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merakiui · 9 months ago

Note

it’s my first time ordering for lunar love hotel 🥺🥺🥺 i’m not sure if i’m doing it right but i’d like to order a flower bouquet with chamomile tea and lemon squares from the midnight menu and a fruit smoothie from the morning menu for ceo azul and afab reader (maybe either his secretary or just an employee working under him, whichever you prefer!)

thank u so much! 🥰

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, obsession, power imbalance, abuse of authority, mention of pregnancy, implied alcohol use/inebriation, ceo!azul, secretary!reader note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

You wake to a dull pressure between your legs, roused from dead, dreamless slumber like a reanimated corpse. Groggily, you blink bleariness away and search through the dimming light for the body propped up above you. Your fingers, clumsy and numb, brush against his chest, climbing up to drag across his collarbone and, ultimately, reaching his face. He’s without his glasses; twin pools of the deepest sapphire flick over your form, assessing the state of your sentience.

“Mmh… Mr. A-Ashengrotto?” you mumble, still so out of it. His hips stutter to a halt. Your eyes shut once more, and this time he takes care to move slower. Softer. You arch up into his touch, breathing heavy. “Ooh…”

What happened? How did you get here? If your spotty memory is to be trusted, you arrived late to the company party, got into a drinking competition with Floyd Leech, and stumbled out into the chilly night, hanging onto the arm of the one and only CEO of Mostro. Your benevolent boss—Azul Ashengrotto.

And now here you are, lying beneath him on a plush bed, your legs wrapped limply around his waist while he rocks into you with a gentleness rivaling that of the smoothest sea. Just beyond the rain-spattered windows, a gloomy cityscape sprawls. You’re not sure where you are or what floor you’re on. Exhausted, your mind a muddled wreck, you force your eyes open.

“Mr. Ashengrotto, what are you…” You swallow dryly. Hangover sticks to you like wet socks on soles. “What’re you doing?”

The hand that had been previously rubbing circles into your hip slides away to grasp at your breast. He rolls your perky nipple between two fingers, marveling at the way it sinks in when he presses down. It springs back with ease, still just as pebbled as before.

“You should know—” he starts, only to break off with a low moan— “that it’s impossible to out-drink Floyd.”

“No… No, that’s not—” You suck in a shaky breath through your teeth. His cock curves up inside you, hitting all the right places. “Can’t… We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?”

“Not right and—it’s wrong… You’re my boss and it’s not…gonna look good.”

“My dear, is that all you ever think of? Even now, your mind is on work. Won’t you relax?”

“Because…” You squirm beneath him, deeply unsettled and yet unable to phrase your protests in sharper terms. “Mr. Ashengrotto—”

“Azul,” he murmurs, running his knuckles over your cheek. Sickeningly fond, he has the gall to smile at you like an angel. “It would make me happy if you called me that in private.”

You try to shake your head. “I can’t—”

“We offer paid maternity leave,” he reminds you, punctuating that point with a sharp, sudden thrust. Your legs tighten around him out of some bodily instinct.

“Don’t want that,” you babble, grabbing at his shoulders. “Don’t want a baby. I can’t—need money to live. It’s expensive… Please, Mr. Ashengrotto…”

He tuts, a frown flickering on his handsome face. “You look so tired. Rest, my dear. I’m here for you.”

Azul lifts you from the bed, angling his hips down to ensure his seed will find its rightful home in snug, gummy depths. He’s borderlining the edge of the end, teetering on a pleasurable precipice. You feel yourself falling. In spite of everything—the situation and the intention in every thrust—it feels good. Mindless. Intrinsic. Strangely meant to be.

“You work so hard on my behalf. Such a diligent secretary, always knowing just what I want when I need it.” Azul takes your hand in his, squeezing reassuringly. You shiver at the contact—whether in revulsion or reverence, he can’t say. “Ah, but your eating habits are abysmal. You work late and arrive early. You come into the office on the verge of death, and then you lie to my face when I ask if all is well.” He peers down at you, eyes shimmering with an odd emotion. “Why do you run from me, my dear?”

“A-Azu—ooh… Azul…”

“Was that so difficult? My name isn’t a mouthful. If you say it enough, it may stick permanently. Mrs. (Name) Ashengrotto—what a precious title. So musical.”

You follow his hand as it moves to press down against your stomach. You can’t be with him. He’s your boss and you’re his secretary. It wouldn’t look right. The rumors that would spread… You couldn’t handle that sort of pressure—of having all eyes glued to your figure whenever you walk into a room.

“I wanna go home…”

“You are home.”

“My home.”

His expression sours. “I wouldn’t call that hovel a home.”

Your head falls back against the pillows. What’s the point in debating? Sleep claws at you, dragging you back with greedy fingers. Bile rises in your throat, so you swallow it down. You have to say something. You can’t let him have his way. You can’t be a mother. Not now. You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

But it’s so easy to float along and succumb. It’s so easy to be lazy. It’s so easy to agree. It’s what your boss wants. As his dutiful secretary, you must listen and do just as he asks.

“Get some sleep. You need it. I’ll be here when you wake.”

You don’t intend to, but your eyes fall shut. His voice is soothing like the sweetest song. With your consciousness now waning, you slip away just as he bottoms out and releases with a groan. Your insides are flooded with cum, but that’s the last thing you concern yourself with. It’s what he says next that follows you into your dreams. An ominous omen. A confession.

“I love you, (Name)… And soon—quite soon—you’ll love me, too.”

#yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul #yandere azul x reader #n/sfw #tw: dubcon #tw: somnophilia #lunar love hotel 2023

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blondbrat · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐀𝐘 1 : 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 ‘23

𐙚 Rafe Camerons!breeding kink

warnings ; smut, breeding kink, f!reader

Rafe who doesn’t love family ‘get togethers’ with a grumpy attitude and noticeable frown :(( maybe their more enjoyable with other families? families who weren’t obsessed with the latter of success and violence? rafe included. it just seemed pointless to him. unnecessary opportunities to argue and manipulate. that’s the only aspects of family he had ever known. until he had met you of course !!

here he was. letting u squeeze your delicate hand over his. fingers enlaced as you two walked down the stairs, into the buzzing yearly Christmas party.

he didn’t want you being there :(( you were like a ray of sunshine — his bubbly, sweet princess. your beaming grin on ur beautiful face was just so pure to him. he felt so overprotective !! letting his angel in the same house same room even as his psycho family just felt so wrong !!

but you convinced him everything would be all right !! he didn’t believe ur sweet words until he found himself leaning against the kitchen counter, listening to petty drama and chatter — he truly hated these kinds of things !! a pounding headache forming in rafes blond head :( his family were truly the humbugs of christmas in his eyes.

he could have sworn your pretty hand was curled in his. until he realized they weren’t, where did u go?? where the fucks his pretty girl? he couldn’t help but panic a bit, this was his crazy family after all !! his blue eyes darting around every room as he frantically looked for you. but rafe was just being protective as always, finally letting himself breathe when he found u upstairs, in the playroom he and Sarah used as kids. now all occupied with his darling little cousins, and you?

rafe was in awe. watching u play dollies with his little cousin darla <3 the brightest smile spread on ur face. simply playing with his lil cousins as ur eyes meet his, sapphire and laced in adoration. giving him a sweet grin. could you be any more angelic? any more beautiful? of course you were drawn to the adorable babies ((: taking not a single notice to his families tension — and letting ur bubbly mind find probably the only bright area of the party !!

u stood up, scurrying over to him as you smooched him a cheeky kiss. “m’ sorry, were you looking for me?”

“I sure was, baby.. your good with kids y’now” why was he smirking? oh !!

it isn’t long before he has you bent over his desk (!! his family still downstairs !!) thick thighs sprawled open as he pounds into ur puffy cunnty !! ur cock drunk lashes fluttering back as ur drooled over mouth let’s out pretty moans !! <3 his deep voice spurring praises like a prayer ‘fuck baby, so fucking’ good with kids’ ‘gonna look so pretty with a baby belly princess’ ‘cummin’ in ur pretty pussy like u fucking deserve’ hes a man of his word. ur gummy walls squeezing his cock as he slams agaisnt ur cervix. thick, warm ropes of cum spurring right into ur womb. how could u not cry out in ectasy? ‘need’ta be quiet’ he groaned. he couldn’t control himself !! u were so warm, so sweet — how could he not fill you with his creamy cum?!— “can’t think of a better gift baby, your gonna be the mother of my baby sweet thing” of course it doesn’t stop after one round !! u’d just look so beautiful with his blond lil baby !! ((:

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yeyinde · 2 years ago

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“#his beard just??? looks wet???” okay but Price having to talk to the team after eating you out and not getting a chance to make himself presentable 🫣🫣

you put this idea in my head (after i put it in your head) so now you have to deal with this!

➝warnings: cunnilingus, edge play (kinda), smut, P-in-V sex, creampie, D/s undertones; Price is a menace and the biggest dom; gendered anatomy, female Reader, female gendered anatomy

➝notes: this is so beyond messy, so sorry!! not even fun messy just. why would you do this, girl? messy.

➝word count: 2,4k

"Ah, cap—!"

Your knees quake when he presses the flat arch of his nose against your throbbing clit, tongue tracing figure-eights over the taut skin of your cunt, stretched around three thick fingers.

He grazes his knuckles over a spot inside of you, dragging the rough skin over your gummy, fluttering walls, until you gasp for him, choking out something that sounds like this name.

Price huffs, and the curl of his breath wisping over your soaked pussy makes your eyes roll, chin tilting back on the table he spread you out on. The one that, three hours prior, was used to plan a hostage rescue with the team.

(The very same team getting their things ready in the debriefing room for wheels-up in forty minutes.)

The wry bristles of his coarse burnt umber beard scrape deliciously over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and the feeling of it chafing your flesh raw makes you tremble, quiver. It's that equinox of pleasure, and the beginning edges of that delicious burn of irritation when he rubs you raw. Tender.

His other hand rests flat against your thigh, keeping it flush against the table. His thumb strokes your skin when you're good for him, a small modicum of comfort amid a storm of utter brutality. Of nearly twenty minutes of pure, delicious torture. The other he hikes over his broad shoulder, your heel knocking uselessly into the thick muscles of his back as he works you to the very top of a vertiginous mountain.

(Over and over and over again—)

"Sir—," you whimper, the word a featherlight cry from your chest. It makes him hum.

"Steady now, Sergeant."

Steady, he says, as if he hadn't been eating your pussy for twenty of the forty minutes, drawing it out until you were an overwrought, overstimulated mess on the table. All thoughts are caught in the sticky opiate mess of your head, rendered out into ashes, into wispy cries of his name (John, John, John—), or his title (captain, sir—), and please (please, please pleasepleaseplease—). It's muddled in bliss; in the bitter, maddening tang of dissatisfaction.

Price brings you to the edge of that delirious precipice, and then pulls back before you reach the top, leaning back on his haunches as you whimpered, begged, pleaded for him to let you cum, to just let you—

You'd look between your trembling thighs, then, as if you could somehow will the man to give into your demands, your needs, just by flashing the same expression that started this whole thing. Coy, saccharine sweet; lips arched in a smile that tasted sybaritic.

(Knuckles brushed against his when you curled your fingers over the straps of his vest, and used his steady, solid unmoveable weight to hoist yourself up, lips brushing the wry, rough hair covering his chin, murmuring: "you talk a lot, sir. I should find a way to shut you up—"

He'd given in, then, shifting on his feet as you peppered kisses to his ulotrichy jaw. "And what do you have in mind, Sergeant, mm? Want me to bury my face in your pretty cunt? Gonna shut me up with your pussy?"

You thought you won when broad hands slipped away from the grip on his straps, and curled under your thighs. He gave you no time to prepare yourself before he lifted you on the table, eyes Sapphire beds of desire as he loomed over you.

It was a victory, then.)

But now, no matter how twee you act, or desperately you beg him for release, he won't give in. Won't.

He just smiles at you. Grins. Chin wet, ruined, hairs sticking to his lips, matted to his cheeks, and he'd say (taunt):

"C'mon, Sergeant. You can't be about to cum already." Timbre drenched in sex and liquid with smoke. His eyes flash—florentine promises: a hymn to Hēdonē—and he waits, waits, until the high dissipates in your veins. "Don't be greedy, now."

You want to laugh, to scoff, but the weight of his hands pulling your thighs apart, the ghost of his breath against your cunt, the rasp of his tongue sliding over your slit, stems the words in your throat.

All you can do is thread your fingers through his messy locks, and get swept away by his pace once more.

There is no respite in this. Despite the pleasure his humid breath on your cunt brings, or the molten roll of his tongue running from your messy, weeping hole to your throbbing clit and back again, it's torture. Madness.

He circles your clit with just the soft tip, running figure-eights over the bundle of nerves until your thighs tense, clamping against the sides of his head, and locking him tight to your pussy.

A huff. Then, "tryna' suffocate me, love?"

It's muffled, and wet. Sticky from your drenched pussy leaking your slick down his wrist, his forearm, and saturating his beard until it turns the same dark shade as his cigars. Near black with how soaked you are. The bristles stick to his lips, and cheeks.

The sight when he raises his chin, damp hair sliding over your raw cunt, makes you lose it completely.

"C'mon, love," he groans into your cunt, nuzzling his beard over your sopping slit. The burn of it feels good—so, so good—and you break at the feeling of it. The indelible amalgam of pleasure that edges so sweetly into pain, into that raw quiver of a livewire.

It feels too much like sticking your finger in a socket. Licking the back of a battery. The shock, the jolt ricochets through your core until you leak dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins from every overwrought synapse.

"Price—ah, fuck—"

"Come on, sweetheart," your knees quake from the sound of his voice alone: heady with smoke, sex; a crackle, charred wood, that spills from his soaked lips, heavy with your slick. "You wanna cum? Beg for it."

Your hips arch, canting your greedy cunt into his eager, teasing mouth.

"Please, please—"

"Not good enough, love."

It's a grumble; pitched low and liquid, and you nearly cum from the timbre of his voice—molasses thick, and covered in ash—but he pulls his mouth away from your clit, and slides it down to push at the rim of your entrance. His fingers spread inside of you, scraping over your walls until your back arches, head gummy and soporific from the way he fucks your pussy.

"Price, please—," another rasping hum—disapproval—and he slows his thrusts until high begins to ebb. "Fuck, no, please—please, John, I need to cum—"

"Better."

"Fuck, sir, please! Let me cum on your tongue—I need it so bad—"

"Then cum for me, love."

It doesn't sound human when the command is scraped out of his throat. A mangled, thick demand; a smouldering ember.

You cum with his tongue laving over your clit, three thick fingers fucking insistently against a spot inside of you that has nirvana liquifying behind your eyelids.

Bliss floods through you like a deluge; a cascade of euphoria that snaps inside of you like a broken rubber band, an unspooling coil.

You melt into the metal below; bone dissolving into raw mercury. Blissed out. Drunk on the opiate high of his tongue and fingers, and the burning husk of his voice—molten commands dipped in ashes.

"God, that was—"

He stands in one fluid motion, and slots his hips in the loose, languid bracket of your legs. His cock falls on your mons, tip leaking prespend over your belly button.

There is no warning, no words. His hands slide under your thighs, gripping you tight enough to bruise, and then he's wrenching your pelvis up, cock rubbing, bobbing insistently against your slit.

"John—"

One hand leaves your aching flesh to grip his throbbing cock in his hands, sliding it down the mess of your cunt until it catches on your weeping hole.

"Oh, god—"

He catches your gaze as he rubs himself over you.

"M'not gonna fuck you, love—;" his cock slides to your clit, tapping his frenulum against your aching flesh when you whine, pout. You want him inside of you, pushed to the limit—

"Gonna be good for me, aren't you?"

You're nodding before the words are out—eager, docile; you want him, always. Your cunt clenches on nothing, desperate to be filled, stretched to the absolute limit by his girth.

But he won't. Not yet.

His cock is covered in your slick, and when he runs his palm down the length of it, you hear the sticky, wet sound of it as he fucks his own hand, bringing himself to the edge despite your eager, willing cunt right there. Right there—

You angle your hips up, and feel the engorged head of his cock catch on your rim. So, so close, so—

He pulls away, tutting at you. "Greedy little cunt, isn't it?"

You whine. "Please, need your cock—"

He leans down, pressing his chest against yours, and catches your mouth. It's not a kiss—it's a wet, sloppy mess of tongue, and teeth, but it makes you ache, makes you mewl at the taste of yourself on his breath, and the dripping state of his beard as it leaves behind a soaked trail over your chin and cheeks.

He's a mess. An absolute mess of your pussy, and—

His hips jerk, and he breaks the kiss to press his mouth to neck, teeth scraping over your flesh as he finally, finally, sinks inside of you, stretching you, pushing your walls to the mettle as you struggle to make room for him.

The head of his cock presses taut to the plug of your womb, knocking into it until you whimper from the too much too full feeling of taking him to the root.

"'M'not gonna last long," he promises in a hush, liquid whisper, voice quivering from pleasure.

You cant your hips into him until the grind of his cock inside of you sends you reeling through the opium haze of bliss that spoils inside of you once more.

"Cum for me, John," you choke out with a gasp when he meets your messy thrusts with his own, sloppily pounding into you.

His muscles quiver under your fingers, nails digging into his biceps as he pounds you like he's starved for it, desperate. And he is, of course. This whole thing has been just as much of a tease to him as it had been for you, and you know, know, he's close by the tells you pick up on. The divot between his brow, the clench of his job, the broken grunts that slip between gritted teeth, sibilant and aching, and the glossiness in his nautical blue gaze.

The grind of his cock inside of you is more than you can handle, but you take it, anyway. Your legs lock around his thick waist, hands cling to his arms, as he fucks you in brutal, deep thrusts; hips pistoning into you as he chases the embers of his own release.

You taste yourself when you press your lips to damp cheek, and whimper into his skin:

"Cum inside me, baby—"

You feel him tense, body coiling taut, and then he groans. Low and liquid, and you feel heat bloom inside of you as he cums, fills you up.

He grunts with each jerk of his cock as he spends himself within you, low and brittle; guttural growls of masticated words that make little sense when they squeeze through the clench of his jaw.

You take it all, holding him close as his lashes flutter, eyes roll, and his muscles lock over you. He looks good when he cums, when his face falls, lax and loose, mouth dropping open, as he spits the last of it inside of you where it pools, a molten puddle, against the seal of your womb.

Price's bones liquifying. He sags against you with a huff of your name, and something you can decipher through the roar in your ears, the rush of pleasure and the gossamer of sex that clings to your skin.

"That was—"

He's cut off.

His phone buzzes. The ring is familiar.

Times up.

You snort a little when he groans, and slowly, reluctantly, pulls away from you. His irritation bleeds into the torpor of his expression, cutting through the aftershocks of bliss.

It's uncanny, really, how he's able to reassemble himself into the shape of a leader with ease despite the scent of sex that clings to him, clogging the room in a thick, dense cloud.

He pulls out of you, murmuring a quiet sorry, love when you flinch at the drag of him against your bruised walls, and then tucks himself back inside his trousers.

Three minutes is all it takes and he's Captain John Price, a leader, superior; dependable man.

If you didn't feel the ache in your cunt from where he split you open with his thick cock, or the steady trickle of his molten spend leaking from your raw, chafed hole, thighs sticky from your own slick, and irritated by the rough scrape of his beard against delicate flesh, you might have thought nothing was amiss.

Nothing, except—

His face is flushed a bright red, eyes rippling with the aftermath of his ebbing pleasure. It's easy to hide, however—he might have been exercising prior to takeoff. Napping, perhaps.

But the way his beard glitters in the jaundiced light, wet and slick, is—

You open your mouth to tell him, but his hand falls, palm smacking against your inner thigh, cutting your words short with a sharp gasp at the sting in your flesh.

His lips curl up in a smirk when you flinch.

"Gotta go, love. Get yourself cleaned up, and I'll tell the others you're doing the last-minute check."

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, but it does nothing to hide the dampness of his beard, the glossy sheen that coats his matted hair.

Price turns with a sharp nod.

(You blink at his back, and wonder if the gnarled thing inside of your gut, a twisting sense of possession and accomplishment at the sight of him, soaked from your cunt, should alarm you.

But you can't deny seeing him wrecked from you alone buzzes through your marrow in a way that makes your toes curl. Primal satisfaction, you think, and wonder when he'll notice how soaked you'd left him.

Moments later, through the thin walls, you hear Soap murmur:

"Did you wash your face before, cap? I think you forgot to dry your beard."

#HM #dunno how i feel about this one #captain john price #john price #cod mw2 smut #cod captain price #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x you #john price x you #captain price x you #captain price #i'm going through a crisis with my writing right now

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puddle-nerd · 11 months ago

Text

You and Me Make Three

Summary: Both of your older male siblings had already started having children. Now was as good a time as any for you and your mate to start on your own, as well. (Rotxo/Sully Sister Reader)

Prompt #11 for Avatar12DaysofKinkmas2023.

Story Tags: No use of Y/N, Breeding, Female Na’vi Reader, Inserted Sully Sister Character, Aged Up Characters, Everyone is Legal, Yes they’re both eighteen+!, Established Relationship, Mentioned Neteyam/Ao’nung Pairing, Mentioned M-PREG, Mentioned Lo’ak/Tsireya Pairing, Begging, Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Na’vi Translation: Kuru — neural queue Muntxate — wife | female spouse Sa’nu — Mum | mommy Tsaheylu — a connection made with the tendrils of a neural queue Yawntu – loved one | lover | beloved person

AO3 Link

The feeling of kisses on your stomach had you smiling before you even tried to open your eyes. “Good morning, ma’muntxate,” Rotxo murmured when he realized you were waking up, nuzzling against your belly button and nipping at your hip causing you to giggle quietly. You hummed and reached out, stroking your sapphire fingers through his tightly wound curls, finally opening your golden eyes and grinning down at your mate.

“Good morning, yawntu,” you replied, puckering your lips and begging for a kiss.

He chuckled, used to your needy antics after all this time, and rolled up onto his knees so he could lean over you and you could kiss him in greeting of the new day. You dragged him down to lay his thick, muscled body down upon yours in your shared bedding, greedily smooching him over and over and causing him to laugh even more against your lips, giddy at your affection. He purred and pulled back, tucking his face against your shoulder, pressing his nose against the soft skin of your neck, his hand caressing your belly.

“What do you think about us finally trying for a baby?” he asked quietly.

You grinned down at him.

You’d had enough practice with Tuk a long time ago, with Rua –when Tonowari and Ronal’s third child had finally been born – and now with both Neteyam and Ao’nung’s twin spawns and with Tsireya and Lo’ak expecting their first in a couple of months, you supposed it was as good a time as any to maybe try for one or two of your own. “It might not take right away, Ro,” you warned your spouse, reminding him that it had taken Neteyam almost a year to get pregnant after he and Ao’nung had mated or almost as long for Tsireya as well.

Rotxo smirked. “I’m up for a challenge,” he replied.

He wiggled himself between your legs and began kissing at your neck and shoulders before suckling upon your upper chest until his lips came upon the hardening tip of one of your soft breasts. You sighed, slowly arching your spine in pleasure as he sucked and nibbled upon your nipple in just the way you always liked it. He switched to the other breast and caused his kuru to slide over his shoulder. Feeling the black braid brush your arm, you eagerly made Tsaheylu with your mate, your building arousal and his echoing back and forth between the connection.

Suddenly, a finger pushed into the slickening hole between your legs, causing you to gasp once more, shifting your lithe thighs wider in further invitation. He curled his thick digit in just the right way that had all ten of your toes curling and your inner gummy walls contracting at the newfound pleasure.

“Oh, just like that, yawntu,” you encouraged him.

Only to have him pull away.

You whined and pouted up at him. Rotxo smirked and leaned down, kissing you chastely before he grasped the base of his erection. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down your slit teasingly, chuckling as you whimpered needily. “Don’t tease, Ro,” you pleaded, sulking. Your husband continued to stroke himself coquettishly against your seam, coating himself with your wetness as he tapped the mushroom-like head against your clit. “Please, yawntu?” You pushed your hips up against his cock with a needy grumble.

Finally, he sunk himself inside of you.

Inch by inch, he slid inside your warm, wet depths. “Oh, you feel so good, ma’muntxate. So tight, and so wet for me,” Rotxo groaned, sliding himself deeper and deeper into you. Finally, he bottomed out, his pelvis flush against the back of your quivering thighs. You squirmed at the full feeling, your inner walls clenching onto his length greedily and causing him to release a quiet noise pf enjoyment from the back of his throat. “You’re going to make such a good sa’nu,” he growled, pulling back a little bit before sinking back inside of you, the friction sending pleasure skittering up your nerve endings. “Just gotta fill you up…” he added, thrusting into you again, “over and over… until it takes.” You nodded, matching his movements and clinging to the mat beneath you. “And when your belly swells,” he added, “with our baby,” he grunted through gnashed teeth as your cunt tightened further upon him, “you’re going to be fucking sexy.”

You whined, reaching up and pulling him down to you and wrapping your legs around his hips. “Need more,” you moaned into his ear, digging your nails into his back. “Need you.”

Rotxo sped up his movements, biting down harshly upon your shoulder when you involuntarily clenched even harder upon his shaft. The carnality was causing a fire in your belly, your sensual cries of bliss were music to his ears. And with Tsaheylu made between the two of you, he could feel the pleasure beginning to overwhelm your senses, knowing that he was the only one to make you feel this way, the only one to cause you to release these sounds from your throat. “Mine,” he affirmed into your neck. “This body, this pussy, this womb is mine. And soon, ma’muntxate,” he snarled, rutting into you animalistically now, “soon your belly will swell with the first of my babies.”

“Do it,” you pleaded. “Cum in me. Breed me. Make me a sa’nu.”

Rotxo released a rumbling snarl and you felt his orgasm rush through him and through your entwined kurus, triggering your own. His seed spurted deep inside of you and while a large part of you hoped it took, another part of you hoped it didn’t so you could indulge in this for just a little bit longer without having to worry about an infant or two.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 24 December 2023 Word Count: 961

AO3 Link

#avatar12daysofkinkmas #avatar #atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar smut #na'vi reader #sully sister reader #avatar rotxo #atwow rotxo #rotxo smut #rotxo x reader

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glass--beach · 4 months ago

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i need to know what kind of rocks/minerals you would want to eat and why like what do you think they would taste like and do u think it would feel good to chew on. i wanna eat fluorite and i think the top would be like sugar gummy lollipop black cherry jelly and like a crunchy honeycomb sugar type thing on the bottom thank

i literally want to eat every rock / mineral don’t get me started

like its really sad that we eat salt but can’t eat diamonds and stuff

real ones know i love lapis lazuli. i think blue rocks would taste like blue raspberry, which is such a beautiful flavor because it isn’t based on anything real. a true flavor simulacra. gorgeous. let me eat sapphires as well. jesus christ

this post sucks. sorry

#asks

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enthusiastic-nimrod · 3 months ago

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This is just a random question but do any of your OCS have birthdays? Have a wonderful day either way!

Thank you for the question, Anon! It's really fun, especially because I've never really thought about it?? But this is a neat exorcise so let's go with it!

In Magical School Girls, Bea is a Virgo born on September 20th. Cheerie is a February 12th Aquarius, and Eartha is a October 29th Scorpio.

Taffy and Lemon are also Scorpios, and were born November 10th and November 16th. Gummi is a Virgo like Bea and was born August 23rd. Berry is a April 27th Taurus.

As for The Punkin Sitter- The Sitter himself doesn't have a birthday, so Ben likes to pick a random day throughout the year and celebrate with him and the babies (mostly as an excuse to turn in paperwork late). Ben's a September 30th Libra.

Vinyl was born on March 2nd and is a Pisces! She's actually really bad at keeping up with her own birthday, though. Walkman was born on June 30th and is a Cancer, but he doesn't know that. Vinyl decided to give him a new birthday when they both officially became friends on December 5th (making him an honorary Sagittarius).

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agoraphobic-artist · 5 months ago

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Kuro-Shit Mini Post

Yesterday, shortly after I posted my last haul on tumblr, these little guys showed up in a package!

These are the full set of 9 Public School Arc rubber mascot keychains, created by Bandai as capsule prizes.

As expected, the potential options include the main characters Sebastian and Ciel, as well as the four Prefects of Weston School. This second wave of released merchandise seems to have introduced Soma to the roster as well. (Undertaker makes an appearance as we approach wave 3)

Side Rant- Personally, I would have liked to see some Drudge representation but hopefully that will come at some point in the future perhaps as a 4th wave? Alternatively, maybe if and when they get around to animating the "Blue Cult Arc"...??

I have decided to show each keychain in closer detail and in order of my least to most favourite:

#9 SEBASTIAN "B-version"

This is the slightly more demonic design for Master Michaelis, appearing without his glasses so that you can better see his red eyes; It would have been a nice touch if his pupils had been shaped more into slits in my opinion.

Unfortunately, his gummy toothless grin does little for me.

#8 LAWRENCE BLUEWER

Bluewer is simply stood elegantly and reading his book.

Honestly, there is nothing wrong or particularly off-putting about his design, I just prefer other characters and poses to his.

#7 EDGAR REDMOND

I was a little disappointed with this keychain, as Redmond is a favourite character of mine.

Rather than looking sultry as I think was intended, he just looks a little sleep deprived. Also, I can't completely put my finger on why he looks out of place with the others... perhaps his face is too wide..?

That being said, I adore his sassy pose.

#6 SOMA ASMAN KADAR

I have found in the past, that merchandise of the prince is always very inconsistent and the pictures I saw online of this item I felt didn't look great. I was very pleasantly surprised however when I saw Soma's design in person.

My only gripe is the eyes lack the sclera, instead being filled with the same shade as his skin; This is true of all of the keychains but as the other characters have paler skin than him I feel that it is less noticeable overall.

#5 SEBASTIAN AND CIEL

Based on a particular moment in the series, this is adorable! Especially Ciel!

It would be higher on the list but something about Sebastian feels off again, but only slightly. Maybe the expression with the open mouth? or his abnormally small hand? Not sure but something about him is a little odd to me.

#4 SEBASTIAN A-Version

Finally, a Sebastian that I can fully get behind.

His tea coloured eyes behind his little tutoring glasses, his smug smirk and his formal pose as house master of the Sapphire Owls.

How could I not love the design of our demon in his human suit.

#3 GREGORY VIOLET

Adorable, Mopey, and ready to head back to Wolf houses dormitory immediately.

What else can I say, its Violet... but small.

#2 HERMAN GREENHILL

Stoically posed with his cricket bat as per usual.

I don't have alot to say about him.

I know that I am being biased putting him at #2 as someone else rating them might prefer Bluewer and hate Greenhill, but he is my favourite of the Prefects so this is where he stays.

... and last but not least...

#1 CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

I fell in love the second I saw him.

The attitude filled pose... the moodiest of expressions on his face.... the little books with the hat on top. Perfection.

Instant Favourite <3

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #public school arc #black butler merch #ciel phantomhive #o!ciel #sebastian michaelis #p4 #edgar redmond #lawrence bluewer #herman greenhill #gregory violet #soma asman kadar #gashapon

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the-fluff-piece · 1 year ago

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And here's the request from @pastel9girlbunny000die which was commented on the announcement post:

"I don't know if this is still going, I really don't know how to make a request other than through comments? But can I get 7,🥰, sanji, (y/n) is doing the proposal"

This is for the now closed Follower milestone event

Also check out my masterlists for stories and headcanons

Here's

Engagement cake

You've been with this sweet cutie for a while now and now he almost married someone else.

He looked too hot in his wedding suit, so you decide to take matters into your own hands and make him your husband.

Cute, dramatic superfluff, y/n tries to bake a cake for him, than proposes

Sanji, your boyfriend, had the audacity to even consider marrying another and you've given him a hard time.

You either loved him to pieces or threw tantrums because he really, really disappointed you, but he was also still the perfect gentleman of your dreams. It was a mixed bag of emotions. He had to sleep in his hammock with the other boys again because you couldn't make up your mind if you wanted to kiss or kill him.

He's been nothing but a poor little cutie, tip toeing around you, always armored with a treat to appease you.

Another point that made you mad was: that Pudding girl was perfect for him. She was cute and busty and really proficient at baking and cooking as well. You could already see them open up a little bistro together and kissing in the kitchen.

This was the turning point of your relationship - he needed to decide whether he was yours or not. You already bought an engagement Ring with a sapphire - blue like his eyes - and decided to bake the cake of cakes for him. To show him you were just as good as she was.

The famous North Blue sweet had 16 thin layers, between each would be a fine layer of filling. It was topped with a crown of meringues. Hard to bake, but if you could pull it off, he would know that you were just as good as that girl, even though you're not directly a baker.

You got the ring and you got the recipe - you just had to wait for the kitchen to be free so you could actually bake it without him knowing.

The first time was an absolute disaster. It was a crumbling, far to liquid mess of butter and biscuit, the meringue was coals.

You fed it to Luffy to destroy the evidence and tried again. And again. And again. That thing was hard to make. At this pace, you would be done when Luffy was pirate King and Sanji's children with Pudding were going to school. You opted for easier and easier options - until you arrived at bland lemon cake. A uniform dough in rectangular shape with lemons.

Eventually, you produced an acceptable version. It had a gummi-like consistency and it looked like it exploded, but it was the best you could hope to manage. Your respect for Pudding had grown, but not enough to.givr Sanji up. You were at the end of your strength. It had to do.

You invited Sanji to deck for tea and told him not to bring anything - you would take care of it.

He showed up with an unreadable expression, a serene smile was on his face and he was a full gentleman - just not the man you knew. No kiss, no kneeling, just silent observation.

He greeted you with a serious "my lady" and sat down, looking over the less than perfect cake and probably horrible tea you poured. It threw you completely off guard.

"So uhm, I, well I baked you a cake. And made tea. I hope you like it" you tried to keep in control of the situation, cutting the cake and handing him a piece.

He politely said "thank you" and began to eat. You forgot to take one yourself, his strange behavior made your mind race. Was he disappointed? Did he want to break up after you were moping for weeks?

The fork went in between his perfect lips and he chewed slowly. Still not letting on what he thought. Your heart pounded and your stomach turned. He swallowed. Another bite. Chewing, swallow. He looked at his plate as you stared in his face, or rather: at his mouth. Waiting for a smile, or a word...but nothing.

Your gaze wandered up to study his eyes. He briefly looked up - his eyes looked wet. Another bite.

As you watched that sorry excuse of a cake vanish in his mouth, a tear ran past the corner of his mouth. He was...crying? It was the last thing you expected. You expected a gentle let down, but no scene.

"You OK, honey?" You asked.

He nodded while chewing.

"I am" He answered and laid down the fork.

"That is the best cake I have ever tasted" He calmly said as his lip began to tremble.

"I uhm, thank you" You answered as you tried not to cry yourself.

You swept the tears off his cheek and he caught your hand to give it a gentle kiss before pressing his cheek against your palm with such need, you just had to get up and sit down on his lap to hug him to your chest.

"Do you forgive me?" He asked, choking. Now you were really worried. He was near your breasts and didn't get a nosebleed. He was either seriously distressed or sick.

"Of course I do" you answered, stroking his soft hair with your fingers.

"I wasn't sure if I messed up too bad." He said with a relieved smile.

He touched your cheek. His hand trailed down your collarbone and stopped at the small pool of tears he had caused.

"I'm so sorry I ruined your clothes with my tears" He cried. "I don't deserve-" You put a finger on his mouth. There he was again. Dramatic Sanji was back - now you were the one to be relieved.

"Close your eyes now" you told him as you fished the engagement ring out of your pocket. You took his hand and slipped it onto his ring finger.

His eyes shot open to look at the blue rock at his finger, his mouth opened and closed as unsaid words seemed to bubble out of him.

"I just thought I snatch you away to keep you for myself. Will you be my husband?" You whispered into his ear, enjoying the tickle of his hair on your face.

His head turned to you as he was clearly overwhelmed by everything that was happening, tears flowing from his eyes in a thick stream now. Without warning, he clutched you to him and screamed the loudest

"YES"

The new world has ever heard and soon you were smothered by kisses and promises of eternal love and romance.

Eventually, he seemed exhausted and just cuddled up to you - at which point you looked up and into the shocked eyes of the entire crew. You began patting Sanji's back to alert him to the company.

He looked up at you with puffy eyes "huh?" He asked, sniffing.

You turned his head towards your crewmates and instead of embarrassment of being witnessed during this intimate moment, he grinned broadly, showing his hand with the ring proudly.

Nami gasped and asked for the price, while Robin cheered and Brook broke into song. Franky ran away with an "ew" as Zoro looked flustered and Usopp tried to calm Luffy and Chopper, who were afraid Sanji would leave with you.

When everyone had said their congratulations and marveled at his ring, Sanji announced a big feast and carried you into the kitchen so you could "help" him, which meant you sat at the counter and watched him do what he loved while he periodically stared at the ring at his finger and smiled. You got to taste everything he made first to reassure him that it was great.

The party lasted until late at night, there was lots of food and drink for the entire crew and Sanji couldn't stop talking about the wedding buffet he already planned in his head. When everything was eaten up and cleaned, you could finally fall into bed together for the first time in weeks.

As he cuddled up to you and mumbled more plans for your future, you just had to ask: "the cake was terrible, wasn't it?"

"No, it was great" He answered.

You smacked him "liar!"

He chuckled.

"No, it's the truth! It was the best cake in the world, because you made it for me!" He kissed your forehead. "Just for me"

I hope you people liked this one!

The best ingredient is always love (also butter and sugar)

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #op sanji #sanji #blackleg sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #sanji x reader #x you #sanji fanfic #romantic fanfic #proposing #hurt/comfort

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vilevexedvixen · 5 months ago

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Inscryption cocktails

Each Scrybe would have a menu reflecting their three minions (increasing in size - a shot, a squat drink, then a tall drink) and then the main cocktail based off of the menu's titular Scrybe.

Each scrybe also has a dish relating to them and how they play their cards.

Thank you @dariusblake for your suggestions on different flavour profiles and placemat details.

Leshy's menu:

"The prospector"

A caramel whisky shot rimmed with golden nugget cereal crumbs. Modelled after the gold nuggets the prospector can transform cards into.

"The Angler"

A salted liquorish cocktail using anise flavouried liquior and fish-shaped gummy salted liquorish hanging over the rim of a bucket shaped recepticle. Modelled after the Angler's bait bucket card.

"The Trapper/Trader"

A rich, blood-red velvet cocktail made with red grenadine and a chocolate liquior. Served in a stein with a fake bit of pelt padding embellishing the handle. More modelled after his trading role than how he plays cards.

"The Scrybe of Beasts"

A botanical gin-based cocktail comprised of rhubarb gin, elderflower tonic and red grenadine seeping in from the top like a drop of blood, garnished with a sprig of elderflower. Served in a tall tiki mask glass (ideally etched to look like his masks, but a normal tiki glass would work) Playing into his tree-like appearance, emphasis on blood sacrifice (thematically and mechanically), and because he's an old man (hence use of elderflower specifically).

"Eight Fucking Bears"

Technically more of a food challenge than a regular dish of eight very spicy pork ribs with a thick, blood-like sauce.

Grimora's menu:

"Royal Dominguez"

A limoncello and triple sec shot rimmed with crushed sherbert. Based on his death from scurvy at sea.

"Sawyer Patel"

A stout Sheep Dog peanut butter whisky and ginger ale drink served in a tumbler lined with a dash of peanut butter drizzle.

"Kaycee Hobbes"

A refreshing blueberry vodka and fireball slushy served in a tall glass and garnished with blueberries and cinammon caramel drizzle.

"The Scrybe of The Dead"

A black forest espresso martini made with Kaluha, cherry vodka, chocolate liquior and a shot of espresso. Served in a china teacup with a pitted black cherry skewered on the teacup's rim.

"The Lord of Bones"

Fried chicken drumsticks and wings served in a coffin-shaped basket.

Magnificus' menu:

"Goobert"

Lime jelly(jello) shot. The shot glass would have little googly eyes stuck to it and an edible paper wizard hat instead of an umbrella.

"The Pike Mage"

A sweet and spicy chipotle-orange syrup, bourbon and vanilla liquior cocktail served in a martini glass and garnished with a skewered glacie cherry donning an edible paper wizard hat.

"The Lonely Wizard"

Black Sangria (made with dark wine - blackberries, black grapes and black plums) imbued with green edible glitter. Served in a wine glass and garnished with a lime slice donning an edible paper wizard hat.

"The Scrybe of Magicks"

A colourful tie-dye milkshake of creme de menthe, mint ice cream and strawberry cream liquieur embellished with edible glitter. Served in a tall flute and garnished with a swirl of whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles and a spherical marshmallow made to look like Magnificus' missing arcane eye in place of a cherry.

"Mox"

A dessert made of blue raspberry, orange and apple sorbet scoops. Sprinkled with crushed sherbert and gemstone-shaped hard candies.

Po3's menu:

"The Inspector"

A simple blue raspberry sour shot with a blue raspberry popping candy rim.

"The Melter"

A vibrantly fire-coloured chocolate orange spritz. Mixing chocolate liquieur with aperol and prosecco. Garnished with curled orange rind and dark chocolate shavings.

"The Dredger"

A boba blue gin fizz. Made of bombay sapphire gin, lemon juice blue curaçao and soda water with lemon boba. Served with a silver coloured straw.

"The Scrybe of Technology"

A bright blue bubblegum cocktail topped with sweet sparkling wine and lemonade. Served in a tall, angular glass. The most boring of the Scrybe cocktails tbh.

"Kilo-bites"

Byte-sized sharing platter of savoury pastries and square pizza slices made to look like floppy discs.

I'll be honest, I was drawing a blank for Po3's menu. Dude's Vox if Vox had self-control, which takes away a lot of vibrancy to bounce off of for flavour profiles and visual ideas.

Bonus Mycologist dish:

Roasted ox-tongue mushroom, stuffed with mushroom paté and blue cheese with a creamy but sharp cheese sauce.

Ngl, Leshy's is my favourite menu. Definitely tempted to make it, maybe for an Inscryption themed party?

#inscryption #food ideas #cocktail #eight fucking bears

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mariaofdoranelle · 1 year ago

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Look at Us Now — Ch. 10

Fic masterlist

*Nods to Nonnie who sent me a prompt the other week*

Warnings: language, mentions of thiefs and orgies

Words: 3,7k

“OH MY GOD.”

Aelin’s screams made Rowan jump out of the couch, pulse racing as he sprinted towards the sound. He didn’t mean to fall asleep there, it must be the middle of the night already.

His shoulders dropped in relief when he found her safe, just whisper-yelling with her head sticking out the window.

“What’s going on?”

Aelin had her eyes narrowed, arms crossed. “We have a thief.”

“A thief?”

It’s not that Rowan thought she was lying, but breaking into anything military-related was a suicide mission. This house was as safe as it could get.

“Well, it has to be a thief, since he’s climbing into windows like one,” Aelin explained in a voice higher than necessary for Rowan to hear.

“Oh, come on!” Said thief protested from the outside.

When Rowan approached the window to assess the situation, his whole body froze. Obnoxiously shiny black hair, sapphire blue eyes and taller than he liked to imagine. Rowan hoped he’d never meet Dorian Havilliard, his baby mama’s ex-boyfriend, but there he was, about to climb Fenrys’ window

“Front door, now!” Aelin’s voice was commanding, and apparently her ex knew when there was no fighting her.

She didn’t wait for him to grab her snack bowl and storm down the hallway, which was good, since it gave Rowan space to strangle his roommate.

He elbowed his friend who’d just left his room and whispered, “What the fuck did you do?”

Fenrys had the gall to do a military salute. “I stole her man, like I promised you I would.”

Yes, he did promise that when Rowan was in jail. No, it didn’t make him feel better.

“Seriously? Of all the people in the world, him?”

Fenrys’ shoulders dropped like a child’s when being scolded. “But he’s so hot!”

Rowan could take this argument further, but that’d entail admitting Aelin’s ex was hot. Instead, he moved to the living room to find her bickering with Dorian.

Aelin had her arms crossed over her heavy bump. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know you were staying here!”

“Then why didn’t you just use the front door?”

“Fen told me not to!” Dorian pointed at his pants. “Do you think these were made for climbing windows?”

Fenrys moved closer to them and cleared his throat. “Aelin, I really appreciate your friendship, but I won’t apologize for stealing your man.”

Her eyes widened, and her head tilted back a beat later, a loud laugh booming out of her. She held a finger up for a few seconds, silently asking them to wait until she recovered. “Fen, I wouldn’t care if you fucked him when we were dating. I definitely don’t need an apology from you now.”

Dorian clutched his chest in a wounded stance. “Ouch!”

She rolled her eyes, chuckling. “Oh, come on.”

Rowan’s narrowed eyes darted between Fenrys and his boy toy. “So you two are a thing now?”

“Not really.” Dorian shrugged. “I’m kinda going through a slut phase now that I’m single.”

Aelin clamped her lips together as she tried not to laugh again. “You were always in a slut phase.”

Rowan crossed his arms, assessing those two. He knew they had an open relationship, but he was starting to grasp how open it was.

This was so hard to understand. If Rowan had the chance to tie Aelin down, he wouldn’t even give her time enough to see other people, let alone almost every day, like she did with Rowan months ago.

He wasn’t trying to judge their previous relationship, but it was really hard to understand someone who had everything in his hands and still seeked other people.

Now that Aelin seemed calmer, Dorian gave a pointed look to the snack she left at the coffee table. He inched closer and picked the food Rowan made for Aelin, inspecting it from every angle imaginable.

“Pregnant women are so weird.” He sniffed the dried mango with mustard and gummy bears and wrinkled his nose. “Is this even edible?”

Aelin drew a slow smirk and wiggled her eyebrows before saying, “Not the kind of edible we’d eat when we were residents.”

The ache from Rowan’s tense jaw spread to his other muscles as well. His hands twitched as he held back from grabbing Aelin’s ex by his shiny dark hair and—

It didn’t matter. Aelin was single, and she decided to do a friendly co-parenting thing with him. Her previous relationship didn’t matter now.

Rowan: What do you usually buy for Girls’ Night?

Rowan: I mean snacks.

Completely at loss, he wandered around the store closest to his home, only taking note of what was available until Aelin replied to his texts. Fenrys and Lorcan were currently at his home watching Maisie, and they had kicked Rowan here because, apparently, the snacks at his house were too organic and lame.

The thing is, Rowan’s never hosting parties, he’s usually dragged into them. But their therapist told him to do something with the sole purpose of having a good time, so there he was. Even though he didn’t know exactly why. He thought therapy was supposed to be about his family. Why was Yrene trying to give him homework that doesn’t involve Aelin?

Rowan felt his muscles loosening when his phone pinged with Aelin’s notification. It was torture to tone down his previous multiple calls a day, but at least she became more receptive when he reached out.

Aelin: can’t tell

Aelin: the girls’ night lore is exclusive to ellie and i

Aelin: but it’ll be passed down to maisie when the time comes

He trailed his eyes on the ceiling. She had to be joking, right?

Rowan: Please?

He frowned at his phone when she stayed too long without replying. Maybe that wasn’t a joke after all.

Rowan: Aelin?

Aelin: sorry

Aelin: i was driving

Rowan: And texting.

Aelin: just in the red light. don’t fuss.

Aelin: at least until i find some good dry shampoo. i can’t die with greasy hair.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard as an idea struck him. Rowan was pretty sure people bought those at pharmacies, and he knew the one she frequented the most is on the same block he was at.

Rowan: Are you close to home?

Rowan: I’m at the convenience store

Rowan: Maybe you could come by and help me out?

Yes, he knew she could very well just text a suggestion on snacks to buy. It fleetingly crossed his mind, but it didn’t sound near as nice as the idea he proposed.

It seemed like Aelin didn’t agree with him, by the way the typing balloon popped in and out of his screen many times.

Rowan: But that’s not very practical, now that I think about it.

Rowan: I hope you find your dry shampoo.

He pocketed his phone and focused back on the food shelves, trying to ignore the feeling of his dropping stomach. What was he thinking? Of course Rowan could buy drinks and snacks by himself. He was an independent man, he didn’t need Aelin to host anything.

After gathering half of what he needed to make a decent charcuterie board, the fridge with the drinks caught his eye. He’d follow the rule he established with Aelin and not drink while being in charge of Maisie, but maybe Fenrys and Lorcan would want some.

Rowan never knew how much pressure to apply to break the refrigerator’s vacuum seal, so he was met with the sound of bottles clinking together as soon as he opened the beer fridge. He used his hand to steady one of the shaky bottles when he noticed its design. Grabbing it to exam it closer, he noticed its unusually bright colors, and—

“Be careful, that’s a gay man’s beer,” an older man beside him warned, looking at the colorful beer bottle as if it was a bomb.

Nodding tightly, Rowan felt his body temperature rise. He knew he looked unapproachable to strangers, so it was a mystery why this stranger thought he’d be a good buddy to insult minorities together.

“That’s good, then.” Rowan schooled his body into a relaxed expression. He wore a lazy smirk while added some of the controversial bottles into his basket. “Because that’s not the gayest thing I’ll be putting in my mouth tonight,” he lied, but the horror on the stranger’s face was worth it.

The man blanched, his mouth opening and closing until he sputtered, “Um, sorry… yeah.” And left.

However, behind the stranger, there was a very shellshocked Aelin. Her eyes were bulged out of her face, mouth hanging open.

“I don’t think I was meant to hear that,” she said in a shaky tone.

he knew he needed to reply to her, but it was hard to gather words. Aelin was wearing a golden, metallic cropped top along with some tailored white pants. He swallowed, feeling his now erratic breathing worsen the warmth spreading over his body. This was some unusual attire, and his unusual reaction was proof of that.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.” She glanced around, scratching the back of her neck, before giving his basket a pointed look. “You’re doing great there, with the snack shopping. I’ll send you some pictures of Elide’s table from last Girls’ Night. You’ll know what to do.”

When Aelin turned around to leave, Rowan froze. She was wearing a bun, probably because of the dry shampoo situation, and Rowan could see every freckle on her back. His eyes widened with the sight and he flexed his hands, trying to get rid of a sudden ache there. Aelin wasn’t wearing a shirt, this was a scrap of golden fabric being held by three thin straps in the back.

Why would Aelin come here just to tell him that and leave? And why did she look so flustered after—

She didn’t think what he said was real, did she?

Feeling his heart beat out of his throat, Rowan fumbled with his phone, almost letting it fall at some point, to type the only thing he could think of.

Rowan: I am NOT going on a gay date

Rowan: Aelin

Rowan: Talk to me

Typing. Not typing. Typing. Not typing. Typing… Aelin was going to kill him like this.

Aelin: it’s okay, rowan! we can pretend this didn’t happen if you’d like. i’m sorry i overheard, you can talk to me about it when you feel ready.

He groaned, banging his head against the beer fridge.

˜˜

Fenrys cackling had always been a good indicator that Rowan was going through one of the lowest points of his life. As a rule, the intensity of his laughter was directly proportional to the amount of shit Rowan was in. Today was no exception.

“She-“ Fenrys held a finger in and grasped both knees, wheezing. “She didn’t know it was just us here?”

“I checked the text thread already. I didn’t tell her.” Rowan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did Elide say anything?”

Lorcan shook his head. “Ellie refused to tell me about Aelin’s plans. She’s telling us to mind our own businesses.”

Rowan’s knee was bouncing as he stared at Maisie’s drawing of Aelin on his wall. He had been acting weird the entire night, and his friends called him out on it the second his daughter went to bed.

“So we still don’t know where she was going dressed like that.” Rowan didn’t meet anyone’s eye. He knew it was a silly statement.

Fen chugged his beer. “We all know what she’s doing. Like I told you the other day, she’s on the hunt for Mr. Right.”

Rowan’s chest was an adjustable knot, and it got tighter every time someone mentioned this in a violent tug.

Lorcan narrowed his eyes at Fenrys. “She’s not. Ellie would’ve told me.”

“Are you sure? Because the last time Elide told you something about Aelin’s love life, you didn’t waste a second before you opened your mouth.” Fenrys turned to Rowan. “Did you download Tinder? We might need to rush with the plan.”

“The what?” Lorcan blurted before Rowan could tell he hadn’t downloaded any dating apps yet.

Fenrys smirked like the devil and hooked an arm around Rowan’s neck, smudging his cheek with tomato sauce from the bruschetta he was eating. “Tinder. After six years, Hoey Rowie is alive and breathing.”

“Hold on, I haven’t made a decision yet,” Rowan said while cleaning his cheek with a napkin.

“That’s the worst idea Fenrys could ever come up with. Why would other women solve your problem with Aelin?” Lorcan clasped his hands together and supported his chin in the space between the thumb and index finger. He gave Rowan a look that was so hard to decipher, he wished he could be inside his friend’s head. “Dude, you should just talk to her.”

Fenrys lifted a finger. “And by her, he means the hot redhead I’m setting you up with.”

”By her, I mean Aelin.” Lorcan had his signature judgy look on. “Have you ever stopped to think about why he wants to go on dates?”

”Because he’s a single DILF!” Fenrys exclaimed, arms flailing. “Dude, you’re being a Love Grinch.”

Lorcan pointed at his wedding ring, eyes narrowed at Fenrys. “If anything, I’m the Love Santa. The only thing I’m trying to ruin here is this bad decision. I’m the Mistake Grinch.”

Rowan picked a mini bruschetta from the coffee table, carefully weighing his friends’ words. “So you think I shouldn’t date yet?”

Lorcan shrugged, but his earnest eyes portrayed all the concern he was trying to conceal. “If you want to date, you should do it for the right reasons. Have you even thought of the reason why you suddenly want to date again?”

Because Aelin said she wanted more kids, which implies seeing someone. He freaked out, and then freaked the fuck out when he saw her in a sparkly night outfit. But did Rowan want to delve deeper into why he was getting these reactions? No, not really. He’d just fall into a rabbit hole of heartbreak, and there’d be no going out, just painfully shutting out.

Today, Rowan was choosing slutty dilfhood instead of his usual pathetic single co-parenthood.

He cocked his head into Fenrys’ direction. “Tell me about the redhead.”

˜˜

When Rowan said he’d go on a date with Fenrys’ friend, he didn’t mean immediately. However, here he was. In Doranelle City’s new hottest spot, or so his friend—and the huge line at the front door—told him.

Apparently, his date knew people, so he gave his name at the front and was allowed to cut the line.

The music Rowan was being forced to listen to outside got louder when he walked in. There was a sea of people dancing, yelling, making out in the corners, and the place reeked of a mix of beer and sweat.

Rowan had been here for a matter of seconds, and he already missed the comfort of his home.

It was one thing to say he’d decided to date again, and another to actually go on dates. Worse, a date at a club. He needed mental preparation, but of course his extroverted slut friend wouldn’t understand that. Of course he’d schedule a date for the same night and ruin Rowan’s chances to rethink and potentially balk.

That was only happening because Fenrys stayed with Maisie, who was already asleep when he left, and Rowan would definitely be there when she woke up. Lorcan went home as soon as the date was set, asking, in his words, to be excluded from this stupidity.

A girl in a tight black dress, who looked very close to the picture Fenrys showed him, tapped his upper arm.

“Rowan?” She screamed through the loud music.

“Ansel?”

She smiled. “That’s me.”

Her brown irises had some red tones to it, but it was probably the strobe lights fooling his senses. He stared deep into her eyes for longer than was socially acceptable, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Ansel smirked. “At least buy me dinner first!”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “That was rude, I’m sorry.”

The woman cackled, somehow finding something to be amused at about him, and tugged on his arm. “Come on, I found a table in the back.”

Rowan’s shoulders loosened when he saw the back of the club. After the suffocating dance floor, there was this outdoorsy area with quieter music and actual tables with menus. This was a lot better.

The silence was absolutely painful after they ordered beers and fries.

“So.” Rowan cleared his throat. “How did you meet Fenrys?”

“At an orgy.”

The beer he was sipping went right back through his nose, making him choke on it.

Ansel’s laugh boomed through the open room, and she made soothing motions on his back as he recovered from the surprise. “Don’t worry, Big Guy. I’m not dragging you to one.”

“Thanks.” He coughed a little, clutching his chest. ”I didn’t mean to sound judgy. I narrowed my… activities down to two people after being done with university.”

Ansel reassured him she wasn’t offended, then silence stretched again. Conversation with Aelin just flowed so easily, and this was a painful reminder every date he went. Which was why Rowan had a reputation in his twenties. He wasn’t good at making conversation, but he was young and good-looking enough to skip that part, if the person was interested.

35-year-old Rowan didn’t find that option satisfying anymore.

He cleared his throat. “What’s your favorite color?”

She snorted. “You can talk to me about your ex if you want to. I’m a bartender, which means I’m the fun kind of shrink.”

Rowan opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. “How do you know there’s an ex?”

She shrugged. “Fenrys has a big mouth.”

“It wouldn’t be very nice of me to talk about someone else while on a date with you.”

Ansel leaned back on her seat, twirling the glass beer bottle in her hand. “I’m not looking for anything serious, so I’m not offended that you’re still hooked up on your ex. You can tell me about her, pay me a drink…” she swept an appreciative gaze over his body. “And we can still go somewhere else if we’re in the mood later, but I can’t offer you more than that.”

After debating this idea in his head for a moment, his conclusion was a big fuck it. He told her everything, from the night he met Aelin to the present day, and received back a lot more reactions than his certified shrink’s neutral expressions.

“Oh, boy.” Ansel blinked, mouth hanging open. “You’re so fucked.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t I know it.”

She slowly shook her head. “I mean, it’s been fucking years, and you’re still in love with her?”

Rowan’s pulse immediately picked up. “That’s not what I told you at all.”

“You said some deep love shit, man. Literally, everything but the words.”

This was a nightmare. Tonight was supposed to be about forgetting Aelin, but somehow he ended up discussing with his date whether or not his co-parent had feelings for him five years ago. Rowan ran a million worst-case scenarios for this date, but his imagination wasn’t near as bad as the real thing.

“I’m sorry, but I need to ask you something.”

Rowan sighed. “Go ahead.”

“It’s been five years, and not once you thought of asking her the reason why she left?”

“Being rejected was humiliating enough already.” Feeling his insides tighten, Rowan crossed his arms and carefully kept an even tone. “I don’t need details on how much she didn’t care about me.”

“She cared.” Ansel sipped her drink. “Did you help her out with the baby?”

Rowan nodded. “When I wasn’t at work, yeah.”

“I’ve never heard of a new mom who’d just reject help. If she didn’t care about you, she’d enjoy the free labor and let you be. But she asked you to leave, which means you probably fucked up.”

Rowan felt a lump forming in his throat, but he focused on keeping a steady face for this stranger. He took in the string lights and the distant sounds of a crowd yelling, scrambling his mind for something to say.

This wasn’t true. He remembered everything, and Rowan wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t do anything big enough to make her leave.

In the end, Ansel didn’t know him or Aelin. She wasn’t there to know Aelin’s feelings better than he did.

Rowan opened his mouth, but closed again. God, he never should’ve started talking about Aelin in the first place. He pointed at the direction where he could hear some occasional applause. “Is there another dance floor over that door?

“Oh.” She looked over her shoulder. “Fridays are karaoke nights. Do you wanna take a look?”

He’d do anything to avoid that awkwardness.

There was a small stage where people could sing and an employee in the corner taking care of the song requests. The place was cramped, a lot of people cheering and singing along with a guy performing a Spice Girls song. All of the tables were taken, but they managed to find stools in the bar near the door.

Rowan was begrudgingly admitting to himself that watching such an alive crowd was lighting up his bitter mood. But the thing that grabbed his attention the most was when Lysandra, one of the moms from Maisie’s soccer class, got up on stage. They weren’t exactly friends, but he caught her chatting often with Aelin and a few other moms during games.

“Oh, hi!” She waved at the crowd, then tugged her skin-tight green dress. “I’m trying to get my friend Aelin to sing with me, but I think she needs a little encouragement.”

Rowan felt his stomach bottoming out. The crowd erupted, but not near as much as one table by the front, full exclusively with women he recognized as soccer moms.

Aelin was easily spotted among them, cackling with her flimsy golden fabric that was definitely not a shirt.

Shit. He was in such deep, unending shit.

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