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#the way i just threw this onto the canvas
lilcatastrophe · 2 months
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“oh the princess of what ? we’re the only ones out here and she’s no princess of ours”
pidge from that one episode am i right
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whore-ibly-hot · 10 months
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Yan!Bully x Gn!Reader x Yan!Loser
'Art-Project'
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18+ Minors DNI
Warnings: Bullying, name calling, degradation, violence, mentions of non-consensual photos, nonconsensual touching, male pronouns for the yans, mentions of school, general perversion, toxic behaviors, creep behavior.
(AN: Had a fun time with this one, really enjoyed toying with the dynamic between this two. I think I'll probably make a part two with these trainwrecks in the future)
Part 2 here
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The crashing of books and pens falling on the tile floor rings out through the boy's bathroom, as a young, dark-haired boy is thrown harshly onto the cold multi-colored tile. The boy lets out a cry as he hits the ground, and he scrambles away upon impact, pressing his back up against the wall as he looks up at his assaulter.
"F-fuck off, Patrick!" Ahmed exclaims, his frightened eyes never leaving the predatory gaze of the bully who stands over him. Ahmed's free hand wanders around the bathroom floor, grasping blindly to try and find his book bag. Ahmed's accent only becomes more prominent, as his voice shakes and cracks. "Fuck did you say to me, you little shit?" Patrick grabs the boy by his collar, yanking him up from the ground and sneering at him. Ahmed gulps when he feels Patricks breath tickle his neck, making him tremble. "I-I didn't, didn't mean it, c'mon. I was just shocked when you threw me on the floor, it just slipped out." Patrick rolls his eyes, and as he does, his gaze falls on Ahmed's bright red backpack, laying open on the floor. Patrick notices how Ahmed's eyes widen when Patrick looks at it, causing Patrick to raise an eyebrow.
"What's in the bag, freak?" Patrick whispers, and before the sentence has even fully left his lips, Ahmed is fiercely shaking his head. "Nothing, nothing! Just work, please-" He hits the floor again, and he's sure tomorrow he'll be bruised from the rough treatment. "Pick it up." Ahmed looks up. "What?" "C'mon, pick it up. You're all freaked out, freak... I wanna know why, so I'm gonna tell you one more time." Patrick crouches down, and nods in the direction of the cloth schoolbag. "Pick. It. Up." He pauses after each word, relishing the fear in Ahmed's eyes.
Since Ahmed transferred to Morrisville high, Patrick had made his life a living hell. Not that he wasn't already unpopular at his old school, but people at least tried to avoid him there. People did here at first, before Patrick set his sights on Ahmed. Patrick wasn't sure what drew him to the scrawny, quiet boy. Possibly the way everyone avoided him, or maybe it was how little everyone knew about the new kid. Most likely, it was the knowledge that no matter what he did to the boy, or what he made him do, no-one was going to stand up for the boy. Patrick picked on everybody, but god, Ahmed became his favorite. The way he'd squirm, and cry. The way he was able to convince the other kids at the school to pick on the lonely boy. Things only got worse when Patrick found out that everyone at Ahmed's old school thought he was a freak too. Suddenly, shoulder-checks in the hallway became full-on beatings, stolen homework became shoes and clothes being taken from Ahmed's locker, or even right off the poor boy. Patrick never hesitated to remind Ahmed that even if he reported him, or got away from this school, that he'd still be a freak, no matter where he went.
Ahmed's sobs snap Patrick out of his reveling, as the scrawny boy crawls over to the bag, his hands shaking as he tries to grip the red canvas of the backpack. Patrick huffs, but before he can open up the backpack and take a look, he hears footsteps outside the bathroom, coming from down the hall. "Get in the fuckin' stall, go." Patrick growls, pointy sharply at the large handicapped stall at the other end of the bathroom. Patrick steps outside of the bathroom, and Ahmed can hear Patrick greeting whoever is outside. A friend of Patrick's probably. Another member of his little delinquent gang. Ahmed shuts the lid of the toilet and sinks down to sit on the lid, afraid his knees may give out. The sound of heavy boots approaches, and Patrick fingers slid around the stall door, pulling it open as he slips into the stall, locking it behind him. Ahmed tries to steady his breathing.
"Alright, open it up. C'mon." Patrick nods in Ahmed's direction. Shaking hands pull out textbooks, pens, pencils, even the leftovers from Ahmed's lunch. The objects clatter to the floor, scattering across the bottom of the stall. "See, nothing in here, just my school stuff." Ahmed's trembling hands extend the now empty bag to Patrick, presenting it almost proudly. "What... there's no fucking way." Patrick huffs. He begins to dig through the objects, kicking away the writing utensils as he grasps at the textbooks. He flips through each of the pages, trying to find anything incriminating. His frown only deepens as he finds nothing. He's about to give up, as he reaches for a blue folder labeled 'Math'. When he does, Ahmed lets out an involuntary whimper, causing Patrick to freeze. A sick grin spreads across the blonde's face, as he slowly pivots his head to look at Ahmed.
"There we go, somethin' in here you don't want me seeing?" He asks. Ahmed nods, tears cascading down his cheeks. "Alright, I'll tell you what, freak..." Patrick stands straight up, leaning up against the wall behind him. "Tell me what's in the folder, and I won't even look, okay? Just get it off your chest, I'm open-minded." Patrick purrs at the boy, watching his resolve crack in real-time.
"It's-" Ahmed goes quiet towards the end, his words so soft Patrick can't hear. "What was that? You gotta speak up." He sighs. "Or, I guess I could just look-" He moves to flip open the folder with the edge of his boot, causing Ahmed to jolt forward. "N-no!" The boy yells, thrusting his hands out in front of him. Patrick scoffs, tossing his head back for a moment as he laughs, clutching at his stomach. "Jesus, Ahmed, what the hell is in here that's got you so spooked?" Patrick asks. Ahmed shivers. Somehow Patrick using his real name is worse than him calling him 'freak'. It feels more personal.
"It's nudes... nude photographs." Ahmed whimpers, a blush of shame spreading across his cheeks as his gaze falls to the floor. "Oh- yours?" Patrick asks. Ahmed doesn't respond, causing Patrick's brows to furrow, an amused and pleasantly surprised expression coming onto his face. "Not yours, huh." Patrick glances down at the folder. "Who the hell's been giving you pussy, freak? Who's been letting you take those pics?" He asks. Ahmed's hands are tense, gripping the fabric covering his knees so hard that he worries they might tear.
"I- they didn't, alright?" Ahmed cries, curling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in shame. "They didn't-" Patrick takes a moment to process this information. His eyes light up in realization. "You really are a little pervert, huh? I knew something was off about you." He puts his hand on his knees, leaning over so he can make eye contact with Ahmed's curled up form. "A sick little pervert. You get off on those photos?" Ahmed whines. "Some poor kid at this school doesn't know that the school freak strokes it every night to a picture of them... poor them." Patrick leans down and picks up the folder.
"Wait, w-what are you doing, you said you wouldn't look if I told you the truth about what was in there?" Ahmed coughs, almost full on hyper-ventilating at this point, eyes wide in panic. Patrick nods, keeping eye contact with Ahmed as he flips open the folder. "True, but..." He shakes his head, his blonde locks falling from his loose ponytail. "How do I know you're telling me the truth about what's in here if I don't look?" Ahmed scoffs. "Why would I lie about having a folder of some creep-shots?" Patrick shrugs. "I don't know, maybe something like that doesn't seem that serious to you, y'know, because you're a pervert." He suggests. Patrick sticks his tongue teasingly out at Ahmed, before looking down at the gritty Polaroids nestled behind some math notes.
The photos are taken from all sorts of places. The ones at the front are simple upskirts from behind, the subjects face not visible. As Patrick examines more of them, he notices they seem to get more invasive. The final photograph was clearly shot at night, a bedroom window visible. The subject of the photo lies nude, and Patrick's face falls when he sees the face. He looks up at Ahmed, his breath halted. "They... they are cute, huh?" Ahmed looks up from his knees, confused. "You know them?" Ahmed swallows harshly, then nods. "Sort of... we have English together." As Ahmed explains the nature of his relationship to you, Patrick flips through the photos once more. Now that he knows these photos are of you, they have an even greater allure. "Hmm, I have lunch period with them, gym too..." He muses. "Heh, you should see em' in those little gym shorts, shit..." Ahmed isn't sure where this is going, but Patrick's calm tone and hyper-focused expression stress him out even more than when Patrick is outwardly aggressive. At least then he's predictable. Right now, Ahmed is in new territory with his tormentor.
Patrick sighs, and tucks the photos back into Ahmed's folder. He smacks the folder into the center of Ahmed's chest, making him let out a grunt as his trembling hands grip the blue plastic. "Listen, freak." He whispers. He places a hand on the wall behind Ahmed, allowing him to move his face right up in front of the boys. Brown eyes look back at him with fear. "Nobody has to know about all this. I'm still gonna kick your ass, but nobody has to know about your..." He thinks. "Let's call it 'extracurricular art project', okay?" Ahmed, gulps, and asks. "What do you want in return, I know the way you are." Patrick chuckles. "You're pretty smart, huh? Alright, I'll tell ya. Get me some of those photos, some new ones. And copy that last one, that shot into their room." He says. "Why, y-you like them too?" Ahmed whimpers. Patrick shrugs. "I know they've got a sweet little body, and I wouldn't mind a closer look at it, that's all." Ahmed considers this. If he doesn't agree, who knows what Patrick would tell everyone. God, Ahmed might even have to change schools again, and if he did, he couldn't be near you. He shakes his head. He won't let that happen.
"Alright, you got it. I- I think I can get them to you by friday." Ahmed offers, and Patrick nods. Ahmed moves to stand, but Patrick pushes him back. "One more thing, freak." He whispers. Ahmed bites his lips in fear. Patrick slips his hand from the boy's shoulder, down past his waist, and to the front of his victims school shorts. He roughly palms Ahmed's limp cock through his pants, making the boy choke on his own spit in shock. Patrick sighs softly at his reaction, leaning in to whisper into his ear.
"Snap me a pic of yourself too, freak..."
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dr3c0mix · 1 month
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Alistair x (platonically) Teen Reader
In the fic he is like oh my god a bride, he walks in and instead of an adult..or a bride-
They find a teen, who literally threw a pebble at him, an angsty teen💀
I’m very happy to read ur fics and usually pair them with teen/child mc because I find it funny because they expect the love of their life
and teen mc standing there :🧍‍♂️
anyways sorry for the long request, luv ur writing, and ur art :D
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Yandere! Evil King x Teen! GN! Reader
CW: platonic relationship, Alistair is a bit of a DILF so do with it as you will, Dads are hot you guys!! READER IS A MINOR.
👑 Who is this sassy lost child?
👑 His minions kidnapped you while you were on a carriage ride back to your kingdom.
👑 He was hoping for like a princess or something to marry and take over the kingdom with or whatever so like...what tf he gonna do with you???
👑 Clearly you were too young to be in a situation like this, but theres no way he's giving you back without a reward, so yes he still holds you for ransom.
👑 "Child, I am Alistair, King of-ACk!"
👑 Did...did you throw a pillow at him?!
👑 "How dare yo- AHK! Stop it!" another one..
👑 You refuse to listen to anything he says, you just wanted to go home
👑 You two had a bit of rivalry for a bit. He hated you and you hated him.
👑 He promised not to show any affection or care towards you since in his eyes, your actions didn't deserve it. How can someone be so rude to a king !?
👑 But he starts to notice you don't eat much. He never sees you in the dining hall and has only seen quick moments of you nibbling on some bread or pastries the servants gave you.
👑 He scoffed, so irresponsible! You must eat a proper meal right this second or you'll starve!
👑 You're surprised to see a meal prepared for you during your routine trip to get a snack from the pantry with a note on the plate.
👑 "Next time, ask for a proper meal. I don't want your parents to think I've been starving you. -Alistair P.S. go to bed early."
👑 Huh...
👑 Alistair smiled from the doorway of the dining hall, watching you eat up with a smile on your face. You might have been too scared of him to ask for food so you've been sneaking snacks while he wasn't looking.
👑 Of course he wasn't doing it because he cared about you, he just didn't want royalty like you to resort to such pathetic means to eat!
👑 Why are you still sad? Perhaps he should get you some things to keep your attention..
👑 He asks (threateningly may I add) about your hobbies or interests.
👑 The next morning your cell (which has been upgraded to a lovely room in the castle because he didn't want you to be filthy and gross in a dungeon) was filled with anything he could find that he thought you'd enjoy.
👑 Don't think he wants you to be happy! He's just tired of seeing you sulk everywhere!
👑 He denies everything, but you swear you could see a tiny smile on his face when you hugged him happily.
👑 You start being a little more open to him, showing him anything you've made or done with pride and he'd receive it gratefully, but he won't show it of course.
👑 "I made you this friendship bracelet!"
👑 "I've seen better jewelry."
👑 "Oh I'll take it back then I guess.."
👑 "No, it's mine now, back off."
👑 Drawings and the like that he said would be thrown out as soon as you left would be seen framed in his room
👑 It would be a..waste of good canvas..
👑 And of course he buys a few books of your choice for you to read, he'd be damned if your brain turns to mush.
👑 Bro bro he'd be the type to let you swing around while holding onto his bicep.
👑 If you ever have any problems, or come to him in a bad mood, he'd have no idea how to help other than to sit down and listen to your troubles.
👑 He's not the most physical when it comes to affection, but you bet your ass he's gonna do everything he can to cheer you up.
👑 At this point he's rewriting his demands for the ransom. Either your kingdom lets him sign some adoption papers or he's starting a war.
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strgrlxox · 11 months
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𓆞 something beautiful 🐚
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🌊  ↺ okay it's been a whileee holy shit also i half-assed the proof-reading so if u see any mistakes...no u don't (be gentle w me, okay??) 😭:/ ❞¸
+ ¸ ❞ ellie's looking mighty edible in that picture also 🤤 ↺ 🌊
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🌊 || SUMMARY :: your first time w ellie
🌊 || CONTAINS :: horny!reader lmao. take a hit every time i say the word "need" and ur lungs might explode. oral (r). fingering (e). unrealistic couch sex lmao.
🌊 || WORD COUNT :: 2.3k
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she was absolutely lethal. perfect and methodical and addicting and lethal. all day, your mind raced with a million and one thoughts, all of which led back to ellie. always ellie. you needed her, desperately, and it killed you.
the relationship was fairly new, the two of you have never gone farther than a few heated kisses that only left you panting and starved. you were pretty good at maintaining your composure for the most part...but not today. not with the dream you had about her last night.
ellie had invited you over to hers, and even though something in your face seemed hesitant, you were quick to agree which she was overjoyed about. she had missed you and was excited to see you again.
even though you tried your best to mask it, ellie could still tell something was bugging you as soon as you stepped through the door. she could hear it in the way the door slammed shut, she could feel it when you threw your keys on the table near the entrance. you were ravenous, the desire to feel her growing much too persistent to ignore. you could only hope that maybe you'd get lucky, that she'd notice and take care of you.
unfortunately for you, ellie mistook your need for anger. she just assumed you had a bad day at work.
"are you okay?" she speaks gently, so softly it breaks you. you mumble a reply under your breath, not trusting your voice to conceal how you truly feel. your plan was to let the feeling fester until it (eventually) simmered down. 
ellie, however, didn’t seem to agree with your unspoken “plan”. she had never seen you this dismayed. tired? of course. annoyed? sure. but whatever happened today left you in a state she couldn't quite pinpoint. she contemplates pushing until you tell her the root of the problem but decides against it, figuring you'll tell her when you're ready.
you sit next to her on the couch, doing your best to participate in conversation like you normally would...but fuck does she make it hard. why did she have to look so good? 
she felt your stare. "what are you thinking about?" she asks in a sing song-y voice.
you, always you. you fought hard to shake the thoughts away, hating that her voice was silk and unknowingly seductive. 
"babe?"
she's speaking but you can barely hear her over your thoughts.
"babe?" she calls out harsher to garner your attention. it reminds you of how it feels when she plays rough with you. pinning you down, straddling you. what always started as something silly quickly turned into a heated kiss after your laughs died down. 
but there were gentler times also––––much more tranquil and dreamlike. like when she'd ask you to be still so she could craft your beauty onto a blank page or a bare canvas––––sometimes, she told you to pose so she could snap pictures of you on her camera or on her phone when she felt particularly sappy. she liked to look at them when she missed you but she'd never admit that to you.
"are you feeling okay?" the concern in her voice almost makes you laugh.
you hum. 
"yeah, ellie. i feel fine." it's a lie, purely for survival. her eyes squint and she looks at you like she can see right through you, you really wish she could. 
"i know when you're lying."
she waits for a response but you don't give one.
"just tell me what's wrong so i can fix it." she almost whines. you like the way it sounds, it only fuels your need. "let me help."
you shut your eyes and her hands cup your cheeks, the warmth of her palms spreading over your skin. you can hear it when she starts to speak again, words as gentle as her hands, but you cut her off.
"just kiss me, ellie." she seems caught off guard by the sudden request and hesitates. so with the sweetest voice you can muster, you whisper a soft. "please."
ellie groaned at the plea. the sound is primal and desperate. she could never deny you. not when you sounded so wanting––––so beautiful, so good. her hand rests on the back of your neck, pulling you into her as she leans in. you follow her mouth like it's magnetic. the kiss is passionate and intense, and you melt into her. you love the way she could always kiss you and make you forget everything––––how to stand and how to breathe. sometimes, when ellie would kiss you, you’d forget about all the air in the world except for what was in her lungs. you let your hands dance in her hair as you smile into her mouth, letting her taste you.
"i need you ellie." you pant against her open mouth and she listens to your every word with rapt attention. "i need you so bad."
she looks at you like you've answered her every prayer. swallowing deeply, breath fanning softly over your face. "are you sure?"
you groan, pulling her mouth to yours again just to taste her before pulling away.
"yeah, okay." she consumed your mouth again––––sucking your tongue into hers, pulling you as close to her as she possibly could. you straddle her lap, and you can feel the sharp intake of breath she takes when you let your kisses trail down her neck. 
you whine against her skin before pulling back and tilting your head, giving her your neck to taste. her hands feeling all over your skin like she couldn't touch you everywhere at once. her palms are a comfort as they rub soothing circles on your hips. she can sense your overwhelming exhilaration and she's trying to calm you. 
"tell me..." her breaths are heavy and her voice is filled with lust. "what you want or you get nothing."
you whimper, grinding your hips against hers once––––desperate for some kind of friction. "want you."
she smiles. "you already have me, baby––––you know that. try harder."
the whine that leaves your mouth is pathetic.
"i want you to fuck me. i wanna be embarrassed tomorrow because all i can think about is what you did to me and how much i loved it." you moan in her ear, it's thin and needy.
she inhales quickly, a slow shudder trailing over her body. "lay back for me, babe."
the groan in her voice is enough to catch your attention and compel you to obey her command. you let your body rest against the couch. 
she is gentle. removing your shirt slowly and kissing softly on your exposed skin. leaving some marks as she trails down your body, lifting your skirt up over your hips. "can i taste you, baby?" 
you hum at her, nodding eagerly. she chuckles up at you, placing a few chaste kisses on your left thigh before doing the same to your right. she moves your panties to one side, and you can't help but shiver at her heavy breaths against your core.
"fuck, baby," she's panting, lips agape as she lets her finger run over your entrance. "you're so wet, already..."
her gaze meets yours and though you want to, you can't bring yourself to look away. you look in her eyes and you can see the change. the moment when her want turned into need. when her craving for you grew past the point of return. "how long have you wanted this?"
you whimper, finally willing yourself to break away from her stare. "so fucking long."
she laughs again, shaking her head and then placing a little kiss on your clit that has your hips jolting. "you could've just asked, babe," 
she flattened her tongue, licking from your entrance to just below your clit before moving back down.
"i'll know––––" your voice gets caught on a moan when she lets the tip of her tongue flick across you. "fuck, i'll know for next time."
she hums into you, the vibrations make your eyes water. you shut your eyes, your chest heaving. because as good as you imagined sex with ellie would be, your imagination was nothing compared to the real thing. the way she holds your legs open so that she can devour you properly. how she sucks and licks and lets her fingers fuck into you. and when she looks up at you so that she can see all the pretty faces you make and you can see how fucking pussy drunk she looks. she moans into you, humping into the couch because the taste of you turns her on so much it aches.
you squirm when she sucks at your clit, hard then soft, but she maintains a strong grip on your thighs, keeping you firmly pressed into her mouth. she got a taste of you and she was fucking reeling, she wasn't gonna let you run.
"fuck, ellie." you whine again, your hand flying to her hair. "it feels so good, i'm so fucking close." 
she flattens her tongue again before pulling away and letting her face rest on your thigh. you go to object but it turns into another moan when she starts to finger-fuck you harder. "yeah? i can feel you squeezing me."
you would've been embarrassed if it didn't feel so good. 
"it's like you're trying to trap me inside you." she coos, her free hand still holding your thigh. "it's okay, i got you. let it all out for me."
and then her mouth is on you again, she's taking everything you have to give and begging you for more. all the tenderness in movements has vanished, it's quickly replaced with pure desperation. she's desperate to make you cum, to feel you tremble around her fingers, to taste the glories of your rapture. she needs it, maybe as much as you do. her fingers speed up and her tongue becomes more erratic. just sucking and licking like a woman gone mad until all you can do is slump in her hold and watch as she consumes you. 
she's practically growling into your core, it says 'take it, take it, take it' and you comply. you take what she's giving you until it's all you can feel. until all the noises go away, you're whole body clenches, and you cum all over her face. 
she licks it up greedily and you whine, trying to push her away. 
"be still. this is what you wanted, isn't it?" it's the most forceful she's ever spoken to you but you don't think twice about whimpering in surrender. "you've made such a mess...someone has to clean you up, hm?"
so she does–––––licking you up, moaning into you until you're crying from the overstimulation and she takes pity on you.
"okay, sweet girl." she coos when she sits up and you're still trembling. "you did so good for me, taste so sweet."
you laugh weakly, reaching for her so that she can kiss you. she smiles into your lips. "your turn now."
she laughs, shaking her head. but you can look in her eyes and tell it takes everything in her to deny your request. "you don't gotta worry about me."
you pout tiredly letting your hands meet her waist so that you can unbutton her jeans. she breathes heavily into your mouth, while you tug the denim down her legs––––she helps you, shimming out of her pants. ellie climbs so that she's hovering over your lap. you shoved your hands into her boxers, face softening when she whimpers. your fingers rubbed soft circles over her already soaking clit. "are you sure you don't want me to help you?"
she's looking at you with pleading eyes, practically drooling over you.
"want your fingers, baby." she kisses you again, and you bite her lip. "wanna feel you inside me, please."
you're high off the contrast, how easily she could go from so demanding to begging for you. she kisses you again while you slide one finger inside her aching cunt, then one more. you give her your neck to grip while you make contact with her. you bite your lip at her look of embarrassment because of how easily your fingers slid in.
"holy shit," she moans out, louder than she probably meant to but your fingers are curled inside her just right and it feels so perfect. "fuck, baby, you feel so good."
you hum, picking up the pace and relishing in all the pretty sounds she makes, all the moans and gentle breaths of your name. 
"you're so pretty, ellie." 
"thank––thank you." she half laughs and half whimpers. "you're pretty too"
you smile up at her, picking up your pace a little. you curl your fingers into her and her lips mold into an 'o' shape as a long moan leaves her agape mouth.
"right there, baby?" you hum, observing the way her legs are already trembling. 
"right," she hitches, her vision blacking out for a second. "there."
her mouth meets yours again so that you can taste her ecstasy. the closer she gets the slower her kisses grow until she's moaning against your lips and her legs are shaking through her orgasm. you rode it out for her before taking your fingers out of her trembling cunt. you couldn’t stop yourself from tasting the mess she made, moaning around your fingers as her flavor melted on your tongue. “mmm, tastes so good."
for a while, you just sit there, basking in your leisure and the warmth of her body heat. she reaches over to the coffee table, grabbing her sketchbook and pen. 
she leans back so that her back is pressed against the armrest of the couch, gesturing for you to lean into her. you cuddle into her side, watching her silently as she starts sketching. she doesn't speak and you don't either. you simply watch her while she makes something beautiful.
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weemssapphic · 3 months
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Lipstick Stains - Pt. 17
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Larissa Weems x fem!reader
summary: you finally get a chance to paint Larissa (smut ensues).
words: ~ 3.1k | ao3 link in title
A/N: once again thank you to @afeatherformills for all of the planning and beta-ing, and to my gf as well. i drive both of them crazy and am eternally grateful that they haven't yet told me to stick this fic where the sun don't shine :')
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
That Saturday you were deep in thought as you navigated the halls of Nevermore, making your way to Larissa’s office. So deep in thought that you hardly noticed Enid walking past you.
“Hey!”
Your head snapped up and you looked around for the source of the voice. Finding it, your face softened and you stepped towards the blonde. “Enid. You okay?”
She hesitated for a moment, her face falling a bit. “Yeah, I guess. Thanks for convincing Weems not to expel us.”
You laughed. “I didn’t have to convince her of anything. Is she really that stern?”
Enid’s lips curled up into a smile. “Sometimes. She can be really cool, but sometimes she’s a bit scary.”
“I’m sure it’s just because she cares,” you replied - truth be told you’d seen Larissa’s ‘scary’ side in action when dealing Wednesday, and you could certainly understand Enid’s point. But as long as Larissa’s anger wasn’t directed at you, you thought your girlfriend was kind of hot when she was angry - a fact you decided to keep to yourself.
“Maybe.” Enid shrugged. “Say hi to Weems for me.”
“Sure,” you replied, feeling yourself blush. As you were about to say goodbye, you were struck with an idea. “Wait.”
You reached into your bag, with Enid watching you curiously as you pulled out your sketchbook and flipped to a random page, scribbling your number on it and tearing it out.
“Here. If you guys are in trouble again, you should have someone to call.” She took the paper with a shy smile. “I’m never going back out there again. But… thanks.” Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she entered your number and shot you a text. “Now you have mine, too.”
“Thanks. Stay safe, Enid,” you teased gently, earning yourself a giggle from the young girl.
~~~
“Come in,” called Larissa’s smooth voice as you knocked on her office door minutes later.
You did as you were told, closing and locking the door behind you. The sound of the lock clicking was not lost on Larissa, who looked up from her laptop with a smirk plastered on her face.
“Hello, darling,” she purred, her fingers pausing in their frantic typing as she waited for you to cross the room, drop the large canvas bag you were holding, and give her a kiss. “Pretty girl,” she mumbled against your lips as she pulled you onto her lap. Deepening the kiss, she flicked her tongue against yours, drawing a breathy moan from your throat which she swallowed eagerly. Her hands came to rest on your thighs, rubbing circles overtop your trousers as her breathing became more shallow. 
You chuckled into the kiss, pulling back reluctantly - Larissa let out a little whine, pouting slightly as she stilled her hands in their movements.
“Rissa…” you whined playfully, wrapping her arms around her neck. “I wanted to paint you while we still have some natural sunlight.”
“Mmm, I know, I know.” Larissa sighed, resting her forehead against yours and sliding her hands up to your waist. “Just tell me what you want from me, I’m all yours today.”
“Thank you.” You smirked, pressing a kiss to her cheek and whispering in her ear - you didn’t miss the shiver that ran down her spine as your warm breath hit the side of her neck. “I actually had an idea for what I wanted to do, may I ask you to accompany me to your bedroom?”
Larissa threw her head back as she laughed, squeezing your waist. When her laughter died down and she locked eyes with you once more, you were met with amusement and desire in equal measure. “Lead the way,” she replied with a smirk as you slid off her lap and held a hand out for her to take, grabbing your bag with the other hand.
She placed her palm in your own and stood, following you to her quarters and straight into her bedroom. “And what will you have me do in here?”
“Well I noticed that the light that comes in here in the early afternoon would be perfect for painting you.” You placed the bag you were carrying at the foot of the bed and looked around the room, your eyes falling to Larissa’s vanity. “Can I move this?”
Larissa chuckled, eyeing you curiously. “That’s fine…” She helped you clear it and drag it to the end of the bed, then sat down at the edge of the bed, kicking her heels off and watching you set up your tabletop easel, a canvas, and your paints. “And how will you have me pose? Would you like me naked in my bed?” she asked playfully.
“You know I would never object to having you naked in your bed,” you teased back, watching Larissa blush, her lips curling up into a shy smile as her gaze dropped to her lap. Once you were satisfied with your set-up, you stepped in front of Larissa, placing a finger underneath her chin and lifting it until her gaze met yours. “I was thinking we could get rid of some of these clothes though…” 
You gave Larissa’s collar a playful tug, receiving an eye-roll and a fake-annoyed huff in return. With a soft smirk playing on her lips, she undid the belt of her dress, then the top buttons, then tugged it over her head, dropping it onto the floor. 
“This too.” You snapped the strap of her bra - she reached behind herself, unhooking her bra and tossing it onto the dress.
“And let me help you with these.” You hooked your fingers under the waistband of her underwear, never breaking eye contact as you dragged them down her legs. You could see her lips part, her tongue darting out to wet them as she spread her legs open for you. When you dropped the underwear to the floor and stood again, you found yourself standing in between her thighs. Larissa’s hands came to rest on your hips, her eyelashes fluttering as her gaze flicked down your body. 
“You know it’s more than a little unfair that you’re still fully clothed, darling,” she husked, watching you with doe eyes.
“Yeah? I can change that.” You stripped yourself of your own clothing under Larissa’s hungry gaze, tossing the garments onto the growing pile. “This better?”
“A little.” Larissa bit her lip. “I know something else that could help.” You raised an eyebrow as Larissa stood from the bed, towering over you as she straightened to her full height. Grabbing hold of your waist, she spun you around and pushed you back onto the bed before crawling on top of you and looking down at you. “Much better,” she purred.
Smirking, you reached down to grab the backs of her thighs. “If you want to be on top so bad you only have to ask,” you teased. “You know what I’ve been wanting to try?”
“Hmm?”
“Having you sit on my face.” You gave the backs of her thighs an insistent tug. “Interested?”
Larissa let out a little groan, leaning down to capture your lips in a lustful kiss.
“Is that a yes?”
You couldn’t help but grin as Larissa rolled her eyes, shifting so that her bare pussy was hovering over your face, her plush thighs bracketing your head. “Yes, that is a yes, darling.” Her entrance glistened with her arousal, the scent of which was already beginning to drive you mad. You wrapped your arms around her thighs, pressing soft kisses to her skin that caused her to let out little whimpers. 
“Whenever you’re ready,” you breathed - she began to lower herself onto your waiting tongue, which immediately traced a path up her slit. “Fuck, you taste amazing.”
Larissa’s hips found a good rhythm, rolling against your face and matching the pace of your tongue as it circled her throbbing clit. Loud, breathy moans fell from her lips as she cupped her own breasts and rubbed her palms roughly over her nipples. From this angle it was hard to see her face as she tilted her head back, losing herself in pleasure, so you focused on the sounds of her moans and the lewd noises of your tongue against her wet cunt, on the feeling of her smooth thighs under your hands, on the sight of her tits bouncing slightly with every buck of her hips. 
“Mmm you look so good touching yourself like that,” you moaned against her pussy, allowing your tongue to explore her folds before slipping it into her entrance. Her walls clenched around you and her hips stuttered slightly in their movements as she stammered out a breathy reply.
“Y-you feel so good…”
“Look at me,” you commanded, waiting until Larissa’s eyes - dark and hooded - were on you before thrusting your tongue into her hole, as deep as you could. You could see her cheeks flush and her breathing falter for a moment as she adjusted to having your tongue inside of her. You groaned as you watched her watch you, as she rolled her own nipples between her fingers while you fucked her. 
As she bucked her hips against your face you ran your tongue back up her slit, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking feverishly. Larissa’s movements became more and more erratic, her moans growing in volume as you found just the right pressure to bring her over the edge.
“I’m s-so cl- mmh- close, I can’t - shit-” Larissa’s voice was hoarse as her thighs began to tremble around your head - you could tell she wouldn’t be able to hold herself up much longer. You moaned against her clit, tightening your hold on her thighs in encouragement. Larissa fell forward, catching herself on the headboard and crying out in pleasure as she came, her juices coating your tongue and dripping down your chin.
You continued to lap at her pussy, cleaning her up and simultaneously savoring the taste of her. As you felt her thighs shift slightly beside your head, you helped her swing one leg back over your body so that she could lie beside you, breathing heavily.
You pushed her back onto the bed and kissed her eagerly, swallowing her moans as she sucked her arousal off your tongue. When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of her lipstick smeared up to her nose. 
“Wait here.” Pushing yourself off the bed, you went to the bathroom to wash your face, getting a makeup wipe and a damp washcloth in the process. Catching sight of Larissa’s bathrobe hanging on the back of the door, you slipped it on, taking a moment to revel in its softness before stopping by the kitchen to fetch a bottle of water.
Returning to the bed, you found Larissa watching you with an amused grin on her face, her eyes dropping to the makeup wipe. “You’re still planning on painting me, aren’t you?” she said with a chuckle. 
“Yep - now drink some water and then hold still.” Larissa did as she was told, humor dancing in her eyes as you cleaned her up - first her thighs and cunt, then the bottom half of her face. “Can I redo your lipstick?” 
Larissa blushed and nodded. “It’s in the drawer of the vanity.”
You took your time to reapply her lipstick, careful to get the edges just right. Larissa was a perfect model for you, holding perfectly still and watching you with hooded eyes. You unpinned her hair, arranging her curls over her shoulders until they hung just right, before moving onto the rest of your “scene” - adjusting the sheets until they were draped over Larissa’s body, revealing the tops of her breasts and clinging to her curves. The early afternoon sun filtered in through the window just how you had envisioned, giving you enough natural light to be able to work properly.
She was an absolute vision, the sun illuminating her blonde curls like a halo, kissing the tip of her nose and giving her a healthy glow. Mascara-coated lashes fluttered a bit against her cheeks when the sun got too bright for her eyes, almost pale blue in this light. You laughed and told her to move her head back a bit, an instruction which she happily complied with.
Sitting down at your easel, you wasted no time in beginning to paint - it was a portrait you’d envisioned painting time and time again, and you were thrilled to finally get the chance. There was something about the shapeshifter in this light, with a post-sex glow about her, that made the moment so special to you.
“You could’ve been a model, you know?” you teased, your heart melting at the pink hue that immediately rose in Larissa’s cheeks. Her lips stretched up into a wide smile that made her laugh lines more prominent and caused her eyes to crinkle at the outer corners - all of the little lines that gave away her age only made her more beautiful to you, stealing the breath right from your lungs.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Larissa’s voice was low and sultry, and she shifted underneath the sheets, cocking her head to the side - something that you immediately reprimanded her for, shooing her back into position.
“I’m serious though. Did you always want to become a principal?” You eyed Larissa as her expression turned thoughtful. 
“Not always. What I did want, even in school, was to become a teacher. I’ve always loved working with children, even as a teenager I tutored younger students. But what these kids really need, as outcasts, is someone to advocate for them, and I can do so much more in my role as principal than as a teacher.”
Larissa’s passion for her job never failed to bring a smile to your face, and you glanced over at her between strokes of your paintbrush. “Do you miss teaching?”
“Sometimes…” Larissa’s smile turned pensive, a little sad. “I felt more connected to my students when I taught them directly every day.”
“You really seem to care for them, you know? Like they’re your own.”
“I do… When you get to watch them grow every day over years, they start to feel like family. I’ve always wanted my own…” she trailed off, her expression wistful. A long silence hung in the air and suddenly, Larissa’s cheeks turned red, her gaze dropping to her hands as she began to fidget. “I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
She seemed unable to meet your gaze and you cocked your head to the side - the nervous energy radiating off of her was almost palpable. You set the brush down to give her your full attention.
“Why not?”
Larissa’s blush only deepend, and she sighed. “I’m getting too old for that, anyway. I turn 50 next year, that part of my life has long passed.”
“You could still have that,” you argued - with me, you wanted to add, but you didn’t.
Larissa scoffed, waving a hand in front of her face to distract from her (unwarranted) embarrassment. “You’re young - you’ll learn that you can’t have everything you want in life, and that’s alright. My students are enough for me.”
As much as you wanted to argue with her, you remained silent, mulling over her words in your head. The thought of Larissa settling, giving up on her dreams and desires due to something as stupid as age, broke your heart. You wanted kids, too - maybe not right this second, while you were still in college, but you could see yourself in a few years, chasing a blue-eyed, platinum-blonde-haired toddler around the home you’d share with Larissa. 
“I don’t think you should give up your desires so easily,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Larissa. 
Larissa’s eyes darted to meet yours for only a moment before looking away again. She seemed deep in thought, her brow furrowed a bit. Shaking her head gently, she rolled her shoulders back and let out a deep breath, plastering a smile onto her face - it was neither a genuine smile nor a fake one, but rather something in between.
“I’m sorry if I upset you,” you whispered gently.
“You didn’t upset me, my love, that I can assure you,” she whispered back with equal tenderness.
Standing from your seat you rounded the vanity and stepped up to the bed, leaning over Larissa to cup her cheek and kiss her. When you pulled away, her smile was considerably more relaxed, the lines between her eyebrows nearly gone.
You spent the rest of the afternoon talking and painting. Occasionally you’d catch Larissa giving you a once-over, but she waved it off every time. Not wanting to push her again, you ignored it and allowed her to steer the conversation.
Larissa mentioned Mayor Walker’s funeral the following day and you told her you’d be there, as Robin’s family had been quite close to the mayor and his family. When you asked if Larissa would mind you saying hi to her if they saw each other, she chuckled.
“Darling, I think the secret is out - if Enid knows about us, everyone at this school does.”
You blushed a little at that, but Larissa reassured you that it was alright, she’d love to see you - that small fact made your heart flutter, and you ducked your head behind the canvas to stop Larissa from seeing how red you’d gotten as you added a few final touches to the painting.
“There.” You smiled proudly as you looked between the painting and Larissa. “All done - well, not done done. I need to add some details, and I’ll need to finish parts of the background. But your part is done, you don’t need to sit here while I do that.”
Larissa sat up to stretch, the sheets falling off her body to reveal her rosy nipples and the swell of her stomach. She smiled softly as she caught you staring at her. “Put that paintbrush down and come here,” she cooed. 
You did as you were told, getting up and going to crawl towards her on the bed. She gave your legs a tug, signaling for you to straddle her. Her fingers came to the tie of your robe, giving it a gentle tug and then pushing the robe off your shoulders. She leaned in to kiss you, her bare chest pressing against your own in a way that made your whole body shiver.
Smirking against your lips, she wound her fingers into your hair, her nails scratching lightly against your scalp. “How about you let me show you how much I appreciate you working so hard for me this afternoon, hm?” Her words drew a moan from your throat and you allowed her to push you onto your back and have her way with you, kissing her way down your body and eating you out as if you were her last meal until the both of you were absolutely spent.
x
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sebsbarnes · 23 days
Text
a house is not a home || tangerine
tangerine x f!reader
summary: for months now you lived two separate lives. existing on two completely different orbits, the distance between you growing into lightyears
warnings: angst, lovers to strangers
word count: 930+
masterlist
a/n: tbh i threw this together in about 20 mins, apologizes, in case, now. i'm sure there's grammar errors sorry!!
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as the moon exchanged places with the sun and the streetlights woke up, the unsettling feeling in your stomach did not fade. the apartment felt still despite its walls now surrounding two bodies. moments ago the door opened and tangerine shrugged his jacket off, tossed his gifted watch onto the oak table, and sighed his way over to the bedroom. his eyes did not wander towards your waiting body and his mouth uttered no words. you felt the burning sensation of tears line your eyes and your thumbnail dug deeper into the soft spot between your pointer finger and thumb.
you heard the shower turn on and off, the sliding of a dresser drawer opening and closing and the sound of his heavy-footed steps exiting the bedroom and into the living room. your longing stares went unnoticed as he sat down on the couch farthest from the chair where you had your knees tucked under your chin.
'hi' is what you wanted to whisper out to him but it was as though an invisible hand had pressed its palm harshly to your lips. some inner voice screaming and shaking you telling you to wake up, that tangerine doesn't love you anymore. life lately has been a constant cycle of tangerine busying himself with work, disappearing for days, only to reappear and pay you no mind. as if your presence wasn't there or as if you weren't human, but some mere statue that sat idly in the living room every night.
you no longer knew the man that sat at great length before you. the physical distance in the room was an exact mirror of the emotional distance the two of you have. it hurt to even look over at tangerine. it stung, it burned. you've simply faded into the busy background of tangerine's life that he doesn't even acknowledge when you are in his presence.
with shifting eyes, you looked around the room. memories flooded back. you peered at the doorframe of the house, the first place you had ever kissed tangerine. it was after a date and he had walked you back home. you felt nervous not knowing if he wanted to see you again but all worries subsided when he gushed about the lovely time he had and that if you allowed, a second date would follow soon after.
"of course," you whispered, your face warming up. you saw the way tangerine paused, soaking in your features as if you just told him you never wanted to see him again.
"may i kiss you?"
you looked away from the door frame, the bitter memory of your first kiss being too sad. your eyes cast a glance towards the floor and raked over the pattern on the rug beneath your seat. the small blue stain stared back at you, mocking you for the once beautiful memory it held.
"darlin'- i'm so sorry," tangerine pleaded as he walked into the kitchen. you sent him a quizzical look as he gripped your hand and guided you back to the living room where he came from, "i accidentally knocked the paint over, i- i tried cleaning it up the best i could bu-"
"what were you painting?" you asked completely befuddled. tangerine was not a crafty man. he sheepishly grabbed a small canvas off the side table and handed it to you.
"happy early birthday," he smiled, placing the canvas in your hands. a small painting of a river stared back at you, a river you were familiar with. it was the place where tangerine finally asked you to be his girlfriend.
"i don't care about the stain, this is absolutely precious tan," you grinned, gently resting your hand on his cheek.
the memory made you nauseous and you rested your head back onto the chair forcing your tears to sit in your eyes.
tangerine's work became overwhelming once he made a name for himself. he devoted his life and his love to his work and not to you. he treated you as secondary in his life when you once were his reason to smile, to laugh, to love. you simply became small and insignificant as the jobs became big and powerful. you fought so hard for so many months to reason with him, make him understand how you were suffocating in a sea of loneliness while he continued to climb some invisible ladder to professional greatness. tangerine dismissed every argument claiming his professional pursuits were pertinent if "we want to live a good life".
each time you pleaded that you didn't need to live a life filled with financial security because, to you, tangerine was your security. any hardships you would face in life were manageable and could be overcome, as long as he stuck by your side. for tangerine, love wasn't enough.
so for months now you lived two separate lives. existing on two completely different orbits, the distance between you growing into lightyears. quiet walls, empty chairs, unmoved bed sheets, single-serving dinners. the wood floors of your home turning into a battlefield of quiet resentment and unmet expectations.
you stood, the sound of your bones cracking into place bouncing off the walls. you stepped behind the couch tangerine occupied and peered at his phone. his thumb scrolling through a long email chain of what could only be work. you placed your hand on the doorknob, opened the door and waited a few minutes to see if he would turn his head. when he didn't, you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, slipped the silver ring off your left-hand ring finger, and walked away.
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stirthewaters · 7 months
Text
Too Sharp to Touch pt.5
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings: language, mentions of blood
Summary: After a painting session with Xavier you meet up with your friend group at the dining hall, and it seems as if everyone is talking about you and Wednesday
Pairing: Wednesday x Reader
Too Sharp to Touch Masterlist
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The quiet sound of a wet paintbrush slathering over canvas, paint dripping onto the tarp on the floor was the atmosphere for your slavery, taunting you as you remembered that this was all your fault.
Xavier was sitting atop his own painting stool, mid-paint, and looking at you occasionally to make sure you were still cleaning. Your pair of sweatpants was already getting coated in a layer of chalk dust as you knelt on the shed floor, scooping broken pencil shards into the Ziploc bag you’d been given with a very prominent pout on your face.
Sure, you could’ve been painting just like Xavier, getting the respect you very much deserved instead of being treated like a misbehaving child, but no. Here you were, on the floor, dirtying your second pair of pants this month, stooping under tables to reach the strayed paintbrushes.
And it was all the fault of Wednesday Addams.
Yeah sure, you’d gotten a few useful fighting tips a couple nights ago. Use your heightened senses, yadda yadda, don’t let anyone touch the fur on your neck, yadda yadda - but surely you didn’t deserve such a shove to the floor.
And no, you were not imagining the small glint of satisfaction in the goth’s eyes when you nearly busted the floor of the shed right open when the impact of your fall, a mess of paint brushes and art supplies flying around you. The hint of a smirk on her face? She took satisfaction in doing it, no matter what excuses you knew she would make.
“You done yet?” 
The scoff of the painting psychic broke you out of your thoughts when you realized you’d paused cleaning. Frowning softly, you sat back on your heels to look at the mess, or, more importantly, lack thereof. You’d cleaned up the pencils and paintbrushes and most of the chalks, but there was no way you’d be able to clean the stains of charcoal and chalk powder from the boards of the floor. You turned to Xavier and threw the bag at him, not caring if you hurt him or not (not that you put a lot of force into the throw anyway).
Your half-serious hopes of injury were quailed when Xavier chuckled at your throw, putting the ziploc on the table of art supplies, and turning back to painting. Without asking permission (which you both knew you didn’t need), you got off the floor and got into your worn painting stool, trying to dust the chalk powder off your sweatpants with a quiet grumble.
“I shouldn’t have had to clean that, I’m innocent.”
Xavier shook his head with a teasing smile as he dipped his paintbrush into his palette, continuing his smooth brushstrokes as he spoke.
“You know that when you’re in the shed alone whatever happens is your responsibility, Y/N.”
“I wasn’t alone, and it wasn’t my fault,” you insisted, eyebrows furrowing as you tossed him one last pout before turning to your painting you’d started the week before. “It was Wednesday’s fault, go and torture her and not me.” You didn’t comment on the fact that she wouldn’t mind being tortured. If you knew her she’d enjoy it.
“I don’t have a death wish, thank you,” Xavier chuckled softly again as his brush swirled around in his cup of paint water. “And what was Wednesday Addams doing in the shed last night?” The psychic leaned backward on his stool to look around his canvas and give you a raised eyebrow, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.
“Fighting lessons. I already told you,” you grumbled, still in a bad mood from having to clean. “She pushed me.” You adjusted the lighting on one of the antlers of the stag, head tilting sideways as you tried to get the angle right.
“I don’t find that hard to believe,” Xavier muttered from behind his canvas. “She came up to me last night, asking about you, and she sounded pissed; more than usual, at least. Apparently, you didn’t show up.”
You scoffed slightly, trying to ignore the embarrassed heat starting to creep onto your cheeks. “I fell asleep trying to fix the heater, it was making funny noises again.” You paused a little bit, perking up slightly as you glanced at Xavier. “Wednesday asked about me?”
When you saw Xavier pause as well, glancing at you with surprise and a smirk, you froze. “Yeah, she did. Because you were late?” 
You felt the heat in your face get worse as you buried your face in the canvas again, trying to ignore Xavier’s stupid smirk as you felt his eyes on your back. 
“So how did the practice go, anyway? You were talking up a storm about it the other day.”
Oh, you knew exactly what he was doing. 
Deciding to humor him, you delicately painted a fine dark line to add a good contrast to your lighting, grinning in satisfaction as you responded, “Oh it went fine, I suppose.”
The silence that followed your response made you grin wider, but you hid it as you turned your face further into your canvas and out of view, continuing to smoothen your strokes as he responded, “That’s it? Come on, Y/N, I know it was more than that.”
“Nope,” you muttered, still thinking that he deserved some sort of payback for making you clean up the mess. “Nothing at all.”
The silence dragged on, only filled by the sound of water swishing and paintbrushes dipping into the paint before you finally couldn’t hold back what you had to say.
“Wednesday cheated. She shoved me on purpose and didn’t warn me.” You continued to complain as you added a touch of green to your forest canopy background. “Not to mention the fact that she barely taught me anything-”
You continued to grumble and gripe about your night, pausing only to catch your breath as Xavier listened, before cutting in, “Sounds like you two had a good time, aside from breaking apart my shed. Next time keep it in the academy or the woods.”
You fixed him with a glare, shaking your head as you felt the heat return to your cheeks. “It was a fighting lesson, that’s all.” Turning back to your canvas, you muttered, “And I don’t think she particularly liked your crusty old shed anyways.”
“Keep talking like that and you won’t get to use my crusty old shed,” Xavier snarked, throwing a paintbrush at your head, which you dodged. “And clearly it wasn’t just a fighting lesson, you’ve been walking around in a trance all day. Did she, like, poison you or something?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.” You turned your attention back to your canvas to try and get rid of the now very prominent blush on your face. 
You leaned toward the canvas, switching out for the smaller brush to hone in on the detail of the bloodstain. Yes, you’d used the pigs blood from the bloodstain thing you’d done with Wednesday. It made the piece more genuine, at least in your mind. 
When you leaned in you started to drag your brush delicately down the canvas when something made you freeze. You picked up a scent on your painting. No, it wasn’t the scent of blood, oils or acrylics. It was faint, maybe two or three days old, but it was a scent you knew. The scent of dead leaves and darkness, an underlying tone of death lingering behind it. 
Wednesday?
Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you continued to hover right in front of your canvas, setting your brush down so you could focus. Not only had she been near it but she had touched it. That much you knew. Yet you were still confused. Had she been here some other time? Why would she touch your painting of all the paintings there were here?
“Uhh… Y/N?”
Xavier’s confused voice broke through your thoughts as you realized you had been hunched weirdly in front of your canvas for a bit, lost in confusion and still scenting the last traces of Wednesday on your canvas. Embarrassed, you straightened quickly, muttering out an excuse about seeing a bug, and tried to focus on your painting as you reached for the paintbrush again.
-
You stood and stretched, glancing outside at the sky that was beginning to darken, the last golden rays of sun fading out slowly. Your painting was definitely coming along nicely; you’d gotten a lot of the lighting done, and the background was nearly finished; you’d have to fix the bloodstain another time. Blood definitely wasn’t something easy to paint with. 
You put your brushes away and scooted your stool back into place as you glanced at Xavier, who had his headphones on. Walking over, you nudged him, gesturing outside to let him know you were leaving.
The psychic merely nodded at you in acknowledgment, handing you the Ziploc full of the broken art supplies for you to keep before turning back to his art, and you slipped out of the shed, leaving him to his devices as you threw your shoulder into the creaky door to close it fully.
Your stomach was growling by the time you arrived at the main building, jogging up the stairs as you made a beeline for the dining hall, weaving easily through students. God, you were starving. If they were out of yogurt cups again you were going to claw someone.
Upon entering the dining hall, your eyes brightened at the sight of a bustling room, tables full of chatting students, not to mention those studying in the corner. Fidgeting impatiently you got in line, grabbing yourself a Coke. You spotted the last yogurt cup in the cooler and reached for it, only for it to be swiped from your reach by someone ahead of you in line.
Growling with frustration, you had to stop yourself from literally clawing it out of the student's hands, reminding yourself to have some self-control as you watched the student walk off with what should have been your property. 
Damnit.
Your hands felt empty carrying only your coke (ignoring the Ziploc bag of broken art supplies), as you walked toward your usual table, Enid, Bianca, Yoko, and Divina were already seated and chatting together.
“Move,” you huffed, nudging the tip of the blonde’s blazer as your hands were full. You scooted in between Yoko and Enid, setting the bag of art supplies at your feet and cracking open the coke with a claw, shotgunning it.
“Someone’s in a bad mood,” Bianca observed from across the table, giving you a smirk as she took a bite of salad. “What was it this time?”
You paused mid-shotgun to groan. “I was so close to getting that yogurt cup I could taste it.” Your words came out more of a whine than a groan. 
“Don’t be late next time, then! What took you so long?” Enid elbowed your side, almost causing you to spit your coke out all over yourself as you kicked her back under the table with equal force.
“I had to clean up this giant mess in Xavier’s shed,” you grumbled. “Leftovers from fighting practice.”
“Fighting practice! Everyone’s been talking about your fighting practice and I want the tea, so spill.” Enid raised an eyebrow at you, taking a sip of her own tea as she grinned. 
“Not everyone.” Yoko scoffed from across the table, rolling her eyes as she chuckled a little at the blonde’s exaggeration. “Us, Enid. We’ve been talking about it, not the whole school.”
“Yeah, because we want to know how in hell you managed to not only get lessons with her but somehow not get killed in the process,” Bianca raised an eyebrow, pointing her plastic fork at you for emphasis as she spoke. “She must be using you somehow.”
Enid jumped in to defend her roommate quickly. “Hey, Wednesday doesn’t use people-!”
The table burst into conversation and argument, nothing too serious, and you just listened as you chugged the rest of your coke, the sound of it melding quite nicely with the noisy chatter of the dining hall.
You clearly weren’t paying attention because one second everyone was fighting and the next Wednesday was standing right behind you and Enid, and this time you did choke on your coke, the soda going down the wrong pipe and causing you to cough as you covered your mouth, embarrassed.
“Speak of the devil,” Bianca muttered, rolling her eyes at the sight of Wednesday.
“Don’t flatter me,” came the response, the raven glaring at the siren with such a gaze that could make a grown man cry. Addressing nobody else, she turned to Enid. “I’d appreciate your assistance using this.”
Wednesday handed the blonde her phone. It was the one you knew Xavier had given her and not once had you seen her use it, not that you assumed she knew how. 
Enid tapped on it a couple times, adjusting some things on screen before handing it back to Wednesday, who frowned in slight distaste at the phone. nodding her thanks and turning on her heel. 
As she walked past you she placed a yogurt cup in front of you, not even making eye contact as she did so.
“Addams’ giving gifts?” Bianca snickered, raising an eyebrow to tease Wednesday, who glared coldly in response, hissing. “Thing retrieved the yogurt cup for me. Seeing as I have no regard for anything slightly sweet it was of no use to me and I was to get it out of my hands.”
The raven locked eyes with you at the end of her sentence and you felt a very noticeable blush ride to your face as you met her glare. 
“Suggest anything personal such as me giving anyone a gift again, Barclay, and I’ll filet your scales out one by one.” Wednesday threatened the siren coldly. Her eyes met yours once more, something flickering within them before she turned and left. As you watched her go, no you did not see Thing anywhere near her, nor could scent him.
Liar.
You dug your spoon into the yogurt, mixing the berries together, suddenly aware of the silence around you. You paused and looked up, raising an eyebrow. “What-?”
“Nothingggg!” Enid said in a singsong tone, giggling as she looked at you. “I just think that someone maybe has a little crush?”
The blonde’s words were met with a chorus of agreement and laughter, save Bianca who still looked pissed from her conversation with Wednesday, to no surprise.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed as you spooned your yogurt, the blush on your face getting darker. Damnit. Yoko slammed her palm on the table, pointing at you.
“Your tells don’t lie, Y/N. I’ve never seen your face that shade of red before. Something’s up.”
You groaned, glaring at her without a retort to fire back. You were going to get her back for it. You kicked her shin underneath the table, smirking with satisfaction when the vampire winced.
“Look, all we’re saying is that first off you totally do have a crush,” Yoko pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “But aside from that, you could get murdered. Seriously, Y/N, I’m worried for your safety. Do all werewolves have a death wish?”
“Nah, just the hot ones,” you responded sarcastically, draining the last of the yogurt cup and standing up. “I’m gonna bounce, I’m headed out for a run.”
You were met with a couple goodbyes, a nod from Bianca, and a raise of an eyebrow from Yoko, but Enid stood up with you, nodding, “Yeah I’m going with you.”
You started to speak up, confused; Enid had never shown interest in going on a run with you before - but when you saw the blonde's face, telling you to stay quiet, you did as told and nodded, walking with her out of the dining hall.
As soon as the two of you were out of sight the blonde pulled you aside in the hall, holding both of your shoulders.
“Look, I’m not gonna lie, Wednesday totally likes you,” Enid said with a grin. “It’s not like many people can tell, but seeing as I’m her roomie I can see when she’s got a soft spot for someone and you’ve got her wrapped around your finger.”
“Are you sure about that?” You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the prickling on your neck at the thought of what she was suggesting. “She seems to hate me.”
“Oh please, Y/N, wake up and smell the roses.” Enid rolled her eyes, shaking your shoulders a little. “I’m trying to help you out here.”
You sighed and muttered, “Fine. Enlighten me, oh great sensei.”
“Don’t be a dick, and listen.” Enid shook you harder. “You need to get her attention, more so than already. Show her you’re bold.”
“And how would I do that?” You said in a bit of confusion as to where this was heading.
“Maybe go out and kill something and bring it back to her? As like- to show you’re a good hunter?” The blonde didn't even notice your eyes scrunching up in distaste.
“Or I could steal something-“ You went completely off the rails, eyes sparking at your own idea as Enid frowned. “She deserves payback after making me clean up her mess.”
“Y/N, I don’t think that’s such a good idea-“ Enid shook her head, face going slightly pale. “No matter what feelings Wednesday might have towards you, she'll literally murder you if you take any of her stuff.”
“Too late!” You were grinning now, eyes alight with mischievous intent, hopping a little on your toes with the excitement of it all. “She totally deserves it.”
You were already starting to scramble down the hallway, your run forgot, but Enid grabbed our arm, speaking seriously. “Y/N, no matter what you do, just - be careful and don’t mess anything up. The fact that Wednesday likes you already means you’re on thin ice, so be careful.”
You looked at Enid and nodded impatiently. “Thanks for the advice, E, I owe you one!”
With that you turned and raced down the hall, your mind set on the prize to snatch. Something the Addams treasured, cared for, loved, even. 
The typewriter.
—————
pt.6 here!
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dulcibella-dreams · 2 months
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Tempest.
゚ ⋆ ゚⛆ ゚ ⋆ ゚⛈ Makoto Yuki/Minato Arisato X GN reader
Synopsis: The weather is absolutely dismal, and you missed the train.
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You could barely see.
The rain peltered the floor, creating a suffocating veil of gloomy mist. All you could do was speed walk through the monochromatic canvas. Soaked to the bone, your hair clung like wet silk to your skin, and you were pretty sure you accidentally ate some of your own rain-soaked strands. The day had started relatively sunnily, so you had no good reason to bring an umbrella. Oh, how you wished you had.
Holding the straps of your schoolbag like a lifeline, you rushed to the monorail's stop. Under the awning, you took a moment of respite to breathe. Your bag hit the ground, and you wrung out your dripping curtain of hair. Realising the weather had made you late, you checked the arrival and departure times. You almost fell to the floor and threw a tantrum when you saw the next train wouldn’t arrive for another hour. You hugged your own body, vehemently plunking down onto the bench. As your teeth chattered and water filtered out of the sides of your shoes, you envied the people who had arrived on time—probably at home with heaters and dry clothes right about now.
Your dreary thoughts were interrupted by footsteps. Someone quickly stepped into the stop, sheltering something in their jacket. Makoto! You definitely hadn’t expected him. He hadn’t realised you were the shivering person just yet, finger combing his drenched hair. You watched as he pulled out his MP3 player from underneath his jacket, while the book that couldn't fit in his bag lay drenched under his arm. Priorities, you supposed. As he turned, his eyes met yours, and they lit up in recognition. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t see you,” he said. You waved it off as he sat down next to you. Moving in closer, you took the ink-stained workbook out of his hands, cringing at the ink blots on the pages. You closed it and put it in your own bag, having enough space. He gave you a silent look of gratitude.
“I didn’t see you when I left school, so I assumed you’d already gone,” you said sheepishly. You glanced at Makoto, who was adjusting his drenched hair. “If I’d known, I would’ve wanted to walk with you.” He turned toward you, a small smile playing on his lips. “We ended up together anyway, though. I suppose it worked out?”
Makoto carefully placed his MP3 player in his schoolbag. “When does the train come, anyways?” he asked. You almost groaned again. “in an hour...” you replied. He fiddled with his bangs, a soft sigh escaping him. He looked tired, but then again, he always did.
“If the rain settles down, we may as well walk…” he mused, though there seemed to be no sign of the weather calming. The sound of rain hitting the stop was almost deafening. “Unless we want to catch the meanest cold ever, I’d advise against it.” You’d rather sit here for hours than feel the rain seep into your scalp again. Makoto’s hair was even longer when wet. He was currently picking at the corner of his mouth, removing the hair that had found its way through his lips without invitation.
“Not like Mitsuru would let us skip school if we had a cold, anyways.” He mumbled.
“Are you sure? Wouldn’t she deem it ‘a danger to the student body’?” This made him laugh softly. It was a very gratifying sound, coming from a boy who usually remained expressionless. Though it warmed you up, it didn’t quite fix your waterlogged clothes. As the wind picked up, you heard the rumble of thunder. You were increasingly uneasy, watching the thin trees sway. You didn’t like storms. Suddenly, you felt the intense need to be indoors. You succeeded in suppressing your rising panic, though it didn’t go unnoticed.
“You alright?” Makoto tilted his head slightly, gauging you. You were going to shake your head and say ‘it’s fine,’ but something about his nature made it easy to open up. “I just…I really don’t like weather like this. It puts me on edge.”
Makoto looked at you for a quiet moment before reaching into his bag. Pulling out his music player, he offered his headphones to you. “…Do you want to listen with me?”
You sensed Makoto’s intention—to provide you with a distraction. It was…sweet. Absurdly so. It had been a while since someone had done something so considerate for you. Your cheeks felt warm. “Yeah, sure!” As the music played, you tried to lose yourself in its melody, separating each instrument from the beat. You started to feel less troubled.
But when your anxious mind coerced you to fix your gaze at the weather, his fingers found your face. Gently, he turned your gaze downward, and you watched as he took your hand in his. His touch radiated warmth, a stark contrast to your frozen skin. You reveled in his velvety hands, well-kept with strong, healthy nails. Makoto wasn’t accustomed to intimacy; his parents' passing had denied him such simple comforts. This had inevitably rendered him touch-starved. He understood that you sought solace in this connection— he enjoyed it just as much as you did, if not more.
After what seemed like a lifetime, the train finally arrived. As you both stood—muttering words like 'finally' and 'about time—he never released your hand. Looking into his eyes, that warm, fond feeling overtook you again.
"What would I do without you, Makoto?"
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4jax4jax · 1 year
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Marked and Mine
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Sub Ajax Petropolus x Dom Reader 
Summary: Ajax was your canvas, the only art medium? Your mouth. 
Warnings: M x F, male orgasm, heavy marking, hickeys, biting, cumming in pants.
Word Count: 1.5K
Making up for lost time, was what you had called it. You had been away for the weekend on a business trip. And Ajax, practically worshiping the ground you walked on and the air you breathed, didn’t complain one bit. 
You leaned in to softly kiss his neck, moving up and down to his jawline to his collarbones, lightly pecking and biting at them. He moaned softly and held onto your waist tightly, pulling you close to him. You felt his heartbeat begging to be freed from its confines. 
“Easy love, haven’t even started yet..” 
Your sultry tone pressed against the veins of his neck made him shiver. You carefully maneuvered the two of you so he sat against the headboard of his bed and you were in his lap, still kissing the sensitive skin of his throat.
His eyes roll into the back of his head as you continue to move your lips along his neck, stopping every once in a while to bite or suckle on it. 
Ajax reached out to rest his hands on your ass, gently gripping at it every time you had bit into the soft flesh of his neck. You were set on leaving marks everywhere on him, so he knew, and so everyone else knew who he belonged to.
You bite harder into his neck as you suck hard and deep.
He threw his back against the headboard and his mouth couldn't help but drop open in a low groan. You pulled back from him to look at your work, almost the entirety of his neck was adorned with purple and red marks. You smiled at your masterpiece. 
He gasped and took a sharp breath, feeling his heartbeat speed up, hammering against his chest. You reached your hand up to loosely wrap around his neck.
"You think you could lay down for me? Need to mark you some more.”
Ajax shivered at your low tone and nodded slowly. He laid down on his side and you moved so you were behind him now, your mouth adjacent to his shoulder, your next target. A hand reached underneath his neck and wrapped tightly around it, cutting off his breathing as your jaw unhinged and bit into his shoulder. 
He tried to scream but only managed to let out a choked gasp, your grip on his neck making it harder to breathe. He writhed in your hold as you sunk your teeth deeper into the bruising skin. With strong suction, a dark mark formed on his once blank shoulder.
The pain and shock was too much for him to handle, and he let out a loud moan as he started to orgasm, body shaking in your hold. 
A twisted smile crept its way onto your face as he whimpered and came into his pants. You let go of his neck and moved yourself from behind him, pushing him flat against the bed. 
"Felt too good for you, hm? Just couldn't help yourself."
He couldn’t find it in himself to reply, whether it was out of embarrassment or arousal, it didn’t matter. His eyes were blown out, and he felt like someone had knocked the air out of his system. 
You reached down and palmed him over his pants, feeling a slight dampness from his orgasm seeping through the fabric. 
He moaned softly as you rubbed his member over his pants, enjoying the sensation of being touched by you again.
“I asked you a question, baby. Be a good boy and use your words.”
He nodded and swallowed thickly before mustering up the courage to speak. 
“Mhm, missed your touch so much.. Couldn’t stop..”
The moment was short lived, as you removed your hand from the top of his pants and opted for marking his chest and stomach instead. You moved to straddle his hips, leaning down to lick over the empty canvas that was his chest. 
His eyes widened when you started licking all over his body, leaving dark bruises all over him. Keeping his eyes open at this point would’ve been a foolish request, after the first sting of pain under his ribs his eyes had rolled so far their sockets you were afraid he’d get dizzy. With how light headed he felt, he might as well had been.
Every minute that passed, dozens of marks were left on the pliant boy. He whimpered at the feeling of you sucking a particularly dark hickey on his collarbone, just from the feeling alone, he knew it wouldn't fade for at least another week.
If he wasn't already absolutely littered with your marks, you decided he didn't have enough. 
"Lift your hips, love."
He wordlessly obeys, showing no hesitation or resistance as you take control of his body the way he missed so much. 
You unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down his body, he cringed at the wet feeling of his cum dragging against his skin. It served as another reminder of how easily he was affected by you, and it felt all the more humiliating, but he adored it. Once you had gotten off the pants, you started to pull off his underwear, which were positively soaked.
He groaned as you yanked off his briefs, exposing his throbbing member to the warm air. Even after his orgasm, he was already rock hard and dripping. You threw the clothes onto the floor and leaned down to bite into his hip bone. He gasped in pleasure as you bit into his flesh. 
“Ple-Please.. More.” 
Ajax was no stranger to begging, and he knew you could never resist it. He wanted this as much as you did, he wanted to feel the pain of the marks whenever he would accidentally bump too hard into his dresser, or feel his blood fight for territory in his cheeks or his cock whenever he would look at himself in the mirror. 
As you sucked marks into the area around his hips and pelvis, you swirl your tongue over them, making him moan loudly at the tingling feeling.
"C-Close."
It was simply too easy. He whimpered out, reaching out to grab onto something to ground himself. You offered your hand, in which he graciously accepted. Your fingers intertwined as another mark was imprinted on his abused skin. 
As he approached his limit, he felt the tension building inside of his stomach, but he fought back the urge to let go. Instead, he decided to at least try to make this last longer, prolonging the pleasure for both of you.
After declaring you were satisfied with your work, you sat up and looked down at him, running your hands over the marks. He whined whenever you would press your thumb down particularly hard into one of them.
With gentle hands, you wrapped them both around his dick, and as if doing a 180, your tender touches quickly turned into swift hard strokes. With every harsh movement, you smeared the thick clear liquid that flooded out of him. 
His eyes roll back as you stroke him faster and harder, moaning in complete ecstasy. He bit his lip in an effort to quiet his noises of pleasure, but they proved to fail whenever you’d pass over the sensitive underside of his wet member. 
And it was if you had pushed a button because the second the words, "Go ahead, baby. You can do it." left your lips, his hips drove aggressively into the air and white ropes of his intense arousal shot up.
He cried out as the first wave hit him, a long rope shooting from his tip into the air before falling back down against his stomach. His high pitched whimpers and whines filled the thick air. 
You had thought he would've calmed down after a few moments, but the jackhammering of his hips never faltered. 
“Fuck- I can’t stop.. Can’t stop cumming..” 
Ajax’s stomach concaved, the feeling simply too much for his body to handle. The next two ropes were even bigger than the first one, followed by three more shots of cum landing all over his body and the bedsheets, covering everything in a thick layer of white.  
You watched as he struggled to catch his breath and calm down, his chest raising and shaking with every inhale and exhale. You pitied the poor boy. 
“You’ve got it, sweet thing.” 
You lightly ran your fingertips along his body, in an attempt to ground him maybe, giving him something to focus on. You admired all of the marks on him as you did so. 
You couldn’t help yourself, you leaned forward and gently kissed each of the marks you made, smiling warmly at him.
After a few minutes his breathing finally leveled out, and he looked over to you, looking disheveled as ever. He flashed a dumb smile and you gave him one back. 
“What do you think? I know I’m no Xavier, but you look like a masterpiece.” 
Ajax chuckled lightly and lifted himself up, holding himself up by his forearms. He looked down to the mess that had made itself quite present on his person. Absolutely covered in blooming purple red marks and sticky white release. 
“Don’t tell him I said this, but I think you’re giving him a run for his money.”
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squippy360 · 1 year
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Jarvis x Male reader
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(Smut, mentions of boypussy, detachable cock, robot fetish, tentacles...kinda)
....hey everybody-
You had just got back from the tower after chasing Tony around town for internships with Peter. You came home to find your robotic lover in the shower. Jarvis's humming to a song could be heard from the bathroom door. You let out a groan and flopped onto your bed, pent up and frustrated. 
You gasped when you felt something from under you prodding at your back. You sat up and took the object out from under the blankets.
It was a Dildo…
Jarvis's…dildo.
When Tony heard about your little relationship with his AI, he laughed his ass off for about a week, calling you "lonely as fuck" because he doesn't really exist…until he made him exist. He built a robot to cheer you up after relentlessly bullying you as an apology. He did make a point to detail his dick as precisely as possible, using Steve as a reference (which he did not enjoy.) His penis was detachable, only taking it off to clean it or around it.
You felt too pent up to wait for him to come out so you kicked your pants off, stuck a towel under you, and grabbed the line from your nightstand drawer. You poured the liquid into your hand and slowly jerked off the toy, rubbing the rest around your desperate hole. You pushed the toy in, not bothering to prep yourself and bit into the blankets to keep yourself from being too loud. "OOoOooOoh…" Your broken moan reverberated through the room as you slowly pumped the toy in and out. 
You didn't pay any attention to the fact Jarvis had stopped humming and all that could be heard was the water and music. 
"Jarv…Jarvis…:m" You whimpered and your hand made it's way to your throbbing cock. A high keen tore from your throat as the oddly warm toy brushed against your walls. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck- UGH-" You grunted as your cock twitched. Your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead as you squirm on the mattress. Your legs spread out and shaking as you felt a bit embarrassed that you were exposing yourself to your stuffed animals. Poor things. 
You were thrashing around as you aimed for your prostate over and over, crying out embarrassingly loud as you accidentally hit the vibrate button. Your eyes rolled back and you arched your back, the toy sinking deep into you, cum painting your tummy like a messy canvas. 
You lie there for a bit, your head filled with fog and clouds. You soon come too and look down at the mess with a frown. You wipe the cum away and pull the toy out to wipe yourself and it down of any lube. You stuck the toy back where you found it and put on a new pair of underwear and threw the towel in the hamper before sinking into bed, exhausted yet satisfied. 
_____
Oh God. 
You made a mistake. 
You had come home one day to find Jarvis sitting in bed, his face red and a pillow in between his legs. You tilted your head in confusion before he asked you the most embarrassing question you and ever heard. 
"Did you masturbate with my cock last week? You know I can feel it, right?" He mumbled. 
You both didn't move nor speak. Your face was soon a shade of deep red and a flurry of stuttered apologies flooded out. He only embarrassingly nodded. You both say in an awkward silence before you join him in bed. 
He turned to you and pulled you into a kiss. You hummed and crawled closer to him, sitting on his lap with your arms resting on his shoulders. He whimpered and you grinded against him unconsciously. You both pulled apart with heavy breaths, eyes locked onto each other. 
"Can you…Can you feel the hole when you detach it?" You asked. He nodded and that was all you needed  before you pinned him down and yanked his clothes off. He looked up at you with confusion as you grabbed the lube and detached his cock, it already turning hard in your hands. "I have an idea. You can stop me at any time if you don't want to continue." You whispered to him. After giving you a small nod, you lubricated up his cock and slowly pushed it inside before you fully leaned forward on your knees and your chest touching the bed and your face was right in front of his boypussy. 
He looked down at you with desperate eyes, his hips bucking up despite his cock detached. It slowly sank into you with the help of gravity. He remotely activated the vibrator in it, making you moan loudly. You pushed his thighs up so he is fully exposed. He hides his face in his hands as your face gets closer to his crotch.
You lick your lips before running your tongue around the oddly rubbery hole. Jarvis responds with a loud and whiny moan. "M/N~" He begged. You began to suck the two little metal plugs that connect the dildo to him. His soft thighs shook and closed around your head, trapping you in his fake fleshy legs. Your eyes roll up to meet his blue metallic eyes. 
"OoOOOOOH!" He screamed out. You hummed in surprise as the dildo began to move. Jarvis's ceiling wires dropped down and attached itself to the dildo and was now fucking you. The other wires wrapped around your body like a weird lingerie, making you feel safe yet exposed and tied up. 
You loved It. 
They wrapped around your cock, giving it small shocks that made you feel like they were vibrating. You moaned into the little poles, licking and ducking the faster and harder. All the blood rushed to your head and cock, making you feel lightheaded as Jarvis squished your face in his perfect thighs more. 
"Scharvish…pleash… can I cum?" Your words are muffled by his somehow twitching hole. He nodded eagerly. "I-I'm coming! I'M COMING!" He screamed as his body twitched and shook. Liquid quickly forced itself down your throat and you drank it without a second thought. You moaned into Jarvis as your cum splashed on the bed and your thigh. The wires retreated back into the ceiling, detaching from the dick in your ass.
You flopped over and pulled the toy out, taking a moment to catch your breath and regain your stamina. Jarvis was boneless. He had yet responded to the soft calls of his name. His body was still twitching and gasping from his first raw and direct orgasm. 
You cleaned up the mess you both made, helping him put his dick back on and dressing him before you flopped into bed, holding your boyfriend close as you both shut down for the night.
Next up: Stucky x Male reader
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buckybarnesb-tch · 2 years
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The Half Naked Portrait -Klaus M.
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Warning:Alpha/Omega talk but not Omegaverse, Smut, Fingering, Masterbation, Vaginal penetration, slight breeding kink if you squint, slight teasing, praise kink
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I admit, maybe walking down to the kitchen in my underwear wasn’t my smartest decision in the middle of the night but it was the middle of the night! I thought everyone was asleep!
‘I didn't expect this tonight.’  The voice behind me made me jump nearly a foot in the air before turning to see Klaus leaning on the doorway.
‘Don't start, you make one rude comment and you'll find all of your paints in your bathroom sink.’  I wasn't in the mood for one of Rebekah's brothers to make me feel bad about myself at 2:45 in the morning.
‘I would never.  You think I find joy in making women feel bad about themselves?  You look...lovely.’  I rolled my eyes, refusing to look at him as I grabbed a soda from the fridge.
‘Whatever you say.  Goodnight Klaus-‘  he grabbed my arm as I went to walk passed him and I looked up seeing a softness in his eyes that I never had before, though to be honest I tried not to pay too much attention.  I had a crush on the hybrid from the moment Rebekah brought me home and I didn't want to be the best friend pathetically crushing on her brother.
‘I mean it Y/n.  You look good enough to eat, never let any man tell you otherwise, and if they do send them my way.  I'll be glad to set them straight.’  I was completely floored, unsure of what to do now as he released my arm.
‘Um...thanks I think...Goodnight.’  With that I retreated upstairs as quickly as possible, going back to bed, unable to forget the look in the man's eyes as he looked down at me.
Honestly that whole experience is probably the only reason I responded as I did now.
I had come to the mansion to find Rebekah, hoping for a random girls day after Damon had pissed me off but she wasn't answering her phone and I realized she wasn't home as I let myself in and heard no one.  I was just about to leave when that changed, focusing hard and hearing a heartbeat sounding like Klaus' erratic werewolf pulse but it was faster than normal.  I crept my way up the stairs and began hearing ragged breathing, his door being open leading to me peeking in and seeing him laid on his pillows with a grip around his cock.  I turned as quickly as I could, moving quietly back to the stairs before I heard him speak.
‘Oh god!  Y/n!  Fuck!’
I was stunned and I peeked back in to see a canvas in front of him.  Though his eyes were now closed, it was a painting of me...in my underwear...the same underwear he had seen me in 2 nights before.  He was being honest the other night, he really had liked the way I looked...clearly quite a bit.  As I continued looking at the man and his death grip on his cock, a cock that's thickness was literally calling out to me, I knew exactly what I was going to do.  I slid my shoes off just inside the door to step quietly, taking my jacket off as well before ending up right next to his bed, watching him lick his lips as he continued stroking himself, hips thrusting every once in a while as if he couldn't stop himself.
‘Please?  Just like that gorgeous, fuck!  Please?’
With that I hopped onto the bed and threw my leg over him, his eyes flying open instantly.  ‘So, do I have to do it just like that? Because I personally think I can do better.’  I grabbed his arms, pinning them by his head which he allowed as he was clearly too stunned to move at the moment.  ‘But you did sound so pretty begging for me like that, the big bad hybrid, begging for my tight little pussy, never thought I would see the day.’  He seemed to snap back to himself when he heard my teasing, glaring up at me and throwing my hands off, grabbing my waist, and flipping me onto my back.
‘Only for you gorgeous, however you should watch how hard you push your luck.’
‘Really, you think you can say that after what I just heard?  “Please gorgeous, please?  Oh fuck, just like that!  Please Y/n?  Ple-“‘  he cut me off with his tight grip around my throat, eyes bleeding to yellow as he growled.
‘I would shut that pretty mouth before I decide to use that instead and leave you desperate.’  He grabbed ahold of my pants, pulling them and my panties both off in a blink before spreading my legs.  ‘Fuck if I wasn't right, such a pretty pussy, and attached to such a loud fucking mouth.’ He leaned down, quickly smashing his lips to mine, keeping me from a sarcastic response before I felt him push two fingers into me which found no difficulty in doing that with how wet I was.  ‘Christ, you're fucking dripping.  Is this all for me princess?  Seeing your Alpha desperate for your pussy got you all hot and bothered?’  A third finger joined, stretching me a bit as his thumb found my clit and my hips thrust up, hoping to grind against something in my desperation.  ‘So fucking needy before I ever did anything, look at you sweet girl.’ His lips found mine again as he lifted me up under my thighs to get me right where he wanted me, his cock lining up at my entrance and thrusting in without hesitation.
‘Fuck!  Oh God!  Please?!’
‘There she is, there's my sweet little Omega, just needed put back in your place, didn't you?  Seeing me desperate made you a cocky little thing but you just needed your Alpha to stretch you out.’  He gave a few shallow thrusts for me to get used to him before he began really moving, making me quickly realize that the combination of a vampire and werewolf cock can't be good for my health.
‘Yes!  Yes Alpha!  Needed your cock so much, please?  So good Alpha, so fucking-‘ he cut me off, practically taking the air from my lungs as he completely bottomed out, stretching me more than I ever have been before.
‘So good for me, my good little Omega.  Tight little pussy's been needing me to fuck her for a long time, hasn't she?’  He then stopped, as deep as he could get before pulling me close and flipping us over, letting me adjust on top of him before thrusting up into me almost violently as he ripped off my shirt and bra, getting his hands on my breasts for the first time and pinching my nipples.
‘Oh God!  Fuck!  Fuck Alpha Please?!’
‘Cum for me princess!’  I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to, this new angle being too much for me to bear and that tight feeling in my stomach snapping as my nails dug into his chest drawing blood down his toned stomach.  ‘Sharp fucking claws princess, shit!  Tightest pussy I've ever fucked, gonna have me whipped before long.  Such a good girl, cumming so good on my cock.’ He was still hammering up into me but as my head dropped and I whimpered he flipped us back over, turning my head up to press his lips to mine.  ‘My pretty girl.’  I whined, shoving my hips up into him when he stopped.  ‘So desperate.’  He sighed, shaking his head, lifting my legs to his shoulders before beginning to move again.
‘Please?  So close, please?!’  I really was whining now, that tight feeling back in my abdomen and getting tighter as he smirked down at me.
‘Gonna cum again for me?  Go ahead love, cum for me while your Alpha fills you up so good.  Cum!’  As if I was a puppet on strings his words threw me into my second orgasm as I felt his hips stutter and push in as deeply as possible, filling me just as he'd said, possibly more than I ever had been before I realized when I truly did feel full.  ‘Fucking hell Y/n, that was amazing.  Please tell me this wasn't just a onetime thing for you?’  He relaxed onto me, his face in my neck where he kissed tenderly making me giggle as his stubble tickled.
‘Not after this, I'm gonna need an encore.  That was...Fuck!’  He hummed, leaning back to look at me and I peeked my eyes open to see his smile and deep blue eyes back once again.  ‘I love the yellow eyes, but next time I'd really like to just look at these pretty blue ones.’  He smiled bashfully, trying to fight off the blush that made its way to his cheeks.
‘You really are gorgeous.  I need to make this beautiful body a permanent fixture on my bed.’
‘Well I don't know about that, but-‘
‘Nik!  Have you seen Y/n?  She texted me that she was coming here but I don't-Ahh!  What the fuck?!’  We both turned to see Rebekah in the doorway, her eyes now covered with her hand.
‘I guess we should have shut the door.’  He mumbled, face back in my neck once again.
‘How long has this been going on?!’  She sounded pissed and I suddenly felt a bit bad.
‘About 20 minutes.’  I admitted and she let out a huff.
‘This is the first time?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘You swear?’
‘You think I would fuck your brother and not tell you?  I came here looking for you but instead I found your brother with his hand around his-‘
‘Okay!!  No more, that's enough!  I believe you, just...clean up and come find me.  I'll be downstairs-‘
‘Sorry dear sister, she's mine today.  After all, aftercare is important.  Shut the door on your way out.’ Rebekah growled, slamming the door behind her and I could suddenly hear Kol's howling laughter from downstairs.
‘He's going to tease me relentlessly.’  I groaned, dropping my head to the pillows before Klaus kissed my cheek.
‘I won't let him.  Don't worry my little Omega, you're mine to care for now.’  I looked up at him in shock at this statement.
‘I am?’
‘Of course sweet girl, you think I could let a gorgeous girl like you get away...or a tight pussy like this?’  He shifted his hips to drive his point home and I groaned, settling down with him as he pulled a blanket up over us.  ‘Sleep love.’
‘But we're-‘
‘I'll take care of you.  Just sleep.’  I relaxed as his lips found my neck again, pulling me into a peaceful sleep knowing that I would be awoken to another round and a gentle hybrid.
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Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist
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cybercore-creations · 7 months
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All good things
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Summary: Life played him for a fool again, he was stupid for thinking he'd get a single good thing
Tw: Suicide, Kidnapping, implied Stolkholm syndrome
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He thought everything was okay. He thought you finally accepted this was where you were staying. Giving him a kiss every morning, helping Vincent with the sculptures, taking Jonsey on walks with Lester. You didn't scream or cry anymore. Didn't have to be locked up. Everything felt normal. A normal spouse, A normal family, A normal life.
But nothing ever went right for Beauregard Sinclair. He could never have a normal anything. Never had one normal thing in his life.
Maybe it was hopeful thinking or straight denial. Just playing pretend. But he didn't expect when he entered your shared bedroom to find you with bleeding wrists and one of his knives weakly clutched in your hands. There was no note. No closure. Not a simple thing to tell him it wasn't his fault.
You didn't have to say it, but he knew it was his fault. He shouldn't have kept you alive. Shoulda just threw you in the museum like everyone else, but he didn't. You were a spitfire from the beginning. That's what he liked about you. He never expected a victim to hot wire Lester's truck and try to run him over but there you were smiling as you pushed the old thing as fast as it could go. He laughed when you'd slammed your face onto the steering wheel when he shot out the tires. It wasn't even a sadistic one, he genuinely found it funny.
You saw the man. He was distracted, looking off into the distance, probably trying to find you but you hit the gas hard. The pedal slammed to the ground as you changed gears (He always liked someone who could drive stick) Bo heard the truck before he saw it. The loud rumble of the thing much too old to still be driven. It was like second instinct as he hopped out of the way, shooting out the tires. The truck spun out and all he heard was "FUCK" and then the slam of your forehead on the uncoushined wheel accompanied by a "ow"
His eyes drifted towards the now bloodied silver band on your finger. You were supposed to get married. You'd been in Ambrose for a little over a year when he popped the question and he remembers the bright smile before squeezing him tight. The memory would make him happy but instead he felt nothing but betrayl.
As the night draped itself over Ambrose, The two of you found yourselves perched on the rooftop of the old, weathered church. The stars above twinkled like glitter strewn across a velvet canvas. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, and the only sound that echoed through the quiet night was the faint chirping of crickets. Bo took your hand in his, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You know, Peaches, I've been thinking about a lot lately" You raised your eyebrows "And what does that thinking gotta do with Hun?" He fiddled with the ring in his pocket before taking a deep breath. For the first time in his life, he was nervous. "Our future together. How I wanna turn ya into Mx.Sinclair." "W-What?" You stuttered. "Peaches, the second I laid eyes on you went you came in for that fan belt, I was hooked. Every second since then I've been falling harder. So uh, will you be my spouse?" He pulled out the ring, hands shaking. You grabbed onto him. Squeezing him tightly, he could feel your smile against his shoulder. "Absolutely. I wouldn't want anything else."
He went soft and he absolutely hated you for it, well thats what he tried to tell himself when he ran to your side trying to find a pulse. It was obvious you'd been gone for awhile. Blood was already dried on some places and your body was cold to the touch. He was frozen in time like one of Vincent's statues as he stared before he dropped to his knees. Bo let out a scream. A noise so deep in his chest that it didn't even sound human. An animalistic sob that you could probably even hear the town over. The one good thing in his rotten life was taken from him
"I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU." He yelled. Tears now rolling down his face. "Why did you have to leave me?"
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hollyhomburg · 1 year
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Before I Leave You (Pt. 53)
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(Sneak Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)
Summary: A snippet of the future- a flash forward- in which you and jimin reach an...agreement. 
Tags: pleasure dom Jimin, pillow princess m/c, oral (f. receiving), fingering, knotting, talks of gender and sex, Talks of killing people, talking ill of the dead, assassin! jimin, implied autistic! jimin, Flash Forwards, intentionally vague moments
W/c: 7.770
A/n: please be patient with me regarding the rut chapter ie the chapter after this one! i’m visiting my brother next week in LA so!!! things will take some time. hopefully this little jimin nugget will tide you over. although this isn’t the most unique sex chapter i do really like it. in the meantime! recommend me some stuff to do in la! i’m hoping it’s going to be a restful trip but ngl...it’s not looking great.... i don’t like planning things that other people are going to potentially not enjoy 😠 i’m meant to be a passenger princess threw and threw 
Previous Chapter - Masterlist
Chapter 53: I’d do Worse (Sneak Peak)
Jimin promptly takes one of the tubes of paint, a light blue- the same light blue that you ended up painting the upstairs bathroom, and squishes it out onto the canvas below you. Near your hand but not on it.
The breath you were holding rushes out in a single jagged laugh, “Okay, now I’m lost- I thought the whole point of the plastic and drop cloths was not to get paint on them.”
The look he shoots you asks you to suspend your disbelief. Especially once he starts doing that to all the other colors. He continues to drop careful splotches of paint around you. Enough that it would take a lot of concentration to get out of the room without tracking dark blue or pink or yellow or red halfway across the house.
You wonder what exactly Jimin plans to do to you. Paint included. He puts out a spurt of yellow paint on your side and then another. 
Surely sooner rather than later, noodle is going to wander in here in search of a pool of sunlight, track his paws or tail through the paint, and leave pawprints everywhere throughout the house. Yoongi will probably complain about them, but you might make him keep them instead of washing them away. 
When he’s finished, Jimin turns a yellow tube over in his hands. Back and forth, the cap flashing like a rising and setting small yellow sun. jimin’s voice is low when he speaks, near reverent. “You’re the first woman I was ever with- that I ever knew I was with.” 
It’s an admission and an admonishment, one that you and the rest of your pack have been tiptoeing around. Even though Tae’s a woman now- she hadn’t always been- at least not in a way the pack could compensate for. While new lines in the sand are drawn that doesn’t mean the old lines totally fade away. It will take a few more cycles of low and high tide to completely grow used to this.
Jimin fiddles with a small red tube of paint. “I’m a rigid person, I know I am. i don’t like change most of the time and I know, I know things shouldn’t be so planned, I know that’s not the way things usually go but-” You nuzzle close to Jimin, and his words extinguish into a sigh, his hands coming up to your sides, the same place he always likes to hold, between your shoulder blade and your ribcage.
“But you need them to be this way sometimes. Planned? so you can make sure everything’s done right” You press. 
He bristles, “If you’re expecting me not to say that I want everything to be perfect when I can make it that way then-”
“You’re such a control freak Minnie.” you say it with a smile, playing your fingers through some of the milky pink white, feeling the tackiness between your fingers.
“You don’t hate it?”
You shrug. “Jin’s that way too sometimes. So no, I guess I don’t hate it. Maybe it’s just because I like- really fucking hate making decisions.”
He grimaces, but Jimin’s eyes dart from your face down to your crossed legs. settling on something. “Do you care if those clothes get dirty?”
“A little- I like these shorts.”
“then you should take them off.” your heart thuds as jimin leans over you, tugging on the strap of your Tanktop with his teeth, lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder, dragging them down. He plays at being sexy but decides not to be, settling for leaning his cheek on your shoulder and watching you. 
“I had kind of this stupid idea, if you don’t want to do it just say so. This is every shade of pink that we ever painted the house. Tae’s favorite color is pink- and the canvas- i thought it might be nice to have like- some art in her library room- that’s what I meant about making it planned.”
“Are you saying you want to make sex art or something?” Jimin blushes yet again. You should be keeping track of how many times he has and use them for leverage. 
“You know gift giving is like, my second love language if that bullshit is to be believed and-”
“-Oh my god you actually do want to make sex art.”
Coming Saturday May 6th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)
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justcallmefox89 · 25 days
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Gnome Troubles Part VI (Astarion's POV)
Wicket shows a moment of vulnerability.
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“Looking at something?”  Astarion arches one eyebrow as he studies Wicket’s reflection in the glass of his mirror.  The cleric is drinking more than usual tonight, choosing to keep to his own company rather than join the others around the fire for the evening meal.
“Just looking,” Wicket murmurs, sipping from his goblet of wine.  “What are you doing?”
Astarion fights to suppress the shiver that rolls down his spine.  He’ll never admit this, not even under the threat of death, but he adores the way a wine-soused Wicket speaks.  The gnome’s voice is already far deeper than one would ever imagine, given his size, and when he’s in his cups the husky growl becomes more of a soft rumble… the sharp, clipped edges of his accent become softer, more rounded… a velvet darkness that reminds Astarion of snowfall on a winter’s night.
Astarion forcibly shakes himself out of his musing to answer the question.  “I’m looking too, but not seeing very much.  Another quirk of my affliction.”
“Do you miss it?  Seeing your own face?”  Wicket tilts his head to the side, curious.
“Preening in the looking glass?  Petty vanity?” Astarion sneers.  “Of course I miss it.  I’ve never even seen this face.  Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”
“What color were they before?”
“I… I don’t know.” Astarion pauses, slightly ashamed to make such an admission.  “I can’t remember.  My face is just some dark shape in my past.  Another thing that I’ve lost.”  He dashes the mirror onto the ground, fury coursing through him as he’s forced to face the reality of his condition yet again.  After two hundred years one would think it would get easier…
But it doesn’t.
Wicket deftly sidesteps shards of broken glass and sips his wine again, his eyes never leaving Astarion’s face.  With his free hand he motions for Astarion to come closer.  Curious, the vampire cautiously kneels down so that they two are able to look each other in the eye.  He remains motionless while Wicket’s eyes rove over him, greedily taking in every aspect of his face.  His colorless eyes, so often dark and haunted, burn with a pale fire that Astarion has never seen before.  Unlike Astarion, who quit aging upon the moment of his death, Wicket bears the burdens of his time in the earthly realm; long, black hair streaked with silver… his skin is tan and weathered from his many years spent traveling through the wilds of Faerun… a myriad of scars litter his skin, a testament to the danger of his life as a chosen of Kelemvor… faint wrinkles bracket his eyes and mouth, the signs of laughter and much time in the sun.  Astarion finds himself wondering about who Wicket was before fate threw them together, the Wicket who smiled and laughed often enough to create those lines in his skin.
“I see you,” Wicket whispers hoarsely.
“And what do you see, exactly?” Astarion inquires breathily, almost afraid to hear the gnome’s thoughts.
“Starlight and rubies,” Wicket murmurs absently, his free hand drifting upwards as if to touch Astarion’s cheek.  He hesitates just before his fingertips brush the elf’s skin, so instead his hand just hovers, faintly outlining the arc of Astarion’s cheekbone and then the strong curve of his jaw.   “You are like moonlight on water… The kind of beauty artists and sculptors dream of but can never truly capture on canvas or in clay.  Ethereal and eternal.”
Part of Astarion wants to scoff, to demand that Wicket specifically cite what he finds attractive about him… but another part, a long forgotten part of himself that existed before Cazador, when he was still a young boy who daydreamed of an adoring lover who would shower him in poetry and loving glances… that part of him blissfully listens to Wicket’s every word.
“In my wildest, most exquisite dreams I never could have imagined someone like you, Astarion,” Wicket continues.  “My moonlit beauty.”
“Wicket…” Astarion breathes out the gnome’s name, turning his head just enough to barely graze the other man’s fingers with his lips.  He freezes, surprised at his own willingness to touch a gnome.
Wicket seems equally shocked but quickly collects himself; his eyes grow cold as his expression shutters and Astarion is once again faced with a stoic and loyal cleric of Kelemvor.  He takes a few steps back and offers Astarion a stiff nod before turning away.
“Sleep well, Astarion,” he calls as he strides away to his tent.
Astarion stares after him, unable to formulate a response, and struggling to understand why Wicket’s sudden departure has left him feeling so… bereft.  Astarion is not unfamiliar with flattery certainly, after all compliments are all part and parcel of the game of seduction.  And after two centuries of luring and obtaining victims for Cazador, Astarion is a master of that particular game.  But in all his years no one has spoken to him so genuinely, stared at him so rapturously… been so tender towards him without the expectation of anything in return.
Astarion scowls, pulling himself out of those idle thoughts.  He won’t allow himself to be swayed by tender feelings and whispered sweet nothings, from a gnome of all things, not when there is so much at stake.  But perhaps if he can twist Wicket to his advantage…  Astarion smirks to himself.
Yes... that could prove very useful indeed.
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r0mantic-f00l · 3 months
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(not really proud of this one ngl, but I'm tired and I can't write anymore 😫)
friends with benefits with sirius in summer, who could ask for more??
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Summer Benefits
It was quite humid, the summer air intoxicating the room as birds chirped and children laughed, glee accompanying the warmth that the most anticipated season brought every year. Ice cream trucks blasted music down streets as people laid in their gardens, trying to ease the heat but failing.
The clock had turned half 11, yet you were still lying in bed, not your bed, but a bed that had grown quite familiar to you over the summer. You had been awake since 10am, but you chose to close your eyes and relax, with your body above the covers and the pillow flipped to the cold side. You turned your head to glance at the boy next to you, who had been lying the opposite way, his body fully under the covers as his arm rested below his pillow. A familiar sight. Yet he wasn't snoring like he always did when he fell into a slumber, signifying to you that perhaps he had the same idea as you to just relax in bed.
However, you sat up from your position and threw your legs over the bed, stretching your spine and your arms as you yawned, proceeding into the bathroom as you popped the joints in your fingers. You glanced in the mirror, and grinned at the many hickeys Sirius had given you the previous night, all of them trailing from your neck to your stomach.
You would never admit this to him, but you were rather impressed with how many love bites he managed to paint on your body; at that point your body was his own personal canvas.
The sound of running water filled the empty silence as you pushed whatever little toothpaste was left from the tube onto your toothbrush (which Sirius had bought for you after the fourth time you had stayed over), and you began brushing your teeth.
The door opened, and you were immediately greeted with the sight of Sirius rubbing his eyes as you stared at him through the mirror. He stepped next to you and took one glance at the thin tube of toothpaste you had left before bending to the cabinet below the sink and fishing around amongst the many hair products and cologne until he found a brand new toothpaste. He stood up and pushed a string of toothpaste on his brush, running it under the tap then brushing his teeth.
His warm eyes had caught yours in the mirror and you both smiled, giggling when he waved. You waved back, feeling warmer due to the lack of proximity between you two, and the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
It had been at least two minutes when you and Sirius had finished brushing your teeth. You splashed your face with cold water after you were done, smiling as you felt the boy's fingers trail over the hickeys on your shoulder. You stood up straight once again, rolling your eyes at his proud smirk as you glanced at him through the mirror.
"Damn, I really went to town on you last night." He joked, chuckling as you turned your body to face his.
"Tell me about it." You murmured, grinning whilst Sirius pushed your hair off your neck, a sigh of relief escaping you as he clipped it back.
"Thanks."
"No problem." He muttered, massaging your shoulders, oblivious to your thoughtful gaze.
"Hey, Siri?"
He hummed in response, his eyes staring into yours once more.
"What are we doing?"
Sirius glanced up, pursing his lips and furrowing his eyebrows as he pretended to think deeply.
"Well I believe we're standing in my bathroom."
"No," You grinned at his ridiculous joke.
"No, I meant, what is... this? Us? I mean, we've been having sex one day then the next day we act as if we're best friends, then we have sex again, and the cycle repeats."
Sirius nodded in response, this time his eyes truly had a thoughtful look.
"To be honest, I don't know what this is. But I do know that I really like you. And I don't like you just for sex. I mean, the sex is really, really, like heavenly good, but I like you... beyond that? Do you get what I mean?"
You giggled, nodding as Sirius took your soft hands in his.
He smiled softly. "I suppose I've always liked you."
Your eyes turned soft whilst you tilted your head and replicated his smile.
"I've always liked you too."
He hummed, his smile turning into a charming grin, and you instantly knew what he was going to say.
"I think it's time that I ask you on a date then."
"Finally, you've only been fucking me all summer."
You both laughed before Sirius drew his arm over your shoulders and leaned in, nuzzling your nose as his lips were still curved in that Sirius Black smile.
"You know I'm not the brightest button in the box, darling."
You nodded in agreement.
"Understatement of the century."
"Shut up." He said, with the most jovial expression on his face.
"Make me." You teased, leaning even closer to his lips as you stood on your tip-toes.
And so he did.
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Desecration
"Stop," the angel gasps, struggling weakly.
His wings flutter and jerk like a pinned butterfly, and he is still beautiful in a way no other creature could pull off.
"That word means nothing here, Sacharel, not to me," Beroth hisses, prowling around the altar the angel is splayed on.
Beroth snickers and then spits on Sacharel's face. The angel flinches, but he has nowhere to go. He can't fly or use his divine power and he has been forsaken by God. His wings, now a soft ashy grey, still shine with internal light. Beroth doesn't like to see that, so he grabs yet another handful of feathers and yanks until they pop out. Sacharel growls, and his eyes flash red for a moment before he turns his head away, breathing out a prayer for forgiveness.
"No need to pray for me," Beroth says, tracing a scaly hand along the collar of Sacharel's angelic robes. "I know exactly what I am doing."
The collar is damp with sweat. Angels are not made to endure the heat of hell and Sacharel already looks like a wilted flower, exuding a delicate scent that makes you ache to sink your teeth into him.
"Pet?" Beroth calls.
"Yes Master," you scurry forward out of the shadows, trying to stop your eager tail from wagging.
"Sacharel has always been dreadfully plain, I think it's time we decorate him a little. Fetch me a needle."
"Yes Master," you croon and do as he bids.
Sacharel squirms as you approach with the needle on its little tray, tugging at his bindings.
"What are you going to do?" He demands.
Beroth chuckles. "Why, give you a stylish piercing or two."
Sacharel's wings flare against the altar and his eyes widen. "You dare not," he says.
Beroth clicks his tongue mockingly. "Your celestial father threw you down here as punishment. And I aim to punish you well."
"You can't do that!" Sacharel shouts, his voice echoing across the room as he struggles. "My father will not allow it!"
"Who gives a flying shit?!" Beroth shouts back. "You didn't stand up for me when I had my wings cut off, did you? You pretended you didn't know me. I loved you once, and you betrayed me. So whatever you think I can't do is exactly what I will do."
Sacharel huffs out a heated breath, eyes blazing with inner holiness. You can sense how hard he clutches onto that last semblance of purity and it excites you. You can't wait to get it out of him.
"I always thought it was incredibly vain for angels to have such stupidly white skin. Like marble or the clean insides of a teacup. But I've realized just how pretty the bruises will look on your skin. You're a blank canvas for me to paint," Beroth says. "And I... No, We, are going to enjoy it."
At his command, you open the little jewelry case and bring out two pearly studs. You know exactly where you want those to go.
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