#this is a part of something larger than I am planning

[rainystressed247]

And the crowd went wild!

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Lox the Fox

Male Yandere Fox Hybrid x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, somnophilia, implied cum in food, magic, drugging, biting, claiming bites, knotting, manipulation, chasing, kidnapping, general yandere behavior, references to an incident with a sweet potato Word Count: 5.6k (I am so sorry that this comm took so long, though I was dealing with a number of different issues. Hope you all enjoy it!)

You were but a humble trader. Once somewhat prominent in the medium sized town of Ridgespire, humiliating rumors began circulating about being caught in a compromising position with a sweet potato. The totally baseless story spread throughout the entire town. You were a laughing stock. When you could no longer handle it you left for a fresh start and new opportunities.

You decided to set up shop in the town of Westwend. It was a small village now, but you saw some serious potential. It was situated in the center of many newer villages and small towns and would serve as a good hub for you. But the best part about your new home was that it was too far for any pernicious lies about you and a sweet potato to have followed.

The locals were very accepting of you as a new traveling trader, though you hadn't had a chance to get close to any of them. Once you had moved in you immediately began planning your trip through the forest to reach a tiny village on the other side. You'd stop there to rest and see if there were any trade opportunities then head north to a larger town.

You stuffed a huge pack full of food, currency, and trade goods before putting it on and setting off on your journey. The village you were heading for was through several miles of forest and the forest itself was a mile or so away itself. You could be there by evening.

You were warned about an infamous fox-man named Lox that lived in the woods. Supposedly he helped or hindered travelers depending on what mood struck him at the time. The local villagers were always wary about crossing through the forest. That is part of what made this trade route so potentially lucrative. Not many were willing to cut straight through the forest.

The weather was cooperating and making your trip quite pleasant. The morning air was fresh and brought with it the scent of honeysuckle, and other prairie flowers. You took the unused and overgrown path and managed to make it to the woods just before the heat of the day, the dense canopy of leaves providing ample protection from the sun.

Though you didn't know it, you had rapidly crossed into the territory of the fox-man, Lox. And with his magic he knew exactly when any human neared the proximity of what he considered to be his land. He had nothing better to do, and delighted in meddling with humans, so with great grace and dexterity he weaved through the tree tops and quickly came upon you. He used his magic to stay silent and invisible so that he could observe you a while before deciding what to do.

It did not take long for Lox’s careful observation of you to lead him to the conclusion that he was intrigued. He used his magic to peep into some of your thoughts and memories to get just a glimpse of the type of person you were. He saw bits of your travels, vague impressions of your views, and something about a sweet potato. He couldn’t quite make it out to be honest. But it didn’t matter. He could tell from your aura that you were a lonely person with few friends and no current ties to anyone.

He decided that instead of hindering you he was going to help you more than he had ever helped anyone else before you. Not just for your sake, but for his as well. He thought maybe he could be your mate. Though he still needed to get to know you a little better though before he was totally sure. He could only get to know someone so well through his magic, so he really needed a more direct method.

Rather than simply introduce himself, which he was sure would fail, he devised a cunning plan to get you to see him as your hero. First impressions were immensely important, so if your first time seeing him was when he was saving you then that would make it a lot more likely that you would fall for him.

You continued through the forest, laughing to yourself about how easy a trip this was. You couldn’t believe how the small village dwellers had cut themselves off from such an easy trading route just because of some stories about some magic fox guy. You could believe that beast men existed, you had never seen one yourself, but their existence was never refuted, but magic? That was just too much for you.

Belief in the supernatural and heading the warnings of the villagers would have served you well, but instead the trap was laid and you bumbled right into it.

As you continued on the forest path, nearly gone due to disuse, you came across a clearing with a small cabin. It looked wildly out of place in the wilderness. Perhaps this was the home of the fox man all of the villagers had been so wary of. After gawking for a moment you resumed your journey. You had been traveling for hours and were probably halfway through the woods by now.

As you neared an old but sturdy bridge that marked the final leg of your travels through the forest, you heard a bone chilling growl and your path was suddenly blocked by three snarling wolves. You knew you couldn’t fight them, but the cabin that you had passed wasn’t too far. Maybe, just maybe, you could outrun them and take shelter.

Thinking fast you through your pack towards them, hoping the food in it would distract them enough for you to flee to safety. But no such luck. They weren’t distracted by it at all. At least without it you weren’t so weighed down though. But you were tired from all the walking and the wolves were at your heels. You imagined that you could feel their hot sour breath at your back, but you didn’t look back to confirm it.

Just when you were sure that you were going to find your end in the jaws of the ravenous beasts an orange flash came out of the trees from the direction of the house and stood between you and the feral wolves. There was no mistaking it, it was the fox man of local legend.

The hybrid man stood before the wolves with his back towards you, you could see that he was of a lean build and average height with two triangular ears on his head that were the same color as his wavy red hair. And he had a fox-like tail to match the ears.

As confident as he seemed you seriously doubted that he could take on so many enemies at once. And then you saw why he was so confident. A red tinged gust of magic left his hands and blew the wolves several feet away, making them smack into the trees. With a frightened yelp they scattered. You were in awe, magic was real after all!

When Lox turned to face you he could tell right away by the admiration and gratitude in your eyes that he had made the right decision in conjuring the convincing wolf illusions to scare you back towards him.

Normally seeing your first hybrid man may have at least startled you, but when you met his orange eyes and sharp-toothed smile you could only feel relief. You almost wanted to hug the guy.

“Thank you so much! I really thought I was a goner. I have no idea what I would have done had you not shown up when you had…”

Your stomach turned just thinking about it.

“No problem friend, I just happened to be gathering fruit up in the trees when I saw your predicament.”

Now Lox just had to convince you to stay the night with him. Get to know him better. Once you saw how good of a provider he was and how kind he was you would surely fall for him. He just knew it.

“Well uh… I better go and get my things. I dropped them to flee. And then I gotta keep traveling. Thanks again!”

No no no, that wouldn’t do for Lox at all!

“Don’t be silly! Those wolves could be lurking anywhere, you should just stay at my home while I collect your things. You can always set off tomorrow, I will even escort you through the forest!”

Your heart was still beating at an intense pace with adrenaline leaving you shaky. You didn’t really want to just set off alone so soon after such a scare. But you really should set out again, and you had doubts that the wolves would try anything again so soon.

“I really don’t think that I should, if I keep going I can make up for lost time and make the village well before sundown.”

He couldn’t reveal his true intentions yet, but no matter what happened, now that he had taken such a liking to you, he was never going to be far from you.

“Well, those wolves can be pretty persistent, they aren’t really normal. And it would be really nice to have a bit of company. It doesn’t come very often out here. I don’t think that humans like me all that much to tell the truth...”

Lox put on his best pouting face to elicit your sympathy. To be honest he didn’t mind his loner lifestyle one bit. Though he did want just one person in his life. A good partner. And whether or not you wanted it, that partner was going to be you.

His deception worked wonders on you. Instantly you felt immense sympathy for him. He was helping you so much so you should be happy to offer him your company, if just for a day. It wasn’t like it was a great imposition on you. You wouldn’t even be alive right now if not for Lox and all he wanted was a bit of companionship in return. Besides, you really didn’t want to come across as some sort of bigot…

“Well… if you’re sure it won’t be burdensome, I guess I can stay the night. Thanks for the hospitality, but I think I should go with you to get my pack. It would be pretty rude to make you go and get it for me.”

This also wouldn’t do for Lox, he wanted to enchant your belongings to be able to keep tabs on you even if you left his immediate vicinity. He did not want to run the risk of you ever escaping him, he doubted he would be unable to track you, but it was good to be prepared. The spell was rather loud and involved flashes of magic, he couldn’t take the risk that you could wake up and catch him in the act so having you at his house while he went off to do the enchantment on your stuff was his best solution.

“Don’t be silly, I can zip along through the trees much faster than you can walk! It will be much faster if I go alone.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true… Okay, if you really don’t mind getting it for me.” You felt bad that he had done so much for you already and was now doing more, but his logic made sense.

On the way there you introduced yourself and the two of you chatted a bit about how you both got to where you were currently. He explained the tragic tale of how he had been orphaned as a young teen and had to raise himself in the harsh wilds. The two of you were already pretty close to his humble home so it didn’t take long at all for him to lead you there.

The inside was about what you would expect from the home of someone living the lifestyle of a secluded forest hermit. Not messy, but cluttered in a cozy sort of way. Not a lot of open space, every inch utilized in some way. There were some shelves filled with books and various ornaments and objects of unknown purpose, there was a desk in the corner littered with arcane looking scrolls, a small dining area with dried aromatic herbs hanging from the ceiling, and there was a doorless bedroom attached with an equally well stuffed bedroom, you could see a large bed with red covers and more shelves.

Before he went off to get your pack for you he offered you some miniature sandwiches and some tea and set them on a small table for you.

You thanked him as he left and nibbled on the food he had provided you. You were hungrier than you had realized though and before you knew it, there wasn’t a crumb or sip left.

Meanwhile Lox had already located your belongings and busily casting his little spell on your things. He was hoping he could convince you to stay with him, but realistically it could take a few encounters. This would help ensure that those encounters kept happening. He considered it the “dating” phase of your “relationship.”

He also hoped that you would eat as much of that sandwich as possible. He had sprinkled in just a little something to help you be a bit more compliant with the “romance” he had planned for later that night. He could have relied on it to keep you from being too alarmed at him casting a spell on your belongings, but he couldn’t be sure how much you would ingest. Lox didn’t want to be pushy about you consuming the food either, that would be suspicious.

No, it was better if he just enchanted your things now and then he wouldn’t have to worry about if you had eaten enough magic flake powder that he had given you. And if you did happen to consume enough of it then he could have plenty of fun with you.

The fox-man briefly considered whipping up a love potion, but they were often temporary, wearing off at inconvenient times and requiring reapplication. And he really wanted you to actually be in love with him, not just be under the influence of all consuming magic.

When Lox entered the home it had startled you right off the couch and you fell to the floor. Lox quickly helped you up, relishing the chance to make physical contact with you. He was beyond thrilled to see that the plate your food had been on was now empty.

“Thanks! Sorry, you coming in so suddenly just startled me. You weren’t wrong about how fast you were, I hadn’t expected you back so soon.”

“Told ya I was fast.” He beamed proudly as he handed you your belongings.

Over the course of the next couple of hours the two of you chatted while you taught him a card game with a deck that you always traveled with, but you became fatigued much sooner than you usually did. Surely that was just from all the travel followed by the excitement of earlier though.

Lox offered you use of his bed while you used his couch, but you wouldn’t hear of it. He had already shown you such kindness you weren’t going to just kick him out of his own bed. Finally he relented and just let you use the couch.

Sleep came to you with unusual ease, something that Lox was greatly anticipating. Now you’d be at his mercy and even if you woke up, the mind altering effects of what he had fed you would make sure that you didn’t remember it or if you did you'd think it was only a dream.

Lox lubed you up carefully and slid into your sleeping form which he had tenderly stripped bare. He bred you slowly and lovingly, deep strokes into you so that he could edge and enjoy every possible second of making love with his partner for the first time.

It was difficult, but he managed to restrain his instinct to bite your neck all over and make his claim on you visible to the world. He also held his cock at the base to prevent his knot from slipping in and swelling within you. Lox didn’t want to leave you with any suspicious soreness.

But the hardest thing for the fox man was pulling out and not filling you up full of his seed, especially when your eyes fluttered open and you moaned and babbled incoherently while drooling in pleasure even if your mind couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening.

After that, he came in you quickly and meticulously cleaned you up so that no evidence was left behind.

When you woke up your head was a bit fuzzy, light filtered in through a little circular window and by the angle of the sun it seemed that you had slept all morning. You thought you probably had overstayed your welcome.

You yawned and began to get off the couch when suddenly Lox appeared as if from nowhere with a hot plate of food. Had he been watching and waiting for you to wake up? You didn’t entertain the thought long, you were just being paranoid. He was a fox-man; he clearly had enhanced senses and was just keeping the meal warm for you when you finally got up.

"Quail egg omelet before you leave?"

Lox seemed refreshed and energized, and though you couldn't quite place why something about him gave you just the slight twinge of anxiety in the back of your mind. It was easy to push away though.

"Thanks, you didn't have to make me breakfast. I have rations in my pack"

"Nonsense, you're my guest. And I was making one for myself anyway."

It did smell rather enticing and he had gone through the trouble of cooking it so you relented and ate it happily. It was among the best dishes you had ever eaten. You wondered if he used his magic to enhance it. He had, actually, added his own "special ingredient" to the food he made for you, but it wasn't something magical and you really didn't want to know what it was.

After you finished the meal Lox, true to his word, happily joined you on your trip out of the forest. You tried to insist that you didn’t need him, that the wolves probably went off in search of easier prey, and that you were prepared now, but the fox wasn’t having it.

The trip out of the forest was largely uneventful, filled only with Lox’s chatter and questions focused on you. You supposed most people would have been annoyed by it all, but you knew he didn’t get much company and you were still so touched by the kindness that he had shown you.

Overall it was going well.

Until it wasn't. As you crossed the old, but up until this point, very sturdy bridge, it suddenly collapsed beneath you. With a scream you flailed desperately, luckily Lox was able to reach you, hold onto you, and jump back up the side that you had come from. After you caught your breath and let your nerves settle in silence you looked at the damage. The bridge was beyond repair. It would add a couple hours to your journey to go around to the shallow part of the river, but you certainly couldn't go across here anymore.

"God damn! That was... scary! Thanks for... saving me. Again..."

You were still shaking a bit.

"It's no problem! I thought the bridge was a bit sturdier than that. Good thing I caught you... I guess we'll just have to go back for now..."

"No it's fine, I saw an old map of the area, there's a place I can cross if I follow the river. Will just take a few extra hours."

You looked up at him.

"Don't worry, you don't need to escort me the extra distance."

That was, of course, the exact opposite of what Lox planned. He would be at your side for eternity. Whether you said you wanted him there or not.

"No, no! It's not a bother. Really. I'm usually so bored I just sleep most of the day!"

"Well if it isn't a bother, I'm glad to have a traveling buddy for a bit longer."

The two of you sat down for a couple minutes before resuming your newly extended route out of the forest. It went about as well as it had been going before the incident with the bridge, though Lox kept shooting you nervous looks, like he was holding back from saying something to you. Poor guy, he was probably just sad that the two of you would be parting ways soon. You made a mental note to reassure him when you got to the end of the forest.

This wasn't the end at all, you'd see him a couple times a month if this trading exchange worked out. Maybe even once a week if things got really busy.

The fox hybrid was a bit more distant in conversation, focused more on his thoughts. He had been sure that after he collapsed the bridge with his magic and then saved you from the disaster that you would be head over heels in love with him. Clearly he had shown you he can keep you safe from any peril... even if he had to make the danger himself. At the very least you should have agreed to stay at his home a bit longer so that he could get you to like him more.

Sadly, Lox could not glean any notions of love emanating from you using his magical abilities. But he absolutely couldn't accept that you weren't at least somewhat attracted to him by this point. He had, as far as you were concerned, saved your life twice. Then he had been very amicable and hospitable towards you. You must have been in such strong denial that your true feelings were unknown even to you. But he wasn't going to give up on his beloved, he just knew the two of you were meant to be together. No matter what.

His first priority had to be making sure you never made it out of the forest. If you left and he wasn't with you then you could get hurt. Or maybe someone else would take you! But he didn't want to scare you or tip you off.

As the two of you continued on your way the amorous man couldn't help but stare at you and think of all the things he wanted to do to you. Seeing a lack of claiming bites on you almost sent his instincts into overdrive, he had to actively stop himself from fucking you into the dirt, biting all over you, and having his knot tie the two of you together.

The two of you crossed the river and with each step Lox grew more fidgety as his desire to claim you grew, as did his worry that you may escape him if he didn't think up another plot soon. Then he had a great idea. Quicksand! He'd save you from it and you'd be so frustrated, messy, and grateful that at the very least you'd want to go back to his house for another night to rest and clean up!

Lox used his magic to create a patch of quicksand on the path ahead and used his power of illusion to make sure it looked just like the surrounding terrain until disturbed, just like natural quicksand.

And sure enough it fooled you. With a loud scream you suddenly plummeted through what you had assumed was perfectly solid ground. You fell forward and struggled to orient yourself in the thick muck. Lox grabbed your pack from behind and plucked you easily from the quicksand. You gasped for breath and wiped the mud from your face.

"Holy fuck, I would have drowned if not for you! You're a real lifesaver, Lox."

This time you didn't waste more than a few seconds trying to catch your breath before getting up.

"I guess we should head back to my place, we can get you all cleaned up and try again tomorrow."

"Oh don't worry! We only just passed the river, we can go back and I can rinse off there!"

You started to head towards the water with Lox at your side.

"Are you sure? You must be tired after all the excitement we just had..."

You stopped and looked at Lox. He seemed almost panicked. The gears in your head finally started turning. The dots were connecting.

"Every time something happens you are very quick to suggest we head back... and it's pretty convenient that you are always right there to save me from these sudden disasters..."

"What are you saying?" The fox asked with a surprising darkness.

The question hung unanswered, heavy in the air, as the two of you stared at one another. Then you bolted into the dense foliage. But this was Lox's forest, he had years of experience tracking and keeping eyes on any humans who wandered through it, and he had never been so motivated.

Every time you made a turn Lox would appear in a puff of smoke in front of you, using his magic to teleport short distances. He grabbed you, but you struggled out of his grip.

"I love you babe, but I am getting tired of this little game. Let's go home now okay?"

He used a wave of magic to animated the vines near you, they snared you easily. You wriggled and writhed like a maniac as he slowly approached you with a creepy smile on his face.

"You must be tired after that little chase. You need a nap."

Then he pulled out a pouch of shimmering blue powder from his pocket and blew it over you. You fell asleep instantly.

When you woke up from your fitful sleep full of nightmares and fear in Lox's bed. You had no pants on and a thick sticky fluid leaking from your entrance. You realized those nightmares may not have been dreams at all, and you felt instantly nauseous.

Luckily, he wasn't in the room with you. The sick freak seemed to be in the kitchen, you could hear him humming faintly as he went about cooking. He probably thought he'd bring you a meal in bed and you'd be grateful and everything would be just peachy between the two of you. But you had other plans.

The window was large enough to leave through, you hoped you could do so quietly. You wiped yourself clean as best you could and put the clothing that Lox has removed back on. You raised the window slowly and it didn't make any noise at first, but you came to a point where it was stuck and more force had to be used. It squeaked like it was shrieking out your desire to escape to the four corners of the world.

Since your cover was clearly blown you gave up being quiet and forced it open with all due expediency. You quickly scrambled out the window, falling forward into the dirt. You wasted no time at all in getting up and darting away as fast as you possibly could. But the eyes of the fox were on you from the window, watching you speed further away. He wasn't worried though.

Lox was delusional and arguably even completely insane over you at this point, but he was no idiot. He knew your denial about how you felt over him may still be too strong and you may try to run away. He had taken extra precautions. Precautions you learned of in a  very direct way when you slammed face first and at full force right into some sort of invisible barrier that Lox had erected a good distance around his dwelling.

You fell rather hard on your ass and cupped your face in pain. Then you heard a voice approach behind you.

"Are you okay darling? I didn't intend to hurt your pretty face." He waved a hand and green sparks from his fingertips healed up your injury.

"What the Hell, Lox!? You can't just keep me prisoner like this!"

"You're not a prisoner! You're my partner, and this is just to keep you close by. You're really fragile judging by how you handled all the dangers recently."

You stared at him for a moment, unable to think of a response to this complete lunatic, as he got closer and stared down at you with that freaky smile of his.

"I realize you are used to being really independent, but you really need to admit it already. I am the perfect mate for you. You have to know that deep down."

You started to object, but he sealed your words with a sudden rough kiss. He was deceptively strong, a fact you learned while trying unsuccessfully to push him off of you. He pinned you down on the ground with ease and smirked down at you.

"If showing off how good of a protector I am isn't enough to get rid of your denial, then I will just have to show you how good our union feels~"

Lox ignored your protests. His nails grew sharp and he sliced off your clothing as easily as if he was cutting through paper.

"I'm gonna make you feel soooo good."

He bit possessively at your neck. It hurt slightly but the unpleasantness was overridden by pleasure. For someone who was rarely around humans except to randomly help or hinder an occasional traveler he sure knew how to pleasure you. Then you remembered how he had violated you in your sleep. He had practiced. You redoubled your efforts to get free but the resistance only seemed to excite him more.

Lox's claws returned to being normal nails as he fingered your entrance, despite his increasingly feral state of mind he was still focused on making this as pleasurable as possible for his beloved little human. He used a small bit of magic to create an oil from his fingers to apply a generous amount of lubrication to you.

Shouts, screams, and the tears rolling down your face were all met with calming shushing noises and promises that you'd be moaning soon enough with fear replaced by delight.

His fingers wiggled within you, causing you to buck unwillingly in the throes of carnal stimulation. You gasped and whined at your body's betrayal. Lox pulled out his fingers and held your hips tight while aligning his cock with you and slamming into you with the perfect amount of force.

Your moan was captured by his lips as he kissed you again, biting your lower lip as he pulled away.

"I have wanted my knot in you for so long, you're gonna fit me like a glove~"

All you could manage was to grunt in defiance as you drooled dumbly. Lox began thrusting into you again and again. Each movement of his could only be described as perfection. He rolled his hips and plunged in deeply with slow strokes that steadily increased in pace.

It really didn't take long at all for Lox to feel your body throb around his large prick as you climaxed. If this had been a willing encounter, and if you also had not been fucked silly, you would have been embarrassed by how quickly Lox had made you orgasm.

The fox looked at you in awe, observing every detail of your face as you came. Your flushed face, the rise and fall of your chest as you panted, your eyes glazed and lost in sexual bliss.

"Wow, you finish even faster and more beautifully than you did while sleeping!"

Lox bit at your chest and up to your neck, delivering a harder bite there to mark you as his. You were so out of it that it didn't register in the way that it should have. What little pain there was Lox quickly dispersed with more magical healing and gentle kisses.

He continued pumping into you for well over an hour, eliciting enough moans, whimpers, shakes, and shudders from you until your voice was hoarse and your body limp.

And then, just when you thought you would die from all the overstimulation, Lox painted your walls white with a hot load of cum before his knot swelled and kept the two of you together.

"See? No one else can make you feel like this! And you take me just so well my beloved~"

When his knot finally went down he had to stop himself from diving back into you, the sight of you glistening with sweat and leaking his seed went straight to his cock. But he settled for just slipping it between your thighs and grinding into you while you sat on his lap in the bathtub.

Your comfort was the priority and you clearly needed special care after that mind shattering sex.

When you were all cleaned up, he carried you bridal style to his bed and bundled you up in soft blankets, he pressed a loving kiss to your cheek before going off to get you some food and water. Maybe something easy to get down. Perhaps some soup? Since you were still pretty dazed he wondered if you would let him feed you.

You were such a sweet fragile thing and would need to recover your energy for all the activities he had planned for the two of you.

[raven-dor]

me and my husband

In which gwayne hightower is overprotective of his pregnant wife, and she begins to worry about the outcome of the birth

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader

WARNINGS: angst, anxiety, rough pregnancy, mentions of blood, arguing, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

AN: I read "chose me" by @entitled-fangirl and had to write something similar for gwayne!! this could also be read as part of the come back to me universe, but you do not have to read any other fic to understand the context!!

She watched from the dark hall, her heart fluttering as he leaned back, exposing his neck and upper chest. Pregnancy awoke a dangerous animal inside her, one that needed her husband near her at all times. 

Instead, he sat in his office. 

She could not blame him; it was hard work, taking care of Old Town in place of his uncle’s absence. Seeing as his cousin had died recently, Gwayne would stand to inherit the Hightower title, and he all but jumped at the chance to begin his training.

But as of late, it seemed as if she needed him more than he needed her. Mere thoughts seemed to drown out her happiness, every attempt to block them futile. The larger she grew, the closer she got to the inevitable. She cleared her throat, making herself known to her husband. 

“Gwayne?” He looked up, smiling brightly. 

“My love! You should be in bed.” He stood up, ushering her over to a cushion. She glared, letting him coddle her for now.

“I am not inept.” 

“I know, darling.” He knelt in front of her, kissing her hand gently. “But you also know that I cannot help but worry for you.” He caressed her stomach, whispering. “And how is our little one?” 

“You have no need to worry, I assure you. The Maesters say the babe is perfectly healthy; there is no cause for concern.”

“And you?” He kissed her hand once more. “How do you fare?”

She was taken aback by that question, avoiding the question. “Do not worry about me.” 

“That is my job as your husband.” He walked back to his desk, putting out the flickering candle. “And Maesters are not always correct.” 

“That is a rather skeptical view.” She grabbed the handles of the chair, pushing herself up. Gwayne glared. 

“Please ask for my aid next time you plan on standing.” 

“Shall I ask you to help me relieve myself as well?” She glared back. “I love you; you know that I do. But I am not a frail piece of straw. I will not break from a gust of wind.”

“You are carrying the future heir to the Hightower name, my dear.” 

Terms like that make her uneasy. That is all she heard all day. ‘Future heir,’ ‘Hightower name,’ ‘a boy.’ All phrases she had heard over a hundred times. She just wanted a moment of peace where she was not reminded how little she mattered in this situation. A tight smile graced her lips, and she lost all humor in her tone. “As I am constantly reminded.” 

He grabbed her hand, walking slowly out of the office. “All I ask is that you take care. If not for me, then for the sake of our child.” 

“I am careful.” She glared. “You know this. It’s not as if I go looking for things to hurt the babe. Do not treat me like a child to be watched over.” 

He rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. “I do not mean to upset you-” 

“Well, you have.” She scoffed. “You have somehow managed to insult my care for your future line and my child in one blow. It is astonishing, truly. I applaud you.” 

“You know that was not my intention.” He shut their bedroom door, removing his shirt. Y/N tried to keep herself from blushing at the sight, but when he looked like that, it was hard to do. He knelt in front of her, holding both of her hands in his. “I am sorry.” 

She hummed, walking away and sitting in front of her vanity. “Yes, well, I suppose I forgive you.” 

He grinned. “I am glad of it.” 

The woods were peaceful, a nice retreat from the bustling of Old Town. Her velvet green dress dragging behind her. She hummed, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of the trees swaying. There was a lake nearby that she desperately wanted to swim in, and stare up into the sky of blue. Pushing the tall grass out of her way, the clearing stretched out before her, the lake at the center. She grinned, running down the hill with a newfound joy.

“Y/N? Where are you?” 

Her smile fell, remembering the whole reason she had even been ‘allowed’ to go on this excursion. He’d only let her go if he came along. She sighed, turning around and walking back up the hill. “Coming, my love.” 

The auburn-haired man smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Where did you run off to?” 

“The clearing.” She traced shapes on his chest. “I was thinking, perhaps you could join me for a swim. It is a perfect day for it.” 

“I-” 

“My lord.” Their guard’s voice echoed through the forest. Y/N groaned, falling against her husband’s chest. Gwayne kissed the top of her head, smiling sympathetically. “Another time, I swear to you.” She sighed, nodding. A finger hooked under her chin, his eyes serious. “You look far too melancholy, my love.” 

“Well, perhaps if-” 

“My lord, I’m sorry, but it is most urgent.” 

Gwayne sighed, intertwining his hand with hers. “What is it?”

The Maester’s Wing was dim, with just a few candles keeping light. Gwayne had been summoned to settle a squabble between the townfolk, leaving Y/N to visit the old man herself. She tapped her foot, waiting for the Maester to ask her the questions she dreaded. But those questions never came. 

“My lady.” 

Y/N smiled, nodding. “Maester Jon, it is wonderful to see you.” She held her stomach. “Tell me, any developments my husband or I should be aware of?” 

“Unfortunately, yes, my lady.” He sat down. “It seems, from what we can tell so far, that the birth may result in a breach pregnancy.” Y/N’s blood ran cold, and she felt her breath catch. “A breach pregnancy may result in a choice needing to be made.” He leaned forward, a sympathetic look on his face. “Do you understand what this means, my lady?” 

She nodded, standing up quickly. “I do. Thank you, Maester Jon. I shall relay the news to my lord husband.”

She gave one last look at the dark corner before practically running out of the wing. She burst through the hall doors, dinner in full swing. There sat Gwayne, eyes drooping, visibly exhausted from his duties. 

Who was she to worry him anymore?

Y/N sat beside her husband, kissing his cheek. “How was your day, my love?” 

“Infinitely better, now that you are here.” He smiled. “How was the visit?” 

She took a large sip of her wine. “Well. All is well.” She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I love you.” 

He grinned, squeezing back. “I love you much more, my dear.” 

If he chose the babe, she knew she would surely die from heartbreak before she bled. She laughed, her eyes watering. “I do not think that is possible.” 

Since learning of the news, she’d been restless, barely sleeping and often waking before the sun. Its bright rays peeked through the curtains, hitting her skin. The warmth soothed her for a moment, but it was just that, a moment. 

The babe kicked harshly, a quiet groan leaving her. She stared at the ceiling, thinking that in just a few short weeks, she’d be giving birth in this very bed, staring at the same ceiling. 

It had always been described to her as horrible and painful beyond recognition. And now that she was carrying an heir, which could possibly be breach, she almost wished she could go back to when they first met and stop herself. When she didn’t have to worry about what she did or where she went, she could just be free. 

He would be pressured into choosing the child over her; she knew this. Sometimes, when the need for an heir was strong, women had been carelessly cut open, being left for dead. It had been done many times, most notably in her lifetime, by King Viserys. Rhaenyra had told her of his actions: how he’d carelessly cut Aemma open, and her mother bled out on the bed without ever getting to hold her babe. 

She looked over at her husband, fast asleep and dead to the world. His hair covered his eyes; his face was shoved into the pillow haphazardly. She giggled; he’d always slept like there was no tomorrow; it was heartwarming, to say the least. She leaned over, pushing the hair out of his face, kissing his forehead gently. 

 Rolling to her side, she quietly stood, careful not to wake him. Grabbing her robe from the wardrobe, she made her way to the dining hall, eager to eat something of actual sustenance. 

After learning of the news, she had picked at her dinner, telling Gwayne it was because the babe made her nauseous. 

In a way, it had. 

The smell of bacon and eggs flooded her senses, and she rounded the corner, the doors of the hall wide open. Greeting the occasional servant that passed by, she sat down, piling food onto her plate. 

“My lord.” Y/N looked up to see her husband stalking toward her, not even acknowledging the man who had greeted him. Odd, he normally slept as long as he could before starting his day. She smiled brightly. “Good morning, my love.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it a good morning?” 

“Quite.” She tilted her head. “Why? Is something amiss?” 

He nodded, crossing his arms. “I awoke, and my wife was gone. Imagine my surprise.” 

She had felt horrible leaving him, and fighting would only give him more cause to choose the babe. “I am sorry if I scared you.” 

“You should be. And another-” He stopped, shock adorning his features. “You are sorry?” 

“I should have woken you. It was my mistake.” She pat the chair next to her. “Please, join me.” 

“I’m afraid I cannot. I have to meet with the steward this morning.” 

Her heart clenched. “I can join you if you’d like-” 

“It is not necessary. I will only bore you.” 

She murmured, reaching out to grab his hand. “You have never bored me.” 

“You are kind, but I’m sorry, I cannot be distracted.” He grabbed a plate, placing a biscuit and two pieces of bacon haphazardly.

She scoffed, glaring at her lord husband. “I did not realize I was such a distraction."

"Y/N...."

"Perhaps I should stay in my chambers for the remainder of my pregnancy. To keep you from further distraction.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” 

She stood, her eyes cold. “I know nothing of the sort.” She looked over his shoulder, beckoning over a servant. “Please move my things into the adjoining room. I will be sleeping there-” 

Gwayne sat his plate down, looking at the servant. “Do not move her things.”  

“My lady?” The young girl looked frightened, scared that she was caught in the middle of their argument. 

Y/N sighed, dismissing the girl. “It is alright.” She walked away, yelling back at her husband. “I shall do it myself.” 

“Y/N!” Gwayne yelled, dropping his plate and running after her. “Come back here at once.” 

She ignored him, walking faster. The stairs proved to be a challenge, holding the railing tight. Gwayne placed a hand on her back. “Let me-” 

She flinched, pushing him back. “Don’t.” 

He mumbled. “You may hate me all you want after this.” 

“After what-” He hooked his arm under her legs, carrying her up the stairs. “Gwayne Hightower! You let me down right now!” 

The top of the stairs was a relief; she practically jumped out of his arms. She walked into their joint chambers, filling her trunk with things she would need. Gwayne sighed, watching from the doorway. “Will you please just-” 

“I will leave you to your devices, my lord. I hope your meetings prove well spent.” Dragging the trunk through the door, she slammed it in his face. 

That had been three days ago. They’d seen each other in the halls and at meals, but other than that, Y/N steered clear of her husband. For the better part of the day, he’d been in a meeting with the patrons of Old Town, or so she’d heard. Y/N took that as an opportunity, rushing out of the castle’s gates. Squealing, she cut through the tall grass once more, racing down the hill towards the lake. She threw her dress off, her petticoat barely revealing her modesty. Not that anyone would see, this part of the wood was only known by the family. 

The water did wonders for her nerves, cooling her skin. Her hair stretched out past her waist, flowing like the tall grass that surrounded this oasis. She floated for what seemed like hours; the babe had not stirred once. She hummed, rubbing her bump gently. “It is quite peaceful here, is it not?” 

A kick. 

Y/N grinned, her eyes tearing up. “Please, try your best to make this an easy birth. It would break my heart not to meet you. If that is the case, don’t worry. Your father’s a good man; he’ll raise you well.” 

No kick. 

She laughed. “Do not ignore your mother. It’s quite disrespectful.” 

A kick. 

“I miss him too, my love.” 

A voice broke through the silence. “Miss who exactly?” 

Y/N jumped, standing in the water. “My lord, I did not expect you-” 

“I was in a meeting when a guard informed me you were running out of the castle gates.” His face looked conflicted, but she didn’t want to address the fact that he most likely heard that whole ‘conversation,’ so she remained silent. “Is there something you wish to tell me?” 

So he had heard. She smiled, trying to act as if nothing was wrong. “I do not know what you are referring to, my lord.” 

“Stop.” Gwayne sighed. “You haven’t called me that since before we were engaged, and I do not wish for you to start again.” He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Please come out of the lake.” 

She walked past his hand to her dress, every attempt to retrieve it proving futile. “Here.” Gwayne knelt down, picking it up off the stump. “What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?” 

“I would have figured it out, thank you very much.” She glared, pulling the frock over her head. “Do you not have another meeting to attend, my lord?” 

“I canceled them.” He laughed, stepping forward. “After I heard my wife was running away from our home, I thought it best to tend to the matter myself.” 

“How wise of you.” Y/N crossed her arms. 

“Shall we go to bed?” 

“I am not tired.” She walked up the hill, leaving him behind. “Have a restful night, my lord.” 

She slammed her bedroom door shut, leaning against it. She was tired; she hated to admit it. But she wouldn’t have told him that. She walked over to the window, placing the bouquet she picked on the mantle. A reminder of the freedom she once had. A reminder of life before she faced death itself. 

A knock rang out. “May I come in?” 

She tensed. “If you must.” She faced the window, too scared to face him. If she looked at him, truly looked at him, she thought she would start crying. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” 

“I have to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly.”

She nodded, walking away from the window and placing her robe in her wardrobe. “Ask it then.” 

“Do you still love me?”

Her heart stopped. “I-” 

Gwayne stepped forward, wrapping a singular arm around her waist. He drew her in, his scent engulfing her senses. She fought herself not to fall for his spell, but as he leaned his head down, and his breath hitting her neck, she knew she would not last. “If you do not, speak it plainly because I- I cannot go on like this any longer.” 

She turned around in his arms, placing her arms on his chest. “I do not believe I could ever stop loving you. Trust me when I say this.” She smiled. “I’m afraid it’s terminal.” 

“Ah.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Then what is it that troubles you so?” 

“I do not know what you-” 

“I beg you, do not finish that sentence.” He tilted her chin up, worry in his eyes. “What ales you, my love?” 

“I am simply nervous.” She to be out of his arms. The longer she stayed in his embrace, the more compelled she felt to tell him. “It is nothing, I swear to you.”

He raised his eyebrows, pulling her hands from his chest and kissing them gently. “Please do not lie to me.”

“That night I visited the Maester, he told me something.” He nodded. “He said with the way the pregnancy is progressing, it is possible that the babe will be born breach.” Her voice grew quieter the longer she spoke. 

“That’s not all, is it?” 

She pushed out of his hold, walking to the other side of the room. “I’m so sorry, Gwayne. Truly, I am. Please forgive me-” a sob wrecked her body. “But I want to live. Please.” 

Gwayne shook his head. Where was this coming from? “Whatever are you talking about?” 

“I know I have been acting radical as of late, and I apologize, I just thought-” She hiccuped. “I thought it would make your choice easier.” 

“What choice, darling?” 

She whispered. “Between me and the babe.” 

“Why would I-” It dawned on him. Had she really been dealing with this all by herself? “Oh, my sweet girl. Why did you not tell me?” 

“I didn’t want to stress you any further.” She hugged herself. “Please, Gwayne. I swear I will give you another heir if this pregnancy-” She shivered. “Just don’t cut me. I beg you.” 

He dropped down in front of her, grabbing her hands in his. “Listen to me well. I could sire a hundred children, but you. You are one of a kind, and I will always choose you.” He kissed the back of her hands once more. “Irreplaceable. You must know this.” 

“Gwayne, no one is truly irreplaceable.” 

He stood, his eyes dark. “Do not say such things again. Swear it to me.” 

“I-” 

“Swear it, Y/N.” 

“I swear.” She whispered, cheeks red. “I swear to you.” 

He nodded, smiling lightly. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For coddling you.” He stepped closer, caressing her bump. “I am scared as well. My own mother had many a difficult pregnancy, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.” 

“I am sorry as well.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “I should have come to you with my worries. I did not want to burden you. And I will make sure you have your heir. I promise you that.” 

“I do not care if the Hightower name crumbles away into nothingness. As long as you are content, I will be as well.” He leaned down, their foreheads touching. “There would be no point to this without you. I fear I could not do this if you were not by my side.” 

“You have been doing perfectly fine as of late.” She winced. "I truly am sorry.” 

“No more of that.” He whispered, staring at her lips. “May we please go to bed?” 

She nodded, knowing if she tried to speak that words would fail her. She lay on the bed beside him, tracing his freckles. “Sleep, my love.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I will be here when you wake, I promise.” 

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve and Gareth as cousins warm up, part two! 

First part is HERE. 

Next part is HERE. 

Reminder: Someone on Twitter proposed Steve and Gareth as cousins whose family had a major falling out, and then someone else brought it up recently and long story short no idea who to credit the idea too bc you can’t search for SHIT on Twitter but it's theirs not mine.

Warnings: Steve and Robin Get (canon-S3) Drugged. 

"I'm just saying the other theater is cheaper." Eddie said around the straw jammed in his mouth. 

He carried the largest bucket of popcorn Starcourt’s movie theater offered, alongside the two boxes of candy he'd also demanded Gareth buy him. 

"Easier to sneak into, you mean." Gareth corrected, with his significantly smaller bag of popcorn. His, he planned to share with Jeff, Grant having snuck in his own food. 

Gareth himself would have snuck in the cheaper (and far larger) snacks, but Eddie had thrown a fit about going to the mall to see a new movie instead of Hawkin’s far older theater. 

Of course, the older theater also had several disadvantages, key of which was terrible seating, and so, Gareth had bribed him with whatever treats he wanted. 

His wallet took a hit but fuck it, at least they got to actually see the screen. 

Not that they even made it into the fucking theater, because someone chose that moment to crash into Eddie. 

Popcorn kernels and soda flew everywhere, with Eddie only avoiding it landing on him and Gareth both by years of dealing with this exact bullshit in school. Of course, the mall wasn’t school, and neither of them had their guard up. 

"What the hell man--" Eddie spat, immediately on the defense, as they both turned to see what jackass wanted to cause problems this time. 

Except Gareth had recognized the person who bumped him. 

"Steve?" Gareth asked, causing  his cousin to totter around and face him. He was in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, which remained to be absolutely ridiculous, but that hadn't been what had drawn Gareth's attention. 

No, that would be the absolute wrecked face staring at him with a doped up grin. 

All thoughts of the movie immediately faded away. 

"What happened to your face!?" Gareth demanded, immediately stepping up into his cousin's space, eyes darting over the damage. 

Recent black eye, split lip, blood splatter all down one side of his neck, nevermind his clothes… 

"Robs!" Steve called over his shoulder instead of answering, body moving as if he was walking on a wildly rocking boat and not solid ground. "Come 'ere!" 

He beamed, which had the horrific effect of resplitting his lips. "Meet Gareth, my baby cousin!" 

"I am two years younger than you." Gareth argued on automatic. He didn’t look to see how Eddie took this little piece of info--he’d figure out what he’d say later, when Steve wasn’t covered in blood. 

It did not stop Robin from reaching out to pinch his cheeks. 

She too, Gareth realized, was clearly high on something, both of them giggling and weaving on their feet. 

At least Robin didn’t appear to be hurt--or at least, not hurt as badly as Steve. 

"What the hell did you two take?" Gareth demanded, looking between them as he quickly put his popcorn back off to the side. 

"We didn't take anything, dad." Steve said bossily, rolling his eyes. He spoke in a voice so unlike himself that Gareth knew his own face was doing something crazy. 

Not that he could stop it because what the hell. 

"What my patriotic friend here means is that we don't know." Robin added, smacking a hand onto Steve’s shoulder. 

(The entire sentence was slurred and sounded like she'd shoved candy in her mouth before she started talking.) 

"You don't know?!” Gareth asked, taking in the way Steve flinched when Robin touched him. Added a mental note to check his cousin's shoulder too. “How do you not know?" 

Gareth wasn't panicking, he wasn't, except he absolutely fucking was. Steve's dad was going to kill him, disown him, and throw the body out of his house--in that exact order. 

Gareth’s parents wouldn’t take him in, not unless his mom felt she could use it to one up her sister in some way which meant that Gareth was going to have to sneak Steve in and out of the house like he was some--some puppy Gareth was trying to keep and--

"Did someone give you two something?" Eddie asked, interrupting Gareth’s spiraling. 

"Give is a very strong word." Steve said with a snicker. 

Robin nodded so much she looked like a bobble head. She leaned in, nearly falling into Gareth in the process. “In fact it’s not the word I’d use at all! I’d use…” She trailed off, screwing her eyes up in thought. 

“Made us?” Steve suggested as Gareth finally gave in to his instincts and reached out to steady his cousin. “Forced us?” 

“Socked it to us!” Robin added with a weird amount of glee, and the two of them once again collapsed into giggles.

Literally, forcing Gareth to try and steady them both. 

Which meant Eddie was right--they’d been drugged. It made perfect sense-- Steve wasn’t the kind to experiment with drugs beyond weed. Had in fact, given a very long lecture about how he’d make Gareth go on runs with him if he ever found out Eddie had given him anything stronger than weed. 

There was no way he’d change now, and especially not around a jobsite. Particularly one as busy as the mall. 

"You can't tell anybody." Robin continued, eyes so wide they were more white than pupils. "But we got truth serumed!" 

As if that made any fucking sense. 

Gareth turned a half frantic, half disbelieving look to Eddie--whose own face scared him almost as badly as Steve's did. 

He was hiding it, and doing a good job of doing so, but Eddie was the one person Gareth knew better than Steve. 

Right now? Eddie Munson was furious. 

Not mad, or upset, or even as pissed as he had been the time Tommy Hagan had thrown his drug box in the river. 

He was enraged. 

"Hey." He said, and the only thing more shocking than realizing Eddie was this mad was hearing him talk in a calming, almost playful voice. "Sounds like you two sailors had a pretty rough time. Why don't we go to the bathroom and get you both cleaned up? I bet you'll feel a little better." 

It was clearly the right move, because both of them looked downright delighted. 

"He thinks we're sailors!" Steve said, cupping a hand around his mouth and leaning to talk in Robin’s ear as if he was whispering. (He wasn’t.) 

Robin’s grin grew impossibly wider, before Eddie stepped forward to help Gareth half guide half herd the two into the nearest bathroom. 

"I know you." Robin said, squinting dramatically as Eddie opened the door with his regular flair, bellowing for anyone in the place to get out. 

It was Steve's turn to nod enthusiastically. "That's Eddie, Robbie." He said.

"I'm honored King Steve knows such a humble peasant's name." Eddie bowed as Gareth finally got both Steve and Robin into the bathroom, trying to get them to sit on the floor before they fell on their asses. 

Which just made a hurt expression appear on Steve's face. "’Course I do. You have really pretty hair." 

It had the effect of making Eddie look like he’d been punched and Gareth had to quickly turn his bark of laughter into a cough. 

"I bet it's soft.” Steve continued, as he pressed his back against the tiled wall and slowly slid down to the floor. “Gare, is it soft?" 

"It's very soft." Gareth agreed, trying to wet a paper towel with shaking hands. Finally he gave up entirely, ripping the plaid sweater he had tied around his waist and shoving one of the sleeves into the sink. 

“Oh my god.” Robin said abruptly, sitting up from her own slouched spot on the floor as if she’d suddenly been stricken sober. “It’s him! He’s your type!” 

“What’s my type?” Steve turned to her, as Eddie leaned his back against the door to the bathroom, blocking anyone else from entering. 

“It’s like--like Nancy! But boy Nancy.” Robin seemed to think this made a ton of sense, and given Steve’s immediate groan maybe it did to him, but Gareth was too freaked out to even begin to process what the hell they were on about.

Probably nothing, given they’d been drugged. 

Eddie seemed to pick up on his general anxiety and poor attempts at shoving down his own freakout, because he gently called out Gareth’s name. 

“I think it’s wet enough.” He added with a raised eyebrow. His eyes drifted purposefully to the sink and with a curse, Gareth snapped shut the water off. 

His hands were still shaking. 

“Give it to me.” Eddie said gently, moving to take the shirt from Gareth’s hands. “Here, swap me Gare, and guard the door.” 

Gareth did, as Eddie knelt down to take Steve’s chin in one hand, and carefully began dapping his wounded face with the wet sleeve. 

“May I ask what battles you two sailors have been involved in?” He said, continuing to sound like playful, fun Eddie and not like he was about to murder half the town (which, Gareth could tell by body language alone, is what Eddie actually felt like) “Did you happen to catch a glimpse of the villains who did this?"

“Robin melted into Steve, rubbing her face in his shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe us.” 

Eddie smiled his most charming smile, a full blown rouge grin he played up as he continued to wipe and dab at Steve’s wounds. “You’d be surprised at what I believe in, my fair lady.” 

Steve tried to talk, but ended up hissing as he ran into Eddie’s fingers. 

“Russians.” He managed to get out, when Eddie quickly took the sleeve away so he could talk. “We got kidnapped by fucking Russians. Also we kinda saw some shit and they’re after us. Possibly you now if they saw you with us.” 

There was the briefest of pause as Steve and Robin stared at Eddie, as Eddie stared back. 

Then Steve and Robin as one started howling with laughter, so hard that Robin’s head ended up in Steve’s lap with Steve’s own head resting on hers. 

Eddie turned to give Gareth a pinched look. “Russians.” He said, still calm despite it all. “Right.” 

Which had to be the fucking drugs speaking. 

Gareth just took a deep breath as Eddie managed to gently prod Steve back into putting his chin in his hand, shaking his head ever so slightly. 

He didn’t know who he was going to actually have to murder, but at least Eddie looked to be on board with acting as his backup. 

[idleoblivion]

"Shopping Spree" Crewel x GN Reader

Synopsis: Your professor finally takes you on that shopping trip he promised, and you get more than just new clothes.

Part 1 Part 3

Word Count: ~2k

A/N: I can't explain why I am so down bad for this man but here I am with more smut of him. Let me know if I should make a part three, cause I'm definitely considering.

Warnings: Teacher/student relationship, gn reader, shy/nervous reader, semi-public sex, dirty talk, overuse of the word 'puppy', oral sex (m!receiving), masturbation, praise kink

You sat completely rigid in the leather seat of his red sports car. You shifted a bit, not uncomfortable from the seat but from this trip already being such a large departure from what you’re used to. A part of you felt like you were sullying the whole car by even being inside it, looking very pedestrian compared to the driver next to you.

Crewel clearly preferred to dress formal and polished even on his days off. Over his outfit he still wore his signature coat, fluffy and luxurious as ever. When he picked you up, he had laid out the plans he had for you today. He was taking you to a luxury shopping mall, where you could buy almost anything you wanted. The only condition was that every outfit you tried on you had to show him for approval. His justification was that he couldn’t let you walk out of the store with something that didn’t flatter you..

“If you’re going to be my puppy, you’re going to have to dress the part.” He had said to you earlier.

He pulls into the parking lot and you’re immediately struck by the grandeur of the building. It looked even larger than the malls you were used to, and even from outside it radiated an air of expensiveness.

He opens the door for you once the car is parked, and puts his hand on your lower back as you walk beside him. He guides you towards the entrance of the mall and you step in together.

The inside of the mall was incredibly intimidating. Every store in sight has windows filled with products you couldn’t dream of affording. You repeat a question you had earlier to him, with newfound concern at your surroundings.

“You’re really sure I can get clothes here? I would’ve been happy with a regular mall too.” He tsks at you, “Yes, I am sure. In fact I insist, because I won’t have a puppy of mine running around in clothes unbefitting of them. And there will be no talk of the price either, that isn’t for you to worry about. No more yipping, follow me. We’ll try on some things in here first.” He pulls you into what would be the first of many stores, and you start browsing their selection with him.

---

You had been shopping for more than three hours now, and you were a bit overwhelmed with everything you had gotten. You left every store he brought you to with at least one bag of new clothes, which he carried for you. 

True to his word, he made you show him every outfit you wanted to buy. Almost all of them he approved, sometimes adding something or taking just one thing away, but he hadn’t outright refused anything you picked out. What caught you a bit off guard were all the outfits he picked. You knew he’d probably be giving you suggestions, but weren’t expecting him to pick whole ensembles that he demanded you try on. They were all very much his aesthetic, elegant black and white pieces with an occasional hint of red. He looked extra pleased after you would try those on, and ended up buying every single item he had picked out for you. It wasn’t a big deal, if letting him choose some things for you was the price for a whole new wardrobe, you didn’t mind at all.

You were finally at what he promised would be the last store. You actually didn’t see much that you liked, but he had found a few things he wanted to see you in again. The salesperson brought you both to a fitting room in the back and left you there. The room was decently large, with a few different places to hang your clothes and a stool. You resumed the pattern you had both established; He would hand you an outfit, you’d show him and he'd give his judgment, he'd hand you another, rinse and repeat until he was satisfied. 

You stepped out of the room to show him the latest choice. He pondered for a second before giving his thoughts.

“Hmm…It fits your body very nicely, and the colors look great on you. Yes, we’ll get this one too.”

You smile at his compliments. You go to reach for the next outfit he has in his hand, but he doesn’t give it to you. He steps past you and makes his way towards the fitting room.

“Um…what are you doing?” “I’m coming in with you. This one has clasps in the back you’ll probably need help with.” He pushes through the door and waits for you to follow. You hesitate, but after a pause you enter anyway.

He stands to the side and starts preparing the outfit for you. You wait for him to turn or face away from you, but instead he looks right at you expectantly.

“Well?”

Realizing what he means, you slowly start undressing yourself. You feel his eyes staring holes into you the entire time, watching every movement you made and looking your body up and down. Once you’re down to just your underwear, you nervously turn to face him again. You expect him to hand you the clothes to put on, only to find they’ve been unceremoniously tossed onto the stool. He steps toward you empty-handed, and you have to fight the urge to back up a little.

He places his hands on your sides and holds you in front of him. He leans down to kiss you, gently at first, but increasing in intensity very quickly. He bites your lip which makes you gasp, and uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His hands start sliding lower down your body, and you push at his shoulder to get him to break the kiss. He pulls back, looking somewhat confused.

“W-we, we can’t…there’s people here, and the worker might-” “The worker won’t bother us in here, and the only other customers were all up front. If anyone came back here, we’d hear them. Nothing bad’s going to happen, puppy, not when you’re with me.” He presses his lips to your neck and starts sucking lightly, then moving to kiss along your collarbone. His hand trails upwards to fondle your chest, and the heat in your body becomes unignorable. You stifle a moan as he leans to flick his tongue over your nipple.

“Professor…” you whine meekly. The sheepish tone in your voice makes him groan.

“Do you have any idea,” He starts between hot kisses to your skin, “What you’ve been doing to me all day? Looking so cute in everything I put you in, being so good for me…”

He stands straight again and eyes you hungrily. “You like being good for me, don’t you puppy?”

You nod rapidly, but he shakes his head back. “Words, puppy.” “Yes professor, I like being good for you.” Your face is burning, but you make yourself say it anyway.

He reaches for his belt and starts undoing it. “Then get on your knees.” You obey and sink to your knees in front of him. He grabs your chin and tilts it up towards him, smirking at your doe-eyed expression.

“Keep your hands on the floor, no touching. Do you understand?”

“Yes, professor.”

“Good. Stick out your tongue.” He holds your chin still while you put your tongue out. He frees his cock from his pants with his other hand and taps it on your tongue a few times. You don’t break eye contact, knowing you’d probably be scolded if you did.

“Now open that sweet little mouth for me, puppy.”

Again, you obey, and he slowly puts his cock in your mouth. You suppress the urge to gag as it reaches into your throat slightly and he holds you there. He curses at the sight of you taking him in all the way.

“Fuck puppy, you’re good, so good for me. You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face, right?”

You manage a small, choked “yes, professor” around his cock, which is all it takes for him to start fucking into your throat with fervor. Tears start welling up from his pace almost immediately. The fat tears rolling down your cheeks only make him rougher with you. You want to press your hands against his thighs, but you keep them on the ground like he instructed. He keeps praising you all through it, telling you how good you’re doing and how perfect you look like this. It makes you press your legs together and squirm a little on the floor, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Are you feeling needy, puppy?” He pants as he keeps thrusting into your mouth. “You can touch yourself if you need to, I give you permission.”

You take him up on that immediately, and reach down to play with yourself. The stimulation plus the almost feral look on his face has you moaning around his cock now, bringing him closer to the edge.

“Be good for me and swallow it puppy, and show me when you’re done. Fuck, that’s it puppy-” He continues to ramble as he approaches his high.

With a loud groan he finally cums in your mouth. He holds your head still while he does, and you do your best not to choke while you swallow everything he gives you. When he finally lets you go, you sputter for a second trying to catch your breath. Remembering his commands, you look back up at him and stick your tongue out again, showing you had left nothing.

“Good fucking puppy…” he pulls you up from the floor to kiss you again. He holds you close to him and you shakily grab him back. “Did so good for me, so good.” His praise again has you writhing in his grasp.

“Professor…” You start whining again with a slightly hoarse voice, “I-I, I need you…touch me, please?” “Hmm…no, I don’t think I will.” You look up at him wide-eyed. Was he seriously going to leave you so worked up like this? “B-but, you said I was good! I was good for you, right?”

He chuckles at your obvious desperation. “Yes, you were puppy. But I think we’ve spent too much time in this fitting room already. So we’ll pick up where we left off back at my house, alright?” That stops your thoughts in their tracks. “Your house?” “Did you think I was taking you back to that destitute dormitory of yours? Of course not, you’re spending the weekend with me and I’ll bring you back Monday. Plus there are a few…extra gifts I’d like to give you there.” His eyes turn a bit dangerous once again, and he smacks you lightly on the ass, making you yelp. He laughs and lets go of you, turning to exit the fitting room.

“Get changed, we’ll get something to eat and head there after.” Once he leaves, you stand still a bit in shock at your situation. The whole weekend, with him? If this is what he would do in a dressing room, what would he do when he had you alone at his place? The thought made heat start pooling in your stomach again.

Snapping out of it, you hurriedly get dressed again and make yourself presentable. You try to calm your nerves, reminding yourself that you still need to act natural while you’re at the register with him. After a few deep breaths and a final attempt to fix your hair, you meet him outside the room.

“Ready to go, puppy?”

“Yes, professor.”

[comicaurora]

I'm not a writer whatsoever and am currently listening to the OSPod Publishing special, and was really intruiged by your description of your character-driven stories as being similar to a DnD campaign. Could you please elaborate a bit on what you mean by "it's good when the characters surprise you"? It's likely an obvious writer thing, but I would've thought that an author wouldn't be surprised by where their story or characters go since, well, they're the one writing it. Regardless the comic is amazing so however confusing your process may be to me personally it's clearly effective

It's a little bit difficult to explain!

A lot of the writing process is just sitting down and writing it - laying out the setpieces, describing what the characters do, writing and tweaking the dialogue for impact. But in my experience, the vast majority of the REAL writing process happens internally, and large chunks of it are out of conscious reach of the writer. This unreachable space is where new ideas form, and why no writer has ever been able to answer the question "where do you get your ideas from?"

This is why a writer can beat their head against writers block for weeks at a time, then wake up one day with a solution and the entire next chunk of storyline fully formed. My dad calls this phenomenon "the better writer in the back of your head." A lot of the creative process doesn't happen in the front of your mind, where your ego and your inner voice live. Most of it is deeper down. This is how your mind is capable of surprising you in any context, including dreams or unexpected emotional reactions - your mind is a lot larger than just the parts you can consciously feel.

When I put a character in a situation, I can make a conscious decision for what they'll do and then execute it, but I can also listen for ideas bubbling out of that inaccessible region of my mind. Most character ideas start out as a small set of conscious decisions on the part of the writer - "I'll make him a classical hero with a strong sense of justice" or "she'll be a strong but weary leader putting on a brave face" or "I'm playing an edgy rogue with a dark past" etc etc, quick and basic elevator pitches. But the characters come alive when they're allowed to grow down into the inaccessible parts of the mind, where consciousness gives way to emotions bubbling up from even deeper processes. Once the characters are allowed to start feeling things about their story - like "maybe that classical hero doesn't actually feel great about the lord they serve" or "the weary leader has an endless wellspring of vengeful rage to keep her going when she falters," more creative ideas for their next move start bubbling up. Things that don't flow logically from their elevator pitch, but make sense for the character that grows out of that pitch as they're allowed to engage with the world and story around them.

The way I build characters puts a focus on how they're feeling in any given situation, which is completely separate from what I, the writer of the plot, need them to do to move the plot in the direction I was planning. So sometimes I'll be writing something, and a little bubble of inspiration will pop up and let me know that, unexpectedly, this situation is really getting to one of the characters. And I can choose to keep them on track, or I can let their internal compass take over and see what makes the most sense to them at that moment of the story.

Characters are not real people, and they aren't as large or complex as a human mind, but in my experience, if you build a character solidly enough and give yourself room to play, they will grow down into your subconscious wellspring of creativity, and your mind will volunteer ideas to you using their voice. You don't need to use them, but it's very useful to cultivate them, because sometimes those ideas are better than anything you could consciously stick together in the public-spacing front of your mind.

[copilot-crashout]

Oh em gee I love ur writing so much it physically cleanses me sjsjjsjsj

Anyhoo, I was wondering if I could politely request Mouthwashing x reader (separate) where reader writes them “anonymous” love letters. Reader thinks they are being sneaky but the crew have known from the first letter its them and just chose to keep quiet^^? Idk I am kinda crazy about dorky!reader..

Ps #1(If u don’t wanna do all the characters, that fine!)

Pairing: Tulpar crew x gn!reader

Content Warning: None! [except I gave up on proofreading.. ( ᐡ๐ ·̫ ๐)〣]

[A/N]: You're so sweet! Thank you, lovely anon!! (°´˘`°) I default to all the characters, so don't worry! I don't want to leave anyone's favourites out! I wonder if you can tell who my favourite is from my work... ( ⩌⩊⩌)✧

CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> What a charming admirer he has! He grins when he notices you nervously looking around before entering his room, only to find the cutest little letter in his room professing their love to him.

-> He keeps hold of all of them. They're worth more than gold anyway. He doesn't have the heart to tell you right away, not when he sees your chest puffed out with pride when you place another letter in his room, a mission successful in your eyes. Instead, he focuses on noticing the little details he'd never seemed to pick up on initially. You had it bad for him, huh?

-> Curly teases you about it. He never mentions them directly, but he will often exaggerate his behaviours to the most recent letter he read. You mentioned how tall he was. He's sure to flaunt it off more.

Since when were things in this kitchen placed so high?

You sighed to yourself, stretching to try and grab some simple condiment packets you swore were placed on the countertop the last time you saw them. Luckily for you, Curly walks in at the perfect moment. When you ask for help, he gives a confident grin as he nods, stepping towards you. As expected of him.

What you didn't expect was the warm hand he placed on your hip or the way his chest pressed into your back as he grabbed exactly what you were asking for, the steady thrum of his heartbeat only making yours speed up. You're left red-faced and stuttering, nervous hands taking the packets out of his larger one.

"You're all red. If you're not feeling well, you should take a visit to Anya. I can walk you there."

JIMMY:

-> He loves it. End of. They boost his confidence in ways he didn't even know was possible. The idea of you watching him when he didn't notice was one he found sickly sweet, prideful that someone loved him as much as he deserved.

-> He was initially planning to tell you he knew after the first letter. He had dreamed about the way he'd hold your letter back to you, a sly grin as he watched you scramble for an answer, flustered before ultimately coming clean about your attempts to court him. Once he sees the second letter, however, his mindset changes.

-> It's simply too cute. The way you sneak around to keep it anonymous and the way you wear your heart on your sleeve. He's delighted by how much of your mind he occupies. It excites him to think about how much you try to learn about him. Do you know his routine by heart? What about his likes and dislikes? Better yet, were you trying to mould yourself into the perfect partner for him (although this seems more of a dream on his part than a genuine question...)? He gets a sick kick out of it.

-> He finds himself re-reading the letters in the middle of the night, the ones that point out the smallest parts of himself that you talked about so affectionately. It made him nauseous. Words so tender weren't something he came by so easily, nor was it something he believed he deserved. He's used to one-night stands, a cheap fuck, nothing so... romantic. Perhaps he could get used to this.

-> He's not going to be soft, though, as he teases you about it. Offhandedly mentions the letter and if you knew who could leave such a thing in his room and grins when you instantly deny it and make a show of him believing you. He gets incredibly touchy, too. His hands linger for a fraction longer than they need to. He stands as close to you as he can, looming over you whenever he has the time. Have you noticed the way the atmosphere changes when it's just the two of you alone? He'll look forward to your next letter. Maybe you wrote about it.

-> He could try playing the long game for once. The reward feels so much sweeter that way.

ANYA:

-> Anya is perceptive first and foremost. Rather than catching her admirer mid-delivery, she uncovers your identity through your handwriting.

-> The letters cheer her up endlessly. They're a sweet reminder of how someone adores her, even when she's overwhelmed. It's hard on board, but your letters become a routine that she looks forward to. I think she's one of the only characters who would tell you she knows, feeling guilty about leaving you in the dark about something that could embarrass you. However, she'd never ask you to stop. Anya gushes about how much she appreciates every single letter, keeping them and re-reading them when she can and she tells you how she figured it out, giggling when you stare at her like you're begging for the floor to swallow you whole.

-> Anya makes it a priority to keep you happy. Your letters do so much for her, she only wants you to feel the same. You'll find her lingering around you more, offering hugs or a shoulder to lean on whenever possible. If you're especially tired, she'll help finish your work with you. Another set of hands would always help.

-> She begins to write small compliments on her Post-it notes, leaving them in places you frequent. If you have tools you use, she places a note talking about how hardworking you are on there. Otherwise, you begin to find small notes in your room. It becomes a ritual between the both of you, sending each other letters when you can. She just wants you to know how loved you are.

DAISUKE:

-> For him!? Really!?

-> He's kicking his feet and giggling, rolling around in his bed, head buried into his pillows. If you thought you were dorky, then he's 100 times worse.

-> He's attached to your hip. You thought he was helpful and sweet? Well, he'll help you with your work! Fun to be around? In his free time, he's running to you for another round of board games or to play on his Game Boy.

-> He wouldn't know subtle if it slapped him in his face. It's unfortunate for the rest of the crew, who have to watch two love-sick adults pine for each other as if they're not reciprocated.

-> Whenever he feels especially sad, he re-reads the letters. Even if he might feel useless at times, that he doesn't have a plan for his future, he does have the assurance that you'll be there by his side. You're a great person. If you can find all these amazing things about him then... He's sure he can make something great of himself.

SWANSEA:

"Jesus, this kids got it rough."

-> That's his first thought before it slowly dissolves into a fond affection. He's a bit too old for this lovey-dovey yearning shtick, right? Initially, he finds himself sighing at the letters, wondering when and how would be the best way to stop this little game of yours. He feels undeserving of it. You have so much going for you. You simply don't deserve someone like him. He wants to push you away, but the letters mean too much to him. Instead, he becomes charmed by it all, awaiting every letter with bated breath.

-> You do know how to make him feel young again. Each letter leaves his heart pounding, feeling like a young schoolboy rather than a washed-out mechanic.

-> He keeps every single one. If you place them in little envelopes or place small gifts like stickers in them, you'll be glad to know he keeps it all in his bedside drawer.

-> He's one to return the favour, too. He's picked up a few skills with his work. Blue-collar jobs like this have enough transferable skills to help in the creative department. He hopes you're not too surprised if you find your broken items repaired or a small figure of your favourite animal made out of scraps in your room.

-> Perhaps... He's the one who's got it bad.

[frenziedfireworks]

First Time

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary : You've been trying to figure out how to bring up sex to your boyfriend..

CW : SMUT, 18+, virgin!reader, fem!reader, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, nervous/awkward reader, praise, creampie

A/N : I am sorry I am a few days behind on kinktober! I am working on all the stories now and hopefully posting them soon! I've not been feeling amazing.

masterlist

Fred was an amazing boyfriend. He respected your boundaries and only wanted you to feel safe with him. The two of you hadn’t even brought up the topic of sex despite being together for a few months now. Lately however, you had been thinking of it quite a lot. It didn’t help that every time he got back from quidditch practice all sweaty it made you.. horny. 

You squirmed against Fred’s bed as you listened to him talk about some ‘wonderful plan’ Wood had come up with. Frankly you couldn’t pay attention as your eyes wandered his bare chest and your nervous thoughts arose again. Did you want to ask? Would he laugh at you for being so inexperienced? You didn’t know.

“Love, are you even listening?” Fred laughed as he turned to face you, throwing his dirty clothes in his hamper. You shook your head and smiled.

“Yeah Fred, sorry. Just got a bit distracted.” 

Fred’s eyebrow raised as he walked closer, his hand rubbing up and down your arm.

“Is something wrong? Do I need to prank someone?”

You couldn’t help but snort at the last part.

“No Fred. Nothing bad.” 

“Then what was it dear? Just admiring your handsome, amazing, gorgeous boyfriend?” Fred teased as he struck a pose. You rolled your eyes as you held back your true answer.

“Oh of course. Don’t forget humble too.” 

“Oh yes. I am quite humble aren’t I?” Fred grinned as he leaned in to steal a quick kiss. Your hands tangled against his locks and he groaned against your lips. The kiss became more heated, both of you laying against the bed as your tongues brushed past eachother. Fred, ever so respectful, kept his hands on your arms. As much as you felt honored by his movements you couldn’t help but get a little annoyed. Did he not want you? No.. you were just overthinking. 

Fred moved back, brushing his hand against your cheek.

“Darling, something is bothering you. You might as well tell me. Then neither of us have to worry.” 

You bit your lip as you thought about how to word it. Your stomach churned at the thought of embarrassment and how he would respond. You knew him better than to expect something bad but it still was.. nerve racking. 

“Well.. I just. Do you ever think about sex?” You blurted out and automatically wanted to smack yourself. Way to be subtle..

Fred’s smile turned into a smirk, his hands dusting your shoulders.

“Is someone horny? Is that what’s wrong?” 

You could feel your face burn as you looked anywhere but him. Fred’s hand rubbed at your cheek redirecting your eyes back to his.

“You don’t need to be nervous, love. It’s a normal thing. If I was wrong you can tell me. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Fred’s voice was calm, his eyes softening with affection. You couldn’t help but feel the urge grow stronger at his care.

“I-I.. You’re right. I am just really nervous.” 

“About what?” Fred placed a few smooches against your jaw as he worked his hand down your arm.

“I’ve never done this before Fred..” 

Fred’s smile grew larger at your words as he pulled you closer.

“And you want it to be with me? I’m honoured. I’ll be gentle if this is what you want..” 

You could only nod and Fred took it as a sign to move. His lips pressed into yours again, starting the kiss out slow. Your need overpowered his soft urges and you deepened the kiss, your hands roaming down his chest. You pushed yourself against his form and let out a moan as his hands trailed across your ass. 

“Can I touch you?” Fred whispered as he stalled his hands around your waistband. Your breaths were harsh as you felt your core pulse.

“Yes Fred.. Please.” 

Fred’s hands were quick to action, helping you to shimmy your pants down. You could feel yourself growing nervous under his gaze. He rubbed your thighs, leaning down to kiss on the insides of them.

“You’re gorgeous. I love you.. All of you.” Fred licked at the skin and pulled, making you gasp in surprise. He chuckled against you as his fingers rubbed over the wet spot on your panties, making your legs wrap tightly around his shoulders.

“So responsive.. I bet you taste even better.” Fred continued his pats to your thigh as he pushed your underwear to the side. You shivered at the cold air against your moist core, turning your face away from the erotic sight. It was nerve racking and hot at the same time. 

“Darling have you fingered yourself before?” Fred questioned as his fingers ran up and down your folds. Your mind was so distracted you could barely take in his words.

“Y-Yes..” You stuttered out as his thumb circled your nub, already making you clench. 

“What a good girl. I’m going to use a finger to prep you.. Alright? You just relax and enjoy it.” Fred continued his ministrations to the outside of your pussy for a bit before he deemed it ‘good enough’. You felt his digit tease at your hole, your eyes tightening together as you desperately awaited. 

“Relax, it’s not going to hurt you.” Fred chuckled as his finger continued to circle and you groaned.

“I’m not scared.. I just want it.” Your words seemed to shock Fred as his eyes went wide before a wicked smirk appeared on his face.

“You want it, yeah? I’ll give you it, baby.” Fred’s fingers finally took the plunge, making you throw your head back in pleasure. He pumped them in slowly, letting you adjust before he picked up the pace. 

“Feel good? You look like you taste amazing..” Fred whispered out, his face getting closer and closer to your cunt. You felt your body jerk as the realization of what he was about to do dawned on you.

“Fred.. You don’t want to put your mouth there.” You felt yourself burn and tighten around his finger, your body wracked with apprehension. 

“Oh but doll.. I do.” Fred gave you another look to make sure you were fine with it before his mouth closed against you. Your hands grasped at his hair as your cunt spasmed at the new sensation. It was all so much, his finger, his tongue, his watchful eyes. 

“Fred I’m gonna..” You choked out, your body just a few seconds from flying over the edge. Fred just nodded as he continued his assault on your cunt.

“Cum for me.” 

You did as you were told, falling apart against his mouth. His tongue lapped at your juices making you jump at the sensitivity. Fred stood up as he stripped most of his clothes, leaving him in just boxers. He sat down next to you, rubbing at your torso with a wide smile.

“Are you still sure about everything? We can just leave it there if you feel nervous. I am so proud of you darling..” 

You shook your head. There was no going back now and you definitely didn’t want to. Even after already finishing you could feel the desperation in you beginning to ramp up again. Your eyes wandered along the tent in his underpants before looking back up to him.

“No.. I want you Fred.” You leaned in to kiss him, your hands mimicking what he did to you. He hummed at your actions and began to help with the fabric confinement in the way. You pulled back and watched as his cock sprung out, slapping against his stomach. The tip was an angry shade of red and dripped with precum. You could feel yourself gush at the sight, a sudden urge to lick at the slick filling your mind. 

“You like what you see?” Fred laughed as he pulled your legs apart, slipping between them. His cock nudged at your folds and you felt yourself shake with anticipation. This was it.

“Do it…” You choked out, tired of how slow he was going. You appreciated his care but now the need in you was growing far too strong. So strong that it outweighed any anxious thoughts you once had minutes ago. 

“As you wish.” Fred slowly began to enter you, your body tensing at the harsh feeling. Your eyes watered a bit as he continued, trying your best to adjust. Fred took notice of your discomfort, his thumb beginning to circle around your pulse point.

“There there darling. It’ll feel good soon I promise.” 

It took a while before your body got used to the intrusion and you nodded for him to move. He began to thrust shallowly in and out of you, watching to make sure you were alright. The more movement he made the more you got used to it, slowly feeling the sharp pains turn to ones of pleasure. 

“Oh..” You gasped as he bottomed out and Fred took notice of the change. He smirked and began to thrust harder, your mind going dumb with ecstasy. 

“That feel good? Your pretty pussy feels good around my cock. Squeezing me so damn hard.. I don’t think I’m gonna last too long.”

Your lips mumbled out incoherent yeses as he continued to gain speed, pushing you deeper against the mattress. You could feel the string in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, your eyes meeting his with a plea.

“F-fuck. Cum for me.. I love you.” Fred’s thrusts became sloppy as you peeked, your cunt spasming against him, your legs locking him in place.

“Fred-” You gasped as you felt his hot seed fill up inside of you, his head falling against your shoulder as he came. 

Slowly he pulled out and fell next to you in bed. You rubbed at his sweaty cheek, moving a bit of hair off his forehead as you both shared a sweet kiss.

“I love you Fred.” You whispered out.

“I love you too Y/N. I hope I made your first time special.” Fred pulled you against his chest and you listened to his heartbeat. You felt full and satisfied. Not only did you not have to overthink anymore but you would remember this moment forever.

“You did. Thank you.”

[callingmelili]

A deal (part 2)

https://www.tumblr.com/callingmelili/740888816139796481/a-deal-part-2?source=share Part 1 here!!

Right where I am.

Right where I am.

I can't believe he has the gall to tell me that, I don't think before bracing myself on the floor and forcing my shaking thighs to cooperate in lifting me off the damn dildo. However hard my cunt is gripping it, it's slick with my juices and I've almost managed to find my balance on my knees when Mark shows up on the doorway. He tilts his head to the side as he strides towards me. "Did I happen to stutter, Mia?"

"Fuck you." I spit out, moving to get a foot underneath myself. He's faster, thoguh, so much so that I don't realize what he plans to du until his hands have pushed me down by the shoulders, driving the dildo base-deep into my cunt again. A ragged moan escapes my throat as it bottoms out and mark laughs. "You could at least pretend you're not enjoying this. See how easy you are with just a little help?"

I struggle against his hold, but between my exhausted legs and his physical superiority, I simply can't overcome the strength with which he's got me impaled by the dildo. "Let me go! What the fuck, Mark? This wasn't part of our agreement!" I look up at him, the distance between our eyes seeming even larger than it even is. Mark is a tall man, much taller than me when I'm standing up and a veritable giant right now, as I kneel in front of him. "Hey! Are you even listening, let me go!"

His mouth stretches into a smile. "Oh, sorry." The strength with which he's pushing me down diminishes, and I take the opportunity to surge forward before wondering why he didn't take his hands off my shoulders completely.

"I- Ah!" In a second I find myself right back where I started, speared open and writhing on the floor. Mark pushed me back down, and in the same movement he came closer, when I glare up at him I find my nose knocking into his hard, clothed cock. "Mark!" I wish it sounded less like I'm begging him for something and more like I'm annoyed but it's the best I can do at the moment.

Mark only stares down at me for a second before he bursts into laughter, hands tight around my shoulders. "Oh, you should see your face right now. You would make a good thumbnail in a porn site Mia." He grins and releases one of my shoulders to pull his phone out. "Now, smile."

I definitely don't smile, but he grabs my hair and forces my head back before snapping the picture anyways. My eyes prickle with humiliated tears as the gesture forces my center of gravity to shift and I grind down into the dildo that is spreading me open. "You're not getting away with this, you asshole."

"Yeah, yeah. You know, you can't prove you sent me that last picture. And even all the others… have you considered the fact that I could report you for prostituting yourself? Tsk, you've been so bad? I'm sure no one is going to look kindly upon this, so why don't you fill your mouth with something before it gets you into even more trouble." He glances pointedly at his own pants and my mouth falls open in realization. "Hurry up, do you want to be reported for soliciting?"

"Oh-" This time a tear does slide out of the corner of my eye. "You were-- You were planning this."

He rolls his eyes at me. "Of course I was. You've never been very smart, I guess I should have expected that you wouldn't catch on." He unbuckles his belt and glances pointedly at his thick, long cock, the imprint of which I can see pressed to the fabric. "Get with the program, will you? This is embarrassing."

"I hate you, I'm not a whore," I say, but my hands seem to have already resigned themselves to what is going to happen and undo his fly before taking out his cock. Realistically I don't have another choice. Well, I do, but it means losing my career and my future. "Do you think I don't have pride? Or dignity?"

"I have a whole camera roll that says you don't." He grips himself and slaps my cheek with his length, leaving a sticky trail to my mouth. "Don't make me mad Mia. I have a lot of patience but this is getting ridiculous. Use that dignity and pride to suck me off properly."

This is happening. I can't help but thinking incredulously as I open my mouth. This is happening, and Mark has his phone ready to document every second I spend sucking him off. This is happening and I can't stop it, this is happening and I'm so wet.

"Oh, that's a good whore. You've got a well trained mouth, don't you?" He pushes in, holding me tight by the hair. I'd initially thought of drawing it out but Mark is relentless, pushing me down on his cock until it's hitting the back of my throat. It takes all my willpower to not gag around it and let it slide in further. "C'mon baby, relax." He pulls back a little and thrusts back in. I'm dimly aware of the phone pointed at my face. "Shake those hips, alright? It's going to feel good."

Again, he thrusts in, again and again and I refuse to move until he slaps my cheek, cock still stuffing my mouth. "I said fuck yourself on that dildo, Mia. Now." He returns to fucking my face, hard enough to make my eyes water as I start clumsily grinding back on the dildo, whining around his cock at the sensation of being filled on both ends. "You look good like that." He grins, the hand that remained on my shoulder finally moving over to my head. He grips my pigtails like handlebars. "I'm going to tell you how this is going to work, you're going to nod and suck and keep fucking yourself or there will be consequences, understood?"

Wetness runs down my cheeks as I nod, somehow it's only then that I manage to nail the movement that has the dildo in my cunt hitting just the right places. My head is fuzzy, all I can hear is the wet sounds of my holes being filled again and again and Mark's voice. "That's a good whore. I expect this after every class, got it? You'll come wearing no panties and with one of your holes stuffed, when everyone's gone you're going to sit under my desk and keep your mouth around my cock unless I tell you otherwise." My eyes widen, he has office hours after class. Not that many people come by but there's no doubt I'll be sucking his cock at the same time my peers ask for academic advice. "I like to think you know your place, so from now on you will be sending me a picture of you naked in the bathrooms at college before every class. Make sure to write on your tits the time and where you're going."

His thrusts grow erratic, as do mine. I've already come once and my oversensitive cunt is clinging to the dildo."Nhhhhh" Saying no is about as useful as saying yes.

"That's right baby." he strokes my cheek. "I have a lot of ideas but we're starting gradually. You brought this on yourself by cheating after all. If you're good this will be fun but I can also make it difficult. You wouldn't want to have to dye your hair blond or get those huge tits pierced, would you?"

I'm so close, I whine around him as my hips stutter on the dildo. "Or maybe yes?" He laughs. "How about getting your lips filled? Or huge whore eyelashes? You should have just told me you were into that. We'll work it out." He groans. "Fuck I'm close. Ha. Be a good cunt and come with me, won't you Mia? It might not be as easy for you to get any sort of orgasms in the future."

It's degrading, it's terrifying. One misstep and I'll lose my career and everything I've worked for anyways on top of people considering me a pervert. He is turning me into a thing for his own amusement and I'm about to orgasm from it.

I feel Mark pulsing in my mouth at the same time that my cunt clenches around the dildo, and I feel a rush of wetness between my legs that soaks the floor while I shake int he throes of the best orgasm I've ever had.

After it passes I am mindless, still speared into the dildo as Mark tucks his cock away and wraps something around my neck. Something rich and thick that smells like him. "Fucked the words out of your head, didn't I?" He leans down to grab my tongue from where it's hanging out from my mouth. i don't remember sticking it out. His fingers pinch the soft flesh and force me to turn my head to the side, towards my mirror and then I see.

I see a whore with her owner, sitting in a puddle of her own juices, a dildo deep inside her cunt and her hips still thrusting back onto it with pathetic, little aborted movements. Mark has his belt wrapped around my throat like a leash, he's fully dressed where I'm only wearing socks and he's holding my tongue outside of my mouth, making my facial expression a sort of slutty surprise that only grows more degrading when paired with my bare breasts and pigtails.

Mark turns to press a harsh kiss to my temple and releases my tongue before lifting his phone and aiming it at the mirror. "Smile if you like our new deal, Mia."

This time I do smile as the shutter clicks.

[theoxenfree]

BOUNTY

hot gunslinging outlaw x reader | 2.7k

following your bitter mother's death, you come to learn that you're the illegitimate child of the most powerful man in san-am, soon to come into a vast inheritance as he is on his deathbed. what you anticipate to be an uneventful train across the country comes to a screeching halt when a mysterious man boards and tells you there's a substantial bounty on your head.

warnings; multiple mentions of death, brief blood mention, some graphic details, kidnapping, roughly proofread, post-apocalyptic setting, neo-western, reposted from old blog 2kmps

this is a concept piece for a larger project. please offer feedback to the questions at the end + reblog!! it really helps out with the project development and honing in on what y'all wanna see in the finished story!

Mother died a week before the lawyer showed up on your doorstep with an inheritance letter and half-hearted condolences for your absentee father’s poor prognosis. A day after that, your life was stowed into a pair of suitcases and a heavier hard case that you barely justified bringing aboard the train. In three weeks and three layovers, you would be across the continent in St. Corpus, the industrial heart of San-Am, where your father awaited you on his deathbed.

Horace Grissom had fathered a new age of industry and outward expansion in lands once believed to be sprawling metropolises centuries long gone. They had been left behind as skeletons of steel and rust from a time of global war, reclaimed in totality by the roots of elder trees, the decay of salt and sea, the precarious will of mountains, and the great sinkholes and corrosion of sand and time.

Traces of that old world had survived thanks in part to the rigorous efforts of archaeologists and conservationists at the University of San-Am in Grimerise. With each new discovery, opportunistic vultures like your father blotted their pens to their tongues to their pocketbooks and readied themselves to own the patent of it like history had a price and could only belong to them. Indeed, anything could be bought, because with those fragments of history, he built the San-Am Continental Railroad which crossed through each of the five territories and was considered the premier way to travel.

You were never allowed to ask questions about Horace under Mother’s roof as the very mention of his name would set her ablaze in some pettish, garrulous tantrum that, oftentimes, ended with you going to bed before dusk without dinner until the next day. She loved that bitterness up until the very moment she died, clawing your clothes, your skin, her nightgown, her own throat because she couldn't breathe and there was nothing you could do to save her from succumbing.

“Go in peace, Mother.” you said, kissing the back of her sun-speckled hand even as she tried digging her nails into your face. “I love you.”

She did not waste peacefully, nor did she end by staring up rapturously at the ceiling as though something else waited for her beyond it. Mother passed in blood, vomit, excrement, and all her hatred while you bade her farewell and considered who was best to call to have her body carted away to burn with all the others that had also succumbed that day. You made sure to label that as the cause of death on the official paperwork.

After that, you had made quick work of piling all of her things into boxes to be incinerated as well, certified the house was safe and in a liveable state (besides her old mattress, which was the first thing you disposed of because of the smell) for another family to move into.

Once all of that had been finished and you gained the time to rest, you got a knock at your door, a bald, sinewy man with a round hat claiming to be Joseph Whitwald—estate planning lawyer, he made sure to specify more than once—and that you needed to leave post haste to your father's estate in St. Corpus before he perished.

“You have significant placement in his will, illegitimate or not. This is what he wanted, this is what shall be done,” said Whitwald assuredly as he rooted through the pockets of his pants and white suit vest for something. He found it and made a sound and a flourish, revealing to you a red ticket. “Take this. It's for one of the elite cabins in first class. Your father wanted you to have the best amenities that the San-Am Continental has to offer.”

Even with such luxuries available to you with the sound of a bell on string, you eventually found yourself exchanging tickets with a young woman traveling solo for the first time. She went red in the eyes, asserted her appreciation, and scooped you into a hug before taking the ticket and her belongings to the first car.

The passenger car was considerably noisier with children running amok, drunks and musicians belting tunes while dancing in the center aisle—doing poorly to keep their balance as the train navigated the terrain beneath the rails, and ladies in bustles and fashionable blouses screaming like hens over fresh gossip. The stewards were frustrated that they couldn't get their trolleys through all the bodies, whereas some passengers let their stomachs roar through their mouths as they assailed anyone nearby (especially the poor lads just trying to deliver food) with complaints.

You liked everything happening around you; it was a good distraction from the way life had twisted your arm behind your back. The cacophony of laughter and anger felt like home, a comfortable companion to sit there with you on the empty, thinly padded benches while you stared uselessly at the inheritance papers—uncomprehending.

A gasp shot up your throat and made you bite your tongue as you were launched forward onto the adjacent bench (also empty) when the train suddenly began to slow—brakes engaged with such quickness that the wood beams under your feet vibrated up through your soles into your bones and teeth and skull until you became lightheaded and collapsed back into your seat.

The squeal and grind of steel worsened your confusion, turned the fuzz in your head into dull drumming—aches that pulsed to a beat you couldn't figure out, but it deadened the screams all around you and bodies hitting the floorboards in thunderous heaps.

And then, there was silence.

The other passengers kept their voices low as they climbed back into their seats, children were smothered deep into their mother’s bosoms as they wept, and no one dared to investigate what had brought the train to such a violent stop.

“Mummy, what's happening?” asked a girl from the benches behind you. She couldn't have been older than ten, from the sound of her. “Mummy, why—”

“Lottie!” the mother hissed at her daughter, “Shhh! Say nothing else, child.”

From a few seats away, closer to the front, you recognized the gruff, muddled voice from one of the drunkards who had been dancing in the aisle a while ago. Now, he had a bloody nose and a nasty knot growing on his forehead.

“What the hell is the big idea of them scarin’ the piss outta us like this? Do you see my face? They gonna do somethin’ to fix it?” he complained, then swigged liquor from a flask he had smuggled on. “I should go up there and give ‘em a piece of my mind. Bastards.”

“Peace, friend,” soothed a musician with an unfamiliar accent and stringed instrument. “Don't be hasty. I'm sure there’s a good reason why they had to stop. Let them find a solution, we’re just here for the ride.”

Just as the chatter was rising up again, commotion from the first class car stifled it hard, prompting some folks to abandon their seats near the door separating the cars to crowd into the rear. You were tempted to flee with them, join their pack so if they were going to find a way off the train, you'd be mixed up in their stampede and have a better chance to get away.

Except, you simply packed away your inheritance paperwork and sat there with your chin tucked to the collarbone, the visor of your baseball cap pulled lower over your sunglasses to seem as nondescript as possible. Meanwhile, the sounds from first class grew intense; glass shattered, passengers screamed and shuffled around, something you knew to be true because you felt the floor rumble under your feet again.

And then, the passenger car door slid open without the ferocity you had expected. The door scraped along its metal rail, allowing the body to pass through in heavy, languid steps. You paced your breaths to hear it all; the boots and clinking spurs striking wood with dull thuds, a baritone hum that you were convinced you could feel reverberate in your own chest as it came closer, the scuff of thick fabric and creaking leather.

You waited for it all to pass, to move on like a slow-moving rain cloud amidst a humid summer day, but it stopped at you instead. The tips of the man's boots were within view, as were slithers of tattered, black fabric from a long duster that fell short of his shins.

And then, there was the barrel of a gun. The breaths you had been holding shivered out of you, cold dread sank deep into your stomach and bones as the gun flicked upward a few times.

You obeyed and raised your head up to look at the man—tall, broad-shouldered, a rugged face with dark features mostly obscured by the shadow of his wide rim.

He tilted his head, gun higher as he flicked it down and you understood that to mean to take off your sunglasses. When you did so, offering him a full view of your face, his lips lifted crookedly into a half-smile.

“Well then,” he took the bench adjacent to you before holding something up to your head, seemingly a piece of paper, and shifted his gaze between you and it just twice. “Aren't you something special? Found you, darlin’.”

“What?” you frowned. “Found me?”

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny. You're definitely his kid. It's all in the eyes, really.” He said, turning the paper around to reveal a photograph of a man who you did share an eerie likeness to. It was the sameness in the eyes—the color and shape and emotion they evoked through a simple still image. “Horace Grissom had an illegitimate kid a long time ago. Turns out, not everyone is so pleased for that to become public knowledge. Turns out, someone wants you to bite the ground.”

“I've done nothing wrong!” you bristled.

He settled on the bench and hiked an arm up across the back of it. “That's usually how it goes, hun. Puttin’ holes in types like you really ain't my favorite thing to do. You'd be surprised how many people get put in your exact situation. Well, eh, not quite. ‘Cause not everyone is Horace Grissom’s kid.”

“Who hired you?” you demanded.

His lopsided smile remained. “Can't tell you that, darlin’. Confidentiality an’ all that.”

“So, then, you're a bounty hunter?” At this point, you weren't sure if you were trying to stave off an inevitability, or he had just riled you up that badly. “How much are you getting?”

“Enough to live the high-life for quite a while, I'd say.” He continued, “but I ain't no bounty hunter. Them folks gotta play by rulebooks an’ a bunch of codes and whatever. Not my thing.”

“A criminal, then,” you said. “An outlaw.”

He shifted the rim of his hat away from his eyes and leaned towards a pillar of golden, midmorning sunlight that came in through the window. “Sure, if that's what'll make you feel better about this entire thing.”

You could actually see him now—the contrast between the ambery hue in his rich complexion and pale green of his eyes. His skin had some weather to it, enough to prove that he had seen the worst of every season for years on end without it wearing him thin, along with thoroughly kempt hair on his face and loose waves that draped slightly beyond his shoulders.

“I…” the longer he stared at you, the less you were able to think. That was ridiculous considering you had survived the soul-crushing burden of engineering school and all of the personalities therein. “I can offer you something better than what you were hired for.”

He did a fast sweep of the colossal heaps of fabric hanging from your frame, a style you preferred to keep eyes off of you on the best and worst of days. It didn't do much to deter him as it did others.

“Oh, yeah? Whaddya got, hun?”

You lifted your shoulders and stacked your bones right. “I've got a vast inheritance that I'm not interested in. Horace is dying and I’m in his will to receive half his properties, along with his shares in the San-Am Continental Railway and Subsidiaries. If you can get me to St. Corpus, you can have the inheritance—every last gris.”

A shrill whistle echoed around your head, tuneful and mocking. The sound of it whittled your confidence back down to nothing, filling the space of your throat with a vise that you couldn't seem to swallow around. That same great unease you had felt before weaseled around in your chest, coiled your ribs and then plunged straight down into your gut.

“Good offer, but it ain't on the table.” The way he spoke was easy and slow, a thick drawl that suited every bit of him up to even now. He acted as though he weren't essentially holding a gun to your head, threatening your life in the name of money—or something else. “Gris is always good to have lyin’ around, but, honey, it don't really mean a lot to a man like me. Why, then, d’ya think I take on work like this? Why do ya think I trek halfway across the five territories time and time again? What really keeps a man goin’ out here in this godforsaken place?”

You felt yourself shrink in your seat as he leaned forward over his thighs, coming closer still like he had a secret to keep. “It's for the thrill. The hunt. The challenge of it all. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't actively seek out men to shoot or… nice types like you, but part of the fun is trackin’ down, the other part is just havin’ a chat—just like this.”

Then, he had the picture of Horace held out to you between two fingers. “Tell ya what, I see that hard case you brought aboard. I know what it is, but I want you to offer me somethin’ more interesting than a bunch of gris.”

You scrunched the photograph against your palm once you had it, hoping the sweat off your skin would ruin his face and make the ink run, but looked to the aforementioned hard case instead.

It was made of a hard plastic shell with strips of rubber outlining the odd shape of the thing. Inside was your handheld welding gun—one of many—that you had decided to bring along for little reason besides thinking it could be of use at some point during your time away. It wouldn't be enough to handle larger jobs such as the ones you were accustomed to in the workshop back in Grimerise, but it could fix a wagon or two, glue some pipes together, and do some damage if need be.

“C’mon, darlin’, sell yourself to me.” he pressed, gesturing his impatience with winding fingers. “What do you do for a living, huh?”

“I'm an engineer,” you continued hastily, “I-I can solder, weld, braze, cut, and saw. I can do anything if I have the right equipment.”

In turn, he asked, “Does that mean you can cut open a safe?”

“If you give me what I need, I can do anything.” you said.

A new sort of look overcame his features, one of great fondness and admiration that made the green of his eyes take on the milky luster of jade. You had the hope that this unique softness would gain you freedom from a shallow, empty death; a chance to go forward to seize the assets sworn to you by a man you'd never known.

His hands came forward to take your wrists, the weight of them first heavy and then cold as a pair of handcuffs were locked around you, knocking bone when you lunged back into your seat and fought against them.

“I've got myself quite boon!” In the next moment, he had hauled you up across his shoulder, retrieved both your suitcases, and called one of the stewards to carry your welding gun after him. “Time to go. Gotta introduce you to the crew and get ya settled in.”

“Wait, I don't even know your name!” you shouted and thrashed from shoulder.

He grinned. “Jericho, darlin’.”

a/n: thank you for reading, and hopefully (pls 🥹) reblogging this first concept piece! let me give you a little bit of background before launching into questions:

this entire idea came to be after reading/watching trigun, watching fallout prime, playing fallout 4, and prior playing my time at sandrock. setting-wise, I imagine the story will have some similarities between all of these things while putting mainly my own spin on the sci-fi western genre.

I intend for this project to be around 90k-100k by the time it is completed and will be the longest piece of writing I've done to date. additionally, I am building the entire world from the ground up and genuinely hoping to execute an extremely immersive reading experience! it is currently in the brainstorming and rough outlining stage, but I am making polls and asking for feedback to help move the process along.

I'd like to up to 2-3 additional concept pieces bc the scale of this project is so large. which concept piece would you like to see next, first? 1) an intimate moment sitting around the fire with jericho 2) jericho teaching mc how to shoot and gets very, very close.

currently, what is your impression of jericho's character? what could I do to improve upon him?

would you prefer for this story to be streamlined w/ the main focus on mc reaching st. corpus + theirs and jericho's romance? or, would you like prev mentioned + detailed character arcs of the other characters in jericho's crew?

this story is neo-western, but is definitely an adventure and epic at heart. is there anything in particular you'd be interested in seeing me write for a story like this? different areas around the continent? creatures? cultures? spend some extra time in st. corpus?

[thecoolerliauditore]

on one hand, very glad my suspicions of burnout and gimmicks as a result of fear of losing viewership were wrong at least as far as we know. im glad the CCs are having fun and their enjoyment is being prioritized, even if i am still not entirely convinced everyone's on the same page.

on the other hand, it's melancholic but this is pretty much the nail in the coffin in me having any interest left in future installments of the series. for those of you concerned: I am forever haunted by my brain diseases and will be continuing to post, write and draw 3L - SL for the rest of my forseeable life (plus completely disconnecting from any need I feel to interact with WL and beyond leaves me with more time to work on. certain larger scale projects I have had plans for)

i respect grians decision-making and he would know better than me how to run a youtube series, however I do question how much of an oxymoron it is to not care about viewer feedback for a youtube series run on viewership (and when so many of the recent behind the scenes decisions we've been privy to - such as Scar and Grian's hesitancy to team up based on comments calling them "boring" -- imply the opposite regarding the cast's mindset). it makes me concerned for the longevity of the series going forward, since those not happy with the direction that I've seen have all been very passionate and old fans, but I've also seen an equal if not louder support for this season, so I digress.

Part of me wonders how much of the "we want last life 2" sentiment (<-- something I've previously spoken about how I don't agree with) the cast has been exposed to, since it felt strange to me that it was even bought up. I have had a thought about this and the consequences of "don't maintag your negativity" e.g. the reasonable people know to hide their critical posts, and what that leaves a creator with are the unreasonable people, and if it's only that feedback that gets processed, then inevitably things tend to go in weird directions. Were any of us actually "tired" of Desert Duo interacting? Were any of us mad at Gem for killing Grian in SL?

It's frustrating to see crit posts get flagged down with accusations of disrespecting or attacking the CCs, or "we don't want you here anyway, just leave," when myself and all the people I've spoken to being not avid haters but rabid fans who feel frustrated and actively want to continue liking the series. Not to mention most of the people also being active members of the fandom ontop of that -- we claim that fanart is important and makes the series even more special than it already is, yet people seem more than happy to sacrifice that just for the sake of not seeing critical opinions.

t-shirt that says blah blah blah. but I reserve the right of feeling disappointed.

[billthedrake]

ORAL FIXATION (PART FOUR)

It was Dad's idea but I don't know why I hadn't thought of it. He didn't even bring it up with me in advance. Instead he sprung it one night at dinner.

"So..." Dad said to Mom as we ate. "Junior's gonna help me get in shape."

Mom laughed and looked over at me. "Is that so?"

I played dumb, like I knew what Dad was talking about. "Um, yeah."

"He's letting me tag along on his morning runs," Dad chimed in before I stumbled too much. "And we have a whole gym workout planned, too."

Mom seemed surprised and amused. Dad was a good looking guy with some solid muscle on him, but he spent a lot of time at work, and though he was on his feet most of the day, a doctor doesn't have the most active job.

She looked back and forth between me and Dad. "Well, good for you men," she said, smirking some.

***

I felt a little bad, because I had a good idea what Dad had on his mind. We were both up early the next morning, a little before dawn even. I'd seen Dad in his gym clothes before, but it had been a while, to be honest. But they showed off his hairy meaty legs as we did stretches in the driveway, feeling the cool morning air.

"Where you run to, son?" he asked.

I told him my route and the distance I normally did. We lived a half mile from a park with a nice trail system, so it gave me some variety. "We don't have to do the whole thing, Dad," I said, pulling back my heel to my glutes for that extra stretch, then the other leg. "Just let me know what you're feeling."

"I'm a little out of shape," he admitted. "But I'll keep up."

He did, too. Pretty well, though I knew my pace was faster than his. I slowed down some, but I had that teenage energy working for me. I looked over at him after a couple of miles, and he looked at me.

"Doing OK, Pop?" I asked.

He nodded, a little of breath. "Yeah, Junior."

Only his eyes were on me. Probing, and more than a little hungry. We were circling in the wooded area of the park, and had only passed two joggers so far. The way my father looked at me excited me and gave me a half-stiff dick even mid stride. "You want it, Dad?" I asked quietly.

"Um, yeah," he said, nodding excitedly.

We slowed our gait to a trot and a walk, then I followed as he led us into the woods and behind a larger tree.

I stood and pulled down my shorts as his fingers traced along my bare thighs, his eyes fixed eagerly on my crotch, awaiting his next meal.

Before that morning, I knew Dad was an incredible cocksucker, and I knew we had that forbidden-thrill bond of his blowjobs. But that day I realized just how much Dad needed my cum, how addicted he was to blowing me.

The tree bark was a little scratchy, but I leaned back to steady myself as Dad took me into his mouth. No foreplay really, just nice steady mouth strokes up and down, working extra length down his gullet as he got into it.

I got into it, too, cradling his head gently and silently coaxing him to work my load out. I could see the silver flecks in his brown hair. Respectable doctor on his knees for a hot no-recip incest blowjob.

"Yes," I hissed. I knew we had to be quiet, but I missed talking to Dad while he sucked me. But this was naughty and hot, and I knew we were both worked up. Dad let out his own soft moan around my cock as my dick spurted its first salvo of precum. It had taken only a minute and wouldn't be much longer for the full cum, given how horny I always am in the morning.

Dad worked me more rigorously, deep and with high suction. And doing something with his tongue. That did it. I curled my fingers in his hair and held tightly as I blasted hard. A good seven or eight spurts of his son's seed right into his craw and straight into his belly. Dad sucked it down gratefully.

He didn't belabor the aftershocks but gave my wet dick a gentle kiss as he pulled off, then looked up and winked at me. I could see he was erect when he stood up, but true to form he didn't make any move for reciprocation.

"Maybe that'll slow you down," he whispered with a laugh.

I pulled up my shorts and laughed back.

By the time we got back, Dad's hardon had gone down and I felt more ready for my day than ever. It was surprisingly matter of fact between us, even, as we did our cool-down stretches and talked about how the run was for Dad, what his goal was.

"Tomorrow, same time, buddy?" he asked, giving my shoulder a light punch as we walked into the kitchen to rehydrate.

I'd been in a conditioning phase for football but generally aimed for running every other day. But if Dad was gonna be my running buddy, I'd make it every day for sure.

***

We skipped some mornings, but I got used to the ritual. I was a horny jock, and it was just mindblowingly great to have a fatherly blowjob to start most days. Jake Gehring made a crack about me being in a good mood lately, but for some reason I wasn't sure I should share the development with my buddy. I'm not sure why.... Dad had sucked Jake a couple of times. Given my friend's moods when he showed up at school, I'm sure Mr. Gehring was giving him the same treatment.

I wasn't being greedy, honest, the escalation just kind of happened. Dad had drained me good and well on our morning run, but around 7 o'clock one evening, he knocked on my door and stepped in, barechested and wearing just a pair of shorts. God, he was looking incredible with his lightly furred chest and muscle showing its pump from his workout in our basement home gym. And there was those clean-cut, professional looks. Hot doctor with a secret side.

"Your mother just left for her book club," he announced with a playful grin. "You up for a blow job?"

I liked this side of Dad. Matter of fact. Sexual. Needy.

"Hell yeah," I smiled. "If you're offering." I'd gotten off big that morning, Dad always gets me off well when he sucks. But I was a teen, and I had a pretty high sex drive.

"I'm offering," he grinned back, stepping in and closing the door. "Though maybe we can take our time." He got up on the bed and ran his hands up my legs. Dad seemed to really like my legs, or maybe that was his way of foreplay to get me going.

"You want me to last longer?" I asked. Maybe not insecure but feeling like a young guy with a lot to learn about sex. "You get me so worked up, it's sometimes hard to last," I admitted.

Dad chuckled. "I like that, Junior," he said. "I love when you cum fast... but I was thinking it would be fun to edge you a little tonight.... I mean, we have the time to play."

I knew what edging was, but never had really done it. I was usually too impatient to cum. "Sounds hot, Dad."

And like that, my father scooted up and cautiously met me for a kiss. We'd kissed before, but not much. I got the sense Dad only let himself do it when he was really horny. He was really horny now, I could tell by the feel of his boner in his shorts, pressing against mine.

I fucking loved it, though. I mean, I love kissing in general and making out with Dad was a mind fuck and a half that made my cock drip big time.

We both laughed as we broke the kiss. Like we'd gotten carried away.

"You OK with this, Junior?" Dad asked.

I ran my hands along his bare flank, feeling his warmth and firm muscle beneath the middle age softness. "Dad... you're fucking sucking my cock every day... of course I'm gonna be OK with this."

I worried I was too direct, but Dad just chuckled. "You're a horny kid all right," he said. Now his fingers ran underneath my T-shirt, feeling up my bare muscle. "And I'm VERY happy to take care of my hot young man." From anyone else that would have sounded slutty, but from Dad, it was just weirdly paternal and hot.

I gulped. "God, Dad."

"You'd say if we were doing this too much, right?" he looked in my eye, even as his fingers now ran beneath the elastic waistband of my mesh shorts.

I gulped and nodded. My cock lurched, feeling the aching closeness of his hand. It was like it had been 12 days since I'd last gotten off, not 12 hours. "Trust me, Dad... if anything it's the opposite."

That made him pause and look right into my eye. "You want it more, Junior."

My throat felt dry and I felt hot and sexual. "Fuck, Dad," I didn't normnally curse like that around my father, but something about the blowjobs changed the dynamic. "I don't mean it like what you're doing for me isn't enough... but yeah, I think about it a lot."

Dad peeled down my shorts, taking my briefs with them. My hardon was bared for him, throbbing and rigid. He took a second to openly admire it. Like he did each morning on our runs, but instead of a second to get a look, he had as much time as he wanted. We didn't need to rush this.

"We'll figure out a way, buddy," he said. "Put you on the twice a day plan," he winked. Then more softly he growled. "Damn, I love your cock so much son."

His fingers now traced my length slowly, openly, his eyes going from my dick and back up to meet my gaze. His blowjobs were incredible, but there was something powerful and intimate about this, too.

"Um, Dad," I said, a little nervous.

He looked back up at me. "Yeah, buddy?" In that you-can-ask-me-anything tone he'd use in our father-son chats.

Here goes. "I notice you rarely get off yourself," I said.

Dad seemed prepared for my comment, like he was surprised I hadn't asked him before. "I like to save it for your mother, Junior," he answered. "Makes me feel less guilty about what we're doing." Then fixing my gaze... "Too much information?"

I shook my head. "All good, Dad. Just wanna make sure.... you know... I don't wanna be an asshole or anything."

"We're good, son," Dad said, giving my bone a steadier stroke now. "Truth is, it's my way of edging, too.... can't get enough."

I sat up on my elbows, looking down. I wanted him to suck me so bad now. "Anytime you want it, Dad, just let me know. For real... I'm always horny."

Dad didn't reply but just moistened his lips. Then he leaned over and took my stick in between his surprisingly soft lips. At some point I'd have to ask him where he learned to suck dick so well. But that could wait. For now, I just enjoyed the feel of his warm wet mouth making love to my prick. Up and down, bobbing with fuller strokes till he was deep throating me.

"Dad!" I cried. I knew I'd cum any second.

Dad pulled off instantly and attacked my balls. It was the perfect stimulation, but one that fed my lust without making me boil over. He did this for a minute than took my whole cock on again.

Edging or not, we could only go a couple of times at this before my load had a mind of its own. As Dad was making his retreat from my dick, I was already firing against his tongue. My ejaculation caught him by surprise but he went back into full on milking mode to suck my balls dry.

"Sorry, Dad," I said as he finally came up from my lap.

Dad grinned. "Not a problem, son.... was it good?"

"The best," I answered. "I just know you wanted to go longer tonight."

Dad scooted up to lie beside me. "Well, your mother will be out till about 10...." he reached down and ran his fingers along my spit and cum wet half-hard dong. "You think maybe you got another in you?"

I smirked back at him. "I'd say so, Dad... definitely."

That was the first day Dad swallowed three of my loads, but not the last.

****

I wasn't real tight with Matt Carson, I mean he seemed a cool enough guy but he wasn't a football jock and was on the quieter side. Almost nerdy quiet. But he was friendly in his way as he stopped me in the hall one day between periods at school.

"Hey Mike," he said. Unlike guys on the team or my close buddies, Matt didn't call me by my last name. I guess I used his first name, too.

"Matt," I said, not giving him a fist bump like I might my buddies. "What's up?"

"What are your plans Saturday?" It was December and it was the rare week when the high school had no sports going on.

I shrugged. "No plans yet. Why?"

He was still guarded but more talkative than I'd ever seen him. "It's my birthday this weekend and I thought of having a few guys over. If you're interested..."

This surprised me. I wasn't a close bud with Matt. Then again, I worried he was the kind of dude who didn't have any close buds. I felt bad. "Sure, sounds cool," I said. Maybe I was getting myself into an awkward evening, but whatever.

I was glad to see a big smile on Matt's face. "Awesome, man... I wasn't sure..." he started. "It's at 7, just pizza and stuff... but guys are free to stay over if they want." There was something to the look in his eye that made me wonder if something was up. Maybe it wouldn't be a key party but a Mr. Carson BJ might be in the works. "I'll check with my folks," I said. "But I'll see you at 7."

We bumped fists and walked on to our classes.

****

It did seem to be just pizza and stuff. I sat wondering if my Dad was upset or jealous. Mom had been the one I asked for permission to stay over at Matt's, and I could see Dad's quiet but noticeable facial expression. I'd have to clear the air with him later, but part of me resented this part of our weird affair.

Especially because it didn't look like anything sexual was even going to happen.

However, around 9:00, Drew, one of Matt's basketball teammates, and Connor, one of the popular kids in school, had to go. I think Drew's parents were pretty strict and maybe religious, whereas Connor just had a hot date. That left Matt, me, my teammate Alex Ramirez, and another basketball player, Daryl, a tall chocolate-skinned jock who was kind of moody when I'd met him before but now seemed a lot more chill.

We were playing video games and I hadn't noticed Daryl had gone more than a couple of minutes. Hell, maybe he was just gone a couple of minutes. But he came back with a conspiratorial grin on his face. "Dayum, Matty... your old man has skills all right."

I was caught off guard, my face darting between the guys... Daryl, with his shit-eating grin, then Matt, who blushed some, then Alex who was amused by my surprised reaction.

"I guess you missed the last key party huh, Walsh?" Rodriguez teased, leaning back to spread his legs. "We got a new member to the club," he explained, gesturing toward Daryl.

Daryl now was getting a more earnest look on his face, leaning in some as he fixed me with his gaze. "Matty says your dad's a great cocksucker."

Part of me wanted to tell the guy not to talk about my father like that. But he was right, and besides, the appeal of the guys talk won me over. "Fuck, dude, I can't resist a blowjob from him."

Alex was now getting impatient. He gripped his crotch, where a thick rod rode up in his sweats. "It is my turn, Carson?" he asked the host. "I'm not supposed to fuck around without Dad there, so keep this a secret, OK?"

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, you got it."

I watched the hunky tight end stand up. Alex had the height, build, and athleticism of a star player, and it turns out he had the tool to match. Mr. Carson was gonna get a mouthful.

Now Matt seemed to get his normal shy side coming out. "You OK with this Mike?" he asked. "I figured..."

"Yeah," I said. "I wasn't sure if it was gonna be this kind of party, but that's very cool."

Carson smiled. "It's kind of my birthday present, actually. Dad putting out for my buddies," he explained. "It's been one of my fantasies."

Daryl laughed as he picked up the control to take over playing the video game. "You are one kinky motherfucker."

Carson seemed to relax. I realized he craved to be teased, to be one of the guys.

"What's the fantasy?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Dad taking care of you all. Multiple times if you want."

"I'm gonna want," Daryl piped, reaching down to rearrange his junk. He seemed hung, but not quite as big as Matt, who had a really long schlong. "Shi-ut"

"Yeah, me too," I said. Mr. Carson had never drawn Dad's keys at one of our oral parties, so I'd not yet experienced his mouth.

I'd have to wait a while longer. Rodriguez was taking his own sweet time, damnit. I tried to make small talk with Matt while Daryl played his turn, but I was getting harder by the minute.

"Your Dad OK with you having fun tonight?" Matt finally asked, nodding to my boner.

"I don't know, actually," I said. "We didn't talk about it. I don't really give a fuck," I said, even though maybe I did.

Alex finally came back in, olive complexion flush redder and a his hair actually sweaty. "Damn, Carson," he said to Matt. "Who's birthday is it?"

Already I was standing up, impatient to claim my first blowjob.

I sort of knew my way around the Carson McMansion, and I saw the light from the end of the hall upstairs saying where the master bedroom was. The door was ajar, and I quietly stepped up and gave a little knock.

"Mr. Carson?" I asked. I don't know why, but I was in polite guest mode.

"Yep," came the deep voice inside. "Come in."

There was a magnificent sight. Dave Carson's 40-something body naked and splayed face down, all 6'6" of his lean daddy build lying on the king sized bed. For a man of his build, his ass was surprisingly round, an almost pert bubble butt dusted in hair. Even from a few feet away, I could see the buns were wet.

Mr. Carson turned his head back but didn't make a motion to move. "There's lube on the nightstand," he said matter of factly. "And rubbers if you want. None of the other guys did," he chuckled before laying his face back down on the pillow.

I wouldn't say I never thought about fucking, but I'd never thought about fucking one of the key party dads. There had always been such a strict oral-only rule. But this wasn't a key party and the usual rules clearly didn't apply.

I stepped up and ran my hand along his calves. Furry and warm, I don't know why but it felt naughtier than normal to touch Mr. Carson like this. "Did Daryl and A both do you, Mr. C?"

He nodded. "Drew, too. Twice. I'm gonna be a little wet down there, Mike."

Fuck. I didn't know if this was crossing some line Dad didn't want me to cross. Like Rodriguez said, this secret could stay with the guys at the party. I slipped down my sweats and kicked them aside. I almost didn't both removing my T shirt but I enjoyed the dreamy smile on Mr. Carson's face as I did.

Yeah, I had a great body, thick and toned and athletic, but I was also just a high school senior who felt like a goddamn porn star just then. I climbed up on the bed, kneeling behind Matt's dad first, so I could run my hands along his hamstrings and ass muscle, taking it all in. My first fuck with a guy.

I dipped my finger in the crack. Mr. C wasn't kidding, he was wet as fuck. I wouldn't need lube on my cock. I didn't know what I was doing other than imitating porn videos. It was a good thing the man was all loose now and relaxed. As I stretched out on his warm body and guided my prick in place, his hole welcomed me instantly, its elastic wetness opening for my cock.

"Fuck!" I grunted.

"Your first, Mike?" Dave Carson asked excitedly. Realizing.

"Hell yes," I said. Now powering in for my first real thrust inside another man. The entry had been loose but once I bottomed out I felt the snugness of his guts around me.

I fucked in again.

"Go for it," Mr. Carson urged. "Fuck me."

The man braced his hands on the mattress, fingers digging in a little when I bottomed out a little too hard or deep. But he didn't complain or tell me to slow down. So I rode it out. I loved getting head, and I'd continue to love it. But this was different and exciting and a completely different set of sensations along my prick. I wanted to maximize that feeling so I fucked faster. Harder.

I planted my lips along Mr. Carson's neck. I got some height on me, but Mr. C is one tall motherfucker. Or I was a dadfucker. The idea had me cumming, my own dad and Mr. Carson melding into one.

When I finally dismounted, my dick was coated in frothy cum.

"Bring it here, stud," came the deep voice in soft instruction.

"You sure?" I asked. I mean, the man's hole was clean, but there was a lot of lube and a lot more sperm on my dick.

He just scooted around to take me in between his lips. Then descended deeper. I learned that day the difference between a real blowjob suck and a clean off suck. Mr. Carson gave it a soft kiss as he pulled off.

"You're amazing, Mike," he said. His blue eyes looked up at me. It was wild this masculine man was so into dick, but then again I could say that about my dad, or Mr. Gehring or Mr. Rodriguez. "Hopefully you're up for more later."

"Yes, sir," I said in dumb politeness. Now embarrassed, I found my sweats and T-shirt and slipped them on.

Matt was waiting outside the door, naked and hard with the long cock sticking up. He'd watched us.

"Hot, bro," he grinned.

"Yeah," I said. I leaned in to whisper. "You do this often?" I had to ask. I wasn't the brightest guy maybe.

Matt nodded with a pride glee. "All the time. It's hot, right?"

He didn't give me a chance to answer the rhetorical question. He patted my shoulder and walked past me into his father's bedroom.

I gave them their privacy.

****

I fucked Mr. Carson twice more that night. The third time I barely had anything to shoot, but I wanted the chance to enjoy the new experience again. I didn't keep track of the other guys, but they did him at least that much.

We woke up late, and Mr. Carson was still sleeping in. Matt was back to his quiet mode and could have been having regrets, so we kept things cool, talking about school stuff.

I got home by 11. Dad had a nervous look on his face. I felt frustrated. But I kept my poker face as I told my parents I had a good time and checked in. I then went off to shower. I had homework to do and then get to the gym.

I'd barely slipped on my underwear when Dad knocked on the door.

"Have fun, buddy?" he asked quietly, slipping into my room.

I nodded. I loved showing off my body to my father. Something about fucking Mr. Carson made me feel like an even bigger stud than normal. "You mad, Dad?"

"Not if it's what you want, Junior," he said. Then dropping to a whisper he added. "I know I don't take care of your needs enough."

Holy head fuck, Dad knew how to drive me crazy. The man sucked me at least once a day now, and often two or three times. And here was my mild-mannered, professional father acting like it wasn't enough.

"Shut the door, Dad," I whispered.

He got an excited look on his face. This was risky as fuck.

I peeled down my underwear and let my prick flop out. Unbelievably it was firming up again. Dad crouched down and hungrily caught the expanding head in his mouth. I lately learned he loved to have me go hard in his mouth. He was getting that today and going wild, moaning around my teen meat and scarfing it down. Within seconds I was fully erect and Dad was bobbing up and down on me.

This was me with a sex hangover going for hair of the dog. One of my Dad's prize-winning blowjobs. Nasty incest sucking. I watched his salt pepper hair and his hunched shoulders and savored the soft squishy sucking sounds combined with his quiet moans. Dad was going to have to work a little harder for this load, but he was up to the task. It might have been his best technique to date, the right combination of hard and silky-soft. Fingers on my ball sac, coaxing out my load.

I reached down and gripped his shoulder, giving him a soft squeeze to let him know I was coming. He hoovered down my semen as fast as I fed it to him. I was lightheaded, the orgasm was that good.

And as quickly as it started Dad retreated, pulling off and wiping his chin, before standing up. Nervously he darted to the door, listening ear to the wood, before he cracked it open, then slipped outside.

****

I was too tired for more that day, and Dad didn't pester me for anything more. I got a quickie Monday morning as Mom showered. But on Tuesday Dad somehow found time to get me off three times. Mom's book club was the best thing ever, I decided.

I lay back on the bed as Dad knelt between my spread legs, softly kissing my now sated genitals.

"For spring break, some of the dads are organizing a beach trip. Just guys," he said.

"Yeah?" I asked, perking up at the implications Dad seemed to be dropping.

He grinned and looked up at me. Like it was a chore to break eye contact with my dick. "If that appeals to you, Junior."

"Oh yeah. Who's gonna be there?"

"The usual. Carson, Gehring, and Heller. We're working on Joe Marino."

"Hot," I said. My prick was filling out some thinking of the possibilities. "Dad..." I said, my voice getting more serious. "I fucked Mr. Carson." I was going to keep this a secret, but I wanted to clear the air.

"Oh," Dad said, taken aback. He then got his encouraging paternal expression. "You enjoy that, Junior?"

I nodded. "A lot. Yeah."

He seemed to take that in. "I don't think I could do that," he said simply.

"I'm not expecting you to, Dad," I said. "Unless you wanted to." I had to throw the idea out there.

"Can we just keep it to this?" he asked.

"Absolutely," I replied. My dick was hard now. I pushed it down, offering to Dad in case he wanted to go for number four. "How bout now?"

He smiled. "You got a beautiful cock, Junior." He scooted forth and began licking me again.

"And I have the best cocksucker for a father," I teased. I always worried I was going too far when I said stuff like that, but Dad seemed more excited now, swallowing me deeper. I placed my hand on the back his neck and playfully held him there a couple of seconds before took more meat into his craw.

Hell yes we were going for number four. Dad taking his time, me focusing my erotic thoughts to get off again. To get over the finish line for Dad.

And as I came down from my intense fourth come, I decided I was going to have to do something special for Dad, to thank him for taking such good care of me.

[libraryofgage]

Life in Miniature (One)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedediah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One (you're here!)

There will be more Jedtavius in the next parts I promise, I just thought this would be a funner introduction to the AU lmao

I just love those little guy dudes from the museum so much hfjdks and now we get two pairs of them

Also, fun fact, I took Steve's Roman name from, like, an actual king of Rome. The actual sixth king. He seemed like a chill dude.

Anyway, there's a meme at the end and as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

---------

When Robin took this job as a night guard, she didn't think the previous guard's words about history coming to life at night was, you know, real. She thought it was a joke, a predictable and corny joke, but a joke nonetheless.

But now, after being chased by a T-Rex, getting saved by Theodore Roosevelt, and almost being taken captive by fucking Attila the Hun, Robin thinks this job definitely isn't worth $16.50 an hour. Then again, this is the best paying job she's had in a while, and she was living a nocturnal life anyway.

Robin groans, leaning against a wall in the diorama exhibit, and slides down to the floor. She lets her head fall back against the wall, her eyes slipping shut as she slides. "This is crazy. This is insane. I need to find a fucking weapon or something," she mutters.

"Pardon me," comes a voice close to her head, "but might you be the goddess Diana?"

As pick-up lines go, it's not the worst one she's heard. And, based on what she knows of Greek and Roman deities, it wouldn't be too far off. Still, she does not want to be hit on by whatever weird historical thing is trying to flirt with her.

Robin takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, and says, "Do I look like a goddess to you?"

She looks to her left where the voice came from, blinking when her gaze falls on a figurine that would barely reach her ankle. He's dressed in a toga with a chest plate, wrist guards, a sword on his waist, and a deep purple cape over his shoulders. His hair is, honestly, the most impressive thing Robin has ever seen, made only more impressive by the golden laurels resting perfectly against his temples.

He's looking at her with wide eyes, more awed than anything else. "Yes," he says. "I have heard the gods are larger than life."

Okay. Fair.

"Why Diana, man?" Robin asks.

He tilts his head, studying her for a moment, looking her up and down. "You give me the same feeling as statues of Noble Diana with her Huntresses," he explains, pausing for a moment before adding, "A feeling of kinship, perhaps?"

Oh. This...this is like ancient Roman gaydar, right? Robin snorts and turns, resting her elbow on her knee. "I'm definitely not Diana. My name is Robin. I'm the new night guard."

His eyes brighten some, his smile growing wider and certainly charming enough to make the hearts of a few girls and guys flutter. "I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army."

Robin nods, letting all of the those words process in her head before saying, "Mind if I call you Steve? You look like a Steve."

The Sixth King of Rome blinks, looking slightly confused before his eyes light up with understanding. "Ah! A nickname! Yes, I am familiar with this concept. You may call me Steve, Lady Robin, as a show of our newfound friendship."

"Yeah, don't call me Lady Robin. Just Robin is fine," she says, hesitating before offering her hand to Steve.

"As you wish, Just Robin," he says, stepping carefully onto her hand and remaining steady as she raises him higher.

Robin blinks, frowning slightly and about to correct him again when she sees his smile and realizes it's a joke. "Okay, very funny, dingus," she says, carefully poking his side.

"Is dingus another nickname? It sounds like an insult."

"It usually is, but it's affectionate when I say it."

"Oh! Yes, like when Ockie calls Jed a philistine."

"Uh, sure," Robin says, nodding once as she lets Steve move to stand on her shoulder. He quickly sits, holding onto the collar of her jacket as she carefully stands up. "Hey, you know what I'm supposed to do about the dinosaur bones?"

"Rexy? Yes, he enjoys a game of fetch."

"Fetch. Of course."

----------

"What's going on in that head of yours, little man?"

Steve blinks, looks over at Jedediah, and raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm taller than you," he says, gesturing to the good inch he has on Jedediah.

"As long as you're my son, you're a little man."

Doing his best to not laugh, Steve nods once and points to the new diorama set up in the middle of the room. It's a circular diorama, centered on an equally circular stage divided into sections. A cacophony of noise echoes from it, clashing as each slice of the stage fights for dominance. "I'm trying to figure out what in Jupiter's name they're doing over there," he says.

"Well, most of it sounds like music," Jedediah says, "I think."

"It's not any music I've heard before," Octavius says, coming to a stop next to Jedediah and frowning at the diorama. "I would have assumed it the unholy shrieking of the damned."

"Perhaps it would be nicer if they weren't all playing at once," Steve suggests, hands on his hips as he tilts his head.

"Oh, boy, there it is," Jedediah says, his grin audible in his tone. "He's got the King Face."

"What are your intentions, my boy?" Octavius asks.

Before Steve can answer, Robin strolls into the room, grinning when she sees the raving diorama in the middle. She walks over to Steve, Jedediah, and Octavius, crouches down, and says, "Hey, guys. I see you're checking out the History of Rock display."

"History of Rock?" Steve asks.

"What in the sweet hell do rocks have to do with that mess?" Jedediah asks, gesturing to the noisy stage.

Robin rolls her eyes. "No, like, rock music. It's a genre. Anyway, it was sponsored by some musician, so it's a permanent display now."

"And they will be...playing every night?" Octavius asks.

"Probably."

Steve frowns a little more and nods, rolling his shoulders back. "If they are a permanent fixture in our hallowed hall, they must be welcomed. As Sixth King of Rome, this duty falls upon my shoulders. Fathers, I shall return shortly."

"Woah, woah, hold your horses there, little man," Jedediah says, moving to stand in front of Steve. "You're not going anywhere near that snake pit without some back up."

"A few centurions, at least," Octavius agrees.

"I will have Robin. What better protection is there?"

Jedediah and Octavius glance at each other before looking at Robin. She grins and offers them a two finger salute. "I'll guard him with my life," she says, "It's literally my job."

With that reassurance, Jedediah and Octavius move out of the way. Steve steps onto Robin's hand and settles on her shoulder with practiced ease, ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach at greeting the new museum residents. He hopes they'll get along, but he also knows the might of his Roman army and the railroad workers can crush any who stand in their way.

Robin stops next to the diorama, tilting her head as she studies it. This close, Steve can see the bands playing on each slice of stage, the instruments and fashion shifting as his gaze travels around it. "Uh, excuse me," Robin says, raising her voice.

The raucous noise from the diorama screeches to a halt, the feedback making Robin and Steve grimace slightly. "Uh, hi. We're the official welcome crew for the Hall of Miniatures here. So, I'll need someone to represent your, like, whole display," Robin says, glancing over the bands until she finds one she recognizes. "Okay, I know you guys, so I'll be designating you the spokesband. Now, could the lead singer step forward?"

Steve watches as someone on the "Corroded Coffin" (what an odd name for a band) slice of the stage steps forward. Robin offers her hand to them, carefully lifting it away once they step on. "Great, uh, carry on, I guess. But, like, maybe play some of your quieter stuff for a bit," she says, her words barely out before the music starts up and the crowds start screaming once more.

She sighs and just walks over to the bench, letting off the person on her hand before letting Steve slide down her arm in a move they spent nearly three weeks practicing if only because they knew it would look cool.

When he hops onto the bench, Steve walks up to the other miniature, a man his age with long hair and odd clothes with tears that Robin once said were fashionable. His instrument is still slung over his shoulders, resting casually against his hips much like Steve's sword. Steve suddenly finds himself thinking that the man looks a little like a warrior. An odd one, to be sure, but a handsome one nonetheless.

He flashes his most charming smile, lets his shoulders relax, and says, "My friend here is Robin, Guardian of Brooklyn. I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army. You, however, may call me Steve."

-----

As far as Eddie was concerned, nothing mattered so long as Corroded Coffin got to keep rocking in an endless concert. The energy never waned, the set list never grew boring, and the music never stopped. He was ready to inform this welcoming crew of just that and promise Hell on Earth if they tried to disrupt the music (angry concert goers are a force of nature), when the words just died in his throat.

Because the most gorgeous man he's ever seen slides down that giant lady's arm, easily and smoothly landing on the bench. Somehow, his hair is perfectly windswept, the golden laurels glinting in the lights above them. His purple cape flutters softly as he walks closer, his toned thighs on full display with the toga hem that falls to the middle of them. There's a sword on the guy's hip, a chest plate that Eddie wants to pull off, a smile he wants to taste, and a pair of freckles right next to each other on the guy's cheek he wants to drag his tongue across.

He misses most of the introduction because he's too busy staring. He gets the important bits, though: Robin, a king, son of a god, adopted son of two dads. Eddie licks his lips nervously, a grin of his own tugging at his lips as he steps forward and playfully bows. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty," he says.

It's supposed to come out joking, a little poke at the guy's authority to see if he can be riled up. It actually comes out way too genuine, and Eddie has a sudden realization that he meant it. He absolutely will accept this guy as his king, actually. He'll fall to his knees before him right now if asked, and not just because it might give him a little peek under the dude's toga.

"Please, just call me Steve. There's no need to be so formal."

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, hoping Steve doesn't realize that the things Eddie is thinking about (the things he wants to do to and with Steve) are just about the least formal things on this earth. "Good to know," he says, relieved his voice sounds normal as he stands up straight and offers his hand. "Name's Eddie Munson, uh, lead singer of Corroded Coffin."

Steve blinks, and his smile becomes a bit more genuine as he steps closer and clasps Eddie's forearm. "A fellow leader," he says, squeezing Eddie's arm. "Welcome to our museum."

"Y-yeah," Eddie says, his arm still tingling when Steve lets go. He clears his throat, idly tugging on a few strands of hair. "So, uh, what's the deal around here? I mean, giant women...Roman kings...cowboys, it looks like."

"Our noble museum is home to Pharoah Ahkmenrah and his tablet, which brings the exhibits to life each night," Steve explains.

"There's a few rules, though," Robin says, sitting down on the bench behind Steve. "One, no getting into fights. Two, be back in your display by sunrise. Three, no leaving the museum at night."

"What? Why not?"

"We have lost good exhibits to Sol Invictus's morning rays," Steve says, frowning slightly. "So, be careful."

Eddie stares at Steve with wide eyes as he nods, amazed at the fact that Steve seems to talk like that so genuinely. And the fact that Eddie is...kinda into it. Holy shit, that's not helping with Eddie's whole "fall to his knees" thing. He wouldn't mind some good old-fashioned worship if Steve would just smile at him again.

Maybe his prayers are heard, because Steve smiles at him again. "Wonderful," he says. "Now, Eddie, could I interest you in a tour of the museum tonight?"

"Oh, you could interest me in a lot of things, sweetheart," Eddie blurts out, his mouth running faster than his brain.

He snaps his jaw shut, relieved and horrified at Steve's slightly confused expression and Robin's "I know what you are" thousand-yard stare from over his shoulder. Before he can try to backtrack, Steve snaps, understanding in his eyes. "Ah! Sweetheart is a nickname, yes? I accept your offer of friendship."

Eddie clenches his jaw, stopping himself from saying that it's more than friendships he's offering, and smiles. "Yeah. A nickname. That's all. I'm just...a nickname kinda guy. I'll probably think of more, too, Stevie. Like that."

Steve practically beams, and Eddie feels his knees go weak. "I look forward to it," he says, turning on his heel to look at Robin, who thankfully schools her expression. "Robin, this is where we leave you for the night. You have my word that Eddie will be back in place before sunrise."

"Well, you two kids have fun," she says, grinning in a way that immediately puts Eddie on edge. "I'd better not hear about any funny business, though. Absolutely no bases should be reached tonight, and you'd better not do any conquering or pillaging."

She definitely looks at Eddie when she says that last bit. Eddie stiffens, doing his best to hold back a blush when Steve glances over at his, the confusion clear on his face. "Conquering requires more planning than this, Robin. I've told you before."

"Don't worry about it, dingus. Just have fun. Here, I'll even call a ride for you," she says, winking at them before turning, holding her fingers to her mouth, and whistling sharply.

Steve walks over to Eddie right as the ground starts to shake, easily catching him around the waist before he can lose his balance. "The shaking does take some getting used to," he says, his tone full of sympathy and obliviousness to the crisis Eddie is experiencing.

When his brain finally catches up enough to ask what he's talking about, a dinosaur skeleton slides into the room, its body wiggling excitedly as it growls. Eddie jerks back, the arm around his waist tightening some. "What the fuck?!" he shouts.

"Worry not," Steve says, leaning closer. His voice is a little softer now, his breath fanning over Eddie's ear. "This is Rexy, our steed for the evening. He's very friendly."

"Friendly," Eddie mumbles, letting himself be dragged over to Rexy and placed on the dinosaur's head by Robin. "The dinosaur is friendly."

"Many of the exhibits are," Steve tells him, grinning brightly as Rexy begins moving after a pet on the snout from Robin.

Eddie looks at him, feeling blinded by Steve's smile once more, and completely forgets about the living dinosaur skeleton.

--------

Lemme know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

(Also I know there are like one or two upcoming parent AUs that people have asked to be tagged in and I tried to see if this was one of them but couldn't find anyone for the life of me hfjdks so I'm sorry if you asked on another post and I missed you orz)

And, finally, a meme for you

[phoward89]

Professor!Coriolanus x Innocent!Reader

Masterlist

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Dark!Coryo, Obsessed!Coryo, Innocent!Reader, Sweet!Reader, Naive!Reader, manipulation, obsession, professor/student relationship, power imbalance, age difference, blackmail

Part 2:

Your mouth felt dry, as if there was cotton in it, and your eyes were a bit heavy as you blinked them open. What the hell? Did you really get hung over from a glass of wine?

Hell…

You must've because you're suffering from a pounding headache. You feel like a woodpecker’s banging against your skull.

When you go to sit up, you notice that you have a long, strong, muscular arm wrapped around you. What the hell?... Who's arm is that? It can't be Professor Snow’s, can it?

No.

No, no, no.

It can't be his arm around you. Even tho you got sick from the win he brought you home, right?

But you suddenly realize that you're not in your room. That room's larger, the furniture’s mahogany, and the walls are a stony-blue instead of your favorite color. Oh my god! You're in your Professor's bed, aren't you.

Oh hell…

Talk about a nightmare.

You look over to where the long arm reaches a body, only to see Professor Snow sound asleep. His platinum blonde curls are a mess against his pillow and his face looks so serene and carefree. Not one wrinkle or line on it.

But then you realize that his chest is bare and that the blanket draped over him is sliding awfully low. You feel like a panic attack’s about to hit you, so you take a couple of deep breaths. But, then you look down and notice that sometime in the middle of the night the blanket and slid down; exposing your bare chest to the air.

Holy shit!

You're naked and in bed with Professor Snow!

And if that isn't enough, you feel and ache between your legs. An ache that tips you off that you slept with your professor last night. But you don't understand why you'd do such a thing. It's so unlike you.

Feeling like the walls are caving in on you, like you don't know what's real and what isn't, you flung your professor's arm off of you and bolt up.

Coriolanus was in a deep sleep, but was abruptly awoken whenever he felt his arm get roughly tossed around. “Where are you going, darling?” Coriolanus asked, his deep voice hoarse with sleep, looking at you as his hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist.

“Get away from me!” You shouted, slapping him across the face while wringing your wrist free from his grasp and pulling the sheet up to cover your naked body with.

The platinum blonde didn't find your dramatics very amusing. He wasn't expecting you to have a melt down as a result of waking up next to him. Oh, why did you have to be so dramatic?

Pinning you underneath him on the bed, Coryo seethed, “Don't hit me again unless you want me to slap you across the face in return.”

With your reaction, Coriolanus knew that he had to resort to his backup plan to get you to behave. And what was his backup plan?

Blackmail.

“Now you listen to me, baby, and you listen to me real good.” Professor Snow hissed dangerously, his baritone thick and poisonous, as his face leaned into yours so closely that you're about to go cross-eyed. “You seduced me and I'm not letting you go run to the University Chancellor crying that I forced myself on you cause I'm not losing my job over your golden cunt.” A dark, calculating look spread over Coriolanus' face; his cerulean eyes turning into black ice. “You're a dirty girl, huh? Seducing me for a passing grade. But I'll fail you if you dare utter a word about last night to anyone.” His lush apricot lips ghosted about yours as he asked, “Am I clear, baby?”

“Crystal.” You nod, eyes wide with fear.

He sits up, a relaxed look all over his handsome face. But as he reaches to grab something off his nightstand, something just doesn't seem right to you. Even tho you were drunk you'd never have a one night stand with your teacher, who's a decade older than you. Hell, you're- well were a virgin up til last night. There's no way you seduced Professor Snow and let him have your first time.

Sitting up, you turn to Coryo as his long fingers wrap around his phone. Needing to know what happened last night, you frantically remark, “I know I was drunk last night from the wine, but none of this makes sense. I was a virgin, I wouldn't just seduce you into deflowering me.”

Coriolanus brings his phone up to his face and unlocks it, all while telling you, “Hate to break it to you, darling, but you were all over me last night.” Quickly, he taps at his phone, only to bring up a video. He pulls you closer, gluing you to side side, while holding the phone up for you to see and hitting play. “You see, Y/N, I recorded us fucking last night. For an insurance policy, in case you try to cry wolf and say that I did something unwanted.”

Your horrified eyes are locked on the video. You feel sick to your stomach watching your drunken self withering underneath your professor- Coryo; begging him for more and moaning out his name. The girl on the video underneath the curly-haired platinum blonde was you, but her actions were so unlike any you'd do. Did being drunk on wine really turn you into a sex crazed vixen?

Coriolanus taps his phone and stops the video. Taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he threatens your reputation with, “Now, wouldn't your parents be so disappointed learning that their youngest fucked her professor after drinking and flirting with him just to becomes the teacher's pet; ensure a passing grade?”

Panic spreads throughout your entire body. Shaking your head, tears stinging your eyes, you try to defend yourself. “I didn't do that, Professor Snow. I don't know what happened last night while I was drunk, but I didn't sleep with you for the top spot in your class.”

Coriolanus nods, hiding his grin of victory. Now he knows he's got you right where he wants you. That you'll do anything to keep your reputation intact- to keep your parents from viewing their spotless lamb as a spiked dove.

“Well, I suppose we could come up with a solution to the predicament we're in.” Coriolanus purs, sounding like the cat that got the cream.

In life Coriolanus is a cat, you're the cream, and he's got you. Oh boy, does he ever.

His suggestion to solve your problem in the wake of sleeping together was for you to quit school and move in with him as his girlfriend. You didn't like that idea one bit and told him so, but Coriolanus said that your parents would be thrilled at the prospect of him joining the family. But they'd be devastated if the video every came to light, if it ever came out that you seduced your professor to pass a class.

The idea of disappointing your parents terrified you. You wanted them to be proud of you, like they're proud of you our older brother, and if they ever found out about what you did last night…well…

So, what else could you do other then agree to Professor Snow's suggestion?

And that's why you're now living in a gilded cage. A gilded cage of pomp and circumstances.

Coriolanus has you all to himself. You're his dove, caged up for him to do with as he pleases. He plans on making you his assistant once he heals from his poison induced internal injuries. Ones that he'll be getting soon since he's going to be spiking the teapot at the teahouse when he has a friendly meeting with Festus Creed in a handful of minutes.

Honestly, he looks forward to poisoning himself because it means you get to worry over him; dote on him as you care for his wellbeing.

And once he's well again, you'll be by his side from the moment he wakes til the moment he goes to sleep.

Professor Snow always had great ambitions and being glued to the hip to the daughter of Colonel Javani Halvir will surely give his dead political career a sudden breath of life.

But Coriolanus is also obsessively attached to you. More then he expected to become. Without you, he's nothing more then a shallow shell of a man.

“Baby, I'm meeting my friend, Festua Creed, for tea soon. You'll be okay here grading the papers for me?” Coryo asks, strolling into his study where you're seated at his desk- marking up papers with red pen.

Papers in which one of yours should be in, but due to a drunken mistake it's not.

Raising your head and turning your attention to your boyfriend, who’ll become your fiance once the customary 6 months of proper courting is done, and tell him, “I'll be fine, go enjoy your tea.”

The regal blonde comes up to you, only to lean down and press a kiss to your temple. “Don't be too harsh while grading those papers. Not everyone's as bright as you are, my little dove.” Coriolanus whispers against the shell of your ear before leaving you alone in his study.

You just shake your head while underlining something in red pen on the paper you're stuck grading. You can't help, but feel like you're not very bright. If you truly were, you wouldn't have found yourself blackmailed into a relationship with Coriolanus.

But at least your father and Coryo got along. In fact, Colonel Javani Halvir was so happy that you managed to capture the heart of Professor Coriolanus Snow, the son of his late friend and comrade in arms, General Crassus Snow.

But unknown to everyone in Capitol City, Panem is that you're the one that Coriolanus captured. And by nefarious means too.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @lady-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[bnuuys-writing]

Naga!Jamil x Reader x Roc!Kalim

Omg hiiii, its been a while everyone since i wrote something but here's the first part to something that's been pecking my brain for a while! Sorry its not the update for Vil's Moving Castle, i think im going to scrap it and rewrite it when I have more time.

This is only the FIRST part! I plan on writing a second part whenever i have free time again. Ive been picking away at this for a few weeks now. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

~BnuuyOut!

Well. This isn't how you imagined you'd die. Being cornered by a larger snake-like creature to where there was no escape in sight unless you'd like to jump straight into his fangs…

Let's start this over again, how did you even get in this situation again?

The weather was warm as you entered the freezing cold building. A weird zoo-like research laboratory where you were under contract to work for free because of how gracious your professor was… Ass… You sighed slightly as you tugged on the free lab coat that your professor offered to you that had holes in every pocket, and was that… Dried stains of spaghetti sauce? Ugh. Shaking your head slightly as you made your way to the cafeteria and quietly sat down near the back, waiting to see if this is something you'd have to leave immediately and never return back to, free or not. Minutes passed as others started to file into the room, chitter chatter filling up the room only for a certain crack of a whip to silence the audience within seconds.

“Welcome pups, to your first hybrid meeting of how to be a caretaker!” A man walked out, two dalmatians hounding at each side of him as two others seemed to wheel in cages covered with curtains.

“For those who don't know what you signed up for, which is absolutely idiotic if you didn't read the full internship form, this is a place where we find the extraordinary creatures, house them, and research them before safely releasing them back from whence they came!” The man had a puffy black and white coat, fur lined it seemed from your assumptions as it was just as beautiful as his personality. Rough.

“For those who do not know me! I am your new Professor, your new internship coworker. But more like your boss. If I find out one of you pups messed up something with what is mine, you will be expelled immediately.” Another crack of the whip caused some to flinch at the sound as he continued to ramble on. Yet, your gaze trailed off of him to the cages where you could've sworn you heard something rattling… Like a rattle maybe? Lowering your head just slightly in hopes of catching a small peek, you could only feel yourself tense up in your seat when you saw a glow of slitted eyes shine back at you for just a second. As for what was underneath the curtain, you couldn't figure out just yet. 

Though, snapping your gaze back to your new professor, he continued to speak about how all the students will be assigned to areas that, if they are lucky, will like. If not, they are more than happy to drop out, as for volunteering for a section? It will be all yours, if not with some partners will be either voluntold to join. A large shake at the cage on the left caused everyone to jump in their seats as Professor Crewel seemed to snicker at everyones reactions to the rattling cage. 

“This is our Roc, a creature that hunts over the seas, capturing up sailors from their ships and being able to lift up an elephant in its adult years. Though this one is smaller, only for containment reasons, its adult size was a little harder to capture yet, this one seemed to fit into the snare just like a glove.” Crewel states out as he ripped off the curtain of the cage, a large looking hybrid of a man and a bird, with white dazzling feathers and hair seeming to coat its body. Although it was impressively large, it didn't seem all too aggressive towards everyone, seeming all too delighted in seeing the new faces… Unless you were wrong and it was just looking at who was going to be its next snack. A louder hiss could be heard as Crewel stepped closer to the cage holding what was so called a ‘Roc’ only for the man to seem a big smug at the reaction.

“Now, before anyone can start placing bids on who wants to work with our Roc here, you must come to learn that this Roc comes with another. Although, he is always in a sour mood, they seem to be in some sort of a pact of service to each other. While one leaves peacefully and unbothered, this–” Nothing could stop the gasps of students as the curtain was ripped off of the second cage only for a very, very, pissed looking snake like creature to be staring right at Crewel, its tail flicking with its rattle to try and scare off the Professor. 

“--Creature, comes with it. This is a Naga, and as for its design and pattern, they come together in a pair. So! Who is willing to work with our Roc and Naga?” Professor Crewel stated as the naga creature seemed to turn its body towards the crowd and hiss violently, venom spitting out from its large fangs and dripping down the metal bars of its enclosure, causing it to steam just slightly. 

Silence filled the room. So quiet that you swore, you could almost hear a pin drop within the auditorium. 

“No offers? Our Roc seemed very well trained, and always seems excited to have new fresh blood in the enclosure with him. You’ll just have to try your luck in not getting stuck with our Naga here while you are around the Roc.” Crewel hummed out only for his gaze to land upon you. The only one not diverting your gaze from him. While the other students seemed to look upon the walls with such wonder, some already leaving the auditorium and dropping out from the course, and others seemingly looking sick as they looked upon the angry looking Naga with fear. 

“Ah, you. With the (H/C) and stained labcoat.” Fuck you Crewel. Slowly standing up, dread filling your heart as you heard some others around you, whispering thanks for not being chosen to be their handlers.

“I see great promise with you with these two…” Crewel hummed out with a smirk, as he nodded his head. Oh, how wonderful.

A month had passed since that moment in the auditorium, you had teammates until they all dropped out one by one as they learned more and more about the Roc and Naga together. It seemed from what the researchers had learned about them is that when the Roc lay their eggs and have to go hunting across the seas to pickup sailors for their meals, the nagas were left behind to obey and serve the children until their parents came back. Then came the story on how they captured the Roc and Naga here in the building. The Roc children has been learning how to fly, and the Naga had to follow their every movement so that they wouldn't become the next meal for them. Apparently the Roc in captivity fell from the sky right into the trap, and the Naga has been trying to free him when they were found only for both of them to get sedated and brought back to the research facility.

After observing how handlers dealt with them as well, you began to learn their patterns in making sure that you wont die once you step foot into the enclosure… Like today.

“Alright pup, go ahead on in there, and feed them. Remember, don't look the Naga in his eye, and try to stay over foliage so that the Roc doesn't scoop you up where you stand. Put everything we taught you into action.” And with a crude shove and a loud bang. Professor Crewel really was cruel in some ways, you supposed… Shoving you into the enclosure and shutting the door tight. 

Nevertheless. You were now in the warm enclosure. Alone. Minus two pairs of hungry eyes watching your every movement.

You were careful in your step, making sure to stay under the treeline and foliage in hopes of not getting swooped up by the large bird man. As well avoiding any droppings or anything that you might've mistaken as a snake tail. Buckets in each hand as you traversed the area smoothly, making sure to count your steps just in case you had to make a run for the door and memorizing where you were… Just in case…

You could see their food bowl essentially, a large stone carved into a bowl-like structure with a flowing manmade river for them to get fresh water. The only downfall was that the tree that usually hung over the bowl had fallen due to a storm a few days prior�� So your only guardrail was missing. And these guys were hungry… 

“Alright.. You can do this… Show no fear and they'll have no reason to hurt you… Have confidence in your steps…” You whispered to yourself as you took a shaky step forward into the light of the day, no longer under the shady canopy protecting you from the Roc. With another step, you were getting closer and closer to the food bowl without any issues. Just as you neared closer and closer, movement in the corner of your eye was caught as you couldn't help but turn around just slightly… Ever so slowly in hopes of not pissing off whatever was there. 

Slitted eyes bore right into your eyes as you could feel the entrancing pull once again. Slowly, the world around you began to grow darker and darker, all you could see were these entrancing eyes, almost as if beckoning you closer with how they memorized you. Taking slow steps forward, a crack of a tree branch sounded way too close to you as this seemed to snap you out of whatever hypnotism the naga was performing on you. Taking a large intake of breath as you averted your eyes away from the snake man, only to throw it up to see a grinning feathery face a little too close to yours.

A hiss is what snapped you out from your trance from looking at the Roc creature. Shit. Without a second to spare, you ducked back under the foliage as you could feel your heartbeat pounding against your chest as your feet thudded against the ground roughly in hopes of retracing your steps. Yet, in your adrenaline flurry rush, you found yourself in a corner against one of the rocky mountains. Turning around to try and find another escape, you were met face to face with a very angry looking reptilian man. The naga, fuck.

Back pinned against the rocky surface, you could feel the forked tongue flicking out against your cheek as you avoided looking in his eyes at all cost, knowing it would cause certain death. 

Well, either way. This isn't how you'd expect how you'd die.

You could feel the hot breath ever looming closer and closer to you. Yep, even with those buckets of food, you know snakes prefer live meals… Meals that still has their blood pumping with adrenaline as they know they are being hunted down. As you felt death looming close to your neck, inching ever closer before a loud thump could be heard overhead as you were suddenly lifted up by two arms… Two feathery arms.

Blinking your eyes open, looking at the height you are being held over. The Roc, having lifted you up into his arms as he had landed on the mountain. The naga, seeming pissed as the Roc has just taken his meal, began to hiss loudly which… Sllliiggttllyy? Sounded like some type of serpent tongue?

Gripping onto the arms of the Roc, he began to chirp quite loudly into your ear as he squeezed you even tighter in his arms, a bright large smile on his face as his ruby eyes were looking down at the brown eyed naga… So his eyes weren't red, maybe that's when he was trying to hypnotize his prey..? This all seemed too much as you could feel yourself losing precious air by how tight the roc was holding you in his feathered arms. In your losing state of consciousness, you could've sworn you could understand them for just a second.

“Kalim! You know better than to snatch prey from me! That was supposed to be OUR meal!”

“But Jammiillll! They were just so cute, I couldn't just let you kill them!! You should've seen how surprised they were to see me up so close!”

“It doesn't matter, Kalim. Drop them before you get seriously hurt. They don't take too kindly to you holding our feeders.” 

As your mind slowly slipped into a state of consciousness, you could've sworn you heard a yell of Professor Crewel as you're lifted up into the air where sleep took you quickly in your state.

[tumbleweed-run]

Request for reader finding some of Gale's erotica and, based off said literature, getting taken in a most ungentlemanly fashion? 👉👈

Oh nonny, I love this idea terribly! Conveniently this also fits for today's kinktober theme.

A Novel Idea

(18+, Explicit)

You hadn’t lived in Waterdeep long, but it didn’t take long to realize wandering about the Dock Ward at night wasn’t your best idea. Tonight ‘night’ seemed like an understatement, even the moon and stars had retreated behind heavy clouds. You relied solely on the lights streaming from various taverns and home windows to keep your path.

You weren’t far from home when the hairs on your neck stood on end. Someone was following you. Pulling up the hood on your cloak, you quickened your pace, not to an outright run but enough that it might make a difference. You thought it did. Thought it would. 

You’d been wrong before. 

It wasn’t so much a push as it was being barreled into and shoved down an alley. You dig your feet in trying to slow the momentum of your body but to no avail. The brick wall before you was as unforgiving as the force at your back as you’re pressed into it. 

“Well, well, there aren’t many brave enough to be wandering around here in the dark,” a voice hums into your ear. 

“Brave is just one of the many things I am,” you bite back trying to gain purchase on the wall before you, trying to push back. 

The body that flattens against you is larger than your own. It pins you against the brick, you’re unable to get your arms underneath you. You still your struggles, no use in wasting your energy. 

“I’ll leave you be if you’ll be so kind as to hand me your coin purse,” He’s not moving now, just pinning you to the wall with his body. 

Gale is staring at you with a look of shock. The book (his book might you add) is held loosely in his hand. 

“You, want this?” He asks again gesturing at you with the book now.

You nodded, lip worried between your teeth. You hadn’t meant to bring it up, at least not without a solid plan. But he’d teased you for how your cheeks had heated as you read a particularly scandalous part of that very same novel. 

Gale’s eyes go distant, and you’re convinced he’ll tell you no, that this is beyond his willingness to indulge you in your fantasies. You wait him out, though, let him come to his conclusion on his own. 

“I won't hurt you,” he says finally.

It’s not a no, so you take your chance. “Of course not, and neither does he… not really,” you remind him. The villain turned seducer in the story had only frightened his maiden, never truly hurt her. 

“We’ll need some way for you to tell me you’re done,” Gale admits, still not meeting your gaze. 

It’s your turn to be hesitant now. “Gale, if this isn’t something you want. Say it and I swear I’ll never bring it up again,” you promise grabbing for his hand. 

He laces his fingers through yours and finally looks at you. “As strange as it is, I must admit I can see the appeal.” The words are spoken low, as if he’s revealing a secret to you. 

He might as well be. 

“If I give you my coin purse, or even mention coins that will be my cue that I want it to end.” You assure him. 

“You promise?” he squeezes your hand before pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

“Yes,” you grin.

“No,” you growl.

You begin trying to twist your body away from him once more but he simply leans into you. It’s taken almost no effort for him to subdue you. You swallow harshly against that realization. 

The lips are back at your ear. “If not your coin then, my lady, I shall have to take something.”

“I have nothing else for you.” You’d meant to sound defiant, strong, but instead the works came out half-whispered. 

He chuckles and then shifts so his weight is off of you, not gone though. He’s caging you in still with his arms and his body at your back. One of those arms moves now and skillfully undoes the broach holding your cloak closed. 

You shiver as the material falls to your feet, the cool night air already pushing in through your clothes. 

“I think you have plenty for me.” His lips are so close to your neck that you can feel them brush your skin as he speaks. 

His hand returns, resting atop your collarbone. Not quite at your neck but there, like a warning. You swallow harshly once again. 

“Perhaps that’s what you want,” he say mockingly, finally letting his lips drop to your neck with a kiss. 

His hand trails lower on your chest until he’s cupping your breast through your shirt. The fabric seems impossibly thinner now than it had less than an hour ago. 

“After all what lady goes walking alone at this hour except those looking for trouble,” he continues. His fingers are seeking out your nipple now with teasing brushes against it. 

The kisses he’s pressing against your neck will certainly bruise by morning but you can’t help but to arch your neck more. 

He pinches your nipple and you whimper. He chuckles against your neck.

His hand shifts, seeking your other breast. His thumb brushes up against your already hard nipple. He pinches it again without warning. This time when you moan you can’t help but roll your hips back into him. He’s hard against your ass. 

“So that is what you were after,” he’s teasing again, both with his words and his fingers. “Willing to risk your life just to be touched.”

“No,” you argue, “I was just going home.”

“With no protection? No strong husband to keep you safe?”  His hand abandons your breast to begin a decent downward. 

His hips are grinding against you freely now and you can feel just how hard he is with each roll. You bite your lip to hold back another whimper. He chooses this moment to gather your skirt in his fist and press it between your legs. With another roll of his hips he sends you grinding against the fabric, sweet friction against your already throbbing clit. 

“No,” it’s less of a word and more of a moan. You shake your head, hair undoubtedly smacking his face. “No husband, I can protect myself.”

“Perhaps you can,” he groans against your skin, “but this situation tells me otherwise.” 

He’s still thrusting against you, forcing you to grind against his hand and the fabric balled inside of it. You’re up on your tiptoes now trying to change the angle, unabashedly seeking more friction. 

“You can’t have it both ways, my lady. You can’t both be on an innocent evening stroll and able to protect yourself, given the position I have you in,” he reminds you of exactly what positon he’s talking about with another firm roll of his hips. 

Before you can argue against his words he’s begun hiking the skirt of your dress up until he can slide his hand beneath it. His fingers, cooled by the night air, immediately seek out your cunt. You cry out as he slips them between your folds to press firmly against your clit, the cool air a shock to your nerves. 

“There’s no denying this,” he teases, fingers rubbing against you. The wet sounds betraying whatever words you’d meant to say. “Admit it,” he growls lips pressed to your ear. 

“Please,” you whimper, hips chasing after his touch.

You almost lose balance and crash forward into the wall but his other arm comes around your waist to catch you. 

“Admit it,” he says again fingers now touching everywhere but where you want them. 

“I want you,” you admit but it’s apparently not what he’s looking for because he still refuses to touch you. “Please,” you cry out, “I want you to fuck me.”

“That's not so hard, is it,” he presses a kiss to the side of your head. 

His fingers leave you even though you’ve said what he wanted to hear. Before you can morn their loss the arm around your waist lifts you into the air a second before swinging you down towards the ground. You’re forced to brace your arms out in front of you as you make contact roughly with the alley floor. 

“Ow,” You cry out despite not meaning to, there will be scrapes on your palms now. 

Just as quickly as you’d been tossed to the floor you’re lifted up onto your knees again, back against his chest. Somehow he’d knelt with you. 

“All you have to do is give me your coin,” he reminds you, “and I’ll leave. No harm done to you or your reputation.”

You shake your head vigorously, “I won’t give it to you.”

You barely feel his lips against the side of your head before he’s pushing you back down onto your hands. 

He flips up your skirt, exposing you to the alley and the night air. You’re not sure which one makes you shiver more. He runs his hands down your ass to your thighs before spreading the lips of your cunt with his thumbs. You only realize you’re shaking when he presses one of those thumbs inside you. 

You fight the urge to press back into it. 

He slicks his thumb back out and runs it up and down until he bumps into your clit. You whimper and aren’t able to keep your body from chasing after his touch. His hands leave you then but you hear the sounds of his pants being undone. 

“Such a pretty thing,” he says reverently and then you feel the warmth of his cock resting against your entrance, “waiting to be taken in an alley like a whore.”

“Please,” you whine trying to push back onto him. 

He won't let you and instead leans away to keep you from touching him. You cry out in frustration, head dropping down. 

Suddenly there’s a hand tangled through your hair, drawing your head back up. Its a firm tug but only painful if you resist. And you do, but only for a moment before allowing him to pull you so you’re forced to look ahead. Forcing you to look around at the barely visible alley around you. 

Only then does it press into you. There’s no teasing now, no waiting, no soft touches. He thrusts into you until you’re pressed back against his hips. Your cunt flutters around him at the sudden intrusion. It's a stinging sensation, not pleasurable really, but you don’t mind because he’s finally inside of you. 

He sits that way for a few heartbeats before drawing out only to thrust back in against. It’s a firm rhythm he finds, hand still woven in your hair to keep you from drifting away with each thrust. You can feel small stones biting into your knees, undoubtedly they’ll be bruised and bloody by the time he’s finished. 

He begins grunting with each thrust and you realize he’s getting close. 

Your hair is released without warning and you can barely stop it from falling forward. 

“Touch yourself,” he orders, both hands grabbing your hips, “I want you to come on my cock in this alley.”

You find yourself only too eager to obey. Fingers finding a rhythm that matches the near brutal pace he’s now fucking into you. You’re so close you can’t breathe. The grip on your hips becomes almost painful. 

“I need you to come,” he growls, fingertips digging into your flesh. 

And you do with a cry. Hips slamming back to meet his so the only thing you can hear aside from your own cries is the sound of your skin slapping against one another. He grunts as he comes, pulling you back against him so you can’t move away as he spills inside of you. 

You remain like that until your heartbeat has approached a more normal rhythm. As he slides out of you he pulls you back onto his lap. Hands smoothing out your skirts so you’re hidden once more from the night.

“My mad, beautiful, love,” Gale whispers pressing kisses against the side of your head. 

You laugh as you lean into his kisses. After a moment you’re shifted onto the ground once more, but so much gentler this time you feel your heart near bursting. 

With a groan that you absolutely don’t grin at, Gale stands and tucks himself back into his pants. But before you can even think of trying to join him he’s lifted you into his arms, one hand producing your long-forgotten cloak. 

You drop the cloak into your lap before draping your arms around his neck. “My noble wizard,” you mumble against his lips before pressing a kiss to them. 

He leads you further into the alley and to a door hidden deep in shadows. As he pushes it open, you realize this is the alley alongside your own home. The door swings open into your warmly lit kitchen, the smell of dinner from earlier still lingering heavily in the room. 

You bury your face in Gale’s neck to hide the smile painted across your lips.