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salem-witch-slut · 4 months ago

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Prostitution (18+)

Sevika x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Of all the girls in the brothel, and she picked you.

WARNINGS: Brothel work (prostitute!reader), dom!Sevika, sub!reader, hair pulling, leather lingerie, grinding, fingering, strap-on use (r!receiving), Daddy Sevika, biting (briefly)

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

A/N: In honor of Arcane Season 2 coming out today, thought I would bring back one of my best kinktober prompts with everybody's favorite muscle mommy. Briefly considered making a part 2 for this but lemme know what you guys think?

dividers made by @cafekitsune

Why did you think this was a good idea?

Well, truth be told, you didn’t think this was a good idea… But it was the only idea you had left. Your family was dead, like everyone was in the Undercity. Your partner got herself killed from a shimmer overdose, and you were facing being homeless. Your entire world was turned upside down and it was all fucked to no end. But now you had to pick up the pieces.

You were hired at the brothel. What the actual fuck were you thinking? Well, you knew Babette, and she was willing to give you a chance. It was decent money, and you were given free food during every shift. How could you turn it down?

It was your first week and you have already been through hell. The women who came to the brothel tended to be high on shimmer and sloppy at best, but the men; they were aggressive, vicious, and you found yourself leaving with aches and pains every single night.

And yet, when you entered the room that you were assigned to today, you were surprised to say the least. The outfit on the bench was… strange. Normally, the clientele wanted something revealing, lace, and soft bright colors. No, you were given something black, made of leather, and matching black heels to complete the look.

“Don’t question it,” You told yourself. “Just put it on.”

You slowly stripped off all your clothes and pulled on the leather bustier and black lace panties. Your fingers twitched slightly as you strapped the heels to your feet and ran your fingers through your hair… Your lipstick was a deep maroon color, and you had dark, dramatic eyeliner. Seems like you thought it all out already?

Who was your client today? Why were you so nervous? What if it was a man that was three times your size? What if it was more than one man? What if you got hurt today?

“Did you hear about who she picked today?” A shiver raced down your spine as you approached the curtains in front of your door, biting down on your painted lip. Who were they talking about?

“Oh, I heard. Cute little new girl is about to get ruined today, huh?” You… they were talking about you! But who else? Who was she?

You’ll get your answer soon enough.

It felt like forever until you heard heavy footfalls in the hallways. Whispers carried in the corridors, along with the aggressive clicks of heels from your fellow ‘coworkers’ running away from whoever was making their presence known inside of the building. Your fingers trembled as you dared a peek out from behind your curtain.

Not even a second later, the curtain was being pulled back and in walked your client… Tall, muscular, handsome, and absolutely terrifying.

The brothel’s most regular visitor. Silco’s right hand… the person that everyone in the underground fears.

Sevika.

You nearly fell down the stairs, heels slipping on the concrete flooring as you tried to back away and give her the space she deserved. But it seemed she had other ideas.

Before your body could come in contact with the ground, the woman reached out and grabbed both of your hips with her hands. Her right hand was warm and calloused, a pulse beneath her flesh, but her left hand? Cold, sharp, and thrumming with the energy of her mechanical arm hidden beneath that cloak she always wears.

“Easy, doll,” Her voice is deep, husky almost as she steps forward and lowers you down to the stable surface behind you. Shivers raced down your back, and you couldn’t stop yourself from trembling in her grasp. For a moment, neither of you said anything. But then her eyes raked all over your body and she breathed, hard. “Damn, look at you… Pretty little thing all dressed up just for me?”

Were you supposed to speak? You have heard so many stories about Sevika… how aggressive and cruel she is out there on the streets, and how she kills without mercy or a care in the world. You were scared of her, to say the least… And Sevika could see it in your eyes. She knew what her reputation was and was more than happy to push the agenda.

“Scared of me?”

You inhaled sharply, your hands slowly sliding from your sides to hold onto her forearms. The whirring of the mechanics of her arm made your thighs tremble. “N-No, miss…”

“Funny,” Sevika reached down and gently ran her rough fingertips along the edge of your jaw before she slid her hand in your hair. “Only dumb girls feel no fear… Now, you aren’t dumb, are you sweet thing?”

You breathed slowly for a second, fearing you said something wrong to her. She looked amused, but looks could be deceiving… The gap between her two front teeth was cute. You focused on the crease of her jawline, the scars on her face, and the way her brows were pulled down.

She was so fucking hot that you forgot why you were afraid… and then, she grabbed at your hair, making you yelp and submit. Your hands had slid far too high up, and she was punishing you… Fuck, she was punishing you! “Better watch it. I’m paying to touch you, not the other way around.”

“But—” You hiccupped, looking into her eyes for the briefest second. She waited for your words to continue. “S-sorry…”

“Oh, she has manners?” Sevika showed off the smile that made your stomach flutter for a brief moment and reached down with both hands, gripping your thighs and lifting you off the floor like you weighed almost nothing to her. Out of instinct, your hands reached up and grabbed onto her shoulders for stability. “We’re going to have fun.”

Before you could utter another sound, you felt something press against you… something solid, and stiff. Something that felt like it was alive, right against the wet spot on your panties. A low moan left your throat, and you just immediately knew what it was.

“Take it off, doll,” Sevika breathed against your neck. “You know you want to.”

Fingers trembled as you reached for the cloak on her shoulders and slowly pulled it over her head. The brown fabric dropped to the floor behind her, and you looked down, confirming your suspicion. Sevika was strapped under her pants… the bulge was now way more obvious without the cloak.

“Feel that?” Sevika pressed her flesh hand to your rear and stepped forward, spinning you around and sitting herself down on the couch behind you. The second you were in her lap, she was pushing you down onto her hips and grinding the bulge against your cunt like it was her damn birthright to do so.

Your pulse quickened with every passing second, and you dropped your face down against her chest, breathing in the scent of tobacco and her natural scent… Strong, earthy, like a roaring wood fire. You didn’t know what came over you, but before you could scold yourself for knowing better, your tongue came in contact with her bear neck and your lips trailed all over her exposed skin.

Sevika tensed up and her fingers went from holding your hips to sliding under the fabric of your panties, grabbing at your flesh and making you instinctively bite down on her shoulder. Nowhere near enough to hurt, but enough for her to feel it. Sevika looked like she was about to start climbing the walls as she felt your hips roll forward on top of her.

With a simple flick of her metallic fingers, the underwear given to you was ripped off your body and you barely had time to recover before Sevika was lifting you off her lap and reaching to pull the zipper of her pants down. A sigh left your throat, and you could only push your face into her neck; Sevika didn’t like that.

“Nuh-uh,” She grabbed your chin with her flesh hand, pulling you back to look down into her eyes. Her grey irises were staring directly passed your fears and into your soul. It was like she was lighting you on fire from the inside out. “You look at me. Prettiest fucking girl is going to look at me when I fuck her.”

Her words made you blush from the tips of your ears down to your neck and you almost forgot that this was your job… It was easy to think that Sevika had just picked you out of everyone in the underground to have a night with. Not… that she was paying for it.

“Don’t worry,” Sevika smirked, that crease in her brow becoming more prominent as you felt her hand leave your face and slide down between your legs. When you felt her calloused fingers against your soft wet folds, you forgot how to breathe. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

The sound you made was beyond pornographic. Two of her fingers slipped inside of your wetness without any kind of resistance. Your entire body went rigid, and your eyes fluttered for a brief second before you forced yourself to look at her. Sevika smirked and basked in your expressions, slowly pushing you up and down on her digits.

What did you even say? What were you supposed to do? Sevika isn’t like your other clients… She’s so intense, even when she’s barely touching you. It feels like you are drowning, even if it’s just her presence surrounding you. Your inner walls squeeze at her fingers as she curls them at just the right angle. Sevika smirked.

“Oh, you like that?” Sevika kept you steady on her lap with her metal hand while the other one worked in and out of your pussy. “So wet for me, already? Barely touched you, doll.”

“Fuuck...” You rolled your entire body forward, biting your lip and leaning down just enough to press soft kisses against her face. “P-Please—”

“Please, what?” Sevika said sternly. “Use your words, doll.”

“I… I n-need… ohfuck...”

“Come on,” She smirked, curling her fingers at just the right angle that you almost feel your legs give out. “Just say it—”

“Fuck me,” You whine, finally giving in. “Please, please, please… fuck me, daddy.”

There was a hunger in her eyes that wasn’t there before. It was like a switch had flipped inside of her because in mere seconds, you went from sitting on her lap to her pushing you down into the floor that was littered with pillows, blankets, anything you could desire to make this as comfortable as possible.

Sevika all but ripped her pants to try and free what had been teasing you initially. You only had a few seconds to really look at the strap around her hips before she was lining the tip of the bright purple silicone against your core.

“Pretty little thing,” Sevika growled, almost ferally as she slammed down overtop of you. Suddenly, the leather around your chest felt entirely too tight, like you couldn’t breathe. You began frantically reaching for the ties to undo the restraint on your chest, and Sevika noticed because you gasped at her ripping the ropes off the bustier and pushing the fabric apart to really look at you.

“Now, because you were a good girl…” Sevika gently prodded your opening, making you whimper and reach for her biceps. “You get a warning before you get fucked.”

“Daddy, please—”

That was her trigger. You could only grab at her muscles before she was plunging all of her strap inside of your cunt like it belonged to her. You tried to scream, but nothing came out other than a strangled squeak as your head went back on the pillows and tears filled your eyes.

You aren’t a stranger to being stretched out like this. It wasn’t like it was your first day at the brothel… but it was your first day with Sevika. She only gave you a few seconds to adjust to that cock before she was reaching down with her flesh fingers and gently rubbing at your clit.

Your soft squeaks faded into intense moans, much to the woman’s delight. She chuckled, watching you squirm and look at her like she was an alien of some sort.

“Not what you expected, doll?” Sevika teased, rolling her hips forward and making you moan like the whore you were. “Didn’t think I’d care about making you feel good?”

Very stupidly, you nodded.

“Let me fix that,” She leaned down, and you curled your fingers into the leather of her jacket before bracing yourself for the most intense workday of your entire fucking life.

“Be good for daddy and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll beg me not to leave.”

And that is exactly what Sevika did.

#lgbt #lgbtq #arcane sevika #sevika #arcane #arcane league of legends #sevika x reader #dom!sevika #sub!reader #brothel #lesbian character #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #sin archives #sevika smut #sevika x reader smut #arcane smut

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caelum-in-the-avatarverse · 10 months ago

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Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available.

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community.

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company?

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists.

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits.

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people.

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it.

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

#ao3 #lore.fm #fanfiction #fandom history #gift economy #caelum rambles

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ds-angel1 · 1 month ago

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TEACHERS LITTLE PET

cw: SMUT(18+), teacher x student relationship, hitting it from the back(in the classroom), big age gap(ages aren´t specified), reader is a senior, i´m not american and have no idea how the school system works so please just smile and nod

wc: ~ 5.1k

a/n: tell me what you think of this dynamic and if you want more cause i have some ideas!! also this is the longest fic i´ve ever written, not my best work but atleast i managed to write something?? keep in mind i had a fever when i wrote this

Rafe had no idea how he ended up here.

Well, if he was being honest, he did. He just hated admitting it.

He hated kids. Teenagers weren’t much better. If they weren’t whining about something trivial, they were loud, obnoxious, and bursting with opinions they thought were groundbreaking. And high schoolers? They were the worst of the lot, caught in that unbearable limbo between childhood and adulthood, convinced they knew everything and that the world had been tailor-made to inconvenience them.

He hated his job, too. But after his father had all but shoved him into college, and he had somehow managed to scrape together an art history degree through a chaotic jumble of barely thought-out course selections, he needed a paycheck. He needed something, anything, to make use of the four years he had spent drowning in essays about the Renaissance and lectures on the symbolism of Baroque architecture.

And there it was, a high school history teacher.

He was fairly certain the school had been desperate. Desperate enough to hire the first applicant who could string a coherent sentence together about the American Revolution. And lucky him, that applicant had been Rafe.

The school itself was unremarkable. Small, under 400 students, just two squat brick buildings separated by a weather-beaten schoolyard that reeked of stale cigarette smoke and teenage apathy. Five hours from the Outer Banks, he could visit home whenever he wanted. Not that he did. There was nothing left for him there, nothing worth the drive, and frankly, there was nothing for him here either.

His days were a loop, a monotonous, uninspired cycle of standing in front of rows of disinterested, hormonal teenagers, rattling off lessons about long-dead historical figures far more interesting than any of his students would ever bother to realize. He graded half-assed essays, endured halfhearted excuses about missing assignments, and spent more time than he cared to admit staring at the clock, willing the hours to pass. Then, when the final bell rang, he trudged back to his apartment, a bare, impersonal space that he never bothered to decorate. No photos, no art, and no signs that anyone lived there. Just a bed, a couch, and a kitchen table that mostly went unused.

And then there were the truly miserable days, the ones where he was roped into subbing for freshman P.E., a biweekly exercise in self-inflicted torture. Half the girls refused to break a sweat, acting as if running a single lap would somehow lead to their untimely demise. The other half of the class consisted of cocky, over-competitive boys who treated dodgeball like a blood sport. He spent most of those periods standing on the sidelines, arms crossed, blowing the whistle when things got too heated, and watching the clock even more desperately than usual.

It was a dull, uninspired existence; monotonous, predictable, and entirely void of passion. He lived his life the way his students listened to the outdated documentaries he played in class: half-awake, uninterested, just going through the motions because it had to be done.

Until you walked into his class.

The first day of school after summer break always carried a certain energy; electric, restless, filled with voices overlapping in an unfiltered rush of stories from the last few weeks. As Rafe pushed open the door to his classroom, that familiar wave of chatter hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Laughter, exclamations, the scrape of chairs against the floor—it was all as chaotic as he had expected.

With a quiet sigh, he made his way to his desk, setting his thermos down on the bleached oak surface before picking it up again almost instinctively, taking a slow sip before returning it to its place. His fingers moved on autopilot, retrieving his school-issued laptop from his bag, pressing the power button, and waiting for the screen to glow to life. His gaze lifted, sweeping across the students, his students. The same faces he’d taught last year, now a little older, a little different, officially juniors.

But one face wasn’t familiar.

You.

Rafe spotted you almost immediately, sitting in the third row, right by the window where the morning sky stretched in endless hues of soft blue. You were listening—well, nodding, at least—to Amanda, whose mouth moved a mile a minute. He didn’t have to hear her know she was spewing an endless stream of conversation; Amanda was known for filling any silence, anytime, anywhere. But his attention wasn’t on her. It was on you.

A dark navy skirt draped over your thighs, the fabric shifting in gentle waves with every slight movement. Your top, a delicate white spaghetti strap with tiny baby blue flowers, hugged your frame, lace tracing the neckline, a small bow nestled right at its center. A beige cardigan hung loosely over your shoulders, two buttons left undone as if they had never been intended for use in the first place. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, not rigid, not loose, just… effortless. A few strands framed your face, soft wisps that moved when you turned your head, catching the light in a way that made them seem almost ethereal.

And sure, you looked beautiful, undeniably so. But it wasn’t just that.

It was the way your eyes flickered around the room, quietly observing, absorbing. The way your lips parted slightly every so often, murmuring the occasional “Uh-huh” or “Yeah” in response to Amanda’s nonstop chatter, even as your mind seemed elsewhere. There was something in your expression, an almost hesitant curiosity, a quiet awareness, that made Rafe’s fingers pause over the laptop’s keyboard.

He had seen many faces in this classroom. Some familiar, some forgettable.

But yours?

Yours was impossible to ignore.

"Uh— okay, let’s get started. Settle down," Rafe called out to the students, his voice steady despite the chaos. The room buzzed with post-summer chatter, desks scraping against the floor as students found their seats. He rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to exhale. The first day back was always like this, full of energy, distractions, and the struggle to rein everyone in. But today, there was another battle brewing beneath the surface, one he wasn’t prepared for.

He hoped that once the lesson began, he could shift his focus, and force himself to look anywhere but at you. He clung to that hope like a lifeline, but the moment he commanded their attention, he had yours.

And when your eyes locked onto him, he was trapped. Hypnotized. His breath hitched, pulse stuttering in a way it had no right to. For what felt like an eternity, he couldn’t tear his gaze away, couldn’t shake the invisible thread tightening between you. His fingers curled into his palm, nails pressing against his skin.

Shit.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to snap out of it, dragging his attention back to the board. He took a measured breath, gripping the chalk like it might anchor him. "Alright, I know you’re all still in vacation mode, but we need to get talking about history."

The usual grumbling came, but it was muted, fading as students settled into their seats. Good. The routine was safe. The routine was predictable. The routine wouldn’t let his mind wander to places it shouldn’t.

"Before we dive in, we have a new student joining us this year from the senior class," he announced, keeping his tone even, impersonal. His gaze flickered back to you, just for a second, just long enough to acknowledge you without giving himself away. "Would you introduce yourself?"

A brief silence. You hesitated, shifting under the weight of so many eyes before murmuring your name.

"Great," Rafe said, far too quickly. He cleared his throat, turning back to the board. "So, what do we know about American history from the Industrial Revolution to the modern age?"

The next forty-five minutes passed in a blur of discussion, textbook readings, and writing exercises. Normally, this was when he’d catch up on grading or chip away at whatever administrative work he had. But today? No. Today, his focus splintered, frayed at the edges every time he felt your presence in the room.

His eyes kept drifting.

To you.

It was reckless. Stupid. He knew it was wrong, knew exactly how it would look if anyone noticed. He wasn’t blind, he’d found students attractive before, but it had always been a fleeting thing, a passing thought dismissed before it could take root. A moment, nothing more.

But this?

This was different.

This wasn’t just acknowledging that you were pretty, though you were. Incredibly so. This wasn’t just an absent-minded recognition of beauty. No, this was something deeper. Something that twisted in his gut and settled in his bones, something that made his breath catch when he wasn’t prepared for it.

Something dangerous.

His fingers raked through his hair as he stared down at his keyboard, typing nothing. He could tell himself it was just a dry spell, that he’d been avoiding distractions for too long, that it was simply physical. But that would be a lie.

Because it wasn’t just about desire.

It was about you.

And that was a problem.

The shrill chime of the bell split the air, and the classroom erupted into motion. Notebooks snapped shut, chairs scraped against the tile, and a low hum of voices swelled as students shoved books into backpacks, eager to escape into the chaotic freedom of lunch. You swung your bag over your shoulder, weaving through the shifting maze of desks, your focus locked on the door. The cafeteria was called, an oasis of noise and anonymity where you could blend in, and where no one was analyzing your every move.

But just as you stepped forward, a voice cut through the chatter behind you.

"Hey."

It wasn’t loud, but it had weight, like an anchor dropping into the sea of departing students. Something in the tone made your stomach twist. You turned, pulse hitching slightly, to find Mr. Cameron watching you from behind his desk. His expression was unreadable, calm but not necessarily kind.

"Yes, Mr. Cameron?" you asked, hesitating.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?"

It was phrased like a question, but you both knew it wasn’t. He gave a small nod toward the door as the last few stragglers trickled out, a silent instruction.

With a quiet sigh, you nudged the door shut behind them, the click of the latch sealing you in. The classroom, so full of life just seconds ago, now felt cavernous, the quiet pressing in around you. You hesitated before making your way back to his desk, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Mr. Cameron leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the surface of his desk, fingers steepled together. "So… I wanted to talk to you about last year." His voice was measured, and neutral, but something about it put you on edge. "You were in Ms. Wallace’s class, right?" His eyes flicked to a sheet of paper in front of him, though you were certain he already knew the answer.

You shifted uncomfortably. "Mhm." A simple answer for something far more complicated. Your history with Ms. Wallace wasn’t just a class; it was a long, exhausting battle, a relentless tug-of-war between frustration, unmet expectations, and a sinking feeling of inevitability.

Mr. Cameron studied you for a moment before speaking again. "Can you tell me what didn’t work? Was it her? The material? Her teaching style? Or was it something on your end?" His head tilted slightly, voice smooth, probing.

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your fingers clenched the strap of your bag. "I guess I was just… kind of unfocused last year," you admitted, your voice barely above a murmur.

"Mm." He hummed, eyebrows lifting just slightly. "Just last year?"

Your stomach tightened.

"Because judging by today’s lesson, it seems like you're still a little… distracted. More interested in doodles than in history, huh?"

Heat crept up your neck, shame pooling in your chest. Your gaze dropped to the floor as if looking anywhere else might soften the weight of his words.

"You’d think," he continued, his tone carrying the faintest edge, "that after the school let you pass the year and only required you to retake this class, you'd put in a little more effort."

His words landed like a slap, sharp, deliberate. He knew exactly how unfair that was. Knew how it would make you feel. And yet, for whatever reason, he didn’t stop himself.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“You want to pass, yes?”

His voice was low, almost teasing, each word curling around you like smoke. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his desk, dark eyes locked onto yours with something unreadable, something that made your stomach twist.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, and gave a quick, eager nod.

Rafe watched you for a lingering second, dragging it out just long enough to make you shift where you stood. Then, with an exhale that was almost too casual, he pushed himself up from his chair. He didn’t simply stand, he moved. Slow. Deliberate. A quiet display of control as he braced one hand against the edge of his desk, his weight settling into a lean. The aged wood creaked under him, but he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care.

His focus remained entirely on you.

“And what do you think I could do to help you achieve that?”

Smooth. Measured. But there was something else beneath his tone, something just sharp enough to catch. Playfulness, maybe. Amusement. Or something more dangerous.

His gaze flickered, sweeping over you in a way that felt too quick at first, like a reflex he hadn’t meant to act on. But then, you saw it. The hesitation. The way his throat bobbed, how his fingers flexed at his sides before he rubbed the back of his neck as if trying to shake off whatever had just slipped through the cracks. But it was too late.

You had seen.

And by the way, his jaw clenched a second later, the way his lips pressed together, you knew he realized it too.

Your heart hammered. You didn’t answer him. Couldn’t. Instead, your fingers fidgeted with each other, twisting and untwisting, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. The silence between you stretched, thick and electric, heavy with something unspoken, something neither of you dared name but both of you felt.

Rafe inhaled deeply, the sound filling the quiet space between you. The air itself seemed different now, charged, like something unseen was pressing in, urging one of you to break.

He let the breath out slowly, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that somehow felt… controlled. Intentional. And then, his eyes moved again.

This time, there was no rush. No flicker of hesitation.

Now, he studied you.

It was slow, almost methodical, th

6e kind of look that made heat crawl up the back of your neck, the kind that lingered just long enough in places that made you second-guess every inch of yourself. When his gaze reached your thighs, a nervous jolt ran through you. Almost instinctively, you gripped the hem of your skirt, twisting the fabric in your fists, your knuckles turning white.

A nervous habit.

One he noticed.

One that made his eyes darken, not dramatically, not in some exaggerated, obvious way, but just enough. Just enough for you to catch the shift, to see the amusement flicker across his face like the hint of a smirk he didn’t fully let through.

“Hm?” The questioning hum he let out brought you back to reality, back to his question, and back to the answer that you had yet to give.

“Um… I- I don’t know…” you stammered out.

His eyes flick down again, taking in your upper body, eyes practically circling in on your chest. As if your body has a mind of its own, you straighten your back, puffing out your chest.

Rafe’s eyes flickered up to yours, and for a second, he didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

The air between you had thickened, dense with something unspoken, something dangerous. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, slow, almost pensive as if he were considering something he shouldn’t be. He exhaled sharply through his nose, a breath that almost sounded like a laugh but carried no humor, just tension.

“Yeah?” His voice was softer now, quieter like he was testing the waters, like he was trying to figure out how far this would go before one of you came to your senses.

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your throat felt tight, your skin burning where his gaze traced. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something vast, something that couldn’t be undone.

His fingers tapped once, twice against the desk, a steady rhythm that contradicted the barely concealed restraint in his posture. His body language told two different stories, one of hesitation, and another of inevitability. He was too close, and yet he wasn’t moving away.

Your breath hitched as he shifted, his body angling just slightly towards yours. It was a minuscule movement, one that could’ve been mistaken for a simple change in weight, but you knew better. It was deliberate. Calculated.

“You want to pass this class?”

The question was a mere whisper, his voice dipped in something that made your stomach twist. Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, nodding, too fast, too eager.

His lips twitched, almost smirking like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He leaned in just enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne, something dark and musky, something entirely him.

“Then you’re gonna have to focus.”

The way he said it—low, deliberate—sent a shiver down your spine. His words weren’t inappropriate, but the way he looked at you, the way his voice wrapped around each syllable, made them feel like something else entirely.

Your knees felt weak, your heart pounding against your ribcage as your grip tightened around the strap of your bag. The classroom, once suffocating in its quiet, now felt electric, charged with a current that neither of you dared acknowledge aloud.

Rafe exhaled again, this time slower, measured. His hand moved, not towards you, not touching, but close enough that you felt the shift in air between you.

“You’re nervous.”

It wasn’t a question.

Your breath shuddered. “I—”

His head tilted slightly, watching, waiting. His pupils were blown wide, his expression unreadable but entirely focused on you.

His jaw ticked, his fingers twitching at his side like he was fighting something. A beat of silence stretched between you.

And then, Rafe moved.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t forceful. It was a slow descent, a moment stretched into eternity. His lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you felt the ghost of his breath against your skin, close enough that your lips parted in anticipation before your mind could catch up.

He paused—just for a fraction of a second, just enough to give you the chance to pull away. Just enough to make it clear that if this happened, it was your choice, too.

But you didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

And before you could let a single other breath out, his lips met yours.

Soft at first. Testing. A barely-there brush that sent a sharp current through your veins, igniting something dangerous and uncontainable in your chest.

He exhaled against your mouth, and in that moment it seemed like something in him snapped.

His hand found your waist, fingers splaying against the fabric of your cardigan as he pulled you just slightly closer. His other hand lifted, skimming along your jaw before his fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head just so.

The kiss deepened, slow but demanding, every movement deliberate, every touch igniting another spark beneath your skin. He wasn’t rushing—no, he was savoring, taking his time like he wanted to memorize the exact way you fit against him. He knew this was a mistake but couldn’t bring himself to care.

Your hands found his chest, pressing lightly against the fabric of his dress shirt, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms. His fingers tightened slightly in your hair at the contact, his grip on your waist firm but careful, as if he was anchoring himself as much as he was anchoring you.

The sharp sound of footsteps in the hallway shattered the fragile haze that had settled between you two, yanking you both back into reality.

Rafe was the first to react, pulling away, but only just. His forehead remained pressed against yours, his breath still ragged, chest rising and falling in sync with yours. His fingers, warm and possessive, lingered at your waist a second too long before he finally, finally, let go, stepping back just enough to put a sliver of space between you. But not enough to erase what had just happened.

His eyes searched yours, dark blue depths swirling with something unreadable, something dangerous. His exhale was sharp, tension coiling through his jaw as he dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping at the strands like he was trying to ground himself.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough and uneven. Then, with more force, “Fuck. Fuck.”

His eyes shut tight, his head shaking in frustration as if the motion itself could erase the last few minutes. When they opened again, they were filled with something even more intense. In two strides, he was in front of you again, his hands gripping your upper arms, fingertips pressing just a little too hard, just enough to make you feel trapped between the heat of his body and the reality of the situation.

“This didn’t happen, okay?” His voice was firm, but there was a slight tremor to it like he wasn’t sure if he believed the words himself. His grip tightened before loosening again, as if he was at war with himself as if he didn’t trust his restraint.

You didn’t answer. You just stared at him, your pulse thrumming wildly, your breath uneven. His eyes flickered down to your parted lips, then back to your eyes, and something in him cracked. His hands slid down your arms in a slow, deliberate motion, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When his fingertips finally settled at your hipbones, pressing in lightly, his resolve wavered even more.

“This…” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

His voice was different now, lower, more raw. His fingers traced absent patterns along the fabric of your skirt as his mind spiraled, thoughts tumbling into a chaotic storm. Why was he doing this? This wasn’t like him. He had met you, his student, his goddamn student, less than an hour ago, and he had already crossed every possible line. And yet, even knowing that he wasn’t pulling away. He was moving closer.

His hands ghosted up your sides, the touch sending shivers across your skin. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell anyone. Can you do that for me?”

If someone had asked you that morning how you thought your first day of senior year would go, never in a million years would you have said this? Sure, you’d heard the whispers in the halls, and seen the way every girl’s eyes lingered when he walked past. Mr. Cameron was the forbidden fantasy, the subject of countless rumors and stolen glances. But he was also your teacher. And he had just kissed you.

You knew it was wrong. You should run, tell someone, do the right thing. And yet, as your mind battled between logic and desire, only one thought rose above the rest: he had kissed you.

Mr. Cameron, the man every girl in school lusted after, had kissed you. Had he done this before? Had he chosen others before you? Or was this different?

Even as doubt twisted itself into a tight knot in your stomach, you found yourself nodding, unable to speak, afraid your voice would betray you with the high-pitched, breathy sound of a girl who had just been touched by fire and didn’t want to step away.

“Good.”

His voice was barely a whisper, almost more breath than sound. The tension in the room grew, thick and suffocating, but you didn’t want to breathe anything else in. His fingers glided upward again, teasing over your waist, grazing over your ribs, leaving a trail of heat that made your entire body burn with anticipation.

Then, gently, with a tenderness that contradicted the fevered hunger in his eyes, he cupped your face. For one impossible moment, you thought he was going to kiss you again, that he was going to throw every bit of logic and control out the window and claim your lips as he had minutes ago. But instead, he tilted your head slightly, his breath warm against your throat.

Then his lips were on your neck, barely touching, soft and slow.

A sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, escaped you, and his hands tightened ever so slightly, grounding you, making you feel small under his grasp. His mouth moved lower, pressing another kiss, and then another, each one more deliberate, more intoxicating than the last.

You barely registered the moment he turned you around, your back now facing him. Your hands trembled as they found purchase against the smooth surface of his desk, the dark wood cool beneath your fingertips.

Then, with the kind of confidence that sent a shiver racing down your spine, he placed his hands on your thighs, massaging them slowly, possessively.

His voice, low and dripping with something dark and dangerous, ghosted over your ear.

“Stay quiet for me.”

You sucked in a deep, long breath, letting your head fall and your eyes close.

The feel of the Rafe´s fingers slid under the skirt and the pads of his fingers started tracing along your panties, each tiny motion making your body stutter and tremble.

“You´re… you´re real special, you know that?” He spoke from behind you but you couldn’t respond, still holding your breath as if letting out the air would make the situation you found yourself in truly real.

When he had had enough of feeling the warm, twisted feeling in his stomach as he let his fingers glide over your clothed cunt, he pushed your underwear aside with his thumb, letting the tip of his index finger dip into your already quivering hole. The action intensified the feeling and buried it even deeper in his gut.

As if a shock of lightning had hit you, you bolted away from his hand a few inches, clenching your thighs tightly as you finally relieved your lungs of the air they were keeping trapped.

“M- Mr. Cameron…” You started to sputter out but stopped when you felt long, gruff fingers curl around the sides of your panties before pulling the black lace material down tantalizingly slow.

A cold rush of air hit your most intimate body part, making you gasp and pant. When you heard rustling and what you could only assume was the clink of your teacher´s belt, you shut your mouth and froze as you waited for the man´s next move.

“Listen,” he whispered your name like it was a sin he committed and you were a pastor, “You understand that this stays between us, yes?” His large hands massaged your ass and thighs, cursing under his breath when he saw how soaked you were.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement. You weren´t sure why. He was your teacher and by the looks of it and the feel of his hands on you, apparently a pedophile. But god did you want this; you wanted it, him, so bad.

Before you could so much as even let another thought pass through your head, he thrust forward, burying his cock inside you as deep as he could with multiple rapid movements of his hips. You moaned and practically screamed, the sounds of pleasure from you making Rafe reach around and cover practically half of your entire face.

“Fuck, you´re so tight,” he muttered sharply next to your ear as he started moving inside of you again, dragging his hips back only to snap them back forward less than a moment later.

“You like that, huh? Like being fucked by your teacher. Little teachers pet.”

He knew this was wrong, you were his student, and you probably didn´t even actually want this but for some fucked up reason that made it even better for Rafe, and as the thought crossed his mind it only made him thrust into you faster. At that point, you were damn near choking and sobbing into his hand, his palm making it hard for you to get a deep breath of fresh air in.

With a sense of panic taking over you, you tried to move your hands off of the desk to claw him off of your face but your attempts proved futile when Rafe pushed you flat onto the desk, forcing you to take his cock even deeper.

His free hand which wasn´t taking away your ability to breathe, found its way between your legs, his index, and middle fingers drawing squiggly circles on your clit. At the shock of pleasure that ran through you as he teased your extremely sensitive bundle of nerves, you clenched around his pipe and arched your back. You felt that familiar coil spring up in the depths of your stomach, your body rocking slightly backward against Rafe´s to help you relive the press soon.

Rafe pushed into you harder than he had any of the other time before then, hitting your sweet spot with a force that would have made you cry out, had you had your mouth free. His fingers applied pressure to the shapes they were making on your clit. The mix of heightened attention and force made your pussy squeeze around him and pushed you over the edge, coming with tears in your eyes.

After a few more brutal thrusts into your soppy cunt, he came as well, unloading into you, his thoughts barely registering anything at that point except for you and your body bent over his desk, his cum dripping out of your used up hole and onto your thighs.

Slowly he took away his hand from your face, a trail of spit following. As soon as you got a few much-needed breaths, you collapsed onto the desk, your body falling limp. Rafe pulled out of you, not wasting any time before he pulled his pants back on and redid his leather belt around his hips. He leaned over you, his body covering all of your sweaty skin as he dressed you in your underwear again.

“You did so good, darling. So, so good."

2K notes · View notes

joonjuul · 23 days ago

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play thing. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jk x sleepy!reader

wc: 3k

warnings: desperate!jk, softdom!jk, sleepy!reader, sub!reader, light ddlg themes (if u squint), implied consent, somnophilia, fingering (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), light overstimulation (f receiving), pet names, unprotected sex (wrap it up), pwp lol

a/n: saw another author write something similar to this agessss ago and i’ve been obsessed ever since

╋━

it was one of those nights. one of those nights where your phone mysteriously shut off early, where your eyes felt heavier than normal, where the sweet hum of your blankets and pillows called your name gently, even if it was only 10pm.

since you started dating jungkook, you always felt so busy. it was almost like you were carrying the stress of both his job, and your own, which only meant one thing — you were the most exhausted woman on the planet, and tonight was no exception.

you use your last bit of energy to plug your phone in on the nightstand beside you, turning over and examining the empty side of your shared bed. another wonderful addition to your new life, was still having to sleep alone, despite the fact that you lived with your boyfriend. monday through friday, you always found your routine to be the same, get home from work, make dinner for you and your boyfriend, and head up to your shared room, scrolling until your eyes began to shut before rolling over, jungkook always wandering to his at home studio some time after dinner.

you loved how passionate he was about his work, but it didn’t help the fact that you missed him desperately — his touch, his sweet smile, the small freckle under his lip, the way his hands always instinctively found your waist even within the pitch black night of your room.

he was wonderful, and you adored him, but you couldn’t ignore the loom of desperation that blossomed between your legs as you imagined how he took care of you on the weekends, when his mind wasn’t so preoccupied. his fingers, so skillful and rough, almost as if they memorized your body like a map — every spot that made you writhe beneath him and every crevice of your skin that made your toes curl.

you felt a dampness arise in your panties as your mind wandered, but your tiredness quickly got the best of you, as you eased into a deep sleep — images of your muscular boyfriend hovering above you, his ink splattered arms on either side of your head as he drove into you mercilessly lulling you to sleep.

jungkook however, was only a couple hours into what would be a very sleepless night.

with their comeback approaching, he had been much busier than usual — always winding up in his at home studio after dinner, headphones sat lightly on his head as he’d meticulously arrange every beat and vocal he had prepared during his day at work. he didn’t enjoy it, he’d much rather be with you down the hall, feeling the warmth of your body against his as you both drifted off, but it had become much like a routine, and he was never one to break a good habit, not when they were so close to their scheduled comeback date.

tonight though, was a little different. with every click of a button, every slide of a mouse across the desk, his mind only led back to one thing — you. with his jam packed schedule he had barely left any time to spend with you, and not just that, but also time for your sex life. jungkook was not the type of man to have sex once a week. his body craved you feverishly almost every minute of the day. he went all day craving your touch, and when he finally arrived home and was able to bask in your never ending skin, he felt like all his day’s work was complete. but it would never be enough to satisfy him, and today was one of those days.

he feels his mind begin to wander as he imagines you in bed. he wonders whether or not you’ve fallen asleep yet, which pair of panties you’re wearing, imagining you sprawled out on your bed, shorts riding meticulously high up your ass. and he feels the pressure in his pants begin to worsen.

his eyes glance at the clock. 12:06 am.

he had done enough work today, right? there was always tomorrow, he thought to himself as he took his headphones off, ignoring the tension in his boxers as he stood up from his chair, desperately crossing his fingers that you’re still awake, still conscious so he can fall between your legs and take you like he so hopelessly needs.

his feet carry him to your shared room quickly, his hands wrapping around the doorknob as his eyes quickly fall on your sated body. one leg on either side of the covers as your ass pokes out slightly — barely leaving any room for imagination in one of your cutest pairs of undies.

he lets out a low groan at the sight, his body wandering aimlessly into the room as he gets closer to you. he notices your quiet snores, the way your hair messily spreads across the pillow case, and then he notices something else — a small wet patch outlined in your panties.

jungkook feels his breath hitch in his throat, his eyes zeroing in immediately as he walks closer to the bed, falling to his knees on the covers behind you, but never hard enough to stir you from your sleep.

he gulps, how could you look so perfect ? and why were you so wet ?

his mind swarms with thoughts, his body filled with heat as he wonders if you had touched yourself while he was in the next room, if you craved touch but couldn’t settle for anything less than him. he feels a weight hang on his shoulders, his cock throbbing unbearably in his pants as he feels an overwhelming need for you take over.

without a second thought, his hands fall to the waistband of his sweatpants, quickly pulling them down along with his boxers to reveal his throbbing hard on.

he pumps himself for a moment or two. where does he start? you were sprawled out perfectly on your bed, your cunt obviously ready for him, even if you didn’t know he was there. he halts his movements, still hearing the gentle hum of your snores in the background, and he positions himself between your legs in response, bringing a hand to your panties to pull them aside.

he drags the head of his cock over your folds, relishing in your wetness as he pauses, waiting to feel you stir, hear a whine of concern, but there’s nothing.

he takes your silence as his queue and slowly begins to bury himself into your warmth, your walls stretching to accommodate his size with ease as your body unknowingly lets him in. his breath seizes as he feels your cunt squeeze him deliciously, stifled moans begging to be released as he bottoms out inside you, his head hung low as he tries to catch his breath.

you were so wet, so perfect, and all for him. even in sleep you stayed still and obedient for him, and it was driving him insane.

jungkook begins a tireless pace on your cunt, his thrusts slow and gentle as he feels you tighten around him with every pump of his delicious cock.

he carefully drags the comforter over your back, protecting you from the cold of the night, and hopefully keeping you asleep long enough for him to empty his load inside you. but you were more than perfect, you were irreplaceable. your body subconsciously relaxing deeper as you feel the added warmth to your back, completely unaware of your boyfriend falling apart above you.

with every thrust of his hips he can feel his balls tighten, his body aching for release as his movements begin to quicken, so much so, that he forgets you’re asleep.

mindless praises falling from his lips as he worships you subconsciously, his mind only focused on one thing — you.

“so perfect, baby. my perfect girl.” he lowers himself closer to your body, a hand on either side of your head as his tattooed hand grips the comforter tighter, a coil in his stomach beginning to build as he feels himself drawing closer and closer to the edge.

your dream stutters momentarily, pictures of you and jungkook on a romantic date quickly being brushed away as your mind returns to reality. the first thing you notice isn’t his heavy breathing beside your ear, nor his length stretching your walls deliciously, but the feeling of a tightness within your abdomen.

“mmm.” you moan gently as your body stirs, your eyes fluttering open as they’re consumed with darkness, only a small piece of your boyfriend’s tattooed arm falling in your vision.

“shhh it’s okay, baby.” his sweet voice hums as you finally feel him between your legs, his cock moving feverishly inside you, brushing against your walls perfectly as you let out a loud moan, your wetness only increasing as you grip the sheets beside you.

“kook? f-fuck.”

“shhh, don’t try to talk baby. it’s just me. needed to feel you. go back to bed, sweetheart.” his voice is soft and soothing but the tension in your stomach screams otherwise, your body desperate for release.

he quickly notices your movements, your whines, the way your bum pokes out slightly, begging for more, and he carefully brings a hand down beneath you to your throbbing clit in response.

“there there. this what you wanted sweetheart?” you moan at his words, your legs beginning to shake as you nod your head quickly, the feeling of his fingers circling your clit were almost enough to send you over the edge. but his pace never slows, if anything, his hips quicken as he drives into you mercilessly, thankful that he doesn’t have to hold back now that you’re fully conscious.

“that’s it, good girl.” his words spur you on as he watches you begin to come undone, him easily knowing every spot in your body that gets you going the most. his fingers slowly circle around your clit, your legs shaking slightly as you moan out, loving every movement of his cock inside you. your knuckles are white from gripping at the sheets, your head spinning as you feel like you’re still half unconscious, but jungkook can only think about one thing — the pressure in his balls signaling his closeness.

“cum with me angel, wanna feel you.” his voice is shaky but his hips stay consistent, each thrust building the intensity in your stomach as you feel the coil begin to grow. you were so close, just teetering on the edge of your release, and you knew he was too as his fingers that were once rubbing your clit with calculated movements, were now messy and vigorous. his cock begins to twitch as he feels your walls tense around him as he thrusts deeper, hitting your g-spot so perfectly that it sends you into your climax suddenly.

“f-fuck.” he stutters as he feels you tighten, your moans spiraling through his head as he takes one final plunge inside of you, burying his cum deep within your stomach as he bottoms out.

your breath is heavy as you feel yourself return to reality, the warmth of your boyfriend’s chest against your back bringing you a sense of comfort. god had you missed his touch.

he looks down at his now softening cock as he pulls it out of you, watching a small stream of his juices trickle out of your pulsing hole, collecting it with his fingers before dipping it back inside of you, the sensation making you gasp.

“gotta clean you up, baby.” he rasps, his voice now deeper than normal, whether due to tiredness or the sex you weren’t sure, all you could focus on was his fingers dipping in and out of you gently, moving in circles as his pads brush against your walls. you’re unable to control the low moan that leaves your lips at the feeling.

“sore?” his movements cease as he leans forward to gauge your reaction. but you shake your head in response.

“feels good.” your voice shakes as you begin to move your hips in response to his gentle assault on your cunt, your body writhing against the sheets as it begs for more.

jungkook smirks as he watches how desperate you are, even in such a fucked out state. he must’ve made you wait much longer than he intended.

“sweet girl.” he brings his free hand up to your head as he begins to stroke it calmly, his fingers still moving within you so carefully that you’re not sure whether he’s even trying to turn you on.

his hand falls down to your back, slipping under your shirt as he rubs circles on your hot skin, his hands perfectly calloused from lifting weights that they almost feel rough against you, and it only amplifies everything you’re feeling.

“kook, please.” you whimper, your tone much softer than you’d intended. his touch was driving you crazy, everything about him, you must’ve been ovulating with the way you felt everything so intensely.

“hmm? what is it, baby? what does my sweet girl want?” he hums, his fingers curling inside of you as he watches you begin to squirm, the crooked smile never leaving his face. he knew exactly what he was doing.

you groan, completely burnt out from his teasing. “more kook.”

he quirks a brow, his fingers curling again as he brings his free hand down to your bum, massaging your cheeks gently.

“more? what more could you want? i’m just cleaning you up, baby.”

you groan again, now fully irritated as you kick your legs slightly in annoyance, turning your head over your shoulder to see the wicked grin plastered to his lips.

“pleaseeeee.” you whine, rutting your hips in an attempt to feel more of him. his grip on your ass tightens but his fingers continue to move gently inside of you.

“behave, sweetheart. just relax, i’m right here. you know i always take care of you, right?” his pace begins to quicken but never lose their gentle feel, still carefully dragging every inch of your walls, and curling up into your g-spot perfectly.

“f-fuck, kook.” you moan out, whether from the gentle overstimulation of his fingers inside you, or the way he carefully caressed your back, everything was too much yet not enough at the same time. you were obsessed with him, with the way he made you feel — how he was so rough yet touched you so sweetly, how he dragged the pads of his fingers against your walls, the hushed praises falling from his lips… he was simply too much to bare.

“there you go, that’s my girl.” he watches intently as you move your hips in synchronization with him, your body melting into his every touch as what was meant to be him riding you off your high, turned into something entirely different.

he leans down into your ear, bringing his hand that was on your back up to your neck as he carefully pulls your hair aside, peppering kisses along your damp skin, only building the intensity within you.

his lips stall as he licks a stripe up your neck, stopping by your ear to pull it into his teeth with ease, only nibbling it for a second before releasing it and watching as you fall apart beneath him.

“ughhh” you bury your face into your pillow, completely overwhelmed with pleasure as he continues his ministrations on your already tired cunt.

“words, baby.”

you groan at his response, unsure of how to put your emotions into words, but he’s unsatisfied with your reply — quickly bringing his once gentle hand on your hair back down to your waist and flipping you over with ease, plunging his fingers back into you once your eyes have met one another.

“speak up.” he demands, his voice now filled with lust.

you moan out at the sudden harshness of his movements, cowering under his intense gaze.

“just - ahh - just want you kook.”

he flashes a crooked smile at you, leaning back down into the bareness of your neck.

“you have me, baby. i’m all yours.” his voice a hushed, seductive whisper as he begins assault your neck, his fingers never ceasing.

the feeling is almost unbearable, the coil in your stomach quickly returning with every perfect curl of his fingers and lap of his tongue against your hot skin.

you were a mess — writhing, legs shaking, hands clawing at any part of his body you could use to stabilize yourself, but it was not nearly enough to bring you off the edge that was only drawing nearer.

“close.” you whimper, your knees threatening to clamp shut on his hand until he quickly pins them down, holding you in place and directing his gaze onto your sopping cunt. he wanted to see it all. not just the way you tightened around him, or the way you gushed all the way down his knuckles, but the way you pushed out his seed in the process. he wanted to see it all.

“cum, baby. such a perfect girl, all for me. let me see you cum.” and with a final curl of his fingers, you were sent soaring back over your high. even if it wasn’t as strong as the first, it was just as passionate, if not more. the way his eyes were fixed on your center drove you crazy, his tongue darting out to wet his perfect lips, he was pure sex.

your eyes fluttered shut, your body unable to process what had happened, but you could faintly feel him removing his fingers and placing gentle kisses on your legs, your skin covered in goosebumps for as far as the eye could see.

“good girl, you did such a good job, angel.” you hear his gentle praises as he begins to clean you up properly, admiring the mess you made of your shared bed.

you wish you could respond, you with you could thank him, but your mind had already drifted off into a slow, deliberate sleep — one deeper than you could’ve ever imagined you’d be receiving tonight.

if you thought you were exhausted before, it was nothing compared to the state of you now.

#bts smut #bts #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook

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karlachismylife · 14 days ago

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Simon Riley got his fingers fucked up. Time spent under Roba's torture messed up the joints, made his digits barely able to flex and curl and left him with chronic pain, especially once the temperatures start to drop. It's alright, not the worst thing he came out of that encounter with, he can live with it. Doesn't bother him even that much.

It's just that Simon Riley used to love knitting.

Soft, creamy white, thick yarn turning into volumunous sweaters with huge warm collars his mother and his brother's bird could wear, safe from the nasty winter chill. Stripey socks, comfortable hats, long fluffy scarves - he could and would do it all.

Roba took it from him. Knitting needles became almost impossible to hold properly, struggling over the yarn mess for more than 15 minutes pisses him off and makes him never want to pick it up again. He can barely make a couple rows of a shitty excuse of a scarf, let alone finish a single thing.

And then Soap brings his LT over to his family home for their joint leave - two whole weeks in a household full of bustling life, hearty food and loving banter. In the evenings, when Johnny and all the younglings of the family have already spent their buzzing energy and are snoring in their beds, sometimes piled up like tired puppies, Simon and Mama MacTavish both are kept up by their insomnia. In a pleasantly dimly lit living room, this beautiful woman with white hair and noble profile sits, kitting - soft white wool of Highlands' best sheep turning into a sweater in her hands.

Simon comes to sit with her, calmed down by the sounds her needles make and the hypnotizing movements of her hands. First couple of nights he just lets it lull him to sleep before Mama MacTavish sends him off to wam bed with her snoring son already sprawled across it like a starfish.

Then Simon picks up needles himself. It's a slow, torturous process, his grip slipping, threads coming apart, frustration and anger at his useless fingers building - yet Mama's hands always come to rescue. She soothes the pain in his fingers, helps fix uneven loops, tells him stories of Johnny's childhood to distract Ghost from his angry mind. It works.

By the end of the leave he presents Soap the ugliest knitted hat with pompoms stitched to it in a row resembling a mohawk, and you bet Johnny wears it all the time, flexing in front of everyone who sees him in this monstrosity. He takes it to all the places he shouldn't, stubbornly unwilling to part with the gift, and loses pompoms - yet somehow Simon constantly sees new ones pop up on the hat.

It's Mama MacTavish stitching them on, because she knows, Simon needs a little help with this painstaking work for now.

#ghoap #ghost x soap #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #soap cod #john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod

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melminli · 3 months ago

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Ddakji Man

summery - you were always struggling to make ends meet, despite having three separate jobs and you doubted that that would ever change. it felt like you were working out of your own casket and it would probably be more sustainable to invest in one at this point.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: slight arguing, cursing but nothing too graphic tbh

"Are you sure that you don't want to come?" One of your friends asked you a little sadly since you were about to leave the group. They rarely got to see you anyway, did you have to leave so early? "You never come with us when we go out for a drink, we miss you there, you know?"

You smiled a little tiredly as you strolled casually through the streets. "I'm sorry guys, I just have to work tonight." you tried to explain. Besides, I'm fucking tired and just want to get some sleep before then. I miss my bed.

Your best friend pouted as she hugged you from the side and you welcomed it, even if it made walking a little more difficult. "It's always work this work that. Live a little for once, all this stress is not good for you. You need a break." she spoke up before a thought came into her mind that made her a little furious. "Don't tell me that you're using work as an excuse to cancel on us. We can do something else if you want to. I'll even invite you, come on!"

You took a tired breath. I don't have any energy for this. "Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to get drunk with you and I'm not being sarcastic or anything." you clarified. Besides, I wouldn't work this much if I didn't have to.

"All right." she gave in unhappy. "We'll catch you one of these days, I can feel it..."

You laughed softly. "Please do," you replied and stopped in front of the stairs that led to the subway. This was the place where you had to part ways with the others and you did with a few more hugs. You enjoyed spending time with them and loved your friends with all your heart, but you were still happy to be a bit on your own now.

So you plugged in your cable headphones and played your current favorite song at the loudest volume before checking when the next train was going to arrive. Another twenty minutes? The last one must have just left. You decided to just sit down on a bench and wait while staring blankly around and quietly mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

A few minutes later, a person sat down next to you and you could see out of the corner of your eye that it was probably some kind of businessman or something. You didn't look closely out of politeness and turned your gaze somewhere else after checking the time on your phone.

"Excuse me." the unknown man tried to get your attention, but as expected, you could barely hear him over the booming music. He placed his briefcase in the space between you before leaning closer to your figure and looking towards you with a smile and finally, you seemed to notice his stare and turned in his direction. You took out one of your earbuds as you met his gaze. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The man leaned back again. "I haven't said anything yet. I wanted to ask if I could talk to you, do you have a moment?"

You looked around a little uncomfortably as he maintained uninterrupted eye contact with you. "Ehm, well..." you stumbled slightly over your words. "I'm not religious or anything, sorry," you replied, having no patience for another discourse about Jesus and the church. This is the fourth time this week, lucky me. You thought to yourself as you were about to put your earplug back in.

The salesman held a hand in the air to stop you from doing that to keep your attention. You just looked at him uninterestedly and waited, it was going to be a while before your train arrived anyway. A smile graced his face after you were willing to listen to him again. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, I just want to offer you a chance."

Your face tightened a little in disgust and you were quite irritated by now. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer and didn't say anything else, so you had no choice but to interpret his words. He doesn't look like that kind of guy, but I guess it's always the ones who look the most decent. "Listen to me asshole," you said openly this time, all politeness gone as you pointed at his chest with your index finger. "I don't know you, maybe you're one of those men who try to talk in riddles to seem mysterious or something, but right now it just sounds like you're looking for someone cheap to fuck." you replied as you tapped his tie with each syllable and leaned a little closer to him as you whispered. "And I'm not cheap, so you might want to look elsewhere."

This time it was you who grinned as he looked at you in surprise and he let out a small grunt after you finished your sentence. The salesman straightened his tie while watching your figure before reaching for his briefcase and revealing its contents, "That's too bad, but also not what I was talking about," he replied as you looked at the money and colored paper in confusion. "Have you ever played Ddakji?" He asked you as he took out the red and blue paper. You just shook your head. "That's no problem at all, we can still play it if you're up for it."

Your gaze alternated from his hand to his face. Oh, so he's crazy. You finally concluded. I guess he is too handsome to be just a normal guy, huh. You turned your head away from him, something about the whole thing just seemed perverse to you. "No thanks, I'll pass."

"You sure?" He asked again, knowing he'd convinced you as soon as he brought the money into it. These people are all the same, she'll snatch the paper right out of my hands after I start talking a language she understands. "Every time you win, you get 100,000 won from me." He began, watching the look on your face. "But if I win, you owe me 100,000 won and -"

You sighed and interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure. I still don't want to play with you, okay?"

This time the man looked at you with a cold, icy stare. A few minutes passed like this and you just tried to ignore his gaze, but then he started talking again. "All right. 200,000 won." he finally said, but couldn't seem to get your attention back. He tried again. "Is it because you've never played the game before? We can have a practice round if that would make you feel more comfortable." he tried again and got irritated when you continued to ignore him. He looked around the area as he considered his next move. Is she waiting for me to increase the prize money further? These people usually jump up happily at the first amount since they're so desperate. He tried to collect himself again. "500,000 won." he finally said. "I've got the money right here, you just have to go for it."

When is this stupid train coming. "Look, I don't want your fucking money, understand? I'm not a gambling addict or -"

"You may not want it, but you need it," he said, annoyed. This has never happened before, is she stupid? He then spoke out your name and described your miserable living situation as if you didn't already know about it yourself. "You also have quite a lot of debt for someone who is still relatively young, are you seriously going to turn down the money I'm offering you? For what, to prove a point or something?"

You didn't know what this man's fucking problem was, he should be glad that you didn't want to take his money, and how did he even know all this? You got up from your seat next to him when the train finally arrived and turned to face him one last time. "Fuck you," you told him and then went to the doors. You even looked out of the window at him as soon as they closed before you, to show him your the middle finger.

The man in the suit watched your figure irritated until it was gone and then, took the little card out of the inside pocket of his suit, that was meant for you. He turned it over a few times in his hand before closing the open briefcase with his other one. He had already played and lost a few Ddakji games in his life, which was the point of the whole thing - to recruit players for the actual game. However, the thought of what awaited them there meant that he was still in control of the situation. He was always in control of the situation. "I didn't loose, we haven't even played." he tried to reassure himself.

And yet the whole conversation with you left him feeling like he was utterly defeated.

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clockwayswrites · 5 months ago

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Birds and Mice and Tea Parties 20

Masterpost

AN: B really was trying his best to protect Danny last time, he just was missing too much information. Poor Danny...

No reading over. We suffer and post at 2am.

It had been two weeks since the last rogue Wayne visit.

Danny hadn’t intended to keep track. There was no reason to. One visit from Cass and one from Tim did not a pattern make.

He tried to dismiss the observation. He had plenty to do; it wasn’t like he didn’t have friends. The bi-weekly trivia group would start meeting again soon. He also had a TTRGP session that did its best to meet around all that life threw at them. Tucker and him played online games when they could make schedules match and he and Sam talked when she was stateside. He even had regular lunches with coworkers!

Still, there had been something different about spending time with the family.

So no, Danny hadn’t meant to keep track, but he still knew it had been two weeks and a day. But of course he wouldn’t see the Waynes that often. Bruce was a very busy man and most of the children would have no reason to come to W.E. They had their own lives with work and school and being kids or young adults. The other visits had simply been flukes, as nice as the visits had been.

The subtle feeling of melancholy that had settled over him was ridiculous and he wasn’t having it. His mood was simply off because of the whole Ancient thing. The way it was affecting his health didn’t make feeling better any easier either.

Danny leaned against the wall of the elevator as he tried to catch his breath. He really shouldn’t be walking right then to get lunch, not with the way that he felt, but he hadn’t had anything at his place to make lunch with. He hadn’t had the energy to go shopping. He’d just go somewhere close instead of walking to anything on the other side of the park.

The natural reverb of the lobby assaulted Danny as he stepped out of the elevator.

He just had to get through the lobby, the street, the restaurant, back through the street, and through the lobby again. Then he could hide in his office and eat. Or he could hide in there and eat as long as Lucius didn’t find him. Maybe even Lucius would give him a break today though.

“Dr. Fenton…?”

Danny looked up from rubbing his neck.

It was Tim. Damian was at Tim’s side, flanking him like a little guard dog and scowling. Tim was frowning too. Danny immediately wanted to fix whatever was wrong.

“Look at that, a pair of Waynes. How are you two?”

“That is unimportant,” Damian said with a little sniff. “You are clearly unwell. I assume you are returning to your apartment to rest?”

“Oh, no, I’m just going to go grab lunch. I’m alright, really,” Danny said and put on the best smile he could muster.

Tim and Damian looked at each other in some sort of silence conversation. Danny started to edge away from them, thinking he could escape before they came to some sort of end. He really needed out of the lobby and its echoing sounds.

A startled shriek from the entry way cut off that plan.

Danny twisted to face the sound as he stepped in front of the kids.

Of course it was a rogue, what else would it be in Gotham? It was a rogue, but at least it was the Mad Hatter and his squad of likely mind controlled goons. He usually wasn’t prone to death and destruction like some of the others were. But still, Danny felt his metaphorical hackles rising. The kids were here.

The kids were here and sure to draw the Mad Hatter’s attention if he saw them. Danny stepped slowly backwards, herding the kids away from the scene. At least they weren’t far into the lobby.

“Back up to the stairwell,” Danny said lowly, trying to cast his voice behind him.

“Tch. We can—”

“The elevator, the back left one,” Tim said quietly but firmly over his brother’s protest. “I have a code to take it to a safe room in the basement.”

“If he kills the power,” Danny started.

“The elevators have emergency back up.”

“That’s not very good behavior for a tea party, is it?” the Matter Hatter shouted at someone.

Danny bit back a rising noise of anger in his throat. His fingers twitched to act. But he couldn’t. The best plan was to get the kids out of there away from any action.

“Yes I see, Damian,” Tim hissed. “We’re almost to the elevator.”

“Call it as soon as you can,” Danny said. Was there a reverb to his voice? It felt like there was a reverb to his voice. No, no, he couldn’t, he had to…

“That’s better! See? This is how you behave when someone invites you to a tea party! Now where is that little dormouse?” the Mad Hatter called. “I know I saw him come in here! With an even littler one too.”

He wanted Tim.

“Calling the elevator.”

“Another mouse? A rat? A cat?"

The Mad Hatter wanted Tim and Damian.

“Here mousy mouse mice… where are you?"

Danny would not let that happen.

“Oh there you are! Hiding back by the doors, of course he is!” The Mad Hatter said. The crowed parted in fear. His wide, manic eyes looked right past Danny and he grinned. “Get them. We have a tea party we’re late for.”

“Over my dead body,” Danny growled.

The Mad Hatter blinked at Danny like he just noticed him for the first time. His goons rushed past him and through the crowd. “Oh, who are you? Never mind, if death is what you want, we can make that happen.”

Danny couldn’t hold back the chortling laughter. “See, that’s where you have a problem you don’t even know you could have.”

“And what is that?”

“You couldn’t handle my dead body,” Danny said just as the first goon reached them.

Danny stepped forward. He ducked under the swing of the punch and used the momentum to spin the goon around. With a push of his ghostly power, he sent the attacking goon careening into the next one and they both went tumbling.

“Danny, it’s here!” Tim shouted.

Not turning his back to the attackers, Danny stepped backwards into the elevator. Tim slammed a button and the doors basically snapped closed, much faster than they should. Danny was left staring at the polished metal surface of the elevator. Luminous green stared back at him. Soft black feathers dotted his temples. His fingers ended in talons. And he could feel it.

He could feel the skin on his back started to split.

Wings.

#dp x dc #spirit halloween ship #danny/bruce #birdritch

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misserabella · 7 months ago

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brat

spencer reid x f! reader

summary; spencer decides it’s a good day to test your patience by being sassy with you. let’s see if he can keep the act up when you’re punishing him for being a fucking brat.

cw!!; +18 content, minors dni!, s1/s2 spence!, spencer being a brat, cursing, fighting, kind of enemies to lovers, secret relationship, handcuffing (bondage), handjob (s receiving), masturbation (r) (spencer watches), orgasm denial, edging, untouched orgasm, lots of begging, dirty talking, dom! reader and sub! spencer, multiple orgasms, brat taming, piv sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this guys), breeding kink?, hickeys, creampie…

spencer was having a really shitty day. firstly; he had tripped with the sheets of his bed and landed onto the floor with a grunt, secondly; the coffee shop he always stopped by had closed for the day for some electric problems, what left him without his favorite sugary order and with the really not that great tasting bau’s coffee, thirdly; he was stressed out from the constant load of work, specially this really hard case, and lastly; you hadn’t touched him in a week. a whole fucking week.

spencer and you had this… thing going on. it all started after a rough case in which the two of you had fallen into each other’s arms and ended up sleeping together, something that surprised the two of you, since your relationship wasn’t “the best” to be frank. you two argued and bickered a lot like two little kids with crushes, and had been dancing around each other for quite a long time. it was obvious that you liked each other, but nothing had happened until that night. and after that you two were hooked. of course, the team didn’t know. and you had decided that they wouldn’t yet.

“okay, what about those marks on their bodies, they’re not found exactly in the same place or have the same shape but maybe…”

“no offense, y/n, but you don’t really know what you’re talking about do you?” your mouth gaped slightly at the ring in his tone and the squinting of his eyes. you stalked him as he got up from his seat and went towards the board of evidence, taking a marker and starting to write. “we have no evidence, no apparent interaction between the unsub and the victims pre or post mortem and an indistinguishable mo…” he turned around to face the team once again. “should be simple.” he arched his brows with a mocking pout pulling from his pinky lips as sarcasm tinged his voice.

“you know…?” you looked at him as you crossed your arms over your chest. “instead of taking your fucking temper out on us because you’ve had a shitty day, you could take all that energy and use it to help us, reid.” you had to bite down an impressed chuckle by pushing your tongue against the inside of your cheek as his pretty hazel eyes rolled at your words.

“and you should save your comments concerning your hate towards me ‘cause it’s hard to give a fuck when you’re the smartest motherfucker in the fbi.”

“spencer.” hotch cut the two of you off before the situation could escalate. “take 5.” he ordered.

“but-“

“now.” he silently thew the marker on the table and walked out of the door, leaving the team astonished by his behavior.

derek whistled, shock written over his face. “what was that?”

you gritted your teeth. fucking brat.

“no fucking idea.” you hissed.

seems like you’d have to teach him a lesson.

“please…!” he’s whimpering, thrashing, his wrists becoming raw from the tugging against the handcuffs that restrained him to the head of your bed.

his cock was beautifully swollen and heavy on your palm, slicked with your spit and his dribbling precum, which can’t stop dripping from the red flushed head. you’re chuckling. his mind was dizzy with the need to cum, his hips sputtering up against the warmth of your hand in need of release. you’d been at this for a while now, bringing him to the edge of an orgasm just to stop all together, squeezing his base, edging him, driving him insane.

“please, i’m sorry…” he begged, gasping, his breathing was ragged, his back arching from the bed you had pinned him down to. you bit harshly down onto his neck, sucking a new bruise that made him whine.

“what did you do, hm?” you inquired him before starting to jerk him once again, humming when more pre cum stained your fingers and the back of your hand. he was making such a fucking mess. he was a fucking mess. and you loved it.

“i-i was a brat…” he whined and you chuckled again at his desperate and breathy answer.

“yeah?”

“yes, yes…” he sounded desperate. it was cute.

“what else?”

“i…” a moan left his lips at the movement of your hand on his cock, up and down, slowly. he was getting lost in that pretty little head of his again. so you stopped, making a pained sound leave his plushy lips. “no, please! please don’t stop!”

“answer me and i’ll keep going, pretty boy.” you thumbed his slit and his whole body shivered in a pretty whine.

“i talked bad at you…” he gulped. “i…i was disrespectful in front of the team.” he gasped, flinching and moaning when you squeezed him. “oh god. fuck. please, please…”

“atta boy. see? that wasn’t difficult.” his adam’s apple bobbed when you spat down on the head of his twitching pretty dick, slicking him up even if he didn’t need it and starting the process of bringing him to the edge once again. after the stress, pent up energy of a whole week and your touch and teasing, it was easy to drive him right to it in a record time. he was a mess of moans and whines, his hips bucking up in the heat and slick of your palm. “looks like you’re about to cum, baby. are you gonna cum?” you inquired him, going faster up and down his cock, and he nodded, whispering little ‘yes’s in between gasps. “i don’t think you deserve it, though, you’ve been such a fucking brat, spencer…” he whimpered. “and all of it for what, hm?” pretty tears started to swell in his eyes as you pushed away your touch from him.

“i just… i just wanted you to touch me.” he whispered, hurt, puppy eyes behind his glasses staring up at you.

“so you went ahead and acted like a fucking brat expecting to win it that way?” you chuckled, incredulous.

he crooked his head, his mouth gaping like a fish in search of words. “please…”

“some pretty pleases ain’t gonna cut it.” you got up and started to undress in front of his eyes, his beautiful cock was flushed and resting against his lower stomach, dribbling white pearls of precum onto his skin. you smirked when you saw it twitch at the sight of your body only on your lace bra and panties. spencer tugged on his restrains when you cupped your breasts obscenely once you had unclasped and thrown away your bra into the pile of clothes decorating the floor of the room. “you like the view, spence?”

his eyes squeezed shut. you were toying with him. he painfully whined, but he still —knowing better— nodded, licking his lips. you hummed, your hands coming down to your panties, your smirk growing when you watched as his eyes followed the trail down and tugged once again at the handcuffs. “you want me to take them off, hm?”

“yes…” he nodded eagerly, his cock twitching at the idea. “please.” he added.

“such good manners… this is what you needed isn’t it, baby? just a little lesson.” you purred, and pushed down the last piece of clothing on your body past your thighs until it fell pooling at your feet. spencer whined needily at the view. you crawled into the bed once again, seating yourself in front of him and spreading open your legs for his hungry eyes. he let out a shaky breath at the sight of your sticky folds and gaping entrance, begging to be filled by him. you hummed as one of your hands made its way down your stomach and in between your legs, your back slightly arching with a soft moan as your fingers bumped your clit. you were soaking wet. spencer moaned as well, fighting his restrains. “hmmm, spencer…” you sighed, touching yourself in front of his hungry eyes, he whined, in need to put his hands on you. “you see this baby? if only you’d been good… you could be fucking me right now…” he whimpered, his hips bucking up in the air in need of relieve.

“please… please, let me touch you, please…” he begged. “i’ll be good, i promise…” you sank two of your fingers inside of your pussy, gasping at the stretch and letting out a moan at the feeling as you started to slowly thrust them in and out. “please baby, please… i need you, i need to touch you…” he pleaded but you ignored him, continuing to touch and pleasure yourself in between gasps and moans. he whined, swallowing harshly, the sound and sight of you was enough to make him about to blow his load. he grunted as he fought with the handcuffs, his cock throbbing in need to be deep inside your cunt.

your fingers curled and your back arched. “fuck, spence…!” he was sure you were moaning his name just to rile him up. and it was working. his wrists were bruised by now, the same color of the hickeys on his neck and chest that you had branded.

“please…” he was desperate now. “please baby, please…”

“spence, i’m gonna cum…!” you gasped, speeding up the curling of your fingers. he whined, it was as if you were touching him, his cock throbbing against his stomach, now with a pool of precum decorating it. he was so close to his own orgasm it scared him. he was not the most experienced, but he had never come untouched, and it was astonishing, ‘cause he was about to do it just by watching you. and it felt so good…

he groaned when he saw it, the way your back arched, the way your mouth hung in a scream and the way creamy white cum coated your fingers and dribbled down onto the mattress, staining the sheets.

he moaned out your name in heavy pants. “i can’t… i can’t.” he babbled. “i can’t hold it…!” he moaned, his hips grinding against the air once, twice, thrice before he was cumming all over himself. untouched. like a fucking teenager.

holy fuck. spencer had come untouched. the thought of it was enough to drive you inane.

“mmph!!!” he moaned once again at the feeling of your tongue on his dick, licking him and his skin clean of his cum. “f-fuck!!” his hips twitched up, and a broken whimper ripped his throat when you straddled him, your soaked cunt against his still sensitive —and hardening— dick. “what are you-oh my god…!” he babbled, his back arching when in a quick succession of movements, you took him, aligned him with your entrance and sat down on him down to the hilt.

“you wasted that pretty load, pretty boy…” you moaned as you started to dirtily ride him, hips and jumps on his cock desperate. you didn’t even wait for the burning of the stretch to subside. “but that’s okay, ‘cause you’re gonna give me another one, huh? gonna cum for me and fill my pussy up just like you wanted.” he whimpered, his body shaking in overstimulation, his hazel puppy eyes welling with tears. “isn’t this what you wanted, baby? what you were begging for?” you sped up and he moaned.

“i can’t, oh god, i can’t…” but he still somehow found himself thrusting up against you in need for more.

“your body doesn’t say the same thing, baby.” you chuckled, amazed by the beautiful reactions he was giving you. “you’re so hard already… and you just came.” you hummed as you bounced on his cock, the tip kissing your cervix with every jump. he moaned, his glasses slightly fogged and crooked, his hair messy and with some strands glued in sweat against his temple and his lips swollen from all the biting. “so pretty… god and you fuck me so good baby, fill me so good…” he whined, gone under the thought of you using him like some toy to get off. he wasn’t even fighting to get off the handcuffs anymore, he was just taking it, and letting you take anything you wanted from him. “being so good for me, spence…” he keened under the praise, his dick twitching in between your walls due to your speeding movements. he wasn’t gonna last. and you knew it.

“i’m-i’m gonna cum…” he moaned, panting, his eyes squeezing shut. “i need to cum… please, please can i cum?” “can i come inside? please let me cum inside, please…” he was begging, and you moaned, feeling your own high approaching, every thrust of his hips up against yours pressing against that perfect spot in between your gummy walls.

“yes, yes, cum inside me baby, fill me up.” you whimpered behind him, your mouth gaping when you felt it, his sticky warm load painting your walls as you kept bouncing on him. “oh my god…”

“fuck, ah, fuckfuckfuck!” he moaned and babbled as he felt you reaching your own high, squeezing and milking him dry.

you two moved against each other to ride out your orgasms, leaving a mess out of the sheets and his cock, now drenched in both your juices.

the two of you were panting as you stilled, his softening dick still inside you as you rested your hands on his chest.

“lesson learned?” you questioned and he gulped, nodding, out of air.

“lesson learned.” “…” “can you uncuff me now?”

bratty spencer💚

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prettygirl-gabi · 8 days ago

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Title: The Hideout 2.0

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: escaping to the safe haven of the scissor sisters once again

🏷️: @yailtsv , @sitawita , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld

It happens again. A week later to be exact.

Paige and KK are on TikTok Live, and once again, they’re loud.

I love them both, I really do. But between the overlapping voices, the sudden bursts of laughter, and the chaotic vocal stimming, my head starts feeling like it’s in a pressure cooker. It’s not even their fault—it’s just how they are together.

Instead of letting myself crash, I do what I always do: I slip my phone out of my pocket and text Carol.

Me: Coming to your room again

Carol’s response comes instantly.

Carol: Got The Vampire Diaries queued up. Door’s open.

I smile to myself. That’s why she’s my favorite.

Standing up, I move toward Paige, who’s too caught up in whatever nonsense she and KK are on to notice right away. I tap her arm, and she turns her attention to me with a curious expression.

“What’s up, babe?”

“I need a break,” I say softly, leaning in to give her a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll be back later, or I’ll be sleeping.”

She barely has time to react before I slip out the door.

⸻

Carol’s bed is already warm when I crawl in beside her.

Azzi, still working on her classwork, glances up from her laptop. “You on the run again?”

I nod, getting comfortable under the blanket. “I kissed Paige and dipped.”

Carol snorts. “Smooth.”

Azzi chuckles, shaking her head before turning back to her accountant assignment that she swore she was gonna burn.

Carol presses play on The Vampire Diaries, and I instantly feel myself relaxing. It’s become our little routine at this point. My quiet escape.

But while I’m finally unwinding, things on Paige’s Live are… not so quiet.

⸻

Paige doesn’t pay much attention to the comments at first. She’s too busy laughing at something KK said, completely unbothered. But then she notices a repeating question.

Why does Y/N keep leaving the Live and never coming back?

She ignores it at first. But then another comment pops up.

She was texting someone right before she left…

Paige’s brows furrow slightly.

Then comes the kicker.

She’s probably cheating.

That makes her stop mid-laugh. KK, noticing the shift in energy, nudges her. “What’s up?”

Paige exhales sharply, reading the comments again.

She shakes her head, unamused. “Alright, let’s shut this down real quick.”

KK raises an eyebrow but lets Paige talk.

“For everyone saying Y/N is ‘cheating’ or whatever dumb theory y’all are coming up with—shut up.” Her tone is firm, unwavering. “She was texting Caroline, telling her she was going to her room. Because, I dunno, maybe I’m loud as hell and she needs some peace?”

KK nods dramatically. “Yeah, we are pretty loud.”

Paige huffs, clearly annoyed. “Y/N gets overwhelmed easy, and instead of suffering through me and KK being obnoxious, or ruin our fun as she states it, she goes to Carol’s room to chill. That’s it. No cheating, no weird drama, just her needing quiet. Y’all gotta stop jumping to conclusions.”

The chat quiets for a moment before some fans start defending me, calling out the ones spreading rumors.

Satisfied, Paige ends the Live.

Then she gets up.

She’s not letting me hide out this time.

⸻

I don’t hear Paige coming.

I’m too comfortable, curled up with Carol under the blanket, half-watching the episode. Azzi is still at her desk, finishing up her exam, completely unbothered.

Then the door swings open.

Carol and I both look up just in time to see Paige stepping inside with a determined expression.

Before I can react, she’s at the bed, reaching down and—

“Paige—what the—”

She lifts me. Bridal style.

I yelp, grabbing onto her instinctively. “Girl, put me down!”

She ignores me, turning back toward the door. “Nope. You’re coming with me.”

Carol snickers. “Damn, guess our throuple honeymoon phase is over.”

Azzi, without looking up, mutters, “Justice for our wife, Y/N.”

Paige ignores them, carrying me effortlessly down the hall.

Carol calls out when Paige and I are half way to her room, “The scissor sisters will avenge you, we promise.”

I squirm, but she tightens her hold. “Relax, babe. I got you.”

“You could’ve just asked me to come back.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t like waking up alone last time. So I just stole you, simple.”

I stop squirming at that.

Paige sighs, adjusting her grip. “I don’t care if you need space, but you don’t have to run away every time. Just tell me, and I’ll chill out.”

I glance up at her, feeling a little guilty. “I didn’t want to ruin your fun.”

Paige scoffs, finally stepping into her room. “Babe, I’d rather you tell me than disappear.”

She sets me down gently on her bed before climbing in beside me.

I let out a small sigh, settling into her warmth. “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Just talk to me next time.”

I nod, snuggling closer.

KK walks past the open door, peeking in with a smirk. “Damn, you really kidnapped her.”

Paige flips her off. “Mind your business.”

I laugh, finally feeling at ease.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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camradacheri · 23 days ago

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it’s flu season, baby!! and everybody’s sick!!!!

riddle: realized what was coming for him and locked in. his brain has information alphabetically arranged in filing cabinets. he’s opening the “common illness” drawer, getting his ass in bed, and quarantining. he has already requested the classwork ahead of time to stay up to date on his studies. he has created a strict schedule of hydrate, study, sleep, repeat. oh, but you wanted to check on him? NO!! HE’S CONTAGIOUS!!! you’re arguing through his door that it’s okay for you to come in for a second and give him some cough drops and tea and he’s truly touched that you care so much, believe that, but he’s arguing right back that you’re not from this world and this simple flu could be the end of you if you got it. IN FACT!! YOU!!! SHOULD QUARANTINE!!! now he’s texting trey to get your ass back to ramshackle.

8/10 patient, too independent and he won’t let you love him, puts you in sick jail 💔

leona: does not care if he gets you sick. well he cares, but figures he can double down on excuses to not do his work. “can’t go to class this week, i’m sick.” oh, he’s better now? he can go? what kind of upperclassman would he be if he left a poor, sick little herbivore like yourself all alone after you took care of him all week?after all, he’s the one that got you sick 🥺 yeah, he’s full of shit. you came to check his temperature and give him his medicine and he dragged your ass into his germ ridden bed and nuzzled his sweaty head into your stomach insisting he doesn’t need to take any medicine and that sleep will heal him.

4/10 patient, cuddles but they’re cold sweat cuddles and he coughed on your neck and got you sick too 😑

azul: sickness is weakness, weakness is vulnerability, vulnerability is what enemies use to take you down!!! he realized something is amiss health wise when his body did this weird thing where his lung tried to come out of his nose and he convulsed??? he’s read about this before?? he just… sneezed? calmly and quickly collects his upcoming coursework and hauls ass to his office and locks himself in there-no one will see him like this. you’re looking around all doe-eyed for him when jade and floyd, who have been told not to tell you where he is, tell you where he is and you walk in the door and he is just face down collapsed on the desk. you hurry over and put your hand on his forehead and one thing is clear to you, azul has the suds. he tries so hard to brush off your help but he’s so feverish, he’s not even making sense “what would you do if when you okay so he said yes would go?” what the hell is he talking about. he wakes up 2 days later to you gazing at him with a gentle smile while wiping his forehead with a cold cloth. he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven before all the memories come rushing back to him and he realizes he needs to get you to sign an NDA ASAP!!!!

9/10 patient, perfectly entertaining and behaved but is currently drafting ways to get you back under his thumb so -1 pt for his suspicion of you

kalim: OFFICER!!! IT’S HIM 🫵!!!! singlehandedly took down half the school by throwing a party aka SUPERSPREADER EVENT in the middle of flu season!!! he did not consider that aspect at all, he just wanted to celebrate scarabia student B’s birthday…bless his heart. anyways, kalim is sick, so is the rest of the dorm. you get a text from jamil that he needs you to “babysit kalim” for a few hours while he makes sure the dorm is taken care of. how hard can this be? he’s sick, he won’t want to do much. WRONG! kalim is one of those sick people who won’t rest!!! he has too much emotional energy and it’s overriding his physical needs!!!! he’s fatigued but he’s fighting through it to tell you the names of all his childhood pet birds! he’s dizzy but he’s still getting up to show you this cool new dance move he learned at the superspreader party! you have to beg him to show you it later because you’re almost 100% sure he’s gonna yak if he does it. you have to forcibly tuck him into bed and lay on top of him to make sure he does not get up again.

3/10 patient, ray of sunshine but was exhausting to deal with and gets you sick because you had to manhandle him 😷

vil: quarantines immediately. not just for the safety of others, but because no one will see him like this. the thought of someone seeing him when he has a feverish sheen across his face or hearing him choking to death sends chills up his spine. he texts his team to clear his schedule and he disappears from the timeline for 3 days. but you haven’t seen vil all day and that’s not gonna work for you. so imagine his horror when he hears a soft knock on his door followed by “vil? are you alright? epel told me you weren’t feeling too good 🥺”and it’s YOU!!! he sits up immediately, his hair on end, you’d think the girl from the ring was clawing at this door but no it’s just you, the tender hearted prefect who brought him vegetable soup and eye masks. he clears his throat “i’m a bit under the weather at the moment, prefect. nothing i can’t handle. i appreciate your concern, but you can leave now 😊” and successfully sends you away. or NOT! he hears shuffling outside his door and what sounds like you SITTING DOWN??? “it’s okay, vil! i’ll visit you from out here, so you don’t get lonely!” you’ve got to be kidding.

8/10 patient, complains about you continuously sitting outside his door for 3 days but doesn’t have rook throw you out because he secretly enjoys your company 🫶

idia: i know what you’re wondering. how did idia get sick? he never leaves his room? exactly!! HE HAS NO IMMUNE SYSTEM BUILT UP!!! THESE FLU STRAINS ARE FOREIGN TO HIS BODY!!! someone sneezed on his tablet and when it floated back to him to charge, the plague went off in ignihyde! anyways, acts like he’s dying. you go to his room at ortho’s request and open the door and you can’t even see him. is he even in here? wait if you look closely you can see that blanket moving. oh wait! it’s idia! he hasn’t moved in a day. it’s the saddest sight you’ve ever seen. “idia? …do you need some help?” “yes…go do my dailies for me.” you and ortho work in tandem to take care of him for a week, but there honestly isn’t much to do because he doesn’t get up the entire time.

10/10 patient, slept the entire time, stutters out a thank you when he’s better 👍

malleus: i realistically cannot see malleus getting sick. i feel like he would just dodge the flu particles mid-air?? idk maybe he gets a sinus infection from breathing in all that dust from his little abandoned building and gargoyle expeditions. okay, so he has a sinus infection. it’s not uncommon for you to not see him super often throughout the day, so you don’t know until lilia pops by and lets you know that tsunotarou is ill :( you go to visit him at diasomnia with some nasal spray and ice cream and he’s just posted up in bed sniffling in his jammies with this look on his face -> 🥺 it’s already the cutest sight you’ve ever seen but then it gets even cuter because he is so happy that you came to visit him he can’t help but smile! now he’s like this -> 🥹 lets you take care of him and make him sleepytime tea. he also watches all your favorite movies with you and thanks you for caring for him in his “days of ailment” ???

1000/10 patient, lets you help him, is adorable

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astra-ravana · 4 months ago

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Tips For Working With Demons

Here are some tips and general advice for working with demons and spirits. I'll probably add more to this list as things come to mind.

• These are individuals, people like you and me. Many of them have had human incarnations here on Earth. They understand your struggle and have their own issues and emotions as well. They have favorite things, best friends, family, and feelings. They are powerful, yes, but should also be treated with love and respect.

• They can and will speak to you. If you possess psychic abilities you may be able to channel some or all demons. People often ask how to tell the difference between the voice of a spirit, or an internal voice or hallucination. Spirit will never speak over you, interupt your ability to think freely, or control your mind. They simply speak, if you're willing to listen. They may also manifest physically, move objects, visit your dreams, send you signs, they have many ways to get their point across.

• Do not stress over time. If you haven't spoken to or left an offering to your patron demon in a few weeks because you've been depressed or busy, this is fine. Spirits do not experience time as we do and your absence is little more than a blink of an eye to them.

• Get creative with your offerings. King Paimon loves chocolate, Bune loves fancy perfume, Lucifer fancies himself some whiskey. You may wonder how offerings help demons, since they lack a mortal body. All physical beings possess a spirit and as such, all physical objects possess an essence. This essence can be absorbed by a spirit to allow them to taste/experience the offering. This gives them energy as well. Fun fact: once the essence of a consumable offering is taken it will be dull and tasteless. Try it sometime.

• Remember to say "thank you". Show appreciation and gratitude to any demons that lend their time and power to enhance your life. This is a team effort and no one likes to be used. Friendship and growth should be your top priorities when working with spiritual entities.

• Go ahead and draw that sigil badly. It's ok to only give a tiny drop of blood. Demons are far from perfect and do not expect perfection from you. Your effort and intention is what matters most.

• Stay away from Solomonic or Abrahamic methods that aim to control or trap demons. This is not likely to end well for you and it is a huge betrayal to the trust of a powerful cosmic being. If you are afraid of the interaction, there are many other forms of personal protection you can employ.

• Chances are there is a demon or spirit that resonates with you. Don't get discouraged if your first several attempts don't spark a connection. Read up on different entities and mediatate to find where you should try next.

• Let go of your preconceived expectations. Demons are not going to just make you rich, successful, or smart. These things are the result of forming strong bonds of power and raising one's consciousness. Often times you won't get what you want, but what you need instead. Spirits can see the bigger picture of who we are, our capabilities, and our soul's path. Trust their vision.

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joeyfranchise · 2 months ago

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do you picture me?

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: after dealing with the aftermath of a bad day at work, lingering frustrations from a fight with joe and him being gone due to an away game… you find yourself pent up and needing relief. little do you know, joe’s feeling the exact same way.

warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+ only. mdni. (masturbation (m&f), lewd images… etc.)

word count: 3.2k.

note: i had this idea while listening to picture you by chappell roan!! :) ily ily as always commentary, asks & feedback welcome!!

you hated being so pent up, feeling so close to the edge like this.

nothing had gone your way for nearly a week and it was all becoming too much, you were ready to break-through this horrible funk you’d sunk into and get back to feeling normal. you wanted to leave work, go home, get comfortable, and talk to joe.

unfortunately, your boyfriend was away from home for a game, and the two of you hadn’t been on the best terms when he left.

the fight you had was the catalyst for your bad week, and although it was over something pointless that you could barely remember now, you and joe were both too stubborn to apologize to one another. he ended up leaving for the game without so much as a goodbye, and he’d only pinged you with his location when the team made their arrival to pittsburgh, home of one of their divisional rivals.

you sent back a petty thumbs up even though you were dying to talk to him, and somewhere over on the east coast joe’s fingers were flexing by his phone… he was seconds away from breaking too.

the next day you were swamped with work, endless reports to file and countless calls to take and it sucked every ounce of energy from your body. you left work feeling exhausted, your lids heavy as you slid into the driver’s seat of your car and started it before heading home.

you’d made it home safely and you knew you needed to cook dinner, but you were parched. you pulled a gallon of milk from the fridge and untwisted the cap, ignoring the bit of crust that fell off when you pulled it away. you brought the jug to your lips and took a hefty swig - something you wouldn’t normally do - and you immediately wretched. it was sour.

you slammed the jug down on the counter and ran to the bathroom, practically throwing yourself over the toilet as you started to gag from the congealed dairy you almost swallowed. needless to say, that did you in for the night.

you woke the next morning still feeling nauseous, and tacking on the sadness of an empty bed next to you and a dry phone on your bedside table was the icing on the proverbial cake. you slowly rolled out of bed and made your way to the kitchen to at least make coffee, forgetting you’d left the already sour milk out on the counter overnight.

you quickly disposed of it before trudging back to your room to get dressed to go out and grab a coffee, because you couldn’t make it at home without milk.

heading over to your favorite local coffee shop gave you a much needed serotonin boost, and your drink was delicious, but your spirit was torn right back down when your favorite barista handed you two chocolate chip cookies - the thing you and joe always came here for.

it stung immediately, knowing you hadn’t talked in a few days. you were so close to caving and you missed him horribly, but you also hated admitting you were wrong, so it was a sticky situation all around. you thanked her and headed out to your car, eager to get back home and tidy up the house before resuming your much needed bed-rotting session.

—

once you arrived back home you began cleaning immediately, knocking out the pesky dishes first and then focusing on your other tasks like folding laundry, sweeping, and dusting.

your cleaning playlist was set to shuffle, and the loud music flowing through the areas of the house you had your attention on helped your mood improve. you danced and sang along, swaying your body to the rhythm as you worked to tidy everything up, which took way less time than you expected.

you had long since finished your coffee, and when you looked at the clock on the stove you realized only a few hours had passed, giving you more free time in your evening than you knew what to do with.

you decided on taking an everything shower, hoping the hot stream would help you release some of that tension you’d been holding so tightly in your back and shoulders. you quickly rushed to the bathroom and took off your clothes, placing them neatly in the basket next to the shower door before turning the water on. you opened a drawer next to the sink and grabbed out a eucalyptus scented shower steamer and tossed the tiny puck inside before stepping in yourself.

the comforting scent of eucalyptus enveloped you immediately. you stepped under the shower head and let the hot water run down your body, soothing over the tensed muscles of your back and neck. first, you made sure your hair was well saturated before squeezing some of your favorite shampoo into your hands and lathering it in, scratching your nails over your scalp in a relaxing manner. once you were satisfied with that you rinsed it before raking conditioner through your ends and slowly rinsing it out moments later.

as you squirted some of your coconut scented body wash onto your loofah, you let your mind slip to joe… and what he’d done to you in this shower just before your fight, just before he left for pennsylvania. you tried to push the thoughts from your mind as you washed your body off, but it was hard once your movements traced over places where his hands had been.

it was almost like you could still feel the phantom of his lips against the shell of your ear, whispering dirty things to you.

“you’re so beautiful like this, all for me.”

“that’s it baby, just like that. look how well you’re taking me.”

standing under a burning hot stream was how you found yourself now, yet still, you shivered. you quickly finished scrubbing your skin and rinsed yourself off, using every bit of willpower you had to push joe from your mind… but your resolve was slipping.

he was overtaking you.

you decided to cut the shower short, you didn’t really need a shave anyway. what you needed was to do your skincare, dry your hair, make dinner and maybe even read some. those things always helped you relax, and you needed a distraction to push him from your mind.

you turned the water off and stepped out of the shower and quickly grabbed your towel, wrapping it around your dripping body as you shivered slightly. you stepped closer to the mirror and looked down at all your skincare products laid out before you in the basket you always kept by the sink, but you couldn’t bring yourself to start your normal routine. your mind still lingered on joe. you wanted to push it away… but you couldn’t. you were still thinking of the way his hands felt against your skin that morning when he’d pushed you against the wall under the water, the way he’d kissed and nipped at your neck as he lifted you up and filled you as he helped you wrap your legs around his waist.

the calloused pads of his fingers had traced every inch of your body, running along your curves as he took you apart, his strong tight grip held you into place as he unraveled you against the tile wall. you felt every single inch of him with every thrust and… oh. you’re starting to feel hot.

you could feel the heat pooling between your legs as you stood in front of the mirror completely zoned out, staring off into space as you thought about joe more and more. fuck skincare too.

you quickly exited the bathroom and made sure the blinds were drawn as you stepped back into your room, holding the towel tightly against your naked frame. once you were satisfied with the darkness in the room - not too dark but with no lights on, and faint shadows along the walls from your dark curtains - you dried your skin as fast as you could, your body now covered in gooseflesh.

you wrapped your hair up in a different towel and walked to the closet, searching for a box you kept on one of the shelves by your shoes. a giddy feeling bubbled up in your stomach and spread over your body as you searched for it, you hadn’t done this in ages… but based on the way you were feeling and the thoughts you were having about joe… you needed it.

you located the box and stretched up to grab it, eagerly pulling it down from the shelf and carrying it back into the room before placing it on the bedside table where you’d also left your phone.

inside the box were several long unscented candles encased in glass, you only used them for rare occasions like this when you needed to set the mood. you pulled them out gingerly along with the lighter you kept in the box, and you placed the candles on top of the nightstands next to both sides of the bed before lighting them.

you shivered with excitement before moving the box to the floor and dropping your towel, then hopping up onto the bed.

in the drawers of the table next to you there were many toys from an experiment you and joe tried once, and though nothing was as good as the real thing, you thought about using one of them for your escapade… you grabbed out a small blue bullet vibrator and placed it on the nightstand next to your phone just in case you needed some extra help.

you shimmied up the bed until your back was pressed against the headboard, and then you took a deep breath. you let your eyes flutter shut as you began to trace your hands along your skin, goosebumps still covering your body. you imagined they were joe’s hands skimming the expanse of your body, that joe’s thumb and forefinger were tweaking your nipple, not your own.

in your mind’s eye you could see him clear as day, hovering above you with that sultry look in his bright blue eyes, smirk plastered across his perfectly pink lips. you pictured him running his hands along your thighs, fingers tracing and squeezing the meaty flesh, just as you were now.

you began to visualize the things he’d done to you in the shower again but… that wouldn’t be enough. you needed to think of something else. your mind drifted off to all kinds of places, all sorts of predicaments you’d been in with joe where you had to be quiet, how he’d once held a hand over your mouth at the bengals facility while he stuffed you full by the showers. you were so afraid of getting caught yet so thrilled at the same time.

you slid your right hand down your body slowly and the left continued to play with your breast, groping and squeezing and pinching just as joe would if he was here. you were shivering with excitement as your fingers reached your entrance, and you scooped up some of your arousal with your fingertips before slowly dragging them back up to circle your clit.

the next thing that came to mind was the first time you’d brought joe back to your hometown to meet your parents, after dinner he’d whisked you away to your room, eager to have his hands all over you. his lips were instantly pressed to your neck as soon as you’d crossed the threshold of your old bedroom.

he’d pulled you into him immediately, his plump lips quickly finding the sweet spot just below your ear as he worked to draw a wanton moan from your lips, one that had your eyes widening as soon as it fell from your gaping maw. you struggled to close the door behind you, but you couldn’t let your parents see or hear this. joe laughed at you then, he always thought you looked cute when you were flustered, especially in a sexual sense. he pulled you over to the bed once the door was securely closed, and he’d made you promise to be quiet for him. you’d have no trouble with that, you reminded him. you were just worried he would be too loud. he only smirked at you before kneeling near the foot of your small twin sized mattress, his fingers looping into the waistband of your pants as he pulled them down quickly along with your panties.

he eyed you hungrily as he looked you over, his eyes almost laser focused on your already dripping wet core. you had wondered what he was waiting for, he was eyeing you so hungrily and you were ready for him to bury his face between your legs, to devour you.

his gaze moved past you, he was now staring at something beside you. you turned your head confused, but your eyes met the stuffed bear you’d had almost your entire childhood. joe stood for a second and grabbed the bear, turning him so his back was facing you. “mr. wiggles doesn’t need to see this,” he laughed, getting back into his spot at the foot of your bed. his arms hooked around your legs as he pulled you down the bed, and he wasted no time burying his face in you, slurping and sucking at your clit as your hands moved to cover your mouth, loud moans threatening to pour from your lips.

you snapped back to the present moment as your fingers continued to circle your clit quickly, your body shivering from the sheer pleasure you were experiencing. it never felt as good as it did with joe, but pleasure was surely radiating over your body now.

you reached down with your other hand, looping your arm underneath your thigh, and pressed two fingers slowly into yourself. you gasped at the pleasure, your left leg was pressed up to your chest so you could fuck your fingers in and out of yourself as your right hand continued to tease your sensitive nub.

if joe was here he’d be praising you, he’d be worshiping your body.

“look how good you’re doing, baby. you’re taking it so well.”

“my pretty girl, always do such a good job for me. you were made to take me like this, huh?”

his lips would be pressed to your ear, his words a mixture of sweet nothings and simultaneously the dirtiest things you’d ever heard. you imagined his fingers working you to the edge instead of your own, slamming into you and bringing you to the brink.

you thought about all the things he’d do if he found you in the predicament, your body slightly sweaty, wet hair wrapped in a towel as you pressed yourself farther into the headboard while your hands worked you closer and closer to your orgasm.

all for him. because of him.

you imagined him standing in the doorway, arms crossed as he smirked at you and… oh, that did it. your orgasm hit you instantaneously, the pleasure blinding as you felt yourself clenching on your own fingers. it made you feel a little drunk, experiencing your peak in both ways. you moaned his name as you came, calling out to him in a plea he wouldn’t hear until he was back home, until you could apologize in person and he could pound you into the mattress himself.

you pulled your sticky fingers from your core and wiped them against your sheets, something you’d normally care a lot about… right now, it didn’t matter. you grabbed your phone from your nightstand and opened the camera before sliding down the bed, lying there against the pillows.

you posed for the photo so that joe could see your right hand still between your legs, fingertips still slowly dancing across your now overly sensitive clit. you hoped he’d be able to see the sheen of sweat across your abdomen, and your pert nipples as you pressed your arm against your tits to give him a better view.

you snapped the photo and opened your messages, frowning as you clicked on the thread and the last thing you saw was the thumbs up you’d sent. you added the image and typed him a quick message before hitting send.

you: i miss you a lot and i’m sorry. hurry back home 🥲

you locked your phone after double-checking the photo and message, you wanted to make sure it sounded right. you placed it back on your nightstand and you rolled over, burying your face in the pillows. you were spent after all of that work, and your eyes slowly closed as your breathing slowed and you fell into a light slumber.

—

joe grabbed the keycard from his pocket, quickly sliding it into the door and pulling it out before twisting the handle and stepping inside. he slid his shoes off and went straight for the bed, plopping down flat on his back as he stared up at the ceiling.

team dinner was nice, but the conversations droned on and he was exhausted, and he was missing you. he’d told himself all week that he wouldn’t come to you first, that he’d either wait until he was home to apologize or wait until you texted or called him, but his resolve was slipping.

he needed you. he needed to touch your soft, perfumed skin. he needed to press his lips to every inch of your body… but also also needed you because the game was tomorrow night, and he didn’t think he could do it without one of your pep talks. he knew you knew that too, but he didn’t want to push it in case you were still mad at him. he grabbed his phone from his pocket and his heart lurched as he saw the notification, you’d sent him a message a little over an hour ago.

he quickly unlocked his phone and immediately the breath was knocked from him as he saw the lewd image you’d attached, with a message about missing him. his anxieties flew out the window, replaced by an incessant desire for you. it was carnal, he knew he had to do everything he could now to win that game and get home to you, to take you apart and put you right back together afterwards as he often did.

he could feel his erection already growing in his pants, and with his eyes fixated on the image you’d sent he slowly reached his hand past the waistband and wrapped his fingers around his already painfully hard cock. he flicked his wrist one, two, three times as a soft moan fell past his pink lips, and his eyes fixated on the call button at the top of the screen. fuck it, he thought. he pressed it and brought the phone to his ear to listen to it ring.

after the fifth ring he thought he should hang up, he’d have to use his imagination to get himself there… but then he heard an open line, and your beautiful yet groggy voice greeted him.

“hello?” you asked, softly and innocently, but he knew you knew why he called. “baby,” he breathed out, his voice desperate as he continued to stroke himself. you giggled and he hissed, knowing he was fucked. he heard you clear your throat before responding, his hand never stilling on his cock.

“is there something i can help you with?”

photos and dividers are not mine. all cred to owners.

taglist: @joeyburrrow @starsinthesky5 @joeyb1989 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @bengals-barnesbabe @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @slimshiesty @yelenasbraid @definitelynotdomanique

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