gemma exclaimed.

"Auntie on the way?" you sympathized.

"Yesss," Gemma groaned. "And Mikey wants to meet up first thing when he flies in on Sunday. God I hope she gets lost on the way!"

"How's that been going? Long distance and all."

You were glad you and Gemma had decided NOT to room together again after the fiascos of Freshman and Sophomore year. It was only through the saving grace of several grueling classes that kept you library or study group bound for a good portion of the time that you had been able to overcome the petty drama.

It was Gemma's father who had actually suggested she move off campus alone this year and you were pleased to find a lighter class load that allowed you to spend more quality time with your childhood best friend without wanting to rip her face off every five minutes. He was so wise, that Mr. Walker.

But living apart kept you from knowing every single detail of each other's lives, so the drive was a perfect time to catch up on the minutiae.

"It's been weird, honestly. I mean, hooking up last summer was totally unexpected. I can't believe he finally let Chelsea go, but what a fucking night that was!" Gemma squealed as you tamped down your jealousy.

Everyone in high school had the hots for Mike, and you were no exception. But Gemma caught his eye at the last hurrah before heading back to college this past September and, well, girl code. Even if your tastes in men hadn’t already started changing, he was off your list forever now. Especially because he had actually seemed hellbent on making a true go of it with her, promising nightly calls that unfortunately turned weekly as the semester dragged on.

"He's seemed a little distant lately. Distracted. That missed call on Halloween really had me questioning everything he said about giving us a shot. But he's been making it up to me. The phone sex..."

"Stop. Please. I don't want to hear about him slapping one out over the phone," you laughed.

"He sounds so sexy when he comes. Long distance or otherwise."

"Ugh, god. Stop!"

"What? Like you don't love it too! What's up with you and Charlie?"

"Fuck him,” you scoffed. “D'you know, I caught him with Brigette?"

"Your roommate Brigette?"

"Yup. Right before finals started. I need to find a new living situation for next semester, stat!"

"God, why didn't you say something??? Are you okay?"

"I'm surprisingly fine. Things hadn't been so hot lately and honestly, I just don't think he's for me."

"What, missionary all the way?"

You both laughed until the tears were running.

"You should've seen his face when I asked to be on top once. It was like I killed his dog or something."

"Jesus, yeah. You're better off. You need a real man," Gemma declared.

You laughed again, but it came out with a hitch in your throat. A real man was right.

"What was that?" Gemma asked.

"What was what?" you feigned innocence, and held your breath.

"You laughed like you're hiding something. You got a thing going with one of your professors?"

You exhaled as normally as possible. Easy enough to fib your way out of this one with an opening like that.

"God, nothing's going on. But have you seen Professor Marshall? I alternately congratulate and kick myself for choosing a criminal justice major. That man is so fine to look at," you let out a whistle. "It's distracting!"

"So I've heard. Think it's too late to switch majors?"

"Why would I?"

"Not you, silly! Me," Gemma laughed.

"Your father would be so disappointed if you didn't finish your business degree. Who's he gonna leave the company to?" You winked at her, knowing she wanted nothing to do with it. She was only playing along, hoping to find a college boyfriend that would be able to keep her in the lifestyle to which she was accustomed.

You didn't think Mikey was it, but hey. Neither your circus nor your monkeys. You chatted for a bit longer before Gemma dropped into a light sleep. Girl could never last in the car as a passenger on long drives. The hum of the road put her out if she wasn’t in charge of driving.

While she slept, you thought about Mr. Walker. 

When did this infatuation start? You’d met Gemma, and by extension Mr. Walker, in 5th grade after your parents had moved across town and into a new school district. Mrs. Walker had already passed and you don’t know why Gemma’s father never remarried, but you also never saw or heard about him bringing a woman home to meet her.

In high school, when you really started paying attention to boys, you began to notice how good looking Mr. Walker was. But the most you ever hoped for was to meet a boy who would grow up to be as handsome. It wasn’t until lately, when some of your college professors had piqued your interest, that you began to fantasize about him, too. This might be a long week.

You pulled up the scenic drive and parked in front of the Walker residence around 8pm. Gemma blinked her eyes opened and stretched before getting out of the car.

"You sure it's okay I stay here until my parents get back?" you leaned over the gear shift to call out the door. "I can't believe they scheduled a whole house reflooring right before Christmas and then skipped town on me to boot."

"It's totally fine. Dad's probably gonna be busy 24-7 at the office so we'll have the run of the house. And thank God for heated pools!"

You kept your mouth shut, knowing if you showed any interest at all in why Mr. Walker would be so busy this close to the end of the year your face would probably melt off from the heat you felt every time you thought about him lately. Let alone the image of him in swim trunks in the pool. Or not in swim trunks.

Gemma leaned back into the open passenger door and you snapped out of it.

"Coming?"

You turned your whole body to open the driver door, desperate to hide from her the wanton desire you were sure adorned your face. Coming, indeed.

You both grabbed your bags from the back seat and headed up the pristine sidewalk towards the stately mid-century modern mansion Gemma called a "house". The thing could host a Hollywood premiere party and was decorated with such understated glamor you wouldn't be surprised if it would play backdrop to such a party one day. Or maybe a movie set.

The tall, rich wooden door had a thin vertical metal handle stretching from a quarter of the way down the right side, stopping a quarter of the way up from the bottom. A warm glow streamed through the large panels of windows stretching across the front of the house and exposing the elegantly decorated Christmas tree in the front living room surrounded by sleek, minimal furniture.

When Gemma finally tapped in the key code and opened the door, you stepped into the flagstone entryway and smiled at the white lights nestled in the pine garland covering the banisters of the floating stairs leading up to the master bedroom and sitting area loft, then down to the basement holding several guest rooms, the fitness and media rooms, as well as Gemma's room.

Another couple guest room suites could be found on the main entry level along with the custom gourmet kitchen and pantry, dining area, mud and laundry rooms. You knew Mr. Walker's home office was somewhere on this level as well, though you'd never dared venture down the hall to find it. He’d always made it very clear it was off limits. 

You were dying to sink into the oversized conversation couch that surrounded the sunken floor of the family room in the back of the house and stare off into the fire or out the back windows onto the deck overlooking the pool but Gemma called for you to follow her downstairs first.

"I have to get out of these clothes and then we'll DoorDash."

"No need, sweetheart." Your heart stopped as you heard the deep voice call from upstairs. "I made dinner, it's just warming in the oven. I'll get plates ready for you both, so hurry settling in."

"Dad! I thought you'd still be at the office!" Gemma exclaimed, dropping her bags and heading to the landing to give her father a hug and turning her head away to accept his kiss on the cheek.

"Well, I couldn't let you two eat cold takeout. They can never keep it warm on the drive out here." He turned, letting go of Gemma and opening his arms to you in what should have been a normal welcoming gesture if you hadn’t just been fantasizing about him half the ride home. "Good to see you again."

You suppressed a flustered squeak and pressed your lips together to stifle the drool, thankful Gemma was now behind her father and couldn't see your face as you reached for the hug. But he could. Did. For sure. Fuck.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Walker. That's very kind of you," you managed to reply while trying not to inhale his scent too deep.

"It was nothing," he let go of you and stepped back, slipping his hands slowly into the pockets of his dress slacks.

Were you staring at his muscular forearms, visible below the line of his crisp, white rolled up sleeves? God, you were. Get a fucking grip.

"We'll be right back, Dad. Thanks."

Gemma led you downstairs and sent you off to your regular overnight room down the hall from hers. You were grateful both rooms had their own bathrooms so you didn't have to pass her on your way to splash cold water on your face.

How were you going to survive these next few days before your parents came back with your aunt, uncle, and cousin for Christmas? Gemma wasn't wrong about needing a real man. You'd put up with immature boys all through high school.

Once you started college, a series of gorgeous, educated older men led your lectures over the last few years and your desires had slowly shifted. It really was no problem that Charlie had cheated on you. Perfect opportunity to drop him and move on to something more meaningful. And hopefully someone more experienced.

Has Mr. Walker been in your sights all along? No. No way. But here he was now. It wasn't right to think about him this way, but fuck he looked good tonight, that fluffy curl hanging down and that porn 'stache. What else could you call it? He even had a little of the scruff you'd really enjoyed seeing on Professor Marshall. You wondered how it would feel between your... You heaved a sigh. This can not happen.

You splashed another round of cold water and then dried your face, swapped your jeans for light cotton joggers, and then climbed the stairs to join Gemma and her dad in the dining room.

"There you are," Mr. Walker announced, standing at the head of the table with a bottle in his hand. "We thought you'd gotten lost." He flashed what felt like a knowing smirk as you froze in your tracks.

"Dad, don't be daft. She knows her way around the house." She turned to you from her seat to the right of her father and motioned to your usual guest spot across the table from her, to the left of Mr. Walker.

"Oh, let me have my fun, Gemma. Would you girls like some wine?"

"'Girls', dad? Really?"

"What would you prefer?"

"Ladies?"

Mr. Walker chuckled as he picked up the bottle and poured two glasses of wine.

"Right then. There you go, ladies."

He tilted his head to the side and glanced at you as he split his arms and passed the glasses over by the stems. You did your best to grab the bowl, but his fingers shifted up slightly as he released your glass. You heated again as they brushed the back of your hand and you took a sip immediately, trying to cover the pleasure that had to be apparent on your face.

You set the glass down and picked up your knife and fork, preparing to dig into the plate of luscious looking food in front of you. You took a bite and tried to suppress it, but a groan slipped out of your mouth as your eyes rolled closed. You closed your lips and chewed the fork-tender meat, marveling at it melting away in your mouth. When you finished swallowing, you opened your eyes to find Gemma staring at you, mouth agape.

You turned your head to find Mr. Walker's piercing blue eyes trained on yours as he leaned casually against the arm of the oversized dining chair.

"Enjoying it?"

You blinked and remembered where you were, who you were with.

"Mr. Walker, these short ribs are divine!" you declared. 

"Jesus. You act like you never ate a home-cooked meal before," Gemma snapped.

"Sorry, I just," you shook your head to clear the fog. "I mean you’ve always been a great cook, I've just never tasted anything like this."

"It's good, right?" Mr. Walker asked. “I’ve been expanding my repertoire lately.”

"It really is. Oh my god I'm so embarrassed! Gemma, I'm sorry. That was..."

You stared at her across the table with a silent plea, your eyes begging her to say something, anything. You were about to give up completely when Gemma burst into laughter, tears streaming down her face.

"You absolute freak!" she laughed and you let out a breath and laughed with her.

You kept your shit together during the rest of the dinner for the most part. But Mr. Walker poured another few glasses of wine and you could feel yourself getting tipsy.

"I think I need to head to bed, but do you need any help in the kitchen, Mr. Walker?" you asked.

"No, but thank you for the offer. Be careful down those stairs." Did he wink at you?

"See you in the morning!" Gemma called, with a lightness that told you she had well and truly forgiven the awkwardness of just an hour or so ago.

You peeled off your thin sweater and discarded your bra, leaving just a lacy camisole and your joggers. You pulled back the thick pile of covers on the bed and were about to climb in, when a wave of thirst overtook you.

You opened the bedroom door and stepped softly into the hall. The Walkers always kept a mini-fridge stocked in the media room down here. You froze as you entered the doorway.

"Oh, Mr. Walker! I was just..."

"I thought you might want a bottle of water for your nightstand."

You exhaled a small laugh as you both spoke at the same time, but then froze again as you watched the way he held the bottle. Low, at his hips. One hand on the base, the other fiddling with the cap.

" Wh..where's Gemma?" you practically whispered, unable to get your voice to cooperate suddenly.

"She's finishing up the dishes. I’m sure she'll be right down," he replied with a firm, confident tone. "Did you want this?"

He gave a slight nod in the direction of his hands, where you saw he was now tipping the bottle back and forth, before finally offering it to you with an outstretched arm and hand gripped firm around the plastic form.

"Here. Take it."

You nodded and reached for the bottle, once again trying to avoid his touch. Once again finding your fingers brushing against his.

“There you go.” 

Your stomach dropped along with his voice as you realized what a terrible idea staying here was. There was no way you were going to be able to hide your desire from Gemma if her father was going to keep acting like this. Time stood still while you tried to move something, anything. Your eyes away from his. Your mouth to say thank you. Your feet to head back to your room.

"Let's get you back to bed," he stepped forward, turning you with a hand on your shoulder, then sliding that hand down your side to your waist and guiding you down the hall.

He stopped at the door frame, pressing you gently into the room. You almost moaned at the loss of his touch as you stepped out of his reach and sat on the edge of the bed, finally finding your voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Walker."

"Sweet dreams." He absolutely winked at you. Fuck.

He pulled the door shut, leaving you all alone with the crazy feelings stirring inside you. This is your best friend's father. You reclined back in the bed. Snap out of it. Girl code isn't just about boyfriends. Pulled the covers over you. Besides, he's like, twice your age, at least. Stared at the dark ceiling, while your fingers shifted under the covers and down your belly. But the way he looked at you tonight. Slipped a hand past the waistband of your pants. He wasn't just being polite. Tentatively touched the heat between your legs.

He was flirting, there was no denying it. Maybe you could have written off the hand brush at dinner, but he was showing off with the bottle of water. He wanted you to look.

You swirled a finger gently through your folds, gathering the slick and spreading it around. You thought about his mischievous grin, his tailored pants, and his strong hands before plunging two fingers deep inside, pulling them back out slowly to circle your clit.

"More," you whispered to yourself, then obliged with fingers deep again, arching your back for better positioning.

"Right there," you moaned quietly, letting the fantasy circle around your head. You pumped in and out, curling deep to find your sweet, spongy spot while you toyed with the idea of letting him touch you.

"Please," you begged, pressing a thumb against your clit, twitching with anticipation. You couldn't wait any longer.

You pulled your slick fingers from your clenching walls and focused all your attention on your clit, rubbing tenderly while you imagined his mouth on you.

"God, Mr. Walker!" you gasped, finally reaching your peak. "August," you whispered, rolling to your side and clasping the blanket close around you while you worked to slow your heart rate before drifting off to sleep.

You woke late on Saturday. It was 10 am when you looked at the clock. The floor to ceiling blackout curtains had really done their job.

You skipped the shower, even though you craved one after the long drive and your private activity the night before. Instead, you just washed your face and wrapped a thin robe around yourself before heading up to find breakfast. Gemma was sitting at the kitchen counter typing away on her phone, empty cereal bowl in front of her.

“Oh, good. You’re up! And you didn’t shower already, perfect. Grab a bite and then let’s hang in the hot tub this morning. I have a kink in my neck from that car ride I need to work out!”

You poured yourself a bowl of cereal and mug of steaming coffee and took a seat in a low back leather barstool next to Gemma. She let you eat in silence while she finished her text conversation.

“Ugh,” she exclaimed, slamming the phone on the counter. “I can’t believe Mike got put on shift at the end of finals week.”

“That why he couldn’t get home already?”

“Yeah, says it’s like a right of passage for all new bartenders at the club. Business is light, but they schedule you with a threat that you’ll lose shifts the following semester if you don’t stay to serve the stragglers and the few locals who pop in the bar once the college crowd clears out for break.”

“But he’ll be home tomorrow, right?”

“Yep. You done?” She watched for your nod. “Well get changed and let’s hit the tub.”

You headed back downstairs to your room and fished your bikini out of your luggage. After changing, you threw the curtains aside and pulled open the sliding door leading to the heated pool deck. Gemma must have had her suit on under her robe because she was already soaking by the time you stepped outside.

You slipped into the bubbling water, immediately grateful for the suggestion. The warmth began to work on your own tension you hadn’t even realized you were holding and you let out a little moan.

“I hear you on that,” Gemma stated. “I hate long car rides! They fuck with my spinal alignment.”

“Yeah, this water feels so good.” You closed your eyes and tilted your head back against the side of the tub, sinking as deep as you could without dipping your face in the water. You snapped up when you heard the splash and blinked your eyes open to see a figure skimming under the water from the far deep end of the pool to the shallow end closer to where you sat in the hot tub.

When Mr. Walker popped his head above water and hung on the side of the pool to say good morning, you were ever so grateful for the steam hiding any lust in your eyes. 

“Hey dad.” Gemma turned from her spot to face him. 

“Are you ladies getting in the pool this morning?” he smirked.

“No, I think we’re just gonna soak and then go veg in front of the TV for a bit,” she replied, hanging off the side of the hot tub.

“Alright, well, I’m headed out to check on a few sites this afternoon. Should I plan on you for dinner or have you made other arrangements?” Mr. Walker asked.

“Dinner here sounds great, dad. Thanks.”

Gemma turned back to you as you watched Mr. Walker duck back into the water and begin a series of laps. You fluttered your eyes closed so she couldn’t see how blown your pupils were, watching him first speak with Gemma and then propel his body through the water. God, he was practically naked over there. You were practically naked over here. You leaned your head back again to pray for relief.

When you both felt loose and relaxed enough, you climbed out of the hot tub, grabbing an oversized towel from the lidded basket next to the pool to dry off. You were just bending over to reach your lower legs and feet when you heard the splash of footsteps on the pool stairs.

“Right then, that’s me done. And don’t you two load up on snacks while I’m gone. You’ll spoil your appetite.”

You held your breath as he leaned next to you to grab a towel, another mysterious smirk on his face as he rose to face you. You stood and pulled your towel up your body, pretending to wipe non-existent water from your face just to avoid any further eye contact. His body was amazing and his wet swim trunks were clinging to his thighs. If Gemma caught you staring, you were done for.

When it felt safe, you lowered the towel from your face and watched him pad up the staircase leading to the main level before entering the house. Your heart was beating a million miles per hour, but luckily Gemma was already heading inside herself.

You showered finally, then donned some comfy loungewear and joined Gemma in the media room where she’d already cued up Netflix.

“Ready to binge The Witcher?” she asked. “They just released the new season last night.”

“Ugh, that man could raw-dog me all day and night!” 

“Where is the lie???!!!???” she laughed with you.

You grabbed some water from the mini-fridge, doing your best to ignore the scene from last night that popped into your head as you settled into an oversized, reclining theater seat. Gemma paused the autoplay on the third episode and asked if you wanted some lunch. You were hungry, alright. But yeah, a sandwich sounded good.

There were still at least 3 more episodes of the season left, when Mr. Walker called down around 6.

“I’m starting dinner now. It’ll be ready shortly.”

“We’ll help,” Gemma called and flipped off the tv. You both headed upstairs to the kitchen. Gemma began to set the dining table, so you sat at the kitchen counter and asked what you could do.

“You could prep that basil for me,” Mr. Walker replied. “Here, like this.”

You watched rapt, as he proceeded to show you how he wanted you to tear the leaves gently into small pieces. When he was sure you had it right, he drizzled some olive oil in a large shallow saute pan and waited for it to warm before tossing in two packages of gnocchi. 

He stirred them around for a few minutes and when he was satisfied by their state, he ladeled them out into a serving bowl. He scooped out a few and offered them over the counter to you and Gemma. You each plucked a warm, crispy potato pillow from the spoon and you sighed when you popped it in your mouth, happy that Gemma was making the same noise and you wouldn’t be called out this time. Something about food with Mr. Walker was becoming increasingly sensual to you.

He added some more olive oil and then butter to the pan, waiting for it to melt before pouring in the heirloom cherry tomatoes he’d asked you to dry off from the colander in the deep sink. He sprinkled in some salt and gave them a quick stir, then turned to the open the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine.

He poured three glasses set on the counter and pushed two towards you and Gemma with his fingers pressed on the base of the stems. Then he raised his own glass.

“I’m glad you’re home, sweetheart,” he tipped his glass to Gemma, and then toward you. “Both of you, of course.”

You took a small sip, watching over the rim as he did the same and you held your breath while your eyes trailed along his throat as he swallowed, hoping Gemma didn’t notice you staring. 

The three of you chatted amicably, while Mr. Walker stirred the tomatoes in the pan until they began to burst, at which point he dumped the crispy gnocchi back into the pan. You watched in awe as he lifted the heavy pan with one hand and gave it a good toss, shifting it back and forth with subtle little wrist flicks that nestled the gnocchi into the simple sauce. Then he stirred in some fresh mozzarella pearls and some of the hand-torn basil, giving you a wink of thanks, before popping the whole thing under the broiler. 

He asked Gemma to carry the salad and offered you the last pour of wine before sending you off to the dining room with a fresh bottle. Seated at your usual spot, you piled a moderate amount of the bubbly dish onto your plate, inhaling the heavenly scent of basil and tomato. Mr. Walker raised an eyebrow as he held a small bowl of shaved parmesan in your direction. When you nodded, he held the dish for you while you sprinkled the cheese over your plate, eyes watching you the whole time. The fact that he simply turned and handed the bowl to Gemma to let her hold it while she sprinkled her own cheese was not lost on you.

The white wine wasn’t affecting you the way the red had the night before, so once dinner was over, you and Gemma helped clean up and then headed downstairs to finish out the season before going to bed. 

You woke yourself up in the middle of the night with your hand down your pants again, teasing your slit while you recalled the dream. 

A rugged man with long silvery hair helped you down off his horse and led you to a blanket in a clearing near a steamy pool of water. From a small bowl, he plucked a tiny ripe tomato with his fingers and gently pressed it into your waiting mouth. You sighed as the tomato burst when you bit into it and shivered when he bent over to lick the juice running down your chin with the tip of his tongue before pressing you to your back and holding you down with a heavy kiss. You whispered his name into the night once again as you came. 

“August.”

In the morning, you peeled the covers back and stretched your way out of bed. The pleasure of the mid-slumber release you gave yourself last night still tingled in your mind. You showered and dressed, then climbed the stairs again searching for Gemma and hopefully breakfast, missing that her door was still closed. You stopped short seeing Mr. Walker alone in the kitchen.

“Good morning. Did you sleep alright?” He spoke with a suspicious tone. It was like he knew. How could he know?

You swallowed and tried to find your voice. “I did. Thank you.”

“Coffee?” He held the french press up and grabbed a mug when you nodded. “I have a frittata here, too, if you’d like some.” 

“Yes, please. Smells amazing,” you inhaled and closed your eyes slowly, remembering the meals from the last few nights as well. “You’re a really good cook, Mr. Walker.” 

“I certainly try,” he winked at you. “So what do you two have going on today?”

“I don’t know. Mike gets in this afternoon and I think Gemma wants to meet up with him.”

“Will you be joining them?”

You blinked and swallowed. How do you tell a father that his daughter is probably going to be getting railed six ways to Sunday tonight, so no, you wouldn’t be joining them?

“Uh…”

“Morning!” Gemma’s cheery greeting broke the tension and you were thankful you didn’t have to tell Mr. Walker that the reunion tonight was for Gemma alone. She gave her father a peck on the cheek and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Gemma, sweetheart, are you meeting Mike tonight?” Mr. Walker asked.

“I am!” she grinned.

“Alone?”

“Yeaahhhh…” she answered, just short of shy. “Sorry dad, I probably should have said something earlier. But you can handle a night without me, right?”

Mr. Walker stared at her for a moment and suddenly all the tension was back in the room. He had to know what was going to go on tonight. How could he not?

“I’m sure I can figure something out. But please, be safe.”

You pursed your lips and widened your eyes as you turned away from them. Was he saying what it sounded like he was saying? Did he have no illusions about the extracurricular activities of his one and only daughter? Sure, she was of age and he had to know what she got up to away from home, but still. If you had to tell your parents you were going to be skipping a night home with them to get it on with your boyfriend, you’d probably melt into the furniture.

“Always am,” Gemma exclaimed cheerfully. 

“Alright, well, I’m off. I have some work to finish up here and then a few more site visits to make today.”

“On a Sunday, dad, really?”

“We’re very close to closing this deal and it has to be done before the end of the year. I want to be sure the due diligence is correct so I don’t get stuck with a billion dollar dud when everything is said and done.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“About the things I care about, why wouldn’t I be? You two have fun today. Gemma, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Not before you get home, unless you’re not going into the office tomorrow?”

“To be determined.” He gave you both a short goodbye wave and headed out.

“Awk - ward…” you sing-songed, once you were sure he was out of range.

“Ugh, I know. He’s not stupid. I mean, he knows I’m active, but it’s still a little weird being so forthcoming with him about it.”

“Has he ever had anyone…” you asked before you could filter the thought.

“I mean, you’re here all the time when I’m home. Have you ever seen him bring a woman around? I know he’s dated over the years, but no one’s ever good enough for him. They never last so he never wants to introduce us. It’s a little sad, really.”

You nodded in agreement.

“Do you want to have a swim and sit in the hot tub for a bit again this morning? Mikey’s flight gets in at 3, so I was hoping you and I could head into town for lunch and maybe some shopping and then you could drop me at his place and drive my car back here. Unless you want to meet up with anyone, of course.”

“Sounds perfect. I’m honestly just looking forward to another veg fest tonight.”

You changed into your bathing suit and slipped a robe over top, then met Gemma on the heated pool deck. 

“I can’t get over how warm it is right now! Clearly no hope for a white Christmas.”

“I know! Air’s still a bit chilly, but yeah, sucks. I’d love snow for the holidays,” you replied, dropping your towel on a lounge chair and untying your robe. You slid the fabric off your shoulders, and stepped down the stairs into the warm, salt water pool. You let your body acclimate a bit before dipping your head completely under and pushing off the bottom to glide to the far side in one breath. When you surfaced, you grabbed a hold of the side of the pool and realized Mr. Walker was standing at his office windows, staring down at you.

He held your gaze for what felt like a moment too long, then turned away, presumably toward his desk, but impossible for you to see his face. Which, to be honest, was fine because for a minute it felt like he was going to burst through the windows and eat you up.

The splash as Gemma broke the surface next to you snapped you out of your reverie and she tugged you back from the side, urging you into an easy lap race. You swam back and forth the length of the pool about twenty times before stopping back at the shallow end.

“That all you got?” Gemma called, crawling away toward the deep end again. 

You stared after her, but let your gaze raise to the windows. His window. You could see nothing inside from this far away, the light tint blocking everything. But you knew he was there. Was he still sitting at his desk, typing a memo? On the phone, arranging an international meeting? Or was he back at the window, watching you with his hands in his pockets, struggling not to touch himself? Or fuck, maybe he was touching himself. You sank under the water before Gemma could reach you again.

“Hot tub?” she asked, when you bobbed to the surface.

“Hot tub,” you agreed.

You lounged in the even warmer, bubbling water for another 15 minutes or so, sending the last of your finals week jitters packing. This semester was over. Your relationship was over. There was nothing more you could do about your performance for either scenario. So you closed your eyes and let it all go with a sigh.

“There you are.”

“What?” you opened your eyes as Gemma spoke.

“You’ve been on edge. I know you said you didn’t care about Charlie, but something’s been bothering you. You just look so much more relaxed now. You good? Still okay about the plans for tonight? I don’t mean to leave you all alone, but…”

“I’m gonna be so good, Gem. Don’t worry about me. Let’s go. I want to see if that pop-up shop is still around. They have the cutest jewelry.”

“Yes!”

You found the store you were looking for and bought a few new pairs of earrings. A long, thin drop chain pair and some geometric hoops, asking the clerk if you could wear the gold bar threaders out of the store. You also found a necklace for your mom and some jade bracelets for your aunt. Christmas shopping halfway done.

Gemma pulled you into a lingerie shop next. 

“I wanna get something sexy for tonight.” She tried on a few outfits and picked out a few for you to try on too.

“This is silly. I don’t have anyone to wear this stuff for anymore.”

“Oh, just wear it for yourself. Don’t you just feel luxurious in silk?”

You agreed and bought the dark blue, high cut silk romper with black lace trim and white flower print. It was maybe the sexiest thing you ever owned. And you were single. Awesome.

You and Gemma walked arm in arm to your favorite lunch spot, grabbing a table on the heated patio. You giggled conspiratorially together about how her evening with Mike would go, making sure you cut her off before she got too graphic. You did not want the details. Those were private, no matter how much Gemma liked to brag.

You hit a few more shops after lunch, nabbing a new sweater for your dad, a book from your uncle’s favorite author, and some art supplies for your cousin. You just had stocking stuffers left, so you hit up the candy shop after dropping Gemma at Mike’s.

You pulled Gemma’s car into the garage and let yourself into the basement to drop your bags down in your room, figuring you would just stay hidden and out of Mr. Walker’s way for the evening. But your stomach rumbled and you realized lunch had been hours ago. 

Before you could make it upstairs, you were distracted by the sounds of grunting and staccato smacks. You peered into the gym to find Mr. Walker throwing jabs and punches against a heavy bag. His back was to you and your mouth watered as you watched his shoulders and traps tense and ripple with each hit. From the amount of sweat dripping down his back and soaked into his tank and shorts, he’d clearly been at it for a while. He was shifting his feet back and forth in a little sparring dance and you were about to get caught out as he rotated around the bag. But you simply couldn’t move.

Mr. Walker had just pumped his arms preparing for the next hit as he rounded his target. He grabbed the bag to still it when he noticed you staring.

“Everything okay?” he asked, chest heaving.

You cleared your throat and suppressed the urge to turn and run.

“Everything’s, uh …just fine,” you smiled at him. “I was just on my way to grab a bite and heard the ruckus in here.”

“Sorry to sidetrack you.” He trained an intense stare on you, head tilting to the side. “But I was just about done anyway. If you don’t mind waiting, I can whip up something after I grab a shower?”

“That would be amazing, thank you Mr. Walker. Anything I can do to help get ready?”

He strode toward you now, grabbing a towel from the bench to wipe the sweat from his face. You watched rapt as a damp curl bounced back into place on his brow. 

“If you want to open a bottle of wine, feel free, but no need to do any heavy lifting in the kitchen. I’ve got it covered,” he winked at you with a devilish grin. Suddenly his hand was at your neck, fingers gently caressing the chain hanging from your ear. “Are these new?”

You swallowed and nodded, unable to respond.

“They’re pretty.”

“Thank you,” you practically whispered, trying not to sink to the floor before him.

You excused yourself and made your way back upstairs, wanting to simply escape his commanding presence and seek out a snack to tide you over. 

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” he called to you in the kitchen, his footsteps heavy on his way upstairs as well.

You sat with the banana you’d plucked from the fruit bowl and pondered the scene. 

Would he strip down in the bedroom or the bathroom? Would he stand under the rushing water for a bit and let the warm water loosen his muscles, hand against the wall, head hanging down? Did he touch himself? He had to touch himself, but did he use a bar or gel? Loofah? Washcloth? Or was he just running his hands all over his body now? How did he dry off? Towel over his head to shuffle those curls? Or bend over and get the legs, drying up the body first? Maybe he started with a swipe across his chest? Did he wrap that towel around his waist or just bare-ass it into the closet for a pair of sweats and a t-shirt? Barefoot? Slippers?

“Are you going to eat that?”

You jumped and dropped the banana that you hadn’t even taken one bite of to the counter.

“Oh, Mr. Walker, you startled me,” you gasped.

“You did seem rather in deep thought there. Anything I can help with?”

Why you expected him to be in a ratty pair of sweats and a t-shirt you’d never know. Mr. Walker had donned an elegant pair of loose linen pants and simple cashmere turtleneck sweater that did nothing to hide the muscles he’d been training just half an hour ago. He looked delicious.

“Here,” he reached for the as yet unpeeled banana, “let’s just put this away and get you something more substantial, okay?”

You made some light small talk about your recent semester and watched as he breezed around the kitchen, pulling out packages from the fridge and heating pans on the stove. In a mere matter of minutes he had turned a burner on to boil water and chopped asparagus, tomatoes, broccoli, and yellow peppers. When the water bubbled just right he tossed in a bag of fresh cavatelli. He asked about the rest of your Christmas plans while he sauted the vegetables in a fragrant lemon sauce. After draining the pasta, he tossed it in the pan along with a bit of pasta water, stirring to thicken up the sauce before adding some lemon zest and grated parm. Boyfriends? He asked as he ladled heaping portions into two wide flat bowls and set one down in front of you at the island.

“Thank you, Mr. Walker,” you said as you picked up your fork. “No, not anymore.”

“Please,” he rested his fists on the counter across from you.”I want you to call me August.’

“Okay. August,” you replied, as a jolt of pleasure raced through you straight to your cunt.

“Good girl.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, hoping it was masked as the enjoyment of the bite you took. August Walker wanted you as much as you wanted him. There was absolutely no doubt. When you opened your eyes, his icy blue stare greeted you while his mouth pulled into a sly smirk.

He lounged against the counter across from you, dish in hand, lifting bites of pasta to his mouth and chewing while he listened to you try to explain why it simply wasn’t working out with the men at college. It seemed to you that his breath got deeper with each failed relationship.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, licking an errant drop of sauce off the corner of your mouth. “It just feels like they aren’t really into it.”

“Into what?”

“Well, me. I guess. Into what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

“Something more…” you took a deep breath to stifle the jitters. You were about to proposition your best friend’s dad. “Passionate.”

His eyes widened ever so slightly, brow raised in surprise as if he did not expect that to be your answer. He set his plate down, abandoning the last bite, and slipped his hands in the pockets of his pants. And watched you watch. Yeah. He knew. Saw it the minute you walked in the house two days ago.

You dropped your fork to your plate and slid your chair back, standing to move around the island. 

“Can I help with the dishes?”

“Are dishes what you really want to be doing right now?” he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Not really, no,” you stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest. “August.”

He pulled his hands from his pockets and placed them against your cheeks, fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck, but with no pressure at all.

“So, listen. I want you to be really sure about this,” his eyes darted back and forth as he searched yours for any hint of doubt, even as you nodded. When he found none, he bent to kiss you. It was gentle at first, a simple touch, then a swipe of the tongue to ease you open and slip in. The mustache tickled your nose and the scruff felt exactly how you imagined, how you wanted it. You let your mouth fall open and welcomed the gentle probing of his tongue.You whimpered when he pulled away.

He considered you then, for what felt like an eternity before he placed a thumb on your lips and tugged down to your chin then slid his digit into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue to gather whatever moisture was available. You closed your lips around his thumb and rolled your eyes back up to him, sucking slowly on his thumb and daring him to pull it out.

He huffed and sneered and pulled his thumb from your lips and tilted your mouth back up to meet his lips crashing down on yours again. When he released your mouth, he licked his lips and then turned you so he could guide you out of the kitchen, down the hall, and up the stairs to his bedroom. He sat you on the edge of the bed and you stared up into his ocean-deep eyes.

“My god you are an angel, aren’t you?”

You shivered and gasped, then released your breath slowly. He smirked again.

“You like that? When I call you an angel?”

“I really do,” you whispered.

“Good. Then whenever you’re with me, alone, you are my Angel. Is that okay with you?”

“It is.”

He smiled at you then and pulled his sweater over his head leaving him bare chested in front of you. You raised a hand as if to drift your fingers through the bed of fur covering his chest and tapering down to his stomach. But he stopped you. Grabbed your wrist with one hand and tilted your chin to him with the other, holding your gaze steady and peering deep into your soul to confirm his observation. It was written all over your face. You wanted him to tell you. You wanted him to give you permission. You wanted to hear him say yes. So you asked.

“Can I touch you August?”

“Yes, Angel. You can.” He released your hand and face and you proceeded to touch him. You slid your palm up his stomach to his chest, your fingers snaking through his hair. He heaved a sigh, then placed his hand on your wrist again and pulled you up to standing. You peered into his eyes, bit your lower lip and slid your palm back down, turning your hand so your fingertips hit his waistband first, sneaking under the fabric.

“You sure you’re ready for that right now?” he asked, placing his hand on your wrist for the third time this evening. “I think you might want to rethink that.” He put your hand over the bulge in his pants so you could feel not only how hard he was already but how large. He was silently asking you if you’d ever had a lover whose cock was as big as his and you paused for only a beat.

You knew exactly how you wanted to start. “I’m a thousand percent sure,” you grinned salaciously up at him.

His nod was practically imperceptible, so determined not to let you see how your eagerness was affecting him. How would it look if he were losing all control?

You licked your lips and brought both hands to the drawstring tie, loosening it slowly, then dragging the fabric carefully over his engorged cock. You sat back on the bed as you pushed his pants down his legs, never once letting your eyes leave his.

Not until you were ready to take him in hand did you drop your eyes to drink him in. It was the most glorious sight you could imagine. Long, thick, hard. Jumping slightly as you touched the underside with your fingertips, then settling the weight into the palm of your hands. He had not been wrong at all. No other man you’d been with could compare to his size. And you had absolutely no doubt he knew exactly how to wield it.

You were hypnotized. Even if you’d wanted to look back into his eyes to ask permission before you took him into your mouth, you simply could not tear your gaze away. Your hunger evolved into something more now, and you leaned forward, tucking your tongue under the head while your lips wrapped around him.

You knew there was no way you’d be able to take his full length inside your mouth, but you wanted to try. Wanted to show him you were willing. You gathered your spit and let it glide your mouth over his cock, past the bulbous head and as far down the veiny shaft as you could manage. With a hand firmly gripped around the base, you held him in place while you moved your mouth up and down, letting your tongue drag and circle. You could do this for hours. He might have let you. But the minute you let his tip hit the back of your throat, causing a small gag reflex and a few tears to well in your eyes, he pulled you off.

“Not yet. I’ll have you undone, but not yet.”

You blinked the tears of pleasure quickly away, confused. Charlie had always loved to come in your mouth, knowing an early release would allow him to last longer with you.

“Was it not alright?” you questioned, unsure now if all those boys had been lying when they said you were the best.

“Oh, Angel. It was divine. Do you see how fucking hard I am for you? And you’ll do that again for me. I’ll insist on it. But I want to drink you in myself, first.”

He asked you to undress. You were suddenly reminded of your spur of the moment purchase and would give anything to put yourself on display in it for him. He sensed your cautious excitement, but mistook it for hesitation.

“What is it, Angel? Are you having doubts?” he asked in a gentler tone than he’d been using since you arrived in the bedroom.

“No, August. Nothing like that. I just, well…”

He furrowed his brows at you and urged you to finish your confession.

“I mean, I want this, but I really wasn’t prepared for it to happen. And it’s embarrassing to say, but I have something I’d love to put on for you. Can I do that?”

His relief shifted to a wolfish grin, as he nodded and shifted out of your way. “Please don’t take too long.” He took himself in hand and began to slowly stroke. “I don’t want to take care of this myself.”

You nodded eagerly and rose to stand before him. It took every ounce of restraint not to sprint from the room in an effort to return to him as quickly as possible, but that didn’t feel dignified. You weren’t going to start acting like a schoolgirl in front of August Walker.

Your legs carried you purposefully through the house to your room where you undressed, put your hair up, and quickly showered. After drying off, you fished the romper out of the shopping bags on your bed, tore off the tag carefully, and stepped into the silky piece. Gemma was right, it felt so very luxurious. 

A shock of cold rushed through you. How would you ever face Gemma after tonight? It wasn’t as if you’d been scheming for this to happen. But you weren’t saying no, either. You wanted this so badly. Another deep breath. You’d just have to deal with the consequences later. There was no way you were stopping now.

You searched through your luggage for your long, white crochet cardigan with the front tie. You decided to brush your teeth quickly and took a few extra minutes to dab some of your favorite perfume along your neck and wrists. A makeup touch up seemed useless at this point, but you did fix your hair.

You took a final look at yourself in the mirror and blew out the breath you found yourself holding. This was happening.

You climbed the stairs with purpose, noting the low seductive music drifting from the top floor. You smiled at the thought that August liked to use sound to get into the mood as well. You stopped at the door to his bedroom, just as he was coming out of his own en suite, clothed now in a pair of dark blue silk pajama pants that did little to hide his ongoing erection.

“Oh Angel. I thought you’d gotten lost again,” he teased. “Come. Let me look at you.” 

He reached out his hands as he moved across the room toward you. He grasped one of your hands and raised it over your head, twirling you around once slowly then dropping your arm as you came back around to face him and tracing his hand down your throat and chest, toying with the bow at the front of your sweater.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

You nodded, wide-eyed, hoping he really loved it as much as he seemed to.

“Well, don’t you look good for me?. It’s a pity this won’t stay on long.” He pulled on the strings and slipped a hand inside the sweater, grazing your side as he wrapped his arm around your back and pulled you close for a withering kiss. He palmed a breast with the other hand, rubbing against the hard nub straining through the soft fabric. He pressed the small of your back and moved you inches closer to him, his stiff cock jutting against you.

As he released the kiss, he pushed the sweater off your shoulders and let it drop to the floor behind you, once again taking up your hand and pulling you with him as he moved back to the bed. This time, he sat, legs spread wide so you could step between them.

“This really is very pretty,” he toyed with the thin straps of the romper, sliding a finger under the lace and brushing his knuckle against the top of your breast. “Would you like to keep it on a little longer?”

“I would.”

“Very well then.”

He pulled the straps down your shoulders a few inches tempting you with a state of full undress, then replaced them and moved his hands to your hips, smoothing them around to cup your ass and squeeze. He kept one hand on your lower back, pulling the other back around to the front before pushing a hip just off-kilter. You were now on a slight diagonal to him and that allowed him to more easily slide his hand off your hip and down into the crease of your thigh before he slipped a finger under the silk to trace along your folds.

You watched his eyes darken as he discovered the moisture already accumulated, waiting for him. You bit your lip as he turned his gaze to your eyes. 

“You are already so wet, Angel. You’re hungry for this aren’t you?”

“Yes, August. I want you.”

He kept his eyes glued to yours as he dipped two fingers inside your core and you gasped.

“And I want you to fuck yourself on my hand. Will you do that for me Angel?”

Your whole body was buzzing now. No one had ever prioritized your pleasure like this. If you’d had your mouth on a boyfriend’s cock, that’s where it was staying until he came in your mouth or pulled out and slipped inside your pussy. But giving you control of your own orgasm? Exhilarating.

His fingers were curled inside you, stroking and stretching you, smoothing along your walls and seeking out the most delicate spaces as you began to shift your hips against his hand. The heat spread through your body, you relaxed and sank your weight into his hand, your cunt swallowing his fingers deeper. You swept a hand under the curve of your tit, squeezing gently at the hardened nipple while you grabbed a hold of his wrist with your other hand. Using the leverage of his grip, you rocked back and forth into his palm, tossing your head back when he graced you with another curl of his fingers. He had found your spot and was going to exploit that fact, teasing you with a gentle press before spreading his fingers wide inside you.

“Please, August,” you begged.

“Please what Angel?” he smirked. “This is all you.”

You hauled your head back to stare down at him while you undulated your hips, searching for a way to position his fingers where you needed them again.

“Would you put another finger in? Please August?”

He smiled and obliged and you shivered with pleasure, finally beginning to feel the fullness and pressure you needed to reach your peak. If you could just…You snaked your hand around his wrist, moving so you could drag your thumb down beside his and urge it up to the top of your clit. You pressed his thumb into you, guiding his motion and pulling away only when you were sure he would continue on his own.

With his thumb brushing over your pearl, you rocked harder on his fingers, shifting his hand so he had no choice but to curl up into your spot and you held his hand firm in position when he did, praying to all the gods you knew that he would remain right there for just this moment longer.

He stood as soon as you came apart, catching you with an arm around your back as he slowly withdrew his fingers from your pulsing pussy.

“Absolutely gorgeous.” He kissed at the heat radiating from your cheeks, then sought your mouth and traced your lips with his tongue, opening you up to him and licking in deep. You moaned as you imagined him doing that again, lower.

“Yes, I know. You’ll get that too,” he declared, pulling away from the kiss. “What do you say, Angel? How do you feel about taking this off now that I’ve seen you so pretty in it?”

You smoothed your hands down your body, enjoying the sensual feel of the silk, still reeling from your orgasm. You nodded as he slipped the straps from your shoulders once more, this time pushing the elastic waistband over your hips and dropping the material to the floor.

August grabbed your ass then slid his hands to your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he turned to face the bed. His kiss was deep and hard as he climbed one knee and then the other onto the mattress, before easing you on your back. With your legs pinned around his waist, he ran his hands along your calves and up to the crease at the top of your thighs where he hooked his thumbs and pressed his fingertips into the flesh of your hips.

You were fully on display for him now. Nothing to stop his eyes from devouring every inch of your body, kindling the flames still licking at your skin. He eased his thumbs toward your apex, caressing your folds and massaging your slick along the edges. He let one thumb circle around your clit, pressing hard when you arched into it. He dipped the same thumb into your core, then withdrew and placed it in his mouth, licking you off his thumb like ice cream and you melted at the site of it.

You felt adored and basked in his worship, tossing your arms over your head and arching your back to press your chest out towards him. He slid his hands up your waist and over your belly to cup and knead your breasts. When he pinched, the pressure was just the other side of comfortable and you hissed with the pain. He eased up, rubbing gently for a moment before squeezing again, with the same intensity. The salacious leer on his side-cocked head sent a wave of pleasure along with the pain and you furrowed your brow and whimpered with content. Satisfied, he let you go and leaned down to kiss you again.

He unhooked your legs and directed you to the top of the bed. You eased back against the tall, plush gray velvet headboard, positioning yourself right in the middle of the California king bed.

“I’m going to eat that delicious pussy of yours now, Angel. And I don’t want you to touch me while I do. I want to try something I think you will enjoy. Will you let me?”

You furrowed your brow and nodded reluctantly, unsure what it would mean.

August climbed up to the head of the bed, knees straddling your waist as he reached behind the headboard. Your heart beat noticeably faster when you saw the thick strands of silk cord he pulled over the top. Holding them both in one hand by the plush lined leather cuffs at the ends of each, he peered down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Have you ever been restrained, Angel?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head slowly once, chin lowered with a shyness you hadn’t yet felt this evening. August grasped your jaw to tilt you towards him.

“Never be embarrassed, sweet thing. This isn’t for everyone. Believe me, I know.” He dropped one line and your chin at the same time, holding the second cuff in front of you and caressing the line. “You have options here. Let me explain. If you want, you could simply hold onto the rope. It’s soft and won’t burn or cut your hands when you squeeze tight. But the risk here is how easy it would be for you to drop it when you are unable to control yourself.”

You blinked with anticipation for the next option, then closed your eyes when he gave you a few more.

“You could always wrap the rope around your wrists or use the cuffs with a loose buckle as well, but still…” He unbuckled the cuff. “I think your best option, the one that will ensure you are able to enjoy every minute of my mouth on you, would be for you to let me tighten these around your wrists.”

He held the cuff wide for you and waited as you opened your eyes to give him an answer. With a wave of confidence surging through your body, you lifted your arm for him.

“Good girl.” He pulled the strap through the buckle and found the right fit with ease. Firm, not too tight, but certainly not loose at all. He tugged your arm down to demonstrate how little reach you had now and raised an eyebrow again with a last chance to beg off. You met his question with an unwavering gaze and he closed and opened his eyelids slowly with a smile before attaching a cuff to your other wrist.

You tested this one yourself with a tug and another thick swallow to calm your nerves and remind yourself you wanted this. So badly.

You could leave your arms winged back toward the headboard or bring your hands in front of your face, with elbows bent close by your side, but you’d never be able to touch him while he was tucked between your legs. As he began to retreat, you reached reflexively for him, even though you were unable to catch him as the rope went taut.

As if reading your mind, he bent then and allowed you to place your hands on either side of his face while he kissed first your brow, then your cheeks below each eye, the corners of your lips.  He finally slotted his mouth against yours and you leaned into it and kissed back hard.

You let out a soft whine when he finally pulled away, but he pressed a finger to your lips to quiet you, then held it there as he eased down your inflamed body, rotating soft kisses and sharp nips.

No high school boyfriend had ever gone down on you. And Charlie wasn’t the first in college, but he’d been the best so far. August blew him out of the water.

When he arrived at his destination, he pulled his hand down your throat and over your chest, fingertips skimming your belly and lifting away right before he reached your mound. 

He stared at first, eyes devouring the site before him. He tilted his head first one way then the other, as if trying to determine the perfect approach. He pushed your knees wide again when you began to tip them in, nervous about the scrutiny. When he finally eased closer, you closed your eyes in anticipation, but the warm wet sensation never came. You felt only his hands slipping under and around your bent legs, fingers digging into the tops of your thighs and holding you in place. You opened your eyes when you heard him inhale deeply and saw his own eyes flutter shut and open again. As he exhaled, the air drifted and teased, first warming and then cooling across your delicate skin.

He turned to nuzzle into the crook of your thigh, nipping and licking lightly on first one side and then the other. When his beard brushed your skin, you shuddered. It was an exquisite tickle, prickly and soft at once and everything you’d imagined. He pulled his arms from under you then, smoothing his hands along the insides of your thighs and pressing your knees wide and still he wouldn’t touch you where you ached for him.

“Please, August,” you pleaded, head straining toward him.

“Patience, little Angel.”

Only when you placed your head back against the headboard, did he dip low again, still nuzzling gently around the edges of your desire. You felt a brush of fingertips down your inner thigh and the back of a finger running up one side of your aching cunt and down the other. Then a finger along both sides, smoothing up then drifting down. At the bottom he captured your pussy lips between the knuckles of two fingers and squeezed, gently opening and closing and finally providing some of the friction you craved. But as soon as you tried to arch into it, he stopped and pulled his hand away.

“I know what you think you need, Angel. I’m here to tell you there’s more. We’ll get there. And I should have said something sooner. It would be better for you to hear this in a less vulnerable state, but if you want me to stop, at any time, I will. Do you understand?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to articulate even the word yes properly, but he wanted to hear it.

“Say it.”

“I understand August,” you spoke softly, then cleared your throat and responded with more conviction. “If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you.”

He placed a hand on your belly now, heel of his palm pressing just above your clit and rocking back yet still avoiding the tender spot. Then he lifted his palm and swept his finger toward your thigh again, massaging the flesh gently between his fingers and thumb. He did the same on the other side and finally, finally, because you were being so good and laying still for him, he eased a knuckle into your slit and held it there.

And then he craned his neck closer, pulled his finger up through your folds, and let his tongue drag in the spot where his finger was. He pressed his thumb onto your clit and rubbed small circles while his tongue lapped at the slick already forming. When he pulled his mouth away, he slid his thumb down inside you, deep and then shallow as he returned to pressing at your clit.

All you wanted was to lift your hips up to meet his pressure, but you sighed out a low moan instead, trying to be good for him. As if to reward your self-control, he let the tip of his tongue meet his thumb at your sensitive nub and then pulled his hand away so he could close his mouth and suck. When he pulled his lips away, he tugged the kernel with him for a moment before letting it go, then rubbing it with his thumb again.

When his mouth met your pussy once more, it was to press his tongue wide and flat into your folds before curling the tip up and in. He repeated this a few more times, tipping deeper and deeper each time while his thumb still strummed along your button before he finally plunged the length of his tongue right into your core and just like that wrapped his lips around your clit to pull out and away.

You closed your eyes, so he couldn’t see them begging him to put his mouth back where you wanted it, but the anticipation was stoking a fire and you didn’t want to put it out just yet. You felt his fingers push up along the soaking path, tipping into the bud and then dragging back down, middle finger dipping in on the return now. He ran this finger up and down, in and out, circling, sliding, coaxing, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore and you were about to break, he pressed his other hand low on your belly and held your hips in place, like he just knew you were about to shift and search for more friction.

When he could sense you would be good for him, he moved the hand from your belly to cup under your thigh before adding a second finger and rubbing them both furiously from side to side briefly, before splitting his fingers and spreading your labia wide. He dove in to kiss your lower lips, tracing the wide opening before licking in deep and you gasped your eyes open at the memory of his earlier kiss and promise.

As if on cue, any tension you’d been holding in your body at the thought of being tied up, forced to remain still, and eaten out while you couldn’t fully participate just vanished. You sank infinitesimally further into the bed, your arms dropped by fractions of millimeters, and your legs fell open even wider. 

August knew it. And he rewarded you for it. His mouth was on you in earnest now, kissing, sucking, nibbling, licking, lapping, prodding. His fingers were inside you and on you and around you. Two fingers twisted inside, pressing down and spreading you open. One tongue laved at your core, coaxing the heat and juice from you. When it came, you thought he would stop because this is when they stop and climb up your belly and slide their cocks inside you and grind into the wet wet heat, but he didn’t stop.

No he kept going. He kissed your quivering pussy and tongued along the folds, gathering up as much of your essence as he could. He spun those two fingers up now, caressing your walls and seeking out that most favorable spot. The one he already had you coming on earlier. The one he made you make yourself come on. God, what did it matter who was doing what? 

The fact of the matter was, August Walker was giving you your third orgasm of the night with nothing more than his mouth and hands and he still hadn’t let you touch him for very long with either your fingers or your mouth. And he certainly hadn’t placed in cock deep inside your aching cunt.

But what he was doing was continuing to worship at your altar. Well past the point that you could think straight. Was this now four or five? It was all a blur and all you knew was that if August didn’t stop, you might explode. Suddenly it was a problem that you couldn’t move your arms much past your shoulders. 

August was past caring about you thrashing your hips with one aftershock after another. Didn’t mind about having to hook his arms under your thighs and tug you back down the bed each time you tried to grasp the wrist cords and pull yourself off his face. He only wanted you to stop straining so he could show you how much better it could be. He wanted you to relax just like you had right before he’d really started in on you in earnest.

You felt his hand snake up your belly between your legs, creep over the swell of your breast, and rest against your collarbone. At first you resisted the weight, but then you welcomed it. Wondered if it might not be better if he just climbed his whole body right up on top of yours and crushed you into the mattress.

But he wasn’t going to do that, because instead he was going to ensure you came one more time while he scissored his fingers inside you and licked you into oblivion. When you screamed his name, he grinned a kiss against your thigh, crawled out from between your knees, and gently, ever so carefully, eased your legs together and unbent them. 

He traced his hand back up your heaving belly and chest, wrapped his fingers around your throat and tilted your neck towards him.

“So, so beautiful when you come, Angel. I wanted it to last forever for you.”

You tasted yourself on his lips and tongue and whimpered into his mouth because you suddenly realized you wanted that too and it was too late.

“Is it too late?” you whispered and he chuckled at you. 

“You should pace yourself.” He knelt beside you and unbuckled your wrists, kissing each one as he freed you from the cuffs, then dropping to his back beside you. “Thank you, for opening yourself to me.” 

“How in the world are you thanking me after that?” you laughed, still shaking from the explosions, but moving toward your next goal. “And also... Can I get back to this now?”

You began to scoot down between his legs, dragging his silky pants with you and tossing them to the floor. 

“If you’re sure you're ready.”

You trailed your fingers up his thighs as you moved back into position on your belly. He was still hard as rock when you reached for him. You licked your lips at the sight, then sent your eyes straight to his while your mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock with a smile. You worked him slow and methodically, tonguing along his length, tasting his warmth. You were salivating for this man, dribbling spit to help ease your tour of his member, and yet you knew you’d never reach the base. You let your hand twist around him, squeezing and grabbing while you worked your mouth down to meet it.  

“Your mouth feels so good on me, Angel. You like doing that, don’t you?”

You peered at him through your lashes and nodded, attempting another wide smile to agree. His hands smoothed up your arms, over your shoulders, and into your hair. You didn’t need him to hold your head against his cock, but he grunted and shifted his hips to press deeper into your mouth. You would have done this for him all night. Let him lay back and enjoy being worshiped the way he had worshiped you.

But with one hand on your nape and one right on top of your head, August helped himself to the pleasure you were offering without hesitation and began fucking your mouth in earnest. With each thrust, you felt him edge deeper until he finally found the back of your throat. 

“There you go,” he grunted. “That’s a good girl. Taking me so deep.”

You could do nothing more than open wide and let him drive, feeling the saliva drip from your mouth with no opportunity to swallow. He set a steady, punishing pace and while you were enjoying it, you also couldn’t help but imagine this must be what your aching pussy would feel like shortly. Your tears were flowing freely now, too, spurred on by the constant stimulation.

Suddenly, he pulled you off and you were confused for one brief, maddening moment until you heard him command you.

“Hands and knees.”

You pressed yourself up as he shifted to his knees as well before returning his hands to your head and dragging your mouth down his cock once again. You felt his grip on your hair at your neck tighten, his pace even faster than before. In just moments, with your watering eyes rolled up as far as they could go to watch him sneer down at you, you felt his release coat the back of your throat, hot and salty, as he came with a growl.

He hauled you up, shifting his knees forward to meet you, pressing his chest against you, arms wrapped around your back as he kissed the tears from your cheeks and praised you. He settled back against the headboard, taking you with him and scooping your legs over his, nestling your head against his chest and holding you close. You could feel his heart pounding, the intensity matched only by the speed at which yours beat. His fingers traced along your spine, caressing your shoulder and at the same time he held your hip on his lap and tortured you with tender touches along the flesh of your thighs and legs.

You trailed your fingers over his chest and angled your head to nip at his neck. 

“Was that okay?” he asked, uncharacteristically soft. You bit the urge to respond with sarcasm.

“I loved every second of it.” You punctuated your response with a kiss, cupping his cheek and tonguing his mouth open to lick into the softness.

He groaned and kissed you back for what felt like forever until you began to feel a nudge at your thigh. You reached down between your heated bodies to find him, wrapping your hands around his girth and stroking him to full erection. Without breaking the kiss you began to shift, sliding a leg to either side of his hips. Just as you had raised up, ready to slide him deep inside you, he gripped your shoulders tight and pulled away.

“Wait.”

“Why?”

Without answering, he easily lifted and deposited you on your back beside him, before rolling to the nightstand beside the bed. He pulled out a foil packet and bottle of lube.

“Because I care about you.” He tore the packet and pulled out the condom then squeezed a few drops of lube in before rolling it over his engorged length. He added a few more drops and pumped a few times, before dropping to his back again beside you.

“Now, where were we?” he grinned.

He slipped his arm underneath you and pulled you to him, guiding your leg over his hip again. On your knees, you took him in hand but before you could position his tip at your entrance, he pressed two fingers deep in your slit, massaging and stroking, scissoring you wide. You felt the heat building again and dropped your head back with a moan, still dragging your hand up and down his length. Your pussy was squelching with the juice he was coaxing and you felt his hand slip out then wrap around yours as you both directed him inside you.

With just the tip, you already felt fuller than you ever had and you sat with that feeling for a moment, hands still wrapped around the rest of his cock and keeping you from sliding all the way down.

Once you felt yourself relax around him, you nudged his hand away with your own and began to sink, slowly, deliberately, savoring the sensation. His hands gripped your hips all the while as he gazed in wonder and concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fucking fantastic,” you replied, rocking back slightly to view the point of his disappearance inside you.

“Do you remember what I told you before?’ he asked, a little more heat and darkness creeping into his voice.

“I can stop you at any time.”

“Yes. And if you can’t get the words out, pinch me.”

You were going to nod your understanding, but remembered he liked to hear it as much as you did. “Yes, August.”

“Good girl.”

August began a slow roll of his ups, nudging up into you and shifting you off balance for a moment. You caught yourself with your hands on his chest, then sat back up to start a slow grind of your own. For several long minutes it was just you riding him slowly, like an easy afternoon stroll, completely in sync with his movements.

When he began to pump faster, you braced your hands on his legs behind you trying to hold on for dear life. He gripped you by the hips and held you in place while bucked and then he ran his hands up your sides and hauled you down to his chest. He wrapped his arms around your back and held you so close, kissed you so hard, rocked even deeper into you than you ever thought possible and just when you thought it was about to hit you like a ton of bricks, he flipped you to your back.

He started a slower pace now, still holding you close, still ravishing your mouth. But when you wrapped a leg around his back, he lifted himself onto his arms and looked down between you then over to the leg at his side.  With a devilish grin, he reached back and under that leg, shifting it up over his shoulder. He picked up the pace, returning to the steady jackhammering you’d experienced while on top. And while you didn’t think deeper was possible, here he was, moving your limbs around to find more space. He pulled your other leg up now, no longer leaning forward, but up on his knees, holding you open before him while he pounded away.

This was more than you’d ever felt before. This was precision fucking at it finest and you were barely holding on. 

“You can let go, Angel. You can come around my cock, squeeze me hard. I won’t break,” he commended you, letting go of one leg and reaching down to massage your clit again with his thumb. That was all it took.

“Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck, August, Fuck!” 

“That’s it, Angel. I can feel you right now,” he growled. “Feel all the heat bursting inside you, feel your walls squeezing around me. Can you feel it?”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes. My god. Fuuuuuuuuuck! Fuck! Please,” you pleaded, panting and feeling like you were about to pass out. “Please.”

“Please what, Angel?”

“Please…” you didn’t exactly want him to stop but you weren’t sure how much more you could take either.

“Do you need me to stop?”

“I want you to come. Please August.”

He clenched his jaw and gave a few more hard thrusts before pulling out and flipping you one more time to your hands and knees. You could barely hold yourself up, sinking to your forearms, head into the mattress. But your ass was still in the air and your pussy was still on display for him and he took you one more time. He lined himself up again behind you, sheathed himself in one long simple stroke, holding still for one moment.

“You're still coming, I can feel it. God, you are amazing. You’re taking me so good.”

Incoherent babble is all he got in return. Even if you’d wanted him to stop, you could no longer form full words, let alone sentences. And how would you ever find the strength to reach back to even graze his skin, let alone pinch it? Whatever. You were riding a wave of the longest high you’d ever been on while August resumed his magnificent assault on you.

After a few more strokes, you felt him swell even larger than he already was, filling you up more fully than he already had. With one final animal roar, he released himself with a hand pressing against your lower back, slowing stilling as he filled the condom inside you. You shuddered with an aftershock and wanted to drop to your belly with him on top and never pull that blanket off.

After just a short moment, you felt his hand at your entrance, fingers drifting lightly through your folds before he gathered himself and the condom in hand and pulled all the way out for good. He pushed against you lightly to urge you flat. You vaguely registered words of praise coming from his mouth, but you were so spun off into oblivion you couldn’t be sure what they were.

From some far off place, you heard water running, then felt a dip beside you, and the wet warmth of a tender caress between your shaking legs. Somehow, you were maneuvered to your back to receive another gentle swipe, before you felt his lips press against your mouth, his tongue seeking your own.

It took everything you had to peel your eyes open and meet his gaze.

“Is that what you meant by passion?” he asked.

“It’s a start.”

August chuckled and gently eased himself to the side of the bed, swinging his legs off and standing. He tilted his head from side to side, loosening a few kinks before he strode with purpose into the bathroom. When he returned, he held out a blue silk robe and helped you into it once you stood from the bed. He tied the belt around your waist, then reached to the floor for his  matching pants. As he stood, he gathered you in his arms for another kiss before he took your hand and led you back downstairs.

Trailing behind him, you were pleasantly surprised to find yourself deposited on the deep plush conversation sofa. August flipped on the switch to the gas fireplace and leaned over to drop one more kiss on your lips, then told you to sit tight.

The warm glow of the fire mesmerized and hypnotized you, not that it was hard. You had been overstimulated and now the exhaustion was settling in. You felt high, completely spaced out. You had never felt so thoroughly and completely fucked in your entire short life. 

August returned a few moments later. Or was it hours? You had no idea. All you knew was that he placed a live edge wooden serving tray holding a few bottles of water, some fruit and cheese, a few small bowls of olives, almonds, and fig jam, some cut baguette, two champagne flutes, and a bottle of bubbly on the low ottoman in front of you, then eased himself onto the couch next to you.

“Let’s get you hydrated,” he leaned forward and grabbed a bottle from the tray.

“How did you know I’d want that?” you teased, harkening back to your first night home.

“You are a cheeky one, aren’t you?” August opened the bottle and pulled you close, tipping the cool, sweet water into your open mouth, eyes watching you closely to see when you’d had enough.

“Only for you,” you purred, reaching for the bottle so you could take another drink for yourself. When you pulled the bottle away from your lips, August bent to steal another kiss from you.

“A little dangerous, too.” He shifted a knuckle along your jaw, catching the soft indent in your chin to bring your face back to his. He kissed you for what felt like a millenia and you could have stayed that way all night. And then it hit you.

“Dangerous how?” you asked, when you pulled away reluctantly.

August closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, still leaning forward from the broken kiss. He sat up straighter when he exhaled and opened his eyes.

“My sweet Angel. I really didn’t mean to spoil our moment, but in a million years could you ever imagine this night could happen again?”

He held your gaze, and wouldn't let you turn away. You could see the anguish in his eyes. This wasn’t a lie. 

“But why would…?”

“You deserve to know the passion you crave. I wanted to help you learn about your desire. You are a strong, intelligent, thoughtful, and gorgeous woman. I wanted you to see you are capable of getting everything you want. You only need to be sure of it. And perhaps understand you can ask for more.”

“But I want you.”

August didn’t reply immediately and in the silence you knew he was thinking of exactly the same person you now were. If you were ever going to keep this night a secret from her, you’d have to make it a solitary event with no hope of a repeat. How were you ever going to deny your craving?

“Come here.” August set your bottle of water aside and drew you into his arms, leaning back against the sofa as you relaxed onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head and ran a hand slowly up and down your back.

“This isn’t fair,” you murmured.

“Life rarely is, Angel. Come on, let’s just enjoy the time we do have. What d’you say, hmm?”

You nodded and sniffed away the beginnings of your tears. August gently sat you up, then prepared small bites of food from the tray and brought them to your lips. You soaked in all the attention, certain you’d never feel so safe and loved again in your life.

With some energy back, you felt your mood lighten. August was right. You should make the most of what time you have left. You reached for the champagne bottle, peeled off the foil wrap, and untwisted the thin metal cage surrounding the cork. August chuckled as he watched you struggle with the cork, so you stuck out your tongue and handed the bottle to him.

“Please?” He popped the cork with ease and poured the golden liquid for you both.

“A toast?” He raised his glass to yours and watched closely as you mulled it over.

“To one night only.”

“One night only.” He smiled with a nod and watched as you took a sip, then stole a kiss before taking a drink from his own glass. He grabbed a strawberry from the tray and held it to your lips as you took a bite. “Now another drink.”

You almost squealed as the flavors exploded in your mouth. 

“When you try this on your own, be sure to get an extra-dry champagne,” August cautioned. “Moet brut won’t work with this flavor combination.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind when I replenish my champagne cooler at school,” you teased. “What about this one?” You took another bite of strawberry and a sip of champagne, then leaned in for a kiss letting the flavors swirl in your mouth alongside his tongue. August continued the kiss, even as he set his glass aside and grabbed for yours to set it down as well.

He eased you to your back on the couch and slipped the tie loose from your robe before he finally broke the kiss.

“That’s also a good one. You’re quite the quick study.” He pushed the fabric aside, baring your chest and stomach, then appraised you for a moment before running his fingers over your breasts and down your belly, letting his mouth follow the trail.

You let out a soft moan and spread your legs involuntarily as he shifted to the floor and tugged your hips around so your ass was hanging off the sofa to give him better access. He let your legs rest over his shoulders and you sighed as he once again slipped his tongue and fingers through your folds, ravishing your core to bring another orgasm crashing over you. 

You barely had a moment to recover before you felt the belt of your robe sliding out from underneath you and in a swift heartbeat, August had you flipped over, urging you onto your knees on the cushions with your arms leaning on the back of the couch. You peered back at him, while he shifted the fabric of the robe over your back, letting it drape off to the side and leaving your bare ass and legs completely exposed to him. He watched you carefully as he rubbed a large hand over one cheek, then drew back and spanked you hard. He was already caressing the red mark before the shocked gasp left your lips. He quirked an eyebrow at you in a silent question. Again?

You pondered the feeling and decided that yes, August Walker could spank your ass. You turned your head to peer over the back of the couch and jutted your hips back towards him wordlessly asking for more, which he gladly gave. The sharp smacks were sometimes single, sometimes doubled up, but always tempered with a gentle caress before he dealt another blow.

You were dripping for him. When he dragged two fingers through your soft petals to gather the nectar, you glanced back to see him wrap his lips around his fingers and lick your taste off them. Then he reached his hand in the pockets of his pants and withdrew another foil square before dropping his pants altogether.

“You planned this,” you cried in feigned scandal.

“I hoped for it. Not the same thing,” he gently replied, rolling the condom over his swollen length. “But it’s always good to be prepared. Speaking of which…” 

August reached forward to grasp the silk belt he’d tossed aside, then drew one of your arms back behind you.

“May I have your other arm, Angel?”

You offered it without hesitation, shifting off the back of the couch so that all your weight was now on your knees. You felt him loop the belt around both wrists separately before he wrapped the tie a few more times around both. Holding the binds of your wrists in one hand, he used the other to guide his sheathed cock to your soaked pussy, gliding easily into your core. Once his hips met yours, he started a commanding pace, pumping in and out of you all the while holding you in place with your hands.

As if he could feel you losing control, unable to stay up straight any longer, August let the belt slips a few inches through his fingers before gripping tight again, giving you enough room to bend forward and rest your chest on the back of the couch while he continued to pump in and out of you with a devastating pace, the juice from you squelching around his cock.

“You fucking take me so good, Angel. Such a pretty pussy. Can you hear her talking to me? She says the sweetest things.”

He set a hand on your low back and pressed his against your stretched entrance, letting it drag along his cock as he moved back and forth and gathering some of your slick on the pad. You felt him ease his hand up, fingers pressing into the flesh of your asscheeks before he teased around your puckered rim with his thumb. When the moan escaped your mouth he knew he was on the right path and wasted no more time. He slipped his thumb right into your hole and held on while you bucked back against him.

“Fuck yeah, you like that, don’t you? Fucking my cock so good. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. August, fuck yes.” You could barely form more words so moans of pleasure and squeals of delight were all he heard but they were enough to spur him on and lead him down the path of his own release just as soon as he felt yours.

With one practiced tug, he released you from the bind and eased himself out of your still pulsing pussy, then guided you to stand before him, pressing kisses along your shoulders and neck while he pulled the spent condom off his softening dick. He grabbed a napkin from the tray and wrapped it in a wad before spinning you to face him and kissing you hard.

“Let’s get cleaned up.”

He led you upstairs one last time, abandoning the snack platter and half-full champagne bottle. He took you through to his bathroom, turned on the warm spray jets of the tiled shower, then disrobed you completely. You stepped into the glass cabinet and turned to grab his arm to bring him with you.

Without prompting, he grabbed a bar of the same bright citrus scented soap you always found in your guest room and lathered you up. If you weren’t about to fall asleep on your feet, you’d succumb so easily to the way his fingers danced across your skin, caressing every nook and cranny like they knew the way by heart. He spun you into the water to rinse and set to cleaning himself.

And now you had your answer. It was body wash, with a woodsy, pine scent. He rubbed it all over his body with his bare hands. He watched you watching, mesmerized at the way his muscles moved and the carefree way he gathered his own package and lathered it with suds before shifting you gently out of the way and rinsing off under the cascading water. 

Yes, he leaned an arm against the wall, but that could be just because you were with him and he wanted to encase you while he kissed you, tongue probing gently and mouths moving in unison. He groaned as he pulled away.

“We’d better get some sleep.”

The fluffy towel he dried you with was heavenly against your skin. He toweled himself as well before leading you back to his bed. 

“Are you comfortable sleeping here with me tonight?” he asked. “If you’d rather wake up in your own bed, I’d understand.”

It was uncharacteristically sweet, the way August was now wondering how you would feel in the morning, knowing you could never have him again. 

“I’d like to stay with you for tonight, if that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” He pulled the covers back and slipped in, holding them up for you to join him. Wrapped in his arms, head against his chest, you found yourself drifting off faster than you would have liked. You loved pillow talk, but supposed you’d managed that with him before, during, and a little after downstairs by the fire. Besides, pillow talk was for lovers. Which you were now assured you were not.

You woke later than you’d planned, your body still clearly recovering from the unexpected vigorous activity. August was not with you and though you knew the morning would not be a time to whisper sweet nothings, still you’d hoped to wake in his arms, just as you’d fallen asleep. The robe he’d lent you last night was draped across the foot of the bed and your lingerie was folded neatly on a chair nearby. 

You shrugged into the robe and grabbed your things, then headed downstairs where you could smell coffee already brewed but found no sign of August in the kitchen. You continued down to your room where you realized you’d left your phone all night. Shit.

When you picked it up, there were about ten messages from Gemma and you braced yourself as you opened the app to read them. Yes, in the end she wondered where the fuck you were and why you weren’t answering her but there was no urgent call to get her immediately. The night with Mike seemed like it had gone exactly as planned.

She only wanted to let you know Mike’s friends were throwing a New Year’s party and of course you were invited. Mike even had a university friend coming in from out of town for the party and Gemma wanted to set you up with him. The guy in the picture she sent looked cute enough. Apparently he sailed and had dark, wavy hair, a little shorter than Mike’s. His smile was amazing, but to your eyes, he was a boy. He would never compare, you were sure.

Just as you were contemplating how to let him down gently, your phone rang and Gemma’s number appeared. You took a deep breath and hoped nothing in your voice would betray you.

“Hey!” you answered brightly.

“Whoa, too much. Too loud. Calm down.” Gemma was hungover, for sure.

“Sorry,” you quieted. “Everything okay?”

“I think I drank a liquor store last night. Mike’s still passed out, but I need my bed. Can you come get me?”

“Now? Yeah. Of course. Let me just get my shoes on. See you in thirty?”

Gemma agreed, though she wished you’d ignore some of the speed signs along the way and you laughed, promising to grab a Vitamin Water from the fridge before you left.

You noticed another message come through just as you hung up with Gemma. August was in his office. He didn’t want you to think you’d been abandoned, but he had to get an early start for meetings and wanted to let you sleep in. You texted him you were off to get Gemma. Chat bubbles appeared and disappeared a few times before a solitary frowny face finally appeared.

With no idea how to respond and not a lot of time to spare hashing it out, you dressed quickly, grateful you’d already washed off last night’s extravagance. You grabbed the keys to Gemma’s car, grabbed a water from the gym, and headed back out to the garage.

Gemma was still too dazed to inquire much about why you were absent from your phone last night and you didn’t offer any conversation about it. The whole drive was pretty quiet except for the radio. August was gone when you got back and while Gemma couldn’t care less, you were a little let down. You’d hoped you’d be able to at least sit with him a bit while Gemma slept off the rest of her hangover, but that wasn’t to be.

He kept himself pretty scarce the rest of the week, too, texting Gemma he wouldn’t be home for dinner any of the nights until you were scheduled to head back home for Christmas Eve. Four long-suffering nights and days filled with late breakfasts by the pool and dinner and drinks in town with Mike and other friends. You barely got to say goodbye to August as he breezed off to one final meeting the morning of the 24th before Gemma came upstairs to grab coffee.

Christmas was low key with just the six of you at your parents. No other relatives were traveling in and no one else nearby had invited you over for anything special. Gemma always celebrated alone with her dad, too. Your aunt wanted to take you and your mom to the sales the day after Christmas and that was an all day, exhausting affair. You were in bed by 9.

Over the next five days, you visited with Gemma and Mike, old high school friends, and your parents a few times. But never August. Gemma said as wonderful as Christmas was with him, he was stressing about the deal and spending all his time at the office since the day after. He needed to get the deal signed by the 31st at the absolute latest. And his company’s New Year’s Eve gala was set for the Grand Hotel downtown. He’d offered you both tickets, but Gemma really wanted to hang out with Mike.

Will was nice enough, if a little on the arrogant side. He was a good kisser and you could kinda imagine what he might be able to do with that mouth placed somewhere else, but then you really thought about it and decided the missing facial hair would change the feel. Nevermind. He was at least gracious about the letdown.

The drive back to school was a little somber. You were still trying to figure out if there was any possibility of a roommate swap. Gemma offered to just put you up at her place for the semester, but you didn’t want to sleep on a couch fantasizing about her father while she was in the other room. Maybe Brigette would just spend all her time at Charlie’s, like you should have.

A few days after the start of classes, a small package arrived for you in your mailbox. You’d grabbed it on the way to your Criminal Procedures lecture and stuck it in your backpack to open later. When you got back to your room after taking advantage of office hours to clear the theme for your research paper, you sat cross legged on your bed and opened the small, cardboard box. Inside, nestled in tiny, delicate packing peanuts, was an even smaller, embossed white paper sleeve surrounding a small, red velvety square box.

Inside was a thin, delicate gold chain, with a charm of black onyx arranged in the gold outline of an art deco wing. An angel's wing.

You searched the box for a card and finally found one buried under the packing material once you realized you’d opened the box upside down. There was a simple message to you.

'Angel. This belongs on the part of you I never got the chance to chain. Remember all you are worth and take it as you can. Yours for one night. - A’

Taglist (if you are crossed out I can’t tag you)

Anything: @kittenofdoomage @sillyrabbit81 @kebabgirl67 @feelmyroarrrr @beck07990 @mysweetlittledesire @mollymal @summersong69  (Old times sake? @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sebbytrash @anotherwinchesterfangirl )

Holiday Angel: @angelcavill66 @lizzystuffsthings​ @plaidcat4815 @augustsprincess  @alexakeyloveloki @gofirityouguys

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction #august walker au #ceo!august walker #ceo!august #best friend's dad #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #holiday angel #mine

[writingduhh]

Chuckle Sandwich || Shopping With Him (HC)

I had this idea while talking to my absolute bestie babe @lvrj4mie 😩 ILYSM

Im also taking requests or just any suggestions or ideas!! Thanks for reading!

❥ Jschlatt:

▷ Would rather die than go shopping… He only goes because he loves you.

▷ Holds all your bags and items you pick.

▷ Definitely will pull some skimpy or revealing clothing off the clothing rack, suggesting you try it on for him.

▷ Trying to encourage him to get outside his comfort zone (Only wearing shorts and sweatshirts 😭)

▷ After some time passes he actually begins to enjoy himself. Well, he enjoys spending quality time with you.

▷ I can see him sharing random yet entertaining stories with you as you walk around from store to store.

▷ He absolutely insists on treating you to at least one thing. Whether it’s a new pair of pants, some new shoes, or even just a pretzel from the cafeteria.

▷ Having to stop his impulse buying of stupid or useless things.

“Y/n look!” Schlatts voice calls, catching the attention of a passersby or two.

“Shh. What is it?” You playfully hush, walking over to where he stood, investigating the shelves.

Suddenly he pulled out the most ridiculous looking monkey replica (the golden ball monkey lmao

“What is THAT?!”

“It’s a beautiful golden balled monkey.” He grins, happily showing off his find.

Together you both shared a laugh. Assuming he’d put the item down you began to walk over to the next shop. To your surprise he didn’t follow you. Turning around you saw him motioning towards the register as he stood in kind.

“Jay, what are you doing? That’s expensive for such a silly thing.”

“Don’t worry y/n, we’re rich!” He jokingly responds (he would say this)

“Schlatt, are you seriously going to buy it? What are you going to do with it?”

“I’ll take him everywhere with me! I’ll tuck him into bed and kiss him goodnight.” He excitedly explains.

You can’t help but smile as you let out a small sigh.

“If you really want it, go for it.”

▷ He definitely makes sure you stop at the cafeteria for some lunch or just to taste test some snacks.

❥ Ted:

▷ Such a gentleman. He holds all the doors open for you, holds your bags, offers to pay (even though you politely refuse)

▷ He’s Low-key quite fashionable. He’d be helping you pick out trendy clothes and even help you put together cute outfits

▷ Always suggesting things for you to try on. He loves to see you happy and confident in the new clothes.

▷ Enjoys trying things on himself as well. He’d definitely throw in a crazy outfit just to get your reaction.

▷ Definitely takes this opportunity to use the Photo Booth or at least get some cute and funny pictures with the two of you

▷ I can honestly see him being the type who enjoys people watching.

▷ You sit in the cafeteria together sharing some food as you watch people walk past, making up little stories about their lives.

“Ok ok, what about him?” Ted questions, motioning towards the passerby.

“Uh, I think he is currently in a big fight with his partner. He’s definitely trying to find them a gift or something… I’m not very good at the game. You go. ” You reply.

“I thought it was a great story. Hmm ok that dude right there. He’s actually undercover right now. He’s an fbi agent called… 770. There is a huge heist going on right now in the store below us.” He seriously remarks.

“Why are you so good at this game.” You playfully sigh.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it eventually.” He chuckles, placing a kiss in the back of your hand.

▷ Makes you do a try on haul the second you get home, mixing and mating every possible outfit

#chuckle sandwich #chuckle sammy #ted nivison #jschlatt x reader #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison headcanons #jschlatt hcs #hc #jschlatt #ted nivison imagine #ted x reader #ted nivison fanfiction #ted nivison fic #schlatt hcs #schlatt x you #schlatt x reader #schlatt imagine #schlatt #ted nivison x you #ted nivison x y/n #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt x you #jschlatt fluff #ted nivison fluff #chuckle sandwich x reader #jschlatt fanfic #jschlatt imagines

[marie-mcd]

Apart from the drunken bookshop scenes in Good Omens S1E1 being very entertaining, these well-loved scenes continue to fascinate me, because I'm seeing someone be persuaded to change their mind without being on exactly the same page.

My observations: they have common ground; Aziraphale isn't too far gone to be reasoned with; Crowley succeeds by meeting him where he is, and by reflecting Aziraphale's own logic back to him.

In conflict resolution IRL, identifying common ground can be a hurdle, but this is easy for them here, and also amusing that their common ground is the whole earth; they love it and deep down don't want it to be "tested to destruction". But Crowley's attempts to persuade him by pointing out all the things Aziraphale would lose personally isn't enough to sway him to help stop Armageddon.

I've observed IRL that someone too far gone to be reasoned with in a given moment tends to be someone so caught up in a strong emotion that their brain seems to completely block the ability to consider someone else's thoughts and feelings outside their own (and/or they'll seek out someone whose opinion confirms their own). I see that Aziraphale is disturbed by the idea of animals suffering when the world ends - which probably extends to humans, given how he cared about Adam and Eve, and that art and theatre comes from humans. He has deep, well-founded fear about disobeying his superiors, but he hasn't lost access to his empathy for others. He's nearly there: "I don't like it any more than you do, but I told you, I can't [disobey]. I'm an angel". "I can't interfere with the Divine Plan."

The really interesting part is when Crowley takes Aziraphale's ideas about disobedience and about the Divine Plan, and manages to get him to see them in a different way: the two seemingly contradictory ideas can actually be consolidated. Since the Plan is ineffable - Aziraphale's own idea reflected back - "You can't be certain that thwarting me isn't part of the Divine Plan too". Aziraphale doesn't have to completely reconsider his belief system, or change the status quo, or consider uncomfortable ideas related to his identity as an angel, to be persuaded: Crowley meets him where he is, and so he only has to stretch his comfort zone a little bit, rather than take a big leap. Additionally, Crowley prompts Aziraphale to think for himself rather than spell out his idea for influencing the antichrist: "It'd be too bad if someone made sure I failed..." Which I also like to see.

(Also, how great is it that Aziraphale uses this same tactic at the airfield base later?!)

As I write these sorts of posts, I worry that I'm just pointing out really obvious stuff; but I'll go ahead and post this anyway because it's an interesting exercise for me to ponder and pinpoint why exactly I like certain things.

And I love me some pragmatic, productive conflict-resolution and problem-solving in real life; scenes like these get me thinking along those lines.

#good omens #good omens meta #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #ineffable spouses #ineffable husbands #azicrow #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale #crowley appreciation #p

[hitomisuzuya]

Yandere! Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Can be read as dub con because I wanted to step outside my comfort zone a little. Consensual Somnophilia. Whispered degradation. Mention of a sedative. Corruption. Memory manipulation. A hedgehog appears a few times.

a/n:

Good morning, everyone. Before I get to organizing myself and answering requests to catch up, I wanted to write this. @kichikichiko Remember the Somnophilia piece I mentioned to you last night. Take this and spare this humble author's life for saying she didn't go to sleep when I said I did😭 I was hyper fixated on Scara more than usual last night cause I was overthinking about stupid things. (Scara doesn't count as stupid of course.)

The first gift Scaramouche left in your room was his own Harbinger jacket. He thought it was important that you wear his jacket even though you didn't know it was his.

Or maybe you did because it was gone from your room.

He furrowed his eyebrows. You'd wandered off out of his of sight this morning. If Scaramouche couldn't be with you, then he had you followed every second of the day with constant written reports being relayed to him via your pet hedgehog.

You had no idea. Scaramouche always saved extra apple slices in thanks for the quilled creature's help. He must've sensed his obsessive feelings for you. Your hedgehog only wanted you to be happy.

Maybe there had been a little bite behind him calling you an idiot earlier than he intended because he saw a single tear fall from your eyes. But he thought he also noticed something else. You were covering your mouth. He thought he saw a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth?

Still, he must've hurt you, the single tear was evidence of that. And he hadn't seen you since.

Scaramouche heard tippy taps next to him. "You have impeccable timing, as always. Lets see where she is now, shall we." he said, looking down to see a note for your friend no doubt. He read it, crumbled it up and tossed it in the trash.

Your friend didn't need to know where you were just yet. He would copy your handwriting perfectly and send Mr. Needles on his way to your friend later.

About an hour earlier, you attached the note to a ribbon around your hedgehog's neck. "You know who take this to, right? I feel bad, she must be worried."

Of course he did.

"I would just go back right now, but I feel so sleepy. I don't know why, I only had some tea earlier..." Your hand knocked over something on the table of the vacant house you were in before you stumbled over to the bed, feeling grateful the window was open as you instantly fell asleep.

When he arrived, Scaramouche slammed the window closed as a test. He smirked, sitting next you on the bed. The delayed release sedative he'd slipped in your tea this morning was working well. You didn't even stir.

Brushing his fingers against his jacket thrown haphazardly on the edge of the bed, Scaramouche leaned down to whisper in your ear. "Have I corrupted you that much already, you pathetic slut?"

Electro hummed gently in his hand. He pressed it against your forehead. "Let's erase that memory of this morning. I hate that I can't stand that I hurt you and made you cry a little. It was not the way I wanted to make you cry."

Tugging off your pants and discarding your panties with them, he pulled your shirt up, his smirk widening when he saw you weren't wearing a bra. "I've almost got you wrapped around my finger. I never wanted you to be awake right away when I fucked you the first time, anyways."

He groaned when he thrust himself inside of you. You mewled softly, one of your hands seemed to reach out for him in your sleep. He intertwined his fingers with yours. He felt your gummy walls almost instantly around his cock. "You even beg for my touch in your sleep. I really have corrupted you into behaving like a whore for me in your sleep. Shame on me for not making you prove this sooner."

Every word he whispered was accompanied by a harsher, rougher thrust. He bite your neck before he sucked on one of your nipples. Your mewls were growing more consistent, one of your legs tried to hook itself on his hip to sink his cock deeper inside of you. Drool was starting run down your cheek onto the pillow

Every thrust of his cock made you feel warmer and wetter.

Scaramouche felt almost delirious. Not being able to stand it anymore, he delivered a shock of Electro against your clit, making you jolt awake. "Surprise, slut. You had no idea who left you the jacket, did you?! Now wake up and serve your God. It's your purpose now!"

A scream of pleasure tore from your throat.

Scaramouche laughed, biting your lips before he kissed you, swallowing your next scream of pleasure as his tongue pushed inside your mouth. Maybe he got a little ahead of himself. For so long he craved to hear you sound like that.

Once he was spent, you lay there, exhausted and already almost asleep again.

Scaramouche forged your handwriting, and sent Mr. Needles on his way.

Thank you for almost 800 followers, everyone!

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you

[gold-rhine]

Sub! Ayato x Dom! gn reader

Warnings: not safe for work or minors, edging, bondage, overstimulation, slight degradation, power play, anal sex, spanking. I’m gonna mostly say “cock” for the reader, but it stands for both cock and strap, it’s just unwieldy to specify every time and I usually call strap “cock” irl anyway.

Words: 4k

A\n: repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned

Ayato is the biggest pillow princess out there. The entitlement on this one.

A connoisseur, seeks the thrill of new combinations of exciting experiences, both physical and mental, but is also a brat. Not in a usual sense of being deliberately antagonistic and difficult, it’s just that if you don’t keep him in check, he will steamroll you with sheer demanding presence, all with a pleasant little smile.

He wants to be surprised and lose control, but also has a compulsive need to plan and manipulate everything from the backstage. So he’s a handful for sure. If you’re into his kind of mind games, he can be exquisite like no one else, but he’s so high-maintenance, just energy and attention-wise, constantly testing your willpower.

“A luxury few can afford” meme, but it's on a diamond-encrusted choker.

You know how his story quest just stops dead to have a Boba Tea Interlude, where he orders tea with the weirdest ingredients and everyone around is openly disgusted? And they could’ve stopped the joke here, but no.

Ayato goes on to have a whole discussion about the nature of pleasure with Paimon, who is btw entirely out of her depth and can only master “Ugh?? Food should taste good?”

And this mf proceeds to argue that actually, things that just straightforwardly feel good are boring. And it’s better to experiment and seek out new interesting experiences that push your limits, even if they end up not feeling good.  And those things that don’t feel good, but in interesting and exciting ways, are better than straightforward good-feeling.

Like, just say you’re into kink and stop confusing poor Paimon. You don’t have to give a whole ass philosophical speech about wanting exciting things that feel bad to be inflicted upon you.

And he likes obedience, sure. A nice service top who just does everything he wants entirely according to a pre-approved script is probably his comfort zone.

But you know what’s a fun thing to do with a bossy brat like him? Tease him. Throw him off his script. Wipe that mild, confident, slightly bored smile off his face and see genuine emotions. See him come undone.

Also, you know he’s so used to being indulged. The experience of being challenged, loss of control, the inability to predict what’s gonna happen next is going to feel much more exciting than a bad-tasting boba tea.

Like, his only friend outside of the circle of people actively dependent on him, like Ayaka and Thoma, is Itto, the most irreverent delinquent in the city. And sure, Ayato tries to minimize the connection in his voice line (bc he’s a fake bitch), but from Itto’s line it’s clear that they are in continuous contact. They are actively hanging out, all the while Ayato doesn’t disclose his station.

Ayato found one dude in the entire city who doesn’t know who he is and is not gonna bow down to him. In fact, he’s gonna treat him in a way that would be considered scandalously rude for a head of the commission. But they are playing Magic the Gathering at a local McDonalds while Yashiro ninjas keep the cashier at a knifepoint so he doesn’t accidentally expose who Ayato really is to Itto.

He obviously wants to be seen for something else than the social image he created when he had to become the leader of his clan. He had to be so tightly wound up and in control all the time, impeccable and untouchable, or not only him, but his closest people would pay the price. Of course he wants to be able to let go, to feel human and imperfect, but accepted with the imperfections nonetheless. He just doesn’t know how, since he’s been living in nothing but a PR performance since he was a young teen.

Unless he’s literally forced to.

Ayato is never gonna admit that he wants to be put in his place, but he will certainly enjoy it.

Specifics-wise, I'm getting strong bondage vibes. Especially rope bondage, shibari knots. Popular choice for the pillow princesses in general, and rope instead of handcuffs gives both interesting texture and flexibility, you can change it up in many ways from session to session to keep it fresh.

But honestly, that’s details. What’s important is the mind games. The power play. The exciting stakes, even if inside of play. The rollercoaster of ups and downs. The push and pull of an invisible leash will matter much more than the physical one.

He’s so casual and calm when you start tying him up, even though he’s already naked. Sometimes you tie him in his clothes ruffled, halfway undone, but today you want his bare skin. You start with his chest and shoulders, and the purple rope looks amazing against his pale flesh.

Nudity doesn’t make him vulnerable though. He stands there languid, loose and long-limbed, follows your instructions to move his hands back so you can tie them with poise and elegance, like he’s getting an expensive suit tailored. Sometimes, you’d want to break his posture, throw him on the floor and fuck him until he’s a screaming mess, and only then finish the bondage.

There are always so many options to consider with Ayato.

But today you want to play the longer prelude. You know that the slow, almost ritualistic adjusting of the ropes over his body winds him up even if he doesn’t show it.

You work on tying his hands behind his back, then move to his torso. The ropes over ribs and stomach don’t actually hold much, but by god, they look pretty, the rhombs in the center and the violet lines going across his taut muscles.

You move deliberately slowly, handling him with long practiced firmness and effectiveness, except for the fleeting moments when your fingers linger, lightly trace the lines of his body, but leave before he can even react. A stroke from his sharp collarbones to the shoulders, a flick on the pink nipples, a caress across the sculpted abs.

This is a game where you almost pretend to be professional, and he almost keeps up the indifference. It’s a shaky pyramid of glass, barely balancing on the edge, the anticipation of waiting for exactly when it’ll fall down and shatter into tiny pieces.

The fun part about this is watching his cock hardening with your every move, how it slowly grows from soft to aroused, pointing up on his stomach. He can pretend to be indifferent all he wants, you have the evidence of how much he needs this right there.

He watches you intensely, even if it’s only in half-glances, his upper body is already covered in an intricate, beautiful harness.  

“Lean against the table and lift your leg, please”, you direct him to the high table beside the bed and he obeys with the same casual confidence. You tie his ankle to his thigh, moving the rope across the tender, sensitive skin of the inner thigh, and watch his cock twitch and redden. You then continue to fix his bent leg with ropes so that it’s pushed sideways and keeps his thigh open, working slow, methodical. He’s almost fully hard by the time you’re done.

“Violet really is your color,” you say casually, and slide the rope between his legs, under his balls and between his asscheeks. “Really brings out your eyes.”

His hips flinch, his cock fully erect now, but his voice is even and mild when he answers, “So nice of you to approve.”

It’s a stalemate of sorts, who is going to expose themselves first, but you have the advantage of not being naked, tied, and unable to close your legs. The chances are in your favor even against the calculating Yashiro commissioner.

You smile and lay your hand on his hipbone. He expects you to move to his dick and when you don’t, glances down and back up at your face in a politely hidden frustration.

“I’d prefer to continue this on the proper bed,” he says, still calmly, but with an insistent undercurrent in his tone, like a VIP client demanding a luxury section of the restaurant.

The fucking entitlement. Exactly what you were waiting for.

“Oh,” you smile, deceptively soft and lift your hand to stroke his sharp cheekbones. “You’d prefer the bed?”

He senses the shift in your tone, his muscles tightening, but he doesn’t flinch away. Not just entitled, but so self-assured too.

“Yes,” he answers, holding up your gaze. “I think it’d be beneficial to the both of us.”

You smile wider, from soft to mocking, “I wasn’t aware of your priorities,” your voice is calm, but when you swipe your thumb across his lips, it’s harsh, applying enough pressure to force his mouth open.

Your other hand finally grabs his cock, roughly, sending a jolt through his entire body. You stroke him and slide your fingers down between his legs, cup his balls and then move farther, to his tight hole, to show that everything he has is open to you.

“I was under the impression that you want to be fucked,” you say, looking into his eyes and he breathes out through the mouth you’re still keeping open.

You smile again and remove your hand from between his legs. “But apparently you just want the bed. Perhaps I should just leave you there alone like this.”

His eyes are stormy violet, but his body leans so receptively against you, shudders with obvious need. The tip of his cock is leaking pearly precum.

“I never said that,” he answers with strained tightness in his voice.

You sigh and lean into him, pressed close enough to feel him struggling not to arch into you, and tenderly kiss his lower lip, then the tiny mole under it.

“Then stop making demands or I’ll shut your pretty mouth.”

He looks so scandalized, it’d be funny if it wasn’t so hot. His mouth *is* really pretty, especially half-open and breathing heavily like this. It’s a challenge, almost a dare. ‘Oh, you think this is bad? Just wait for what I do next’.

You don’t tell him that, though. Why ruin a nice surprise.

You step back a little, grab him, turn him around and throw him roughly over the table, enjoying his shocked gasp. The elegant porcelain vase that was standing on the edge falls down and breaks, delicate petals of white camellias that were kept there scattering on the floor. You press your hand between Ayato’s shoulderblades, keeping him in place when he struggles to move, and hoist his tied leg up on the table, forcing him to balance on his free leg, his ass entirely exposed. He glares angrily at you over the shoulder, his cheek pressed to the table, but you just smile and arch your eyebrow expectantly, looking over him splayed like that in front of you.

It sends shivers to his core, the rough handling, demeaning exposure of being bent over the desk like a common whore, the anticipation of being used, but not knowing how exactly… But he will try to keep up the appearances even like that.

“This was an expensive vase”, he says flatly.

You lean down, still smiling, and close your hand over his dick, squeeze painfully so that he arches, his thighs shudder. “More expensive than this cock?”

“...No,” he finally lets out, strained.

“Then I can afford it,” you tell him with a smirk and watch with satisfaction an angry blush appearing on his cheeks. It’s only the beginning, though. Time to escalate.

You move away and and soon come back, catching his jaw and forcing a gag into his mouth. His indignant protests are muffled, but still loud enough.

“What’s wrong, your Highness?” you ask pleasantly, looking into his stormy eyes and stroking the exposed curve of his asscheek while he writhes in front of you. “I told you I’ll shut your mouth if you make demands, so you thought you can keep talking back at me if you don’t technically demand anything, because you’re so clever?”

You can see in his affronted glare that it’s exactly what he thought. You grin at him and slap the skin you were just caressing. He yelps, a sound choked by the gag, tries to move, but you press your hand against the back of his neck, pinning him to the table, as you keep laying blows across his ass and thighs. His flesh is so pale and tender, a true aristocrat, it turns a bright red immediately, in gorgeous contrast with the dark ropes.

When he shuts his eyes, long lashes squeezed tightly, and his grunts turn from protesting to shaky, you start alternating pain with caresses. You stroke the skin that is still stinging from a hit a second ago, slide your fingers between his legs to cup his balls, grab his painfully hard, leaking dick. The noises he makes, tiny muffled half-gasps, half-moans, are delicious. He bucks his hips as you twist the sensitive head of his cock with one hand and strike his ass with the other. This time his moan is loud, needy.

“So nice of you to approve,” you say teasingly and reach for the lube. You pour it on your fingers and press them against his hole. He tenses in anticipation, you see the muscles of his tied arms strain against the ropes. You start massaging his entrance and run your free hand over the sharp knobs on his spine.

“Relax,” you tell him softly and slide your fingers inside. Shudder runs through his body, his back arching, forehead pressed to the table and hair falling to cover his face. You lean down to kiss a small mole on the back of his shoulder, your fingers working inside of him, opening him up, hitting the sweet spot until he whimpers, his hips twitching under you. You lightly bite his shoulder and with your free hand you grab the criss-crossed ropes on his back and pull them slowly, making them taut, pressed harshly against his skin, so that he moans hoarsely, clenches around your fingers. You fuck him faster and faster, watch how the trembling turns into writhing and moans grow louder.

“Are you already close, your Highness?” you hook your fingers inside him, and he arches deliriously, exquisitely, thrusting into your hand. You can tell that he’s on the edge and you slap his ass harshly.

“Come on, cum for me then,” you tell him and drag your nails over his sensitive, stinging flesh. He comes with a long, shaky scream barely muffled by the gag, and goes limp under your hands.

You take your fingers out of his ass and gag out of his mouth, and smile, looking at his trembling form sprawled on the table.

“I’m sorry, did you say something? I didn’t quite get it.”

He coughs a little, his throat dry from screaming, breathing heavily through his mouth to regain his composure, then swallows harshly and licks his lips.

“My title is not “Highness”,” he finally says, meeting your eyes, his voice a little hoarse, but still haughty. You can’ help but smile. He couldn’t very well say he screamed because he loved how you fucked him, but there’s no one else who could be bent over the table and fucked like that, turned into a screaming, writhing mess, and then still glare at you with this dignified primness, all the while with his ass still exposed and arched up.

“Why not?” you turn him over and pull him up by the rope harness on his chest, so that he’s standing up face to face with you.

“I’m not a prince, obviously,” he says calmly, rolling his eyes just so, and you chuckle, catch his chin and trail kisses down his jawline teasingly, your body pressed flat against him.

“You are to me,” you tell him, grinning, and this earns a fond, surprised chuckle from him. You kiss his smiling mouth, and he answers eagerly back, his tongue sliding against yours, his body arching in your hands.

Ayato doesn’t really have a praise kink, but he loves to be complimented and feel special for the reasons other than his heritage or political status, especially from the people who otherwise treat him as equal. The pointed irreverence is what makes the endearment count.

“I’ll even get you to the bed, isn’t it a royalty treatment that you wanted?” you tell him, breaking the kiss, turn him and push him down, so that he falls on the bed next to the table. He lands on the mass of pillows, and grins with a smug satisfaction, a cat that’s gotten what he wanted.

It’s worth getting him to the bed for the view alone, though. He’s insanely gorgeous, sprawled on the dark silk like that, pale sculpted body against the sleek black of the sheets, managing to look both elegant and ravished, the red marks from your touch decadently obscene on his tender skin, light hair looking even better when disheveled. The temptation to just fuck him right there, wreck him immediately, roughly, is immense.

But that’s obviously what he wants. He knows how exquisite he is, the honed, cherished masterpiece, the way he looks at you from under half lowered eyelids, languorous, confident, not even as much demanding, as sure you won’t be able to resist him.

Is he worth the trouble? Gods yes. But it doesn’t mean you’ll play along to his tune.

You kneel over him, kiss his soft, expectant lips, run your hands over him greedily. You move your mouth down, to claim what’s eagerly offered to you, the arch of his neck, the slopes of his delicate collarbones, the broad chest, heavily rising as he breathes feverishly, pink nipples, hardened under your caress, sculpted abs and carved hipbones.

He’s throbbing hard when you get down there, but you don’t touch his dick. You reach for the rope and start tying his free leg in the same position, ankle to the thigh.

He groans in frustration, rolls his head back on the silken pillows, he’s breathing heavily, impatient. You kiss the line from his exposed inner thigh to the tender juncture where his leg meets the torso, and finish up the knots. He trembles under your touch, arches as much as he can, fixated as he is.

You raise from the bed and step back, admiring your handiwork. He’s splayed on the bed, thighs forced open, shoulders slightly drawn back and chest arched due to his hands being tied behind his back, his gorgeous long cock is throbbing hard, violet ropes drawn over his body like the edges on the luminous stained glass, he’s breathing feverishly from his parted, swollen mouth, silver-blue hair falling around his face like a tangled halo, his eyes a wild, delirious lavender.

You sit back in a chair and watch over him with a smile, as he struggles and finally lets out, huskily. “What are you waiting for?”

“I remember we had an agreement. I get you to the bed and leave you there by yourself,” you say, smirking, and meet his angry glare.

“You wouldn’t,” he grits out.

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t…” he stops himself, takes a deep breath, licking his lips, realizing that saying ‘You wouldn’t dare’ could only spur you on. “What would you gain from it?”

He really thinks that fucking him is the limit of human aspirations. You smile teasingly.

“Oh, for a start, I’d enjoy immensely watching you writhe and beg desperately like a common slut, my princeling. Maybe I’ll roll you onto a pillow and tease you until you start humping it like a dog.”

His eyes widen, horrified, breath catching in his throat at the imagined humiliation. Oh, this is too good. You should absolutely do it to him. But not today. Let him stew in this thought, be both aroused when he thinks about it afterwards and appalled at his own desire, let him wait with a baited breath if you do it to him for the next few sessions, be both relieved and - secretly - a little disappointed that you don’t. Then you can spring it on him when he least expects this.

It always pays off to play the long game with Ayato.

You don’t show your decision though, sitting impassively yet, watching him squirm.

“Don’t do it,” he breezes out, looking you in the eyes, biting his lip, almost anxiously for someone always so confident as him.

“Convince me then,” you tell him with a smirk, move to sit on the edge of the bed, looming over him, but not touching.

“Please,” he manages, strained. “I’m so close. Let me finish.”

You scoff, lean down and run your thumb over his cheekbones teasingly. He trembles nonetheless, too overstimmed and wound up, raw and sensitive to every touch, his eyes hazy from desire, his breath laborious.

“Is that the best you can do? Is this your famed eloquence? If so, it’s not giving me much motivation.”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, licks his dry lips. When he meets your eyes again, he doesn’t look necessarily calm or collected, but focused, determined, his raw hunger sharpened into a thin cutting edge.

“Please, I want you to fuck me,” he says, his voice deep, low, shameless, almost purring. “Take me, fuck me hard, wreck me, I beg of you. I am yours to use.”

You can barely restrain yourself to let him finish the sentence before you claim his mouth. You move to position yourself between his legs and slide your strap\cock into him, slowly, but forcefully, in one long thrust. He arches under you and you drink a sweet, shuddering moan from his lips. You fuck him hard, quickening the pace, gripping the ropes that are digging into his hips, and his moans turn into erratic, desperate screams, his head lolling back helplessly

You lean down to him, slide your hand into his hair and tug, forcing him to expose his throat, close your other hand over his leaking cock, feel him choke on his breath and tremble feverishly, his open, tied legs shaking.

“That’s right, come for me, baby,” you tell into his ear, his soft hair tickling your face as he leans into you. You roll your hips, cock buried deep inside him, and squeeze his dick. “Let me see you fall apart.”

He comes, crying out against your skin, trying desperately to thrust into your hand. You stroke him through it until pleasure becomes blinding as the pain and he starts trashing under you, whimpering incoherent pleas, completely unraveled.

He goes limp when you slide out of him and get to untying the ropes. You get to the knots on his upper back when he turns to you over the shoulder, catches your mouth in a softly tired, lazy kiss.

“How are you?” you ask, undoing the last knots. “Limbs didn’t fall asleep?”

“No, I’m fine,” he says mildly, but his fingers close on your forearm, asking you to stay close a little longer. You circle your arm around his shoulders in reassurance and he leans into you. You kiss his temple softly, and he smells of expensive perfume, sweat and an incoming summer rain, that didn’t yet catch you, but already echoes in the wind.

You glance down at him, because he is too quiet, and sure enough, he’s thinking. And not just thinking, his lips are pressed, eyelids half-closed, but tight around the corners, brows furrowed just so. Oh no. This is the Strategizing face.

“Ayato, don’t do your fucking deluge thing or I swear to fucking gods! No, it’s not a suitable substitute for a shower, you absolute…”

“I wasn’t going to!” he laughs with an exaggeratedly affronted look, breaking the concentration. “You made your opinion perfectly clear last time, no need to yell at me again.”

“Then what are you scheming about?”

He doesn’t try to deny that he’s scheming.

“I want you to choke me next time,” he says matter of factly.

“We’ve discussed this before. Your skin is too tender, marks are going to be too obvious.”

“I’m going to get a high-collared outfit.”

“Do they even make collars that go right under the chin?”’

“Of course they don’t,” he scoffs. “I will get one custom-ordered.”

You laugh. “Of course you will, your Highness. Is there going to be a new fashion trend in Inazuma city because the Yashiro commissioner really wants to have his pretty throat choked?”

“It’s a good look anyway, so I don’t see the problem. As a fallback option, there are some suitable paints I can get from our festival supplies. And of course, if all else fails I can always blame it on the assassination attempt.”

“I wish you were more careful about the assassins than the custom-made collars.”

“I don’t even get that many assassins these days,” he shrugs dismissively with one shoulder, the other pressed against you. “Just a few Fatui strugglers, grasping at the straws. They are bound to run out soon.”

“I still don’t know if you’ve planned this thoroughly enough,” you tease him. “What if you cause an international diplomatic incident by accusing the Fatui of trying to kill you by choking and spanking your ass?”

You catch a sharp elbow under your ribs, but it’s worth it.

#rhine writes #rhine writes filth #sub genshin #genshin smut #sub ayato #dom reader #ayato smut #ayato

[black-lake]

2nd house profection year

it’s my 2nd house profection year and I’m noticing some changes in my life. < my 2nd house is in cancer for ref.

~༯ I’m eating more this year than ever tbh. like I started having comfort food!!! eating whatever I want whenever and not holding myself back as much, which is very unlike me btw. I have a virgo moon and I’m not just nitpicky but also strict with my diet, even tho I have a fast metabolism (aries stellium).

~༯ usually when I’m stressed I tend to starve myself or get over caffeinated but this year I’m leaning more towards eating for comfort < yes taurus core.

~༯ I started going to the gym again but I’d slack off and become uninterested and bored, then find it interesting again, but that could just be my gem rising.

~༯ It seems like life is more abundant. things come easier! there's less resistance. I’m able to slow down and smell the roses.. 𓇢𓆸  I even feel a bit too comfortable or stuck in my comfort zone. everything seems like it’s too much and I just want to enjoy life. ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

~༯ I started buying flowers, planting flowers, decorating my house a lot more, got more perfumes, more beautiful things. currently as we speaking I have like 10 different types of flowers in my house. I started cooking more, I even made up recipes that my family liked and started making them regularly.

~༯ I’m taking care of my skin, my body, and overall health. I'm investing more in skincare and health supplements. though sometimes I overdue it, like get fixated on one thing or another.

~༯ I'm someone that used to have high energy, I'd pull an all nighter or just wake up at 3am scroll non stop or put music on, it wasn’t energy it was ⋆˙⟡ anxiety ⟡⋆˙ , but I'm having more quality sleep this year! I'm in bed by 10 and maybe I just got older, but there's that.

~༯ giving my hair a well deserved break!! I used do dye my hair very often, this year I got a short haircut and I’m growing my natural hair back, I’ve only added a few subtle highlights and I don’t style it as often. I'm embracing more simplicity with my style, though could be that my ass got lazy 𐙚(ᵕ̤ᴗᵕ̤)

~༯ I'm planing more, working on my skills and hobbies, but not rushing or forcing things and not setting high expectations either. I don't feel like there's a rush like before. my values are changing significantly, I know what I like and don’t like and what I can put up with.

~༯ don't get too comfortable and not do anything about moving forward bcz you will be tempted to. remember to still challenge yourself!

~༯ I’m having a relatively comfortable year it got me having flashbacks of my 12th house profection year which was a fckin nightmare. It was all about the subconscious, mental health struggles, depression and overcoming these things. It really was about coming up with personified methods that help me deal with these internal conflict so I can move forward. It also was the year I became more spiritual.

~༯ my 1st house profection year wasn’t good either for me personally, it was super challenging and chaotic. it had me doing things outside my comfort zone. e.g. throwing myself in the ocean (i'm afraid of drowning). my individuality was constantly tested, my determination, my willingness to put myself first and not compromise my own needs and values.

~༯ there were instances where I felt like I'm compromising for the sake of keeping a friendship, which wasn’t reciprocated. I learned to not be afraid to walk away from ppl and places that don’t respect or value me. my cut off game wasn't particularly bad before, but I felt blinded, manipulated and pressured that year, I had to fully trust myself and only rely on myself. very much aries themes. 

~༯ If you're going thRU it with your 12th or 1st house profection, know that it will teach you valuable lessons that lead you to know yourself and love yourself more. you will understand your triggers, your strengths, know who your enemies and true friends are. it gets better! this feels like the perfect year to take a break from all the past challenges that I went through, I'm able to slow down, enjoy life and reflect until I see where the next tides takes me. 

stay blessed, much luv <333

#12th house #profection years #annual profections #1st house #2nd house #2nd house profection #12th house profection #1st house profection #solar return #astrology #taurus #aries #profection year

[thatswhatthepoetssay]

Sunshine Boy Chapter 2

Franken Kyle Spencer X Reader

Word count: 1,241

Summery: A typical story of girl meets boy…and maybe some trouble along the way.

——————————————————————————

St..uu..upid” He mumbles as he points his pointer finger at his chest.

“I know you’re not Kyle. You’re not stupid, okay?” I say while giving him a small smile.

Immediately I am engulfed in a tight hug. His arms wrap around me and his head goes to rest on my shoulder. After a few seconds, my hands start to stroke his hair in a soothing matter.

——————————————————————————

Before I arrived at Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, I thought that I was destined to be alone. A certain blonde proved otherwise, he showed me kindness that no one ever has.

Even though he had difficulty talking, somehow I always knew exactly what he wanted to say.

At one point I even thought I was a clairvoyant, but after a few other tests it turned out to not be the case.

——————————————————————————

“An Ouija board huh?” I say while leaning on the wall next to the closet.

“Madison wants us to find her and we can't afford to lose a single witch if we want to survive.” Replies Zoe as she pours a drink into multiple shot glasses.

After Queenie’s terrifying story about her grandma and a spirit board, I was even less excited about the whole plan.

“There are four of us, and if we want to find Madison we need to witch up.” Says Zoe as she places the now empty shot glass on the board.

After a while of trying, and later contacting the Axeman, we finally managed to reach Madison. All four of us went up to the attic as the spirit board instructed.

It was a horrifying sight, Madison lying there with her arm severed in half. It looked like her body already started to decompose. Yet despite all of the horrific things that happened to her, she still looked peaceful.

——————————————————————————

Ever since Madison’s return, the academy felt more like a war zone than a school. Fiona was going after possible supremes and rekindling old feuds with neighboring covens.

Despite everything that was going on, I could still seek comfort in my two closest friends at the academy. Due to the fact that I was getting closer to Kyle, it also meant that I was getting closer to Zoe.

Since the day I met her I knew that she was going to be a big part of my life.

“Hey YN, can you help me gather some herbs in the garden?” Asks Zoe, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yeah of course, I’ll grab the baskets.” I reply while getting up and going towards the kitchen.

——————————————————————————

After spending about a half an hour out in Cordelia’s garden, Zoe and I head back inside.

“So Kyle seems to like you quite a lot..” Says Zoe as she empties the contents of her basket onto the table.

“Yeah I like him too, he’s a really good friend.” I reply while doing the same.

“Mhm.. he’s definitely the light this place needed.” She responds while looking at the dark hallway outside the kitchen.

Following our little chat in the academy’s kitchen, I went upstairs to clean up. Before getting in the shower I decided to pay Kyle a visit in his room.

After knocking a few times and getting no answer I figured that it was okay for me to come in. As I went through the door and into his bedroom, I saw him sleeping peacefully on his bed.

His body was fully under the covers except for one arm which was tangling off the bed and he had a light smile resting on his lips.

He looked almost angelic under the golden light of the sunset.

I was about to leave the room when I heard a quiet whisper of my name. I turned around and saw Kyle sitting up on the bed, he was smiling like a kid on christmas morning.

“Hey Ky, sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up.” I say as I walk up to him.

In response he just shook his head which made his blonde curls fall onto his face.

Instinctively I brought my hand up to his face to try and fix his hair. Immediately after my fingers connected with his golden curls, I noticed that Kyle closed his eyes and his dimples were now visible.

As I continued to play with his hair I realized that he started to lean on my shoulder. After a few minutes I removed my fingers from his hair and tried to get him back into bed.

“H..ha…p..py.” Stuttered Kyle as I pulled the blanket over his body.

“I’m happy too Ky.” I responded while giving him a small smile.

For the first time in a long time I could say that I was truly happy. Sure the coven played a big part in that happiness, but the main reason was Kyle.

“Okay I’m gonna go make you some dinner, in the meantime try and get more sleep.” I said as I finished tucking him in.

“N..no..sta..y.” Kyle hesitated for just a moment before taking my hand into his own.

At that I gave him a small nod and decided to lay down on the bed. After making sure that it was okay with Kyle, I got under the warm blanket.

After getting situated I noticed that Kyle was already drifting off to sleep. I moved a bit closer so that way I could be the big spoon and he the little.

Turns out that Kyle was a big fan of that idea. A few moments after my arm wrapped around him, he began to let out soft snores. His hand also went up to hold mine, as if to make sure that I wouldn’t get up and leave.

If there was one thing I knew for sure is that I would never leave Kyle Spencer.

——————————————————————————

The following morning I was woken up by the sun which was seeping through the curtains. I turned to face Kyle and noticed that he wasn’t sleeping. His eyes were focused on my face, when he realized that I caught him staring he just gave me a goofy smile.

“G..g..ood..m…mm..moor-“ I smile as Kyle attempts to communicate his thoughts.

After a few seconds he lets out an irritated huff and burries his face in the pillow.

“Hey hey it’s alright. Good morning to you too Ky.” I comfort him as he continues to wallow.

I gently place my hand on his shoulder and tell him that I was going to go get us some breakfast. Once again he protests, but I still exist the bedroom telling him that I would be right back.

As I walked into the kitchen I noticed Zoe standing over by the fridge.

“Hey Zoe!” I greet her while grabbing two bowls out of the cabinet.

“Oh my god YN where have you been? I thought something happened .” Says Zoe as her face pales ans her arms go up to her heart.

“I was with Kyle, sorry didn’t mean to give you a scare.” At that she seems to slightly calm down, however her face remains a few shades lighter.

“With Kyle? Wha.. what do you mean?” She questions as she closes the fridge.

After a quick retelling of yesterday’s events, Zoe’s face regains its color. I knew she felt protective over Kyle ever since his death. What I didn’t know was the reason why..

——————————————————————————

PS: Im currently working on a Kyle Spencer one-shot which should be posted soon. I also started working on the 3rd chapter of “Sunshine Boy” and let me tell y’all.. I already cried twice. The next chapter is no joke but Im so excited for you guys to read it! I will also be making a tag-list so let me know if you would like to be added! As always my requests are open so feel free to send them my way!:)

Tags (Only for this post) : @bucky-daddy-barnes @thebleedingm00n @stumachersearwax

#ahs coven #kyle spencer #ahs asylum #franken kyle #ahs fic #american horror story #tate x violet #violet harmon #kyle spencer x reader #evan peters #fanfic #fluff #jimmy darling #ahstories #ahs 1984 #requests #fanfiction #ahs smut #james patrick march #kai anderson #tate ahs #tate x reader #tate langdon #kit walker #kit walker x reader #tate langdon smut #original fiction #original character #x reader #ahs season 11

[drakeanddice]

After eight sessions of Burning Wheel, we decided that it wasn’t clicking for our table. It had a bunch of neat tech baked in, but wielding the system was not a joy for us. It felt like we could either dedicate ourselves absolutely to the infinite Swiss watch design or else abstract down toward the core resolution forever without ever doing more than scratch the surface and in general neither of those felt…y’know, good. So we decided to drop it.

Which kind of sucks. I feel a little defeated by the book. Like, I spent a not inconsiderable amount of time plumbing through the obtuse and confusing self-referential and esoteric prose, trying to get to the heart of why so many of my favorite designers cite it as a seminal work in the TTRPG field, but all I got was the feeling that the inheritors of its ideas did a lot to clean them up, sharpen them, and make them infinitely more fun to engage with.

I’m left with a feeling I’m getting pretty used to. I missed that moment when this thing was “cool.” I missed the Forge, I missed G+, and I missed Burning Wheel.

But also, I’m given to understand the Forge, like Burning Wheel, had problems, so I’m not taking it too hard.

We decided to play Mausritter this Friday. In a complete 180 from the rule-heavy interlocking gears and levers of Burning Wheel, the 300 pages of character creation, we decided to roll 3d6 3 times, and then 1d6 twice and take our little adventurer mice into the great big world to face danger and find treasure.

I’ve been having a recent problem where I play games for the wrong reasons. I’m looking for inspiration, for pilferable game design thoughts, for experiences outside of my comfort zone. I’m running games as work, as research. I’m slavishly adherent to the rules as written because I feel as though I owe that to the designer, because they clearly knew what they were doing and were doing it for a purpose. It’s a mental weight.

So I am attacking Mausritter from an entirely different angle. It’s an OSR game, very light and fast and abstracted. The rules are loose and few. It’s very minimal mental overhead. So I don’t have a lot to worry about getting “wrong” in the way that I’ve been secretly fearing I’ve been doing for Burning Wheel these past eight weeks. I’m playing this one for fun.

I’ve told my table that I need them to keep me honest. This is not work. My Friday night table is often abused as a play test group, often treated as an extension of my job as a game designer. I design games so I must play them. But this one’s just for fun. Don’t let me think to hard about it. Because I’m not in a mental state to do that right now.

We’re going to be mice. It’s going to be fun.

Anyway. I’ve done a thing I haven’t done in forever and prepped for a game. I’ve got a cool hexmap (adorable), have created some factions out in the world (portentous), named some NPCs (wholesome), and home brewed up some interesting spells and items to sprinkle around (fun as hell). I have not sat and just played DM by myself in a while. Still not something I want to do every time, but a welcome break from conducting atop a surfboard in front of a disaster wave.

I’m excited about this game. Can’t wait to report back.

#burning wheel #ttrpg #ttrpg stuff #indie ttrpg #mausritter

[iibonniee]

What's My Name?

Pairing: Yoo Kihyun x Reader

Genre: Smut, Non!Idol AU

Warnings: Warnings: non-idol!kihyun, sugar daddy!kihyun, unprotected sex, age kink, daddy kink, oral (male receiving), cock worship, bondage, spanking, semi-masterbation

Rating: R

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: Their agreement was something Kihyun had always made sure was followed to the very T. After all, their agreement was signed in ink.

Masterlist | Tags: @beautifulworldandmore @kyunnielove @iamkyunie @doveslittlekpoparchive @dessianna1

Yoo Kihyun was the type of man who did things by the book and followed everything to the letter. He thrived on a well-structured and methodically planned routine. His approach helped him maintain balance in his otherwise chaotic lifestyle, granting him a semblance of serenity amidst the whirlwind of his everyday tasks.

Given his detailed nature, he had the habit of deliberating about every single detail before making decisions. While some might rush in, he took the time to consider every angle, every potential outcome, and every possible risk. This meant he was often slower to act, but his actions were thoughtful and precise.

However, his strict observation of rules and regulations had its disadvantages. While it lent him discipline and structure, it often kept him from exploring uncharted territories, testing innovative solutions to problems, or unleashing his creativity. The fear of stepping outside his comfort zone limited his experiences and sometimes resulted in missed opportunities.

Regardless, Kihyun maintained his orderly existence, content with its safety and predictability. He was the epitome of diligence and consistency—qualities that, for better or worse, came to define his life and career.

And with Kihyun being so by the book and the letter, it also meant that he followed their agreement to the signature. He followed each rule as if it were the law. But she saw the contract as similar to wonder, the lines resembling more suggestive guidelines rather than stipulations carved in stone. Her spirit was wild, seductively erratic, and unpredictable, which was a sweet temptation that she found hard to resist. She often strayed in this spot of their strange relationship, toeing the lines of their carefully designed accord.

Townhouse dinners turned into late-night city escapades. High-profile parties morphed into impromptu starlit picnics. She was the mistress of sly evasion, transgressing the rules in ways that gave her an intoxicated thrill.

Every transgression, however, did not go unnoticed or unpunished.

Kihyun was not oblivious to her playful disregard for their agreement. His commitment to the harshness of the contract was final, starkly contrasting her rebellious behavior. And his response was always swift. He would always ensure that there was no such thing as going behind his back for an enjoyable time out with friends. The friends he strictly disapproved of and made sure were a top rule to not be broken.

Their defined rules were there for a reason, he would tell her. Each rule broken correlated to a conversation—firm yet understanding—trying to drive her back within the lines she’d willingly agreed to. The repercussions for her disobedience were unyielding, yet not harsh unless he wanted them to be; they served as a reminder of their initially agreed-upon terms. The extravagant gifts would be limited, and the exclusive invites would become less frequent, cutting back on the luxuries she held dear. And, of course, if she pushed his buttons just enough, he’d make sure the punishments were much harsher.

Each rule broken meant double the punishment. The punishment only became harsher as one got closer to the top. Kihyun wasn’t sure why she enjoyed pushing his buttons so much. He gave her everything she wanted in favor of loyalty and good dick. So why exactly did she feel the need to push and push?

The house was unnervingly quiet as she returned home late from yet another unapproved escapade. Stepping through the doorway, a sense of unease enveloped her. The house was hushed, a stillness echoing through the lavishly furnished rooms, only disturbed by the ominous ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

As she traveled deeper into their joint space, an isolated figure sat in wait in the dimly lit bedroom. Kihyun was a wraith of discipline, his silhouette imposing against the soft glow of the moonlight filtering in. His usually friendly gaze was replaced with a stern disapproval that filled her with a heady blend of remorse and exhilarating anticipation.

He rose from his chair that sat in the corner, moving with a rigid grace, the tension in the room mounting with each calculated step. He didn’t need to speak for her to know she had broken not one, not two, but three rules in their agreement. Three was the magic number that triggered more severe consequences.

“Three rules,” he said, his voice like ice. His disappointment hung in the air, heavy and tangible, yet there was an underlying concern that she couldn’t miss. The loyalty and affection he held for her were strained but not broken. “Three rules you broke tonight, Y/N? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Though sharp and methodical, his words were filled with a weight that made her reconsider her actions. Nonetheless, she held her ground, ready to face the consequences of her boldness. And though each punishment was harsher than the last, she wouldn’t change the person she was, not for all the riches Kihyun showered her with.

She realized she lived for thrill even as she stood in his disapproving shadow. And genuinely, Kihyun was catching on, learning the untamed woman standing before him wasn’t looking for an authority figure but an equal. Only time would reveal the depth of their understanding and the capacity of their adapted routines.

“I need you to answer me, Y/N.” Kihyun spoke up the moment he realized that she wouldn’t answer him. She studied his face carefully. The glow of the moonlight illuminated his stern gaze, casting stark shadows that hinted at the mounting tension.

She held his gaze unflinchingly, watching as understanding flickered within his eyes before morphing into unmistakable exasperation. Heaving a sigh, Kihyun groaned, pacing the room with growing agitation. The somber atmosphere seemed to pulse with his restrained anger, filling the space between them with sticky anticipation for the punishment she knew was imminent.

Eventually, he moved towards the bed, his figure outlined in the moonlight. Sitting down on it, he kicked off his shoes and glanced up at her. The stern set of his mouth and the cool detachment in his eyes sent a thrill of fear coursing through her. Yet, a part of her relished this nerve-racking anticipation, thrilled by the promise of consequences she was likely to face. She took a deep breath when he spread his legs and silently pointed toward the open space between them.

“Since you think it’s okay to break the rules time and time again because you feel like it, let’s make one thing clear. You are not above the consequences,” Kihyun’s voice was firm, not a hint of negotiation available in his tone. His eyes held a grim determination that made her heart pound. “Get on your knees.”

Her breath caught, but she complied, kneeling between his legs. The severity of the situation rolled off Kihyun, an almost palpable aura of authority enveloping her. She steadied herself, forcing down the electric thrill that sparked through her at the prospect of what was to come.

Their dynamic was evolving, growing more complex and layered with each confrontation. What started as a primary order was morphing into an intense game of power and dominance, with her defiance against his authority fueling their relationship’s rising tension and intensity. These encounters electrified her, luring her further into the depths of this thrilling power play. As she knelt there, waiting, Kihyun’s stern gaze rested upon her, promising a lesson she wouldn’t forget.

A chill shot through her body as his cold hand cupped her cheek. What she thought to be a loving smile quickly turned sour as his hand grabbed a fist full of her hair, jerking her head back so that she was forced to look at him.

“Don’t beg me or even think about using the safe word. Tonight, you pushed me to my limit. I have had it with you running around acting like a whore. If you want to act like a whore, I can treat you like one.” Kihyun growled, his voice filled with an edge of frustration and disappointment she had not expected. His usually warm voice was gone, replaced with a harsh tone that made her heart pound painfully in her chest.

The heated fury of his gaze bore into her, and she was pulled back from her thoughts by his fingers tightening around her hair. She gasped in reply, the surprise and pain mingling with a strange sense of anticipation. Seeing him out of control this way was almost exhilarating, even if it was at her expense.

Despite the fear coursing through her, a part of her felt oddly fascinated by this sudden change in him. However, she understood that he was not playing now. This was the punishment he had warned her about. The silence in the room was palpable, the tension thick and suffocating. She found herself swallowing hard, bracing herself against the impending storm she had unconsciously been courting.

She recognized the dangerous glint in Kihyun’s eyes. The moment of heated confrontation was here, a punishment waiting to unfold. It was clear that the evening was about to take a turn down a path she had not entirely anticipated. This was not their usual game; it was something far more intense and real. Steadying her determination, she held onto the strength within her as she prepared for whatever came next in their volatile battleground.

“Take my cock out and suck on it like a good little whore. Don’t even think about not choking on it, either. I want you crying and worshiping my cock. Got it?”

In response to his stern command, she reached for the waistband of his pants, her fingers trembling slightly. Her heart pounded in her chest as she unzipped them, revealing the hardness beneath the fabric that served as a reminder of his dominant authority.

She met his stern gaze directly, signaling her understanding and compliance. Then, slowly, she extends her tongue, running it teasingly along the length of his turgidity. Warm, soft hardness met the cool of her moist tongue, eliciting a responsive shudder from Kihyun.

His hand tangled in her hair, guiding her movements, setting a relentless and satisfyingly sinful rhythm. She could hear the raspy moan reverberate from his chest as she took him deeper into her mouth, his thickness pushing at the back of her throat. His pleasure manifested in the tight grip on her hair and the ragged pants he fought to control.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she fought her gag reflex, the strain evident as she struggled to accommodate him. But there was an intoxicating thrill in the act of submission, the intense satisfaction of being the source of his pleasure.

Embracing the discomfort, tolerating the burning lungs and the ache in her jaw was part of the game, a punishment she was willingly ready to bear. Her dedication firm, she continued, tears streaking down her cheeks, her eyes locked onto his, promising undying obedience in this unvoiced power play.

She gladly took his length into her mouth once more, feeling its hardened pulse against the flat of her tongue. The movement was slow and enticing, her purpose clear in every glide and press of lips against the hot, rigid flesh.

“That’s right,” He hissed, rewarding her with a rough card through her hair, the action making her look up again, an unvoiced affirmation of her obedience. “Just like that… worship it.”

Each word, each command echoed sharply in the charged silence, stirring a heady cocktail of dread and excitement that coiled tight in her belly. Her rhythm faltered just once, but she quickly found it again, the need to not disappoint outweighing physical discomfort.

Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked him deeper, the lingering taste of his skin intoxicating, irresistible. Her digits traced the veins on his cock with awe, a testament to his masculinity. Her eyes remained locked on him, an explicit display of submission that reeked of an erotic surrender that suffused the room. Every groan, every twitch of his was duly noted, encouraging her to continue in the act of dutiful worship. It was her testament, her tangible loyalty to his authority wrapped in the veil of the unspoken. The journey to heavy surrender, etched in silence and measured in rhythm, was sinfully unforgettable.

She swept up his length, her lips tight around him as she climbed, a close, slow motion designed to draw out the sweet torment. “Good girl,” Kihyun rasped, his fingers threading through her hair, reinforcing her act of submission. “Worship my cock just like that.”

Her tongue swirled around the swollen head, relishing his salty taste. Her fingers massaged his balls tenderly, adding another layer to the sinful act. With every idle, messily passionate bob of her head, she continued her worship, continuously tracing the tattoo of veins on his shaft, symbolizing his raw strength and power.

His low, throaty moans and how his hands gripped her hair fueled her motivation, seduced by the intoxicating power play. Her eyes lifted to meet Kihyun’s gaze, their raw hunger a testament to her success. The salacious taste and the feel of him in her mouth became her world; nothing else mattered.

She could feel him tense, his breath hitch, signaling his impending release. However, she didn’t relent, determined to see this through, to bring him the ultimate pleasure. Her eyes, glossy with tears, communicated an unspoken promise. She was here, willing and resolved, engaged in the act of intimate worship, refusing to back down from this gloriously revealing power play.

And so, she carried on, her hand firmly around his base, her tongue gliding over the throbbing veins and swollen head with devout veneration. His hissed curses and praises echoed in her ears, mingling with his ragged breaths in a wanton symphony of power and surrender. Her mouth, moist and warm, served as a temple of sinful pleasure dedicated to his satisfaction.

His hips jerked abruptly, his grip on her hair tightened to the edge of pain, and he moaned out a guttural warning. Then, his release’s first shot filled her warm and salty mouth. She swallowed instinctively, not daring to break from her worship.

The next few moments were a blur, his body locked in ecstasy and she, the devotional priestess, accepting his offering. Each pulse of his release marked a victory in their battle for dominance, a testament to her submission.

He gasped her name as the last spurts of his climax hummed in the back of her throat, his figure jerking in the aftershocks of pleasure. Even then, she didn’t break away, carefully cleaning him with her tongue, not letting a single drop of him go to waste.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes met his, mirroring the raw intensity that had fueled their power play. Kihyun, with his dark eyes gleaming in the dim light and his chest heaving, looked every bit the dominant figure he was.

As the tension hovered like an aftertaste in the aftermath of their carnal rendezvous, she savored the victorious satisfaction of a game well played, a testament to the authority she had deliciously delivered.

“Don’t think we’re done just yet.” Kihyun finally spoke as the moonlight showed just how dark his eyes were. “Stand up and strip in front of me.”

She stared at him for a moment, trying to process his words carefully. Her breath hitched in her throat, her cheeks flushing with a powerful mix of embarrassment and anticipation. Always, it had been him who undressed her, but not tonight. Tonight, he was making her bear herself in front of him, leveraging the power dynamics of their encounter.

Unsteadily, she rose to her feet, her legs shaking slightly from the intensity of their previous play. Her hands moved up to the buttons of her shirt, each one coming undone with a tremble of apprehension. Despite the heat still coursing through her, she felt a chill as the cool air hit her skin, immediately making her nipples harden.

Kihyun, always the keen observer, watched her intently. His darkened eyes objectified her unshielded vulnerability as a predator about to pounce his prey, a wolf relishing a moonlit hunt. Feeling his gaze tracking her, she unzipped her skirt next, the piece of fabric sliding down her legs to pool around her ankles. She was a sight to behold in her plain white lingerie, the soft glow of the moonlight casting shadows on her nude body.

Meanwhile, Kihyun had not remained idle. His hand had gripped his once again hardening length, the distinct movement of his arm signaling his self-pleasure as he started masturbating. He groaned, his eyes never leaving her, the sight before him acting as a sensual trigger.

This exhilarating combination of thrill, embarrassment, and vulnerability formed a novel chapter in their explicit dance of dominance and submission, one that she was learning to navigate with each passing second. The silence echoed with an unspoken dialogue of unspoken understanding, transforming their room into an arena of charged intensity. Each pull of Kihyun’s hand, each discarded layer of her clothing, was a pledge, a promise of the pleasures awaiting them in the impending thickness of the night.

“I know you’re trying to figure out what I’m going to do next so you can play off on it,” Kihyun grunted, his eyes traveling over every inch of her body. “Tonight isn’t about you. You’ll be lucky if I even let you cum once.”

Finally standing, Kihyun towed over her. His eyes narrowed at her. Her breath was caught in her throat as she watched him approach, anticipation prickling on her skin. Suddenly, in one swift movement, he gripped her arm, pulling her towards the bed with a force that left her breathless. She landed on the soft mattress, her heart pounding against her rib cage.

She barely had time to adjust before he was unlocking a drawer by the bed and retrieving something shrouded in darkness. A second later, she recognized them as a pair of handcuffs, glinting menacingly in the dim light. Her breath hitched, a mix of fear and anticipation washing over her.

He leaned over her, his hands pinning her down, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. “Remember, tonight, it’s all about me,” he said, his voice a delicious growl that made her squirm. He held her wrists above her head, locking one handcuff after the other swiftly, leaving her restrained and exposed before him. “Your body is mine to use. Mine to punish. Don’t forget that.”

Kihyun sat back, taking a moment to appreciate the sight. His gaze traced the curve of her body, bound and ready for his pleasure. His hand, slick from his efforts, resumed its motion, stroking himself leisurely as he continued to drink in the sight before him.

“Stay put,” he commanded, his voice rumbling with raw desire, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Fear and arousal danced in her stomach, a tempting mix of emotions that heightened her anticipation. She was there, vulnerable and at his mercy, entrapped in one of the most exhilarating games of dominance and submission she’d ever played. Tonight, she realized, would indeed be a night to remember.

Kihyun, engrossed in his self-indulgence, continued his passive strokes. His dark eyes never left her as he pleasured himself, his intensity creating an aura of raw dominance that was as captivating as it was daunting. His touch on himself was familiar and practiced, eliciting throaty groans that filled the room.

Her gaze was drawn to his hand, which played a close rhythm on his hardened length. His response to the entrancing sight before him was a testament to her effect on him; every twitch and gasp he made only fueled her anticipation and her own growing need.

Kihyun’s dark gaze seared into her, making her squirm under his inspection. He was shameless, knowing just how powerful the sight of him touching himself was. His erect length, slick with his arousal, glistened under the soft light, making her mouth water with the need to taste him again.

After a time that was simultaneously too long and not nearly long enough, Kihyun’s strokes started to slow, his breathing growing ragged. He briefly closed his eyes, savoring the thrills of self-pleasure before opening them again. His gaze was predatory, filled with an insatiable lust that made her shiver in apprehension and arousal.

Purposefully, he propped himself above her, smirking down at her restrained figure. His hand left his length, reaching for the handcuffs to unlock them. However, just as she thought he would finally give in and take her and release her from the handcuffs, he instead guided his pulsing dick against her thigh, reminding her of her undeniable desire for him.

With a devilish grin, he leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “Not yet, sweetheart. Be patient. The night is far from over.” His husky voice promised an avalanche of pleasure that left her throbbing with anticipation for what was to come. She was truly at his mercy tonight, and there was no place she’d rather be. “I want you to beg to touch me, and I won’t even give in. Just like you refuse to listen to the rules I set in place for us. Unfair, isn’t it?”

A devilish chuckle vibrated through her as he unlocked her handcuffs. She sighed in relief, feeling the blood flowing back to her hands, but the respite was short-lived. Suddenly, Kihyun placed his hands on her waist, effortlessly flipping her onto her front.

He adjusted her, positioning her onto hands and knees until she was just as he preferred — her backside on full display for him. Underneath him, his dominance, she felt a twinge of humiliation coupled with a raw, throbbing anticipation. She felt the edge of the bed dip slightly as he moved behind her, allowing her a few precious seconds to regain her composure.

Then, the coldness of the cuffs again, a stark contrast to the heat of her skin, announced their return, this time locking her in place on the bedposts. She was re-stripped of her freedom almost as fast as she’d been granted, a play on her sanity that sent another gush of arousal through her body.

His labored breathing filled the room as she felt him settle behind her, the mattress dipping under his weight. Her body arched instinctively, seeking him out, but he held back. She felt him there, his cock teasing her entrance, yet he made no further move. It was pure torment. Every brushing contact sent bolts of desire shooting up her spine, leaving her panting and desperate.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice trembling as she finally surrendered to his relentless game, begging him for release. But his reply was a deep, throaty laugh that held a promise: the night was, indeed, far from over. His reply echoed in the room, an intoxicating mix of amusement and desire she could almost taste.

“Begging already?” he teased, running his fingers delicately along her entrance. The feeling sent electrifying waves of pleasure through her, her breath hitching at the contact. “You never fail to amuse me.”

He leaned over her, his body heat radiating onto her skin. His breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “The rules are simple. I touch, and you feel. You cum when I say so. Not a second before, understand?”

She could only nod, her mouth dry, her body tingling in anticipation. His finger trailed further, stirring a whirlpool of desire that made her want to break the rules he just set. But she refrained, knowing it would only lead to more teasing, more torment. She could feel him grinning against her shoulder, his pleasure palpable in the room.

Then, just when she thought she couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer, she felt him push inside her, slow and relentless. All the air left her lungs as she was filled, the sensation overwhelming her senses. She let out a scream that was swallowed by the emptiness of the room, her body finally succumbing to his dominance.

Kihyun grunted with satisfaction as he buried himself in her, a dark chuckle escaping as he felt the quiver of her body beneath his. He relished her shuddering gasps as he began to move, the initial slow pace quickly escalating into a maddening rhythm that set their bodies on fire. “Look at you, being so obedient,” he taunted. Each word was punctuated by a merciless thrust, the sounds of their bodies colliding, echoing in the space surrounding them. “It’s surprising how obedient you are when you have my cock deep inside you, huh? I find it amusing.”

His unsparing last thrust drew a whimper from her lips, the sensations rippling inside her too intense to bear. “Please,” she gasped. She could barely put the feelings into words; it was overpowering, raw, and intoxicating all at once.

Much to the surprise of her stinging senses, Kihyun’s hand landed a hearty smack on her backside. A loud gasp ripped from her throat, the sudden rush of pain igniting another wave of pleasure. His handprint burned on her skin, underscoring the game of dominance playing out between them.

“That’s right,” he praised, tone smooth as velvet, “You’re doing so well.” The sound of another slap resonating from their entangled bodies only added to the symphony of their pleasure - a raw reminder of his control over her. “Taking Daddy’s cock like a good fucking slut.”

He drove into her relentlessly, his grip on her hips bruising yet somehow comforting in its firmness. The sting of his hand on her ass had her gasping, chasing the peculiar blend of pain and pleasure that radiated from the point of contact. His voice echoed in the room, lacing her mind with a hearty dose of satisfaction.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled in her ear, his voice husky. The words vibrated through her, his praises a turn-on that enhanced the sensations coursing through her. His next thrust was particularly fierce; a resounding smack filled the air as his hand collided with her ass again. She yelped; the unexpected collision sent electrifying jolts of pleasure straight to her center.

“You love it when I spank you, don’t you?” he taunted, another hard slap punctuating his gravelly tone. The sharp sensation was swiftly followed by the gentleness of his hand, fingers tracing the tender area, soothing the ignited skin.

He resumed his pace, a relentless rhythm that promised to tip her over the edge. His name spilled from her lips, a prayer amid moans that echoed around them, bouncing off the stark walls and diving into the abyss of pleasure they were entangled in.

Her anticipation soared as his thrusts became more forceful and urgent, a testament to his nearing climax. As her body trembled on the precipice, he leaned over to whisper in her ear, his voice saturated with desire, “Beg for me, sweetheart. Show me just how much you need to cum.” The sinful request echoed in her head, the edge she was balancing on becoming more precarious. “And maybe Daddy will be kind enough to let you cum.”

Desperation clawed at her as she writhed beneath him, each thrust driving her closer to the precipice. A broken, needy sound slipped past her lips, “Please, Kihyun.”

He merely chuckled at her plea, his fingers tracing a burning path down her quivering stomach. His face was a study of lust and control, pupils dilated, and lips curved ever so slightly. “That wasn’t begging, sweetheart,” he chided, the tips of his fingers dancing tantalizingly near her overstimulated clit. “If you want to cum, beg for it correctly.”

Overwhelmed by the whir of sensations, every nerve in her body screamed at his restrained touch. She felt her walls tighten around him purposefully, trying to draw him deeper. Still, he resisted, merely grinning at her feeble attempts to control the situation.

With a whimper, she tried to plea once more, but the name came out wrong. “Kihyun, please,” she murmured, her voice shaky in the dim room. The moment the words tumbled from her lips, she could see it was not what he wanted to hear. He arched an eyebrow at her, a silent prompt for the correction he awaited.

Swallowing hard, she corrected herself, her cheeks flaring with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. “Please, Daddy,” she corrected hastily, her voice desperate in the quiet room. The shift in her address was a tangible submission, an acceptance of the sinful game they were entangled in. Her begging voice, the plea laced with an innocent rawness, filled the room, emphasizing the control he had over her. “Let me cum, please.”

His next thrust, directed with surgical precision, rubs against her sweet spot that sends pleasure-like sparks through her. Her desperate moan filled the room, her body bowing as if struck by an electric shock. His hand tangled into her hair, pulling back her head as he hushed her gently, “Begging now, are we?”

She nodded, cried out, lost in the intoxicating blend of pleasure and anticipation. She felt his grin against the pulse point on her neck, a sinful promise of a climax that was just out of her reach. “Beg me properly,” he continued, his voice sending shivers down her spine. His firm hands propped her hips for a deeper angle, stoking the flames of her desire.

Give and take, push and pull. Kihyun was the master of their sordid game, drawing puckish pleasure from her desperate pleas. Defeated, she surrendered to her erupting desire. “Please, Daddy,” She whined, her voice desperate and raw, “I need to cum.”

Before the echoes of her words had faded away, he buried himself deeper into her, his pace meeting her every wish. “Daddy’s giving you what you asked for,” he growled, his words broken by gasps of pleasure, “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

And like a dam breaking, her world exploded in colors as he kept true to his promise. His ruthless thrusts drove her higher and higher until she spiraled in an endless roll of pleasure. It was sinful and wild, a testament to their passion burning raw and relentless.

“Sweetheart, I’m…” His voice was gravelly, strained with his nearing climax. His grip on her hips tightened, his body tensed, and he pushed deep inside her in one final, powerful thrust. Lunging deep, he held himself in place, releasing a guttural groan that reverberated throughout the room.

His warmth filled her, his release marking her from within, causing her to gasp at the unexpected but welcomed intensity. His climax came like a tidal wave, crashing over them with a force that was both tantalizingly torturous and delightfully sinful. Milky evidence of his fulfillment lingered within her, satisfying proof of his passionate surrender.

After catching his breath, he uncuffed her, their bodies still intertwined. Despite the rawness of their encounter, his weight over her provided a reassuring warmth. Their breathing, while sporadic, began to synchronize - a fitting epilogue to the frantic rhythm they had shared just moments before. Their intermingled sweat painted a canvas of carnal desires and unrestrained satisfaction. The tangible presence of their shared climax remained engraved on their bodies, a trophy of their primal dance. In the quiet, he craned his neck and, with a tantalizingly slow pace, brushed his lips against her pulse point, making her shiver. His voice, now husky from their shared exertions, sent a new wave of warmth rushing down her spine.

“Look at you, so content,” He murmured, tracing her curves with a possessive touch that echoed their sinful indulgence. His eyes glinted wickedly in the dim room. “Such a well-behaved girl when you know Daddy has control, aren’t you?”

He let out a soft chuckle, his breath fanning against her, causing her eyes to flutter open. Beneath his gaze, she felt cherished, adored, laid bare by his sinful words. It was a promise, whispered in the silence of their shared satisfaction - a promise of more such sinful nights, testing their boundaries and losing themselves at new heights of ecstasy. And amidst the lingering haze of lust, she eagerly looked forward to nights that awaited them.

His voice deepened as he leaned in, his words a husky whisper against the shell of her ear. “I promise you, sweetheart, if you dare to break the rules again, the punishments will be much more severe.” A visceral thrill ran through her at his promise, a shudder of anticipation rippling through her body.

His hand gently traced her lower abdomen; his fingers danced lightly over her skin as his eyes held a sinful glimmer. “Next time, I might just breed you,” he murmured, the implications of his words causing heat to rush to her cheeks. “Imagine that, you running around with my baby inside you. Won’t that be a sight?”

His grin was wicked, a vulture biding his time. “Your friends they will be curious, no doubt, about who got you pregnant. They’ll ask who the father is, and you?” He paused, his thumb rubbing small circles on her warm skin, “You’ll know it was the older man that had you crying out his name until the dead of night.”

His words trailed off into a low, satisfied hum, his fingers lazily drawing patterns on her flushed skin. The implications of his sinful promise hung heavy in the air, a tantalizing prospect she was not sure she was ready for. He had marked her tonight in the most intimate of ways, and as she looked at him, a silent understanding passed between them.

“You are mine.”

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