#to this DAY one of my most humiliating memories Ever

[tacozebra051]

s1

i’m watching this documentary about halloween and there’s a part where they’re explaining that ghost stories got really popular around the civil war no one could really deal with how many people went off and died and

the narrator just said 

“the first ghost stories were really about coming home”

fuck 

[4ngelofmydreams]

aheem heem

whimper

[nyoomerr]

Shen Yuan entered Luo Binghe’s life like any other good thing he’s ever had: with great difficulty, and accompanied by copious amounts of sex.

The difficult parts don’t bear talking about. Luo Binghe still feels his stomach drop at the reminders of those first few mercurial months of knowing Shen Yuan, at the way Shen Yuan had unintentionally dismantled most notions of what Luo Binghe thought a happy ending should be like. He doesn’t think he’ll ever quite enjoy thinking about that time: it had been, in some ways, a more miserable challenge to overcome than his time in the Abyss had been. 

(It had been, in many ways, the only challenge Luo Binghe had ever had to face that was directed inwards. There was no straightforward evil to banish or monster to slay. There was hardly even a wife to seduce, given the fact that Shen Yuan had let himself be seduced by Luo Binghe’s image long before Luo Binghe himself had ever arrived in Shen Yuan’s world to begin with. 

There was only this: in order to grasp the incandescent happiness that Shen Yuan presented - that Luo Binghe deserved - he had to admit that every moment of so-called happiness he had experienced for the last century had been a fool’s imitation of it. In order to be happy with Shen Yuan, he had to admit to being miserable without him. 

It was humiliating, and it was nauseating, and it had even made Luo Binghe cry once, where he thought Shen Yuan wouldn’t be able to see him. 

He’d been so, so glad when it turned out Shen Yuan wouldn’t even look away from that - from Luo Binghe at his least lovable.)

No, the difficult parts of Luo Binghe’s conquest of Shen Yuan are best kept carefully out of mind. The other, better parts of that conquest - the parts involving hot skin against skin, as close as Luo Binghe could get to fitting Shen Yuan within his own flesh where he could never part from him - those parts are far more pleasant to remember, and Luo Binghe works to make new memories of that sort every day. 

Despite its pleasantness, however, the sex is not Luo Binghe’s favorite part of his courtship with Shen Yuan. 

“Bing-ge,” Shen Yuan calls, voice just an octave shy of a proper whine, “surely we can spend summers in my world? You can’t really think this heat is more pleasant than modern AC, ah?”

Luo Binghe hums, leaning in to run his mouth across the plane of Shen Yuan’s neck, savoring the smell of Shen Yuan’s sweat. His skin is tacky from the heat; Luo Binghe briefly fantasizes about being able to stick himself to it permanently. 

“Wasn’t it Yuan-er who begged to see the Fire-Driven Herons’ migration? It only happens once every decade, after all.”

“I know that,” Shen Yuan says, scowling. “I was the one who told you that.”

“Yuan-er is the most knowledgeable about this world,” Luo Binghe agrees. 

Shen Yuan sighs, squirming half-heartedly in Luo Binghe’s lap - a wordless threat to get up. Obediently, Luo Binghe waves the fan in his free hand a bit quicker in Shen Yuan’s direction, threading delicate veins of qi into the generated wind to ensure it’s pleasantly cool. Satisfied, Shen Yuan settles back in, starting up one of his charming lectures about the fauna of Luo Binghe’s world. 

Luo Binghe listens more to the cadence of Shen Yuan’s voice than to the words themselves. He doesn’t often find it necessary to know the ecological features of a beast in order to slay it, or to capture it for Shen Yuan’s zoo, or to cook it into a proper meal. 

Still, this is what Luo Binghe likes best - what he likes even more than sex, which he’d thought to be his favorite activity from the ages of 17 to 132. 

Lounging on the ground, Shen Yuan sat snugly in his lap and held close by Luo Binghe’s free arm, allowing himself to be pet and cuddled as if it were a natural part of a trip to see some ugly birds migrate - 

Pressing his nose into the nape of Shen Yuan’s neck, left bare by Luo Binghe’s own hands that had been responsible for putting Shen Yuan’s hair up in its current complicated hairstyle - 

Idly fanning Shen Yuan to keep him cool even even while Luo Binghe himself is the greatest source of heat when pressed so close in the summer sun like this -

Over a century into his so-called happy ending, Luo Binghe has rediscovered his greatest pleasure to be physical affection of a non-sexual sort, and Shen Yuan gives it as freely as he breathes.

Oh, he fusses and complains and acts as if he must be coaxed into loving Luo Binghe, but it is such a poor act that Luo Binghe can’t help feeling nothing but warm indulgence towards it. 

“Don’t be so bold,” Shen Yuan will scold when Luo Binghe buys lube without hiding his identity, and yet in the next moment he’ll casually thread his fingers between Luo Binghe’s to hold his hand all the way through their walk down the main street of town.

“Who taught you to act like this, ah?!” Shen Yuan will complain when Luo Binghe ensures his subordinates know what an honor it is to be allowed to look at Shen Yuan, but then it will be Shen Yuan himself who will seat himself directly at Luo Binghe’s side instead of any more appropriate location for a Lord’s wife.

“There’s no need to be so sticky,” Shen Yuan will sigh when he catches Luo Binghe practically running back from the kitchens with breakfast, eager to return to his sweetheart’s side, but then Shen Yuan will happily eat from Luo Binghe’s own chopsticks, even during meals taken in the main dining hall.

Despite all his aired grievances, Shen Yuan himself breaks countless social boundaries a day without even blinking. He truly thinks nothing of it, believing these gifts he presses into Luo Binghe’s heart to be nothing but normal for a couple. Normal! As if Luo Binghe has not heard tavern songs about the Demon Emperor’s shameless new male wife, spun by every servant and enemy alike that has visited the palace and been struck to flustered embarrassment at the way Shen Yuan acts!

Luo Binghe wants to roll Shen Yuan up in one hand and eat him. He dared to say as much to Shen Yuan, once; Shen Yuan had merely rolled his eyes and told him that he wasn’t into “vore.”

(Luo Binghe had made a note to research this “vore” when they next returned to Shen Yuan’s world. He’s learned that he can coax Shen Yuan into a great many number of things, if he does it slowly and lovingly enough. The delay will give Luo Binghe time to figure out a way to both take Shen Yuan’s flesh and blood into his own without then being left without a Shen Yuan to hold in his arms.)

Certainly, some part of Luo Binghe knows this quirk in Shen Yuan’s behavior to be a byproduct of the world Luo Binghe had stolen him from. The standards for modesty are warped in that place, and Shen Yuan had been gently raised by the hand of that world to not notice anything odd about it. 

A god is no less sacred for having come from the heavens where more gods reside, though. Nor does a man feel faith to any of those supposed unseen gods when one presently sits in their lap, free to worship with prayer and touch alike. None of the other people of Shen Yuan’s world had offered Luo Binghe something so precious as the free flowing love that Shen Yuan shows him. None of them had been so foolish, and so sweet, and so carelessly thoughtful despite a cute mean streak hidden within, and -

“Bing-ge,” Shen Yuan calls, and Luo Binghe bites at Shen Yuan’s neck to prove he’s listening. Shen Yuan sighs. “Bing-ge, you aren’t listening to a word I say.”

“I am,” Luo Binghe says, “I just bit you to prove it.”

“Wha - how does that prove - oh, you’re hopeless!” Shen Yuan cries, squirming again, this time with a stronger intention.

Displeased, Luo Binghe casts aside the fan he’d been using to cool Shen Yuan, moving instead to curl both arms around Shen Yuan’s middle. When Shen Yuan keeps squirming, he trails one hand down to rub at Shen Yuan’s thigh, listening for Shen Yuan’s indignant protests. Luo Binghe may have grown drunk on the simple act of holding Shen Yuan without the need for it to be sexually pleasurable, but he isn’t above using sex to keep Shen Yuan close if he must. He refuses to give up even a millimeter of contact with this precious person unless there is no other option. 

“You’re insufferable,” Shen Yuan complains, slapping at Luo Binghe’s creeping hand several times. “We’ll miss the migration we came all this way to see if you keep this up!”

“I’ll miss Yuan-er’s closeness the most,” Luo Binghe says gravely, and Shen Yuan snorts.

“Insufferable,” he repeats, and then gives his most put-upon sigh. “Can’t you just settle for holding my hand for at least until the birds leave?”

Happily, Luo Binghe stops feeling Shen Yuan up and intertwines their hands instead. Shen Yuan praises him for his patience, as if the simple feeling of their palms pressed together isn’t more pleasurable than the greatest heights of ecstasy found in any bed. 

One day, Luo Binghe will confess this to Shen Yuan: that he’s truly deviated far too much from the erotic character Shen Yuan had read all about in that other world. That somehow, when it’s Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe feels so overwhelmed with simple affection that his greatest desires are as chaste as a young boy’s. Oh, he still enjoys the sex, but -

But ah, what he really loves most is this.

[floatyflowers]

Dark Husbands! Vampire, Merman, and Faerie x Human! Reader

Merman

Azure is very protective of you, his human wife, you, and he doesn't like it when other humans or merfolk try to get close. 

He will wrap his tail around you, glare at the intruders, and growl softly to warn them off. 

Also marks you with his scent and bites, to show that you belong to him.

The merman is fascinated by your culture and customs, and he wants to learn everything about them. 

He asks you many questions, listen to your stories, and try to imitate your actions actions.

 He will also collect various human objects that he finds in the sea, and give them to you as gifts. 

Makes you drink a potion every week so you can breathe underwater.

He will be very proud and happy when you praise him for his efforts.

Azure is very affectionate and attentive, and he loves to pamper you.

By bringing you fresh fish, seaweed, and pearls, and make you a cozy nest in his underwater cave.

The merman prince massages you with his hands and tail, sing to you with his beautiful voice, and cuddle with you for hours. 

Will tell you how much he loves you, and how lucky he is to have you

The merman is very curious and adventurous, and he likes to explore the ocean with you.

 He will show you the wonders of the sea, such as coral reefs, sunken ships, and exotic creatures. 

Azure teaches you how to swim, breathe underwater, and communicate with marine animals.

Very protective of you during your journeys, and will  make sure that you are safe and comfortable.

He will be very upset if you ever him alone, or decide to go back to the surface world. 

In the end, he convinces you that the ocean is better than the land, and that he is the only one who can make you happy.

"I want you to carry my eggs"

Vampire

Dracula is very cruel and sadistic, and he enjoys torturing you.

He will bite and scratch you with his sharp nails while being intamate with you.

The king of vampires will also force you to drink his blood, which will make you sick for days.

Might mock and humiliate you, just to try and break your spirit.

Your vampire husband is very arrogant and selfish, but he cares about your financial needs.

 Never ignores you nor neglect you, because you are always on his mind.

Will lock you up in his mansion, isolate you from the outside world, and monitor your every move. 

Using his powers to, he compels you with his mind, erase your memories, and manipulate your emotions. 

He will make you dependent on him and loyal to him.

Dracula is very dangerous and unpredictable, and he likes to play games with you. 

By challenging, testing and tricking you, He will never let you know what he is thinking or feeling, or what he is going to do next. 

He makes sure you fear him and crave him.

"I might turn you, very soon, my dear"

Faerie

Your husband, Zephyr, tricked you into marrying him, how? You may ask.

He simply told you his real name.

You see, the only ones who know Faeries's real names are their parents.

So, when a Faerie tells a human their name, it is like marriage in their world.

Yeah, that's how you ended up marrying your Faerie husband.

Zephyr kidnapped took you back with him to his realm to live in his home, which is now yours.

He is very romantic and loves to surprise you with little gifts and tokens of his affection. Zephyr often brings you flowers or other small trinkets that he has found on his travels.

However, he turns nasty when he is jealous, after all, faerie creatures are naturally born evil and deceiving.

So, when he sees some faeries bullying you for your appearance.

He murders them in the most vicious way right in front of your eyes.

Something which traumatized you.

The fact that he didn't get punished is because simply he is the Faerie's king nephew.

"Don't worry, my love, no one is going to ever make fun of your appearance again"

[alienpossession]

Skillful Masseuse

A gift for @mindmelter

"How does he feel? All good inside of him?"

"Man.....you really did some number down there. Fuck, my mind feels foggy, I think you really managed to squeezed out every last bit of him that I don't want to consume,"

"Yeah well, practice makes perfect. You are like....what, my 78th guy or something? It's unacceptable if I cannot empty a guy consistently by the time I reached the 50th guy. Ah, yeah, the 50th guy, that was the biggest one, and the one giving me the toughest fight,"

"Well, entertain me while I recover then. Tell the story,"

"Oh, okay. So, it's this guy named Tamir. A big tank of a guy, Russian or something along those lines. As you know, I never started from the face for direct takeover rightaway, I started it as a real massage to lower their guard down. But of course I lathered your kind all over the body so you guys can scan the body first and absorb all the muscle memory while numbing it to the point of temporary paralysis. I think he noticed something is wrong right away because he immediately grunted

"Grrr.....why the fuck...uhhh... your oil is so fucking cold??? This is like...ffhhhuuuhh.... fucking frost bite,"

"It's what makes it special, just calm down sir. This will start to feel real good soon," I said to him back then to calm him down.

Yes he eventually calmed down, but moments later, when I lathered your kind on his neck, he started to tremble as he realized that his whole body already stiffened.

It was too late, of course, and soon I witnessed the whole liquid merged into one form and moved upward. Imagine my surprise when he flailed like a fish getting captured, his body trembled violently I thought it would snap in half and he even fell from the massage board! I legit thought your kind failed to tame him, I almost sprayed an entire bottle to his face out of panic. But luckily, he dropped back to the floor like a log as your kind rolled into his wide-open mouth. Of course he then proceeded to gave me the harshest fuck I ever received, I was unable to walk normally for 4 days and have to cancel some appointment because of that. He, being inside a shady businessman, just chuckled when I confronted him about my injury and simply thrown me 20,000 dollar as if it was nothing

"Just shut up and keep on converting, whore. You're not going to talk back to my kind as if we did not pay you back way better than what you serviced us," he said to me

"Wow, that's rude," lamented the latest client, towel already dropped to the floor

"Yeah, very. But he humiliated me further when he pointed out about my raging hard-on,"

"HAHAHAHAHAH, you got hard from all that? Man, that's on you! Me, if I got disrespected like that, oh I wouldn't let that slide,"

"Well, I did inform the most senior out of all of you for the 50th guy verbal insult. Let's just say, he got punished properly for crossing the line against me,"

"Oh fuck......what happened?"

"Oh, you'll know by yourself later. Your kind love to tell stories and gather around in country clubs etc. acting like you are talking about big business stuff when you are all just in fact sharing sex stories and scandals of your own kind. My message is, just don't be a dick to me and you'll be fine,"

"But I can put a dick inside of you, and I'll be totally fine, right?" smirked the taken over scientist, his cock elongated to a decent 7 incher and throbbed excitedly

"How else you guys would pay me after all?" Andrew said with a smirk, the fateful encounter earlier this year really turned everything around for him

----

Andrew has been a masseuse for the past 2 years, but his clientele remained small and he required an extra job just to stay afloat, especially with the cost of living that skyrocketed. Of course he would never expect that somehow his massage oil package got tainted by a mad scientist with a confidential project currently worked on by NASA.

Surprised to see the ripped package in his front porch after his day job, plus the fact that he got an appointment later that evening with no more oil left, Andrew decided not to complain or requesting refund about the opened packages.

Everything went per usual. The client, named Zaid, is a regular, so he casually just stripped to his underwear and let Andrew worked his way. Just imagine Andrew's surprise when his client that seemed fine for the earlier part of the massage suddenly started to speak about the stiffness all over his body.

Andrew checked the bottle of the oil and the expiry still lasted for some times, so this is not the oil issue. Is it his movement, then? When he started to get frantic, his surprise doubled when a translucent, viper-like creature the size of a pencil hovered right below Zaid's lips. That viper-like creature, within seconds, then jabbed itself into Zaid's nose and that made him yelled in pain. That's when the creature split into two and infiltrated Zaid from both his mouth and his nose. It all happened so quickly, Andrew didn't even manage to scream as he just froze in his place, thinking that his client just died under his watch caused by some kind of freak creature. But everything turned out to be far from over as the once-screaming-and-writhing Zaid calmed himself down before opening his eyes. That's when Zaid then said

"Hello, human. Nice to meet you,"

And of course Andrew passed out

He woke up with the morning light already entered the apartment, only to realize that he's no longer in his apartment and Zaid is walking around shirtless

"Oh hey there you, finally, you wake up!"

"Oh God, Zaid, are you okay? Your body no longer feel stiff? What about that creat---"

"Pssst.....stop that. Here, let me show you what I've learned while you fell asleep,"

And that afternoon, not only Zaid shared about all his findings, he also revealed that the he's actually no longer Zaid, as the viper-like creature is already in control of his body. It explained its origin, the test NASA conducted on them and the experimentation they conducted, the mechanics on the takeover, and how Zaid already take the decision to uproot Andrew from his flat and take the masseuse under his wing

"Zaid here got plenty of friends that can be used for my kind. Will you kindly help us?"

And so, the takeover spree started. The easiest one? Zaid's roommate who was surprised when Zaid revealed that they would have additional occupant in the apartment. When the roomie protested, Zaid just sprayed him with the oil right on his face as it then stiffened moments later.

"This makes for a quick takeover, but I find it not as hot as when you unknowingly rubbed my kind all over the human body. I want you to use that skillful hand of yours and give those oblivious human the most pleasure possible before they realized how fucked they are,"

His taken over roomie quickly agreed,

"I have to rub one out before finally feeling this good. So, stick to your method and ensure all our kind received this Earth-shattering entrance as they ride on that orgasmic wave of pushing over the last remnant of the original owner of the bodies, okay? Melt their mind into cum!"

That's exactly what Andrew did ever since. With Zaid and his roommie giving rave reviews about Andrew, soon, Andrew's clientele grew massively. It reached stratospheric high he never dared to dream before thanks to the alien-converted men that endorsed him despite Andrew's so-so massaging skill. But, practice indeed makes perfect and Andrew indeed gets better at his craft with more clients handled by him as his hands methodically kneading, cupping and applying pressure with his special oil all over the body of his clients.

When they got too comfortable and their bodies already numb, that's when the alien strikes and mere minutes later, a brand new entity is in possession of the fine studs. Have they ever seen it coming? Up until now, none, never, not once, based on the memory reading of the possessed. All of them too relaxed to even put up a fight, not even the strongest man can get out from the trap and most of them even thought that the massage was that good, their body turned hella weak.

With still a bottle left, Andrew is about to finish his duty helping the alien. But it's not like the alien ever thinking to dispose him. Instead, the alien wanted to introduce Andrew to their savior. Based on their latest intel, the scientist is alive but he's in hiding as countless government organization is on the lookout for him and also still searching where the heck the scientist disposed the last surviving bits of the alien samples. Of course they will never suspect the alien samples to be poured into 5 different bottle of massage oil in a random New Mexico's suburb.

[drabblesbyjubs]

Just Need Time

Astarion x gn! Tav Reader, Astarion is pent up but also wants to please the reader, he makes himself want to have sex with reader but reader stops him and helps him figure out what he really wants. Fluff, smut, a little bit of angst. Minors DNI

Tws// mentions of sexual trauma, Astarion’s backstory stuff, mild disassociation for a few minutes, trauma, mild spoilers for non ascended Astarion’s ending, sexual content and smut

.

I want everyone to know that I got stuck working an 8 hour shift as a cashier on my last day of work so I wrote this between customers, enjoy and here’s to my new job

Time with Astarion is sacred.

After nearly losing him multiple times throughout your journey to rid yourselves of the mind flayer parasite, you’d come to appreciate every second you spent with him. Every moment during the day, snuggling and spending time with one another, and spending the nights running through Faerûn and enjoying the adrenaline of exploration, it was all beyond precious to you both.

But especially to Astarion. For the first time in two centuries, he belonged to himself; he could go where he wanted, do what he wanted, be what he wanted. He was free.

That didn’t mean he was alright, though.

Being with you had helped. You’d shown him freedom, devotion, and everything he’d ever wished he could have had in a partner. But part of his mind was still stuck in that dark, dank crypt, the smell of mildew festering in his lungs, the fear at the sound of every footstep lurking in his heart. The nights he was let out, but not to be free, only to use his body to gain some innocent soul’s trust and bring them back for him to take out his most wretched fantasies on.

Astarion was usually the victim of these fantasies, but if Cazador truly did what he wished with Astarion, well, there would be no more Astarion to take out those fantasies on.

Those memories plagued his mind nearly every night. He often woke from the nightmares feeling utterly emotionless, numb to the world. Fear aches low in his heart, and he would roll over and scoot up to you. You took him in to your arms with no question; you already knew.

Sometimes he would jolt out of bed, too enveloped by the memories to realize it was you next to him. He would become defensive, either scared of you or insisting you leave before he came back. When he snapped back to reality, he was utterly humiliated, but you never shamed him, always made him feel like everything would be okay, and he would forget about the terrors of the night before by the time you two set out for adventure after sunset.

He wanted more than anything to be like a normal person; completely comfortable in his relationship, never a fear that things would go awry, blindly trusting and accepting of everything you did. You understood why he couldn’t be like that, and did your best to make him feel as close to normal as he ever could. And gods, did he love you for that. You were utterly hypnotizing, he would tear out his heart with a stake if you asked him; hell, he would carve the stake himself. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

And even if you assured him he owed you nothing at all, not even a passing glance, he wanted to give you something to make you happy.

He often gave you wildflowers, knowing you always liked the bright colors and soft petals, or smooth, shiny rocks he found down by the creek, or little rings and necklaces he bought with his dwindling gold supply when the two of you went in to town. But he still often felt like the only thing he could do right enough to truly make others happy was sex.

It was practiced, it was routine. Use his body to make someone feel good, make a few pretty faces, and it was done. There was something safe in the familiarity of it, though the sheer gut wrenching disgust that followed after never sit right with him.

You hadn’t hesitated to agree when Astarion had asked if you two could stop having sex for a while. Your sexual activity had dwindled anyways; you’d often told him you were just tired, or wanted to make sure you had plenty of energy for the coming day. Part of him knew you could tell he didn’t really want it, but he chose to believe you just wanted a break, and it was relieving to not have to perform. It was a weight off of his shoulders.

But more recently, he’d been pent up. He found himself craving release; of course he thought of coming to you for help, but the thought of having to perform, to make you feel good and owe you that pleasure after he takes his own, it sent a writhing sensation under his skin. As much as he liked the thought of seeing your eyes filled with arousal, he didn’t want that feeling of perform. Continue. No choice. Earn your life, bring him someone.

But he wanted to make you happy. He had done this so many times before; why not once more, just to see you satisfied? You must be pent up as well after so long of dealing with his unwillingness to give you something so simple. It was the least he could do. He would achieve the release he’d began to crave, you would be happy, and he would know you would stay with him and know he cared for you.

..

Astarion rolled above you, that mischievous smirk on his face as he looked down at you. You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “Someone’s in a playful mood tonight,” you teased, to which Astarion hummed.

“Whoever could that be?” He muttered, leaning down and capturing you in a kiss. You felt his tongue swipe across your lower lip, but before you could grant him entrance, he pulled away, before moving to mouth softly at your neck. You hummed, your chest fluttering as you inhaled. You could feel his lips move against you, his tongue swiping over the scars of old bites, his canines brush dangerously over the delicate skin of your neck.

You put your hands on his chest and muttered, “Mmh, Astarion, what’s going on?”

“Hmm?” He hummed in a questioning tone.

“You don’t normally act like this,” you breathed. “Is everything okay?”

“So sweet for asking,” he murmured. “Just pent up. I want you, if you’ll have me.”

You scanned over his face; nothing seemed off. He seemed genuine. You weren’t sure why he was offering though; this wasn’t like him. Maybe he was actually just pent up?

“You promise you’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much?”

“Of course, love,” he breathed against your neck, softly nipping at the skin there, threatening to break skin.

You nod, hands running up his sides. “Okay. As long as you promise.”

Astarion gave a pleased sound, his hands snaking under your shirt. Calloused fingertips brushed against your skin, before pulling your shirt up above your head and leaning down to kiss at your shoulders, mouth at your collarbones, and nip at your chest.

You gave a shaky sigh, your hand running over his back, savoring the way he arched against the touch. He was good at this, no doubt, but it always hurt you to think of *why.*

Astarion leaned back, staring down at you almost hungrily. He pulled his own shirt over his head, and you leaned up to run your hands over his chest and his stomach, before leaning in to kiss at the little dimple between his collarbones. He was always finicky about kissing his neck, especially on the side Cazador bit him on, and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, so you stuck to his shoulders and chest for now.

His hands found your waist, and as you pulled away from him, you saw the slightest flicker of hesitation in his eyes before he pushed you down to the bedroll and pulled your hips up against his, softly grinding against the curve of your ass.

You weren’t worried about that, though; you saw the way his eyes had slowly grown foggy and distant, the loss of expression, and the way his touches became almost rhythmic, nearly robotic; practiced and routine.

“Stop,” you said.

Astarion snapped out of it in an instant, present here and now once more. “Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?”

“Hun,” you leaned up, scooting your hips apart from his and gently cupping his cheek. “You don’t want this. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I do!” Astarion insisted, “Gods, I want this, please, I’m sorry, just let me-“ he hurriedly began grabbing at your hips, trying to pull you closer,

“Darling, stop.” You said, more assertively this time. His shoulders slumped and the look in his eyes broke your heart; he looked desperate, but not for sex. He looked so disappointed in himself.

“Come here,” you whispered, pulling him in for a hug. “Do you remember when I told you you don’t owe me anything?” He didn’t hug you back, but his forehead rested against your shoulder, and he gave a brisk little nod.

“But I do want it,” he said. “I just… I don’t want to have to give back, or be touched, or just… I don’t know, but I want something, and I-“

You hushed him, sensing his growing stress, running your fingers through his hair. You turned to kiss his temple, and he gave a happy little sound.

“I think I get it. You want to keep your control of your body, but don’t want to have to feel like you owe me pleasure either?” You questioned. He gave a brisk little nod.

“That’s alright. Astarion, we don’t have to do anything like this, I never want your to feel pressured, and-“

“But I do want… something like this.” He rebutted. “I just… want a little. I don’t know. I really am pent up. I’ve tried handling it myself, time and time again… I’ll sneak off into the woods and… and try and rid myself of these desires. But it… just… never works. I cant… I just cant. Not alone.”

You furrowed your brow, feeling just how embarrassed he was with the way he shuffled and squirmed against you, clutching at your sides.

“You mean… you can’t touch yourself, or..?”

“I can’t finish,” he corrected, his words rushed and jumbled.

“Oh,” you said. You kept running your fingers through his hair, taking a moment to think. You could tell how much this embarrassed him, just by how he was acting. “That’s alright, Astarion. What do you want me to do to help?”

“I… don’t know,” he breathed. “I just… I’m frustrated, i need something..”

“Would it be too much for me to touch you like that right now?” You asked him.

He nodded his head, and you pulled back, looking at him as you gently cupped his cheek in your hand. “Use your words, baby boy.”

Red eyes looked up to meet your own, and you couldn’t help but smile at him, if only to comfort him. “Yes, i think that would be too much right now. Maybe… maybe I could… i could touch myself and you can just… be here?”

You flushed a little with his words, but you nodded and kissed the tip of his nose, savoring the way he smiled.

“That sounds wonderful,” you said. “Here,” you began shifting him and yourself.

You moved so he was laying on his side, you laying behind him. Your chest was pressed to his, and you felt the full body shudder that went through him. “This okay?” You asked, and he nodded. You cuddled up to his back, and hummed to him, “Then go ahead, my love. Do what you want.”

Astarion shuddered and you could feel him moving to slip a hand under the hem of his pants. You gently rested a hand on his hip, not sensing anything saying he disliked the touch. His breathing slowly started to pick up, and you could feel him palming himself softly before slipping his cock from his trousers. You hummed your approval, whispering to him, “That’s a good boy.” He whined low in his throat, and you felt his arm start to move as he began stroking himself. You couldn’t see at this angle, but you felt the way his body would slowly start tensing, his chest rising, could see the way he tried to bury his face in the pillow, knowing you were right behind him as he touched himself.

You muttered soft coos of approval to him as he chased his pleasure, each of your words making his breath hitch just a little more.

You hummed, “So good for me, my love, making yourself feel good. Love watching you like this.”

You could so easily ignore your own arousal if it meant you got to witness his. He was beautiful.

Astarion gasped, “D-darling, gods… the way you talk to me, hah, makes me… fuck, I need it…” he trembled and began stroking himself faster, throwing his head back against your shoulder. You smiled against his neck and kissed the pale skin softly, feeling the way it made his entire body shudder. His breathing slowly turned in to whines, desperate and strained.

Your hand ran up to his chest, brushing over the soft skin, savoring the little twitch he gave when your hand ran over his nipples, moving to feel over his rib cage as you whispered how beautiful he was, making himself feel good like this.

You kissed his temple, the saltiness of his sweat clinging to your lips. You caught a glimpse of that beautiful face when he tilted it back to arch himself; brow furrowed, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. “Gods,” you breathed, his red eyes fluttering open. You leaned up to kiss him, not even attempting to look down and see him desperately chasing his release, knowing that catching a glimpse may be too much for him.

You buried your face back in his neck, and he gave a high pitched whine, gasping, “C-can’t… fuck, love, ah, please, I can’t do it, please, help me,” the last words came out as a mere whisper, and you could feel how frantically he was moving in attempting to chase his release. Worried he would hurt himself, you whispered to him, your hand slowly trailing down his hips to rest on his upper thigh.

“May I touch you?” You asked.

“Please,” he nearly sobbed, letting himself go and grabbing your wrist to guide you to his cock. You wrapped your hand around him, heavy and hot in your palm. He was so hard, gods it must have hurt.

You stroked him softly, your thumb swiping over his tip and smearing his precum over himself. He whimpered, still holding your wrist, and you could feel the way his entire body trembled. “Please,” he whispered.

You kissed the back of his neck, mouthing at the flesh there softly as you set your pace, stroking him and smearing his pre over the head, making your hand much slicker to give him a feeling that, if his whimpers and trembles said anything, must be quite lovely.

He jolted and whined, his cock twitching in your hand. You could tell he was close, losing himself to the pleasure, one hand having a death grip on your wrist and the other tangled in the furs of the bedroll. You’d never seen him so lost to himself.

He gasped, “I’m gonna-!” Not even able to get out his warning before your felt his release coating your hand. You stroked him through his orgasm, savoring his gasps, catching the slightest glimpse of a furrowed brow and open mouth, eyes squeezed shut, tears threatening to spill from the corners.

“That’s it, hun,” you breathed to him. “That’s a good boy. Let go for me.”

You kept stroking him until he gave a particularly harsh jolt, with which you withdrew your hand and wiped it on some miscellaneous clothing tossed near your bedroll. You kissed the back of his neck, savoring the silence for a moment.

Astarion was the first to speak. “Thank you,” he said.

“I hope it was to your liking. It wasn’t too much?”

“No, it was wonderful. I… needed that. Do… you want me to take care of you?” He rolled over to face you, glancing down to your trousers. You could see the unease stirring in his eyes at the thought alone

You shook your head. “Tonight was about you. I’m just happy I got to see that pretty face when you came,” you teased, fighting a laugh at Astarion’s shocked and embarrassed expression.

“Gods, you’re truly insufferable sometimes.”

“Same to you, my love,” you teased, kissing the tip of his nose and pulling him in close. You pulled a blanket up over his waist to give him some cover, to which he hummed his appreciation and nuzzled in to your chest, sleep catching the both of you and luring you into its embrace.

[3liza]

everyone arguing with material analysis/assertion about how art is a "luxury" has rarely if ever spent rent or food money on art, if they even pay rent or buy their own food, and if they did that would be considered extremely dysfunctional, and thats what i/we mean. artists are not providing a necessary service.

our plane crashes in the Andes and you are not particularly excited about my "can draw that Playboy centerfold of Marge Simpson from memory" like that is not an essential survival skill. lots of extremely skilled workers work in luxury artisan and craft jobs, it's not an insult to say even a very famous and very talented and influential artist is not producing a commodity necessary for the furtherance of human life. none of us are doing that, no matter how we stretch and strain the definitions of "essential" or even things like "morale" or "group identity". i will burn my copy of Finnegan's Wake to stay warm and thats what it comes down to.

i get foamy crazy snarling and biting about the idolization and obfuscation of what artists actually do because it is a labor issue! the public conception of artists as people possessed of a divine talent they dont consciously work to develop like any other skill, and the public idea that we are simply pleased and privileged to make art all day and "not work", something people say to my face every time i get asked "what i do", is largely responsible for the absolute dogshit reality of how subsistence and working class artists have to survive. we usually dont have health insurance unless we're so poor we qualify for medicaid AND live in a state that will enroll us. most of us are too disabled or crazy to go to a real job every day. most of us have tried, over and over, to enter the normal workforce, and have failed, and been forced to develop alternate skills that allow us to make rent in the ten hours per month we're actually functional. many of the artists i know work from bed because standing up is dicey. this has been turned into a charming eccentricity of famous artists and writers instead of people wondering why a person would need to stay in bed all day and take the enormous bother of bringing their stupid pens and paper and writing board or typewriter or whatever to their bed instead of just getting up and getting dressed and going to work. ive done this, i spilled ink in my sheets. its a huge hassle.

and artists play along with this mystique because people dont want to buy paintings from sadlords! they want to buy paintings and books and marge simpson nudes from cool guys who get a lot of chicks and wear rockstar outfits and party a lot, because of the transitive properties! of course!!! this is basic marketing!!!!! and if the artist doesnt play along they turn into Sad Story Artist where they're doing emergency commissions and posting about how sick they are all the time. this is not cool or fun or sexy. it's a sand trap and its very hard to recover from. im struggling with this right now!

famous and successful artists and writers are constantly ending up 60-90 years old with cancer and multiple sclerosis and dementia, being the subject of some sort of public, last-ditch, humiliating GoFundMe because painting paperback covers fr 60 years means you dont get a pension, you often dont even have kids who can take care of you, you dont have life insurance, you dont have health insurance. 'died penniless and alone' is one of the stereotypical artist endings for a reason, that is not fiction. this happened to more artists than i can list on two hands. look up what happened to Peter S. beagle, the guy who wrote The Last Unicorn. you write a book like that you should be set for life, right? NO. thats not how it works

i'm not saying 'all artists are disabled and working class or poor' because that isnt true, observably. nepo babies and trust fund artists exist, obviously. but they take an outsized portion of the spotlight when the public thinks of the concept of "artist". they are not actually the norm. the average artist is probably making under 40k and living in extremely precarious circumstances and has had periods of homelessness, illness, extreme debt and/or bankruptcy.

this is true even for the 'successful' artists. having one or two or ten good projects and being a household name does not save you from just not having the safety net provided by a normal career path. i was very close with a major, famous 2000s network television creator and team that you have heard of. they won awards, they changed culture entirely, they were a big deal. one of them was turned down for a half dozen projects by the same network that made millions or bilions on their franchise over several years (each pitch is completely unpaid btw, imagine carefully preparing a PowerPoint for morons for months at a time for no reimbursement and thent he morons ask you if you can put a teenage witch looking for her lost cat in the alps in it and you're like, haha, well, it's a 4 part hard sci fi miniseries set on Europa and takes place entirely inside a pressurized lander settlement, i mean Ridley Scot said he was interested already and he pitched a bottle episode about a carbon monoxide poisoning, soooooo....and the executives look at each other and they're like "it's jst not really what we're looking for right now, thanks for coming in" and you go to coffee bean and tea leaf and kill yourself and thats sort of what its like. i made that example up it didn't actually happen i'm using an illustrative example), worked on a canceled film, and just. gradually ran out of money. thats what happens. that guy ended up slowly selling off all his belongings, getting roommates in a one bedroom apartment, and then eventually having to just live on a friend's couch for years. famous guy. you probably know his name. another major member of that same team ended up in GoFundMe/commission hell for years (might still be there) because they had to take care of their two dying, dementia patient parents by themselves. these are people who go to GenCon and sign autographs for four hours at a time. THE PUBLIC IS NOT AWARE OF THIS SHIT and i'm sick of it. im sick of going to a gallery opening night ("vernissage") and drinking bad wine and having a guy with an email job that pays six figures and benefits tell me being able to push "undo" on the computer is cheating. that's a real example, that has actually happened to me. more than once.

artists currently have zero labor protections whatsoever. all of us are undercutting each other in an unregulated market and relying on welfare and private insurance and not having families or buying houses. zero security until we get so old all our illnesses and dysfunction finally ground us permanently and then we get turned into a charity case by fans (humiliating) or just fade away into ghosts and die

whats my punchline? idk i dont have one. it's possible and likely that any given artist you meet is permanently in precarity and will be until they die, even the famous ones. the culture of selling art demands that artists do not admit to this in public unless shit gets really really bad. i guess my point is you should know this, as a person who looks at or listens to or reads things that people have made for your amusement, not for your survival

[miley1442111]

Heyyyy are you still requests?? If yes..................

Last night i relived a painful memory when a loved person told me to shut up in front of our friend group and it was so humiliating and overwhelming, i went dead silent for the rest of the month but still played cool with everyone and everyone knew i was destroyed, wasnt leaving home that much yet and the person who told me to shut up was going trough some shit (ON THAT DAY) and actually never apologized...

SO SORRY FOR THE VENT BUT IT WAS NECESSARY FOR THE PLOT I SWEAR.

What if the reader is the one being told to shut up by none other than RAFE CAMERON who is a very close friend and he told the reader to shut up out loud in the middle of a party in front of your friend group (Kelce and Topper) and the reader also play it cool but it collapse at themself like a dying star and all their light is sucked by the black hole it became. But unlike real life, Rafe doesnt need people telling him he fucked up and he felt terrible and a few weeks later he sees reader on a party, unusually quiet, being dragged by their friends around trying to cheer reader up and the reader still trying to play it cool but the damage was showing and maybe Rafe take the chance to approach you but he doesnt know what to say or what to do so he acts like nothing happened?? IM SORRY THIS IS SO CONFUNSING I JUST WOKE UP AND I HAD TO WRITE THAT BEFORE THE MEMORY FADED. Sorry if i made you feel uncomfortable, just ignore it if you didn like ittt!! I love your writting btw i'll never forget that one ask i did and you answered about Rafe choosing between reader and a lover!!!!

and ask 2:

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talking too much- r.cameron

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a/n: HELLO to the both of you! thank you two so much for requesting, and very sorry that this happened to you :( I'd let you talk my ear off about anything any time :) (ps, great song choice)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader

summary: i suggest you look at the requests

warnings: reader kind of loses her spark, rafe is a confused and stressed asshole, reader becomes very insecure, feelings of not being good enough, rafe gets very stressed at the end (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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It was finally nearing the end of June and you were planning your 4th of July party with your friends. Topper, Kelce, Rafe, you, Sarah, and a few of your other friends sat around the table, thinking up ideas for what parties to drop into, and what you were going to wear, etc. You were excited, that was no crime. You’d always been the most excitable in the group, it was just part of your bubbly personality, there was no issue with it. No one had ever been more than a little irritated with it before, no big deal. You’d just apologise and remember to tone it down for those people, but your closest friends weren’t those people. Your closest friends liked your personality, your closest friends liked you. It didn’t matter how loud you were. 

“And then I guess we’ll-”

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up?” Rafe cursed.

The room went silent. You stood still, frozen as people’s eyes turned to you. Sarah offered a look of sympathy, she knew how much you valued Rafe’s opinion, especially since you had a slight crush on him. You felt yourself recoil. How could he be so rude? All you were doing was giving ideas to the group, it’s not like anyone else was trying to speak much, and Rafe definitely wasn’t adding to the conversation. At least, he hadn’t been for the past hour, just sitting in the corner with his leg bouncing and that stupid vein protruding from his stupid neck. You slumped back in your chair, embarrassment filling your mind as you thought over every other interaction with him and the group. Were you annoying? Did they all actually hate you? 

“I don’t hear you talking much Rafe,” Sarah shot back. “Something to say?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Fuck off Sarah,” he scoffed and waited for you to bounce back and start speaking again. You didn’t. He looked up as the group started speaking again, going off of all the plans you’d started. You were just sitting there, on your phone. 

You just waited until someone actually asked you a question to give your input, and even then all you said was; “Sounds good.”

He’d fucked up. Big time. 

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

It had been a week since ‘the incident’, and Rafe hadn’t seen you. He felt awful, absolutely disgraced after what he’d said. He was stressed, it was a bad moment, and he took it out on you. He was sorry. But how was he supposed to tell you that? How was he supposed to explain how sorry he was, explain that he was just stressed? How would you believe him? You two had never been the closest in the friend group, not to say you two didn’t speak, but you two weren’t exactly attached at the hip like you were with Sarah, or Kelce. All you’d ever been to him was nice, not something he was sure he deserved, but he appreciated it all the same. 

How could he get back to that?

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

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Sarah begged over the phone. 

“I’m tired, I was working all day-”

“Come on, you’ve been dodging all week! 4th of July is coming up, I don’t want to hang out with Kelce and Top without you,” she whined, 

“I’ll be there for the 4th, I’m just busy right now,” you sighed. “I promise I’m ok,” you lied. 

“If you’re staying home because of what Rafe said, I’ll kill him,” she swore. 

“I don’t give a shit about what Rafe said,” lie. “I’m just busy, promise.”

Sarah sighed. “Alright, see you on the 4th!”

And with that, you hung up. The last week had been one long pity-party that made you feel even worse about yourself, deciding that your friends were better off without you, especially when you can’t even bounce back from one tiny insignificant comment from one random guy. That’s what you thought anyway. But now, you had 3 days before the 4th, and you weren’t sure how you were going to get the courage to face any of them. 

Not that they hadn’t reached out. Everyone who was there (aside from Rafe) had called or texted to ask if you were ok, and apologised for not saying anything. Kelce had felt the worst, since he was supposed to be your best friend, and he hadn’t said anything. You brushed them off, promising them it was fine, promising them you were fine. They barely believed you, but you somehow convinced them that you were busy. You told half of them that you were packing for your move, and the other half that you had gotten a job at your mom’s company. I mean, technically you were a few weeks out from moving away and you should be packing, and technically you did just get a job at your moms’ company (managing the online presence and doing admin work), but really both those jobs were easy. You could’ve done them for a few hours, then seen your friends. But you didn't want to. You didn’t want to feel like a burden. 

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The day of the 4th rolled around and Sarah picked you up with all the girls in the group in her car. You looked gorgeous in your short red dress, at least that’s what Sarah told you. You kept your mouth shut as the girls gossiped and sang along to songs, only interjecting when truly necessary. When you got to the beach, you managed to break away from the girls and get a drink, standing alone as you watched the night go by. You liked people watching, you found it interesting to see the small micro-expressions on peoples faces, the snippets of their conversations, and everything in between. 

“Hi,” Rafe smiled softly. He was in front of you, blocking your view of the people you were looking at. 

“Hi,” you answered meekly. 

He stood there for a moment as you tried to look over his shoulder, but the group were gone. You sighed in defeat and turned around to pour yourself another drink. 

“How are you?” he asked. 

“Fine thanks,” you answered. “You?”

“Good, fine… yeah,” the awkwardness in his voice almost made you physically cringe. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“It’s been like a week?” you questioned. In the past week, Rafe had realised how much he missed you, and how much you added to the group. He missed how you brightened up everyone, how you kept the peace by being close with almost everyone, how you made him laugh. 

“What have you been up to?” He scratched the back of his neck, his nerves almost getting the better of him, almost making him turn around and not do this. Almost.

“Not much. Working, packing, usual stuff,” you shrugged. 

Rafe’s expression faltered. “Packing?”

“I’m moving in a few weeks,” you explained. “So you won't see me for a while.”

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. 

Absolutely not. 

Rafe felt his stomach sink. “Why?”

“‘Why’ what Rafe?” you asked, genuinely confused. Why, out of all people, would he care?

“Where?”

“Just main-land, but a bit further into the city so I’m moving schools,” you shrugged.

“But it’s our senior year?”

“Yeah? And?”

“We all said we’d do it together, remember?”

“It wasn’t my choice to move,” you scoffed. “And also, why are you acting like this is new information? Tonight is my ‘last hurrah’ get-together. We’re doing the stupid sleepover.”

“W-what?”

“We didn’t invite you,” Sarah butted in. “You were a dick, now you reap the consequences.”

You rolled your eyes at the shocked look on Rafe’s face. “Night Rafe, see you around.”

Rafe stood frozen as you walked away, shocked. Had he really not been listening for so long? Had he really missed that? You were moving, you were gone. And there was nothing he could do about it. 

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obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[liahaslosthermind]

~ 𝐁𝐞𝐝𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞) ~

Past Rhysand x OC (Adelaide), Eventual Azriel x OC Part 8 of Betrayal Summary: Much is revealed in who visits Adelaide’s bedside, and who accompanies Azriel as he stays glued to it. (Part 1) Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Death of a loved one, Grief, Betrayal

The Shadowsinger hadn’t left Adelaide’s bedside willingly. For the past month, he had been rolled into her room in the wheelchair he was now practically bound to, as early as whoever had declared themselves his nursemaid for the day had gotten up. He wasn’t paralyzed, thank the Mother, but Azriel was so very weak, as if gravity had been pulling his limbs down, afraid he’d fly away without the pressure. 

It took great effort for him to move his arms and hands, he had given up on being able to move his legs without help. 

It was torture.

Azriel had spent 500 years relying on no one but himself. He valued his independence and solitude more than he had realized till it had been taken from him. 

He was never alone anymore. After three instances in which both him and Addie were found suffocating in their sleep, friends and family had all volunteered to watch over both of them in shifts. 

Humiliating wouldn’t convey the strong feelings Azriel felt as Cassian practically carried him out of bed into his chair. It was violating to have every single one of your actions watched closely, something the Spy Master had soon learned he wasn’t fond of. 

But as he looked at his best friend, unconscious in her bed, he knew he would take this kind of discomfiture if it meant he at least lived with the hope he would one day get to see her awake. 

“Thank you, Cas.” Azriel said as his brother helped lift the Shadowsinger’s hand so that he could play with Addie’s hair, a southing habit he had always done before she had passed. It was different now though. 

He could hardly feel her hair touching his fingers. She wasn’t awake to giggle at his sweet gesture.

“If you are going to mess my hair up more than it already is, Az, I’m gonna have to put you in charge of its maintenance.” Addie teased. She had been at war with her deep red curls ever since she had grown them. Even growing up in Day, with access to the best stylists and braiders in Prythian, hadn’t been able to tame her hair. 

“You know damn well the only person who can get your curls in order is Helion.” Rhysand amused. “I’d rather you not torture my head torturer with that job”. Adelaide just stuck her tongue out at her lover while Az chuckled softly, hoping his best friend wasn’t serious about her threat. 

He smiled at the memory, till the look of pure and incandescent love between Adelaide and Rhysand made his stomach turn. In the past, nothing filled him with greater joy than to see two of the people he cared most for in love, but those feelings had changed. 

He held the end to one of her braids Helion had been refreshing weekly. It was unnecessary as she hadn’t moved enough to take the braids out of their pristine condition, but Azriel knew it was more for the High Lord’s peace of mind. It was driving everyone crazy that they couldn’t do more for her. 

Just as he admired the High Lord’s handiwork, Helion walked into the room. 

They hadn’t talked much, unsure of how to start a conversation. They never really got the chance to meet in situations in which they were just Adelaide’s guardian and her best friend. 

There was a comfortable silence while Helion sat to the left of Adelaide, across from Azriel who, as always, was by her right hand side.

“I prayed for many years that she'd come home to me. At least for a bit. But not like this.” Helion finally spoke up. “Never like this.” 

“She often spoke about Day. No matter how long she spent in Night she always carried some part of your court with her. Whether it be her clothes, or how she decorated the River House.” Azriel offered, trying to comfort the High Lord who, in this moment, was just another person grieving. 

Helion chuckled, “Rhysand always complained about it. Said he was jealous he could never fully turn her into the ‘dark side’ of Night. But I think he secretly liked that no matter how much time had passed, Adelaide would always be Adelaide.”

His brother’s name felt like ice being poured onto Azriel in the moment. The two hadn’t spoken since Rhysand broke down in front of him, begging for forgiveness. He had also been banned from Adelaide’s room, Azriel even leaving Shadows to make sure he followed that order. But Rhys never got closer than a peak through the open doorway, clearly trying to make true on his promise to work hard to right all of his wrongs with both Az and Addie. 

“How can you stand it? To be around him after what he did?” Azriel asked, failing to keep the anger out of his tone. But Helion knew better than to think the anger was directed at him.

“You and I both know love isn’t black and white, Shadowsinger, neither is betrayal.” With that, he got up and walked out of the room, but not before placing a kiss on Adelaide’s head. 

Azriel scoffed at the philosophical answer Helion had given him, a far cry from the usual dirty humor and flirting the Young High Lord participated in. He had begun to actually think about what on earth he could have meant by that answer while alone with Addie.

As usual though, he wasn’t alone long as Cassian came back into the room, carrying the breakfast he had left the Shadowsinger with the High Lord to get in the first place. 

“What's with that face? Did Helion threaten to sleep with your mother?” Cassian amused. 

Despite the absolute hell Azriel had gone through, with the new hope in his chest, he was actually able to slightly laugh at his brother’s joke, even if it was just to make Cas feel better.

No one had been by his side more than the General. Despite the all consuming grief, and the trauma both Azriel and Adelaide had put him through, just as the idea that Addie could wake up had given Azriel a second chance, Cassian felt that two times over, knowing he could be getting both his brother and Addie back. 

“You are the one who threatens to sleep with mothers, Cas. But do remind me never to bring her around him.” Azriel replied gruffly. 

“Well never say never-” But before Azriel could question the General, he had a cup of tea being forced into his mouth. 

Following the humiliating meal, as all meals were now that Azriel could hardly feed himself, a silence washed over them, one that wasn’t as comfortable as with Helion. They too had a hard conversation to have. 

“I would have helped you, if you had told me.” Cassian confessed. Azriel just scoffed. “I’m serious. The Mother knows I’d do it for Nesta, I’d do worse actually.”

“You’d have locked me in a straight jacket had I told you an old book had followed me and I was going to use the one spell written in it to bring back my best friend.”

“Maybe, but I’d still help you while you were tied up.” 

The two Illyrians laughed, feeling some of the weight of their individual grief lift away. Azriel hadn’t realized how much he missed the company of his brother. The stupid and lighthearted conversations he hadn’t appreciated as much as he should have these past 500 years. 

Nesta had also been a common companion for Azriel during this time. Unlike her sisters, she had developed a strong relationship with Addie. 

“It’s still strange. Even after weeks I can’t stand seeing her like this, so weak and lifeless.” 

Azriel didn’t respond. Of course it was hard, but it beats the time she was actually lifeless. 

He knew what his sister-in-law meant though. Adelaide had been the one to stay with Nesta while she was grieving following being forced into the Cauldron. She would sit in the corner of Nesta’s room, not saying a thing as Nesta threw every hurtful word she could come up with at her, every item that hadn’t been glued to the floor. Fortunately, Az’s Shadows had been the ones to block the physical blows, but even he couldn’t understand how Adelaide had put up with Nesta’s verbal abuse for so long. 

She never moved from her chair, not when Nesta would have throttled her had she gotten the opportunity, not when Nesta sobbed in a ball on the floor. It wasn’t until the eldest Archeron sister had crawled to the red haired fae, finally at her limit and in need of any comfort she could get, that Addie had been more than a catatonic watchman. 

From then on she had let Nesta curl up to her on her bed, softly stroking her hair and humming until she fell asleep. She would tell Nesta about her time in the Day Court, correctly assuming that maybe the best way to acclimate her was to talk about the good that lived outside of all the bad Nesta had associated the Night Court with. 

While Adelaide and Nesta’s friendship had been built on an earned trust and need for comfort, Azriel and Nesta’s had been made on a mutual understanding of the things they wouldn’t say. Even when everyone else told Azriel how his actions impacted them, as if he had been thinking about how they would affect them when he had done it, Nesta conveyed all she needed him to know in the parts they wouldn’t say out loud. 

A simple hand on the shoulder, or silently fixing Azriel’s position without being asked so his muscles wouldn’t cramp up, he knew she was hurt not by what he had done but what he didn’t. 

He knew she wished so badly that he would have gone to her for help when he was in his darkest hours. 

Sometimes he wished he did too. 

“It's almost evening, you have a visitor coming soon” Nesta quietly said, as if approaching a wounded animal who might pounce at any second.

The uneasiness in her tone made him nervous. 

“What do you-” But he didn’t get to ask his question as the last person he had expected to see walked through the door. 

“Oh, my sweet boy, when I used to tell you stories about lovers resurrecting the dead, I didn’t think you’d take inspiration.” 

Azriel would have been less shocked at Eris Vanserra barging in and confessing his undying love for him than he was at seeing his mother in the doorway.

[makeyoumine69]

Call Me Babydoll 5

PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Patrick stays in your mind even after the disastrous Dorsia incident. Like a song you can't get out of your head, he continues to hum his sultry and sensual words and ways into your ears and heart. When he arrives unexpectedly with a surprise guest, he cannot deny that he is attracted to you. But is this even real?

CONTAINS: Angst, smut, masturbation (f), obsessive behavior, cursing and use of pet names, smoking, gaslighting & manipulation, humiliation & hyperfixation, Daddy kink, making out, marking, biting.

WORDS: 3.5k

A/N: Sorry to make you wait so long, I hope to get in shape soon and post more often!🥰

LINKS: [Ch.4]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]

Your mind was a complete mess, your heart nothing but glass dust. The echoes of your private conversation with Patrick on the outdoor terrace of Dorsia still lingered in your mind even after you returned home, though you couldn't remember how you made it since you had declined Bateman's offer to take you to your house.

The first thing you noticed when you crossed the threshold of your home was a strong, sweet scent of flowers. It was a familiar perfume that you already hated.

"Y/n? I thought you were already asleep in your room," and there she was - your father's girlfriend named Sophia, meeting you in the hall, smiling mischievously as she caught you doing something criminal. "Where have you been?"

Sophia was a middle-aged woman with Greek roots, she was really a nice person, always so kind and friendly to you, and most importantly - she never tried to replace your mother, for which you were very grateful. 

"I had dinner," you replied tiredly as you took off your coat. "Not a good one."

"Ouch…" She gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before continuing. "Don't be sad, honey. You're an incredible person and I'm sure that one day you'll meet the right person." Sophia cheered this, smiling as if her words were a prediction of the future. "With whom you will feel that everything is in the right place."

Sighing, you tried to master something close to a smile. "Thank you, Soph." As much as you wanted to share your worries with her, you couldn't because she could tell your father everything. "I'm so exhausted I could fall asleep right here."

"Go rest," she mused, watching you go upstairs. "Tomorrow your father and I are going to visit my family."

"Good luck with that." You replied before disappearing from her vision.

It was obvious that you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, thanks to the endless thoughts that looped in your head like a broken record.

Why did you ever think that a man like Bateman could really take you seriously? You felt deceived, embarrassed and madly frustrated, because at the end of the day, Patrick was just playing with you like a toy, twisting you perfectly around his finger. 

Fidgeting in your bed, you accidentally recalled the memories of the day he was here - you could still feel the remnants of his hypnotizing cologne as your sheets smelled of him. A lonely tear slid down your cheek, outlining the beautiful shape of your face - now so dull and dejected. 

If only you could rewind time and not allow him to get close to you, not even for an inch. Sobbing, you curled up like a kitten, pressed your knees to your chest and tried to drift off, but every time you closed your eyes - his gorgeous face popped up in your mind, making you believe that he really had blessed you with a curse. A curse to be obsessed with the man who would never be yours.

It had been a week since you had seen Bateman, and somehow you had even managed to live through your depression and hide it from your father, although it was quite difficult due to his numerous questions about your sad face and bad mood. At work, some of your co-workers were also trying to figure out what was wrong with you, so you finally decided to take a few days off to relax and get your life back on track.

In the morning of one of those days, you suddenly found yourself writhing on the sheets, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. With an irritated groan, you threw the blanket aside, accidentally touching your painfully hard nipples. 

Oh shit, not again.

Closing your eyes, you didn't even notice that you were dreaming about him for the third fucking time in a row. You let out a muffled gasp as your trembling hand snaked down your belly between your half-opened legs to the center of your desire.

It was just impossible to resist.

"Aww, Daddy," you moaned softly, imagining it was his hand caressing your taut folds. "Please...I need more..."

Embarrassed but absolutely horny, you spread your legs wider, letting your own digits slide along your dripping pussy, and kept picturing his beautiful face as he praised you for being such a good girl for him. 

A loud gasp echoed through your room at the memory of his velvety, deep voice, playing in your head as if Bateman was really here, next to you, his hand wrapped tightly around your trembling throat as he wanted nothing more than to bring you to your climax, to see you collapse right before his dark hazel eyes.

"Mmhm, Patrick..." you frowned and shivered, your ministrations growing more impatient as you rubbed circling motions into your throbbing clit while feeling the impending orgasm building in your core. "Patrick, Patrick, please!"

To muffle your obscene moans, you had to bite the pillow next to you as you reached your climax, never stopping to massage your feverish nub. 

'You are so naughty, Babydoll. Look at the mess you have made.'

The echo of his sexy voice resounded in your clouded mind, prolonging your intense orgasm and you couldn't help but cradle your breast, only to pinch your hard little tip as you craved more. 

But unfortunately, after the haze of ecstasy wore off and you were finally able to think clearly, the bitter realization that it was all an illusion washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you completely broken. It felt as if you had put all your energy into getting that high, and now you could barely move, feeling satisfied yet devastated.

Over the next few hours, you showered several times and refused to leave your room, no matter how much your father and Sophia tried to convince you. Shame and despair were eating you alive from the inside out, draining all your positive emotions like parasites.

Whenever you tried to distract yourself by reading, you were annoyed by your mind tricks because every character's name starting with the letter P automatically became 'Patrick'. 

You hated that man for infesting your mind, body, and soul. Before meeting Bateman, you even thought you were frigid, but now...now you were ready to climb on the walls from the consuming desire to be...possessed? Owned? Marked? 

A loud knock at the door interrupted your train of thought and you barely stopped yourself from squeaking - all these days, since you started having nasty dreams with Patirck, you felt like you were doing something bad and someone from your household could catch you. Quickly you approached the door to your room and after unlocking it, you let your vision - which turned out to be your father - in. 

"I thought you were taking a nap," he chuckled, but then his face changed when he saw your tired eyes. "Are you sure you're not sick, (y/n)?"

"I'm not sick, Dad," you rolled your eyes and crossed your hands over your chest, ready to be lectured again. "Did something happen? I was in the middle of proofreading."

Your father hummed, tilting his head to the side. "You took a few days off to work at home?"

Scowling with annoyance, you leaned against the door and mumbled: "It helps me relax and clear my head."

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that Patrick is here," you felt the ground disappear under your feet as he spoke. "He came to sign some papers and I thought you might like to join us in the living room. Soph made your favorite apple pie."

This information made your temples ache with tension, and you had to massage them to ease the stabbing pain. "Father, I... I'm not really in the mood for guests."

Especially when this guest was Patrick Bateman.

Your father just sighed and stepped back, which meant he wasn't going to try to convince you. Most of all, you hated to upset your family, even though you didn't want to see Bateman, not after the things that had happened to you during these long, crazy days.

"Okay, okay," you knew you would regret it, but now you didn't see any other option. "I'll be back soon."

With that, you closed the door, feeling the panic rising in your chest. It seemed that your father still thought that you were still on good terms with Patrick, since you had not told him anything about that damn dinner. Trying to pull yourself together, you quickly went to the mirror to freshen up a bit - the fact that you were worried about what Bateman would think of your appearance still bothered you, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Almost fifteen minutes later, you finally came downstairs, wearing a short black top and your favorite tight jeans, and no, you weren't trying to impress him - a little spice wouldn't hurt.

As you approached the living room, you began to hear a cacophony of different voices: your dad's, Sophia's, and another unfamiliar female voice that made you stop in confusion around the corner. Who was that?

"(Y/n), don't be shy, come here." Your father's comment made you frown and bite your lip in embarrassment as you felt like you were transferred back to your childhood.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the living room and immediately became the center of everyone's attention. Your eyes quickly found the owner of the unknown voice - a pretty blonde girl sitting next to Patrick with a small notebook in her elegant hands. 

Another blonde, huh? 

Putting on a friendly fake smile, you managed to hide your frustration and walked closer to the couch to take a seat next to your father, completely ignoring Bateman's intense gaze.

"Uh, this is Jean, Patrick's assistant," your father introduced the blonde girl to you, and she smiled shyly when you raised your eyes to her. "Jean, this is (y/n), my lovely daughter."

"Nice to meet you, (y/n)," Jean murmured and turned to look at Patrick, as if looking for his approval. When he said nothing, she continued. "Patrick has told me a lot about you."

"Really?" You replied skeptically, your hands already crossed over your chest as you desperately tried to keep your composure. "How nice."

Somehow your father managed to notice the growing tension between the two of you, and his little cough caught everyone's attention. "Sorry, my throat gets dry from time to time."

"No need to apologize, Mr. (y/l/n)," Bateman suddenly joined the conversation, causing you to almost jump in your seat. "How about your lovely daughter making us some drinks?" His white-toothed smile was blinding, but you did your best not to react to this provocation.

"Yeah, sure. I'll make them." You stood up quickly, seeing this as a great opportunity to escape.

"Let me help you!" Jean suddenly suggested.

"No no no, you don't have to!"

"Hey, let her help you," Patrick put forward and tapped Jean's knee several times, which you couldn't miss. "It's better not to refuse people's help, because we live in such a cruel world. You know what I mean, (y/n?)" 

His smug wink at you made your hands clench into fists, but you decided not to argue with him and just stumbled out of the living room, hearing Jean's soft footsteps behind you.

In the kitchen, the two of you didn't try to strike up a conversation, feeling uncomfortable but not hostile. With casual confidence, you took out two glasses and three cups under the attentive gaze of Patrick's assistant.

"Whiskey for the boys and coffee for the girls," you hummed to yourself, finally glancing at Jean, who was standing shyly in the doorway. "Maybe you want something else?"

"No," she gasped when you asked her. "Coffee is fine."

"Good."

As the blonde woman watched you make the coffee, she came closer and looked around the kitchen. "'Your house is very cozy."

"Thank you," you gave her a warm smile and picked up a silver tray for the cups. "My mother used to love an atmosphere like this," your sudden confession made you stop everything for a moment and Jean noticed your tension. "She would be very touched by your compliment."

The sad undertone in your words made the woman pause and think about what to say next, and you used the moment to get additional things for the coffee, including sugar, cream and vanilla. 

"I would only ask you to help me with this," you nodded at the nearly full tray. "And I'll take glasses and a bottle."

"Okay," Jean picked up some napkins before taking a deep breath. "Patrick was right when he said you were a lovely girl."

Frowning, you almost spilled the last cup of coffee when you heard those words. "Uh, I don't understand why you were talking about me at all."

"Well, we talked about you when I made the reservation for your dinner in Dorsia."

An awkward silence hung in the air for some time before you managed to pull yourself together and place all the cups on the shimmering tray. "Mmhm-yeah, that dinner was something, I have to admit," you let out a nervous chuckle, not wanting to remember the events of that evening. "Do you like him?"

"W-what?" Jean blushed almost instantly, her beautiful blue eyes averted from your curious gaze and she had to fix her stray lock of hair behind her ear. "He's my boss, and I like working with him."

"Is he a good boss?"

"Yes, he is."

Satisfied with her answer, you crossed your arms and grinned. "Glad to hear it, I mean seriously," you watched her bat her long eyelashes as you moved the tray over to her. "I think you two look great together."

Exhaling, Jean took the tray and giggled sheepishly. "What makes you think that anyway?"

"I just noticed the way he looks at you," you replied frankly, picking up the glasses. "Thanks for the help. Now I have to get a drink for the boys."

With that, you cast your most sincere smile before retreating from the kitchen, and once you were out in the hall, your face became blank and dull. The things you just said - were they just some kind of masochism? You kept asking yourself as you walked to your father's office, where he kept his favorite drinks that he only served to special guests.

Carefully, with cat-like grace, you touched a doorknob when you noticed that the door was half open. Concerned, you quickly turned around and when you saw no one, you quickly opened it and stepped inside, only to freeze in shock and it was a fucking miracle that you didn't let the glasses fall down on the floor.

Bateman was standing with his back to you, so at first you hoped he wouldn't notice, but as soon as you turned on your heels, the man spun around and the sight of you made him smile mischievously and absolutely charmingly.

"Wrong door?" Patrick chuckled and shifted his position so that you could now see him holding a bottle and a lit cigar in the other hand.

"You can't smoke in my house," you said in an irritated voice. "I'm serious."

"Oh, stop it," his mocking chuckle echoed in your ears, annoying you more and more. "Your father gave me permission. Besides, he told me he had a bottle of J&B, so I decided to take it myself, since you two were very slow."

Having said that, the man puffed on his cigar and blew several rings of smoke, causing you to cover your mouth as you started to cough. The sheer arrogance he radiated was poisonous and somehow suffocating, it was like a tight rope around your neck, no snuff could affect you like that.

"Why did you send Jean with me?"

"And why didn't you answer my calls?" Bateman interjected sternly, closing the distance between the two of you.

The sudden question made you lose your balance for a second. "Calls? What calls? I... I don't even understand what you're talking about."

With a cheeky grin, Patrick took a drag on his cigar and blew right into your face. "Hmmm, let me remember," he leaned against the door and cocked his head to the side. "The one right after dinner, and the one the next day, and the one two days after that."

It was strange, because all these days no one had ever told you about Patrick's calls, and you thought that if he had really made them, your father would definitely have told you, since he wanted you two to get along so much.

"All right, let's pretend that you really did call me, but I can't understand why?"

"You seemed very upset after dinner," the man strove to parry your provocative question, though his eyes glowed with the thrill of the challenge you were giving him. "I just wanted to check on you, since your old man is worried about you too much, and... I didn't need any trouble to close the deal."

Another disappointment.

"Business above all, huh?" No matter how hard you tried to hide the pain, your voice still sounded somber. 

"Shhh," his sudden touch on your lower lip caused something heavy to fall in your stomach. "Don't be like that, Babydoll. I'm just doing my job."

"Even now?" You taunted him blatantly, though your panting could be clearly heard in the room.

The sexual tension between the two of you was palpable in the air, but you both remained still, even when Bateman approached your neck to inhale your sweet scent, mixing it with the sharp smell of snuff.

What the hell were you doing? 

When Bateman pulled away to place the bottle on the nearby bookshelf, he grabbed the glasses you were holding so desperately that your fingers began to curl. Then the man squeezed the cigar between his white teeth and, with practiced ease, picked you up and carried you to your father's desk. As he set you down on the wooden tabletop, he didn't let you protest, pressing his large palm over your mouth.

"Now, now, little girl," he cooed, exhaling smoke before pulling you a little closer. "C'mere, I'm going to show you something."

Carefully but determinedly, Patrick grabbed your chin and drew you closer so that your mouths were barely an inch apart. Pressing his thumb along your lips, the man forced you to part them, and in the next moment, he blew some smoke into your mouth before sealing it with his own. Intoxicated by both the smoke and Patrick's sudden intrusion, your hands clutched desperately at his broad shoulders, cramping the expensive fabric of his pinstriped suit. After all these days of desperate need for his touch, this kiss was like a sip of water in the desert; it was vital and overwhelming. With every breath you took, Bateman's movements became bolder, less tentative and more demanding; his warm hand slipped under your short top to caress your shoulder blades with feathery strokes that almost drove you to moan against his lips, but you struggled to stop yourself.

"Patrick," you gasped after breaking the kiss. "What the hell are we doing?

"You tell me, Babydoll." 

"No, because it was you who told me you didn't want to be a babysitter. Did you forget?" 

When you tried to slide off the desk, he wouldn't let you, pressing you closer to his strong body and finally putting his cigar in the ashtray not far from where he was holding you. "I always remember my own words…" With that, he placed both his hands on either side of your knees before moving them slowly up along your hips and God, Bateman was doing it so damn slow on purpose, forcing you to jolt from the strange tension in your lower belly - the feeling that had become your personal drug. "Oh, don't pretend you don't like it. Your body speaks for itself."

You tried to pull away from him as you couldn't stand the way his hazel eyes were stripping you down, but the more you struggled, the more Patrick grew impatient, so he just yanked roughly by your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back and expose your delicate neck, which Patrick didn't miss the chance to mark, biting your tender flesh and then sucking the mark with a muffled groan.

There was something feral about him and that 'something' was making your body respond to his every touch, every little contact.

Nuzzling your cheek, Bateman lowered one of his hands to your bare stomach, drawing invisible lines along it before suddenly cupping your throbbing pussy through the tight material of your jeans, making you squeal and shake on the desk.

Just as Patrick was about to kiss you again, you both noticed a commotion coming from behind the door and then realized it was your father, you both didn't even have a chance to move as the door was quickly opened, revealing a very compromising picture.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[corollaservant]

False Alarm // Kenjaku x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: He never smoked. But then again, he lost himself along the way.

Warnings: noncon, smoking, signs of panic attack, degradation, violence, deception, humiliation... Kenny stuff.

A/N: don't hate me, Kenny is the perf man for dark concepts.

The last time you saw him was in 2007. He seemed sedated for some time, looking like he woke up and slept—if he ever slept—out of necessity, his lips on yours felt foreign and a burden would always accompany him. You hadn’t ever asked, what would you even say “Hey, is everything alright?’’ and what was he supposed to answer? ‘’Yes, everything’s fine’’. Not like it’d be the truth anyways. The last night you saw him was in 2007.

It was around 3 AM when he entered the bedroom, smoke filled the room as you looked at him. He never smoked, apart from some earlier mischief with his best friend as he sat next to you.

‘’Have you been smoking?’’ You quietly asked him as he sighed.

‘’Yes, had to give Shoko my lighter today and figured I might as well have one myself’’

He spoke so calmly, like everything was alright, like everything was like before.

The next day you woke up in an empty bed with a lighter to your nightstand. There was no letter or note as he exited your life and never came back.

-

It wasn’t like you didn’t know. He never intended to hide his actions, never once tried to stay undercover, intentions loud and clear and if you weren’t to find out from newspapers and various media outlets covering the crimes, a visit from his best friend would suffice. You hadn’t reacted much really, usually pain hit when you least expected it—not when Gojo would list you the heinous crimes but when you were in the snack aisle holding your groceries and saw his favorite crackers, silly things really. Ache was a funny thing.

10 years went by and your routine had not once diverted, home–work–home. Most of your friends stopped contacting you for a night out, seeing how you’d decline each and every time and you didn’t really blame them. They most likely wouldn’t understand. The door was unlocked when you entered the apartment floor and your heart sank. A domestic burglary was the last thing you wanted, shit, you didn’t even care about any belongings, his lighter was always with you and there were no prized possessions in the once shared apartment. But you were exhausted.

A figure stood facing the window next to the bed, wearing what seemed like a kimono over a robe that people 2500 years ago wore and sandals—enjoying a cigarette as you froze.

‘’W–what are you doing here?’’ You asked, stupid, yeah, who asks that? But fear stricken as you were and ready to dial the emergency number—your heart suddenly skipped a beat.

The figure had his hair, what was going on?

‘’Did you miss me?’’ A soft honeyed voice that made your skin crawl said as Suguru turned to look at you. Your eyes widened and you backtracked, colliding with the wall behind you as you dropped the bag you were holding and screamed. Loud.

‘’Who the fuck are you?’’ You yelled as you saw a line of stitches sloppily circle around what used to be your lover’s forehead. He had his hooded eyes and smile but you knew better. Whoever this freak was could never imitate the laced with care and love words that escaped Suguru’s mouth. Before he left. Before—

‘’What the hell did you do to him?’’ The more you talked, the more a sardonic smile crept up his mouth, deforming what used to be the prettiest smile in the world.

‘’I wouldn’t call if I were you’.’ He inhaled the last puff and tossed the cigarette mindlessly out the window, as he approached you.

Your hands were frozen, you wouldn’t have been able to dial anyone either way, when he spoke again.

‘’Funny thing, the memories, aren’t they? I had this feeling today you know..’’

‘’Where is he?’’ You cried, as he sighed.

‘’Please don’t interrupt me, he’s dead, what do you mean 'where is he'? As I was saying..’’

His words made your knees sting, as you fell to the floor, choking on a cry—it wasn’t like you hadn't made a decent effort to register his death, but the spitting image ahead of you felt like you were atoning for sins you never committed. It was too much, too painful, too sadistic.

‘’I had this, let's call it...instinct to smoke today and visit you. Matter of fact, my feet dragged me all the way here so I was curious to see what the..fuss was all about.’’ He spoke eyeing you up at 'fuss'. You didn’t understand a thing but wished for whatever this was to end as you closed your eyes. Please! You silently heard yourself say. Or maybe you didn't speak a word.

‘’Yeah, I kind of get it now...you look nice after all. Do you smoke?’’ He asked, bringing himself even closer, the apartment was small and he had you touching the wall, the shadow of his Kasaya casting a dark light in front of you.

‘’I- I don’t smoke,’’ ‘’P–please leave..’’ His eyes, these eyes that used to make love to you, hug you and gently wash your hair, bring you tea in the morning, wrap around your waist..

‘’Oh, that’s too bad.’’ He spoke as if he contemplated, smirking to himself once he noticed your bowed head.

‘’Mind looking up?’’ He came even closer, so close you could feel him on you—he didn’t really wait to bring his finger, a cold sensation against your chin and lift it to look at him.

‘’Be honest. Isn’t this my best work?’’ He moved the face left and right, showing you horrible—pretty angles of your old boyfriend. Your eyes quivered, tears fell down your cheeks, down your chin, down the floor. A bile formed at the back of your throat.

‘’Would you kiss me?’’ He asked rhetorically, it wasn’t like he cared about your opinion, it was more as if he was asking himself, experimenting with a predetermined outcome as you sniffed and felt a strong hand travel down your neck, pinning you to the wall. No! Stop asking questions! Leave!

‘’Well...it doesn’t matter really, cause you will now.’’ He said as his mouth touched yours. Soft lips. Same feeling. Memories. Your lips parted to cry and he squeezed the sides of your neck, blocking the air and sliding his tongue in your mouth.

This wasn’t Suguru and you weren’t supposed to be kissing him. This wasn’t his hair, his mouth, his eyes albeit your heart racing and a known sensation flooding your chest. His breath was hot as he growled and you squirmed, tears soaking him.

‘’S-stop..’’ You whined, thinking back to all the times you thought Suguru leaving you, abandoning you was the worst thing that could’ve happened to you. This couldn’t even be compared.

‘’P–please! I-I will not tell anyone, I—will do whatever you want—just—’’

‘’Then be silent cause you will be doing what I want regardless.’’ He smiled, the same sinister smile and you started breathing heavily, shit, this wasn’t good, this always signaled a panic attack. You had these more frequently than before. Ever since he left. You started sweating, feeling chills, particularly in your arms and like you'd die from asphyxiation, the more you failed to inhale properly. Don't think—breathe—don't think you can't breathe—don't—

Two strong arms cupped your face and turned it upwards.

‘’Shh..hey..hey..darling, I’m right here.’’ The idol of the man you used to love gently whispered as you looked in the dead eyes in front of you. The voice honeyed and soft as the words he purred soothed you and you closed your eyes.

‘’Come here.’’ He said and brought your body close to his, embracing your trembling limbs as you exhaled—you could at least breathe through your nose again, an unfamiliar cologne in your face.

‘’Good.’’ He said as he took a deep breath.

His arms felt good.

‘’Now let’s continue.’’

-

A finger was brought up against your entrance as the intruder’s body hovered above you. You were moved (thrown) to the bed, begging in silent whispers for him to leave, but to no avail. He was kissing you with his tongue—leaving a saliva string each time you opened your mouth to protest, beg, promise to do anything except this but he’d had enough, he loved a good Shakespearean act, but pretending to be him to calm you down just so he could fuck you had wasted a lot of his time. The play needed a climax.

He caressed your core through your panties, your dress was lifted up as he slid them to the side, trailing two fingers against the folds. You had been fighting for your body not to betray you, fighting for your eyes to not involuntarily close each time his disgusting mouth kissed you. Whenever you closed them, you thought of him, the mouth felt all too familiar and you couldn't help it. Fluids smudged the fabric and fell down his fingers as he smirked.

‘’Such a good girl, no need for me to help a lot here I see.’’ His wicked grin caused you to let out a scream, maybe if you cried for help someone would listen, someone could save—

A slap took the breath out of your lungs, vicious and hard as your cheek burned from the pain.

‘’Be quiet, pretty, I don’t have all day.’’ He said toying your cunt and pushing his fingers inside you as you tried your best not to moan.

‘’Please! ugh—Stop!’’ You wailed but there was no remorse (or halt) in his movements—squelching sounds from the contact almost covered up the noise you made.

‘’So..so filthy and wet, fuck, what would your boyfriend say seeing you soaking someone else’s hand, huh? Disgusting..’’ He spoke with disdain as you cried and tried to not feel the guilty pleasure that took over your core.

‘’I think we’re good now, don’t you?’’ He said as he got off you, your eyes trying to look around for exits while trying to have him within your peripherals.

You could escape, you could leave, right?

The moment your body dared to stand up while he was taking off his kimono, you were thrown back to bed, head crashing against the steel of the bed frame—the pain was accute and you winced, your eyesight left for a second.

Yet, he continued.

‘’Don’t be that dumb, please.’’ He sighed as his cock was brought out, stiff and long, sitting upright on his abdomen. A revolting sight but his body reminiscent of Suguru’s made your heart flutter.

The paranoia of the predicament messed you up, it felt like a torture, a dichotomy between love and hate, you wanted to spit on him, kick him and escape, hell, you wanted to slash his throat but each time your gaze was brought to his sinister stitches, the reminiscent features made you ache, sob and long for the all too familiar face.

‘’Get off m–me, please.’’ You begged and begged as he parted your legs and brushed his slit against your cunt, tapping it on the tiny nub when a moan escaped your lips—embarrassed, you brought your hands to your mouth.

‘’Stop!’’ You pleaded, the feeling there not aligning with the disgust in your mind but he continued.

‘’I love it when you beg, you look prettier.’’ He softly whispered as his cockhead thrusted swiftly in your cunt, hard enough to make your body hurt in more parts. You hadn't been fucked in a while, it wasn't worth it after him.

The sensation was overwhelming—his weight fell on you, cock stayed within your walls for a couple of seconds before he grabbed your hands to get them off your mouth. Your head was banging against the frame, as whichever sobs fell from your lips were pitifully covered by your hands.

‘’Now, you don’t wanna be silent, do ya? This is the best part!’’ His eyes gleamed as his cock slid in and out of you fast and he groaned.

‘’Fuck, I can see why he loved you so much, taking me as if we're meant to be...’’ He hummed as you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the stinging pain, not in your core anymore but your chest.

‘’I want to hear you, come on girl, moan for me..agh—I know you want it.’’ His ruts became harder and sloppier, as you let out a loud moan—teardrops spilled from your eyelids onto the sheets as he tilted his hips into you, it was too much.

‘’P-please! Please!’’ You begged, still hoping for an end and he continued, a finger found your swollen clit and rubbed around it in circular motions, you jerked but his pace never faltered, fuck, it wasn't right, your cunt squeezed him in, clenching tightly around him.

‘’Shit, little slut’s enjoying herself?’’ He hissed and you cried.

‘’S—Suguru.. s—stop, please agh- I - love you.’’ You called out your favorite name and he laughed. There was no other way to save yourself.

‘’Stop calling for your dead man stupid, he’s not coming back..’’ He sounded like he lectured you, thrusting upwards and groping your chest as you withered under him, what felt like an orgasm slowly threatening to exit your tormented body. Your head hurt and your throat felt sore as you now only used broken syllables for help.

‘’S-st— I–I-ugh–..’’ Your cunt spasmed.

‘’Come on this cock– shit, be a good slut for your boyfriend, sweetheart, can you do it for Suguru?’’ He groaned, feeling himself close—the sight of your hands trying to throw him off aroused him even more, such a cute little thing you were, he didn’t wonder now why he liked you so much.

‘’S-suguru!’’ was all you said as you came undone, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lip till you tasted metal. He continued; his predatory eyes made him look disfigured, melted even, reminding you of ice cream dripping down a cone.

‘’So filthy doll, he'd– agh.. be so proud..’’ He grunted and you felt a palm grab your neck and choke you with a firm grip, so not to moan or cry anymore. He came—looking in your eyes filled with terror shooting his cum deep within your walls as he praised you further. The foreign sensation stirred your insides.

You felt nothing; except maybe his cock soften and palm removed from your throat, allowing air back in your lungs. He got up.

He grabbed a cigarette pack from a tailored pocket in his kimono and moved to the window while you were left in a puddle of bodily fluids, trembling and tasting what must've been blood down your face.

‘’W—why...why did you come?’’ You brokenly managed, as he turned around.

It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair, it wasn't—

‘’I felt like having a smoke.’’ Cool and collected. Like Suguru. His face despite the wickedness looked serene, eyes crinkled similarly to his. He offered a smile.

‘’Could I have my lighter now, please?’’

[andcars]

# 𝗠𝗔𝗫𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 : 𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗦𝗜𝗔𝗖 ─── SURPRISE BOX MASTERLIST⠀MAXTOBER⠀REQUEST ME⠀TAGLIST⠀PATREON GUIDE⠀AO3 ⠀⠀⠀>⠀taglist updated ! more tags available !

MAX AND CHARLES CELEBRATE their anniversary, with charles gifting max a box of chocolates. surely the odd taste and the immediate arousal after eating them isn't related to charles asking max about how drugs feel like, right? oh, fucking hell.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT FUCKING EAT . . . # dubious consent, aphrodisiacs, under-negotiated kink, floor sex, non-consensual drug use, light dom/sub, light humiliation, established relationship, top charles leclerc, bottom max verstappen WORD COUNT. . . # 2.3k

────── AO3 VERSION

It came up in an idle conversation in the living room. Charles asked, “Have you ever done drugs?”

Max wasn’t the best teen back then. In fact, he was more rebellious than most, he’d reckon. “Do you wanna do some lines right now, or..?”

“No!” Charles shook his head immediately. “I was just… curious. About how it would feel like.”

“Wel, it feels like drugs. Depending on the dosage, it can feel intense. I’ve tried stronger ones before and I managed to get knocked out a few times. Er, bad  times from before.” He looks at Charles, “Do you… like, really want to know what it feels like?”

“So you’ve done them before?” Charles pointedly ignored his question. “Have you used them for sex?”

The air in Max’s lungs was taken away. “What? I mean, I guess? I got really horny when I took them. So I guess I’ve had… yeah,” he buried himself in the couch, blushing the memories away from him. 

“Would you like to do it again?”

“Okay,” Max stood, looking down at Charles with crossed arms. “Charles, do you have coke up your fucking ass? Just tell me if you do!”

“I was just curious!” Charles defended, arms flailing. “I’m just… asking you if drugged sex feels good.”

“It does! Okay? It does. Are you satisfied?”

“Yes, cheri (dear)! So sit down, you’re blocking the TV.”

So that was that conversation. After that, Charles shut up about the entire drugs thing. Max knew that that wasn’t the end, he just wasn’t sure when it’d continue. The season continued and Max is still  wondering what the hell Charles was trying to do.

Their anniversary comes in. This is one of their fake anniversaries, one that is public centric. Today marks the day that Charles and Max competed in the European open Karting competition. The fucking inchident, jeez. Their real anniversary, when they got together, was far off. This one still holds a special place, being the one where their frenemy status got established.

Max is excited about going on a date with Charles, even booking a reservation for it. While Charles—-Charles is more secretive about his side of the anniversary.

That is until he came home with flowers and a box of Chocolates. “Max,” he calls from the doorway. “Are you here?”

“Getting ready!” he replies from the bedroom. Charles comes in shortly after, greeted by the scent of Max’s cologne. “Hey, you back?”

He doesn’t see what Charles has in his hands yet. Only when he walks to embrace him from the back, the flowers and chocolates dig into Max’s stomach.

“Charles,” he smiles as he turns around, “How sweet. You make me want to fall for you again.”

There is already a slight blush in Charles' cheeks. “Don’t say that, you look so cute when you say it, mon lion (my lion).”

“Open the chocolates. I may have had a little bite already.”

Max takes the box from a love drunk looking Charles. He opens the box—an unbranded box of chocolates, oddly enough—to find four missing. Four little pieces taken away as only six are left.

“You are so—” Max pinches Charles cheeks—”greedy. Couldn’t even wait for me to get my own present.”

“I wanted some too!” he pouts, “plus, we are dating. So why does it have to be only yours?”

“That’s a rule for wearing and exchanging clothes. “ Max takes one from the box, eating it, “This is food. Very different.” He likes the taste, despite the slight tanginess in it. He takes another one just in case it tastes better the second. It doesn’t, but it’s alright.

Charles puts the box away and along with the flowers. “Eat some more, petit lion, I’m just going to change clothes real quick.”

Even though the chocolates aren't what Max would typically eat, it’s a special day. He takes the rest of them quickly. Considering they’re all in small bites, it wasn’t hard to finish them all. 

When Charles comes out of the bathroom, his eyes drift to the empty box. “You ate them all? At once?”

“You said,” Max licks off the chocolate from his thumbs, unbothered by the shocked look on Charles' face. “Was that supposed to be dessert?”

Shaking his head, Charles laughs, “No. It’s fine. Dinner, then?”

“Dinner.”

For the most part, the night is uneventful. Though, Max sees the way Charles is looking at him. Almost as if it was passive, Charles always looks at him with hearts in his eyes. That’s who Charles is. However, there’s something more tonight. If Max isn’t absolutely feeling so turned on by Charles’ obvious devotion to him, he would be worried.

“What’s with you?” Max finally asks after his wine has been refilled. 

Charles shrugs, almost dreamily. “Nothing… I just wanna bend you over and fuck you.”

Max chokes on his wine.

It’s embarrassing and the waiter comes back, asking if Max is okay. He forces himself to be composed while his cock decides to twitch to hardness.

Charles, somehow the most lucid man on this date, simply asked, “Bill please.”

Something about this situation makes Max want to faint.

The ride to the penthouse is silent. Max tries to calm himself while Charles was sporting an erection with no problem. He can almost see the headlines tomorrow—FORMULA ONE FERRARI DRIVER HARD WITH THE FORMULA ONE CURRENT WORLD CHAMPION.

By the time they get to the front door, Max is unreasonably hot. He feels as if his dick is on fire, throbbing with the need for attention. Did Charles’ words really get him off that much? Fuck, he’s starting to feel really lightheaded about this.

“Max,” Charles breathes, suddenly his chest to Max’s back. They're pressed together and Max is softly pinned to the wall. “Max,” Charles’ breath tickles his ear, and his erection is poking Max’s ass.

Fucking hell. Max turns around, wrapping a leg around Charles and grinding them together. He can’t help the moans he lets out, desperate and whiny. His arms are frantic, trying to grasp onto Charles’s shoulders to keep him steady.

“Wait,” Charles says, a moment of sobriety, “let’s go to the bedroom—”

“I don’t fucking care.”

Max drops to his knees, pulling Charles’ slacks with one hand as the other undoes his own. Charles’ restraints die in his throat, captivated by the way Max is greedily taking his cock out.

It slaps on his face, standing erect and dripping with pre-cum. Max breathes in, addicted to the way it fucking smells. He’s shaking with need as he sucks it down with one gulp, erupting a yell from Charles.

He hollows his cheeks, licking the underside of Charles’ cock as he works around his own. His hand is dry, yet he doesn’t care for the slight burn when he feels like he’s about to cum. The taste, the scent, the moans of Charles echoing inside his brain and filling his cock to such lust.

Gagging down until Charles hips meet his lips, Max almost falls over. He doesn’t let go from that position, resulting in sucking and licking Charles. He feels tears well up in his eyes but he doesn’t care. It’s so good. It’s so good. It’s so fucking good.

With a strong hand, Charles pushes Max’s head to the wall. It lets out a loud thump but is interrupted by the lewd thwack thwack thwack! as Charles fucks his skull. 

Max is paralyzed at the feeling. His free hand moves to pull his shirt up, going to pull and play on his perked nipples. Even caressing them feels like he’s going crazy. The hand working his cock is going in pace with Charles, desperately chasing that high.

“...cum.” Charles moans, words unintelligible. “Max, oh, cheri, so fucking—” he gasps and cries on himself as he fucks Max’s mouth. With a few more thrusts, Charles pulls out until the tip of his coc lies flat on Max’s tongue. Max tastes his semen, spluttering on his tongue and coating the walls of his mouth. He can taste him everywhere.

Gripping his hard cock, he doesn’t feel like he came. Yet, he feels the wetness drip down on his hand. When Charles pulls out, he’s still as hard as he was when he entered the penthouse. What the fuck?

All thoughts get pushed out by the animalistic desire to get Charles cock inside of him. It’s dripping with cum in front of his face, enticing him for more. Charles is breathing so heavily and yet Max doesn’t want him to stop. He wants Charles more.

He pulls him to the floor. Charles, caught off guard, practically trips over Max. “Fuck me,” he moans, going on his hands and knees as he shimmies out of his pants.

“Wait,” Charles pants, “Maybe we should really go to the bedroom”

“Charles Marc Hervé Perceval fucking Leclerc! Get your cock inside of me or I’m going to ride you here and shut you up.”

For a few moments, Max can’t hear anything outside of his own heartbeat. Is that normal? His thighs are shaking, almost unable to keep the pose he set for himself. He’s weak in the knees, sweating, chest beating faster than when he is on a race. He’s so fucking turned on that it hurts.

All worries vanish as Charles’ cock prods at his unprepared hole. Max mewls, rubbing and teasing him out of desperation. Charles, the usual chatty one during sex, is reduced to moans and whimpers as he pushes in.

“Yes!” Max yells, head burying on the floor. “Charles… Fuck, yes—god, Charles, fuck- yeah!”

He practically goes dumb with each thrust, a moan letting out in between the force of Charles’ movements. He thinks for a moment about the times he’s had with sex with Charles before. None of them wanted to make him deeply be gutted by Charles.

For a split second, he compares this moment to the hook-ups he’s had with men when he was under neon colours, feeling like he was in the clouds. You know, when he was high.

Charles is relentless, fucking his prostate like it was what he was made for. The constant hammering in time with the drum of his heart. Max almost falls flat, his knees sliding off the floor. But Charles keeps him still, his hand coming to his hips to position him upright. The fingers dig into his flesh, gripping hard and bruising. 

Max wants to pull Charles down, kiss him until he’s feverish. But he can barely move his hands, his arms giving up on even trying to move. With his ass up and face to the floor, he’s being used by Charles like a fuck toy. The only other sign of his life is the way he cries and sobs, feeling so good and overstimulated at the same time.

He’s not sure if he came. But his knees buckled for a second and he shook all over the floor. Charles' pace stammers a little, but never stops. Max gasps, feeling his arm a little despite the numbness. He pushes himself a little up but immediately gets pushed back down, MCharles’ hands pushing his head to the floor.

“Keep still,” he grunted, voice incredibly strained and accent thicker than ever. “Just… God, Max stay like that, I’m gonna cum.” He cries out, fingers pulling at Max’s hair.

He swears that he passes out but he’s all too aware of the coat of white spreading his insides. Charles is fucking whimpering behind him and yet he’s still going, trying to get his cock as deep as possible inside of Max. 

The coldness of the floor is almost painful at the neglect of his dick. Max pushes back on Charles cock, trying to steady himself as well. “Charles…” he breathes out, trying to find Charles blindly behind him. Then he leans down, laying his face into Max's neck, silently panting.

Before he could go crazy over cock again, Max thinks back. “Charles… Why the fuck am I so horny?”

Charles whines and kisses Max’s nape. He doesn’t get away that easily though.

Finding all of his strength, Max pushes Charles to his back. Sitting on top of him, cock still red and leaking, he looks down at Charles with a frown. “Why… what the hell did you do?”

Charles puts his hands over his face, the red on his cheeks only getting redder. “I…. I put aphrodisiacs in our chocolates,” he said with a mumble.

“What?”

“Aphrodisias! Drugs!”

Max wants to kill Charles, yet that would mean he can’t fuck him anymore. With a grunt, Max positions his ass on Charles’ cock again. They both gasp, feeling cum leak out of Max’s ass.

“You’re such a bastard…” he moans, taking said bastard’s cock inside again. “Fuck, I took… so many of them. You little shit!”

Max moans as he rides Charles, holding onto the man’s legs to steady himself. “You’re so needy, so fuciking desperate. Just wanted to wet your cock, huh?”

“Yes!” Charles moans, oversensitive and practically crying. “Yes, cheri, Max. So fucking good. You’re so fucking good.”

“You love th e way I feel, baby?”” he moans, finding his prostate on his own. “Love it when I take your cock… You’re so—you’re so good. So fucking addicted.”

Their words jumble with each other, incomprehensible. Max’s focus was getting off again and Charles was lying there just taking it. In a lust-filled mind, Max is chasing his orgasm again. He doesn’t know when he came and when he didn’t, but he can’t stop fucking himself onto Charles’ cock.

Clenching, Max actually feels his orgasm this time. He curls in with himself, grinding Charles’ dick inside of him as he uses his hand to shoot cum all over Charles’ stomach. He pants. The heaviness is setting in and yet it really doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

Charles is mumbling something below him. “Max… Fuck, I can’t…” his words trail out and Max whines.

“No,” he croaks, voice breaking and attempting to sit up again. “You did this, Leclerc—so fucking finish it.”

🗒 𝗣𝗔𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗟 . . . anddd we have the first fic for maxtober! i was very giggly about this one, i really can't help with making max a little shit. i don't see him as a dom but charles is def one hell of a sub most of the times. remember check out my maxtober official post to know more ! . ˎˊ˗ ᝰ. ──── 📨 @delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @rtorresblog @tribbisweetdear @jamie2305 @yunnie-f1

you support me best on tumblr with reblogs and comments ! ── by andcars ⟡

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

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|| ︶꒦꒷𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥꒷꒦︶ | main masterlist ||

@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

Day 25: Leather/Rubber/Latex, Daddy/Mommy Dom, Guns/Knives

𝐀 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

sequel to 𝐀 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x FEDRA!Comandante Veracruz | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 2.2k | CONTENT: degradation x ∞, dark!Joel, QZ!Joel, dubcon elements, sir kink, humiliation kink, gun play, Joel is mean and rough, Veracruz is horny and pathetic, butt stuff, cumplay?, one-sided pining? | SYNOPSIS: With a string of harsh circumstances narrowing his options for survival in the QZ, Veracruz attempts to strike a deal with someone he knows can turn things back around.

“So, do we have a deal?” Veracruz presses.

Joel busies himself with a loose splinter of wood on the edge of the table, barely showing interest in the conversation. He leans further back in his chair and sighs.

“Yeah, I’m not really seein’ where this benefits me ‘n Tess.”

“How the fuck does it not benefit you?! I –” he breaks off and throws his hands in the air “–I’m the one who’s taking a loss here, out of anybody.”

“Your demotion ain’t my emergency, and it certainly isn’t gonna make me cut a deal that’s not worth our time.”

He wasn’t sure how Joel knew about the shake up in the rankings amongst FEDRA officers recently, but he couldn’t deny it. He’d had it in good with the last guy, and things were fine until they made one too many backdoor dealings and got sloppy. Now some new haircut had taken over the position, swept into the QZ, and made a big fuss, switching up positions and weeding out anybody who was more into securing their own side deals than maintaining the status quo.

“You act like you’re not getting anything out of this deal, and that’s complete bullshit,” Veracruz spits.

He hated how domineering and untouchable Joel always was. He made intimidation seem effortless, and he’d carved out a decent way of life for himself along with his partner Tess. They made good enough to stay under the radar but still score little perks here and there that otherwise weren’t possible to your average citizen. He’d made the mistake of trying to gain the upper hand with him before, and he had no intention of trying anything like that again.

“No, I think you’re just underestimating how much more I need to get outta this to offset the fact that I’m dealing with such a prick,” Joel shoots back lazily.

“So now I’m supposed to take even more of a loss because you’ve got a problem with what? My personality? Sounds awfully sensitive for somebody who’s supposed to be all big and bad.”

“Think of it as an Incentive Bonus for me. Somethin’ that motivates me enough to deal with your bitch ass every week.” Joel pauses for a moment and smirks, eyes lifting to meet Veracruz’s. “Besides, I don’t think you need reminding of how big and bad I am.”

Veracruz swallows hard thinking back to the time several months ago in the alleyway where he’d tried and failed to blackmail Joel, only to end up on his knees and covered in Joel’s cum. His cheeks heat with embarrassment at the memory, and Joel’s smile only widens.

“What are you really after?” Joel tilts his head to the side and pins Veracruz with a dubious look. “You could cut a deal with about seven other guys running around, but you for some reason seek me out? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were lookin’ for somethin’ you know only I can offer. Somethin’ to really satisfy you.”

Had he really been so obvious? He wouldn’t go as far to call it a crush or an infatuation, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how Joel made him feel that day in the alley. How the control had been ripped right up under his feet and how it had been the most exhilarating, demeaning, and arousing thing he’d ever experienced. How expertly the power was taken back from him. How the loss of control by someone bigger and stronger had sent an electric buzz through his entire body.

But Veracruz was never delusional enough to proffer Joel for that sort of interaction again and had long ago accepted that physical proximity by way of a business partnership was as close as he was going to get his fix of Joel Miller.

“I sure do remember you runnin’ your mouth a whole lot more the last time we talked,” Joel snorts.

“Sure sounds like you’re angling for a certain type of arrangement, Miller,” he lobs back weakly.

“Just callin’ it like I see it.”

Veracruz stalls for a moment but falls short of a rebuttal.

“Put your gun on the table and put your arms out to the side,” Joel orders.

He stands and looks at Veracruz expectantly, smirking when he wordlessly complies. With his pistol planted on the table, Joel pats him down quickly before settling back into his chair.

“Is it really necessary to give me a fucking pat down?” he huffs.

Joel completely ignores the objection and folds his hands behind his head. “Now that we got that outta the way, I’m giving you a chance to pitch an actual offer for this deal and quit wastin’ my time.”

Veracruz visibly scorns the insinuation but can’t stop the drop of his gaze to the spread of Joel’s legs in the chair. His eyes flit back up to find Joel staring at him with a bored smirk. He lets out a heavy breath and steps closer. There really wasn’t any use skirting around the inevitable. The guise was quickly crumbling, and Veracruz didn’t want to risk Joel walking if he didn’t just get to the point.

“Ain’t gonna take itself out,” Joel murmurs with a deliberate upswing of his hips before settling back.

Veracruz silently sinks to his knees and tries to ignore the searing gaze watching his every move. He’s almost disappointed when he makes it past the zipper and boxers and finds a limp cock. He immediately scolds himself for wishing this was more of a turn on for Joel.

“That little pat down made me realize that pay cut really hit you hard, huh? Seems like you’ve lost a little weight there, babydoll,” he muses, practically laughing in Veracruz’s face at the hardships he’d been given left and right over the past couple of months. “That’s alright. I’ll give you somethin’ to fill that mouth up. Might even give you somethin’ to fill that belly up, too, if you make this real good for me.”

The condescending nickname paired with the hazy promise of drinking Joel down was already making heat pool in Veracruz’s lower belly.

“First things first,” Joel grunts as he leans across the table and grabs the pistol. The bullets clatter loudly onto the wood when he swiftly unloads the gun. He reassembles the now empty firearm and props it between his legs. “Wouldn’t be smart to accept the goods without testing them first.”

Veracruz shakes his head, confused at the remark. The smile twisting Joel’s mouth makes the lightbulb go off in Veracruz’s head, and his entire face flushes.

“Not gonna say it twice,” Joel snips, impatient and domineering.

Veracruz closes his eyes, brow pinching ever so slightly, when Joel’s palm connects with his cheek in a stinging slap. He gasps at the sharp strike and glowers at Joel, who just laughs low and smug.

“Eyes up here.”

The disgraced, embarrassed officer swallows his pride and gently places his lips around the barrel of the gun so as to not knock it against his teeth.

“Suck.”

The cold, hard metal is heavy on his tongue as he creates as much suction as he can around the awkwardly shaped object. The taunt of Joel’s now half-hard cock right next to his mouth is almost too much to bear, but the order of eyes up makes it slightly easier to ignore. After a few moments, Joel seems placated enough to trust Veracruz with the real thing.

“You try anything funny, and I’ll drag you out into the street, slice your belly open until you’re fallin’ out all over the place, and feed you your own innards until you choke to death, you understand?”

“Yes,” Veracruz gulps. When Joel gives him a pointed look, Veracruz amends his response. “Yes, sir.”

Usually on the receiving end of these types of situations, Veracruz is at a loss where to start. Surely a man like Joel Miller knows exactly what he likes and how he likes it. There might not even be any pleasing him, which wouldn’t be surprising if that’s all this turned out to be anyway: some big show of dominance and submission. Still, it was better to just start and get this over with so he could jerk himself off the second Joel left.

“Ah ah ah, we’re not in a rush,” Joel chides when Veracruz sloppily takes him into his mouth. “You’re gonna suck my cock nice and slow, got it?”

So with a renewed, hastened pace, he sinks his mouth down until about halfway when it nudges the back of his throat and makes him cough. Glistening lines of saliva are already forming trails from his mouth to Joel’s cock, now rigid and demanding.

“Be a good little soldier and keep those eyes on me when I’m letting you suck my cock.”

He does as he’s told and angles his hips away in hopes that Joel won’t see his own growing bulge. It was bad enough that he was in this position; he didn’t need Joel knowing how much he liked being treated this way on top of it. With his jaw already starting to ache and Joel with no sense of urgency, he tries to take him deeper, only to cough and gag every time. Thankfully this seems to do something for Joel.

“Yeah, choke on it,” he groans. “This is my throat now. Gonna fuck it how I want.”

Without warning, Joel grips the back of his head and begins maneuvering it up and down at a steady, grueling tempo with the only breaks being when he turns Veracruz’s head sideways so he can bulge his cheek out with his cockhead.

“Don’t even respect yourself enough to not crawl back, beggin’ for me to gag you with my cock. What a pathetic piece of shit,” Joel grunts.

“I–I need a break,” he gasps, panting for air while he can get it.

“I’m not done, and you should be fucking grateful that I’m not giving your mouth a break by fuckin’ another hole of yours,” he bites.

A breathy groan slips from his lips before he can stop it, and Joel’s face twists into a malicious smirk. “Un-fucking-believable. You’re really that fuckin’ desperate to be my favorite little fucktoy, aren’t ya?”

When he doesn’t answer – shame and arousal heating his entire face and neck – Joel laughs at him again. 

“It’s your lucky day because I’m feelin’ real generous. Get it realllllll wet because that’s all the help you’re gettin’ before I shove it into that cumhole of yours.”

Veracruz takes it to the back of his throat to coat it in as much slippery, thick slobber as he can before following Joel’s instruction to stand up and drop his pants. The humiliation deepens when he spots the prominent swell between Veracruz’s thighs.

“Bet you’d set yourself on fire if you thought I’d piss on you to put it out,” Joel jeers.

Without waiting for a reply, he shoves the younger man against the edge of the table, knocking his feet wider apart until his hips meet the tabletop.

“This what you like? Bein’ a warm hole for me to fuck? Stickin’ my cock wherever I want because you need it that bad?” he taunts, damp breath fanning against Veracruz’s neck and making him shiver.

Joel lines himself up and slowly presses inside the puckering ring of muscle. He barely gets the fat tip past the opening before the resistance pushes against him. He snaps at Veracruz to touch himself so he'll relax, which only partially works. Veracruz feels the cool tip of his pistol nudging against his mouth and opens wordlessly for it, already knowing what Joel wants.

“There you go, little boy. Suck on that. Keep ya from cryin’,” he goads, pushing harder into the still too tight ring of muscle. “Suck on your little pacifier to keep from cryin’ while I wreck this hole.”

Veracruz whimpers loudly around the barrel, eyes slipping back as he sucks harder and tries not to come. It’s hardly five half-deep thrusts later before Joel spills inside with a wanton moan, gasping and cursing as he floats down from his high. 

“Best little cum dumpster I’ve ever met,” he muses, still a little out of breath. “I’ll be real generous and let you keep my cum plugged up in there for a little while longer. Remind you what you’re good for.”

He slowly drags himself out of the yawning hole, pulling a hiss from Veracruz despite the gentler than anticipated exit. Joel takes the gun from Veracruz’s mouth and presses it against his leaky opening.

“Now hurry up and finish,” he orders. “I wanna see if your used up cocksleeve can even clench around anything after takin’ me.”

The frantic, borderline hysterical sounds that he makes as he milks himself to completion will no doubt bring a dreadful sense of disgrace later on when he’s alone in his barracks, but right now all he can focus on is the singular most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced. The shrill whistle in his ears nearly blocks out everything else as he lays face down on the table in a puddle of his own spend. He feels the bottom of his shirt being tugged as Joel cleans himself up.

“Good doin’ business with ya, cumrag.”

The next sensation that comes into his consciousness is the hot pearl of spit Joel leans over to spew over the side of Veracruz’s face. 

The zip of Joel’s fly and the jingle of his belt being fastened punctuate the heavy air. “See you at the drop next week,” he calls over his shoulder before walking out without another word.

tagging everybody from the first one

@multiversed-daydreamer @covetyou @axshadows @jupiter-soups @vabeachazn

@for-a-longlongtime @goodwithcheese @perotovar @pedrostories @thosewickedlovelies

@nothoughtsjustmeds @pedrit0-pascalit0 @ems-chaos-corner @galaxyedging @legendary-pink-dot

@elegantduckturtle @ghostofaboy @absurdthirst @toxicrecs @ghotifishreads

@sp00kymulderr @wannab-urs @bonezone44

[blueninjablade3]

1953 Captain Hook romantic headcanons

This was requested by an Anon! Lots of love to them now let’s get this rolling!

Okay to kick this off Hook is a GENTLEMAN. His mama instilled good manners, a healthy respect for people, and a few morals… okay it's only like don't break a promise but she did her best!

Hook will not hesitate to use all the gentlemen's moves. He’ll open doors for you (yes even if you're a male.), refer to you how you wish to be referred to, and won’t push boundaries! (Score!)

Hook is the suave clumsy type. One minute he’ll be sweet-talking the hell out of you then the next he's running into a door frame. It's adorable in your opinion but he's mortified. He was supposed to be suave. Not an uncoordinated fool! (Poor insecure boy :<)

Like I said in Affection Headcanons with Hook, Frollo, and Jafar (which you should definitely go read ;) If you are interested the link is in my master list at the bottom), You and Smee are the only people who can really calm James down. He thrives on angry cuddles.

Hook loves taking you on really nice dates! Well as nice of dates as he can take you on. He’ll fish for a good fish to cook up for you (if he catches a cod fish I BEG you to tease him about him being a cod fish). He’ll break out the nice cutlery for you!

Depending on the day he’s either gonna be the big spoon or the little spoon. You just need to roll with it. If Pan has been a big problem that day and he’s at his wits end he's a little spoon. You should run your fingers through his hair and tell him how great he is. Now if he’d not had a horrible day and he isn’t in need of reassurance he's a big spoon. He likes feeling tough.

Hook adores slow dancing! He’d love to teach you! I feel like his mother taught him and he just loved the memory of it.

Hook also loves playing you the piano and singing with you as he plays. He’ll sit with you for hours while you listen to him play. The way you look at him with such whimsy while he plays makes him weak in the knees.

Hook is an extremely light sleeper however is still a massive cuddler. He’ll wake up at 1 in the morning because you shifted a bit and give you the most lovesick puppy eyes you've ever seen before going back to sleep. Bonus points if he wakes up to you playing with his hair!

Hook isn't the biggest fan of receiving pet names but he ADORES giving you pet names. I went over what pet names Hook gives you in Affection Headcanons as well! But for those of you who need a recap, it's Honey, Darling, his pearl, his treasure, his beloved, and his diamond. However, for him, it's really limited to darling, love, and then bedroom names if you’re into that.

He also has a lot of treasure from his many years of piracy. He loves spoiling you with it! He thinks you deserve it for putting up with a worthless dog like him (poor baby :( )

He is extremely insecure after years of humiliation by Pan and is so scared you’ll leave him. It keeps him up at night. Those are nights he holds you tighter than usual. It’s such a scary thought to him.

I feel like Smee has to shoo of the Croc while you comfort Hook. You’re the only way he’ll come down from the crows nest. Even then sometimes you have to pay off a crew member to “hit on you” so Hook will come down.

Speaking of which, due to his insecurity he has a terrible jealous streak. If he even thinks someone is flirting it’s ON SIGHT. It’s his love… he doesn't share. Luckily he’s not a “you’re mine and mine alone type,” he’s like a dog with food guarding problems. He’s not too worried till he thinks there’s a threat to his food.

When Hook proposes he is a ball of nerves. Poor Smee. The Cap’n had him shave him clean, help him with the speech and he had Smee find your ring size! Mr. Smee was happy to help.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Hook went through the effort to make your ring himself. However, he also has a large sum of rings over the years one's bound to fit you. Hopefully.

I think Hook proposes in private, on the beach, at sunset. He was stammering worse than when he first asked you out but in the end it was worth it. His speech was meaningful (and a little funny) however it was perfect.

Hook is also your guard dog. He teaches you how to shoot a flintlock, how to fence and basic hand to hand. It helps him feel safe knowing you know how to fight and it doubles as time spent together.

To finish off these headcanons I’m gonna say Hook is a very interesting boyfriend to have. However, you can in good confidence say he loves you and you love him ❤️

Masterlist

[echantedtoon]

HxH Oneshot

Illumi x Fem reader. It's my literal first ever time trying to write for this guy so he's probably ooc here. Shout-out to @bwabys-scenarios for getting me interested in this guy.

If someone had told him a couple months ago that he would fall in love with the MOST unlikely girl that had ever graced his life...He'd have told you to never speak such nonsense to him again, probably would have scoffed, told them they were insane, and dismissed it from memory bank forever. Him, a driven force, a killer even, with a girl like her?? HA! What nonsense...

Or was it?

Not to him right now it wasn't as she kissed him and held his hands and he found himself not fighting against it. What was wrong with him!?

It felt like a two part problem in his mind. On one hand it was as if he was betraying his loyalty to his duties and everything that it stood for, for falling for such a girl. While on the other hand it was a betrayal of his own emotions for denying his affection for her in the first place. He grew weaker by the day, losing sleep over his inner turmoil. It wasn't long before people started to notice, dark circles appearing under his eyes and his usual scowl deepening as his mood worsened. No one dared to actually ask him what was the matter, but he could feel their concerned stares and worried glances. Even so, he held out, pushing thoughts of her away as he tried to go on with his life. Just ignore her, he told himself. He would feel better once he forgot about her. But no matter what she wouldn't leave his mind or him alone. Oh WHY did he have to be plague his existence. He once tried yelling at her to just GO AWAY!! To leave him alone because she didn't need to be anywhere near him....It ended up with him breaking down in the middle of the hallway crying and all those sleepless nights catching up to him finally. His acts were slipping, he was acting like a baby, and it was ALL her fault. She wouldn't listen and go away like some stalker. After that he had passed out from his yelling fit and woken up in her lap due to exhaustion.....And to her crying and holding his hand. Ironic wasn't it.

And he made a noble effort to ever forget about that incident, but it was all for naught.

He reached his tipping point about a month into his rejection to the monster. He was exhausted, eyes sore and bloodshot, and his work still wavering concerning all their superiors. Lost in his thoughts on the way to lunch, he heard a single word. His name. That made him stop in his tracks. His head snapping up in recognition, eyes widening. No! Not her! Not now! The last thing he wanted was the taller she demon to back him against the wall and talk her pretty little head off. He felt like he was suffocating. He barely slept for days. He couldn't take it- The voices were becoming so much his head was going to explode-

"Illumi? You don't look so good."

That was the last thing he heard before he passed out for a second time that month. She had carried him. CARRIED HIM!! HIM!! All the way back home filled with worry. Don't ask him why she didn't just leave him there. If the assassin was just found passed out against the wall it would've been less humiliating than a girl to carry him all the way to his bed where he remained when he woke up and numbly laid there as she went off chattering again. He didn't know what he was thinking when he suddenly exploded at her letting everything out. Maybe it was his frustration? The stress and strain he was feeling from her relentless presence? Maybe the days of little to no sleep? His mind zoned out as he mindlessly yelled at her but he certainly wasn't expecting it to end up with her kissing him and him being compliant to her affections. Leaning into her warmth and all around easing the stress he was always. Good grief what did he say? At one point she pulled away and he attempted to kiss her again which ended embarrassingly thanks to his lesser height laying down which ended up with himself missing her lips and pecking her jawline which sent her beautiful face into giggles and the soft hands cupping his already crying and red face rubbed away at the stressful tears.

"You shouldn't beat yourself over like a little crush. I would've been happy to know either way.Oh. Please don't cry."

He wasn't sure why he felt so assured or comforted right now, but for now he leaned into those soft hands holding him up with the pretty angelic face of his relief.

[11queensupreme11]

Ok I had a funny thought. This is a baby Percy au. Have you ever watched the movie baby Day out? This is what I’m going off by.

That there were some gods that were wronged by Poseidon and wanted revenge. They can’t attack Poseidon so they go with a different solution. They kidnap baby Percy.

But here is the kicker. You mention that Percy could replace zerofuku as a God of Misery.

(Poseidon is elsewhere. And Percy is alone)

So they went to the castle and dealt with the guards that were there and infiltrated the castle they search in the castle for Percy to kidnap her and they succeed. They don’t think much of her because she is a baby and think she’s no harm. (they’re completely wrong cause she’s a menace. But she is a good baby.)

At the castle, Percy is missing so Poseidon rings the alarm. So obviously the family is coming to help. (And Loki and Beelzebub) the guides that were there are interrogated about what happened and they tell them that she was kidnapped. They are furious to learn what has happened.

Meanwhile…

The Gods that kidnapped her put a spell on her to hide her from the gods and in their hideout, but even though they kidnapped Baby Percy they have not actually thought out what to do with her. Some of the more crueler ones said to kill her or others suggested to keep her away from her family forever like sealing her away so that they know where she is, but they can never have her.

Baby Percy meanwhile was in all looking around in the area where she was because she never went outside the castle like she went to visit her family, but she was never taken out to actually see things (Poseidon is very possessive) while the gods were arguing what to do with her, Percy managed sneak out of the area where she was held at.

So the events begins Percy inadvertently causes so much trouble to the gods that they get injured, humiliated and deeply regretting there decisions. Percy in the meanwhile is having a blast. She is exploring without restraint and meets new people makes friends the same way as a baby can make friends.

Her family meanwhile is getting reports of sightings of a lost baby and go the search the area. An hear what happens to the gods that kidnapped her and get the story together of what she is doing (exploring)

Percy is having so much fun with everyone and everything. But at the end of the day she gets tired and wants to go home. Coincidentally Percy is near the path that Poseidon normally takes to go home with her (cause he knows she loves the area) So Percy remembers the path she has to follow to go home. At this moment the spell that keeps her hidden wears off and sees her. They immediately go to her and worry over her. Percy is just happy to be home.

And the gods that kidnapped her were found and were imprisoned for the time being. Her family paranoid decided to look through the memories of both the Percy and the gods that kidnapped her.

And they saw the memories. And it turned out to be like a movie night and they watched a funny movie. They are shocked and amused about what happened. Baby Percy wants to sleep so they put her to bed. 

Haha so there is my story. Not good I know but I just wanted to do this. I hope you enjoyed. 

"she’s a menace. But she is a good baby"

this is literally the most perfect description of her regardless of age