#but that's my fault for getting this phd so

[letters-to-rosie]

Arcane 2 in november. Hype???

I feel like I'm so scared of November in general that it's overtaking any excitement I have lol

but so I'm not being a total grump, here are some hopes I have

an exploration of Vi's time in Stillwater and all the trauma that comes with it

fun Warwick fights lol

MORE EKKO (but that's not a surprise to anyone lol)

magic Mel????

and speaking of Mel, Ambessa is such a wildcard so that'll be fun to watch play out

I feel like Jinx should get to blow up another building in Piltover, as a treat

I am not a Piltover fan can you tell lol

and CaitVi, because if not we will be robbed

so yeah, I can't help but feel existential dread when I think about November, but maybe having a fun show will help us get up and continue to fight the horrors

[fitzrove]

Not touching the original post HAHSHFHGJG but omg y'all need to learn to be normal about gen z this is embarrassing

i'm begging people online to talk to actual 20ish year olds and not make assumptions based on your tiktok user niece that you see once a year at family gatherings and crap.

We are not children. we are adults in college and grad school and shit (median age in my MA is about 23) and most of us in fact know how to use laptops, word processors, folders and basic software........... Almost every entry level office job (which we are holding down and applying to to be able to afford grad school!!!!!!!) requires microsoft office skills (excel etc) so it's laughable to make claims like this with zero non-anecdotal evidence

This keeps happening in posts about gen z doing this and that and I'm fucking tired!!!! I stg being born in 1994 doesnt make you smarter or more tech literate than younger generations it just makes you (at least some ppl) smug and annoying apparently!!!!!!!!

[kissycat]

Oh god. 5 months from today I will lose student status. Bro I've never been anything else What will I do

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[vordemtodgefeit]

another assignment, another feedback deadline missed

[reidrum]

you say ‘what a mind’ | s.r.

A/N: she’s back and with fluff! (?) exams were really putting me through the ringer but i missed posting so i fixed up this draft i had, i hope you enjoy :D ive been listening to sabrina 25/8 since she dropped so hopefully song inspired fics coming soon 🤞🏽

summary: you get really excited about something new you learned and spencer gets really excited about you

wc: a short n sweet 1k

cw: none, tooth rotting fluff

_______________________________________________

With Spencer's extensive knowledge of just about everything, you had assumed that there wasn’t much you contribute to his abundant learning.

You maybe weren’t three-PhD’s smart, but you were smart, averagely speaking. But you knew Spencer was smart, and truth be told it intimidated you. He never made you feel bad about not knowing something, ever. Anytime he gets to talk to you about anything his face lights up like the night sky.

There was, however, one time you had come home all excited to explain a concept from class that finally clicked for you. And the first person you wanted to tell was Spencer.

He watched you bound up to him with a spring in your step, bright eyed and wide cheeks as you told him, “I have to tell you about what I learned about today, it finally made sense to me. Like it felt like a real life light bulb final puzzle piece fitting type moment!”

He smiled warmly down at your eager face, “Alright angel, lay it on me.”

“Okay, I know it’s a little stupid it’s taken me this long to get it, but it’s—“

The call of your name sternly yet fondly falling from Spencer’s lips interrupts your self deprecating preamble, “Hey, we don’t do that, remember? We talked about this.”

Your rants almost always started with some self deprecating remarks, and he would always frown and try to interject and shut them down, to which you’d wave him off under the guise of, “If I stop, I’ll forget!” You were smart, but stubborn to a fault. He loved you for it, but it was hard for him to see you not understand the value you held, the value that your voice and your words and your opinions held. The value that he knew with all certainty you possessed.

A sheepish blush rises on your cheeks as you mumble, “Sorry.”

His fingers trickle closer to yours and wrap around them firmly, bringing you to sit on the couch next to him as he pulls your legs over to rest on his.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” he says saccharinely, “We’re working on being nicer to ourselves right?”

You nod, he smiles softly back at you and continues, “Okay, tell me what you learned today.”

You start on your long explanation of the inner workings of the nervous system and its intricacies, explaining details and anecdotes that really showcase the inner workings of how your mind processes information.

Spencer can’t help but stare at you in deep fascination, complete with an awestruck smile and glimmering eyes.

He’s met hundreds of scientists, specialists, celebrities even, and listen to them talk about their research in extensive detail and with expansive knowledge. Hell, he’s had to do it himself with his three doctorates.

But as he sits in front of you, watching the person he’s most fond of on this planet watch you talk with so much speed, conviction, passion, with your hands move with purpose and excitement, he truly swears he has never been more in love with you than that moment.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask cautiously.

“You,” he moves closer, “Are so intelligent, did you know that?”

“Spencer, I’m not in the mood for jokes plea—“

“No, my love. You are brilliant,” he moves closer to be an inch away from you, placing his hands on your cheeks, “The way you process information is fascinating. When I watch you explain things to me I can see you organize it in your pretty head. It is actually mesmerizing watching you absorb knowledge the way you do. You’re like, a beautiful puzzle all undone, but by the forces of nature you’re able to put yourself together and bear the finished product to me, to anyone.”

Your eyes tear up, “Spence…what the fuck.”

He chuckles softly, “I mean it,” he holds you firmly, planting you in the roots of his belief, “What a mind you have, darling.”

It’s enough to make you tuck your head into his chest, obstructing his view from your imminent tearfall.

“You can’t just say things like that.” you mumble against the soft fabric of his shirt.

Spencer instinctively wraps his arm around your torso, letting the other hand take purchase in your hair, gently stroking it down, “Why not?” He speaks softly.

“Because…I might think you're like, in love with me or something.” You joke.

His laugh rumbles through his chest and into your rested head, “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s going to be another whole moon cycle before I have another a-ha moment like this again. I’ll have nothing to impress you with.”

Spencer smiles and sighs, squeezing you tighter against him, “You always impress me.”

You groan, “Ugh, you don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

“You do know that you’re really smart, right?” you open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off, “You always underestimate yourself, but you’re really one of the smartest people I know. And I know a lot of smart people.”

A deep sigh leaves you, but he continues, “And you don’t have to believe me. I’ll believe it enough for the both of us. You and your brain are remarkable, so when you come to me with your a-ha moments thinking I’ll be impressed with your spark of knowledge, just know that I am impressed with you, but it’s more because I get to see you realize just how capable you are yourself.”

The calming motion of his fingers through your hair tether you back to this world, your insides fluttering about like butterflies in an open field. It was hard not to believe his words when Spencer was always so kind to you. It was always so easy for you to play it off like you didn’t deserve it.

But Spencer knew wholeheartedly that you did deserve it, that you were even entitled to it. And he’d spend the rest of his life reminding you. That, you knew for a fact.

“I love you,” you say softly, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me angel, I love you too.” He mumbles in your head, his hand trailing down your sides in comfort.

[lizzobetumblin]

Melissa hated her feelings. 

She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings. 

“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name, 

‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list: 

1.) Don’t cry.   

 2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate

3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you

She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking, 

‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.

 ‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion. 

‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules�� you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,

“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”

Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry. 

9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow. 

It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.

Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong. 

When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that. 

When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.

When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again. 

She carried that. 

Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:

‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her. 

‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’ 

She cried. 

She escalated. 

She took it personal. 

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music. 

‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose. 

The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too. 

Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow. 

So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks. 

Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified. 

And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power. 

Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her. 

And she finally loved them back. 

[gguk-n]

Chapter 3- Caught in the Act

A+ in Pretend Love (Lando Norris x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- If you asked Zak Brown, he would advice never to store confidential contracts on the cloud. If you asked Lando, he would tell you to not fall in love with your fake fiance. If you asked Y/N, she would tell you to never date a famous person even if it's not real.

While Lando was being coached by his best friend to confess his love to his fake fiance; Zak's cloud was being hacked in hopes of finding some dirt on McLaren or their CEO to black mail but they didn't expect to hit the jackpot. Their contract was valid for 3-4 more months and the plan was to slowly ease Y/N out of Lando's life and say that things didn't work out because of their busy schedule.

What no one anticipated was they would wake up on Saturday morning to both their face plastered all over the news with the contract they had signed. The media was calling them all sorts of things from trying to fool them to trying to fool an entire country. There were people who had tracked her down and were now waiting outside Y/N's house in hopes of talking to her or at her work. She had to take leave from work since her professors were speaking ill of her. She couldn't imagine having to go back for her PHD programme. The worst were the fans; the name calling, the hate; it was all directed towards her as if McLaren were saint's in all of this. Lando also bore the brunt of a major chunk of the hate.

Zak just texted them telling them not to talk to anyone and to stay hidden till it all died out. Y/N wouldn't even talk to Lando at this point because she was so angry and hurt and didn't want to direct her anger towards him when it wasn't even his fault. She was sat bawling her eyes out at all the mean things the people were saying about her. It made her life extremely difficult, something she hadn't imagined happening.

Lando was a mess; McLaren told the media that Lando wouldn't be answering any question other than the race and if they asked any personal questions, he just walked away; adding fuel to the fire. The drivers were also gossiping among themselves. "No wonder she suddenly showed up. It was all a rouse" George whispered. "I mean I get why McLaren would do that, with Lando's antics" Alex reasoned. But as soon as they would spot Lando, they would stop whispering. "If you guys are gonna talk about my relationship" he said in animated quotation marks, "do it in front of me. I'll answer all your questions" he huffed and walked away, clearly hurt by his friends. Racing while it felt like his world was falling apart was proving to be very difficult. All his calls and messages to Y/N would fall on deaf ears and it was messing with him even more. He just needed to know that she was okay. He didn't give a rat's ass about how he was.

"Lando, I think, soon the media will get something else to talk about. You should just focus on your racing" Zak reasoned with Lando who wanted to put out a statement saying it was all their idea. "None of this would've happened had you not saved the damn contract on your cloud" Lando sighed angrily. "I don't understand how could you let something like that happen" he shouted walking away. The environment in the McLaren garage was tense to say the least.

Lando had hoped that things would quite down by now. The original timeline for his contract was also up but there was no shutting up about the fake relationship. Lando won his maiden win and yet the only thing they could talk about was Y/N. Part of Lando missed her, he had really hope to be able to share this moment with her. When he got out of the car, a big part of him wished she was there so he could run to her, hold her and maybe celebrate this win with her.

So, later that night, he did call her and she answered, her voice hoarse. "Congratulations Lando" she crocked. "Were you crying?" Lando asked worried. "Yeah, I'm just so happy you won" she said clearing her throat. Lando found himself smiling for the first time in a long time. "How have you been?" he asked her softly. "Same old same old. I thought things would quite down by now but they haven't." Y/N mumbled. "I'm sorry" Lando apologised. "It's a good thing I'm busy with research for my PHD. I have no clue how I would deal with people in my class" she sighed. "I'm so sorry Y/N. It's all my fault" Lando began before Y/N cut him off. "It's no one's fault. Things like this happen. I'm just glad they didn't rebuke my visa for this" she laughed trying to lighten the mood. 'I miss you' was stuck in both their throats as they continued to talk for a couple more minutes. "I think we should cut the call" Y/N suggested. "Oh" Lando replied. "I think it would be easier for the both of us if we stopped contacting each other. It was a hassle explaining the whole thing to my parents and my relatives. I just don't have it in me honestly" Y/N breathed out shakily. "I'll fix this" Lando tried to reason. "Don't Lando. I think this was it for us. I wish you the best. Take care" Y/N said it like it was their last time talking. "Please" Lando begged but Y/N cut the call; "But I love you" Lando whispered into his phone.

As the time went on and as the championship picked up, Lando's heart was in unrest. He felt like he had wronged the person who he loved and he couldn't live knowing that. So, he decided to sit down one day and film a video. He had seen the stuff people were saying about him and Y/N and he felt like it had been months; people should've moved on by now but if they couldn't he would make sure that they wouldn't be able to say shit about Y/N anymore.

The video began with Lando in his Monaco apartment; "Hi guys. Lando here" he began. He took a deep breath before speaking; "I would like to address my whole relationship with Y/N in his video. Part of me had hoped that it wouldn't come to his but here we are. Y/N and I did begin this relationship in a contract but it was the team's and my decision to do so. She was just a random person we ran into who ended up helping us. So, the whole gold digger narrative you all are spinning is a load of bull. I know I shouldn't've done that but I had no other option to clear up my image because that's what the team and sponsors wanted. Part of me had hoped that after the championship had started picking up steam you guys would have something better to talk about but hating on us for the decisions we made is too much. If you would like to hate on me or send me a ton of hate, be my guest but please leave Y/N out of this. She is innocent and doesn't deserve this. I would appreciate it if you would stop sending hate to the woman I actually loved. And to Y/N, if you're even watching, had we met in a different situation, I would've actually married you since I really do love you" Lando finished the video and after he was happy with it he uploaded it to his channel. He knew his PR team would give him shit but he didn't give a fuck. He just wanted Y/N to be safe.

The internet was in an uproar after Lando's public declaration of love. Some were calling it cliche and the others were swooning over Lando for taking a stand. People weren't very happy with McLaren and how they had handled the whole situation. Lando was being bombarded by calls from McLaren and they were angry at him for what he did. "Lando are you crazy? The sponsors won't stop calling. Why would you say that?" Zak shouted. "Because lying was what got us here. So, I cleared the air" Lando stated. "You are unbelievable and so difficult. I don't know why I tried so hard to keep you" Zak mumbled which Lando heard and it stung.

Y/N was on vacation with Becky who had taken her away since all she did was stay coup-ed up at home since the whole incident. Y/N woke up to a text from her mum; 'you'll want to see this. It's Lando' it read. Y/N quickly loaded the video and before she knew it, she was crying. She couldn't believe that Lando loved her. The craziest part of the video was the love confession honestly. She quickly called him and a groggy voice answered. "Y/N, is everything okay?" Lando asked worried. "Yes. Do you mean it?" she asked. "Mean what?" Lando asked confused. "What you said in the video about being in love with me?" she pleaded. "Yes. Every word. I've been in love with you for months and I couldn't tell you and it was killing me. It's fine if you don't feel the same. I just needed to let it out" Lando rambled. "I love you too you muppet" she laughed as tears were rolling down her face. "You mean it?" Lando asked pinching himself. "Yes. I love you so much Lando Norris" she said, by now Becky was also up due to all the commotion. "Are you free tonight?" Lando asked. "Ahh, I'm on vacation right now" she said slowly. "Let me know when you're back, I'll pick you up at the airport" Lando said, "I love you Y/N Y/L/N" Lando stated. "I love you too" Y/N replied before ending the call to explain everything to Becky.

True to his words Lando had come to the airport to pick her up, As soon as he spotted her, he ran to her at full speed almost knocking her down as he wrapped his arms around her waist raising her in the process to spin around for a while. "I missed you" he whispered putting her down with his head nuzzled in her neck. "I missed you too" she whispered running a hand through the back of his hair. "You made me dizzy" she whined as he pulled away to look at her. "Sorry" Lando smiled sheepishly. "About that date?" he asked. "Give me some time to shower and than I'm all yours" she beamed.

The two of them headed home. They went on that much needed date; at home with pizza and shitty rom-coms. They giggled as the pair on the screen kissed. When Lando turned to look at her and held her face like it was the most precious thing. "Can I kiss you?" he mumbled, eyes flickering to her lips. She nodded and Lando closed the distance between them, the kiss was sweet and needy; they had so many emotions running through them and some how this kiss was exactly what they needed.

"What about McLaren?" she asked a couple days later. "I'll tell them we're really dating but now I really wanna just protect you. I won't let anything happen to you." he stated. "I know" she hummed in agreement kissing his lips.

After spending the whole of summer break together, Lando came out to announce that he was actually dating Y/N. The team took it as well as you expect them to. The fans were going wild since this was truly out of a book. The other drivers were quite supportive and even apologised for their previous discretion.

With Y/N on his side, Lando felt like he could take on the world; good or bad. And Y/N was happy she agreed to fake date Lando since she got a real boyfriend out of this.

Tag list- @gamesetmatch-me @seonghwaexile @yootvi @hadesnumber1daughter @khaylin27 @abq654 @plotpal @charlesgirl16 @inarabee @a-beaverhausen @hwalllllllelujah

[martian-astro10]

D9/ Navamsa chart observations - Part 3

Jupiter in 9th is a great placement, even better if it's the 7th lord or darakaraka in d1. Your spouse will be intelligent. there's also a chance that you may do your master's or PhD after marriage. Your spouse can also have a job related to spirituality (one of my mom's friends has this placement and his wife is a reiki healer and also teaches meditation and hypnosis)

Jupiter in 10th is another really good placement. You and your spouse could start a business together, or you may meet them in your workplace. This is one of the placements that indicate that you'll earn more after marriage or once you start working WITH them (okay, so this example is interesting, i dont know how many of you know this, but there's an Indian company, dabur, and one of my relatives got married to the daughter of the brother of the guy who currently owns the company and let me tell you something, they are RICH RICH RICH, and like they helped my relative set up his own company and whenever we visit them, they give us such expensive gifts, you won't even find them anywhere, like custom made stuff) so if other factors support this, then you can get married into a super rich household

Venus conjunct ketu in 4th is a super common placement but I've noticed that it gives different results depending on what the ascendant is. A common prediction would be, that you guys will not get along with your spouse's family, you're gonna think that they waste too much money when they already have less of it. This is especially true for mother in law (I know a girl with this placement whose mother in law spends a lot on shopping and then asks for money from her, and she has to give in because divorce is not an option) i would recommend you guys to marry someone who doesn't have a mother 🥲

I KNOW SO MANY PEOPLE WITH MERCURY IN 8TH and it's so fascinating how it has the same exact effect on everyone. Okay, so this placement gives you 2 things, first, you'll gain a lot of money through joint accounts with your spouse, this could also be a marriage where you guys stay together just for money, a lot of celebrities have this placement. Second, your spouse is gonna hide things from you, like their salary (i know a woman with this placement and her husband was promoted and he told his wife that he was still doing the low pay job and he opened another account where he saved that extra money, while their family was having financial difficulties and stuff, it was a BIG deal)

Mercury in 11th is a nice placement, this could indicate a friends to lover type of story with your spouse. They could also be an extrovert, especially if mercury is in gemini. You guys will be focused on earning money but your whole focus won't be on money, like in 2nd or 8th house, it's gonna be more like "oh, this looks like a good idea, should we invest in this" kinda thing, i would say this is more like, both practical and romantic relationship

Moon in 8th..... Not exactly the best placement. Almost all the people that i know with this placement have been cheated on by their spouse, and again your spouse could hide things from you, but this time it's more emotional. Also, i have noticed that a lot of people with this placement marry someone who's in the closet, so their partner isn't affectionate and loving towards them and they think it's their fault but it's not, but it still ends up hurting them. You, yourself, could hide your feelings as well, and your spouse can see that and that's why they hide THEIR emotions, it's like a cycle. (if you have this, i would recommend you guys to go to therapy, heal your trauma and only then get into a serious relationship and sometimes you push your feelings down and you think you're over it, but you're not)

Mars in 8th can give very different results, but it does give you a spouse who is very sexual (and believe me, it's not always a good thing). If Mars is strong then it gives extremely good results, the ability to defeat your enemies and win, i know a person with this placement and she's a woman and people around her have always tried to ruin her life and she still managed to get up and is now living a great life. But if Mars is weak or worse, debilitated, then it can give an aggressive spouse, i know a person but i dont think i should share her story with you all, but if Mars is weak then... Don't marry. BUT if 7th lord and darakaraka of d1 is SUPER STRONG in d9 then go ahead.

Venus in 2nd is like okay okay, not bad but not good. I feel like this placement works better when it's in the cart of a man rather than a woman. The spouse will be good but will be more focused on earning money, even if they're already rich. From what I've seen, men are okay with wives like that, but women aren't, they need emotional security so being with a man who is focused on money makes them sad and lonely, whereas, men with this placement are more than happy to get wives like that, In MY opinion.

Sun conjunct ketu in 11th is another placement that is common, I know a lot of people with this. So, you will gain wealth but it's going to come very slowly, the type to MAKE generational wealth but not able to enjoy it. Also, i have noticed that these people always end up marrying someone who is in a lower position than them, career wise and so they support their spouse and at the same time take most of the financial responsibility of the family.

Ketu in 8th is SUCH a strong indicator of having a kid before marriage, or atleast getting pregnant. All the celebrities who've had a kid before marriage have this placement, Angelina Jolie and Shakira are two that i currently remember but I've seen it in the charts of a lot more. And listen, THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH THIS, OKAY.

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[renslice]

Actual quotes from my undergrad quantum mechanics professor (2019):

"Any one of you, if pressed hard enough, could use a rock to kill a gazelle"

"I haven't killed anyone since I was in my 20's!"

"Two wrongs don't make a right, but three wrongs do. So, if someone wrongs you, get back at them double."

(After a student asked a really good question) "I'm doing this because it's his fucking fault."

"Wouldn't it be great if Bohr, Schrödinger, etc… were struck by lightning before arriving at this conclusion?"

"The key to being a successful physicist is to be an arrogant shit."

(When asked why he assigned so many homework problems) "One reason is to keep people awake at night. The other reason is that I'm insane."

"No no. Cross that out. Write dumbass next to it."

"Vigor, not rigor, as my PhD advisor used to say."

"I can either be A. depressed or B. infinitely amused."

"The Finite Square Well: The chances of an algebra mistake are greater than 1. -Dirac"

"I tend to not get excited about important things like the end of the world, but this pisses me off."

(After grading our first exam) "I don't care if you don't go into fucking physics, but REALLY PEOPLE? … Even people who don't give a rat's ass can be productive in society … but REALLY??"

"In classical mechanics, you can ignore the product rule. Write that down."

"It's always darkest before the dawn, unless it gets darker."

"I'll give you ten dollars if you don't ask me that question again."

"If you mean it then you're a nerd nerd. If you're being ironic, then there's still hope for you."

"60% of books use E to be + and 60% of books use E to be -, and you can never tell which it is."

"I think I knew a guy named Jack Shit in New Jersey."

"Life is more complicated than physics, that's for sure. That's what makes it fun."

[cosmicdahlias]

Top Student

Ford Pines x Reader

MINORS DNI

Professor Pines has seemed a little down lately. You stop by his office with the intention of raising his spirits, as well as… other things.

tags: professor ford au, teacher/student relationship, oral, multiple orgasms, biting, fdom/msub, bondage, praise kink, p in v, creampie

okay confession this is inspired by a crush i had on a teacher in my senior year of high school, dude was a total nerd but in like a hot way. i literally applied myself so hard for him that i finished top of the class, still got the medal to prove it lmao. i’ve always had a thing for well read older men and that ain’t ever changing!!!

You stood outside the door to your Astronomy professor’s office. As of late Professor Pines had seemed less like himself, appearing to be not nearly as engaged in his lectures. He covered the material just fine, but his passion for the subject matter just wasn’t there anymore. He always looked exhausted and worn out as well. Were it any other professor, you still would’ve cared, but there was an ulterior motive that led you to stand at his door. You gave a knock.

“Come in!” Professor Pine’s voice called from behind the door.

You opened it and took in the sight of his office. The room was softly lit by both a floor and desk lamp, giving the space a cozier feel than what overhead lighting could achieve. Well stocked bookshelves stretched to the ceiling and multiple PhD diplomas lined the walls, from what you’d heard he had accumulated at least twelve. His desk faced the window and a couch sat in the corner. You stepped into the room.

“Oh hello, y/n. What a pleasant surprise.” He said.

“Evening, professor.”

“Good evening to you too. Please, take a seat.”

You sat on the couch, it was almost far too nice for just an office. Professor Pines really went above and beyond to make sure his students were comfortable. He turned in his chair to face you.

“So, what can I do for you?” He asked.

“Well, to be blunt I’m a little worried.”

His brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m surprised to hear you say that. You’re doing incredibly well in my course. Don’t go spreading this around, but you’re top of the class. I promise you have little, if anything, to worry about.”

“No, I wasn’t talking about myself. I meant you, professor.”

He gave a confused chuckle.

“Forgive me, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

You took a deep breath.

“You’ve just been so… sad lately. It’s subtle, but you seem distant during your lectures, like you’re just going through the motions. You look so exhausted too.”

Professor Pines fidgeted with his hands.

“I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you I’m doing just fine. I promise.”

You looked at him directly in the eyes.

“Professor…”

“I’m sorry, I really do value your worries, but the life of your professor isn’t something you need invest yourself in. You’re incredibly sweet, but seriously I’m fine.”

“I know depression when I see it, I wouldn’t be a good student if I didn’t care.”

He let out a long sigh.

“If I really cannot dissuade you, then alright. Just promise to keep this between us.”

“Of course.”

“Things haven’t been going well for me romantically. It seems to be one failed relationship after another. They start off great for a few weeks, or if I’m lucky maybe a month or so, but no one has seemed to enjoy my company long term. I’m not exactly romantically adept, so it’s more my own fault than them, but still I’m starting to lose hope of finding someone. I’m not getting any younger and at my age you become painfully aware of just how little time you have left in the grand scheme of things. It’s really starting to feel like loneliness might be it for me.“

“Oh, professor. I had my suspicions that it might’ve been something like this, but I’m so sorry.”

He gave a small, dejected smile.

“You know, I really thought I was doing my best to hide it. Foolish of me to assume that you, my top student, wouldn’t catch on with that intuition of yours. I apologize if it’s affected the quality of my teaching.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Oh goodness, no. You don’t need to do anything for me.”

“Are you sure?” You said, standing and coming close to him.

“Wh- what are you doing?”

“I suppose now is as good a time as any, but I’ve always found you attractive, Professor Pines.”

His cheeks turned a dusty pink.

“Um… I- ah- thank you. I’ve always thought you were incredibly attractive as well, but perhaps you shouldn’t be standing so close like that.”

You moved a hand to his chest, there was a slight firmness to it. You moved in closer, your lips brushing against his ear.

“I think I could benefit from some private instruction, don’t you?” You whispered.

His breath shuddered. You leaned down and kissed him, he moaned softly into your mouth before pulling away.

“N- no, this is wrong. I- we can’t do this. Look, you can sit back down and we can discuss anything pertaining to my class, or you can leave and I’ll see you for tomorrow’s lectu-“

You sat on his desk, spreading your legs and slowly pulling up your skirt.

“I know you want this as badly as I do.” You cooed.

“I can’t- oh dear god, you weren’t wearing anything underneath that skirt this whole time? Did you… plan this?”

“I just figured I could help out my favorite professor.”

You slipped a finger to your clit, Professor Pines watched intently.

“You’re so wet, is this because of me?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve touched myself to you.”

“I’ve seen a lot in my time, but someone as radiant and stunning as you with your hand between your thighs and dripping onto my desk for me is by far the least expected.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, professor. Do you know how many people would throw themselves at a silver fox like you?” You purred.

Professor Pines moved himself out of his chair to stand in front of you, he cupped your cheek, kissing you passionately.

“If your flattery is a means to get me on my knees for you, I’d say you’ve won me over.” He said as he sank to the floor, his face level with your pussy.

He allowed his hot breath to linger on you for a moment before dragging his tongue up your dripping lips.

“You taste so good, sweetheart.” He said, his mouth finding your clit as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

Despite claiming to be romantically inept, he certainly wasn’t at pleasuring his lover. You had no idea what his past partners didn’t see in him, he could be as awkward as humanly possible, but his looks and skilled tongue would keep you cuffed.

He stopped for a moment and looked at you.

“How does that feel?” He asked.

You stroked his cheek.

“You’re so good for me.” You praised.

Your praise seemed to invigorate him, he returned his mouth and tongue to your clit, lapping at you furiously.

You felt yourself growing close and you tightened your grip on his hair. You moaned loudly as you came, bucking yourself against his face. He held your hips steady, keeping his mouth on you and making you cum again in record time. He refused to stop, not even allowing you to catch your breath before making you cum again and again until you lost count. Your ears rang by the time he removed his mouth.

“Holy fuuuuuck. You’re incredible, Professor Pines.” You panted, your final orgasm subsiding.

“Please, just call me Ford. After making you cum on my tongue that many times I think we’re past the need for formalities.” He said as he stood to kiss you.

“Well then Ford, how about we move this to the couch?” You said as your hearing fully returned to normal.

“But of course, sweetheart.”

He picked you up underneath your thighs and sat on the couch with you straddling his lap. You felt his hard cock press against you through his pants as you kissed him passionately, pulling down the turtleneck of his maroon sweater. You were about to bite his neck when you noticed a cartoonish tattoo of a smiling star giving a double thumbs up with the words “Hey now, I’m an all star.” You failed to stifle a laugh.

“What is it?” Ford asked.

“Nothing.”

You bit down on him, he gasped.

“Oh god, no one has ever done this to me before. People my age aren’t nearly as adventurous.” Ford whimpered.

You laughed again.

“You think that’s adventurous? Let me ask you something, have you ever been dominated before?”

He blushed hard.

“I- no, never. My partners have always preferred I take the dominant role.”

You kissed him deeply, biting his lower lip as you pulled away.

“I’m about to blow your mind, Stanford Pines. Now lie back.”

He followed your command, shifting himself to lay on the couch with you still on top of him.

“You ever had someone tie you up before?” You asked.

He looked away, embarrassed.

“…Not in a sexual way.” He mumbled.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Just what were you doing before you became a college professor?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Guess I’ll just have to fuck the information out of you.” You teased.

“You drive a hard bargain, my dear.”

You unbuckled his belt, pulling it free from his pants. You pinned his arms above his head, looping the belt around his wrists and fashioning it into handcuffs.

“How’s that, not too tight?” You asked.

“No, it feels snug.”

“Good.”

You let your hands travel to his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his cock.

“Goddamn, your previous partners are idiots. Who would pass up a cock like this?” You said, giving him a few strokes.

“Mmmnn, your hand feels so good.”

“I think I know something that’ll feel even better.”

You moved yourself to hover over his cock, slowly sinking down his length. He throbbed as you reached the base of his shaft. You looked down at him and smirked, staying still.

“Y- you can’t just sit there with my cock inside you and not move. Don’t tease me like this.” Ford whimpered.

“I need to hear you tell me how much you want this.”

“Please, I need you.” He said as he frantically attempted to buck his hips.

You pulled yourself off of him.

“No no no, please no, you can’t stop now.” He whined pitifully.

You cupped his chin, your thumb stroking his lips.

“You have to beg. Tell me just how badly you need your top student to fuck you.” You commanded.

“Oh god, please y/n. I need you. I fucking NEED you. Ever since that first day you walked into my class I’ve desired you so intensely. You don’t know how many times I’ve had to stroke myself because I lay awake at night thinking of you. I’ve even touched myself in the lecture hall between classes after seeing you sit in the front row in those little skirts, crossing and uncrossing your legs, your panties just barely visible. I’ve never longed for someone the way I have for you. Please fuck me, I can’t take much more of this.”

“Ugh you’re adorable when you beg, music to my ears.”

You took his full length back inside you, he let out a loud gasping moan as you began to lift and drop your hips.

“Thank you, dear Moses thank you. You feel so good, s- so warm and tight.” He shuddered.

You slipped your hands under his sweater to his nipples, pinching and tugging them. He was a mess of moans and whimpers.

“You like that, smart guy?” You purred.

He looked up at you in surprise.

“Did I say something?” You asked.

“No, I just- it’s funny, you’re not the first person to call me that, but I like it far better coming from you than I did him.”

“That’s my good boy.” You purred.

You felt him throb hard inside you.

“Nnngh, no one has ever said that to me before. Your praise alone could make a man cum.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

You gripped his shoulders, moving your hips to fully slide him out and back in over and over. Your name left his lips with a moan and he looked up at you, eyes full of pure lust.

“Oh god, just like that. Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” He whined.

“So needy, you’re doing such a good job for me.”

You felt him throb repeatedly as his moans and whimpers increased in volume and prevalence.

“I’m so close, m- may I cum in you? I need to know what it’s like to fill you with my seed. Please, y/n.” Ford begged.

“Very good, handsome. I didn’t even have to tell you to beg. That alone deserves to be rewarded.”

You picked up your speed and felt the pulse of his cock one final time as he came deep inside you. He bucked his hips, trying his hardest to go as far in you as he could.

“Y- you’re s- s- so incredible.” He stuttered.

“And you make for one hell of a ride, handsome.” You purred, stroking his cheek.

You pulled yourself off of him and he looked down, his and your cum had completely stained the front of his pants.

“Oh god, we’ve made a mess.” He said, putting his hand to his forehead.

You giggled at the sight of him.

“Don’t laugh, you’re wearing a skirt, you can get away with it.” He groaned.

“Sorry, I just like the idea of leaving you with a little reminder of myself.”

Ford took your hand.

“You really are amazing, sweetheart. No one has ever come close to feeling like you.” He whispered.

“Yeah? How would you like to do this again sometime?”

“R- really?” He asked.

“Oh without question.”

“Then by all means, feel free to stop by tomorrow. Perhaps you could let me see you sans clothes next time.”

“Good boy, sounds like a plan.” You said, leaning down to kiss him.

[grimesgirll]

can you do rickyl x reader where she gets jealous and gives them attitude🙏

ninety-eight hours it’s been since rick and daryl left for what was supposed to be a “dry” supply run.

another hour and you think you’re going to simply die from the wanton ache in your cunt and the paranoia creeping with every passing minute.

you hate when they go away. it’s the worst. but it’s what your lovers have to do if your community wants amoxicillin and food that‘s not canned peas or tuna. the only bigger drag than you losing out on a few nights of getting the stress fucked out of you and mornings with tender wake up calls; that cool new girl went with them.

just a few weeks ago, daryl and aaron had discovered a former phd student wandering the outskirts of shenandoah national park. the twenty-eight year old had been walking from her biology program in new jersey in an attempt to reach her family’s house in norfolk, virginia.

back to alexandria, she brought a backpack, some stories, and a green haze to your vision.

within a week, you’re wishing daryl and aaron hadn’t brought her back. the worst part is that you really can’t speak on it with anyone because you’ll sound like a jealous bitch, which you kinda are. it’s not your fault that you don’t know shit about how to age a deer or microorganisms or macroinvertebrates or interesting biology major jargon that gets rick and daryl’s attention.

you didn’t finish your degree. the apocalypse had made sure of that. yeah, this girl’s thesis defense had been cancelled but she already had two degrees and a fucking certificate.

yeah, daryl doesn’t have a degree. but this girl’s family grew up hunting - proud turkey hunters, she’d specified after daryl asked her about her turkey shotgun. they hit it off so well that she’d even gone on a few hunts with him. you refused to eat the pheasant she shot. when she came into your kitchen proudly touting a half butchered boar, you simply narrowed your eyes, turned to rick next to you, and asked if you should take chances eating wild boar meat after the prison.

let’s just say you can’t stand her.

it’s not rational and it’s surely not healthy but you can’t bring yourself to address it in any meaningful way. all you can do is smolder. and that’s exactly what you do when rick and daryl come through the gates, fully engaged in a conversation with her.

“find what you need?”

you’re walking up to the three as soon as they pass you. rosita had been chatting you up and you assumed that your boys would come over and greet you with at least a kiss but no! they’re walking past you with her. the perfect, perpetually prepared girlscout that makes you want to tear your hair out.

two twin pairs of blue eyes find yours and daryl’s eyes are overflowing with longing, but before they can even say hello, she’s in your face, greeting you and handing off some seed packets she’d found

what a bitch.

almost turning your nose at her, you instead decide to accept the packets without a thank you. you make a beeline straight for rick, leaning up on your tippy toes to capture his tongue, wrapping an arm around his neck to lower him into your embrace. every ounce of waiting and wanting is spilled onto rick’s lips. you kiss him a bit too fervently for a welcome back kiss at your community’s gates. it’s an abuse of power on your part.

it’s dramatic. it’s theatrical.

it’s just as bad when you do the same thing to daryl, attaching yourself to his side as the newest addition to alexandria clears her throat and continues on about the supplies they managed to secure on their “dry” run. specifically, some supplies for her to try to solo it again - but this time - finally land in norfolk. you know that rick and daryl were out there - away from you - for more than just some glorified grad student’s get home bag but every second that she drones on has you yearning for her to pack her bags tonight.

“so, once my wrist is fully healed. i’ll be out of here.”

“thank god!”

rick’s eyebrow raises and if daryl could go quieter, he would.

the walk back to your house alone in alexandria is awkward.

the scene you’d caused had rick giving you a look that told you if you didn’t quit digging now, you’d end up in a trench of conflict. not just being at odds with the newcomer, but rick’s lack of patience for this kind of behavior from you. that doesn’t stop you from starting again as soon as they enter the bedroom.

“neither of you came over to say hi to me when you got in the gates.”

it’s the first thing out of your mouth once the door has shut. your arms are folded over your chest and you’re glaring at them like you didn’t just put on a grand display and snub the girl staying down the street. eyes focused on them, you’d be hard pressed to tell that you even could even name the other girl.

“so you’re gonna skim past talkin’ to her like that?” rick’s giving you that same you can’t be serious look he sends your way when you’re brattin’ out like this.

“i said my thoughts out loud. sorry.”

“ain’t you got no filter?”

“no, daryl,” you reply, looking up at them from the soft bed. your hands dig into the mattress. “that overnight “dry” run turned into the entire weekend and the first thing you guys do is stroll in with her and not say hi.”

“why do you care so much? she’s leavin’ soon.” daryl reminds you, fighting a yawn.

you frown. “you guys relate to her more.”

rick guffaws and daryl’s eyes are rolling.

“what? you think she’s flirtin’ knowin’ how to catch herself a fuckin’ meal.”

“but she’s older than me.”

“not by much, honey,” rick dismisses your concern.

the downtrodden look on your face is unmistakable. you’re quiet, considering how to justify your jealousy when you feel a tear coming on. daryl notices when you try to blink it away and is the first to drop the bone the two were picking with you. he’s next to you, a hand on your waist and your thigh, and that’s when you exhale in frustrated, exasperation, “you were gone for four days and you couldn’t even say hi to me.” you’re shaking your head, knowing it’s dumb. “its not nice but it just got me so angry.” you almost omit this last part but the borderline law enforcement stare you’re receiving from rick has you candid. “i just needed you guys to come up and kiss me - or something after not knowing if you were alive or not. the run went too long. got me worked up.”

“and you think you deserve to get fucked first thing after pullin’ that shit?”

you bite your lip. rick can read you too well. really, there’s nothing to discuss.

did you really think they would lose interest in you that easily? or is this just a ploy to work them up too? to cash in on the good, hard fucking you know they’d subject you to if you turned up your brat factor for their return. it’s downright devious but who are they to deny the smoldering opportunity falling in their laps?

“can you be a good girl?”

you nod, not breaking eye contact as he slips his thumb into your mouth while undoing his pants with the other hand. “maybe we can get this to do somethin’ useful, huh?”

daryl stays quiet but the smirk as he watches you lick rick clean tells you that he has an idea. he’s full of ideas, most of which involve stuffing you full in some capacity but just from bud reaction to the scene that unfolded, you know he’s in a teasing mood. too feverous and on the same page as rick about your jealousy to give you the fucking you want straight away.

there’s probably a bit more of explaining that you need to do but when rick says, “hands and knees,” you’re forgetting all about the better educated woman and getting into place on the plush bed. the brief scowl on your face can’t be missed but it doesn’t matter because you automatically open your mouth wider once you’re faced with rick’s too-big-for-your-mouth cock.

you’re so focused on rick that the stripe being licked down your slit from behind has you choking on rick in surprise. the constable groans at your tight throat clenching around him.

“missed this pussy,” daryl’s gruff voice against your cunt brings you back to reality. the reality where he’s flicking his tongue over your already aching, swollen bud.

so that’s what that tear was, you deduce, suddenly aware of your missing panties.

“you’re overthinkin’,” rick says says with a hand in your hair. “you belong to us. we belong to you.”

“yeah, no new girl’s gonna come between us.” daryl assures you, breathing lust into your cunt. “gotta get out of yer’ fuckin’ head.” daryl chimes, not even giving his tongue a break when it wasn’t on your clit. “i finally get someone with a brain to go huntin’ with and your first thought is that i wanna fuck ‘em.”

rick smirks down at you, mouth too stuffed full of cock to deny any of it. he runs a hand through your hair and eases up on your throat, growing impossibly harder at the sight of his thick dick against your glossy, shining lips. a hand finds your chin and his cock falls from your mouth. “you better not forget that you’re made for us. don’t want no one else but you.” his cock jumps at the way your pupils grow from his lust induced speech. “you’re ours. that pussy’s in the shape of our cocks. beautiful brain’s all wrapped up in us, like we’re wrapped up in you.”

you could cream at his words. any minute you’re going to on daryl’s tongue. back as forth, the younger man is sliding his tongue all over your clit. he even dips the appendage inside of you to tongue around and spur rick into thrusting his cock back into your mouth so he can enjoy your needy whimpers around him.

“so fuckin’ good for us, baby. like she never could be.” rick huffs, chocolate curls falling back with his head.

all you can do is moan around him in response. daryl doesn’t let you process rick’s words because you’re too busy processing the overload of pleasure he’s inducing in you. you writhe back against him, canting your hips into his mouth just as rick twitches in yours.

your hips are bucking and you almost fall forward on rick when daryl triggers your toe curling release, savoring in the ooze as he laps your weeping cunt. tears well at your waterlines with rick’s cock bulging in the cheeks of your mouth. those tears spill with the rush of energy in your cunt. spasming and clenching, leaking onto the devoted tongue seeing you through.

“hope this holds you over,” rick remarks, pulling his still aching cock out of your mouth while glancing over at daryl happily cleaning up your release with his tactful tongue. “‘cause you’re gonna’ be sore after tonight, darlin’. whatever you need to get it in that pretty little head of yours that you’re ours, and don’t need to worry about anything or anyone else.”

as your first orgasm of the night fades and the shaking in your legs pauses, there’s a post-climax clarity that hits you like a truck. you’d be face down on the bed trying to pretend you didn’t exist if not for the hands eliciting the most vibrant whinnies from you, twisting your pleasure receptors like play-doh. you’re not far from coming again and that’s the only thing saving you from the shame of how you treated the newcomer. it wasn’t kind. wasn’t rational. treating her so poorly because of how well she worked with your men. greek gods killed insolent hosts who disrespected their guests, what would rick and daryl do to you for snubbing one of the last polite people on this rotting rock?

being well rounded isn’t a crime, you remind yourself.

and your men don’t need to remind you again with words how much you mean to them. that your jealousy is unfounded but they want to kiss you better anyway. it doesn’t matter if it takes all night, they’ll be reminding you exactly where and who they want to be with.

with you being made for them, how could they want anyone else?

[herdarkestnightelegance]

"Careful, I Bite"

My First - Part 1/3

Pairing: Astarion/ AFAB!Tav (you)

Warnings/tags: 18+, virginity, vulnerability, sexual tension, mature conversations and flirting, vaginal masturbation, explicit sexual fantasies (PiV), Act 1 spoilers

Length: ~ 5.5k words (they just keep getting longer, don’t they?)

Summary: Unable to resist his charms, you grow close with your handome, vampiric travel companion. Very close. The thing is just ... you've never been with anyone before ...

A/N: It's happening! My first venture into 🌶️ territory! Please know: No PHD thesis ever had this much lively back and forth and discussion as this fic! Thank you @nyx-knox for being the GOAT of beta-readers on what is basically group-project at his point and for your constant support and reassurance 🩷

Taglist: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate , @littlelovelore, @onlyancunin @chaoticbardlady99 @ancuninfiles

:::::::

You have never felt this weird kind of nervousness before. 

It’s not the kind of suspense you feel before entering a dungeon full of goblins. It’s not the kind of pressure you feel when the eyes of your companions turn to you, awaiting a decision. No. This is a different, unfamiliar kind of stimulation to your nerves. It’s warm, yet tingly, it’s at the back of your mind constantly, making you smile one moment, then shake your head the next trying to escape the feeling. You find it increasingly difficult to think of anything else, even now while you are sitting on a log, warming yourself on your camp’s little fire. This has been going on for a few days now. And it’s entirely Astarion’s fault.

Astarion. The charming, flirty and admirably witty Vampire you’ve found yourself increasingly drawn to more and more with each passing day.

If you’re being honest … you kinda hated him when you first met. Headbutting him in the face was less than what he deserved for putting a knife to your throat! But you quickly understood that he was simply being cautious, scared, just as you’ve all been.

Everyone had been on edge the entire time as you tackled a whole cascade of challenges on your ongoing quest to find a cure: stopping druid rituals, fighting hags and harpies, vanquishing a whole camp of goblins. But throughout all of those adventures, you had noticed Astarion slowly gravitating towards you, closer and closer. And you found that you, too, were gravitating towards him. Which scared the absolute shit out of you.

When you woke up with his handsome face so close to yours that one night, you almost jumped out of your skin. His cool body hovering over yours, his breath on your neck … it immediately sent your mind - and your body - into overdrive.

Honestly? When you learned he was a vampire and that he was simply trying to drink your blood, you were almost relieved. Or … were you disappointed? You couldn’t tell. Because what you thought was going on for a split second was that Astarion - strange, intriguing Astarion - was actually trying to kiss you. And you didn’t entirely hate that thought? Right on the contrary! 

The thing was just that, well, you have never actually been kissed by anyone before.

While you were no stranger to pleasure, knowing full well how to take excellent care of yourself, you have never been in this position. With another person this close to you while you lay on your back. So many things raced through your mind when that admittedly devastatingly beautiful man knelt so close to you. You wanted to slide out from under him as quickly as you could. You wanted to slap him for not asking to kiss you first. And you also wanted him to pin you down on your bedroll and succeed in stealing that kiss from you. So badly. 

That thought was pushed to the side, though, when he revealed his vampiric nature to you. For the first time since you met on that beach, you felt like you were glimpsing a bit of him, the real him beneath that debonair facade. And you liked that he was confiding in you specifically. Those ruby eyes pleading for your help, his urgent voice trying to explain his situation, and his disarming charm, asking if you could trust him just a little further. Even though you were angry that he didn’t ask before he tried biting you, you knew you would have said yes if he had. And then …

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

Your heart was racing a thousand beats an hour when you laid down back on your bedroll. You felt your cheeks flush, mixed with a tingling, cool nervous sensation on your skin. When Astarion leaned over you once more, one arm on each side of your head, you caught your breath. This felt so intimidating … so intimate. You felt exposed, excited, nervous, scared. And you wanted this. This was so unlike you. It was far more usual for you to be refusing the physical advances of others. But you didn’t want to refuse him. In fact, for the first time, you felt the exact opposite of your usual inclination. You wanted to allow him closer.

Astarion took up your entire field of vision, or at least it felt like all you could see was him. The way he held your gaze steadily made it impossible to look anywhere else. He had a soft, reassuring and thankful smile on his lips … and next thing you knew his fangs were piercing your skin. 

It hurt. At least for a moment. Your mind was racing, trying to take all of this in, all these new sensations: The ice-cold feeling of his fangs inside you, his body on top of yours, his cool lips touching and sucking on your warm skin, his increasingly heavy breathing so close to your ear, the pain … and the pleasure. 

When you felt him gently cupping the back of your head, you were about ready to actually kiss him. Feeling pressure building in your core, your legs began pressing together of their own volition, causing little jolts of lust to course through you as you felt a familiar heat rising between your thighs. You desperately wanted to wrap your arms around him, to sink your fingers into those beautiful white curls of his, give in to that delicious pain, wanting him to do more, to go further.

But instead you felt your head go woozy, snapping you out of your thoughts. No, this was too much. So you told him to stop, pushed him away gently yet firmly. You were panting, and so was he. He looked so radiant at that moment, so strong. It made you forget the pain in your neck, the way the world spun around you. He looked so happy, and you did that for him.

When Astarion turned around to leave, he stopped and thanked you, telling you he wouldn’t forget this gift you have given him. And you knew, neither would you. How in the Hells were you supposed to sleep now? After that? After you felt the weight of his body on yours, felt his soft lips on your skin, after being so close you smelled the slight perfume of … something herbal and citrusy? Gods!

You laid back down on your bedroll and for at least an hour you couldn’t sleep, your companions breathing calmly around you, unaware of what had happened. All you could think about was the image of Astarion, that little smile right before he bit into your neck, his hand caressing the back of your hair ever so slightly… 

You let out a sharp breath, feeling the slickness between your thighs. Might as well ... 

You unlaced the front of your trousers, looking around to your sleeping companions, who mercifully had either their backs turned or at least their heads facing away from you. You would just have to get this over with quickly. Biting your lips, you made yourself comfortable once more. 

Practiced fingers slid below the fabric and to the folds between your legs, finding them already wet and ready for some much-needed attention. You closed your eyes and sighed as you began touching yourself, massaging your clit as you had done many times before. The thing that was new, though, was the image in your mind: 

Ruby eyes piercing into yours with a desire so fierce it almost takes your breath away. You're lying naked next to the fire, a pale, equally naked, slender body between your open legs. And then the feeling of fangs penetrating your skin as Astarion’s cock penetrates you. A delighted smile flickered across your lips, both in your dream and in real life. “Look at you, my sweet Darling.” Astarion’s voice purrs into your ear, as he thrusts himself all the way into you, stretching you deliciously. “You are taking me so well.” Slowly he begins to roll his hips, knowing how to move just the way you want it, his thrusts quickly growing faster.

The pace of your own fingers grew faster alongside your fantasies, as you imagined what it would be like having him inside you, fucking you, filling you completely. A little whimper escaped your lips, it was hard to stay silent with your imagination running wild. 

“Gods, you’re so tight, my love,” he says as he spreads your legs even further, exposing you, watching your juices run down the inside of your thighs, angling himself perfectly to be able to fuck you even deeper, harder, more. He wants you, just as you want him. It’s almost too much, your inexperienced body barely able to handle his expert movements. And you feel the familiar coil tightening inside you. “Astarion …” you whisper, desperately holding on to his soft white curls.

“Yes, my love?”, he asks, kissing the small wounds he’s made on your neck.

“Cum … cum inside me ... please,” you beg between his hard thrusts, as you feel yourself edging towards your climax. And just as the both of you come undone in unison, and you feel him unloading his thick seed inside of you, he bites down on your neck once more, causing you to moan out his name - and it’s music to the pale Elf’s pointy ears.

Unable to stop it, a little moan escaped you in the real world as well. Slapping your free hand over your mouth, you are pretty sure it really was his name that escaped your lips into the silent night around you. But the surprise at your own sound was swept away by the waves of your orgasm as it rolled through you, causing your hips to quiver a few times, before your breath began to calm, and you fell into relaxed bliss. 

You pulled your hand free from your pants and wiped it on the grass next to your bedroll, feeling a lot more relaxed. Wouldn’t that be something, you thought as you lay down on your side. Actually getting closer to the mysterious vampire, getting to know the person you glimpsed a bit of today. Closing your eyes, you thought that, yes, you would really like that. 

Oh no. You felt your stomach drop in surprise and your eyes shot open in realization. You wanted to get to know the real him? You wanted to get closer to him? You wanted to be more… intimate with him? It was then that it dawned on you… you were slowly but surely starting to fall for the disarming vampire. 

Fuck.

:::::::

His blood was just starting to slow from his hunt, but his vampiric senses were still alert, sharper than usual. So Astarion’s pointed ears heard it before he even reached the camp. The rustling of the bedroll, the rapid breathing, the suppressed whimpers. Somebody was having a bit of fun.

Making sure to stay concealed by the darkness of the treeline, he looked towards the figures lying by the fire. Oh? Not wanting to disturb the vision before him, he stopped moving. Had anyone looked in his direction, they would have seen his eyes reflecting the soft light of the camp-fire like two tiny round mirrors. What do we have here? His ruby eyes locked onto Tav as they tried to keep their pleasured movement on the bedroll to a minimum. What a delicious sight that was. 

Astarion had known Tav had gotten quite attached to him, most likely falling for his wit and charm - and obviously his looks - as most did. Otherwise, why would they have allowed him to drink from them? And it was amazing, drinking from them, too. Astarion licked his lips at the memory. Tasting the blood of a thinking being, tasting them. It had been … so intimate. Better than he had ever imagined. He usually only pretended to enjoy the closeness of other people. But not Tav. He couldn’t have picked a better person to be his first.

Frankly, he even enjoyed their company, such as it was. And he knew they enjoyed his company as well. But this? This was a display he hadn’t anticipated. At least not yet.

Shaking his head ever so slightly in disbelief, Astarion was almost impressed by the bold endeavor: Tav, pleasuring themselves out in the open by the campfire? Sure, everyone was asleep, but anyone could awaken any moment from their little moans and catch those fingers dancing amongst their folds. If Tav was this desperate to release their need for him after he’d fed from them earlier in the night, they must desperately want him. A scheming grin grew on his face as he realized… This could work.

He was sure the others in the camp would know about his condition by morning. And knowing full well that people don’t trust vampires - perhaps understandably - he needed to be sure Tav was on his side. Tav was their fearless leader and fierce protector. They may have unwillingly slipped into that role, but they had sway with and the trust of everyone in camp, including him if he was being honest. If Tav kept him under their wing… he wouldn’t get flocked or kicked out. He’d be the first one protected, heard out in every conversation, involved in every plan the group made, and therefore… powerful by association. Safe.

All it would take would be what he had done for 200 years already: some casual seduction and an offer for one night of mind-blowing ecstasy to lock himself into that kind of ideal position. 

Tav’s breathing grew faster then, the smell of their arousal and pumping blood slowly beginning to fill Astarion’s head, breaking his concentration for a moment, his attention now fully on the show in front of him. It was then, as Tav climaxed, trying to suppress a moan, that Astarion heard it. Clear as day. Between the whimpering and exhalation: His name, cried from their lips.

And just like that… Astarion had laid out his nice, simple plan. Oh this would be easy.

:::::::

The next morning you could barely bring yourself to look him in the eye. He was your - almost - innocent traveling companion, and you had thought of him for your dirty little fantasy. You knew this was going to drive you crazy! So you promised yourself you would stop this, trying to cushion the fall as you were definitely falling for him. But when Astarion asked you how you’ve been feeling after the bite, with his trademark smile and his charming words, your nice, simple plan fell apart instantly when you heard yourself offer your neck to him again for tonight. As he happily accepted, your heart leapt in your chest.

Things only progressed from there. Between your party’s adventures, the fighting, tending to each other's wounds, laughing with (and sometimes about) Gale, and watching Shadowheart and Lae’zel bickering with each other, you and Astarion … connected. As you began to share your stories, laugh more at each other’s quippy jokes, indulge in witty banter with every conversation that sparked between you two, you started to see more of that man that you had glimpsed that night he first bit you. Beneath the well-crafted, snarky, and charismatic facade was someone who had endured horrors you couldn’t even imagine. Beneath his undeniably stunning looks, you saw the whole picture - the flawed, broken, resilient, complex person that he was. You began caring for him so deeply, more and more each day. You were falling for him… oh, you were falling for him hard.

Many nights you spent taking care of the desire that Astarion had been fueling inside of you. It was almost embarrassing how much you were pining for him, each night in your bedroll by the fire or in your tent, where you so often wound up with shaky legs and wet fingers. You imagined his hands were the ones roaming over your body, knowing every sensitive spot, his fingers sliding inside you, curling just right, making you gasp and shiver with pleasure. And his voice in your ear, whispering all the filthy things he wants to do to you, will do to you. He was inside your head, and you truly began to yearn for him to be inside your body, too.

Oh, how your body reacted to him whenever he was close and Gods, you really hoped he could not sense it. When he chose to sit next to you by the fire, even though there was plenty of space elsewhere, you imagined his hand sliding around your neck to pull you into a deep, passionate kiss. When he would pick pieces of foliage - or goblin guts - from your hair or stand so very close to you while helping you into your armor, you imagined him pulling you behind the closest tree and taking you right there and then. And the fact that he was so openly, outrageously flirtatious with you, and only you, saying all the right things at the right time, didn’t help either. It drove you crazy with confusion, with adoration and with desire.

So when a celebration was in order after your party had succeeded in vanquishing the entirety of the goblin camp and its leaders, you found yourself sauntering over to Astarion’s tent. You were nervous, more so than ever, but there was a strange confidence roaring within you. With spirits so high, the blood still running hot from today’s victory, you felt this might be the night. You wanted it to be. And you wanted it to be with Astarion.

You were sipping from his wine bottle to calm your nerves, when he actually, finally, suggested that the two of you could make your own entertainment. It was like the surrounding music faded away, replaced by the sound of your blood pumping in your ears. The honeyed words from Astarion’s beautiful lips promised you things that made your knees weak.This was what you wanted, what you had been waiting for.

So … you agreed. 

Part of you even appreciated that he made it clear where the both of you stood at all times. He told you that he liked you, that he came to enjoy the whole package, assured you that if you wanted to - and you did - the two of you could lose yourself in your own little piece of nowhere. But he never promised it would be a committed arrangement. And honestly, with the tadpole inside your head, the descent into the Underdark before you and with the whole party looking to you as their leader, you kind of appreciated that there were no strings attached.

When you found yourself walking through the trees and brush towards the clearing after everyone had gone to bed, you felt equal parts excited and nervous. Yes, you wanted to do this, you wanted for your first time to be with Astarion, but that didn’t mean you weren’t scared as all Hells. From everything he’d told you, from the way he came on to you, there was no question as to how experienced he was and what he expected to happen tonight. “And I do mean sex, to be clear. We’ve waited long enough.” And that you had indeed. You’d waited long to find a man you felt this good with, this close and attracted to. 

So when you stepped into the clearing and Astarion came out from behind the tree trunk bare chested in only his breeches, your mouth ran dry at the sight of him. Gods, he was the most beautiful person you have ever seen.

“There you are…”, he said, and your whole body trembled at the sultry sound of his voice. You could see it already - lying on the soft grass beneath him, under the stars, allowing him to kiss you, touch you, trusting him to take you places you’ve only ever been in your wildest fantasies. “I’ve been waiting…”, he continued. “...Waiting, since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.” 

His voice was so deep and sensual - but suddenly the nervousness in the back of your mind began to overwhelm you. Had he? Had he really been waiting for you? Your already pounding heart began skipping a few beats at a time, fluttering at the thought. What if … you disappointed him? What if he left this clearing tonight feeling as though the wait hadn’t been worth it?

And just like that, you were not so sure about this anymore. Oh no.

You couldn’t do this, could you? Look at him! He’s beautiful! Were you beautiful enough for him? Why was he even looking into your direction with Shadowheart and Wyll around? You’re absolutely no match for them. And he clearly knows what he’s doing and what he’s expecting is likely far more than you can give. What in the Hells could you possibly offer him? What if he didn’t like being with a novice like you? What if he didn’t like what he saw when you lay naked in front of him? Gods, you wanted him! But how much fun and pleasure would you be able to realistically provide for him, really? After all, you had no idea what to do, you have never even kissed anyone before!

You looked up into those ruby eyes, looking for reassurance, for safety, and found them… painfully devoid of that spark you came to love. You froze. His beautiful words suddenly felt so flat, calculated, and practiced. You didn’t know if it was your sudden wave of nerves preventing you from going through with this, but you knew then at that moment… this wasn’t right. No, he didn’t truly want this.

“Hold on - I’m not sure about this,” you quickly said. That seemed to bring Astarion back to you - but not in the way you would have liked.

“Then what are you doing here?” Astarion’s surprising shift in demeanor caught you off guard. You took a step back, not expecting him to talk to you in that tone. His voice almost sounded condescending, indignant. Just like that, your walls that the vampire had managed to take down brick by brick over the past weeks began rising back up again. “I thought we had an … understanding.” You took another step back when Astarion’s whole posture changed, going from seductive to dismissive. As if, now that he couldn’t have you, he had no use for you anymore and by doing so he tapped straight into your biggest worry with pinpoint precision. You felt the impossible urge to explain, to salvage whatever tonight would have been.

 “I-I know, I’m sorry …”, you stammered helplessly. “It’s just… Do you really want to do this?” Astarion tilted his head, his frown deepening. 

“Now why would you think I didn’t, after all this?” He sounded irritated as he flung his arms wide, gesturing to nothing in particular.

“I don’t know. Maybe you feel like you have to do this? Like - as payback for me letting you drink from me? Because I promise, you don’t have to, I don’t need anything in return.” 

Astarion crossed his arms and cocked his hip, sneering down at you.

“Listen, just say the word and we can call it a night.” You were desperately looking for the right words, only for Astarion to speak before you could say anything. “But if you want to back out, don’t use me as an excuse for it. You’ve wasted enough of my time already.” 

His words felt like a slap in the face.

“I’m just not sure if I can give you what you are expecting, what you want.” Gods, you hated how desperate your voice sounded.

“But why? What exactly is your problem?”Astarion kept pushing and something inside you snapped.

“Because I’ve never DONE any of this before, alright?!”

The words exploded right out of you. The amount of emotions you were feeling at that moment was overwhelming: anger at him, disappointment in yourself, sadness about how this night suddenly took such a turn. You stared at him, breathing hard, your cheeks flushing. Neither of you spoke, Astarion only looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“I… I am going back to camp,” you eventually said before finally forcing yourself to turn and leave. 

Gods.

This had been a disaster. This was not how this should have gone! This should have been a night - your first night - of passion, exploration and fun with this Elf you truly cared for - and who now was most certainly angry and annoyed with you for ruining his night. Did you overthink it? Should you have just gone through with it? What if whatever you and Astarion had built over the course of these last few weeks was now shattered beyond repair? How could you have pushed him away in a moment that should have been so pleasurable, so intimate? 

Getting sleep was not easy that night. And the next day, you and Astarion didn’t exchange a single word. You knew your companions noticed. They knew something was going on between the two of you - but they were kind enough to let the matter rest and not ask you about it as you packed up your belongings and headed towards the empty Goblin Camp to enter the Underdark. With all enemies already vanquished, the day was uneventful, which made the silence between you and the vampire seem even more deafening.

:::::::

How, how could he have missed that? Astarion couldn’t get that question out of his head.

It was the one question that had been whirling around in his head all day while the party had continued towards the Underdark, tensely ignoring the silence between him and Tav, who usually were bantering lightheartedly all the time. 

Astarion watched them as they suggested setting up the camp for the night, the last night under the open sky for who knew how long.

How had he not picked up on Tav’s inexperience? He normally could smell a virgin from miles away! He knew the shy looks, the aversion to touch and his advances. But Tav? They threw him for such a loop! They gravitated towards him. And honestly … he liked that.

Besides, he figured virgins didn’t understand pleasure, didn’t know how to pleasure themselves. But Tav obviously did! He had heard them moan his name, seen proof of their knowledge of their own body with his own eye. But most importantly: proof of their desire for him.

Astarion’s mind whirled as he paced in his tent. Why did they have to tell him that? 

It should have been so easy. It should have been a plain-and-simple, routine night of sex and pleasure for Tav. But now they had to throw him that little piece of information about themselves and… Astarion stopped pacing. He’d sworn off virgins long ago. That kind of innocence, it was too rare in the world. And after stealing it once from that sweet, darling boy… he’d sworn he’d never steal it from anyone else ever again. So he had learned to recognize and avoid virgins. His meager, unnoticeable act of disobedience to his former Master. It was the only thing he was proud of - if he could even call it that. 

And, gods, the things he threw in Tav’s face? Shaming them for hesitating? What the fuck was he thinking? Their fierce leader, who stormed into a hag’s swamp with no hesitation, had hesitated before him. And instead of guiding them … he had scolded them, even humiliated them. Astarion felt ashamed of himself - something he had never wanted to feel again, now that he was free. But he felt it nonetheless. He had to apologize. It didn’t matter that he snapped at them in frustration because he saw his plan crumble, because he was scared, because he was … disappointed. If he was honest with himself.

Because he was. He was disappointed that Tav wanted to back out. The realization hit him with a force he did not see coming. Yes, seducing them was part of his plan. Yes, he had used all his favorite lines at them. And also … yes, he would have liked to sleep with them. A feeling he had not felt in … gods know how long.

Tav had been so nervous, their heart beating so quickly and loudly Astarion had heard it before they had stepped onto the clearing. They were opening up to him. Trusting him. And he? He would have taken that trust and used it. He truly was a monster. Tav didn’t deserve this. Despite how last night went … he cared for them. His eyebrows flew up as he realized just how true that thought was.

He cared for them.

Shit.

:::::::

You sit by the fire, pondering last night’s fiasco and today’s unpleasant silence. Seeing how you’ve got the second watch, you should probably be more vigilant, but your thoughts keep going back to last night. Which is probably why you don’t hear Astarion approach.

“Hello, my dear.”, he says in a low, almost careful tone, pulling you from your thoughts. You look up at him, not sure what to expect. “Do you mind if I sit?” He motions towards the log you are sitting on, toward the place beside you that he took many nights. Always choosing to be close to you instead of choosing any of the free logs. You shift to the side, making room for him. Again, feeling him so close to you, his arm brushing yours, it sets your whole body on high alert. You still want him - but you aren’t so sure he really wants you anymore, or if you’re ready to forget the way he spoke to you. But regardless of the horrid tone he had taken you still feel that guilt and shame for letting him down.

“I’m… sorry about last night.”, you eventually say, even though part of you wants to wait for him to apologize first. He turns to face you.

“Whatever are you sorry for?” he asks, a bit surprised.

“For backing out last night. I know we had an agreement and it’s not that I didn’t want to, you know? It’s just … ” with a deep sigh you turn your eyes towards him, and you are glad to see that spark in them once again, that spark that was missing last night. “I’ll be honest, ok? I like you. I like you a lot, and … I would have loved to have spent last night with you. But … I also know I don't have much to offer you, in terms of sex. We’ve all been under a lot of stress lately, so I understand you probably wanted to let off some steam … and I’m sorry I messed that up for you.” Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you turn your gaze back to the fire. You sit in silence for a moment before Astarion speaks. 

“No. You have no reason to apologize for anything, my dear. I was quite out of line, inexcusably so. I should have relented the moment you had any doubt. I… apologize.” His words make you look towards him once more. Never had you heard Astarion apologize before, to anyone at camp, for that matter. “And I will do my best to refrain from feeding into this … thing between us, if it truly makes you uncomfortable. I will cease my flirtations, I promise.”

“What? No, please don’t?” you say quickly, unable to stop a shy smile from appearing on your face. “I … quite like your flirtations. And I wanted to spend the night with you, you know. I still do. But … let me ask you … ” The pale Elf patiently waits for you to find the right words. “Do you really want to sleep with me?” Astarion’s eyebrows go up, that surprised expression returning to his exquisite face. 

“Darling,” Astarion’s tone is affectionate, reassuring, and hearing him call you this pet name with that sweet voice of his makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “Are you really asking me that, after all I did? All I’ve said to you?” There is a slight edge to his voice now, though you can’t pinpoint what it is. He smiles at you with one corner of his mouth raised slightly and you half expect him to laugh, but Astarion falls uncharacteristically quiet, so you speak.

“Answer the question.” The amused smile on Astarion’s immaculate face disappears and gives way to a look of seriousness, of sincerity.

“Yes. I do,” he says in a low but firm voice. “Very much so.”

Relief floods your entire body, the tension you felt all day melting from you.

“Then … may we start over?”, you ask timidly with a smile on your face. Astarion answers with a gentle smile of his own.

“My dear. There is nothing I’d like more.”

[inkykeiji]

you be my revolver, i got you in my hands

character: choso kamo x fem!reader

genre: curseless!au, smut

notes: eeee first choso piece ever!!! i had such a blast writing this and i wish i could’ve gotten it finished in time for christmas but alas! anyway, please enjoy this and as always please heed the warnings below and stay safe! | title credit: girl like me by dove cameron

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (reader + choso are family friends), age gap, bratty reader, rough sex, minimal prep, teasing, hints of manipulation, hints of dubcon, size kink, pet names

words: 6k

synopsis:

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.” “What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…”  “Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—” “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.” 

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you.

You’ve known each other for a long time—so long Choso’s lost count of the years, now, having met you when Yuuji was just a toddler (and you were, too) at the bus stop on Yuuji’s first day of Pre-K, only to discover you lived a mere few houses from each other—but you haven’t seen each other in a long time, too. 

It’s not through fault of either of you; life had gotten in the way, as it has a tendency to do so, had grown busy with intricacies and obligations that demanded time and attention, tangling around you and keeping you apart. 

You had both embarked on university endeavours; him pursuing his PhD, you continuing your undergrad, had both stuffed more and more into your lives—art shows and book readings and music festivals and tropical trips—and lost space for each other in the process.

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you, but it feels as though no time has passed at all, as it normally does with family—you’re still just as bratty as you’ve always been (some things never change, he guesses; some things you’ll never grow out of, he supposes). 

Family.

Family is not a word he uses lightly, but you and yours had quickly become his and theirs, had quickly become ours, morphing from neighbours to friends to practically kin, members mixing to form something special, a hybrid of some sort, stuck somewhere between long-standing family friends and blood relatives. 

Which is why how you’re acting—how you’ve been acting, this entire winter break—is so undeniably inappropriate. 

And although he’s lost track of the years, everything beginning to blur together, to melt and flow and shift and breathe, he still remembers the day he told you to call him onii-chan. 

That he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

Yuuji’s so lucky, you had pouted, kicking at the sandy ground with the toe of your shoe and swaying a little on the swing. He has a big brother. I don’t. I’ve always wished I had one. Sighing, you looked away, fingers tangling in the chain. But I’ll never get one; it’s impossible. 

It’s not impossible, Choso had responded gently, nudging his swing against your own. I’ll be your big brother, if you want. 

And you—well, you had been so incredibly happy, all bright smiles and sunshine eyes and breathless giggles, to have a big brother to call your own.

Never in his life did he think he’d come to regret such a decision.

But you seem to be on a mission to make him, this Christmas.

Because you’re really testing his fucking patience, this Christmas.

The term of endearment oozes from your lips as if it’s melted in the wet heat of your mouth every single time, always paired with your worst behaviour: bending over in those short, sweet, slutty skirts and flashing cute Christmas panties at him; placing a hand much too high to be appropriate on his thigh as you watch a film together, leaning close to his ear to murmur out a silky question you already know the answer to; twining your ankles with his beneath the dinner table and gazing at him with eyes full of sin, leaning so far forward on the table that your tits swell, nearly spilling from the too-low neckline of your dress, then giggling when you catch him ogling. 

As a result, he’s been meticulous about avoiding being alone in a room with you—he doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t trust what he might do, especially if you start playing your little games—but he should’ve known it would only be a matter of time until you get want you want. 

Because it always is. 

And on Christmas Eve, you finally succeed. 

Somehow, you’ve managed to get him alone in his childhood bedroom—something about wanting to flip through his old sketchbooks, to search for some doodles he had drawn for you many years ago, to rip the pages from the spiral-bound spine and stuff them in your back pocket, for safekeeping, you had claimed. 

Tugging at his heartstrings, that’s how you succeeded. 

Sitting on the edge of his small twin bed, thighs slotted up against one another and both of your arms looped around one of his, he flips through the curling pages of his drawings, smudged with graphite and pastels. 

“Oh, I remember this one!” 

A dainty finger points to a cute kitten sketched out in astonishing detail, with a pink nose and a satin ribbon tied in a bow around its neck. 

“It’s you,” he smirks. “You asked me what animal you’d be, and then demanded I draw you as a kitten when I responded with a cat.” 

“You drew a lot of me,” you lean forward, swelling breasts pressed flush to his bicep, a palm sitting high on his thigh as avid eyes scan over the spread, gaze stuttering as it sweeps from doodle to doodle. 

“I drew a lot for you,” he says, the observation entirely unthinking. “You wanted a specific page, but I might as well give you this whole sketchbook. More than half the pieces in here are for you.” 

It’s a fact that shocks him in its authenticity, a realization that sends a painful, sick thrill searing through his body, saliva beginning to collect in the dips beneath his tongue.

“I’m such a lucky girl,” you hum out in a sigh, nuzzling your cheek into his arm and looking up at him with shimmering eyes. “I have such a good big brother.” 

“You’re spoiled,” he says, but his voice holds no malice, eyes softening as he stares down at you, a small smile on his lips. 

“I dunno about that,” you frown, but mischief glints in your eye. “You haven’t really given me what I’ve wanted all holiday…” 

Blood turns to shards of ice in his veins, whole body going rigid as his breath stalls in his throat, pounding heartbeat reverberating in his ears. 

“Wh-What’s that?”

He doesn’t want to ask it, doesn’t mean to ask it, but the question claws at his tongue, pries past his teeth and tumbles from his lips in a ragged, tangled heap.

And the smile that spreads across your face is nothing short of sinister, that glint flaring to a sharp shine as your pupils breathe, pulse, swallow him whole. 

“A Christmas kiss,” you say, stare unblinking and intense as your hand slips between his legs, rubbing little circles into his inner thigh, a mere centimetre or two away from his cock. 

The motion makes him jolt, hips involuntarily twitching toward your touch, brushing his half-hard cock against your knuckles.

“That’s all I want,” you sigh almost dreamily, tits pressed harder into his bicep as you lean closer, so tight they’re practically being squeezed from your sweetheart neckline. “A kiss from my onii-chan. Though…” 

Trailing off, your hand slides up a little further, pinky and ring finger tiptoeing along the rapidly hardening lump in his jeans, squealing out a short giggle as it jumps beneath your touch.

“I’m not sure that’s all onii-chan wants.”

“Onii-chan doesn’t want anything from you,” he breathes out, but his voice is rough, unconvincing, his hands curled into firm fists on his bedspread, trembling slightly, skin stretched taut across pointed knuckles.

“Another lie,” your lips tug down, voice saturated with disappointment. “You know, good big brothers don’t lie to their siblings,” you fix him with a look, glaring through feathery lashes, expression teetering dangerously on the edges of a pout.

A shiver skitters through his bones, whole body stiffening. His jaw flexes as he grinds his molars, a slow, controlled breath exhaled out his nose, his eyes flicking down. You’re still touching him, two fingertips rubbing gentle circles into his clothed cock.

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.”

“What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…” 

“Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.” 

“That—That—” he swallows hard, dense saliva pooling at the back of his tongue. “That doesn’t matter—We shouldn’t—”

“But—” your lip juts out further, forehead crinkling. “But I want to.” 

You can’t always get what you want. 

That’s what he wants to tell you. That’s what he wishes he could tell you. But it just isn’t fucking true, when it comes to you. 

“Stop,” he says instead, and although it’s supposed to be an order, it comes out as a plead, his voice hoarse, strained, thin, the proclamation high and false and tinny. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” the tip of your index finger traces the head, looking up at him through your lashes. “Did you know that?” 

He does, he does know that. He’s a terrible liar, eyes too honest, voice too sincere, expressions too candid, always giving away his true intentions and forthright thoughts.

He’s a terrible discipliner, too, incapable of saying no, of refusing his siblings anything. You know this, too. 

“St—” he tries to force the word from his tongue again, protest sticking in his throat. Stop, stop, he wants you to stop, he needs you to stop, please. 

But that’s a lie, too, the rejection refusing to take shape, to mold into something audible, something tangible, something worthwhile. 

No matter how much he wishes it were true, he can’t will it to become true—not when he wants this just as badly as you do, his straining cock exposing his real desires to you.

You’ve already taken full notice of it, yearning for you through rough denim, hot and hard and throbbing. The pad of your finger rubs over the slit in rhythmic motions, smooth and gliding, aided by the copious amount of pre-cum oozing through the material, and it jerks beneath your touch, eager for more attention. 

“It’s so hard, onii-chan,” your hand cups the impressive bulge, rolling it in your palm, a girlish giggle tickling your tongue. “It—It’s throbbing, onii-chan.” 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that?” he breathes, attempting to keep his tone stern and his eyes stony. 

“It’s making me want to ride it,” you whimper loudly, squeezing your thighs together, completely ignoring his question. “Oh, please, onii-chan, can I ride your cock?” 

“Fu-fuck,” the curse breaks on his tongue, eyes shut tightly, breaking away from your invasive stare. “Fuck, fuck, f-fuck.” 

No. 

“I’d really like to ride it, onii-chan.”

No. 

“Can I? Pretty please?”

No-no-no-no-no! 

He wants to say no. He should say no. It’s the right thing to do. 

He’s the older brother, the eldest brother, it’s his duty to say no, to mentor, to lead by example. 

But he can’t. 

He can’t form the word in his throat, can’t mold it into a sound and push it from his mouth. 

He’s never truly been able to, when it comes to you—and he was so fucking stupid to think he would.

Because, as always, you are making it exceptionally difficult to deny, gazing up at him with shimmering eyes like that, mouth licked raw in anticipation, bottom lip bitten puffy from the front teeth constantly sinking into it.

“I—It isn’t right—” he attempts, swallowing thickly, cords in his neck straining, desperately attempting to quell the tremor in his voice.

He knows you don’t care. If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he doesn’t, either, his morality eroded to nothing more than a farce, a thin façade, not nearly strong enough to force him into doing the right thing, not nearly strong enough to fortify his rapidly waning self-discipline.

“I—I won’t tell,” you whimper, and he can see the fine film of tears lacquering your eyes, shielding lust-blown pupils. “Pinky promise! I just—I just want you so badly,” your nose twitches cutely with a sniffle, your bottom lip beginning to waver with infinitesimal quivers, soft palm caressing his cock like you love it. “Please, onii-chan?”

And Christ, you’re so pretty, so pouty, with your glistening puppy-dog eyes and pleads dripping from your lips like thick syrup. 

How could he possibly say no to something so precious? How could anyone?

“Alright,” he whispers, defeated, eyes squeezing shut as he nods. “If it’ll make you happy.”

“Really?”

And just like that, the tears are incinerated from your eyes, gaze bright and blazing with excitement, lips molded into a brilliant smile. 

You look so sickeningly beautiful when you get what you want. 

“Yes,” he nearly whimpers, and it’s pathetic, his hips twitching up into your touch, craving, desperate. “Yes, yes, ride my cock.” 

The affirmative is all you need, squealing a little with happiness as you climb into his lap, fingers up your own skirt to push your soaked panties to the side, other hand pawing clumsily at his waistband.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the words soaking into his neck, sealed with a sloppy kiss. “Oh, thank you, onii-chan.” 

He can’t help but chuckle a little as his hands find your waist, instinctive, steadying you. 

“Eager little thing, aren’t you.”

“This is all I want,” you tell him, pulling back a little to search his face. “S’all I’ve wanted for a long time.” 

He wants to ask you to elaborate on that, confusion warping his brow, but then you’re yanking at his belt loops and pulling at his zipper and wrapping a soft palm around the base of his cock, a heavy groan vibrating in his throat. 

“Wait, wait!” he chokes on a gasp as you hover over his cock, head bumping against your hole. “Let me—”

“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine out, petulant and stringy, whole face scrunched in frustration. “I’ve been waiting! I want your cock in me now!”

Fuck, you’re such a fucking brat, he’s growling as he forces you down on his cock in one swift motion, the sudden intrusion pushing a yelp from your lips. Your forehead knocks against his, sugar-stained breath wafting across his face, his tongue darting out to mop up remnants from his mouth. 

It’s really cute, the way your little cunt spasms around his shaft as he bottoms out, pressed snug and tight against your cervix, desperate in its attempt to adjust to his girth. It’s really sweet, the way your body splits itself open for him, cracking at the core and struggling to swallow him down.

“Oh, it’s so big, onii-chan!” 

“God,” he nearly sobs. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?” 

Giggling, you wind your arms around his neck tighter, nuzzling your cheek into his skin, then stringing a garland of wet kisses along the line of his jaw. 

“S’really thick, Choso-nii,” you tell him honestly, nodding in lethargic little motions. “I feel so full, onii-chan.” 

A laugh falls from his lips, breathy and exalted. 

“I don’t know if it’s that I’m big, or if it’s just that your cunt is so fucking small,” his voice tapers off into a whine, raspy and gruff. 

“H-Hurts a little, onii-chan,” you admit in a whimper, hips shifting in experimental little movements, conjuring a groan from deep within his chest. 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that, huh?” he asks for the second time in fifteen minutes. “Who was too impatient to let onii-chan prep her?”

“Don’t care,” you mumble. “Wanted you s’bad.” 

He laughs again, warm and gentle and full of love, his hands squeezing your hips just enough to make you gasp, fingertips pressing his name into your flesh in blotchy little ovals of purple. 

“You have me,” he says, his words ringing clear and true with a painful sincerity. 

The vibrations of your responding hum seep from your chest into his, and he sighs, body deflating against yours, pleasant little tingles snuggling between his ribs. 

You stay like that for a moment to two, wound up in one another, chests pressed flush, breathing as one. Your auras ebb and flow, presences bleeding, tangling together and creating something that is neither one nor the other but both, a single shared entity. 

And it’s nice, it’s real, it’s natural.

But then you become impatient, as you normally do, as he knew you would, wiggling a little in his lap, fingers twining in the strands at the base of his neck. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” he urges gently. “Ride onii-chan’s cock.” 

And so you do, hips beginning to roll in slow, languid circles, fingers still laced at the back of his skull, half-buried in messy ink.

He allows you to set the pace, allows you to take your time, allows you to enjoy and savour every rock and grind and bounce, staring at you through heavily lidded eyes, hands on your waist merely guiding you—keeping you stable, just like a big brother should. 

He’s absolutely breathtaking; gaze glittering in the dim light overflowing with awe, spit-slicked lips licked raw and shimmering as his tongue glides over them again, swollen and bitten cherry red.

You can’t help but reach out to trace his features; the strong line of his brow, the delicate curve of his cheek, the enticing bow of his lips, hips slowing to uneven little ruts as you hone your focus, his eyes observing you with a sick sort of fascination.

“Did you—Have you—Have you thought about this before?” 

The question stings his tongue, revulsion flushing through his blood as guilt pricks his flesh, his cock throbbing eagerly.

“Course I have,” you breathe out with a little laugh, as if he’s so silly for thinking you might not have. “Actually, I—I—”

A sudden shyness overtakes you, an unsure giggle on your lips fading into a soft squeal as you hide in his shoulder, shaking your head a little. 

“What? Huh?” he shrugs, nudging your face up gently, curiosity clawing at his irises as they search your face, voracious. “What?” 

“Well, sometimes I…” 

The words tangle in your throat and you choke on them, gaze fleeing his own, and you shake your head again, chest beginning to stammer.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing reassuring circles into your flesh. “You can tell onii-chan, go on.” 

There are tears in your eyes now, mouth wobbling a little with the verging confession, and God, that’s so hot, why is that so fucking hot? 

“Where’s my brave little sister gone now? Hmm?”

“M’right here, onii-chan,” you whisper, face teetering on a wince, as if you’re bracing for a blow, terrified to admit to him, fearing reprimand. “It’s just that—Sometimes I do, um, really bad things with my stuffies while—while thinking about you…” 

Dewdrops of shame glitter in your lashes as your lids flutter, nose scrunching with a soft sniffle, tears breaking free of their wispy confines to roll down your cheeks in fat, glimmering streams—so fucking beautiful in the dim light of his bedroom—but you don’t dare break his stare, gazing at him through a thick shield of water. 

“Oh, Christ,” he coughs on the curse, hands flexing on your waist, blunt nails digging into your skin. “And what—what do you think about?” 

“Um,” your gaze flits from his own, to his wrinkled bedspread, then back to his face, wide and honest. “Riding you, like this. And—And riding your thighs, makin’ a real mess all over them, and your thick fingers too, filling me up…” 

Bolts of dizziness sear his brain as his lungs deflate, oxygen eaten up by pure lust and leaving his chest buzzing, burning, some sort of response mangling itself in his throat, escaping his lips as nothing more than a cracked moan.

“Do you think about me, onii-chan?” 

Your question pulls him from the depths of his hedonism and he blinks, your face swimming into view, a peculiar mix of hope and cognizance infusing your expression, eyebrows raised with false curiosity, a smirk twitching on your lips.

Ah, there she is, that brat he knows so well, that brat he’s come to crave, every ounce of uncertainty eradicated from your face, replaced with assured confidence, contradicting the tears still staining your cheeks.

You fucking know he does. 

And, oh, how he wishes he was stronger, how he wishes he could lie, how he wishes he could devour the smugness in your eyes and complacency in your smile, to humble you, to knock you from your high throne.

He settles for a kiss instead, mouth crushed to yours as a large hand cups your head, thumb pressing into your ear, fingertips dragging across your scalp as he yanks you closer. 

It hurts, his front teeth scraping against your lip as he practically gnaws his way to your tongue, his own big and thick and so fucking strong as it overwhelms yours, shoving it further into the cavern of your mouth and forcing it to stay put as he explores. 

He’s making a real mess as he slathers over your molars, over the inside of your cheeks and the backs of your teeth, drenching your mouth in him. Drool oozes steadily from the corners, collecting along the underside of his bottom lip and leaving his chin sticky and slick. 

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes shut so tightly his whole forehead crinkles, mouth wet and sliding against your own. “Yes, yes, I think about you—much too often.”

Nose nudging yours, he nuzzles into your face a little, planting a chaste kiss to your lips, then peppering a few more, quick and sloppy, around your mouth.

“But right now, I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel you creaming all over my cock—you think you can do that for me, princess?” His palms cushion your cheeks, thumbs swiping across your cheekbones, then brushing strands of damp hair from your temples. “You think you can do that for your onii-chan?” 

Yes you can, of course you can, you’re nodding, blinking the last remnants of tears from your eyes, rapid movement eliminating the final stubborn drops, clinging delicately to your outer lashes. 

“S’it, baby,” he encourages as your hips start moving again, working up a steady rhythm. “Just like that, good girl.”

A mewl slips from your lips, burrowing your scalding face in his sticky neck again, his undivided attention almost too much to bear. 

“Like it when you call me a good girl,” you murmur, lips dragging across his skin with the confession, streaking him with thick glimmers of spit. 

“Is that so?” he laughs a little, pressing a few kisses to the crown of your head. “That’s because you don’t hear it often.” 

Lifting your head, you scowl at him, though there’s no heat to your glare, fury dimmed by fondness, unable to smother the smile playing with your lips.

A dazzling smile spreads across his own face in response, and he laughs again, his eyes so bright, so brilliant they almost hurt, blazing like two small suns, scorching your skin as his gaze glides over it.

He watches you like a man possessed, a man obsessed, entirely entranced by the way pleasure passes over your face, twisting your features into the cutest little winces as you grind the head of his cock against your cervix, then smoothing them out with bliss as his shaft drags along your favourite spot, bouncing in shallow little motions to rub over that fleshy patch hard and fast, a stream of mewls spilling from your lips, stitched together with his honorific. 

“You’re so pretty when you ride my cock,” he groans, words tapering off into a hoarse whimper, as if it pains him to admit it. 

His palms run up your sides, fingers counting over each rib, hands committing every dip and curve and bulge to memory, marvelled by the way you fill his grip, as if he can’t believe you’re real, you’re here, you’re his—even if just for tonight.

“Yeah, yeah, keep going, use onii-chan like a toy, sweetheart.” 

And he tries to be patient, he swears he does—tries not to rush you, tries to relish in the moment, in each swirl of your hips and every puff of his name—except your pace never accelerates, never moves past anything but teasing as you use his now aching cock to continually edge yourself; moans building higher and higher, louder and louder, on the cusp of the crest before they disintegrate into nothing and you start the process all over again, the delicate fluttering of your cunt enough to drive him fucking insane with desire.

It has his entire form trembling with such vigour it’s quivering the mattress, muscles locked stiff and tight as he tries to keep from moving, from bucking up wildly, from forcing you to speed the hell up. Rough fingers sink into your flesh so deep it dimples, a pathetic attempt to ground himself, rapidly blooming bruises staining your flesh.

But he’s powerless to stifle the whines leaking through the gaps of his gritted teeth, hands flexing on your hips, whole body pulled taut with restraint. 

He’s sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, eager and impatient, begging you to move faster, to fuck him harder. 

But you aren’t going to do any of that—not unless he asks for it, he realizes dimly, after you bring yourself to near orgasm for the third time in a row, giggling a little at his crestfallen expression, his hair having fallen almost completely from its trademark spiky buns, braided fishermen sweater soaked with sweat and sticking to his now heaving chest.

He really thought it was real this time. He really thought you were finally going to cream all over him, so he could finally flip you over and fuck you properly, pound you into the mattress and stuff that pretty, cute little cunt to the goddamn brim with his seed.

He’d been trying so hard to be nice, to be the loving, doting, good big brother he is—but he’s also only human, and there’s only so much misbehaviour he can bear before, finally, he snaps. 

Because, sure, big brothers are meant to care for, to lead and to nurture, but they’re also meant to teach, to punish, to put bratty little sisters back in their fucking place. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Huh?” his grip on your hips tightens, halting you from moving. “You think I’m fucking stupid?” 

“Never, Choso-nii,” you gasp, astonished. “I would never—” 

Sincerity rings in your voice, but he can see it, the mischief tugging at the corners of your mouth, barely suppressed by your façade of innocence.

Anyone else would’ve been fooled—enchanted by your doe eyes and your dainty voice. 

But not him.

No, he knows better now. 

“Bullshit,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed sharply. “You wanted to ride my cock, but you’re clearly incapable of it—”

“No I’m not!”

“—So it looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“No! I—I can do it!” you cry, face crumpled in fury, nails scrabbling at his shoulders.

“You lost your chance to prove it to me,” he growls. 

The world flips suddenly, momentarily a blur of inks and ivories, a breath of surprise punched from your ribs as your back slams against the mattress, trapped between the bedspread and your big brother’s heaving chest.

“You have been testing me all fucking holiday,” he snarls, specks of spit splattering across your cheeks. “Onii-chan shouldn’t give you his cum—onii-chan shouldn’t have given you his cock at all!” 

A certain type of haughtiness corrodes your shock, lips spreading into a pompous smirk.

“Oh, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you, onii-chan.” 

“You little bitch!” 

His hips shove forward, forcing you further into the plush of the mattress, cockhead ramming against your cervix. A little noise of pain vibrates on the back of your tongue, shattering your arrogance, and a grin smears across his face, glinting in the moonlight. 

“I think it’s time your big brother teach you a lesson in respect.”

“Y-Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“You’re going to take what onii-chan gives you, and you’re going to fucking like it. And then, at the end, when you’ve gone stupid from the cock you don’t deserve, you’re going to thank me for giving it to you at all. Do you understand me?” 

Defiance shines in your eyes, lacquered by a thin coating of tears, nose scrunching up in a glower. 

A rough thumb and forefinger, hardened by charcoals, clamps around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks with such force that your mouth puckers, a sticky little whine squealing in your throat.

“Do you understand me?” he asks again, each word said slow with purpose, each word annunciated with intent, his eyes boring into yours, sharp and painful. 

Finally, those tears push past your bloated lashes, shoved from your eyes by rapid blinking and rolling down your cheeks in glistening pairs, a half-stifled hiccup stuttering your chest. 

“Y-Yes,” you whisper, nose twitching. 

“What was that? Onii-chan couldn’t hear you.” 

“Yes, onii-chan.” 

“Good girl.”

And then his hips are snapping, hard and fast and immediate, fucking into you with such ruthlessness that it jostles your body up the bed, sheets collecting in little wrinkled bunches beneath you. Your nails sink into his shoulders, piercing flesh through the knit of his sweater, the muscles in your thighs tensing as your ankles hook around his waist, his shirt riding up, your heels digging into the those cute little dimples that cushion the base of his spine. 

It hurts, every pound of his cock producing a dull, throbbing ache low and deep in your gut, another torrent of tears rushing to flood your vision.

“Ch-Choso-nii, Ch-Choso-nii,” you whimper, face screwed up in pain, his name stuttered by his rapid thrusts.

“What’s the matter?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending, dripping from his lips in an over-exaggerated coo. “Can’t take onii-chan’s cock?”

The question wafts across your face in a panted breath and you lick at your lips, sopping it up with your tongue.

“N-No,” you say, and that telltale brattiness is back, watered down by his viciousness. “I can do it—I-I can do it for you, onii-chan.” 

A throaty curse escapes his lips, thrusts stammering out of rhythm for a moment as his cock twitches, and a helpless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

Even angry, he’s still so fucking easy. 

He regains his composure quickly, though, face hardened to stone but beginning to splinter with pleasure. 

“Brat,” he breathes out, though there’s mirth shining in his eyes, pure and fond and full of love. “You better.”

And even angry, he still sounds so fucking pretty; cracked moans and dense groans and choked gasps, all flowing from his mouth in a single stream, fractured by the piston of his hips.

The pain doesn’t fade, of course—it barely diminishes at all, the sheer massiveness of his cock making it near impossible to be dispelled, keeping the cramping pang in the pit of your belly steady and constant—but it does amplify the pleasure, nerves gnawed raw by the agony, left hypersensitive to the sparks of ecstasy that blaze through your veins with every quick, rough pump of his hips, every deep, hard slam against your bruised cervix, every rapid drag over that engorged spot.

It leaves you feeling high, leaves you feeling stupid, brain melting in a hot haze of lust and rendering you incapable of forming a single coherent thought beyond how incredible his cock is, his name and his title the only two things your sloppy, numb tongue can fully scrape together.

It’s all so much, too much, but it all feels so fucking good—s’good, Choso-nii, y’r so-so good—sentiment vibrating indistinctly in your chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, words gone wispy, fading into a whine. “Does your onii-chan’s cock make you feel good?”

Yes, yes, yes, onii-chan, it’s so good, you’re so good! 

Your head nods frantically, fingers curling in the collar of his sweater, a mess of affirmatives fucked from your mouth. 

“Y’know, you’re kinda cute when you’re too cockdrunk to misbehave,” he chuckles a little, biting back a moan as your cunt clenches at the compliment. “May-Maybe onii-chan should fuck you stupid more often, huh?” 

Oh, God, yes, onii-chan; oh, please, onii-chan! 

“Yeah, you’d like that a bit too much, though, wouldn’t you, you little sl—ah—slut.”

Drool dribbles from the sides of your mouth as you continue nodding, eyes wide and unblinking, encrusted with stars. 

“Y’so pretty, onii-chan,” you manage to mumble out, sentiment tangled in threads of spit, fingers flexing in the fabric of his sweater, as if they yearn to touch but can’t find the strength to carry out the action.

And he is, so beautiful it’s borderline sickening, strands of onyx plastered to his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, strung together in clumps and saturated in sweat; damp skin glittering in the waning moonlight spilling through the slits of his window, dewdrops catching delicately in the beams as he pounds into you, every drive of his cock accelerating his pace.

“W-Wan’your cum now,” you slur the demand through a lax pout, lids beginning to weight with exhaustion, heavy as they frame dopey eyes.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, gaze shining with adoration, and it’s breathless, it’s beautiful, his affection wafting over your scalding face. “Onii-chan needs you to cream all over his cock first. Can you—” a grunt cuts him off, and he whimpers, pushing through his sentence, his voice strained. “Can y’do that for me, angel?” 

“Uh-huh, uh—uh-huh,” your head begins nodding more fervently again, pushing your lids open with some effort to stare up at him, pupils swelling with devotion and determination.

“Then show me—Show me how gorgeous my good girl looks when she’s making a mess all over her big brother’s cock.” 

Three more thrusts and your cunt is obeying, convulsing on his thick shaft as heat gushes around him, so much that you can hear it—a sick, slick squelching as he jackhammers into you, your essence coating his thighs in a shiny layer of arousal. 

“Oh, fuck,” his eyes shut tightly before springing open again, suddenly rabid, ravenous. 

The bed creaks as his hips speed up, skin sticky with arousal as it slaps against your own, the sharp sound mingling with his ragged pants and your hitched mewls.

“Onii—Nii-chan,” you nearly wail, fingers tangling weakly in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails scraping against his flesh. “Please, please, cum, gimme—gimme y’r cum!” 

“Greedy little thing,” he rasps out, voice cracking into a whine. 

But you don’t care, you can’t care, pleads spilling from your lips as your thighs tense around his waist, hips twitching in erratic little motions, crudely trying to fuck yourself on him.  

“Need it, need it, onii-chan, fill my belly with it, onii-chan, please!” 

“Christ,” he chokes on the curse, pace faltering as he finally gives his baby sister what she wants, cock throbbing almost violently while it fills you with hot, thick cum, so much you swear you really can feel it, stuffing your belly as full as it can be, tummy bulging cutely with his seed.

You must tell him that, sentiment slipping from your lips without your permission, because he moans again, his cock giving another weak spurt, hips stuttering as he tries to fuck further into you, grinding the head into your sore cervix. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you’re murmuring, hips rolling up to meet his own. “Push it into me, onii-chan, push it into my cunt nice n deep, do-don’t waste a single drop!” 

“You really are gonna be the death of me,” he whines, face buried in your hair as he collapses on top of you, hips still moving in lazy little circles, shudders of overstimulation rippling through his form. 

“Mm,” you hum, on the cusp of unconsciousness, nuzzling your face into his neck like a kitten, then lapping at a few droplets of sweat streaming down the column. “What are lil sisters for?” 

[roosterforme]

Math for Aviators | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: It's your fault that Bradley finds math so sexy now. When he surprises you by sneaking into one of your lectures, he gets rewarded with a little time alone with the professor after class.

Warnings: Fluff, swears and smut

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time! Check out my masterlist

"See you two at the Hard Deck later?" Nat asked as Bradley climbed into the Bronco after work.

"Nah, it's my wife's late night on campus," he replied with a smirk. Calling you his wife had such a nice ring to it, he had all but stopped using your first name around his friends. "I'm gonna drop by. Maybe take a peek at her calculus lecture." 

She rolled her eyes in response. "Tell your wife I said not to forget about brunch on Saturday."

"I'll let my wife know."

He zipped out of the parking lot, still in his khaki uniform, and headed across town to San Diego State University. If there was one thing Bradley never thought would get him going, it was math. But you made it outrageously sexy with your PhD and your slutty little math tattoo. 

The fact that Bradley never got to attend one of your lectures during your first semester teaching in California felt like a crime. He'd wanted to, in the worst way, but your classes ended by six o'clock every day last term. But this time, you taught level four calculus on Thursday evenings. 

He parked and headed toward your building, smiling as some of the college aged girls looked at him as he strolled past. If they thought he looked good in his uniform, that was nothing compared to the fuss you usually made over him. 

Bradley followed a kid holding a skateboard into the mathematics and computer science building and turned left. He was only four minutes late for your class as he followed skateboard kid inside the lecture hall and let the door close softly behind him. The room was quite cavernous, but there were only about forty students in attendance. You always claimed you preferred the smaller classes so you could spend more time getting everyone where they needed to be individually. 

When his eyes met your body, Bradley almost moaned. You were leaning over the long table at the front of the room taking attendance, and you were wearing a white blouse tucked into that wool skirt he liked. Even your loafers looked cute. One of his favorite pastimes was picking on you for your east coast wardrobe, but holy shit, the professor look did things to him. Or maybe it was just you.

As you called out names, Bradley realized he was just standing in the back like an idiot, so he walked up a few rows and took an aisle seat.

"Francis?" you asked, and a girl who looked extremely disinterested raised her hand. "Luca? Alex? Did I miss anyone?"

When you looked up, your eyes found Bradley's almost instantly. The softest smile graced your lips, and Bradley desperately wanted to run down to where you were standing and kiss you. Instead he just winked, and then you were opening two additional notebooks on your table. 

"Before we get started, just a reminder about my office hours," you said, your voice projecting beautifully. Bradley had to adjust himself in his seat, because you were speaking right to him. "I'm always available to spend a little extra time with you should you need it." 

He was well acquainted with your office and the way your voice echoed off the walls when he made you scream his name. He would make it a point to join you for some office hours again soon. But right now, he was going to sit back and enjoy how much smarter you were than him.

"If you recall last week, we talked about the theorems of Green and Stokes. Let's focus a little more on the Green theorem. This is simply the relationship between the macroscopic circulation around the curve C and the sum of all the microscopic circulation that is inside C."

Bradley was already breathing a little heavy. Holy shit. Was he actually married to the smartest person in the world? It fucking sounded like it. And then you ran your fingertips gently along the side of your neck, and he sat up a little taller in his seat. But so did skateboard kid who was sitting in front of him. Bradley glanced around the room, and it looked like all the twenty something guys were hypnotized by you. The looks of open adoration on their faces as you turned toward the white board to work out a problem reminded him of the way he used to stare at you when he was twenty one. If he was being honest, he probably still did.

As you worked out the problem and bent at the waist, Bradley needed to adjust himself again. And when you turned to see if anyone had a question, you looked directly at him as you touched your neck again. 

"She's so hot," skateboard kid whispered to the guy next to him.

"Yeah," he grunted in response. "She's like extra hot today."

Bradley leaned forward, grinning and softly said, "That's my wife."

They both turned around to look at him briefly. Skateboard kid nodded in appreciation, and the other guy said, "Well done."

And then Bradley settled back in his seat and watched every move that you made. When you wrote out another equation in your tidy handwriting, you made the variables spell out B-E-E-R-B-O-Y. Every time you glanced at him, your fingers were touching your body somewhere that he was familiar with. He was itching to get his hands on you. 

It was an hour and a half of pure sexual tension, and Bradley knew you were enjoying yourself. Knowing he was sitting in the lecture hall seemed to be making your voice a little breathy. You were throwing out terms like "gradient, divergence curl, line and surface integrals, and differential equations" that were making him hard. This was foreplay at its finest. 

When you ended your lecture with some reminders about your class schedule, you had your hands on your hips, and your diamond ring was glittering on your hand. Bradley smirked as a line of students, mostly male, formed in front of you once you dismissed everyone. And now he understood why you got home so late on Thursdays. Because all these guys had a crush on you. On his wife.

Bradley was semi hard, and you kept glancing up to make sure he was still there. He wasn't going to go anywhere, you must know that. When you were finally helping skateboard kid with whatever question he fabricated just to have a chance to stand next to you, Bradley glanced down at his lap. Maybe you'd let him have some private office hours right now.

When the lecture hall was finally empty, save for the two of you, Bradley watched as you continued to tease him. You didn't glance to where he was sitting at all as you packed up your bag. And when you erased the board, he could tell you were standing on your tiptoes to make your ass look extra enticing just for him. 

"Professor Sugar," he groaned, rubbing himself through his khaki pants. 

You glanced at him over your shoulder with a devilish look on your face. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming to my lecture?" you asked quietly, but he could still hear you perfectly. 

Bradley grunted. "Got dismissed a little early. Just thought I'd surprise you."

"Did you learn anything new?" you asked, grabbing your bag from the table and heading his way.

"Nothing new," he replied. "Just a refresher course on how smart and hot my wife is."

You smiled as you set your bag down next to his seat. "I love it when you call me that." Then you came to stand between his spread thighs and leaned down to kiss him gently. Bradley let you tease him with feather soft kisses for a minute before he was aching inside his pants. 

He ran his rough hand along your pretty neck and asked, "Can I join you for some office hours? I really need them, Professor Sugar." When you giggled against his lips, Bradley wrapped his muscular arms around you and palmed your ass, pulling you onto his lap with a squeal. 

"Beer Boy!"

"Please? I'll be your top student, Baby. Better than that loser with his skateboard."

"You know, I'm starting to suspect that Luca might have ulterior motives for taking my class again this semester."

Bradley chuckled as he pushed your skirt up your thighs a few inches. "Yeah. His ulterior motive is your ass." Then he lightly slapped said ass as you raked your fingers through his hair and straddled him in the auditorium seat. "I know you can feel me, Sugar," he whispered. "Office hours? Or are you gonna make me wait until we get home?"

But instead of responding, you just rubbed yourself against him. If you weren't wearing panties, he would have a pretty, little wet spot to show off as he walked back to the Bronco. You tugged harder on his hair so his head was tipped back, and you kissed him a little rougher.

"I'm in charge in the lecture hall, not you. And I say no visit to my office."

Bradley groaned as you sucked on his neck, and he muttered, "Making me walk back to the Bronco hard?"

"No," you whispered, and his cock throbbed. "I'm going to suck your cock right here." Your smug smile as you pulled away from his neck left him blushing, he could tell. 

"Right here?" he asked, but your hands were already working on his belt buckle and zipper, and he lifted his hips in the seat so you could yank his pants down a little bit. 

"Mmhmm," you hummed against his lips before you walked to the back of the auditorium, leaving him sitting there with his hard cock out. 

"Sugar?" he whispered, covering himself with both hands as he craned his neck to see where you went. You flipped the lightswitch next to the door and peered out the small window into the hallway, and then you strolled back to where he was sitting. Bradley let you take his hands in yours and set them on his thighs as you knelt on the floor in front of him.

You looked so pretty, your skin illuminated by the soft lighting shining around the perimeter of the room. Your eyes were bright and mischievous as you looked up at him and kissed the precum away from his tip. Your pink tongue darted out to clean your lips before gently swiping the underside of his cock, and Bradley had to grip his thighs to keep from thrusting. Because it was clear you were going to take your time right now. 

"You are so hard, Beer Boy, you're absolutely throbbing."

When you took an inch or two between your pouty lips, Bradley's head tipped back. "I love math," he groaned. "It really gets me going. And I love your smart mouth."

You hummed around his length as you took another inch and swirled your tongue. Then you pulled him out with a soft pop, his head snapping back up to look at you. "You're such a good student," you whispered. "Top grades. Teacher's pet. Big cock."

"Fuck," Bradley grunted. "I'm coming to your lecture every week, Professor."

You smiled as you gripped him in one hand and licked up and down along the underside of his cock until he could feel your saliva dripping down his balls. He ran his thumb along your cheek, and then you took him deep so he could feel himself there. He groaned your name as he tapped the back of your throat, and you gagged for him. It was so fucking pretty the way he made your eyes water. 

If you weren't concerned about getting caught, then he certainly wasn't going to bring it up. He'd be lying if he said the idea of a public blowjob wasn't adding to his arousal. Hell, he thought the way you and he went at it in the college library study room was hot, and that door had a damn lock. So this was next level.

Bradley grunted in the quiet room, and the acoustics made the sound carry. You were bobbing along his length, making obscene little noises, and he just couldn't take it anymore. His hands found the back of your head, and after one thrust, your moans echoed around the room. 

"I love that sound," he growled, slowly fucking your face as you sucked on him. You kept eye contact with him as he started to come undone, his hips leaving the seat as he wanted more of you. Now you were gripping his thighs, ready to take his cum like a champ. He was there. He was right there. One more tap against the back of your throat. All your saliva dripping onto your blouse. It was everything. 

He knew you already knew it, but he grunted, "I'm cumming," as he spurted into your mouth and down your throat. Gripping the back of your head, he fucked your mouth with shallow thrusts until he slumped back akwardly into the seat with a long groan that filled the room. 

When you withdrew him, his cock was messy and you were grinning as you stuck out your tongue, showing off his load. "Gorgeous," he whispered with a smirk, watching you swallow him down before licking his softening length clean. "I love being the teacher's pet." 

You giggled as you helped him get tucked back into his khakis. "I only suck the dicks of my students with the highest grades."

"Hey now. You're my wife. You better only be sucking my dick," he rasped as you stood up in front of him and shrugged.

"Then you better keep getting top grades, Beer Boy." 

Bradley was obsessed with you. He quickly wrestled his belt into place as he followed the sway of your ass up to the auditorium doors. "I can't wait to see that skirt on the bedroom floor when we get home," he said as you pushed the door open. And there stood the janitor, about to enter the room to clean it. "Shit," Bradley grunted, still fiddling with his belt. 

But you just waved and said, "Goodnight, Herman," as the janitor smirked at Bradley. 

He didn't even bother with his belt after that. He just took your hand in his and walked with you to the Bronco, thinking about all the things he wanted to do to you once your skirt was on the bedroom floor. 

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

This was written to celebrate the birthday of the lovely @mak-32 ! Beer Boy and Sugar wouldn't even exist without you, Mak! I hope you have the most wonderful day! Thanks for your help and the banner @beyondthesefourwalls

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[traveler-at-heart]

Better Together

Request by @l0nelyish

Summary: You're going on missions every day for a week, so it's hard to find time to spend with Nat.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Life is never boring as an Avenger. But sometimes, you wish it was.

You’re walking down the hallway of the Compound, just as Natasha is rounding up the corner. Your girlfriend smiles at you, making you feel like a teenager.

“Hey, gorgeous” she greets, pulling you closer by the waist.

“Hi…” your answer is muffled by her lips, moving softly against yours. You immediately forget what you were about to say next.

“I got us a dinner reservation at that new place. So wear something nice and nothing underneath” Natasha says, kissing you more passionately this time. You have to hold her arms to stay upright.

“I… uh. I think I have a mission today, Nat”

“You think?” Natasha teases, kissing down your neck.

“I’m… oh, God… 99% sure”

“Too bad”

“Tomorrow?” you offer, leaning your head on her shoulder and she smiles.

“Tomorrow”

—

Tomorrow is not any better, as you’re back from the mission at the break of dawn, dragging your feet to the apartment.

Natasha’s not in your room, but either way you’re too dirty to even consider getting in bed. You leave your suit and gear on the floor and hop on the shower, washing away the dirt and feeling relieved when the cold water helps soothe the soreness in your muscles.

You’re in your early thirties but happy to consider retirement. Not everyone on the team is a super soldier or a god.

Once you’re out of the shower, you get in bed, ready to text Natasha. You fall asleep with your phone in your hand and only wake up hours later, a post it stuck to your forehead.

Had to run on a mission with Clint. Be back tomorrow.

Love you.

You sigh, wishing you had stayed up to at least spend some time with Natasha. As you yawn, another post it falls from your forehead and you read it with a smile.

Left you some pasta in the fridge.

—

Protocol would dictate that you have at least a day of rest between missions, but with Tony’s leave to prepare for his wedding, there’s more ground to cover.

Which is why you get a call right as you finish lunch. Natasha, who was resting in one of the rooms after returning late from her mission, is also woken up by FRIDAY.

“At least we’ll go together this time” you say as you both enter the conference room.

“No, you won’t” Maria reminds you and you roll your eyes.

“It was one time”

“Once was enough” Clint mutters, sitting next to his friend. Natasha elbows him and the man chuckles. “It’s not my fault that your girl can’t be quiet. Not that it would change anything, Cap has super hearing”

Steve practically spits out his coffee, turning red.

It was never a good idea to have sex on the Quinjet after a mission. But what were you supposed to do when Natasha beat the shit out of a man that almost killed you? She looked too hot doing it.

“Anyways…” Maria says, sliding folders to the four of you. “Barton and Romanoff, we need you to get us intel on a bio weapon. Once you have the exact location, Rogers and Y/N will retrieve it”

“Can’t Barnes go with Steve?” Natasha crosses her arms, less than excited at the prospect of you handling a lethal substance.

“Does he have a PhD in Microbiology?” Maria asks and you sigh, reaching for Natasha’s hand.

“It will be fine”

“Ok. But we’re free tomorrow, non-negotiable” the redhead says.

“Of course, no missions tomorrow, especially for Y/N” Maria promises, finishing the meeting. You’re about to stand up when you look at her, confused.

“What do you mean, especially me?”

“You’re going to the graduation at SHIELD’s DC academy” she reminds you. “You didn’t forget about it, right? You’re giving the comencement speech and everything”

“I’ll handle the bio weapon and you give the speech” you turn to Steve and he smiles.

“You’ll do fine”

What a week.

It’s only Wednesday.

—

You’ll kill Maria.

She should have mentioned that the speech was followed by a luncheon and then half of DCs politicians looking to have a word with you about their projects for national and international cooperation.

By the time you’re back to the Compound, the sun is setting and all you want to do is find Natasha and go back home.

“They left for a mission. Won’t be back until Friday” Tony says as soon as you enter the kitchen and you sigh.

“I can’t believe I am about to say this but I can’t wait for you to come back, Tony”

“Yeah, I think Pepper is ready too. Apparently, you can actually have too much of me”

“No shit” you sit on a bar stool as he fixes you a drink. “How’s the wedding planning?”

“Well, we are compromising. She agreed to a very big DJ on a massive stage and I agreed to stepping foot on a church. But she says it’s too much to give Aston Martins for the wedding party”

“For the first time in her life, Pepper is wrong”

“So, you’ll still be my best woman?”

“Only if I get that Aston Martin” you raise your glass and Tony smiles.

“I’ll do my best”

—

Friday is impossibly slow, until it isn’t.

“Suit up” Maria says as soon as you pick up the phone.

“Oh, come on. Natasha’s coming back today, Hill”

“Well, the faster you get here the sooner we’ll finish the mission”

“Fine. Tell Fury I’m expecting to get paid extra hours”

“Take it up with payroll” Fury says and you almost drop your phone.

“Shit. I mean, on my way, sir, director Fury, sir”

You’re in such a hurry that you forget to leave a note for your girlfriend. All you can do is hope you two will finally see each other at the end of the day.

—

“We should do the briefing” Bucky says as soon as you land.

“Oh, hell no. It’s Saturday, we’re not clocking extra hours on a weekend, Buck” you say, carrying the stroopwaffles you bought for Nat. “We should have gotten here like three hours ago”

“We did take a detour on Amsterdam to get you those cookies. And you should really get to the medbay” he says, knowing that if you don’t get properly looked at by a doctor, Natasha will make his life hell.

“Fine” you agree, if only because your shoulder is killing you.

In the end, it was dislocated and you have to use an arm sling and rest for the next week and a half. The team is already overworked, and you feel slightly guilty at the idea of not helping for a few days.

Bucky drives you to your apartment, and you’re happy to see Nat’s home.

“Heeey, sorry. I was supposed to be back yesterday but things got crazy” you greet at the door and Natasha rushes to your side.

“What happened? Are you ok? Why didn’t you call me to pick you up at the Compound?”

“Wow, ok. It’s ok” Natasha’s hands go over every inch of your body, looking for more injuries. You stop them with your own, squeezing the hand that is on your cheek. Green eyes finally connect with yours and you smile. “Hi”

“Stop” Natasha says, rolling her eyes.

“I’m ok. Just a small injury. I’m fine, really”

“I can’t believe I want Tony to be back” she sighs and you laugh.

“That’s what I said”

“What do you have here?” Natasha takes the box from your hand and her eyes light up.

“I know they are your favorite. And all I had to do was promise Bucky no one would make him dance at the wedding”

“I love you”

“I love you too” you say, feeling Natasha’s lips meeting yours in a short and sweet kiss.

“I got you pizza and wine” she says when you break apart.

“Ok, I love you even more now”

Natasha smiles, always happy to hear you say those words.

Insisting on taking care of you, she brings a bunch of pillows to the couch, and once you finish eating, you take the arm sling off, resting against her chest.

“Raining” you mutter, listening to the drops hit against the window. The sound lulls you both, and pretty soon the credits of the movie you’re watching are rolling.

“Bed?” Natasha offers and you nod. Even if you already slept, the jet lag and exhaustion of the week are enough to have you both snoring in record time.

You don’t wake up until the sun is filtering through the blinds, and you rub your eyes. Natasha is still hugging you, her lips tickling your shoulder as she speaks.

“Breakfast?”

“Sure. In a minute” you squeeze her arms, sinking further in her embrace.

In that moment, you realise it’s not a boring life you want.

You want Natasha by your side, no matter if it’s a week full of work or a lazy Sunday morning.

“I love you, Tasha” you say, thinking she’s back to sleep.

You can tell she’s smiling by the way her lips move against your neck.

“Love you too, detka”