#i used to draw him in skirts all the time why did i ever stop !!!

[daily-basil]

Ayyyyy

#he looks cute !! #mod snuuy #omori #daily basil #art #drawing #omori basil #digital #basil #basil omori #i used to draw him in skirts all the time why did i ever stop !!! #theater kid...

[roxygen22]

Paper

"My Little Cocoa Bean" Series

Summary: Reader and Willy discover that Ben/Bean is an aspiring artist. Age: 3 & 17

<><><><><>

You were outside hanging clothes on the line to dry when you heard the back door slam and little feet running toward you. Before your brain could register what was happening, you were nearly bowled over by the force of Ben running into your leg.

You looked down to find that Ben had buried his face and balled up his fists in your skirt. "Pa ell a mm," you heard his garbled speech muffled by the fabric. You knelt down and pried his fingers loose so you could look at his red, tear-streaked face.

"I'm sorry, Benny. I couldn't understand you when your mouth was covered. Take a deep breath." You inhaled deeply through your nose and out through your mouth a couple of times, motioning for him to copy you. "Good. Now, try again. What's all this about?"

"P-papa lelled at m-meeee." The boy started sobbing again.

"Oh dear. What happened?"

"I..." he sucked in a breath. "I wanted to dwaw him a picture. I saw paper on Papa's desk..."

"Ah, I see. Did that paper already have words on it?"

"Only on fwont. I dwew on back."

"Oh, Benny. We talked about asking before you touch anything in the study. Papa has very important papers in there for the shop and factory."

"I'm sowwy." He looked up at you with big puppy-dog eyes. You cupped his round cheeks in your hands.

"I know you are. But I'm not the one you need to apologize, too. Why don't you go inside to your room and play while I go check on Papa. After that, you can tell him you're sorry." Ben nodded, then shuffled through the back door to his room with his head hung low.

It was out of character for Willy to snap at anyone. The man typically had the patience of a saint, so you knew Ben must have drawn on something important. You quietly stepped into the study and spied Willy slumped in the armchair, one hand supporting his forehead and one foot kicked out. It looked as if he had collapsed dramatically into it.

"I made him cry," Willy said morosely without looking up. "I didn't- I didn't mean to. I shouted his name. I was just trying to get his attention and stop him before he did more damage. I...I startled him, and he ran off to you."

"Full name or nickname?" you asked as you sat on the sofa next to him.

"Full name," he groaned.

You grimaced. Ouch, you thought. Willy hardly ever referred to the boy as anything but Bean and almost never as Benjamin unless introducing him to others. It's on par with your mother using your middle name when you were in trouble. You shuddered slightly. That probably wounded Ben worse than the volume. "What did he draw on?"

Willy held up the face page of a contract with the hand not supporting his head. He had yet to look up at you.

"Oh dear."

"I'll ask Beth to type up a new one tomorrow before the meeting. It wasn't worth raising my voice at him. I...I just had a long day and...of course, that doesn't excuse anything. Is he okay?"

"He'll be alright," you said soothingly as you placed your hand on Willy's arm. "He's calming down in his room. Like you said, he was startled. You are usually the fun one, not the disciplinarian."

"I should go to him," Willy said as he stood from the chair. You returned to your previous task of hanging out the laundry so they could have some time alone to make amends.

Willy walked to Ben's room and gently knocked before pushing the door open. Ben looked up at him from his desk with big sad eyes.

"Hey there," Willy said softly.

"I dwew you another picture. I'm sowwy, Papa," Ben said pitifully as he handed Willy a piece of paper.

"Oh, Bean. Is this the factory?" Ben nodded excitedly. "Wow, such great detail! Is this what you wanted to draw earlier?" Ben nodded again, with less exuberance this time. Willy's heart broke as he saw his son's face fall.

"Hey, buddy. I'm sorry for raising my voice and scaring you. That was a very important paper you were drawing on, and I needed you to stop."

"I know, Mamma told me I need to ask first," he responded dejectedly. "I just had a picture in my head that I wanted to dwaw when I was by your desk."

"Ah, that I understand. Sometimes my ideas don't come to me at convenient times, either. Tell you what. How about I set up a drawer with paper that's safe to draw or write on whenever an idea strikes. You never have to ask for permission as long as it's from that drawer. Deal?"

Ben's face lit up again, and he stuck his tiny right hand to shake. "Deal!"

Willy shook his son's hand with his right and looked down again at the picture in his left. It was incredibly well done for Ben's age.

"Can I take this to the factory with me? I want to frame and hang it. If you draw more, I'll have a whole gallery wall of Benjamin Wonka works."

Ben giggled, "Okay, Papa!"

<><><><><>

Over time, Ben's art skills matured to charcoals, watercolors, canvases, and paints. Willy spotted the talent early and took great pleasure in encouraging it, supplying it. Fourteen years later, he had indeed collected enough of Ben's work to fill multiple walls.

"People need to see this."

Willy decided to surprise Ben by converting one of his shops into a limited time art gallery for his 17th birthday. He somehow managed to promote what ended up being the town's social event of the season while also keeping it a secret from his boy.

It was finally the night of the big reveal. "Papa, why are we going to the shop so late? I thought we were going to meet Mamma and Charlie for dinner?" Ben walked shoulder to shoulder with Willy. They were nearly the same height now.

Willy was vibrating with excitement. "I just need to pick up something I left there," he bent the truth slightly. "Your birthday present."

When they arrived, Willy unlocked the doors to reveal a magenta velvet curtain blocking the entry. He took the gold pull cord in his hand and handed it to Ben.

Ben looked at the tassel in his hand, bewildered. "What is this?"

"Your gift! Pull it and find out." As Ben pulled the cord, the curtain drew back to reveal...

"Surprise!!"

Ben stood there with his mouth ajar as he looked around at you, Charlotte, Noodle, his friends and girlfriend. Everyone rushed him for a celebratory hug. He gave you a kiss on the cheek. Then, the background details caught his eye. The crowd separated as Ben made his way to look at the walls that were now decorated with his paintings rather than shelves of candies and chocolates.

He browsed in awe until he stopped at the penciled sketch of the Wonka factory, gently tracing the golden frame with his fingers. He felt Willy step up beside him and gently squeeze his shoulder.

"Happy birthday, Bean."

Ben looked over his shoulder to reveal misty eyes. "Thanks for always being my biggest fan, Papa," he said reverently.

"I'm glad I could be right here beside you when your talent is shared with the world."

<><><><><>

A/N: I think it's safe to say that Willy would be his kids' biggest cheerleaders.

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Masterlist

#my little cocoa bean #wonka #timothée chalamet #wonka 2023 #willy wonka #wonka movie #timmy!wonka #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #willy wonka x reader #dad willy wonka #willy wonka x you #wonka x reader #wonka x you #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x you #mom reader #established relationship #papa wonka #papa willy wonka #papa!wonka #willy wonka imagines #female reader #tooth rotting fluff #fluff #drabble #family drabble #family man wonka #wonka is a family man

[noxturnalpascal]

I Said I Wouldn’t Hook-up With Him, Then I Did Again

Dieter Bravo x F!Actor!Reader (WC: 1636)

A/N: Write a story based on the moodboard made by @iamasaddie ‘s random pinterest pics.

Summary: If you hook up with your ex (and co-actor), Dieter Bravo, you have to put $5 in the jar. Well shit...... we might have to tell the driver to stop at an ATM.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+ only please, Sex (Unprotected PiV), Mention of: previous sex (PiV and Oral F!rec), previous biting (and breaking of skin causing a scar), previous illegal drug use, previous sex with another woman (not described), getting high, sex toys.

🫙

“I’m not gonna fuck him.”

That’s what you’d said. Ten hours ago when Lily, your stylist, had plopped down the jar on the counter in front of the mirror. You’d said you weren’t gonna fuck him. Definitely not, you’d tacked on. You vaguely remember she might have rolled her eyes at that. She brought out the jar every time either of you were in close proximity with one of your big-bad-exes, to avoid the temptation of entanglement. 

You know the ones, the exes you were desperate to hear from but determined to avoid. Bad news time and time again, never meeting your (very) low expectations and somehow always finding new ways to disappoint you. You started the jar to hold each other accountable, making sure $5 went into the jar any time that either of you texted, called, or fell into bed with the ex.

Although, ex was a loose term, as you don’t think yours was ever more than a casual hookup played on repeat. Grabbing hands, scraping stubble, a huff of breath that smells like cigarettes and cinnamon gum. Your co-star, Dieter Bravo. Sometimes drunk, sometimes high, sometimes both. Never sober. Always on-set, still half in costume and makeup. Always teetering on the edge of getting caught, of ruining your reputation, of solidifying his. 

It was disgusting. You were disgusted with yourself every time it happened. You’re disgusted with yourself right now, as you sit on his lap in the back of your towncar home. He drags his hand under your shirt and up your ribcage, cold rings against your skin sending goosebumps across your chest, hardening your nipples. You feel his lips on your throat, teeth scraping but not leaving marks, suddenly extremely aware of your own arousal collecting in your underwear. Your own body is betraying you. Rude.

“Goddamnit,” you huff, defeated. 

He pushes his other hand up your thigh, lifting your skirt up to your waist. He knows he’s won. He always does. Without a word you untie the drawstring on his pants, of course he’d be wearing pajama pants, Dieter fucking Bravo… probably doesn’t even own jeans. You reach inside and wrap your hand around him, rock hard and velvety smooth. No underwear, obviously… you already knew he doesn’t own any of those.

“Easy access,” he says, as if reading your mind.

But then you look down and realize he’s talking about you. Fuck. You wore a skirt to work today. Now why would you have done that? You’re sure it’s not because one time, on the hood of a stunt car in a mostly-abandoned backlot in Burbank, he told you that your legs drove him fucking crazy right before he pushed them apart and dove face-first into your wet, waiting pussy. No, that couldn’t have been it.

He runs a finger along the inside of your thigh and sticks it in the side of the gusset of your panties. He moves his hand down so the back of his knuckle drags along your slit, giving away how wet you already are for him. You hear him hum, mmmmmm, and then giggle. Fucking giggle? He must be high already. He curls his finger, drawing the fabric in the crook of it and pulling it to the side.

“You gonna keep teasing me, or you gonna put it in?”

“Teasing you? Who is teasing you?” You shift yourself up on your knees, knocking against the headliner in the cramped backseat.

“You’ve been teasing me all day, baby. With your blonde hair and those pouty lips.”

“The hair was a wig Dee, you know that.” You line him up slowly at your entrance.

“It still looked good. And your lips? Those are new.”

“They’re not new lips, I just got some filler, it’s not a big deal.” You slowly start to sink down on his thick length.

“Well if you want people to imagine those full lips around their cocks, you’ve done a good job.”

Jesus Christ, you mutter simultaneously, for different reasons. You’re rocking your hips up and down, coating him with your wetness to ease the stretch of him pushing into you. You hear whispers about his dick in nearly every ladies’ room you go into in this town. His length is average, satisfying but not newsworthy, but his girth is massive. And even though you’ve taken it plenty of times before, you struggle every single time.

His large hands find your hips, fingers spreading back to cover your bare ass. Obviously you wore the thong so you wouldn’t have panty lines in your clingy cotton dress. It has nothing to do with the fact that once, while shooting in Wales, he went so insane with lust that he bit your ass and broke skin, leaving a tiny tooth-shaped scar that he likes to run his tongue over every time you hook up. Nope, it has nothing to do with that at all.

You finally get all of him inside of you, the sting of the stretch pushed to the back of your mind by the overwhelming fullness of him. God he’s so fucking big and you think you must say it outloud because you hear him groaning yeahhh into your neck. He squeezes you where his hands are gripping, encouraging you to move on him and then helps guide you back and forth on his lap.

You look down at his face, and realize he’s still wearing the sunglasses from set, his hair still gelled in the style of his character, with a little curl looped down onto his forehead. Come here, he says and you obey, bringing your mouth to his, tangling tongues and sharing spit. He passes you his gum and you try to give it back but then he pulls off your mouth to moan fuck yeahhh.

He moves one hand to the front of your top, yanking it down to expose your nipples. Okay if you’re being honest with yourself, you can’t think of a good reason why you didn’t wear a bra today. You know you had one in your hands at one point but then there was a memory that flashed through your mind. A memory of Dieter snorting a line off a table - a mixture of cocaine and viagra, literally ripping your brand new French-made underwear set to pieces, and fucking you on every surface of your trailer during a 3-hour weather delay in British Columbia. 

You guess ‘not wanting it to be destroyed’ was a good reason not to wear a bra, right? But you definitely weren’t going to fuck him, so why would it matter? He’s dragging his tongue all around one nipple and when he switches to the other side you feel the remnants of his spicy gum as a light burning sensation heating your pebbled nub. You don’t have much time to think about if it’s good or too much because suddenly he’s biting the other nipple, hard, causing you to cry out.

“Sorry baby, sorry,” he stammers. “I just got excited.”

His hands on your hips help you find your rhythm once again, slamming his cock into your fucked-out pussy over and over. You lean back and brace your hands on his knees and he uses the opportunity to bring a hand forward and run his thumb along his length, soaking wet where it repeatedly disappears into you. He strokes upward until he’s rubbing his thumb along you instead, at the apex of where he splits you, right over your hooded clit.

“Missed this,” he whispers so softly, you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself.

“I think you got plenty of this on your last job,” you manage to sound both snarky and uninterested, despite the increasing pressure of him petting at your sensitive, swollen bundle.

“Oh you think?”

“That’s what I heard. You and that Swedish girl, the new one, Ingrid whats-her-name?”

“Nooooo,” he moves his thumb faster. “She’s Norwegian.”

“Whatever,” you struggle to focus, “I don’t even-”

“Don’t be jealous baby," he purrs. "No one takes my cock like you do."

Fuck. Why is that working? Why does it feel so good? 

It always feels so fucking good.

“I think I’m gonna-” you start.

“Come,” he finishes.

And when you do, your orgasm rips through you, making your vision go out, shaking your legs, and stuttering your hips. His hands go back to your side, helping to bounce you for a few more thrusts before he yanks you off of him, finishing all over his own flannel pants and the bottom of his wrinkled t-shirt. He wraps his cardigan around himself, covering up the mess on his front and pops another stick of red gum into his mouth, looking at you across the bench seat.

“Wanna come in? We can order a pizza, get high, and then fuck again later. I got this new toy th-”

“What are you talking about Dieter, this is my house?” He gives you a look, and you open the dark-tinted window to see that instead of being in your own driveway, you’re parked in front of an unfamiliar home. “The fuck… I thought this car was supposed to be taking me home.”

“Well it was, but then I slipped the driver two hundred bucks so he’d bring us here instead. And also so he wouldn’t take any pictures of your ass.”

“You wouldn’t have had to pay him not to take pictures of my ass if you wouldn’t have snuck into my car as I was leaving work.”

“Yeah but it was fun, right?” He peers at you over his sunglasses. “C’mon,” he holds out his hand.

---

The next morning you get to work and, avoiding Lily’s gaze, you take a handful of $5 bills out of your pocket and silently drop them into the jar.

💵

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🫙

#iamasaddie prompt #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[judasofsuburbia]

Jonathan Byers might be the stupidest person on the planet. Because why...WHY did he ask Steve Harrington to model for his photography final? Why did he think he would ever be able to focus enough to capture what he needs to? Why did he wait until the last week of the semester and now, there's no time to ask anyone else and he doesn't want to hurt Steve's feelings—

“Hey,” Steve says, interrupting Jonathan's thought spiral. “Is this where you want me?” 

Jonathan looks up from his clipboard and camera to see Steve standing on top of the stool. Jonathan had sent him away with a costume he borrowed from the drama department and hadn't heard him come back in.

Steve is dressed in a toga. The crossbody strap is smaller than it would be on anyone else across his broad, hairy chest. The end of the toga rests delicately on his upper thighs, an inch away from being too short. Steve has quaffed his beautiful hair up and a plastic, golden crown of leaves sits amongst the brunette locks.

All of the moisture in Jonathan's mouth evaporates as he takes in Steve in this, what should have been, almost ridiculous outfit. Instead, Steve is absolutely striking in it and Jonathan is going to lose his mind before he even gets the lights set up.

“Uh, yeah, just hold there,” Jonathan croaks so he clears his throat. “I still have some things to set up.”

“Cool,” Steve replies simply. He shifts from foot to foot, tied up in lacy sandals. He looks around the studio that Jonathan has set up and smiles.

“Excited to see you do your thing,” Steve says. Jonathan trips over a cable.

“What?”

Steve glances over his shoulder and his face is so genuine when he says, “I wanna see you in the zone, you know?”

Jonathan blinks and ducks his head. “In the zone,” he repeats lamely.

“Yeah,” Steve smiles. “I mean, I've seen you take pictures before but never all done up like this. And this concept is really cool, I hope I can do it justice.“

Jonathan's assignment was to take from an existing piece of art, something not photography related, and recreate it. He's always been fascinated by the coliseums and marble statues of Greece, all the Gods and warriors of that time. As he was researching, the only thing that came to his mind was “Steve, Steve, Steve” and before he could even think twice, he shot him a text asking for his help. 

“You will, man,” Jonathan barely speaks above a mumble. 

Steve hums a song Jonathan doesn't know in the silence that follows. Jonathan finishes setting up all the lights and drawing the curtains of the room. He tries to pull up the screen behind Steve but can't get it to sit on the designated pole.

Steve reaches over him, his stomach resting on Jonathan's shoulder, and hooks the screen into place. Jonathan glances up at Steve's towering figure and swallows dryly. His muscular arm is bulging, his head is cast in the light from behind them like an angel. 

Steve winks and says, “You can put me to work, Byers. I don't mind.”

Jonathan's not sure that the thing that tumbles out of his lips is a laugh, per se, more like a weak, nasally huff of air. But he can't focus on that right now because he needs to stop breathing in Steve's cologne. He escapes to the other side of the room.

“You're going to be doing plenty today, I promise,” Jonathan responds while he sets up a little table next to his camera for his notes. “Why don't we start with you sitting?”

Steve sits on the stool with his legs spread, not even realizing that he's near exposing himself through the skirt. Jonathan squeaks and Steve glances down. 

“Oh shit,” Steve says, crossing his ankles. “Not used to that happening.”

“It's fine, I didn't see anything,” Jonathan mumbles, writing down nothing on his clipboard of notes. 

“I didn't go full commando under here,” Steve clarifies with a small laugh. “I'm just glad I wore white boxers today--”

And yeah, Jonathan didn't need that image either. He starts adjusting his camera on the tripod and says, “Sorry, I should have been more clear about your costume.”

“Nah man, it's alright. I kinda dig it. If we shoot outside, I'm sure the breeze will feel so good.”

Outside? No, Jonathan can't see Steve basking in the sun like this. He wouldn't survive that.

“Gonna have to settle for the AC, I'm afraid,” Jonathan says with a fumbling laugh. “Okay, first shot. I'm thinking you tilt your legs to the side, almost like you're lounging on the stool. Then pop the shoulder closer to the wall up while keeping the other down. Look up at the ceiling.”

Steve follows his instructions but he tilts his whole head up instead of just his eyes. 

“Chin down a bit, look with the eyes.”

“Like this?” Steve asks, voice innocent though it runs hot through Jonathan's ears.

Jonathan looks through his viewfinder to see Steve absolutely glowing. His brown eyes holding so much casual emotion that it tugs at Jonathan's heart. 

“Mhm. Perfect,” Jonathan captures a few shots like that before directing him to the next shot. And the one after.

Steve nails it over and over again, looking exactly like the ethereal Gods and tragic heroes Jonathan read about. Jonathan keeps telling him he's doing amazing, that he looks amazing. He can see Steve try to fight off his smile for the sake of not ruining the shot. Jonathan wonders if he could shoot that smile someday just for the sake of letting him be happy.

“You're going to give me a big head,” Steve says when they take a break. 

“Please,” Jonathan scoffs. “You already have one.”

Steve pouts playfully when he's done sipping his water. “I'm better than I was.”

Jonathan shakes his head with a fond smile. He looks at Steve directly and says, “Yeah, you are.”

Steve's lips part in surprise but then he quickly tilts his head away, sipping more water. Steve tsks. “Compliment after compliment, Byers. I should be your model more often.”

Jonathan's cheeks burn hot. “Yeah, yeah, tell your friends. C'mon, let's get back to it.”

The new few shots require Steve to show off his muscles which had to have been an idea of a deliriously horny Jonathan Byers. He could kill that guy.

“Okay, hold your hands up and behind your head. Then, uh,” Jonathan stammers, “Flex your arms for me.”

Steve raises his eyebrows but he does flex. It's not that Steve Harrington is absolutely shredded; rather, he has the toned muscles of a casual jock. He just cares about his body and his strength. It doesn't make it any less debilitating to witness. 

“G-good, that's good,” Jonathan mumbles.

“You good, Byers?” Steve asks. His smirk grows less subtle every fleeting second it takes for Jonathan to respond. “Wishing for someone more buff?”

“No,” Jonathan defends immediately. “No, uh, no, you're good. Great, even.” 

“What should I do with my face?” Steve asks.

“Keep it smug like that,” Jonathan says, a little bite to his words that comes from the roaring zoo currently in his stomach.

“Smug,” Steve scoffs, voice still teasing. “Just trying to figure you out.”

Jonathan ignores that, he does not need to be figured out today and especially not by Steve Harrington.

He takes the shot and instructs Steve to hold one arm up to the side while the other pretends to hold something. Steve stands awkwardly, clenching and unclenching the fist that's supposed to be acting right now. 

“Can you show me?” Steve asks. 

“Sure,” Jonathan says. He rounds the camera and is about to demonstrate making an “O” with his fist but Steve holds out his hand and Jonathan doesn't think before he takes it. He shapes Steve's fingers gently and places his arm outstretched to his side. Steve just watches him. 

“Should I actually hold something?” Steve asks.

“No, I'm gonna edit something in later,” Jonathan explains, awkwardly dropping Steve's hand because he realizes he's still holding it. 

“Like what?”

“I can't decide if it's going to be a sword or a lightning bolt. Armor, maybe,” Jonathan shrugs then looks up at Steve who is beaming at him.

“You can do that?” 

“Y-yeah. Photoshop and all.” 

“That's so fucking sick,” Steve exclaims. “You're gonna send these to me, right?”

“Yeah, if you want,” Jonathan says.

“Of course, I want,” Steve assures. ”Not only because you're making me into some Greek god but also because it's your art and it's fucking cool.“

“Thanks,” Jonathan breathes.

Steve reaches the posed hand up and pinches Jonathan's chin. Jonathan can feel every nerve vibrate as Steve's fingers fall away too soon. Steve gives him a curious look but returns his hand to the pose. Jonathan shuffles back behind the camera and continues shooting the pictures.

Steve showcases different smolders that make Jonathan's stomach tighten but he keeps pressing the button, keeps seeing how far Steve will go without his instruction. 

“What if I shot my arm back like I'm about to throw it?” Steve asks, demonstrating his point. 

Jonathan's eyes trail up his torso to the arm in question and he swallows. “Mhm. That looks really good.”

Steve's lips turn upward and he whispers, “So do you, Byers.”

Jonathan's whole body freezes. His finger trembles over the button but his mind is so blank that he can't tell it to push. Steve keeps glancing at him but Jonathan's not registering it. 

Steve coughs awkwardly and mumbles, “Just tell me to fuck off, man.”

That gets Jonathan's brain back online. “What?”

Steve jumps, not realizing that Jonathan was actually listening. He drops his stance and rolls his shoulders back, bones popping as he does. He sighs and says meekly, “If you don't like me flirting with you, just tell me to stop and I will.”

Flirting? Flirting. 

“You're flirting with me?” Jonathan asks, exasperated. 

“I was trying to,” Steve explains, a sheepish look on his face. “But it's obvious you're not into it so--”

“Wait…no, hold on, I honestly thought you were messing with me,” Jonathan admits, walking around the camera again. Steve steps down from the stool to be at eye level with him and Jonathan swoons a little in their new proximity. 

“I do love messing with you,” Steve confirms. “But no, Byers, I’ve been flustered all day having you stare at me and do your hot artist thing. That’s not a joke.”

“Really?” Jonathan whispers, his skin flushed. 

“Really,” Steve whispers back.

"I am into it," Jonathan responds quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Put you into a toga because I'm so into it--" Jonathan doesn't finish this sentence because Steve is kissing him and he would much rather be kissing Steve than talking.

With the curtains drawn and the studio booked for the rest of the afternoon, Jonathan finds himself in Steve's lap with Steve's tongue in his mouth. He decides about two seconds in that he's got enough pictures for the day.

#EMILY FINALLY WRITES STONATHAN!!!!!! MY BOYS!!! #emily writes #stonathan #stonathan fics #stonathan ficlet #stranger things #steve harrington #jonathan byers #stranger things ficlet #stranger things fic

[thecuriousquest]

Fire and Water

Yandere Dabi x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder (it doesn’t actually occur), violence, and fighting

Checkout my Master List here.

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You used to love hitting up the bar. The feeling of getting dressed up and doing your hair and makeup made you happy. You would take your time with your appearance before heading out.

You liked how guys would dote on you with heart-shaped eyes. They would buy you drinks and flirt with you. You loved every bit of it. What you loved most of all was how every guy would look at you like they wanted to get into your skirt, and you enjoyed it so long as they didn’t try anything.

However, your ex hated it. Dabi never let you out of the house looking like a “slut” as he called it. He would tell you to call your friends and tell them you’re staying home. He said it was for your own good in case things got heated at the bar. Translation: I don’t fucking trust you or the sloppy guys you’ll be around.

That was the last thing Dabi ever said to you. You broke up with him and ran away.

———

Now, you’re home from work, looking at the clock. It’s 7:30. You can’t do this again. Making up your mind, you decide to get sexy and go to the bar. You put on a little black dress, straighten your hair, and do your makeup. Your slip on your black pumps as you head out the door.

The walk to the bar isn’t bad. Only a few minutes. Once there, you take a seat and ask the bar tender for a cocktail and some water. You need to always stay hydrated because of your quirk.

You sit there patiently waiting for someone to come up to you. Minutes turn into an hour, and you find yourself looking around the bar. Have I lost my edge? Why isn’t there a fucking drink in my hand?

What you don’t realize is that there’s someone taking out the competition. You have no idea that there’s someone thwarting every man’s attempt to flirt with you or buy you a drink. You’re in the dark about the pile of unconscious men growing outside behind the bar.

After another hour and four more waters, you decide to leave, knowing nothing is going to happen. You wrap your arms around yourself as you walk home.

A pair of black boots enters your line of vision as you keep your head down while throwing yourself a pity party. You take in the person in front of you from toe to head, and you suddenly realize you’re in deep shit.

“Dabi, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m here to save your sorry ass. Have you seen what you’re wearing? You look like a whore. Come on, let’s get you home so you can get out of those clothes.” You notice him trying to pull you in the direction of his house.

You dig your heels in to stop him. “Wait, stop!”

He looks down at you with those deadly cerulean eyes. “Damnit, Y/N, quit being so difficult. You’re dressed like such a slut. What if someone had tried to touch that cute ass? Someone that’s not me.” He pulls you close and roughly palms the meat of your rear. “It’s a good thing I was there to deal with all those bastards who tried to get with you tonight.”

You can’t help the dirty glare you send his way. “What did you do?” You growl.

“I beat them all up just for you, sweetie. You’re lucky I didn’t kill them. It would’ve been your fault, though. With you looking like that, I would’ve had to.”

With his quirk, you know Dabi is capable of great violence, but so are you when pushed far enough, and he just did.

A torpedo of water shoots forth from your hand and directly at his jaw. It’s enough force to rock his shit, maybe even give him a concussion if you’re lucky. You don’t wait for him to recover as you run.

Drawing your phone from your purse, you call the cops as you run towards your house. You hear it before you feel it, a blue whip of fire snapping down on your wrist. You drop your phone as you try to cradle the burnt flesh. You scream in pain. You have no choice but to face him head on.

You send attack after attack at him, all the while remaining aware of your quirks limitations. You know your abilities won’t work if you’re dehydrated, a cause of using your water quirk too much.

As you stand on shaky legs, you notice Dabi doesn’t even look slightly fazed. It’s like his fire is coming from his will to get you back, and he has an inferno waiting for you.

You send your last attack right to his stomach. You hear him try to gasp for air in pain. Taking advantage of the moment, you turn and run, this time towards a convenience store.

Only thirty feet to go.

Twenty feet, you hear his footsteps behind you.

Fifteen feet, they’re getting closer.

Ten feet, his hand grasps your uninjured wrist.

Nine feet, he grabs you around your waist and pulls you into his soaking wet chest.

“Got you,” he whispers in your ear.

#my hero acedamia #yandere #manipulation #mha dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere dabi

[daphnaie]

*~ spin the bottle. steve harrington x reader

Summary: Steve can't stop thinking, fantasizing, dreaming about you but when it's his turn to kiss you during a game of spin the bottle, his mind goes blank. *~ Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Word count: 0.9k

When the head of the empty tequila bottle points at you, Steve chokes on his beer.

There you are – sitting on the carpet, skirt riding up a little high, hair a mess from dancing with your friends earlier, a glimmer in your eyes, looking like a late summers memory and the stupid reminder to never trust Robin again when she promises a party will be fun.

Who –  at his age – even plays spin the bottle anymore?

You, apparently. You who walked into Family Video three weeks ago and haven’t left his mind since.

He knew you before, saw you around Hawkins, but you’re a year younger than him and have different friends. He knew you but he never noticed you. Not until the day, the door at the video store opened and that perfect ray of evening sunlight fell in, burning orange and gold, hitting you from behind, making you look downright ethereal.

And no, he had never used that word before but when he tried to describe you to Robin, stumbling over his sentences like an idiot, she did and he ran with it.

Now it’s not the evening sun that shines down on you but a shitty lamp in a dirty basement. Steve wonders how even this harsh light doesn’t take away from your beauty and simultaneously asks himself when exactly he’d fallen this hard for you without ever talking to you before. Unless that one time counts when he made a joke at Robins expense and you laughed.

Jesus, that laugh followed him into his dreams.

With a bit of luck, that laugh will follow him into this basement too because your eyes are fixated on him, patiently waiting for a reaction. Robin squeezes his shoulder as if she nudges him to wake up, while the other people in the circle begin to giggle at the awkward pause. Steve doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way the corners of your lips twitch.

“Scared, Harrington?”

It’s the first time he hears his name coming from your mouth, soft and teasing, and he takes another sip of the beer to swallow a goddamn huff. Next to him, Robin grins. She knows what’s up. He’s pretty sure that the only reason she begged for him to come tonight and join this game, is this.

“Should I be?” He finds his words again, somewhere in the back of his brain.

Your lips curl up into a full on smile, so full of innocence that the contrast to your following words draws scattered whistles from the people around you: “Why don’t I come over and you find out?”

Every bit of color fades from his face as you follow through on that question. Because you don’t simply get up and walk over to Steve – no, you come towards him on all fours, eyes locked and dark, looking like the main character in one of his fucking wet dreams. The whistles around you grow louder and dirtier and his brain short-circuits.

You stop right in front of him, mere inches away from his face, smelling like tequila and flowers Steve doesn’t bother to describe. After all, he has never been a poet. All he knows is that your scent alone will make him drunk if you come any closer.

“What now, Harrington?” you ask softly. “Will you kiss me now?”

Kiss you. You’re not the first girl he’d kiss, not by far, but for some reason his heart has never beat so fast before when another girl offered herself up to him.

“How drunk are you?” he wants to know, voice hoarse.

You chuckle and he shifts. Not because he’s uncomfortable but rather because all his blood is traveling to a certain region of his body.

“Such a gentleman,” you murmur. Eyes travel to his lips and his heart stutters. “Didn’t they call you King Steve in high school? Where’s that kingly behavior hiding? All I see is a scared boy holding on to his beer like-“

“Oh, shut it,” he whispers and then his hand is on the back of your neck and his lips are pressed against yours.

Fuck.

If he wants to describe the taste of you, he can’t. It’s simply sweet and heavenly and oh so much better than he expected it to be. A teeny tiny gasp leaves your throat at the sudden action but then you melt into the kiss, following the movement of his lips. When they open and his tongue pushes into your mouth, your legs almost give out.

Neither of you care for the howls around you, the disgusted yells to “get a room”. You’re too distracted by the way his hand tightens on your neck as if he restrains himself from pulling you closer.

He is. All he wants is to pull you on his lap, to rip that stupid dress off of you and make that gasp turn into a moan but it’s too public, too loud.

Someone – Robin? – kicks his leg and he breaks the kiss. Breathless, the two of you stare at each other. Your lips are swollen and red, his cheeks flushed, eyes wanting.

“Well, shit,” you say and swallow heavily. “So much better than in my dream last night.”

Steve almost passes out on the spot.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n

[sinner-as-saint]

Imagine being Lloyd and Ransom’s little plaything and they punish you for misbehaving:

Themes: Lloyd Hansen x reader, Ransom Drysdale x Reader, smut, explicit language, praise/degrading kink, slight daddy kink, pwp, orgasm denial

a/n: well you see, i am going to hell- 

“Aww, are those tears, princess?” 

Ransom taunted you as he pushed inside of you, holding your thighs apart and spreading them even more as he slid his cock inside your wet hole. You were gasping for air already and they had barely gotten started yet. 

“Is our pathetic little doll crying already?” Lloyd asked, walking over with a drink in his hand. 

You watched him through teary eyes and he shook his head at you like he was disappointed as he approached the desk where Ransom had you spread open for him, with his cock buried inside you, unmoving. 

“Funny, don’t you think?” Lloyd asked, bending over just a little to get closer to your face, no remorse or concern in his eyes - just lust. “How you always misbehave like a sassy, filthy brat but when it comes to punishments, you cry at the littlest of things.” He reached out and wiped a tear away from your face. “I hate to see you cry, baby.” He spoke with a cool tone, “But you deserve to be punished tonight, you know that right?” 

You nodded, then whined in pleasure as Ransom pulled out just a little to thrust back into you; stretching you out and reminding you that he’s there. He placed his thumb right on your throbbing clit - it was oversensitive already given the past hour where the two men took turns to bring you right on the edge using your favourite toys before denying you your orgasm - and as Ransom rubbed it lazily, you cried out and arched your back. Too much, but you didn’t want him to stop. 

“Please…” You whispered, begging. For anything at this point. 

Ransom scoffed, “What the fuck are you begging for, princess? You wanna get fucked? Is that it?” He gently smacked your cheek, “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He waited until you did before he smirked and asked, “Please what? You wanna get fucked?” 

Ransom was too much, you felt too full. Lloyd’s eyes on you made your face burn and your skin tingle. “Yes… please,” You whimpered. 

Lloyd scoffed, “Oh? But do you deserve it?” Always the sadist. He reached out and mindlessly played with your tits as he spoke, “You’ve been nothing but a brat while we were out all night tonight.” And he began listing your antics, “Talking back, constantly bending over in that little skirt, constantly adjusting your shirt and drawing attention to your pretty tits, flirting with the bartender, hmm? Do you deserve to get fucked after all that?” 

You groaned as he pinched your nipple. “I won’t do it again,” You pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on, I promise.” You whined, trying to fuck yourself on Ransom’s cock but the latter wouldn’t let you move. “Please, I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. I won’t ever be a brat again.” 

Ransom chuckled, the slight movement caused his cock to move just a little inside of you and you were moaning wantonly from the slightest friction. “Oh, is that so?” He taunted. He clicked his tongue, “But we don’t like good girls, do we?” 

Lloyd responded, “Good girls aren’t fun. Right, baby?” He leaned down, getting closer to your face. Your lips parted instinctively but he wasn’t gonna kiss you yet. His warm breath fanned your face and neck as he spoke, “We like you bratty. Know why? Because then we get to have nights like this where we can punish you for hours.” 

Hours… you whined again. You cried out, squirming as Ransom began thrusting in and out of you so gently that it drove you insane. You kept your eyes on his, lids drooping in hunger. Ransom’s smirk grew even more as he looked down to where your body swallowed his cock each time he thrust in. 

You were aware that you were embarrassingly wet. But Ransom being the asshole that he is couldn’t help but point it out. “Look at you, princess. So fucking wet and creamy for me.” He looked down to where your bodies were connected and spat before grabbing the closest vibrator and placing it right on your clit all over again. He groaned, laughing as he felt you clenching around him. “That’s it, squeeze my cock. Just like that.” 

Your moans got louder and louder, your body squirming on top of the desk as Ransom teased you like he had all the time in the world. And right as you felt your orgasm about to start building up, Lloyd spoke up in the authoritative tone of his which gave you chills. 

“Careful now, don’t make her come yet.” 

Ransom smiled, thrusting into you and moved the toy around a little, teasing your swollen clit. “But our princess feels so good. Her tight cunt is gripping my fucking cock so perfectly.” His lewd words made you clench even harder around him. The toy was about to bring you right on the edge again. 

He felt just as good inside of you, but shortly after, Ransom pulled out and you hissed as he did. “Oh come on, please I-,” Lloyd cut you off with a smack on your inner thigh. 

His voice lowered to a deep rumble as he said, “Stop your whining. Now stand up, turn around and bend over the desk. Let me see that swollen, wet cunt of yours.” 

You did like he asked so quickly. Ransom chuckled, mumbling, “So obedient when she’s hungry for cock, huh?” 

You winced as you bent over the desk, placing your cheek and palms down on top of it. You waited. But Lloyd was in no rush, he took his sweet time; caressing your ass, petting it, pinching it, sliding his finger up and down your slit, teasing your holes as you squirmed in place. 

“You want a plug in your ass, baby? Hmm? You want all your holes filled up, don’t you?” Lloyd taunted, already smearing some lube around your hole and pressing the tip of the cold, metal plug against it. He chuckled as the resistance, “Don’t be fucking shy, open up. Open up and take it like you know you want to.” 

“Oh… fuck,” You gasped under your breath and moaned as he slowly pushed the plug into you. 

Ransom spoke from somewhere nearby, “Look at how well she takes it. Fuck, I could come just looking at her hole swallowing up that plug.” 

Lloyd just hummed and moved the plug around a little, teasing you with it. “Now,” He said playfully, “How should I fuck you, huh? Hard and fast like you like it, or should I take my time and get that cunt so fucking creamy before I come in it?”

You could barely get a word out. The teasing, the plug, their words… It was too much. Your brain was all foggy already. 

Seeing that you weren’t replying, Lloyd grabbed the back of your neck and pulled your body off the desk, pulling your back into his chest so you were standing up. You moaned at the movement, your walls clenching around the plug. 

“You answer me when I’m talking to you, brat. Understood?” He hissed into your ear, lips brushing against your warm skin, “Now tell me, how do you want to be fucked?” 

You turned your head just enough to be able to meet his eyes. His stare was unforgiving, mean even. Just then, Ransom sat on the edge of the desk, his hand reaching out to toy with your tits. As he caressed your body he said, “You better answer him, princess. You know how he gets when he's pissed.” 

You moaned again, a single tear streaming down your face. You were frustrated, and fucking needy. Lloyd nuzzled your cheek and brushed the tear away with his lips as his hand moved from the back of your neck to the front where he gently squeezed the sides of your throat. 

“Babygirl,” He cooed gently despite the mean stare and the fire burning in his eyes, “Talk to daddy. Tell him what you want and he’ll give it to you, okay? Just tell daddy what you want, baby.” 

Ransom smirked as he leaned in to kiss your other cheek as his hand trailed down to lazily toy with your wet folds, gently teasing your other hole. He added, “Yeah princess, tell us what you want. Our perfect little baby has taken her punishments so well so far, I think she deserves to get what she wants now.” 

You were melting into their touch. Both at once, they could be a lot. But also so, so good. 

“I just want to come, please, I… I need to come, please.” You begged sincerely to neither one in particular. “Can I please come?” Lloyd’s hand reached down to wiggled the plug around while Ransom’s finger slid inside you. You cried out in pleasure at the simultaneous friction. “Please…” You begged again. 

“No, I don’t think so.” Lloyd said. 

Ransom replied, “Yeah, not yet, princess.” 

You whimpered in distress, throwing your head back against Lloyd’s shoulder as both he and Ransom kept toying with you. You could almost hear the salacious, evil thoughts in their corrupted minds as they both leaned in to kiss, bite and nibble on your skin. Your eyes were shut but you felt both mouths on you; one wrapped around your breast, and the other biting and sucking on your neck. 

You cried out in pleasure again, knowing full well that this was going to be one long, slow and agonising night.  

#lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x reader #ransom drysdale smut #lloyd hansen #chris evans

[berrymoos]

hihi!! i noticed u like regressor prowler, so i was wondering if i could request some hcs of him for the diaper ask game??

3, 13, 14, 15, 17, and 19, if that's not too much! feel free to skip over any too!! tysm if you ever fill this out :DD 🩷🩷

(also if i may — 🦅 anon perhaps 👀👀)

SCREAMS SO LOUD WAAAAAAAH – my brain has been grabbing onto prowler miles for almost 2 weeks now, i love him so bad (even if he only did get like ... 30 seconds of screen time in atsv NDNWNDJWD)

THANK U FOR THE ASK I'M SO !!!!!

💜 — earth 42 miles!

3. how do they feel about wearing diapers? (shy? angry? chill?)

prowler is definitely shy about it, even a little embarrassed! he has nightmares / night terrors & that causes a few nighttime accidents that he can't control, but he beats himself up about it to no end (and even had a period where he pushed off regressing in hopes that maybe it'll stop all of that ... it made it worse) bc he's 15. he shouldn't be wetting the bed anymore over some stupid nightmares, yk? he shouldn't need to use diapers when he regresses. spider miles tries his best to coax him out of that mindset, though ... but it's hard sometimes :(

13. have they ever had a daytime accident?

maybe once or twice, but usually prowler is able to get up & go before then. daytime accidents tend to be caused by flashbacks or like ,, being too into drawing & realizing at the last second. after some convincing from spider miles, he wears pull ups in the daytime for reasons like these. it takes a bit, but ... eventually, prowler thanks miles for caring about him like that <3

14. do they wet the bed?

mhm! it's the reason why prowler wears a dip to bed!! he beats himself up abt it, but spider miles is always quick to reassure him that it's okay!!

15. who changes them? (their cg? anyone who’s comfortable? only themself?)

prowler always always always immediately tries changing himself, no matter what; since he wears dips at night / to bed, he often wakes up in the middle of the night or the moment he wakes up in the morning to change himself (and some attempts go ... better than others). he's already shy about needing extra protection, & having somebody else help him with that? embarrassment x100 :(( ,, spider miles is the only other person prowler feels comfy with helping

17. what’s their favorite thing to wear over a diaper? (pants? skirts? diaper cover? nothing at all?)

rlly baggy pants (typically sweats) & a long shirt just for added discretion. prowler doesn't want anybody (aside from spider miles) knowing or even getting a hint that he's wearing a dip / pull up

19. how does their cg feel about the little one wearing a diaper?

spider miles is super duper supportive of it, ofc!! he understands that prowler can't control nighttime accidents or his body's reactions to flashbacks, so it'd just be plain rude if he poked fun at that. he also always seems to have extra dips and pull ups for prowler & he's like “...where are you storing these...? wait, how are you even getting these??” (peter is always willing to help a morales out ≧﹏≦)

#spiderverse agere #spiderman agere #fandom agere #sfw agere #agere hcs #🧸．berry n friends <3 #🧸．berry's headcanons #🧸．berry's silly little games :3 #🦅 anon friend <3 #THE SILLYYYYYY #peter has a little corner in his closet dedicated to prowler's dips n pulls bc he knows neither of the boys wanna get caught #best dad fr ‼️ #cw diaper

[sparkedblaze]

whatever you want. angst or fluff or whatever. i crave those boys

Hmmmm (obviously I choose angst)

T/w: cursing, injury

•

Miss Medda rounded the corner, little bruised Jack Kelly holding tightly to her skirt, hiding behind her.

Oscar expected a reprimanding. He expected worse than that. He put himself between Morris and Medda. He wasn't letting anything happen to his little brother. His glare fell on Jack. Why the hell did he always have to go to adults to resolve issues that could be fixed without them?

There were ways to fix problems. Jack was just too stupid to realize it. Stupid little kid.

What he hadn't expected, in all his preparing, was Medda kneeling in front of him, talking with that gentle tone she used.

It grated his nerves. She thinks just because she talks softly that he won't realize what she was saying? That she would... try and make sure Jack would leave them be?

The fuck?

His glare hardened at the words, refusing to believe that Medda was doing anything more than just alleviating Jack's fear. There was no way she was doing that for them.

~

Only a few months later, she cracks their door open again, and the same happens. Oscar shields Morris with his body, glaring daggers at the little kid following her into the room as his little brother cradled his blanket and rocked behind him.

He's such a rat. This is why they can't trust anyone. This is why it's Oscar and Morris against the world.

She does the same thing she'd done the first time. She knelt in front of them, talking in that same soft tone. Saying those same things. She'd keep Jack out. She'd keep them separated. But, he could see the worry in her eyes. He could see the anxiety there.

He knew what was coming, and could only hope that Morris would be okay when it happened.

~

The very next day, Medda pulled Oscar aside. Mo was drawing in a little sketch pad she'd gotten him, and she asked to talk to Oscar alone. He scowled as she did, but he knew better than to disobey a direct order from an adult.

He followed her into the hall, keeping his voice nothing more than a hushed whisper when he asked "What?"

"Oscar, dear, I talked to Mr. Denton..."

Here it comes. They're being abandoned again. They're being let down by this woman who promised she'd keep them safe. No big surprise there. That's okay, he and Morris had gotten through it before. There was nothing stopping them from doing it again.

"He says I can't keep all three of you in the same household," she continued at Oscar's silence, noting his clenched jaw and hard stare. She'd known this was coming, she'd known it would only hurt them again. She wanted to minimize it. "I was considering keeping Morris... He doesn't..."

Oscar didn't hear anything more. He lunged forward, the anger that had been building in his chest exploding out as he went for Medda. She let out a scream, causing Morris and Jack both to come running.

Morris watched in horror as Oscar turned his attention from Medda to Jack. "This is all your fault!"

"Os?" Morris's voice was small-smaller than Oscar had ever heard it- and that made him falter.

The elder brother, still seething with rage, stepped back. He moved to stand between Morris and the others, still facing Medda. "If you ever do that to him, I'll do worse 'n hit your precious little Jackie."

He was shaking with the anger and adrenaline coursing through him. "C'mon, Mo. We aren't staying."

The way Morris's face fell. The crushed expression. The heartbreak Oscar could hear in the whimpers escaping him.

That was all Jack Kelly's fault.

Oscar would never forgive him.

He would never forgive Medda.

#newsies #livesies #92sies #anon asks #thanks anon! #jack kelly #medda larkin #medda larkson #morris delancey #oscar delancey #the delancey brothers #newsies modern au #Medda adopts

[diplonimbodocus]

lee spock and ler kirk content pretty please with cherry on top? <3

Comin' right up!

Thank you so much for your ask, I was so excited to get it! Plus lee!Spock is simply *chef's kiss*, I do approve of your taste.

I'm not sure if your preference would be TOS or AOS, but I think on this occassion we'll go... AOS, simply because I do think a lee!Spock is brilliant in the Kelvin timeline. Although everyone is free to imagine things as they wish!

This was just a quick little thing, I hope it's ok! Please enjoy! Without further ado -

"Doctor, I request that you do not question why I am here and you do not disclose to the captain my whereabouts." Spock said as he had suddenly marched through the medbay doors at pace, sparing not a glance at the doctor. Though tidy and matter-of-fact as ever, he held a manner of urgency about him.

"What in the - Spock! What are you talking about?! I've a routine examination in 20 minutes and I don't have time to waste on-"

"Doctor." Spock fixed Bones with a look which stayed his verbal assault. He then tucked himself quite flatly behind a cupboard which protruded from the internal bulkhead.

Bones threw his hands up in the air and grumbled, "Not even an explanation, fine then!"

Not a moment later, the sliding doors opened once again to reveal an agitated James Kirk, a little out of breath but Bones thought he detected a sparkle in his eye, the kind he had when there was an idea in his head.

"Did Spock come in here?"

"In the corner." Bones pointed over his shoulder with the stylus, going back to his datapad.

Spock quickly stepped out from his hiding place and froze facing Kirk, the two stopped at a distance. Keeping his eyes on Kirk, he spoke. "Doctor McCoy, I fail to see how you could misunderstand my clear instruction not to-"

"What did you really think I was gonna do? Use your logic, Spock."

The captain remained where he was, eyeing his first officer with that glint in his eye.

"So, Spock. Thought you could rely on old Bones to get you out of this did you?"

"Old?" Bones chimed in from the other side of the room.

"I did surmise he might be of some help." Spock said, body poised and sounding unsure of his words.

"Not your best idea, huh?"

"Evidently not." Spock said with a hint of facetiousness.

"Bones, lock the door."

Bones looked up in shock, before rolling his eyes and puffing his cheeks, moving to the door and exclaiming, "Fine! Whatever you two are doing, it better be done in 10 minutes. Some of us have a job to do!"

All the while, Spock had been watching intently for any sign of movement from the captain, and Kirk's eyes were trained on him. The two stood there, like a standoff. Bones watched, curiosity piqued. Everything was still, that is until Kirk moved his foot to step.

All in a moment, the room was suddenly a bustle. Spock leaped over a bed, Jim followed round it, Spock reached the other bulkead, past Bones, skirting the outside towards the door, doubling back when Kirk crossed the room to get there first.

Bones, in the middle of it all, shouted, "What the hell are you two doing?! This isn't a damn playground, it's a hospital!"

Jim was now advancing on a more and more cornered Spock, who had succeeded only in finding himself a small space at the back of the room to retreat to.

"Captain, I would request that you cease this endeavor and that we both return to the normal activities immediately."

"Why Spock? You scared you'll let a little of that human emotion slip?" Jim grinned, though it was a clear taunt to draw Spock in.

"Jim. You know there is human in me. Why do you persist to attempt at forcing me to display it?" Spock replied in a more intimate tone.

"Because it's fun." Jim lunged forward, however just as he attempted to grab the vulcan, Spock crouched and slipped underneath his outstretched arms.

Always ready, Jim spun around on the ball of his foot and threw himself after the first officer.

"Gotcha!" He cried as he landed on top of Spock, his weight pushing him prone and keeping him there, on his face.

Spock fought against the heaviness holding him down, and given vulcans' strength, Jim was well near thrown off, but held on, grasping the other's collar as you would a rodeo. Spock said nothing save for the sounds of his struggles.

"So Bones... I've got a little question for you. Have you ever seen a vulcan laugh?" Jim practically grinned in his tone alone, and was met with renewed energy from the vulcan in question.

"Once, actually."

Jim threw a look of alarming question back at Bones.

"It's a long story." Bones replied.

Jim hesitated and then continued, still riding the bull.

"Well, you're about to see it again! Can you guess which vulcan on board this vessel can laugh, and has laughed today, and has been a pain in my ass for days, and incidentally, is insanely tickl-"

"CAPTAIN!" Spock suddenly shouted.

"-ish."

"You're not honestly telling me-"

"Isn't that right, Spock?" Jim put his hands onto Spock's sides below the ribs, and started squeezing up and down his flanks.

Spock shivered, and then went stiff as a board. Mysteriously not a sound had emerged, but the change was definite.

"Uh, Jim? Is he ok?"

"Don't worry, he'll come out of it in a minute." Jim said with certainty and continued pressing all along the vulcan's sides.

Rightly enough, a few second later Spock was shivering again, yet constantly, and a strange humming noise was coming from the floor beneath his head. Jim kept squeezing and the humming came in more sporadic bursts. Bones could see round the side of his head, and from that small view, he saw the corners of the vulcan's mouth were turned up.

"Holy..."

"Wait for it, Bones..." Jim squeezed up and down another time, before suddenly clutching on tightly around Spock's midriff, right over his ribs with both hands and vibrating his fingers firmly over those delicate bones.

"Hah!" Spock squeaked out before burying his face into the floor.

"C'mon Spock... Don't hold out on me!" Jim teased, smiling big as he continued to torture Spock's ribs. Spock was now starting to jitter over the hard floor as if electrocuted, hopping this way and that as the captain's fingers followed his every movement.

"CaHAHptain! DeHEsist immediHAHtely!"

Though the effects of Jim's ministrations were obvious, Spock had thus far managed to contain his reactions to short bursts of movement and sound.

Jim spidered his fingers further down towards Spock's waist and hips. Spock began to wriggle more noticably as the fingers descended. As they landed in the dips of his hips he suddenly and violently curled inwards and finally, broke.

"NOHOhohoho!! Cahahaptaihahain nohohohooo!!"

"Bones - vióla".

The doctor simply looked on with his mouth hanging open.

"E-E-ENOUHOUHOUHOUGH!" Spock appeared unable to fight back, as his body responded in a solely reactive way.

"But Spock, buddy! You love this so much!"

"CAAHAHAHAPTAIHAIHAIN!!!"

"Call me Jim."

"J-JIHIHIHIIIM!!"

"Little louder..."

"JIM!!!"

"Now a little quieter."

"JI- JihihiHIM!"

"Now, touch your toes!"

Spock shook his head hopelessly and melted into laughter as Jim lead a merciless assault all over him.

"Hey Bones, check this."

Jim scratched from top to bottom along the writhing Vulcan's spine, teasing along and to either side, only for his first officer to curl upwards, laughter turning to high giggles.

"Well wouldya look at that." The doctor said, crossing his arms over his chest. "A giggling vulcan. Cute."

"Yeah well if you think that then get over here and help me, he's gonna throw me off!" Jim now battled to stay on as he attempted to squeeze the backs of Spock's thighs.

"Actually, much as I would love to wipe the smile off - or on - that guy's face, I'm going to have to break it up. Before my patient arrives."

Spock nodded his head frantically, unable to hide his smile, a greenish-yellow undeniably coving his cheeks.

"Aw." Jim whined.

His hands came to a gentle stop and over the next 30 seconds Spock's breathing slowed to a much more normal rate. He said nothing, remaining lying down with his eyes closed as if he had perhaps fallen asleep.

There was a moment of hung silence before suddenly -

Spock's hands were on the ground beneath him, pushing up, slowly yet in a way which seemed unstoppable, like a glacier following its course down a valley, and Jim, still perched on his back was brought along with it.

Jim wobbled and tried to find balance, surprise on his face, before a look of realisation hit him and he scrabbled up to his feet and back.

Spock rose, picking himself up to his feet. He stood, dusted himself off and released a controlled exhale. Jim stood wide-eyed until the vulcan turned to face him.

Though his face had been trained back to a more characteristic stoicism, there was no doubt about the cock to his eyebrow, the tightness of his lips, the set of his teeth which gave away his true feeling.

"Captain. You have exactly until I have finished speaking to make your exit- "

Jim did not wait around to hear the rest.

#star trek #star trek aos #star trek kelvin timeline #tickling #ticklish!spock #lee!spock #lee spock #ticklish spock #ler!jim #ler jim #asks #fic

[late-to-the-party-81]

I own you (body and soul)

AN: Well, you all certainly took a liking to ex-hook-up Lance, so here is another self-assured, cocky brunet for you - Loki.

All that transpires in this fic is consensual and has been prenegotiated between Loki and the Reader, and could be stopped at any time by either of them. Remember to be Safe, Sane and Consensual.

I’m using dialogue prompts from this post by @nightprompts and they can be found emboldened in the text.

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics, banners and covers by me.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

CW: CNC, Dacryphilia, Humiliation and Power imbalance (as part of the scene) Explicit sexual content, use of Loki's magic for sexual purposes

Word count: 1.7k

You hurried around the ornate bathroom, desperately trying to finish cleaning the tub as soon as possible. You were new here, but you’d been warned about dawdling in Prince Loki’s rooms. Apparently, he could be capricious and cruel, taking anything and everything, and anyone, he wanted. You weren’t vain, but you knew you were attractive. You’d seen how other men had eyed you up, made advances that you’d spurned. They’d accepted with good grace, but from what you’d heard about the prince…

You jumped as the door slammed, and you whirled around, holding your cleaning cloth to your breast. You were too late; he’d returned early. Hopefully you could just bob your head and leave. Scrabbling to gather up your supplies, you shoved them all in your case then, with your head bowed, you scurried out of the bathroom and through the main living space, towards the doors of the suite.

You could see the prince out of the corner of your eye, well at least his back. He was standing in front of his desk, pouring a drink from a decorative decanter. His black hair cascaded down his back, stark against the green leathers that he wore. He was tall and lean, nowhere near as broad as his brother, Prince Thor, who you’d spied on your first day here in the palace, but you could tell he held strength within him.

You reached out your hand to grasp the handle of the large door, just feeling the cool metal under your fingertips, when a slim hand came down on your wrist.

“Wait.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it was definitely commanding.

Your hand dropped from the handle and you turned towards him, head still bowed, and you bobbed a curtsy.

“How may I help you, your highness?”

“So polite.”

His hand slipped down your wrist to clasp yours.

“Come, sit. You are new here, yes? I pride myself on knowing as many who work for my father as possible.”

He walked backwards towards the armchairs set before the unlit fireplace, pulling you along, before steering you into one.

You smoothed your skirts as you sat, then placed your hands in your lap, staring at your knees. You thought that he’d settle on the other chair across the rug from you, and he did, but first he pulled it across the floor so when he sat down, his knees brushed yours.

He picked up both your hands this time and rubbed his thumbs over your knuckles, almost absent-mindedly. His hands were cool, and you couldn’t draw your eyes away from his tapered fingers.

“What is your name, little one?”

You told him, with halting breaths, still not daring to look at him.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. And I am a connoisseur of beautiful things. Did you know that? I like to look at them. Touch them. Own them.”

As he spoke, his voice got deeper and hypnotic as he leant closer to your ear.

“Look at me, dove.”

You lifted your head and turned it, meeting his gaze for the first time. His eyes shifted between green and blue, and his skin was like alabaster. He was the most handsome and ethereal man you’d ever seen. And the most dangerous. Behind the smile lurked a predator.

You gulped.

“I… um… I really ought to go and get on with my jobs.”

His smile dropped away, and his eyes narrowed.

“Oh, pet. Just when we were getting on so well. Why did you have to go and say something like that?”

His hands tightened where they held yours, and you winced, trying to pull away.

“I told you, I like to look at beautiful things.”

In a flash of green, your clothes disappeared, and he leered down at you.

“There, much better, don’t you think. Remember, beautiful things make me happy. You want to make your prince happy, don’t you?”

He pulled you to your feet, and you stumbled, falling against him. The leather of his clothes was cool against your flesh.

“Please… I’m sorry…but I’d like to go. I don’t want to get in any trouble.”

“But my dear…” he leant down, mouth close to your ear. “You’re already in trouble.”

He moved at lightning speed, pushing you backwards towards his bed. When your legs hit the mattress, he gave you a small shove and you bounced as you landed. You immediately tried to roll, but the prince grabbed your arm and pulled you back to the centre of the bed.

“No, no, no, no. Let me go, please!”

His feral grin was back as he pinned your arms over your head with one hand, the other resting on your neck.

“All in good time. I haven’t had a good look at you yet. Although you do look good with my hand around your throat.”

He let go of your wrists, but you found you couldn’t move them. Damn him and his magic. 

Loki sat back on his heels, letting go of your neck and pushed your legs apart, revealing all your secrets to him as you gulped in a breath.

“You really are glorious, little dove.”

He hands ran up your legs, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thighs, coming to rest on either side of your sex.

“And now I’ve had a good look…” 

You tried to move, but now your legs were also pinned down by his magic. His thumbs brushed over your outer folds and you shifted your hips.

“Someone’s impatient….” He taunted you as he gently stroked your sex. You could feel your body start to respond, and tears started to prickle at your eyes.

“Please don’t do this.” Your voice was a whisper, but it carried easily in the quiet air of Loki’s chambers.

“How can I resist, little one, when you cry and beg so prettily, enhancing your beauty?”

His thumb slipped between your folds and unwaveringly went straight to your clit, rubbing little circles over the tip, and you gasped, your tears slipping silently down your cheeks. His eyes flashed, and he pulled his hands away to slide them further up your body. When he reached your breasts he massaged them gently, teasing your nipples to stiff points. You squeezed your eyes shut and willed your body to ignore the sensations he was drawing from you.

When Loki’s cool lips made contact with your clavicle, trailing across your decolletage, you bit down on your lip and trembled. You felt the smile pressed against your heated skin; he was enjoying the fact that you were trying to control your responses and failing.

His mouth moved back down, kissing over your breasts, suckling on them and groaning with pleasure, low in his throat, while all you could do was whisper, “Please stop. Please stop,” over and over. When he reached your core again, his hands scooped you up, so he could properly feast on you.  There was no holding back your cry at that first touch, it was all too much.

“Oh God!”

He chuckled, the vibrations shooting through you.

“Yes, my pet, what can I do for you?”  He obviously wasn’t expecting a response because he dove back in, licking and sucking at your sex as though he were trying to send you to oblivion. You’d been told he was nick-named ‘Silver-tongue’ and now you were acutely aware of the reason.

You sobbed as you came, the pleasure mixed with the shame being too much for you to contain any longer.

“Stunning.”

You were vaguely aware of his muttered compliment before his body, instantly naked, covered yours, and he thrust into you.

All your reserve was now gone.

“No! I don’t want this. No!”

“The way your body reacts makes you a liar, dove. And I told you, I have to own you now.”

His lips captured yours, unheeding of your restrained struggles, one hand pressed on your magically restrained wrist and the other guiding himself to your wet pussy. Your eyes widened, and you squeaked into his mouth as he moved for the first time, and his godly cock stretched you. You hated that it felt so good, and you didn’t have the strength to fight it any longer.

You relaxed under him as you let the fear-induced stress go. Loki was doing things to you that your past lovers had never done, making you feel such exquisite pleasure.

“Yes, pet.” He hissed against your mouth. “Let go, accept that I own you now. I promise that I treat all my belongings with the care they require. The care they need.”

His pace was steady and firm, like he was making sure your body knew the shape and the feel of him, just like an owner’s brand. With his free hand he caressed your body, pinching and stroking as he continued to kiss you. His tongue now invaded your mouth the way his cock invaded your pussy, thrusting, tasting, claiming. 

You whimpered when you felt the coil tightening in your belly once more. Your brain didn’t want this, but your body did; it craved the sweet release of pleasure that Loki was promising. 

As if he sensed it, and maybe he did, he moved his hand down to the apex of your thighs, where you were joined and started to stroke your clit again. You bucked up into his hips and he chuckled once more, before increasing the pace of his sweet torture.

“Cum for me, little one. Cum for your master. Your God.”

You were helpless to resist and heedless of your circumstances as the pleasure took you over. As you lost control it seemed to unleash something within Loki. He virtually growled against your mouth, the movement of his hips becoming faster and less rhythmical until you felt him flood you with his seed.

You lay, pinned under his weight for a few moments as you drew in your breath, and prayed for the room to stop spinning. You felt Loki press kisses to your heated and damp skin.

“Are you alright, my darling?”

You stretched under him, your limbs no longer hindered by his seidr.

“Wonderful, my Prince.”

You cupped his face gently, and gave him a sweet and gentle kiss.

“It was not too much?”

“No. It was perfect. There is no-one else I’d rather belong to than you.”

“Maybe next time you can be a visiting princess and take advantage of me?”

You smiled and your eyes twinkled.

“Now, there’s an idea that has merit!”

Tag list: @sidepartskinnyjeans @christywantspizza @ohsymphony @animnerd @strangeprincex @goldylions @sheismarvelousworld @chemtrails-club @luxeavenger @doasyoudesireandlive @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @tuiccim @jobean12-blog @yarnforbrains @wheezy-stucky @mrsmischief209

#loki x reader #loki fic #kinktober 2022 #kinktober 22 #late writes #tw: cnc #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki odinson

[waltwhitmansbeard]

my fair lady: chapter fourteen

here's what came before. tagging @romeoandjulietyouwish as i believe i am now legally obligated to do.

The moon is well into its journey through the night sky, and Keyleth is still awake—and scandalously, she is not alone. She's curled up in her dressing gown on her window seat, a steaming cup of herbal tea in her hands, and looking between the two men in the room with her. Vax is seated on the small cot he's meant to be sleeping on per the sovereign's orders not to leave Keyleth's side, and Percy's pacing a line from the door to the opposite window and back again. Vax's eyes follow Percy as he walks, and Keyleth watches the mischief in them as he contemplates tripping Percy each time he passes by.

"Percy, can you please sit?" she finally says. "You're going to wear straight through the floor."

Percy pauses in front of the door. "Sorry. I just...there's something we're missing."

"The Draconians really think we'd order an attack on our own people?" Vax asks.

"Who knows if they really believe it," Percy replies. "They're angry."

"So am I," Keyleth says. "But angry doesn't get us any closer to answers, and it doesn't get that peace treaty signed."

Vax's jaw clenches at the mention of the peace treaty. "Is that such a bad thing?"

"Vax'ildan," Percy snaps.

"I'm serious. We lost three dozen Ashari that night. Vesrah will be in mourning for months. They tried to kidnap you, Keyleth. I don't know about you two, but I'm not in the mood for peace."

"Vax."

He falls silent when Keyleth says his name. She understands his frustration, his itch for vengeance. She imagines it must be hard for him, to stay cooped up with her when he's more fit for skirting through the shadows, taking real, substantive action. Still, she knows that the best thing for her country is an official end to the war with Draconia—provided, of course, Draconia was not behind the death at the peace celebration. "It feels as though at this rate, it'll take a miracle to get both sides talking to each other long enough to get the accords signed. I know my father is chomping at the bit to resume hostilities. He's convinced Draconia sanctioned the attack."

"But that's just it," Percy says. "Your father negotiated well in the weeks it took to draw up that treaty, but even still, I would argue that Draconia got slightly better terms than we did, which your father was willing to concede for the sake of ending the violence. Killing dozens of Ashari in cold blood on a day of peace only serves to prolong the war and, should we ever be at peace talks again, ensure that Sovereign Korrin does so with the intent to make Draconia suffer. Why risk it?"

Vax hums. "You're right. It does prolong the war."

Percy furrows his brow, confused, but Keyleth knows exactly what Vax is getting at. "Of course!" She sets her tea to the side and stands, starting to pace a little circle of her own. "You're right, Percival, in that now both our nation and Draconia are motivated to keep fighting, because without irrefutable proof of the other's innocence, we'll never believe we weren't just horrifically attacked. King Kruvanis doesn't want to commit to the peace, and quite frankly, neither does my father. And so we fight on."

"But who benefits from that?"

"Exactly, Percy!" She stops pacing, excited. "Who benefits from war?"

"...Oh."

They're all on the same page now. This war has nearly emptied the Ashari Nation's coffers, and she imagines the same is true of Draconia's, but that money didn't disappear into thin air. It's now lining the pockets of blacksmiths, fletchers, elite squads of mercenaries, battle mages, and others who contributed to the war effort. With the signing of the peace treaty, the flow of money from each nation to those who profit from war stops. There are countless stakeholders who would love to see the peace interrupted and the war continue, if only for their own monetary gain.

"This whole thing was a set-up," Keyleth breathes, falling back onto the window seat.

"We need proof," Vax says. "We can't take a hunch to your father, and we definitely can't bring it before Kruvanis."

"When is your sister going back to Zephrah?"

Vax looks at her, confused. "In the morning. Lady Allura is taking her back to begin fortifying the castle, in case of increased aggression. Why?"

Instead of answering, she darts over to the small writing desk in the room and scribbles something on a piece of parchment. After just a few moments, she seals the parchment with her royal insignia. She walks to Percy and hands him the letter. "Percy, go give this to Vex. Have her deliver it to Master Gilmore. He should have records of all transactions made to support the war effort. He should follow the money, starting with whomever we paid the most. That's who has the most to lose by the war's ending."

Percy takes her by the shoulders and plants a big kiss on her forehead. "You are a genius, and a credit to your family."

Keyleth feels her cheeks burn, but she wraps her arms around Percy all the same. "It's a team effort, always. I'm nothing to my people with you." She is still angry with him, still hurt by his confession in the greenhouse, but that doesn't stop her words from being true.

Percy extracts himself from the hug, bows low, and sweeps out of the room, giving a small wave to Derrig as he passes by.

Once the door is closed again, Keyleth tosses herself onto her bed with a sigh. She stares up into the beautifully woven canopy above the bed, and for the first time in days, she feels the feathered wings of hope beating wildly in her chest.

.

"In case you were wondering," Vax says, keeping his voice low, "that was the moment you were ready."

Keyleth twists her head atop her duvet to look at him inquisitively. "Ready?"

"To become sovereign."

And he means it. He's always known, has always been able to see it in her, but her own doubt was her biggest stumbling-block. No more. He needs her to know, needs her to see how utterly capable she is of being the queen her people deserve, the queen she was born to be.

She sits up slowly, her fingers twisting in her lap. "It feels good, taking the steps to ensure my nation is safe, or, at least, closer to safety. I think I'll be ready if I'm able to truly end this war. Which..." She slips off the bed and walks over to stand just a few feet in front of him. His fingers twitch, desperate to reach out and pull her in by the waist, to carefully untie the knot of her dressing gown, to commit the sins he knows will cost him his head someday. She draws herself up tall and says confidently, "I have a task for you."

He tilts his head to the side, a slow smile creeping along his face. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"I need you to set up a meeting between myself and Prince Tiberius."

The smile disappears. "What?"

"A secret meeting, you and I with him and one guard of his choosing, at the place of his choosing. And it needs to happen before we hear back from Master Gilmore."

Vax shoves off of his cot. "Have you lost your mind? Kruvanis may have been the one to sanction your kidnapping from that gala and you want to meet with his son alone?"

Keyleth frowns at him sternly. "Not alone. As I said, you will be there to accompany me, and he should bring a guard as well. I have things I need to discuss with him regarding our fathers' peace treaty."

Vax gapes at her, but she stares back, expression impassable. She's serious, which is the part that terrifies him the most. "Keyleth—" He's begging at this point. "—please. It hasn't even been two days since I pulled a poison dagger out of your leg. Please don't ask me to put your life at risk again."

Her stoic expression softens just a fraction. Her hand jolts forward, as if to take his, then hesitates, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight. "What kind of sovereign would I be if I didn't put my own life on the line for my people?"

No, the voice in Vax's head screams. Fuck the people, and fuck the crown, if the cost is her life. He grips her hand and steps forward to duck his forehead to rest against hers. He watches her eyes flutter shut, and for one heartbeat, the space between the two of them feels as comfortable and familiar as it did back in Zephrah, when he would come to her by the light of the moon and feel, as he has so rarely felt before in his life, a true peace.

"I will do as you command, my queen." His voice is a whisper. "But know this: at the first sign of danger, any hint of a betrayal or a trap, and I will strike the prince dead where he stands. He will not find mercy by my hand."

Keyleth's eyes open, and she tilts her head up to look at him. Her lips are agonizingly, tantalizingly close to his. She nods once. "Thank you, Vax'ildan."

He watches her lips move as she says it, and the gods themselves could not be strong enough to stop him. He brings a finger up beneath her chin and, after another heartbeat, when she does not pull away, he kisses her, a kiss so languid and indulgent it tastes like the most delectable mistake he could ever make. She sighs, the fingers of her free hand tangling in the fabric of his tunic. She pulls herself in closer to him, and now the pounding of his heart is dangerous. Derrig is just on the other side of the door, and surely he can hear it, the rush of blood in his ears, the thunder in his chest.

He kisses her once more, twice, and then presses his lips to her forehead. "You should get some sleep," he murmurs, before finally releasing her hand and stepping back.

Keyleth nods, almost dazed, and then turns to begin blowing out the candles. Vax slides onto his cot, willing his racing heart to slow before it kills him. The last candle is extinguished, and Keyleth crawls into her bed. "Goodnight, Vax," she whispers through the dark.

"Goodnight, Your Highness."

#critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #vaxleth au #tlovm #tlovm fic #my fic #my fair lady #vox machina #vox machina fic

[bobelblogger]

Sultry Sorceress Ch ?? Coup De Tits or Thots

Aunt Josephine Belladonna

Chancy Belladonna

Patrick Toad

Lillian Toad

TSU Taslaus

TSU Lexuas

Being left out of it all burned in Lilly's gut, but mainly it was the way things went, no magic or skills that could come in handy in a hitch but being the designated cunt cushion and cock sock for the majority of adventures with Nadia had few upsides, didn't mean she felt fine being sidelined.

Pad was hauling a load so big he needed a wheelbarrow to carry it, going over to the well and drawing water to drink, his suspenders held his stuffed shorts with a waning strength.

If they snuck in and stole the royal crown and scepter, Nymphoria would have to abdicate and Nadia would become Queen, making Lilly her....what? She had no children, why not her heir?

If Nadia didn't want it, then Lillian would rule, Patrick would co rule as well. Her time to shine and make her mistress think of her as more than a pincushion or cum dump.

The thoughts of this tickled as she polished the toys and put away the lubes used during the astral orgy before they left, she'd bring Pad for mechanism cracking skill, fake it till we make it in the treasure vault by after noon.

----

Acting Arch Paladin and High Priestess Josephine Belladonna walked the scenic paths of the royal gardens in contemplative repose, pushed her spectacles back up her nose after sneezing, a hour from waking her silver slippered feet picked spots to step over cracks in paving stones and wilted leaves, A long list in one hand and a chalice of warm cider in the other. Her flowing cream skirt and sash bound white leather bodice pronounced her curves and expectant bump, the list of meetings with important dignitaries and the Autumn Games, harvest food stores for winter months and her high noon temple visit. 

Until they arrived she would enjoy the scent and song of nature, bees buzzed and birds chirped, tiny fay folk played and worked amid the blooming botany as her head swooned with the rich scenery, guzzling cider until it ran out. 'mother always said the busy bee gets the honey.' A bell tolled twice in chimes.

"It's time then." Josephine sighed and withdrew to the fountain ringed pavilion where meetings took place in view of the main harbour, statues of angels and demons in battle set against the sky set around it, taking her seat and placing her feet upon a stool at the head of chairs with tables filled with imported vases and urns, no one but her personal guard and the diplomats to been seen.

Two men in flaired pants and coats with headwear resembling penises with feathers in the brim and hooked boots.

"Your Archfulness, I'm Taslaus, my associate is Lexuas of the Trade Shipping Union, our meeting is to clear up some finer details about territorial water in regards to-"

After to she stopped listening, 'Did I leave a note not to disturb my niece's room? Severine checked her and said she could wake up early in special cases. The arena must be pristine and the capital larder filled for winter.' 

Such was her thinking as Tas--don't care laid papers before her making gestures with his hand.

"The Nudean sea is full of men who plague the shipping lanes, we would like assurances that your nations water has no such booty thieving butchers and any cargo stolen is Union property--."

------

Lily handled lookout as Pad handled the lock with a simple alchemy formula for making metal malleable, the door opened the two slipped into the wagon as it joined a longer caravan heading for the capital.

The plan was working perfectly, after going through customs, they entered the city turned to the storehouse district, into the guarded courtyard and halted.

Carefully two wine barrels marked for the palace were unloaded, wheeled into the kitchen and left in a cold room, it was half to noon and lunch would be served soon.

Exiting the barrels, Pad was itching to paint a porntrait, Lilly promised him that once the heist was done he'd have all the canvass he'd ever want.

Up from the kitchen in server garb carrying a platter of honey ham hocks and ribs, to hide his bulge Pad lugged a jug of cherry scented wine. They entered the great hall before a colossal marble staircase with pillars made like giant hands holding up the ceiling which was painted like the sky but with goddesses entwined making love amid the clouds.

'These butt-hedonians are sex crazed lunatics, I'll put a cap on that in a hurry when I'm Queen.'

Atop the stairs on the second floor two barely armored beautiful women passed in stride with golden spears and shields at their sides, ignoring them as they walked by to the hall of doors.

Water closet, training lounge, waxing room. Twin ornate doors with gold knobs shaped like roses.

"Unlock it Pad, we need to get better clothes and find the crown and jewels." Lilly gestured as he set down the jug.

He tried the knob it turned and opened the left door a crack, finding it clear slipped inside and closed it behind them, a truly spoiled display of wealth was arrayed all over the place.

In the rooms quiet a slight breathing sound, it came from the sex positions embroidered curtained bed of the double size variety and next to it racks of sex toys and restraints.

"We aren't alone, who's behind the drapes?" Putting the tray on a table and carefully tip toed to the bed, Pad peeled them back and peered in.

Golden hair in rollers, puffy cherub cheeks, lips in a bitchy frown even in rest, a sleeping mask covered her eyes and below a bib round her throat, laying in state.

Chancy Belladonna, prissy pugnacious cunt punting paladin and number one scream queen when anal was involved.

Cautiously snapped her fingers right beside her ear, waiting for her reaction, not a flinch or wince just breathing.

"Guess she sucked one cock too many, I'm taking her place, stay here and wait for my return, or if something goes wrong barricade the door, but don't touch her until after I procure the goods, I'll be back soon ."

"Got it sis, please hurry." He started searching for a way to relieve himself as Lily dug through drawers gathering the pieces that made up the Paladin look. 

--------

As the paladin snoozed Pad dug into every object with a door or drawer looking for relief to his pent penial predicament, found not one vaginal toy or molded hand, only plugs, beads and dildos, he found his own hands were unable to bring the vanilla lava forth either, in desperation he crawled pantless to the bed and pulled himself up by the blanket which unveiled the surprisingly naked breasts.

[sukirichi]

black magic [01]

REQUEST. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife)

CONTENT/WARNINGS. some suggestive scenes, but overall fluff and romance! slight crack fic, I guess? I was laughing when I wrote this lol

NOTES. I NEED A HUSBAND! SUKUNA I’M GOING TO CRY GOODBYE THIS HAS ME SOFT. also anon i’m not sure if you wanted something with more ~sexual tension~ since this is kind of just comedic, but I hope you like it anyway!

part one | part two (nsfw)

“This is new,” you comment with a glare, your ankle propped on Sukuna’s knee.

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pushing your skirt aside to clean the wounds you attained through exorcising curses. You’ve taken a particularly strong curse today and you’re caught off guard, barely finishing the mission unscathed. Limping all the way back home isn’t easy especially since you live on top of the darned mountain, but if Sukuna’s going to kneel in front of you like this...maybe it wasn’t too tough a journey. “You should stop going to missions you’re not ready for. Look at you, all wounded and bloody.”

“You sound like you care.”

“You’re my wife,” he huffs while dropping the bloody towel on the floor. Sukuna wraps the bandage around your ankle and carries you bridal style even though you’re perfectly capable of walking, but he shoots you a silencing glare. You’d have knocked him in the face any other day, but he’s particularly warm and smells nice today – plus you’re beat – that you bury your face in his chest, ignoring that stupid fluttering in your stomach. “Of course I do.”

You snicker, mind tracing back to your earlier years of this dreaded marriage.

It definitely wasn’t the best – the memories blurring between strangling each other to making out as if breathing was never a thing – and it felt like forever ago when you first met him.

You’d never say it out loud, but... you don’t regret this arranged marriage. Not when Sukuna is tucking himself beside you on the bed, your head above his muscular chest a place similar to home. He covers both your bodies over with a blanket, pulling your body closer to him with a strong arm, his lips pressing onto the crown of your head.

Ugh, you think to yourself, giving in to the need to cuddle your husband after a long day of work. You still refuse to say it out loud, though, and you irk him further by muttering, “That’s not what you said two years ago.”

“I wasn’t in love with you then.”

 “I refuse to be married to you!”

Sukuna fights back the urge to cover his ears. Ever since your clan decided to visit his land and started exorcising curses one by one, his life has been nothing but hell. Not only are your relatives the most arrogant people ever with a consistent god complex, they just had to let their little mortal child be in charge of taking on the stronger curses. Seriously, what were they thinking, sending you – who’s barely even out of their training bra years – to deal with curses like him?

Everyone knows Sukuna is a no bullshit man. He won’t hesitate to cut your head off the moment you came raging at him, but then he sees how young you are and decides to send you back to your family.

Expecting that everyone would just call it a day and he’d get offerings for his unexpected mercy, Sukuna is beyond stupefied when they send you back to his temple, all dressed pretty with a basket of fruits and flowers braided in your hair. He remembers growling because you look adorable, but that’s easily wiped away when you open your mouth, your voice scratchy against his ears as you stomp your feet like the young mortal you are.

Sukuna pushes a thumb to his forehead to ease the impending headache, and that’s just from your presence. Something inside him tells that you’re going to be a bigger pain than you look.

“You don’t have much of a choice. You should’ve thought of that before deciding to run rampage over my land,” he reminds, turning boredly to his lone servant from above his throne. Sukuna isn’t impressed, to say the least, especially with your clan’s audacious proposition to gain his favour just this once. “Is this really the woman you bring me – the one they insist to be my wife?”

“She is their best fighter, my Lord.”

Well, he can’t disagree to that. You did, after all, single-handedly give him a cut on the cheek. “She’s feisty indeed.”

“Don’t talk as if I’m not here!”

“Mouthy too,” he mumbles to himself, but your sorcerer senses are sharp and easily picks up on it. He sees you flush angry again, looking immensely adorable with your tiny fists clenched like that and he snorts, waving a hand in the air. “Whatever. Get the wedding over with,” he nods to his servant, his sigh loud and tired as he makes his way to you.

You don’t stiffen at each haunting step, his eyes only glimmering harder with entertainment. It’s rare to find a mortal that doesn’t quiver at the sight of him, the urge to break you only growing stronger.

Even as he cups your face, making sure to not let his claws dig into your precious skin, Sukuna smirks. You’ll be entertaining indeed.

So Sukuna makes a promise, four eyes surveying the way your body is starting to fill in curves at the right places, the swell of your flesh just perfect in his hands... He chuckles to himself, daunting you further as he leans down to your ear, taking pleasure in the slight way your breath hitches. “Maybe then I’ll get to teach you a lesson or two.”

You’re definitely something else, taking advantage of each presented opportunity and not wasting any time before you make your move. Right after the wedding and everyone’s left, leaving you alone with your new husband behind closed doors; you push him until he’s on the ground, legs straddling each side of his hips while you growl above him – the sound similar to a battle cry.

Sukuna merely smirks, barely moving a muscle as his large hands come up to rest on your hips to steady you. “I’ve imagined countless ways you’d be on top of me like this,” his eyes light up with humour upon feeling the cold blade on his skin, “None of them included a knife on my neck though.”

“Shut your mouth. I will kill you myself,” you warn, pressing your knife harder until it draws a slight tinge of blood.

You hardly look threatening above him like this, dolled up to look the best in your wedding with this cursed being. If anything, you look more divine than deadly, and Sukuna thinks that perhaps your beauty could be your best weapon. You are bewitching, after all.

“I refuse to be your Queen and sit next to your throne.”

“Then why didn’t you stop the wedding?”

“I—”

Sukuna’s teasing grin grows wider when you pull back, trying so hard to not trip over your words. It takes all of his self-restraint to not take you right then and there, but he does a good job of holding back, enjoying this view above him instead. “Could it be you’re attracted to me after all, hm, little one?”

“Do not test me, Curse. I’m more than capable of exorcising you myself.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You’re the strongest in the Gojo clan, are you not?” he prompts to appease you, “I don’t even want to see what you’re capable of, but maybe, just maybe...” just as his eyes darken, the edges of his lips turning up into a smirk, Sukuna digs his claws into your thigh in a possessive show of ownership, a painful reminder that you’re his now. “...You could put on a little show for me?”

“I hate you!”

Experienced and strong as you are, you’re nothing compared to a thousand year old curse who’s killed a lot more people faster than you could blink. Sukuna immediately notices the animalistic way you draw your blade, arm swung back with rage written all over your face. Before you could so much as bat an eye, he easily switches the positions until you’re under him, using only one hand to pin your arms above your head, your blade effortlessly thrown to the other side of the room.

“As I thought, you’re a lot prettier under me like this,” he observes, roaming his eyes shamelessly over the fabric clinging prettily to your body. You’ve fallen silent at his unconcealed attention, your compliance enticing him to lean closer just to inhale your intoxicating scent.

“Not so feisty now, little one? Where’d all your hatred for me go?” Sukuna pulls back with widened eyes, “Oh? Am I hearing it wrong or is your pathetic human heart beating so loud right now?” You refuse to look at him, wriggling your hips in an attempt to leave, completely unaware that the mere movement is hypnotizing the curse above you. Sukuna grips your hips in warning, not wanting to destroy you – not now, anyway. “You know all you need to do is say it. I’d gladly take you right here and then.” His words spoken with that deep, throaty voice immediately sends a wave of heat down your core, but you turn away from him, breathing hard and nervously; something Sukuna picks up on in an instant. “Little one...have you never had a man hold you like this before?”

“N-no...”

“I see. Pure and innocent behind that ferocity, huh?” He surprises you by pulling away, smoothening his white robes down as he leaves you panting still on the floor. “Fine. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

“I’d rather die before that ever comes out from my mouth.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, winking at you before he shuts the door. “Little one.”

There’s a lot of weird – and utterly inconvenient things – about being Sukuna’s wife. The man eats everything, absolutely everything, and it doesn’t help that he sucks at hunting too. For a man so huge and burly, he sure is lazy, preferring to do the laundry in the riverside instead while you go out every day to prepare your meals.

You actually don’t mind, but it’s very fun to complain around him.

You’re on your way back to the temple when Sukuna grabs at you, making you drop the freshly caught birds onto the ground. Your brows furrow, about to scold him for being too eager again when Sukuna stares at your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Following his line of sight, your lips form an ‘o’ shape. There’s blood trickling down your forearm from his claws accidentally cutting you, guilt written all over his face. Another weird thing about Sukuna is that he babbles a lot when he’s emotional, and you’re too tired to hear him beat himself over it that you just drag him inside your room, sitting his ass down before taking a clipper.

Sukuna scoffs when you start cutting his nails. It irks him that you don’t even bother wiping the blood off first and he tsks, eyes narrowed at you. “You should have thicker skin.”

You roll your eyes as you file his nails; you’ve been married to him long enough to know it’s his way of saying sorry. Not wanting to let him wallow in guilt any louder, you pad kisses over his knuckles before swiping the black ink off your desk, using a pen brush to colour your nails instead. Sukuna hovers behind you, head tilted to the side as he watched you. “Are you painting your nails black?” he utters in disbelief, trying to ignore the fact he feels...proud and even a little smug. “Not so fitting for the angelic sorcerer now, isn’t it?”

“I’m only doing this so you don’t feel left out.”

“Maybe I’ll add markings to your pretty face too,” he cups your jaw to make you turn to him, landing a solid kiss flat to your lips which makes you sigh, pretending to be annoyed but leaning over for another peck anyway. Sukuna laughs and pulls you onto his lap, kissing your neck this time around, a little annoyed that you don’t stop in brandishing your nails. “Wife, what do you think?”

“I have work, Sukuna. You flirting with me doesn’t change the fact I need to go.”

“Come home safe for me, at least?” he breathes down your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You’ve definitely changed since the first time he’s met you, starting from a mean (although he stands strong that you are still mean to him sometimes) temperamental little one to a mature, stronger sorcerer who’s secretly weak for his wife.

Unable to resist him as always, you turn around once you’ve finished painting your nails, rubbing your nose over his until your strong, scary husband is turning into putty at your hands. “Of course I will,” you peck his lips one last time, Sukuna’s eyes closing as he dives in for a deeper kiss. “I’ll always come back home to my handsome husband.”

If anyone were to ask how it’s possible that the King of Curses is actually very soft for his sorcerer wife, everyone would claim it’s impossible and a heresy – but if you ask Sukuna, it’s probably just black magic doing its wonders.

#sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #ryoumen sukuna x reader imagines #ryoumen sukuna x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader fluff #sukuna x reader romance #sukuna imagines #ryoumen sukuna imagines #ryoumen sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #sukuna x you imagines #sukuna x you fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #suki: 500 milestone event #suki: scheduled

[wroteclassicaly]

May I Taste Your Sin

(Michael Langdon x Female Reader)

Pairings : Michael Langdon x Female Reader

Warnings : Language, smut, blood, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, blood play, & period sex.

A/N : This fic has been a loooong time coming! I’m sorry it’s taken me this long, but now that I have inspo I wanted get this out for y’all! The warnings are obviously self-explanatory, so skip this if you don’t like the contents it’s gonna contain! Michael Langdon eats human hearts, and he’s a demon, before anyone starts to fuss over this, lol. I’m sure menstrual cycles with his partner would be a dessert to him!

Enjoy! This one is pretty intense, so I’m nervous about it! I also have more installments with different characters coming in the next few days! :)

Check out where I first posted the teaser for this fic, and check out these period sex headcanons I wrote for Michael!

~*~

He keeps staring at you. You try to move about, do your tasks, even attempt conversation with people you’d tried so hard to avoid these past several years. Your abilities to function like the human being that you are, seemingly vanish whenever the tall honey blond is within your exhausted proximities. You aren’t sure if you’d like to let out the loudest echoing scream and see where it ends up in this place, or let your wildest carnal urges guide your hormones into a literal sticky situation. Or, at the very least, let yourself fantasize about seducing him in your own self-created version of reality.

You’ll have to settle on the latter, unfortunately. Pocketing the cream colored dish rag, you place the last row of finely printed novels on the book shelve. Your fingertips linger, attempting to find a portal through their leather cover tops. Your tongue slicks your parched lips, neck stretching to crack out the tension. You aren’t trying to do anything but stealing some relaxation, when a largely hot hand is pressing a knot-out in a knead on your shoulder - clasping, settling a risky purchase.

You don’t have to make an educated guess to know whose hand that belongs to. He practically spews out his control and ownership of this place every chance that he gets. Biting down a venomous sigh, you coerce yourself into a turn around - gathering an eyeful of Langdon’s fancy black vest. That’s not good enough for the King, apparently, as he fits his pointer finger underneath your chin in a tuck, thumb pressing against your jaw to tilt your gaze to his own.

“Did you forget your manners, Miss Y/L/N?”

The way his shining eyes are sizing your attention, captivating your unwillingness to comply to how Langdon makes you feel - it can’t be humanly possible, can it? There’s that possessive ache that begs you to launch ownership over him and his entire body. Why is everything so widely dramatic whenever he’s around? Is he just full of himself or is it something way more than you’re aware? A crackling parch winds its pathway around your throat, sealing your breath in.

Nothing comes from between your lips. You’re frozen solid, legs a weightless press. Each touch this... man brings upon your body is like a bass thump - pumping you towards his secretive rhythm. All you can do is sway with the beat. Langdon smirks coyly, his other hand resting behind his back in an idle grace.

Neither of you dare utter a word. However, Langdon is seemingly content in making you squirm and you try to focus on everything but his perfectly crafted jawline, and how eagerly you’d suck on it if asked. You swear you can hear your heartbeat galloping off, so strong that it can tear your heart right out of your chest along with it. His colorful eyes glance over you in a brief stamping sweep, lingering at your sore breasts and your waistline.

What is he even doing...?

“Excuse me, but Ms. Venable did not authorize any private conferences with the help.” A cold and steel - grasped voice chills your bones down, dusting your cheeks with a reddening humiliation.

You haven’t even so much as spoken to Langdon, yet it feels like you two have been clawing and scratching at each other all over this fucking outpost, riding one another until you can’t fathom walking upright. You still can’t speak, but Langdon takes care of that for you.

“Interesting, and did Ms. Venable give you permission to waltz in here when you weren’t requested or required, just to give a meaningless order?” Langdon is mildly amused in his question, his hand still paused on your chin, thumb now swiping in a tickling drop with his fingertip - along your jaw.

Ms. Mead looks comical in her brief attempt at forming a snappy comeback, only to go silent in defeat. You take this tension as your escape line - quickly edging from the sacred confines Langdon has built for you two, and you all but run out the door. You’re clutching your shirt collar, punching a two pounce path up the staircase and to the help’s quarters.

Chores now, panic later.

~*~

Five minutes. Five fucking minutes in this place that you’ve served without question, complaint, for nearly two years - is all you want. But as the heavy handed rasps of Mead’s knuckle bones beat on your bathroom door, you know that is a simple pipe dream. Her low voice is harsh with you, making your headache unfold into a full blown migraine. You shift uncomfortably, knees knocking together, thighs sore against the cool porcelain seat below you.

Langdon must’ve massively pissed her off... Good.

Your palms collect purchase to your cradle your face, your eyes glistening with tears, throat burning with frustration. It hurts too much to stand upright this time. Normally women would lose this in stressful situations. Add the apocalypse and barely eating, you’d peg it normal to receive nothing. However, your predicament is much worse, fucking you over once more.

Your body welcomes Mother Nature each month. Unpredictable, yet there. Heavy, excruciating. You could list on and on reasons that don’t amount to much. You’re stuck with a part of you that won’t ever come to fruition.

Not in your former life, especially not in this one. Another reminder that carries an award winning irony. Sighing, you peer down at the red dish rag you were given. Literally on the rag, what a joyous harmony. The elites of course, are given the tampons and pads.

You have to use scraps of fabric you’re forced to wash in the bathtub if you move too fast or sneeze. And on your heavy days when you haven’t the time to stop your duties to wash and air out the towels, things are much harder. At least before the apocalypse you had chocolate, feminine products, a warm shower to take your time in, movies to curl up with, and a place of your own to cry where no one could hear you. You sniffle, hormones locking down your heart.

Most recently the outpost had welcomed the cooperative leader Langdon. He had interviewed everyone but you, uninterested, only flustering you a few times. Him being here just makes your period a more unwelcome storm. This morning as you were passing him on the landing of the staircase, delivering the bath towels to elite rooms, he stared at you. Right into you, nostrils flaring, tongue rolling out to slick his plump lips, blue eyes darkening.

Then there was this afternoon. How could I forget...?

The encounters were over quicker than they took place. Still, his acknowledgment of you didn’t bring your interview, nor did it promise your application for the sanctuary he preaches about. Forcing your tears to bank, you stand with your dress skirt and apron held up, staring at the stained rag in your panties. You turn and flush the toilet, eating back around to the shock of your fucking life. There, just feet in the from the doorway, is Langdon in all his glory.

It makes you swallow harshly, stomach drawing off the butterflies that have grown claws. You feel winded. His ring covered fingers bring an object to your sights. A thinly wrapped stick. You don’t answer, you don’t move, you don’t protest him approaching until he’s directly in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You try, a mere whisper betraying your bravery.

“Helping you,” He answers simply, a heated slide crossing his mouth. You can practically taste him, damn near swaying forward.

You start to snap back into your senses, ready to cover your remembered modesty back up. He grasps your wrist, a hungry look soft in his features. “Will you let me?”

You’re shaking, body on fire at him touching you, you try to keep your legs from clenching, that want. You know what will occur if you let yourself. He is gentle with you, admiration clear. Why? You don’t understand this.

“You’re bleeding, I know.”

Jaw unhinged, you stand upright, his fingers still ghosting your skin. An unlucky movement on your part, the warmth spills from you and you look down between your thighs in horror at the red lines running down your legs, pattering against the floor. Langdon is breathing heavily, practically panting, stunning you once more. His other hand grips your cheek, thumb swiping your lip, eyes not breaking contact from yours.

“Do you know how good your cunt smells? Every pathetic person in this outpost is starving and you have the best meal between your fucking legs.”

When your silence stretches on, Michael nudges forward, careful with you. “May I feast?”

It’s all too much to handle. Having him talk to you, you speaking to him. And now this? How? You begin to grow dizzy, hands trembling as you try to pull your clothing back up. Langdon’s hands grip your wrists.

“Please don’t do that.”

You want to stun him incredulously, backhand him. None of that is happening, not even the urge. Instead, your want for him is magnifying beyond any feigned ignorance. Your tongue slides out across your lips, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a brisk chew. Langdon hooks his middle finger between your teeth, releasing your lip and combing the blood across in a coppery gloss.

Your chest is startled, rising and falling in quivering quakes, ears hearing a static rush. Everything inside of you is alive and crying out in need to be sated. Langdon grips you around the waist, lowering his forehead to rest atop your own, his middle finger - still doused in your blood - slithers past his own lips, which close in a sticky suckle. A vibrating moan pummels his throat, causing a constricting swallow that showcases his Adam’s apple.

If I could only just lick that...

Langdon is sly and devilishly cunning to a fault - fast in his next movements. He presses a designer boot down over your skirts, successfully preventing them from being made up. “Leave them here for someone else.”

“I... I can’t. This is too much, Langdon —“ He chuckles at the formality.

“Since I can see your womanhood running from between your legs, I suppose it’s only fair that we skip some formalities, don’t you agree, Y/N?” Your eyes are probably wider than necessary - a cartoon like sight. He’s used your full name in an authoritative command, leaving no room for question. “And you may call me Michael.”

It’s all a little more frantic from this point. He gives the slightest of information, and you see your skirts and panties gliding across the floor in a winded push. Michael brings that wrapped item back into your eye-line. “We won’t be needing this for a while.”

“I didn’t say yes.” You try, swallowing a weak, whimpering stifle.

“But you didn’t say no, did you?” That shit eating grin. He has you and he is all too aware - elated to the brimming brimstone of hellfire you’re about to bestow upon yourself.

Your insides melt into the trenches of red hot, raw ravishment. Michael drops his left arm down, hand palming his hardening cock through black slacks, eyes encouraging you in a chained bind. “Let’s go and make a mess in my room.”

Now or never. No more of this, back to reality, maybe some place better. You’re spinning in a foiling encasement, precipice wide and open - hungry to pull you under. And you dive in, you let it all go. Michael looks satisfied, sharing something with himself that you don’t know... yet.

Taking Michael Langdon’s hand, you’re led into the unknown.

~*~

Langdon leads you down his own separate corridor, your free hand scolded for trying to hold yourself over your uniform.

“I want you to make a mess.” Michael says.

You hope that you’re not the one who will be paying the cost for your own said mess, or cleaning it up. If it’s up to Venable - you’ll be licking it, all the way to her high heeled boots.

Once inside the confines of Michael Langdon’s bedroom, you take the time to look around, enjoying the perks this situation is bringing. The room isn’t any different than what the purple elites get here, it is bordering on a more... lived in feel, which is ironic when you consider that Langdon hasn’t been here like everyone else has for the past three years.

Guess he’s just more comfortable? He does look like an English vampire half the time..

On that note, a particularly harsh cramp antagonizes your uterus, causing you to clench your abdomen, choking out a acidic slice. “Fucking demonic cramps.”

Michael - now clad in his all black ensemble, minus the overcoat - chortles, knotting his fingers together behind his back and strolls forward, wetting his lips as the firelight crackles a sparking soundtrack. “It’s ironic how you refer to it as “demonic”, when Satan really has nothing to do with this. I mean, it’s not on him that humanity failed their pitiful guidelines for sobering temptation. Wasn’t it your lord and savior that bestowed this curse upon you?” He finishes, giving a head tilt to your unhinged stun.

“Are you religious?” Is all you can come up with.

Michael sneers, looking slightly offended. It fades seconds later. “Depends on your definition of religious, and then there is what one believes in. But I guess you can say that I’m devoted to... a certain cause.”

“Were you this mysterious before the apocalypse, or is that why the cooperative gave you the job?” You try, a discomfort crackling at your inner thighs.

They’re probably smeared... And not just with blood.

“I bet you’re uncomfortable.” Michael teases, snapping his fingers at the fireplace. Did your eyes betray you, or did the flames flicker?

You want to give a snappy comeback, but it feels unwise. You nod like the sap that you are, nails biting your palms. Your heartbeat has begun to accelerate, a visible sight beneath your apron. Langdon guides himself to step in front of you, leather shoes drumming across the floor beneath. Every sound in this forsaken room is flowing through your eardrums - Michael’s scent on the tip of your tongue.

You need him. More than your body has to have the air that filters underneath this mausoleum. You’re so unsteady, eyes brimming with the smoking arousal, blocking common sense. Michael catches you as you collide with his chest, wrapping your fists into his vest. His blue irises are disappearing to a canyon of night sky - lavish black so sinful that it steals the breath from your lungs.

Drizzling off your tongue is a hesitation. “Won’t we get into trouble...? Venable -“ Those rough fingertips hold a softness that hushes your lips, denting.

“Can watch me with my face buried into your cunt. The humiliation will arouse her.” Michael answers in his own finish.

You aren’t sure why, but that grates your mouth into a sneaky grin, shared with Michael’s, sensing that slapping throb at his phrases. He pinches your chin, nuzzling your head to the side, his lips sloping a map across your neck. His towering physique backs you by knocking his knees into your thighs, delivering you to the edge of his bed. You drop like wild weights, looking towards the ceiling, trying to take a deep inhalation. Langdon crouches, pants rustling as they tighten around his temptingly thick thighs.

He tuts in a scold, chiding you furthermore. “You will watch what I’m getting ready to do to you! Is that clear, Y/N?”

You don’t answer fast enough, Michael’s hand wrapping around your throat, eyes burning hellfire through you - dusting your bones to ash. Your throat is wet with the clingy, unshed tears. Fuck, you have to be filled up until you’re hollowed out. Michael is languid in grace, hand toppling into your lap, joining his other.

“Take down your hair, Y/N.”

Like a puppet, you obey your new owner. Unwrapping the pointed bun, you shake your locks free, sighing in an eased tickle.

“What a good and obedient girl that you are. Those who obey, shall reap the riches.”

“Why are you doing this?” An ignorant question on your part.

“Because,” As if it’s the most simple answer in this broken world, Michael let’s his hands start to unbutton his vest, carelessly sending it, his attention not wavering off you in the slightest. “I’m hungry.”

A literal moan comes from you, making Langdon hiss through his through his milky white teeth. He resumes his former position, hovering.

“Spread.” Michael says, a quaint wonder adorning him, his palms sliding up and down your legs to feel you part them. The blood is mixing some fucked out potion with your creamy arousal for him, and he knows it, has it right into your tremble from the exposure.

Your skin is steaming in scrapes, responding so vulgarly to Michael, that he is hooking his wrists under your knees, bouncing the flesh into his awaiting hands, and claiming. He hoists your legs over his shoulders to arch you to his idea of perfection. You should be protesting, in a shambled shyness. That is gone, no place here. Michael let’s his nose rest in the crease of your thigh, crudely sniffing like some beast.

His sopping tongue finds a striking stroke along your ruby red, damp thigh.

Closer... He’s getting closer...

When you can’t feel that warm and snide air he possesses, you lock to load a question. Michael is shedding himself of his remaining clothing in a cocky crawl. His hair curtains his face as he sees you seek out his cock - thick and heavy, weighted and wet with pre-cum.

“Finish taking off your clothing.” You’ve never done something so fast in your years alive.

You have to admit, being so vulnerable like this - naked and bleeding, it has you buzzing.

Michael outstretches a veined forearm, the back of his rings swirling in desiring dances across your breasts. “Do these hurt?”

Your lashes are slicked in perspiring tears, the tired soreness harassing your chest. He has his truth. His trim form bows to you once more, placing your legs back where they belong. He knuckles a pressing push into your abdomen. “Bear down.”

It isn’t an accident this time, it’s not a discreet secrecy. Michael wants you this way. All of you. Finding a confidence, you give yourself a high and sink your fingers into his hair, toes tickling his shoulder blades in a forwarding nudge, doubling down on your muscles. That warmth spills out of you and Langdon takes you, tongue parting your swollen folds. He regulates his tongue in wet paints, licking and sucking everything you give him.

“Please—“ You’re already begging. It’s so fucking intense and intimate that you can’t formulate your own damned name.

“Are you really going to ask, or would you just like to feel good?” Michael vibrates, his mouth visible and shining crimson as he seeks you out between your slippery thighs.

It’s outright feral. His irises are coal black, blue lost in some combing canyon that’s crumbled around sin. His digits prod at your sensitive opening, being accepted moments later. His lips close over your clit, tongue slithering back and forth to assist his beckoning fingers. He gathers more from you - his purpose.

That quenched fold starts to seize you early on, your pattering breaths signaling the orgasm that is about to tear the screams from your fucking diaphragm. Michael’s hand smacks and rolls your swollen breast - permission granted. That’s all it takes and you’re falling back onto the mattress, back arching in a lined drag, pussy flattening against his mouth. He jerks you impossibly closer, your vision whiting out into dark spots. You tangle your fingers further into his luscious strands, holding, pulling.

In the midst of close recovery, Michael is plowing you with a short lived let down, his mouth leaving your pussy. You can’t complain, no time available, as his hips slot in a frazzled fit between your legs. His pelvis is tense, sheathed in sweat. His chest smashes your breasts, his hand reaching down to guide his cock inside you. You can’t speak, but cling tightly to his back. He growls a sound that you’ll never forget, the fire bursting behind him, flames licking the rocked cove that houses them.

His mouth is covered in your essence, your cunt bathing his dick with each violent thrust. It’s pouring in drenches, salty perspiration, pooling blood - both of you losing yourselves in the mess. Michael props himself up, digging into a dipping slam, meeting your mouth in an ending kiss. His hair tickles your shoulders, nose nudges your now blood caked mouth, and he gives the warning.

“Spill your fucking curse all over me!” And you come undone, glued to him in puzzled entrapment.

Your thighs are wrecked, his bedsheets useless, and then there’s Michael, who forces you to look at him and really see him. There’s only black in his eyes. You sputter a disbelief, bracing. His mouth parts, tongue flicks across to gather more, leveling off into his jagged movements. He swells inside your cunt, dousing your walls in his warm cum.

He doesn’t leave you, not even when it’s over. He simply takes you with him. You aren’t sure where you get the courage to speak - body shaking and shivering.

“What... Michael, who are you?”

He cups a hand over your cunt, rolling onto his side, keeping you held to him. He lightly blows away a pesky lock of your hair, then maneuvers another behind your ear.

“I’m the man who’s going to save your wretched existence.”

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[albakore]

Office Adventures

Synopsis: (office!au) Sometimes Kaeya’s ideas can be brilliant. Other times you wonder how this man even made it this far in life. This time, however, the outcome is a little different than you expect…

Characters (together): Diluc, Kaeya, Thoma/Tohma, Childe, and Zhongli (fem!reader)

Warnings: not sfw (18+), like pure unadulterated filth. public-ish sex, voyeurism, unprotected sex, vibrator, masturbation, Diluc fucking you while everyone else watches because i am Diluc’s whore before i am human,

part 2

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘•⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ ⊰ ⋅•⋅

It felt so downright perverted to be acting this way. You tried your hardest to stay focused on the presentation in front of you but your mind kept drifting back to the device that was sitting between your legs. Kaeya had managed to slip a vibrator in your underwear right before this meeting, after he pulled you into an empty office and worked it inside of you. He pulled up the app on his phone and tested it to make sure it worked properly. It did, much to his delight (and your dismay.)

Zhongli was up at the front presenting some information about this months sales. He was flipping through various infographics in the presentation he had prepared, motioning to them every so often to accentuate his point. Diluc was sitting across from Kaeya jotting down notes as he went, next to him was a bored looking Thoma. Childe occupied the seat on the Kaeya’s left and was very keenly watching Zhongli as he presented. The seat to Kaeya’s right was empty, as that’s where Zhongli had been sitting. You watched Kaeya reach for his phone again that was sitting on the table in front of him. He tapped the screen a few times and you felt the vibrations inside of you grow stronger. You pressed your thighs together desperately trying to mask what was taking place. You couldn’t help but chew your bottom lip desperately trying not to let your pokerface drop.

“Ms. (Name), are you alright?” You heard Kaeya call from across the table, interrupting Zhongli. That little shit, you thought. You took a deep breath to help calm you down, putting on the best neutral expression you could muster before glancing up and meeting Kaeya’s mischievous smile.

“Of course. Why do you ask?” You tried to ignore how all of the men’s eyes glanced over in your direction. You could feel your impending orgasm looming as the vibrator continued to buzz inside you still even with all their gazes on you.

Thoma chimed in this time, completely oblivious. “You’re looking a little flustered, do you need to step out for some air?” Your eyes drifted to meet his, a genuinely concerned expression on his face as he scanned over you for signs of sickness or injury.

“I’m fine, really,” you assured him quickly, “I just picked the wrong day to wear this outfit.” You joked, motioning to your matching blazer and skirt that were made out of the same thick material. You added in a smile to really sell your excuse, fanning yourself to make it seem like maybe the heat was just getting to you.

Zhongli, who had been interrupted in the middle of his presentation, cleared his throat to take the attention away from the disruption. “Well, this is the last slide so if you’ll allow me to get through this then you can go back to your office and cool down a little. May I?” You nodded your head quickly and added in a small sorry before you ducked your head back down to focus on the notes in front of you. You were grateful when you felt the attention slowly shift off you and back to Zhongli.

Your mind drifted again with Zhongli’s voice as the perfect background noise for your fantasies that played in your mind. You thought again about Kaeya pulling you into that office right before this meeting with his fingers working you open slowly saying he had a surprise for you. You two had joked about doing something like this before, but you never thought he had the gall to actually go through with it. He was definitely enjoying this entirely too much, you could tell by the way his attention shifted from his notes to study you every so often. Whenever he altered the frequency of the vibrator, your resolve would fall just briefly and you’d allow yourself one shaky breath as your fists clenched and your eyebrows furrowed, desperately trying to fight the orgasm that had been creeping up on your for what felt like forever now. You were completely unaware of the vermillion eyes that would drift your way every time your face would scrunch or your hips would shift.

“And with that, we’re done for the day.” Zhongli’s concluding statement cut through your lewd thoughts. You let out a sigh of relief thinking about how you wanted nothing more than to get out of this meeting room and to the privacy of your own office. Zhongli returned to his spot at the table beside Kaeya and began gathering up his papers. The rest of the men also shuffled their stuff together, starting to stand from their seats and stretch.

“Say, Kaeya,” Childe’s voice cut through the shuffling. You watched in slow motion horror as he reached out and grabbed Kaeya’s phone that had been sitting face up on the table while Kaeya had stepped away from his seat to go return something he grabbed before the meeting. “What is this app you kept toying with throughout the meeting?” He asked as he examined Kaeya’s phone. Kaeya’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think of a way to draw Childe’s attention away from the phone without being obvious. As Kaeya opened his mouth to reply, Childe tapped something on the screen.

“Wait!” You and Kaeya exclaimed in unison but it was too late, the vibrator in between your legs kicked up a few notches and in a matter of seconds the orgasm that Kaeya had had you dancing around for the last half of this meeting came crashing down. You let out a loud, sultry moan as you ducked your head to keep some sense of your dignity as the men watched you clench your legs and squirm in your seat. Kaeya quickly made his way back to his phone and snatched it away from Childe, cutting off the vibrations. There were a few beats of silence as the men all watched you carefully while you caught your breath, head still lowered and hands still gripping the arms of your chair harshly. The realization of what just happened finally hit you as your head cleared. The fucked out expression on your face shifted to a mortified one as you tried to think of some sort of response.

Childe’s voice rang out hesitantly from the other side of the room, “uh, sorry..”

Instead of addressing his apology you used every ounce of courage in you to spit out a ‘please excuse me’ before getting up from your chair and promptly exiting the room. You ran for the nearest empty bathroom and locked yourself inside, suddenly thankful for the first time ever that your office had single person bathrooms. Your back hit the door as your head reeled from the events that just took place, embarrassment washing over you. I’m gonna get fired, you though bitterly, they probably think I’m disgusting. You slowly reached down and pulled back your underwear to see the soaked mess that had become your panties. You sighed, pulling them up again before your eyes met the mirror. Your appearance was disheveled: your lips were swollen from biting them to stifle your moans and your legs were still shaking from your recent orgasm.

A loud knock sounded on the door behind you. “(Name)?” Kaeya’s voice called out. “…I know you’re in there.” He added after a few moments of waiting for you to respond. You still didn’t answer his calls so he continued, “they’re all waiting for you to come back.” Your heart dropped. What does that mean? Are they going to discuss the consequences of your actions already? Why so soon? Couldn’t they wait and sleep on it?

You turned around hand gripping the door handle as you took a deep breath to calm your racing heartbeat, figuring it best to face this head on. You opened the door with a click only to be met with Kaeya’s fist inches from your face, evident that he was about to knock again. “There you are!” He quickly withdrew his knuckles and gave you a quick concerned once-over.

You glanced around nervously to make sure he was alone before slumping against him. He pulled you into his embrace as his way to apologize for the events that took place. He knows it was his bad to leave his phone out there like that, especially given the fact that Childe knows his passcode. He stroked your back a few times soothingly, allowing you to inhale his scent hoping that it would provide you some comfort.

“C’mon, let’s not keep them waiting.” He spoke after a few moments before gently taking your hand to lead you along behind him through the hallways. You approached the meeting room again in quick strides, your anxiety climbing higher and higher the closer you two got.

Kaeya stopped in front of the meeting room door and turned to face you, sensing your anxiousness. His hands grabbed your shoulders gently. “There’s no need to be nervous. You’re not going to get in trouble or anything of the sort, I’m certain of it.” He leaned forward and let his lips rest against your ear, “I’m also certain that they all had a boner when I left them. I mean who wouldn’t after the show you put on.” A shiver ran up your spine at his words. You opened and closed your mouth a few times trying to form some sort of response, but before you could he had turned around and pushed open the meeting room door.

“Where is she?” You heard Childe ask. You peaked over Kaeya’s shoulder into the room. The men had returned to the seats they had been in during the meeting.

“(Name).” Zhongli addressed you firmly when his gaze met yours. You squeaked and ducked behind Kaeya again. The man in front of you chuckled before taking a few steps into the room, motioning for you to follow. You swallowed thickly before taking a few tentative steps.

Kaeya closed the door behind you as you finally straightened your back and addressed the men in front of you. “Um…” you tried to keep eye contact with them to appear more collected than you actually were but quickly found your fleeting confidence fading. Instead, you settled for fixing you gaze on the ground in front of you. “I’m very sorry for what happened.”

“Did he force you into this?” Diluc’s question caught you off guard.

“N-no!” You stammered quickly. "He and I talked about it beforehand." You said assuredly, not wanting your actions to reflect worse on Kaeya than they already had. Your cheeks burned and your shoulders were tense. “I know it was very unprof-“

“(Name), come here.” The firm words from Diluc caught you off guard. You studied him for a second, trying to read his intentions. Kaeya finally took his own seat across the table from Diluc. You made your way past Thoma to where Diluc was sitting before you paused. Diluc patted his thigh to motion for you to sit there. It caught you way off guard. You noted how Kaeya was absolutely right, though you couldn’t see Childe or Zhongli, you could definitely see both Diluc and Thoma were noticeably hard. You went to straddle his thighs but he stopped you. “Other way.” You turned yourself around and settled against him with your back flush with his chest. It took everything in you not to grind against his boner that was even more noticeable now that it was pressed against you.

His lips met the shell of your ear. “Is this alright?” He asked, fingers hovering over you, waiting for your permission for him to touch you. You nodded, swallowing thickly and his hands came into contact with your skin. Diluc’s fingers worked to hike your skirt up. He let his fingertips ghost up and down your outer thigh a few times, pressing a kiss to your neck. He pushed his chair back from the table and spread your legs wide to make sure the other guys could see what he was doing to you. He stopped again briefly as his fingers came to rest on the edge of your panties, waiting for your go ahead before pushing them down your thigh. He paused to admire the string of slick that connected your sex to your underwear. You didn’t even have time to feel embarrassed before Thoma let out a groan beside you at the sight. Diluc continued working your panties down your legs until he slipped them off completely and tossed them on the table in front of you two. Next, his hands reached down and pulled the vibrator out of your cunt that Kaeya had stuffed in there with a quiet squelching noise. He held it up and examined the way it was coated completely in your arousal.

“I can turn it on, if you want.” Kaeya offered as he watched the scene in front of him intently. His signature cocky smirk had returned as he noticed how wet he had gotten you with his vibrator.

“Please do.” Diluc answered, turning his attention from the toy back to your cunt. “May I?” He whispered in your ear as the hand not holding the toy traced the skin below your bellybutton down to the area just above your clit and back up again.

“U-uh..” you hesitated, gauging the reactions from the men around you. Zhongli’s gaze was fixated on you. He was leaning forward on his elbows, his fingers locked together resting over his mouth. His irises looked like they were quite literally glowing as he drank in the sight of you. Otherwise, he looked completely calm. His breath was slow and steady and he was relatively still.

Childe had never looked more relaxed in his life. He was slouched against his chair, one ankle crossed over his knee and his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. His boner couldn’t be any more obvious as his eyes languidly trailed up your body, down your body, and back up again. He was truly basking in the sight in front of him.

When your gaze shifted to Kaeya he made sure to hold eye contact with you. He licked his lips seductively, eyes trailing down your body before snapping back up to your complete the eye contact again as he sent you a wink.

If there were any doubt left in your mind after looking at those three, that was all dispelled when your eyes drifted over to Thoma. He already had his cock free and was pumping himself slowly as his eyes stayed fixated on you. His cheeks were flush and his breath was fast, and the tip of his cock looked deliciously red as you watched his thumb swipe over it.

It had only taken you a few moments to be sure that none of the men in front of you were uncomfortable with what was happening before you gave Diluc the go ahead. A simple, but firm, 'yes' left your lips and in mere seconds the vibrator that he was holding roared to life, courtesy of Kaeya of course. He pressed it to your clit and immediately you mewled, back arching off his chest. You rocked your hips against the device and in turn also rocked yourself against Diluc’s boner that was growing harder by the second.

“D-Diluc,” you whined. “I want you inside of me.” You panted, focusing on grinding against him. He hummed at your request, pressing a few more open mouth kisses up your neck. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your mouth parted slightly.

“Let me prep you first.” He stated, shifting his arm and wrapping it under your thigh so he could insert two fingers into you. Your slick coated them easily, allowing him to add a third finger. He stretched you as much as he could slowly and gently, pumping his fingers in and out of you. After a few moments he pulled them away from your cunt before putting his fingers, now coated in your slick, up to your mouth. You took them in without hesitation, sucking and licking them. “Good.” Diluc praised. You locked eyes with Zhongli first, then you moved to Childe. Childes hand had also found it’s way inside his pants and was pumping himself lazily as he watched you.

You released Diluc’s now clean fingers from your mouth. “Unzip me.” He instructed, one hand working to unbutton your blouse the other one still had the vibrator pressed to your clit. You reached under you and unzipped his pants, hand trailing along his clothed dick eagerly. You pushed down his underwear and leaned forward to allow room for his cock to sprang free. You pushed back and let yourself rub against him eagerly.

He finally withdrew the vibrator from your clit so he could put both his hands on your hips to guide you onto him. He let out a low groan as he sank into you, your walls clenching around him. He bottomed out and allowed you to just sit there like that for a few moments to adjust to the girth he had. Slowly, he lifted your hips before sliding you back down again. You let out a wanton moan at the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you. Diluc finally replaced the vibrator on your clit again, causing your thighs to tense around him. You placed your hands on his knees and took the lead lifting yourself up and down, slowly speeding up as the slightly painful stretch was replaced with immense pleasure. Beside you, Thoma moaned your name, matching his pace to yours as he worked himself to his own orgasm. Kaeya upped the speed of the vibrator again, enjoying watching you squirm around Diluc's cock.

Zhongli had even taken to pleasuring himself, his stoic expression fixated on watching as Diluc disappeared into your heat only to come back out again coated in your arousal. You were positively drenching Diluc's cock, leaving a wet spot on the chair underneath you two. Moans — hng, a-ah, mmh~ — left your lips as Diluc's other hand found your nipple, toying with it. Your legs started shaking as you got closer to your orgasm, but you tried to push through it to continue riding Diluc. He picked up on your fatigue quick though, and in return he lifted you up and bent you over the table in front of him, grabbing your hips from behind and pushing back into you. You moaned his name again, cheek squished against the hard tabletop, hands splayed beside your head.

"Diluc! I'm gon- I'm gonna c-" you desperately tried to choke out, feeling another strong orgasm coming on as the man slammed into you over and over. His tip curved perfectly into your sweet spot, making you arch your back. He groaned again at the feeling of your smooth walls throbbing around him.

"Let go, angel." You heard him murmur behind you. With one loud whine, your walls clamped around him as you creamed all over his cock. He let out a low 'fuck' as he was launched into his own orgasm, burying himself inside of you before filling you up with his seed. You glanced behind you to watch as Thoma coated his own hand with his cum, moaning your name loudly. Childe had also made a mess out of his shirt when he shot his semen in spurts all over it. Zhongli's hand was still working himself under his dress pants — and then you noticed Kaeya. Kaeya hadn't bothered to touch himself at all, cocky smirk plastered on his face as he stood up from his chair while you and Diluc caught your breaths.

"Is it my turn now?" Kaeya mused as he took slow deliberate strides toward you. This was going to be a long night.

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