#definitely worth the wait

[yrsonpurpose]

All of me changed like midnight.

[pengow]

whoops, an accident

[galavantinggiant]

Finished Veilguard and wow... just wow. What an emotional roller coaster and a great story.

[scootersscooter]

Guess who finally watched Workin' Boys,,,,,,

[bass-alien]

I think I just fell in love lmaooo

[potentiallyahuman]

screaming crying throwing up these are so cute

thank you to velvettoadart on Instagram and Etsy 🥺

[ravenluckarts]

Aaaaaaa!! I love them!!!

Treecko, Lotad, and Phanpy late ko-fi doodle for Bere!

[hrina]

the good witch is such a good album oh my god

[trensu]

It's Will that gives him the idea.

"we don't really celebrate father's day anymore," he had said awkwardly, "but I can't hang out anyway."

"why not?" Dustin demanded. He was gonna end up bored and alone because he didn't celebrate the holiday and everyone else had plans. he had been counting on Will to keep him company.

"I'm gonna get Jonathan a new record and I want to listen to it with him," he said.

"can't he get his own records? C'mon, we could go to the arcade or something."

"no, Dustin," his tone took on a stubborn edge that made Dustin pause. "He's my brother and I love him, and he's the only guy besides Bob who's ever even tried to look out for me. So I'm sorry but I'm gonna be busy on Sunday."

Dustin didn't argue after that but it did get him thinking which is why on Sunday morning he biked all the way over to Loch Nora and started banging on Steve's door.

"what do you want, Henderson?" Steve sighed the most dramatic put upon sigh Dustin had ever heard.

"you're not my dad--"

"wow you really are genius!"

"shut up, shut up, listen to me!"

"okay, geez, I'm listening."

"you're not my dad and I don't want you to be my dad. I don't even really want a dad! Lots of dads aren't even that great and my mom already has the single parent thing down. But you taught me how to do my hair and how to talk to girls - even though that advice sucked, I didn't need it to get Suzie at all - and you're gonna teach me how to drive--"

"woah, hey, no I never said I'd do that, wh--"

"--and you've saved my life but I think we're even because I've saved your life too."

"Henderson don't you have anything better to do than harass me in my own home?" Steve said. he was using that exasperated tone he got when he knew he wasn't keeping up with what was going on but didn't want to admit it.

"actually no I don't but I'm here for a reason," he reached into his backpack and took out the gift he clumsily wrapped with scraps of brown paper bags. He shoved it into Steve's hands. "You're basically the only adult male figure in my life. And I appreciate you."

Steve squinted at the gift and then at Dustin and at the gift again before he said fussily "is this a prank? If something gross explodes from this, I swear to god, I'll--"

"Just open it, Steve!"

"Fine, fine, keep your shirt on," Steve said and tore off the paper. He blinked and in a softer tone said, "Oh."

"I don't know if you even like making models but I know you love cars and this kit looked just like yours, so yeah."

Steve stared at the kit some more. Dustin started to fidget. It was always better to be honest with your feelings but maybe this was too much for Steve. Maybe Steve didn't like him as much as Dustin did. Steve was not as enlightened about these things as Dustin.

"I've never made a model before."

Dustin hunched his shoulders and tried not to feel stupid or hurt. He should have expected this. They weren't even related. This was probably too weird. He reached out to take the gift back.

"it's fine, I can return it, whatever."

Steve raised the kit out of Dustin's reach.

"Hey, this is mine," he said.

"you don't even like it!"

"I never said that! I'm just gonna need a dweeby little nerd to help me build it. You know anybody like that?" Steve asked, batting his eyes innocently.

"you're such a dick," Dustin grumbled, fighting back a grin.

"watch your language!"

"shut up, you're not my dad."

Steve laughed as Dustin shoved his way into the house. Hours later, after much shouting and ribbing and one incident of spilled paint, a small model of the beemer was left to dry while Steve forced Dustin to watch the baseball game on TV with him. It wasn't the worst thing ever, and after Steve mentioned the statistics involved, it got way more interesting ("of course you'd like the math part, you weirdo" "you don't understand the stats do you" "shut up and watch the game, Henderson"). When the paint was dry, Dustin followed Steve upstairs and watched him carefully and deliberately place the model between a couple of sports trophies.

"yeah, I guess it looks pretty cool," Steve said with exaggerated nonchalance. "Now beat it, kid. your mom's gonna freak if you're not home when she gets back from work."

"can you give me a ride?"

"ugh, fine."

Dustin grinned. This had been, hands down, the best father's day ever. From the look on Steve's face when he placed the model, Dustin was pretty sure he agreed.

[venomous-qwille]

Introducing Noon, or 'New Moon' from GITM AU. Noon was the last Moon animatronic made by Fazco before it shut down- created for a themepark based on their popular childrens cartoon 'Fazteam Cosmic Rangers'.

[waerwena]

[daboyau]

Four years ago I made a joke comment on a NatsuYuu fic. Today, I finished the fic I’d begun a draft for back then. It was most definitely not worth the wait. Sorry. 💖

.

“Hey, Natsume,” Kitamoto says, cutting Nishimura off mid sentence. Nishimura thinks about feigning annoyance for a second, but his friend’s tone is casual, far too deliberate, and it makes something like worry twist in his stomach. 

“Yes?” Natsume tries to match Kitamoto’s tone, but falls just short. 

“Have the Fujiwara’s always had a horse?”

“A what.”

It’s answer enough. Kitamoto’s expression shifts from careful confusion to absolute bafflement. Nishimura strains up on his tip toes, trying to see over the neighbors’ walls and hedges. He is jealous of the extra centimeters that apparently put his friend in the perfect position to see into the Fujiwara’s yard from here. Natsume is doing the same, expression twisted with confusion and concern.

“Wow,” Nishimura says as they draw closer. “It really is a horse.”

“A what?” Natsume repeats, and this time his tone shows the barest hint of emotion. He sounds a little like he’s choking on something. He takes a few steps closer, leans just a little further, and Nishimura can see the exact moment his gaze finds the strange intruder in his foster parents’ front yard. 

“Ah,” he says.

“Yeah,” Kitamoto replies.

“That sure is a horse,” Nishimura chimes in helpfully. He’s never seen Natsume look so done, so quickly. He smiles and claps his friend on the back, doubling him over just enough to ruffle his messy hair. “Let us know if it’s friendly! Maybe we can learn how to ride.”

Natsume covers his face, though that does nothing to muffle his groan. Nishimura laughs and trails behind them as Kitamoto gently leads their friend to his front door. They’re careful to keep their distance from the massive horse, who is watching them with a worryingly intense gaze. Nishimura keeps his eyes on it until the moment they’ve locked the door safely behind them. Just in case. Right as the door shuts, he swears he sees the horse dip its head to him, strange horsey face looking approving…somehow.

He shakes it off, deciding it’s probably better to just ignore that. 

.

Natsume asks Misuzu to be a more common animal, like a dog, and Misuzu complies. Of course, that means there’s suddenly a dog the literal size of a horse standing before him, so it isn’t any better. In the end, Natsume begs him to just turn back into a horse before anyone notices the massive grey dog or panther sized tabby cat haunting the small yard. The spirit does so without a word of complaint. His eyes are bright, though, and if Natsume didn’t know any better, he’d almost call it amusement. Or maybe mischief. 

Nearby, Misuzu’s frogs are singing cheerily. Natsume wonders if Touko-san will notice if he digs a hole in her garden and just...lays down in it for a while. Maybe if he sleeps long enough the problem will fix itself. 

“Can you please leave?” He asks instead, not really hopeful that the answer will change from the last three times he’s asked, and Misuzu tosses his giant horsey head as though offended by the question. Natsume sighs, knowing it’s not worth the fight, and amends, “Can you at least not cause any trouble?” 

“I would never cause trouble for you, Natsume-dono. I received word that Madara was shirking his responsibilities as your caretaker, so as such I will be accompanying you from this point forward.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

Misuzu stomps a massive hoof but does not otherwise acknowledge Natsume’s plea. Nyanko-sensei is nowhere to be found, unfortunately proving the point.

.

Touko and Shigeru are confused but not upset about the unexpected new addition to their yard. Touko worries to herself about what to feed it while Shigeru wonders aloud if there are any city ordinances against keeping such a large animal at a residential property. Natsume assures them that he’ll take care of anything the horse needs until he can find its rightful owner.

Misuzu has made it very clear that he isn’t going anywhere for the time being, so Natsume is glad that his guardians aren’t forcing him to get rid of the strange visitor, because he’s not sure he could make the spirit move no matter how much he tried. Misuzu is enormous in any of his forms, and Natsume isn’t exactly known for his muscle mass. Considering that he’s pretty sure punching Misuzu when he looks like this would just make the Fujiwaras and their neighbors upset, the only option left is to just deal with having the spirit camped out in the yard.

He breathes a sigh of relief when Misuzu tells him that he will not require food or shelter while he is there. Natsume still finds the largest bucket he can and fills it with water. The frogs croak happily when he places it in the yard, climbing up its metal sides before flopping contentedly inside. Misuzu watches, pleased by the small act of kindness. 

.

Misuzu turns out to be a better body guard than Nyanko-sensei after all. For the first week that he is there, Natsume gets more full nights of undisturbed rest than he has since the day he found the Book of Friends. There’s the tiniest sliver of lingering guilt when he thinks of the spirits that must have been frightened away when they came seeking their names to be returned, but he likes to think that none of them will be too inconvenienced by having to wait a little while. 

It’s nice to have a break, and he certainly won’t complain about actually being able to stay awake during his classes, but there is the small issue of a horse following him to and from school. It’s embarrassing, more than anything else. He hears all the whispers and giggles surrounding him whenever his classmates look out the windows and see Misuzu at the gates.

At least they seem more impressed than weirded out by it. He’s always left a bit awed by the kindness of the people in this town; he’s certainly found himself the school pariah for less than this. Maybe he’ll never understand the people around him, but he’s grateful for their kindness nonetheless.

.

“It seems to really like you,” Kitamoto says, very deliberately not turning back to look at the massive beast clip clopping demurely at their heels. 

“It would seem that way,” Natsume replies, his voice heavy with the burden of seemingly being loved by the strangest of creatures. The horse makes a loud, breathy sound, and it sounds so much like a laugh that Nishimura has to stop himself from turning around to eye it suspiciously. Just to make sure it isn’t actually two giant men in a horse costume or something. Natsume has been known to attract the strangest kinds of people, so it’s not outside the realm of possibility. 

“Have you had any luck finding its owners?” 

Natsume shakes his head. He looks resigned, if somewhat pained by that fact. 

“He found his way into the Fujiwara’s yard, so I’m sure when he’s ready to go home, he will.” The words are delivered through gritted teeth, and Natsume throws a very pointed look over his shoulder at the horse. When Nishimura dares a look behind him, too, he shudders at the sight of dark lips pulled back to show way too many teeth.

It’s hard not to flinch away when the horse meets his eyes directly. There is way too much intelligence behind the strange, pale grey irises as it stares unblinkingly back. Its eyes crinkle, the lips pulling wider to show teeth that seem just a little bit too sharp, and…. He’s…pretty sure that’s supposed to be the horse equivalent of a smile? 

Natsume sure does find some weird pets.

.

The golden-orange glow of sunset bathes the yard in warmth and deep shadows. Misuzu keeps his vigil, ears swiveling despite the way his eyes are half lidded. His tail flicks every now and then, and it’s almost funny how very normal it seems.

Natsume checks on him between homework questions, eyes straying from math equations and messy kanji to the oddly serene view outside. Misuzu is as unobtrusive as a horse can be, standing like a statue in the yard, never making a sound. Compared to Nyanko-sensei’s near constant stream of complaints and nagging, it’s almost unsettling how placid such a massive and powerful creature is.

With a sigh of relief, Natsume closes his textbook, happy to be finished. Night is approaching, and he still needs to replace the frogs’ water before it gets dark. He smiles, glancing towards the window once more out of habit, and freezes. His stomach rolls, heart stuttering in his chest, as Touko approaches Misuzu. 

He’s been trying so hard not to impose, to make sure that this unusual intruder doesn’t cause any trouble for his foster parents, that the sight of the two of them in such close proximity makes him feel sick. He doesn’t think that Misuzu will hurt either of the Fujiwaras, but…there’s always the worry lingering in the back of his mind. A faraway memory of a youkai offering to eat his latest foster family and steal him away; the promise of a life away from human cruelty as horrifying as it was enticing. Sometimes, it’s hard to separate those strange and dangerous attempts at kindness with the gentler ones he experiences now. 

He opens the window, mouth already open to call out, to distract and misdirect until the two halves of his life are separated into their neat little boxes. Before he can, though, he hears Touko’s soft voice carried on the wind, so full of delight and that warmth he treasures so much, crooning to Misuzu. Any warnings he may have called catch in his throat, dissipating before they can ever reach his lips. 

Natsume watches as Touko offers their visitor an apple, sees her smile when it is accepted after a brief hesitation. A careful hand raised, palm out, and he thinks about the way she offered her hand to him so many months ago, asking him to come home with her and Shigeru. Misuzu’s eyes close as he dips his head, pressing a velvet nose into her waiting hand. 

Natsume settles himself back down, smile soft as he closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall beneath the window, listening to Touko’s soft murmurs and eventual coos of delight when she discovers the frogs that have made their home in Misuzu’s water bucket. She’s already making plans for a small pond for them, calling Shigeru out to join her to offer his own expertise on the coming landscaping project. A gentle breeze ruffles his hair, warm and somehow familiar. Somewhere, a bell chimes, and he knows that the Fujiwaras have unknowingly found themselves a new friend in a being they’ll never be able to fully understand.

They’re good at doing that. 

.

When Nyanko-sensei returns from his trip into the mountains, he’s red cheeked and far too tipsy to notice the unusual visitor. Natsume debates hitting him for being the root cause of all this trouble, but by the time he’s sitting up in bed and ready to do so, Sensei’s already settled down at the foot of his futon, fast asleep and purring loud enough that Natsume might almost swear he feels it echo in his own chest. He sighs, and his fists unclench, and he runs one gentle hand down Sensei’s back, rubbing briefly at the spot that always makes him melt. Even in sleep, Sensei curls closer, huffing with delight.

Not a cat, his ass. Natsume smiles, weary but content, and settles back down for the night. There’s sure to be a commotion in the morning once Sensei realizes they have a visitor that he can’t easily bully into submission, but for now, things are peaceful. From the yard, he hears Mizuzu snort and the frogs start singing again, lulling him back into a gentle sleep. 

.

(When the morning comes, the sound of a cat’s angry yowls and a horse’s strange laugh-like whinnies will fill the air. Natsume will bury his face in his pillow and wonder why he was cursed with such a strange life. He’ll be smiling the whole time.) 

[qiinamii]

it's all about the noises

bonus frames from the vid!

[gatoplaga]

"But beyond all my pain, there was you"

Narilamb designs: @runningwithscizzorz

here's an alt version of Narinder without the veil!! :D

[luckycharms1701]

Oh, please, I must know now… Donnie during mating season??? :D I’m loving ur writings about this :)

alright you thirsty purple fans, it’s time!

sidenote: i am. so glad. that people are enjoying these. they’re a lot of fun to write!

double sidenote: i have added a link to my masterpost to all my bayverse mating season headcanons! you can also find them here

sooooo donnie. he's a freak in the sheets, you cannot change my mind. so especially strong spicy warning for this one 🌶️

Donnie is extremely matter of fact about mating season. The first time he brings it up with you, he’s more nervous about your answer than he is shy about explaining what it entails. (You couldn’t hear the words, but you did hear him muttering to himself before he came up to ask you. You suspect it was a pep talk.) He is very thorough when explaining mating season in general and how it affects him in particular. You are grateful and also a little turned on by the time he’s done.

Before you were in the picture, Donnie used to work himself until his system overloaded and he passed out during this time. Now he finds himself working a lot less, because he has you to focus on. He appreciates that you make him spend more time on leisure and don’t let him overwork himself. He also appreciates that you do let him work at least a little when the desire hits. Getting to cuddle with you is a surefire way to get him to rest when he needs it though. As long as you’re nearby, he’s happy to do whatever.

Donnie is a talker in general, but it gets ramped up to 100 when it’s his season. Unless his mouth is busy doing… other things… it’s basically a 24/7 stream of consciousness fest. Mostly it’s about you. How much he loves you, what in particular he loves about you, how exactly he wants to make love to you. His morning star, his starlight, his celestial beauty. Sometimes, though, he’ll interrupt himself to talk about something that just occurred to him about one of his projects. It never fails to pull a laugh out of you and make him rub the back of his neck in (adorable) embarrassment.

He enjoys physical affection and often seeks it out from you, and this holds true during his season. He won’t whine or get grumpy if you don’t want to be touching him all the time (*cough* like his brothers will *cough*), but he does prefer if you’re in contact with him somehow. He enjoys watching movies with your head on his lap and your hand in his. He especially likes it when you're on top of him.

Donnie is used to just taking care of himself whenever necessary, AND he is used to handling delicate things during his season. So there is a lot of gentle manhandling when the time comes. You can't do anything particularly engaging because he will come up and interrupt you whenever to have sex. IF you are wearing clothes at all (not often), you cannot wear underwear or pants, at most a skirt. That way he can just lift it up and enter you whenever the urge hits. He is especially fond of doing this when you're sitting on his lap while he's working (... "daddy's little cockwarmer").

Having you around does not mean that all of his toys go unused, oh no. He is very considerate, and would rather resort to them when you're getting rest. (He got your permission to stare at you while you slept and he used his toys. So considerate.) He also came up with some new toys that the two of you can use together. Having toys custom designed for your pleasure? Well. It really adds to the experience of mating season.

He likes to take his time and study you. He is always coming to you with a new experience he wants to try. He does get a lot of pleasure out of trying new things, but he mostly just wants to know how you'll react. He is intimately familiar with your body and how it reacts, and he wants to see if those reactions hold true when different stimuli are applied. His prodigious brain is always working. He particularly likes when something catches you off guard and a surprised gasp comes out of your mouth.

Donnie is not overtly possessive, even in his season. But there is always one hickey very carefully placed somewhere noticeable that you can't cover easily. He knows just how much force to use to leave an imprint of his hands without hurting you more than you enjoy. And if he catches someone looking at you? You will probably be walking a little funny the next day. When he ties you up (he enjoys tying you up. a lot.), he'll take a minute to sit back and observe you, pleasuring himself to thoughts of how you belong to him the same way he belongs to you.

When his season is over, his favorite thing to do is cuddle with you while the both of you sleep it off. He won't leave the bed, not even to work, until he deems you fully rested. (He will work in bed while you sleep on his plastron though.) His second favorite thing to do is bathe you. He takes his time to make sure every inch of you is clean and cared for. It's a lot like going to a spa, because Donnie did a lot of research into spas so that he could replicate that experience for you. And if you give him a little pampering in return? You'll get to hear him chirp and churr in complete satisfaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic

[nightghoul381]

🥵

This is just…. No words

I loved the original fic and this is a perfect sequel 🪭🪭🪭

Helpless Desires

A sequel to Just a Taste.

Rating: Explicit (mdni)

Pairing: Gilbert/Reader

Words: 4520

Tags: dubcon (this fic has consent, but those sensitive to dubcon themes may want to avoid), "forced" cumming inside, choking, biting, blood, fingering, rough sex, dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), cum eating, obsessiveness, Gilbert being a creep

Preview: It's difficult being gentle. Pinning you against your vanity causes little vials and compacts of makeup to clatter to the floor, but you don't seem to care- you only wince as you're forced to face the mirror, watching his gaze narrow as he presses his cheek against yours, laughing breathlessly.

Your throat fit so perfectly into his grasp.

You won't meet his eyes.

It's cute, in a way. Seeing you freeze up when you hear his cane, the tips of your ears flushed pink, excuses to be elsewhere tumbling out of your mouth.

For the majority of two days, he let you believe you slipped away successfully every time. Watched after your fleeting form with a smile, knowing that you'd cave soon.

It isn't until the two of you meet outside on the settee that you finally linger. You even manage a nervous smile! And he smiles back, sliding onto the seat beside you, leaving no space inbetween.

Your eyes dart nervously when you feel his body pressed aside yours, but you do little in retaliation. Your voice is steady as you politely greet him, trying to start up conversation about the tea for today.

It's been boring enough hardly seeing you, but you're still refusing to give him the reaction he craves. So as you continue to dawdle about the oversteeped tea, he rests his hand on your knee.

There. The rise of your chest as you stop speaking eases the impatience he's felt these past few days. You tremble out the rest of your sentence, doing your best to school your face as you repeat what you said before.

It's sickeningly adorable, how you pretend. Gilbert doesn't grant you the luxury back. His smile is thin as he finally interrupts, narrowing his eye.

"You've been running away from me, little rabbit."

Flinching, you tumble over your words, "it's not that-"

"And after I left you such a thoughtful present as well."

The teacup in your hand clatters slightly as you set it down on the saucer, trying to hide your sharp intake of breath as the palm of his hand rubs against your thigh. 

"Did you enjoy my gift?"

Nothing comes out of your mouth as you search for words, eyes glued to his fingers, the way they toy with the fabric of your skirt.

Gilbert hums his disappointment with your lack of response, giving the plush muscle a squeeze. He watches your eyes flutter as you bite your lip, looking away.

"Did it make you wet? Did you run off back to the bath to abuse that faucet of yours?"

He wants to go further. Wants to rip away your composure, have you whimpering his name. But Keith, the one you were supposed to meet for tea originally, comes into view.

The greeting falling from his mouth is interrupted by his eyes flicking to where Gilbert's hand is, then towards your expression. But Gilbert only smiles at him, deliberately clutching your thigh once more for Keith to witness, before he finally excuses himself.

You won't look at him as he leaves, but the flushed tips of your ears as you squeeze your thighs together is satisfying enough for now.

.

.

Galas and parties, where nobles flaunted their renown, soured Gilbert's mood to no end. Watching everyone fail to hide their glares, or the disgusting way they pretended to endure him, hoping to use his name for inane reasons…

However, tonight his reprieve was you. Seeing you finally enter the room, even if accompanied by that mutt of yours, had his smile creeping back onto his face. Especially as your steps stuttered when catching his eye. 

The flush on your cheeks was adorable.

Leon, noticing how Gilbert refused to hide his interest, was quick to take your hand, trying to lead you elsewhere. He didn't miss the way Leon offered him a strained smile, nor the eyes of the other princes boring into him.

But it was fine. Even if he wasn't your first dance of the night, he knew he would be your last.

.

It takes three dances until you're in his grip. Three dances, where he is left to sip at the sickeningly sweet drinks offered, watching as others vie for your hand, your exhaustion with keeping up appearances slowly cracking through your mask. And once that third song ends, he decides to help.

By taking your hand in his the moment it's free, grinning.

"Were you planning to make me wait all night? How mean."

Dragging you further into the dance floor, away from the watchful princes' reach, Gilbert hums happily to himself. It didn't matter if the two of you were in the center of the room; they way everyone watched intently, realizing just how little you resisted, would spark conversations about Rhodolite's Rose being so willingly plucked away by the conquering beast.

Did you realize that? He knew you were smart enough to, but you seemed keen on hiding the truth from yourself.

All of this vast space in this ballroom, and you're stuck with him. You can feel the stares from other nobles boring into you- he can tell from the way your eyes keep nervously darting around, refusing to pay him proper attention.

The nerves seem to go towards your feet, and you falter a few steps of the dance.

In return, Gilbert grasps your hand tighter, smile never leaving his face as he leans in closer.

"You don't want to be here either, do you, little rabbit?"

Your response is a deep breath, before nodding slightly, your grip tightening for just a moment. The misplaced trust in him makes Gilbert’s heart flutter with perverse excitement.

"The two of us could leave together, but you don't want the others to know just how close we are. I never imagined I'd be a secret in such a way, but... "

He sees your gaze on someone's wine, the way their cheeks are flushed.

Gilbert tips his head, lips by your ear as he speaks.

"It would be easy to pretend to have a little too much, wouldn't it? Then no one could blame you if I was to take you to your room. I'd just be looking after a poor rabbit in their eyes, hm?"

You stumble again, but you meet his gaze now as the song ends. Watching his smile widen as you curtsey.

.

.

Once the latch to your bedroom shuts, it's fascinating stripping your inhibitions away. For the first second, your eyes meet his, hands clenching and unclenching at your side. Worry etches itself on your face quickly, and he can see the way doubt starts to form. Those pretty, plush lips of yours open, ready to voice concern- but Gilbert's impatient with these games now. Before you can speak, he's threading his fingers through your hair, cupping the back of your head as he crashes his lips to yours.

God. You taste like that damned rose liquor. There was only one glass he watched you drink, but the sickly sweet taste mingles with his own as his tongue hungrily explores your mouth, searching for you. What lingers of your taste.

You tolerate it, trying to break away to catch your breath- fumbling with trying to decide whether to wrap your arms around his neck, or mimic how he clutches you tight against him, no space left between your bodies as he searches for anything but rose. 

Teeth nip at your lip, his breath comes out short as he takes more and more of your air, crowding you against the door. 

All the while your hands switch from fisting his hair, to slowly dragging down his chest as your own rises. To pushing at his firm body, whimpers escaping between each kiss he ruthlessly gives.

It isn't until he needs to catch his breath that he relents, staring at your swollen lips as he rests his forearm against the door, unlatching his cape and letting it fall to the floor.

"You've been avoiding me, little rabbit. I intend to make up for the lost time."

.

It's difficult being gentle. Pinning you against your vanity causes little vials and compacts of makeup to clatter to the floor, but you don't seem to care- you only wince as you're forced to face the mirror, watching his gaze narrow as he presses his cheek against yours, laughing breathlessly.

Your throat fit so perfectly into his grasp.

Even through the leather of his glove, he could feel you swallow, meeting his gaze in the reflection. He could feel your body tremble, as if scared of what he planned to do, but your eyes stared back at him, blown with the need you tried to carefully hide.

How cruel it was, to deliberately mask this. How you were craving his touch. All that trouble not to let anyone else see his gift for you, and you could only reveal your desires when pushed.

Well. That would be easy to train out. Though his anger flares for a moment, annoyed at yet another lie coming from the same lips breathlessly parted in anticipation for his cock, and his grip tightens instinctively.

But he twists it to his advantage, forcing you to stay in place and watch in the reflection as he hiked your skirt up. 

The sight of your plump rear, wearing a pair of underwear much more skimpier than the last, gave him pause. His eyes flicked towards your reflection, catching your hazy gaze. The look in your eyes seemed curious, and Gilbert knew what you wanted to ask.

Do you like them?

Gilbert smiled, chuckling to himself as he kneed your legs apart, forcing your stance.

You held his gaze as he hooked a finger on the thong of your underwear, tugging the fabric harshly against your clit.

"I've caught my little rabbit in heat, haven't I?"

Oh, the whimper you let out is the sound of his dreams. Paired with how you writhe with your hips, trying to gather more friction against your sensitive nub, has his dick twitching in excitement. Look at how desperate you were for him…

This pair was flimsy, and it took no effort to tear the seams of one side, watching it fall helplessly and pool around your ankle. 

As tempting as it is to let go of you, to get a proper view of your dripping cunt, Gilbert elects to keep his eye on you as he bites the fingertip of his glove, slowly pulling his other hand free. With how his chest is pressed against your back, keeping you pinned in place, he can feel the tremor when you breathe in deep. If he concentrates, it's almost as if he can feel your heart, thumping wildly in anticipation.

"Is this how wet you were when you left me your panties?"

Shame hits your face first, cheeks blooming a deeper hue as your eyes avert. But Gilbert moves his grip from your throat to your chin, yanking your view back to him.

"Is it?"

He feels you swallow, clenching your jaw, "no…"

"I thought so, they seem even more damp than before. How naughty."

Two fingers pry your lower lips open, and Gilbert has to suck in his own breath as your folds slick his fingers readily. His fingertips slide across your vulva, a breathless chuckle escaping him when he teases your clit, your body involuntarily pushing back against his hand.

"You've been wanting this, haven't you?"

A breathy confirmation is what he wants, but instead you only manage a meek nod, clearly awash with humiliation for your desires.

"You could have gotten this sooner, if you had been honest with me. Instead, you avoided me," easily, so easily, he slips his digits inside of you, watching you tense and a shaky sigh of relief leave you. Your body wants to draw them in deep, coaxing for something more, but Gilbert focuses on your sweet spot, just barely brushing against it, watching you jolt your hips back again.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Frustration slowly starts builds within you, starting with how you clutch at the edge of your vanity, nails digging into the wood as you pointlessly push your hips back again, attempting to fuck yourself on his digits. 

Gilbert tsks, pulling his fingers out with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

"Nothing? You're going to act as if you're not soaked for me?" his wet fingers spread in front of your face, thin strings of arousal clinging between them. Your eyes focus on the sight of your sins, brows furrowed as your eyes water, "is this nothing?"

“N-No…” Voice hoarse, you finally pull your gaze away from his hand, meeting his in the reflection.

“You don’t have to hide yourself away from me, little rabbit. I’ll accept even the worst, most naughty parts of you- as long as you’re honest.”

There’s nothing but the sound of your breathing as you scan his face, trying to deduce if this is some inane trick of his. Yet, after just a few seconds, you slowly lap at one of his wet fingers, tasting your shame on his skin.

Cheeks still rosy and eyes still watering, but the deliberate way you stare at him while doing so still sends a shiver of exhilaration up his spine. He doesn’t let you finish licking him clean, reveling in the lewd pop from your lips as he pulls his hand away. Instead, he still holds your gaze as he finishes the job, delighted that your saliva holds no trace of that disgusting rose liquor now. Paired with the indescribable taste of your pleasure, Gilbert’s eye fluttered shut in bliss, his cock throbbing with impatience.

When he opens his eye again, he sees you; hazy with lust as you watch him clearly get off on just the taste of you, biting your bottom lip. 

“See? I’ll accept all of you, nasty or otherwise.”

You muffle a whimper as he pushes his saliva-coated digits back into you, his chest thrilling knowing that more of him will be inside of you soon, not just his spit.

He curls his fingers inside of you, your face twisting until he's beginning a rhythm, pumping his fingers with an even tempo. Each thrust of his fingers earns him a shudder, a bitten back groan, as you let yourself start to enjoy this.

He waits, until your brows unfurrow, your eyes fluttering shut and some of that shame abiding- and then he yanks his fingers out, chuckling at your whine.

“Tell me what you did with my gift?” “Now?”

“I don’t think you have a right to complain, given how you ignored me for days.” The tips of his fingers ghost at your entrance, before he’s running them across your swollen lower lips, toying with the tip of your clit. One swirl around the sensitive bud, and you’re gasping out an answer, clearly growing as impatient as he is.

“I… I touched myself once I realized…”

“Mm… How?” Another swipe across, your knees trying to clench together.

“With- With my fingers.”

“Did you imagine they were mine?”

“No,” breathless, you wiggle your hips, moaning when he obliges in rewarding your hesitant words with steadily rubbing your nub, “I-I imagined something else of yours.”

“Really, now? You jumped right to imagining my cock?” Ignoring your displeased mewl as he pulls his hand away, he licks his fingers again before working his belt.

“I can imagine whatever I want,” you pout.

“True, but wouldn’t you rather feel it?”

Whatever words were about to fall from your lips never make it- in the reflection you can see how he reaches his hand in his pants, palming his erection. He doesn’t care that you can see how he shudders at finally giving himself momentary relief, but he notices how you ready yourself without hesitation; bracing yourself against the vanity all while drinking him in.

With his pants pushed down far enough just to get his cock out, his impatience wins over, slotting his thick length between your lower lips. Each thrust is slow, deliberate, but your juices coat him eagerly, the sounds of your moans coming out more unbidden than the last.

"I want to hear you say it."

The lip of his cock grinds against your sensitive clit on each rhythmic pump, and Gilbert can’t get over how swollen you are, aching for him to the point of gradually shedding away your inhibitions. Now, you’re using the vanity to steadily thrust back in tandem with him, unable to bear any moment apart from his cock. 

So he pulls back, instead pressing his tip against your soaked entrance. The pressure is light, but enough to make you cry out in frustration.

"P-please… Prince Gilbert…"

"Mm? I thought I asked you to call me 'Gil', did I not?" 

“Gil…Please…”

More pressure, and the head of his cock is just halfway into you. Just the idea of his precum mixing with your arousal inside of you has his nails digging into your skin as he holds you in place, breath growing heavy.

“I don’t know what you want unless you tell me, little rabbit.”

“I, ngh- I want your cock inside me, please-!”

The grip on your throat returns, and this time its tight enough that you don't dare to move, being forced to hold his gaze as he slides his cock into you, inch by inch. He's rewarded with a private show: your eyes prickling with fresh tears, mouth hung open as you try to quietly moan, forcing yourself to accommodate his girth. 

"Look at you, look at how you've been wanting this," a nibble at your ear, voice turning dark as he mutters, "you look like a whore. And to think, you could have had me sooner if you were honest."

The twinge of anger flares up for a moment, and he roughly thrusts the rest of himself in to the hilt- grunting out a groan as his eye rolls back, fluttering shut.

Finally….

The sensation of your inner walls clenching him, the way you whimpered as you adjusted to his throbbing cock- all of his fantasies paled in comparison to the reality of having you trapped in his arms.

Gilbert lets himself linger, let himself savor the feel of your cunt sucking him in, burning the sensation to memory for those nights he wouldn't be able to have you.

Of course, he'd make sure no one else could, either.

He yanks the shoulder of your dress down, not giving you the chance to react before he digs his teeth into the soft skin of your shoulder. You hiss out a groan, caught between pleasure and pain as he harshly marks you.

"If you let anyone else touch you like this, I'll kill them, do you understand?"

He laps at the droplets of blood forming along the indents from his bite, shuddering at a new taste of you. The way you’ve been shying at his touches, and the clumsy way you kissed at him before tells him that you’re either greatly inexperienced or a virgin. While he’s nearly certain of which, he knows that it’s only him who has tasted your life.

For the others, he’ll just replace any possible contact with his own. Over and over, until your body was clearly his.

He doesn’t give you time to mumble out anything- you’re busy relishing in the feel of him, adjusting. Instead, his hand moves from your throat to your hair- shoving your cheek down against the surface of the vanity.

You scramble in alarm at first, trying to find purchase in this position as he pulls his cock back to the tip- but he snaps his hips harshly, ignoring your protests as he starts thrusting. Each one is languid, driving deep into your warmth. 

At first, Gilbert is mesmerized- your body takes him so well. Your inner walls coax him deeper with each pump he delivers, tensing around him, and watching his length disappear into you steadily makes him feel lightheaded.

You were truly made for him, weren't you? From the way your digustingly sweet naivete cried out for him to conquer you, to the way your pussy was desperate to keep him inside- you belonged to him.

The thought makes his thrusts quicken, paying no heed to the way your nails scratch thin lines of paint off the vanity, nor the way the wood starts hitting the wall in tandem. He's too focused on trying to control the way that coil deep inside keeps threatening to come undone, trying to etch each movement and sound of skin hitting skin into his memory.

It isn't until his breathing becomes labored that he tunes into your breathless chanting, various praises and pleas for more leaking out. How could he dismiss that? 

"Hah, you're a greedy little thing, aren't you? Just a taste, and you're begging like a slut." Those words make you squirm beneath him, a much tighter squeeze of your inner walls clamping around his cock, "are you cumming? Just from that?"

"Stop-" whining, you try to hide your face from him, that damned shame coming back to eat at you. But Gilbert doesn't have the patience, yanking your hair to let him watch as your orgasm overtakes you. 

It's messy- you can't stop crying out as he continues to plunge his dick into your depths, harder and with an intensity that causes your hips to hit against the wood painfully. Tears form as he disregards how intensely your pleasure washes over you, that each time he slams into you, there's pain mixing in.

Instead, he's too focused on how your voice strains pathetically as you battle the white-hot shame of getting off on such a vile man's cock.

“Ahh, little rabbit, I’m going to cum-”

"D-Don't-!" Panic alights in you, and you rush to push your palm against his hip. The futile attempts at batting him away are almost cute, and Gilbert smiles as his grip on your hips tightens. He can see you wince in the mirror.

"Haha, thats rude. You want to reject my gift? You want to reject the cock you've been salivating over?" 

To further his point, he snakes a hand between your body and the vanity, pressing hard right above your pubic bone. 

"Ngh-"

The moan escapes you easily, your body eagerly pushing back to meet his thrusts- that fight of yours dissipating immediately as pleasure took precedence. Gilbert ignores your pouting, burying his cock deep inside your welcoming walls. Despite your weak struggling, your pussy clamps deliciously around him, as if already trying to milk him dry.

"No, you're going to take every last drop of me, little rabbit."

Those words, muttered by your ear with a breathy chuckle, causes your tears to finally spill down your cheeks. Fascination sinks in, watching thick droplets roll down your cheeks, dripping onto the vanity. Tears for him. Because of him. How were you able to give him so much of what he fantasized about?

He doesn't even think before he's angling your face closer to his, lapping up the droplets.

The salty taste of your shame on his tongue finally pushes him over the edge. Letting out a low groan, Gilbert forces you to still as he buries his face against your shoulder, spilling his love into your cunt.

You shudder as he does so, gasping at the warmth, making him moan in return- your walls clenching tighter around him. Pressed against you so tightly, he can hear your rasping breaths, the way a few hitch when he nuzzles his nose against your neck. 

He doesn't dare to pull out until his length becomes overstimulated. Even then, it's slow- forcing you to stay bent over the vanity so he has a clear view of his length pulling out of your soaking pussy inch by inch, delighted in the way your juices are combined with his.

It's clear you're exhausted. Once he's let go of you entirely, you're clutching onto the vanity desperately, keeping yourself upright. The strength is gone from your legs, but Gilbert is preoccupied with watching his cum start to drip out.

Over your shoulder, you look back at him. Staring him down as you catch your breath, face flushed and tears still staining your cheeks, but your eyes go wide watching him drop to his knees. His hands are on your thighs in an instant, keeping your legs spread as he ducks his head-

“Mmph! G-Gil-!”

Helpless in his grasp, you strain against him as his tongue explores your vulva, lapping up your cum mixed together with his semen. Each lick takes away his rational thought bit by bit, and soon he’s groaning without care, head swimming at the taste. 

Sensitive, more tears wet your cheeks, a slew of whimpered pleas for him to stop are leaving your lips, but Gilbert continues swallowing each drop that he can. The flavor, the smell- all of it makes his cock twitch, already craving to be inside of you once more.

It doesn’t take much for your thighs to strain harder against his hands, a strangled cry of his name as his efforts cause another gush of your arousal to greet his tongue. 

Once he finishes, he’s chuckling breathlessly against your thigh. The supple skin is reddened with how harsh he grasped you, and he nips at it impulsively, wrapped up with how many marks he wants to leave on you tonight.

When he’s back to his feet, he can see how you still struggle to catch your breath, how those tears still flow- but there's another emotion etched across your features that makes Gilbert laugh, and he leans over, pressing a chaste kiss against your temple as he brushes your hair back.

"Don't look so relieved, little rabbit. Did I say we were finished?"

ALT ENDING

It took me five months, but I finally made the sequel that people were wanting! It may not meet expectations, but this is what I imagined would have gone down after Just a Taste. I enjoy Gilbert being obsessive and possessive to this degree, and I hope others do as well. A big thanks to @solomons-poison for beta'ing this for me and easing some concerns!

If you do not like this, or do not like how I've written Gilbert: I kindly do not want to hear it. Please just block me instead.

If you enjoyed this, please consider commenting and/or reblogging! 

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