#gamble on what size it was while changing it

[gremlingottoosilly]

Maid-up problems (Konig x maid!Reader)

Konig goes to a maid cafe. Billions must perish. Tags and CW: yandere Konig, obsessive and creepy behaviour, Konig is a bit of a perv, colonel loser Konig, maids and maid cafes, general fluff, slight age difference, slight size difference, mostly from Konig's pov. AO3

— Welcome home, master. What your maid I get for you today, hm? König just died and went to heaven. Heaven consists of pretty girls running around in fluffy skirts, little aprons and putting on adorable headbands with white ruffles. Heaven filled with the smell of reheated pastries and pre-made snacks, with neutral sweet perfume and the stench of sweat from the customers. Heaven is filled with angels who run around in maid costumes and call him master – and all of this without going through the hassle of finding a cosplay-friendly prostitute in Vienna.

He honestly rolled his eyes the first time he saw the post about a new maid cafe opening in town. Horangi was the one to show him - the bastard didn’t even live in Austria and yet had followed all the news, maybe to only make fun of his colonel. He knows that the tiger has his dirty secrets too – ido girls, idol boys, some new band every week that he’d spend his paycheck to get all possible merch. Changing his gambling addiction to a k-pop one – all while his glorious commander is going crazy from the new maid hentai he just watched. Honestly embarrassing at his age…but he doesn’t care. He has money for the exclusive translations and elite figures – and he has some time on leave to visit the damn maid cafe. Then König meets you. He died, went to heaven and was greeted with an angel…no, a goddess. In a frilly apron, short skirt and adorable, albeit a bit embarrassed smile. You had your persona on – dorky and clumsy, useless little maid that customers liked to scold when you’d almost drop their drinks and then fake cry while apologizing. Some sadistic bastards like to play pretend by calling your manager while you’d beg for them not to. Some perverts with a hero complex would play into your pleads. König stares in awe as you drop the menu accidentally, not forgetting to show off your cleavage as you pick it up. Brushing it off with your finger, looking so tiny and shy…god, he fucking adores you already. — S…so sorry, master. Please, forgive me for dropping the- — It’s okay. Don’t worry, ja? 

He reaches for your hand, but you shoo it away. No touching – the cafe policy, as dumb as it sounds. He knows it’s for your own good, to protect you from perverts and creeps – but you shouldn’t be so scared about touching him. He would have to train you to do this after. nothing that a few touches of a good military discipline wouldn’t fix though – and he is very good at breaking down dumb recruits and annoyingly stubborn people. Oh. Right. He still kinda has to order. His gaze immediately flicks to the most expensive thing on the menu – an exclusive dessert, probably too sweet for his tastes. He will have to make do though – there isn’t much on the menu, certainly is zero alcohol so drunk guests wouldn’t harass the maid girls, and a tiny portion of an omelet with some ketchup hearts squeezed all over it certainly isn’t to his tastes either. No, König had his eyes – covered by glasses, of course, he didn’t want to show off his scars and the expression of a serial killer forced to work in mercenary forces to cute girls in ruffled aprons – on a different prize. You. 

And the exclusive photos and a hug from any waitress of the fine establishment that would come with this overpriced order. 

König has never seen the manager of this cafe, but he is ready to give them all money he has – just for implementing this feature into the menu. Just for selling off their girls to any customer who is willing to pay almost 50 Euros for a piece of a pretty regular cake and some coffee. 

You stare at his order for a few seconds, your mouth going agape. He is not hurt – it was weird, after all, for a guy like him to order something as silly as this. You’re probably weirded out, thinking that he accidentally put his finger on the order – but you know better than to ask again and risk him changing his mind. Your cafe gives off bonuses if guests want to take a picture with you so, naturally, you’re all smiles and nods, tilting your head to the side as you say, ever-so-sweetly, that you’d be back with his order. Now…is König ashamed of liking the pretty little maid so much? Not really, to be completely honest, he kinda adores having you around, and he’d pay even more for the opportunity to touch you. Too bad your cafe isn’t a front for some other body business – he’d be happy to raid it on the part of special forces and then save you from such a gruesome fate by making you his wife. 

König wonders if your cafe has themed days. Maybe catgirls, cosplay, maybe housewives. 

König wonders if he can get your number. Then his gaze falters to the reflection of his face in the screen of his phone – and, no, not going to happen. Not when he is fresh out of deployment, barely showered, and thrown a clean hoodie on which does very little to cover the smell of blood clinging to his body. It’s his cross to bear – his victims scratching at his ankles as the colonel sips on complimentary water from a pink glass and looks at all the other losers who coming to this fine establishment. 

You’re lucky it’s a slow day – if König saw you being so sweet and touchy with some other lousy customer, he might have shot the whole place up. Master does not tolerate his silly servant being so nice to others, after all. 

— Your coffee, master. 

He whips out a stack of bills already, way more than what he was supposed to pay even with the exclusive offer he ordered. Your mouth opens to stop him, to remind him of the actual price of everything – then he breaks whatever good intentions you had when he starts to speak, his voice muffled a bit because of his black surgical mask. 

— Do you have a boyfriend? 

Oh. 

Now, under normal circumstances, you’d yell for the manager to come and pick you up. You’d scream bloody murder and alert other girls and clients that you’re having a bad customer who is going into harassment mode very quickly – asking such personal questions at this place is something that shouldn’t be happening, no sir. Totally not happening. 

But…the work has been a bit slow lately. You didn’t get as many bonuses as you wanted to, and the rent is coming up, and the phone bill is getting more expensive…sometimes you just got unlucky and his a streak of customers not liking your particular archetype – so if this weird dude who is totally killing people in his spare time wants a bit more than usual service and is definitely ready to pay for it. 

You might have had a thing for guys in masks. Big, muscular guys in masks who looks like they can choke you with their thighs and then fucking destroy you. With money who can get you a bit closer to your savings goal. So, you’re not calling your manager, your friends, or the police. So, you play into the fantasy for a little bit, remembering all the acts your supervisors drilled into your head. — Of course I don’t, master. I’m here for you, remember? You smile and nod, hoping it will be enough. Hoping a guy like him could be satisfied with something as silly as this, something as tiny. You touch his hand a bit later, making sure to hold him for a while longer. A simple trick to enhance the amount of tip you can get – even tho you feel like playing with fire when you touch this guy so sweetly. 

And, oh, König is…done for. Smitten. Shot right in the heart through his cock, somehow. This man survived battle after battle, destroyed more small countries than there is letters in his real name, but he was defeated by a pretty girl in a maid outfit in a cafe made for incels and otaku wannabees. If any of his lower officers saw him right now, with ears and cheeks burning angry red, with his heavy breathing and obvious, but concealed by table hard-on, he would be done for. 

But, oh god, aren’t you just beautiful? 

Obviously embarrassed and maybe a bit shy – he thinks it’s probably just your persona, a way to milk tips from the customers who like to play dominant, but König doesn’t even need to play. He knows he’d have to take you by the end of your shift, whatever this time might be. He is not the best person for the romance job, but he’ll be damned if he let a pretty thing like you just run away like a silly girl you are. 

— Can I have your phone number? You want to say no, he can’t have your phone number. The guy smells of gunpowder and blood, looks like he is going to shoot the entire venue down if you disagree with him, and you do not want to die like a hero for a job that pays barely above minimum wage for the amount of public humiliation you have to endure to ensure good tips. The guy smells like danger and a bad time and a long conversation with your manager about the types of guests that they allow into this fine establishment. 

You want to say no and yell but, then again, there are multiple factors that are screaming against such rush decisions. A huge chunk of money he still has in his valet is, embarrassingly enough, one of the biggest decision-making points. — We’re not really allowed to give our phone numbers, master… His hand goes to his pocket. 

You’re not sure if he is touching his cock, his gun, or another stack of bills right now – but all of the options are kinda making you want to die before you can check your answers. It’s going to be bad either way, so you tilt your head to the side, trying to look as innocent as possible. 

— But I can make an exception! 

He actually startles, looking at you like you just agreed to marry him. You probably would, with enough bullet threats – but you still bite your tongue, not wanting to give the crazy guy an idea. You actually don’t know if he is crazy or not – but taking your chances isn’t something you want to do on a nice Monday dead work day. 

You can see relief in his eyes. A little wrinkles of smile, too – his mouth is covered by a mask, but you’re almost sure he is grinning like an idiot under this thing. Oh no…you just insulted a customer in your mind. It’s really bad for business. 

You write your number down and pass it right to his hand without anyone noticing…you hoped so, at least – you don’t want other customers to order the same special treatment and you know that the manager would have your head for overstepping the rules so much. No one would care that you’re saving this fucked up place from a massacre – they would only care about arbitrary rule-breaking. You lick your lips and smile as his hand lingers on you a bit too long. 

His hands are big and warm, too – you’re getting lost in the touch, as he carefully caresses the back of your palm with his thumb. He is…surprisingly tender. As much as a killing machine can be tender, of course – but you do appreciate a softer, milder touch. You do appreciate his hands on your body, caressing it softly and maybe even leaning you for a kiss and a quick…

Oh god, what are you thinking. You need to stop, immediately. 

He pulls from his table suddenly and you almost feel like you fucked up, somehow. Maybe he did wanted something a big more than what you were willing to give, maybe this guy wanted you in a way that was not friendly for the cafe – but he swoops you by your waist before you could say anything before your hands could go upright and smack him – and you stop right before hearing him saying the dreadful words. The words you wished he wouldn’t have enough money to say. 

God, this is hopeless. 

— Can I get my special offer now? 

König makes it sound like the special offer would include you on your knees, choking on his cock. König makes it sound like it would include you on your back, taking pounding from him while he tugs on your dumb apron and tells you to cry for your master. König makes it sound like the short skirt of your outfit was not covering you enough, he makes it sound perverted, horrible, utterly despicable, he makes it sound like…

God, he doesn’t have enough self-control for you. 

You just…look so scared. Nervous. You play with the fabric of your costume in your hands as the other maid – some faceless pretty thing for him, with his eyes glued to your side anyway – was making pictures. Polaroid, is overpriced for a couple of photos he will get…but he doesn’t care if he has to blow off an entire contract bonus if that means getting some bonus from you. 

He gets to hold your waist and it’s so easily to imagine digging his fingers to your sides as he fucks you with as much passion as he could gather. It’s easy to imagine his cock pumping into you, your tummy bulging from the sheer size difference between you and him – poor thing, you’d probably be terrified as he would force himself onto you. Maybe you’d clutch your little apron adorably and beg for him to stop. Maybe you’d ask him to be rougher and more passionate – to make you his in all sorts of ways. He just…he can’t imagine not taking you home after this. 

He hugged you, it’s basically a marriage proposal already. 

You try your best to ignore the way his hand slips down, almost to the point of groping your ass. You ignore it, the girl who is taking the pictures ignores it too. No one wants a scandal, no one wants to point this out – everyone knows how tips are made here, and you sure as hell won’t be putting yourself in danger just because you feel his giant hand fondling you through the fabric of your silly dress. You forgot the protective shorts too - so there is only a matter of underwear and skirt between his hand and your ass. 

Somehow, the sensation isn’t as terrible as you want it to be. Somehow, you feel like tips aren’t the only thing that keeps you from screaming at him. 

König died and went to heaven – this much is obvious. He is taking a picture with a pretty girl, he touches a pretty girl in maid's suit and she doesn’t even say anything to him. He just went out from a successful contract that would keep his pockets full for a few months and went straight for his savings, and he killed more people than the last week – god, life is fucking beautiful. He fondles your ass with his hand, other is awkwardly limp to his side, and he already knows that he will be a regular here. 

He hates getting his pictures taken – it’s normal for people in his line of work, being a mercenary and a socially active person isn’t something wise if you don’t want an enemy finding out where you live, but he doesn’t really care anymore – he will keep the pictures with you, hold it in his wallet and put a spare one in his vest pocket. You can be his little guardian angel, the pretty girl who is waiting for him to return. 

And he does have your number with him. 

— Are you happy with the pictures, master? 

You tilt your head and König forces down the urge to squeeze your cheeks and kiss you. They way you say this, the way you call him master – he simply can’t resist, not when you’re too fucking adorable to miss out on. He knows it’s inappropriate, he knows you’re just working here, but it doesn’t stop him from leaving a hefty tip and making sure you know exactly what made him leave so much. 

God, he can’t wait to make you his. 

König wonders if you’d agree to wear a skimpier outfit once you’re at the safety of his house. 

[megumiluvv]

These next three days are going to be hell. That’s what Toji tells himself at least. You just left on a trip to your family to celebrate your father’s birthday, and Toji didn’t want to go (your father isn’t fond of him), so you left him to watch Megumi.

That means no work, no going to hang out with Shiu, and no gambling, unless he brings the kid. But he doesn’t want to bring Megumi, imagine the looks he’d get! Baby carrier around his body to press the kid against him and keep him close, backpack of baby supplies on his back, he’d be pretty easy to detect while working, and everyone would stare in public!

The first day, he tries just staying in, but to his dread, he forgot to buy formula when shopping, so he has to go to the store. He has to search for a how-to on the baby wrap carrier, and stares at himself for a moment. He thinks he looks funny. A scary man with a dumb-looking baby (Megumi looks just like he did as a baby).

He gets to the store and walks to the baby aisle, grabbing the formula and a spare bottle since he doesn’t remember if one is clean yet. He gets looks from other moms in the aisle and glares at them, daring them to say something.

Toji stops to look at clothes, refusing to admit to himself that he softened up a bit imagining Megumi in the cute little outfits. A blue shirt with bunnies on it, matching shorts attached, and a little hat to keep his head warm. A green onesie with a hood to make the baby a dinosaur. A white shirt with two dogs cuddling, cargo shorts to match. A blue onesie with sharks.

He can’t keep his eyes off of them, so he grabs one of each in Megumi’s size, and one of each in a larger size just in case the baby grows too fast. He double checks that he got what he originally came for, then goes to the self checkout.

When he gets home, he feeds the now-fussy kid, and changes his diaper. He looks at the outfit with bunnies, and puts it on the boy.

“Smile for mommy,” Toji says, only because the kid won’t remember and you’re not around to catch it. He photographs the baby and sends it to you, smirking as you heart the image.

“Guess she found a new lock screen, kiddo. I did good.” He decides to call Shiu over and watch some sports game to somewhat gamble without exposing the kid to smokers and drinkers, as well as loud noises and germs.

“Okay, if they lose, I’ll take that stupid job next week.”

“And if my team loses?” Shiu smirks at the sight of Toji holding Megumi so gently.

“You have to babysit unpaid for the next five times.”

“Deal.”

Toji’s team won, much to Shiu’s dismay, and the two say their goodbyes and Shiu leaves. Toji puts Megumi to bed and lays down. It’s oddly quiet without you. He hasn’t had this silence in so long. He decides to ignore it and sleep.

The next two days are pretty uneventful, he doesn’t go out much, not out of embarrassment anymore, but he’s convinced Megumi will get sick.

You come home in the early hours of the morning, Toji’s loud snores bring your eyes to the couch, your son on his chest, sleeping just like his father. You grin and notice how the house isn’t a mess. Dishes are done, laundry put away, is that a new outfit on Megumi? You smile more. You knew Toji could do it.

Masterlist

[reallyromealone]

Hi! Just sending in this ask before I forget my idea, dont answer this until your asks are open again I just want to write this down before I forget!! Boten x single father! male reader, reader works at a restaurant and Boten comes in one night and Mikey takes a liking to him, his daughter sits in the staff room and draws/plays because she’s too young to be home alone- 🦇 anon

Title: cute waiter

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: bonten

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, single dad reader, fluff, nameless daughter, Mikey has that weird ass rizz as the kids say

Notes:

Summary: bonten goes to a small restaurant while in town for business and Mikey falls for the cute waiter.

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

(Name) Could never thank his boss enough for letting (daughters name) stay in the office, the elderly woman finding the toddlers company pleasant while she worked on scheduling and order's.

"(Name), could you cover booth three? I have to talk to (boss name) about the schedule" (name) looked to his co-worker who managed the hardest puppy eyes he could "fine, but you owe me"

"Thank you!"

(Name) Never knew what to expect at the small restaurant, typically it was the locals in the small town but sometimes some rich people came in and even foreigners which was a gamble on how the experience would go.

Usually they were nice though.

"Hello! Could I get you gentlemen started with water or perhaps the chef's choice of wine?" (Name) Said happily to the group who sized him up, the man in the middle just staring him down with cold blackened eyes but (name) just continued smiling and even making eye contact with them.

Blissfully unaware of who they were or what their tattoos meant.

"We will start with the finest wine you have" the white haired man with snake like eyes said simply, his rings shining under the warm lights "of course! I will be back momentarily with your wine, gentlemen" and with that (name) turned and left, bonten not missing Mikey's curious look and the lock on to the waiters ass. They all exchanged glances while their boss just ate his snacks, flipping to the dessert menu to see they had the good stuff.

(Name) Returned moments later and filled their glasses, Mikey freezing when the waiter got close to him and the white haired man could smell the others cologne faintly and nearly shoved his face into the poor man's neck if it wasn't for his self control "so tell us about yourself, Mr waiter ~" ran was going to do his boss a favor, knowing Mikey had the romantic abilities of a snail. "Ah, what would you like to know?" (Name) Was so easy going, care free "you in school?" "You single?" "You know how to bake?"

(Name) Was a bit startled by the questions but didn't see the harm "I'm not, I graduated last year, I am single and I do know how to bake, yes" (name) laughed a bit at the questions "now, what can I get you gentlemen?" Changing the topic to get to business and not have these attractive men ask every detail of his life.

Of course they ordered the nicest things on the menu, it was going to be a pricy bill no doubt but (name) wasted no time getting their order before his coworker took over his table for his break and hang out with his tot. (Name) Brought in dinner for the two, free food from the restaurant and (daughters name) got cute rice balls shaped like hearts and for dessert she got taiyaki shaped like stars and filled with custard.

"Wow you drew this?" (Name) Cheered on his kid who beamed, the owner who became their grandmother of sorts always splurged on the good coloring supplies for the little girl and finding some cute toys for the office so she's never bored.

"Why don't we show the team, yeah?" (Name) Asked the little one who bounced a little, clearly happy at the idea "let's go!" Holding his little girls hand, the restaurant was nearly dead save for the group of eight who were furious that (name) was changed out for another person but Mikeys anger quickly melted when he saw the tiny version of (name) waddle towards the elderly owner who was rolling cutlery.

"My!" She cooed and lifted the little girl up "you're so talented!"

Mikey and (name) locked eyes, the waiter offering a sweet smile and Mikey's face dusted red, (name) didn't miss the stares and the blushes on the pale man, knowing damn well the awkward blond thought he was attractive "you enjoy your meal?" (Name) Asked him casually, the blond composing himself "yeah..." His words simply and short, never the one for small talk "that your kid?"

"Ah, yeah... She's too young to be alone and my boss practically helped raise me as a teen so she just hangs here"

Mikey nodded and looked over (name) who caught his stare "would you like to go out sometime?" (Name) Thought the blond was cute, even if he barely spoke and just stared ominously.

Mikey froze, usually it was him doing that "you don't know who we are, do you?"

"...models...?" (Name) Said confused, unsure of his answer and Mikey just stared back at the man "what? Used to people not recognizing you?"

"Something like that"

"Well I hope to get to know you better, I have to get my rugrat in for her nap but I'll be back soon yeah"

Mikey never felt so complacent, nodding and even letting (name) kiss his cheek gently before going to get his daughter.

[rationaliity]

progression | aventurine blurb

loving aventurine was as easy as breathing to you, something incredibly hard for him to grasp. he didn't get it at all. when he first walked into your life, he had this arrogant mask up, another one of his well preserved fabrications to protect himself. he was snarky to you. not necessarily rude, but he wasn't afraid to bare his fangs and show you that he was capable of hurting you if he needed to. he wasn't afraid of hurting anyone. another gamble he was putting his faith in, that he wouldn't be put in a situation where he would have to hurt you.

you loved him during that stage. every sarcastic 'friend' he tacked on to every sentence like it was more of an insult than anything else, every boundary that he crossed of yours, every little lie he spun to keep you at arms length, trying to protect you from his teeth. words hurt less than his bite. and yet, you were there for him even when he was sure he would have pushed you away, and it unnerved him.

" aventurine ~ " you called out from behind him to get his attention, before lightly jogging up to him, standing by his side. not in front of him, but beside him. " i know you might be busy today with business as usual, but i was hoping that you were free this afternoon ? there's this new coffee shop that opened up, and i though- "

" coffee ? sorry to disappoint you, friend, but i am busy this afternoon, " he shook his head, as if dismissing the idea outright entirely.

" oh, that's okay ! i'm still able to say hi right now while we're walking, so that's enough, " you chirped, but he could hear the unmistakable sound of disappointment and sadness in your tone, making the guilt inside of him at being the one who caused your unhappiness eat him alive. but the look on his face didn't change, his walls too big to penetrate.

he did find you at that coffee shop, though. " oh, hello, friend- " he had called out, approaching your table, sitting next to you without even asking. he saw your eyes light up, and for a second he felt the warmth in his chest burst forward, his heart beating against his ribcage. " what good fortune that i was able to finish my tasks a little while ago. i didn't think you would actually come here alone. " there was a hint of confusion in his voice, but it was masked just as quickly as it came.

after this interaction, aventurine got a little awkward with you. what was he expected to say ? what did he do if he wasn't trying to push you away ? he was clumsy with his words, often just silently nodding along as you talked, and sometimes bringing up tiny points. he wasn't good at conversation when it wasn't to serve an agenda. being in survival mode his entire life, he had no idea how to be social, much less to someone as kind as you.

no matter how much he stumbled and fell over his own words, you treated him the same. he approached you cautiously, as if he was afraid that one day you would get sick of him and throw him out of your life permanently. was his personality too much for you to handle ? was he doing something wrong ? he wasn't sure, this was uncharted territory for him. all he could do was throw his dice and hope for the best outcome, something that was so comforting now unnerving. he could bet every single one of his chips, every possession he owned, including his own life, but you ? betting on you felt like one risk he wasn't willing to take.

" hey- i was at this shop a while ago, and i was hoping that you'd want to visit ? with me, of course, " aventurine asked, trying very hard not to look how pretty you looked right now, how your smile made his heart flutter every single time without fail. " i saw something i thought you might like. i wanted to get it for you but i don't know your size. "

" oh ? yeah, i'd love to go with you ! " you agreed immediately, as if everything that you were doing before this was suddenly unimportant. " but you really don't have to pay for me, honestly. i can take care of myself. "

this through him for a loop, and he hid it well, but aventurine had no idea what that meant. did you not want him to pay for you ? or were you just trying to be modest ? it wasn't like he was hungry for money, it was fine on his pockets, and he didn't mind spending if it meant spending on you, of course. besides, what did you want from accompanying him if it wasn't to buy things ? that's what friends were for, right ? it was a mutual beneficial agreement between two people to be friendly with each other to gain something from another, right ?

he was pretty sure that was how it was to be friends, but you challenged all of that. especially when you bought him a drink from a shop. he'd just mentioned it offhanded that he could go for some boba tea, and you had agreed, saying that it would be really good right now. and then you bought him his ? that's not how that was supposed to work, he was sure of it. why would you go out of your way to pay for something for him that you yourself wouldn't even get to enjoy ? he was willing to buy you things to keep you around him, but you didn't need to buy him anything to keep him around.

the possibility that you didn't want anything from him other than his time and himself was confusion, but refreshing.

eventually late night outs became late nights inside, and aventurine found himself in a precarious position, on your couch, your body on the other side, cuddling up against a pillow. the intimacy of the situation felt like it was choking him. and he finally got the courage to ask you the question that plagued him - why ? why did you care ? why did you try so hard ? what was in it for you ? putting your bets on him was a foolish decision that he couldn't rationalize. even he didn't bet on himself.

" because you're worth it, " you shrugged a little, the answer's simplicity wiping everything from him. all of his fears, his confusion, his doubts, just for this moment. right now, he understood. you never pushed him out of his comfort zone, and let your companionship evolve naturally. he didn't even realize he had let you inside of his shell before it was too late. " because you deserve it. "

he thought you were worth it, too. trusting you, putting his faith in you even though you had the ability to hurt him. it was worth it. you were worth it.

[pinkslipxox]

holla! i absolutly loveeee ur fic abt billie taking care of pregnant y/n. can u make a part 2 or a more detailed one?❤❤🥰 love ur stuff byeeeee

holis 🫶💕 ahhh thnx my love! Hope you like this one xx

——————————————————————————

Her eyes soft and warm, Billie can’t help but admire how your body has transformed to accommodate the child inside of you. Your hips have widened, your breasts have gotten larger, swollen with milk and your belly has grown to its expectant size. While Billie knows that you have welcomed these changes with open arms, she is aware that it hasn’t been easy for you�� especially you’re due any day.

And Billie can hardly wait.

Billie watches on for a few moments as you stir your tea until she can’t resist staring any longer. She strides over and wraps her arms around you, her hands cradling your baby bump, resting her chin on your shoulder. There’s nothing that Billie loved more than putting her hands on your belly. She can’t ever resist, whether if you’re both laying down in bed at night or standing up, Billie always take advantage of every opportunity she has to touch your belly.

“Three more weeks,” she hums in content, kissing your cheek, as a blissful sigh escapes your lips.

“I know. I can’t wait. This baby better be cute,” you tease and Billie rolls her eyes playfully.

“I bet you twenty bucks that the kid is going to look like me,” Billie muses and you gasp dramatically.

“How dare you involve our child in gambling?” you chide, giggling. “I bet you fifty bucks if the kid look like me.”

Billie smirks. “Oh, you’re on, mama.”

These past few months have been the most exciting and nerve wracking time in your lives. Neither of you can hardly believe that soon a new chapter will be opening in your lives. If anything, Billie has never felt prouder. And she’s never been more in love with you.

Billie joins you at the dining table as you sip your tea, and keeps the conversation between the two of you light for your sake. You’ve become incredibly exhausted these last few weeks and Billie doesn’t blame you. At that, an idea comes to Billie’s head. She knows you absolutely love to relax in the bath, and she decides that running one could help you with the aches and pains you’ve been experiencing.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’ll be right back, okay?” Billie says softly and you smile.

“Okay,” you reply and with a kiss to your forehead, Billie gets up from the table and makes her way over to the bathroom.

She turns the faucet on and makes sure the water is at the right temperature before she gets to work. Soon, the bathroom smells of a lovely lavender scent and the tub is filled with bubbles. Billie quickly turns off the water and hurried over to get you. She coos at the sight of you laid on the couch on your side, your head propped up as your hand rubs your belly, humming softly. With a smile, Billie approaches you, her heart fluttering with excitement and anticipation.

“Come with me,” Billie beckons, outstretching her hand out to you, and you take it. Billie helps you to your feet and leads you to the bathroom.

You smirk playfully. “What do you have planned, O’Connell?”

“Why don’t you open the door and find out?” Billie purrs and you so do.

Billie beams proudly as a gasp escapes your lips. Seeing you so happy makes Billie feel that she’s doing something right. She’s made it her mission throughout the entire pregnancy to ensure that you’re taken care of without lifting a finger. While Billie hates to admit she sometimes goes overboard with the protectiveness and care, she can’t help sometimes feel like she isn’t doing enough to help you or at least relieve you from the discomfort you’ve endured for the past nine months. So whatever you might need or ask her, Billie is sure to be right at your disposal.

“Billie… you’re the sweetest. Thank you so much,” you gush and kiss her cheek.

Billie chuckles softly. “Anything for my loves.”

With your permission, Billie carefully undresses you, her gaze soft and loving as each article of clothing is removed from your body. She swears she’s in the presence of a goddess. It is because of you that her dream of having of a family of her own—with the woman she loves—is coming true, and she can’t thank you enough.

Billie wraps her arm around your waist securely and holds your hand tightly as she helps you step inside the tub and carefully sink down into the water. Once you are settled, Billie undresses herself, then steps in behind you and gently pulls you close to her chest so that you sit in between her legs. Her hands instinctively move down to your hips, smoothly, carefully, before cradling your baby bump again.

“I love you,” Billie whispers in your ear before kissing the soft skin there, her heart swelling with adoration and happiness as she feels the unborn baby move beneath her hand.

“I love you, too, Billie,” you murmur softly, resting your head on her shoulder, and Billie plants kisses down your neck and to your collarbone, just the way you like it.

There’s nothing Billie won’t do for you.

Or your precious baby.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hi hii for the prompt event can i request dressing childe/tartaglia in degrading outfit? 🙏🙏 take ur time and thankss ^^

Hiiii it’s been so long since I last saw Childes name in my inbox, hope this is to your liking :>

Dom!reader x sub!childe

Warning: feminisation, teasing, cross-dressing

Anniversary event

“Is.. this really my size?” His awkward laugh echoed from the changing rooms, alongside the flicker of the shoji screen. You reassured him by yelling back, “I’m sure of it, it’s supposed to be a little tight. Are you done? Then come out.” One look and anyone could tell you were getting impatient, tapping your finger on your knee, gaze wandering around the establishment to look for anything interesting.

Despite your clear orders, he still hesitated, this time his hand emerged from behind the rood divider. “Are we alone?” The ginger asked, still mysteriously hiding himself, an act that was very uncharacteristic for him. “Yes, we are still alone, just like ten minutes ago.” You groaned, rolling your eyes at his behaviour. “Haha… right.” Tartaglia answered meekly, running out of excuses to use. The atmosphere was so dry, and so uncomfortable.

This time he really shot himself in the knees. He challenged you to a bet, and instead of you meticulously analysing your chances, you immediately agreed. That should have been enough of a sign, you’d never take on a gamble so quickly except it isn’t one. As things have been planned from the beginning, he lost, and had to obey to whatever conditions you set for him. Great, absolutely fantastic.

But why did your request have to hurt his pride like that? He could barely stand straight without shaking with his knees, and now you want him to expose himself to you? Bloody hell, you were so cruel he could feel himself falling for you all over again.

“Ajax, you really are testing my patience. If you don’t come out now, I’ll-” suddenly he moved the paper wall to the side and walked over to you, sighing defeated, “alright alright, I’m here okay?” Your expression changed for a split second, something like shock grazed your features, before you composed yourself again. He tried to stand normal and unbothered while your eyes scanned over his body, tracing every outline and shadow, devouring every inch of his body.

He felt like a prey being toyed with by the predator, you were making him squirm with that intense stare. That’s why you avoided eye contact, jumped from one foot to the other, and kept doing god-knows-what with his hands. At some point you were fed up and said, “hold still, are you a dancing monkey or what?” Childe could only response with another forced laugh.

As for why you were eyeing him up and down so much, well, simply put, he was wearing woman’s clothing. A qipao in a pretty dark red colour, the shade kind of reminded you of blood. Since the dress was cut to fit the build of a woman, it looked clumsy around his fairly muscular body. And even though it looked out of place, you still thought it was quite attractive. Unlike his usual fashion, the dress showed off his curves and exposed his bare legs, what seems to add to his embarrassment.

“Looks good.” You gave him a short, almost forced compliment. It wasn’t a lie, just you had way more to say than a simple ‘looks good’. “Wow, thanks I guess.” Tartaglia groaned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Seeing what little effect your praise had, you decided to try again, “I mean it, you look good as a girl, as my woman.” Out of nowhere his body twitched and tensed up, he didn’t answer you verbally but with his body language. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging like crazy.

“Are you done gawking?” The male eventually asked, his face and shoulders got painted bright pink. His eyes told you the truth, that he was humiliated, ashamed and yet also excited. “What’s with the rush, can’t wait to show your new look off to the other people?” You teased, and your words immediately got his attention, making his brain ratter, “what do you mean by that?” A smirk plastered your lips, you chuckled amused as you explained, “we are going to have a nice little date night today, and you aren’t going to change until I’m done with you.”

The way the colours left his face, letting him become as pale of a ghost was pretty amazing. He was trying so hard to accept his current situation, his legs were shaking again. “Come on, I already paid for the dress. So let’s put it to good use.” You encouraged him, holding his normal wear in your arms, now he couldn’t even run anymore. It seems there was no way around the straight up shameful act he was going to commit, and as if to add salt to the wound, he felt himself getting hard beneath the skin tight dress~ ♥︎

You walked ahead of him, motioning for him to follow you. All he could do was obey your commands with a sheepish smile, quickly rushing to your side while letting you show him off like your own little pet.

[missredherring]

Wrong Until You Make It Right

Joel Miller x Plus Size!F!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 3k.

Summary: After a long day when his kitchen sink starts leaking, there's only one person he thinks to call. You make a house call and Joel gets a wake up call.

Contents: no outbreak!AU. No kids!AU. Co-workers to lovers. Power imbalance (contractor/subcontractor). Reader is nicknamed "Patches."

A/N: This is a Secret Santa gift for the lovely @covetyou!!!

I hope you like this, Lo. All of your prompts were great and I had a hard time passing up Dieter giggling about butt plugs, but I couldn't resist Joel pining over his pretty subcontractor plumber.

I was going to try and wait to post this closer to Christmas but I'm so impatient to give it to you!!

I know nothing about plumbing except for what Google told me. Not beta'd; all mistakes are my own. Divider by @saradika-graphics.

Joel’s feet are wet. Why are his feet wet? 

He blinks his eyes back into focus from where he’d been staring blankly at the dishes and looks down at the floor. There’s a small puddle at his feet which explains the deeply unpleasant sensation of wet socks, but not why or where it came from. He opens the cabinet under the sink and a few more trickles of water rush out to settle around his feet too.

He sighs, and for one sweet second he considers going out to his truck, getting the sledgehammer, and just smashing through the whole damn kitchen. But then he thinks of the work and money it’d take to fix everything after his temper tantrum and sighs again. He turns on his phone’s flashlight and looks under the sink. There’s the usual pipes and nothing is obviously broken, but there is a puddle at the bottom of the cabinet to match the one on the floor. He hears another drop of water fall as he closes the door. 

His head hangs between his shoulders and he squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment. His phone is in his hand and ringing before he really knows what he’s doing. Your name is on the screen and his gut is mixed between the flutter of anticipation to hear your voice, and the sick twist of ‘oh shit.’ He shouldn’t be calling you this late after an even later day, but he has a plumbing issue, and you’re the one he always calls for plumbing issues. Ok, not always, but for the past year and a half you’ve been his plumber of choice. 

Your tiny voice is yelling at him by the time he makes up his mind to not hang up on you.

“Did he butt dial me or something? Man…” You’re talking to yourself and it sounds like you’re moving your phone away now so it’s his turn to call out your name.

“Patches, uh, hey. I meant to call you.” He says quickly. He grabs a kitchen towel and throws it on the floor, soaking up as much of the water as he can, moving it around with his already wet foot.

“What’s up?”

“I have a problem at the house. Kitchen sink is leaking.” 

“I just checked the kitchen pipes yesterday. Did something–”

“No, not at the site. At my house. There’s water all over the floor and–” He can feel the need to explain himself mix with the nerves in his gut and it’s an effort to stop the words. “Could you come over and take a look at it please? I know it’s after hours. I can call someone else.”

“Don’t worry about it, Miller. I’m leaving the site now, so I’ll see you in a bit.” You say and end the call. 

He’s left looking at his phone’s clock and rubs at the back of his neck, suddenly aware of his sore back and arms and the weight of tiredness behind his eyes. Joel takes the gamble and finishes the remaining dishes in the sink. He can give you the curtesy of a cleaned up workspace at least. When he’s done he goes under the sink again and turns off the water valve. 

Another hanging kitchen towel catches his eye as he straightens up and he tells himself that he might as well dry and put away the dishes while he waits for you to get here. Right after he changes his socks.

Headlights flash through the front windows and his phone chimes with a text. He checks it even though he knows it’s from you, and a moment later you’re knocking at the door. 

Joel saw you just this morning, passing you in the site’s upstairs bathroom as he left to meet up with the materials supplier. He already has the urge to give you a wide berth, to leave the room you haven’t even entered yet. As he opens the door he knows, deep down, that being alone with you is a bad idea.

You’re standing on his doorstep, still in your preferred work uniform of a t-shirt branded with your plumbing company’s logo and a worn pair of overalls. Sturdy boots are on your feet and you’ve got a tool bag in one hand as you shove your phone in a pocket with the other.

All of a sudden he regrets everything. Calling you was a mistake. You shouldn’t be here, all round and soft and looking like you’ve walked out of every dirty dream he’s had since he was a teenager just learning what to do with a stiff dick only steps away from his bedroom, his couch, his kitchen counter. Hell, he’d happily deal with his back and knees aching tomorrow if you let him fuck you on the stairs right behind him, or up against the door after he closes it.

You raise your eyebrows at him when he doesn’t say anything and just stares at you. “You said you’ve got some busted pipes? You’re gonna have to let me in if you want me to look at them, Joel.”

He nods and moves out of the way. His hand is fidgeting at his side, but he's happy to let it go, relieved that it hasn't done something dumb like reach out for you instead. “Thanks for coming over so late. I appreciate it.”

“You know, there’s a porno that starts out like this,” You say as you pass him, a teasing grin on those lips he does his best not to think about. “The genders are usually flipped –which is just a ridiculous waste of potential– but don’t worry, all I have in here are my work tools. I left my other tool bag at home.”

You laugh and it’s all he can do to force some kind of sound out of his mouth that he hopes to God sounds like a laugh instead of a groan at the thought of you watching porn. 

“I promise I can pay, no need for a trade of services.”

You click your tongue and give him a look over your shoulder. “Shame.”

Joel finally closes the door behind you, pointing the way to the kitchen. It’s the only other room on this floor with the lights on, so you find it easily and Joel follows you, watching the shift of your hips as you walk. He’d always thought the overalls looked good on you, hugging the lines of your belly and ass and making him want to pop the buttons at your hips to see how far down your shirt went today. He's seen it ride up your sides, revealing skin and rolls that his fingers itch to touch. 

They’re covered in stains and patches, just like every pair you own, but he recognizes this pair and that patch on the back of your leg. It was one of the first jobs you'd worked together and he was still keeping an eye on you, getting the feel of how you worked and how well you fit into an established crew all trying to get the job done on schedule. 

The denim had gotten caught just at the back of your knee on a nail that had been sticking out while you checked a pipe fitting. You didn’t care much, just glad the skin underneath hadn’t been caught as well. The next time he saw those overalls there was a patch over where the hole had been, the stitches neat and straight in a way Joel knew his mother would’ve admired.

He glances away from that same patch and the others that have since joined it when you set down your tool bag on the counter. 

“You said the sink was leaking?” You ask him with a curious tone. It was the same one you used when triaging plumbing issues. There's what the client thinks the problem is and what actual problem is, you'd told him when he'd asked about the obvious ‘customer service’ persona you used. He was good enough dealing with customers, but you had a way with them that made him wonder just how much patience with stupidity you had. He hopes it’s a lot because he’s feeling really stupid right now, as you give him another look.

What the fuck is wrong with him? He’s been in a hundred different kitchens, bathrooms, and houses with you, but somehow you being in his own home, in his own kitchen feels different. He likes to savor a pot of hot coffee at that table when his schedule allows for it. That counter is where he dumps his stuff from the day and shakes off his responsibilities as head contractor for a few hours before he has to do it all again. 

Now you’re here in the middle of it, and all his brain can do is wonder how you’d fit in those scenarios. Would you join him at the table, watching the sun come over the trees while you both wait for the coffee to cool down? Would you want something to eat first, needing something in your stomach instead of having caffeine first thing in the morning? Would you lean against him as you tug your boots off and take a moment to rest there, pressing your face into his shoulder tenderly before making a face and moving away to tell him he stinks? 

Joel’s done his damnedest to keep things professional with you, despite the attraction he feels, but now those lines are blurring. There's a familiar curl of desire starting in his gut and he knows he can't let his thoughts wander much more or he'll just make it worse. When he'd changed into sweatpants after getting home, he certainly hadn't thought he'd need the camouflage jeans could provide. He swallows and falls back into the safe zone of work.

“Yea. I was washin’ up and water was coming straight outta the cabinet underneath.” 

You hum and pull out a small flashlight from your bag. Clicking it on, you open both cabinet doors and go down on your knees. After a second you roll back onto your bottom to sit on the floor. He watches as the extra fabric of your overalls stretches over your thighs and the denim creases and pushes into you, and when you readjust to get more comfortable he can’t stop the thought of taking you down to the floor himself. The way you’d laugh at him as he’d wrestle with your clothing, trying to get his hands on any part of your warm skin he could until you took pity on him and helped, lifting your hips up into his as you move them out of the way for him. 

You’re up to your shoulders in the cabinet by the time he blinks the fantasy away and he catches the tail end of what you’re saying. 

“-- you aren’t trying to fix this yourself. Most guys think they can do it.” You say, your voice muffled and echoing at the same time somehow. 

He scoffs. He’d been hired to clean up the aftermath of underqualified “Mr. Fix-it’s” plenty when he was starting out and building up a client base to branch out into contracting. 

“I know enough to shut the water off and call someone who knows what they’re doing. I don’t mess with plumbing or electric, you know that.”

“Right,” There’s a pause before you speak again. “I’m surprised you called me actually, Joel.”

His brows pull together in a frown you can’t see. “Why’s that?”

“I get the impression that you don’t like me much. You’re always scowling at me.”

“I scowl at everyone.” He says, but you’re not wrong. He often finds himself scowling when he catches sight of you on the job. It’s not because of anything you’re doing, it’s because he has to remind himself to stop ogling you while you’re both at work.  

Instead of saying anything else you motion to the faucet. “I can’t tell much right now. There’s no giant holes or disconnected pipes. Turn on the water and let’s see what’s going on.”

He nods and after stepping around you he flips the faucet handle all the way back. 

It happens all at once. The only warning they get is gurgling and the interrupted flow from the spout before something breaks and it’s no longer a drip but a full spray of water coming from where it shouldn’t.

The handle is slammed back down and he’s standing there with his hands held up and a driving need to do something to fix the mess. You’re still leaning into the cabinet, taking a final look at things before he hears the squeak of the water valve being turned off again and you emerge.

You’re soaked. It’d splashed some onto his pants, but you’d gotten a direct hit. Your hair, your face, and down your chest: it’s all wet, dripping onto his floor. 

“Shit, Patches,” He’s all out of kitchen towels. “Hang on.”

You’re where he left you when he comes back, towel in hand. He can see how tired you are in the tight lines around your mouth, the dark circles under your eyes, and the way you’re slouching over your lap. He hands you the towel and you nod in thanks.

It’s a brisk rub down that leaves your hair even more of a mess and the way you hold the towel to your chest in an attempt to draw out some of the water that’s seeped into the denim makes him regret giving up the towel. He holds a hand out to you and helps haul you up to your feet, both of you grunting with the effort. 

“Well,” you start. “From what I saw it’s an easy fix. Just needs some new fittings and fresh tape. I know I’ve got the tape on me, but I’m not sure about the fittings. I can definitely take care of it tomorrow though.”

He nods and is trying to think of something else to say, to keep you longer, when you do it for him.

“Could you get something from my truck for me, Joel? I’ve got a bag of clothes, behind the driver’s seat.” 

“'Course.” He says and you pull out your keys from one of the numerous pockets in your overalls. He wouldn't have minded having to find them himself. Your truck is somehow neat and dirty at the same time and the bag you mentioned is easy enough to find. 

He’s jostling the duffel bag, shuffling the handles in his hand, back and forth as he comes in when he’s stopped in his tracks. You’ve unhooked your overalls and taken off your shirt. The denim is bunched at your waist, held up by your round belly and leaving your chest bare except for your bra. Joel doesn’t know what he’d do if you’d taken that off too, even though it must be wet.

There are red marks on your ribcage and indents on your shoulders where the elastic has pressed into you throughout the day and he wants to soothe them, rub his thumbs and fingers over the marks on your sides as he kisses your shoulders. 

You’re leaning so casually on his counter like it’s something you do all the time. Like you’re just waiting for him to come back. He knows you’re doing just that, but the domesticity of the scene you make is too strong deny and to keep blaming it all on the strong physical attraction he has for you. The thought is clear in his mind and it breaks through all the bullshit he’s been telling himself for the past year in a half: this is what he wants. To come home with you after a long day and spend the rest of the night relaxing together. 

His heart trips over itself and he understands that this is it. He can’t avoid it anymore.

“Here.” He says and you jump a little at his voice. He hands over the bag and doesn’t speak again until you pulled a shirt on. “I like you plenty and that’s the problem.” 

You're in your underwear in front of him with one leg in your own pair of sweatpants. You're bent over, your breasts swinging a little with your movement. There is no shy turning away, just a grateful shucking of wet clothing and he’s only looking at your face and eyes now. 

“You’re damn good at your job and I’ve been trying to be professional around you,” He pauses and rocks his jaw. Then he says your name, not the nickname he gave you or your surname or anything else. Just your name. “I like you a lot, as more than a coworker and these feelings haven’t gone anywhere in the time I’ve known you. If you’re not interested, this won’t change anything at work,” He promises. “But I’d like to see if there’s something there, with you. If you want to.”

He shuts his mouth with a click and almost winces as what he said comes back to him. If Tommy heard about this, he’d never hear the end of it. Hell, he might not have the smoothest lines out there, but he said what he needs to.

You pull your arms into your shirt and there’s movement under it before you’re pulling the wet bra out from an arm hole and tossing it on the pile of clothes. The sigh you let out is gusty and full of relief. 

“Thank fuck it’s not just me. You’re one stubborn man, Joel Miller, but I’m glad we’re finally talking about it.” You reach out to him and smile when he takes your hand. It looks small in his, and he can feel the calluses on your palm catch on the calluses on his fingers. “I’d really like that.”

It’s Joel’s turn to sigh in relief and he squeezes your hand. “I was gonna order a pizza. D’you want to stay for dinner?” 

You narrow your eyes at him and take your hand back to poke him in the gut. “Feeding me won’t get you out of paying for work, you know.”

Joel shakes his head and gets his phone out. “Not even if it’s from Ty’s Place?”

Your lips purse in consideration and it’s with a giddy feeling that Joel realizes that he doesn’t have to push down his urges anymore. He gives into it and leans down to kiss your pretty mouth.

It takes a second for you to reply. “...maybe if you get breadsticks too.”

He chuckles and kisses you again.

[spirit-lanterns]

Firefly being a pathetic submissive, not knowing how to move her hips properly and being forced to top for the first time in her entire life is something that I dig. Picture this, bunny reader on their back on the poker table, sprawled like some offering, with their thighs spread open and in between them is Firefly that's completely fucked out of her mind, spite trickling down from the side of her mouth as she moved her body without a tempo. Her hands gripping the table so hard that her knuckles looked paper white while bunny!r clutched her wrist to ground themself, because even thought Firefly pulled too far and slipped accidentaly out from time to time, humping reader's clit feverishly and forcing bunny to guide her back into or changed the pace into some weird rhythm, her cock was delicious enough with its grith that it made reader not only see stars but birth of entire galaxy. Firefly rutting into bunny reader like some flea ridden mutt and reader enjoying every second of this as bunny's ankles were locked behind Firefly's hips, forcing her to push deeper.

The closer Firefly was getting to orgasm the more she whined into the reader's shoulder, her eyes prickling with tears that slowly started to shed out of overstimulation as her soft little cock was gripped in vice-like grip inside reader's folds, milking her dry.

As her cock started to twitch Firefly let go of her death grip that the table suffered of and clutched reader waist instead, pulling them closer to her pelvis and starts to grind her entire lenght into reader and making them squeal from the pain that dig into their's soft waist and force of Firefly's short thurst that punched the breath out of our bunny.

This insane pace went for a short while before Firefly came with a soft moan, her body tensing while not pulling out of reader. Burrowing even deeper into the inviting warmth and painting reader's walls white before collapsing on a equally spent reader that proceeds to just embrace Firefly and cuddle her head into their tits as Firefly refused to pull out, mumbling incoherently into reader skin.

Even thought Firefly doesn't gamble because she's too poor reader still treats her like a biggest V.I.P (outshining even biggest spender) and bunny's boss has nothing to say about this because reader pulls enough money in one day as half of his staff in two months so he can turn a blind eye for some stowaway fucking his prized employee in his casino from time to time (everyday after closing).

I got a little carried out... sorry :3c.

Hnnnnn poor pathetic top Firefly…my mouth is watering 🤤

If Firefly is on top, I imagine that Reader becomes more of a “power bottom” because who’s gonna direct Firefly to do all the moves that Reader likes? Firefly is a pretty submissive woman herself, so to have her on top is such a new experience for her in the first place. Luckily Bunny Reader is there to guide her though, cuz Firefly would be thrusting at a sloppy pace whilst almost slipping out every time with how messy she is…

It’s okay though, Reader finds that absolutely adorable. Her weakness is cute, innocent girls who don’t really know what they’re doing, so to have Firefly thrusting sloppily into her, drooling, whining, practically an amateur at sex, is just really turning on Reader to the max. She’s so in love, tail waggling like crazy as she clings to Firefly’s body and bounces with each rugged thrust. Firefly’s size is nothing to be “impressed” by, but god does Firefly’s entire being make up for it. Shes so cute, Reader doesn’t care if her cock doesn’t make it all the way in. Firefly is so cute, she could cum from just watching her moan on top of her 💕

[she-walks-on-starlight]

You Ruined Me (Do it Again)

a/n: this is my first time posting fic to Tumblr so if I've made any mistakes please let me know so I can learn how to fix them 💖 this was also my first attempt at sevika x reader, I hope y'all enjoy! There are more parts that I can upload if y'all end up liking it

Warnings: drinking alcohol, referenced cheating, smoking, gambling, possessive!sevika, referenced sex (explicit!), sexually explicit teasing.

Summary: Your first night out in a while after leaving your cheating ex does not end how you expected it to...but then what did you expect, going to her club?

Word Count: 1.4k

Read on AO3

18+ | MEN AND MINORS DNI | 18+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final

You needed this. It had been too long since you hit up a club and just danced the night away. Work had been a bitch, your last breakup still lingered in the back of your mind, and it was high time that you simply had some fun.

Now, after several way too sugary cocktails that probably had enough booze to kill a small human, you were letting loose on the dance floor. You’d always been able to move your body just right, whenever a beat made you feel a certain way, it was guaranteed to have eyes on you as you swayed your hips and moved your feet.

You were twirling around with your best friend, Jinx, laughing and singing along to the tunes that blared loudly on the speakers all around you. You were having such a good time that you almost didn’t notice the door to the club swing open, an entourage of people swarming in being led by an imposing, hulking woman you knew all too well. Sevika.

Her short hair was tied back into the little ponytail she normally wore, that you used to love to tease her about. She still stuck to her favourite outfits, loose fitting pants with a chunky belt, a tight fitting tank top and the cloak that covered her mechanical arm to stop people from staring. She was all muscle, large hands with thick, talented fingers, solid arms with toned biceps.

Strong thighs that you knew were just perfect for lifting you high in the air and fucking you silly. Shaking your head, you focus on the beat of the song, the vibration of the dancefloor, the heat of the bodies moving wildly all around you. Now was so not the time to be staring at your ex.

Jinx groaned. “Is that who I think it is?”

You shrugged. “You know she has shares in the club. She practically owns it. Just ignore her and keep having a good time!”

Jinx giggled, throwing herself into your arms. “Amen to that, sister!”

You dance some more, for 20 minutes or so, completely ignoring the corner of the club reserved for gambling tables, knowing that’s where Sevika would be. It was getting hotter in the club as it got busier and busier.

You leaned into Jinx. “I’m gonna get a drink, you want one?”

Jinx shook her head, eyeing up a cute blonde girl who was also dancing with her friends. “Nah, I’m good, sparky.”

You giggled at her. “Okay! Happy hunting!”

She shot you a playful glare as you headed to the bar. It was pretty busy, but the bartender here was good, and he made his way through orders quickly. You felt someone sidle up next to you, feeling a pang of annoyance as her order was taken first.

“Whiskey, top shelf. 2 ice cubes.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Of course, it was her. You should’ve known from her size and the sheer heat that was radiating from her. You clamped your thighs together as your body responded automatically to her closeness. Now was not the time to let your pussy do your thinking for you. You stay quiet, hoping she won’t notice you.

Naturally, you’re not that lucky. She double-takes when she realises it’s you. “Y/n? What’re you doing here?”

You huff out an irritated sigh. “Just clubbing, like everyone else.”

The bartender hands Sevika her whiskey but she doesn’t move as you place your order. You hear her snicker when you order a sweet cocktail.

“Some things never change, huh? You still like your drinks to taste like juice.”

You glare at her coolly. “Yet my tastes in other areas have definitely changed.”

Her smile falters, but she soon masks it with a shit-eating smirk. “Oh yeah? So, you’re not totally down bad for me anymore?”

Your hands ball into fists, frustrated that she’d use your pillow talk against you, in such a public setting. You know reacting in any way will just add to her satisfaction, so you breathe deeply and relax your hands, grabbing your drink.

“I was a fool to be ‘down bad’ for you at all. You’re a real asshole, Sevika.”

You’ve lost sight of Jinx, so you find somewhere to sit and sip at your drink, your muscles thanking you for the break. You don’t bother trying to look for Sevika, your eyes find her at the poker tables out of habit. Judging by the large pile of coins at her end of the table, she’s winning. Nothing new there. You finish your drink, pushing your complicated feelings aside. She’d never have a chance again at winning you, that’s for sure.

You’re in the bathroom, applying a new layer of lipstick when she comes in. You stiffen as she enters, brushing past you to go into one of the stalls. Her hand lingers at the small of your back as she passes you. The gesture would seem innocent to most, but you felt the undeniable flutter of your pulse as the heat of her touch tore through you. You focus on the task at hand, steadily applying the dark shade as she comes out of the stall and washes her hand. You feel her eyes on you, roaming over your body in the tight, black dress you decided to wear tonight. It hugged your curves perfectly, kept eyes on your ass and your tits, made you feel powerful when people drooled over you. Just like she used to. There was a time where you would never have made it to the club at all wearing a dress like this. Sevika used to just quite literally tear them off you.

“It’s a beautiful dress.”

Her voice is low and husky. You try not to think about it, or let it replay in your head. “Thank you.”

You put your lipstick back in your purse. She smirks at you. “It’d look better on my bedroom fl-”

Without thinking, you turn and put a hand against her mouth. “Do not finish that sentence, dear god.”

You’ve made your first mistake. She reaches towards your face, and you stupidly let her, transfixed by her as you always have been, like a moth to a flame. A moth that really, really likes the feeling of being burnt.

That was your second mistake.

She steps into your space, her hand caressing your jaw. Your knees feel like they could buckle any second.

“Oh, princess, having trouble colouring within the lines again? Here, let me help…”

Her fingers trace your bottom lip, wiping away a smudge of lipstick. Your eyes flutter close, and your lips part, wanting, waiting…then you feel her.

She crashes into you like a starved animal, her lips devouring yours as she kisses you like you’re her oxygen. You can’t help yourself, you know you shouldn’t let this happen, after everything that happened between you, but it just feels so damn good.

It’s rough, it’s messy and it’s just so…Sevika.

Her body presses into you, and you moan as her thigh brushes against your core. She doesn’t waste the opportunity, her tongue invading your mouth, tasting you. She moans into your mouth when she does, which sets your cunt alight. Your need is growing, you know that you’ll be ruining your panties with how slick your pussy is getting but you care less and less the more Sevika kisses you, nipping roughly at your lower lip, her thigh rubbing against you. She knows how to work you up, after all she used to be the expert. Her hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, your face, your neck, and your ass. She loves your firm, little ass, palming it roughly, admiring how it fits perfectly in her hands. She tries not to think about how it almost belongs in her hands.

Sevika breathes out a soft “Huh” then you’re left in the cold as she moves her warm body away from you. A needy whine escapes your throat, and Sevika chuckles but you see no laughter in her sharp, grey eyes. You reach for her, but she dodges away, smirking at your confused, searching eyes.

“Not down bad for me at all, huh princess?”

Then she’s gone, leaving you panting and pissed out of your goddamn mind. She was playing with you, because that’s what she does best. You bruised her ego earlier at the bar, and that was her taking her revenge. Because why else would she kiss you like that, unless she wanted to prove that she could still make you squirm?

[buriedpair]

AHH SORRY COULDN'T RESIST ASKING FOR MORE!! I just love this whole idea of a casino setting frfr

What if MC wanted to try what OCs do? Following OCs around like a puppy lmao🧎

Amias: they pester him trying to get him to teach them the da way of winning (and pool game. Pool games are hot, you can get quite handsy with someone while teaching lmao)

Edge: they follow him and clumsily try to shuffle the cards and do tricks. Ain't it adorable? Look, Edge, it's a new focus!!

DD: MC wearing clothes to match him and begging to get their hands on DD's scythe to try to scare away problematic players like a bouncer (they don't. The one scaring folks is behind MC l can sense it 😭)

Jackpot: dancing. Pole. Pole dancing 😳 shy MC wanna try it, but oh my would you look at that, such snuggly fitted outfit may reveal too much (and everyone can see it? Scandalous!)

Gambit: MC follows them with a masterfully crafted pout, trying to copy them and their stoic posture. Someone giving trouble to Gambit? MC is here to save the day! (apparently, the poor naivety doesn't realise Gambit can scare everyone in this room by only a stare)

- stargazer who is set on knowing the lore!! 😭

Well well well, stargazer. Ask and ye shall receive!

Yandere!OCs x GN Reader

Teaching MC to be like them!

Amias

You're right. Pool games are hot. Amias is definitely enjoying his chest pressed against your back as he leans over you to teach you how to hold the pool cue. You seem thrilled when you so much as hit a ball. It's cute.

You wanna learn to gamble like a pro? Sure, just sit on his lap and he'll teach you the ways of the cards. He'll tell you all the values of every hand, he'll teach you to spot a liar, and he'll teach you how to get past Edge's tricky dealing.

Edge

Did you know you only have to shuffle a 52 card deck seven times in order for it to be as shuffled as it can be? Well you will. Edge will literally lecture you on cards and dealing and drunk customers. Hell, Gambit will practically hire you after he's done.

He's happy to teach you all he knows, especially if it means you're giving him your undivided attention. EXTRA especially if it means he can punish you when you get something wrong. Nothing too bad, dear. It's a beginners mistake. You still need to learn somehow, though.

Double Down

'Oh my god couples outfits' is probably his first thought. God, you look so cute. He's not even sure where you got clothes that match his, but he's living for it. As for his scythe... Sure, use it. He doesn't care if you wreak havoc on those around you, it just means you're a quick learner. Even the adorable you is more threatening with a giant human-sized weapon.

He still thinks you're cute though. Of course you can't stomach his job, that's why he has to do it. It's okay though, you can pretend like you're scaring off drunkards with your silly scowl and he'll threaten to throw them into the fountain if they try to tell you you're not scary.

Jackpot

No. Never. Not in a thousand years. You're too divine to be seen in that outfit, please change. He's a hypocrite in this situation, but does he care? Absolutely not. He'll steal Gambit's jacket to cover you up and sneak you off to probably go cry.

He'll sob into your confused, barely covered arms in the back room, whining all the while about how unfair it is. You're for his eyes only! Don't you even care? Why are you laughing?!

Gambit

Gambit doesn't understand why you want to be like him. He'll teach you how to handle finances if you want, but he doesn't think you'll like it. It is enjoyable to watch you glare at disrespectful customers like you're his own personal bodyguard, and it's nice to have you hang around, too.

If anyone gives you trouble, though, they're banned for life. You're the new co-owner, and he will not tolerate any disrespect toward you. Besides, you'll have to get used to it anyways when you eventually become his sweet little spouse.

[hami-gua]

Fighting the Landlord Pt. 1

This is purely based off of my experiences playing this gambling game.

Warning: Chinese is used (as usual, translation provided), shit explanation of game, maybe confusing description of cards, gambling game (they're not gambling though, just playing the game).

"Just because your hand looks great doesn't mean the game will run smoothly."

It was peaceful in the Astral Express when a figure plops themselves down onto the long velvet seat. A deck of cards is held in their hands as they beckon for the trailblazer and March to sit. Without a word, trailblazer pulls up a chair and sits in front of the figure while March stares at them confused.

            “What are we doing?” She asked.

            Trailblazer shrugged and answered, “They wanted to show us a new game.”

            “Where’s Dan Heng? Did he not want to join?”

            “Nope,” the figure said, shuffling the cards.

            March sighed and she too pulled up a chair then sat down. She stared at the deck of cards as they were being shuffled. It’s smooth. She thought.

            “So…” the Trailblazer said, breaking the shuffling sound, “Explain the rules.”

            The figure smiled, “The game usually only has three players. The order of the cards goes: 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, Jack, Queen, King, Ace, 2, and the Jokers. There are small and big jokers. Usually distinguished by colors or the size of the art such as this one,” They paused as they held out two jokers. One with a bigger art and the other with smaller art with a paragraph underneath.

            “That sounds like a lot to memorize…” March deadpanned.

            “The memorization isn’t about the deck in your hands, it’s memorizing what your opponent and teammate placed.”

            “Just what kind of game is this?” Trailblazer asked.

            “A gambling one.”

            March’s eyes widened, “A gambling –”

            The figure quickly cuts her off, “There are points in this game. Three is the max. However, sometimes we change the rules if there are more than three players. In a case where are more than three players, we will use two decks of card and the game becomes a free for all.”

            The figure pauses as they pass out the deck of cards in a counter clock wise. When there are three more cards left, the figure places them down and looks at the two.

            “Who wants to call? I don’t want it.”

            “I don’t either.”

            Trailblazer stared at the cards, contemplating on if they should claim the cards or not. The figure sweat dropped, “You don’t have to –”

            “I’ll take it all!” The Trailblazer said, cutting the figure off.

            “Okay then. March, you and I are now teams. We have to work together to take down the landlord -- who in this case is Trailblazer.”

            “What? You didn’t tell me that part!” Trailblazer whined.

            March shook her head as the figure sighed.

            “It’s too late to turn back now. A decision is a decision. Anyways. Sort your cards and tell me when you all are ready.”

            And so the three of them began sorting their cards, each cautious about accidentally showing their cards. Then, upon finishing, March and Trailblazer simultaneously said, “Done!”

            “Great! Now who has three of hearts?”

            March raised her hand.

            “Because you have three of hearts, you go first.”

            “What card do I play?”

            “Any. You can place a single or a double. If you’re really lucky, a 顺子 (shunzi), when your cards are single but it climbs up such as 3, 4, 5, 6, 7; 连对二 (lian duir) is similar to the previous one, just you have two of the same cards and it climbs up;  三代一 (san dai yi) is when you have three of the same card and you add a singular card to it; 三代一对儿 (san dai yi duir) follows the same rules as the previous one except you add two of the same card instead of a singular card; 飞机 (fei ji), is when you have three of same cards and addition to that, three of the next number; or 飞机带翅膀 (feiji dai chi bang) is basically the same as the forementioned play, but you add either singular or double as the side to act as wings for the plane. But because you are the starter for a trend, you can place a single. I recommend a small number card as you want to get rid of all your small decks. But beware, just because they are small doesn’t mean they aren’t useful. A cluster may prove useful.”

            March sighs, “This really is a lot to take in…”

            “Oops. I rambled…”

            March does as the figure suggested and placed her singular 3. After her, was Trailblazer’s turn. The figure looks towards them and says, “Now you have to up her. Place a card more than three, but only one card.”

            “Huh?”

            “It’s the rule of the game. You have to place a number higher than the previous player, but the number of cards must remain the same.”

            Trailblazer nods as they mere place down a 9. The figure smiles as they place down a queen. This prompted both March and Trailblazer to look at the card placed and back to their hand, wondering if they should play. March decides to pass and Trailblazer does too. The smile on the figure’s face grew wider as they placed cards from 3 to queen. March’s eyes almost fall from her sockets.

            “That’s… a lot…”

            “No fair! How am I supposed to win that?” Trailblazer whined.

            “It’s about luck~ Not just how smoothly your own deck runs, but also the game itself.”

            “I’ll pass.”

            “Me too.”

            The figure places double 4s. March places her double 6s while Trailblazer places their double jacks. The figure passes and so does March, leaving Trailblazer to place double 5s. The figure placed double kings and March passes. Trailblazer looks at their hand and places double aces, hoping to quell the figure.

            “Too bad,” They said as they placed a double 2.

            Trailblazer gritted their teeth and relented while the figure merely shrugs and said, “You guys would’ve lost anyway,” while putting down double jokers.

            “WHAAAAT?” March and Trailblazer both shout, “HOW?!”

The figure sank back into their seat a little, “Luck?”

            “Is that even legal?” March asked.

            “Yes. So aside from the others plays I’ve mentioned, your biggest defenses are bombs and missiles. To create a bomb, you need four of the same number. Such as like four 7s. Only two jokers can create missiles and nothing can beat that.”

            “But there’s three of us? How are we supposed to get bombs and uhh… what was it? Oh! Missiles?”

            Trailblazer and the figure shrugged, “Luck.”

Lmao the amount of shit luck I have playing this game 🥲. The funniest things are cutting my dad off when he thought he made a good move only for him to regret splitting any cards. I may not know how to play mahjong, but this game, I know like the back of my hand. I've never actually gambled with this game before. Well, except maybe pride.

Credits: poemale for the dividers

[starogeorgina]

Killer queen

Warnings: Incest, uncomfortable situation

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen × Reader

1.05

Letting out a deep sigh, you place your hands on your lower back, trying to relive some of the weight of the baby pushing down on your spine. With the size of your bump, you could easily be mistaken for having twins, although the maesters said it was only one baby and a lot of swelling.

After the meeting with the King’s Counsel was over, you and your grandsire headed towards your mother's quarters to have an unofficial meeting with the Green Counsel. The green’s council consisted of your mother, Ser Cristion, Aemond, the hand of the king, Aegon, and the lech Larys Strong. You went out of your way to keep Helaena out of the scheming and plotting; she was far too innocent to be involved.

Feeling your eyes burning into you, you finally sigh, “Yes, mother?”

Your mother pursed her lips and said, “That's a very interesting dress you chose to wear today.”

With your breasts swelling to twice what they normally would, you had decided to wear a gown that was designed for pregnant women; however, the one you’d chosen that morning had irked your mother. It was black with red roses sewn onto it on the bottom of the skirt, and the queen hated seeing her children wear house Targaryen colors. “It’s a gift from Lady Malia Lannister; she had it sent to the keep after finding out I’m with a child again. It would be rude not to wear it.”

“The princess is right, your grace,” Larys says before taking a sip from his cup of tea. “Small gestures, such as wearing gifts from other houses, are a reminder of who’s loyal to us.” The smile on Larys face sends shivers down your spine. There was something incredibly creepy about the clubfoot. He changes the conversation: “I hear Princess Rhaenyra is with child again.”

You roll your eyes; you have more pressing matters to discuss than your elder sister and your uncle. “Ser Cristion, is there any further word on who is behind the child fighting pits in Flea Bottom?”

“I’m afraid not, princess, but thanks to your connections we were able to locate one of the fighting pits, and it has since been destroyed.”

“Thank you, Ser Cristion,” you say sincerely.

“Is sending members of the King's Guards into Flea Bottom to knock down gambling pits really the best idea?” Larys asks.

You pull a face of disgust. “Gambling? The children are purposefully kept malnourished while their teeth and nails are sharpened for combat while sick spectators place their bets and cheer on to see which child will win or die.”

Your grandsire shifts the conversation to another issue, with Larys remaining quiet for some time. Shayla, who had now become one of your ladies in waiting, entered the room looking nervous. Sensing she was nervous, you excused yourself and stepped into the hallway to be greeted by one of the servants who watched the children while you attended meetings, holding onto your son's hand while gulping down. You take in Tré’s appearance and immediately burst into laughter; he was covered head to toe in mud.

You run your fingers through his silver locks, which had thick brown streaks of dirt and some greenery from what you assumed were bushes and flowers tangled in them. “You are filthy; what have you been doing?”

Tré giggles, “Me and Jaehaerys were pretending to be dragons.”

“You are dragons, my sweet.”

“The princes ran away from me, princess; I did try to stop them."

You cut her off with a soft laugh. “It’s quite alright, no harm done.” You lean down and lift Tré up, holding him above your bump. You kiss him on the cheek multiple times, making the young boy squeal in delight. “You sound like Breeze.”

“Your grace,” Shayla says, bowing.

You turn back around to see your mother looking at you with a somewhat amused expression on her face. “Ashara, your dress is filthy.”

“You don’t like it anyway,” you point out, earning a surprising smile from her. Although you and the queen hardly ever saw eye to eye, she was still your mother and loved her grandchildren greatly.

Soon as you walk back into her chamber, Aegon bursts into laughter, while Aemond’s jaw tenses, no doubt from watching you carry your son. You could only imagine your husband's reaction when he learned the princes managed to run off.

You sit back down to resume the meeting, which was almost over, with your son sitting on your lap. You kiss Tré’s cheek as he falls asleep in your arms. You remember once telling Aemond you never wanted children because you didn’t think you’d be capable of loving them. Oh, how wrong you were. Tré was your whole world, and you knew you’d love the next baby just as much.

—

Sitting in the garden, you gently rub your swollen stomach while watching as Aemond plays with your son. Tré was crouching behind bushes, giggling, thinking he had successfully hidden from his father, but of course Aemond knew where he was.

“Princess,” Silas, one of the servants, approaches you with a tray in his hands. He carefully places the plate of pastries, grapes, and bread on the table before sitting the tea down. While doing this, he quietly says, “I heard you are trying to stop the fighting pits in Flea Bottom, and I think there’s something you should know.”

You motion for him to sit with you and say, “Please go on.”

Silas nervously glances at your husband, who was watching your interaction, and declines your invitation to join you. “I do not wish to cross a line, princess, but I’ve heard rumors regarding Prince Aegon.”

Your mouth goes dry. “What is it you’ve heard?”

“That there are children fighting in pits with Targaryen features, and that they have been fathered by the king's eldest son.”

Silas couldn’t have been older than six and ten; he had an innocence around him that you wanted to protect. You place your hand on top of his and say, “Thank you; you did the right thing by telling me.”

“Please don’t tell anyone I told you, princess. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“You’d risk getting into trouble by telling me, why?”

He shrugs. “You’ve always been very kind to me.”

“I’ll do my best to keep you safe, sir,” you smile.

He smiles back at you until Aemond stands behind you with your son in his arms and a murderous look on his face. Silas quickly bows his head and says, “My prince.”

You feel bad watching the young boy fumble over his feet to get away. You pout at Aemond as he sits down across from you and says, “You don’t need to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Scare the young servants.” You take a handful of grapes and begin cutting them into pieces. “The ones who approach me are harmless.”

Aemond smiles, something that he hardly ever does in front of others. “Motherhood has softened you, my love; you are far too trusting.”

You push the plate of cut-up grapes in front of Tré and say, “Perhaps, but it’s also common knowledge what will happen to anyone who crosses the wife of the rider of the largest dragon living.”

“Vhagar!” Tré squeals excitedly, making you chuckle.

“Hmm.” Aemond leans forward and brushes hair behind your ear. “Regardless, you are my wife, and I want to keep you safe.”

“Ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes.”

—

You clench your teeth as you dip your feet into the basin that has been placed in front of you. The maester had added a mixture of oils that were meant to help ease the pain of how swollen and painful your feet had become during your pregnancy. You were supposed to be meeting your grandsire to discuss the latest news of Aegon’s bastards, but you were in far too much pain to walk further than your own bedchambers.

“Princess, Lord Strong is here to see you.”

You frown. “I’m improperly dressed. Tell Lord Strong, I’m feeling unwell and will see him tomorrow.”

It was only midday, but you had decided to resign in your chambers for the rest of the afternoon due to feeling so uncomfortable. Aegon and Helaena had gone dragon riding, while Aemond had gone to sit in with Tré for the remainder of his lessons, giving you much needed time alone. Even though this pregnancy was better than your first, it was still exhausting.

Closing your eyes, you lean your head back in the chair and try to doze off, but the sound of a cane hitting the cobblestones alters your appearance. What didn’t he understand about your request? You scowl at hearing him dismiss your lady-in-waiting, who is frantically telling him to wait. You reach for the dressing gown that is hanging on the side of the chair you are sitting in and quickly put it on to keep your modesty.

“I believe you were asked to leave.”

A look of shock crosses his features. “I do apologize; I have obviously misunderstood.”

Your glaze burns into the Lord as he sits down across from you. Seeing him limp, you feel obligated to allow him to sit for a moment. You nod for one of the servants to move the objects on the chair away so he can sit down comfortably. “What is it you want, Lord Strong?”

“For us to be friends, Ashara.”

Anger stirs within you. It wasn’t that he addressed you by your name; it was the arrogance that laced his voice that irked you. “Do not forget I am a Targaryen princess; next time you address me as any less, I will have your tongue removed.”

“Such a spirited princess,” he nods his head, looking amused. “I will do well to remember my place next time.”

When one of your ladies-in-waiting approaches you with a towel in her hands, you lift your feet from the basin to allow her to dry them. You notice Lary's eyes creepily glued to your feet, and the way he repositions himself on the chair makes you feel uncomfortable.

He clears his throat. “I am good companions with the queen; I just thought I’d offer my services to you.”

“I will keep that in mind, but I must ask that you please leave, as I’m very tired.”

“Of course, growing a child is a tiresome job.”

You avert your eyes as he slowly walks by you, with what appears to be a bulge in his pants. A sickening feeling builds inside you. Whatever had just transpired left a sour taste in your mouth and left you feeling uncomfortable in a place you’ve always felt safe.

Ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes - My fierce dragon

[howtofightwrite]

how can I describe an intense, suspenseful and viscous fight between two werejaguars and a human(who’s good with a gun) without it becoming repetitive “he clawed him”, “he shot him” for several pages?

As a disclaimer: for the werejaguar portion of this exercise, I’m going to focus on the jaguar part over the were part. Supernatural creatures come in all shapes and sizes and all with different rules attached. Anything I say will need to be balanced against the rules of your setting and what works for you. In this case, I’m assuming the jaguars are the antagonists but you can easily flip flop this the other way round to have it work.

The key aspect of building a good fight scene is understanding the players and the environment. Everything on top of that is technique, but you can’t get anywhere without a good foundation. This is the research phase.

Ask yourself what your characters want. What is the difference between what they can do vs what they want to do and what they’re willing to do? How do their weapons work? How do they choose to fight? Their background, current goals, and personality will dictate their actions. The temptation is to be general, but boil it down into specifics. This character is not just good with guns, what guns are they good with? The gun (or guns) the human character has chosen to arm themselves with will substantially change the shape of your fight scene. Are they carrying a weapon that would have an advantage over a big cat, much less a supernaturally enhanced big cat? Remember, good with guns doesn’t necessarily mean good at hunting, especially not hunting large predators. At what range is the weapon most effective?

Try to take every character in the scene into account. It’s easy to focus on your POV character as the decision maker and let them control the pace of the fight scene, but combat involves more than one character and more than one decision maker. Fight scenes are really 5% choreography, 20% characters strategizing, and 75% sitting there trying to figure out “well, if Character A lunged and Character B jumped out of the way on a 45 degree angle and is now behind Character A, and they’re in a narrow-ish hallway with a trash can, five windows, and no weapons, they’re going to do… what? exactly?” It’s the ultimate Choose Your Own Adventure game and fight scenes work best when the author makes an effort to manage both sides of the chessboard. It’s not about the end, it’s about how they choose to get there combined with whether or not their decisions work and their gamble pays off. Remember, it’s always a gamble and it’s okay to let your characters be wrong.

In this case, you don’t really have a fight so much as you have a hunt. That’s the through thread here between your characters. What this translates into is that your human needs the cats in front of him to get a clean shot while the jaguars want to be behind their prey. Big cats when they’re hunting and guns in general heavily rely on positioning to be effective. Neither of these two groups are going to want to be out in the open. For the human in this situation, an exposed back is a death sentence. This becomes especially true when there are two cats and they have to track both of them. As for your human, guns become less effective the closer you get. Despite what Hollywood teaches us, these are not close range weapons suited to hand to hand. Unless you’re working with a shotgun, you’re stuck with basic physics. The bullet needs time to travel to build up velocity for maximum penetration.

Jaguars are ambush predators. They use up a massive amount of energy per attack, which means they only have a few tries to get it right. Each failure carves off a massive chunk of their ability to continue the hunt before retreating. Humans, meanwhile, are persistence predators. Our animal brain is geared to outlast our prey, to pace them to death rather than run them down, and then kill when they are exhausted. Cats are also, by and large, solo hunters. Some cats do hunt together (siblings banding together happens more often than you might think, even outside of lions when there’s food to support it) but it’s generally not the norm. Whether this causes an instinctual conflict for your werecats is up to you. Their human half may be enabling them to hunt with sophisticated pack tactics. If so, I’d challenge you to consider what that looks like and sounds like as they communicate.

Your human with the gun is limited by the amount of ammo they have. They may be able to outlast the jaguars (depending on supernatural rules.) However, their ability to make a successful kill diminishes with each failed shot.

Jaguars, pound for pound, have the strongest bite force out of all the big cats. Their preferred hunting method isn’t to scratch or claw, it’s to sink their teeth through the back of the skull and into the brain in one swift, clean strike. Unlike some big cats, they largely don’t preferentially suffocate their prey first through the throat clamp. The claws are here to stop their prey from moving while they get that bite in. (If you’re having trouble visualizing how a jaguar moves, climbs, and stalks, I recommend watching some nature documentaries. Or, read some accounts of jaguars hunting humans. It happens.)

In this scenario, nobody’s squaring off unless it’s a feint. Both parties will be moving, getting into cover, and hiding until they can get into a good-ish position to make their attack. They’ll be relying on their senses to find their opponent and maneuver around them. Jaguars, being better at hiding, would in this scenario be forcing the human out of cover to look for them and, depending on their level of teamwork, utilizing each other as bait to lure their prey out. And they might work on getting the human to waste their ammunition first to limit their risk. If they’re smart, they’re trading off and the movement is coming from multiple directions. So, even if your human has a weapon that will kill the jaguars in a single, lucky shot, they’ll still (probably) be breaking cover to put themselves at risk and get a clean line of sight.

I’m not taking questions on the cats being better at stealth. I have an indoor white cat who ghosts off in a small apartment whenever she wants. Where is she? Somewhere. I don’t know unless she wants me to know. Cats are not dogs or wolves. They have a different methodology when it comes to hunting and even large cats possess the ability to vanish in urban environments that aren’t designed for them.

Anyway, this is your suspense. It’s not an original idea, but I recommend leaning harder into thriller, suspense, and horror when it comes to cats instead of straight up action. That terrifying gut twisting sensation of being all alone, not knowing where the enemy is, maybe hearing them but not being able to gauge how far away they are. Go watch some horror movies with big cats hunting people. Like The Ghost and the Darkness (1996) about the Tsavo man-eating lions, which, while not jaguars, is based on a true story and is a fantastic film.

It’s easy to get stuck on the concept of trading blows. “He punched him” and “he clawed him” and “he slashed him” or “he shot him” but remember that initial attacks are about creating openings. It’s rare for your opponent to magically be in the position you want them with all their vulnerable openings exposed, unless they’re caught by surprise. A lot of initial combat is about building into or setting up your finishing move, all while your opponent tries the same from the other side. Instead of thinking about your combatants as standing in stasis and duking it out, remember that they are in motion. They are moving, they are circling, they are bracing, they are hunting for that new position, that unguarded opening. If the opening is not there, create it.

-Michi

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[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Arthur Morgan Headcannons

I just wanted to write some headcannons, about Arthur, literally anything, I don't care what it is exactly so that's what you're getting.

Some of the headcannons might be a bit more oriented towards a female reader, but not all, I myself am a woman, so, I'll more than likely put some in.

Arthur Morgan is a man who will gladly enjoy any person, regardless of size, but let's be real, I think he has a bit of a soft spot for bigger women. Chunky or thicc, he likes 'em

He thinks that with more there, there's more for him to grab and less of a chance that he'll break something when he's with you, whether it's in a bit more intimate situation, or even when he's just giving you a small hug or kiss.

Arthur is extremely observant. He pays attention to the things you like, and he is literally always on top of doing the things you like or buying you whatever will make you smile. 

If he finds out how much you like his voice? Uses it against you, because he doesn’t want to torture you, but he does want to see you riled up. 

You like how warm he is? He’ll always be watching to see when you get cold, and the moment you do he’s right behind you with his arms around your waist. 

Arthur has a SEVERE gambling addiction. You thought his smoking was bad? He plays poker almost every single night that he’s in camp, and sometimes it’s a blessing and others it’s a curse. He can go rounds at a time, winning each one, but as soon as he has one bad round, they all go bad, but he’s never willing to give up until you make him, and by the end of the ordeal he’s lost more money than made. 

He also has a huge ego problem, obviously he’s mentally ill and he’s depressed with who he is as a person, and he doesn’t think very highly of himself, but the moment you manage to boost his ego, that little swagger walk of his that you so dearly love grows more confident. 

Hell, sometimes even you just saying good morning can change his whole mood, and he’ll even be nice to other people in camp when he usually only tolerates them.

Arthur has this thing, that when he leaves camp for a certain amount of time, anything that’ll be longer than a day really, but usually when its about a week of being away. He’ll come back to camp, make a beeline for you, and whisper only loud enough for you to hear “Can you be quiet for me while I fuck you or do I have to take you outta camp?” 

And thus, you are prepared, obviously.

He’s like a dog in heat, mainly because he hadn’t been with anyone in so long and after a while he’d stopped going after working girls. No one had really made his body react like you did, so it never became a problem until he got with you. 

He draws you all the time, obviously he draws, he’s got a whole sketchbook dedicated to it, but he draws you almost any chance he can. Not because he’s some corny “I love you more than life itself” kind of person, which, he is, but because he thinks that out of everyone in camp you are the most fun to draw, your features are just more entertaining and enjoyable to make out with a pencil.

Arthur loves to eat good food, and while Pearson does a decent job it’s not exactly what he would consider gourmet food, so whenever he gets the chance to try new food, or get good food at least, he’ll splurge the money. The only reason he hasn’t gotten completely fat, though he is a little on the chubbier side, which you absolutely love, and think is hot as hell, is because of all the work he does for the gang.

He calls you all kinds of nicknames and pays attention to the ones that get the biggest reaction out of you. 

He’s found that Princess does a particularly great job at getting a rouse out of you, but he’s also found that if he says it in his normal tone it doesn’t have the same effect, he has to lower his voice for it to work the way he wants it too. 

Darlin’ and Sweetheart have about the same effect, although Darlin’ seems to make you feel a little more for him in serious situations. 

Sugar makes you go beet red in the face, and he’s figured out that one is another one he can lower his voice for. 

Honey is one that he thinks you like, but he also thinks you’re a little neutral on it. Sometimes it works, other times you just don’t seem to care that much. You’ll answer to it, but that’s about all.

Good Girl, or My Girl, regardless of tone, but especially when lowered, always gets you messed up and he knows it, which is exactly why he waits until you’re at the fire surrounded by the gang to whisper it in your ear. 

On the other hand, you have only a few nicknames for him.

Cowboy, it’s tried and true, describes him, basically to a Tee, although Outlaw works better. 

Honey, again, a neutral one. 

You are the only person, and I mean, only person he allows to call him Pretty Boy, if anyone else tries it they’re liable to find a knife beneath their neck.

Big Boy will send him skyrocketing, his face will flare so hard his ears will turn red and he’ll start stuttering over his words like a newborn calf stumbling on its legs. 

Good Boy will really get him motivated and usually if you say it to him in public, he has to excuse himself until he gets rid of his problem. 

You hate to admit it, because you know it’s bad for him, but you think that when he smokes cigarettes, he’s at one of his hottest points. When he finds this out, he makes it his goal to smoke more around you.

Occasionally he’ll wait until you wake up and walk out of his tent shirtless and lean against the wooden poles to smoke, and he’ll send a smirk your way, that he knows you like. 

When you start to share his tent together, he does the same thing, however, rather than getting up he just simply leans over you and grabs the smokes, he’ll light a match against the wagon and puff away with his hands behind his head. 

His absolute favorite thing to do is smack you on the ass and run away, he thinks it’s the absolute funniest thing ever to watch you chase him, he’s got longer legs, so it’s easier to stay away from you. 

He also loves it when you wear his hat, however, if you do, he’s going to use it as an excuse to take you to the tent. 

If you get him drunk, first off, I’m sorry, second off, you better have a leash. He’s a lot happier drunk, he likes to sing and talk, and he compliments everyone, but he also likes to stumble around and go adventure, and if you don’t keep a good eye on him he’s liable to mount up on his horse, albeit slowly, and then make his way into the nearest town to cause mayhem.

Do not let him drink with John, because rather than being a fun loving drunk he will start trying to fight John and then the night is ruined for everyone. 

He also gets more handsy when he drinks, he was already handsy before, but now, when he’s drunk and he couldn’t care less about what people thought about him, he was going to touch wherever he wanted on you. 

Your stomach? He’s got his arms around it.

Your ass? Being grabbed any time he’s walking, or stumbling rather, with you. 

Tits? Regardless of gender? They have been honked at least twice. 

He will kiss you, if it’s on the lips or on the neck, that is anyone’s gamble. 

He’ll even talk dirty to you, and not quietly like he would if he was sober, he’ll do it for everyone in camp to hear, and the only way to shut him up is to either kiss him or somehow drag all two hundred and forty pounds of him into his tent. 

All in all Arthur Morgan is Arthur Morgan and if you make the decision to be his you better be ready to deal with it.

[straykids-97]

Letters to the Moon

“Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows anybody.”

Changbin likes to push you until you're flustered. Until you feel like you can't take it anymore... But then pull you back and keep you where he wants you...

Warnings: Strip poker, gambling games(poker and rummy), mentions of drinking, teasing, mirror sex, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), slight choking, size kink, (Duh, it’s Changbin), lmk if I forgot anything! (Also, it's kinda edited, kinda not so there are probably errors lol)

Word Count: 3.04k

Knowing Seo Changbin had changed your life. You didn’t know how to truly exist without him at this point. It was like he was everything you were missing, everything you could have dreamed of. Wrapped in a sweet little bow, hiding in a box was the sweet, doe-eyed, giggly man you had come to love so much that it hurt. You were addicted to his angelic smile, his teasing manner, and his morals. He was strong in every sense of the word. Changbin knew when to push and when to pull. He was an equal giver and equal taker. That also meant that sometimes, he pushed a little too hard, and his sportsmanship borderlined bullying. 

Such was the fate of your weekly game night. 

You hold your head in your hand, cards in the other, sighing in defeat. You sort of regret teaching Changbin poker. He was quick to learn, and even quicker to start beating you. You had only one once, and that was because Changbin got up to get the pizza at the door, and you peaked at his cards while he wasn’t looking. You were convinced that somehow he had to know what was in your hand. But, even after repositioning so that you were out of the way of your living room mirror, he still bested you. 

He clapped his hands together, pumping a fist in the air as he boyishly giggled, “I win. Yes!” He happily took a massive bite of the pepperoni pizza as you tossed your cards onto the table, frowning. “This isn’t fun if you’re always winning.” You grumble. “It’s fun…” he trailed off, reaching over and putting another piece of pizza on your plate, “For you.” You drag the plate across the wooden coffee table and heave a tired sigh. 

You both eat in silence for a while until Changbin holds up a finger, “What if we play a different game.” You give him an annoyed look, “What kind of game?” You watch as he pulls out his phone, a devilish smile on his face. His phone screen illuminated his thick, black-rimmed glasses as he flipped through his phone to find what he was looking for. You narrowed your eyes and watched him cautiously as he held his phone over the table for you to read. Grabbing the sleek device your mouth falls open as you read the game that he had looked up. 

“I heard someone talking about it once… And I've thought about asking you to play ever since you taught me how to play poker.” You can’t believe your eyes or your ears. Changbin was proposing that you two play strip poker. There was silence for a moment before you scoffed and handed him back his phone, “In order to play that kind of game, it would have to be sorta even. You’re winning all the time. I would be naked before you even have your shirt off.” You watched as his face fell a little, “But… What if we play a different poker game? That way you have a bit of an advantage.” You pursed your lips in thought. He had a point; but an unfair point… But was it really unfair when he just learned how to play poker a few weeks ago and was now beating you left and right? 

“Fine… We’ll play rummy. Same rules, sort of.” You snatch the deck and begin to explain the rules of the all-to-familiar game. “Alright, let’s start.” You pull out your phone and start a tally for points. “So, if I get more points, I win the round?” He asked, making you nod. “Yes. Since we’re playing by points and not by who goes out.” He bobbed his head, “Alright…” He shifted his hips, resting his weight on his elbows as he studied his cards. 

The first round went to you. Finally. You grin and tap your chin as you look at your boyfriend, thinking about what you want him to take off first. “Pants.” You decided, swiping the cards to shuffle. You watched as he rose to his feet and quickly untied his black sweatpants, shoving them down his legs. “Always pants with you.” He snorts, folding them nicely on the edge of the couch and settling back on the floor. He adjusted his glasses and he took a sip of his drink, dragging his cards to his awaiting hands, looking at them as you looked at yours. You try not to let it show that you have no hope of winning unless he somehow gives you something. 

Which he doesn’t. 

You sigh and toss the cards in the middle pile. Changbin leaned against your gray couch and cocks his head forward, scanning your figure shamelessly You feel your face heat up, and you think that maybe having those mixed drinks probably wasn’t helping. “Take off your bra.” He demanded. You can’t help but giggle at his request, thinking he make you take your socks or pants off like you did him, but no. 

You reach behind your body and unlatch your bra. You pull the gray fabric out from the collar of your shirt and gently place it beside Changbin's pants. After he dealt the cards, you see that this would most likely go in your favor. Or at least you thought, but Changbin managed to win purely on points. You grumble and gather the cards to shuffle as he leans back, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and eyed you. “Pants.” He ordered, leaning forward to gather his cards as you stood up and shimmed out of your tight yoga pants, sloppily folding and putting them on top of your bra. 

Two more rounds went by and now Changbin is in his boxers and the only thing left covering your body was your baggy t-shirt. It was really his, but you wore it. You gently placed your panties on the pile of clothes and huff. Whoever wins this match, remains clothed. You rolled your head around on your shoulders, “Alright, deal ‘em.” You wave your hand at your boyfriend who chuckled at your antics. Without saying a word, he slides your five cards across the table. 

You quickly flip the cards and you try not to let your face show it but you only need one card to lay down. In a matter of two rounds, you could very well be out. You glance up at Changbin as he arranges his cards, his dark eyes flicking up to you as he adjusts himself so he is more comfortable on the floor. He must have a good hand, you think as he flipped the cards over. A seven of spades, just what you needed. But, it was his turn. So, he takes a card from the deck and places a nine of diamonds on the pile. You take a quick glance at your hand and slowly reach for the cards, swiping the two cards off the table and placing the seven down next to the six and five of spades. Discarding the 10 of hearts in your hand, you settle against your couch, looking at the two cards in your hand. The nine of diamonds and the 3 of clubs. You could use them as trash cards if you needed to. 

You watched as Changbin swiped the 10 you just put down and monitored as he tossed three cards on the table, a set of 10s. You bit your tongue, he’s already got more points than you by double. Then, to your shock, he places a 4 of spades down, playing on your 5 and tossing the random card in his hand in the discard pile. You groan, tossing the two cards in your hand on the table. He grinned at you as he swiped the cards off the table, “I win.” You sighed, standing up to collect your clothes to put into the dirty laundry, not wanting to stick around for the gloating part. 

“Where are you going?” he shouted from the other side of the couch. You turned to see him kneeling on the couch, hands on the back of it, eyebrow raised as you stood at the edge of your hallway. “To put my clothes in the laundry?” 

“I believe I won,” he began to say, launching himself over the back of the couch, his biceps flexing at the movement. “So, that means I get to see you naked.” He quickly swiped the pile of laundry from your hands. You put your now empty paws on your hips, “Changbin-” You start to complain, but he tutted at you. “Ah, ah,” he holds up a finger, “rules are rules.” You glared at him, “Are you serious?” He bobbed his head once, “Of course I am.” He took a step back, “Shirt.” You huffed, slowly reaching for the hem of your shirt but then stopped, “I don’t have to do this. You already won the game.” You try to turn and begin to wave him off but he’s quick to catch your wrist. You yelp in surprise as he tugged you to his chest. 

“You can’t cheat me out of my prize.” He hummed, backing you against the hallway wall. You hit the wall with a thud, “Changbin, stop. You’re not being fair.” You whined as he slid his hands under your shirt to your hips. “Fair? You’re the one who’s whining and complaining about not winning.” He playfully snaps at your nose and you lean away, gripping his wrists, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You retort as dryly as possible, trying not to squirm as his hands begin to wander up your sides. He pauses for the briefest of moments, quirking an eyebrow as his tongue prodded his cheek. You knew that look, that was his, “Oh, really?” look. You start to protest but Changbin is faster and stronger than you are. 

Before you could process what he was doing, he had your shirt over your head, and hands pinned to the wall using your shirt. You pant, lips parted as he leans into your face, his free hand coming to trail soft, teasing traces against your jaw. Changbin twirls a piece of your hair around his finger, biting his lip as he giggles, “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about… stop being so coy.” You stare at him for a few moments, “You just wanted to get me naked.” You watch as a seductive grin spreads across his face, air sucking through his teeth as he pinned your hips to the wall with his. “I always want to see you naked.” He hummed, placing an open-mouthed kiss on your jaw. 

You can’t contain the shudder that rips through your body as he laps at the skin of your earlobe. Your brain starts to turn to mush the moment his hips grind against yours, and you try not to turn into putty in his hands, but it is hard. 

He dropped your hands and you instantly tossed your shirt to the ground, wrapping your arms around his neck. Changbin tapped your thighs, signaling you to jump up. You oblige without having to be told again, and he catches you, wrapping his hands around the backs of your legs. You whimpered in his mouth as he carried you back to the couch, tossing you onto the soft surface. 

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching intently as he stripped his boxers off, tossing them off behind him. He pressed into your body, causing you to shudder. He grins down at you, “Since I won, I think I should get a bonus.” You roll your eyes, “You’re pushing it, mister.” You warn, making him chuckle. “Hear me out,” he presses a soft, heated kiss to your lips. You wanted it to last, but he of course has other plans. You groan, “Binie-” You start to complain but he only pulls away for a moment. He shifts so that you’re on top, his back resting against the back cushions of your couch. 

You never were on top. Changbin always wanted to be top, not that you were complaining, man knew what he was doing. You frown down at him, “Changbin, I don’t know-” You start to worry but his lips on yours stop you from continuing. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, the other ghosting down your side to your hip. The hand that was around your neck gripped you tightly, and he growled into your mouth, “I won, so I decide what my prize is.” You shudder at his dominance and let him guide you down to his length. You fist the fabric of the cushions as he groans, thrusting up softly as you settle against his hips, completely stuffed full of him. 

You gasp when he pulls your hips a few inches, scooting his to the edge of the couch for balance. He looks up at you, lust in his eyes as he bites his bottom lip. He slowly rolled his hips upward, and for the briefest of moments, you both go rigid. Changbin’s fingertips dig into your hips, making you squirm to adjust. “Fuck,” you whimper as he tests the waters, rolling his hips up again. You pant into his shoulder, making him groan, “Baby…” he groans, wrapping his arm around your waist. He held your body close to his, burying his face into your hair as he found a steady rhythm. You mewl into his skin, digging your fingers into his sides as he began to thrust harder. 

You panted heavily into his arm, “Binie,” you whined, shuttering as he groaned, “Fuck, this is-is amazing.” He praised, gripping your ass cheeks, pounding up into you. You moan, pulling away so you can balance yourself using the back of the couch. You glance down at him to see that his gaze keeps bouncing between your breasts and behind you. You nearly ask what he’s looking at but when you twist your head you see exactly what he was talking about. 

Normally, Changbin can’t get enough of your breasts. He’s normally licking, nipping, and sucking at your nipples and the skin surrounding them from the moment you get your shirt off. The only other thing that could rival them was your ass. He swore from the beginning he was an ass man, but these days, he wasn’t so sure. It was too cute to see the visual of him being torn between watching your ass bounce in the mirror or your breasts bounce in his face. He whimpered, his face pressing into your side as he pulled you into his body, angling his hips so that he could thrust deeper into you. 

You forget every thought as you stare behind you in the mirror, watching as he fucked into you from beneath you. The sight alone could make you- you squeeze your eyes shut, your breath catching in your throat as you come. You let out a soft squeal of ecstasy as you shatter, earning a low moan from Changbin. 

He thrusts into you a few more times, drawing out your orgasm until you were shaking. He pulled himself out of your weeping hole and you protest, “Changbin-” You stop when you feel him push on one side, pulling on the other. You turn around in his grasp and let him position your body how he wants. Your feet were on either side of his spread legs, and you were leaning against his tacky chest. 

You could die with how exposed you were, the reflection of your bodies in the mirror showing how filthy Changbin really intended to be with you tonight. He wastes no more time and guided himself back into your cunt and you let your head lull between your shoulders. Changbin wraps a hand around your throat, growling into your neck, “Don’t stop looking.” He demanded. You shudder, holding his hips as you look forward. Changbin looked determined as his free hand snaked between your spread legs to your clit, causing you to yelp as he rubbed soft, slow circles. Compete the opposite of how he was treating your pussy. You emit a low, pathetic whine as his thumb and fingers press into your neck, your head spinning lightly as you squeeze his cock, coming yet again, as if on demand. Your nails dig into his skin, surely leaving marks that he’ll hear about later. 

He didn’t care about that right now. The only thing he wanted more than anything in this world was to watch you come undone on his cock until you were screaming, begging, pleading for him to stop. But he knew how far to wind you up before letting you go. 

He was good at that. 

He doesn’t stop those sick movements, alternating releasing the pressure from your throat and rubbing your clit faster when he did. Building you up to watch you fall off the edge of bliss each time in the mirror. 

You feel him twitch and he lets out a sweet melody of curses and moans, before biting your shoulder and coming inside you. You watch as his hips stutter and falter altogether. You both pant for a few moments and then he lazily pulls his cock out from inside you, slumping against the couch. He pulls you off his lap and crawls up the length of your body until his between it and the back of your couch. “Fuck.” He panted, placing his hand on your stomach and nuzzling your neck. All you could do was nod, too fucked out to really form words yet. 

He noticed, chuckling at you, “Aw, too hard?” You shake your head at him, “No,” your voice is froggy and rough from the amount of breathy moans and pants that he drew from you. You clear your throat, “No.” He grinned at you wickedly, “Then, you wouldn’t mind a round two?” You groan, “Oh no,” you push him away as grinded against your hips, “I don’t think so.” He glowered, “Aw, why not?” You shake your head, not looking at him. “I don’t think so, not tonight.”

“In the morning then?” He asked, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. You roll your eyes at his ravenous hunger, “The morning is a different story. We’ll see how sore I am.”

[highstakeweights]

The Blue Heron

A place for the odd few who aren't satisfied with just gambling their finances away. The Blue Heron offers a thrill like no other, with the promise of riches and your wildest dreams if you play well enough. The catch, you may ask? Petty things such as cash, expensive jewelry, or other tangible assets are useless to those who already have all they could want and more. No, The House only accepts much more personal stakes. The buy in for a game of poker could be a cherished memory, the love for your favorite food, or... a few inches on your waist~.

The Blue Heron is not only a casino, but a resort as well. While it has extremely pleasant facilities, the more one indulges, the greater their tab. The House is strange, fickle, and often vindictive. Yet, people still keep coming, even though some may never leave~. It isn't just The House you have to worry about, but the eccentric staff here to make your stay as memorable as possible. Dealers, bunny girls and boys, and food you never remember ordering lurk around every corner. All there to help you have the best time possible! Though, some want to make sure you'd never even think of going back to your boring life...

Meet Madam Diana Welstrom Anatolia Rhysford Mihaly, or Madam D for short. The Maître d' for The Blue Heron, ensuring that everything runs smoothly and that both guests and staff have a pleasant time. She ensures that there isn't any mischief afoot... At least, not of her own design. While bearing the title of master of the house, she laughs at the notion of being truly in control of everything around The Blue Heron. Her attention is usually focused on her cadre of bunny girls and boys, running a tight ship with little room for error. Beauties bashfully bursting out of their uniforms is a common sight when Madam D is personally overseeing their work. However, she has been known to don one of those skimpy suits herself to show her blubbery bunnies how it's supposed to be done. Regardless, she's far tubbier than any normal woman, and is known to throw off almost any gambler's groove with her enlarged assets.

Another common sight around The Blue Heron is Walter Romanov (no relation to those you might be thinking of). Walter usually handles any affairs relating to the plethora of dealers, bartenders, and kitchen staff. Like Madam D, he is strict, though he lacks her occasional playfulness afforded to diligent workers. His expression is always neutral, regardless of the situation, and his every move is done with unnatural precision and grace. Regardless of his stoic nature, he can still be seen threatening to brush both sides of a hallway with his hips, not immune to the effects of The House. Though, he is a peculiar sort in that his weight and size can seemingly change on a dime. And, he has been seen helping out Madam D's bunnies when they're particularly short staffed or overworked. Yes, Madam D does make him wear the outfit.

Finally, the most recognizable and enthusiastic bunny girl under Madam D's employ, Tracy Burns. Compared to the other staff, Tracy is by all accounts just a normal girl working as a bunny girl. Though, anyone who works at The Blue Heron is still far from what many would consider normal. And... Well, her proclivities make that statement rather apt. Despite being a fan favorite among many who frequent The Blue Heron, Tracy is often quite the thorn in Madam D's side. The ditzy blonde is always eager to see herself and others grow bigger. Outgrowing her uniform before the start of her shift on numerous occasions, she resorts to using pasties and bikini bottoms that cover precious little when the need arises. If she didn't generate so much guest satisfaction, Madam D would have turned her into a human food disposal long ago...

Of course, The Blue Heron has many more eclectic characters calling it home, but best to pace oneself when avarice could very well be your undoing~. Don't bother trying to find your way here uninvited, The House is very picky about who it welcomes inside. Though, you'll certainly know you're welcome if it wants you there. Once it has its sights set on you, it will never let go. Even if you make it out once, twice, five, ten, or even a hundred times... The House always wins~.

(First attempt at an rp blog! Likes and reblogs appreciated, asks always open, and more than happy to do scenes! Still very unfamiliar with all this, so I please ask your patience and understanding!)