I have been on this app for like a year at most and...I have taken it upon myself to step out of my comfort zone and am Allowing Asks, Submissions, Any type of HEADCANNONS about my favorite characters or yours and what not. Why? Because I love to articulate my words like a reporter and speak my mind. ASK AWAY. SAY YOUR CENTS
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My name is Carteblanco. You can call me carte. Or Blanco. Either way is fine with me. I am Blackity BLACK. My pronouns are she/her/hers. I am 18, you'd think I'd remember to put it in my bio after a year but better late than never, right?💀
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I have a special interest in Asmr(Redacted audio, Desmond Asmr, Zsakuva, COD, Anime etc etc, Especially JJk, Attack on titan, Demon slayer, Summertime rendering, Castlevania, Hellsing and Mha)
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I do simple oneshots or headcannons for some of my favorite things are just lurk💀, I'm active now and then on here whenever I wanna gossip (Asks are always open and available🤷🏾)
I felt bad at beginning when cupcake put warrens collar back on, but then when i realized that warren was literally lying and manipulating her the whole time it made me not feel bad, and I hate how fast cupcake forgot about everything he did and KISSED him?!? Like bro I would’ve slapped him not kissed him?!?? I really hope cupcake holds a grudge or at least waits to forgive him, because from what we know, he’s the reason why her house burned down and basically ruined her life, yea not cool warren.
Let’s break this down, because there’s a lot to unpack here. Warren’s actions? Complicated. On one hand, we can empathize with the layers of trauma he’s dealing with—he’s a man shaped by survival, desperation, and a broken moral compass. On the other hand, trauma explains behavior, but it doesn’t excuse it. That’s the distinction Warren needs to learn, and honestly? It’s one of the biggest hurdles in understanding why what he did was so deeply wrong.
First, let’s look at the manipulation. Warren didn’t just lie to Cupcake—he weaponized her kindness. He saw someone with an open heart, someone willing to risk it all for what she believed was a shared cause, and he exploited that. Was it calculated? Maybe not in the cold, clinical sense, but his actions were self-serving to the point of cruelty. He let her believe he cared, let her throw herself into dangerous situations for him, all while knowing he wasn’t being truthful. That’s a heavy betrayal, especially for someone like Cupcake, who clearly values trust and loyalty deeply.
Then there’s the house fire. Let’s not gloss over this—her entire life went up in flames. Her plants, her home, her stability—all gone. And for what? For someone who was playing her from the start. Even if Warren didn’t intend for her to lose everything, his choices directly led to that outcome. The fact that he only started to feel remorse after hearing her speech speaks volumes. It wasn’t the harm he caused that got to him—it was seeing her resilience and realizing what he’d destroyed. That’s not regret for his actions; it’s guilt for the fallout. There’s a difference.
Now, about that kiss. I think we need to reframe it. It wasn’t about forgiveness or romantic reconciliation—it was an outburst of raw, pent-up emotion. Cupcake’s been through hell, and in that moment, her feelings—anger, sadness, longing—boiled over. I headcanon that she had started to develop feelings for Warren early in their companionship. She saw glimpses of vulnerability in him, and despite everything, she wanted to believe in his goodness. But that kiss? It wasn’t love—it was a manifestation of everything she couldn’t put into words.
Warren, for his part, wasn’t in the same emotional space. He didn’t allow himself to feel connected to her because he was too wrapped up in his own survival. That disconnect makes their dynamic all the more tragic. They’re two people on completely different wavelengths—she’s trying to build something meaningful, and he’s too blinded by his own pain and goals to see it.
Now, let’s talk about the collar situation. Was it the right move? Absolutely not. It was controlling and deeply problematic, no matter how you slice it. But I can understand Cupcake’s possible rationale. Maybe she thought the apartment was bugged, maybe she was operating out of fear and desperation—but intent doesn’t negate impact. She overstepped, and that’s something she’d need to reckon with, too. This isn’t a one-sided story; both of them made serious mistakes.
However, Warren’s errors loom larger because they were rooted in deceit and self-preservation at the expense of someone who genuinely cared for him. Cupcake’s actions, while misguided, came from a place of survival and trying to make sense of an impossible situation. The scales aren’t balanced, and that’s why it’s so important that Cupcake doesn’t just forgive him outright. Forgiveness, if it happens, needs to be earned. Warren has to show through his actions—not just his words—that he understands the depth of his mistakes and is willing to do the hard work to make amends.
This is about accountability and healing. Warren needs to confront the fact that his trauma, while valid, doesn’t give him a free pass to hurt others. He has to learn that trust, once broken, isn’t easily repaired. And Cupcake? She needs time to process, to grieve what she’s lost, and to rebuild her sense of agency. That kiss might have been a slip, but it doesn’t mean she’s ready to let him off the hook.
If I had to sum it up, I’d say this: Warren’s journey is about redemption, but Cupcake’s is about reclaiming her strength. The narrative works best when both of them are allowed to grow individually before attempting to repair what’s been broken. Forgiveness, if it comes, should be on Cupcake’s terms, not Warren’s. And that’s not just for the sake of the story—it’s what they both need to truly move forward.
THANK YOU FOR THIS, ANON. I NEEDED THIS. and you to, @the-galaxy-fiend for your thoughts too!
Warren’s actions are inherently more damaging because they stemmed from a place of calculated self-preservation, even if that calculation was born out of desperation and trauma. His deceit wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision; it was part of a pattern of behavior rooted in prioritizing his survival above all else, even at the expense of someone who genuinely trusted and cared for him. This creates a deep imbalance in their dynamic. Cupcake entered the relationship with good intentions, fueled by a sense of loyalty and hope, while Warren approached it with guarded manipulation. That disparity is what makes his betrayal feel so profound—it wasn’t just a moment of weakness; it was an ongoing choice to keep her in the dark for his benefit.
On the other hand, Cupcake’s actions, while flawed, came from a completely different place. Her decisions—like putting the collar back on Warren—were reactive, driven by fear and an attempt to regain control in a situation spiraling beyond her grasp. She wasn’t trying to hurt Warren; she was trying to make sense of a situation where she felt cornered, manipulated, and unsure of who she could trust. While her actions were problematic, they weren’t malicious. They were born out of survival and an earnest desire to fix what felt broken.
This imbalance underscores why forgiveness shouldn’t come easily or quickly. Warren’s actions caused tangible harm: the loss of her home, the destruction of her plants, and the emotional toll of betrayal. For Cupcake to simply forgive him without any meaningful effort on his part would undermine the gravity of what she endured. Forgiveness, in this context, isn’t just a gift—it’s something Warren has to earn through consistent, intentional actions. Words alone won’t suffice; he needs to demonstrate that he understands the extent of the harm he caused and is actively working to repair it.
Earning forgiveness means Warren has to confront his own flaws and take accountability for them. He has to go beyond the surface-level acknowledgment of his mistakes and show genuine remorse. This could involve being vulnerable about his own fears and past trauma, but more importantly, it requires him to prioritize Cupcake’s healing and trust above his own desire for reconciliation.
For Cupcake, this journey isn’t just about forgiving Warren; it’s about reclaiming her own power. Forgiveness, if it happens, should come from a place of strength, not obligation. She needs time to process what happened, set boundaries, and decide for herself what she’s willing to tolerate. The scales aren’t balanced, and the process of addressing that imbalance is where the real growth for both characters lies.
Ultimately, Warren needs to prove that he’s not the same man who made those choices—through actions, not empty apologies. Cupcake deserves the space to heal and the autonomy to decide if she even wants to rebuild the trust that was broken. Anything less would diminish the depth of their journey, both individually and together.
Shout out to my
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To all black girls who refuse to be subjected to prejudices and forced into a mold. I love you.
a/n: i like men and women. enjoy the sex! I WAS SO..JDDJDSD WRITING THIS..never written a threesome before! (pardon if it shows) (ib the song '3' by britney spears) MDNI
cw: threesome, double doms, good girl/sub reader, restricted breathing, edging, punishment, oral sex, restraints, just overall freaks..
Having two people solely devoted to your pleasure—well, that was the kind of greed they discussed in the bible. Though, it didn't feel like greed on your end, when Makayla and Warren were eyeing you with utmost lust and desire. Circling you, pacing like panthers, waiting to ruin you.
"I wasn't kidding earlier, darling," Makayla whispers in your ear, her sharp acrylics subtly raking up and down your back—the sensation making you shiver. "You really are breathtaking.." She exhales, kissing your neck softly. You stood with your clothing off, leaving only your bra and panties visible to the two of them.
Warren stood in front of you, a wicked smirk plastered on his face as he traced the lines of your cheekbones like you were a delicate toy—a prized possession. When he reaches your breasts, you inhale sharply, the oversensitivity already wrecking you.
"Be a good girl for us, Cupcake," Warren muses, "Get on your knees."
You glance around, looking back at Makayla—and you drop to your knees when she gives you an approving nod.
"All fours, actually," Makayla corrects in a sultry yet commanding tone. "I would prefer to touch you."
Your breath audibly hitches as you sink to the ground—on your hands and knees. Mikayla followed not long after, placing one of her hands on your hip—the other on your spine as she hovered over you.
Warren slowly takes off his belt, dropping it to the floor with ease and sudden impatience. You look at him, eyes wide and lips parted as he takes already hardened cock out, the tip already leaking with pre-cum as he awaited your mouth.
He curls his fingers around the base, pumping a few times before looking at Makayla—a mischievous glint in his eyes.
As if on a cue, her fingers trail over the lining of your panties, stopping in the midst of her movement—she angles her head to look at you for permission. When you nod at her, she gently tugs them down, not quite taking them completely off.
Without warning, she slides a finger inside of you—surprised at how wet you were with just a few words. How pathetic of you. The slow drag of her fingers makes you twitch as your eyes roll back.
"Open that pretty mouth," Warren urges his dick closer, but you wanted to have fun with it—it was what you were here for, after all. You sweetly kiss the tip, a touch so slight it almost couldn't be felt. But Warren felt it—he felt it everywhere.
You bring your hands up—preparing to brace yourself against his thighs for balance—before Makayla slips out of you and grabs your wrists, pinning them behind your back.
"Nice try, love, but I'm afraid we call the shots."
Warren moans when you finally take him in, his hand quickly tightening in your hair as he fucks your throat. "Fuck- yes, Cupcake. Nice and slow. Just like that."
"That's it," Makayla praises as she teases your clit, the sudden sensation making you moan and squirm. You tried to move your hands, but you were utterly helpless under her grip, and you were too far gone to realize it. "Don't get lazy, sweet girl. He likes when you work for it."
You shiver slightly at her words, her pace becoming increasingly agonizing as she teases your thighs.
"Look at you," Warren groans, meeting your eyes—both affection and a need to dominate blooming in his chest. "Desperate and dripping while your mouth is stuffed with my cock?"
You nod in agreement, taking him deeper, the need to taste all of him encompassing any other feeling. Tears sting at your eyes as he hits the back of your throat, and you moan against him—the vibration making him hiss in pleasure.
Whimpering slightly, you grind against Makayla's hand as you struggle to stay still. Pleasure overriding any rational sense you once had.
"Aww, does my sweet girl need more? So needy.." She teases, her pace quickening.
You pull back slightly, giving yourself enough room to speak—your voice scratchy and wrecked. "Please- I- I'll be good.. I'll be so good I promise.." You beg, your eyes pleading as your eyes look between them. They exchange a brief glance before turning attention back to you.
"Get up," Warren demands, picking you up by your arms as Mikayla realeases you from her cold hands.
Makayla lays back on the bed, smirking like a Cheshire cat as Warren plants you in front of the bed, his frame towering over yours as he glances between the both of you.
"Bend over, now."
He unhooks the clasp of your bra, letting it fall to the floor. You follow his orders, arching your back over the bed, bracing her hands against the foot of it—as Makayla spreads her legs for you.
Warren teases his cock against your entrance, groaning at your wetness—building anticipation in your body as Makayla eyes you with ardor and unfiltered desire.
"Now, darling, be a sweet little thing and use that pretty tongue on me.."
Your eyes widen in surprise at her request, the thought of both your mouth and pussy being full sending shockwaves of thrill pulsing through your veins.
Warren bends down, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. "Ya' gonna keep us waiting, Cupcake?"
"N-no..sir," You barely manage to get the words out when he slides into you, stuffing you full. Jolts of pain flood your body when the stretch becomes overwhelming—but you were never one to back down from a challenge.
You kiss Makayla's pussy softly, savouring her sweet taste as you part her thighs with your hands—firmly holding her in place. She let's out a breathy laugh when you moan against her from Warrens relentless thrusting.
"F-fuckk, yes sweetheart, show me how good you are with that tongue," Makalya's head tilts back towards the celining, her thighs starting to tremble under your skilled tongue.
Warrens grip on your hips tighten as he groans, the words broken but effective as he watched you ruin Makayla. "Keep using your mouth, Cupcake. I want her trembling when you're done,"
You nod, slowly meeting his thrust—the resolute sound of clapping progressively louder.
As if defying human anatomy, you become wetter when Makayla's whimpers and needy moans—and you can feel it trickling down your thighs.
You flick your tongue over her clit, absentmindedly making it your goal to make her shatter around you—not to mention, Warren had similar plans with you.
Makayla's hand reaches down, encapsulating your throat in a grip—but not quite choking you. She looks down, giving you faux puppy eyes as she humps harder into your face—her mess painting your face like paint on a fresh canvas.
"Mmn, 's soo good" She drawls out, her eyes rolling back in pure ecstacy.
"Harder," You softly plead, looking up at her from between her legs. A glimpse of confusion crosses her face before her gaze drops to where her hand decorates your neck, the confusion quickly replaced with shock.
Warren, unbenownkest to you, looks just as surprised. He raises an eyebrow at Makayla, and they both share a chuckle before she looks back down at you.
"Darling, forgive us, we hadn't realized you were a whore."
Her hand grips your throat tighter, your vision fading in and out as she allows you only milliseconds to breath.
"You gonna make us cum, sweet girl? Make me cum inside of you and give you a baby," Warren asks—and you almost couldn't hear it from the ringing in your ears from the loss of blood flow. Makayla's hold felt like the sweetest punishment.
"Ungh, y-yes—" You gasp and sputter when Makayla gives you a moment to speak. Your tongue works faster, your fingers curling inside of her and hitting her g-spot perfectly.
Warren's thrusts get sloppier—messier, just a few more and you know he's a goner.
With the last circle of your tongue around her, Makalya cums on your face, the liquid pouring into your mouth—hot and delicious, and you eat it like a starved woman.
"Goddess, darling you are-" Makayla runs her fingers over your chin—gently caressing you, looking at you like you're the only woman in the world.
With one last thrust, Warren spills into you—stuffing you whole as you cum at the same time—the release bringing relief you never thought would come.
His forehead drops to you shoulder, kissing it with pure affection as you all breath from the erotica of it all. The post-orgasm cloud above Makayla's head clears, the sheen of sweat on both her and Warrens foreheads a testament to how thoroughly they'd used you.
With a quick glance between you and each other, it's as if an unspoken spell has been cast between the two, entwining their thoughts together as they both say at the same time, "Are you okay?"
You giggle, almost to yourself—clearly, your post-orgasm cloud has not faded. "I've..I've never been better,"
Warren rolls his eyes in good humor at your comment, lifting you up into his arms— as Makayla kisses your forehead before sliding on her clothing and trotting towards the door.
"Work is coming," She re-affirms, looking in the mirror—fixing her disheveled hair and straightening her ruffled clothing.
"Are you 'work'?" You quip, the joke sounding funnier in your head as you once again giggle to yourself—Warren making a mocking horrified look.
"Sex jokes? From you?" He looks between you and Makayla. "What did we do to her?"
Makayla just shrugs with an amused smirk on her face before stepping out, closing the curtains to the room to signify it's occupancy.
Warren turns his attention to you, both concern and affinity dotting every future of his face. "You did so well," he praises, kissing your cheek as he sighs with content. "I love you, Cupcake."
a/n: this one was a bit rushed, sorry in advance! but i hope you like! (req are open) also, this smutty oneshot is ib the song, 'need to know'!
Your feet shuffle backwards in unmeasured steps, your pulse fluttering as you held eye contract with him—Warrens eyes skimmed your body with barely restrained hunger.
Both your breaths came in shallow bursts, chests heaving from unnerving anticipation as he stared at the curves of your body, and your eyes meet his again.
"Goddess, Cupcake—you wouldn't know the half of the things I thought about you—"
Before you can blink, his pace quickens towards you—and his lips collide with yours, his tongue demanding as it trashes against yours, the desperation making your knees buckle; and for a minute, it felt like they were going to give out.
You let out a strangled moan into his mouth, your hips driving upwards, seeking the friction you so desperately need. He returns in kind by hopelessly groaning when you bite his lip hard enough the draw blood.
Meanwhile, Warrens hands are everywhere—gripping your ass as he lifts you up against the wall, slamming you into it with such force it knocks a few of your books off the shelf.
"Ungh- Warren!" You shout when his lips leave yours—replacing his mouth on your neck, sucking on the skin as he reaches for the hem of your blouse eagerly.
"I've waited so long," Warren says growing tired of your clothes still being on your body—he unhooks your legs, releasing you from the wall. "Fuck-"
His impatience shows through when his lets out an annoyed scoff—suddenly his tetchy hands rip through your delicate blouse, revealing the lace bra beneath—and you gasp with both shock and disgruntlement.
"All those nights you spent next to me, and all I could think about was fucking you until you couldn't think straight," his hands reach for your skirt next, eyes ablaze with lust and possession. "Just wanna watch your face when I fuck you so hard it hurts—hear you whimper when I'm inside of you.."
His filthy confessions sends heat and want through your body—the pent up sexual tension being broken was almost to much to bear. Your hands move quickly, helping him take off what's left of your clothing.
Warrens hands trail up your thighs, slightly digging into them and leaving marks as he licks your neck—once again roughly sucking it—his lips trialing down to your collarbone.
He hooks your legs again, dragging you towards the foot of the bed as he throws you onto it, not caring about his sudden roughness. Your body already feels limp—and he hasn't even begun.
You stare up at him, only to find him staring back at you with a desire so dark it nearly makes you convulse. You expect him to become ravenous again—but he doesn't. He just.. stares.
A part of you wants to sheepishly hide behind your hands—maybe storm out of the room and forget it ever happened.
But a part of you also feels rather bold.
When he moves towards you, you raise your hand—signaling for him to stop. A look of confusion crosses his face, but it quickly morphs into anticipation when a shit-eating grin is planted on yours.
"Cupcake, what are yo—" The words die on his tongue when you reach for your bra, your fingers trailing over the clasp.
A line forms between Warrens eyebrows as he crosses his arms over his chest, clearly impatient waiting for your next move.
"You want me, don't you?" You say in a hush tone, your voice sultry as you slowly pull the fabric off. "Then you'll wait."
Warren scoffs, both a vexed and satisfied smirk lighting up his features. He tilts his head slightly to the right, his jaw clenched so tight he thought it would break.
You maintain eye contact with him as you fully take off your bra, a slight gasp leaving your lips as the cold air hardens your nipples before you gently massage your sensitive peaks.
Warren is now slack jawed, watching you so lost in your own pleasure, the confusion now replaced with shock. His mouth feels like a pit of sand, his throat so dry it almost made him cough.
Next, you drop your fingers towards your panties—slowly pulling them off while he watched, his eyes narrowing as a warning.
The silence is deafening as your naked body lay across the bed, but you weren't done.
Warren opens his mouth, but you silence him with your next action. Before your brain chose its better judgement, you run your fingers through your slick folds—Goddess. You were soaked. And Warren couldn't look more smug.
You rub your clit at a slow pace, slightly wincing in discomfort from the earlier stimulation. Your head tips back as you helplessly moan, your fingers working quicker.
"Oh, fuck—!" You writhing under your own touch only made Warren crave you more.
Quickly, you plunge two fingers into your pussy, your other hand fisting the sheets. You bring your gaze back down, looking at Warren in the eyes as you fuck yourself on your hand with no shame—and it utterly undid him.
Time for him to see just how far you're willing to take it.
"Oh, Goddess! Warren! Yes, right there!" You yell, teasing him with the sound of your name on his lips, and his lip curves in a snarl. Your fingers work faster, the grip on the sheets intensifying as your eyes roll back—humping against your hand with fervor.
Warren lets out a low growl before he strides over to you—before you have enough him to react, his hand has already gripped both your wrists, leaving you defenseless underneath him.
"You're such a little whore, aren't you, Cupcake?" He barks out, spitting out his words like they're poison.
"I-"
Before you can finish your sentence, he brutally slams his cock into you, moaning when your walls tighten around him. He gives you no time to adjust before he slams into you again, completely unrelenting.
"Gah! Warren!" You cry out, tears stinging your eyes at the painful stretch. Your hands find his back, and you scrape your nails down it in retaliation. "It hurts—"
Warren lets out a humorless chuckle, kissing your cheek gently—the action giving you severe whiplash.
"Good. Fucking take it like the whore you are. My filthy cockslut—" He thrusts again, and you toss your head back, moaning and screaming his name as he thoroughly wrecking you in every way imaginable.
"You do know that, don't you?" He grunts out in between thrusts, "Your fucking mine, Cupcake. Mine to fuck, mine to ruin."
Warren locks eyes with you again, and his pace slows down—but still equally harsh. "Isn't that right? Your perfect pussy was made for me," His lips find yours again, your tongues entangling as a singular tear rolls down your face. He quickly wipes it away, kissing where it fell gently.
"Y-Yes, Warren," Your clinging onto him for dear life, the overstimulation making a few more tears wet your cheek. "M-Mn all yours.."
You cradle his face as your head falls back against the pillows, as you near your climax, letting him take full control over your body. His cock pulses inside you, the girth filling you completely.
His pace dwindles as you reach the edge, and you audibly moan in frustration at the loss.
"Aw, sweet girl, you wanna cum? You wanna cum all over my cock, Cupcake?" He mocks, shooting her a fake pouty look—awaiting an answer.
"Warren, p-please." You cry out.
"Please what, Cupcake? What do you want?"
"Mm-" You hump slightly into his hand, seeking the friction he just gave you. "N-need to c-cum.."
Warren huffs in agreement, resuming his brutal pace as he digs in you deeper, his dick hitting just the right spot that makes you scream. You whimper as he whispers filth in your ear, the following sounds of slapping skin echoes in your ear.
"Cum for me sweethear-"
You didn't need to be told twice. Your head tosses from side to side as he works over you, making your vision go white and hot as you came around him—the sensation making him groan. A montage of moans falls from your mouth, your throat raspy from the desperate cries.
Before you can come back down, he flips you—your legs braced on either side of his hips, sitting atop him as though he were your throne.
"Ride me like a good little whore, Cupcake," He demands, his muscled hands gripping your hips so harshly you knew it would leave indented bruises.
Simply unable to argue, you nod in agreement—and this had been all he wanted. Seeing you ride him brought out something primal in him, like he was owned in the best way possible.
You bounce on him, his balls slapping against your wet pussy as you ride him like you were destined for it.
"F-fuck Cupcake, Atta girl, just like that.. you're doing so good.." Warren praises, thrusting up into you lazily. His thrusts became sloppier, and you knew he was about to cum by the way his muscles tensed and his cock twitched inside of you.
Warren groans as he finally spills into you, his eyes meeting yours as you slumped on top of him, your body exhausted and slick with sweat. The air smelt like sex, and your body trembled against his.
"W-was that okay?" You whispered, genuine curiosity in your tone as you tried to regain your composure.
Normally, you hated how vulnerable sex left you. A shy emotional turmoil of a mess—but with Warren, it felt okay. He chuckles a bit, his hand running up and down your back in a soothing motion.
"Cupcake, you were fucking perfect." He gives you a reassuring smile, cradling your cheek in one hand as he plants a chaste kiss on your swollen lips.
You smiled against his neck, a post-orgasm cloud fogging your brain as you exhaled deeply.
"Oh no you don't," Warren says, "let's get you in the shower before you fall asleep on me."
And as he scoops you up into his arms, for once—vulnerability doesn't seem like such a dreadful experience.
I just wanna give in, and I don't care if I'm forgiven.
Castin x The Baroness (reader)
an: first time writing for the baroness and castin! hope you like it. :)
cw: bondage kink/breeding kink/restricted breathing - baroness is a brat/dom castin
REQ: open! i need to knock off rust, hehe.
-
Castin just couldn't help it.
Unfortunately for him, Neither could his cock.
You were just so.. poised. So utterly respectable, even when he had shredded every last bit of self-respect from your body just a few nights ago. When he had fucked you so deeply, you still felt him in every stride you took. Every movement of your legs was weighed down by the delightful soreness, a testament to the night before.
Goddess, it was everything about you.
Your tits, the way they bounced when he fucked you hard—or how sore your taunt nipples would be from his relentless sucking and biting.
Your plump ass, and the way your hips flew from side to side as you walked. The way it bounced against his abs when he was taking you from behind, his fingers pressed so deep into the skin it almost left bruises if he had lost all restraint.
Your thighs—the way they tightened around his head when his tongue flicked over your clit in the most delicious way, leaving you gasping and humping into his face for more friction. Your pretty pussy begging for more, turning you into a whimpering mess. You were no longer the respectable girl you'd been brought up to be. You were ravished beyond comprehension. You'd get so lost in your own pleasure, sometimes you'd accidentally squeeze too hard, restricting his breathing. But that only spurred him on.
A very important lesson is taught to those in training, such as how to tie a knot. Castin used to look upon those days and deem them utterly useless. He fought with a godsdamned sword, he didn't need to know how to tie knots.
'The knowledge you overlook today will be the tool you reach for tomorrow.' Was always the repeated line that his former superiors would say, knowing that teenage-Castin couldn't have given less of a shit about tying a rope.
Now, he must finally put to use what he never thought he’d need.
Being out on campaign meant two things, and two things only.
One, he'd need to come home alive. Two, the only way he was ever dying—would be from suffocating in between his beautiful wife’s thighs. That much was certain.
But now, he was home at last. And ravished.
A man ravished is a man undone.
..
Your wrists were already bound before you had time to process it, the silk was tight but soft against your skin. A firm knot held you in place against the bedframe, one he made sure would be secure.
Well, no escaping now..
Like you were going to anyway..
"Fuck, sweetheart.." Castin exhales, cupping one of your breasts in one hand, slowly kneading it in his hand. His coal-like eyes were transfixed on the sensitive taunt nipples, and the way they pebbled under both your arousal—and the slight chill in the room.
A soft moan escaped your lips as he brought one into his mouth, slowly sucking like he couldn't get enough.
"I love these so much—No, I love you so much.." He whispers in between his greedy pants of need. He can feel his dick twitching and pulsing, the thought of raw-fucking you until you begged him to stop nearly made him cum right then and there.
"Is that right, sir?" You say, a mischievous brat-like smirk curving on your lips. Your thighs instinctively clench, a bit of your pride dwindled from the action. You bring your lips to his ear, the red on them leaving a slight mark on his lobe. "Prove it then.."
Castins expression hardens, a clear force trying to take over his body, but his restraint is still evident as he takes a deep breath—slipping his hand between your legs.
All of your clothes had been tossed aside, except your panties—but those would be gone soon too.
His long thick fingers trace over the fabric, teasing you by rubbing his fingers over your already swollen clit. You already knew you were soaked, your juices slipping down your thighs was enough to prove it without a single look.
But a Baroness must always appear unshaken.
You wouldn't let a little bit of teasing give way. You would delay his satisfaction for as long as you could.
"Is that all you got, Castin? I thought you were supposed to be in control.." You give him a fake sympathetic pout, clearly mocking him. The pout clearly turns into a smirk as he looks up at you, his jaw flexing, and his free hand slightly fisting the sheet.
"Oh, sweetheart—" His left hand releases the sheets, and he fists your throat with a tight grip.
It wasn't meant to hurt—rather, it was a reminder. Your neck was delicate, and his hand around it made it look like an accessory. Testing the waters, he grips it just a bit harder, restricting some of your airflow—and you gasp softly. The vibration against his hand sent shockwaves through his body, and blood straight to his already hardened dick.
"Still got something to say?" Castin quirks an eyebrow, and he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, awaiting an answer.
"Guhh- Castin--!" Is all you manage to sputter out, your head tilting back as his other hand worked harder between your legs; the pace of his fingers over your clit becoming progressively faster, and progressively more overwhelming.
"What's that, babygirl? I can't hear you.." The mocking of your earlier pout was now on his face, his voice dripping with arousal and condescension.
A loud rip sound could be heard as Castin tears the delicate lace fabric of your panties, a throaty moan erupting from his throat as he slides his thick fingers inside of you without warning.
Tears prickle your eyes at the sudden stretch, emitting yet another gasp.
It’s hot. Everything felt like to much— the overstimulation, the dual sensation of his thumb on your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of your soaking-wet cunt.
“Goddess, I wanna punish you for driving me so damn crazy while I’m away—“ His hold tightens again, and tears prick your eyes as he adds a third finger, stretching you further.
“All I can think about when I’m away from you is this tight fucking pussy, and how wet you get by just looking at me—such a slut..”
The sounds that follow are your desperate moans, combining in a whirlwind of sloppy wetness fills the silent room.
“How fucking beautiful you look when you’re about to cum,” Castin tilts his head back, his eyes closing as though he were imagining it—replaying a memory. “You act like you’re this big tough girl, but when I get you alone? Goddess, you fucking break. I just wanna break you baby,”
By some defiance of physics, his hand works faster—your thighs uncontrollably shaking as you near your climax. He had always said filth, but never this…erotic. Never this desperate.
“Do anything do have you cum all over my cock again, you’re just so precious when you do, those cute little moans.”
His words only bring you closer and closer, and you finally stop fighting. Your head cranes backward, and you shamelessly fuck yourself on his hand.
But just as you’re about to cum, he stops. Castin takes his fingers out of your pussy, and he smirks when you whimper at the loss. He seems unnervingly grounded.
He sucks both fingers into his mouth, maintaining eye contact with you as irises pour into you—as if they’re analyzing every move you make.
“Fuck, Castin,” you breathe out in the most whiny way you’ve ever heard yourself.
But before you can finish speaking, he unbounded you from your restrictions, taking his hand off your throat and setting you free. However, it doesn’t take long before the silk tie was replaced with his own hands—guiding you to get up.
Confusion clouds your brain—and your knees hit the mattress with a dull ‘thud’. Castin grunts, his hands freeing your wrists as he shoves you, bending you over the bed.
Great. You’re about as fucked as you were the night before.
“Arch your back sweetheart.” Castin is still gentle with you, despite his commanding voice sending chills down your spine. You rarely saw him like this, and you knew you wanted to see more of it now more than ever.
But, why not have a little fun with it, hm?
In an act of defiance, you don’t listen. Instead, you lift your head, examining the area around you.
Then, your own reflection at the foot of the bed stares back at you.
Goddess, you were a damn mess. Hair disheveled , body writhing and quaking, your limp body so small compared to Castins—hickeys and lovebirds decorating your chest as though they were a necklace.
He stood behind you, clearly waiting for you to oblige, but—you wouldn’t budge. Such a damn brat.
You smirk at him in the mirror, raising both eyebrows, indirectly telling him you weren’t planning on complying with his earlier orders.
But that smirk was quickly erased when Castin raised a hand, slapping it across your ass so hard it stung.
“Nueg, ow! Castin!” You shout, the pain turning to pleasure as he gently kneads the red skin in his hands.
“You gonna keep disobeying me, sweetheart? Well, this is what happens—“ His hand is brought down again, spanking you harder on the other side, and tears threaten to fall from you eyes.
Castin raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for your next move. He brings his hand up once again, preparing to strike.
You finally give in, arching your back easily—and he lets out a satisfied hum.
He presses his cock against your entrance, teasing you by circling it relentlessly.
He wasn’t gonna play fair. Smart people don’t play things fair. That you knew for certain.
“Castin,” You pant out, your chest heaving, “P-Please..”
“Hm? You want me to fuck this pussy, sweetheart? Be my little fuckdoll?”
Your heartbeat is thrumming in your ears, your entire body pulsing—and your pussy clenching around nothing. “Y-yes,” you beg, “yes sir, p-please fuc-“
You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he thrusted inside of you—the action alone making you at a loss for words as your back arches deeper.
Castin let out a raspy groan, slightly whimpering at the tightness of your walls—and how your body tensed beneath his touch. “This pretty pussy is mine, isn’t it?”
“Fuuucckk! Castin—! Y-yes!” You shout, looking at the mirror, meeting his gaze.
His hands release from your hips, one of them tangling through your hair as he pounds harder into you—his pace is unforgiving. Fast. Rough.
“You love it when I call you mine, don’t you? When I tell you I’m going to breed you..flood your womb with my cum—“ His pace is now erratic, and the sound of slapping skin is all that can be heard. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be my filthy little breeding slut,”
“Yes, I-I want it. I want you to fill me up, I want you to put a baby in me—!” To match his rhythm, you started bouncing yourself backwards—the bed creaking so hard and loud you thought you’d break it.
“Holy shit, baby,” He spanks your ass again with his free hand relishing in the feeling of dominance over you. “Mn, I’m not not gonna last long,”
Your orgasm slams into you like a freight train, a sudden white fog clouding your brain as you rode it out—screaming his name whilst giving him all you had. Sweat trickled down your forehead, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Not when this was all you could focus on.
Castin finishes not long after, thick ropes of cum filling your hole completely—leaving the white liquid pouring out of you as he watched. He looked dazed, it became clear he was far too gone.
His body quickly slumps on top of you, his frame caging you in as he pants in your ear—the sound leading you to believe he was utterly exhausted. He flips you over with ease, his lips immediately crashing into yours. His forehead finds yours, and he cradles your cheek softly, his thumb caressing the cheekbone.
“You did so good for me, Sweetheart,” He says softly, his tone reassuring—his eyes quickly skimming over her body for any signs of uncomfort or displeasure.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” you quip, giggling to yourself with full sincerity. “Let’s bathe together. If the warrior thing doesn’t work out, you could totally-“
Castin brings a finger to your lips, quietly shushing her before saying the words that made her eyes bulge out of your head.
“What the hell makes you think we’re done?” He says with a smirk, clearly pussy drunk—slinging one of your legs over his shoulder.
Writing With Color – Featured Research Guides, Resources
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On Asking WWC Questions Without Prior Research
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Name Research and Resources
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The more and more I think about it, the more I realize that Warren and Cupcake are quite literally carbon copies of Nick Wilde and Judy Hops from Zootopia.
'Hmm,' Warren thought, as his vision blurred from the constant narrowing of his eyes. 'How the fuc-'
His thoughts were then immediately interrupted by the sound of a bird squawking outside of the window, almost startling him.
Turning back towards the paper, his eyebrows furrowed once again in confusion. Third times a charm.
You see, he hadn't been necessarily been reading. Well, he had, but the words seemed too all blur together; and his eyes were reading, but his brain wasn't.
The pen that was once in his hand, now seemed to be somewhat of a makeshift squeeze-toy-stress-reliever, and it wouldn't go over well with Anastasia if he had spilled ink all over himself.
Oh, he could see it now.
He could see her eyes narrowing, her once pouty lips now in a thin line, her head tilted to the right, a sculpted eyebrow raised, and her hands on her hips, her eyelashes fluttering from the consistent blinking.
Yes. He had remembered it. In fact, he knew it all too well. You would have too exorcise him to get rid of the memory of her giggling with her teeth bared at him. Of course, then she would say,
'Whatcha .. doin'?'
-
There were other things he'd remembered too. They came to him unbidden, catching him off guard when he least expected it.
When their bodies were entangled as they slept. The way her body now instinctively curled against his, and how easily he now let it happen. Her soft groans as she clung onto him, her arms wrapping tighter around the nape of his neck when he tried to move them.
'Mmn, Warren,'
'Yes, Cupcake?'
'Stop moving, m' gonna punch your stupid pretty face .."
-
But for now? He let the ache twist into something sharper, standing close enough to feel her warmth but too far to claim it, the weight of what they couldn’t say threatening to drown him.
Because holding on to the fragments of her was easier than facing a world where she might never truly be his.
