#Stella Writes

[dreamerdrop]

Kukalaka Complex // Julian Bashir/Elim Garak/Kukalaka // Explicit

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62492242/chapters/159936478

Words: 6,161 // Chapters: 4/4

A fic about Julian being a CSA survivor with some weird coping mechanisms and all the messiness that entails.

Also a fic about Garashir having a threesome with a teddy bear.

Julian thought he really should have seen it coming and been better prepared to deal with the inevitable question that arose.

“… Might I ask, Doctor, what exactly is it about that… fuzzy thing over there that you seem to find so… arousing…?” Garak had enquired, his lip curled in mild distaste. Julian had tensed immediately, a well of nausea rippling through him.

Or: Julian has a really weird coping mechanism left over from repeated sexual trauma and he has no idea how to explain that to Garak, because he’s tried not to think about it for the last two decades himself.

Archive Warnings: Non-Con, Underage

Additional Tags: Childhood Trauma, Weird Coping Mechanisms, Hurt/Comfort, Shame, Awkward Sexual Situations, Kink Shaming, Victim Blaming, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Top Julian Bashir, Sub Julian Bashir, Bottom Elim Garak, Dom Elim Garak, Angst and Fluff and Smut.

Also while I realise the whole teddy bear threesome thing makes it sound kind of ridiculous, according to the comments thus far it’s apparently actually pretty heartbreaking and harrowing.

[cursedyuri]

in which ellie shows you exactly who you belong to.

18+ minors dni!

You and Ellie aren’t together. 

You’re not a couple. You’d both agreed to keep things casual. You’re just roommates who mess around sometimes; simple as that. 

So why do you feel so guilty for going on a date with someone else?

You’re dressed and ready, adding the final touches to your makeup in the mirror, and you should be feeling excited - your date is a total dreamboat. Perfect on paper and so, so hot. But instead of that giddy, fluttery feeling in your stomach, all you feel is guilt. 

You and Ellie aren’t together, you keep reminding yourself. You repeat it like a mantra in your head. There’s nothing wrong with going on a date, right? Because you’re single… Right?

On your way out, you run into Ellie, because of course you do. She’s sprawled out on the couch, head propped on a pillow, playing her Switch with a determined look on her face. Your stomach clenches when you see her. She looks up when she hears you walk to the front door, her eyes following you as you slip into your shoes. 

“You look nice,” Ellie says from the couch. You look over and see that she’s paused her game; she’s sitting up and drinking in the sight of you, eyes lingering over your frame. You pretend not to notice. 

“Thank you, Ellie.” You grin and look down at your outfit, palms smoothing over the fabric of your skirt. You do look nice. 

“Where are you going?” 

Your cheeks go hot at the question, and your first instinct is to lie - to tell Ellie that you’re going to see a friend. Just catching up with someone from college over dinner. But it’d be stupid to lie - you’re single. You’re allowed to go out.

“I’m, um, going on a date.”

You don’t look at her when you say it - you know you’d feel guilty, even if the two of you are just friends with benefits. Or… Roommates with benefits?

“Oh,” Ellie says, as you busy yourself picking off nonexistent lint from your shirt. Anything to avoid her gaze. “Okay. Have fun, then.”

There’s no bitterness in her voice, which you had expected. You glance at her face, and she’s back to that determined expression, focused on her Switch again. 

You clear your throat. “Thanks. I’ll, um… See you later.” 

Naturally, you spend the entire date thinking about Ellie. Her eyes, green and dotted with flecks of brown. Her hair, which falls in her face just right. Her mouth, and the way it feels against the supple flesh of your throat, Ellie’s lips soft and wet as she trails kisses down your neck. 

And her hands - her strong hands. You can almost feel them on your hips, on your chest, between your legs. 

God, this date was a mistake.  

Still, you have the common decency to see it through. You pretend to be interested in your date’s job, their hobbies, their five year plan. They drone on for hours, only asking you a few pointed questions about yourself, and when the dinner’s finally over and they’ve signed the check, you’re itching to leave.

Not long after you’ve made it back home, you’re face-down on Ellie’s bed, moaning into the mattress as her tongue circles your clit. 

She’d asked you about your date between heated kisses, her lips flushed and swollen. You hadn’t given her many details aside from it was boring and I just wanted to come home and do this. That seemed to give Ellie some sort of complex, because now, as she pumps her fingers into your cunt with one hand and lands a stinging smack on your ass with the other, she pulls back from mouthing at your clit to rasp, “That’s it, moan for me.” 

And she’s always been talkative in bed, all slurred curses and dirty comments, but there’s something different this time. You arch your back deeper, giving her more access to pound her fingers into you, and she groans in approval. 

“Good fucking girl,” she breathes, using her free hand to dig her blunt nails into the flesh of your ass. She gives it another spank for good measure. “Wanna tell me whose pussy this is?”

There it is - something she’s never said before. You can feel yourself getting wetter, tightening around her fingers as your hips involuntarily push backwards against her palm. You forget to respond entirely, every thought in your head smooth and shapeless, disappearing as quickly as it came. But Ellie won’t let you off so easily. 

“Flip over,” she orders, the rasp in her voice sending a thrill up your spine. You obey wordlessly, and when you’re on your back, you see it: a possessive glint in her gaze, a sharp edge to her expression. You gush impossibly wetter, cunt clenching around nothing - the absence of Ellie’s fingers makes you want to sob. 

“Ellie,” you whisper, brows knitting together. Her gaze softens. “Please make me come.”

A smile tugs at her lips and she nods, her palm rubbing over your stomach in soothing circles. 

“I will, princess,” she assures you, “but I need you to tell me who you belong to. Think you might’ve forgotten.”

Guilt twists in your gut. “You, Ellie.” 

“What about me?”

There’s a challenge in the teasing lilt of her voice. You swallow. “I… Belong to you.”

“Mm, that’s right.” Ellie’s hands travel upward from your abdomen to your chest, closing around each of your tits. You suck in a shaky breath when her thumbs stroke over your pert nipples, making them draw even more taut. “These are mine?”

“Yours,” you gasp, chest rising and falling quickly. Ellie’s bangs fall in her eyes as she leans over to suck a nipple into her mouth, tongue swirling over the bud until you go cross-eyed, hips canting upward. She repeats the same torture with your other breast, leaving both of your nipples swollen and sensitive. 

“What about this?” Ellie asks when she pulls back, her hand moving to the heat between your legs. You whine, a desperate, pathetic little sound that makes Ellie want to eat you whole. 

“Yours, Ellie, it’s yours,” you say, voice betraying how needy you are. She dips a finger into your wetness, your folds silky with arousal, and you almost miss the way her eyes flicker back into her skull for a moment. She’s enjoying this just as much as you are. 

“This is mine?” She drags her fingers up to your clit, drawing torturously wide circles around it - close, but not close enough. You could start crying right there. You nod, frantic.

Ellie clicks her tongue, tuts in disapproval. “No, baby, I need to hear you say it. Whose pussy is this?”

And it’s not so hard to admit - Ellie’s had you under her spell long before you went on that stupid date tonight. You realize it now, cheeks warming at the obscene sounds of Ellie’s fingers playing in your cunt, unable to look her in the eye without squirming. 

“My pussy’s yours,” you pant, “s’all yours. Nobody fucks me like you, Els.” 

You’re pushing your hips towards her touch, your tits in your own hands now, pulling at your nipples like it’ll relieve the growing need in your belly. Ellie eyes you with half-lidded eyes, lust heavy in her gaze, and it’s like you can see the remnants of her resolve break. She sinks between your legs and finally, finally laps at your desperate cunt, drinking in the taste of you as you whine and writhe above her. 

When you come, it’s with Ellie’s name on your lips. And you know it’s true - you’re entirely hers.

[casualaruanienjoyer]

New fic artwork to be used for my Castes Aruani fic, A Nerd, a Punk and a PowerPoint Presentation!

I wanted to make something striking to use for my chapter updates🩷 And well, it was also inspired by MANY teen movie poster references I've seen!

A massive thank you to everyone who has been reading my fic! It means a lot!

If you'd like to read it you can do so here!

Summary

When Armin is assigned a collaborative project with a mysterious delinquent, his high school life gets a lot more complicated. He never thought he'd become the protagonist of a teen flick.

[guangshi-091305]

"Trustworthy Partners In Life" - Series

A collection of snippets of their life together after Link Click is over. Feat. an overwhelming amount of fluff, acts of service and the many shades of love. Each snippet is either from Lu Guang’s POV or Cheng Xiaoshi’s. Please read fic tags!

A little treat for all of us Yingdu victims because goddammit do we deserve this and hell yes do Guangshi/Shiguang deserve to be happy together too!🥺

Updates: 24-36 hours after Yingdu Episodes air 💜 Please keep in mind I'll post new oneshots IN THE SERIES. No new chapters will be added to existing fics, so if you want to be notified of updates, please subscribe to the series🫶

Series Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/4559131

First Instalment's up!

"The Future Ours to Pen"

~2000 words

Rated T

Fluffy Contents Include:

💙Hugs as Reassurance.

💙Pre-Dive Kisses.

💙Cat-Eared Baseball Caps.

💙Tucking him in bed.

💙Smiling when their eyes meet.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61731304

[stellacartography]

Toe the Line (Rated E)

Words: 18,505 Chapters: 8/8

As Crowley and Aziraphale dine at the Ritz they are treated to a particularly reminiscent parade of chef's specials that spark memories of the past 2000 years. Crowley quietly panics his way through each course, drowning his anxiety in rather large amounts of alcohol. Aziraphale is helplessly drawn back into his own memories of their time together in the world they both love and every time they walked right up to the limits of their association.

Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Snake behaviours, Crowley is deep down still a snake, Food and drink, Drunken ineffable spouses, Rome 41 AD, Council at Nicaea, Wessex 537 AD, The Invention of Fireworks, How did Crowley make Hamlet popular?, Teaching an angel to tempt, Dancing Lessons, Portland Place Gentleman's Club, Ambush predation, diversion, camouflage, Thanatosis, Constriction, Mimicry, Sexy Snake Pile, Ritual foot-washing as temptation, Snake musk is not lube, Don't try this at home kids, Season one fix-it of a sort

Written for the @go-minisode-minibang with art by @willow-tea

Acknowledgements and tags below the cut

A thousand thank yous to my friends who attended the @ficwritersretreat2023 and listened to my reading of chapter 5. Your laughter made this happen. Thanks to @fearlessdiva930 for your help with the menu. I had lost all my original research outside of the story itself and your assistance was invaluable. Thank you @kinkykinker for the first beta and @cumberbatchedandgatissmitten for the second round and coaching. Thank you @basketcasebetty for coordinating the bang.

Tagging @copperplatebeech @keirgreeneyes, @seriouslymarythough, @cirquedereve, @laurashapiro-noreally, @totallysilvergirl, @hubblegleeflower, @sevdrag

Reblogs are love and are much appreciated. <3

(Psst! Hey, @mevima! I finally finished it. Only took 4.5 years.)

[lewis-winters]

here's a smol drabble about two non-artsy dorks being soft for their artsy crushes

--

The drawing is hastily done, with lines that could benefit from a more thought-out weight distribution and shading that doesn't quite match the light source implied by the position of the subject. Or something like that.

In truth, Chuck hadn't been listening, when Pat had stuttered and blushed and tried to yank the paper back from him, raving about it not being good enough to be kept, much less looked at. A scandal of an idea, Chuck had thought, smoothing out the drawing and then taking extra care to tuck it nice and safe and as flat as he can get it, into the inside pocket of his jacket. It was good enough for Chuck. In fact, it was perfect, and he intended to keep it forever, just like he's kept all of Pat's other doodles, tucked safe and sound into the small crevices of his flat, as if their presence might make up for their creator's absence. But this one was extra special, and therefore would stay in his wallet. Because this one was a drawing of Chuck, himself.

Just a quick one, Pat had said, so embarrassed to have been caught sketching him when he thought Chuck hadn't been looking. He was wrong about that, by the way. Chuck is always looking. It's why he'd been itching, even more so than usual, to ask about it. There was so much concentration on that golden brow, so much calculating wonderment in those blue eyes, and a new kinda fire that had his hand moving like a blur over the page, that Chuck knew it was something special. Imagine his surprise and delight when he figured out that Pat was drawing him.

He hasn't stopped smiling since.

"That's real cute," Lieb scoffs, when he roots through Chuck's wallet to borrow a few dollars without asking. Not that he needs to. There really isn't much cash in there. He finds the drawing, instead, and stares at it while Chuck explains where it came from. Why it means so much. The way Pat captured the turn of his head, the slope of his nose. The small half-smile that seemed to be always present on his lips whenever Pat was around. The way his hair was so lovingly rendered that it looked almost soft. The way his lashes seemed to flutter, despite remaining static, long, delicate lines of charcoal pencil that lightly kissed the curve of his cheek.

Chuck thinks himself decent looking enough, but seeing that sketch, the way Pat had translated his being unto paper, was probably the very first time he'd thought of himself as beautiful.

"Cute," Lieb says again, rolling his eyes. "In a narcissist kinda way."

"Shut up, it's not about the subject," Chuck hisses at him, kicking a foot out to hit him in the thigh as he gets up to snatch the drawing (and his wallet) back to put away. "It's about how the artist sees the subject."

"The fuck what?" Lieb says in a near cackle, dodging a second kick and a pillow to the head to boot. "Where the fuck did you hear that?"

Chuck doesn't bother to answer. If he says he got it from one of Pat's rants, from the last time Chuck dared to compliment one of his sketches that Pat himself found lacklustre, then he'll never hear the end of it. Time to change tactics.

"That's fucking rich coming from you," Chuck grumbles, sitting up in hopes that it'll give him a better vantage point to bash Lieb's head in with that ugly tasseled nonsense pillow they'd stolen from Babe and Eugene last year. "How does it go? 'Dear Reader: Let me tell you about a boy' ?"

The effect is instantaneous, and a bright red flush climbs up from Lieb's neck all the way to his luscious hairline, and maybe even beyond. There's more to be recited, the lines of the anonymous memoir essay entitled "Let Me Tell You About a Boy" published to the campus paper last quarter very much fresh in Chuck's mind. He'd set out to read it after the first time he'd caught Lieb tucking it away into his bag, like a dirty little secret pleasure he wanted no one to know about. He never reads the campus paper, the illiterate snob bastard, so his interest had piqued Chuck's own. So he'd read it. And then laughed so hard he'd nearly peed himself.

After a quick check with everyone on a group chat he made for this purpose alone, Chuck had confirmation enough: Anonymous his fucking ass. Perhaps to the rest of the campus, but not to them. Most of their friend group were certain enough of the essay's origin about mid-first paragraph to comfortably guess the hand that had penned the nearly two thousand word essay, what with half of them often being reluctant editors to one David Kenyon Webster. Still, a guess was not a guarantee, and while 99.9% of them were sure of its author, Lieb still had room for doubt, and so, the (alleged) very detailed and very intimate look into their relationship and Web's feelings on the matter had largely gone ignored.

At least to the public. In private, Lieb burned, and kept a copy folded up and flattened out as best it could be in the back of his phone case.

Chuck doesn't need to look at it to recite the best parts. He continues, as the pillow finally meets its target and Lieb falls under the barrage of hits. "His wit is cutting, cunning, and sly. I find myself infuriated and charmed by it in equal measure. There's a poet in him, and while I am not so much of an egoist that I cannot admit that he is better than me in some aspects of verse, I am loathe to confess that he's quickly become my muse. It's the way he says words, I think. I like how his mouth makes shapes around them. The purse of his lips. The clack of his teeth. The rough timbre of his voice, the way it curls out his lips like cigarette smoke. He has a smart mouth. It worries me how often my eyes are drawn to it--"

"Shut the fuck up!" oh, Lieb's properly red now. And panting, sitting up to retaliate best he could by kicking his feet in a poor imitation of a cat with prey in its mouth. He makes contact, momentarily, with Chuck's stomach, and the force of it leaves him properly winded. Lieb shows no mercy. He pushes him off, and huffs; "fuck you."

"Fuck you, too, buddy," Chuck wheezes, though he says it with a smile. "Quit being a fucking coward."

"Quit being a pretentious narcissist."

"Quit being so gay."

"Quit being so sad."

The pillow comes back out. "No. You."

"No, you!"

Lieb kicks at him again. "You!"

"No. You!"

They devolve into a tussle. And it only ends when the pizza they ordered for dinner arrives with several pointed knocks on their door.

[silverbuttercups]

Forgot to post this here but some creek Forced Proximity! for @starrydownpour hehehehe 💘

[psychotrenny]

While the USSR definitely struggled with a whole range of social issues throughout its existence, the conscious attempts to break the oppressive systems of Capitalism put it far in advance of anywhere in the Imperial Core and it's crazy how many Left Libs try to use contemporary culture war rhetoric to frame the Soviets as especially "problematic". Like the USSR never completely resolved the Russian empire's legacy of conquest and colonialism, and various forms of racism and ethnic chauvinism persisted right to the end, but a conscious effort was made to give dignity and self-determination to the various oppressed nationalities and it shows.

This manifested in countless small ways; from dying languages given new life by cultural initiatives and the free circulation of media to the millions of once marginalised peasants and nomads being given access to the education and industry needed to participate in the modern world as equals. But it also manifested in big dramatic symbols that could almost be written off as tokenistic if it weren't for the broader context of clear genuine effort. Like a lot of people forget that Stalin was a Georgian; a people brutalised by Russian Imperial expansion. And yet this member of a conquered and oppressed minority not only rose to the highest position in the nation, but did so as a widely beloved figure whose legacy lives on to this day. And this happened decades before the US even had its first Catholic President.

Like Proletarian rule won't automatically end all systems of oppression but it's the bare minimum prerequisite to doing so in a meaningful way; even flawed and ultimately failed Socialist experiments were able to attack these systems in a way that puts the most powerful and "progressive" Capitalist nations to shame

[dreamerdrop]

Abscess ‘Verse — Sloan/Bashir (Abusive) // Garak/Bashir (Eventual) // Bashir & Kukalaka & Garak (Very Important Friendship!) Warnings for Noncon & Dubcon, Intimate Partner Violence, Lots of Gaslighting, PTSD, Flashbacks, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms…

Please pay attention to the tags before reading! Julian suffers, a lot. Has a fair amount of Hurt/Comfort too though.

A canon divergent AU in which Luther Sloan is assigned to DS9 during Season One for Intelligence and Security purposes. He enters a relationship with a wide-eyed Julian Bashir, and it slowly becomes apparent that said relationship is deeply unhealthy and abusive. Following Sloan’s removal from the station, Julian struggles with putting himself back together after having spent two years revolving himself around the abuse. Thankfully, he has friends who will help try and pick up the pieces with him.

Currently consists of three entries:

Abscess — An outsider POV about the residents of DS9 watching the initial abusive relationship as it unfolds. Drain — The immediate aftermath of Julian trying to adjust to life on the station again now that Sloan is gone. Inflammation — A brief timeskip to the beginning of Season 3, details Garak/Bashir’s first time, and calls back to Sloan/Bashir’s first time.

[cursedyuri]

top!ellie whose april fools joke is saying she wants you to fuck her… but when she sees how excited you get at the idea, she doesn’t have the heart to tell you it’s a joke.

cut to ellie whining like a bitch in heat while you pound into her from behind <3

[casualaruanienjoyer]

What kind of video games would these AOT characters like to play?

Armin: puzzle games! Something that requires his full attention, challenging but still fun. It feels very rewarding to beat them. He would probably like the game Baba is You or Portal 2.

Annie: visual novels, especially psychological horror or murder mystery ones. She loves being able to "play" a book, and the voice acting and beautiful visuals create such an immersive experience. Sometimes when she gets stuck, Armin helps her out! Something she would enjoy may be Steins Gate or Ace Attorney.

Connie: ROCKET LEAGUEEE LET'S GOOO!!

Jean: he quite likes games with multiple choices, a good story that you can influence through your decisions. He probably enjoys LA Noir and Heavy Rain. However, he doesn't do super well with horror games...

Reiner: this man owns every single copy of Fifa from the year he was born and until today. But he also enjoys Mario Kart!

Pieck: dating sims! And one of her favorites is Monster Prom. She finds them hilarious, but also likes being able to choose different people to romance. Don't tell anyone, but Annie sometimes enjoys playing these with Pieck.

Mikasa: cozy games, farming, cooking, making friends. Animal crossing and Stardew Valley are some of her favorites. It's just so nice and calm!

Eren: SUPER SMASH BROS LET'S GOOOO but yes fighting games!! Beat em ups, battle royale, doesn't matter! Anything goes!

Levi: this may come as a surprise, but this man is secretly a Simmer. Yes, you heard it! He only plays the base games, from time to time. But there's something so satisfying about creating people he dislikes in Sims and then removing that sweet sweet ladder. Ha...ha

Zeke: driving simulators. This man was BORN TO TRUCK!

Yelena: something about her just screams I TROLL IN MMOs so yeah I will say she probably plays games like Leagues of Legends, gets VERY aggressive and screams in her mic. Makes kids cry in Fortnite.

Onyankopon: he is a man of culture, so of course he would enjoy adventure RPGs. He has over 1000 hours in Breath of the Wild. Somehow.

[guangshi-091305]

"Promises Unbroken (Yingdu-centric Fics)" - Series

A collection of canon-compliant one-shots. Set in the Yingdu/Bridon Arc timeline so prepare for heavy spoilers. Fics can be wholesome, fluffy or angsty.

Read individual fic tags!

Updates will be random so... Subscribe to SERIES for updates!

Series Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/4569916

First oneshot's up!

"Come Morning Light (you and I'll be safe and sound)"

~1.7k words Rated T

"I can't promise forever but I'll stay here as long as I can." Hours after Lu Guang confesses, Cheng Xiaoshi responds in kind. AKA a Deleted Scene set after the coded marriage proposal, feat. First Kisses.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61893577

[ferrarifever]

hawaiian heat | c. leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: you and charles go out clubbing while on vacation in hawaii, but he isn’t a fan of the attention his girl is getting

warnings: jealous! & possessive!charles, extremely light choking, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected p in v

wc: 2.7k

masterlist🏎️𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🏁 ／ ⋆ ۪

author’s note: hi! this is my first fic so i'd really appreciate feedback! (also i'm scared this will flop lol). also requests are open or if anyone has prompt/headcanon ideas hmu because i’m always looking for (and need) inspo (and also mutuals because i’m new around here!) - stella♡

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

leading up to takeoff, you spent weeks making sure everything was perfectly prepared. you made sure to pack all your best swimsuits, your nicest outfits, and your finest jewelry. the opportunity to spend this much uninterrupted time with charles was rare, so you were determined to make the most of it.

filled with anticipation, the flight from monaco to maui felt like an eternity. you tried to downplay your excitement, but your plan completely failed once you arrived at the most picturesque villa you’ve seen in your life. it was the type you’d only seen online, and the reality you were staying there with the love of your life felt like a dream come true.

stepping out on the balcony of your room, you couldn’t believe this wasn’t a dream. so entranced by the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore, you failed to hear charles joining you. you felt his arms, already warm from the maui sun wrap around your waist. he began pressing feather-light kisses into your neck,

“i can’t believe we’re finally here. i can’t wait to spend the week with you chéri” he whispered in between kisses

you momentarily turned your back to the water to face charles. resting a hand on his chest, you whispered back “i can already tell i’m not going to want to leave”

you lightly press against his chest, leading both of you back in your shared room. placing his hand over yours, charles fell back gently on the bed, pulling you on top of him. you align yourself with the monegasque, feeling him begin to press his hips into yours. you felt his hand grip your cheek, pulling your lips to his. feeling charles hands migrate to the bottom of your shirt, you knew the rush of heat that flooded your body could not be attributed to the hawaiian climate. fighting your desire, you attempt to pull away

“baby–” you mumble against his lips, trying to pull him out of his trance of desire.

“charles– c’mon baby i have to start getting ready” running your hands up his body, you push your hands against his shoulders to force yourself off of the driver. he did not hold back his displeasure, groaning and falling back into the mattress.

“the sooner we leave the quicker we can come back, love!” you yell back towards charles, while making your way toward the bathroom to get ready. dedicated to your goal of making the most of the trip, you picked your favorite dress out of your suitcase. might as well kick the trip off with a bang, right?

you pulled every trick in the book. you did your makeup to make your eyes pop. you styled your hair in the way you knew charles loved. the jewelry you put on was flashy, but not tacky. before slipping on your favorite dress, you put on charles’ favorite ferrari red lingerie set. the lace hugged your curves perfectly, giving you a perfect boost of confidence before going out. you slipped on a maroon satin mini dress, leaving little for the imagination. you knew you looked good, and anyone else you come across will know too.

after giving yourself a onceover, you stepped into your favorite pair of louboutins. you walked out of the bathroom, the clicking of your heels drawing charles attention away from his phone and up to you. he gasped quietly, sucking in air while biting his bottom lip.

“holy shit y/n– there’s no way we’re leaving this room” he choked out.

you giggled at your boyfriends awe before replying; “as amazing as that sounds, you know we would never hear the end of it if we’re late”

charles pulls himself off the bed, meeting you halfway. he gently pushes you up against the doorframe of the bathroom

“let them talk baby–they’ll get it once they see this dress” he says quickly before kissing you passionately

cutting him off before things get too heated, you push him away; “charles, seriously, lets not give them a reason to make fun of us on day one. we’ll regret it i promise”

charles groans dramatically, knowing you’re right but not wanting to admit to it. you grab your purse off your nightstand and give yourself one last look in the mirror before turning back to charles to ask; “ready?”

charles pauses for a moment, deciding whether or not to put up one last fight. he ultimately replies “ready,” before holding out his hand for you to grab.

you make it to the club with perfect timing, meeting up with the other drivers and their partners. charles politely greets the other drivers and with just a single glance at your outfit the other girls give you a knowing look.

as the drinks started flowing, you knew this was going to be a memorable night (if you can remember it in the morning). with enough liquor in your system, you joined the dancefloor with the other wives and girlfriends, while charles hung back in a booth.

you knew that when you learned over the bar to get another drink you were giving everyone a peak at the lacy set under your dress. with every sway of your hips, the skit of your dress rose higher and higher up your hips. you were having the time of your life, failing to realize that you were driving charles insane. you momentarily locked eyes across the room, and while you flashed a smile, charles lowered his eyebrows in dismay. as you turned back towards the dancefloor you felt charles’ arms wrap tightly around your waist

“i think you have had enough dancing for the night, hmm?” charles whispered into your eye

“baby c’mon…the night is just beginning!” you giggle back

“the fun will begin once we get out of here…it’s time to go” charles growls into your ear. your desire to fight back died as soon as you saw the passion in his eyes. a wave of heat flushed through your body, and you allowed the driver to grab your wrist and pull you out of the darkly lit club.

the uber ride back to the hotel was tense. as charles hand slipped higher and higher up your thigh, you had to use all of your will to not climb onto him in the backseat. as soon as the car shifted into park, charles was pulling you out of the seat and up to your room.

as soon as you heard the door shut behind you, charles pushed you back against it. alternating running his hand along the bottom of your dress and pinch the fabric, charles growled out

“you happy now? finally getting the attention you clearly desperately wanted in this dress?” his words sparked heat in your core and you failed to muster any reply, simply whimpering in response.

“mmhm? now that it’s just us, my bébé is shy?” he questioned. his hand finally migrated up your thigh to where you really needed him. he snapped the elastic of your thong against your core, continuing his teasing.

“charles…please…” you continued to whine. you knew you sounded pathetic, but your need continued to build in a way that led you to not think clearly.

as soon as the ‘please’ left your mouth, you felt charles remove his hand from up your dress and placed it carefully around your neck. he bent his knee between your thighs, holding you up against the door.

“you know bébé–if you asked that sweetly before we left i may be nicer right now. instead, you thought teasing me in front of the boys would end better for you. so right now i’m going to remind you that you’re mine and only mine.” he growled into your ear before migrating lower and lightly biting at your neck.

“i’m sorry” you apologized with a light smirk. making charles jealous was never your priority, but if it happened along the way you were going to enjoy the ride.

“prove it then” he snapped back. he increased pressure on your neck, slowly pushing you down until you dropped to your knees. you looked up at him, giving him the most seductive eyes you could muster. he bit down on his lip in return, not wanting to praise you just yet. he nodded down at you, giving you silent permission to continue. you slowly unbutton his jeans. you know continuing to tease him is a dangerous game, but you know secretly charles likes it when you take your time with him.

you tug at his jeans, pulling his boxers down with them. his hard length bounces, hitting his abs. you take the opportunity to lick a long lick from the base to head of his length before taking his sensitive tip in your mouth. charles groans, throwing his head back as you take him deeper and deeper down your throat.

as your eyes begin to water, charles stretches out his arms before pressing his palm against the door to balance himself. the warmth of your mouth felt like heaven and he was doing everything in his power to ground himself.

your hands migrate to the back of his thighs, pulling him into you to take him even deeper into your mouth. you continue flicking your tongue below his tip, drawing obscene noises out of the driver.

he is able to center himself enough to look down and make eye contact with you. he quickly realizes he made a mistake, using your hair to divide the two of you.

“i’m not finishing down your pretty mouth tonight, cherí,” charles groans. just as you start processing his words, charles is pulling you off the floor and towards the bed. before either of you hit the mattress, charles is unzipping your dress. as the satin dress falls to the floor, your lace-clad body is presented to the monegasque. after taking in the sight before him, charles lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding

“mon ange” he says, gasping for breath. once you’re face-to-face you give him a quick peck on the lips before whispering in his ear “use me baby, i’m yours.”

charles pushes you back first onto the bed. he pauses for a moment to take in the view in front of him. still clad in lace with your heels, lips swollen, eyeliner running, hair tousled…you were a dream come true. he can’t hold back for long before collapsing on top of you. you pick yourself lightly off the mattress, leaving just enough space for you to unclasp your bra. as soon as you pull the red lace off your body, charles is attacking your skin with his lips.

he runs his hands down your torso before looping his fingers into the waistband of your panties. he finally pulls them off after what felt like an eternity. his hands graze your thighs before making their way back to your core. he slowly runs a single finger where you needed him most.

“you're already so wet for me, bébé. no need to even prepare you, huh?” he says with a dry laugh. you didn't find it as funny, whining in return

“charles– please i need you so bad” you plead. he takes pity on you, sinking his middle finger into you. you moan slightly, you need for his touch your body had been begging for began to subside.

he continues pushing his middle finger in and out of you at what can only be considered a painstakingly slow pace. you continue your whining and muffled pleads, knowing it won’t do much at the moment

“who does this pussy belong to? hmm?” the speed of his words is a complete juxtaposition of his pace inside you.

“yours charles, yours!” you exclaim, “please do anything baby” you whine out. he was clearly not completely satisfied, but he took enough pity on you to move his thumb up towards your throbbing clit. the minute his thumb made contact with your throbbing bundle of nerves, you arched your back off the mattress. you attempted to moan out charles name, and although his title may not have been clear, your pleasure was.

as he began slowly rubbing circles on your clit, he added another finger inside you. you did not realize how deep the need inside of you was until this moment. you had no clue what to do with your body, alternating between gripping the sheets and running your hands through charles hair.

“now cherí, i’m going to be good to you today and let you get off on my fingers, you know why?” he questioned you, while quickening his trusting pace inside you.

you attempted an answer, but the fear of giving the wrong response and overwhelming pleasure led it to be incomprehensible. charles laughed slightly before filling you in,

“because i’m the only one who can make you feel this way bébé. none of the boys at that club would be able to make you feel this good with just his fingers” he announced. you nodded your head rapidly,

“only you baby–” you repeated like a mantra as you fell over the edge. your body spasmed and your stomach clenched and you screamed out. charles continued working you through your orgasm, slowing down his pace as you caught your breath. he slowly removed his fingers from where they were curled inside of you. he licked his middle finger quickly before holding them to your mouth. you began sucking on his fingers,

“now you can feel and taste how good i make you feel bébé” he says with confidence, knowing the power he holds over you.

he pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a pop. his wet hand moves down between your thighs, pushes them open just enough to make room for him. he continues leaning in closer to you before he whispers

“ready?” he asks carefully. you nod, using all your strength to mutter out a quick “yes.”

you feel his length slowly penetrate you, every inch pulling another gasp out of your lungs. he hands grip your waist as he immediately begins rocking in and out of you, filling you up with every rock of his hips. every thrust brought you closer and closer to your edge, and charles knew. he moves his hand from your waist back to your sensitive clit, causing you to let out a high-pitched moan at the additional stimulation. before you can process the added pleasure, you hear charles begin to speak,

“could any of the other guys in the club make you feel like this baby? hmm?” charles growls into you ear, frustration from earlier simmering back up

“only you charles! no one else, baby” you squeal out quickly. charles’ pressure on your clit gets faster as his thrusts get harder, pulling you closer and closer to your edge

“who’s are you bébé?” he growls out, keeping his explosive pace

“i’m yours baby! only yours! please” you scream out, gripping the bedsheets in an attempt to ground yourself

“go ahead cherí, cum for me” charles says in the calmest tone of the night. with a scream of his name, your walls flutter around him as you cum on his cock. so wrapped up in your own pleasure, it wasn’t until charles grabbed your hips tightly and slowed his pace you felt him filling you with his cum.

he stills over you, both of you panting and fighting to catch your breath. charles leans to kiss you quickly before slowly pulling out of you. he rolls next to you on the bed, both of you still fighting your air. charles makes his way to the bathroom, grabbing a towel to clean you off. as you feel the cloth running up the thigh, you remind charles

“you know it’s always been you, right? and always will be?” you remind charles

“mmhm i know cherí,” he replies calmly.

he leans over to press light kisses on your neck before continuing, “...but i never mind a reminder” ;)

[guangshi-091305]

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[lewis-winters]

for the touch prompts: no. 3, cold hands in warm hands for winnix?

Lewis comes to just as Dick finishes mopping the sweat off his brow.

"… mmMah?" he asks, more a sound than an actual word. But it's more than he's said for several hours, so Dick will take it.

Pressing a kiss to his feverish forehead, Dick hums in reply. "Feeling better?"

There isn't an answer right away. Lew has to adjust to being awake first, blinking up at Dick and the dim light illuminating their room, before smacking his lips together and frowning at the taste. By the time he's ready to speak, Dick has a cup of water in hand, guiding Lew to sit up some and take a sip.

He does, with some difficulty. "My throat's all achy."

"Your tonsils are swollen."

"I figured," he croaks, lying back down. "Sorry."

"No need to be sorry," Dick says, guiding him back down to the bed and tucking him in. Already, his eyes are drooping, weighed down by an acute exhaustion. But even in the throes of illness, that smart mouth remains, and it quirks a small smile up at Dick.

"I thought you were my mother for a moment there," he says. Dick thinks he was aiming for playful and sardonic with that quip, but with the infection stripping him bare it lands, instead, on the quiet admission of something almost close to grief.

Gently, Dick goes back to wiping sweat off his brow, running fingers through his hair. "Your mother, huh?"

Lew hums, closing his eyes at the sensation. "Dunno why," he mutters. "'S not like she'd ever taken care of me like this."

No. From what Dick knows of Doris Nixon, he doesn't think she did, either. But who knows, really? Dick's own mother had once said that she would always come, were he to call. Yet now, she hands the phone off to Anne on the rare occassions when he does, and barely acknowledges his existence outside of excuses she gives to her neighbours at church, when asked about his whereabouts. A mother's disposition isn't quite as steadfast as even mothers lead you to believe. Who's to say Lew's feverish delirium hadn't been drawn from memory? Who's to say Doris Nixon hadn't been so worried about her sick baby boy, in years past, that she'd deign to take over his immediate care, even just for the night? Dick hopes that she did. Hopes that it's true. It's a nice memory for Lew to have, and Dick always wants Lew to have nice things.

He tells him as much. Lew just laughs, a short burst of sound that's trying very hard to be upbeat.

"I don't think she'd've been as good at it as you," he says, earnestly, snaking one warm, clammy hand out of his blanket cocoon to grasp at Dick's. "C'mere, c'mere. Must be killer on your knees."

"I don't wanna fall asleep on you," Dick says, despite moving already, toeing off his slippers and awkwardly getting a leg up and over Nix's body because the other man refuses to let go of his hand.

"'S alright," Nix murmurs, dreamily, as Dick settles behind him, tucking his knees into the back of Nix's, and shifting closer until Dick's chest is against his back, and his arm is sandwiched between the crook of Nix's head and his pillow. All through this, he holds Dick's hand, going so far as to hold it against his feverish face and sigh. "'S cold."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry," says Nix in the palm of Dick's hand, snuffling closer as if searching for more cool, more relief. "… Thank you."

Dick smiles, helplessly. "Go to sleep, Lewis."

Lew doesn't answer. Just shuffles closer and does as he's told.

[silverbuttercups]

HAPPY SOULSILVERSHIPPING DAY!! I wrote some Silver introspection!! 🙇🏽‍♀️