#return of pinstripe

[c0smiccom3t]

So..... regarding those news about Nicholas Kole's crash 5.....

I'm going to explode.

[the-chattering-tower]

I love scrying pinstripe on like every goddamn dragon ever and then when it comes to brewing even a single copy of the damn thing I am suddenly cartwheeling through three different circles of hell

[pseudowho]

Behind the Wall

Who was this stressed, suited man...and how could you love him so easily?

A Nanami Kento glory hole story.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Corporate!Nanami (before return to sorcery), falling in love with a stranger, hand jobs, blowjobs, fingering, excessive cum, creampie, anonymous PiV sex, tiny bit angsty if you squint

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"How much do they pay you here?" A deep voice, smooth, but rusted with whiskey and smoke.

Your eyebrows raised spontaneously; kneeling down behind your black screen and hole, you didn't necessarily expect the small-talk with your clients to be romantic, but such business-like enquiries did not suit the tone, either.

Regardless, you would accept almost any pay, to find somewhere clear of the monsters that plagued you; the monsters that had chased you from job after job after job. None had followed you here tonight, it seemed, so you answered, trying to sound light-hearted.

"About industry average, I think."

A huff, the man's voice now bitter; "After they skim the majority off for themselves after your hard work, though."

You shrugged, as if he could see. He hadn't even begun to hook his cock out yet, so all you could see was a pair of lean, long legs in a black pinstripe suit. You found yourself tickled by your interaction beginning with anti-Capitalist outrage, and you quipped.

"Great pension plan, though."

"I somehow doubt that."

You laughed, musical and sweet, and were satisfied to hear another huff, the barest hint of laughter from your stranger, before his voice toned lower, his words for your ears and yours alone.

"Well...though I'm sure you deserve better than this place, I'll make it worth your while. I have to get back to work, and I'm sure you have bills to pay."

Beautifully veined, thick, long hands had begun to undo his belt, and you felt a strange thrill of excitement that you didn't feel with the other men. He sighed, unzipping, hooking out a long, thick, pretty cock that looked painfully hard and weeping pre-cum.

"I can't concentrate like this, I'll just...get this poison out and then I can focus."

He sounded almost apologetic, his words dripping with loathing in a way that made you frown. You reached one finger out through your hole, beckoning, tender as you whispered.

"Well, I can help with that."

Your stranger had grasped his cock to direct it through your glory hole, but hesitated at your tone, as if the tenderness you gave him was an odd specimen, requiring examination before he could accept it.

The tip of his cock, pink and full, nudged against your cheek and nose as it pressed through the hole. You heard your suited stranger hiss and shudder. You couldn't help but be impressed by your stranger's size, spitting onto the tip before beginning to stroke him in long, languid, practiced strokes.

"How do you hide this beast when you get a boner at work--"

A huff again, almost amused, drawing out into a ragged, needy groan. His fingertips pressed on the board on the other side, white-knuckled, his voice straining as he tried to speak past the pleasure of your pumping hand.

"--sit-- sit at my desk...hoping it'll go away-- fuck, you're good...just help me, please...pay you well, just-- just get it out and I'll head back--"

Your suited man groaned again, deep and fractured as your hand picked up its pace. When you spat on his tip again, your lips ghosting against him, he bucked involuntarily, cursing and apologising under his breath. When you drew the flat of your tongue across his slit to taste the salty pre-cum there, he almost whimpered with divine agony.

You felt a squirm of pleasure in your belly, sure that his beautiful voice alone could form the soundtrack you could orgasm to, night after night.

"You sound like you should have a girlfriend to help you with this." You bit your lip, satisfied to hear how his cool, bored tone had broken into something altogether more desperate.

"--sh-shit, u-ungh...any woman deserves better...better than anything I can offer-- f-fuck, I'm close already--"

You felt it; his balls were too big to fit through the hole alongside his cock, and they looked heavy, aching, his body struggling to draw them up as your suited man threatened to spill in your hand after a single flat minute. You whispered to him, soft in a way that offered him an intimacy he was clearly desperately lacking.

"Stop hating yourself when you should be coming in my hand, big guy."

When his knees buckled against your wall at you cuffing the base of his cock with your other hand, making the veins stand proud, you knew he was crumbling.

"--a-agghh fuck-- come too hard if you-- if you keep that up...shit, like a cock ring, I..."

You hoped that when he came, some of his abject self-loathing would pour away, too. His groans were rapidly turning into short little growls, the screen shaking as he bucked into your fist with such desperate force.

"--f-fuck, good girl, perfect...unnnhhh, perfect...shit, I'm...I'm..."

"God, you really do need thi--"

Your voice broke off with a squeak to feel a veritable fountain of cum spurt over your face, stripe after stripe of thick white release spattering over your cheeks, flooding down your hand and chest.

"O-oh-- wow--"

Your mouth dropped open in shock as your suited man grunted and cursed through his orgasm, his balls heavy and twitching, and you tasted a drip of his seed trickle down your nose and onto your tongue. Musty, sweet; nothing like its thickness would suggest.

His cock twitched for what seemed like an eternity in your hand, as you stroked him down from his peak, so covered in cum that you considered you may have to call it a night to go home and shower. As his groans faded, his voice ragged, you felt the guilt and shame radiate off him in waves.

"Shit, that was...ugh, I'm sorry. It's disgusting, I'm sure."

"It's absolutely not. I'm just...wow. Do you always come that much?"

A pause, guilty again as his voice rumbled; "...yes."

You laughed, and his cock twitched in your hand. He chuckled, warm and gravelly, when you pressed a cleaning wipe out through the hole.

"See you soon?" You asked, strangely hopeful.

"Not soon enough." He answered, soft in a way that surprised himself. His voice dropped an octave as a roll of bills pressed through the hole to you. "Here...keep it quiet. They're taking advantage of you."

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You were prepared, the second time your suited stranger visited. Having required an early finish and a shower two nights before, covered with an obscene amount of cum, you blushed to recall that you brought your vibrator to the shower with you, climaxing against the wall to the memory of his velvety voice.

You hoped he couldn't hear the faint buzzing between your legs on your side of the wall. You squirmed, muffling a moan around his cock head as you prepped him, your lips stretched and glossy with pre-cum.

"-h-haaaah, god, you...you're wasted here-- feel so pathetic-- no stamina with...with a mouth like that around me-- o-oohhh...fuck..."

You released him with a wet little pop, feeling your own pleasure building with the insistent buzz against your aching clit. He seemed just as happy to have your hand, and you admired the little neat trail of honey-blond pubes at the base of your fist as he fucked into it.

"Yeah, well...you're wasted too, at that company, by the sounds of it."

"Mmm...feels like what I deserve--"

You cut him off with a tongue to the underside of his cock, his voice fracturing into growled curses and hungry moans again.

"I already told you, if you talk about yourself like that again, I'll make you come faster--"

A breathless, rumbling laugh; "You're a monster."

You whispered, your breath ghosting against his cock head just enough to make him shudder; "Plenty of monsters in this world, beautiful man...but not me."

Your suited man stopped arguing with you, losing himself instead in the way your mouth, hot and suckling and eager, drew him in deeper with every bob of your head. The gasping, husky cry he made when his tip curved round the back of your throat, sent a burst of pleasure through you that had you humping your vibrator involuntarily.

Between his gasps, his vision fizzling with pleasure, you heard him hesitate, his voice barely above a whisper; "What's...that buzzing noise, I-- do you have...back there, are you--"

Barely pulling back, approaching the climax you tried to muffle as you pumped his base with your hand, you moaned, sweet and sinful around his cock head; "B-brought my vibrator...hope you don't mind--"

"Oh-- fuck-- FUCK--"

You squeaked, your orgasm muffled by the cum that flooded your mouth and tongue. As your pleasure threatened to make you convulse, you pushed forwards instead to take the rest of what he offered down your throat, and you lost sight and sound for an indeterminate amount of time, blinded and deafened by thigh-trembling ecstasy.

Swallowing, gasping, and fumbling a hand in your underwear to pull the vibrator off your overstimulated clit, you babbled at him, apologetic.

"S-sorry, hard to--to get guys off sometimes-- without a bit of a hit myself--"

"Fuck, don't talk about other guys when you just came with my cock down your throat."

You giggled, breathless, hearing your suited man pant as he came down from his high. When he removed his cock from the hole, a long, beautifully crafted thumb and forefinger reached hesitantly through instead, and gently pinched your chin.

You pressed a lingering, affectionate kiss to the pad of his thumb as it swiped over your lower lip, and you felt your heart thud to hear such a delighted, satisfied hum from him. He opened the palm of his hand, surreptitious, and your stomach twisted to see an even thicker roll of bills than before.

"...you don't...don't have to--"

"I want to, I...I meant it when I said you're wasted here. They're monsters. Animals."

You took the money with a heavy heart, pressing another kiss to his palm, and leaving your whispers there with it;

"Scarier monsters than them in the world."

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A black dog hunted your suited man, the next time he came to you. You felt it snapping at his heels, and when your stranger approached, it was to sit with his back against your wall, instead. You saw the briefest flash of a thick, corded neck, broad shoulders, a neat blond undercut. He was quiet for a few minutes, before you spoke, soft.

"...hey, you. I missed you last night."

He scoffed as if he didn't believe you, and you reached a hand through, poking him briskly on the shoulder.

"I mean it." Another pause, and you swallowed. "Do you...did you want to...?"

"I...I just want to talk. I'll still pay."

"I'd talk to you for free."

A further silence from him, your warmth a balm for his fractious self-loathing. His next words hung heavy with the weight of the world.

"When will we rest, do you think? When will it end?"

Your eyelids fluttered, looking down in thought. Your fingers stroked over the pad of his suited shoulder. You thought of how you'd been late to your gloryhole, that evening, your usual path blocked by some stop-motion atrocity, an eldritch horror only you could see, and you swallowed hard.

"...I don't know. It doesn't feel like it ever will."

A soft sigh, his voice rich and smoky; "I hesitate to ask what your particular burdens are, to have led you to a pit like this."

You felt tears prickle on your lashes. Taking a deep breath, and tippy-tapping your fingers on his shoulder, you tried to remain upbeat against the rising tide of misery.

"H-hey, it's not all bad. I got to meet you, after all."

"If that's your greatest joy, I pity you."

You winced. Your suited man jumped, when your hand gripped his shoulder with beseeching fervour, his own hand slowly coming up to overlay yours, dwarfing it in his palm. He tensed, unsure. When you spoke it was with the certainty that he needed to understand you.

"Get your tie off, and tie it around your eyes."

He was silent, stunned, his voice brittle as he replied; "...excuse me?"

"Just do it. Blindfold yourself. Then come here."

A moment of hesitation again...then a groan, surely older than he was, as he moved. You heard the silken friction of his tie being undone. You felt the anxious tension radiating off him, and you closed your eyes, eager not to ruin this mystery for yourself.

"Alright...if you insist."

When his voice sounded again, you felt his breath across your lips, inches from each other at the hole in the wall. You raised your hand up, feeling his shudder as your fingertips examined his face as though you were examining a sculpture; and, a sculpture he could have been, with high cheekbones, a thick squared jaw, narrow soft lips. You smiled, your eyes still closed.

"You're too handsome to leave here without a kiss."

Your suited man was silent, but you felt his breath hitch and his heart stutter.

When you finally pressed your lips to his, he moaned with ecstasy, just as he did when you pressed your lips to his erection. Though you took the lead initially, with your lips softly parting his until you could taste him, your permission imbued him with a bravery and confidence he hadn't revealed to you before.

He took charge, and kissed you like a man starved, his evening stubble rasping across your chin, nose against nose. His tongue trailed with a rusty shiver over your lips.

"F-fuck...you taste good...I-- ungh..."

He broke off to you biting his lower lip softly between your teeth, drawing him back in until your lips melded closely enough for you to suckle on the tip of his tongue. He moaned again, desperate and stuttering in his chest. You heard the brush of his palms pressing against the other side of the wall, desperate to cup your face and tilt his kisses down your throat.

Your mingling breaths tasted sweet, so indescribably erotic in its simple intimacy as you pulled away. You fought against the desire to open your eyes, instead biting your own lip, your brow furrowed against your own stupid decision. You whispered, to a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, from your suited man.

"And I'd do that for free, too."

It was the most he had ever paid you, that night, for the simple intimacy of a conversation and a kiss.

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Not a single solitary man visited your gloryhole the next night. You fizzled with worry, as man after man appeared to loiter near you, before choosing someone else; anyone else. It didn't make sense-- even your regulars would be heard mumbling nearby before walking away from you.

You felt a clench of worry; the managers would still pay you, you were sure...but not if it continued.

You felt almost lightheaded with relief and something deeper, when a familiar voice graced your wall near the end of your shift.

"Are you lonely, in there?"

You felt a frisson of joy, and you knelt upright, grinning, your heart fluttering.

"Not anymore."

There was a momentary pause, and you felt the words that your suited stranger wanted to say, stuck, gated by his teeth. Eventually, when he spoke, it was strained, as if fearful of damaging the sprouting intimacy between you both.

"I've...been thinking a lot, recently. About what's fair."

You blinked, unsure, but answered anyway. "Oh?"

"It's not fair that I have to do a worthless job for people I hate, just to earn enough money to retire young. It's not fair that you're here, selling your body to make a living. It's...its not fair that it's only me being pleasured."

You swallowed, heat rushing to your cheeks, feeling him err against what he wanted to say, and he continued.

"I...would like to do something for you. For...for both of us. At the next window."

Oh. The next window. The curtained table, upon which you could lie your lower half, for a man to use the deepest parts of you for his own pleasure. If any other man-- any other man, had asked this if you, you were sure you'd have hated yourself for it. And yet...

"I...I've never done...that."

"I'm...I'm glad, I...I hate myself. For using you, and how other men would use you, and I'd like...to give you better. To treat you as you deserve. God knows, I'd like to tell you to walk away from this shit hole altogether but that's ignorant of me, so I...just for tonight, I--"

"Okay."

You almost clapped your hands over your mouth, your acquiescence so natural that it shocked you. Your suited man seemed surprised, too, and you could almost smell the thudding scent of testosterone from his body as it readied itself for the primal promise of spilling inside your core.

"Yes? You...are you sure?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life, actually. I...I'll come round."

"Fuck, I...I'll be waiting. Nobody else can-- fuck."

You stood on shaky legs, suddenly self-conscious. Arriving at the table, you took a deep, trembling breath, before starting to strip. You heard heavy, pacing footsteps; more mumbling; a snapped, deep, possessive response.

"This one is mine."

You bit your lip, muffling a laugh at your suited man's immediate dismissal. By the skittish footsteps of the rebuffed other man, your suited stranger was not one that other men would choose to fight. You spoke up, your voice smaller than usual.

"Alright, here...here I come."

Reverent silence hung in the air, as fine as spun gold, when you finished moving your bare lower half down the table. Self-conscious, with your hands pressed over your face in blushing mortification, your thighs and knees remained clamped together.

You heard slow, deliberate footsteps towards your body, as if your suited man had forgotten how to walk. His voice spilled forth, full of sighs.

"Exquisite, I...god, I don't deserve this."

You could have cried for him. Sick of his apparent self loathing, you stretched one foot out until your toes pressed against rock solid abs beneath a pressed, twill shirt. You felt another blush rock your system, not expecting your suited man to be quite so buff.

A large, warm hand grasped your foot, stroking up your arch, your ankle, your calf, and settling with a squeeze behind your knee. When his other hand began to mirror the first, both of your knees now bent and pressed together in his grasp, you heard him whisper as he held you.

"I'll cover you," he promised, ragged with need, "with my body, I...I'll keep you hidden. Keep you safe."

"Thank you."

"Do you trust me?"

"One hundred percent."

A pleased rumble. "Good girl."

Softly, tenderly, two great hands stroked up the sides of your thighs, gliding around your hips with his shuddering groan. Your suited man's hands felt like liquid sex, turning every patch of skin he touched into an erogenous zone.

By the time his thumbs had begun to trace up and down, up and down the V shaped creases of your mound, you squirmed in his grasp, heat pooling in your belly. He chuckled, his thumbs stretching up to massage circles on your lower belly, warming you before he filled you.

"Does that feel good?"

"So good," you whispered, struggling to remain bashful with his obvious adoration.

This warm-palmed massage, from belly, to V, to thighs, to hips, and back again, melted you. Your thighs began to part, your code cracked, without you even noticing. When he settled his hips between your thighs, you moaned involuntarily, and felt his mouth, familiar only to your lips, begin to trail kisses along your ribs, your breasts hidden by a thin black curtain.

He appeared to resist temptation, nipping along the marks left by your bra beneath your breasts. Though outwardly calm, his hands grew ever tighter, shockingly strong and needy on your hips, and you could feel how ragged his breaths were against the soft wet suckling marks left by his mouth.

You had never felt so worshipped, and your suited man seemed determined to know you before he buried himself inside you. The only natural response to those strong hands beginning to creep up the inside of your thighs, was to offer him the treasure he sought, by opening your thighs completely to him.

"Please, can I...make you come on my fingers?"

At this point, you'd have to beg him not to stop if you opened your mouth, and instead locked your thighs around his hips so he couldn't escape. That deep chuckle again, this time against your sternum, and he kissed you in reward.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

"I won't, I-- o-oooh...my...haaaah..."

His fingers, wet with his spit, had slid between your folds, two of them teasing around your entrance while his thumb circled with blissful ease around your clit.

Utterly unafraid of playing you like an instrument, he massaged your little bud until the noises you made were to his liking. You whimpered to feel the insistent press of his two thick fingers, and his murmured growls, add to the fold.

"Fuck, you're...perfect. Get you ready...or I won't fit...fuck..."

Within seconds, he had found your spongy soft spot, turning your moans guttural, making love to you with his fingers before he took you. Your suited man was certainly no boy, responding to every moan, and every whimper, with the surety needed to take you to orgasm.

Only the tenting press of his cock, harder than ever against your inner thigh, gave away how well he was controlling himself for your sake. Already at the edge, you tumbled into completion when one beautiful, fine boned hand slipped under the curtain to cup your breast, to the tune of his hushed curses.

"Come for me, my love."

As if he hadn't noticed you were already arching, mewling, and fucking yourself down on his fingers, halfway through your peak. He stroked your inner walls as if to comfort you, shushing you, soothing, until your quivering pussy stilled around him. You heard the clink of his belt, your head spinning to remember that the best was still yet to come.

"Beautiful girl...sound so pretty when you come. I...I'll pull out--"

"--don't you dare."

The strangled noise that left him, and the way you felt a spurt of pre-cum spill onto your belly, signalled a farewell to his restraint. You squeaked to feel him bracket two thick, strong arms beneath your thighs, bracing you for the way he was about to take you.

Jolting into place, his cockhead nuzzled between your folds. He appeared to be needing nothing but ragged, shallow thrusts to pleasure himself against your oversensitive clit, his lovely voice speaking as if to himself before notching at your entrance.

"--s-so long, it's been...been so long...worth the wait, for you, though, sh-shit...augh..."

He entered you with one deep, smooth press, shushing you again with a tender grasp, and little shallow rocks to kiss his tip against your cervix. He felt absolutely enormous, squeezing himself into you until every little ridge within you shaped to him, hot and wet. You babbled, your words shooting through him like knives.

"--oh m-my god you feel so good so so good so big-- barely fits, o-ooohh--"

When you gasped with the sudden fullness, one of your hands flew down past the curtain to hold your lower belly, and something in your suited man snapped. He laid one hand over yours, pressing it down hard on your belly, before cursing a half-hearted apology, and taking you with the desperation of a man possessed.

Three strokes, deeper, and deeper, and deeper, sent him roaring into a frenetic pace. Your hand clasping your lower belly had sent him spiralling. If his other hand hadn't held your hip so tightly, you'd have been fucked up the table.

And despite the mind-numbing force of his thrusts, you still, with every scrap of you, knew that he was making love to you, and not just fucking you. It made no difference, in the end, your voice growing in volume until it was nothing more than whimpered, mewling cries, only wishing you could have a name upon your tongue instead.

Stilted with the force of his thrusts, he blessed you with it.

"Say...say my name..."

"I will I will just give it to me gimme your name--"

"Kento--"

"--o-ooohh, f-fuck, Kento, harder--"

The cry that left his chest was visceral, animalistic, wrenched out of him with the same sudden finality as his orgasm. You felt him fold over you, his hands gripping your ribcage, his cock jolting and twitching within you as the heavy, obscenely long ejaculation that you knew so well, filled your pussy instead of your mouth.

"--unh...unh...haah...aaa-aahhh never...never gonna come like that-- e-ever again...that was it, that was the...the one that'll end me-- fuck...darling..."

Your suited man's bucks grew lazy, his torso almost completely blanketing yours, humping away the last vestiges of his orgasm. He stayed nestled within you, unwilling to let you go yet. You reached through the curtain, stroking a hand through his hair, and hearing him purr.

"...Kento, huh?"

He huffed a laugh. "Sorry, I...was that too intimate?"

"That? You're worried that was the intimate part?"

He laughed, rich and deep and genuine, kissing your ribs once more. You heard him reach into his pocket, and you spoke up, immediate.

"I won't let you pay me for that--"

"--I absolutely fucking am--"

"--no you are not--"

After he won the argument, and left with heavy reluctance, your manager pulled you aside with a dirty grin.

"You were popular tonight. How many men? Ten? Twelve?"

You blinked, confused.

"Just...just the one. Right at the end."

Your manager shook his head, turning back to the TV in his grubby little office, his fingers orange with Cheeto dust. Your brain ticked, and whirred...all the mumbling outside your gloryhole. All the murmurs, men almost visiting before moving on...and it clicked with absolute certainty.

Your suited man had guarded your gloryhole all night, paying other men to choose another woman. To choose anyone but you.

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"I worried you wouldn't be here."

You swallowed, sniffling, and settling behind your wall. More terrible monsters had settled around the building, blocking almost every pathway in, and you knew that you'd have abandoned your shift and run home to hide, if not for the hope of hearing your suited man again.

"You're...crying, my love, why are you crying?"

You felt him stiffen against the other side of the wall, at the sound of your sniffle, and his hand automatically reached through to cup your face, his thumb swiping away your tears. You turned your cheek into his palm, holding his hand against you.

Your gaze turned to the doorway...and to the bug-eyed, many-armed, puce coloured spindly monster leaning around it to stare at you.

You shrieked, crashing against your wall in terror. Your suited man took in a sharp breath, and the normal chatter and movement of the room quieted at your cry. Your suited stranger grasped your hand hard to hold you still, and his voice dropped to a horrified whisper.

"Stop-- oh, fuck, I understand-- your monsters-- can you see that? That thing in the doorway?"

Time slowed. Your jaw dropped. Your voice was thick, quiet, your insanity validated for the first time in your life.

"Kento, you...see it too?"

"Oh fuck. This...this is why you're in this place? Never been able to hold down a job, no? You've never felt safe anywhere?"

You could do nothing but weep into his palm, nodding, and nodding, and nodding. His voice rang, deep and commanding and final.

"I've got you. I...I've got you. You're safe. Just come with me."

"Kento, I can't just walk out--"

"You can. You don't need money. I've got enough. You just need...you just need me. I'll...I'll tell you everything. I'll explain everything."

When your face, tearstained and sniffling, leaned around the edge of your wall, you froze. Kento froze.

The silence was thick with wonderment, already in love before you had even seen each others' faces. But now that you saw him (obscenely handsome, tall, kind-eyed and exhausted), already overwhelmed, a sob bubbled over--

"Oh, god, you're so out of my league--"

A scoff, and adoration burning in his tired, under-shadowed eyes. He held out one hand, rescuing you as you'd rescued him.

"Come. I have some calls to make. You can tell me your name over dinner."

Your feet were numb as Kento walked you past the monster, shielding your fearful gaze with his hand. You ignored the shouts of your managers, half-deaf and stunned. In the chill evening air, his arm that was not around you, reached into his pocket, tapping, before holding a phone to his ear.

"Gojo, it's Nanami...why are you laughing?"

[ellecdc]

ohhhhhh what about “i didn’t know you slept like that. it’s cute.” with potter!reader and regulus when he finally moves into potter manor?

the winter games

Regulus Black x Potter!reader who brings him home for the holidays [730 words]

CW: parents letting the two sleep in the same bed? we keep it rated PG though

Regulus wanted to be annoyed with you.

He wanted to be annoyed that you all but forced him to spend the holidays at Potter manor, worse still that it was with the likes of your brother and - perhaps even more worse - his brother. He wanted to be annoyed that your parents were as lovely as they were. He wanted to be annoyed that he very much enjoyed dinner, and he even wanted to be annoyed that your parents trusted the two of you enough to share a room.

He wanted to be annoyed.

Except now he was padding out of your bathroom with his toiletry bag in hand, sharing a soft smile (Sirius) and a half-hearted glare (Regulus) with his brother down the hall, and walking into your room that your parents must have decorated in preparation for your return from school.

There were two sets of bedding on your queen sized bed; a red twin-sized duvet with green pinstripes on one side and a green twin-sized duvet with red tartan on the other. 

One side for the Gryffindor and one side for the Slytherin, apparently. There was also a little care package on what Regulus assumed you had deemed to be his side - the left side. 

His side of the bed was the left side. 

He wanted to be annoyed. But fuck if that didn’t just warm something long thought cold and dead in his chest. 

“You okay?” You asked with a smile, and Regulus couldn’t help the petulant scoff that escaped his lips.

“I’m fine, amour. You can stop asking me that; I’m not going to combust.” He muttered as he pulled the corner of his duvet away from the bed. 

“Behave yourself.” You chided around a laugh as you untucked the bedding on your side of the bed, too.

Your side. 

He wanted to be annoyed. 

“Do you mind if I have a fan going?” You asked him then over your shoulder, and Regulus shook his head; that was fine. He preferred sleeping on the colder side too. 

You had the fan going as you settled under the blankets. “Do you mind if we have some ambient sounds playing? I usually listen to rain but it can be anything you want; crickets, waves, a river - but that one makes me have to pee - uhm… rain forest, thunder storm, muggle traffic, whales, Tibetan bowls, heartbeat, blizzard-”

“Rain is fine, darling.” Regulus laughed, quickly schooling his face when he remembered that he wanted to be annoyed.

You let out a quiet thanks and started your ambient sounds. 

Regulus watched then in abject fascination as you secured your hair safely on top of your head and wrapped it up in a bonnet, sprayed some lavender scented spray onto your pillow before holding it out to Regulus who shook his head in no thanks, and pulled a face mask over your eyes, finally laying yourself down into your bed. 

“What?” You finally asked after a few moments of silence.

“What do you mean, what?” He asked.

“You’re staring at me.” 

Regulus laughed again. “How would you know if I was staring at you?”

He watched your lips slowly stretch into a smile. “I can feel you staring; don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you.” He laughed, causing you to pull the corner of your eye mask up so you could peek at him with one eye. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“I just didn’t know you slept like that.” He offered then, turning onto his side so he was facing you, loving that you turned over to do the same. “It’s cute.”

“Cute?” You asked disbelievingly, still smiling at him. “James said it’s an entire production just to go to bed.”

“Your brother’s a numpty.” Regulus grumbled, acquiescing at your raised eyebrow. “You’ve got your routine down pat anyway.”

“That’s true.”

“How do I fit into it?” Regulus asked, and enjoyed the way your smile turned wide and wistful. 

“We’ve got loads of time to work you into the number.”

Regulus felt a surprised laugh bubble out of him before he couldn’t take it anymore - wanting to be annoyed be damned - and pressed a kiss to your lips; barely needing to lift his head from where it rested on his pillow on his side of the bed to do it. 

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect role for me, amour.”

[catliker49]

Detective Wally on the Case!

Huzzah! (My new favourite word currently! Hehe) I have returned once more to share my doodle... of Wally... In a trench coat!!! I Love anything Pinstriped I wish my hands weren't so wobbly but there you have it! OH! And Ditto and Applelin are so Lovely <:O( I need so much merch of them.. PLEASE!!

[snowyh2o]

Just a random thought about how Alastor and Vox must’ve been really good friends before everything fell apart. Because Alastor knows how to make a video ad, he knows how to set things up for a movie/video shoot, things that had nothing to do with his medium, that he probably learned how to do because of Vox, because he was willing to try and learn from or for Vox. And Vox literally welcomes Alastor back home when he finds out he’s returned, has literally counted the years Alastor’s been missing when no one else seemed to know, and fashioned his clothing style to match Alastor’s (assuming it’s not just a case of everyone gets a pinstripe suit!), uses the same techniques Alastor taught Charlie about how smiling can be a tool to keep you ahead of the game.

And how it all fell apart and it wasn’t just Vox that was hurt in the process. Because you can’t tell me the man who hates TVs and modern tech due to its association with Vox doesn’t feel anything for what friendship they had and lost. Who snarls at the mere sight of him on a screen (admittedly while also dissing Alastor), who went straight back to his radio tower to diss Vox right back (and absolutely crush him lol), before threatening him against taking action, privately, twice. Alastor’s just better at hiding how much it’s affected him, and doesn’t let the bitterness of what used to be consume his every waking thought.

And maybe that’s the difference between how they view their old relationship and how the fandom seems to view it. Alastor’s upset about it, sure. He’s bitter now about Vox and everything Vox represents because he’s a past friendship that failed, but he’s also moved on with his life. Vox hasn’t. Vox still obsesses over Alastor, in the way he dresses, the way he talks, how he presents himself. It’s all reminiscent of Alastor. And when he finds out Alastor’s returned, the first thing he does is draw attention to how Alastor’s back! Talk in a roundabout way about how much he’s missed him! Has wondered where he’s been? Sends a spy into the hotel to, well, spy on Alastor! And when that doesn’t work, Vox continues to stalk Alastor through his drones instead. (And then gets off on seeing Alastor get beat up.)

Vox very much has not moved on from whatever friendship they’d had before. He hasn’t moved on from Alastor. (Or from his heavily implied obsessive crush).

We don’t know what happened between them, aside that it’s complicated and sad, that they were friends, and now they’re very much not, and that maybe part of the reason why is because Alastor rejected Vox’s request to join his team (upend his entire life to partner with Vox, assuming Alastor always worked solo and what the Vees currently have is what Vox had wanted with Alastor with his request). We can assume maybe part of why they fell apart was because Vox wanted something more from his relationship with Alastor, something Alastor could not and did not want to give him. Or maybe they just grew apart, grew distant. Vox constantly upgrading and changing and keeping up with the newest trends, chasing whatever new Thing that’ll keep him relevant, while Alastor remained set in his ways because he’s not looking for the approval of the masses.

Anyways, all this to say: when I, and I assume most other OneWayBroadcast fans talk about one-sided radiostatic, it is specifically about how Vox has a one-sided romantic/sexual attraction/crush on Alastor, that Alastor does not return, that has now turned into a one-sided obsession over Alastor. Not that their entire friendship was completely one-sided. I think saying that Vox was the only one who was ever invested in their relationship is a rather bad faith interpretation of Alastor’s character, but also does not do their relationship justice at all. It minimizes Vox’s responsibility in the fallout of their friendship, and puts the blame only on Alastor. It takes away all the juicy complexities of Vox’s character, how he’s bad person who’s done and is doing bad things, and paints him as an innocent victim to “Alastor’s manipulation”.

That’s not to say Alastor was completely innocent in the fallout either. But I hear a lot more about how the fandom woobifies Vox in their relationship than I do Alastor.

[communicationthroughlyrics]

Come With Us and You Will See

Valkyrie's Halloween parties always brought out the lust in everyone. But between you, Wanda, and Natasha- you didn't share well. What happens when things get a little bit too spicy for your jealous ass to handle?

AN: Happy early Halloweenie, folks! I got a little carried away, so have fun!

18+ ONLY

TW: porn with plot, implied orgy, semi-public sex, orgasm denial, enchanted strap, slight degradation, WandaNat, spanking, multiple orgasms, sub/dom dynamic... yeahhh lemme know if I missed something XD

9.9K WORD COUNT

The Ghouls All Came From Their Humble Abodes

In the quiet, suburban neighborhood, a quaint house with a meticulously trimmed lawn stood out from the rest. It was the home of Natasha and Wanda, two middle-aged women with a penchant for the dramatic. They lived a life of vibrant colors and boundless imagination, turning every mundane event into an opportunity for celebration. Inside, the walls were adorned with paintings that whispered of distant lands, and the air had the scent of exotic spices, hinting at Natasha's love for cooking. Wanda, on the other hand, had a green thumb that could coax even the most stubborn of plants into a blooming pattern of life.

You had been a pleasant surprise to thier mundane routine. Young and full of life, you brought a spark to their lives that had been missing since their youth. They had found in you a muse, a playmate, and a confidante all rolled into one. The three of you had been inseparable since the fateful night you'd stumbled into Natasha's art gallery, lost in the rain, and she had offered you shelter.

The older women showed you another level of intimacy that you had only ever dreamed of- and in return, you gave them the orgasms they had been craving. They had taught you the art of seduction, whispering sweet nothings in Russian accents that made your toes curl, and your cheeks flush. Your days were filled with laughter, passion, and the gentle thrill of discovery as you learned the intricacies of their desires.

Tonight, you were destined for an adults-only costume party. Valkyrie, one of the trusted confidantes of your lovers, promised a night of revelry that would be unforgettable. You knew that the two women who had held your heart captive for the last 10 months were going to pull out all the stops for Halloween. The anticipation had been building all week, with Natasha and Wanda teasing you with glimpses of their costumes that grew more risque with each day.

In return, you made sure to let thier anticipation build as they tried to get you to reveal your costume. You had kept it a secret, smiling mischievously each time they asked, only saying that it was going to be something that would make their jaws drop. As the night of the party grew closer, the house buzzed with excitement.

You dusted your face, neck, and chest with a pale setting powder- dulling your skin tone to a milky white before applying some darker makeup to accentuate your already chiseled features. That was one thing that Wanda and Natasha both made sure to compliment you regularly about- how well you took care of yourself and your physique. The costume you've chosen was a nod to the grim reaper- a sleek black robe that clung to your broad shoulders and tapered to your waist, with a silver cane-sized scythe resting against the wall. The hood was drawn back, exposing your hair freshly dyed hair slicked back.

The darkness surrounding your eyes was contrasted by the contacts you chose to wear, and your chest was almost bare underneath, the robe was carefully fashioned to prevent your chest from being too revealed. You chose a simple pinstriped waistcoat and slacks, hiding the surprise you recently purchased for your two lovers.

As you stepped into the living room, Natasha and Wanda were waiting, their eyes on each other as they danced to some music in the living room, waiting for you to come downstairs. You silently leaned against the archway into the room, leaning with your cane in your hand. Not wanting to disrupt the moment, you watched them move in tandem, thier years of marriage apparent in how they moved as one.

Natasha, dressed as a sultry vampiress, had her hair in curls that cascaded down her shoulders, a crimson dress that hugged her curves and showcased her ample cleavage, and a necklace of gleaming black pearls around her neck. Her lips were a deep shade of red, matching the color of her fingernails and the tips of her sharp, vampiric teeth that peeked out when she smiled. Red was always her color, and any time she wore it, you made sure to make her aware- often, the blush you would cause rivaling the crimson she was adorned in.

Wanda, on the other hand, had chosen a more enigmatic costume. Her long, brown hair was swept into an elegant updo, with a few loose strands framing her face. She was dressed as a fortune teller, complete with a sheer shawl draped over her shoulders and a crystal-laden neckline that drew attention to her piercing green eyes. Her dress was a deep, mysterious green that swirled around her legs as she danced, hinting at the secrets she was known to keep.

The women together were sure to stop any show, a breathtaking mixture of elegance and seductiveness that sent your pulse racing every time you saw them. As they caught sight of you, the music seemed to pause for a moment. Natasha's eyes widened with a predatory glint, and Wanda's lips curled into a knowing smile. They had both chosen costumes that left little to the imagination, but it was your transformation that truly stole their breath away.

Wanda broke free of Natasha's grasp, seemingly floating in your direction. "Detka," she purred, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "you look absolutely... ravishing!"

Natasha stepped closer, her vampire cape billowing around her as she did so. "You've truly outdone yourself this time," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "The Grim Reaper has never looked so... alive, Malysh."

You couldn't help but chuckle, the sound echoing through the hallway as you twirled the scythe in your hand. "I had to match your level of drama," you replied, your gaze flicking between them.

Natasha sailed towards you, her fingertips grazing over the fabric of your costume. "But, my love," she whispered, her breath hot against your neck, "you've gone above and beyond." Her eyes danced with mischief as she leaned closer, her teeth grazing your earlobe. "I can't wait to see what kind of mischief the three of us will get into tonight." Wanda's fingers danced along the exposed skin of your chest, leaving a lingering kiss on your collarbone before you guided them toward the door.

As you stepped into the night, the cool autumn air kissing your skin, Natasha and Wanda linked arms with you, their laughter a harmonious melody that filled the quiet streets. The party was already in full swing when you arrived at Valkyrie's, the throb of music and the cacophony of voices spilling out from the open windows. The house itself was transformed into a haunted mansion, complete with cobwebs, flickering lights, and an eerie fog that danced along the ground.

The moment you entered the party, all eyes turned towards the three of you. The room was a kaleidoscope of colors, with guests dressed in various costumes that ranged from playful to downright terrifying, but all in varying levels of sinful. But it was Natasha and Wanda who truly stole the show. Their allure was magnetic, and the way they looked at you was nothing short of possessive. You felt a thrill of excitement and a hint of pride knowing you were the center of their universe.

Valkyrie, dressed as a scantily clad Viking queen, spotted you from across the room. She raised her goblet in a toast, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Welcome, my lovelies!" she bellowed, her strong voice cutting through the din. She wove through the crowd, her skirt swishing around her powerful legs. "You've outdone yourselves! Natasha, Wanda, your costumes are absolutely... divine," she said with a knowing wink, kissing them on the cheek. "And... Y/N, you look... stunning, my dear." Val leaned in to kiss your cheek but pecked a little too close to your mouth for comfort. You felt Wanda's grip on your arm tighten slightly, never having been a fan of how much Val took a liking to you.

The party was a whirlwind of activity. Enchanting witches and warlocks mingled with ghosts and beguiling goblins, and the air was thick with the scent of sweat, booze, and food as the gathering was in full swing. Dancing bodies were everywhere, everyone dressed in a sexy costume of some sort, and you were sure that by the end of this party, most costumes would be discarded and forgotten on the floor. Val's parties always seemed to end that way.

You graciously accepted compliments and sipped from the goblet that was filled for you, feeling the buzz of alcohol melding with the electricity in the air. You, Nat, and Wanda had split up, floating from group to group and mingling on your own, compliments and praises being rained down on the three of you separately as well as together. The night was a blur of laughter and whispered conversations, of secrets shared and glances exchanged that promised much more than simple pleasantries. Eventually, Val made her way up to a makeshift stage in the center of the room, clearing her throat into a microphone to gain everyone's attention.

"Welcome, my dear guests, to the most wickedly enchanting night of the year!" she announced, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Now, as per tradition, we shall begin the costume contest!" There was a rush of cheers and claps as the lights dimmed, and a spotlight was directed towards the stage as the rest of the lights dimmed. You glanced around the room, Noticing that Nat and Wanda had made thier way back to each other and were staring at you expectantly from across the room. You shot them a cheeky wink before redirecting your attention, glancing around the room at all the costumes before you.

You laughed as Steve, dressed as a Chippendale Zombie, struggled to direct the spotlight where he wanted it. The room was a masquerade of shadows, clapping, and cheers as Steve guided the light to people who had voted to compete against one another. The costumes were a mix of pop culture references and old-school horror classics, each one more elaborate than the last.

Valkyrie announced each participant with flair, her voice resonating with the joy of the evening. Wand and Natasha both had been selected and were standing on opposite ends of the stage.  "And now, for the pièce de résistance," Valkyrie said, her eyes locking onto you, "our very own, sexy as hell, pun intended, Grim Reaper, Y/N!" The spotlight found you, and the room fell silent, save for the dull roar of the classic Halloween music.

You took a sip from your goblet, feeling the warmth spread through your chest as you made your way to the stage, the silver scythe glinting under the lights. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, all eyes on you as you moved with a grace that belied your size. The scythe was surprisingly light, and you twirled it in one hand as you climbed the stairs with a dramatic flair, feeling every eye in the room on you.

You began to walk to Wanda, but Val pulled you towards her at center stage.

"Ah, ah," she said with a playful shake of her head, "let's get a good look at all our contestants before the final reveal of our winners." she winked at you, spinning you around before looping her arm with yours. You knew this was a dangerous game- Wanda and Natasha both had dark looks adorning thier features. They didn't like sharing you, not even in jest. And the feeling was mutual. The women caught everyone's eye no matter where you were, and they often poked at your jealousy. Even when the three of you came to Val's parties, you would only entertain the thought of the two women.

Others had tried to break into your threesomes before but never succeeded. The tension between you three was always palpable, a dance of desire and territorial claim. Val knew the rules and had always respected them, but tonight, she was pushing the boundaries with her playful flirting.

Wanda's eyes narrowed as she watched you with Val, her hand tightening around her crystal ball. Natasha's smile was forced, the vampiric fangs she wore glinting in the light as she took a sip from her goblet. The room grew hot with unspoken emotions, a silent battle of wills playing out.

The music picked up tempo as you watched Natasha strut across the stage, her crimson dress fluttering like the wings of a bat in the moonlight. She stopped in front of Wanda and did a dramatic twirl, her vampiric teeth gleaming as she sunk them into her bottom lip. Wanda, ever the performer, played along, her eyes never leaving yours as Natasha approached her, the scent of the incense Natasha had picked up at the local metaphysical shop swirling around her like a seductive fog.

Natasha leaned in, grasping Wanda by the waist and tiling her backward, exposing the brunette's neck. She leaned in, biting it gently, leaving an imprint of the fake teeth she had been wearing all night. The crowd gasped, but you knew it was all for show. Wanda's eyes never left yours as Natasha did this, a silent challenge dancing within their emerald depths. You felt your heart rate spike, a thrill of excitement and desire coursing through your veins. You tilted your head, almost in a pompous way, a seductive smirk gracing your features.

Your resolve waivered, however, when Val made her way over to the couple- grasping the back of Natasha's neck and whispering something in her ear before pulling Wanda closer, almost kissing her. They knew you would hate this, your hatred of watching someone commandeer them the way you usually did was not foreign to them. And yet, as Natasha's eyes sparkled with mischief, Wanda's with a hint of anger, you felt your desire flare up, a thrill of jealousy turning your cheeks hot.

You sucked in a sharp breath, shooting them both a pointed stare before turning your attention back to the party at hand. Val stalked back to you, leaning into your frame as she began to announce the 4th, 3rd, and 2nd place winners. Your gaze kept wandering over to Nat and Wanda, watching the tension build between them. You felt the anticipation in the air as the music grew more intense, and Val prepared to announce the winning contestant while her hands wandered all over your clothed chest.

The room was alight with whispers and guesses, the excitement reaching a crescendo as Valkyrie dramatically paused, her hand hovering over the envelope containing the first-place winner's name. "And now, for the moment we've all been waiting for!" she shouted, ripping open the envelope with a flourish. "The grand prize goes to..." She scanned the paper, her eyes flickering with amusement. "The Reaper!"

Val winked at you, leaning in towards your ear. "Don't have too much fun with them,"  she quipped. "Save some of your lovin' for the rest of us." Her words were playful, but you felt the underlying tension in the air thicken. You watched as she walked over to the two women, leaning in and kissing Natasha passionately before turning her attention to Wanda.

You felt your blood boil at Val's audacity, she knew better than to try and stake any claim to them without permission. That had always been the rule of these get-togethers. Permission had to be given, and for you three, it was never granted.

As Val pulled away from Wanda, the fortune teller's eyes flickered to yours, the emerald depths swirling with a mix of anger and arousal. Natasha's gaze was equally intense, the hunger in her eyes a silent declaration of war. You stepped forward, the silver scythe gliding through the air as you approached the stage. The crowd parted, creating a path for you, their whispers a symphony of anticipation.

You pushed Val out of the way, staring down the two women with whom you shared the most intimate moments. "Looks like I've got two wayward little souls to collect," you murmured darkly, the corners of your mouth curling up in a sinister smile. The crowd hushed, sensing the sudden shift in the room's dynamic. Natasha visibly gulped at how dark your aura became while Wanda stood with her legs crossed, her eyes dilated with lust at your possessiveness.

You stepped closer to Natasha, your hand reaching up to remove the cape from her shoulders. She trembled under your touch, the fabric sliding off with ease, revealing her crimson dress. "I think it's time for my prize," you said, your voice low and filled with promise. Your hand slid down her arm, the fabric of your glove sending a shiver down her spine as you gently pulled her closer. You leaned in, your breath hot on her neck. "You know what happens to those who don't respect the rules of the game."

She released a breathy gasp, goosebumps erupting where your breath touched her skin. You suddenly pulled away, turning to Wanda, who was further gone than her wife.

"And you, darling..." you glared at the darkened eyes of your other lover, stepping towards her shivering frame. "Are you such an impatient little whore that you have to stand there, legs crossed, to get the friction you want?" You whispered in Wanda's ear, her body visibly responding to your words. "Tell me, Wanda," you began, raising your hand to her neck as you tilted her head, making Natasha's bite mark stand out in the dim light. "Do you think that you should be...punished?" your inflection on the punishment caused a moan to escape her, her eyes pinched shut.

Without waiting for a response, you leaned in and claimed her mouth, your teeth grazing her bottom lip as Natasha watched with a mix of jealousy and arousal. The crowd had gone silent, the music now nothing but a faint background to the scene unfolding on stage. You felt Natasha's eyes on you, her desire palpable. You knew it was a dance you had to perform, a dance of power and submission that the three of you had perfected over the months.

You pulled away, noting that others in the party had started to strip thier partners for the night in various states of intimacy while others watched the three of you. "I think we need to show everyone who you two belong to." You commanded between the two, your grip tightening on Wanda's hip and Natasha's arm. You didn't have to say it out loud; they knew the score.

"I have a surprise for the two of you," you said with a wicked smile as you led Natasha and Wanda to the center of the stage, the crowd that had made its way up part for you like the Red Sea. You had planned this moment for weeks, ever since you heard about the party. You had bought something special for them, a costume that would not only blow their minds but also cement your dominance over them for the rest of the night.

The lights grew dimmer, and the music slowed to a seductive rhythm as if the room itself was holding its breath in anticipation. You sat on the throne that was perched on the highest point of the stage, grasping Natasha by the back of her neck and pulling her in for a searing kiss. You could hear Wanda moan next to you, the passion between the three of you always making the other weak. The audience watched, enraptured by the raw intimacy playing out before them.

You broke the kiss, a smirk playing on your lips as you looked Natasha in the eyes, the intensity of the moment causing her pupils to dilate. "Strip for me," you murmured, your voice low and demanding. The crowd's anticipation grew as Natasha obeyed, her hands moving to the neckline of her crimson dress. She made a show of it as she peeled it away from her body, revealing her full, round breasts, the fabric clinging to her skin for a brief moment before it fell to the floor. Her body was a canvas of desire, already painted with the sweat of the dance and the anticipation of the night ahead as she sat on the right-hand arm of your current seat.

You turned your attention to Wanda, who was seated on the other arm of the throne, reaching up and pulling her down roughly, causing her to fall to her knees in front of you. Her eyes never left yours as you untied the laces of her fortune teller's top, revealing the taut, toned stomach and the lacy lingerie that you knew would make Natasha's mouth water. You watched as Natasha's gaze roved over Wanda's exposed flesh, her teeth biting into her bottom lip as she took in the sight.

"Wanda," you directed, watching her suck her bottom lip in between her teeth. "Take it off," you ordered, your voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to echo through the room. The fortune teller's eyes smoldered with need as she obeyed, her top falling away and exposing the matching crimson bra beneath. The crowd's whispers grew louder, a symphony of desire and excitement that only fueled your own.

Before you knew it, Wanda was nude on her knees in front of you, and Natasha was bare on your right hand, her own hands wandering over your partially exposed chest. The crowd's whispers grew to a murmur of appreciation, the room a sea of lustful energy. You leaned back on the throne, your eyes taking in the beauty of your lovers, feeling like the king of the world.

"Now," you began, your voice has become deeper and raspier with lust. You grasped one of Natasha's hands, guiding it down towards the newest addition to your repertoire. You motioned for Wanda to lean in, and she did so diligently, resting her cheek on your upper thigh as she watched Natasha's hand as she raked her own up and down your inner thigh. "I want to show you what I've got for you," you whispered, your free hand reaching out and raking through the brunette's hair.

Natasha took the hint, reaching down to the apex of your thighs, feeling the girth that rests between your toned thighs. You looked up as she moaned at the discovery, her breathing becoming audibly heavier. You watched as Natasha's hand began to stroke the length of your fake cock, her eyes never leaving yours as she did so, a silent question in them. You nodded, giving her the go-ahead, and she leaned down, unzipping the fly of your slacks as Wanda unbuckled your belt.

The room was a haze of desire as Natasha pulled out the strap-on you had hidden beneath your costume. It was a sleek, black, and realistic dildo, a symbol of power and dominance in the bedroom that you wanted to use with the women after your first meaningful night together. The crowd watched with bated breath as Natasha held it up, her eyes gleaming with excitement and a hint of trepidation. Wanda looked up at you with a mix of excitement and fear, the thrill of the unknown sparking a fire within her that you hadn't seen in quite some time. There was a red glint in Wanda's eyes as she gazed up and down the length of the toy.

You groaned as Natasha spit onto the tip of the toy, her deft hand working it up and down as Wanda kissed the shaft, as well as your stomach and the exposed portions of your thighs. They were working you to a high quickly, the feeling almost like you had a pulsing cock. The room's anticipation grew as Nat leaned back, placing the toy against her mouth, her eyes locked on yours. She sucked on it, her tongue swirling around the head before she pulled away, leaving it glistening with her saliva.

"I think that someone needs to be punished, sweet girl." You grasp Natasha's chin, gazing into her hazy eyes. They widen when she realizes that you're talking to her. You gesture to Wanda, still on her knees, her eyes dark with want. "Take your punishment," you murmur, and she nods, eager for whatever you have in store for her. "And you," you send a pointed command to the brunette waiting at your side. "Sit still and watch like the good girl I know you are. You know what happens if you don't."

A sneering smile crept across your features as she nodded her head rapidly. "Good girl, Wands. Behave like that, and maybe I'll reward you instead." The room watched in anticipation as Natasha began to work the strap-on around your waist, her hands shaking with excitement as her mouth wrapped around the tip. You could almost swear that it felt like the member was attached, but you chalked it up to the passion of the moment and how good the two women before you looked on thier knees for you.

Natasha continued her relentless assault on the toy that was wrapped around your hips, effectively gagging herself as she prodded the back of her throat with your toy. Wanda's eyes were glued to the scene, her mouth watering at the thought of what was to come. You leaned back, your hand reaching for Natasha's hair, gripping it tightly as you began to rock your hips into her face, the leather of the strap-on creaking with each movement.

The crowd watched with bated breath, the energy of the room palpable as Natasha's moans grew louder around your strap-on, her eyes glazed with lust. You knew she was enjoying this; the power play was a new twist on your usual dynamic, and it was driving her wild. You watched as Wanda's hand slid down her stomach, her fingers delving into her wetness as she watched Natasha's face contort with pleasure.

The music grew louder, the bass thumping in time with your pulse as Natasha pulled away, gasping for air. You leaned down and whispered something in her ear, your hand still tangled in her hair, and she nodded eagerly. You glanced in Wanda's direction, watching as her fingers delved deep into her heat, the passionate sound of her arousal echoing on the stage as her digits buried themselves deep within her tight pussy.

You couldn't be bothered to correct her behavior with the view of Natasha bent over, ass up before you. "You know what to do," you murmured, and Natasha nodded as you tangled your fingers in her now disheveled hair. She took a step back, her hand reaching around to tease her clit as she inched backward, gasping when you slapped her sodden folds with the length of the toy. She moaned and began to rock her hips towards you as she sought more friction. You smirked, stroking the length attached to your hips as her arousal dripped onto the shaft.

With a swift thrust, you pushed into Natasha, her body jolting at the intrusion. She let out a guttural moan, her back arching as you claimed her before everyone. The sight was intoxicating, Natasha's body stretching to accommodate you as Wanda watched with bated breath. You began to move, a slow rhythm that had Natasha's legs trembling and her eyes rolling back into her head. You reached around her, playing with her clit as you fucked her, her moans echoing through the room, as other partygoers similar sounds of passion echoed throughout Val's living room.

Wanda was now standing beside you, her hand buried in between her thighs as she watched Natasha take your toy like a champ. She leaned in, her breath hot on your neck as she whispered, "Fuck me, please," You felt a jolt of excitement at her words, the desire to see her in action taking hold. You nodded, and the hand you had been using to fondle Natasha's right breast slid over Wanda's drenched folds.

Your fingers slid into her slickness, her juices coating your hand as you began to pump her in sync with the rhythm you had set with Natasha. The two of them were a sight to behold, both moaning and writhing before you. Natasha's eyes found yours in the mirrored wall behind the stage, the reflection showing the intensity of her climb to climax. Wanda's hand had moved to your chest, her nails digging into your skin as she rode the wave of pleasure you had started.

The room had gone quiet, the only sound you could hear now was Natasha's grunts and Wanda's whimpers, the slap of the strap-on against Natasha's ass echoing through the space. You could feel the eyes of the others on you, a mix of envy and arousal that fueled your desire. You picked up the pace, Natasha's moans growing more desperate as she pushed back into you, her hand a blur as she pleasured herself.

Using your other hand, you grabbed Natasha's loose hair, pulling her back so her back was now pressed against your front. You leaned down and whispered sweet nothings into her ear, your teeth grazing the shell of it as you felt her pussy tighten around the strap-on. The crowd was a sea of hungry eyes, the room thick with lust as you brought Natasha to the edge of orgasm. You knew they were all imagining themselves in her place, all craving the feeling of your dominance and the power of the toy that was now buried deep within her.

"You feel so good, baby," you rasped into the redhead's ear, her head lolling backward and resting on your shoulder as you deftly switched your hand from her hair to the front of her neck, squeezing ever so slightly. You honestly felt like you could feel her walls tightening on the shaft of the toy, a sensation that was surprisingly erotic despite the barrier of the strap-on. You watched as Natasha's orgasm grew closer, her body tensing as you whispered sweet, dirty nothings into her ear, your hand tightening on her neck, a silent promise of the crescendo approaching.

Wanda leaned in closer, her breathing ragged as she watched Natasha's face contort in pleasure. "Please," she whispered, "please let me come." You smirked, knowing she was close, her hand moving faster as she chased her release. You released Nat's neck, reaching down with your hand and slapping Natasha's ass hard, the sound resounding through the room, causing her to cry out.

"You both know the rules," you panted out, your tone commanding as they both began to reach thier peak. "You don't come without my permission," you whispered, your grip on Natasha's neck returning as she whimpered around your strap-on. You watched Wanda's movements become more and more erratic, knowing this was a battle of wills she was bound to lose.

As Natasha's body tightened around you, her muscles spasming as she reached climax, you felt the room's energy shift. It was as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for your next move. You pulled out of Natasha with a wet pop, her body slumping forward as you turned to face Wanda, your hand still buried in Natasha's hair.

"Do we want to find out what happens to bad girls who don't follow the rules, malyshka?" You growl at Wanda, knowing she was not far behind the woman who just came without permission. She nodded frantically, her eyes wide with need. You released Natasha, letting her collapse to the floor, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She looked up at you with a mix of relief and regret, knowing a punishment was going to follow.

"Tell me, Wanda," you panted out, trying to catch your breath before you continued. "What do you think her punishment should be?" You didn't wait for Wanda to answer. Instead, you grabbed Natasha by the throat, lifting her to her feet and pushing her to her knees next to the fortune teller. Wanda stepped closer to you, allowing your fingers to slide in deeper as you repeatedly prodded the sensitive spot within her. Your pace picked up, becoming relentless as she withheld her pending orgasm.

"I think..." she began, staring at the sweaty, heaving chest of the woman next to you. "She should watch as you fu...FUCK me," she moaned, her nipples bouncing in front of your face at a tantalizing pace. You smirked, your hand sliding out of her pussy to give her clit a sharp pinch, making her squeal.

"Pretty girls like you don't need to be thinking," you shoved your drenched digits soaked in Wanda's arousal, into Natasha's mouth, forcing her to suck on them as you fucked her mouth with them. "You just need to feel," you murmured, watching Natasha's eyes glaze over with pleasure as she tasted Wanda on you. Wanda's moan grew louder, her hand flying to her own throat, mimicking the grip you had on Natasha's neck, as she felt herself being pushed closer and closer to the edge. "Full. You both just want to be full, don't you? My little sluts."

You turned to Natasha, your hand coming down to her face and slapping it gently, her eyes watering as she nodded eagerly. "Good," you whispered, releasing her throat. "Now, let's get started on that punishment." You turned to Wanda, whose legs were shaking, her eyes begging for release. You stepped back, your cock throbbing with the need to fill one of them. Looking around, you noticed a few pairs of handcuffs resting next to the throne, so you grabbed two of them and quickly handcuffed Natasha's hands to the arm of the throne, leaving her seated next to the chair, unable to pleasure herself.

The crowd was now fully invested, their eyes glued to the three of you as the tension grew. You turned to Wanda, who was still standing before you, her chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths. "You know what you need to do," you said, your voice still low and commanding. She nodded, standing up and straddling your lap, her hands reaching behind her to rest on your thighs as she teased herself with the tip of the strap, her arousal dripping onto your thighs and the length before you.

"Do you feel that, detka?" she leaned in, whispering against your ear. Your gaze shifted to something inquisitive as you stared at her, a mischievous grin sweeping across her features. "I may or may not have..." she moaned as she took the tip and pressed it against herself, just barely penetrating her pussy before lifting herself back off. The feeling seemed to intensify for you, and you weren't sure if it was the performance you three were putting on or the way these two made you feel.

Wand leaned in, her hands now coming to rest on either side of your face. "I want you to feel us, and we want to feel you," she began, kissing you deeply before pulling back. She released your face, guiding the tip back to her soaked entrance as she eased onto the length. "I enchanted the strap, baby," she moaned as you let out a guttural groan at the feeling and the admission.

"Fuck, Wanda," you began, grasping her hips tightly as you helped her take the full length. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt the pleasure rush over you, the room fading away to nothing but the three of you. Wanda's eyes fluttered shut, her breathing heavy as she began to rock her hips back and forth, the chair creaking with each movement.

You watched as Natasha's eyes grew wider, her breaths becoming pants as she watched the two of you. You reached out with your free hand, stroking her cheek as she leaned in, her mouth open and desperate for your kiss. You denied her, pulling away just as she closed the distance, leaving her panting and desperate for more.

"You want a taste of this?" you taunted, your voice thick with desire. "You'll have to behave," you reminded her, your eyes flicking to hers, a promise of punishment in them. Natasha nodded fervently, her eyes never leaving yours as you began to fuck Wanda in earnest. The strap-on sliding in and out of her, the feeling of Wanda's silky smooth walls clenching around you intoxicating.

You reached down with your free hand, stroking Natasha's wet folds, her eyes rolling back in her head as she moaned at the feeling of your fingers. The crowd had gone wild, their cheers and catcalls egging you on as you brought Wanda closer and closer to the edge. Her nails dug into your shoulders, her breathing shallow as she neared her climax. You could feel her pussy tightening around you, her body begging for release.

"P...please...." Wanda's voice was a breathless whisper as she bobbed up and down on the strap-on. Her body was trembling with need, her orgasm so close it was palpable in the air. You could feel it in the way she clenched around you, in the way her thighs quivered, and in the desperate little sounds she was making. It was driving you crazy, the desire to give in and let her come was almost too much to bear. But you held firm, your hand now on Natasha's throat, keeping her at bay.

"Please..." you mocked Wanda, egging her to beg more. "Please, what?" Her eyes snapped open, and you knew you had her just where you wanted her. "Please, let me come," she begged, her raspy voice barely above a whisper. You could hear the heaviness of her accent slipping through, a dead giveaway that she was beyond ready.

"That's a good girl, Wands. See, Natasha?" you turned your gaze from the panting mess bouncing up and down on your lap to see the blown eyes of the redhead who had shifted so she was on her knees, her knuckles white as she grasped the arm of the chair. She nodded frantically, acknowledging your statement. "This is what happens when you're a good slut," you whispered, watching Natasha's eyes flicker with desire.

Wanda's eyes snapped open, and she looked at Natasha, the two of them sharing a moment of pure, unadulterated hunger. "Come for us," you murmured, your voice thick with the desire that coated the room. And with that, Wanda's body tightened around you, her back arching as she let out a scream that could have shattered glass. You felt the warmth of her orgasm through the toy, and it was all you could do to hold on to Natasha's neck as you watched her ride out the wave of pleasure.

You felt a dripping sensation as you looked down, a devilish grin on your face. Wanda had squirted all over your chest, the makeup now barely present on your chest as the combination of sweat and her arousal had long since worn it off. You looked at Natasha, her eyes glued to the spot between Wanda's legs, watching the show with a hunger that hadn't been there before. You knew that she was desperate to feel that same pleasure, but you weren't quite done with Wanda yet.

You gently lifted Wanda off the length that was nestled between her thighs, a whimper leaving her as the toy left her with a distinctive sloshing. Sliding down off the cushion of the chair, you sat on the ground in front of it, grasping Wanda’s thighs and pulling her towards you. She had no energy to protest, as the sudden shift caused her to lose her balance and brace herself using the arms of the chair as you kissed up to the apex of her thighs. Sliding one hand around to her ass, you cupped one of her cheeks as you pushed her towards your waiting mouth.

Her pussy was a mess of cum and sweat, the scent of her desire intoxicating. You didn't hesitate, burying your face in her folds and licking up the juices that had pooled at her entrance. You heard Natasha whine but ignored her, focusing solely on the trembling form of your other partner. Wanda's legs gave out slightly, but you kept her upright, her back arching as you began to suck and nibble at her clit. The taste of her was divine, and you felt the cock pulse below you.

You reached down, stroking the length with your other hand as you continued to devour Wanda as she hovered above you. The strap-on was slick with her juices, and you couldn't help but revel in the power you had over both of them and moan at the feeling. Natasha watched, her eyes wide with lust as she felt her arousal build once again, unable to touch herself thanks to your earlier punishment.

Wanda's legs began to quiver, her breath coming in gasps as you brought her closer and closer to another peak. The room was a symphony of moans and whispers, the tension palpable as everyone watched the intimate scene unfold before them. You felt Natasha's eyes on you, so you shifted your head so you could look at her while you worked your tongue through her wife's folds. Her eyes were wide with desire, and she was visibly fighting the handcuffs, trying to free herself so she could get some relief.

You chuckled darkly, enjoying the power you had over Natasha's body and the way her chest heaved with frustration. "Do you like watching?" you taunted her, your voice muffled by Wanda's pussy. "You want a taste?" You didn't wait for Natasha to respond before pulling away from Wanda's clit, leaving it pulsing and swollen and her crying out in frustration. You stood up, the strap-on still slick with Wanda's juices, and approached Natasha. She leaned forward, her eyes never leaving yours, as she took the length into her mouth, sucking and licking at her wife's arousal coating the strap.

The crowd watched with rapt attention as Natasha's eyes rolled back in pleasure, her mouth moving with renewed enthusiasm. You smirked, knowing she was desperate to come, her punishment only making her more eager. You reached down, stroking her cheek with the back of your hand as you felt your orgasm building. Wanda's legs were shaking; her eyes glossed over with desire as she watched Natasha service the toy. You pulled the witch up by her chin, kissing her passionately as she kneeled in the seat, her hands resting next to Natasha's. You continued to thrust into Nat's mouth, panting into your kiss with Wanda as the feeling of the spy's tongue against the enchanted toy caused you to quickly approach your climax. You moaned as she pulled away with a pop before fully engorging herself onto the length.

Plunging your other hand back into the soaked depths of Wanda's core, you quickly worked her back up, matching her crescendo as you commanded her to come at the same time as you. You could feel her inner walls clench around your fingers, and Natasha's eyes went wide as she felt the toy throb in her mouth, knowing you were about to climax. With a roar, you came, the force of it pushing Natasha back slightly, the strap-on spurting a stream of sticky cum that hit her in the face. She took it all, her eyes never leaving yours as the warm fluid coated her cheeks and mouth, her tongue eagerly lapping up every drop.

Wanda's knees gave out, and she collapsed onto the throne, her body trembling from the intensity of the shared orgasm. You stepped back, the strap-on still pulsing slightly as Natasha's eyes remained locked on it, her desire unquenched. You reached down, unbuckling the handcuffs, and Natasha's eyes widened in anticipation of what was to come next.

"Now, it's your turn," you murmured, your voice thick with lust as you pulled Natasha up from her knees. She stumbled slightly, her legs weak from the prolonged arousal and the recent punishment. Wanda watched with a mix of satisfaction and hunger, her chest still heaving from the powerful climax you had just given her. You led Natasha to the chair, pushing her down so she sat straddled in front of it, her legs spread wide, displaying her wet pussy to the eager crowd. You pushed her face down, burying it into Wanda's pussy as you slammed into the redhead, a loud, guttural moan escaping you as her tight heat enveloped the strap.

The crowd watched, their eyes glued to the trio, as you fucked Natasha with the same intensity that had brought Wanda to her peak. Natasha's muffled moans were music to your ears, her body squirming with each deep thrust, her tongue still working Wanda's clit. The fortune teller leaned back into the throne, her hands tangled in Natasha's hair as she felt another wave of pleasure crash around her.

"Now, Natasha," you growled, pulling her face away from Wanda's pussy. "You've been a good girl, watching and waiting. But I think it's time you got what you've been begging for." You grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her around so she faced the audience, her back pressed against the chair. With one swift motion, you buried the strap-on into her, making her gasp loudly. The room was alive with lust and arousal, the air thick with the scent of sex as the crowd watched you claim her or they pleased their partners.

Natasha's eyes rolled back in her head, her legs spread wide and her back arching as you began to fuck her in earnest. Her moans grew louder with every thrust, echoing through the room, and you could feel the power of your control over her body as she responded to your every move. Wanda watched, her desire rekindling as she saw Natasha's pleasure. "Good girl," you murmured, your voice a low growl of approval. "Take it all for us."

The crowd was entranced, their eyes locked on the three of you as you moved together in a dance of dominance and submission. You could feel Natasha's muscles tightening around the strap-on, her orgasm approaching like a freight train. You leaned in, biting her ear as you whispered, "Cum for us, Natasha. Show them what a good slut you are."

Her eyes snapped open at your words, and she nodded frantically, her moans growing more desperate. You reached around her, pinching her nipples hard, watching as her back arched away from your chest. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, Natasha's moans growing louder with each thrust. Wanda leaned forward, her hand slipping between Natasha's legs to rub her clit in time with your strokes. The redhead's eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream as you both pushed her towards her climax.

The room was alive with the sound of passion; the other partygoers had forgotten their own desires as they watched the three of you, the tension in the air crackling like electricity. You felt Natasha's muscles tighten around the strap-on and knew she was close. You didn't relent, instead pushing deeper, your rhythm never faltering. Wanda's hand moved faster, her other hand gripping Natasha's hip as she helped you drive her closer and closer to the edge.

Natasha's eyes rolled back, her body writhing in ecstasy as she approached climax. The sight was too much for some in the audience, and you could hear the faint sounds of others reaching their peaks as they watched the erotic display unfold before them. You leaned in, your breath hot against Natasha's neck as you whispered, "Cum for me, Natasha. Show them how much you love being my little slut."

Her response was immediate, her body tensing as she screamed out her orgasm. The room seemed to pulse with the force of it, the air thick with the scent of sex and desire. You could feel her pussy spasm around the strap-on, her legs quivering uncontrollably as she rode the wave. You didn't stop, keeping your rhythm steady and deep as Natasha's body convulsed in pleasure, her moans echoing through the room.

Wanda's eyes were glossed over with lust as she watched Natasha's climax, her arousal evident in the way she ground against the chair, her hand moving between her legs in a silent testament to her own need. You withdrew the strap-on from Natasha's trembling body, her eyes glazed over and her mouth open in a silent O of pleasure. You turned to Wanda, the toy still pulsing with Natasha's orgasm, and offered it to her, a silent invitation for her to taste her wife's pleasure.

Wanda took it without hesitation, her eyes never leaving yours as she licked the length clean, savoring the taste of Natasha's release. The sight sent a thrill through you, and you knew the night was far from over. You stepped away from the throne, Natasha's legs quivering as she tried to stand before you. You offered her a hand, pulling her to you, before trapping her lips in a scolding kiss. You could feel the power thrumming between the three of you, a heady mix of desire and dominance that was intoxicating.

"Now, Natasha," you murmured against her lips, "it's time for your punishment." You led her to a nearby table, bending her over the edge. The room was still silent, the tension palpable as the crowd watched, eager to see what would come next. You eased the strap back into her, burying it to the hilt before you leaned forward. "I want you to count for me, baby. If you miss a number, we start over. Got it?"

Natasha nodded, her breathing heavy with anticipation. You began to spank her, each slap echoing through the room. With each slap, you delivered a powerful thrust, nailing her G-spot every time. The sound of your hand connecting with her flesh was a symphony of power and passion, and she counted off the numbers, her voice trembling with every thrust. "One... two... three..." The crowd was spellbound, some whispering to each other, others touching themselves, unable to resist the eroticism of the scene.

Wanda, now standing beside you, watched with a mix of love and hunger. She reached out, caressing Natasha's back, her hand gliding down to her ass to feel the heat rising from the spanking. Her desire was evident in the way she bit her bottom lip, her eyes never leaving the spot where your bodies connected. You felt her hand sneak around Natasha's body, her fingers sliding into Natasha's wetness, joining the strap-on in a delicious dance of dominance and desire.

The combined feeling of Natasha's walls clenching around the toy and Wanda's fingers sliding in to join was almost too much for you to bear. You picked up the pace, your hand coming down harder and faster with each number she called out. The crowd watched, their eyes glued to the three of you as the scene grew more intense. You could feel Natasha's body beginning to shake, her voice growing weaker as the pleasure mounted.

"Eigh...nine..." she gasped, her voice breaking on the last number. You stopped abruptly, pulling the strap-on out of her making her whimper. "What was that, Natasha?" you asked, your voice a mix of mock anger and amusement. "Did you forget your place?" She nodded, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes glazed over with desire. You knew she was begging for more, and you were more than happy to oblige.

With a smirk, you leaned down, whispering into her ear, "You know what happens when you're a naughty slut, don't you?" She moaned in response, pushing her ass back against the cold, hard table. You stepped back, admiring the view of her reddened skin and the way her legs trembled with anticipation. You gestured to Wanda, who stepped closer, a wicked glint in her eyes.

The crowd was enamored by the show you three were putting on, captivated by your dynamic. Their eyes were either glued to the three of you, their whispers a backdrop to Natasha's counting, or they were creating thier symphony of moans, screams, and skin slapping as they chased thier highs. You could feel the anticipation in the air, the thrill of watching something so intimate and raw. Wanda's hand joined yours, both of you spanking Natasha in unison, her moans growing louder with each smack. "Ten... eleven..." she gasped, her voice strained.

With each number, your strokes grew more intense, and Wanda's fingers curled inside Natasha's pussy, feeling the wetness that was yours alone to give her. You watched Natasha's body tense, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the table. The power in the room shifted, your dominance over Natasha clear as day, and Wanda's submission to your will just as palpable. Her hand in yours, the two of you punished Natasha's ass in a rhythmic dance of pain and pleasure that had the entire room on the edge of their seats.

Natasha's legs began to shake uncontrollably as you delivered blow after blow, as her wife continued to stretch her walls. "Come for us, Nat," you growled, leaning forward so your breath tickled the shell of her ear. "Come like the good little slut you are."

With a final scream, Natasha's orgasm crashed over her, her body collapsing onto the table as Wanda's fingers slid out, and you slid the strap back into her, helping Nat to ride out her orgasm. You could feel her pussy tighten around the strap-on, her muscles pulsing as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her. You didn't miss a beat, pulling Natasha upright, the strap-on still deep within her. She leaned heavily against you, panting and spent, her eyes half-closed with pleasure.

Wanda stepped in front of Natasha, her hand reaching for the toy that was still buried deep inside her. You watched as she began to grind against it, her eyes locking onto Natasha's as she whispered, "Look how good you're taking Y/N, Nat." Natasha's eyes widened, and she nodded, her breathing ragged as she watched her wife's face contort with pleasure. You could feel Natasha's pussy clench around the strap-on with every movement Wanda made, and you knew she was just moments away from another orgasm. You reached around, pinching the redhead's nipples, tweaking them as you pulled her towards you.

"Wait for me, Nat. Don't cum until I say," Wanda's voice growled as she watched, her eyes dark with lust. Natasha nodded, her body a taut bowstring of desire, her eyes pleading for release.

Your thrusts began to grow more erratic, the pleasure building in your core. You could feel Natasha's need, her body begging for more, but you held off, savoring the moment, the power of the scene.

Wanda leaned in, her breath hot on Natasha's neck as she whispered, "Tell us when you're close." Natasha's eyes squeezed shut, her voice barely above a whimper, "Now. Oh god, now." You smirked, giving a final, deep thrust before pulling the strap-on out, leaving her pussy gaping and wet. The audience watched, their breaths bated as Wanda took Natasha's place, straddling the chair with an eager look in her eyes. You didn't waste a moment, sliding the toy back into her, watching as her eyes rolled back in pleasure.

Natasha's hands found their way to her chest, pinching and twisting her nipples in time with your movements, her moans joining the chorus of the room. The sight was more than you could handle, and with a roar, you came, the strap-on spurting a thick load of cum into Wanda's pussy. She moaned her climax building, her body trembling as the warmth coated her skin. You didn't stop, your hips moving in a relentless rhythm as Natasha's hand slipped between her wife's legs, circling her clit as she stumbled over the edge again.

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, the room vibrating with the energy of the moment. You stepped away from the chair, the strap-on still pulsing as you watched Natasha collapse into Wanda's arms. The two of them kissed, sharing the taste of victory and desire, Natasha's cum mixing with Wanda's arousal. You felt a thrill run through you, watching them together, knowing you were the one who had brought them to this point.

Carefully, you slipped the strap off your hips, the enchanted phallus still twitching from the intensity of the shared release. Natasha and Wanda clung to each other, their kisses deep and hungry, fueled by the aftermath of their public display of submission and dominance. The warm stickiness between Wanda's thighs was a testament to your power, a visual symbol of the pleasure you had wielded so masterfully. You felt a thrill of pride as Natasha looked over at you, her eyes glowing with a mix of love and admiration. You stepped closer, reaching out to cup Wanda's cheek, bringing her attention to you as well. The three of you shared a moment of silent understanding, the power dynamics pulsing between you like an invisible force.

Valkyrie herself approached, her eyes gleaming with a mix of awe and desire. She leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear. "That was quite a performance," she purred. "I never knew you had it in you."

"Back off, Val," you warned your voice a low growl that sent a shiver down Natasha's spine as she clung to Wanda. Wanda's eyes snapped up to meet yours, a hint of jealousy in them, but she quickly softened under your hardened gaze, remembering her place. You turned to the crowd, your chest heaving with exertion, the strap-on still in your hand, dripping with Natasha's cum. "Val, it's never wise to covet what's not yours," you said, a smug smile playing on your lips as you stepped closer to Natasha, who was still trying to catch her breath.

The room went quiet again, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You knew everyone was watching, waiting for what would happen next. You reached out, stroking Natasha's cheek with the back of your hand, smearing a line of cum across it. "Let me call the driver, let's get home," you murmured, the softness of your voice a stark contrast to the raw power you had just displayed. You collected the costumes, giving Wanda and Natasha a moment to recover. The crowd parted as you led the way, the air thick with the scent of sex and the electricity of unspoken desires.

"Let us go home and get cleaned up," you start. Natasha and Wanda let out a contented sigh. They nodded in unison, their faces flushed with pleasure and a hint of exhaustion from the intense experience. You wrapped thier coats around them, leading the way out of the party, the sound of the crowd's applause and whispers following you as you exit the grand ballroom.

The cool night air hit your skin, a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere you just left behind. The thrill of the performance was still with you, the power dynamics resonating in your very core. "Thank you," Wanda murmured, her voice barely audible as she leaned into you, her hand finding yours. Natasha walked on your other side, her arm wrapped around your waist, her eyes on the ground, the picture of submissive satisfaction.

As you approached the limo, the driver held the door open, his eyes averted respectfully. You slid into the plush interior, Natasha settling onto your lap, her legs spread wide, inviting Wanda to straddle you both. The door clicked shut, and the car glided into the night, leaving the party and its prying eyes behind. "So," you began, your voice a purr of satisfaction. "What shall we do next?"

[tayraedoll]

My Compliments to the Chef

Part 2 of the series- You go on your date; Alastor gives you some unusual cooking lessons and the ovens aren't the only things getting hot.

Part 1

TW: Self-consciousness, mild sexual situations, sensory deprivation, flashbacks, hurt/comfort, swearing

You stared down at the dress on your bed. It had been neatly laid out when you returned to your room the night before with a message scrawled in the most elegant handwriting you had ever seen:

Don't be late Darling - A

The dress was gorgeous- all black with a halter top, knee-length pleated skirt, and a thin belt around the middle. The fabric felt sturdy, no doubt it was expensive. He even gifted you a pair of black stilettos to pair with it.

You bit your lip nervously, of course you were nervous about going on a date with Alastor, but what caused your heart rate to spike at the moment was the thought of wearing this dress. It was definitely considered modest-to Alastor's taste- but the halter top would show the entirety of your arms...there was no way to hide the scars that littered your skin. Could you wear a jacket? Would that be considered rude?

You sighed, if you didn't get changed soon then you would be late...and you did not want to find out what Alastor would do if you kept him waiting after he explicitly told you to be on time. You paired the dress with simple silver hoop earrings and a bracelet and dabbed on dark merlot-red lipstick. Overall you looked good...if you could ignore your arms. You swiftly left the bathroom, not wanting to look in the mirror more than necessary. Snatching a small clutch you made your way to the lobby.

You caught sight of Alastor as you descended the stairs- he had traded his normal red pinstriped suit for a black one with coattails. He wore a bright red bow tie and he had pulled his hair back into a ponytail that exposed his undercut. You were so preoccupied with ogling at him that you missed a step and had to catch yourself on the railing to save yourself from an embarrassing fall the rest of the way down the staircase.

When you safely reach the ground level Alastor turns with a cheerful grin and confidently strides up to you, "You look absolutely ravishing Darling!" His hand reached for yours and gently brought it to his lips. "Give us a twirl!", he raised your hand above your head and you slowly rotated on the toe of one heel for him, a happy smile curling across your own face at his antics. "Tu es magnifique."

You blush at the barrage of compliments and nervously cough,"Shall we go then?", you start towards the door only for for the demon deer to wrap an arm around your waist.

"Nuh-uh-uh! Not that way My Dear! I would not subject you to walking in those shoes all the way across the Pride Ring. No, we shall be traveling in style!", he adjusted his bow tie and puffed out his chest. He pulled you flush against him and leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Hold on tight Darling."

You gasp as your vision suddenly went black and your feet were no longer on solid ground. Your grip on Alastor's coat was iron-clad as you reacted to the sudden weightlessness of your body. Then, just as soon as it began it was over, but instead of being in the hotel lobby you found yourself on the sidewalk outside a beautiful white-brick building. You were so busy taking in your new surroundings you didn't notice that you never let go of Alastor until he chuckled at you, "Oh! Sorry!", you jumped away from him and hid your blush by smoothing your dress down.

Alastor approached the little mouse demon hostess, she looked up at the much taller demon with a friendly smile, "Good evening Mr. Alastor sir! We have your table ready!" She hopped off her stool, barely coming up to The Radio Demon's knees, to lead the way to your dinner table.

The inside of the restaurant was just as stunning as the outside. It was all polished birch wood with black and gold accents and was dimly lit except for a small stage with a live pianist playing a relaxing tune. The chairs were dark with gold cushions, the tables adorned with white tablecloths, gold napkins, and black roses served as the centerpieces.

The hostess deftly placed the menus on the table and filled the water glasses, "Your server will be right with you!" Alastor held your chair out and motioned for you to take a seat before pushing it in.

"Oh Al, this place is breathtaking!", you take one last awed look around before unfolding your menu.

"Hmm yes, this place is certainly a bit of a hidden gem. There are certain types that won't give it a fair chance due to the staff actually."

"What do you mean?", you give him a perplexed look.

Just then, another cheerful mouse demoness approached your table, but she was significantly taller than the hostess. No, not a mouse...a rat. "Ah Alastor! I thought I heard your voice!", she chirped. "And who is it you've brought with you? She sounds lovely!", the rat turned to you then, her eyes were completely white and foggy as if she had milk on her lenses. It took you a second to understand- she was completely blind.

"Tilly, my dear friend! This is Y/N, she is a chef as well and I thought I'd bring her here tonight to experience all La Rodere has to offer", Alastor smiled kindly between you and Tilly despite her not being able to see it. "I'll just have my usual Tilly, if you don't mind. Although, perhaps a bottle of champagne instead of whiskey tonight."

"Of course! And what can I get you Sweetheart?", she faced you expectantly.

You quickly glance at the menu again,"Could I get the Poulet a la Moutard Francaise please?"

"Yes ma'am! It's a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I do hope you enjoy yourself this evening!", with that Tilly scampered off to fetch the champagne and turn in your order.

"You have impeccable taste My Dear", Alastor eyed you slyly.

"I take it that is your usual order?", you smiled over your glass of water at him.

"Correct! Now come along, or we will miss the show!", he grabbed your hand and pulled you along to the swinging doors that hid the kitchen from the dining area.

"Alastor! I don't think they would want us back there!", you admonished the chaotic demon.

"Nonsense! I join the kitchen all the time Darling! HAHAHA", he laughed at your bewildered face. "I assure you, you are in for quite a treat."

Upon entering the kitchen you were met with a small kitchen that was neatly kept. The smells of all the French cuisine hit your nose warmly causing you to take a deep breath in. Cozy- that was how you would describe this kitchen. There were three other rat demons similar to Tilly working at the space's center. Two more with the milky eyes and one with jet black eyes.

"Y/N, meet Tilly's siblings- Lilly, Billie, and Stew. They will be preparing our meals tonight!", Alastor introduced you, though none of the three chefs reacted to your presence at all. There was something that just seemed...off, but you couldn't decide what it was.

Just then, Tilly came in and joined her siblings at the center of the kitchen. A copy of the restaurants menu was laid out on the counter, she skimmed over the menu with with her fingers until she found the dish that you and Alastor chose. The rat with the beady, black eyes glanced at the item Tilly pointed to and began preparing the chicken and the mustard sauce. Once you began to get your first whiffs of the food, the third rat started blending various spices together, not using any measuring tools at all and continuously taking large sniffs at the mixture.

"What's happening Al?"

"You may be familiar with the three blind mice, but what about the four rats with only one sense each?", Alastor chuckled at you.

"One sense? What do you mean?", you ask as the rodent with the spices let out a hum of approval and mixed the blend into the dish. The beady-eyed rat then placed it in the oven to finish cooking.

"Tilly is the only one that can hear, hence the reason she takes the orders. Her sister Lilly is the only one that can see, so she begins the dish preparations and does the plating. Billie, being both blind and deaf, has a peculiar sense of smell. She does all the spice blends and knows when the dish is ready to plate and serve", Alastor explained as you watched on completely mesmerized. Just like he said, Billie clasped Lilly on the arm, which Lilly responded to by immediately pulling the food out not even bothering to temp it.

"So what does Stew do?", you nod to the last rat in the group.

"Oh, Stew has the most important job of all! Not a dish goes out that he does not taste test first!"

Lilly placed a spoon in the mustard sauce and lifted it to Stew's lips; he paused momentarily as the sauce caressed his taste buds. He reached out and felt around various spices with different tops in front of him until he found the salt which he sprinkled over the top of the dish before nodding his approval. Lilly divided the food between two plates and handed them to Tilly.

"Your dinner is ready!", she cheerfully called to the two of you. Alastor placed your arm through his and led you back to your table where your champagne was already waiting. He once again pulled your chair out for you and tucked you under the table before taking his seat.

The food was positively divine, possibly the best you had ever eaten. You chewed slowly, savoring each bite; thinking of how each individual leaned into their strengths to pull the meal together flawlessly.

"Penny for your thoughts my Dear?", Alastor broke you from your reverie.

You smirked back at him, "Are my thoughts worth so little?" Your smile softens as he laughs, but then you frown. "I feel sorry for them...I can't imagine only having one sense. Not only in everyday life but in the kitchen especially; part of what makes being a chef so fun is getting to use all the senses to create a masterpiece."

Alastor hummed thoughtfully, "I suppose, but they all get to enjoy it in their own way. The unique artistry of their preparations is a large part of why I am so fond of this place."

You reached a hand out to his slowly, allowing him time to pull away if he wanted, but he didn't as your fingers tentatively caressed the back of his hand, "Thank you for bringing me here, I feel honored that you have entrusted me with one of your secret indulgences."

His other hand came up to run his claws over your hand, you flinch back slightly when they run over the exposed, red skin of your arm. It did not hurt, but you were afraid it would repulse him. You bring your hand back to yourself and shift uncomfortably for a second, skin tingling slightly. You don't notice the crimson eyes studying your reaction.

"There's a reason I brought you here specifically, your training begins tomorrow."

Your head snaps back up to him,"What training?"

You stand there in the kitchen nervously, wondering what Alastor was going to have you make. The prospect of cooking for The Radio Demon thrilled you, there was so much that you could learn from someone with his experience. But the anxiety gnawed at you, he made it clear he was not a fan of your cooking, what were you supposed to make to impress him?

"Ah good evening My Dear!", speak of the demon himself..."What are we making today?"

Oh? He was planning on cooking WITH you?! This was an unexpected but exciting turn of events; there were so many advanced dishes he could help you with!

"OOO maybe a turducken?! I have always wanted to try making one! We could start with- OW!!", Alastor had flicked you right between the eyes rather hard, your hand flying up to rub the sore spot on your forehead.

"No, we are not teaming up to make some ridiculous frankendish monstrosity. We are here so that you can learn how to speak through your dishes. Put yourself on a plate! Now, what is something you enjoy cooking? What's a dish that you enjoy eating? Not for how pretty it is or how well you have mastered it, but something that you feel genuine emotion for? Preferably something simple."

You frowned at him, a dish you were emotional about? You had to think, most dishes that evoked any emotion in you conjured negative feelings due to failing at them. You highly doubted that's what he had in mind. After a moment, an idea finally popped into your head, "What about tuna melts? I used to make them all the time when I was in culinary school, they were fast and easy to make between classes."

"Excellent! Tell me, what are the ingredients?"

As you listed your ingredients off they suddenly appeared on the table one-by-one. After all ingredients were gathered you set out to start your prep when Alastor grabbed your arm, "Not so fast Dear, there is one more thing I did not tell you." With a snap of his fingers, your vision was suddenly non-existent. You gabbed onto the counter to ground yourself as your world suddenly plunged into darkness.

"Alastor! What the fuck are you doing?! I can't cook if I can't see!"

"Oh, but you can Darling! You just witnessed two blind rats cook yesterday!"

"Lilly did the cooking and she had sight!"

"Well, then it is a good thing I am here! I shall be your eyes today", he leaned in close, his chest just centimeters from your back. An expected shiver traveled up your spine as if his static was prickling directly at your skin. "You worry too much about aesthetic perfection, hone in on your other senses for a bit. Learn to let go."

You bit your lip in contemplation, "You won't let me hurt myself right?"

You felt more than heard his low chuckle vibrate across your shoulders, giving you another involuntary shiver. His fingers trailed down your sleeve-covered arms to where your hands still gripped the counter, "I promise no blood will be spilled this day."

Your breath hitched slightly as he dislodged your fingers from the counter, as your posture straightened you back became flush with his chest. Was he always this much taller than you? It felt like he was towering over you, his breath caressing your scalp and blowing your hair slightly. He leaned impossibly closer to you, "Now, walk me through how to make this dish."

His hands guided yours through cutting your french loaves. You focused intently on your sense of smell, trying to gauge when just the right amount of garlic was added to your butter when it became fragrant. It was hard to concentrate on the food though, with Alastor's cologne filling your nostrils with every inhale. You felt the demon flinch back slightly when you opened the cans of tuna.

"You sustained yourself by consuming cat food?", he asked incredulously.

"Hey! It's actually really good! Besides, you don't get to complain when you are a broke college student. These cans were less than a dollar each!", you laugh, reminiscing about your college days scraping together pennies just to fill your fridge.

"Hmm, perhaps you should have contemplated eating your teachers instead. The ones you didn't care for anyways."

He helped you mix and spread the tuna across the bread loaves, topping them with cheddar slices before popping them in the oven. Even when you weren't using your hands his touch lingered, as if he didn't want to let you go.

You pulled the melts out of the oven when you heard the cheese bubbling, the bread gave a satisfying crunch when you cut the sandwiches in half. Your first bite transported you back to culinary school, you could picture yourself scarfing your sandwich down before your next class began. A mixture of anxiety, determination, and exhaustion consumed you, an emotional cocktail that you were intimately familiar with during that time in your life.

"Hm! I suppose the cat food is edible", Alastor snarked from behind you as he ate his own sandwich. "It reminds me of a seafood dish we ate mixed with peas during The Great Depression, however, this is more elevated. I can imagine you struggling to get by financially and turning to this dish to satiate your hunger. I can finally taste you in this meal...good job Y/N."

You smiled at the long-awaited compliment, with another snap of his fingers your sight was restored. Sadly, that meant that Alastor stepped away from you and you lamented the loss of contact.

"Now, just two more senses to vanquish! Make sure to think of two more meals that hold a special place in your heart. Good work today my dear!", a surprised yelp ripped out your throat as his cane gently smacked your ass on his way to the door. Did he seriously just-?! But before you could confront him about it he was gone, leaving nothing but a manic chuckle behind.

The next evening you waited for the deer demon impatiently, your thumb tapping against the the opposite bicep. What was that yesterday? The memory of how close Alastor was to you played over and over in your mind. How the heat of his chest seeped into the flesh of your back, how his claws tingled as they traced down your arms. But mostly you thought of how his hands felt holding yours; how the muscles and tendons flexed as he moved you around...how the strength of them left little doubt about what others things he could make you do with so little resistance...

"My, my- someone's a bit jittery today!"

Alastor's voice made you jump, your mind scrambling to abandon the train of thought you were on.

"A-Alastor! Hi! Er-yes, just excited for our next lesson is all!", you laugh nervously. "Today I was thinking of making salmon and risotto bowls. It was what I cooked to win that scholarship to culinary school."

"Excellent choice My Dear! I must say I quite like your affinity for seafood. Now, lets begin", he snapped and your world, once again, fell dark.

"Uh Alastor? Weren't you supposed to take a different sense away? I worked blindly yesterday already!"

"Hmm yes you did, but you will find that I did take another sense away. As for your sight well...", he leaned in close, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear "...perhaps I just like you this way."

You exhale shakily, the air around you feeling thick, the tension weighing on your shoulders. You took a few deep breaths to calm your heart rate; as if sensing your distress, Alastor straightened up to put some distance between you but maintained the looming presence behind you as he took your hands and helped you through making your dish. You leaned in to smell the fish to check the seasoning when you realized you couldn't smell a thing. You were completely dependent on your hearing alone to cook. Your mind raced as you struggled to figure out a plan of action to continue.

Alastor leaned into you once again, whispering into your ear "Surrender completely, my dear listener, let the food sing you a melody. And trust me as your host of this experience, I promise I won't steer you wrong." He gently carded a claw through your hair, pulling a stand back behind your ear and leaving goosebumps along the flesh of your scalp and causing the little hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

You lean back against him, letting the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest ground you as you match your breathing to his. As you concentrate on inhaling, the sounds of the kitchen begin to register. You could hear the risotto gently bubbling in the pan, the popping getting closer together as the liquid reduced- telling you it was time to add a bit more stock.

"Help me add more stock to the rice and test the heat of the pan", your voice was barely above a whisper. The demon behind you responded immediately, hands gently holding your wrists leading you through the motions. The water evaporated from the pan immediately, the sharp sizzle telling you it was time to add the oil and fish.

True to his word, Alastor kept hold of you through the whole process, as soon as you told him what you needed to do based on what you heard he immediately complied. You moved through the kitchen together locked in a strange dance; the food cooking, your small whispers, and his radio static the only sounds in the small space.

You choked on your first bite, your mind immediately going back to 18-year-old you. You remembered exactly how you felt when you were announced the winner of that scholarship, the day your entire life turned around...right before it all went up in flames. You weren't even aware of the tears rolling down your cheeks until you suddenly regained vision and Alastor was right in front of you. His hands tenderly held your face as he gently used his thumbs to wipe away your tears. He stared down at you intently but with a tenderness in his eyes you had never seen before. The next thing you knew you had your arms wrapped around him, clinging to him as you sobbed into his coat. Years of trauma and repressed emotions finally letting loose, you sobbed until you had nothing else left in you. All the while Alastor just held you, never saying a word and never casting any judgement.

When your tears dried and your sobs completely quieted, The Radio Demon pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. His hand cupped your cheek as he tilted your head back to look at him, "Our final lesson is tomorrow. Think of one more meal Mon Cher."

Your hands kept running through your hair, you almost felt sick with anxiety about today's lesson. When was the last time you cried? Probably when Grandma died, and even then you hid away in the bathroom, cleaning your face at the vanity before exiting so you could be the strong, older sister that your siblings needed. And then you just fell to pieces in front of Alastor, full-on ugly cried into The Radio Demon's coat! Your face flushed in embarrassment, you'd have to apologize to him.

Time kept ticking...he always arrived right on time, but today he was officially late. Great, your emotional outburst scared him off. Your hands fisted in your hair as you clenched your teeth to swallow the frustrated growl that threatened to rip out of your throat.

Just as you were about to run out of the kitchen (again) the Overlord finally walked through the door, he was practically running at the pace he moved at. He looked a bit disheveled himself, like he was in a hurry. He's probably in a hurry to get this over with and get away from you. You shook your head, you didn't want to entertain that thought. You opened your mouth to apologize for your breakdown but he beat you to it "What is the meal today?"

"Ummm...lamb chops with garlic smashed potatoes. It was Grandma's favorite, she normally paired it with Merlot. Look Al, I'm really sorry-", you were suddenly cut off when Alastor gripped your biceps, his hold was firm but not painful. His eyes held the same intensity they did the other day.

"Do you trust me?", his eyes bored into yours, reading every micro-expression your face made as you thought of the answer.

"With my life", you murmured softly, feeling the tears spring into your eyes again. His hand came up to cup your face once more.

"Good, please remember that I will never put you in harms way. Just...trust me", you heard his fingers snap and your world entered the now-familiar darkness. It was different this time though, you stood frozen for a few seconds before you realized what was off. Your hearing also left with your vision, this is how it felt to be Billie and Stew- deaf and blind.

Alastor? Your own voice did not register in your ears; there was no way to know if you had said his name out loud at all. The only thing your ears picked up was the sound of your own blood rushing through your veins. You heard your heart rate spike as panic started to creep into your mind. Alastor!

You felt the comforting pressure of hands on your shoulders, you were so used to these hands being on you now that you were sure you'd recognize his touch in a line-up at this point. He gently pushed you down to take a seat which confused you- weren't you supposed to be cooking?

Then you felt something touch your lips, you flinched back, causing liquid to spill down your chin from the whatever it was. Long, clawed fingers gripped your jaw to force you to stay still as the liquid met your lips once more. Red wine...Merlot, just like Grandma taught you to pair with red meat. Realization finally dawned on you, your sensory assignment today was taste...and you weren't cooking but being FED.

A claw gently dipped your bottom lip, a thumb brushing over your tongue to coat it in the spice mix for the lamb. You stopped breathing completely, your mind short-circuiting at the thought of Alastor sticking his thumb into your mouth. In an act of bravery you slowly slid your tongue over the digit letting out a hum of approval at the spices that coated your palate.

A glass was slowly transferred into your hand, the Merlot serving to keep your mind occupied as he cooked. You took the time to pick each component of the wine apart- cherry, chocolate, and plum notes. A hint of blackberry and tobacco in the aroma.

Even though you were temporarily blind and deaf, you sensed when he returned to you; it was as if his static aura seeped into your skin, alerting your body to his presence even when there was no way of noticing his approach. A hand cupped your jaw and pushed on your cheeks, gently prying your mouth open. The lamb was warm, definitely medium rare based on the texture, the musky taste of the lamb paired perfectly with the garlic, salt, and pepper seasonings it was coated in. The potatoes were crispy with a warm butter flavor, sour cream and cheese used to top them. The meal felt like home- familiar and warm; memories of cooking with Grandma flashed in your head. You felt the smile that split your face, your chest vibrated with laughter that you couldn't hear.

A hand gripped yours and pulled gently, you carefully stood up and let him lead you a short distance before pulling you down again...this time onto his lap. Your heart skipped a beat, you were sitting on The Radio Demon's lap...how? why?...what was happening?

You felt your eyes dance around frantically, trying to find him in the dark, asking for him to restore your sight so you could gauge his reactions and body language to try to make some sense of what he was thinking. Then you felt them, a barely-there brush of lips against yours but definitely lips pressing to yours in a tender kiss. As quickly as they appeared they were gone; your hands traveled up along his jacket and shirt buttons before coming to a rest on his collarbones.

Suddenly, his fingers tangled into your hair and pulled your head back so that he could meet your lips more head-on. Alastor sealed this kiss with more force, holding your head so that you couldn't put any space between you two. You melted into him, parting your lips to give him access when you were caught by surprise; instead of his tongue entering your mouth a warm, full-bodied liquid tasting of cherry and chocolate poured from his mouth into yours- the Merlot. He had taken a sip of the wine and was pouring it directly into you. Your throat vibrated in a moan, his tongue quickly sweeping into your mouth once you swallowed the wine he fed you. Never had a wine tasted so good as when it came from Alastor's lips.

This dance continued a few more times, each kiss becoming more frantic and desperate with teeth gnashing together and tongues exploring every crevice of the other's mouth. You moved so you were straddling his hips, hands holding onto his lapels so he couldn't disappear on you.

The sensation of weightlessness whirled around you- his shadow magic you quickly realized. When you were grounded again your sight and hearing were restored but you didn't recognize your surroundings. You found yourself in a room of different red tones, with a large fireplace and armchairs in front of it and a desk off to the side. Beyond the typical room furnishings was a forest, the whole scene looked peculiar and distorted. How fitting for his room to resemble himself so much. You turned back to the demon whose room your inexplicably found yourself in...and he was looking back at you like you were the first meal he's seen in weeks.

Part 3 coming soon...there will be smut.

@voxslays

@ladyadrasteia666

@angeldustharmony

@milkissesx

[valkyriexo]

idk why but i just wanted to show you this

Behave | Yang Jeongin

ᑉ³pairing; Jeongin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Smut MDNI

ᑉ³warnings; Spanking, dirty talk, swearing, use of 'slut', 'Brat', 'Good girl' , Degrading, P in V, Rough sex , teasing, Masterbation (F) , oral (m. receiving) hair pulling, begging, edging, Brat and brat tamer dynamic, Mean dom Jeongin. Smut. SMUTTT minors do NOT interact

ᑉ³Authors Note; NAHH BECAUSE THE WAY THAT I WENT FERAL THE SECOND I SAW THIS. I HAD LIKE 100 DIFFERENT SENARIOS RACING IN MY HEAD. Also, i wrote the whole thing then tumblr deleted it, so I had to rewrite it. Sorry it took so long.

Jeongin, who one day receives an invitation to a gala hosted by Alexander McQueen. The event was a glamorous affair, with people dressed to the nines, mingling and chatting animatedly.

You, who didn't want to go, but knowing how significant it was for him, of course you were going to be there to support him.

You had excused yourself a few minutes ago to go to the bathroom and reapply your lipstick.

Jeongin looked incredibly handsome tonight, practically radiating allure. His perfectly tailored pinstripe suit jacket highlighted his broad shoulders, while his crisp white dress shirt clung to his lean, athletic frame, showcasing every defined muscle.

Muscles you wanted to kiss, and bite on while he fucked you.

You always had a way of driving him wild, but tonight, it seemed, you were in a particularly mischievous mood.

You finally returned, your lips now a perfect shade of red, and immediately caught Jeongin's eye. He smiled, eyes twinkling with amusement, as you approached. His hair was styled to perfection, a few loose strands falling over his forehead, adding a hint of casual elegance to his polished look, and looked like he had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of pride and excitement knowing that this stunning man was yours.

"All freshened up?" he said smiling at you.

You nodded, giving him a little twirl to show off your look. "Had to make sure I look my best for my handsome boyfriend."

Jeongin's gaze traveled over you, taking in every detail. The long, elegant dress you wore clung to your curves in all the right places, the deep emerald fabric shimmering under the ballroom lights. The dress had two daring slits up the sides, revealing tantalizing glimpses of your legs as you moved. The neckline was sophisticated yet alluring, framing your collarbones and drawing attention to the delicate necklace you wore. You looked absolutely stunning, and Jeongin's admiration was evident in his eyes.

"You look incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine awe. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you a little closer. "Absolutely breathtaking."

You leaned in, a playful smile on your lips, and pressed a soft, innocent kiss to his lips. "And you look incredibly handsome," you whispered, your breath warm against his.

You take this opportunity to slip your underwear into his coat.

By accident, of course.

Jeongin felt the soft material and looked down. Instantly, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and he glanced around anxiously, hoping no one had noticed

"What is this?" Jeongin murmured, feeling the soft material between his fingers.

You glanced up at him with exaggerated innocence in your eyes. "I don't know, Jeongin," you replied with faux sweetness. A smirk curled at the corners of your lips as you tilted your head slightly. "Why don't you find out?" you suggested, your tone intentionally bratty, relishing in teasing him

His hand tightened on your waist, and he stole another quick kiss before pulling back, a slightly dazed expression on his face. "You're gonna kill me, y/n," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You gave him a coy look. All you wanted was a little bit of attention from him instead of having it all focused on the event.

But instead, he just gave you a playful scolding and then smoothly excused himself to mingle with someone else.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed inwardly, feeling a mixture of irritation and amusement. It seemed like Jeongin was determined to play by the rules tonight, even if it meant ignoring your playful antics.

Oh, well.

There were plenty of other ways to have fun and grab attention tonight.

With a sly smile, you sauntered onto the dance floor, your eyes scanning the room until they locked onto Jeongin. He was engaged in conversation with a group of people, his attention fully absorbed by the discussion. As the lively music filled the air, you spotted someone who seemed equally eager to let loose and have a good time, and you didn't hesitate to join them, seamlessly blending into the rhythm of the music.

As you danced with the stranger, you couldn't help but steal glances at Jeongin, who seemed increasingly agitated by your behavior. His brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched as he watched you, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a simmering frustration.

With each flirtatious move you made, Jeongin's anger seemed to grow, his grip tightening on his drink as he struggled to maintain his composure. Finally, unable to contain his emotions any longer, he abruptly excused himself from the group he was talking to and strode purposefully towards you.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Jeongin's voice cut through the music, his tone a mixture of frustration and concern.

"What? I'm just dancing," you replied innocently, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Y/N, you're causing a scene. This is an important event. Behave," he urged, his voice firm.

"Make me," you challenged, intensifying your movements with a mischievous grin.

Jeongin's expression darkened, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "If you don't behave, I'll have to punish you," he whispered, his tone laced with warning.

"Promise?" you teased, enjoying the thrill of pushing his buttons.

He shot you a stern look, his gaze piercing. "Behave, Y/N," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You just smiled and continued dancing, making sure to rub your ass against him a little extra.

You had no intention of behaving. Not when the prospect of a punishment was so tempting.

You suddenly felt Jeongin's presence disappear, glancing around to see him heading in the direction of the bathroom. Confused and a bit concerned, you were left standing alone on the dance floor, surrounded by swirling couples and soft music. 

Deciding to leave the dance floor, you stepped to the side, your mind racing. You couldn't help but wonder if you'd inadvertently made him mad. As you reached a quieter corner, you pulled out your phone, hoping for some clue to his sudden departure. Your screen lit up with a notification— a message from Jeongin.

'you still want to misbehave?'

You opened it quickly and saw a photo of him in the bathroom mirror, holding a condom in his mouth.

Your heart skipped a beat, and a wave of heat hit your core. You looked around the ballroom, making sure no one was looking, as your mind was raced with possibilities. The next thing you knew, you were pushing open the door to the bathroom.

The bathroom was big, with stalls and a large, ornate mirror above the sink. You locked the door behind you, your heart pounding with anticipation.

It was empty except for Jeongin, who was leaning against the sink.

He was standing there, his pants already unbuttoned and unzipped. He had a condom in his hand and a stern look on his face.

"So you decide to be a fucking brat. The one day I need you to behave," he said, walking towards you, his eyes dark and filled with desire.

You knew what was coming, and while your heart raced with fear, you couldn't help but feel a hint of excitement at the thought of being punished by him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't do it again," you said, backing up into the sink.

"I don't think you are," he said, walking towards you. He pulled you and pushed your hips into the sink, his hands firmly grasping your waist. His fingers dug into the soft flesh beneath your dress, pulling it to the side, revealing your round, peachy ass. You let out a small gasp, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he exposed you for his punishment. 

"You just wanted attention, didn't you" Jeongin growled, his voice low and menacing. "I've had enough of your games. It's time for you to learn your lesson."

His hand came down swiftly, landing with a loud smack against your bare skin. You yelped in surprise.

"I j-just wanted to-" You began.

“Did I say you could speak?” He said in a stern tone, earning you another hard smack. You nodded feverishly. He continued, each strike harder than the last, each one leaving a fiery imprint on your delicate flesh.  Your eyes welling up with tears as the sting of his punishment echoed through the room.

As Jeongin's punishment came to an end, he pushed you to your knees, forcing you to look up at him with wide, frightened eyes. His pants fell to the floor, revealing his hard, throbbing cock that stood at attention, eager for your mouth. 

"Is this what you wanted, slut? To be on your knees for me?"  You nodded frantically at him, your eyes full of lust and longing. You could feel the heat rising between your thighs as you wrapped your lips around his shaft. His hands tangled in your hair, guiding you as you took him deeper into your throat, swallowing his length with each stroke.

His moans were quietly as he was determined to not let you know how good you made him feel, But you could feel his grip on your hair tighten as he thrust deeper into your mouth. You could feel the saliva dripping down your chin. He began to fuck your mouth roughly, his cock sliding in and out of your throat with each thrust. You choked around his cock, tears pricking your eyes as his tip hit the back of your throat continuously.

"Speak now brat..... Come on. I can't hear you." He thrusted harder and harder into you. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, his cum spurting into your throat. You swallowed, wanting to avoid any more punishments.

He pulled you to your feet, his eyes blazing with lust. He turned you around, pressing you against the cold, porcelain sink once again. Your chest heaved with anticipation, your nipples hardening at the thought of his cock inside you.

"Beg for my cock." He stated. You were caught off guard by his request, and for a moment you were silent. "You want it? Beg for it," he commanded once again

"Please, Jeongin," you whimpered, your voice quiet.

"I'm sorry what was that? I cant hear you", He said taking a step closer.

"Please, fuck me, I need your cock inside me." You cry out.

"You're such a dirty little slut," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "I can't believe you're begging for my cock."

"Please," you moaned again "I need you to fuck me, please, fuck me hard."

Jeongin reached for the condom he had left on the sink and slid it onto his throbbing member. He positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your waist as he prepared to take you.You let out a soft sigh, your eyes closed as you felt his cock pressing against your slick entrance.

"You're so wet, you dirty little slut," he murmured, his cock sliding around your entrance. "You're desperate for my cock, aren't you?"

You moaned and bit your lip.

"Tell me how much you want my cock," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

"Fuck me.... please. I need you," you say, whining.

Without warning, Jeongin thrust into you, filling you completely with his thick, hard length. You cried out, your voice echoing through the room as he began to pump into you with long, powerful strokes. 

Your cries of pleasure grew louder with each thrust, your body trembling with desire as he claimed you as his own. Jeongin's hands roamed your body, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you with wild abandon.

"That's it, you little whore," he growled, his hips thrusting forward. "Take my cock." The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, accompanied by your moans of pleasure and his growls of satisfaction. 

"Yes, J-Jeongin," you moaned, you body trembling with pleasure. "Fuck me harder, please, fuck me harder."

"Oh? Are you telling me what to do?" You nodded your head 'no' frantically not wanting him to stop.

Jeongin reached around, his fingers finding you sensitive clit. He began to circle it, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you over the edge. You cried out, your body trembling uncontrollably.

Your eyes were starting to become glossy. You began to clench around his cock. You could barely form a coherent response, only able to focus on the cock that was fucking you so well and dumb and the obscene sounds of you wetness coating his length. Jeongin continued to fuck you, his pace quickening as he felt his own release approaching. He thrust into you one final time, his cock twitching as he filled the condom with his hot, sticky cum. 

Just as you were a bout to reach your climax, your pussy clenching around his cock, Jeongin pulled out of you. you moaned loudly, your hips bucking against the air.

"No... No... No. please," you whined, your body trembling with need.

"No.. No. I only let good girls cum on my cock." You whimpered, your eyes pleading with him to continue.

You felt a surge of desperation, your heart pounding in your chest. "I promise, I'm a good girl," you insisted, your voice softening as you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. The atmosphere between you grew thick with tension, the air crackling with a mix of challenge and desire.

Jeongin's eyes darkened, a smirk playing on his lips as he studied your expression. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, really?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a dangerous edge. "And what makes you think you've been a good girl?"

Your breath hitched as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate path along your skin. "I promise," you repeated, your voice barely a whisper. "I'll be good. Just, please..."

Jeongin's smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You want to cum?"

You nodded frantically hoping he would fuck you again.

"Play with yourself then." He said taking a step back from you. He discarded the used condom in the nearby trash can and pulled up his pants.

You were caught off guard by Jeongin's request and hesitated for a moment. He had never denied your orgasm before. But the desire in your eyes and the heat between your legs was too much to resist.

"Dont make me repeat myself." He said. You began to touch herself, her fingers exploring your pussy as Jeongin watched intently.

"That's it, baby," Jeongin murmured, his voice low and seductive. "Play with your pussy for me. Make yourself cum."

You increased the pressure, your fingers sliding along your clit and into your wetness. You stuck two fingers into yourself, moaning from the sensation. Your fingers moved faster, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You could feel the tension building inside you, the pleasure growing more intense with each passing moment. Jeongin, seeing you on the brink of climax, whispered dirty words into her ear, pushing her closer to the edge.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum hard on your fingers. I want to see you cum."

Your eyes squeezed shut, your body tensing as you reached the peak of pleasure. With one final thrust of your fingers, you cried out, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, brat," he whispered, his tone both mocking and affectionate.

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and you were left standing there, heart racing and mind whirling with a flood of emotions.

With trembling hands, you cleaned yourself up and smoothed out the fabric of your dress, adjusting it to sit just right. A quick glance in the mirror reassured you that your makeup hadn't smudged, but your cheeks were flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure.

Gathering your composure, you made your way to the door, determined to follow Jeongin.

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[starrystevie]

it was all supposed to be a joke. they were supposed to be in steve’s backyard with all their friends and family in shitty lawn chairs, holding cans of budweiser and jamming to whatever song eddie was in the mood for that day blasting through the speakers. steve was supposed to be in front of them all in a tuxedo t-shirt and powder blue dress pants, flowers in his hair that had been teased to high heaven and dark black sunglasses to keep out the bright sun. that’s how they had planned it all those years ago when they’d been high and drunk and young and in love.

but somehow instead, the yard is full of flowers and benches that hopper and wayne put together with spare wood for everyone to sit on and there’s an archway at the end of the aisle and soft acoustic songs spilling gently out of the speakers. steve’s still at the front, that was always supposed to happen, but this time he’s wearing an actual tux, light cream with a boutonnière and everything, and his hair is pushed back just so. there’s no flowers in his hair and no sunglasses but it’s cloudy enough of a day where he doesn’t really need them anyway.

they weren't even supposed to do this. there wasn't supposed to be a grand entrance and a walk down the aisle, no flower girls or ring bearers or anything remotely traditional. but what started off as, "well, i wouldn't mind walking down the aisle," and "i think exchanging rings would be cool," and "who cares if it isn't legal, i'm going to marry you anyway damnit," turned into this beautiful day of friends and family and love.

robin’s standing beside him in a tux of her own, pinstripe grey donning a pocket boutonnière that matches nancy’s bouquet, with a few notecards in her hands. and speaking of nancy, she’s heading down the aisle in a flowing dress, and when her eyes catch robin’s, she crinkles her nose before blowing her a kiss. she stands opposite of steve as eddie's not-quite-bridesmaid and grips her bouquet tightly, her eyes never leaving robin's.

and then there's dustin. he's in a tux that matches steve's and he has his curls pushed back with probably too much gel and a tie that suzie got him for their 3rd anniversary. the best thing he's sporting, though, is the smile on his face and the ring box in his hand and the joy in his eyes as he looks out at the crowd. having him there as best man and smelling the cheap cologne he wears so he seems more grown up calms steve's ever beating heart enough to where he doesn't think he'll throw up from nerves anymore.

all of their loved ones are surrounding them in clothes steve’s never seen before but he couldn’t care at all what they’re wearing because they’re all smiling wide and bright at him. he catches himself rocking back and forth on his feet so he shakes out his hands and holds them behind his back to distract himself. his stomach is rolling with waves or butterflies and when he catches joyce's eye in the front row, she mimes taking in a deep breath which he instantly copies. the soft grin she sends in return tells him that he thinks it could actually work to settle him. mothers have that healing way about them.

he’s never been good with weddings, always fidgeting in a too tight suit his mom picked out, but he never thought he’d be this antsy at his own.

steve's just about to give up and sprint down the aisle to get eddie so they can run away together and leave nerves and or butterflies behind him, but then the music stops. he sees lucas changing out the tapes quickly, giving a thumbs up to mike who throws one to will who runs back behind the shed to where he knows eddie is waiting and when will pops his head back out to run back to his seat, it hits him.

he's getting married.

steve doesn't have time to think about it anymore than he already has been for the last 8 years because eddie's coming around the corner of the shed.

'here comes the sun' is playing out over the speakers, soft and perfect, and eddie's smiling, wide and beautiful, and steve can't help but mirror it back to him. the clouds overhead seem to hear them, hear the song and hear their hearts beating in time with each other, because as soon as eddie gets to the aisle, bright warm rays of sunlight peak out and make the rhinestones he demanded line the lapels of his own black tux shine like real diamonds.

steve stops breathing. he swears he does, and he knows his family are all feeling the same way. he can hear a few gasps, hears joyce muttering what she thinks is a silent, "oh my god," in hop's ear, and watches how wayne stands up just a bit straighter from his front row seat.

eddie glides down the aisle like the drama king he is, soaking in the looks from everyone they care about and soaking in the sun that seems to come out only for him. it's like the sun knows he's a star, too, and wants to come out to be with one of it's own. eddie's always been sunshine and starlight and a blinding thing to look at and take in. he's the light, steve's the moth, and a few clouds on their wedding day could never change it.

"well, that was insanely good timing," eddie whispers to steve once he reaches him. his grin softens and he brings up a hand to wipe gently at the tear tracks on steve's cheeks. "hi, baby."

and steve can do nothing but choke out a laugh, catching eddie's hand in his own so he press a kiss to his palm. he thinks he can feel eddie's heartbeat against his lips and, even if it's his brain playing tricks on him, he likes the sentiment that it brings. "i love you so fucking much."

it's eddie's turn to get teary-eyed and the sun glints off the tears that fall down his cheek before heading back behind the clouds, dotting quick-to-fade sparkles on his face like a wedding present.

steve kisses him. he can't help it. it's nothing but a fast press of lips, watery smile to watery smile, and everyone is cheering except for robin.

"hey! it's not time for that yet," she says with a pretend scowl, arms pressing to each of their chests to keep them apart. it's enough to leave nancy giggling where she stands behind eddie, her laugh like bells bouncing off of the trees surrounding them. "just give me like ten minutes and we'll have you married and you can kiss all you want then."

steve swears he can hear mike groan at that which cause him to grin which cause eddie to grin back and then they're holding hands like it's the only way to get through the next ten minutes. and it might just be the only way to get through it. knowing them, if they didn't hold on tight, one of them would make a move first and there'd be hands around waists and fingers tangled in hair and robin would hate them forever because she wouldn't get to do her speech.

it's after vows are shared, after rings are on fingers, after kisses are pressed to lips and cheeks and temples and hands and everything else they can quickly reach, that the two of them get some peace. everyone is inside eating snacks and drinking cheap champagne, and it goes unspoken that they're going to take some time for themselves. take some time to bask in their new maybe not-so-legally real but as real as could ever be in their hearts marriage.

they make their way, hand in hand like they've always been meant to do, to a table set up for them. eddie pops a bottle of champagne that they pass back and forth between themselves as they share cheesy smiles and champagne-laced kisses. and it's as they look into each other's eyes, fingers lacing so their rings clink softly against each other, that the sun peaks out to say hello once more.

[anxiouscr0w]

The Cryptid and The Collector - Sun

Fic summary: "Haunted by the silent whispers of a Barghest attack, you've always been careful as to how long you stay out at night. As darkness shrouds the forest you beeline home, hip bag filled with various animal bones you've found throughout the day. However, one fateful night you don't return home alone... How do you live, knowing that man's greatest fear has you in its' sights?"

The Cryptid and The Collector follows a reader who lives in a small village; during their nights off, they wander the woods and scope out roads for animal remains. They've always been very cautious as to how far out they walk alone due the sightings of the ghastly Barghest that has followed them throughout their life.

Unbeknownst to them, the forest is home to a pair of Pinstripe Demons - a type of cryptid that has evolved over millions of years to mimic and possess humans.

They've had their eyes on you for a long time, and they won't be letting to return home alone...

This AU will be written up once Celestial Scales finishes in the summer :]

Moon's design post can be found here~

[archangeldyke-all]

https://www.tumblr.com/archangeldyke-all/752853003646746624/are-you-still-writing-ceo-sev-requests

Yesss so with Sevika’s work suits she wears those button up shirts you know, and one morning reader decides to just throw on one that Sev left on the floor before going to start breakfast.

When Sev sees reader in her shirt that is completely huge on her she basically folds and jumps on her right then and there in the kitchen. You can add smut if you want 😭

GOD fuck

men and minors dni

yesterday was friday. most fridays, you and sevika manage to sneak out of work an hour early-- you purposely scheduling her to be free by the end of the day-- so you can get a head start on your weekend.

but yesterday, both of you were at the office 'til 10 pm, renewing contracts for the upcoming year and making international calls with investors just waking up on the other side of the world.

so when you got home instead of your usual split bottle of wine and friday movie night, you both just stripped down, too tired to even crawl in your pajamas, and flopped into bed.

you blink awake now as the sun rises on a beautiful summer saturday, and turn over in your bed to admire your snoring wife.

she's adorable. you reach out and gently swipe up the trail of drool sliding down her cheek, and her face twitches a bit at your touch.

while you were there by her side all night last night-- she was the one actually reading and filling out the paperwork; and talking in the meetings. you spent your time on her couch, occasionally taking a note for her, but mostly just scrolling through vacation destinations for your upcoming anniversary. so sevika was a lot more tired than you were last night.

so now, you sneak carefully out of bed, not wanting to wake her before she's well rested. you pull the covers up over her chest and kiss her forehead, and her lips twitch in a subconscious smile before she returns to her loud snores.

you grab the closest thing you can find to cover yourself-- the pink and white pinstriped linen button up she'd worn under her suit yesterday-- and button a few buttons to keep it closed around you as you walk to the kitchen, mentally planning a nice weekend breakfast for your wife.

you flick on the radio, quiet soft jazz filling the air as you examine your cabinets and fridge shelves, checking the ingredients you have to work with.

you pull out butter, flour, eggs and sausage, setting them on the counter before gathering all the bowls and measuring spoons you'll need.

sevika sleeps close 'til noon on the weekends, so you can take your time, soaking in the rising sun as it filters through the penthouse, dancing and swaying to the music of sevika's favorite radio channel.

you start by frying up the sausages. once you're done, you transfer the cooked meat onto a plate, throw it in the microwave to keep it warm, and start a roux in the sausage-grease pan.

from there, it's just a matter of stirring in the milk and spices, making sure to add more pepper than you normally would-- though you're certain sevika will still ask for the shaker.

as the gravy thickens, you start making some simple biscuts-- just flour butter and milk kneaded into little clumps and thrown into the oven.

you're scrambling eggs when sevika wakes up. you can hear her huff and shuffle out of bed into the en-suite from the kitchen, and you grin as you listen to her start her morning routine.

it's these little domestic moments that make all the late nights worth it. listening to the sound of sevika brushing her teeth as you fix her a plate of biscuts, eggs, and sausage-- pouring the gravy over it all, just like she likes it.

and then, when two plates are ready and waiting on the table, you get to work cutting up orange slices to give your plates at least a little color. you look up in time to watch sevika stumble out of the bedroom clad only in her boxers and rubbing her eyes.

you choke back a giggle at her crazy bed-head, and then laugh anyways when sevika finally opens her eyes and they nearly bug out of her head at the sight in front of her.

"goodmorning, baby." you greet. sevika grins. pride swells in your chest at the sight. "go ahead, sit and start, i'll be right there with fruit and coffee." you say.

sevika doesn't head toward the table, though. instead, she rounds the counter and wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you into her chest. you grin up at her.

"i haven't brushed my teeth yet." you warn her. she huffs, then swoops in to kiss you anyways. you hum against her lips, giggling when her hands start to bunch up her shirt over your hips to grope your ass.

"you're in my shirt." she mumbles against your lips.

you chuckle. "your food's on the table." you remind her.

"you're in my shirt." she whines, kissing your neck. you laugh.

sevika's possessiveness isn't exactly subtle. usually it manifests as one of her hands on you at in public, or her matching the colors of her outfit to match yours. sometimes, it comes out like this too.

you're surprised to find that she finds you in her shirt more exciting than breakfast. white gravy and biscuits is her favorite.

"food's gonna get cold." you whimper as she turns you around and backs you up against the counter.

sevika chuckles and shrugs, shoving a leg between your. "thank god we gotta microwave." she mumbles. you giggle, threading your fingers through her hair. "fuck, you look so fuckin' good in my clothes." she grunts as she starts pulling your hips back and forth on her thigh. she's rock hard against your hip, her tits pressed your chest as she kisses you.

"s-sevika..." you whine.

"cum on my thigh, baby, lemme make you feel good. 's my thank you for breakfast." she mumbles. you giggle-moan, then lean forward to press your lips to your wife's as she continues to slide your wet cunt on her bare thigh. "you're so fuckin' wet." she groans.

"s-sev--" you gasp.

"give it to me baby. then we can eat, then i can fuck you while you do the dishes in my shirt."

you whimper. "y-you do the d-dishes." you grunt. sevika snorts.

"fine. you can wear my shirt 'n fuck me while i do the dishes." she offers. you nod and then cum to seal the deal. sevika laughs, peppering kisses all over your face and neck as you shiver apart in her arms. "there you go, baby."

sevika holds you until you catch your breath, but once she's sure you can stand on your own she gives you a breath taking kiss and then sprints to the table-- a grin on her face as she digs into her food. you burst into laughter.

"'s so fuckin' good, tha'k y' s'much." sevika mumbles around her bite.

"don't choke." you plea. she shoots you a wink, and you roll your eyes fondly before you go back to cutting orange slices.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[alastwhorez]

Corrupt - Chapter one: The Fallen Nun

𖤐 Pairing: Alastor x Nun!Reader

𖤐 Smmary: In the depths of Hell, where redemption is a rare commodity, Alastor, the Radio Demon, encounters an unexpected challenge: a nun who has fallen from grace. Drawn by her purity and the potential for corruption, Alastor sets out to twist her faith and make her his own. However, as he delves deeper into her world, he finds himself entangled in emotions he never anticipated. Can she keep her faith, or will the Radio Demon corrupt her? 𖤐 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, religion, smut, nun reader, masturbation, voyeurism, corruption kink, Alastor is a little shit, graphic sexual scenes, nightmares, Sexual manipulation, Hallucinations, Hell. I think that's everything

𖤐 an: First chapter, hope you enjoy! Not very long, the other should be longer. Not proofread, possible spelling errors

The air in Hell was thick with the scent of brimstone and despair. Amidst the chaos and torment, a lone figure wandered, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. Sister (y/n), once a devoted nun, now found herself in the last place she ever expected to be.

Clutching her rosary tightly, she whispered prayers under her breath, hoping for some semblance of comfort. Her long hair, usually hidden beneath her habit, flowed freely, a stark contrast to the dark, twisted landscape around her. Her circle glasses perched delicately on her nose, framing eyes that still held a glimmer of hope.

As she walked, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of countless eyes upon her. Demons and lost souls alike watched her with a mixture of curiosity and malice. Yet, she pressed on, determined to find a way out of this infernal place.

It was then that she heard it—a voice, smooth and melodic, cutting through the cacophony of Hell. “Well, well, what do we have here?” The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, sending a shiver down her spine.

Sister (y/n) turned, her heart pounding in her chest. Standing before her was a tall, slender figure dressed in a red pinstripe suit. His grin was wide and unsettling, and his eyes gleamed with a mischievous light. She recognized him immediately from the stories she had heard—the Radio Demon, Alastor.

“Lost, are we?” Alastor’s voice was laced with amusement as he took a step closer. “A nun in Hell. Now, that’s a sight you don’t see every day.”

Sister (y/n) took a step back, her grip on her rosary tightening. “Stay back, demon,” she warned, her voice trembling. “I have no business with you.”

Alastor chuckled, the sound echoing around them. “Oh, but I think you do, my dear. You see, I find you… fascinating.” He tilted his head, studying her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. “Such purity in a place like this. It’s almost poetic.”

She swallowed hard, trying to muster the courage to stand her ground. “I will not be swayed by your words. My faith is strong.”

“Is it now?” Alastor’s grin widened. “We’ll see about that.” With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a chair out of thin air and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. “Why don’t we have a little chat, Sister (y/n)? After all, we have all the time in the world.”

Despite her fear, Sister (y/n) felt a strange pull towards the demon. There was something about him, something that made her want to understand him, even as she resisted his influence. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Very well. But know this, Alastor—I will not be easily corrupted.”

Alastor’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Challenge accepted, my dear. Challenge accepted.”

The loud Ringing of your alarm woke you from the nightmare. Your breath deeply trying to calm yourself down, Your body had broken out into a sweat. It was as if he was really there or should I say you were really there—in hell.

Taking a deep breath you turn off the alarm and get out of bed. Sunday morning, the busiest day of the week. You go To the bathroom, wash up, and return to putting on your habit. You kneel down at your bed and say a prayer Before getting up and leaving your room to meet with the other sisters.

You all work together on your daily chores before the first service of the day. At the service you usually sing in the choir and help teach Sunday school to the children.

Today Is not different. It goes exactly how it does every Sunday, except the presence of the man from your dream lingers. As if he is watching you, following you around the church, mocking you.

You notice shadows Out of the corner of your eye, or a figure in the mirrors or glass windows when you pass. Things none of the other sisters see. You hear radio static when you are alone in a room and a malicious laugh when in prayer. You catch figures standing behind the other sisters or the priest when speaking to them. Evil, Malicious figures.

So you pray, you pray and you pray and you pray. begging for this to all stop. For you to still be dreaming. You notice your thoughts start to linger away from your faith. You start questioning things you never thought about before. Start asking yourself why you became A nun. These thoughts scare you so you try to pray them away. Begging God for an answer.

“Sister (y/n), are you alright? You seem out of it today” Father Paul says

You let out a sign. At first startled when you heard his voice. Thinking it was the malicious spirits playing with you again.

“Yes Father, I am alright. Thank you for asking” You say with a slight bow of your head. “Is there anything I can assist you with Father?”

He smiles at you and begins to talk but you don't hear any of it. Not when there is a shadow behind him showing you foul, violent images. The images go from violence to sexual back to violence.

“Sister, are you sure you're alright?” Father Paul Asks,pulling your attention back to him.

Your face is Flushed from the sexual images and sounds you were forced to witness. Never having seen Or heard such things before.

“I'm sorry Father, I'm feeling quite ill actually”

Laughter, deep, chest rumbling laughter is all you hear followed by the noise of radio static As the laughter dies down.

Father Paul tells you to take the rest of the day in silent prayer, that the other sisters can handle all the duties left for the day. You thank him and go back to your room, locking yourself inside.

You pray for the rest of the day trying to ignore The voices and shadows as they play with you. When night falls you retire to your bed after replacing your habit with a silk nightgown. Something you aren't supposed to have, it's too short and fabric is not modest enough.

Saying one more prayer you fall asleep.

The feeling of hands on you is all you can make out. It's dark, you can't see anything but you can hear the slight sound of static.

You feel the hand run Higher and higher up your leg starting at the ankle and moving up to your thigh. Your breath hitches when it reaches the bottom of your nightgown before continuing up under the garment.

You rub your legs together before you hear a laugh and someone saying in a deep static laced voice. “My Oh my who knew the pretty little nun would be so naughty”

The hand brushes against your Clothed cunt. Rubbing against your bundle of nerves pulling an unwanted moan from you before you feel the fabric being pushed to the side and something entering you.

You slam your legs shut or at least try to, another hand holds them open. The hands are big, bigger than any humans. You can hear the wet sound of your cunt as the finger moves in and out of you pulling another moan. You feel your nipples harden, and a tingling sensation all over your body. This is wrong. You should want it to stop but you want more.

The hand pulls away right before you reach your climax and you feel tears well up in your eyes. You're about to beg or prey. You don't know which one will get you further in this situation.

The entity who was touching you laughs and coos at you. “Aw does the poor little nun want more?” You whine, embarrassed.

It laughs again. “If I was a nicer man I would help you but unfortunately for you I enjoy watching you suffer.”

Another whine as tears start you fall down your cheek. You feel a cold finger slide against your cheek picking up the tear.

“if you want to come So bad do it yourself”

And you do. You touch yourself in ways you've never thought of before all to the sound of static. You're about to cum when your eyes shoot open and you realize it was all a dream. You're uncomfortable. Feeling a wetness in your panties and an ache between your legs.

You rub your legs together trying to ease the ache but it isn't helping. You get up and change your panties, hoping that will fix the problem.

When it doesn't, the voice of the entity that haunts you rang in your head. “If you want to cum so Bad do it yourself”

You lay down on your bed, pull your nightgown up and panties down, spreading your legs. You take a deep breath as you stare At the ceiling and let your hand travel Down your body. Jumping when you touch your cunt. You feel the sticky, slick fluid oozing out if you. You suck in a deep breath, jerking with every move of your finger. You are sensitive. Of course you are, you've never been touched like this before.

You find your bud and start at a slow pace, rubbing. A moan slips past your lips but it doesn't feel the same. You try thinking about someone but the only man you know is Father Paul. You can't convince yourself to think about him when doing this lewd act.

You let your mind wander and before you know it you're thinking about a man you've only met in your dreams. He's not even a man anymore, he's a demon.

You moan again as you speed up your finger, starting to feel good. “oh” you moan as you grab your tit and squeeze. You arch your back at the feeling.

You keep rubbing but it's not enough. Static fills you senses and you hear a deep voice say “put a finger in”

No you can't do that. You can't enter your virgin cunt. You can't even use tampons When on your period so you definitely can't do that. You have to be pure.

“But you're not pure~”

You whine trying to cum but it just isn't enough.

“No one will know”

Another whine when you think about how it felt in your dream. Why did it have to feel so good. Images of the demon flash in your mind. Him between your legs, licking you. Him on top of you or you on top of him in nothing but your coif as you bounce on him, grinding down, throwing your head back as you let out a pleasurable scream.

“Oh god” you whine

“God isn't going to help you. But I can”

“Please” you cry as you rub harder to the images in your mind

“Be a good girl and add a finger and maybe I'll consider it”

You whine but do as the voice says. You slip your hand down lower, coating your fingers on your juices. You take a deep breath and press a finger in, biting your lip to hold back the moan.

You start moving your finger in and out but it still isn't enough. The voice tells you to curl your finger on a come here motion. You do and your back arches off the bed as your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

The static in the room is getting louder, you can feel it on your skin now. Hairs standing on end. You throw your head from side to side wanting more but not knowing what to do, only knowing the pleasure you're giving yourself.

“Such a good girl”

You grip the sheets with your free hand feeling a tingly feeling build In your gut.

“Use your other hand to play with your clit”

You don't think twice about doing it. The voice was right before it had to be right now. You're a moaning mess on your bed. You're trying to be quiet not wanting to wake your sisters. You bite your lip to hold back the sounds.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Trying to be quiet? Well that won't do. I want to hear those pretty Sounds”

You let out a scream as you feel yourself come undone, eyes rolling back. Back arching.

You lay there trying to catch your breath. You're a mess, nightgown wrinkled and hair in knots. Your breathing is heavy and you need new panties.

“Keep listenin’ to me darlin’. Well have lost of fun”

That's the last thing you hear before drifting back to sleep. That night you dream of static and a demon who you hear stories about, stories that warn you how dangerous he is and not to be tricked by him.

But how can a demon who made you feel so good be so bad?

Table Of Contents, Next chapter

[batbabydamian]

The Boy Wonder #2 by Juni Ba rambling about Gotham's fearsome hunter

added Jason to this issue's collage since it was mainly from his perspective!

ramble for issue #1 here!

starting with the cover again, but now in contrast to the first:

Dick and Barbara are presented as statues in the bg for the first cover where they’re established heroes in a secure time in their lives, and Damian is obviously the highlight! For #2's cover, the autumn leaves motif returns, but this time featuring Jason!! Apparently, Damian isn’t the only one to go through a “season of change” in this series, as Jason takes his own steps forward by the end of this story 🥺 also the literal layers on Jason - his angry Red Hood helmet and the beaten down Robin head...

The issue opens with Joe the robber and his hostage "Merle"! The glasses feels like a giveaway that this is Carrie(??) narrating Damian's story, so the final issue could end with her perspective for where Damian currently is in his journey as Robin and where she plays a part.

Jason as the "hunter" of this fairytale is such a cool concept, especially upon his introduction pages!! He's surrounded by his recent "prey" with a nice contrast of their fancy jackets, pinstripe pants, and dress shoes to Jason's own tattered hoodie, pants, and sneakers.

Just like the past issue (or just Ba's work in general lol), THE BACKGROUNDS ARE SO LOVINGLY DRAWN. Makes Jason's stroll through inner Gotham so enjoyable from the bustling activity of the people, shop signs, and advertising to the quieter area of the cemetery. It's so lived in, especially feels like each citizen in the bg has a story to tell!

some bits of interest to me: is that scaly lil arm reaching for the rat supposed to be Croc LOL; just neat visual of old Joker posters leering over Jason; the name of the cemetery a nod to Kevin Conroy? and from T. Wayne - Thomas Wayne?

Despite showing how much of an intimidating and hardened exterior the Red Hood has, there's plenty of suggestion that he has soft edges! from his act of revenge for a beloved member of the community, his familiarity with the people even greeting him, and down to his chocobar...

might be my overthinking but the layers of that close up shot of the chocobar really got me 😭 it's like such a piece of innocence when seen in his scarred hand, especially when "Wayne Sweets" is visible - is it more emphasis of Jason clinging to a safer time and Bruce Wayne himself?? or is this brand just his favorite lil treat

EITHER WAY, incredibly funny to me Jason seems to hide it once Damian shows up

Seeing Ba's storyboards has me even more curious about his process with O'Halloran - like, it's a small detail but the traffic light in the foreground being red! added emphasis on the red theme this issue, or a warning for these two to Stop heading into a trap? ANYWAY DAMIAN HESITANTLY ASKING ABOUT HIS MOTHER I'M THROWING UP AWWGH

also love critically acclaimed animated film "The Cheetah King" haha! ALTHOUGH, Jason's story does line up with Simba's - a lost prince that feels like he's failed his father. Even believed to be dead for a period of time lol

Rok the demon's design is so slick!! Seems to take after a peacock with how fanciful he is, plus his tail details in his other form! A dapper demon definitely ready for the gala!

A GLIMPSE OF BA'S HEAVIER ACTION ART!! THE POUNCE!! the Robins being entirely made up of motion lines, even the details for Jason's helmet; and i'm always a sucker for those light streaks from the eyes!! THE PUNCH!! the quick panel of Jason's fist before arcing into that POW!!

and i say a glimpse, because in just the two other books i've read from Ba so far, he draws so much more action. lil Monkey Meat promo BUT LOOK!! have i mentioned how much i love his sfx lettering...that "AAAH" getting motion lines when closer to the camera...crazy...

dropping another small element from one of his books, Djeliya! just a really cool visual of casting magic!!

I love this sequence leading up to the Joker vision! The shapely flames that dwindle into the shape of TEARS!! We don't get the extent of how deeply the Joker affected Jason until this moment and the man is terrified.

First thing Damian does after getting shot is insult Jason, DAMIAN IS SO FUNNY. Also absolutely love the wiggly woggly lines of EVERYTHING in this panel.

Considering what Damian said earlier: "We both know you'd rather not have to explain your failure to father if anything happens to me that you could have prevented." As if Jason didn't already feel like a failure before this!! of course he'd turn into jiggling jelly realizing what he's done.

After 27 pages of a narrow-eyed Red Hood, including an early tease of him about to take off the helmet for his snack, this full page of Jason unmasking himself is such a heavy reveal. Adding the aching piece of dialogue?? BRUTAL

Damian responds in kind to the vulnerability with his own confession and something Jason really needed to hear after burdening himself for so long with the idea of being a failure.

After Damian leaves, the camera pulls back to show The Door in the dark of the room. Damian quite literally presents Jason a window of opportunity to face his past, and it goes so hard. Just like the buildup of frowning mask-to-face reveal, Jason's few expressions have mostly looked sad. So the shadowed eyes before the glare of determination makes this quiet moment feel extra epic!! also reminiscent of the Red Hood mask he wears!!

Beyond the door of Jason's "past life" is complete darkness. Jason has been hoping for Batman to pull him out of it (as further suggested by the newspaper clippings), but in the final page, the door is leaking light!! Jason finds his own way forward :')

The first issue introduces the Robins with specific labels, and so far the narrative either delves deeper into those claims or challenges it. Damian is unimpressed by "kind and brave" Dick and even forms some kind of rivalry. By the end, Damian’s learned how those simple traits are essential to becoming the person and hero Dick has become and gains a newfound respect for him.

#2 deviates from #1 by following “brash and rageful” Jason's perspective! Damian is under pressure from the legacies of all the Robins before him, and even if he relates to Jason the most there's still tension. This time around, while Damian does learn what lies behind the mask, he's the one to impart some knowledge to his fellow Robin.

ending ramble with a panel of the small beans

"Look Damian, everything the light touches is our kingdom."

TBH this ramble took forever to start because after reading Djeliya and Monkey Meat, i was so floored by how much MORE Ba has to offer. Everything i raved about from the first issue of The Boy Wonder...Ba's done it all in his previous work and MORE SO?? on top of writing, whimsical paneling and lettering, fun action scenes, deliberate coloring, kickass character designs and worldbuilding... the man does it all?? 😭

Monkey Meat 🐒

Djeliya: A West African Fantasy Epic ✌️

Mobilis: My Life with Captain Nemo

The Unlikely Story of Felix and Macabber

i may save the last two books for after The Boy Wonder ends because imagining the end of the series makes me so sad LOLL orz i may cave just because Mobilis is a pleasantly giant book...praying for DC to give the collected edition of The Boy Wonder this treatment...his pages are brimming with energy they deserve to be blown up with an oversized printing 😭

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 36 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

You are getting the feeling that Mariko Kimura doesn’t really like you. 

And maybe it’s stupid, but you’re really not used to that.

Worse yet, this woman basically has a license to beat the hell out of you as The Personal Trainer–how else are you going to learn how to defend yourself in this vicious world? Strikes, blocks, throws, joint locks–she’s taking her job seriously, and after a week has gone by you’re not sure how much more you can actually handle. Maybe you’re a hiker girl, but it’s been a long time since you’ve done any athletic activity that demanded you give everything you have, take a breath, and then give fifty percent more. Your body hurts everywhere. Your torso is bruised in twenty places under your top, and you think she might have knocked one of your back teeth loose with a dirty punch.

You do not want to complain to John. You know he went through so much worse, and it would feel like tattling. So you take a moment to compose yourself on a bench before returning to your room, breathing deeply. That hurts too–jesus fuck, did she crack your ribs? 

What you really want to do is have a good little cry, but that’s completely off the table. 

Show no weakness. 

“Are you alright, my dear?”

Your eyes fly open to find Winston Scott, looking dapper as ever in a pinstripe suit, standing nearby. You hadn’t heard him approach. That’s probably not a good thing, even in this supposedly neutral environment. 

“I’m fine,” you say brightly with a smile you know looks more like a grimace. “Just…catching my breath.”

“May I?”

You scoot over on the antique wooden bench, very aware that you are sweaty as the proverbial whore in church, surprised this fastidious man would dare come within six feet of you at the moment. 

“I must admit I was surprised when I saw that Jonathan enrolled you with Miss Kimura. She is close friends with Akira Shimazu.” 

“I…don’t know what that means,” you admit. 

“Ah. Well, Jonathan should.”

You blow out a long breath through your teeth, bracing your kidneys. Maybe a shower and a dip in the cool waters of the pool downstairs would be nice. 

“I don’t want to get anyone into trouble,” you sigh. If John suspects Mariko is playing rougher than what is demanded for some personal reason that has nothing to do with you, that could breed a whole new problem. You have enough problems. 

“As you wish. I am not sure you know this about our Jonathan yet, but politics are not his strong suit. He is the best at what he does, but the more subtle machinations of our world still escape him.”

This doesn’t come as a total surprise to you, although if you let Winston in on some of the psychological games John played with you not so long ago, the old man’s hair might have stood on end.

Or, maybe not. 

“Are you telling me it’s my job to keep him from killing everyone when the Camorra finally show for this sitdown?” 

“Well. I’m sure you’ve heard tell of what happened with Santino d’Antonio.”

“Yes.” 

“Perhaps Jonathan is in a better state of mind these days thanks to you. But I also fear what our dear boy may do, to defend you.”

Hearing anyone call your fearsome assassin John dear boy brings a little smile to your lips. You are glad that someone seems to be in his corner. You’ve gotten the impression from hearing John talk that Winston is like a father figure to him. You’re relieved it goes both ways. 

“I will keep what you’re telling me in mind.” 

“That is all I ask,” he says with a nod, standing. “And perhaps, a little break from the Trainer would do you good.”

A small laugh escapes you–you know it sounds bitter. “You give very good advice, Mr. Scott.” 

“I know I do. If only the young people around me would deign to benefit from my wealth of experience.” This is his parting shot, and you watch as he makes his exit stage left, leisurely strolling back down the hall like a king in his castle. 

***

Lounging in a warm bubbly bath–with John Wick’s solid naked body behind you, maybe makes the beatings you’ve been taking worth it. 

Ok, it’s totally fucking worth it. Nothing hurts anymore…except for when his soapy hands gently massaging your sore muscles find a bruise. There are a lot of them. 

It also helps that a few minutes ago he ran those soapy hands all over your breasts and aching center, coaxing a soul-wrenching orgasm out of you, all while talking you through it with his low voice in your ear.

He never actually asked if you’re alright, and you take that as a compliment. Maybe it’s fucked up, but you’re kinda proud of your pain tolerance–and John’s quiet approval. 

That doesn’t mean you’re capable of keeping your mouth shut about something else that’s bothering you. 

“Who is Akira Shimazu?” you ask sleepily, your head lolled back on his broad shoulder. His hands pause tellingly upon you, before resuming their soothing circuit. 

“She’s the daughter of one of my oldest friends, Koji,” he finally answers, his tone deliberately neutral. “He…was killed by the High Table, when I went to his Continental in Osaka for shelter.” 

There is a lot to unpack in that sentence. You start with the part that alarms you the most. “Wait…the High Table are allowed to break the rules of the Continental?” If those fuckers were coming, supposedly to play mediator–what good would it do, if they were not bound to follow their own rules? 

“Not usually,” he assures you. “The Marquis who was hunting me was granted…privileges.” 

“Sounds like bullshit.” 

“It was bullshit.” 

You decide this is all the information you need to connect the dots. If you were Akira Shimazu, you would probably blame John Wick for your father’s death too. And if you were Akira’s friend, and had no recourse to hurt John Wick directly–beating up his girlfriend was pretty much the next best thing. Great. 

“Why are you asking me this?” 

“Oh…just a conversation I had with Winston today.” You turn in the bath, reaching for the soap to return the favor to John, only in part to distract him. He weighs you with those dark eyes, only half believing you, or at least, sensing there’s more than what you’re telling him. You sit up straddling his lap, running your hands over his chest. His eyes slide closed, quiet for some time as you touch him. His wounds from the home invasion have healed now, his stitches out just the other day. Now they are simply slick pink flesh under your fingertips–as though it had all just been a bad dream.

These moments seem even more precious between you, now. You want to hoard them like a dragon with its pile of gold, keep them forever shining in your memory. You know what you’ll draw in your sketch journal tonight. You’ve been trying to keep up with a drawing a day, a way to pass the time, though the past week you’ve been too tired in the evening.

“Is Mariko…associated with Akira?” 

Maybe Winston doesn’t give John enough credit. 

“I think they might be friends.”

He touches a bruise on your arm with a new understanding, his dark brows drawn in a frown.

Well shit. So much for being subtle. 

“Is she hurting you on purpose?” 

“She’s…not pulling any punches. That’s ok, John. I’ve learned more this past week than in the five years I did in Tae Kwon Do.” You realize that is absolutely true. 

John’s eyes narrow as he searches out your bruises with new eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

It’s interesting to you, how it was par for the course before, but with the new information that it might be personal, it’s suddenly not ok. 

“Don’t be.” 

“I didn’t think I would be a good hand to hand combat teacher for you.”

“Why not?” you ask, not accusing, just curious. 

“Because when I put my hands on you I just want to fuck you,” he admits bluntly, raising gooseflesh all across your body, your greedy cunt suddenly clenching in insistent reminder of her state of abject emptiness...drama queen.  

 “Even…if we were fighting?”

Considering his penchant for chasing, maybe you already know the answer to that. He blows through his nose, pulling you close with those mitts for hands on your hips so that you can feel he’s hard just with the thought of it. 

He ducks to graze his teeth upon the curve of your shoulder, and your state of relaxation is starting to fly out the window again. This man. 

“Especially if we were fighting,” he admits against your ear, his voice gravely with desire. “I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from taking you down. I’d fuck you right there on the mat, and you wouldn’t learn a thing except that you drive me wild.”

Your nipples tighten with the thought, your breath caught in your throat, and he lifts you easily in the water with that controlling grip on your hips, rubbing your now slick center against his throbbing cock. Tub sex can be tricky, but the bath water stands no chance against the suddenly raging state of your arousal. Without further ado he lifts you onto his cock, impaling you on his thick tip. The glorious glide and stretch of his girthy shaft inside you still takes your breath away, like you can feel him in your lungs, your fingers digging into his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” you squeak, winning a dark chuckle that scrambles your insides. 

“Yeah.”  

It’s the last intelligible word you manage, in the next few minutes, as he uses you just as he pleases, the water sloshing all around as he pistons inside you. It’s all you can do just to hold on, clenching tightly upon his insatiable erection the way you know makes him lose it. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he invites, though you know he’s close. You’ve reached that point in your physical relationship when you know each other’s bodies so well, your rhythms and sounds, down to the very tone of a gasp or the desperation of a thrust. 

“I don’t think I can cum again,” you admit, though you’re thoroughly enjoying him inside you. 

You really didn’t mean it as a challenge, but when he smirks at you with that certain sparkle in his anthracite eyes you just know you’re in for it. 

“Yes you can,” he insists, slowing his pace inside you, arching you back in his arms so that he can flick one of your nipples with his devilishly clever tongue. Oh. Well that’s not fair at all. You reach down to rub your clit while he fills you like this, delaying his pleasure to hit that perfect spot just past your entrance that makes you forget anything else exists in the world but you and him and the promise of a soul-snatching orgasm on the horizon.

“Give it up for me, my pretty girl,” he coaxes with his lips against your skin, and you know the snake must have sounded like that when he spoke to Eve. Tempting and forbidden and yet oh so reasonable. You’ve asked a lot from your body in the past few days. Maybe this is how you die–and what a way to go. That wonderful tingling pressure fills your hips and you moan, forgetting, again, that the other assassins down the hall probably do not want to hear more evidence that John Wick never misses. 

There are stars in your eyes and a ringing in your ears as this shining, bone-shattering release takes you. You are a ragdoll in his arms as he fills you to the hilt and bathes your cervix with the hot rush of his cum. It’s all the two of you can do, not to sink into the water and drown. With a shaky sigh you kiss his lips before melting against him, re-learning how to breathe with his arms wrapped around you, your head on his shoulder. 

He strokes your hair, whispering endearments so low you can’t really make them out, but the tone is so soothing you drift asleep for a few minutes. You only wake when he freshens the bath with more hot water, before drifting off again. 

***

Much later, when both of your faculties have returned, and your fingers have turned to prunes, he tells you, “I think we’ll give you a break. We’ll start weapons training tomorrow. That, I will handle myself.” 

This is news to you. “Here? In the hotel?”

“There’s an armory, a range, even a course.” 

“In this hotel?” 

He chuckles a little at your disbelief. “Yeah.” 

The New York Continental: anything and everything a killer could need…

And here you are, trapped amongst them with the man you love. You know this is technically John’s world, but a part of you just can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t belong here. That he shouldn’t have to be back here–it’s not fair. 

You sit up in the water, reaching for a little yellow rubber duck on the side of the tub, not meeting John’s eyes. You’re not sure where it came from; there must be some inside joke you’re not privy to…but it’s cute. 

You do feel some relief, knowing you’re not going to get beat up again tomorrow, though going through tactical firearms drills makes you more than a little nervous. You’re sure it will be different from plinking in the backyard on a Sunday with your dad and his drinking buddies. Ah, alcohol and guns–a time honored American classic.

“I feel like I’m walking out of here with my Certificate in Baddass Assassin Studies,” you say with a nervous little laugh. “What else is there? Are you going to teach me how to pinball flip someone with a muscle car? Maybe how to ride a motorcycle while swinging a katana?”

His lips twist in a smirk. “If you want, when we go home.” 

You find the thought buoys you with hope. “Will we ever get to go home?”

“Unless you really want to move to Argentina,” he needles you.

“Argentina does sound pretty bitchin’...” you tease him. 

He narrows his eyes at you; after all this time, it still gives you a thrill. “Are you sure your fascination with Argentina doesn’t stem from the good looking men who seem to live there?”

You make a raspberry at the thought. He still remembers Javi, it seems. You do too, of course, but all that feels like a distant dream in your memory. “Darling, I have all the Tall, Dark, and Handsome I can handle right here.” You place the rubber ducky on top of his head as though bestowing a crown, and he rolls his eyes before snatching you to him, water splashing all across the floor again. 

“Who’s going–to clean–that up?” you tease between kisses and giggling, suddenly drunk on his arms around you, his strong hand running down your side to squeeze your behind before long fingers quest further towards your aching center. 

“Baby, that is the least of your worries right now.”    

“I can’t!” you whine in protest as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You absolutely give yourself away with your joyful laughter that turns into a moan.

“We’ll see, cheeky girl.”  

This insatiable man really might prove the death of you. 

----

Pretty sure the rubber ducky is all on @sweetwolfcupcake …😂😘😘😘

[walidgoldpreppy]

Anthony gets a dark Golden tie

Sitting in the back of the cab, Anthony feels a slight nervousness rising inside him. As the vehicle speeds through the city, he decides to take a look at his work dress code, one more time, to make sure everything is in order. As he scrolls through the document on his phone, his heart sinks.

The code is much stricter than he remembered:

“Matching two or three-piece suit, never mismatched.” Tie tied perfectly, shoes polished to a perfect shine. Hair must be neatly styled with gel. Belt or suspenders required to complete the ensemble.”

Anthony freezes. He does have a tie around his neck, his shirt is neatly pressed, and his shoes are polished. But he is only wearing black pants without a jacket! The look of a man in full compliance with these increasingly strict rules comes back to him, and he knows that he cannot present himself like that. The simple fact of deviating from this code makes him uncomfortable. He begins to sweat slightly under his shirt collar.

“Excuse me, could you stop me in front of the Brooks Brothers store, right there?” he says to the driver, spotting a familiar sign through the window.

A few minutes later, Anthony finds himself in this prestigious store. The scent of leather and fine fabrics fills the air as racks of impeccable suits line up before him. The interior of the store is luxurious, lit by soft, soothing lights. He immediately heads to the suit section, his heart racing.

Salesman approaches him. He is tall, slim, himself dressed in a crisp three-piece suit, a gray wool vest under a perfectly tailored jacket and a beautiful Dark Gold tie. His smile is professional and polite.

“Hello sir, may I help you?” he asks, his voice calm and assured.

Anthony quickly explains his situation, the urgent need for a formal suit to conform to his work dress code. The salesman nods, understanding, and leads him to a rack where charcoal pinstriped suits are hanging.

“This one is made of Italian wool, lightweight but structured, perfect for a day at the office.” I also recommend adding a belt that matches your shoes.”

Anthony nods, his mind clouded by urgency. The salesman escorts him to the fitting rooms, where he quickly puts on the suit. The fabric slides easily over his shoulders, perfectly adjusted, as if it had been tailor-made. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he feels a strange satisfaction growing inside him. The charcoal suit, with its fine vertical stripes, gives him a more imposing, stricter, almost intimidating look.

The salesman returns with a brown Brooks Brothers leather belt, then asks him what metal he wants for the buckle. Anthony doesn’t hesitate: “Gold, of course.” It seems obvious to him, almost natural. Gold, the color he increasingly associates with perfection and obedience. He also chooses a brown leather watch with a Gold strap.

As he takes one last look in the mirror, Anthony feels an unexpected sense of pride. The suit is cut impeccably, the tie is neatly tied, the belt is smooth and shiny. Everything is in its place. He briefly thinks about the money he had saved up for a PS5, but that is no longer important. This new style, these new rules, that is all that matters.

Proud of his new outfit, he leaves the store, confident. The taxi drops him off at the office just in time, and as he crosses the entrance, he immediately notices the looks turning towards him. Unlike the day before, he does not feel embarrassed by these stares. He walks with a sure step, his back straight, his leather shoes making a slight, regular clicking sound against the shiny floor.

“Wow, Anthony, you look even classier today!” a colleague says as he passes him.

“Do you have anything special planned? You look like you just came from a board meeting!” " jokes another, an amused smile on his lips.

Anthony smiles, almost satisfied with these remarks. He settles for a slight nod and subtly adjusts the knot of his tie, checking once again that it is perfectly centered. He feels good in this suit, as if he embodies a more serious and disciplined version of himself. Every detail of his outfit seems to resonate with this new mentality he has adopted, this desire to follow the rules to the letter.

Throughout the day, he receives compliments and glances. Even his boss notices him when he passes by his desk.

"Nice suit, Anthony. I like to see that you take our dress code seriously," he says approvingly.

Anthony feels his heart leap with pride. This simple comment reinforces his idea that he is on the right track. As the day goes on, he feels more comfortable in this skin. He continues to check his reflection whenever he gets the chance, adjusting his jacket, checking his gelled hair and the shine on his shoes.

(End of Part 5)

Part 4