#Spotty skirt

[allthingspantyhoseandtights]

Spotty Babe

[mayakern]

im so excited!!! i set an alarm for the skirt drop today and i actually managed to get everything i wanted in my size INCLUDING the peony and poppy sergle skirts!!!!! thank you so much for doing what you do and making such fantastic products in such inclusive sizes :")

ahh awesome! i hope you love your skirts 🥰🥰

[gegewrites]

Dr.house- working after hours. (Smut)

Currently obsessed with this man, he’s been in my dreams for the past 4 days. Barely edited. I’m not a Med student, I’m a film kid. So my two hours of spotty research are prob not all that right.

5/21/23

Your pov-

It was about twelve am, maybe even one. I was sitting in Dr.Houses office. Seated directly in his chair, my elbows resting on the glass top desk, my chin sitting on top of my hands as I looked down at the file in front of me.

Our current patient, Craig Sanders, forty-five, male. He travels often for work. Earlier today he had a heart attack at home, in the garage. Pronounced dead for 7 minutes. Gotta be some kind of record. He’s loosing vision and feeling in his limbs, loss of memory but none of it stays. It comes and goes.

Because I had clinic duty today I didn’t get to fully focus on the patient, only for the beginning. I got to view the scans quickly but was paged to the clinic, so now I’m catching up.

I didn’t look up when the glass door opened, it knew it was house because who else would just walk into a office that has its blinds closed, let alone at 1 am.

“In my chair, now I really can’t ignore you.” He commented, I gave a light scoff as ket my eyes at the paper, not really reading it, just thinking,”shouldn’t you be home?”

“Shouldn’t you?” I looked up at him. he was standing in front of the desk, leaning on his left leg, his grip of his cane shifting, he gazed down at the file in front of me.

“Touché.” He stood for a few seconds longer before we walked away. I didn’t watch him, but I heard his bottle of whiskey open as he poured it into a glass.

“How much sense does this case make to you?” I asked, leaning back in the chair, we was leaning against the desk behind me glass in hand,”his heart is finally semi stable, so It’s not having sn effect of anything at the moment, but , his brains loosing funct-“

“I think I’d be able to think better if you got out of my chair, hiked that pretty skirt up, and sat down on me.” He clicked his tongue,”Should really get my brain going.”

I was kind of taken by surprise, house and I have fucked more times then you can count on one hand. In The Broom closets, his car, his house, on his piano, but never in his office.

I knew from the moment I walked into the office today this skirt was gonna get him. pencil skirt, stopped just above my knees. A dark grey so you could see any lines, which he didn’t. I caught him looking on more then one occasion.

Earlier/11 am-

Houses Pov-

My grip on the head of my cane shifted as I watched (l/n) write on the board. Her writing on the board was fine, she’s been here for nine years, she knows what she’s doing and she picked up this patient. But, I couldn’t keep my eyes in the board or my attention on foreman, Cameron, or chase. No, my eyes and brain were more focused on her ass. I’d occasionally look the board or around to cover it but I kept getting pulled back.

Pencil skirt, Dark grey, tight…and short.

It’s not like she hasn’t worn pencil skirts before, I’ve seen her with one hiked up around her waist as she gets it from behind. first “date” two years ago actually. Wine Red. Nice color on her.

You see this one, this one was different. usually you can see panty lines under tight clothing like dresses or skirts, she’s usually got a slight thong line, and I’ve been looking for it.

“What do you think?” I was taken out by (l/n) question. I looked at her, hands sturdily placed in her hips, and I looked at the white board.

Memory loss, weakened heart muscles, low blood cell count, numbness in fingers and toes, and loss of eye sight, intermittently.

Those were just the main ones.

“EKG, stress test, keep an eye on his ECGs.” I stood up,” get all the cardiac makers. Dementia, Alzheimer’s, and multiple sclerosis. Let’s start there.” They didn’t move, just looked at me,”move, I have to get to the clinic or Cuddy will have my balls.”

“Alright.” Foreman said as he got up from his chair, Cameron and chase followed. (l/n) stuck around for a bit and looked at the board before she followed.

“Hey.” I called to catch her attention, she stopped and looked at me,”that new?”

“What?”

“The skirt, it’s nice.” I let my eyes fall from her face to her hips, where her black button up was tucked in. She grabbed her white coat from the chair at the end of the table.

“Thank you.” She smiled as she turned around,”I saw you looking the whole time,” she started to walk away,”we all saw.”

“Hard not too, especially when it seems like youre not wearing anything under it.” I followed her into my office, she was already at the open door.

“I am, it’s just thin.”

Now-

Your pov-

“Perfect, just Fuckin perfect.” He groaned, relaxed into the rolling chair, his hands placed on my waist. His finger tips pressed in and out of my clothed skin. My pussy was clenched around his cock, buried inside of me as I was sitting tightly on his lap. My thong moved to the side. The record player was on, playing one of his blues records, mainly instrumental.

He popped two of his Vicodin right before he yanked up my skirt, he was definitely enjoying all of this right now. The door wasn’t locked, but the blinds were closed. A little risky considering Wilson is still around, his wife is gonna be mad when he gets home but he’s got reports to do.

I went to rock my hips to get some pleasure but his grip stopped me.

“Greg.” I sighed out and he hummed, pressing his chest against my back.

“Just sit, go over the information.” His hands ran up my shirt, over my breasts as he started unbuttoning it, exposing my skin and black bra. His lips kissed my neck, his beard tickling my skin as he untucked my shirt from my skirt,”you changed a hair product.”

“My conditioner.” I answered as I switched between tests, comparing and contrasting, trying to make things fit.

He stopped talking after that, running his hands up and down my sides, grazing over fabric and my skin.

I drowned out into the music and the feeling of his cock deep inside me, the littlest shift and he’s rubbing into my gspot. He was relaxed back into the chair, glass of whiskey in his hand as the other held onto my waist.

I looked over to the light board, scans of his heart and brain trying to pick it apart from where I was seated…at least I was. I stopped paying attention when I felt his hand slip from my waist, down to my thigh. His middle finger slipped through my lips and started slowly rubbing my clit in a circular motion.

“Please don’t stop.” I begged out in a breath.

“But what’s the fun in that?” He leaned forward, putting his glass in the desk while making sure he was pressed firmly inside me, making a pitiful whimper leave my mouth,”look at his temporal and parietal lobe in the lateral view,” he turned the chair, I grabbed onto the arms,” along with his cerebellum in the inferior view. Look hard.”

“It’s dying, we know that.” My voice had a slight shiver to it, my legs were also starting to tremble, he still hasn’t stopped rubbing my clit.

“Why?” He started rubbing harder, I was getting wetter, my walls fluttering around him, I stayed nearly silent, besides the small gasps which were starting to turn into moans,”he’s started loosing control of his limbs, impulsive reflex’s cause by the brain, loss of vision intermittently, why?”

“Brain death?” My eyes shot from the lateral view to his inferior view,”His brain stem…he had a heart attack a-alone….” My breathing became deeper,”took the family two minutes to get to him, another five before the para-Ah fuck- medics came.” I answered,”the brain lost oxygen when his heart stopped.”

“Alright, keep going.” He rocked his hips up into me, being extra sure to use his good leg only. Now I was feeling it, my hips started rocking down onto him, his finger was moving fast and hard, I could feel my mind slipping from me.

“There’s no-othing we can do.” I kept the moan that was trying to escape out, wouldve felt wrong saying it with a moan.

“Sure it’s brain death?”

“Yes greg.” My eyes closed on their own, my back arched slightly. He stopped moving, completely,”fuck, come on.” He grabbed into my waist, keeping me still.

“You wanna cum, then give me the right answer, his brain is going to die if you don’t. Key word, going. It hasn’t yet.” He spoke close to my ear,”this is why clinic duty sucks, you get lost in the progress of a patient.”

“What?”

“He had a heart attack, we know that. The heart attack is not closely connected to this, so get that out of your head.” His tone was stern,”he’s slowly declining at the moment, recount his history, what does he do for work?” My eyes shifted around as I thought,”is your brain going dead by how deep my cock is inside of you? Should I take it out? Let you think?”

“No!” I yelped out,” he travels for business but he gets his shots.”

“Not all.” He reached to the desk and then handed me the folder whilst pulling me flush against his chest, his palm pressed to my lower stomach as I flipped through to find his travel history,”were was he a few months ago?”

“Mexico.”

“What vaccine is he missing?”

“I don’t know.”

“He got sick in Mexico, had what seemed like a cold, so he was required to get a flu vaccine by his work. It’s not on the list he didn’t feel like he needed to list it.” I blinked a few times.

“So it’s from the vaccine?” The recorded fades out and started playing a new song. He grabbed his glass of whiskey.

“Ding ding.” He threw back the rest of the glass and put it on the desk,” AMAN, found mostly in children. It causing damage to the nerve fibers, which instead of staying in his limbs, progressed to his brain-“

“Which was set off by the heart attack? Being dead for that amount of time set off his immune system?” He rolled his hips into me.

“What do we have to do?” He took the file from me and put it back on the desk,”we don’t act within the next 2 hours, he’s gonna die”.

“His brain is being paralyzed which is mimicking it dying,.plasmapheresis or IVIG, remove the antibodies from the blood.” His finger went back to my clit, regaining the speed and pressure from before.

“Perfect.” He started moving my hips so I started moving them faster, rocking up and down,”oh fuck.”

It felt like electricity was shooting up my spine, simply having his cock inside me gets me so worked up. Moans left my mouth with no warning or control. Slick coated the inside of my thighs and the sounds coming from where we were connected were obscene, but they turned me on even more.

“Gotta start doin’ this to you more, so fucking wet.” He groaned,”Fuckin squeezing me,”

I couldn’t respond, just nodded quickly while ecstasy started taking over my body, my nerves felt like they were on fire. I just kept riding him , my brain focused on finally reaching my climax.

“Greg, m’ close.” I sighed out and he let out a throaty groan. his breathing became a bit faster and so did my movements.

“I can feel it.” His index finger joined his middle finger as he rubbed my clit harshly and quickly,”I know you’re there so just let go. Cum all over my Fuckin cock like I know you want to.”

“Perfect!” I moaned out as my muscles tightened, my grip on the arms of the chair were tight, knuckles turning white. I threw my head back, my eyes were clamped shut, my movements started slowly so he took hold of my hips and kept my pace for me, even with the lack of pleasure to clit, my orgasm was still running through me.

I felt his cock start twitching, his groans becoming louder and more noticeable.

“Hope you took the pill this morning.” He commented, his nails digging into my skin as he finally came. Spilling deep inside of me, keeping most of his cock inside as he filled me up.

Soon he stopped moving me, kept me sat on his lap as his arms wrapped around my waist, holding his hands together as I grabbed one of his wrists. We were both catching our breath in the dim lit office. My body had a tremble to it, and he placed a kiss against my shoulder.

“I’d love to sit here and savor the feeling of your amazing pussy, but I have to clear a businessman’s blood so his brain can start working again.”

I let out a sigh as I shakily got off of him, his cock slid out of me and immediately I felt his cum drip down the inside of my thighs. I grabbed the edge of the desk as he fixed my thong and pulled my skirt back down. I turned around and leaned against the desk as he stood up fixing his boxers and pants.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he grabbed his cane and started walking away,”we’ll go to my house tonight.”

He left me with that, the door closed behind him and he walked away to the patients room. I sat down in the chair, my thighs pressing together and my head resting on the head of the chair. I don’t think working after hours is gonna be such a bad thing anymore.

[moodymisty]

Based off this post sorry I fucking HAD to

Warnings: Vaguely NSFW, Sicarius walking in on you and Guilliman

Why must all his men break protocol? Sicarius wonders if the Codex is merely kindling to them, if they are so willing to break the sacred rules so easily.

Titus, Uriel, and now new men of second company have decided to be a pain. He only hopes reporting this to Guilliman himself will prove to be enough of a threat to his men and whip them all back into shape; Both current and future troublemakers.

In his frustrations, so wrapped up in his own mind on how to deal with this consistent issue, he fails to do a proper knock at Guilliman’s door. Instead he simply walks in, slamming the controls with more force than needed.

Within moments he freezes, as a musky, heavy smell hits his nose and the full noises of the room echo in his ears without the soundproofing in the way.

“Roboute!”

You squeal, hands wrapped tight in the short crop of Guilliman’s thin blonde hair. Most of his head and face are obscured by your skirt- and thighs, which wrap around his head like a vice. The holotable is on but unused, symbols placed randomly from your accidental touches as you sit on the edge.

Sicarius stands frozen, unable to will his body to move as his ears are suddenly filled with the sounds of you and his primarch’s moans- accompanied by then odd, wet sounds of whatever his mouth was doing. What is only two seconds is plenty to him, given how fast his mind moves in comparison to a baseline.

He… was aware of all the basics of sex and reproduction, but the intricacies of pleasure beyond that were spotty at best. He had no need to delve into such useless things, unlike some other, less proper Astartes.

He was also unaware you could do such things with your mouth.

How beneath a primarch’s holy stature; Guilliman’s words have guided armies but now he’s on his knees in penance and using his tongue like its just a-

A loud scream rips through your throat as you spot him and sit up, and Sicarius’ two seconds of internal thought is interrupted as you see him frozen in the doorway with a hand still on the door’s controls.

Guilliman of course is instantly on the defensive hearing your scream, rising to his feet- and removing his hand from his trousers - before reaching for his blade.

Until he realizes it’s Sicarius.

Guilliman relaxes with an angry look on his face; Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before using the same hand spread flat outward to try and shield some of you from Sicarius, and reserve some of your modesty, while you adjust your clothes.

“Did your time in the warp remove your ability to announce yourself before entering, Captain Sicarius?”

Sicarius is angry at his primarch now, and has zero care for you behind him hot faced and attempting to cover yourself to some level of decency.

“I, I did not think it was needed, my primarch. I have an urgent issue that needs addressing.”

Guilliman angrily breaths through his nose, and Sicarius can see the veins in his neck.

“Go. Leave. Whatever you came here for I am sure it can wait until we both forget this encounter ever happened.”

They are both painfully aware that each other have eidetic memories, but they can only hope this moment somehow slips from their minds.

“Yes, my primarch.”

Sicarius finally manages to get his armor to move, and Guilliman sighs. Sicarius swiftly takes two steps backwards and closes the door, facing it at it closes.

He stands there for a moment, the image of his primarch on his knees between the legs of a simple baseline, and a hand doing something in his trousers is seared into his mind. Why is his primarch doing such things when there is work to be done?

“Are you alright Captain Sicarius?”

A marine says as he walks by, looking at his dead expression as Sicarius turns to face him. He points the door.

“Is Primarch Guilliman busy-“ Sicarius quickly speaks, cutting him off.

“Yes he is busy, do not disturb him.”

Sicarius has a far off stare that makes the random Astartes look at him oddly.

“I need to leave. Do not go in.”

Sicarius walks off, rubbing his hair with his gauntlet and grumbling to himself.

[devildomcuties]

Behind Closed Doors ││Belphie││

thank you for sending in this request :)

pairing: belphie x f. reader

genre: established relationship, smut 18+

summary: On a search for Belphie, you find him asleep in a closet.

wc: 970

warnings: reader is claustrophobic, making out, fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, some degradation, multiple orgasms, creampie

date: July 14, 2024

“I don’t know why I always have to wrangle in the brothers,” you grumble as you walk the halls of HoL. 

Diavolo was holding a meeting about a school carnival or whatnot just days after the last event ended. You’re not sure why he continued to plan things when they usually ended with a curse or a cursed object. Last time, Mammon had stolen some script that nearly ruined the Devildom.

Halfway through the meeting, Lucifer did a headcount, noting one of his younger brothers was missing, Belphie.

“I’m sure he’s just asleep somewhere,” Beel tried to assure Lucifer, who seemed unmoved. “You know he wouldn’t miss out on purpose.”

Lucifer knew that was somewhat true, but he sent you off to locate Belphie and take him to his office when you did. 

“He could be anywhere,” you mutter as you continue down the hall, stopping only when you need to check your D.D.D. 

A message from Beel greets you when you look at it, quickly responding before rounding the corner. 

Have you found him? I’m getting worried…

You’re typing your response before walking face-first into a door. You curse, rubbing your nose that took the brunt of the hit. You scowl, slipping your phone into your pocket as you try to open the door.

It doesn’t budge.

You stomp, hitting the doorknob with magic and it bursts open. 

“Hello?” you ask as you step into the small space. You quickly realize it is a closet, but where did it come from?

“Hey!” you’re startled when your foot hits something on the floor and the door slams shut, engulfing you in darkness.

“No!” Belphie groans as he turns the doorknob but it doesn’t allow the door to open.

“Belphie?” You huff. “Do you know everyone is looking for you, and you’re napping in this closet?”

“I got stuck in here. Mammon and Luke got into an argument over something, they dropped a potion that added rooms to HoL. The door won’t open from the inside and my D.D.D. is dead. I’ve been stuck in here for ages,” Belhphie explains as he releases the doorknob.

“Oh,” you say weakly as you slide down the wall to sit beside Belphie. “So we’re stuck here?”

Belphie nods as he yawns, his head resting on your shoulder as you send a reply to Beel, but it fails to send because the service is spotty.

“Great,” you mutter. “Lucifer is not gonna be happy.”

“When is he ever?” Belphie retorts, making you laugh.

“Be nice,” you shove playfully. He giggles, shaking his hair out of his eyes before he tugs you onto his lap. You move until you’re straddling his lap, your face in front of him in the dark.

Softly, Belphie runs his fingers through your hair. You try not to focus on how small the closet is, and Belphie knows you’re not too fond of tight spaces.

“I’m right here, love,” he assures you as you grip his shoulders tightly. He pressed his forehead to yours, kissing you gently. 

Soon you relax while you kiss him, your hands gripping his shirt tightly. 

Belphie grips your thighs and tugs you closer, his hands sliding under your skirt. Your uniform is mussed, barely on as you undo the buttons of your top. 

There’s not enough room to move much but Belphie is quick to undo the button and zipper of his pants to release his hard cock. With one hand he strokes himself and he uses the other to pull your panties aside to feel how wet you are for him. 

He curses, sighing pleasantly as he fingers you while stroking himself. You moan his name as he fucks you on his fingers, your wetness soaking into his pants. 

Belphie kisses you when you cum, groaning when you tighten around his fingers to keep them inside. You hold him close, kissing his neck before wrapping your hand around his cock. He removes his fingers from you, popping them into his mouth to suck them dry. 

You bite back a moan when you sink onto his cock.

Belphie grunts as you ride him, his hands greedy as they grab your ass, then your hips. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he states in disbelief. Despite the times you’ve soaked his sheets and mattress, he’s still in disbelief. You hide your face in his chest as he chuckles. 

You rock your hips back and forth, cursing when Belphie makes your legs shake as he rubs your clit. 

“That’s it, love. Take my cock like the good slut you are. You just had to get this dick in a closet, huh? Couldn’t even wait until someone let us out?” Belphie laughs as you nod in agreement, fucked out of your mind as your orgasm builds as he fucks into you. 

“Belphie!” You gasp, biting your bottom lip in a poor attempt to muffle your cries. 

“Let them hear you, baby. Maybe they’ll get us out of here,” Belphie smirks. “Maybe they’ll get to see what a little slut you are.”

You moan, coming undone and soaking his lap further. Belphie curses. He meets your thrusts as he lets you ride out your orgasm, setting you up for a second before he cums inside you with a cry of your name. 

Panting, you climb off him after a minute or so. Your uniform is ruined just like Belphie’s pants. The two of you laugh as you lock eyes but do your best to get fixed up. 

Just as you finish buttoning your top, the door gets pulled open and the hall light blinds you. Belphie squints as you throw your hand up to cover your eyes. 

Mammon stands in front of the two of you looking confused. 

“Damn, Belphie, your pants are soaked. Did you piss yourself?” 

[imisssummer]

MEANNNN non con w dom geto n fem reader. I’m talkin rough, degrading, sadism, all that good shit

Ofcofc no pressure Tyty 🫶

𖤐 — nsfw, non-con/rape, degradation, asphyxiation, i went w student suguru bc he’s best suguru, hope this lives up to anon’s expectations!!!

Suguru would say he’s a fairly blunt man, he’s curt when he needs to be, cunning when it’s necessary— in other words, he likes to have the last laugh.

So really you shouldn’t be that surprised as he pushes you into an empty classroom, near the back of the jujutsu school. You’re shoved to your ass, on top of an old and dusty school desk, Geto is scary as he looks down at you with heavy, dark eyes, an unreadable emotion in the stare, but you know he’s mad when he opens his mouth to speak,

“what gives you the right to embarrass me, slut?”

You stir at the brash name, snapping your head up to look at the dark-haired man with fierce, wide eyes, and you can’t quite bite your tongue when you see the smirk forming on his face at your reaction, clearly getting the one he wanted.

“Excuse me-” you’re cut off by your own gasp, as Suguru pushes you to your back on top of the desk, not wasting any time in flipping up your school skirt, pulling at your panties, and slapping hard at your thighs as you begin to thrash them. He drops the lacey fabric to the floor, to grind his clothed cock over your bare pussy, and with nearly all of Geto’s weight on you, you can’t move to get away from his body— from his cock.

“Get off of me-” you’re cut off once more, this time by a sharp, stinging slap to you cheek. Your face flys to the side at the slight force, lips pressed in a small frown, and eyes slowly filling with hot tears. You can’t fight him, he’s the stronger sorcerer, and you know that.

You find yourself snapping out of your subtle trance, as you feel something, warm and thick, nudging at your pussy. Your choked as you feel, see, and hear, Suguru’s harsh thrust into you. You feel yourself about to scream out, but a strong hand collars around your neck, gripping harshly, and stealing every last breath from you.

“Shut up.” He spits out with malice, hand tightening around you, oxen eyes sharping to daggers, “or I’ll make you bled.”

You sob at the indication, hands making way to his warm hand around her neck, grip weak from the lightheadedness, vision going spotty, you gasp a soft, “please.”

He gives you a mere breath of air, just to strangle you harder than ever, yet he slows his hips. Lengthy fingers pulling at your dress shirt, exposing your chest to his greedy eyes, and he wastes no time in leaning down to suck deep, dark hickeys into your skin.

Using the leverage from choking you, he begins fucking into you once more, he’s splitting you open on his cock, pussy trying to take in every aching inch, as best as possible. When he hits particularly deep, he tightens his jaw, as well as his grip around your, no doubt, brushed neck, and you feel closer than ever to passing out.

Your head begins to slump back against the desk, the hard wood now comfortable to lay on, as your vision goes foggy. Your head throbs as it drops, there’s a dull ache that’d soon turn to a headache, your flipped to ur stomach by the time you come to your senses, hips digging uncomfortably as your dangled on the wood. There’s a grip on your waist, followed by a loud slap to your ass, hand smoothly going over the reddening flesh, needing the area he pushes into you again.

You feel gross, sweaty, and so so violated. The sounds of Suguru’s voice is muffled as you try and zone out, failing as you hear his harsh words, calling you nothing but a ‘stupid whore,’ as he has his way with you. Slapping your ass, he starts his brutal pace once more, this time searching for his pleasure in your pussy.

You soon feel him pull out of you, warm cum is on you from your lower back to your ass, and before you realize it the classroom door is closing as Suguru leaves like nothing happened, and your too exhausted to care.

masterlist

[theprettynosferatu]

Unit Commander John Heinlein was a simple man. Above all, he valued order. Order kept the world safe, functional, understandable. Everyone and everything had its proper place and proper role: like different organs in a body, they all contributed to the overall health of society as long as they did what they were supposed to do and didn’t get any stupid ideas. In that gigantic body, John Heinlen was a fist, and stupid ideas were what he punched into oblivion. Reality was simple, and if it wasn’t, the higher-ups pointed him to the complication and he pummeled it back into simplicity.

As usual, intelligence was spotty. Why exactly this club was a Stupid Idea, John did not know nor did he care. What the informant had revealed was something about women going against their conditioning, although they had not revealed how or why. It seemed patently ridiculous to John Heinlein. Conditioned women were happy, and they made their men happy. Simple, proper. Everything in its natural place. If Fulgrim’s was messing with that, it deserved to be squashed.

Looking at the rest of the Unit, he felt sending them was perhaps a waste of resources. If the informant was correct, they would be facing women and whatever deviants might be attending off-hours, if any; but it was not his call to make, and he liked it that way. His purpose was to punch, not to decide who deserved to be punched.

The six men stood in front of the gaudy purple door. As much as he wanted to kick the door down and be done with it, John played it by the book. He made the signal to place the breaching device and got into the correct position, ingrained in him by hundreds of hours of training. Still, no matter how many times the device blasted the door open, John always felt underwhelmed. Part of him seemed to expect a big thunderous sound, instead of the measured, barely audible “pop” designed not to alert the criminals.

Like a perfect machine, they went in, weapons ready. They were all running on autopilot, relying on their modified genetics and exhaustive drilling. It took only a few seconds for them to reach the same, obvious conclusion. No threats present. Instead, two women stood by the door, as if expecting them. John felt a deep revulsion, something primal stirring within him. It was wrong.

The women weren’t blonde. They weren’t smiling. They didn’t seem pleasant, or demure, or bubbly. In fact, they looked like wolves on the prowl. One had blood-red hair, a leather corset, fishnet stockings and boots that ended in the sort of spiked heels that could kill a man. The other was, to John Heinlein, even worse. She seemed shy, wearing a short skirt and trying to cover up… but her eyes spoke of a deep hunger, a devious intelligence and a depraved longing he couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” said the redhead with mock gratitude. “You see, I’ve been trying to train this sweet little creature right here…” she added as her hand went under the other girl’s skirt. “But I’m afraid she needs a bit of… male guidance. A strong hand to show her the way”

John frowned. There was something strange in the air. A subtle smell he couldn’t fully detect. As he turned to ask his comrades about it, he noticed Johnson shifting his weight slightly. It was a small thing, but utterly out of place for a man of their training. And he could tell the women saw it too. Slowly, seductively the redhead walked toward Johnson, leading the other girl by her wrist. It was surreal, unsettling. But they couldn’t just open fire on females.

“Johnson, step away from the females, now!”, barked Commander Heinlein.

For the first time in his illustrious career, the Commander’s order went unheeded. He watched in horror as the petite woman placed a slender hand on the soldier’s chest and, with a look designed to melt hearts and break down barriers at the same time, pouted like a mischievous child.

“Please, Sir. I’ve been bad. So, so bad… Won’t you teach me? I’m a very good learner… if I’m put in my place”

Meanwhile, the woman in the spiked heels had gone around Johnson, and whispered in his ear as her hand caressed his perfectly sculpted abs and kept moving downwards…

“She can be so good… we both can be so good… but are you man enough to show us you can handle us? Tame us? Mold us into your perfect good girls?”

Johnson was breathing heavily, paralyzed by a million conflicting impulses. He had a job to do. He was a soldier. He was…

And just then, he broke. Johnson grabbed the smaller woman by the neck, and in a swift movement turned her around and bent her over. He couldn’t see the devilish smile on her face, but John Henlein sure did. There was victory in that lustful look, a triumph only magnified when, cock hard as metal, Johnson railed her from behind as hard as he possibly could, his mind gone in a frenzy of half-formed sentences and grunts, the redhead woman rubbing her pussy as she now shouted encouragement.

“Do it! Pound that little slut! Show her what she really is! Fucking break her like the stupid fuckdoll she dresses as! Punish that pussy with your cock! Make her scream for me… make her beg! Make. Her. Yours!”

“Johnson!”, shouted Heinlein in vain. The soldier was gone, and all that remained was a beast, a bundle of muscles determined to conquer the females before it, to claim them and mark them as his. And worse, whoever was behind it all remained unseen, deeper inside the club.

“Fuck! Everyone else! On me! We press on!”

“What about Johnson?”, asked a rookie soldier by the name of Phillips.

“We lost him! Now, move!”

They stormed the place, kicking down doors- no time to play it straight, as much as it pained Unit Commander John Heinlein, for whom standard procedure was akin to a biblical dogma. With every hallway they crossed, every room they breached, the air seemed to get heavier, denser somehow. Sweeter, perhaps.

They entered a room covered in black velvet. It caused a strange effect, almost as if the walls themselves devoured the light. And there, sitting in the middle of the room, long legs crossed, was another female. Like the ones before, she didn’t look like the blonde, obedient women that had undergone the mandatory conditioning. Horror gripped Heinlein. This person went against every conceivable notion of what a woman should be. Clad in a leather corset and thigh-high boots, she stared the five soldiers down with a look of disgust and clear disapproval. Even the sight of their guns was to her just another gauche shortcoming, one in a very long list of inadequacies clamored without words by her deep, green eyes.

“Did I say you could come in?”, she asked.

The question was ridiculous. They were Soldiers. They didn’t ask, they acted. And yet, two of Heinlein’s men started moving their heads, something between shaking off a creeping mental fog and answering the woman’s question. No, she had not said they could come in.

“Get on the ground, and-” started barking Heinlein before the woman cut him off.

“No. it’s not your turn to speak. You don’t talk unless I tell you to, is that clear?”

Unit Commander Heinlein froze. Her tone, firm, in total control, was something he recognized very well. For a moment he was a raw recruit again, undergoing basic training. A part of him, a part of all Soldiers knew to obey that sort of utterance, that confident command. It was part of the crucial training that made any warrior more than a brawler. It was the core of discipline. He knew, at that moment, they were all in grave danger.

“Now, that sort of rude entrance needs to be punished. You all know it, don’t you my toys? But I’ll be kind…ish. How about you start by being a pack of good dogs and kneel?”

Heinlein felt his legs almost give in. He managed to stay on his feet… barely. He watched as most of his squad went on their knees, their eyes wide, fixed on that beautiful woman, seeking every ounce of validation she could give them. Ready to obey.

“Crawl to me, pets”

They did. With a few words, she had made them love her. Adore her. Obey her. Their sense of duty twisted, molded, corrupted. And Heinlein felt himself wanting to join them, wanting so badly to be one of her favorite pets… no, her very favorite. The alpha of the pack. Perfect for her. Obedient for her. 

It took a superhuman effort to turn away from her perfect silhouette, her beckoning curves, her voice of absolute command and dominion. The last thing he saw before sprinting away from that goddess of a woman was his once proud squad almost fighting like dogs for the privilege of kissing her heels. How he hated the fact that he wanted to join them…

He tried to push it all away as he ran through hallways, deeper into the club, down stairs, through room after room. Deeper and deeper… the air getting heavier and sweeter… his mind getting fuzzier…

How long did he run? How deep did he go? He couldn’t tell. Different themes passed him by like a blur, and he felt almost as if he was just running in place, the facility moving around him, assaulting him with perverted ideas, digesting him like some monstrous organism designed to destroy everything that was right and natural in the world… but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. Stopping, he felt, would mean the end.

And then, he stopped.

The woman looked like no one he had ever seen. Every part of her seemed designed to short-circuit his understanding of reality, his very core, and he found himself frozen before her, his brain trying to catch up to what his eyes were seeing. She looked like something out of some strange, fae world: she wore her hair in dancing ponytails, one dyed blue, one pink. Her makeup was a striking mixture of neon colors punctuated by tiny drawn hearts scattered over a face that spoke at once of innocence and mischief. She had a single fishnet glove on, mismatched thigh-high socks, a pink and black nighty that hovered between dark and slutty and the most pure chastity… Even her eyes, he noticed, refused to follow any notion of order: one was a deep blue, while the other was an inhuman, alluring red. She was something he couldn’t comprehend, and yet couldn’t stop watching. She moved with a strange liquid freedom, as if gravity and anatomy were vague suggestions she very much didn’t intend to follow. And her smile… he couldn’t quite place what it was: it was joyful, yes, but also shy and yet it had a hint of a predator somewhere deep inside it…

“Oh, hi!” she chirped and bounced out of her purple sofa. “I was fingering myself!” she declared, almost with pride.

Unit Commander Heinlein found himself unable to respond. This… being was not a woman. Not as he understood them, at least. And yet he could feel something stirring inside, something he had forgotten about long, long ago…

“Who are you?”, she asked, her face becoming almost a caricature of confusion before snapping back into a jubilant smile. “I’m Alara! Nice to meet you!”

She ran to him. Normally such an action would call for tactical evasion, or a well-practiced takedown. Instead, Heinlein found himself frozen in place as the girl hugged him. She smelled sweet, like the air around them.

“Are you okay, dude?”, she asked with a look of genuine concern. 

“I… this establishment has been deemed… unsuitable and against the… proper conditioning of females… get on the ground, and…”

“Ooooh, the ground? I can go to the ground for you, Daddy! Or do you prefer Sir? Or Joe? You know what? Joe it is! Is your name Joe? You look like a Joe to me. So, the ground! Ass up? Or maybe on my back, legs open? Which one do you want, Joe?”

Heinlein, whose first name was most certainly not Joe, watched as the girl seemed to flow from one pose to another: one second she was on all fours, looking over her shoulder with an inviting smile; the next she was on her back, legs open, her eyes shocked like a virgin about to feel a man inside her for the very first time… then she bounced back to her feet and pouted.

“Come on, Joe, make up your mind! Or do you want me to take charge? Wait! I should have it… here!”. The girl beamed, brandishing a gigantic, double-sided dildo. “Want me to use this on you, Joe? Come on, give me a little something to work with here!”

“Please stay still. Do you understand the situation? You have been… altered. You’re not a normal…”

“Normal? Normal?! Joe, how boring are you? Seriously, how many times can you fuck a blonde big-titty bimbo before it gets so fucking samey? Fuck ‘normal’, Joe! Let your freaky self out to play for once!”

“I do not have a freaky self”

Alara tripped on her own legs and landed sprawled on the carpeted ground before shooting Heinlein a look that might as well have been directed at a two-headed alien, before turning into an expression of pure, profound pity.

“Oh, Joe… of course you do! We all have our freaky sides… don’t think for a second they’ve drilled yours completely dead. It’s there… I can feel it. And so can you, can’t you? Growing inside you. Getting stronger. Don’t you get tired of following orders? Of everything being always in the same place? Of loving the same woman? The world isn’t like that, Joe! People aren’t like that! We are insane, contradictory, fucking twisted messes… and that’s perfect! Come on, Joe… don’t you ever think about doing… the wrong thing?”

Her words dripped inside his head like honey, so much so that he didn’t notice her approaching him, rubbing him through his pants as she playfully made him so confused, so mixed up, so fuzzy and…

“Mmmm… tell me Joe… what’s that thing you’d like to do, that wrong, wrong thing you dream of in the dark, swearing to yourself you’ll never say a word of it?”

“Non-regulation shoes” 

His mouth had spoken before his brain had even registered it.

“Oh, don’t like the uniform shoes?”, she teased.

“Uncomfortable”, he mumbled.

“So… why don’t you take them off?”

“On mission. Tactical shoes. Reinforced. Useful”

“Are you going to tactically kick me, Joe? Of course not! No one would kick pretty little me… well, unless I asked… but not with those shoes! Who’s gonna know, Joe? No one’s gonna spank you for letting your feet out for a bit! So… take them off!”

“Can’t. On a mission”

“Oh, for fuck’s- come here, you big dummy”

Alara lunged for his shoes, and made a big show of pulling with all her might. Heinlein watched her, entranced.

“A little help here, Joe? These fucking things are tighter than your ass! I mean, I’m just guessing there”

He moved as if in a dream. He released the lock on one boot, then the other. Alara flew back, boot in hand, before jumping up, holding the black boot in the air like a trophy.

“Victory! Look, Joe! You have one boot off and the world hasn’t ended!”

It was true. He looked down at his feet. He had gone against standard procedure. In fact, he had flat-out broken a strict, simple rule. No one was screaming at him. Nothing bad had happened. If anything, he was overcome by childish elation. Suddenly, his world had shifted. Rules were words. Only that. No more solid than millions of other words spoken every single day. 

“Sooooo? How do you feel, you rebel?”

“It’s… good”

Alara smiled and bent over.

“I’m guessing there’s a rule against using a suspect as a living fleshlight, isn’t there? A rule against pounding pussy when on a mission? A rule against using little me as your own personal, depraved fuckdoll?”

“There are many such rules”

“And how do you feel about them now?”

“I don’t give a fuck”

Her screams of ecstasy echoes through the entire club. She pushed him further, and he only growled and, for once, did exactly as he pleased. Alara could only cum, and cum again in victory. Every act was a testament to her triumph. He used her throat, not caring if she gagged, if she choked. He slapped her face and she laughed. He spit on her mouth, grabbed her neck, took her tight asshole. He came once deep inside her, but it wasn’t enough. Alara knew the aphrodisiac in the air gave some… special endurance as well, and she intended to see exactly how long they could go. 

By the end her clothes had been ripped off her, her tits were covered in cum, her pussy pumped full three times, her ass abused, her buttocks red with spankings, her makeup ruined. And by the end, he had become anything but a Soldier.

The following day a meeting was called at the highest levels of the government. An elite unit had gone into Fulgrim’s, never to return. 

They would have to take drastic measures if they hoped to contain the corruption now growing in their city.

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[seventeenytiny]

Elevator Troubles

Smut: Minors DNI

You and Jisung get it on in the elevator after it breaks down. Contains: Public sex, oral (male receiving), I guess exhibitionism, cum fetish but not really but also kinda. Word Count: 1544 Author’s Note: Okay so maybe I’m really into public sex. Also, when I got stuck in an elevator it was way less sexy :(

At this point in your day, getting stuck in the elevator wasn’t even the worst part. At least you weren’t alone in there, you had your lovely boyfriend by your side to help keep you calm. Honestly, he freaked out more than you at first, but hey what’s the worst that can happen? If anything this moment was a blessing in disguise, the two of you can shut off the world around you. Anything that happens outside those elevator doors is completely out of your control, so what’s the point of stressing about it? 

Your friends were waiting for you right outside the doors, they knew you two were in there. You yelled to them through the doors, letting them know you were stuck as the cellphone connection was quite spotty in the elevator. You then hit the emergency call button, unfortunately, the person on the other side of the call wasn’t very helpful, telling you to simply just hit the “Open Door” button like Jisung hasn’t mashed that button twenty times by now. 

You call back out to your friends, “Hey are you guys out there? Can you maybe call the building management to let them know we’re in here?”

And that’s what they did, and then they informed you it would probably be at least an hour before the maintenance guy would show up. You and Jisung shared a look and sighed loudly, slumping up against the elevator wall. You called out one last time to your friends telling them to leave and that you’ll catch up with them later. There was no point in making more people wait around for the elevator to get fixed.

You look over to Jisung, wrapping your arms around him to hug him, “You know, if I’m going to get stuck in an elevator I’m glad it’s with you.”

Jisung kisses the top of your head, “Well if wanted we could do something to help make the time pass.” He smirks at you, wiggling his eyebrow before grabbing your ass. 

You laugh in response, “Jisung, there’s probably a camera in here...”

He’s a bit surprised by your response, to him, it didn’t sound like you completely rejected the idea. “Look around, do you see one? Because I don’t. Anyways, if there is one, why not give the guy watching it a little show?”

You bite your lip, slightly hesitant about the idea but you can’t deny how much the thought of it turns you on. How naughty would that be, getting fucked in the elevator by your boyfriend where you could be caught at any moment. You decide to proceed cautiously, pressing your lips onto his. 

He kisses you back, hands gripping your hips as he slides his tongue into your mouth to deepen it. Your hands reach up to his hair, grabbing and pulling at his locks as the two of you continue to make out passionately. Jisung pulls away only to attach his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin. Tiny moans slip past your lips, you can feel your face become hot and red from embarrassment.

“Don’t be shy angel, anyone who can hear those precious sounds you make out there should consider themselves lucky.” 

He places a chaste kiss on your lips, “You know that if you aren’t comfortable with this we can stop.”

His eyes were pure and twinkling as he said that, it always made your heart melt at how caring he was of you. You smile and nod, “I wanna keep going.”

And just like that, he was back to attacking your neck, his hands exploring your body overtop of your clothes. He spins you around, your back against his chest, allowing him to grind into your ass as he licks and nips your neck. One of his hands goes up to your chest, squeezing your breasts, the other going under your skirt and between your legs. He draws light circles on your clit, relieving some of that pressure that’s been building up down there for you. 

No longer holding back, you moan from the stimulation, turning your head to the side to try to kiss him. He stops sucking on your neck to kiss you, allowing you to spin back around and face him. You pull away and smirk at him, “Time to let me make you feel good baby boy.” 

You get down on your knees in front of him, giving him your best doe eyes as you unzip his pants. His hand pulls your hair back out of your face to help you have better access to his cock, he’s eager already, bucking his hips closer to your face.

You rub your hand over the bulge in his underwear, a wet spot of precum forming on his boxers.

“Don’t tease me, angel, please...” Jisung begs, his brows furrowed in frustration.

Realizing how limited you may be on time you decide to dive right in, freeing his cock from his boxers and giving it a couple kitten licks before taking him in. He groans out from the sudden contact, his hands pulling your hair as he ruts his hips into your face. Jisung was always so needy, so desperate to feel pleasure, he struggles to control himself around you.

He takes control as he thrusts in and out of your mouth, fucking your face. You moan around his cock, your muffled sounds send chills down his spine. He’s getting close, too close, he can’t cum just yet. He pulls out of your mouth and roughly turns you around, wasting no time pulling your panties down and flipping up your skirt. He shoves you up against the elevator wall, his tip eagerly teasing your entrance.

“Are you ready for me angel?” Jisung asks, his voice deep and husky.

“Yes Jisung, please stretch me out.”

He doesn’t hesitate after hearing your words, sliding his cock into you with ease.

“You’re so fucking wet angel, do you enjoy getting fucked where you aren’t supposed to?”

No words leave your mouth as you take in the feeling of being full. Jisung doesn’t appreciate your quietness, he pulls out nearly all the way before slamming back into.

“If you want more of that I need you to use your words, angel.”

“Fuck Jisung, I love it, please give me more.”

And just like he starts going crazy, his hips snapping into yours at high speeds. The sound of skin slapping and moans fill up the tiny space, if the maintenance man is out there you’re positive he can hear what's going on.

His fast pace sends tingles all throughout your body, your brain goes fuzzy as you get cock drunk. 

“Jisung... mmm so good...”

“I know baby... need you to last longer, can’t let this end yet.”

You do your best to hold back your orgasm, knowing yours would trigger his and your fun would be over so soon. It was hard though, the idea of someone possibly watching through a camera, someone possibly hearing you get fucked sent bolts of pleasure directly to your core.

“I can’t last much long love, too good.”

“Then cum for me angel”.

Your body shakes and your eyes squeeze tight as that wonderful feeling washes over your body. Your heavenly sounds echo through the elevator.

You can hear Jisung’s breath hitch, a clear sign of his own orgasm taking over. His thrusts are sloppy yet fast as you both ride out your orgasms before he starts to slow down, sensitivity getting to the both of you. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you while the two of you catch your breath. Suddenly, the lights go back on in the elevator, you had moments to clean up before the doors would open up. Jisung pulls out fast, several drops of cum hitting the floor of the elevator. You quickly pull your panties up and flip your skirt down as he puts his member back in his pants. 

The doors open just in time, the bright lights of the lobby shining on your flushed faces. Judging by the look on the maintenance man’s face, he knew exactly what happened. You look to the ground and shyly thank him as you walk out. Jisung stomps his foot onto the little bit of cum on the floor, hoping to smear it out and make it less noticeable. He follows behind you, bowing to the maintenance man as he leaves.

The two of you sigh in relief as you walk out of the building before giggles take over. You can’t believe you actually did that and got away with it. Jisung slings his arm over your shoulder as you walk towards the bar you were supposed to meet your friends at. 

He places a kiss on your cheek, “I love you angel.”

“I love you too baby.”

“I can’t believe you let me fuck you in the elevator, you liked it didn’t you”

You nod shyly, “Yeah it was actually pretty amazing.”

He chuckles, “Well for future reference I’ll fuck you wherever you want.”

You pull away from him to playfully punch his shoulder. You can’t lie though, your mind was already racing with ideas of where else the two of you could fuck.

[k-marzolf]

Scruffy.

(friends to lovers, Marine!Billy, fluff, kissing, fem!reader)

509 words.

Billy was crashing at your place between tours, and you’d noticed he was looking pretty scruffy.

You’d begged to trim his beard, so he let you. How you’d said; please, Billy, so sweetly made him sure he’d do anything for you. So, he stood between your legs as you sat on the countertop, while you concentrated, tongue between your teeth, slowly pulling the razor across his skin.

His thumbs rubbed your thighs, and he couldn’t help but notice you quiver under his touch. You were careful, gentle even. God, he wanted to kiss you. You were in a sweater and skirt, and he couldn't help but admire the curve of your breasts in it, how you filled it out with your curves.

He moved, and you glared. “Hold still. I don’t wanna maim you.” You said.

Billy swallowed, amused. “Yes ma’am.” He said, still stroking your thighs.

You were so goddamn cute with your tongue out. “I did know you were a barber.” He teased you.

You smiled, “I used to shave my dad’s face when I was a kid. I insisted, and he didn’t care if his beard looked spotty.”

Billy snorted, he could see little you begging to shave her daddy’s beard. It was hard to say no to you with your sweet eyes. He’d been on the receiving end of them earlier.

“Please, Billy, please. Wanna shave you. You’re scruffy. I’ll be gentle.” You’d begged, pouting at him.

He’d stared at you over his cup of coffee. He hadn’t had coffee in so long, the bitterness was almost too much, but he still didn’t put as much sugar in as you. “My scruff offensive to you?” He teased you.

“No, I wanna make you feel good.” You’d said, putting your hands on your hips.

He’d relented, downing the rest of his coffee, your eyes turning bright as you dragged him into the small bathroom. He almost had to squeeze himself in.

“You’re going to bite your tongue off.” He said, watching you bite down on it.

You glared again. “Mr. Russo. Do you wanna go looking unkempt?” You said, putting your tongue in your mouth.

He laughed; “I bet it’d feel good on your thighs, baby.” He said, his voice low.

Your cheeks heated, and he laughed again.

When you pulled the razor away, he tangled his fingers in your hair, giving you a sweet kiss on the mouth. You smiled into it.

“Billy, I’m not done.” You giggled dodging his attempts to kiss you again, as he chased your mouth.

He grabbed the razor, “I don’t give a fuck about the scruff.” He said, pressing his mouth onto yours again.

“Billy is needy,” you said into his mouth.

“You try being in the desert with only your hand to keep you company.” He grumbled.

You pulled him closer, “Maybe we should make the most of your time here, then.”

You hopped down off the counter, and pulled Billy along, who followed eagerly. You were gonna make it so he'd never want to leave home again.

[spiderfreedom]

I find radical feminism interesting and enlightening as a philosophy, like of all the branches of feminism I've read, it's the only that touches on topics that have bothered me for a very long time:

Why are women in the west expected to wear clothes that are more form fitting and show more skin than their male counterparts? Noticeable at almost every level of professionalism - even women who wear suits tend to wear scoop neck blouses to show collarbone and upper chest. Or they wear a skirt suit, which shows the legs.

Why is asking this question contentious? I get serious pushback from other women when I wonder about this, as if I were judging them. (I'm not - I'm curious about this gendered clothing system we live in.)

Why is the subjugation of women so common across the world? Why is it so similar across cultures and epochs?

How did the subjugation of women happen? What are the situations that lead to female subjugation?

How have women won back territory? What are the situations that lead to female liberation? How can we organize to take advantage of these opportunities?

To what extent is the female body the source of female oppression? Are we actually doomed by sexual dimorphism, or is this just pessimism? What is and is not true of the female body?

Are there genuine differences between females and males when it comes to psychology? If so, to what extent are these differences useful, or to be encouraged in women?

Radical feminism, of all the branches of feminism I've read about, is the one that comes closest to answering these questions. Liberal feminism is quite incurious about the origin of female oppression, and lacks a global thrust. Cultural feminism takes too much for granted that what we've been told is "feminine" is real and valuable. Ecofeminism often seems to delve straight into woo. Radical and Marxist feminists are the ones who seem to get the most that feminism is, at its core, a movement about female power and male power.

My problem with radical feminism is that while there's a tremendous amount of reading about feminist theory, there's spotty coverage of other issues. Radical feminism has a cautious relationship with science - understandable, since science has a dirty history of being used to justify the superiority of {$insert group using it here}, but sometimes veering into denialism. Like in Germaine Greer's Female Eunuch, she disputes the now accepted claim that women tend to have more fat than men, and says this was made up by sexist scientists. I've seen radical feminists unsceptically quote that Cordelia Fine book where she talks about 'priming' without even mentioning the replication crisis related to priming or trying to tease apart which studies still hold and which ones don't. This may seem like nitpicking, but living in reality matters. If we base our activism on the basis of a false claim ("there is no sexual dimorphism in fat distribution!") or a weak/contentious claim ("priming is a real thing that explains poorer female performance in certain areas"), then we end up following the wrong path and chasing leads that don't matter.

That being said, nobody else has done a better job, in my opinion, of dealing with the issues that go to the core of female subjugation, and the weak points can still be improved. Moreover, nobody else argues the urgency of female liberation with as much breadth as radical feminists have. Reading Dworkin and Firestone felt like someone had ripped open my diary, found the questions I had, and answered them with electrifying clarity.

[miryum]

You know I love you (Spot Conlon x Reader)

This has been sitting in my drafts forever

Warnings: Not proof-read, a sentence about a fist-fight, bruising

Remy tugged on your skirt. “Hey- Hey Y/n?” His voice was quiet and nervous.

“Yeah, bud?” Something was off in the usually lively and energetic boy. You scooped him up, bringing him to eye level. 

Remy looked down, avoiding your gaze. “Could I please have one of your apples?” 

“Of course,” you walked over to the small kitchen in the Brooklyn boarding house and picked an apple off of the counter. “Why? Did you spend all your money on toys again?” 

“Um, no.” Remy said, “I lost it.”

“You lost your money?” You frowned. Every newsboy bag had a special pouch for coins, its sole purpose being not to lose the pennies and nickels. “Where’s your bag?”

“I lost that too,” Remy mumbled.

With those words, you immediately knew that he was lying. The first thing a newsboy learns is to not lose his bag. It holds his papers and earned money- the most important things in a newsboy's life. What didn’t help your suspicion was that every younger boy was paired with an older, tougher, more experienced one. You made sure of that early on, pestering Spot until he relented (to be truthful, Spot had caved easily). Someone should’ve been watching Remy. 

“Who was with you?” You asked him. “Was it Patches?” Remy nodded and you gave a nod back. “Okay, you stay here and eat your apple. I gotta go talk to Patches really quickly.”

“Okay!” Remy looked happier now that he was out of your scrutiny and concern.

You scanned the room, seeing Patches stretched out on a couch, listening to Cal read a book. You weaved through the boys, hopping over legs and stepping over arms. You loved your newsie family and you would do anything for them. The scene of everyone relaxing after a long day warmed your heart. You knew that these boys would do anything for you and each other. 

You sat down on Patches’s legs, making him groan and kick your side. “I come in peace,” you said. 

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes. “What’s up?”

“You sold with Remy today, right?” He nodded in confirmation. You continued, “did you see him lose his bag?”

“He lost his bag?” Patches sat up, now invested in the conversation. “He told me that he gave it to Crackers for safekeeping.”

“Crackers was selling on Clermont Street,” you said slowly. “Weren’t you guys selling by Hicks and Clark?” 

Patches nodded, watching the concern on your face grow. “When did he tell you this?” You felt like you were interrogating the poor boy, but at the same time, you needed to know what happened. 

“I know Remy had his bag at four thirty. I remember him coming up to me and telling me about a guy who paid him double. I didn’t see him again until five.” 

“I’m going to try and get him to tell me the truth,” you stated. “Thanks Patches.” 

“Anytime.” 

You went back to the kitchen, finding Remy sitting on the counter, eating the apple to the core. But, before you could make it to the small child, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Knowing there was only one boy who would dare do that, you relaxed into your boyfriend. 

“Hey, Spotty,” you said quietly. 

“Hey, doll,” Spot replied softly. “How was your day?”

“You were with me for most of it,” you pointed out, referencing how Spot only let you sell with him.

“Yeah, but I got pulled away at the end.” Indeed, Fisher had needed Spot’s help with something before the selling day had ended, leaving you alone to pawn off the last few of your papers.

“It was alright,” you turned in his arms, leaving a kiss on his cheek. “But I’m a bit worried for Remy.”

“Why? What happened?” Spot’s brows furrowed, getting that telltale expression that meant he was stepping back into his King of Brooklyn role.

“That’s the thing; I don’t know.” You explained, “Remy said he lost his selling bag, but Patches said Remy told him he gave it to Crackers for safekeeping. But I know Remy. The kid would never lose or give away his bag. You know how protective he is over it.”

“Cause he carries his teddy bear in it.” Spot nodded, ending your thoughts.

“Exactly.”

“So what do you think happened?” Spot asked you.

You sighed and began speaking, “a little while ago, Lemon came to me saying how a group of older thugs had stolen her bag. I had her sell with Slugger for a bit, and the problem went away. Do you think that the same thugs could’ve stolen Remy’s bag?”

Spot hummed, “you’ve certainly got a memory about you, doll. It’s definitely not a bad idea. I’ll go talk to Lemon and Slugger about it and you talk to Remy?” 

“Deal,” you agreed.

“Pleasure doing business with you, doll.” Spot smirked and pressed a kiss to your lips before sauntering off to find Lemon and Slugger.

You chuckled before turning back to Remy and handing the kid another apple. “You’re hungry,” you commented.

“Yeah…” Remy looked shyly away.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “We all pitch in to buy this food.” After a moment, you quietly said, “I know you didn’t lose your bag, Remy. What really happened?”

Remy didn’t meet your eye, giving a small shrug.

“Was it some boys?” You asked, “did they steal it from you? Like they did Lemon?”

Remy chewed on his lip, turning the apple over in his small hands. “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “They cornered me and called me small and weak.” His fingers clenched into fists. “Then they stole my bag. It’s happened four times.”

“Four times?” You knelt down so you could meet his eye. “Remy, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because they said I couldn’t fight my own fight. I’d be proving them right if I told you,” Remy mumbled. 

You sighed, feeling terrible and squeezed the boy into a tight hug. “Remy,” You whispered. “Don’t be afraid to tell me anything. Especially if people are bullying you.”

“But what if they come back?” Remy wondered, “What if they do this again?” He lifted his shirt slightly to show you a large, ugly bruise. Immediately, a rage boiled in your chest and your jaw clenched. “They did that?” You growled.

Remy nodded slowly, frightened by your change in demeanour.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down in front of the scared child. “It’s gonna be okay,” you told him. “We’re gonna get your money back from those boys and make them pay.” 

“Really? But how?”

You smiled stiffly, trying to disguise your hatred for the punks by a thinly veiled grin. “Don’t worry about that,” you said. “All you have to do is keep on selling.”

Remy’s head bobbed up and down happily. “Thank you so much, Y/n!” He hugged you tightly and you reciprocated the action. He then pulled away, his problem suddenly fixed and out of mind as only a six- year old could. 

Heart still burning with hatred for the thugs that messed with Remy, you knew it was now time to call upon the people who would stand by you no matter what- your newsies.

**

Remy cried out in his squeaky voice, “Read all about the car crash that killed dozens! Police are convinced it was murder!”

“Hello, squirt,” a deep voice laughed from behind Remy. “Sell any papers today?”

Remy gulped loudly and slowly turned around, gripping his bag tighter. “Wha-what do you guys want?”

“I think you know what we want,” the lead man growled, stepping up along with his group of ten or fifteen boys. 

“I-I’m not giving you my money!” Remy stomped his foot. 

“Oh really?” The leader laughed loudly. “What are you gonna do? Fight us?” The rest of the boys chuckled along with their leader.

“Well, no,” Remy admitted. “But this time, I have friends.” You stepped out from around a corner. 

The goons glanced around at one another before bursting out in short, loud, ugly guffaws. “I’m sorry?” The leader snickered out, “A girl is gonna beat us up?”

“I’m going to ignore your misogynistic comment, even though you probably don’t know what that word means, and even though I could kick your ass, just to scare you into never coming near Remy again, I brought my boyfriend. You may know him as the King of Brooklyn?” 

Spot, along with his cavalry of newsies appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Spot snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you close. “Where you messin’ with my doll?” He asked, knowing whichever way they answered, he was gonna soak either way.

“You looking for a fight?” The leader bit back. 

Spot shrugged, smirking. “Maybe. But I’ll let you off if you don’t come near my newsies again.”

One of the cronies grabbed the leader and whispered something harsh to him. The leader scoffed, but said, “Fine. We won’t bother your pathetic newsies again.” 

“And my girl?” Spot’s thumb drew circles on your waist.

“Never said anything about her,” the leader smiled tauntingly. 

You glanced at Spot to see the muscles in his jaw tighten. “Don’t,” you whisper to him. 

“Doll,” Spot drawled, swinging a look down at you, grinning brilliantly. “I have to.” And with that, Spot stepped forward and punched the leader across the jaw. The newsies cheered and rushed forward, intent on standing up for one of their own. The bullies quickly ran away after a few hits. You took Spot’s hand in yours and thumbed the split knuckles. Before you could chide him however, Spot simply said, “You know I love you.”

“Yeah,” you smiled and kissed his cheek. “I do.”

[lost-between-letters]

I Wanna Love You But I Better Not Touch

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (she/her)

Written for: @deanwanddamons ' rock spn flash fan fic challenge

Song: Poison by Alice Cooper

Word Count: 509

Warnings: blood and gore, violence, kidnapping, ANGST, death, some pretty strong mentions of sex

Summary: Dean woke up tied to a chair

A/N: hello! Your girl is back with another angsty one shot with Dean - the song said it should be dark or smutty, so I went for dark with a hint of smut. I'm still not sure if the ending fits or not

"Good morning, baby."

Featherlight touches to his face shook Dean from unconsciousness. Y/N was ghosting her nails over his cheeks, a smile like a knife on her lips.

"Wha-" he couldn’t move. Or think properly. But what really caught his breath was the sight in front of him - Y/N dressed in a lacy bra and skirt that showed off everything he loved about her. Just outside his reach.

Something in the back of his head was twisting uneasily, but Dean ignored it. This was Y/N - beautiful, scary Y/N - his demonic girlfriend. Sure, she liked to tie him up, but who was Dean to deny her.

"Hold still, Sweets," she climbed his lap - Dean was sitting in a metal chair, he realised now, hands behind his back. The black lace of her bra caught his eye - Dean wanted to dip his head and pull it off with his teeth - leave bruises and make her bleed ... no wait, he'd never hurt Y/N, would he? Before he could, Y/N caught his head, sharp nails digging into his scalp.

"What did I just say?"

Poison dripped from every word, and Dean wanted to drink it all.

Didn't he?

"Good boy," Y/N praised, lips brushing his in a chaste kiss.

It lit up his bloodstream so brightly it almost hurt. Dean groaned and chased her lips to deepen the kiss.

"Ah no," Y/N pulled back, her razor smile transformed into something ugly - and something sharp met the back of his neck, "First you tell me everything about your newest plan to stop Lucifer."

Dean wanted to tear her skin off - he wanted to make her cum on his tongue.

What?

Sharp pain shot through his head. He keeled over as much as his bindings allowed, groaning. The uneasy feeling made him dizzy as recognition finally dawned. This wasn't his girlfriend - this was the woman who stole his brother away to hell while fucking their secrets out of him.

And Y/N was still looming over him, a knife pressed to his throat, delight dancing in her eyes. "There you are, Dean."

"You betrayed me," he spat, fingers working on the ropes, "and now you expect me to betray my family?"

"Isn't that how we work?" She asked innocently.

Dean threw his head back and rammed his forehead against hers. He needed to get out of here before her spell could take root again. "What did you do to me, demon?"

Y/N merely laughed, rocking with the hit but not moving from his lap. "Baby, I did nothing you never begged me to do before."

"Let me go, or I swear to God-"

She kissed him again, open-mouthed and hot. There was a sharp sting on his lip, and then Dean was kissing her with just as much ferocity.

"That's a good-"

"Dean!"

Sam?

Something hot hit Dean in the face - blood - and Y/N slumped forward, her knife clattering to the ground.

"Fuck, she almost got you again." Dean barely registered the ropes hitting the ground - his head was pounding, vision spotty.

"She had me, Sammy."

General Taglist: @fandomfoodiedancer , @lovesfandoms , @nyotamalfoy , @stixnstripesworld , @foxyjwls007 , @amythedoctor , @alexxavicry

Dean Taglist: @tiggytaylor , @akshi8278 , @mrsjenniferwinchester , @mrspeacem1nusone , @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes , @alohastitch0626, @jayheartswritting, @cinderellacauseshebroke , @xoxokiaraaxoxo @theslawstee @thecubanator2

Join a Taglist

[daily-leoneed]

Day 138

Two things for todays post! Sorry it's out so late, my internet has been spotty. Anyways! The WL outfits show off quite a bit about each members personalities. From the way their collar is worn to their skirt, everything is unique to them!

Secondly, how would you all feel about a card bracket tournament? It would likely be just trained though if it goes well I may also do one for untrained versions!

[scrunglepaws]

More Big variants + Boscage design thingies. Focused on the size comparisons a lot this time. I like the idea of the Boscage peeps having a variety of sizes- makes them even more crittery, somehow. Also, bitty little Prim and Gnarly... <3 And werehog-esque Thorn! I was undecided about Hangry (sometimes labeled as "Fig" here because, uh... I'm not fond of his canon name pfff). On one hand, I like the idea of him being the smallest of the Bigs, but retaining the same round, squishy shape. Bro would be like a super dense squishmallow and that's sort of extremely adorable. ;w; And he's still big compared to the smallest two (and Mangey as a kit). So! Hmm. Either way, I think he'll be the smallest Big, it's just a matter of -how- small.

Marking-wise, I think I'm pretty set on the stripey/spotty mix of the fishing cat look. And the more perky ears with the floofs! One of my goals with the Boscage variants was to make them dissimilar enough from their counterpart that you can't really tell they're related. I think those changes accomplish that without making him so different that you can't tell he's based on Big at all.

I'm pretty solid on the Catfish design now, too. Taller, just a BIT less wide, +5 fluff, +1 stripes. I think I'll nix the cloth-whatever thing around his belt because it kept looking like a skirt whenever I drew it. To make up for this, I gave Hangry a leaf skirt. I think it suits him. :D

[tildeathiwillwrite]

June of Doom Day 22

"What's the bad news?" / Poison / Bedridden / Cauterization

Prompts List | Masterpost

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 1500

Tag List: @juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf

CW: naval battle, arrow wounds, leg injury, cauterization, fire powers, blood, screaming, medical whump, caretaker POV

A/N: A bit of pre-canon whump for Trials of the Six that dives into Raiann, Aquilar, and Elya's friendship before the Plot.

----------

Raiann was lucky enough to be below decks when the other ship was spotted. She was hidden away in her tiny cabin, doing her best to repair a shortsword with the limited materials she had at her disposal. Cursing the blade's smith, her hands moved methodically, back and forth, back and forth, buffing away the dents and scratches in the edge with a whetstone. Not for the first time, she wished she could melt the blade and start from scratch, creating a better sword than the talentless fop who had clearly scammed his way into becoming a smithy.

Inspecting the blade, Raiann finally determined it would be suitable for its purpose and put away the whetstone. Stretching, she absently wiped her hands onto her skirts before realizing her mistake as her fingers left gray streaks on the colorful material. Hissing through her teeth in frustration, she sheathed the sword and rose, stalking out of her quarters and through the passageway in search of the blade’s owner.

Raiann was, unfortunately, unlucky enough to be on deck when the crew discovered that the other ship was flying pirate colors. By then, of course, it was too late.

An arrow thunked into the deck inches from Raiann’s foot. She jumped and whirled about, searching for the source as sailors around her shouted and ran about the deck. On the quarterdeck, Aquilar spun the ship’s wheel, expression focused. The water churned around the ship, propelling it forward and advancing on the enemy at an incredible speed.

Raiann spied the sword’s owner, the captain, standing near Aquilar, shouting orders in Tectuma and gesturing wildly to the enemy ship. Raiann closed the distance between them, climbing onto the quarterdeck and thrusting the sword at her. “It’s ready.”

“Ah!” She slid the blade out of the sheath and gave it a cursory glance before buckling the sheath onto her belt. She nodded before turning away and resuming her shouts. Raiann’s Tectuma was spotty, but she’d picked up enough to gleam that she was urging the crew to prepare to board.

She wasn’t sure who had called out the warning for the next volley of arrows.

What she did know was that the shout came too late.

Thunk.

Aquilar stumbled back with a cry as an arrow slammed into his thigh. The water went still, the ship drifting, his concentration disrupted. He hit the ground with a thud, hands grasping helplessly at the arrow. Raiann was at his side in an instant, dragging him away from the helm at the captain’s gesture.

The captain took hold of the wheel, and the water began to churn again, keeping their ship on course as cannonballs hit the water nearby, the waves this time under her command. “Get him to Elya!” she ordered, intent on the enemy ship.

“Of course!” Raiann pulled Aquilar to his feet, wincing as he cried out again, heavily favoring the injured leg. She supported his weight, helping him down from the quarterdeck and belowdecks, not wanting to push too far and injure him more but also not daring to linger too long.

When they finally stumbled into the infirmary, Elya immediately took over, grasping his arm and taking on his weight as she lowered him to the floor. All the color had drained from his face, and his skin was slick from sweat. She crouched beside him and tore away the fabric surrounding the arrow wound, inspecting it with a critical eye. 

Aquilar hissed through his teeth at her touch. “What’s the bad news?” he asked, a wane smile breaking the pained expression on his face. 

Elya ignored him as she continued to study his leg. “Raiann,” she finally said, “When I pull the arrow out, I’m going to need you to cauterize the wound immediately.”

Raiann blinked. “You want me to what?!”

Elya rose and crossed the room, rummaging through the cabinets full of various glass bottles until she found a short, round one with a dark liquid inside and a taller square bottle holding clear liquid. “Cauterize the wound, yes. Burn the flesh around it to seal the blood vessels. Keep him from bleeding out. You are a Fire Mage, are you not?”

“I am…” Raiann hesitantly said, eyes flicking back to Aquilar, who slumped against the bulkhead, his breathing labored. “But I’ve… I’ve never done anything like that….”

“That’s okay,” Elya said reassuringly, returning to Aquilar’s side and pressing the round bottle into his hand. “Drink. It’ll help the pain.”

He did so without protest, and she carefully set the empty container aside, looking back to Raiann. “You see that small knife there, on the table?”

Raiann located the indicated tool and grabbed it. The knife was thin, the blade about as long as her hand. She noticed faint black streaks close to the handle, where cleaning was more difficult. Scorch marks, she guessed, or perhaps soot from a flame.

Elya smiled reassuringly. “Good. Now I need you to heat the blade as you would a piece of metal in the forge.”

Raiann hesitated but obeyed, reaching out to her Mage energy and allowing its familiar warmth to roll through her. She let the heat rage through her mind, breathing deeply to maintain control of its natural hunger. The flames tamed, Raiann stretched out her free hand and directed the energy down the limb, collecting in her palm like how water would drip down an angled surface.

She snapped her fingers.

Flames burst to life, brought into being by the friction of her fingers and the intense desire of the fire to be free of her. But even as they swelled out from the source, Raiann reined them in, confining them, guiding them. Forcing them to grow hotter and hotter until the flames turned blue.

Satisfied, Raiann passed the knife through the flames, holding it in the heat as the fire begged to be released, as it fought against her mental restraints. She’d never had to hold it so tightly, for fear of what would happen to the wooden ship should her hold break, and it sensed that fear, tried to attack that weak point.

The blade glowed red. Her work was done.

Raiann drew the flames back into herself, smothering the Mage energy as it roiled and fought, furious that it would not consume. The flames were strong, that much was true. 

But Raiann was stronger.

The moment the fire was gone, Raiann shivered. The infirmary was suddenly freezing in comparison to the heat that had flowed through her moments before. She shook her head. She had a job to do.

Elya grasped the shaft of the arrow, close to where the arrowhead pierced Aquilar’s flesh. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands curled into fists. The healer made eye contact with Raiann, who nodded and knelt on Aquilar’s other side.

When Elya removed the arrow, she didn’t yank it. No, she moved slowly and methodically, careful not to hurt her charge any more than necessary. A low groan escaped Aquilar’s lips as the arrow slid out, the foreign object free from his leg. As blood began to pour from the wound, Elya took the square bottle and dripped some of its contents onto the wound. If the liquid pained Aquilar, he didn’t show it.

“Press the knife into the wound,” Elya directed.

Raiann gritted her teeth and acted as ordered, wanting to look away but all too aware that she could not. The blood hissed as it came into contact with the hot metal, followed by a sizzling sound that set her hair on end.

Aquilar gasped softly, eyes widening as he registered the action.

And he screamed.

His hands went up, trying to push her away, but Elya held him down, an unreadable expression on her face. Raiann wanted to cover her ears, to block out the sound betraying the incredible agony he was experiencing, but she could not. 

She wanted to close her eyes, to not see the evidence in front of her, but she could not.

She wanted to pull away her hands, the hands that were hurting him, burning him, making the wound worse, but she could not.

Elya was the one to pull away the blade. The healer would know, after all, when the wound was properly cauterized. Raiann scrambled away, almost tossing the knife aside before her sense of logic caught up with her and she carefully set it back on the table.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and looked back at Aquilar.

She couldn't tell if he was still conscious. His eyes were shut, his body motionless as Elya cleaned the blood away and began to dress the wound. Sensing the Fire Mage’s eyes on her, Elya glanced up and nodded. “He’ll live,” she said in reassurance as she continued to wrap the bandages around his leg, “It’ll be a while before he can walk properly, but that won’t affect his role. You did well, Raiann.”

Raiann’s face heated, almost as if she had accidentally touched her Mage energy. “I… thank you, doctor.”

Elya shook her head. “Please, just call me Elya.”

“Oh… thank you, Elya.” She shifted uneasily, glancing toward the door. “I should… I should check in with the captain.” With those words, she turned on her heel and fled the infirmary.

He would be fine.

The wound will heal.

She did well.

And she didn’t set the ship on fire.

Raiann smiled to herself. Perhaps she was good for more than just a forge.

[radiokathryn-if]

hi! ROs as the weather aesthetically? I can't help but think of jose as a warm sunny day with cloudless skies <3

I'm gonna make this super simple and let you com up with reasons why for yourselves!

Nate──the aftermath of a hurricane, the spotty rain and heavy winds that aren't strong enough anymore but still a constant reminder of their damaging wrath.

Eva──the warmth of the autumn sun peaking through clouded skies, a light that seems to shine only on you even though you're walking through a crowd.

Mica──the weather that keeps you on your toes, it was raining not even five minutes ago but now you think you'll overheat if you don't get out of your overcoat, but as soon as you do the wind picks up to caress your bare skin, goosebumps rising, before leaving again as to not keep you shivering.

Detective Han──the dead calm under the moon, there's a chill in the air that keeps you from relaxing but the freshness of the night keeps your mind clear.

José──the bright and warm sun that comes immediately after heavy rain, the skies lighting up in a kaleidoscope of colour and the rare sight of a double rainbow.

Ji Han──the first snow in winter, delicate and awe-inspiring, but comes with a message of harsher weather to come, an omen disguised under perfect beauty.

Fauve──the direct sun on a hot summers day, its warmth comforting yet it threatens to burn you if you stare for too long.

Jackson──the beginning of a hail storm, angry and unrelenting, yet it's not cold enough yet and the hail doesn't stick around, feeding the grass like an apology.

???──the spring breeze that picks up petals and helps them to dance, either in the sky or skirting along the ground depending on the strength of its lungs.