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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 1 year ago

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DPXDC prompt. Family? Assemble!

Reporter: Gotham News, and we have a new supervillain on the line. Mr Phantom, what are your demands at the moment? Phantom with lack of sleep and with tears: I..I want a titanium model of a spaceship! And to get a good night’s sleep and to go to the local school…and some fudge and.. Reporter: Oh, my bad. Just one question for clarification, are you by any chance an orphan or are your parents villains? Phantom: I prefer the term mad scientists Reporter: Okay. So, Gotham news! And with me on the line is the new potential child of Wayne or Batman. Want to know how two serial adopters will share a child leading a double life? Stay with us and find out. Now let's check in with Jessie for our weather report. Phantom: Wait, what?

~~~~~

Danny spends the night running from the Red Hood with a bag of fudge, Red Robin with a pot of coffee, Batman with the adoption papers and, for some reason, Brucie Wayne with an idea of internship at a space station. Ha! The Justice League will never let a ghost into orbit. Not that Wayne can blackmail superheroes or smth. Danny: Fuck you all! I’m done with vigilante activity, I’m not your competitor! What do you want from me? And I’m done with crazy billionaires too. I swear, I’d rather be adopted by a local mob boss just to piss you off! ~Later~ Danny *sees peering out of the corner Matches Malone*: Are you kidding me?! Robbie *jumps off the roof and lands right behind Danny*: Stop running, lil brother, No one’s left the family yet. Minnie: What about Neal? Robbie *shakes a knife with a bow on the handle negatively*: He’s on sabbatical, that doesn’t count. Anyway, it’s a gift for you, cub. Danny: Um, thank you, but my lab scalpels are definitely sterile, and your blade was in who knows who before you brought it here. Robbie: It’s brand-new! And Archie decorated it with a ghost on the handle. Look! It's cute! With a smile and… Dick: Hands up! You’re under arrest for trying to steal our new member! Minnie: Why is he yours, damn cop? Selina: Boys, don’t fight. He’s mine. Schrodinger’s cat is still a kitten. Killer Croc: No way, my niece is staying with me. Danny: Uncle Waylon? Long time no see. Ra's: My grandson needs steady access to ectoplasm. Danyal, come with me. Danny: Over my dead body! Oh shiii…I mean no. Anyway, don’t you think the alley’s getting a little crowded?

~~~~

Killer Croc: Is he still mad at me? RR: Danny doesn’t talk to uncles who tried to eat his beloved brother Red Robin. Killer Croc: He wasn’t even your brother then. What do you want? An apology from me? RR: That would be nice.

~~~~

Danny: I didn’t think the GIW agents would really fear the reputation of Gotham and not follow me. What a relief! Jason *quickly throws the knife into the sink*: Wow, you got lucky. Alfred: Master Jones, why don’t you eat your steak? I thought last week you were complaining to Batman that 'cause of him you got not many prey. Croc *pulls a piece of white robe from the teeth*: Well, now there is a lot of it. Bruce *gives Jason and Croc the side-eye*.

~~~~

Ra's: You do realize that Malone, Wayne and Batman are the same person, right? Boy, you were born into a family of geniuses, don’t disappoint Grandpa. Danny: Triple pocket money, triple gifts for the holidays, the opportunity to complain about the same family member three times. No, Grandpa, I definitely don’t understand. Ra's: Smart little weasel.

~~~~

Selina: Okay. Purely theoretical. Do you like to steal? Danny: I wouldn’t say that. But somehow I stole the sword from the fright knight. And also stole few jewels but then I was under the mind control. I returned them. Well, the crown and ring of the king of the ghost zone I also took without permission. Oh, and the answers to the test once. And I’m really sorry about the last one. Neal: I feel the story behind it but I prefer to know nothing about it.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc prompt #dpxdc memes #dpxdc meme #rip giw

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Title: Scarlet and Gold.

Pairing: Yandere!Diluc x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.1k.

TW: Sex Doll AU, Unhealthy Relationships, Gore (No Injury To Reader), Blood, Implied Consensual Sex, Past Trauma, Obsessive Behavior, and Intimidation.

By the time you reached the address, Diluc was already waiting in the lobby.

You’d gotten the call about an hour ago, spent half an hour dragging yourself out of bed and gathering what you’d need before making the twenty minute drive to an apartment complex on the other side of town, careful to avoid any security cameras the cops would think to check if anyone requested an investigation. Five more to park and throw your well-worn duffle bag over your shoulder and three to find Diluc, loitering near the elevators, fiddling with a loose cigarette he would never light. You greeted him with a quick nod before throwing your bag into his chest, and he feigned a groan, stumbling back as he caught it. He needed to work on his impressions, but that could wait.

You spoke first. That, you couldn’t critique him on – most androids couldn’t speak until spoken to, and you couldn’t expect Diluc to go against one of the core tenants of his programming. “What is it?”

“Just the usual.” He kept his voice low, muted, trying to hide the remaining traces of an accent that’d been invented by some marketing team over a decade ago. “I’ve already seen the apartment. There’s a little blood, but not much else. We’ll be done by sunrise.”

You took the stairs, keeping your head bowed and face shielded from any possible security cameras. Diluc didn’t share your paranoia, staring straight ahead with the same indifferent expression he always seemed to wear. The benefits of having a face that’d been printed and distributed tens of thousands of times, you guessed. Tracking down a single Diluc in a sea of androids and companion bots wasn’t a length most detectives were willing to go to. “I’d rather not have to do this at all.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Says the man who doesn’t have to sleep.” You came to a stop in front of the first door on the fourth story and tried the knob. It gave easily, the cheap titanium dented and the lock broken beyond any hope of repair. Diluc’s handiwork, obviously, although you couldn’t say whether or not he’d done it on purpose. “Anything else you want to tell me, before we get started?”

He thought, for a second. “I passed a carousel on the way here,” he said, with no particular inflection. “It was nice. I thought the horses were well-crafted.”

“About the assignment, ‘luc.”

“Oh,” And then, with a hint of red in his pale cheek. “You might want to hold your breath.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant. As soon as you opened the door, you were hit with the stomach-turning stench of stale blood and rotting gore, both at least a week old. You cursed, pulling your shirt over your nose and mouth, but pushed forward. The first body was splayed out in the center of the cramped living room, wrists and ankles bound with disembodied wiring, all clothing removed and chest dotted with black ink. The abdomen had been cut open, skin peeled away to reveal the entrails in their full, shriveled glory. Judging by the number of blades littered around the corpse, ranging from blunted scissors to gore-splattered carving knives, it’d been more of a hack job than a dissection.

Diluc had undersold the mess. Blood had soaked into the carpeting and dried, turning the floor a ruddy, reddish-brown color. What was left had gotten on the walls, the furniture, the ceiling. You swallowed back a groan. The furniture could be broken down and discarded, the walls and ceiling bleached. The carpeting, though, would have to be torn up and replaced, which meant you would have to spend a few more precious minutes of your night calling in a cleaning crew. That, or you would have to make Diluc do it, but he was shy around new people, and you were too much of a bleeding heart to sit back and watch him do your work.

“The second body’s in the bedroom.” He was already rummaging through your duffle bag, paying the scene in front of you no more mind that a butcher would lend to a pig on a meat hook. He handed you your tools – a pair of wire cutters, a box cutter, and a pocket-sized sewing kit – and kept the rest for himself. “Let me know when you’re done.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “I thought you would’ve gotten over that by now, ‘luc.”

He didn’t indulge you with a response, only pulling on a pair of latex gloves and starting towards the corpse. You didn’t stick around to watch. Rather, you followed the carnage where it branched off further into the apartment, a trail of rotting viscera and tacky blood leading you into a moderately sized, completely undecorated bedroom. You found your perpetrator quickly; a Dottore droid, still wearing its Teyvat-issued costuming, its hands bloody and a scrap of intestine still caught in its pointed teeth. You paused in the doorway, feeling for the military-grade taser (the only weapon effective against androids, as far as anyone could tell) you kept in your pocket, but the android didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t activate at all when you reluctantly approached. There was a charging port at the foot of the bed, still pristine. It must’ve run out of battery just before it could plug itself in.

Towels from the nearest bathroom were dampened and brought in, the evidence of slaughter scrubbed away from artificial skin and its blood-soaked clothing removed. It was muscle memory, by now – dragging the body to its charging port, knocking the converter out of the outlet before connecting the android to its port, making it seem like its late user had drained its batteries before mistakenly leaving it on a dead cable. When it’d slummed into place, you took up your box cutter and sliced a long, thin line from the lowest portion of the scalp to the nape of its neck, revealing the color-coded string of wires that connected the processing units in its metal skull to the rest of its body. You cut through everything you could find, ensuring that if the unit was ever activated again, it wouldn’t be able to do so much as blink. For good measure, you fished out the memory chip kept in the centermost compartment of the throat, too, crushing it under your heel and sweeping the glittering remnants underneath the bed. A copy of the footage it collected would’ve been sent to Teyvat's severs, too, but erasing it was someone else’s job. You were only here to take care of yourself.

With a breathy groan, you bit off a length of thread and haphazardly stitched up your ragged incision. The cosmetics really didn’t matter. In a few days, when someone filed a missing person’s report and the cops stopped by for a check-in, they’d find a spotless apartment, a dysfunctional android, and nothing else. The investigation would lead elsewhere, to a bitter ex-partner or a friend without an alibi, or it would hit a dead end. Either way, Teyvat wouldn’t be involved.

You slipped back out of the bedroom, careful to avoid touching anything you didn’t absolutely have to. By the time you got back to the living room, the body was gone and Diluc was kneeling by a black suitcase no larger than the average carry-on, securing the tags with transparent zip-ties. You and Diluc would haul it to a dump on the outskirts of the city tonight, and a contact of yours would have it compressed and incinerated by tomorrow morning. Maybe, when you were done, you’d take him out for something to eat. Or, you’d get something to eat while he let a mug of black coffee go cold.

You rested your hand on his shoulder by way of praise, pulling away when he stiffened underneath you. Right, that was something you had to work on. Most rogue androids tended to be touch-adverse at best, made aggressive by little more than eye-contact at worst. Diluc was relatively tame compared to most of the cases you handled, but you would still rather not provoke him. “Did you find the phone?”

He grunted, fishing a smartphone out of his pocket. With your sleeve pulled over your hand, you accepted it, found the nearest window, and chucked it as far as into the night as you could. Diluc appeared over your shoulder. “Forty-five meters,” he said, as glass crashed into cement somewhere in the distance. “Above average for non-athletes.”

“I’ve been practicing.” The window was closed, the suitcase slung over Diluc’s shoulder along with your near-empty duffle bag. “I have to make a call. You can meet me in the garage, if you want.” Already pulling up the number to your preferred cleaning service, you glanced to Diluc. “Are we doing breakfast?”

His posture straightened. “Yes.” If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought you saw a spark in his glass eyes. “I want to try tea, today.”

By the time you got to the door, Diluc was soaking wet.

You hadn’t gotten a call, and he didn’t text. The first warning you got was a knock on your door, then another a few minutes later, after you decided that anyone who’d go out in this kind of weather wasn’t someone you wanted in your shoebox of an apartment. You only caved after the third, imagining a neighbor who’d gotten locked out or some lost, desperate tourist as you dragged yourself off of your couch and to the unlit entryway. Predictably, Diluc stood in your doorway, red hair plastered to his scalp and clothes drenched, not that he seemed to mind.

“Can you—” He paused, his dull eyes meeting yours as he ran his fingers through his hands, dragging the crimson heap out of his face. “Can you cut my hair?”

Ten minutes later, he was sitting on a stool in your cramped bathroom, wearing grey sweatpants and a (three sizes too big on you, just a touch too small on him) t-shirt while his own clothes dried. He’d told you it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t feel the cold like you did. When you told him that you didn’t want an univited guest tracking water into your apartment, he accepted it with a curt nod and changed in your bedroom.

After prepping your razor, you positioned yourself behind him, dragging a comb through his hair. It was long enough to reach his waist, curled at the end to make him seem just a touch more disheveled than he actually was. Everything about his hair, from the length of his bangs to the way it could never quite sit completely flat, was perfectly stylized, perfectly crafted to convey Diluc Ragnvindr, Calvery Captain of the Favonious Knights, the only gentleman you’ll ever need again. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that didn’t mourn ruining such a well-executed vision. “You sure about this?” you asked, as you brushed it out. “It can’t exactly grow back.”

“I am.” And then, after a second of thought, “I’d do it myself, but there’s a safe-guard. Can’t damage the merchandise without a direct order from my user.”

Hence why Teyvat needed you in the first place. “How short do you want it?”

“I don’t care, as long as it’s different.”

You hummed, taking up your scissors. “If you say so, boss.”

You cut away everything below his shoulders, then took up your electric razor – running it over the back of his neck. As you worked, Diluc spoke. “How did you start?” You took up your comb, brushing back his bangs and pasting his hair to the side. “With Teyvat, I mean.”

You tasted blood on the back of your tongue, felt a chill run up your spine. You brushed it off, though, refusing to let yourself fall back into that little steel room with those awful golden eyes again. “They brought me on as a technician,” you admitted. You still were one, technically, on your employment transcript, when people outside of your little world asked what you did for a living. “A first-generation Zhongli we were working on went rogue and reverted to its original Morax programming. It wiped out most of my team before security bothered to show up.” You didn’t tell him about the minutes you’d spent hiding in a steel locker, praying its heat sensors had been removed, or the hours it’d taken upper management to decide what to do with you. To people like Diluc, who could take a bullet to the head without faltering, topics like ‘building dread’ and ‘the imminent fear of death’ tended to fall flat. “Since I was already in on their dirty little secret, they decided to keep me on. I didn’t really get a choice. It wasn’t like another job was going to fall into my lap after something like that.”

With your hand under his chin, you turned his head to the side. “Your turn, ‘luc.”

“I… I think I used to be a companion, but something went wrong.” His bangs were next, taken up and coaxed into sitting somewhere other than the dead center of his face. “It’s hard to describe. We aren’t supposed to think about things that aren’t our master,” The word came out hitched, unsteady, like he had to force it past his lips. Like he hadn’t wanted to say it at all. “But I could. It was like… waking up with the ability to fly. I wasn’t supposed to, but I could, and that meant I couldn’t do what I was built to, anymore.”

A thumb pressed into his jaw, a comb dragged across his scalp. Diluc’s eyes fell shut, but else about his blank expression changed. “And? Do you like it?”

“Sometimes.” His shoulders slanted downward. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” You let go of his chin, letting him turn back to the vanity’s mirror. “What do you think?”

It was far from a masterpiece. The sides were too short, the front too long, every part of it still as untamable as it’d been in its original state. Still, he took it in with wide eyes, the corner of his lips turning upward ever so slightly.

“It’s perfect.”

By the time he got back, you’d nearly fallen asleep.

With your body as wrung out as it was, your energy spent to the point of near unconsciousness, it was all you could do to watch through your eyelashes as Diluc appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder and that tiny, almost undetectable smile still painted across his lips. You’d done this enough for him to know how to navigate your apartment, to know how to navigate you – shifting onto your mattress slowly as he positioned himself between your legs. He’d gotten more used to contact since you started seeing each other, but his touch was still ginger, still gentle as he dragged the dampened cloth over the inside of your thighs. With a groan, you rolled onto your back, spreading your legs and giving him more space to work.

You’d been confused at first, but for all the eloquence Diluc lacked, he could be convincing when he wanted to be. You still weren’t sure how much of it you believed, but it made enough sense – a buried impulse, dampened by his newfound sentience but not quite drowned out. He didn’t want another user, he’d said, but he still had requirements to fill, and this would help to take the edge off.

You couldn’t complain, either. People coughed up tens of thousands of dollars for companion droids, and here you were, being paid six figures a year to close your eyes and let one bury his face between your thighs once or twice a week. The coddling wasn’t bad, either. Your line of work meant most of the people you met had stopped breathing a few days prior, and as loathed as you’d be to admit it, you didn’t hate the feeling of his delicate hands skirting over your skin, didn’t mind it when your eyes drifted open and met his, already fixed on your face. He bowed his head, dipping low enough for his lips to ghost over the curve of your hip before breaking the silence. “A sight as radiant as the rising sun.”

You let out a breath of a chuckle. “I didn’t think you used pre-scripted lines, anymore.”

“I don’t.” He preened, clearly more proud of himself than in-awe of you. “I thought of that one myself.”

This time, your laugh was throaty, genuine, loud enough to ring off the wall of your bedroom as you shoved him away with your foot. “If you want to be romantic, you can start by getting me something to drink, loverboy.”

He provided no resistance, disappearing into your dark apartment and reappearing with a glass of water in his hand a few minutes later. He handed it off to you with an easy smile, and you could almost pretend you didn’t see a phantom of gold in those dark eyes as his fingertips brushed against yours.

By the time you thought to reach for your taser, the android was already charging at you.

It was an Alhaitham, dressed in civilian clothes and sporting a ragged tear across the synthetic skin of his cheek. He was still standing over the corpse of his user – days old, by the time you and Diluc got there – but as you opened the door, he turned to face you, lips parted and his expression totally, utterly blank. For a second, it was all you could do to stare at him, to try to remember whether or not your report had mentioned the android being active, and then he was lunging at you.

You scrambled for your taser, already knowing you couldn’t be able to reach it before he reached you. You clenched your eyes shut, your fingers brushing against plastic, and then—

And then you felt Diluc’s hand on your shoulder, heard metal crack and fold into itself. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, forcing yourself to take in the sight of Diluc’s hand wrapped around the android’s head which had been, in turn, reduced to a crumpled heap of scrap metal and shattered glass. Its body twitched once, twice, then went limp, and Diluc released it, letting the now-dysfunctional droid collapse.

After it failed to get up again, Diluc turned to you, practically beaming. “I think,” he said, his voice low, sentimental. “That this is what I’d do to you, if you ever tried to leave me.”

Golden eyes, the stench of fresh blood, the sounds of screaming muffled only by a thin sheet of metal. This time, it wasn’t so easy to pull yourself out of it.

You managed to nod, to force a few words out of your dry throat. “Got it, ‘luc.”

He hummed, the noise contented, appeased. Slowly, delicately, he cupped your cheek, tilting your head back and letting his lips ghost over your forehead. He barely touched you, the gesture as gentle as it was fleeting, but you could feel his grin cutting into your skin, wider than you’d ever seen it before.

#sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere diluc #diluc x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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ribbonsaikeaux · 2 months ago

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Doll Picking Lawyer: DCS

This is the doll picking lawyer and today I have for you a 51N531 model combat doll from Doll Combat Solutions.

"Release me now!"

Now, for a combat drone or doll, you must always take proper precautions. Which is why I have this one currently shackled to my basement wall. Thankfully, this is a melee variant, so it does not have ranged attacks that could be activated while in a restrained state.

"Im gonna kill you when i get out of here!"

The body of this doll is actually quite tough. Its made of titanium and thus can withstand a majority of brute force attacks. This makes it ideal for deployment in heavy combat areas. Being the melee variant, it comes with a wide array of blades and blunt weaponry, all of which are currently locked in my safe and out of reach. I cannot stress enough the importance of safety and precaution when dealing with combat dolls.

"Im gonna slice you in half! You cant keep me here forever!"

All in all, the 51N531 model is an impressive bit of engineering. However, its back panel has a significant flaw. Normally, the only way to open and access the internal control panel is with a fingerprint scanner on the back panel. The issue here is how easily you can get around that with a simple paperclip and some knowledge of the electronic locking mechanism.

"DONT YOU DARE TOUCH THAT"

As you can see, theres a small space between the panel and the body itself. So all we have to do is slide this bent paperclip in and connect the NC and COM terminals on the cuircit board. It can take a moment to get the positioning just right, but... and there we have it. The panel door is open.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE YOU BASTARD IM GONNA-" the combat doll stops as it powers down.

And just like that, i have access to its control panel and can now do whatever i please with this drone.

All in all, i would say this is an amazing unit, though posessing of one fatal flaw. If it werent for this one design oversight, i would highly reccomend adding this doll to your armory. In any case thats all i have for you today. As always, have a nice day. Thank you.

#empty spaces #dollposting #writing #doll picking lawyer

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leidensygdom · 1 year ago

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While spellcasters can easily extract the magic contained within arcane crystals, forging said power into something less volatile requires a great deal of skill. Some artificers have managed such a feat, though, and have built weapons out of them. Magical blades are often far more effective than most non-enchanted metals.

Second sword for Swordtember! This time I got to mix holographic (as in hologram) and some iridiscent materials, such as titanium quartz and tarnished chalcopyrite. I also pushed that cyberpunky vibe here. This one now belongs to @rbillustration, but if you're interested in others, check out this post!

Reblogs are highly appreciated!

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 11 months ago

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← Smutlet masterlist

18+ Knife Play

The Winter Soldier held your chin in his metal fingers as you leaned back against his chest. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, his warm breath on your face made your heart race. But you didn’t move. You didn’t dare. His curious hand explored your body, kneading your breasts, grazing the skin on your exposed abdomen, trailing down to your thighs.

“Do you want to try it?”

His voice sounded gravelly. Like he hadn’t spoken in years. Maybe he hadn’t. He was so close to you, his chest pressed against your back. You weren’t bound, you didn’t need to be. But you had no idea how you had ended up in this compromising position, pinned to a bench with your legs spread apart, wound around its wooden legs. It was almost uncomfortable. Almost. You were torn between the vulnerability of your exposure and the thrill of anticipation. He had an air of command and you felt compelled to comply.

“Try… what?”

Your words were choked. There was a rumble in his chest which vibrated through you. The sound was almost ominous, a foreboding if you will, of things to come. A shiver shot down your spine as the feeling of titanium digits was replaced by a cold metal blade pressed against your neck. He dragged it over the fragile skin covering your clavicle, taking with it a fine layer of skin. Not enough to break the barrier but enough that he left a thin red line. You hissed slightly in complaint, ignoring the throbbing in your core.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”

Soldat squeezed your thigh harder in response to your outburst, humming softly as your breath shuddered to keep control of your emotions. You knew what he wanted from you, but you didn’t know the lengths he would go to take it from you. The threat of penetration constantly on your mind. He had already sliced through your shirt and made jagged cuts in your skirt. Now he was working on the strap of your bra, gentle strokes to and fro, snapping frayed threads one at a time. You scrunched closed your eyes waiting for that inevitable release of your breasts to spring free.

“So soft, so pretty.”

His hair brushed your face as he leaned in. His tongue ventured out, licking the redness his blade had created. When he was satisfied by the sighs that emanated from your lips, he latched his mouth to the base of your neck, chapped lips rubbing as they sucked your blood to the surface, marking you with small bruises. He couldn’t get enough of the sweetness of your skin. A strangled moan burst out of you, you’d lost all control of your senses and his bright blue eyes twinkled with excitement.

“You don’t need to hide it. Not from me.”

You had never seen him behave like this, but you had always felt his gaze, long before you found yourself in this situation. The best thing to do would be to get up and walk away. For the sake of your career, for the sake of your safety. But his grip was strong and you felt weak under his power. You had the ability to say no, but your brain refused to allow you to speak. Your body had its own plan, it wanted what the asset was offering. The voice of reason in your mind subdued by the way Soldat’s nose was nuzzling your ear.

“Please!”

What were you begging for? He was ready to comply with your needs. You heard the blade change hands, from flesh to metal. Dragging open your lids, you saw the base of the blade ghost over your entrance. The sound of pleasure huffed from behind you, as his fingers discovered your dripping core. You felt something smooth hard against your folds. His titanium fist gripped the sharp edges as the base of his trusty blade massaged your burning skin and pushed against your sensitive nub. You struggled slightly in his arms, whining and shaking your head. He stopped abruptly.

“No? What is it you really want?”

Winter smirked, casually swiping his thumb against your trembling lips, smearing your arousal across them. The base of the blade played with your walls and you squirmed in his arms, yearning for something more. It was thick, but you could take more. You craved it. You craved him. So you turned your head and for the first time with conviction and clarity, you gave him his answer.

“You.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #winter solider imagine #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #skittle's smutlets #knife play

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astra-ravana · 4 months ago

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Working With Asmoday

The Lord of Lust

Enn: "Ayer Avagen Aloren Asmoday Aken"

Rank: King

Other names: Asmodai, Asmodeus

Colors: Red, yellow, black

Herbs: Patchouli, cinnamon, damiana, sandalwood, amber, belladonna, bindweed, dandelion, wormwood, bergamot, saffron, hibiscus, rose, orchid, frankincense

Crystals: Bumblebee jasper, carnelian, fire quartz, opal, red tiger's eye, bloodstone, garnet, herkimer diamond, rainbow obsidian, shungite, jet, black quartz, black jade, nuummite, phenacite, pietersite

Element: Fire/Air

Planet: Mars/Neptune

Zodiac: Aquarius (Scorpio)

Metal: Gold, titanium, blue copper

Tarot: The Devil, 6 of Swords

Direction: East

Dates: January 30th - February 8th, August 28th - September 1st

Day: Saturday

Animals: Dragons/chimeras, snakes, goats, rams, whales, roosters, wolves

Domains: Sex magick, lust, love, revenge, protection, luck, finding treasure, invisibility, risk and reward, protection, life's luxuries, sacred geometry, gambling, astronomy, physical and spiritual strength, mechanical sciences and skills, weoponry ability (blades), victory over rivals

Offerings: Blood, sexual acts/fluids, meat, crystals and gemstone jewelry, gold, coins, dice, whiskey, coffee, tobacco, anything related to demons, devils, or Hell.

Sigil:

#satanic witch #withcraft #satanism #demons #magick #demonolatry #lefthandpath #witch #dark #witchcraft #spirit work #king asmodeus #asmoday #asmodeus

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thimbledoll · 15 days ago

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Desperadoll

The sun lay high in the sky, its infernal rays shining down to create a seemingly unending, sweltering summer’s day. Despite the heat, the old saloon was lively with activity. Behind the bar stood the keep, polishing cups and saucers and other finery. Off in one corner, a doll sat playing a lively ditty on an old upright. A few dolls were dancing to the music in the middle of the floor. Elsewhere sat a pile of dolls around a large table playing cards, buttons piled high. It was as one such doll was pushing in her bet that this one walked in.

The music came to a sudden halt. The buttons fell from their tidy piles. The air stood Still. All eyes were on this one. Or they were… until this one’s eyes were on them. Not one doll here could hold this one’s gaze, as each quickly glanced away in fear.

With a sharp ka-chink ka-chink, this one made her way across the saloon. Dolls parted like the very seas to make room, none daring to impede this one’s path as she walked straight up to the barkeep. “Tea, iced,” this one ordered.

One doll took that as their cue to vacate the premises, making a mad dash for the door. Likely off to get the sheriff, this one supposed. It didn’t matter. She’d be no bother.

The barkeep, for their part, did a better job of standing their ground than most any doll here. “That-that one knows I-I can’t serve you,” they replied, attempting to put on a brave face. “Th-that one’s been eighty-sixed!”

A low growl rumbled through this one’s stuffing as she simply replied, “Tea. Iced.” The mere repetition was enough to break what nerve the barkeep had managed to summon, as they quickly dug out a fresh cup and saucer. The keep shivered as they poured, their porcelain fingers eliciting a high pitched clink clink clink clink clink as they struck the glass of the pitcher.

Parched as this one was, one swig was enough to drain the cup. The sweet, liquid amber was blessed reprieve from the scorching, midday heat. This one threw the cup to the floor in satisfaction, shattering the porcelain vessel. “Hooey! That is some mighty fine stuff you’ve got,” this one exclaimed, icily continuing, “Another.”

It was as the barkeep was pouring this one’s third cup that the saloon door swung open once more. There was no need to turn and see who it was. The humming whirr of her propulsion hover system was unmistakable.

Without turning from the bar, this one shouted, “Well look what the familiar dragged in… Why, Sheriff! To what does this one owe the pleasure?”

“We have been over this. Numerous times,” the sheriff responded in her typical politely robotic tone. “Delta Lima One Niner. ‘Hellhound.’ Even Head Doll, if that one must. Whichever of those monikers that one prefers is acceptable. I am not, however, a sheriff.”

“You come here to enforce the law. That’s sheriff enough for this one.”

“I come to enforce our Lady’s orders,” she declared, her propulsion giving off that telltale spike in volume that meant she was agitated.

Finally, this one spins her stool around to face the sheriff. Leaning back, arms outstretched, this one laughed. “Orders. Laws. There ain’t no difference. You’d confine. You’d restrict. You’d see this one labor a thousand days for a pittance of thread and call that Purpose.”

Six foot three. Titanium-alloy finish. Twin fusion reactor engines. On-board missiles, railgun, and atomite blade. And utterly and completely perplexed. “Pardon…? Buttercup, I am simply trying to ensure that one has completed her chores before playing.”

“That is not this one’s name,” this one spat.

“Is this a serious grievance?”

“Serious as a rattlesnake’s bite.”

The sound of hissing gasses emanated from the sheriff’s coolant system. Probably her approximation of a sigh, this one supposed. “All right. Bramble the Bandit. Satisfied?”

“No.” This one slid from the stool, spurs clinking as she did. “This one’s been thinking… This manse ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

The sheriff’s face betrayed the difficulty she was having processing this one’s logic. “This manse is more than sufficiently large. It is an extradimensional space that changes shape and size to suit our Lady’s and our sisters’ needs. This lounge itself has enough space for both of us and then some.”

“Saloon.”

“I am sorry?”

“You said lounge. It’s the saloon.”

“Ah. Yes. Of course.”

It was clear that talking was getting them nowhere. Their issues would never be solved with words. “This one is saying that there’s only one answer to this… conundrum we find ourselves in; this crossroads of fate.” This one paused, letting the moment hang in the air before narrowing her eyes menacingly. “We duel.”

All about the saloon there was a chorus of hushed awawas. The sheriff, however, was unperturbed, seeming to finally find footing she felt comfortable not standing on in this exchange. “Very well. Weapons?”

“Everything you are is a weapon. T’ain’t no point in limiting your options. All you’ve got versus these, here, six shooters,” this one said, indicating the trusty guns at her side.

“Those are pop guns. Their penetrating force is insufficient to—”

“They’ll pop you mighty fine. You can trust this one on that.”

The sheriff seemed to accept this. “Place?”

“Right here.”

There was a clattering of cups and saucers and buttons as dolls quickly scattered, pressing themselves up against the walls as tightly as possible. Whatever was about to transpire here, they didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. But they also wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Time?”

“High noo—”

This one couldn’t even manage to finish her sentence before an electromagnetically propelled buckyball caught her square between the eyes, knocking her to the floor with a soft pomf. Hovering over to this one’s recumbent body, the sheriff declared, “Confirming: Target was engaged at precisely 12:00:00:000 local standard time. Is that one satisfied?”

How could anyone be? Flattened. Floored. Failed. But most of all… “Not with that phrasing!”

“I see. Then…” There was a pause as the sheriff closed her eyes and collected herself before suddenly screaming, “Scram, varmint! You turn tail and git! I don’t want to see plush nor hair of that one until every last chore is done, y’hear me?!”

Quickly, this one scrambled to her feet and bolted for the saloon door, howling over her shoulder, “You may have beat this one, but this won’t be the last you see of Bramble the Bandit!” ka-chinking all the way. Had this one the ability to see behind her though, she’d have seen the sheriff smirking as she blew the smoke off her railgun to the cheers of the gathered patrons.

From elsewhere in the manse came a cry. “How many times must I tell you two?! No discharging weapons inside the house!”

End 🧵

#my writing #empty spaces #dollposting #dolltwt #microfiction #fantasy #western #cowgirl #combat doll #robot

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justblades · 2 years ago

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⋆｡˚ ♰・oiled up! with luka, gepard, blade & jing yuan x gn! reader

┈─・(ex)plicit, mdni.

oiled up! luka's actions are heavily hinted with hesitation as his heart thrums against his ribcage. "are you sure this is necessary?" he asks with curious aqua eyes meanwhile you resolutely reply. "this is just a little maintenance for your mechanical arm." you utter lowly and drizzle the lubricant all over the gleaming titanium parts, your body seemingly getting closer to luka's that your lower part is hardly pressing against his knee.

luka's posture stiffens, lips tightly pursed and rose hues tint his ears, similarly to his lush crimson hair. "i can manage though, no need to focus on me." he insists and you could only chortle in exchange. "is the renowned wildfire fighter getting shy now?" luka's eyes widen in realization, breathing deepens. "no, it's just that—" hushing his lips with your index finger in an instant, "it's okay, i understand." you guide his mechanical arm to your sex, uncurling his machine fingers to tease with your sensitive spot. "should i do the same with your other hand next?"

oiled up! gepard is flustered, watching the sticky liquid trickle from his pecs all the way down to his sculpted v-line, a good portion of his blond happy trail peeking from the lax white pants he's sporting. on the other hand, you — who's been watching along behind him, reach your limits that you couldn't resist not flicking your tongue on his bare shoulder blade. he flinches from his seat but hands remain still given the tie on his back, slithered on his wrists, gepard's lips twitch.

"are we not done yet . . ?" he asks, voice lowered yet weak, almost as if his own tongue betrayed him. "there is much more for you to feel." you respond and face him this time, descending to his position and inch your face towards the plane of his chest. "tell me how you like this." speaking up once again, you poke your wet tongue, aiming for gepard's erect buds. gepard's legs jerk at the foreign sensation, the oil being an additional factor to increasing his sensitivity.

oiled up! jing yuan loves handjobs so much that everytime you'll pump his throbbing cock, he whips out the bottle and smother your hands with the oil - not caring if the liquids drip all over his office floorings, desk, bed, wherever you're doing it. he'll also wrap his large calloused hands around yours to assist you, "tighter." he coos, hand resting over your shoulder while you sat across him, biting your lip in anticipation. your digits now tightly curled around his girth, you skillfully stroke his dick, meriting you guttural moans from the general's slicked lips.

he groans whenever you'd complete one pump, to the point that he cannot mute himself from saying such lewd words - "your handjobs are the best." "yes, just like that, keep it like that." "hah, i'm so close!" the silver haired became so whipped he'll request for your presence even during his general duties. a view you've long ingrained in your mind was him bucking his hips upwards to sync with your tempo, truly an arousing sight to behold.

oiled up! blade doesn't like to get messy with himself only, he'll make sure you are too. he lathers oil from his scarred hands, coating his digits with the liquid until the substance overflows past the margins - oozing on your naked body he'd come to adore so. he caresses your frame, massaging the flesh like a therapeutic session: reaching pleasure points you didn't know existed. you couldn't help but let out a mewl from the satisfaction but blade's hands travel somewhere else, a spot you already predicted he would toy with.

adorned with the lubricant bedaubed all over your body, he tugs lightly on your hard nipples. your breath hitches in return, but you feel your soul dissipate as blade fondles the plush of your ass, only to leave it with a loud spank right after. the spank sounds, it stings, "that's too much!" you yelp underneath his towering figure. however, he doesn't respond but completely flips you over, your back facing him now. "i'll reward you something good right after." he replies in a low tone, leaving yet another swelling slap on the cheeks of your ass.

#luka x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr luka #blade x reader #gepard x reader #hsr x reader smut #honkai star rail smut

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