#I need to... unbutton those little things.... the little clasps.....

[meownotgood]

ah..... more casual clothes aki to add to my collection

[blingblong55]

Luck charm-Rodolfo Parra NSFW

A/N: Is anyone taking Christmas asks? Because this is mine, that fat red man better have him under the tree

Based on a request:

Hi! How about Dad’s best friend request with Rudy? --- F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, unprotected!sex, gentle!sex, age gap, oral!sex, some after care, dbf!Rudy ---

A/N: I know my baby boy loves gentle sex, can't tell me he doesn't, it's already written in my brain.

Rudy was introduced by your father at the age of 19, he was working on a mission and needed the help of your father. He was always invited to dinners, celebrations and now your welcome back party. After being away for some research, you saw him. More muscles, that charming smile of his, the voice, the same gentleman mannerisms and that stare he gave you. Now at age 24 and he at age 39, things can be looked at differently.

The little shoulder rub he gave you to persuade your dad or you into going on the late-night mountain drives, the smirk he had when you placed your hands on his chest after losing a game, the banter and the comments he made when you wore a certain dress to a date. Maybe that was his way of making sure you were ready to be his someday. Maybe he needed to, in some way, let your father know his little girl was in good hands.

When you hugged him, nothing but friendly, his hand slipped to your waist and it felt as if it belonged there. His cologne, the smell of tobacco and vanilla, what a delight. "Hola, mi amor," he always called you that. His love, ever since you could remember. After dinner, your parents went on their nightly walk, you and he stayed playing some game and then he placed his hand on your thigh. "You look beautiful, hope it's not for the boyfriend," signature smirk on. "What if it is?" Your brow raised, a playful smirk on. "What if I don't let him see you like this?" Voice smooth.

"What will you do about it then?" Your gaze on his and that's when he kissed you. You didn't hesitate, saw it coming. He brings his hands to your body, wrapping them like you already belonged to him. The kiss was intense, so much so, you began to unbutton his shirt off. "Are you sure, mi amor?" He whispers and you nod. "I'm sure, definitely sure." And with that answer, he kisses your neck. Lifts the skirt up and buries his hands deep in your thighs. "Rudy," your lips say.

"Shhh, mi amor. Lift your arms," his hand removing your shirt. Thick fingers undo the clasps of your bra. He smirks once it comes off. Tongue on your nipples, licking and kissing them. You moan and before you know it, his shirt comes off. Then you see it on his dog tags, the charm you gave him on his birthday all those years ago. He knows you saw it, knows it all too well. "Oh mi amor," he coos and kisses your forehead. "Anytime I wore it, I got out safe from all those dangerous missions." He brings it to your lips, "Kiss it, mi amor." And you do.

Before you know it, his lips kiss all down to your panties, moving them to the side and chuckling. "Look at you, already so wet for me," tongue lapping your cunt. He wants to drown in your juices. Your hands on his hair, pushsing him furhter in, he groans. A finger circling your tight pussy, fingers thrusting you open for him. One, two and now three fingers, pumping deep inside of you. You moan his name, only for him to reward it with more kisses to your cunt. Sucking and kissing it like it was his religion. Your body the temple which he worships.

Once he knew you were ready, his already hard cock plays with your entrance. Smack it a few times until you whimper and buck your hips. He bends and kisses your forehead, "Tell me you want it," he whispers. "I want it, I want you," Your lips and his connecting, his fat cock thrusting into your tight cunt. He moans, the pleasure of making you his and now is in you, what a paradise you created for a man of little faith. Your hands on him, hips held by your legs. His hand caresses your face whilst the other holds you close.

The sofa shook from the movements, his dog tags hanging from his neck with the charm. And then you kiss them again, and he kisses your forehead. "My luck charm," he plants kisses all over your face. You look up at him, eyes shut in a moment as his thrusts become animalistic, you getting rewarded in kisses and whispered sweet nothings. "Don't, please don't cry, mi amor," he kisses the tears that fall from your precious eyes. "You're so...b-big," you look at him, trying to take all of his size. "I know, mi amor, I know, but you can take it. You're a good girl, a strong one too," lips once more on yours, trying to distract the pain of his much larger size.

His thrusts soon are slow, "Can I cum inside of you?" he asks so softly. You nod and he smiles like he had the privilege of owning the heaven your cunt is. "R/N, mi amor~" he moans. Cum filling you full to the brim. Some spills out, he pulls out, your cunt aching and he sits on the sofa, pats his thigh and you go to sit with him. He holds the glass of water to your lips, "Drink mi amor, you must be so tired," he kisses your forehead. His calloused hands rubbing your back, "Oh, my niña, are you cold?" The blanket your mum always had around now covering you and him. He hums out a song, kissing your forehead every other second.

Luck charm, the girl he loved since he met her. The girl he moaned the name of, the same name he would fight hell for to come and have dinner with her parents for. The pink panties he stole that he smelt to wank off to. The girl who is now his religion, temple and cum slut.

A/N: what..I said he was gentle, not that he wasn't a pantie thief or a bit of a perv, anyway, he's my baby boy now

Tags: @bi-witch-bxtch @kit-kats06 @alxexhearts @sweatymusichideout @ghostslittlegf

[wondeurwall]

Idk if u've seen rafayel's new oracle story BUT IT HAS BEEN PLAGUING MY MIND

"What if i make it up to you like this yeah?"

MAKE UP SEX WITH RAFAYEL.

TELL ME DO YOU THINK THEY'LL HAVE IT OFTEN?? But ones in a more playful sort of way not really full on arguments if you get what i mean 😩💗💗

oh my god please, nonnie, rafayel's oracle story is literally the only thing on my mind. i've been so unwell

i went in with one dream and spent everything i had because my luck is abysmal. and, the worst part?? I CAN'T EVEN BE UPSET ABOUT IT 😭🫵🏻 it wasn't what i expected. it's kind of funny ASKDDJKD!! i thought it'd be myth related. instead, i was blessed with rafayel.... kisses... 🥰

itty bitty nsfw 🔞 mdni.

rafayel would 100% down for playful makeup sex 😵‍💫💕 honestly, he'd pull any kind of excuse just to get you undressed and fucked out in bliss. he loves how pretty you look when you cum 💕 even more when he and you can get a good laugh in between because he'd appreciate lightheartedness in intimacy. after all, he wouldn't have sex with anyone else! he needs trust to do those sweet, silly things too, and he can only ever do that with you.

because i think he'd find a lot of fun with it, he'd do it often, but the sex doesn't necessarily need to be absolutely mind-blowing once initiated. banter is fun, even better when it leads to sex, but he just loves being close like that: naked and a tangled mess of limbs with the warmth coming from your body to his.

he's a night owl, so he's unintentionally ignoring your texts. maybe, even misses a few phone calls or immediately ends an incoming one, thinking it's an alarm he set up before. part of the day goes by and you're coming into his home to make sure he's doing alright. there's no use in pretending that you aren't upset. because you are upset! you didn't hear from him 💔 but, you find that he's just now out of bed after finishing a new piece of art.

"were you asleep this whole time?" you ask.

he rambles on about a sudden inspiration he had and that, "it'd be wrong to rest when the idea was too good."

you listen, nod, but truthfully some of his words go in and out the other ear. you frown at him. and, when he asks why you have that look on your face, you're quick to say, "i'm sure you can figure out why."

he knows. of course, he knows. he reads you well, just like you do him. then, his shoulders are a little hunched over, and he's laughing!

"i've really spoiled you," he says softly. his hands are on your hips the next second, pulling you close. "mm, why not let me make it up to you? i'm awake now, and we have the rest of the day to ourselves."

he lifts you and lays you on the couch. kisses you while he thinks about how many times he can get you gushing on his fingers and tongue before his cock.

OR, if you're the one making it up to him 🥹

accidentally spilling paint on a good shirt of his? you're panicking as soon as it happens. your hands move faster than your mouth, and you're halfway with unbuttoning his shirt before telling him he needs to take it off.

his laughter is what stops you. it dawns on you! but, to be fair, your thoughts don't have anything else besides: the shirt must be washed before it really stains.

"someone's being bold," he chuckles as your eyes meet. "did you plan this?"

"what?" and, the fabric drops from between your fingers. rafayel doesn't miss the way your gaze falls briefly, catching the sight of his bare chest, last 2 or 3 buttons barely laying over his abdomen. "me, ruining a piece of clothing that's probably over three times my budget? i don't think that's planning. it's called being clumsy."

your face feels warm. you take a deep breath, reach out to him, "c'mon. i'll wash it. take it off before the paint makes it unsalvageable."

rafayel clasps your wrist with his hand, steps into your space, voice deepening with a tinge of playfulness, "no, i can think of a better idea. how about me and you have matching clothes?"

he embraces you, gets you wearing blotches of paint too, and you want to argue. but, you can't find the energy to when one hand is guiding your head back and the other is tugging on your neckline. rafayel's lips move to your throat first. then, trails open-mouthed kisses along the rest of your neck, jaw, the base of your shoulder, before whispering, "it's a good idea, yeah?"

since you're the one to make a mess of his shirt first, he wants you riding him as compensation. to make him feel good? yes, sure, he loves that. though, the reason for it, most of all: he wants you using his cock like you own it. wants you aching and desperate for him. cum all over him, feel good because of him. nothing gets him going more than watching you bounce on top and moan his name so sweetly 🥰

© 2024 wondeurwall ☆ all rights reserved. please don't repost as your own, modify or translate on here or on other platforms. reblogs & likes are appreciated! ♡

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crushed 12

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: I am very sick rn and didn't sleep.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

Jonathan closes the door and flips the small looped bar in front of it. You put your work bag on the counter and cling to it, bowing your head as you close your eyes. You’re mortified. More than you’re afraid, you are embarrassed. He must think you’re so pathetic.

“I’m sorry–” you begin.

“How long has this been going on?” He asks abruptly.

You open your eyes and breathe out. You leave your bag as it is and shrug. You cross your arms and turn your back to him.

“You really don’t have to stay. You can sneak out once it gets dark–”

“I’m not leaving,” he insists, “and you’re going to answer the question.”

That tone. So rigid it slices into you. That’s how a boss talks. That’s what he is. Your superior. He holds your job in his hands and you’ve already dragged him down into the dirt of your life. You pace and hug yourself.

“A few days?” You utter, “it’s my fault. I… just a stupid crush. I don’t know why I ever thought I was good enough. I don’t know why I’m saying all this. I should’ve left him alone, that’s all it is. I did it to myself.”

You look around. The apartment is the same mess you left behind. The ruin that Colin inflicted upon your safe space. Why are you so stupid?

“You can’t blame yourself for his actions. He did this, didn’t he?”

You shrug again.

“So you felt something for him, that isn’t a crime. But this,” he slowly strides closer, brushing by as he passes and puts the coffee table upright, “this is. You’re too good for him, fawn. He knows it and so he acts out like the child he is.”

“You don’t have to lie–”

“I know it isn’t my place to say all this. Admittedly, I’ve crossed a lot of professional lines in the last few days but it doesn’t worry me. Because when I see someone like you who needs help, well, I don’t think so much of red tape.” He tidies up the strewn coasters and stacks them neatly.

“Please, don’t– I’ll clean all this up.”

“You will do no such thing. I am overriding your authority,” he declares, “not as your boss, but I hope, your friend. So, I will tell you exactly what you will do,” he smiles as he takes a book off the floor and smooths the pages before closing it, “you will go and choose some cozy nightclothes and I will run you a hot bath. And you will take your time and relax. I will tend to all of this.”

“I… Jonathan,” you drop your arms and clasp your hands together, “I’m not helpless. I don’t need–”

“You do need this. You need to let yourself not think. For just a little.” He stands and removes his jacket. You watch him drape it over the back of the couch and he unbuttons his cuffs, rolling them up, “you nearly passed out from fright in my kitchen this morning. I think this is much more serious than you're admitting.”

“He’s just mad–”

“And I’ve seen what angry men do,” he interjects, “I don’t want to scare you further but a door is just a door. These things are just things,” he gestures to the clutter of your belongings tossed around the apartment, “but you are not replaceable. You must take care of yourself first and if I must put on my boss voice and order you to do so, then that is what is what I will do.” He pushes his shoulders back and clears his throat, “I expect you to be bathed and nestled into bed within the next two hours.” He checks his watch, “so darling, you’ve a deadline to meet.”

You blink. You don’t have the strength or energy to argue. As always, you’re weak. You slump your shoulders and pull your hands apart.

“Okay…” you accept meekly.

“I will have a tea ready with your bath as well,” he says, “tea is always a good cure for whatever ails.”

You nod and pivot reluctantly on your heel. You peek at the door before you head down the hall. You can't believe this. Your neighbour is insane and your boss is cleaning up your apartment.

You enter the bedroom and stop short. Your bedspread is a mess, wrinkled and shoved to one side. In your haze, you hadn't noticed when you came to grab your things. You'd only been thinking of an escape.

Inching closer, you notice something else. A stain on the sheet. Crusted and dry. Are you serious? 

You hold back a scream. Instead you rip the blankets to floor and strip the sheet by the corner, crumpling it to lay with the rest. You are absolutely repulsed by what he's done. He's tainted every part of your life.

You step back breathless. You can't do this. You can't handle this. This isn't what you wanted. You just wanted to be wanted. Is that such a crime?

You hear the bathroom faucet squeak. The noise pierces your self-pitying cloud and you turn to your dresser, pulling open the drawer and grabbing a night gown blindly. You go to the bathroom door and peer in.

Jonathan stands straight, bracing his hips as he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, his eyes drifting to you as he flinches in surprise.

"There you are. A hot bath and tea," he gestures to the mug on the corner of the counter. "I've left the bag in to steep."

"Uh, thanks, that's... too much. Really, I'm all good. I don't need anything else."

"Of course, I'll leave you to it," he raises his hands and comes forward, sidling past you into the hall, "but I will be at hand if you call for me."

You hum dully and step inside. You close the door gently and gust out a long sigh. You put the nightgown down and look at yourself in the mirror. 

Maybe you should just quit and cut your losses. Go back and live with your mother so she can compare you to your sisters. So you know your worth clearly and don't get any more silly or dangerous ideas.

💗

The hot water takes over and you let yourself ease into it. Still, you are innately aware of the activity on the other side of the wall. Jonathan moves with purpose but also caution, you can tell he’s doing his best not to disturb you. That amount of consideration is flattering but unfamiliar.

When the water is lukewarm, you get out, drying off with the waiting towel. You have no urgency. Reluctant to go out and face reality and your unexpected houseguest. You pull on your nightgown, a pinkish sheath pattern with clusters of petals. 

You emerge, peering up and one the hallway before tiptoeing out. You go to the bedroom, intent on hiding away. There, you find a set of fresh sheets pulled over the bed and blankets neatly folded down at the top. He is thorough.

You can’t help the pang of guilt in your chest. You should at least thank him before you sink into self-pity. You should maybe even consider finding a new job and ease his burden completely. You don’t expect with how it’s gone so far, that you’ll be holding onto your position much longer.

“Ah, something smells wonderful,” Jonathan frightens you as he strides down the hall behind you.

You turn in the doorway, nearly choking on a surprised guffaw. He’s exchanged his sleek tailored suit for the fluffy red house robe you never use. You almost forgot you had that.

“Um,” you tilt your head curiously, “what happened–”

“I got a bit carried away. I thought to wash the bedding, then I saw the hamper, and finally, I realised I won’t have anything clean to wear tomorrow so I took the liberty of putting everything in–”

“You’re doing laundry?” You furrow your brow.

“Well, I regret to inform you I made the executive decision to dispose of your former bedding. I’m certain you understand,” he hooks a long thumb in the pocket of the robe. It’s barely at his knees and his shoulders keep it from closing above the middle of his chest. “I was only coming to ask if you’re hungry. It’s well past supper time.”

“Er, I’m okay,” you back up, “I think I’m just going to lay down for the night. I’d hate to miss another day of work.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he says, “but if you wish, I will let you be.”

“Or… I guess I should stay up and help you with the laundry–”

“Ah, no, I’ve a handle on all that, you rest. I don’t want you lifting a finger,” he puts a hand on his hip and you notice how the bottom of the rob shifts, just a little. Eyes up. “More tea?”

“No thank you,” you clutch your hands in front of your chest. You’re not wearing a bra and the realisation is making it more obvious. “I, uh, I’ll just go to bed, but, um, if you do need help–”

“I won’t, please,” he puts his palms up, “you deserve a night of peace.”

You smile at him. A small smile, the most you can muster. Your eyes flit away shyly and you stare at the wall.

“You’re too nice–”

“I don’t think so. I only think you’re not used to kindness,” he insists, “I shall do my best not to disturb you.”

“Thanks,” you back up into the bedroom and rest your hand on the knob, “I won’t mind if you do.”

“Nor would I,” he says, “were you to disturb me. I mean, if you require anything, you may simply ask, darling.”

A sweltering moment of tension wedges between you. You chew your lip and turn slowly on one heel. You reluctantly inch the door towards the frame, “good night, Jonathan.”

“Good night,” he purrs back as you gently shut the door.

You stop and lean against it. You won’t let yourself overthink this. Not again. You’ve learned your lesson. You are not special, only pathetic.

💗

Sleep hits you harder than you expect. The adrenaline of your day fizzles and leaves you burnt out. You drift into a thick slumber,  swept up in nonsensical recreations of the waking world. Colin’s angry voice and Jonathan’s gentle touches smother you, cornering you, suffocating you in the void of your subconscious.

Your anxiety peaks and snaps you back to the world. More than the pluck in your stomach, there is something else tugging at your consciousness. You roll over and groan as the tinkling melody quiets. It’s not your ringtone. You can’t even remember where you left your phone.

You look at your alarm clock. It’s after four in the morning. You can’t believe you’ve slept so long. You still have a few hours.

You sit up and hang your legs over the side of the bed. You stand, your bladder squeezing. That’s what you get for drinking tea so late. You go to the door and pause as you listen through the barrier. You hear Jonathan’s voice and another in return. He must be on a call.

The thought of your own phone nags you. You’ll need to plug it in or you won’t have any juice left for work. You open the door, careful not to make any noise. You could just sneak out and grab it from your bag. You’ll deal with the weight in your bladder on the way back.

You pad down the hall and peek out into the living room. You see only the glow of Jonathan’s laptop in the dark space. You can just creep through the shadows and get what you need. Still, you feel intrusive.

“We miss you, hon,” a British woman chimes from the speaker as Jonathan’s silhouette hunches across from the coffee table, “so dark. Where are you, dearie?”

He hushes her, “it’s late here–”

“And it’s early here.”

“Mum,” he says softly. The couch creaks and reaches over to turn on the lamp, “why are you calling so earl–”

He stops short and looks at you, caught in the glow of the unexpected light. You give a small wave and smile awkwardly. The robe hangs open across his chest and he has a throw blanket over his lap.

“Hi,” you utter dumbly.

“Someone there? Did we interrupt?”

“I’m just grabbing my phone,” you murmur, “sorry.”

“Plugged it in for you,” he points to the corner table.

“S-sorry,” you apologise again and grab your cell, pulling it free of the cord, “I didn’t realise–

“Quite alright,” he assures you.

“I’ll just go…” you trail off as you turn back and flit back into the hall. Oops.

You stop at the bathroom door as the speaker of his laptop echoes behind you, “is that her?” The woman asks.

“Finally found a wife, boy?” A more distant timbre asks, obviously further from the microphone.

“Father,” Jonathan hisses.

“She sounds very nice,” the woman, his mother, proclaims, “she must be the one you mentioned–”

You spin into the bathroom and close the door. It isn’t right to listen. His personal life has nothing to do with you, regardless if you dragged him into your own. You need to cling to the few boundaries still left between you. You don’t need a spiteful boss on top of a deranged neighbour.

[callsignmarz]

MDNI | 18+ | König x Reader

TW: mentions of knife play, weapons, explicit language, sexual content, bondage/chains.

“Prisoner of War.” PT.2

A creditable sigh eases itself out while König watches the consequential duel between bravado and submission in your irises. Sliding his finger out from the depths of your mouth, a residual smile is left clinging onto your lips.

“I'm a whore who you desperately crave to have control over."

The words fell from your mouth with little to no trouble at all, dripping with the appalling truth. Underneath the hood, König's upper lip plucked in annoyance but he held his unwavering gaze as you taunted him with a giggle.

"Ich hasse dich. (I hate you.)"

He didn’t deny it.

How could he?

Though truth be told, hatred was the vital element that pumped through his veins all those years of tracking you down, infatuated on the day when you would finally meet your demise.

But now, you were finally at his mercy.

As it should've been from the very beginning.

In turn, you couldn’t care less if he hated you or not. All you needed was to buy enough time to make an escape and if you had to go to the extreme...then so fucking be it.

"I don't think you hate me, König. In fact, I think it's the complete opposite of that."

"Do tell, meine schatz. Because if I remember correctly, you've been nothing but a monumental pain in my ass the last few years."

"Oh, please." You scoffed. "Don't act like it didn't get your dick hard every time you saw my ass get away."  

Growing tired of your petulance, his hand forcibly clasped onto either side of your cheeks to shut you up, squeezing them uncomfortably with powerful pressure, painful enough to leave bruises beneath the pads of his fingers.

This act alone, furthered to prove your point.

His milky blue eyes, become the only thing you see as he gets in your face and whispers a new threat, one that catches you completely off guard and has you pooling in your panties.

"We'll see how much talking you'll be doing after I fuck that tight ass of yours." A sinister smile ghosts over his lips and under the hood.

The metal of the chains, collide together, sharp and angry as König rips away the chair beneath you, it skids across the floor until it crashes against the concrete wall.

In seconds, you found yourself laying flat over the table, baring your teeth as his fingers were replaced by a tactical knife, the cool steel pressing into your skin and you feel the warmth of your blood leaking down your face like thick sap oozing from a maple tree.

Your heart begins to race at a unhealthy rate with predilection igniting your nerve ending when he kicks your feet apart to position himself behind you.

"Was? (What?) Too scared to say something smart now?”

König chuckles with his eyes darkening as he gently drags the dull part of the blade from your cheek, down your neckline and roaming your back freely.

"If you didn't cause so many fucking problems for everyone, I think you and I could've...worked something out."

A fervid chill charges down your spine at the sound of his hand undoing his belt and khakis with no difficulty, leaving plenty of space for his bulge to swell as he pressed against your perfect ass.

"I bet I won't even feel a thing." You blatantly lie through your teeth.

"Hartnäckige Sache. (Stubborn thing.)" He rasped with a hidden smirk while his eyes raked over your curves, imagining how your body would looked with nothing on.

"I promise, you're going to feel all of me."

Smoothly, he reaches around, taking his sweet time to unbutton and tug your cargo pants down, bunching them mid-thigh. His cock shivers with palpable need when his eyes fall on the thin waistband of your black thong before soaking in the soft curvature you were blessed with.

"So perfekt. (So perfect.)"

Your breath hitches at leathery feel of König's gloves, tracing and caressing your delicate skin. With your mind spinning in all directions, you hardly didn't notice that you had rose to your tip toes, your body grinding into him, fueling the flames of libido.

Between your ragged breaths, you purr.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me stupid like a real man?"

[asylumdwellermoved]

YOU! YOU'RE BACK! (you probably don't remember me we only talked, like, once, but hello xjbx)

ANYWAY UM UH what about a reader/PC seducing* Harper and getting more than what they asked for

* (could be intentional or could be Harper going "they are CLEARLY looking at me like that because they want something, yeah?")

(I REMEMBER YOU YOUR BLOG IS ONE OF MY FAVS TO LURK ON

leaning somewhat into the second option bc i love the contrast of manipulative freaks being equally delusional <3

gn!reader, gn!harper, dub/noncon)

"So, how have you been feeling?"

A newfound hesitance replaces your usual quickness to answer. You watch the bright eyes in front of you shift, possibly noticing a dullness in them that you hadn't before. Before you can wonder if it's your mind playing tricks on you, you clear your throat and smile.

"Good...! Been doing a little better lately..."

The doctor smiles back at you, clasping their hands together. "I'm glad! I assume you've been doing those techniques I gave you last week?"

You nod, trying to let the rumors swimming in your head fade to just the back of your mind as you automatically respond to their questions.

You had been seeing Dr. Harper on Fridays for a good few weeks now. Up until recently, you had been perfectly comfortable. It was nice having someone to talk to, even if they were just doing their job. You have absolutely no memory of anything bad happening in any of your sessions. It was only when you had mentioned your recent help to Sydney and saw their skin bristle and received a vague warning in response that you started to worry. Mickey remarking on the doctor's "problems" not long after definitely didn't help. You knew how dangerous this town could be, and you definitely didn't want to be on the bad side of anyone holding your physical well being above your head.

"And that recent spat with that person at your school that you told me about last week? How did that go?"

"Ah, well... they put out a cigarette on me yesterday, so I kind of feel like it's a lost cause..."

If you just... suck up to them it should be fine, right? They seem at least somewhat reasonable. Bat your eyes at them and butter them up a little, and you should be airtight.

Their eyebrows furrow in concern. "Can I see the wound?"

You nod, hesitantly unbuttoning the top of your shirt to give easier access to the burn on your collarbone.

"A few more, please? I'm going to wipe it down and apply some vitamin E gel so that it heals a bit better, I need a little more space."

You oblige, trying not to look bothered, the collar of your shirt now draping over your shoulder. They get to work on gently cleaning your wound. You choose your next words carefully.

"Hey, Dr. Harper..." You don't realize how close they are until you feel the heat of your own breath coming back onto you when you speak.

"Hm?"

"Thanks for everything. Really. I've been doing a lot better lately, and I couldn't have got here without you."

A smile crosses their lips and they hum in contentment. "You're very sweet."

"I appreciate it a lot. At this point, I don't know what I'd do without you..."

You wince a little as that last part comes out, worried you'd be pushing things. You see the look in their eyes change and you freeze. They turn their formerly fixed gaze to your face. It looks almost like it flipped some sort of switch in them.

"I'm very glad to hear that."

You flinch from the feeling of the cold gel on your skin.

"You know, just between us... You're my favorite patient."

You double take.

"A-Am I really?" You feign a smile at their strange remark.

They light up at your reaction. "Yes, really. I'm happy that the feeling's mutual."

Wait... what?

You stiffen a bit, unsure what to say. You notice that their hand is ghosting further and further from the blistering as they touch your skin. And did another button come loose?

"That said, you can come to me for anything. When you're hurt, when you're anxious, when you're upset, when you're... flustered..."

They've gotten closer. The faint hospital smell on their clothes mixed with a slight unplaceable scent feels near suffocating now. When you feel their fingers twitch a bit you notice their hands haven't left your skin.

Ah. So this is what they meant. Not the Bailey kind of scary. Something entirely different.

They hesitate for a second, but waste no time in pressing their lips against yours, pulling you into them and quickly darting their tongue out, trying to force it in. You suddenly feel smothered at the feeling of what control you had being pulled out from under you.

"Dr. Harper-...!"

They pull back, shuddering at the sound of their name on your lips before putting a hand between your legs, a heavy heat of their own pressing against your thigh, grinding softly.

"If I knew I could do this while you were lucid, I would've a long time ago..." They give a breathless giggle like it was some sort of joke, looking straight at you but showing no recognition of the horror on your face.

The look softens as you start to squirm at their touch, watching their eyes flick to your lips again when a gasp slips out. They lean in again, peppering soft, closed-mouth kisses against your lips like they weren't slipping their fingers beneath your clothes to try to get you off at the same time.

"Shhh, I need you to stay quiet for me... Don't worry, when I make sure we have some time all to ourselves soon you can be as loud as you want..." They coo at you almost like they're consoling a child.

The pleasure-induced haze in your brain keeps you from dwelling on what they mean as they keep teasing you, playing with one of your nipples through your open shirt and closely watching your reactions as they pant and moan against your ear. Unable to stop from eventually reaching your peak, you writhe against them helplessly, unconsciously bucking into their hand. A shaky gasp escapes their throat and you notice a warm, wet patch had grown on the fabric against your thigh. Your stomach turns a bit.

They lock their lips with yours again, breathing heavy through their nose, only pulling away when it starts to slow. They stare at you in what looks like a strange sort of... adoration? As they bring their fingers to their lips, slowly dragging their tongue through the mess you made. Their glazed over, half lidded eyes widen a bit when they look at the clock. "Ah- I didn't even notice the time."

They walk back to their desk, nonchalantly sitting back down, rifling through their papers before pulling a pen out. The second you get the chance, you walk out on shaky legs without saying a word.

"Client exhibiting potentially self-endangering behavior. Institutionalize at next availability."

[ladykailitha]

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 10

Why yes I did devote an entire chapter of their “un-date” as Steve is calling it in his head, why do you ask? :D And yes they did both “overdress” for a meal between acquaintances (especially Eddie). If you want to see what they looked like in my head, let me know and I’ll try to draw them both.

Also Steve’s experience with D&D is what happen to my sister in college. She hates D&D.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9 

*

Steve stood in front of his closet, hands on his hips in frustration. “Robs!” he called out panicked. “I don’t have anything to wear!”

She walked into the room and shook her head at the mess he’d made. “I see a lot of clothes in here. Hell, it looks like hurricane Steven came through.”

Steve put his head in his hands. “I don’t want to look too dressed up, like I’m trying too hard. I don’t want to look too causal, because then he’ll think I don’t care. I want to look nice, but not something that will show my scars. Fuck, Robs. This is hopeless.”

Robin sighed and waded through the mess, picking at the clothes. She handed him a light blue button up, a grey vest and nice blue jeans. “Here. And then pair it with your blue sneaks and tada! Everything you wanted.”

Steve put on the clothes she suggested and turned back to the mirror. He rolled up the sleeves to his elbow and nodded approvingly.

“It looks so good, Robs,” he murmured.

She smiled. “It just needs one more thing.” She reached around his neck and clasped a single silver chain. It fell to his collar bones and if he undid one more button it would show off his chest. You could still kind of see his neck scars but only if you knew they were there.

“How are we feeling about the open collar?” she asked gently.

Steve let out a slow breath. “I’m thinking it looks hot.”

Robin hugged him from behind. “I think so, too.”

He looked at his watch. “It’s about time to go, I’ll freshen up my hair a bit and I’m out of here.”

She kissed his cheek. “Good luck.”

Steve blushed. “It’s not a date.”

She looked at him fondly through the mirror. “I know, dingus. But it’s still a big step considering everything that has happened to you both since January. And it’s a little scary.”

He sighed and turned in her grasp to bury his head into her shoulder. “I know, and if I didn’t have you, I probably would have canceled twelve times already.”

She giggled. “At least that.” Robin let go of him and pushed him in the direction of the bathroom. “Go finish getting ready, you dork. Or you will be late!”

Steve laughed and went to do just that.

*

Eddie bounced on his heels as he waited for Steve to arrive. He refused to look at his watch again. The last time he looked he swore time had stopped all together.

Eddie looked down at his clothes nervously. He was wearing a black button up, completely unbuttoned, tucked into a nice pair of black skinny jeans. His hair was pulled back out of his face with a black bandanna, the sides of his hair loose to his shoulders. Over all that was his black leather jacket. Well, there was also all the loose chains at his hips, his rings on his fingers, and his lucky guitar pick dangling at his throat.

If Chrissy had been there, she would have told him he was being ridiculous. But she hadn’t been, so here he was rethinking his outfit for the billionth time tonight.

And then he saw Steve. Gorgeous, beautiful, amazing Steve. Yup. All those feelings of attraction and desire that Eddie had put inside his heart’s box, chained and padlocked to the extreme came bursting out all at once.

How could he possibly believe this man wished him deliberate harm?

“Hey, Stevie!” he greeted with a grin. “Looking good.”

Steve did a slow twirl to show of the whole outfit. “You think so?”

Eddie walked up into his was in Steve’s space. “I know so.” He put his finger under the chain and lifted it up. “Very nice.”

Steve blushed. “I don’t have as many as you, but it’ll do.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “You can never have too many.”

“If you say so,” Steve teased. He started walking, but said over his shoulder, “You look pretty damn fine, too.”

Eddie laughed and hurried to catch up to him. “Good to know.”

“We’re taking my car. I hope you don’t mind.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’d be more shocked if we were taking my van.”

Steve beamed at him. “Yeah. It’s so nice not having to take the bus.”

“Robin doesn’t seem to mind.” Eddie winked at him.

Steve unlocked Eddie’s door first before going round to the driver’s side and getting in. “That’s because she’s a zen master of the bus system. She always knows exactly when one is going to show up. I always get confused which one I’m supposed to get on and where I’m supposed to transfer.”

Eddie nodded, buckling his seat belt. “Yeah, it makes my head spin, too.”

Steve flashed him his most blinding smile. “Do you like Italian food?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Is that where we’re going?”

Steve nodded as he pulled out into traffic. “I have a friend who’s mom owns an Italian restaurant and he’s been pestering me to come try it out for awhile.”

“So why haven’t you gone?” Eddie asked.

Steve gave a little half shrug. “Robin isn’t a fan and I only have one night off a week. So if she doesn’t want to go...”

“You don’t,” Eddie finished. “Yeah I get that.”

They pulled up to the restaurant. It was one of those nice little diner type places where the staff was all literally family and the food came from recipes generations old. Above their heads Tony Curtis crooned and the decor was like stepping off the plane onto Italian soil.

Eddie was in love already. With the restaurant, with the restaurant, he forcibly told himself. Not the boy. The restaurant.

There was suddenly this blur and it was tackling Steve. Steve barely managed to keep upright and laughed.

“Hey Dustin,” he greeted, ruffling the person’s hair.

Once Dustin stepped back, Eddie could make out who it was. He had a wild mane of curly brown hair and goofy grin.

“Hey, where’s Robin?” Dustin protested once he got a good look at the person standing next to Steve.

Steve sighed and Eddie could tell this was a long standing argument. “She doesn’t like Italian food. You know this. It’s why your mom makes meatloaf for every time we come to dinner.”

Dustin sighed. “I know. But I just want her to try Mom’s. I just know that if she had proper Italiana she’d love it.”

Steve shook his head. “This is my friend, Eddie. You know the person I did bring who will appreciate your mom’s cooking?”

Dustin eyed Eddie up and scoffed. “You do know that Mom doesn’t care if you bring dates, right? You can just say it’s a date.”

Eddie coughed and looked away.

Steve sighed. “I know that. But this is just a thank you to him for him helping to fix my car.”

Dustin wagged his eyebrows. “Yeah. Sure...”

“Can you just seat us, please?”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Fine...”

They were seated in a booth and given menus. Steve scanned it quickly and then closed the menu.

“Already decided?” Eddie asked as he perused his menu.

Steve laughed. “The mark of a good Italian restaurant is how good their lasagna is.”

Eddie laughed, too. “Fair enough.” He continued to look over the menu and then finally set it aside it.

“Made your decision, then?” Steve asked with grin.

Eddie smiled. “The chicken penne Gorgonzola looked amazing, so I’m going to give that a try.”

Dustin came over with a pad. “So what will it be?”

“I’ll have the lasagna and a blackberry Italian soda,” Steve said, handing the menu to Dustin.

“And for you?”

Eddie picked up the menu again. “Are the Italian sodas any good?”

“Dude, they are amazing,” Dustin gushed. “They’re flavored sodas with cream and will knock your socks off. I recommend the lemon or the orange to start.”

“If you like orange Dreamcicles,” Steve suggested, “the ice cream bar, orange is the one for you.”

“I’ll take an orange Italian soda and the chicken penne Gorgonzola with no mushrooms thanks.” Eddie handed back the menu with a grin.

“Coming right up!” Dustin said and went to the kitchen to put in their order.

Eddie turned to Steve. “You really didn’t have to go this nice on dinner. I would have happily taken McDonald’s.”

Steve laughed. “Having my car back is well worth a place with waiters, I assure you. Being able to get into my car after a gig night was a god send, let me tell you.”

“Are they bad? Busy wise, I mean,” Eddie asked.

“It depends on what kind of band or solo act is playing,” Steve explained. “I love punk or rock bands. They tip well and limit the assholery to a minimum. Pop and country though? Fuck those guys. Seriously. Pop especially.”

“Do you get any other kind of music?” Eddie asked. “I know Diamond was saying that they’ve never had a metal band before us.”

Steve scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “Some. I mean rap, hip hop and R&B aren’t very big out here. We have had some more blues and jazz, weirdly enough. But they haven’t been very good.”

Eddie grimaced. “Sounds a bit...racist?”

Steve scoffed. “Yeah, from the patrons, but not Diamond. His wife, Amethyst  is black and she manages the financial side of things. She’s got a real brain on her. And she’s always trying to get more of those acts in. They’re just not interested.”

Eddie nodded.

Dustin came back with their drinks and Eddie had his first sip of Italian soda.

“Holy fuck, man,” he hissed. “That is like the ice cream.”

Steve chuckled. “Told you. You want to try mine? It’s blackberry.”

Eddie reached over and grabbed his drink and took a sip. Steve bit his lip at the sight of Eddie’s lips around his straw.

“Oh,” Eddie said. “That’s interesting. I like that.” He slid the glass back over to Steve.

“It’s my favorite.”

They chatted while they waited and just caught up with each other’s lives.

Soon enough Dustin came out with their meals, deftly placing each dish in front of them.

“Enjoy!” he chirped before dashing back to kitchen.

They started eating so the talk slowed a bit. Though once or twice Eddie went off on a tangent and Steve had to nudge his ankle with his foot to remind him to eat.

“I just don’t get why you don’t want to play D&D...” Eddie whined. “It’s lots of fun. Especially if you get a good DM.”

Steve groaned. “I had a bad experience. A bunch of friends from my dorm my freshman year of college were really big into it. And I thought, sure. At least I’d be playing with people my own age...” Eddie raised a questioning eyebrow. “Will tried to get me to play with his friends. Anyway. I build my character. They were all level ten or whatever so they let me have a level ten wizard.”

Eddie smiled. “So far so good,” he said around a bite of food. He swallowed. “So what went wrong?”

Steve gave him a pained smile. “The DM let me use fireball in a narrow hallway to see I could open the locked door.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “What the fuck?”

“I killed everyone,” Steve finished with a grimace. “And destroyed all their magic items. My dormmate wouldn’t leave me alone the rest of the time I was rooming with him about how I destroyed three years of work in three seconds.”

“Sounds to me,” Eddie said, resting his head on his clasped hands, “that the DM used you to TPK because he was tired of DM’ing them.”

Steve furrowed his brows. “What’s TPK?”

Dustin happened to be passing by when he asked. “Oh my god, Steve, if you would just play. You would know these things.”

Eddie frowned up at him. “Hey. He was just telling me about his first time and so what if he didn’t know. That’s why he asked.” He turned to Steve. “It stands for total party kill. It’s when the DM offs everyone’s character all at once.”

“Only dick DMs do it,” Dustin said smugly.

Eddie ran his tongue over teeth. “I’ve done it before. The group spent more time arguing over rules and which rule book to use than actual playing. So I nuked them and refused to DM for them ever again.”

Dustin’s jaw dropped. “You DM?!”

Steve rolled his eyes, smug in the knowledge that he knew something that Dustin didn’t.

He waved his hand dramatically at Eddie. “Meet Will Byers’ infamous DM.”

Eddie bowed as well as he could sitting down. “You know Will the Wise?”

Dustin’s jaw dropped. “Know him? Dude, we gave him the nickname. Back when we were in middle school it was Will, me, Mike and Lucas. Will was our DM. It was awesome!”

“Small world,” Eddie murmured.

“Hell yeah!” He looked over at his mom and grimaced. “My mom’s giving me the stink eye. And she said to tell you, you aren’t getting a bill.” He skipped back to the kitchen.

“Shit,” Steve groused. “There goes me paying you back for fixing my car.”

Eddie laughed. “You still showed me a good time. Introduced me to some amazing food, a cool drink, and I blew some kid’s mind. I think we’re pretty well even.”

Steve smiled shyly. “If you’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Part 11  Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Epilogue

Tag List: @artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1 @scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @a-little-unsteddie @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @elluminis @tailsfromthecrypt @danili666 @plyerice27 @alittlegreyfish  @n0-1-important @no-upper-limit-to-stupidity @maya-custodios-dionach @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @heaven428 @thedragonsaunt @ceaselessly-watching

[madas-ahatters-world]

Day 1: Plead

Thanks to @bitbybitwrites for sharing this challenge with me, it's always fun when we do these challenges together! And to @klaineadvent for putting this Klaine fun together.

A day late, but here is Day 1 - plead:

It’d been a long day, and all Kurt wanted to do was put their seven-year-old twins to bed after an eventful day of Christmas shopping (and fighting off the urge to impulse shop for himself), and stuff his face with Ben and Jerry’s until his gorgeous husband arrived home. He then had plans to drag him upstairs to their bedroom, rip off his clothes, and devour him all. Night. Long.

Well, at least until midnight.

1:00 am tops. Their twins still tend to wake up at the crack of dawn.

It had been an hour past when he was due home, Kurt already having gone through a pint and a half of Minter Wonderland drizzled in chocolate syrup and whipped cream, when Blaine walked through the door of their very elaborate Christmas-decorated brownstone.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Kurt called out, having heard Blaine walk through their front door.

Blaine removed his jacket and hung it on the coat rack along with his work satchel, and walked toward the kitchen, undoing his bow tie. He found Kurt sitting on an island stool, in their kitchen, spoon hanging from his mouth, hunched over casually reading the latest holiday edition of Vogue.

“Hey baby, sorry I’m late.” Blaine greeted tiredly, tie undone, unbuttoning the first two clasps of his shirt. He leaned in gracefully to kiss Kurt on his lips, Kurt removing the spoon from his mouth, and meeting Blaine’s mouth on queue.

“Mmm, you taste delicious,” Blaine said flirtatiously, going in for another kiss.

Kurt chuckled as Blaine opened the refrigerator to grab a beer.

“I hadn’t intended on eating a pint and a half of this stuff, but - I was sitting here all alone, with no one to keep me company,” he said teasingly. “So, you know,” he shrugged, “when in Rome!” Kurt raised his dessert in a mock toast and returned to looking at his magazine.

Blaine was casually leaning his hip against the counter. “You’re so dramatic,” he said smiling at Kurt, as he brought the bottle of alcohol to his lips.

They were both feeling the itch, sexual tension now in full effect as their intimate needs had taken a backseat when the holiday season approached.  This was the busiest time of year for them both, juggling home life, work, and kids. Life got busy, and by the time they got home each evening, they didn’t have enough energy to take care of each other the way they loved. The way they always craved. 

“You’d be too if you spent the day fighting off savage Christmas shoppers with two 7-year-olds,” he replied, with mock snark and a flirtatious side-eye. Kurt flipped the page of his magazine as Blaine stood by the counter, seductively drinking his beer. Even though his glance was quick, Blaine could see his pleading eyes. He heard him loud and clear.

“Kids asleep?” Blaine asked taking another long sip.

“Of course,” Kurt replied. “They were exhausted by the time we got home. I made them a quick dinner, they took a bath, and knocked out in record time.” He flipped to another page.

Blaine placed his drink on the counter, proceeding to slowly untuck his shirt from his chinos. He sensuously ran his fingers through his hair, breaking apart those gelled-down curls. Kurt loved it when he did that.

Blaine walked over to Kurt, hugged him from behind, and began peppering his neck and jaw with delicate kisses.

“Have you taken a bath?” He asked in a low sultry voice.

“No. I was hoping we’d get dirty together and then soak in one after.” 

“After all these years, I love that you still feel the need to flirt with me.” Blaine chuckled.  “You know I’m a for sure thing, right?”

“But flirtatious foreplay is so much more fun,” Kurt smirked. “We’ve been so busy the last few weeks, I thought we could do with a little ice cream play. I also bought some chocolate syrup and whipped cream." Kurt winked. 

“Chocolate syrup, huh? You really do mean business,” Blaine teased.

“Mhm,” Kurt nodded, turning his head just enough to catch Blaine’s lips for a more heated kiss.

“Well then, Mr. Hummel-Anderson,” he said with one more lip smack. "Let’s get this ice cream social started.”

[possibilistfanfiction]

i’m begging for more ava + service dog

[teeny tiny thing for nye :)]

//

‘okay,’ bea says, surveying all of the decorations and food laid out everywhere, buttoning and unbuttoning the top clasp on her blouse, neatly tucked into her slacks. ‘i think everything is ready.’

‘everything looks great.’ you wheel over to where she’s anxiously straightening some napkins. ‘babe.’

bea swallows, waits a second before she takes the hand you offer her. 

‘hey,’ you say when you notice she might be about to cry. ’why are you so nervous? it’s a little party with people we love.’

she sniffles. ‘i know, i know. and i’m happy, ava; i’m so happy. there’s peace, and i have you and our home and our life.’

you wheel over to the couch so she can sit next to you; korra patters next to you dutifully, her tongue lolling in a happy little smile. bea sits stiffly, so you nudge korra, who happily moves to rest her head in bea’s lap, calming and gentle. 

‘beatrice, what’s wrong?’

she shakes her head, scratches korra’s soft fur. ‘sometimes i feel so anxious that the other shoe is going to drop.’

‘well, it kind of did.’ you gesture toward your chair with a small smile. your back had been really bad lately, even in the relatively mild cold in california, even after dr. salvius had done everything possible. it’s a new normal, different than when you’d been hurt before — there are so many people who love you, who want to make sure you have resources and accessibility and support and independence. you have korra, and beatrice, and a home that has grown warmer and more beautiful each and every day.  

‘you know i don’t think of anything you need like that,’ bea says, a little scolding, which makes your smile grow.

‘bea, i know that. i just — something hard happened. we dealt with it, we’re dealing with it. we have such a beautiful life, even with everything. because of everything.’ 

bea takes a deep breath and then meets your eyes; she lifts her hand to run it through your hair and then rests it on your cheek. 

‘life is going to happen, good and bad and mundane and revelatory.’ her face softens and she rests her forehead against yours, her new glasses — translucent sage green frames, round and, in your opinion, adorable — just barely slipping down her nose, over her freckles. ‘but, bea, we get to live it all together.’ 

she nods, and her smile grows more and more genuine. 

‘my love,’ you say, ‘it’s all i’ve ever wanted.’

she rubs her thumb along your cheekbone. ‘i love you. i love our life. i love it all, so much.’

you kiss her gently. ‘so then let’s celebrate, yeah? we have enough food and alcohol for a small army.’

‘small army?’ you hear, a familiar, laughing voice, after a whoosh somewhere in your kitchen. when you look up, camila, mother superion, and mary are there, along with lilith, who grumbles a ‘you’re welcome’ before grabbing a bottle of champagne and heading out to the patio. 

‘happy new year!’ camila says, and korra looks at you with eager eyes, her little butt starting to wiggle with how hard she’s wagging her tail. 

‘okay,’ you tell korra. ‘you can go say hi to your friends.’

she bounds over and bea stands with a smile, kisses the top of your head, and unbuttons the top two buttons of her shirt before walking over. mother superion wraps her in a tight hug and then bends down to do the same with you. no one comments on your chair — it’s been long enough now, and they never have, but it’s just part of your life, and who you are, and they love you. bea had been right all those years ago. everyone pets korra; even lilith wanders back in to scratch behind her ears. mary teases bea about her glasses and camila shows you the newest tech she’s designed. 

there’s ambient music and the waves outside, your friends all around. you eat too much food and drink probably too much champagne and, as it nears midnight, you take bea’s hand and settle out on the patio, korra asleep at your feet.

your friends — your family — count down from inside and you hold bea’s hand in yours, look at her so gently: the love of your life, in this one and the next. 

you kiss her as fireworks go off and camila blows a noisemaker; you feel her smile against your mouth. 

‘happy new year, bea.’

[luringfantasy]

One by One pt.5/7

PRELUDE

You were snooping around Loki's stuff to find his chest full of sex toys. He was not very pleased about it and has decided to punish you by using all his toys on you, one by one...

based on this imagine

previous main masterlist

Warnings: slight pet play? thigh riding, oral (m & f receiving), I think that's it let me know if I missed something, thankyou MINORS DNI

NO PROOF READING

Stupid author remarks in yellow.

LOKI'S VOICE IS A SEX WEAPON (part b of chapter 4)

Loki stirred, opening his eyes, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. How is his face so expressive at times? “Finally! Good girl” he said hoarsely, his hand gripping your own, moving it onto his crotch which bulged more and more in a matter of seconds. You knew what he wanted, so you got to work, undoing the ties of his black pants, he pulled the fabric enough to give you the access you wanted (needed).

You pulled out his glorious purpose (lmao sorry for that..) .. You pulled out his glorious cock using your hands to touch him as much as you could. It was on a colder side, you were using your hands to warm him up.

The heat coming from your hands was making him lose his control, but he held on to it, barely, for you. All he did was praise you, and moaned your name desperately.

After getting him nice and hard, and massaging his cock and thighs for a few minutes, you started planting small kisses and kitten licks along the shaft and at the head, which made him twitch in your hands. Sometimes he would buck his hips into your hands or mouth, control slipping from him in those moments, but usually he sat there relaxed enjoying the attention he was getting from you, calling you his good girl in his deep voice, only broken sometimes by his high pitched moans.

You went nice and slow, slowly taking him more in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. Sometimes letting him slip completely out of your mouth, and blowing a tasing stream of air on it. That seemed to catch him by surprise every time, but from the drops of precum that would leak during, was proof that he liked it.

Few minutes of this and Loki came all over himself, also getting some of his cum on you.

Before you could do anything he magicked away everything, leaving everything clean, and his pants tied up neat. You were very disappointed (I am too).

But your disappointment didn’t last very long, Loki pulled you up in his lap, and slowly started to unbutton your shirt. His eyes never left your, it was too intense, you were struggling to maintain eye contact, but you had a feeling that if you looked away he won’t appreciate it.

With your last button undone, Loki promptly places his hands on your waist, kneading your flesh there. This time you closed your eyes and let a moan slip from your lips. “Sinful. So good for me.” Loki praised you, while his hands traced you back, reaching to undo the clasp of your bra. He then magicked away the garment, leaving your shirt intact. This confused you a little but you didn’t question. You were enjoying the proximity with him. Lost in the feeling of his hands all over you, it took you a while to realize that the only piece of clothing on you was your shirt. Loki had magicked away your pants and panties, and his leather pants were getting stained by your arousal.

But it felt so good, the feel of leather on your lower lips was something very new and exciting for you. His hands moved back to your waist, gently guiding you to move along his thigh, high thick thigh, his strong thigh, his leather clad warrior thigh. He pushed you down a little and you gasped, the simulation was now very direct. You moaned his name, while he kept moving you back and forth, flexing his thigh whenever needed, making little gasp leave you. Sometimes even moving you side to side, spicing things up a little.

You were not in control, you were just a body experiencing pleasure at the hands of this very handsome man, or rather this ethereal god!

“Oh God!” you exclaimed as you came. It was a different experience, thing were nice and slow and so fucking pleasurable for the first time with Loki. You slumped over him, too tired to hold yourself up on your own, while he pushed your shirt down, planting small kisses over your shoulder and neck, making you squirm on his lap.

“Fuck me Loki” you demanded, voice still sounding breathy from the intensity of you ‘first orgasm’.

Loki just smirks at you and lifts you up, walking you to the couch beside the armchair. He quickly places you down climbing up on you, strandling you quickly before you change your mind about anything. His hands start wandering on your body and you know he is going to be a tease, not giving you what you want, rather need, immediately. All you can do is take it. You wanted to be good.

You whined and moaned, whimpering, whenever he touched a sensitive spot on your body. His fingers traced your neck, your back and breast, reaching your sensitive inner thighs and arms. The sensation was almost ticklish, barely there, leaving you yearning for more.

After being satisfied by his work (making a desperate mess out of you), he starts to get off of you. You were looking anywhere but at him, not being able to take his teasing AND maintain eye contact. It was too intense, and he did not ask you too.

He moans around your swollen clit. “What the fuck!” you didn’t realize when he went down there, he didn't give you any warning, or touched you there, just reached out and took what he wanted to (in his mouth). 

You can’t stop yourself from grinding against his face, his tongue. It felt heavenly. He would suck on your clit for a while, then give you kitten licks, maintaining a steady pace, which was slow but extremely precise. You were climbing the ladder steadily. But he didn’t like it. You moving meant he wouldn’t be able to give you PRECISELY what he wanted to, and that wouldn’t work now would it?

His hands gripped your hips, tightening his hold on you whenever you tried to move even a little bit. That would probably leave bruises!

What’s worse was that everytime you tried to move, he would slow down a little, or change pace abruptly, stringing you up tighter and tighter, but letting you fall down a little bit in between. (I guess there’s no Loki without some fun and frustration).

So you focused solely on keeping steady, but with no ropes and cuffs to keep you in place, it was really difficult, self control at times like these wasn’t really your thing!

“Be good.” he growled, moving one hand down to gather your slick from the entrance, and swirling it around. The dual sensation, however faint, had you howling in pleasure. An expression of “I know I am a god in bed too” crossed across his eyes. The cocky bastard! You wanted to roll your eyes at him for this, but as his fingers entered you, your orgasm had you rolling your eyes instead.

“Fuck!” you wailed, and screamed not able to keep yourself steady. But Loki still kept a firm grip on you, fingers seeking out all the sensitive spots on your wall, massaging them, simulating them very very slowly, dragging this out for you for as long as possible.

It was too intense, everything turned white behind your closed eyes, your body stretched and stiff, experiencing the best orgasm ever, and your ears started ringing.

Loki’s POV

She looked absolutely delicious when she came. I wanted her to come on my cock for so long! But making her wait was worth it. The way her cunt tightened around my fingers was absolutely sinful. And now I fuck her!

I .. wait, did she just pass out on me?! ‘Oh you little minx, is this how you repay me? Or this revenge on me for making you wait?’ I chuckled saying this, knowing full well that my little pet was in deep sleep.

I undressed her completely. Her body was glowing from the layer of sweat it had on it now. She looked like an angel. 

It was very difficult for me to clean her off without sneaking in touches here and there. After I cleaned her I wrapped her in the fuzziest thing I could find, which she snuggled with instantly. Looking absolutely adorable, my nosy little pet!

I knew she was bothered by something. And I was surprised that she came to me seeking her solace. But now that it has happened, I am glad she came to me. 

I am enjoying playing with her. She is more resilient than I thought. Maybe sometime when she is good like today I can reward her instead of punishing her.

Your POV

You woke up in a warm butter bowl. Wait no, that’s not correct. So.. You woke up naked with the softest fuzzy blanket wrapped around you. You find your phone and check the time to realize that you have been sleeping for 4 hours. You take a few minutes to think about what happened, with you in the office and with Loki. You couldn’t help but smile at it.

“DING” (internal brain noises). Call it post coitus clarity or whatever. The ding of your brain had you reaching for the bath gown and rushing out the door, you knew how to solve the issue at the office.

As you walked towards the apartment door, Loki called after you, looking a bit confused, asking you where you were going dressed like that. “Loki, there’s this office thing, and I. I have to attend to it. I have an idea. I won’t bore you with the details. I have to go. Quickly.” you said words, not in that particular order.

Loki though seems to have understood, as his magic dressed you up quickly. You turn around to leave. But stop to look at Loki and whisper a small thankyou. As you reach for the door handle, you feel him right behind you, How?

“You won't be thanking me when I see you on Saturday darling, I still need to fuck you. I hope you rest well little minx, because I don't plan on stopping like I did today” he growls, and licks your ear, making you blush deeply. You start leaving but at the last moment turn around to get on your tiptoes and plant a small kiss on Loki’s cheek. Loki’s eyes widen a little, and his features are adorned with the cutest smile you have seen on him.

You didn't admit it before but you did not, you were looking forward to Saturday.

(here's a gif of THAT smile, enjoy lovelies)

Thankyou so so much for reading my work. I think this series is reaching its end. I will soon start working on my first kinkoctober works. Please leave a link/name of writers/works who do kinkoctober. I need references. Thanks again! Love you all!!

next

[xthexkillingxgroundsx]

@fearxtoxfreedom asked: a drunk Tara coming home and curling up in hers and Jax's bed not reailzing Gemma's in there after having fucked someone else with the strap on (they're gone but might come back to fetch their panties or left their bra or some shit :)) and getting a little touchy feely with Gemma's still attached fleshy strap on. (I must send thi sback this sounds :)))) )

Vision blurred, unsteady footsteps threatened to crack her ankle or heel (likely both). Clack said heels against the pavement. Ugh... She should NOT have had so much to drink with Lyla tonight. Why did she keep letting gangster wives and gutterwhores enable these parts of her personality. (The parts she never wanted to admit existed in the first place.) God, her head fucking HURT. But she was back now. She'd made it back, finally. Safe and sound. HOME. Where Thomas and Abel were sleeping soundly, and... "Jax?" Door creaked open as she slurred the single syllable of his name, tripping over the doorstep and leaning against the wall for support. "Jax?" Was he seriously still at the Clubhouuu-- And there went the wall, well her legs as her heel trembled twisting at her ankle. WHOA. WHOA. WHOA. FUCK. Catching herself again, she wasted little time in shucking those stupid heels off, bare feet against hardwood -- MUCH BETTER. She took a breath, running a hand through her hair and smiling to herself, snorting at her own drunken idiocy. Hand ran down from dark locks to rub at her eyes and she yawned, groaned out. Fuck. She was tired. And drunk. Drunk and tired.

With that, she set course for the bedroom, pausing just long enough to peek in at the kids room. Both were OUT COLD. Gemma did a damn good job tonight. Shit. Right... Gemma was here. Probably sleeping on the couch, since she wasn't on the daybed... "Sorry, Gem..." She murmured drunkenly under her breath before barging open the door to her own room. Hands lazily reached for the front clasp of her bra -- ALWAYS have a front clasp when going out. Not only was it ease of access for OTHERS, but it was ease of access for her own damn drunken self. Pulling it out from the side of her sleeveless blouse, she went to work unbuttoning and shuffling out of her--... Eyes widened. "Oh? Jax?" She smiled to herself. Seemed she wasn't the ONLY one who made it home, safe and sound, after all. "Hey, baby~..." Another slur, jeans slipped off, leaving her in a sleeveless blouse that opened at the front of a pair of black lace panties. She smiled to hersef, smirking, biting her lip. Maybe she wasn't tired after all? Step by step, she approached the bed, fingers peeling away the buttons of said blouse, shrugging out of it, too. Just her panties left. Time for the surprise~...

She crawled into bed behind the figure and pressed her tits up against their back shifting forward against them, panty clad pussy grinding against their ass, hand reaching over running over jeans and reaching for the bulge beneath denim. "Hey there baby..." She repeated again, kissing their shoulder, eyes lidded, she couldn't see a damn THING in the dark, and she damn sure wasn't sober enough to make HEADS OR TAILS OF IT. "Oh? Someone's rising early~..." Hand rubbed at their crotch, teasing at their cock through the denim before fingers found the button at their waistband, snapping it open and reaching in, wrapping around the fleshy rod. "Oh? No wonder yer wearin' jeans... You cold baby? Need me to warm you up?" Hard nipples pierced soft flesh, hand beginning to run up and down the thick length of their cock, soft, practised, drunken, dumb as fuck strokes. Was Jax ALWAYS this big? Shrug. Clit was throbbed, heart racing. She was SO FUCKING TURNED ON. Lips pressed to their neck, suckling at their skin, she continued her rhythmic pumps, fishing their cock out fully from their pants, hips still grinding, pussy finding friction through lace against coarse denim. FUCK. A nip of their neck, hot breath cascading out as she gasped in anticipatory pleasure...

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

I love Marcus Pike and I'm pretty sure he has a thing for fancy underwear. Anything from high-end bras to corsets and stockings. He is a lingerie man.

So - underwear kink? Pretty please?

YES!!!!! YES HE IS!!!! OMG does Marcus Pike EVER have a lingerie fetish. He'd love you all dolled up in something cuuuuuute and lacy and sexy.

(Not to beat the dead horse of Control but HE LOVES AN OUTFIT LOL)

He loves the idea that you'd wear something just for him.

(Smut, 18+ under the cut)

He wants to savor every last bit of you so, so slowly. He wants to consume you. It's his possessiveness showing through again in this kink--you wore this for him. He gets to see you like this. He does see it as a gift--the gift of you.

I think Marcus would go crazy over any sexy lingerie, but I think he'd love something over-the-top feminine the most. It's the dichotomy for him--seeing you in the prettiest, pale lace, maybe with little bows on the stockings (HELLO this man has a daddy kink) and then getting to defile you.

Depending on his mood, he's either endlessly careful and patient, slowly drawing those silky thigh-highs down your legs and unbuttoning each clasp on your corset on by one, taking his time unwrapping this pretty little gift that you've given him.

OR, after a bad day perhaps, the sight of you in some pretty pale pink lingerie makes him want to ruin it. He wants you to leave it on, then. Wants to bite your tits through the lace and lick you through the fabric of your underwear until it's soaked. He wants to hastily shove it to the side when he sinks his cock into your heat and takes what he needs. Normally, this man loooooves a creampie, but when he's being feral like this? He'll pull out and make a mess of that pretty material, instead. He'll make sure he gets all of it--on your bra and those pretty little panties. Maybe he even rubs it into the fabric, too, all the while whispering that you're his perfect, beautiful girl.

[mellowwhumps]

Whumperless Whump Event Day 29 + 30: A robbery | One of many hostages | “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.” || Fear | Breaking point | “I can’t stop crying, I’m sorry—”

OCs: Ida, Ibys (AU of AU) — 2.2K words

CW: !!!! panic-driven self-harm + attempted suicide but the whumpee can’t quite die anyway, the pronoun ‘it’ being used for dehumanisation

@whumperless-whump-event

——

It’s over. Organisation destroyed. Half-bomb inside him rendered nonfunctional after help. Ida can’t exactly go back to his hometown, much too unsure, so right now he’s done nothing but rent a place with some spare money, some dingy flat that was barely enough to fit three people. 

Needless to say, he was thankful for any fresh air.

The person beside him wasn’t much for talking, let alone requesting anything, undoubtedly still used to their past. Hence, that day, he was bringing them to get new clothes. To simulate choice. It’s a screwed-up act, really.

Of course it had to go wrong. His luck was never too good. Shopping mall, jewellery in the next section, intruders, warning shots fired. A robbery.

He could probably take care of them easily. The robbers hold their gun wrong, stance merely an attempt to make them look powerful enough to assert authority. He’s not scared of them. 

Until one of them sees his expression and catches a glimpse of false gold under his sleeve and singular glove, revealed with his hands raised. Until they start pointing guns to his head instead. For a second, his resolve falters, and that is all the encouragement Ibys needs. 

They catch his gaze, staring at him with near-frenzied eyes momentarily before setting his sights on the intruders, undoubtedly trying to come up with a plan. Ida distracts them, pretending to unbutton the clasps of his prosthetic.

Fleet-footed and lethally graceful, they strike, downing one man and moving on to another. There are weak spots, the result of being the only one doing the job; he covers for them, knocking the final two out. The other hostages watch on in silence; he can make a decent theory on what’s on their minds. No matter. 

“Stay behind me next time, sir,” they snap, “and do not try to help. I am capable enough to fend for the both of us.”

They’re breathing heavily, clearly paying more attention to their actions rather than their words. Lapsing back into formality. He was so close in getting them to loosen up, and now they won’t look anywhere but the bodies.

It’s unlike them to speak first.

“Ibys. There won’t be a next time. We were just at the wrong place, at the wrong time. And of course I’d assist you, why wouldn’t I?” 

“Sir, I can take a hit, sir. My job is as such. Better me than you, since injuries do not affect me, I was trained for this purp—”

“Screw your purpose! You don’t have a purpose, okay? It’s already over, it’s over!”

——————

It had been a long few months since it met him, there in that cell. Where it once longed for a wielder, there he was, treating them perhaps a little odd, but otherwise leniently. A weapon should not have so many thoughts, they think.

Time passes. They have not yet been put to another use, apart from helping him with the things he could not do. They have not yet had a hand laid on them, pushing or shoving or having a knife wedged into their chest.

It is peaceful. They were not meant for peace.

In the end, they’re expendable. A prototype, something made for the improvement of others. When time passes and they get older, it only gets worse, because the younger are more efficient, more capable, even with their experience. 

They get picked to be thrown away and broken, to test their limits, to see how far they truly can go. Between one hell to the next, they never had a choice; this obedient little thing.

More arrive, and those subjects speak out of turn, or mess up their handler’s office, or act weak. Nothing happens. They can’t be like them. They are always waiting for something to happen, some command or instruction or easily comprehensible thing.

And then, the request happens. 

If it fell apart, right then and there, it did not know how best to describe it. So they head to his office, do not take a deep breath in, and say: they are leaving. That is all they have to report.

He asks: Why?

He questions: Are you coming back?

He inquires: Will I be going with you?

It wants to answer: Sorry. 

Instead, the weapon does not say anything. Apologies are not what something like them should ever have in their vocabulary. They, the subject; he, the owner. That was all there ever was to it. Their handler should be getting the documents soon.

They stand, as far as they ever were, and raise a hand to salute. As they walk away, they realise they don’t know how else to bid farewell. 

Subject, object. Their words never did prove anything to him, even as informal as they forced their speech to be, as per instruction.

They turn the corner and try not to look back.

——————

Ida enters the room, not expecting anyone. Their assistant was sent to ‘serve’, according to the documents. He knows it’s a polite way of saying they won’t be coming back. Like how he shouldn’t be alive, at this very moment, in this very office.

Like how they shouldn’t be. But they’re here anyway, standing silently and inconspicuously by a corner. No greeting like he’d taught them to. Pure, contained silence.

When the door opens, he sees them reach for the hilt of their weapon. Tense.

He remembers, then, hiding behind whatever he could find. Trying to curb the shaking of his hands enough to fire a bullet, where a long time ago he’d have hit bullseyes with. No amount of training could have prepared anyone for the real thing.

There are no comforting words said, no reassurance. That would make it worse. It already happened, after all. Besides, whatever odd relations they had should not involve such things. 

Instead, he tells them to report. What comes isn’t what he could ever expect. Some mishmash of chaos and conflict, them in the middle, because the others thought they showed enough capability to handle everything on their own. Like cowards. 

Ibys does nothing but obey. That is what they were taught to do, and that is what they were doing now. Report. He feels rather sorry for them, trapped in some past regime. They’re both trapped.

Their hand presses into the blade of their knife, taken out at some point, healing so fast no scar forms at all, the only trace of injury being the blood splattering on the off-white floor. When they get to describing their wounds in perfect detail, up to the length of the incision made, that’s when he tells them to stop. 

They do. Their eyes focus. They look down at the weapon, likely just about to cut through their bone and react, yanking it away from their arm and dropping it to the floor with a clatter before standing stock-straight, limbs locked, bracing themself. 

He’s more concerned with the dried blood on the blade. It would have been nothing unusual, if he had not known better. 

The knife is always kept clean. From washing it under a sink after prior permission to wiping it on the inside of the coat, all to keep it from tarnishing. It’s not the slowest of tasks. By all means, the cleaning should have been done.

It isn’t. To him, that says more than enough. 

Ibys was rushing here.

——————

They live to serve, and when they aren’t serving, to wait for another order. So no, they have to have a purpose, because to have a purpose is to be needed, proof that they aren’t broken, proof that they can be wielded, this rusted weapon. Because when it’s over, their only choice was to be on the battlefield. 

But it is, isn’t it? The data assistant that worked with them for some time and then went missing for a whole other long period of time barged into the laboratory and started bringing it down. He knew where the power supply was, the emergency power supply as well. All without turning off a single life support system. 

It ended, albeit with casualties, but it ended. Some happy ending, like the fairytale book they once were allowed to take a peek out of. They’re not meant to be there at all. Without a purpose, they’re—

—metal touches their skin and they react and—

—Ida falls to the ground, crimson blossoming on his left sleeve. His eyes are blown wide, his breathing heavy. They’ve hurt him. Simple as that. Hadn’t kept the wounds to themself and themself only, since nobody else ever wanted that. Lashed out. Hurt his handler.

The weapon takes a step back. The weapon turns its namesake on itself, positioning it where its failsafe should have been, because if it is decommissioned then it cannot do the same thing anymore, cannot be a threat, can therefore keep its handler safe, safe, safe. Amidst it all, that is the order ingrained into them, the one order they cannot disobey. They do, anyway.

They are tackled to the floor using nothing but body weight, rolling away on instinct before they get crushed. Their hands move to stabilise themself on the ground. They would have fought back were it not for the clear, sharp cry of pain beside them, Ida’s prosthetic now sparking, both arms practically unfunctional. 

“Ibys…you can’t just do that—! Don’t scare me like that! Nnnn…please…” He makes a failed attempt to get up, staring at them with helpless, helpless eyes as he tries again. A small audience watches on, whispering. Scared. Fearful. All of them.

Nobody is helping Ida up. And even though they know they can’t help, still they want to. What were they even thinking earlier? They…they’re not usually that impulsive.

Despite everything, they still rush forward. They could hurt him. But if they leave him then they may as well be worse than dead.

There’s a wetness on their cheeks. Something that curls from the skin of his throat and rises. They want to scream, even as they try to hold this foreign feeling back, press their hands to the wound as though staining them could somehow solve everything. 

They were made to fight. They don’t know how else to help.

Water obstructs their vision, now, and they rub it away. Almost immediately, it’s replaced by another round of saltwater.

“Why, why can’t it…can’t I…s-sir…” There’s a quiver in their voice that certainly wasn’t there before. A weak little thing they want to chase out, but the more they think about it, the weaker it gets. In front of everyone who depended on them, no less. It takes them a long, long moment to realise they aren’t—

“—Breathe. I’m alright, I promise, the cut wasn’t too deep. Let’s go away so…so nobody stares at you. It’s making it worse.” They can’t. They can barely even move their legs “Hey. Look at me.” They rub their eyes until it burns and look.

“I’m not scared of you, see?”

It’s a lie, no doubt. It’s clear in the way he holds himself, subtle flinches that don’t escape their gaze. Yet, and yet, his voice is calm with nothing but the truth, not soothing or deep, but his voice nonetheless. They…they want to listen. They will always listen to him, listen to the familiarity of his speech and the accent of his words.

“Sir, I…I can’t stop this, apologies, sir—” 

“It’s a process. You get used to it.” He shifts his position on the floor, smiling even as he winces, strong in a way only he could pull off. “Don’t bother trying to stop the tears.”

A string pulls taut inside them, not quite snapping but enough to send them over the edge, dropping to their knees with a cry. It’s visceral, yearning, the way it just doesn’t end. They’re a mess, but in that moment, they can’t quite think of anything else apart from the way he’s letting them sob into the cloth of his shirt. 

He’s warm. They haven’t ever gotten so close to anyone before, and realise how much they want it. This greedy, all-consuming desire for more, the feeling that had perhaps driven them forward this whole time. Ida talks and they don’t even bother listening, merely hearing the words envelop their body in a certain sort of inexplicable peace. 

Alive, they think. Alive. 

Just that sends another round of sobs escaping their mouth. They stay there forever, perhaps, or a minute, and in that moment they don’t care about anything but the sound of his false heartbeat by their ear.

——

“That’s not what I meant just now, you know? You can still have a purpose. It simply doesn’t need to be because anyone else forced you to. You don’t have to do everything alone either.”

“You hurt your arm, sir. Both of them. I have to assist you, sir.”

“Do you want to?”

“…Yes.”

“Then that can be your purpose now, since you want it! Until we figure out something better when ‘Wen fixes my prosthetic. I take care of you, you take care of me, got it? So stay alive in the meantime.”

“…I take care of you, you take care of me. Instruction received,s—Ida.”

“You like me talking, right? I noticed that a long, long time ago.”

[amysterywrappedinanenigma]

Ranking (bullying) LD Curtain's season 2 fashion choices

Because even if the show seems to have forgiven him, I sure haven’t. 

DISCLAIMER: This is in NO WAY criticizing the costume designers of this show- it couldn’t be farther from that. They’ve done an amazing job with every single piece in the show, and all of these fit Curtain’s personality and aesthetic perfectly. This is just me mocking the in-universe fashion choices that the character makes, because he needs to be bullied more. All lighthearted, all in good fun.

Disclaimer #2: I know literally nothing about fashion, please don’t attack me. 

Okay, from least heinous to most heinous, here we go! 

First up:

As much as it pains me to admit this. I actually. Really like this one. (”And if you told me I would never say something like that, well, I would never say something like that, but here we are.”) I think the silhouette is interesting, and all of the pieces come together well. Plus, in some of the tighter shots you can see that the fabric texture and detailing is really cool:

The leaves as clasps and that crinkly texture kind of really slap, and I really love the way the collar sort of wraps into the placket.

8 / 10

Interview outfit:

Wow, look! Another one that doesn't inspire immediate feelings of rage! We're doing so well.

This one isn't as visually interesting as the first outfit, but I do sort of like it. The collar folds create kind of a cool shape, and the grey accents under the top is a nice little contrast. I don't know how I feel about the zipper right below the collar, it's kind of a weird choice and might look better if it wasn't so visible, but I'll let it slide for this one since we have a much more heinous zipper situation coming up later.

I like the contrasting shades of blue with the button up shirt, and the lavender shirt he wears under it later in the episode, and the fact that part of the collar can kind of fold down to make a different shape.

6 / 10

Clown sleeves:

So the sleeves on this one are. kind of a lot. But they gain a couple of points for being the only thing in this outfit that really pops. They're sort of weird, but I can see the appeal of them standing out against the black vest, and being a pretty nice contrast that draws the eye.

5 / 10

Meh:

Time for the part of the post where I include 6 outfits that I just kind of don't have strong opinions on, mainly because they feel like pretty standard, decent outfits with no real reason to bat an eye at them.

The last image is saved on my computer as "are those your pajamas?" but. acceptable.

sure / 10

Dancy dance:

🧍‍♂️

I don't have much to say about this one other than, for some reason, the visual of him wearing tennis shoes makes me viscerally uncomfortable.

🤡 / 10

Elizabeth Holmes Chic:

He looks like a kid playing dress-up in their dad's giant overcoat, except someone let him go outside looking like this. I know oversized clothing items can be fashionable but here he's like drowning in it.

And then when he takes the coat off:

This maybe wouldn’t be a terrible outfit, it’s just so goddamn pretentious. He seems like he's trying to look like Steve Jobs, but ended up looking more like Elizabeth Holmes.

about to start another pyramid scheme / 10

Vacation dad (derogatory):

On someone else I might like this outfit, but on him it just looks so dumb. He looks like he's about to go skydiving with how much he's buttoned up. Better watch out or he could get carried away and spend 20 minutes unstrapping and unbuttoning it to reveal his fun little vacation shirt underneath! It's somehow stupidly formal and stupidly casual at the same time, and I just think it's a very silly little outfit. He's joining the army as penance for his fashion crimes. If you ask very very nicely he might tell you what's in his four huge, weirdly-placed pockets.

what's in the pockets / 10

And now.

We've arrived. We're finally here. The last one. The moment we've all been waiting for.

The worst of the worst:

I'll be honest, I don't really know where to start this one. There are too many things to choose from. Do I start with the weird asymmetrical pattern on the sleeves, with the red and blue stripes that aren't even made up of the same type of pattern?

Or maybe the fact that the buttons (and the piece of fabric they're attached to) ends too high above the neckline of the top layer?

Or we could talk about the fact that the top layer looks like one of those smocks you'd wear to get an x-ray at the dentist, made in a fabric that must have been rescued from the back of a fabric store after 50 years of not being bought.

I think by far the worst part is the length:

The fact that those strange little smock flaps go almost a foot past the zipper, halfway down to his knees. It swallows like 2/3rds of his body in this horrible block of grey fabric, and this man has the audacity to carry himself like it’s fashionable, instead of an assault on the senses. 

I want to set it on fire. I want to burn him along with it. I want to gently take his tailor aside and ask if Curtain held him at knife point and made him design this monstrosity. TEAR IT TO PIECES, GET IT OUT OF MY SIGHT, TURN IT INTO SCRAPS FOR SQ'S ART PROJECTS.

Anyway.

This outfit is such a menace to this world that I thought everyone should get a chance to tear it to shreds, so presenting, the communal roast:

“GROSS. SHUN.” -@mvshortcut

"prison chic. dentist x-ray chic. ugly." -@mysteriouseggsbenedict 

“the terrible zip up vest that just keeps on going fucked a potato sack” -@bi-demon-ium

“runway model for the most pretentious fashion designer who ever lived” - @sqenthusiast

“Trying to be casual but also Better Than You. The definition of 'you really thought you did something there'” -@echo-delta

“Child with one of those books where you can draw clothes over top the shape of a person” -@mysteriouseggsbenedict 

“Mr Curtain sir I don’t feel very happy looking at this. I think it’s a little counterproductive.” -@mvshortcut

Truly horrendous.

borrowing constance's acid to destroy the outfit and then clean the eyes of anyone who wants to forget they saw this monstrosity / 10

Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me, and as always, send the x-ray bib to hell.

[honey-beann]

Any chance we can get an excerpt from any of your WIPs? I’m starving over here 😩

Oh dear, you're starving?! Well we can't have that, can we?

Here's a little taste of something I've been working on recently. It's unedited and needs some polishing, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless:

(18+ only!!!)

"I'm sorry Captain, But I think I misheard you, could you repeat that please?"

You asked incredulously, trying to ignore the amused and piercing brown gaze of the android who was standing a few feet behind you, his expression immensely pleased in a manner you had seen many times before, particularly in situations you should not have been considering at work. That being said, you could hardly call thinking of those things the least work friendly thing you'd done concerning the haughty individual in question,

Not after what had happened in the interrogation room,

and the bullpen after hours,

and the captain's desk,

and the back of a squad car,

and the front of a squad car,

and the evidence room,

the last of which was exactly the reason why you were stunned at the idea of Fowler asking you to work with the man who stood behind you.

You and Sixty had a past, one that had gotten the two of you all but barred from even being in the same room together. Sure, you'd never dated, (Sixty had seen to ensuring that didn't happen), but even still, he had witnessed more of your body than most of your past dates ever had, and typically that didn't make for a good partnership. Especially when you had gotten caught.

You could still remember that day so vividly it nearly drove you mad.

His amused and slightly darkened tone of voice as he asked for your "assistance".

The way he had spun your desk chair around and forced you to face him when you'd attempted to shrug him off.

His smug expression as you relented after allowing your eyes to scan him as he stood before you, one arm poised on your chair as the other slowly made a show of rolling up the right sleeve of his dress shirt, which was unbuttoned in that same slightly too revealing way that it always was.

As annoying as he could be, and as much as you so desperately wanted to say no, the growing heat between your legs that had begun the very moment he had murmured your name against your ear had you following him all too easily to the evidence room, no matter how much of a bad idea you knew it had been.

You still remembered the way you'd grabbed at the front of his shirt upon entering the room, letting him back you up against the nearest surface as you tugged him closer and kissed him hungrily, desperate to both have him closer and to silence any remarks he had planned on making.

He had chuckled into your mouth at your eagerness, but ultimately elected not comment, his deft fingers making quick work of the button on your pants as he pressed his knee between your already quivering thighs, applying a pleasure that felt almost torturous as you began to rock steadily against him, fingers clawing at his shoulders and wrinkling the fabric of his white dress shirt.

You'd whimpered out his name at the sudden contact, head falling back into his waiting palm as he cooed mockingly at you, reminding you of how well he knew your every quirk, movement, and need, as he lowered his head down to undo the buttons of your blouse with his teeth, allowing his tongue to dance across the exposed flesh each undone clasp revealed as he did so.

"Always so eager for me, but I'm the whore?"

He murmured, referencing the comments made about him around the office as he chuckled against your skin,

"If only they could see you now, hm? I wonder what they'd have to say about the way you whimper for me like a bitch in heat before I've even undressed you."

You let out a groan at his words, aroused and humiliated as you desperately tried to bring him closer, fighting back a whine when he pulled back slightly, his knee still grinding against your heat as he reached up to unbutton his shirt so he could press his synthetic skin against your own.

"God, what a pretty little mess you make. I have half a mind to-"

Sixty was cut off by the sound of a familiar voice coming from just outside the door to the evidence room, and you both froze when you realized who it was.

"And this here is our evidence room. We have a very high-tech system that allows us to-"

Captain Fowler cut himself off as he opened the door to the previously locked room and turned his head to gaze inside, only to be met with the sight of two of his most talented (and particularly hard to manage) agents interlocked against the terminal, one nearly shirtless while the other had a hand raised to his shirt, clearly preparing to become just as undressed as you, if not more so.

You fought the urge to flinch as a camera shutter sound clicked from behind the captain, where a group of touring high schoolers were standing.

"Well shit."

Sixty muttered, both of you frozen as Fowler's hands balled into angry fists at his sides.

This was not good.

And it hadn't been.

Three months probation with the promise of the two of you never being left alone again had been the punishment, and even then, you'd never truly believed you'd be able to earn Fowler's trust back again.

So why was he asking you to partner up with Sixty for an undercover drug bust in the south part of the city?

And how the hell could this possibly result in anything but disaster?

[genshinboys]

Thigh job with Genshin Boys - Xiao

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Fem reader x Xiao

When you enter your flat, a handsome but grumpy Yaksha is sitting cross-legged on your bed resting his chin in the palm of his small hand. He grimaces and shoots something that can be referred to as a death stare in your direction. 

Here we go again. You think to yourself as you close the door behind you.

„You are late.” He basically growls at you fixing you with another menacing glare.

„It’s nice to see you too, Baby.” You approach the sulking adeptus and lean in to kiss his forehead but, alas, he backs away and frowns in turn.

„Oh, no kisses then?” A smile on your face but a sneer in your voice makes his blood boil.

It is like a match in a powder barrel.

„Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N!” He warns. „I know all of your cheap tricks.”

You let out an annoyed huff. Arms crossed on your chest.

„Why would you even ask when I saw you following me all the damn time, hmm?” You accuse your boyfriend, gazing right into Xiao's averting eyes.

„I wasn’t follow-,” and then he goes silent knowing fully well that lying isn’t an option with you.

„So?” You nag, hoping for any kind of response. „No need to be this jealous, Xiao.”

„Don’t get weird ideas in your head.” The boy deadpans. „I’m not jealous!” He defends himself but it doesn’t sound convincing enough even for his own ears. He blushes and turns his head away.

You let out a sigh and smile warmly at your boyfriend’s pettiness.

Does he even realise how cute he is? You briefly wonder and then you reach for his silky hair and ruffle it affectionately.

It’s been a taxing, full of ups and downs journey since you met the haunted by karmic debt Yaksha. At first, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You were just another bothersome individual and he could not care less about your existence. It was unnerving. He was snarky, seething with rage for no reason, hiding his feelings for so long that it seemed to you that they were going to explode inside of him one day leading to his utter despair and demise. You got to know about his past and the weight of his karmic debt from Zhongli. You took pity. Somehow you felt compelled to help the boy, regardless of his repulsive demeanour. The golden-eyed Yaksha was of a different opinion, though. 

Xiao didn’t want you to get close to him. He couldn’t make any sense of your stubbornness. Why would you even want to have anything to do with him? Him? 

A barbaric monster, eaten up alive by remorse and regret. 

A blood-thirsty fiend whose sole purpose of breathing is to slaughter and spread fear wherever he shows his face. 

These were the thoughts so deeply engraved in his unfortunate soul that he couldn’t allow anyone to come near him.

He perceived himself as a hollow, barren of any human emotions vessel. The only feelings he was familiar with were pain and the burden of his legacy that he is forced to carry up to this day.

Bizarrely, as time had passed he was taken aback by some unfamiliar sensation of tightness in his chest. It wasn’t painful. Nothing that would come close to the distress caused by the divine will. It wasn’t permanent, either. It only happened in your presence, as Yaksha would hesitantly observe. Sometimes it got even worse. It would be accompanied by this fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

„Why are you this close? Huh? Do you have a death wish?”

„Move, I don’t have time to sit around and be idle like you do.”

„You have no respect for the adepti. Stop fooling around.” 

The more he pushed you away the more you were determined to lure him in. You couldn’t stop laughing when one day Zhongli informed you that the troubled Yaksha came to him to seek advice regarding this weird tightness in his chest and an upset stomach when you were around. 

And so, you smile fondly at your boyfriend as he yanks your hand away not liking the way you tousle the emerald green strands.

„I’m sorry XIao. I didn’t mean to be late. Just wanted to buy some jewellery.” You point to your thigh to get the adeptus’ attention back where it should be, which is you, not the wall.

Xiao glances at your thigh doing his best to remain impassive and uninterested. Unfortunately, his eyes widen a little and his mouth is somehow stuck hanging open as if he were to say something but the words never come out.

„You saw me bargaining with the shopkeeper, nothing wrong about that, right?” You explain to the adeptus currently captivated by the glimmering golden chain adorning your thigh.

Xiao has a lot to learn when it comes to dealing with his own emotions. You are acutely aware of that. He doesn’t know how to react, how to show that he cares or process what he feels. He doesn’t also entirely understand the purpose of half of the things that you insist on doing to him. Playful bites, tickling, holding his hand in public. He doesn’t question these actions even though it’s all a novelty. He does know for sure that it makes him feel flustered and all hot inside. 

Does he despise it? No. 

Would he like for you to continue? The answer to that question is definitely affirmative but Xiao is not going to admit it out loud. 

He also has no clue how to initiate all of these things. Is he supposed to bite you back as well? What if he hurts you? Everything is so overwhelming as he’s endured years of solitude and sadness. You have to patiently teach him everything from square one. Nevertheless, it’s incredibly rewarding and you find yourself falling for him a bit more with each clumsy kiss, a shy but warm hug and an awkward attempt at complimenting you.

However, despite being not well-versed in sexual encounters, Xiao does pleasantly surprise you by catching up with everything real quick. 

So, as his eyes are fixated on the trinket, you once again run your hand through his lush and long hair.

„Why would you even buy it? Pointless.” The boy retorts grumpily this time showing no signs of objection to your tender gesture. He moves his head up a little, losing himself to the tingling sensation going down his scalp.

„So that you can stare at me like that with those needy eyes?” You answer truthfully, barring the real intent behind your actions.

He snorts and his face turns into that lovely shade of pink and then deep red within seconds.

He would absolutely turn his gaze away if not for the fact that you take his chin in your hand and thrust his face upwards forcing him to look you straight in the eyes.

„If you don’t like it you can take it off.”

„No need.” 

You chuckle softly.

„Let me make amends for my delay.” 

You take a step forward and place your knee on the verge of the bed. Xiao drinks in the view of your thigh-highs squeezing into the meat of your legs. The chain shimmering lightly right above the lacy material.

„You can touch it, Baby.” You encourage the nervous Yaksha.

Visibly tensed, he reaches for the exposed skin and lightly traces the chain with his unsure fingers. It almost tickles but you let him do as he pleases and soon Xiao attempts to fully envelop your thigh with his greedy hand. He does cover half of it at best, but he seems satisfied and proceeds to squeeze it. It feels soft to the touch and he shivers at how warm and inviting your legs are in contrast to his icy-cold and sweaty palms. Bewitched, Xiao aches for more and he selfishly pulls you in so that you are now kneeling in front of him on the bed.

He stops breathing when you swiftly unbutton your shorts and undress for him. You let his eyes roam over your half-naked body for some time enthralled by the way Xiao’s pupils dilate in awe.

You lean into him as Xiao pulls you towards him for a messy kiss. It isn’t gentle as usual but full of passion and urgency. He whines when you bite on his lower lip but then you gently stroke him with your tongue to ease the discomfort.

Slowly, very very slowly, your hands go down his torso only to finally stop at the bulge in Xiao’s loose pants. You tug at the waistband and Xiao lifts his ass a bit to help you strip him naked. His penis, hard and heavy, resting now on his lower belly. He hisses when you palm his hard erection and that simple touch sends jolts of electricity down his spine. It leaves him intoxicated once you start gliding with the heel of your palm up and down the underside of his member. You repeat the movement and Xiao’s body jerks in response.

„Don’t tease.” The adeptus pleads through gritted teeth.

„I’m so sorry, Baby. Gonna make you feel real good.”

Xiao can feel himself growing impossibly harder when you place your feet on either side of his hips. When he looks down he can see your wet folds and the pinkish colour of your tight hole. Lying on your back, you prop yourself on your elbows so that you can look at Xiao’s face in the process. You scoot a bit closer to the confused boy, your bum is right in front of his erected shaft. You take his cock in your hand and guide him in between your thighs. In the beginning, you try to be delicate. You gently rub the tip of his cock, circle his shaft with your fingers and with a fisted hand spread his pre-cum all the way down to his pubic hair so that he is thoroughly lubricated. You wouldn’t like to hurt the boy during the whole ordeal. 

His breath is shallow. Excitedly, you clasp your thighs together and start playing with his dick. You rotate your hips and massage his cock. It slides in and out and Xiao growls feeling ecstatic. You exchange between rubbing him with your thighs or gliding your hand along his cock, starting at the very top and working your way down to the bottom until Xiao can’t stifle his cries anymore. A few more strokes and he is definitely going to beg. 

Xiao is on fire. It feels too good to be true and he wants this moment to last forever. He licks his dry lips and moans wantonly thrusting his hips forward. He meets you mid-way and the friction it creates every time he pushes his dick in between your legs leaves him gasping.

„You’re making me cum, Y/N.” He cries out for the last time before it is too late to warn you.

„Then cum for me, Baby.” 

Obediently, Xiao shoots his thick and heavy load all over your lower body. For a moment the world around him seems out of focus and it makes him dizzy. He pants heavily and can’t catch his breath. He feels as if he was drowning. But then, your loving arms envelop him and he is safe again. You gently stroke his chest hugging him from behind. He melts in your embrace letting his head rest on your shoulder. His erratic heartbeat slowly going back to its usual rhythm.

„I think it looks pretty on you.”

„Hmm?” You want the boy to clarify what he meant.

„The chain... Looks pretty.”

„Oh.” 

Shakily, he reaches out to put your hand into his and he squeezes them together. 

„I’ll never let you lose yourself again, XIao. I love you and I will protect you forever.”

Xiao recognizes the familiar feeling of tightness in his chest. A single tear rolls down his cheek but he hurriedly wipes it before you can notice.

„Shut up.” The boy responds angrily and kisses you breathless. 

Other boys:

Albedo

Diluc

Kaeya

Childe

Zhongli

Kazuha