#blanc x reader

[cas-kingdom]

White Flower

A/N: Definitely a long time coming. I've been so slow in my writing since starting university but I'm glad to finally have this one done. Hopefully you all enjoy the introduction of my OC!

Set in the aftermath of Glass Onion.

Title: White Flower

Summary: Fleur Blanc, art student and only daughter of the world's greatest detective, wants to steal the Mona Lisa.

Words: 2336

Despite the alarm and the impassive yelling of “this is a smokeless garden”, Benoit Blanc believed he quite deserved this cigarette, thank you very much. Trying was one word to describe the weekend he’d had. All-round tits up was another.

Besides. The island was pretty much a raging pit of alarms, fire, and general chaos by now. One more addition didn’t make much of a difference, and there certainly was no stopping the activation of the hydrogen fuel now.

“Oh, do shut up,” he said anyway, because it felt good, and because the first yell had made him jump and squish his cigarette between two fingers.

He reached for another and let his sunglasses fall over his eyes, squinting into the distance.

The horrifically neon pink of Birdie Jay’s sunhat stuck out like a sore thumb in the midst of the remaining participants of the weekend’s fiasco. They were all fanned out across the beach, as far apart from each other as possible, waiting impatiently for the policeboats to arrive. Ironic, really, considering how they’d arrived, each one a suck up to the next.

Benoit lit his new cigarette and shook his head with a scoff. “Megalomaniac, Janus-faced…” He muttered the words under his breath and took a puff. The alarm and impassive yelling restarted, and the second cigarette promptly joined the one on the ground.

“For the love of...”

He was owed a proper vacation after this, at the very least.

The yelling stopped abruptly with a crackle and a robotic groan. When Benoit turned, he was met with the sight of a young woman, her feet precariously placed between the gaps of the odd white sculpture that the yelling emanated from.

No longer.

After a violent snap, she held a handful of the offending wires, a look of irritation settling on her face. A flick of long hair and a moment later she tossed the wires onto dry land and followed them down into the shallow water with a quiet splash. Benoit rose a brow and fit his third cigarette neatly between smirking lips.

“Why, thank you, my darlin’.”

Fleur Blanc, twenty-year old art student and daughter of the world’s greatest detective, offered a mock bow as she stepped out of the water. She stretched out a leg and shook her foot dry as her father turned his gaze back towards the beach.

It hadn’t been his idea to bring Fleur along on this particular adventure, and he had in fact protested against it when she and that good-for-nothing roommate of his had suggested it, remembering quite well the last time his detective business had taken him on a wild ride. Alas, lockdown had turned Fleur into a firecracker and Philip had eventually boiled Benoit’s options down to “you take her with you, or I take myself out with the shotgun in the safe.” All fun and games, of course. Of course.

He couldn’t say her presence had been unappreciated. Apart from the obvious ease in her company, and the slightest spark of feeling like they were on a proper vacation, she had helped with the investigation, too. His little detective in the making, he’d always teased, though for as much as he was sure she loved the thrill of investigation, he was certain her career path would lead her straight to the arts.

That certainty was consolidated at the unusual silence coming from Fleur. When he turned, she was standing with her back to him, her eyes fixed on what remained of the Glass Onion. The structure that had once been so…not on fire generated quite the backdrop for his obviously preoccupied daughter. Her head tilted, arms crossed, feet bare and loose hair billowing behind her in the summer breeze, one would assume she was the picture of innocence.

Benoit knew better.

The moment she glanced over her shoulder, a twinkle in her eyes and the—in this case—horrifying beginning of “Dad?” on the tip of her tongue, Benoit pulled his cigarette from his mouth and pointed it at her. His own head dipped dangerously low, and his brows raised in what Fleur knew to be warning.

“No,” he said. Firm and simple. He would not deny she often found herself wrapped around his little finger, but this was one thing he’d be ridiculous to abide by.

“But—”

“My goodness, Fleur, no!”

Fleur narrowed her eyes and whipped her head back around. Benoit saw her fingers tapping rhythmically against her forearm. He remained still, waiting, ready. Because when a thought entered Fleur’s mind, she was hard-pressed to get rid of it.

With a defining nod and not a single glance back, Fleur slipped her flip-flops on and started walking with absolute intent. Benoit rushed after her. He grasped her shoulder and stopped her before she could take another step.

Fleur was ready for him. “I’m doing it,” she stated, “I’ve decided. I have to.”

“You are insane if you truly think—it’s—you are just preposterous, child!”

“But, Dad, it can’t be a crime, right? Most of it’s already destroyed!”

Benoit spluttered. He dropped the cigarette and, with a sudden distaste for the thing, squashed it under the toe of his shoe.

“Jesus, God, Satan, give me strength,” he muttered under his breath, not for the first time concerning his daughter and certainly not for the last. He grasped her by the shoulders, ensuring she couldn’t avoid his gaze, then, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Fleur, sweetheart, you want to steal the Mona fudgin’ Lisa.”

“Rehome,” Fleur was quick to correct. “And it’ll have a better life with me! You really think Miles appreciated it as much as I will?” That was a given. “And—and only a small part, Dad, that’s all I want.” She suddenly hardened her stare, that familiar seriousness suddenly reappearing. “That’s all I need.”

The detective’s speechlessness after that closing statement could have been due to a number of things. One, because the pure gall of this girl never ceased to amaze him. Two, because something seemed to blow up behind them, a puff of smoke emanating from the top of what used to be the Onion. Three, the most likely contender, because the moment said explosion had him distracted, Fleur ducked under his hold and made her way intently towards it.

Like father, like daughter, was all he could think. And he wasn’t referencing himself.

Surprising, considering he followed after her with absolutely zero hesitation.

The Glass Onion’s majesty was long gone. The maddest of people would advise anyone and everyone to stay about a hundred feet from its flaming mess, armed with a hard-shell helmet and a fire extinguisher, just in case anything went even more wrong. Which, looking at it, was likely.

Still, as was typically—stupidly—the case, Benoit Blanc stood in the middle of it all.

One hand wrapped around his daughter’s, the other gripping the doorframe for easy escape, his wide eyes darted around the Onion. If he was any less focused on the state of his surroundings, he would have been more concerned at his daughter’s lack of concern. True, the fire had somewhat died down, and the structure itself looked less ready to cave in than it had done before, but safe was still not a word he would use to describe it.

Helen’s stunt had certainly done a number on poor Mona, but the world of aesthetes could decidedly remain relieved with the knowledge that some parts of her were untouched. Surrounded by what had once been her glass refuge, she sat still in the place she had done since Miles had obtained her. One eye was black, the other pristine. A side of her hair reflected the fire, the other had been destroyed by it. Needless to say, the majority of her was gone, and if Fleur had the time, Benoit had no doubt she’d be down on her hands and knees, collecting the ashes in a little pot and shamelessly risking her life in the process. Alas, he would sooner drag her out, kicking and screaming, than have her be here a moment longer than she apparently needed to be.

Benoit watched his daughter’s eyes as they scanned the room before landing on Mona. In less than a second, that tell-tale glint went from inquisition to pure delight. It seemed no amount of staring from outside of the case could prepare her for now. True, the painting was charred more than not, and his watchful eye did catch a spark of disappointment, but it only seemed to spur her determination in getting it safely within her grasp.

Parental instincts ablaze since the moment he’d stepped foot on the island, Benoit immediately tightened his grip on her hand and yanked her back when she made to move forward. “Hold your horses,” he said, waiting for her eyes to meet his before wildly gesturing around them. “There’s glass everywhere, Fleur, and you’re wearing flip-flops. Why would you bring flip-flops to this island and nothing else?”

“We’re on vacation!”

“You knew darn well this wasn’t a vacation!”

Fleur spluttered for a moment before pointing accusingly at his own choice of footwear. “Like you and your boat shoes can do any better.”

Benoit gasped. Audibly. “These have hard, glass-proof soles, I’ll thank you to notice.”

He wasn’t quite sure what it was that spurred him to his next decision. Perhaps it was the urgency of the situation. Or the very distant, but ever-closer, sound of sirens. Or, maybe, it was the pure eagerness of his daughter; eagerness of which had always softened his heart, no matter the circumstances.

Whichever it was, he tried not to think about the guilt that would remain on his conscience for the rest of his life as he turned and bent over slightly, motioning with his hands.

“Get on my back,” he said hurriedly. When Fleur stalled, shock settling quickly on her face, he motioned again. “Come, child, we haven’t got long.”

And, with that, Fleur hopped on her father’s back with as much excitement as a child. Benoit gripped her legs, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her chin on his shoulder, the biggest of grins adorning her lips.

“Look at you, Dad,” she said as he began walking, stepping carefully over large shards of glass.

“We are not to tell your father,” was his only response to her obvious insinuation that he was becoming rebellious in his old age.

“Might be a little difficult when we come home with the Mona Lisa. Ooh! Why don’t we take the Porsche home too? Just the steering wheel?”

Benoit uttered a silent apology to da Vinci.

“Do you see these grey hairs?” he said. “You are the cause.”

Needless to say, through no innate conformism, Fleur’s inner connoisseur had won over her desire to keep a piece of the Mona Lisa in her cardholder. The moment the police had finished detailing the basics of the weekend’s mess with her father and struck up the sensitive question of the possibility of either of them having seen the Mona Lisa’s remainders at all during the night—Benoit believed it was their imploring “the Louvre are simply desperate to get it back” that had swayed her—Fleur had produced the scraps she’d been able to save from her pocket. Handing them over with only the tiniest hint of reluctance, she’d smiled at the gratefulness from the police and watched them go with the bit of longing she could allow herself.

Chuckling softly, Benoit wrapped an arm around her and drew her into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Well, darlin’,” he said, “I’m very proud of you, if it counts for something.”

Fleur breathed a deep sigh and pressed her lips in a thin smile. “It does. At least I cay say I’ve touched her, right, Dad?”

“Oh, absolutely. That’s more than most people can say, after all.”

The police were wrapping up now, gently guiding the exhausted party members onto a boat—one in particular in aptly placed handcuffs. The island itself would take mountains of work to be habitable again, he’d heard a firefighter voice in passing, and for a moment he wondered if Derol had made it onto the boat. After brief consideration, he decided Derol was probably better off here than America.

Benoit pushed his sunglasses down and steered himself and his daughter in the direction of the shore. He didn’t quite enjoy the idea of sharing a boat ride with previously-dubbed megalomaniac, Janus-faced…people, but alas, after today he would no longer experience the displeasure of seeing them again. Though, he would be glad for Helen to attend a few of his dinner parties when the pandemic allowed.

Fleur reached up to grasp her father’s hand at her shoulder as they walked slowly, stepping carefully around anything glinting in the sand. Then, quietly, “Where’re you gonna put your steering wheel?”

Ah. Benoit instinctively glanced down at the duffel bag in his free hand. True, it was heavier than it had been when he’d first arrived on the island, but he had told his daughter that he’d be much appreciated if she didn’t remind him of his rebelliousness at every given moment. Which she had.

“I’m going to lock it away in a safe, so it’s never found, and I’m never arrested for thieving,” he said, finality embedded in his tone. If anyone ever asked: no, he had not stolen the steering wheel of the Porsche 918 Spyder’s wreckage. No, he did not have it in his duffel bag, blanketed by his clothes and second pair of boat shoes. And, no, once it entered the safe he would never look at it again. Except on birthdays. And maybe Christmasses.

He couldn’t say he regretted it.

But he did regret not regretting it.

“And may I just reiterate,” he said, leaning closer towards her, “your father does not need to know a thing.”

Knives Out Masterpost

[chaosangel767]

A gift for the amazing @citizensofcradle. Thank you for all your support 💙

A Lesson of Love

Fandom: IkeRev

Pairing: Blanc x F!Reader

Prompt: Enchanted Evenings Day 8: Mirror Sex

Type: NSFW Minors- DNI

CW: body worship, mirror sex, nipple play, implied cock warming, light bondage, vaginal penetration

WC: 650+

Tagging: @thewitchofbooks , @queen-dahlia , @kissmetwicekissmedeadly , @aquagirl1978 , @devildomwritersposts , @canaria-blackwell , @ikesimp100 , @kpop-and-otome , @sarahann-1984 , @citizensofcradle , @littlewitty , @curious-skybunny , @lordsisterxotome , @ikehoe , @psychodreamer666 , @tele86 - If your name is crossed out I was unable to tag you. If you want to be tagged/untagged please let me know or fill out this form here.

Your body shivers as his fingers trail to your nipples, peach eyes entrancing yours in the mirror. There isn’t a sound in the room around you, your breath held as you wait to see what your lover does next. You can feel the warm glow that the candles cast around the room, as you sit on his lap in front of an ornately decorated mirror. What started as him brushing your hair, turned into a lesson of love. He had already bared you, leaving not an ounce of clothing on your figure as he explores your body. Your legs are spread on either side of his own in a provocative display. His mouth is busy with your neck, while his fingers explore your skin, finding the supple flesh of your breast the current focal point. When he takes a nipple in his fingers, you finally break the silence of the room with a moan. Adjusting yourself around him, you feel his length twitch against your walls, reawakening your desire in your core. his fingers rolling your nipple between his fingers, tongue trailing along the column of your neck. Soft moans fall from your lips as you rest your head against his chest.

“Blanc” His name is a simple plea for more, the feeling driving you crazy. You struggle with your binds, the peach ribbon holding your hands behind you and around his neck.

“What beautiful?” His voice is a purr in your ear as his fingers pull away from your breasts, hands falling down to your hips.

“Please, move. I want to feel you more” You whisper, trying to rock against his hips for stimulation. Blanc just smiles at you through the mirror. You watch his lips caress your neck, tongue tracing the skin. His hips roll against yours, and you moan as his length finally starts moving, filling you so perfectly. His deliberate movements and the feeling of his fingers caressing your nipples overwhelm your senses, your head falling back. When your eyes fall shut, however, his fingers leave your body, and his movements still.

“Blanc-”

“If you want me to continue you have to keep your eyes on the mirror” He whispers in the mirror, waiting until your eyes are trained back on his before his hands return to your breasts. His lips lower to your shoulders, his hips finally resuming their slow roll in your core. It is a struggle to not follow your instinct and close your eyes, instead watch his fingers as he pinches your nipple. One of his hands leaves your breast, trailing instead down to your clit, pressing against the bundle of nerves as more pleasure floods your body. Legs trembling, his smile only grows wider when your orgasm approaches, his hand leaving your clit so your body loses the stimulation. Slowly picking up speed, his thrusts speed up and his fingers work your clit in time to his thrusts. His name falls from your lips as he continues teasing your clit, slowing down only when your pleasure threatens to overwhelm you.

“Blanc-” Your breathy moan has his eyes widening, before he smiles at you, pressing his mouth right against your ear.

“Be a darling now and cum” he whispers, feeling how your core clenches down against him, groaning when he feels your orgasm crash over you. Your legs tremble as your head falls forward. His name is an endless mantra from your lips and he just smiles, giving a few more thrusts before he joins you, his head resting against your back as he releases in you, slowing his hips down as you both come down. Looking back in the mirror, you watch as his fingers go back to trailing over your body, massaging your muscles while you both come down, his hands finally releasing your hands.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: to blanc, you are the change he needed, and your pressing secret won't change that.

WARNINGS: mentions of mortality, blood. Vampire stuff.

COMMENTS: ok ok so @vivislosingitagain here is my thought process YOU like biting people and sucking their blood so YOU are a vampire. and HEY GUESS WHAT vampires are IMMORTAL kind of. and im pretty sure blanc is really fucking old so i think mortality angst would work great with him BUT WHAT IF HIS PARTNER WAS AS OLD AS HE WAS AND BIT HIM. that's the post.

also im so sorry if blanc is out of character i have seen this man three times in the routes ive played + the prologue oops.

It’s a clear night. The stars are bright in the sky, just as they were hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Blanc doesn’t know if they’ll ever change, but he takes comfort in their consistency. They’re stationary, unmoving, unshifting, just like him. He’s always been in Cradle, long enough to see the shattering of bonds between the armies and the first Alice fall. He’s seen the skirmishes and the blood and the carnage.

And he’s seen you, the one who followed him into the rabbit hole and into Cradle.

He remembers thinking you were cute. He remembers Oliver scolding him for speaking his mind, and he remembers you tearing your eyes away from him, a shy smile on your lips. You’ve always been alluring, in a way he never anticipated, and it makes him wonder if someone from the Land of Reason can really be magical like the people of Cradle.

It’s no use though—he knows the passage of time will take you away. He knows love (what he feels for you, there’s no doubt about it) is a powerful force, but it cannot break the way the sun and moon rise and fall, it cannot stop the stars from dying light years away, it cannot stop your inevitable aging.

He knows this, and yet he can’t let go. He greets you in the morning with a soft pat on your head, leaning over your bed as you stretch and yawn. His gaze softens when you rub your eyes and look over at him, and you’re looking at him like he’s the only thing you ever want to see.

He’s so selfish—he wants so badly for you to only look at him.

For someone so keenly aware of how mortal you are, he knows he's being awfully flippant about it. It’s the folly of man, to be so foolish as to yearn, but there’s always the possibility that fate will take pity on his poor soul and listen to its cries for his love to stay.

And so, the next night, a night that should be no different from any other, he breaks his routine. He keeps you up late, chatting over tea as the full moon rises in the sky, asking you if you want to go home. He watches you as you go quiet, your previously bright smile fading into a thoughtful frown. You’re staring into your tea as if it can give you the answer, and Blanc hopes the tea will give you the same answer he would.

I wish you would stay. I wish you would stay with me. I wish you would think I’m worth it. I wish that if I had to be hurt then you would be the one to hurt me because I’ve never loved anyone like you and I doubt I ever will. I wish you would be the one to thrust this dagger into my heart so fate doesn’t have the chance.

“...I want to stay with you.” you say, and Blanc knows you’re hiding something from him but he can’t bring himself to ask when you already look so worried.

“Are you sure?” he asks, reaching across the table to place a hand on yours.

Your head jerks up and you meet his gaze with parted lips—almost like you want to tell him but are far too scared.

“You can tell me anything.” he stresses, squeezing your hand gently.

“I’m not...” you purse your lips, looking away again as you choose your words carefully, “I’m not having doubts about staying here, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Blanc holds back his sigh of relief in favor of another inquisitive glance. Your brow furrows and he knows you feel his stare, your cute canines poking at your lower lip as you gnaw on it pensively.

“I have a secret I don’t think I’m ready to share yet.” you say softly, turning back to him, “I will someday. I just...need time.”

Blanc laughs, a sound that's full of relief and love and sounds like the wind chimes that hang in your no longer temporary bedroom’s window, the ones that have been there since you came and will be there when—if—you leave.

“Darling.” he breathes, staring straight into your eyes with so much love, “I have all the time in the world.”

The full moon sinks beneath the horizon and the sun comes up again. The teacups from the night before have been cleaned and placed back on their shelves, and the cake you two cut slices out of remains in the fridge. There are still traces of you within the house—your skincare is still in the bathroom, your toothbrush is next to his, and your chair still has a cushion of your favorite color. None of those things have been removed because you didn’t leave.

You’re still in your bedroom, sleeping soundly, but this time Blanc is there with you, his arms wrapped around you. His body is tangled with yours, your legs intertwining as the bed sheets knot themselves around your limbs. Your head is resting right over his heart, the part of him that’s pounding away for you. Gently, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and stares down at your sleeping face, the face that shows him all of your thoughts and emotions, the face that belongs to the person who loves him enough to stay.

He wakes you up with a kiss on your forehead, a kiss on the bridge of your nose, a kiss on your left eyelid and a kiss on your right, a kiss on your jaw—

He sighs when you start to stir, propping yourself up on your elbows. The bed sheets fall off your body like water cascading down the side of a cliff, and your bleary eyes have never looked more beautiful. He lays there, admiring you in the morning light as the wind chimes chime, the soft breeze from the cracked open window ruffling through your hair.

You shiver.

“Darling,” Blanc calls, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Good morning.”

You smile when you turn to look at him, and you allow yourself to fall back against the mattress next to him.

“Good morning.” you murmur, your nails tracing the curve of his cheekbone before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “You look so handsome.”

Ever the charmer, he’s rarely been charmed himself. And so he does the only thing he deems appropriate, and thanks you with a kiss on the back of your hand.

Weeks pass, and Blanc finds himself growing into this new routine. You're a sign of change, that he knows for sure. His own room remains vacant for the most part unless you decide to pull him into his room instead of your own when you’re ready for bed. It makes no difference to him where you go, only that he can follow you like the lovesick fool he is.

Except you’re not leading him to either of your bedrooms tonight.

You’re leading him outside, under the pale moonlight and into the chilly nighttime breeze. He looks up at the full moon and holds your hand a little tighter.

“Thank you for giving me time.” you say, the wind swelling as it passes between the two of you and further into the night, “I’m ready to tell you what I’ve been hiding from you now. It’s...not fair to keep it from you any longer.”

“I understand,” he smiles softly, cupping your cheek, “Go ahead.”

“I’m a vampire.” you say, and it takes his brain a few moments to catch up, “I’ve...found it hard to get blood in Cradle but since meeting with Kyle’s he’s managed to get me blood when I need it. I don’t like drinking from animals or people but it...has to be done for me to stay alive.”

Blanc’s brain is whirring as you spill your guts to him, your mouth moving faster and faster as you explain how despised vampires are in the Land of Reason, how people view them as monsters and how you’re certain you’re cursed.

Cursed. What a funny word to say to him.

“Is that why your canines are so sharp?” he blurts, leaning closer to your face.

You stop talking, bending backward just a bit at his sudden closeness.

“I—I’m sorry, what?” you ask, looking confused.

“Ah, well....I always thought they were cute.” he smiles kindly, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“I...” you blink owlishly before shaking your head in disbelief, “Blanc, I just told you I’m a vampire.”

“Indeed you did.”

Your mouth falls open as if looking for the right words to say, and yet you come up with nothing.

“You can feed from me if you wish. I don’t want you to suffer any longer.” he offers like its the most natural thing in the world.

Still, you say nothing.

And then he murmurs your name, as soft as the flower petals brushing against your ankles.

“I don’t want to use you like that. I don’t want you to be a food source for me.” you grit your teeth, staring at the ground like you couldn’t be more ashamed, “I don’t want to be the monster the Land of Reason made me out to be.”

“You’re not. I give myself to you willingly, and I'll do it over and over again.” Blanc murmurs, hands slipping away from you.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt, leaving his collarbone open to the nighttime breeze and your eyes.

“My love.” he opens his arms for you and his shirt slips off his shoulder, leaving his skin vulnerable—

“I give myself to you.”

And he pulls you into his chest, as he whispers words of love telling you that you can bite him, drink from him, take all that you need and that it will be okay because he’d give you everything if you asked for it, and that you changed his life for the better, you brought springtime’s flowers and winter’s shimmering ice and summer’s warm sunlight and autumn’s delicate, beautiful leaves to a life that was so repetitive and boring until you arrived—a life that belonged to the man you see before you but not anymore because its yours and it will always be yours.

Tears prick your eyes as you kiss his skin, worshiping each freckle and small scar you can reach. Your canines poke insistently at his skin and you ignore the urge for one, two, three, four, five seconds before your mouth opens and you bite down, hoping the small gasp that leaves his lips isn’t one of pain. You’re careful not to take too much but it tastes so good and who knew drinking from the one you loved could make you feel so happy and full.

Blanc looks up at the moon as you feed, happiness and adoration blurring his vision as he thinks about you, you who trusted him enough to bite him, to tell him who you were, you who stayed behind for him even though you could have left.

He stares up at the moon and sighs because he’s in love. He’s in love with you.

And after you’re done, after you pull away and lick the puncture marks to soothe them, after you press a dozen more kisses to his skin, Blanc still loves you. His blood is smeared around your mouth but he pulls you in anyway, kissing you with everything he has because you deserve nothing less than that.

And he loves you.

Over and over again, he loves you.

He doesn’t know how long he’ll be aging or how long you will have by his side, but he knows that if you will forever be his constant, he’ll come out okay in the end.

[frickingnerd]

the princess and her white knight

pairing: chat blanc/adrien agreste x fem!reader

summary: after your boyfriend gets akumatized, you try to hide from him. but cats are good at catching their prey...

tags: angst with a happy ending, akumatized!adrien/chat noir, cat blanc breaking free from the akuma, hugging, hurt/comfort

"what's wrong, princess? why are you running away from me~?"

chat blanc's voice echoed through an empty paris. there was nobody left but the two of you. just like he wanted it. he had you all for himself. but the one behind the mask wasn't the one you had fallen in love with. this wasn't your chat anymore! 

"you're hurting my feelings, you know…?"

chat sighed, looking around the empty streets of paris for you. you had managed to slip away from him and hide. but his voice came closer and closer. and you knew you couldn't hide forever… 

"gotcha~!"

suddenly, you were pressed against the nearest wall, as chat surprised you out of nowhere. though it shouldn't be a surprise that the cat was good at catching his prey…

"there you are, princess… why were you running away from me?"

chat slightly raised you up from the ground, your feet hanging in the air, as he kept you pinned against the wall. 

"you're… not him!" you huffed, struggling to push off the akumatized version of the one you loved. "you're not my chat–!!"

a sinister laugh escaped from his lips. 

"i'm all yours, princess~ why can't you see that? who cares who i am? chat noir, chat blanc… it's all the same!" 

you glared at him, but your attempts to escape only seemed to amuse chat blanc. until you just gave up…

"adrien…" you whispered softly, the name alone getting chat blanc to flinch. "i love you… i know you're still in there… please, stop this…" 

without a warning, chat blanc backed away from you, causing you to stumble back onto your feet as they met the ground again. 

"g-get away from me…"

your head shot up and when you looked into his eyes, you knew this wasn't chat blanc talking. 

"adrien…!"

"please… get away from me… i can't… hold back… i'll hurt you…"

every word leaving his lips seemed to be a struggle. it was like adrien was fighting against himself, deep inside. or rather, like he was fighting the akuma. 

"i'm not going anywhere…"

adrien's eyes widened in horror as you wrapped your arms around him tight.

"you can do this… you can reject the akuma, adrien…!"

your boyfriend was sobbing, his arms helplessly hanging at his side. he didn't have the strength to hug you back, the battle he was fighting on the inside taking all that he had. until finally, he let out an ear-piercing scream and collapsed into your arms, the akuma from his bell flying off into the sky… 

you held on close to adrien. the world around you didn't change. there was no ladybug to purify the akuma anymore. it was just you and him. and it would always just stay you and him. but at least you now had your adrien back. at least you'd now have each other...

[charlotteking23]

Chat Noir Headcanons

This kitty won't be afraid to show PDA in public or private.

cuddling, holding hands, and lots of kisses are expected anytime you two are together

loves to show off in front of you

like if he's fighting an akumantized villain he will show off his muscles.

loves telling cat puns, That was PURRfect wouldn't you say? but he especially likes it if you join along, You cat to be kitten me right meow 😒. ( insert heart eyes from chat noir 😍)

he would protect you from any danger including any guys.

jealous type

would sneak into your room by your window just to see you but he only comes at night usually.

you probably wouldn't know his identity for he would want to remain a secret but we all know it didn't take that long to figure out who he was behind the mask.

Chat would take you on dates at night to see the Eiffel Tower at its highest point, or he would use his baton to carry him and you to a random rooftop, talking about random things.

his favorite date spot is your balcony just you and him talking in the night sky (so beautiful).

you would start making a chat noir blog, it highlights chat noir as a hero and partner to ladybug not just a sidekick.

it blows up with 2.5 million followers and Alya is jealous that her ladyblog doesn't have that many followers.

[themonasterygates]

yandere! chat blanc 🌑 general headcanons

chat blanc x gn reader

content warning: yandere content, stalking, posessiveness/obsessiveness, mention of killing + guilt-tripping

word count: 884 words

• before your meeting with one another, he was already so far accquainted with you but of course, you don't know have to know about that.

• you caught his attention with how alive your energy was, it drew him in to you. he's admire you from afar for countless of weeks, memorizing your habit of movements and your day to day schedule.

• when he finally does feel certain to approach you, he comes to you as a friendly, concerned hero and asking you where the akumatized person went. he finds himself purposefully putting you in a dangerous situation just to only save you and have you indebted to him. chat blanc yearns for any sort of validation that'll feed his big ego.

• after that encounter, you notice how chat blanc is always near you. everyday. whether it be if it's a slow day and no one gets akumatized, you'll see him patrolling no matter where you look it. it was like he was everywhere with you but you brushed it off as him doing his job.

• with how many times you've encountered chat blanc already, you find yourself growing closer to him. he always subtly flirted with you that would be unnoticed to the naked eyed but you had always managed to catch it. with time, you grow closer with him and so does your relationship circumstances.

• you quickly learned that he wasn't what he was on the surface level and what you had always perceived him as of. chat blanc has posessive tendencies which can be ruled off as him being simply clingy but he sticks to you like glue. he wants to be apart of everything you experience, be in every moment with you and to never have you leave his sight.

• when you're away, he has horrible seperation anxiety. he knows where you are, he always does. but that doesn't stop his anxiety. it's nothing specific but it all stems from his father's negligence (something that you don't really know much of but still, chat blanc opened up a bit to you).

• he loves to (exclusively) call you his "princess/my prince" with every chance he's given. lots of physical affection, no matter or wherever whenever you're with blanc, his hands would always be on you. snuggling, putting his heard on your shoulder with this arms around your waist. if he isn't touching you, he'll look at you straight in the eye with no doubt.

• he simply loves your hands in his. he absolutely loves to draw circles with his thumb on yours and give occasional squeezed. he'd lift the back of your hand up to his cheek and would close his eyes and pur at the feeling. he'd open his eyes, half-lidded, with such a pure and content expression on his face, your heart just melts at the scene. he'll lick your face all over like a cat grooming itself and then would play it off as a joke but you know he genuinely loves licking you.

• he loves to just bite you. your arm, hand, cheek, neck. he'll sometimes (almost all the time) leave your neck with hickeys (even if that isn't the intention at times), preceding to give you a bite mark along with it and then will be smugly oblivious of your annoyance.

• back to his possessiveness, chat blanc gets easily jealous to the people around you and prefer it if he can just isolate you from everyone else. even if someone is conveniently standing next to you, he'd scare the poor person off with all of his glaring as his mind travels to a much darker part of his brain on what to do.

• he brands you as "his", whether if you're dating him or not, he brands you as a "his" and vice versa. he feels entitled for your affection and is unable to handle rejection in any form. he holds you in such a high pedastal and would quite literally unconditionally love you as he unreasonably expects the same from you.

• he's willing (and wanting) to go through such deep lengths to keep you happy in any way. he'll do anything for you, even if it's something he despires doing, as long as it manages to get a giggle out of you, he'll learn to love it as you love it. chat blanc, with no hesitation, would and will kill for you. it can be a bully of yours years ago or someone simply mocking you, you'll always see them again on the news declared as "missing".

• he loves your humility and does not want to "corrupt" you in any way, so when you are suspicious of him relating to the recentissing people, you don't pry much as chat blanc goes out his way to guilt-trip you on your suspicions. "do you not trust me?"

• chat blanc is controlling and he knows just the right ways to make you vulnerable for him but he's desperate for you all the very same. he may have a cold front to others but you bring out a side of him that he didn't even knew he had. he loves you, and he knows it all too well, even if that sense of love that he discerns for you is twisted.

"my heart only beats for you."

[selineram3421]

Petit Lapin Blanc🐇

Chapter List

Now, where were we?

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6: Not yet made/in the process

+?

🌹ONGOING🌹

*updated every time there is a new chapter*

Taglist@

@gallantys @azmosposts @runawaymf @leftchildgladiator @rl800 @thereeallink @angelofdarkness2 @otherthoughtsofbu @bdemonbull72 @+?

ML I for Alastor🎙

[chaosangel767]

A gift for the amazing @citizensofcradle. Thank you for all your support 💙

A Lesson of Love

Fandom: IkeRev

Pairing: Blanc x F!Reader

Prompt: Enchanted Evenings Day 8: Mirror Sex

Type: NSFW Minors- DNI

CW: body worship, mirror sex, nipple play, implied cock warming, light bondage, vaginal penetration

WC: 650+

Tagging: @thewitchofbooks , @queen-dahlia , @kissmetwicekissmedeadly , @aquagirl1978 , @devildomwritersposts , @canaria-blackwell , @ikesimp100 , @kpop-and-otome , @sarahann-1984 , @citizensofcradle , @littlewitty , @curious-skybunny , @lordsisterxotome , @ikehoe , @psychodreamer666 , @tele86 - If your name is crossed out I was unable to tag you. If you want to be tagged/untagged please let me know or fill out this form here.

Your body shivers as his fingers trail to your nipples, peach eyes entrancing yours in the mirror. There isn’t a sound in the room around you, your breath held as you wait to see what your lover does next. You can feel the warm glow that the candles cast around the room, as you sit on his lap in front of an ornately decorated mirror. What started as him brushing your hair, turned into a lesson of love. He had already bared you, leaving not an ounce of clothing on your figure as he explores your body. Your legs are spread on either side of his own in a provocative display. His mouth is busy with your neck, while his fingers explore your skin, finding the supple flesh of your breast the current focal point. When he takes a nipple in his fingers, you finally break the silence of the room with a moan. Adjusting yourself around him, you feel his length twitch against your walls, reawakening your desire in your core. his fingers rolling your nipple between his fingers, tongue trailing along the column of your neck. Soft moans fall from your lips as you rest your head against his chest.

“Blanc” His name is a simple plea for more, the feeling driving you crazy. You struggle with your binds, the peach ribbon holding your hands behind you and around his neck.

“What beautiful?” His voice is a purr in your ear as his fingers pull away from your breasts, hands falling down to your hips.

“Please, move. I want to feel you more” You whisper, trying to rock against his hips for stimulation. Blanc just smiles at you through the mirror. You watch his lips caress your neck, tongue tracing the skin. His hips roll against yours, and you moan as his length finally starts moving, filling you so perfectly. His deliberate movements and the feeling of his fingers caressing your nipples overwhelm your senses, your head falling back. When your eyes fall shut, however, his fingers leave your body, and his movements still.

“Blanc-”

“If you want me to continue you have to keep your eyes on the mirror” He whispers in the mirror, waiting until your eyes are trained back on his before his hands return to your breasts. His lips lower to your shoulders, his hips finally resuming their slow roll in your core. It is a struggle to not follow your instinct and close your eyes, instead watch his fingers as he pinches your nipple. One of his hands leaves your breast, trailing instead down to your clit, pressing against the bundle of nerves as more pleasure floods your body. Legs trembling, his smile only grows wider when your orgasm approaches, his hand leaving your clit so your body loses the stimulation. Slowly picking up speed, his thrusts speed up and his fingers work your clit in time to his thrusts. His name falls from your lips as he continues teasing your clit, slowing down only when your pleasure threatens to overwhelm you.

“Blanc-” Your breathy moan has his eyes widening, before he smiles at you, pressing his mouth right against your ear.

“Be a darling now and cum” he whispers, feeling how your core clenches down against him, groaning when he feels your orgasm crash over you. Your legs tremble as your head falls forward. His name is an endless mantra from your lips and he just smiles, giving a few more thrusts before he joins you, his head resting against your back as he releases in you, slowing his hips down as you both come down. Looking back in the mirror, you watch as his fingers go back to trailing over your body, massaging your muscles while you both come down, his hands finally releasing your hands.

[frickingnerd]

Adrien Agreste Masterlist

oneshots

cuddles & movies on a lazy afternoon

you watch a movie with your boyfriend but the two of you end up falling asleep while cuddling

an unexpected identity reveal

the last thing you expected when you turned on the tv, was to see chat noir detransform into none other than your boyfriend adrien agreste

what the heart wants (but can't have)

despite your crush on adrien, you help him get ready for his date with marinette. after all, you just want him to be happy…

the princess and her white knight

after your boyfriend gets akumatized, becoming the villain chat blanc, you try to hide from him. but cats are good at catching their prey...

a game of cat and mouse

as the holder of the mouse miraculous, you try to stop claw noir's reign of chaos. but he doesn't seem to take you very seriously, instead proposing that you join him!

drabbles

seeing you with luka is enough to finally make adrien realize his feelings for you. only that it's too late now...

secretly making out with chat noir

your secret make out session with your superhero boyfriend gets cut short due to an akuma attack...

we could've had it all

headcanons

dating adrien agreste

fake dating chat noir

arranged marriage with adrien

sleeping with(out) adrien

adrien breaking up with his s/o

adrien with a younger sister

adrien dating the new holder of the butterfly miraculous

polyamorous

poly relationship with adrien, marinette & luka

poly relationship with shadybug & claw noir

love triangles

love triangle with adrien & luka

love triangle with adrien & felix

love triangle with shadybug & claw noir

love triangle with chat noir & claw noir

[charlotteking23]

I would love to see a cat noir x reader were cat noir gets into some catnip and started acting like a love sick puppy who is determined to be as clingy as possible with reader

Chat Ate Catnip!?

Chat Noir x reader

Summary: Cat Noir gets into some catnip and start acting like a love sick puppy who is determined to be as clingy as possible with you.

It was night in Paris and here you were laying on the couch next to your boyfriend cuddling him. You were watching Princess and the Frog, best movie ever, the movie was finally ending.

"Mon amour, are you all right"?, Chat said looking at your awkward position.

"Hmm..I just have to use the bathroom", you said continuing to squeeze your thighs together to stop the irritation.

"Just go Mon amour, why hold it", Chat smiled brightly also maneuvering to sit up like you.

"I can't, it's my favorite part of the movie", You eagerly said before you saw Chat roll his eyes before pausing the movie.

"There, now go Mon amour", Chat said watching you quickly get up before running to the bathroom to do your business.

Suddenly you heard a crash in kitchen before you quickly finish using the bathroom before running into the kitchen.

"What happened, Chat are you hurt"?, You said scared upon seeing the mess on the floor. Turning the corner you saw a bag of catnip on the floor but before you could pick it up, You felt someone jump on top of you.

"ARGHH, What the-,Chat...What are you doing", You in pain before looking at Chat angrily.

"What did you do that", But instead of answering Chat only hugged you tighter refusing to let you go.

You found the source of the problem, Chat had a catnip which altered him to act so weird. You tried to create some space but Chat just choose to jump on your back staying their.

"No, don't leaveee, please", Chat adorably replied pouting with his cute lovesick eyes, making it so hard to refuse.

You almost caved...Nevermind you caved in, I mean how could you leave Chat all alone especially in this state. So you were basically his cuddle pillow.

"Were gonna be together forever and ever right.., Chat said with his infamous sweet smile that melts your heart on how adorable he looks.

"Of course baby", You smiled before gently playing with his hair.

"Hmm, baby I'm gonna go get's some water, I will be right back", you said getting up but being dragged back down with Chat cuddling your arm.

"NO, you are not going amour", Chat grinned before laying his head on you lap.

You gave up trying to leave Chat from his body basically on top of you and how fussy he got when you tried to get comfortable.

"It said it should last an hour or maybe more", You google up 'what to do if your cat ate some catnip'.

"Luckily its nothing serious, only the cat would get super clingy, great", You smiled at the purring kitty resting on your leg.

"You tired Baby", You grinned gently rubbing behind chat ear's.

Chat gave a sleepy nod, rubbing his face deeper into your leg enjoying the massage.

"Do you want to go to bed or stay here", You said admiring the way Chat looked all sleepy.

"Here", Chat quietly mumbled to you.

"Why don't you detransform so you can be comfortable", You suggested before Chat stood quickly mumbled out 'Plagg claws in'.

You stood up before laying Chat down on the couch, "Where are you going?", Chat tiredly said before opening his eyes glancing up at you.

"I am going to go feed Plagg and put him to bed then I will cuddle you", You sweetly smiled. Yep, Plagg and Adrien stay over all the time you decide to buy a small bed for Plagg to sleep in and restock on all his favorite cheeses. As you went to leave but you could hear Adrien getting up before following you to the kitchen.

"Here Plagg some Camembert", you saw Plagg quickly stuff the cheese down his belly.

"That was the best Camembert, Yum", Plagg said burping then rubbing his belly satisfied then flying towards your room to go to bed.

You dragged Adrien back to the couch before taking some of his spare pajamas he has left over here, to change into.

Adrien quickly changed before taking your hand and laying on the couch with his hands around your waist as his face buried into your shoulder.

You slowly lifted the blanket on to the two of you before hearing the soft purrs of Adrien sleeping before doing the same.

[amphibiahawks321]

Mont blanc : Thank you so much for letting me use you as a mannequin dear!

M!Reader cookie : Hehe no problem! You told me you ran out of mannequins so I can't just not help you! And also the fact you're gonna give me this amazing outfit!

Mont blanc : Aww! You're so sweet!

M!Reader cookie : But I can't help but ask, although I'm really happy you're making me this outfit why exactly is it a butler's outfit?

Mont blanc : O-Oh! Hehe no reason!

M!Reader cookie : Anyway I must say this is really comfy! Not to mention the—

CRASH!!💥

[Several mannequins fall out of the closet]

M!Reader cookie : .....

Mont blanc : .....I can explain–

M!Reader cookie : dear did you make me this butler outfit just because you think I would look good wearing it?

Mont blanc : ......Yes

[just1riqht]

I’m still in denial that Matthew Perry died

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Cat Blanc love letter? ❤️

My love,

Did you know how my passion for you burns like the fire of a thousand suns? From the moment I laid my eyes on you, my troubled heart only found peace in your presence. You are the light that illuminates my dark life, the reason my existence has a purpose.

However, sometimes jealousy takes over me, my love. I can't bear the thought that anyone else would dare look at you, talk to you, or worse, steal you from me. All I want is to keep you safe. With me. Every moment I spend away from you is an unbearable torture, as if I were being ripped away from my very being.

I promise I will never let you go, my beloved. I will never allow anything or anyone to hurt you. If anyone tries, I will be like destruction itself, destroying any obstacle that dares to stand in our way. It's my love, but it's a love burning with an indomitable intensity.

I know that my love is intense and that my actions can seem strange and even terrifying. But please understand that everything I do is in the name of this overwhelming love that consumes me. I can't bear the idea of ​​losing you, of seeing you in the arms of another, of living in the darkness of loneliness that awaits me without you.

I ask you, my love, to save me from this pain that torments me. Accept my unconditional love and allow me to be the one to light up your world. I swear I will do anything, face any challenge, to protect you and keep you safe. We are meant to be together, and I won't rest until you believe in it like I do.

With all my love,

Cat Blanc.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: blanc and kyle attend your after party.

WARNINGS: none!! :D

COMMENTS: happy birthday @vivislosingitagain <3 thank you for being my friend and for making me so happy this year. i hope you had fun today ^^

“I hope you enjoyed your birthday.” Blanc smiles, his features flickering with shadows in the soft candlelight.

“I did.” you smile back, voice soft as you stroke a sleeping Kyle’s head, “And so did Doctor Ash here, apparently. Drank himself silly celebrating again.”

You try to laugh it off as he snuggles into your hand. It doesn’t work. Blanc notices and his smile turns softer.

“You’re beautiful when you smile.” he says, and your heart skips a beat at his charming words.

Of course. Of course Blanc would slip in a flirtatious comment. As much as Oliver got on his case about it, you could never quite bring yourself to do the same.

“You smiled a lot today.” he adds, standing up from his seat and approaching you from across the small (the too small) dining room space, “I swear, your radiance will never fade.”

You can’t move with Kyle’s head resting on your shoulder, his hand placed gently on your thigh as your hand is buried in his hair. Blanc knows you’re too kind to get up, so he pulls out a seat right next to you.

“We love you dearly, sweetheart.” Blanc places his hand over your free one and intertwines your figures. You forget how to breathe for a second.

“Happy birthday. It’s an honor you spent it with us.”

With the way the world starts spinning, you’re convinced you’ve also had too much to drink. Except you know that’s not the case, because you’re so very aware of Kyle’s warmth on your left and Blanc’s soft smile on your right and oh, how your heart is fluttering like mad.

You’re so in love with them. So, so in love with them.

And when you look at the two of them, you know in your heart they love you too.

The cake rests half-eaten at the table as the three of you end up falling asleep there, ready to wake up with cramps in your necks and sore backs and stinging ears after Oliver for sure scolds you in the morning.

But you also know your hands will be warm, intertwined with the hands of the people who cherish you the most.

[marvelsgirl616]

[ 🎬 ]: knives out (2019): I love this movie sm. 😭

[bits-and-babs]

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐭 || 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐭 ��𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

IMPORTANT! This fic was written with ONLY Knives Out as it’s source material, I haven’t yet seen Glass Onion. I have since been made aware 1000+ words into this fic that Benoit is gay as of the second film. I didn’t want what I had to go to waste. This is the only time I will write for him in a m x f relationship.

Summary: You introduce Private Investigator Benoit to Cluedo

Word Count: 3.1K

CW: FEMALE READER. Please see explanation above. sassy Benoit. Vague references to a mild age gap relationship, easter egg references to Knives Out film 🤭 Nylon Kink. A bit of knife play. Oral, f receiving.

Tease: “On the contrary,” he answers you with a playful lilt to his drawl, slowly sinking to his knees before you, “I intend to stay right here.”

“You’ve never played Cluedo?!”

Shock permeates each syllable of your parroted sentence, your jaw slack as you stare at your partner with complete incredulity. Benoit, in turn, peers vacantly at you like you’ve said something ridiculously dense.

“Ain’t that what I just said?” He asks you, his monotonous voice lacking any true irritation as he taps the ashes of his cigar into the ashtray on the coffee table between you.

“Nah, we’ve gotta fix that,” you insist, slapping your palms on your knees before raising from your armchair. Benoit peers over the rim of his tortoiseshell glasses, and his icy-blue eyes follow your body across the room.

“Now— Dear, you’ve worked a long shift; you can’t be runnin’ around playin’ detective with me,” he tries to reason with you, attempts to talk you down from the inevitable shitshow that was no doubt about to unfold in the shape of solution cards and miniature murder weapon props. It’s all fruitless, though, because you’re sweeping aside Benoit’s beloved ashtray and ignoring his protestations as you drop the board game’s box onto the coffee table.

Yes, you’d slogged a nine-hour shift and hadn’t had time to change into less formal attire. Your pencil skirt bunches up your thighs, and the button-down blouse collar lies taut against your throat. Hell, your nude tights are beginning to itch too, but you’re far too invested in this ridiculous adventure and refuse to turn back at the sound of Benoit’s listless objections.

“Here we go,” you mumble to yourself, sliding the lid off the cardboard box and electing to ignore the heavy sigh that Benoit hopelessly attempts to conceal. He leans forward to put out his cigar in the ashtray you had unceremoniously discarded on the wooden floor, eyeing you as you set out the board game items and distribute each piece evenly.

“Who would you like to play as?” You ask, offering out the coloured tokens in your outstretched palm.

Benoit peers at each of the six shades of plastic pawn figurines, his expression betraying his evident discontent. “You know I do this for a livin’, don’t you, Dear?”

Your scowl in retaliation to his query has Benoit snatching up the green token from your hand and setting it on his end of the table. Again you smile as though he’d never spoken and choose red for yourself. Reverend Green and Miss Scarlett.

Carefully, you shuffle the weapon, suspect, and room card decks. Then, as discreetly as possible, take the top card from each pile and put them into the murder envelope without peeking at the details on the other side.

Finally, ignoring the obnoxious sighs rattling in Benoit’s chest, you hand out the Clue cards. Five cards each for you and Benoit, four apiece for the pair of ghost hands; purple and blue. You pinch the dice between your forefinger and thumb, holding it in front of your lover's face. “Odd for purple, even for blue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he responds, clearly finding the process tedious already but suffering through for you. Your eyes are alight with excitement, a grin permanently fixed on your lips. How was he to say no? In fact, he found himself amused by your enthusiasm to understand his line of work— even if it was through juvenile means.

“Alright!” You giggle, rolling the dice to move your scarlet pawn token forward. “Let’s begin!”

-✩-

Chimes sound from the mahogany grandfather clock situated in the corner of Benoit’s living room. They’re almost deafening in the silence that has befallen the coffee table. Although it feels like moments, you realise the minute hand has completed a revolution of the face of the timepiece — You’ve been playing for an hour. You’re no closer to identifying the killer than you were sixty minutes ago.

Benoit appears bored to tears, chain-smoking cigars and even leaves his seat at one point to obtain a glass of whiskey. To the amusement of both of you, you hadn’t noticed his absence, too wrapped up in the game to realise he’d gone AWOL.

“Now, Darlin’,” he begins, cutting both the stillness of the room and your acute concentration with his southern drawl. “Don’t you think it’s time we called it a night? It’s gettin’ awfully late—“

“Benoit,” you whine petulantly, noting the wince it earns you from the older man. He certainly looks like he’d acquired a few more silver hairs since you began this wretched game. “I want to finish it.”

“Mhmm…” Benoit pushes his spectacles up his nose, glancing over the board with mirth, “I knew a man who wouldn’t admit defeat in a board game. Know what happened?”

You glance up at him, eyebrow raised in question.

“He died.”

“Benoit!”

Exasperated, Benoit turns his black cards over, revealing his weapon, room and character. He raises his hands in defeat, settling back in his seat and officially ruling himself out of the game. “There, you only gotta look at two suspects… You're not much of a detective, are you?”

“You‘ve solved it already, haven’t you?!” You gasp, looking up at him with wide doe-eyes and dismay. He answers with a firm nod of his head. Perhaps it was foolish of you, but you really thought you’d established egalitarianism with a board game. “Well, go on, how did you know?”

Benoit inhales, opening his mouth to speak and finally put an end to this ridiculousness. “Well, now, I—“

“Wait!” you shout out, holding a hand up as though it would physically restrain the syllables of his deduction from leaving his lips. “I’ll figure it out myself!”

Sullenly, Benoit sinks back into his armchair, admitting defeat and allowing you to play out your inspector fantasy. He pouts for a few moments, watching you furiously exert your mind with the evidence before dragging his gaze over your uniform.

A quiet man, reticent in nature, Benoit rarely discussed his appreciation for your work apparel. Yes, the pencil skirt was lovely and hugged your body well, and the blouse accentuated your bodily aesthetics, but it was the tights that really captured his imagination.

In truth, Benoit was fascinated with your nylon wardrobe and could go so far as to say it was somewhat of a sexual preference. A kink. He enjoyed the sleek look they gave your legs, their shine underneath lights. Once, the feel of your stockings in his hand as he held your foot up to aid in fastening one of your heels had set him alight.

Gazing at your legs, folded over one another as you attempted to piece each clue together resentfully, Benoit felt heat rise under his collar. The nude tights you were wearing are perfect, sheen delicate beneath the faux-candelabra light fixtures. There’s not a tear, ladder or hole in sight.

He planned to amend that.

Benoit lifts himself from his seat, skirting the coffee table easily and approaching you with long strides. You momentarily glance up from the clue card in your hand, scowling to yourself as he advances. “So embarrassed with my detective work that you’re retreating to bed, Mr Blanc?”

“On the contrary,” he answers you with a playful lilt to his drawl, slowly sinking to his knees before you, “I intend to stay right here.”

Momentarily, your mind works like an old television with a crooked aerial antenna. Static fizzles between your synapses, and you cannot come up with a retort to Benoit’s cheeky inference.

“Best keep your mind on the case, detective,” he murmurs, palms settling on your ankles and tracing up the sides of your calves, “We wouldn’t want the killer gettin’ away now, would we?”

You swallow thickly, holding the cards with shaking hands as you feel Benoit place a lingering kiss on the inside of your knee. He skirts the tip of his nose up the inside of your thigh, humming softly as he squeezes the meat of your calves in his hands.

Focus. Focus. It couldn’t have been Benoit; he’s rescinded his cards. So, it was one of the Ghost Hands. Blue was suspicious, and you’d already discovered she was carrying a wrench. However, she had a decent alibi… Meanwhile, you had barely anything on Purple.

You roll the dice again, the face showing a two rather than the hand glass you had been hoping for. Gritting your teeth, you attempt to rake over the evidence, only to be interrupted by your vision swimming suddenly.

Benoit’s nose notches against your clit through your tights, his head practically buried beneath the fabric of your skirt. He groans softly, inhaling the scent of your sex. You whimper, the edges of his glasses pressing against the junction of your thigh as he presses a delicate kiss to your slit through your panties.

“Do me a favour, Dear,” he breathes against your thigh, pressing kisses to the nylon fabric. He doesn’t have to state what he wants from you explicitly. Fumbling with clumsy hands, you set the cards down quickly on the armrest and pull the hem of your skirt over your hips to give Benoit better access.

“Much obliged,” he whispers to you, and you can hear the gratuitous smirk playing on his lips. Attempting to ignore him and focus on the cards, you endeavour to read the clue, which is written in plain English. You haven’t yet fully deciphered it, thanks to Benoit’s tinkering.

He has other plans, though, nipping at your skin through the fabric of your tights. You jolt slightly with each bite he gives you, and you can hear him chuckle beneath you.

“Anythin’?” Benoit teases you with a combination of kisses and nibbles trailing up your thigh. It takes a moment for your answer to form on your tongue, toes curling in your heels.

“Mhm- N-Not yet,” you stumble over your words despite your attempt to conceal your evident appreciation for his affections.

“Hmm,” he hums, the rumble in his chest setting your hair on end as he, once again, presses lingering kisses over your panties. “I feel a noose tightenin’.”

Everything inside you freezes, and you’re quick to glance at the miniature weapon icons. The rope lays dead centre of the pile, and you’re forced to reconsider everything. Was Benoit giving you a hint?

Admittedly, you don’t have time to contemplate. As you open your mouth to question him, Benoit sucks on your clit through your panties. Your line of questioning dies in your throat, instead coming out as a strangled ‘Ahhh~’.

As quickly as he offers you the blissful sensation, he’s stealing it away. He pulls back, sitting on his haunches, and you’re blinking back your arousal to see him clearly. “W-Why did you…?”

Benoit hushes you gently with a wicked smile. “I think you should focus on the case.”

Smug bastard.

Filled with the desire for retribution, you cast your eyes back to the clue cards in your hand. They’re slightly creased now due to the tight grip you’re holding them with. You manage to make out the words ‘Name One…’ before a clicking sound pulls your attention away yet again.

The glint of light reflecting off the blade in his hand had your heart seizing. Not in fear, no, but exhilaration. See, Benoit carried the flip knife on his person always. It was less of a weapon for self-defence than a family heirloom, and Benoit never took it out without good reason. Simply asking to see it would not gain you access to the elusive dagger.

Your breath hitches, adrenaline buzzing down your spine.

“Now, hold still,” Benoit insists, impossibly blue eyes gazing up at your face through the lenses of his glasses. You nod quickly, both showing him you are listening and urging him forward with his plan.

You watch as he leans forward, slipping the knife's point into the nylon at your crotch. Utterly motionless, you whimper as your lover pulls the handle upwards and slices through the fragile material with ease.

“Been wantin’ you to keep these fine stockin’s on …” Benoit whispers against your thigh, pressing a kiss to the soft flesh there as he closes the knife with a click and slips it back into his pocket.

“H-Huh?” You tremble beneath his affections, his lips travelling further up the inside of your legs, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“Case, Detective,” he replies flatly, sliding the pad of his index finger against your slit through the cotton of your panties, “You’re deducin’ a murder weapon— it’s in plain sight.”

“Right,” you nod dumbly, swallowing back your arousal and glancing at the board. The box said the game was suitable for ages eight and up; surely it shouldn’t be this difficult. There had to be evidence you had overlooked. Your notes are settled on the coffee table, and you venture to decipher the evidence as you take up the booklet with trembling hands.

But then Benoit is hooking his finger inside the crotch of your panties, pulling the fabric to the side and exposing your sex. You almost drop the notepad on his head. “How ‘bout you take me through your notes, Dear Detective?”

You would, God, you absolutely would if you could. However, Benoit’s tongue drags against your slit, and your mind goes numb, buzzing as though it has a pins-and-needles sensation. He hums, amusement lilting his voice as he watches you struggle.

Overwhelmed, you completely forget about the game of Cluedo, tilting your head over the back of the chair and sliding your fingers through the greying man’s hair. The notebook falls from your hand, clattering against the wooden floor but you’re already too far gone to care.

Eager to please you further, Benoit is gripping your thighs, lifting them so they settle on his shoulders. The nylon tights rub against his neck this way, and you’re sure it spurs him on because he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit. It jolts your body forward, and that maddening chuckle sounds between your legs again.

“Now, Darlin’,” he croons, and you’re whining due to the lack of friction already, “You be careful. The killer’ll be gettin’ away.”

You choke on an apology, Benoit burying his face into your cunt and sucking at your clit keenly. He’s swirling your clit with the tip of his tongue, one, two, three times, and then dragging over the seam of your sex to lap up your slick.

Not only was the man eloquent, but he was also persuasive with his tongue. Trembling in your seat, you sob out as your muscles tense against it. Your legs twitch against the shoulders of his suit, and you arch your hips up to grind against his face.

“Detective,” he prompts you, and you suck in a breath like you’re coming up for air after being suspended in water. Your eyes roll back, and you try to focus hard on what it is he’s requesting of you.

“Hngg- B-Blue has a go-good alibi—” you let out an obscene whine, the wet noises of his tongue dragging against your soaked pussy diverting you from the task at hand.

“Mhmm?” He hums, and the vibration has you bucking against his face again, sobbing out his name in a broken whimper.

“A-And I’m not sure about Purple!” You squeak out. God, it’s so messy. You’re soaking his face, and you’re sure you can see your slick glossing up his nose and chin. If you stained the seat, you’re not even sure he’d mind; the blues of his eyes engulfed by the black of his pupils.

It’s a wave of pleasure building, teasing at your abdomen and throbbing through you with each pulse of your heart. You inhale deeply, feeling it tease at the edges of your skin. You’re devastated, overpowered by the ecstasy clawing at the base of your spine— you don’t even notice what it is you’re saying.

"I-I-It was the- ohhhh fuck, Benny~" you sob out, tears rolling down your cheeks, “It’s you— Hgnn fuck!-!”

"Hm? Use your words, dear. You're makin' an accusation, you know. Don't want to slip your words now." He’s entertained by your bewilderment, “Especially when the person you’re accusin’ has given you a damn good alibi.”

You’re so far gone that you’re not even embarrassed that you’d just implicated the one person you could be sure wasn’t the killer. Swallowing sobs, you watch as Benoit circles your clit repeatedly with his tongue, eyes staring straight up at you and watching you come apart.

It all happens so fast. Your toes are curling in your shoes as the cramping sensation of your oncoming orgasm takes hold. One of your shoes falls off and clatters to the floor, and Benoit places the flat of his palm against your pubic bone.

“Oh God-!” You choke out, whining as he continues with the devastating pattern he’s drawing. “I’m gonna— Shit, Benny, it’s—“

He’s nodding without removing his mouth from you as though he’s telling you ’I know’. It’s shoving you right off the edge, those beautiful blue eyes blinking slowly and taking in every inch of the image of ecstasy on your face.

It pulses right between your legs, throbbing against his tongue like a pulse. You scream out his name, all of the muscles in your body tensing so hard that you’re cramping. Your vision goes white, and you’re gripping Benoit’s hair so tightly that you’re surprised you don’t rip any out.

You’re suspended for a moment, and then everything melts away, every inch of your body melting against the plush of the seat. Distantly, you recognise the smile against his lips, pressed to your skin.

“… Who was it?” You slur like you’re drunk on the dopamine he’s just overdosed you on. He laughs heartily, and you can’t help but smile with him.

“Blue.”

“Fuck!” You gasp out, palms covering your face and digging your nails into your hairline. As if! “When on earth did you figure that out, Benny?”

He sits back on his knees, pulling the handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping his chin and nose to remove the slick you had rubbed onto him. “Mhmm… Why, I figured it out the moment you laid out the cards.”

You scoff now, disjointedly sitting up in your chair. The muscles of your arms are like jelly, and you struggle to raise yourself. “Are you that good that you could tell at first glance?”

Again, a smug smile plays at the edge of Benoit’s lips, his eyes flicking up to your face.

“No… I simply saw the cards you drew.”

END

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