#rosie vixen

[iwanty0uu]

*ੈ‧₊˚ circa 2001 ✩

word count: 1180

You felt his hazel eyes trace the lining of your soft curves in the background of his video shoot, as you sat cutely on the hellcat that was parked in the middle of the street. It’s black shiny exterior was warm to the touch, slightly burning the fat of your thighs that were soon to be caressed by the dark-skinned man who couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You were his 2000’s video vixen, black dark hair cut in layers and straightened, slightly blowing in the warm summer breeze, jeans shorts hiked up slightly, but not too much to reveal your delicates. Your cut up and cropped wife beater held your perky breasts beautifully while you sported a black leather jacket, and a diesel purse. It was safe to say that you put that shit on, you admired your knee high rick’s while adjusting your black bra, fixing your hair and pulling out your lipgloss, adjusting it while looking at your reflection on the car’s hood.You winked seductively as the camera’s panned around the rapper, then shifted it’s focus to you. You didnt know if he was eyeing you down for cinematic reasons, but all questions left your mind as he asked for your name while you all were on lunch break.

“I’m Y/n” you said casually as you bit into your sandwich, drinking your mango Arizona, you paused and your eyes met his,

“I noticed that you stare a lot, so what’s your name?” You asked smiling, dusting off bread crumbs from your hand, digging into your fries. “Oh I’m sorry ma, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” he chuckled, his smile lit up the room, admiring the way his grillz fit perfectly in his mouth, comforted by his soft plush mauve lips, his tongue swirled around them quickly as he tucked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting against the soft supple flesh that was now rosy and glossy. His skin was perfect, including the scar that rested on his forehead and under his eye, thick perfect eyebrows that held a small slit in his left one, perfectly aligned with the discolored line on his forehead. His hair was low and wavy, shaped perfectly and cut, chalk fresh and highlighted against his dewy skin. His goatee was short, but still sexy, emphasizing his youth and maturity all at once. “I’m Onyankopon..”

You were all over him.. so you couldn’t blame yourself as you were currently being bent over the trunk of the hellcat that was now parked in the huge garage that wasn’t too far away from the shoot.He slowly slid himself inside of you, as the knees below you went weak , loosing count of the amount of orgasms that he talked you through.His clean hands gently rubbed on your clit as he thrusted into your hole, sucking on your neck, palming your round breasts with his free hand, his soft and sticky skin was caressing yours as he slid his hand from your chest and trailed up your neck, grabbing your silk press and pulling your head back, forcing your tear filled eyes open.

“Look at you baby girl, you hear that?”

He asked as the set called for the both of you, their cries drowned out by the squelching of your flower, she loved the attention that she was receiving, and you felt as if you were close. His mushroom shaped tip entered and exited out of you, periodically rubbing on your clit, and then ramming itself back inside of you as he whispered in your ear.The sloppy sounds of sex echoed against the concrete walls, bouncing off of the metal of the most expensive cars that you’ve ever seen.You were grateful for the fact that there were no cameras.

“Fuckkk Onyyyy” you whispered, this intimate moment made even more intense since it was only your second time having sex. No matter how good he made you feel, you still were ashamed that you were able

to give in so quickly and wished that you would have waited at least before you let him fuck, feeling like this was meaningless. It was just a quickie..and shortly,the sensation that was once closing in had left when your focus did, and he noticed..His strokes slowed down as he pulled out, turning you around to face him. He slowly slid himself inside again , groaning while he kissed you, “Get outta your head mama, it’s just us, no one will know.” His muscled arms wrapped around you as you pulled on the neck of his white tee, under the green jersey he put on after an outfit change.

“We just met, but I wont break your heart love..just-fuckkkkk-“

He moaned as you began to squeeze around him, his voice turned you on to the point that you could cum right then and there, the way you gripped him almost made him faint, his thrusts became more calculated, almost mean as he kept his focus, eyes low,biting back stammers and hisses on every word.

“But I-shit..I want something with you Y/n..I- oh my gosh, I just want you, I’d-damn I’d drop everything, every other bitch, -this pussy gon kill my ass one day”

You listened to his voice , bucking your hips to match his rhythm, internalizing every word while he carried you through your high.

“FUCK! Ony I’m cominnn baby”

You plead grabbing his head, anything you could find because you needed him close, kissing his neck with the remaining lipgloss left, you moaned into his ears with relief, breath slowly steadying.Ony left a trail of butterfly kisses all along your face and neck, as his hips began to twitch, feeling the release of his sperm through the condom. The quiet zip of his pants brought you back to his senses as his hands slid around your waist to lift you up, sitting you on the roof of the car. He rumaged through his pockets for hand sanitizer, and baby wipes lending you a clean rag that the set gave him as “Part of his fit” to wipe off.Them big ass pockets held his life.

“Hear what my love,” His hands rested on your thighs, still standing in between your legs. “ I’ll take you out to eat later, we can go shopping, I’ll take you to the car dealer even, we can go shopping, I want you to use my card and we can even go on tour if you want, or keep it private-“

You smiled shyly, looking down as he kissed your hands..

He caught himself simping over a girl he just met like a looser and laughed while he kissed your forehead again, catching himself before be accidentally love-bombed you.

“Listen baby, what I’m tryna say is that I want you..bad, and if I fuck up just remember this moment okay?”

“Okay Onyankopon do you pinky swear?Because you will be kept to your word.” you blushed while looking at him sternly, holding a painted finger out, he laughed at your child-like behavior, kissing your pinky before intertwining his with your own…

“Pinky Promise”…

dk how i feel abt this but one shots comin soon lol ~𝓵𝓮𝓵𝓮

[notenoughgauze]

Caught

WARNING SMUT AHEAD

He wanted to fuck her that was the god honest truth. He wanted to take her and just make her scream his name. He wanted to watch her breasts jump at every thrust. He wanted  to feel her soft tummy and creamy thighs against him. He wanted every noise, every movement, everything from her. It was driving him absolutely insane. 

Which is how he ended up here, screaming into a pillow as he tries to relieve frustration from his body without giving into his urges. It would be wrong, so goddamn wrong. Though, who would ever know? She wouldn’t, he’d take this secret to his grave if he had to. He was so fucking fucked it was crazy. He palms himself, putting the lightest bit of pressure against his clothed cock. 

Fuck this was really bad.

But he just couldn’t stop, the pleasure was just too addicting to put a stop to it. He needed more. He imagined how pretty she’d look with her makeup smeared across her face. Her beautiful eyes filled with tears as she begged for him to stop, that she couldn't take anymore, but he wouldn’t he’d keep going and make those darling tears fall as she screamed from too much pleasure. He needed her. He needed her pussy, her wetness. He needed everything she’d give him. “F-Fuck”  His breath gets heavy as he pulls his sweats down just enough, biting his lip when the pressure alleviates. 

His cock was hard and ready, looking for some sweet cunt to sink into. He pulls down his boxers and his cock springs to attention, finally able to weep without cloth getting dampened. He runs his palm over the tip, moaning a pathetic moan at the stimulation. How would she do it? Would she suck on the tip a bit then go down further?  Or maybe she’d be so desperate she’d take it all fast? He pictured her, looking up at him, like a goddess that dirtied herself with a mere mortal. 

He gathered his spit into his hand and gripped himself tight, tight like he’d imagine her cunt to be. “____” he groaned. Pleading somehow she found out about this dirty moment between him and his hand. He pleads in his head for more, to see her above him bouncing on his cock and whimpering, maybe she’d cry that he’s just too big and she needs his help. He’d gladly do anything for her. 

Just one chance, that's all he needs. One chance to have it ingrained into his memory forever. No one would ever compare, he doesn’t need the real thing to know that. He’d never take another for the rest of his life if it meant one night with his pretty vixen. He moans more and cries as quietly as he can, for fear of others hearing his pathetic display. Finally he’s close.

“Oh shit-” he hears her voice, it sounds surprised and shocked. Just the sound of it makes him spill all over his tummy. He breathed in and out for a second before opening his eyes and there he saw the object of all his desires standing in front of him with rosy cheeks and mouth agape. 

“Fuck.”

[chaoticace2005]

Reasons the Mothman should die, collectively written by the residents of the Hazbin Hotel:

Coding for Characters: Vaggie, Charlie, Pentious, Alastor, Niffty, Husk, pretty much everyone

TW: References to abuse

He’s holding back Angel’s progress. (Vaggie, is killing really necessary?) (I am concerned about going after a Vee)

I’m hungry (ALASTOR!)

Ms. Angel gets nervous when on the phone with him.

His coat is tacky.

He’s a bug! And bugs must be DESTROYED!

So Angel stops feeling like he has to be so damn fake. This is getting on my fucking nerves.

HE LICKED CHARLIE!!! (Vaggie, wait it’s okay.)

Color scheme sucks. Purple AND red?!

He makes Angel sad, NOBODY should make Angel sad.

Those obnoxious glasses just make him look stupid.

He’s a manipulative, abusive prick.

ANGEL DIDN'T KNOW BOUNDARIES WERE A THING?!?!?!?!?!? (Honestly that explains a lot.)

NOBODY deserves to be in an abusive relationship.

Too many arms. Nobody needs that many. (...Angel has that many?) (Well maybe he shouldn't.)

Ms. Angel keeps coming home all messy!!

He’s ruining hearts for everyone. Me and Angel already have enough. At least those are on our bodies, what’s his excuse?

Hearts should not even be ASSOCIATED with Valentino, THIS IS NOT LOVE.

I can do without all the sexual depravity. While I am in Hell this is NOT one of the reasons.

If I have to hear that ringtone one more damn time-

The Eggies found some of his films. They should never be exposed to such horrors. Now I have to explain what “a sex” is.

Makes picture shows that are a disgrace to the idea of “entertainment.”

He’s making a bad name for Uncle Ozzie. This is NOT “lust.”

So we don’t have to listen to another one of Angel’s pornos. (Agreed, it’s quite horrifying!!)

So Ms. Angel isn’t tired when she gets home and can save the kinky stuff for then :) (Niff, really?)

So the kid stops coming home with bruises and cuts that I fix up at 3 am. (Husk, what the fuck?)

Because what the FUCK Valentino?

He keeps forcing Angel to do drugs. (HE WHAT?! Like crack??) (That but also I’m pretty sure whatever comes out of him is an aphrodisiac.)

I want to use his antenna as a backscratcher

Has that whole red color thing going on. Only I am allowed to wear red :) (Al, your text isn’t even red.) (My what?)

What is up with his red spit and smoke? Seriously disgusting.

The red stuff from him may be what allows Velvette to create her “Love Potions” which funds Vax’s stupid endeavors (Do you mean Vox?) (Who?)

FOR MY COLLECTION :D (…yeah okay.)

Really is making a bad name for Overlords. And not in the fun way.

Angel’s shown trauma signs of abuse in our meetings. Im pretty sure it’s Valentino.

Make a doll out of his fur so I have a main villain for roach puppet shows!!!

His only purpose is to keep Veks occupied but considering Vixen’s inane attempts to catch my attention it isn’t working.

So Angel can have his soul and he and Husk can run off into the sunset together like in a fanfiction!!! (Ah, yes that would be nice.) (WE WHAT?!) (Oh Husker, denial doesn’t suit you.)

So Angel can get a good boyfriend THAT’S NOT ME to stop these bullshit allegations.

So Angel can admit his feelings to Husker because our cat surely isn’t going to be the first to do it. (ALASTOR I SWEAR TO GOD!)

Who knows how many other people he’s abusing.

Seems to give Vicks confidence. He has enough of that as is. It much more fun to destroy him.

He makes Angel sad which makes Cherri sad!

HE HIT ANGEL!!!

Called my dear Rosie an "old hag" NOBODY CALLS ROSIE AN OLD HAG.

Angel is a good friend and deserves so much better.

I’ve forgotten what moths taste like.

He keeps trying to get Angel to move out :(

Told the kid he had to lose weight. What the actual FUCK. (Ill kill him.)

He’s annoying and looks quite stupid. How has this not been added yet?!

He’s making a bad name for Spanish speakers everywhere. (Yeah it’s embarrassing.) (Wait… what?)

He’s making a bad name for pansexuals everywhere.

He’s making a bad name for wing-holders everywhere. (HE HAS FUCKING WINGS?!) (Oh, yeah, I didn’t tell you?)

Too tall. This is ridiculous.

Won’t admit he’s blind so he’s become even more of a public safety hazard.

If I get one more transmission of him and Box commiting lascivious acts someone will be eaten. I don’t care who. What the purpose of these are I don’t know. Advertisement? (I think it’s to make you jealous boss.) (Ha! Jealous of what? Mediocre sex with a pathetic excuse for a businessman with a TV as a head?)

Because Angel deserves fucking better.

[snowqueen-gh]

One winter night

❄ La Signora x reader, Christmas eve, warnings: fluff, fluff and fluff ❄

❄ Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language ❄

The manor had a festive atmosphere. Servants were running back and forth, carrying decorations and hastily wiping invisible specks of dust from the polished candlesticks. The smell of ginger biscuits and pine needles wafted through the rooms; if you followed it, you could run right into the wide fir boughs in the middle of the living room. You scurried around the tree, trying on one glass ball, then another. "No, red will be more suitable here, and green here..." you whispered to yourself as you hung up another piece of decoration, trying not to prick yourself on the pine needles. A couple of maids were stretching a garland from the ceiling, following your instructions and slightly embarrassed by your praises - they were obviously not used to them in this house. After what seemed like an eternity, the Christmas tree was finally decorated; shimmering with shiny tinsel and the edges of glass toys, it stood proudly in the center of the room. The maids, whispering to each other, hurriedly turned out the lights - and the living room plunged into semi-darkness, illuminated by the iridescence of small colored bulbs. Mesmerized by the sight, you didn't notice how the servants' whispers subsided abruptly, and the carpet almost hid the sound of heels.

- I see my dear has done her best.

A woman's hands in velvet gloves wrapped around your waist, and the air around you was filled with the scent of heavy perfume. You jumped in surprise, but a moment later, a smile lit up your face.

- I thought you'd be back later. - Her Majesty graciously dismissed us early. Aren't you happy? A kiss touched your cheek, leaving a light trace of burgundy lipstick on it. - I'm glad, Rosie. Very, very much, - you added affectionately, turning around and embracing La Signora in your arms. The Harbinger sighed, closing her eyes; a soft smile played on her lips. A few seconds of comfortable silence were interrupted by a faint sound coming from the doorway - glancing there, La Signora noticed a servant boy running away. - Did you feed them our holiday cookies again? Rosalyne sighed, grumbling without resentment at all. It was not proper for one of the housewives of the manor to chat with the servants and treat them to her own cookies, but if it made you happy, La Signora was ready to forgive your "inappropriate" behavior. Everyone in the house was happy; with your arrival here, the Harbinger began to treat everyone a little more kindly. - They should enjoy the holiday too! - you replied with a slight shrug. - You're such a naive little  flower, honey, - La Signora sighed again, leaving a kiss on the top of your head. - That's why I love you. - Just because of that? - you winked, smiling slyly, and Rosalyne let out a chuckle.

- Are you provoking me to compliment you even more, you little vixen? - La Signora hugged you tighter and began to shower your face with small kisses, not giving you a slightest chance to move. - Do you know that impudent ladies are left without Christmas gifts, huh?

Your ringing laughter filled the room while you tried in vain to dodge the insidious attack of Harbinger’s kisses. La Signora pulled away only after a few seconds, examining your face, covered with traces of her lipstick, with a satisfied grin. - It wasn't fair! - you laughed, but your beaming smile said otherwise. - Oh, in my opinion, everything was fair, - you heard in response, and Rosalyne immediately left a final kiss on your lips. Blurred reflections of light played on your faces, and it seemed that there was nothing else around you - just the scent of ginger biscuits, the twinkle of garlands and unconditional love in your eyes.

- I love you, Rosie.

- And I love you, my dear. This Christmas promised to be a happy one.

[worldhistoryfacts]

One type of American World War II propaganda that delights me is the pro-book material:

{Buy me a coffee} {WHF} {Medium} {Looking Through the Past}

More interesting propaganda in my newsletter:

[am-i-interrupting]

Perfect Little Vixen | Vox x Fox!Reader— OATSH

Summary: You go into heat around Vox for the first time.

Warnings: 18+

You didn’t even notice when it began happening. Usually, you were much better at keeping track than this but things had been changing so much, it slipped your mind.

You’d just finished moving into a tower with Vox. You’d been unpacking and decorating and rearranging and collaborating to make this a home. You hadn’t even realized that what you’d been feeling and doing were signs of something else.

You had never lived with a romantic partner. You could barely remember the last time you’d moved. You didn’t have a lot of basis for what was and wasn’t normal in this context so perhaps that’s why it came up on you suddenly.

“You feel hot,” Vox said as he used the hand wrapped around your shoulders to touch your forehead.

He was normally cool to the touch when he wasn’t strung up into knots over something but now you felt a shiver come to you as you nestled closer to him. You placed your head in the crook of his neck and inhaled.

He smelled. . . so good. Mint and citrus, the same as always. Yet your teeth almost ached with the need to bite down on him.

Your mind went hazy. You pressed closer to him. You needed him. You needed to consume him, have him inside. . . Fuck.

The constant hands on him, the way you’d led him on the past couple days with teasing only to back out the last minute, the fucking nesting.

The bed was covered in blankets and pillows. You’d even sprayed a spritz of his cologne above the bed yesterday because it didn’t smell enough like him.

You’d never had a partner for this. Not one you cared about not killing in the process.

You jerked away from him and shook your head. His arms stayed in the air from where you’d pushed them off him. His fingers flexed, like he was about to reach for you. Then his arms fell to his side and he propped himself up.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “Should I call Rosie? A doctor?”

You shook your head. “I’ll, um, I’ll be fine,” you told him as you got up. “I just— would you trust Starlight to take care of Vark for a few days?”

He immediately went ramrod straight with tension. “What’s going on?”

You walked out the bedroom door. He got up to follow.

“Nothing, nothing,” you said.

Vark jumped up, hitting you right above the hip and you bit your lip to stop a groan of discomfort from escaping you as you guided his paws off you. Subconsciously you noted he needed to get his claws filed. They nearly cut you through your clothing.

“I can handle it myself,” you told him, “but I either need you to leave and take Vark or someone to come pick him up if you decide to stay.”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you close to him. You took a sharp inhale and immediately wished you hadn’t as you felt a different kind of heat begin to come to you than the heat radiating off your skin.

A small squeak left your throat. You closed your eyes as embarrassment came to you. You hardly ever lacked so much composure.

You bowed your head and let it fall against his chest.

“I’m going into heat,” you muttered.

“What?”

“I’m—“

“No, no, I heard you,” he said. “Demons can do that?”

“No, I’m just playing a prank on you,” you said in a deadpanned tone. Then in one almost yelling, you added, “Of course they can! You’re just a tech demon. You got lucky.”

“Uh-huh, sure I did,” he said. He brushed your hair out of your face and scratched at the base of your ears causing your legs to buckle. “You can call Starlight and have her pick him up. How long is this going to last?”

“Mmm, about three days.” You gripped his shirt tightly, wrinkling it into a fist. “Stop teasing me, Vox. I can’t take it right now.”

He laughed softly. “I’m barely doing anything.”

“You—“

You threw your head back with a groan and pushed away from him. You walked over to the refrigerator where some meat had been left out overnight to thaw. You quickly opened the box and dumped it into Vark’s food bowl. Then you grabbed Vox’s shirt and pulled him back into the bedroom, locking the door behind you.

“Hello.”

“Shut up.”

You pulled him down into a kiss. Kissing him was like kissing static, constant shocks in your mouth. They were cool, it was nice. His tongue was smooth and ran across the ridges of your mouth so nicely.

Fabric bunched between your hands.

“Off. Off. I need this off,” you said as you tugged at his shirt.

“Alright, alright, slow down for a second, baby,” he said.

You snarled and backed away from him as he undid the buttons of his sleep shirt. You quickly discarded your clothes with not even half as much care as he had for his own.

When your hands touched the exposed skin of his shoulders you moaned. He was so cool in contrast to you even as he was beginning to heat up.

You pulled him close to you, relishing in the feeling of his chest against yours, your hands on his back, his own on your waist, his claws brushing against the end of your spine and therefore the base of your tail.

You wanted to have him wrap his hands around it, see his deep blue contrast the lighter color of your tail. You wanted him to pull it. Tug on it as he. . .

You needed him.

You locked lips again. His teeth ran over your lips causing a tingling sensation. You fell back onto the bed, him atop you.

Your hands ran up and down his chest. You needed to feel every part of him. You needed to consume his very being.

“Aw, look at you,” he said with a chuckle as he palmed your breast. “So desperate.”

“Vox,” you said in warning.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lack this much discipline,” he said.

“Vox,” your voice came out a bit more whiney. He leaned down and licked your nipple, a small shock coming with his tongue. “Oh, fuck me,” you said, completely breathless.

“Say you need me.”

“I— I need, mmm, fuck!” You threw your head back against the pillow as his claws scratched against your inner thigh.”

“I know you need to be fucked,” he said, punctuating his sentence with a harder scratch upwards that ended with his claws just barely ghosting your clit, “but who do you need to fuck you?”

“You.”

“Who?”

“Vox!”

“Yes?”

“Fuck me! Please! I need it! I need you!” you begged.

“Oh, baby—“ you moaned as you felt his tip drag through your folds and briefly linger at your clit, rubbing against it— “all you had to do was ask.”

He pounded into you. A quick, sharp movement of his hips that caused him to fill you quickly, instantly. It was your turn to scratch him. Blood began to bead down the trail of your own claws.

“Oh, fuck, Vox,” you said, eyes closed but seeing static.

“That’s it, doll.” His palm cupped your face. “Look at me. Come on, you can do it. Just look at me.”

You opened your eyes to see his face. He was blushing, a brightness to his screen that wasn’t usually there and static between his antennas which showed his fast heart rate before it ended in a heart.

“You’re so,” his voice trailed off. “Tell me you need me.”

“I need you,” you told him.

“Again.”

“I need you.”

“Fuck.”

He paused his thrusting to bury his head in the pillow above your head. His hands on your waist gripping you tightly.

When he pulled back there was a trail of red coming from his lips and his eye was spiraling without any power behind it. His heartbeat still fully on displace above his head.

His hands trailed down, causing your skin to twitch as a static path was made, from your waist to the bend of your knee.

“Spread for me,” he said with a small nudge. “Wider. Wider. So good for me, my precious little vixen.”

He moved so the bend of your knee aligned with his elbow. His hands grasped hold of yours. He thrust deeply inside you as he moved to kiss you. His mouth finding yours and he filled you entirely.

He started a deep, slow pace. He would drag out of you, letting you feel his cock pull against your inner walls as he left you empty. Then he’d piston back inside of you. He’d let you just get used to the feeling of him stretching your walls, his tip resting just at the wall of your cervix, before he’d start the process all over again, leaving you empty.

You squeezed his hands tight. Your head tilted back but you focused on him the entire time, even as your gaze with hazed.

“Mmm, Vox,” you said his name like a prayer as your legs wrapped around him. “You’re so good, so perfect. Just what I need. Fuck. You’re just what I need.”

“Say you’re mine,” he said.

“I’m yours.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

He closed his eyes with a grunt that ended with a whine as he opened them again. “Please.”

“I’m yours.”

“Fuck.”

He rolled his hips against you. He came, filling you with what you needed. You felt the warmth spread inside you.

That feeling, that fullness, the twitch of him even after he’d given everything, the strain in your legs from their position, the sparks on his finger tips against your skin, the look on his face is what did you in.

You pulled him as close as you could. Your legs shook. Your vision went black. You were sure you screamed.

You were both spent.

Vox let your legs fall. His head went between your breasts as he panted, as you both did. His hands let go of your own and petted at your sides. He licked at your nipples causing you to whine.

He relented when you shoved him away.

He summoned a phone and punched in Starlight’s number.

“Come and get Vark. We’ll be occupied for the next three days,” he said before he hung up and pressed in a different number. “I’ll need the next three days off. I’ve been assigned a very special task from a very influential individual. I understand it’s last minute but—“

“Don’t move,” you said, voice nearly at a sob as he had shifted his torso to better grip the phone and therefore shifted inside you. You could feel some of his seed slip out of you and the thought alone nearly made you weep.

He grabbed your hand as he finished talking, “Its of the utmost importance.”

He hung up the phone and kissed you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said as he began massaging the base of your ears. Which had, for once, turned back fully able to admit submission.

[slutty-transformation-stories]

Bitch In A Bottle

"You're going to love this, babe," Kyle exclaimed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Courtney looked at him with a blend of curiosity and wariness. They'd been together since high school, where they'd both been part of the 'nerd herd', bonding over comic books and video games. Kyle had always had a penchant for pranks, but they were usually harmless and good-natured. This time, though, she couldn't quite read his expression.

"What is it?" she asked, taking the bottle he held out to her. It looked like her usual shampoo, but the label read "Platinum Blitz" instead of "Chestnut Sheen."

"It's a surprise," he winked, his voice full of excitement. "Trust me, it'll be epic."

Courtney sighed, rolling her eyes playfully. "Fine, but if I turn into a blue alien, you're going to have to explain to my mom why her only daughter is on the news."

The next morning, Courtney stepped into the shower, feeling the warm water cascade over her. As she lathered her hair with the new shampoo, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement. Maybe a little change would be fun. She rinsed it out, watching the water swirl down the drain with a hint of color she hadn't noticed before. Stepping out, she wrapped a towel around her and went to the mirror, her heart racing. To her horror, her hair had indeed turned a brilliant, unmistakable shade of blonde. Panic set in as she realized the gravity of Kyle's prank.

Her eyes widened when she saw the transformation wasn't limited to her hair. Her breasts had ballooned, her nipples darkening to a rosy hue. Her body had become more voluptuous, her hips wider and her skin glowing. Courtney's shyness melted away, replaced by an unexpected and overwhelming sense of confidence and sexuality. She looked at herself in the mirror and couldn't resist running her hands over her new curves, feeling a strange thrill at the sight.

The change in Courtney's demeanor didn't go unnoticed. At work, she found herself flirting with colleagues she'd never given a second glance. Her voice grew sultrier, and she began to dress in tighter, more revealing clothes. Kyle found her new persona thrilling at first. He couldn't believe the shy girl he'd been with for so long had become a vixen with an insatiable appetite for attention. But as the days turned into weeks, he started to feel like he didn't know her anymore.

One evening, after a particularly long day at the office, Kyle walked in to find Courtney's clothes strewn across the bedroom floor. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her, naked and straddling a muscular black man on their bed. She looked up at him with a feral grin, her eyes glinting with lust. "You're home early," she purred, her voice thick with satisfaction as the man beneath her thrust up into her. Kyle was shocked to see his girlfriend, no longer the sweet, innocent girl he knew, but a sex-crazed woman with a wild appetite.

The stranger's dark skin contrasted with Courtney's now-blonde hair, which cascaded down her back as she rode him. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, and Kyle could see the man's hands gripping her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh. Courtney threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream as the man's muscles tensed. The sight of Courtney, her eyes glazed over in ecstasy, was too much for Kyle to handle. He felt a mix of anger, betrayal, and an unwelcome arousal at the sight of his girlfriend being claimed by another.

"You can watch," she snarled, "but only if you behave." Her words were cold, a stark contrast to the warm, loving tones she used to use with him. "And if you're a good boy," she added, her voice dripping with malice, "you can clean me up after."

Kyle felt his blood boil. He'd never seen this side of Courtney before, and he didn't like it. The man above her grinned, a knowing look in his eyes, and Kyle realized with a start that he wasn't just a random lover. This was deliberate. This was part of the twisted game his girlfriend had become.

As the man climaxed, filling Courtney with his seed, Kyle's world came crashing down around him. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew he had to get out of there. He backed away, his eyes never leaving the scene before him. Courtney leaned back, her body trembling with pleasure, and whispered, "Welcome to the new me, Kyle."

The man pulled out of her, his member glistening with their combined juices. Courtney looked at Kyle and licked her lips. "I think you're going to love the new me," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But if you don't, you can always go back to playing with your toys."

Kyle's eyes narrowed. This wasn't the girl he'd fallen in love with. This wasn't the Courtney who'd shared his nerdy jokes and held him when he was down. This was someone else entirely, a woman who reveled in his humiliation.

This Story was inspired by my good friend Ironpatriot so make sure to show them some love.

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“(Don’t) Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Christmas (Holiday) Smut, Red Ribbons, Candy Canes, Peppermint Sensations, Sleigh Bells, Sexy Santa References, Dean is Tied Up, Edging, Oral Sex, 69, Vaginal Sex, Reader is a Naughty Little Vixen, Dean deserves a proper (sexy) Christmas.

Word Count: 2700

Summary: Dean saved Reader from the supernatural on Christmas Eve years ago. Every Christmas since, she has always found a way to show her unending appreciation.

Notes: This smutty little fic is a holiday gift for @jessjad for the 2023 SPNFanFicPond Secret Santa Fic Exchange. I hope you enjoy the reader’s sexy times with Dean.

Big thanks to @sam-is-my-safeword and runawaydr3amer (AO3) for reading the first draft and helping with a great many awesome smut ideas. Additional thanks to runawaydr3amer, who also beta’d this fic and packaged it up nice and shiny. 

Merry holidays!

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo, and this part will fill my "Edging" square.

Resources:

Collage created in Canva

Pic found on Google (Fanpop)

Song Reference: Santa Baby by Joan Javits and Philip Springer (listen/watch this version sung by Eartha Kitt)

Dean sinks those pearly whites into the flesh of his bottom lip. His top lip pulls up and back into a painful sneer. The usual rosy, pillowy fullness of that mouth is instead taut, whitening under the capture. You laser focus onto the pointy canine denting into the mouth you have debated sitting on since you began this teasing challenge.

jingle

You finish fashioning a sweet little bow with the ribbon. It’s ruby red and velvety soft.

“Well, I think that’s about the prettiest package I ever did wrap.”

jingle

“What do you think, Mr. Claus?” you ask, your voice as innocent and demure as you can manage.

Dean opens his mouth and expels a slow gasp. jingle “Fuck, sweetheart. You aren’t playin’ fair.”

“That’s the whole point.”

You rise from the edge of the bed and take in the entire scene. It’s magnificent. 

He’s magnificent.

Dean is lying atop the forest green comforter of your bed. Naked. Well, not totally naked. A red ribbon - adorned with one single sleigh bell - binds his wrists together and anchors him to the headboard. His arms, jutting out and bent to create a diamond-shaped frame around his face, give you a prime ticket to the gun show. Biceps flex and tendons raise under the skin as he tries to remain as motionless as possible.

jingle

You aren’t a complete heathen. He’s got a fluffy pillow, the same deep green color as the comforter, to rest his head atop. Dean is anything but sleepy. He’s wound up. He stares back at you, the green of his irises electric and flaming with intensity.

You anticipate how sublime it will feel to strum the cords of his neck. Tickle your fingertips down that chest. You imagine Dean ring-a-ding-dinging and cursing himself if you take the time to trace the outline of his tattoo. Circle those perky nipples. Dip into his belly button and follow his treasure trail of baby-fine hair.

You marvel again at the other ribbon that you tied. You’d purchased a couple yards of red velvet at the craft store weeks ago with this in mind. With him in mind. You were ecstatic it had been enough to criss-cross around the crease below that fine ass. It wraps over a slight vee along his waist. The makeshift holiday jockstrap has Dean’s beautiful, now fully erect, cock sporting a bow.

Dean sighs. “Are you done decking my balls?” jingle

You giggle and fiddle with the belt of your robe. It’s red as well, but made of silk. “As we discussed, the end result of all of this is all up to you. Santa.” You flip a switch to turn off the ceiling light. The sconces stay on above the headboard. Two halos figure eight over Dean’s beautiful body, awash in a warm amber glow.

He’s a full print ad of holiday cheer and sinful debauchery.

“You’re being very naughty, (jingle) Mrs. Claus.” Dean licks his top lip—your core clenches at the deep timbre of his scolding. 

You’ve been wet since you both finished Christmas dinner. Since you told him you had one more gift for him waiting upstairs. Since you left him in the bedroom with orders to strip while you changed in the bathroom. Since you pulled out the ribbons. Since you explained that if he was good and could keep his jingling down to a minimum through what you had planned, you’d fuck him into the New Year.

You inhale and shrug, then begrudgingly turn your back to the sight. It takes a few taps on your phone for you to get to the song. You stifle another giggle at the little jingles Dean can’t help as he waits. 

Once you tap the play button, the festive and recognizable melody begins. A barbershop quartet bah-bums a bit before the sultry and smooth vocals of Eartha Kitt take the lead.

You look back over your shoulder at Dean and whisper along with Eartha.

You peel the silky robe off one shoulder then the other. Dean groans when the layer slips down to the floor. jingle

“Shit.” He moans and you grin in satisfaction at the hoped for reaction.

You turn back to face him, adding a dramatic hair flip. You're wearing a sexy little Mrs. Claus outfit. It’s a red velvet dress with a scandalously high skirt and a low-cut halter. White fur lines both the top and bottom. It’s all cinched nice and tight around your waist with a black belt and a gold buckle.

You bend at the knees and lean forward, shoulders folding in and hands resting on your thighs. It gives Dean the perfect vantage to ogle your cleavage. You purr along with the next line and modify the lyrics a smidge.

“Man, I must have been a really good boy this year.” Dean stares in awe, not even caring how much he’s jingling with his squirms atop the bed.

You let it slide for the time being, thrilled at the kid in a candy store grin plastered on his face and the way the bow sways with every twitch of his cock.  

Dean tilts his head to the side. His gaze begins at your red-glitter heels and canvases every inch of skin from ankles to thighs. He pauses, stopping to stare at the hint of flesh under the skirt hem. jin-jingle jingle jin-jingle He pants out, “Mrs. Claus forgot her panties, huh?”

You lift a finger and wiggle it back and forth in the air. “Uh-uh-uh. Remember, really good boys stay still if they want their present.”

The bell jangles no matter how carefully he attempts to reposition himself. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbles and you laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be good,” he whispers soft and sweet.

The heels tap across the hardwood as you walk over to settle beside Dean. You adjust your skirt to let the scant amount of fabric fan over your naughty bits. Being so close to him makes you forget the lyrics to sing along with Eartha.

You rest a hand on his chest. Through clenched teeth, Dean inhales at the touch, the rest of him frozen in place. The bell is silent. Your other hand grabs one of the candy canes you had left on the bedside table. For reasons.

Watching him fight every urge he has to reach out and touch you is fascinating. And the power you have over him gives you a head rush. You continue the tease, twirling the candy between your fingers, then laving the cane’s hook with your mouth and tongue. Dean garners some pity from you as he whines, brows downturned, eyes attentive to your every swirl and suck. You swing the cane close to his mouth. “Wanna taste?”

He swallows. “Wanna taste you,” he states, the hint of hope escaping around the edges of a soft moan.

The thrill of his need quickens your pulse. No other man has loved and adored you as thoroughly and exuberantly as Dean Winchester. You nod. “You will. But, first,” you rub the wet-slick candy cane over his bottom lip, “show me what that mouth wants to do.”

“You know what this mouth can do,” he reminds with a little sass, letting the candy cane tap against his bottom teeth. 

But soon enough, he indulges you. He slips the hook between his lips. His tongue slides out under the curve of peppermint, lapping at the sticky sweet. Again and again. Your breath hitches into your open mouth as you watch, enthralled at the ministrations of that thick and powerful muscle. He sucks the confection in a little farther, pursing his lips. The sounds he’s making, enjoying the treat, are downright pornographic and send any extraneous bell ringing to the back of your hearing queue. The red food coloring coats them like lip gloss by the time you break from the spell of his show. You guess it’s been minutes since Eartha finished her rendition of ‘Santa, Baby.’ The rest of the playlist you created has soft and dreamy instrumentals.

“My turn,” you cajole. You tug on the cane. He relinquishes, but not without some resistance. A little pop escapes his mouth once the hook is freed. You marvel at the progress he made. The hook end is substantially shorter and thinner than when he began.

He sniffs and tilts his chin up in pride. jingle “Your turn with that, or my turn with you?”

The cane slips back into your mouth, your fingers sticky from all the handling. You stand, kick off your heels, and climb back onto the bed on your knees. You grin as you suck on the candy.

His eyes soften. “Be careful, baby. Don’t want you to choke. Well, at least not on that.” He smirks.

He’s right. Safety first. You toss the candy onto the bedside table.

“You are so (jingle) fucking hot in that (jingle) outfit.” He grins and waggles eyebrows in anticipation. “Gonna let me down your chimney, Mrs. Claus?” jingle jingle jingle

The actions in the next few seconds are a blur. You wonder if Dean has some sort of Jedi mind control ability. Because even though you are supposed to be the one making decisions this evening, his seductively god-awful puns find you sitting on his face, reverse cowgirl. 

“You might get the golden ticket to all my secret places if you’re lucky.” Your fingers tip-toe down his chest like a grinch about to steal someone else’s presents. 

jingle jingle jingle

“Fuckin’ hell,” Dean murmurs under your skirt. Hot breath bathes your inner thighs and other areas you hope will soon be explored.

Your hands rest in the little divots created by his pelvic bones while you take his body in and plan your method of attack. You pull on the ribbon and release his cock of the bow. Then, you’re deep throating him like he’s your last meal.

Not one to be outdone at an all-you-can-eat buffet, Dean’s entire face gets in on the feast as well. Nerves respond to the tingling sensation of the residual peppermint on Dean’s lips and tongue. You shiver at the gloriously heightened sensitivity when he pulls back to blow on your pussy. “This is so much better than milk and cookies.” He moans and groans and jingles all the way. 

As much as you’re loving the taste of his precome, the velvet texture against your tongue, and the way the tip triggers a tiny gag reflex at the base of your throat, it’s time to remind him of the consequences of all that noise he’s making. You release the hard length from your mouth and try to concentrate on your own breathing during the absolute virtuoso way he’s eating you out. As much as you’d love his fingers to get in on the action, you know you’d have no control over the situation. You sigh in relief that he’s trying to adhere to some parts of the game. The pitiful, half-hearted ribbon shackling of his hands to the headboard is no match for Dean Winchester.

You steady yourself on wobbly knees and one shaky elbow. A firm grip around the base of his cock makes Dean gasp. He stills after that. In your mind’s eye, you picture the beauty of that mouth and how his luscious pink lips were slick with peppermint. You imagine how slick they are with you now. “Sorry, baby,” he murmurs and you feel him settle back onto the pillow. “I’ll be as quiet as I can. Can you blame me, though? Here I am, under your sweet little skirt, in the dark (jingle)... shit, sorry. But, you can’t drop a five-course meal in front of a starving (jingle) man and not expect him to wanna little taste.”

You squeeze his cock. “That’s part of the challenge.”

“I’m always up for a challenge. You always make me feel so good.”

You groan at the praise he bestows. Without releasing your hold, you shimmy off his chest. Channeling the prim and delicate sensibilities of Mrs. Claus, you crawl along the comforter and settle between nutcracker bow legs. With knees tucked under you and sat atop bare feet you accept him in your mouth again and get to work. 

You take in the sight of Dean inventorying your every action. He’s gripping the top of the headboard with both hands to steady his upper body. You clock that the little stinker has also managed to palm the sleigh ball in an effort to silence or, at the very least, muffle it. You consider that move cheating. But he feels so sublime that you can’t bear to part with him to voice your irritation. He’s also whispering the sweetest filth to you while he watches.

“Damn. Yeah. Those lips of yours feel so good around my cock. You take it so good, baby. Wish I could fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, but I’d definitely jingle-jangle way too much.” A tongue swipe over his top lip accentuates the glossy look of his ruby-tinted mouth in the warm light. “You really are too good to me. You give the best Christmas presents.” He stiffens further with each downstroke. “Aw, yeah. Suck it.” Your rhythm increases. “So pretty. Wanna touch you so bad.” He gasps. “Fuck, I’m gettin’ close.” jingle jingle   

You clamp around the base again and squeeze, freeze mid-swallow - your lips around the tip - as soon as he rings.

Dean squirms and grumbles.

You continue to bring him to the edge of orgasm, then halt. Your jaw is aching along with the rest of your body as time passes.

You’ve fucked Dean up in the best way possible. He’s blissed out, wound up tighter than a spring. You’ve got him begging. But his words grow into admonishments with each successive denial. “You can’t keep doing this, baby. There’s gonna be consequences. Santa’s gonna for real put you on his naughty list. Nothing but coal in your stocking,” he huffs.

You give your mouth a reprieve and stroke him. “Is that all that happens to naughty girls?”

He gnaws at his bottom lip before offering, “You really wanna find out?”

You nod.

The ribbon binding Dean to the headboard shreds with one mighty tug. He pitches the sleigh bell in the air. It jingles as it pinballs around the room. 

You gasp as he cinches those hands under your armpits and drags you up his body. He crushes his lips into yours, tastes you with his tongue. The mixture of your arousal and a hint of peppermint melts you in his arms. Then, a sudden and swift rollover pins you beneath him.

He hovers, tosses your skirt up to your chest, and wedges between your legs. His hard, heavy cock slips into your folds and glides through your wetness. “I could drag this out. Or.” It’s his turn to tease. He notches snug against your entrance. You’re surprised your muscles haven’t pulled him into you of their own accord the way your entire body spasms with need. He whispers in your ear, “Let me be your Santa, baby.”

You gasp, “And hurry down the chimney tonight.”

He groans in victory and slides in, balls deep. He thrusts. One massive hand gathers your wrists together on the pillow above your head to anchor you in place. Fingers of his other hand grip the top of the headboard. Every sway in and out of you gets more frenetic. You’re screaming his name and he’s cursing yours. 

“Good girls do what they’re told,” he states, out of breath, face reddening. His gaze locks with yours. He slows down. Releases your hands. Finds your clit amid the white fur and red velvet. Strums. Angles and hits your sweet spot deep within you with a harsh abandon. “Come.”

Minutes later, after you’ve both orgasmed, you’re curled into his chest. “That was…” you manage between heavy exhales.

“Yeah, that was awesome.” He kisses your forehead. “Every year, since I saved you from that ghost on Christmas Eve, you find a way to outdo yourself with the holiday cheer.”

“Well, you deserve it. I’m glad you can get away for a little while and get a special treat.”

He sighs. “You know, you don’t have to feel obligated to…”

You rest a finger atop his lips. “How I see it. Guy saves your life one time, you owe him the rest of yours.”

He smiles and pulls you in. “How about we just focus on tonight, yeah?”

You nod. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

[cholla-the-hybrid]

I give you the starlight winglet of Jade Mountain Academy! Named after starlight gems! So I got the idea when I went down a rabbit hole on gems and stuff (long story). Then I thought, WOW wouldn't this be a nice name for a winglet! Sooooo I rounded up some of my ocs that didn't have a complete backstory and gave them one connecting to Jade Mountain Academy! I was like, "Mercury is in a winglet, why not put the others in a winglet too!" And Now, POOF- their a lovably dysfunctional family :> 🎊 💜

Meet the gang!

The starlight winglet:

Icewing: Vixen (Vix)

Mudwing: Musk' deer (Fawn/Musk)

Nightwing: Gemini' fate (Gem/ini)

Rainwing: Panda (Pan)

Sandwing?: Mercury (Mercy/Murk)

Seawing: Basilosourus |||| (Basil)

Skywing: Tea rose (Rosie/T)

This depicts the starlight winglet trying to study and cram for a big exam coming up! Vixen is guiding the group through the lesson as basil tries to tell her to slow down. Mercury is helping keep track of the sections. Then theirs Gemini, marveling and theorizing about the curriculum while Panda looks on with masked confusion. Tea is voicing frustrations with how fast vix is reading all while Fawn is half looking confusedly at Gem and half just trying to keep up with the lesson😭😅

THEIR SO DISFUNCTIONAL, I LOVE THEM SO MUCH-

(You can ask them any questions!)

Thanks for reading my ramble! Till next post!

[anxious-acorn]

I Turned the Corner 🔞

Chapter 4: Deal or Date? (Part 2)

Summary: Alastor swallows his nerves and makes his intentions clear.

Alastor was panicking. He could do this! He was a fucking overlord for Satan’s sake! He’d never felt nervous over something so small as a deal before. Or courtship, for that matter. Unfortunately, the further up the stairs he went, the faster his heart raced, and he felt glad for the natural hue of his ears, for they would certainly turn crimson beneath the fur.

Said ears pricked to attention when a series of yelps sounded- happy, if he was correct in his interpretation. Taking in a deep breath, he steeled himself and walked up the last steps to enter the parlor.

The sight that met him brought a bubbling laughter from his chest. There the two stood, Rosie scratching the base of an ear, Vixen thumping her foot and wagging her tail like a contented kit, eyes closed as she enjoyed the affection.

The two ladies turned at the sound, and he spoke as he joined them.

“I see you’ve been acquainted for some while. You wanted a mimosa, right Vixy?”

He offered her the libation, and he felt his chest tighten when her eyes widened, zooming over to accept it in a flash- what incredible speed for an average demon. Perhaps a perk of her manifestation. Alastor idly wondered if he was fast enough to catch the little vixen, should she run from him.

‘Focus, you fool,’ he thought to himself, handing a smirking Rosie her gin. She was far too good at reading him.

“This is delicious! You are a man of many talents,” Vixen complemented, and Alastor felt pride swell in his chest as he watched her enjoy his concoction. “And strong!”

She coughed a little before she drained the glass. Impressive- he usually had to take his time with bubbly drinks. The spell automatically refilled the glass, which seemed to, in turn, impress her. She thanked him again, and he felt light as a feather; as open and playful as she seemed, her manners were splendid.

“Happy to oblige, my dear,” he replied, smile softening as he took pleasure in observing her sip her second libation.

“Aww Alastor, I’ve never seen you so smitten before!” Rosie exclaimed, cupping her cheeks.

She did not just say that…

He couldn’t stop the record scratch that burst forth at his so-called ‘friend’s’ impromptu proclamation. Why had he wanted to have the brunch there again?

Face burning, Alastor shot the evil woman a deathly glare, smile tightening as he worked to overcome the overwhelming embarrassment.

“Rosie dear, your jest is quite uncouth,” he ground out. ‘Not yet… I’m not ready yet…’

He could never intimidate the older demon though, and she scoffed. “Oh, calm down, sweetheart, I know you’re an ace in the hole,” she waved him off, looking slyly over to Vixen.

‘A what now?’ He’d have to ask her later.

“But if I remember correctly, our sweet little Vixy is quite the opposite.” Was she trying to mess this up for him?

“Of course, darling! It’s rare I taste a coffee I do not like,” Vixen replied, placing her hand over her chest as she coyly fluttered her long lashes at the other woman. Well, at least she seemed to be taking Rosie’s taunts in stride. And were her eyelids naturally that lovely lavender shade?

His face was heating again, and the two women laughed at whatever shade he’d turned. He even felt his shadow split to enjoy his torture, so he formed a counterattack. If he planned on spending any amount of time with an adult performer, he’d need to learn to roll with her punches- but Satan would it take some getting used to. He took it as a challenge, and he loved a good challenge- especially when it was an exercise of control. He was very good at control.

“You laugh now, but as you so astutely observed earlier, our dear Rosie tends to drain her cup dry,” he teased, his shadow snickering in his ear. The little goblin just loved to see him knocked down a peg. An extra curse of his manifestation, to his endless annoyance.

Rosie was unfortunately also enjoying his sudden infatuated awkward attempts of socialization.

“Ah, but Alastor, dearest, you know it has to have the right cream and flavor to make a truly satisfying cup of coffee,” Rosie placed her arm around Vixen, leaning on her with a chuckle.

That he understood very well, and he did not care for the image it evoked. Rosie had always been crude when riled up- she’d gifted him those many, many bodice rippers after all, but he had (quite foolishly, in hindsight) assumed she would be helpful in this endeavor.

“I prefer my coffee black. It really let’s the natural flavor of the beans out.”

And he was lost again. Golfing, coffee- how many different ways would he have to learn to participate in these conversations? Looking at Vixen in confusion, he was relieved to notice his friend also seemed confused.

“Were… we still talking about sex?”

Was she attempting to relieve his suffering? He locked eyes with Rosie, before looking back to Vixen, curious to see where she would go.

“I was just really wanting some coffee,” Vixen clarified, a small blush lighting her cheeks. Oh, what a sweetheart!

He and Rosie burst into laughter. She would fit right in! Rosie handed Vixen the coffee stock list, snapping a perfectly made cup in front of her once ordered.

He felt curious as to how Rosie knew Vixen. She shared no resemblance to the residents of cannibal town, so he doubted Rosie held her soul. He was fairly certain Rosie didn’t own a picture box, but he couldn’t rule it out, knowing her tastes. Vixen seemed to be friends with several cannibettes though and had mentioned enjoying Rosie’s wares. So probably a cannibette, but not a resident. How had they not met before?

He was pulled from his thoughts at a sighing moan, and he looked over to see Vixen’s ears droop as she sipped at her beverage, half-finished mimosa forgotten in her other hand. She was so expressive- positively adorable!

“This is incredible- can I order three pounds while I’m here? I’ve been meaning to restock anyway.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart! We’ll just put this on ol’ Al’s tab,” Rosie responded with a wink before walking away. Oh, that brilliant, beautiful, gem of a woman.

He noticed Vixen move to stop her, and he quickly halted her. This was it. It was time to make his intentions clear.

“Think of it as part of the meal, dear. Let me treat you,” he implored, and he saw her eyes begin to fill with questions. He could practically see the wheels turning, and he swallowed his nerves and pride before speaking cautiously.

“I was wanting to run something by you, my dear, if you would be open to it.”

Guiding her to the table on the balcony, he pulled her chair out for her before seating himself across from her. He knew exactly how to get what he wanted. The only thing bothering him was his racing heart.

“Our dear Angel Dust had told me why you were wanting your pelt removed. Quite kind of you to go so far to bring joy to your friends. Extraordinary even,” he said, the image of those glistening exposed muscles making his mouth water and stomach rumble.

Vixen was staring at him, and he noticed that he enjoyed her transfixed expression- in a way he hadn’t enjoyed before. What was it about her? He continued.

“You still found a way to make a nice profit, of course, which is very clever.” Not a lie in the least. He felt a need to assure her of his indifference to her choice of career.

“So I was wondering…”

��Here goes, old boy. Let’s begin.’

“If for when you are called to fulfill an order.”

His heart was pounding in his ears, and the words felt heavy in his gut as he made his wishes known.

“You might allow me to assist.”

‘Steady does it. Stick the landing.’

“I’ve never met anyone quite like you, and I want to get to know you and your twisted little mind. I would of course offer you anything you want in return,” he finished, lowering his lids in a heated stare. Presumptuous to think a professional would pay for such, but he’d ascertained her attraction in their earlier conversation. Now that he knew she was highly principled in such matters, he felt certain she would not take the extent of said offer.

In fact…

“You… You’re offering…”

He was certain he’d be able to get through this without any unwanted activity. He dug in.

“Anything…”

This was a strange new feeling of power. Not unlike the feeling he got when striking fear in his victims. He felt almost giddy as he watched the little Vixen work through her thoughts. He quite liked this power.

“So… this brunch is…”

Oh, how delightful! He could savor this new flavor of power later. Time to put the poor dear out of her misery.

“A date? Not originally, but it would seem the feeling is mutual, so I believe it may be turning into one. Haha!”

Well, that wasn’t exactly his best work. He was still rusty with the flirting, and he nervously ran a hand through his hair, tugging gently to keep his wits about him.

Vixen perked up, “I was going to say deal proposal meeting, but date is much better!”

Oh. He’d misread, but no matter. Vixen was enthusiastically accepting his courtship proposal. Was his stomach suddenly moving to his throat? Now that it was happening, he felt oddly ill. How could illness feel… good?

“I suppose, in a way, it’s both,” he said. His plan was working.

“I want to do business with you, but I also would like to court you.”

‘Take the bait,’ he willed.

“Well, it would depend on the deal. Wouldn’t want to muddy the waters too much,” she giggled, placing her hand palm down halfway across the table. ‘Palm down- smart demon,’ he thought, meeting her halfway and placing his hand atop hers.

Her skin was soft and warm under his, and Alastor idly wondered how it would feel to simply hold it for pleasure.

“Of course not. You would be doing a great service for me if you would let me be your butcher, and outside of our deal, your beau.”

He’d apparently made her quite happy. Her shadow separated and began zooming around the room, off the balcony and back to swirl around him before his shadow gave chase- the unruly cretin. Though he had to admit, it was cute watching the two play together.

“Well, I’m a shrewd businesswoman. You have knowledge in treating pelts, I assume?”

Her question caught his attention, and he nodded, hopeful of what she would propose. He was very knowledgeable in pelts. Pelts, bones, meat- he was an expert.

“As well as being my butcher, you will treat my pelts and tails when I need it. It’s a tedious task,” she finished, and Alastor felt a swell of excitement. Not only was she not expecting sexual favors, she was offering a favorite hobby (albeit unknowingly) as his payment. He was up in the clouds with giddiness!

“Also, I’d like just one of the sessions to be broadcast,” she added, and he quirked an eyebrow in question. Was she also offering…

“It’s kinda been a running fantasy of mine. What can I say? I’m a freak,” she shrugged nonchalantly as though she hadn’t just given him said fantasy. Oh yes, he would certainly be amenable to those terms.

He imagined her screaming for him over his airwaves, and his body began responding, antlers growing heavy on his head as his eyes bled black, red dials switching.

“Are those terms acceptable?”

‘Control yourself, you caveman,” he worked to fix his features, but noticed that Vixen didn’t seem to be afraid in the least. Her scent had warmed, that unfamiliar spice amplifying.

“Forgive me, my dear. As you so aptly put, I’m not exactly used to romance or… or lust.” Is that really what he was experiencing? Did he want her?

“This is unfamiliar territory for me.” Definitely not a lie. ‘Oh, if pops could see me now- howlin’ at a doll for a little lovin’.’

“Yes, your terms are acceptable. It’s a deal,” he finished, turning his hand to lock with hers.

That was when he felt the signature of her demonic aura, that familiar excitement filling him at the success of a well-made deal. Watching her slight transformation, he admired the red splotches that scattered her growing fur, the most prominent sitting perfectly centered on her forehead. How many gunshot victims had he come across in Hell over the years? Far too many to count- himself included.

The air whirled around them, animal calls blending together as the deal was sealed before calming. Vixen looked a bit windswept, eyelids lowering as she let out a soft breath. She looked… wild… tantalizing…

“Everything alright in here?” Rosie called as she walked back into the room with their meals. Impeccable timing, as always. She could have easily just snapped their meals perfectly prepared, but Alastor knew she had been giving him the space and time to accomplish his goal. And he’d made out like a bandit on the breeze! He’d need to think of a suitable gift for her assistance.

He wanted to laugh when he noticed Vixen sipping pointedly at her coffee, avoiding the topic. If she wished for him to clarify the situation, he would do so; but it would be at her expense.

With a quirk of his lips, he answered. “Yes dear, Y/N and I were just finishing a bit of business before we got down to pleasure.”

Vixen blushed a glowing crimson, spluttering in her coffee as Rosie barked out a hearty laugh, and Alastor had to work to keep his features neutral.

“Well, shit! I think I may have missed more than I thought! Catch me up you two!” Rosie sat down and laid out a whole mess of eats- his friend was really going all out. Grabbing a plate, he picked out a nice sizzling belly as he responded.

“Well Rosie dear, the stars have aligned, and the lovely Y/N has accepted two of my proposals, one of which has taken her officially off the market.” He laid his hand out to make a show of affection, but it looked like Vixen was far more interested in her food for the moment. A lady after his own heart!

“Good for you two, sweethearts! Isn’t love just heavenly!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands to her cheeks- ever the hopeless romantic. The woman loved love.

“I don’t think those in Heaven would appreciate you calling what we have heavenly,” Vixen chuckled between bites. He and Rosie laughed at that. No; what they had was definitely not that. And he couldn’t wait to enjoy the fruits of their deal.

——-//:/::://////———//::::///:::——/:::;;

“I suppose it was a good idea having brunch. I do believe we’ve talked the day away,” Alastor declared as he walked Vixen home. The day had been one of the most pleasant he’d had in some time, spent drinking and gabbing with the two women.

It was easy to be around Vixen; to talk with her and relax. She had an air of confident nonchalance about her, as though nothing in the underworld could bother her. He’d found that he quite enjoyed her attentions, catching her staring several times, brilliant ruby hearts meeting his own gaze.

“Ah, but what wonderful company!” Vixen skipped a few steps, “I can’t remember the last time I had such fun! Thank you for the lovely day, and the coffee.” She held the small offering up in emphasis, and he felt his chest swell in response. The sensation was intriguing- familiar, yet novel.

When they reached her home, he was surprised and impressed to discover that, within the blown out, dilapidated building, she’d created a dimensional abode that looked quite comfortable. A bit modern for his tastes, but at least it wasn’t rundown like it had first appeared. What would he have done if it had been? No matter.

“Would you like to come in?” Vixen cocked her head in question, and he felt his heart quicken. She was only inviting him in. She wouldn’t be expecting intimacy right away, would she?

Perhaps she would settle for a compromise. With a subtle breath, Alastor spoke, “I would love to darling, but I think I should return to the hotel.”

Stepping closer, he enjoyed the way her eyes widened ever so slightly at his nearness. Time to test himself.

“May I kiss you, my Vixen?”

A compromise she eagerly accepted, stepping closer to wrap her arms around his torso.

He was mildly surprised that he didn’t hate the feeling. Though still not wholly comfortable with being touched, Alastor took a moment to gauge his reaction before leaning his head down to cautiously capture her lips.

This was… not unpleasant.

Vixen sighed into the kiss and pressed herself closer, and that’s when he felt the jolt of heat. He wanted more.

Thankfully Vixen didn’t try to put her tongue in his mouth, dragging those luscious obsidian lips over his in a sensual dance that left him feeling lightheaded.

They stayed there like that, and Alastor was surprised that he didn’t want to pull away. He truly did want to go inside and explore these new sensations- what else would he be able to enjoy with her?

‘Let’s not put the cart before the horse, old boy.’ His mind began clearing, and he pulled away, immediately wishing to go back. Back to those beautiful lips.

His heart was racing, and he noticed an electric thrill shoot through him when he opened his heavy lids to gaze at his disheveled sweetheart. She looked positively ravishing.

‘We should go in,’ he heard his shade chirp amorously from within, and he was extraordinarily tempted to do so.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” his words came softer than he’d planned, a light breathy tone that left him a bit embarrassed.

Vixen was apparently experiencing similar feelings, a dreamy smile dancing on those lovely lips.

“Goodnight, Alastor,” she replied, leaning on the door frame to watch him walk away. At that he forced himself to turn around and dip into his shadows to leave. Annoyingly, his shade split to wave goodbye, shouting that he’d do better next time. It was a good thing other demons couldn’t understand the little imp. How embarrassing.

When finally he made it home, he slithered straight under his door and formed in his room. Bringing his hand up to gingerly place at his chest, he felt the pounding of his heart and tried to calm it, rubbing at the unfamiliar ache.

He couldn’t believe he’d actually willingly, enthusiastically asked another demon to be his sweetheart. His mama would be falling to pieces in joy.

Walking over to an armchair, Alastor conjured up a notebook and pen, seating himself and opening to the first page as he contemplated his reactions and symptoms. As terrifying as the prospect of wanting a romance was, Alastor found himself interested and excited to learn something new after all these years.

When finished writing his thoughts, Alastor flipped the notebook closed and replaced his pen with a marker. He took a moment to ponder before settling on a title. There. That was good enough.

Standing, he shimmied the notebook between a couple of hardbacks and decided to wander the hallways, spooking any unassuming passersby as he went. Today had been just lovely.

Unassuming, the notebook sat in wait for the next scribbling. The title?

‘Experiments in Romance’.

——————End of Ch.—————-

Alrighty! Hope you enjoyed reading. I just love our hungry little eldritch horror 🥰

If you’d like to be on the tag list, let me know. Til next time, be kind to yourself!

Taglist: @sirens-and-moonflowers

[joodeeboochoo]

Haunting hollow sounds and eerieness! The gorgeous goth vixen Miss Mannequin is at our pink throne. Amongst all the warm pink she is giving you GOTH and DARK VIBES! She has our digital stethescope placed over her chest. Amongst the hollow sounds and dark spirits you....let me crank the volume up...YES! There it is! Her beating heart. Oh she has a fast heartbeat! Guh-gunk guh-gunk guh-gunk guh-gunk! It's just beating away. Enjoy the sounds VIP. 

The captivating goth enchantress, Miss Mannequin, reigns supreme on our plush pink throne. Amidst the sea of rosy hues, she's channeling all those GOTH and DARK VIBES! 🖤👑🌙

With a digital stethoscope placed over her chest, amidst the eerie echoes and shadowy spirits,....let me crank up the volume.... YES! There it is! Her beating heart! Oh wow she has a fast heartbeat! Guh-gunk guh-gunk guh-gunk guh-gunk! 💓💀 It's racing away, a mesmerizing rhythm.

[asterdisaster06]

Strawberry Pie

Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

summary > The four times Simon helped you, and the one time you helped him.

word count > 2.5k

cw > Serial killer AU. Inaccurate police information + procedures for plot reasons. Allusion to murder + getting away with crimes, yeah, that’s the kind of help (:<

a/n >  inspired by hannibal + “strawberry” by andrew montana

ao3

“How does it look?” A simple twirl following the words accompanying the small smile. Lips painted blood red with a new lipstick. 

“Beautiful love, absolutely stunning,” Simon says with a slow blink, a cat-like behaviour to express his adoration for you.

“I found this sundress while out shopping. And I got my nails done while I was at it! I followed your recommendation,” You answer with a smile as soft as the blanket beneath your rosy fingertips. 

“And the lipstick?” Simon asks, tilting his head. 

“Something I found in college. It’s served me well all these years,” You send a grin filled with sharp teeth towards Simon. His sweet little vixen. 

“Others would call you crazy,” Simon mentions, the teasing tone trailing off as he stares at you intently.

“But?”

“But, I admire your gumption, sweetheart,” Simon says, cupping your face gently in his hands; laying a tender kiss on the tip of your nose.

“You missed,” You remark with a twinkle in your eye.

“Oh did I now?” His voice softened from its usual gruff timbre. 

Simon RIley leans in to kiss your forehead, and then one corner of your mouth to the other, and then finally landed home onto your lips. He didn’t seem to mind the transfer of dye nor the chastising you did because of it. It was messy, it was sweet, it was entirely and so wholefully the two of you with the only disturbance being the gentle breeze shifting the pastel curtains. The ones that Simon insisted on keeping open to let the precious sunlight in - he claims that the way it brushes against your skin is a look into heaven itself. 

“Okay, okay, I really have to go this time. You’ve kept me trapped here like your little Rapunzel for far too long, Simon,” You urgently get out between fits of laughter and giggles alike. 

“So satanic, the way you plan to simply leave the love of your life here to die alone,” Your boyfriend sighs, sagging back into the comfort of the mattress you both were now laying on. Of course, he was being dramatic. As per usual. It would be endearing if it wasn’t so humorous to see the giant of a man turn into a feeble ghost of the soldier he usually is. Price would be proud to see that his subordinate does in fact have some humanity left within himself. 

“Don’t panic. You’ll live, I’m sure of it,” You reply, giving him a sympathetic kiss on the cheek, before getting up.

“Hey love?”

“Yes, Simon?”

“You missed,” Was all he could get out before you rolled your eyes and gave him exactly what he wanted - despite the fact that it made you a minute late. 

. . .

“Welcome to our humble abode,” You smile, giving a sweet little twirl and a flourish of your arms. The team had to admit that it was a cosy little thing out in the sticks. The interior design was no doubt your doing, a cottagecore vibe, considering the fact that Simon was limited to plain walls being his entire experience. Plants here and there, sunlight streaming through the glass paned windows, and pots and pans hanging with their herb friends. 

“Thank you for having us,” Price responds.

“What he said,” Came from the other two. 

“Where’s your lover?” Soap asks teasingly.

“Oh, he’s out in the garden gathering a few last minute spices,” You say, a gentle expression taking over your features at the thought of your love doing so much for you. You see the group share a knowing look and a few chuckles were heard from behind you. A soft reminder is all they need to stop with their shenanigans while you’re cooking. Of course, Gaz offers a helping hand with chopping up various vegetables for the stew and Price had called dibs on doing the dishes. He claims it was the least he could do for the host. Soap on the other hand insists on being the taste tester. A gentle ring of a bell alerts you to Simon coming in from the outside, completely drenched. 

“What happened to you? You look like a stray dog,” You laugh, leaning against the counter. 

“In my defence, it started as a drop before it ended up pouring a minute later,” Simon grumbled, 

“We’ve needed a good shower, wouldn’t you say? Good for the fertiliser,” You say, sending your lover a wink as you scoot over to allow him access to the sink.

A playful eye roll is what you earn in response as he says, “This is what I get for agreeing to hide out in the country.”

“Bite your tongue if you know what’s good for you,” You nudge him good-naturedly. 

“You know I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, love,” He says, facial expression softening into pure adoration. He sends you this look even as he’s scrubbing his hands of the dirt and blood from the garden. The scent of decay quickly running down the drain, tainting the water black. 

“I know. My saviour day in and day out, wouldn’t you say?”

Before Simon got the chance to answer, the timer - the one in the shape of a chicken because Simon just couldn’t say no when you held it up to him with those puppy dog eyes - went off. 

“Your world famous strawberry pie? Again?” You click your tongue and shake your head with a sly smile.

“It’s world famous for a reason, love. And, we have guests that have yet to taste my creation,” Simon grins back at you. 

“Whatever you say, Simon,” You huff out with a laugh. 

Laughter filled the air as the dinner party continued later into the night before it all quieted down with the departure of the boys. A simple contentment washes over the two of you left on the couch, a fleece blanket encasing your figures. Something about it warmed your beating heart as you listened to the rhythm of Simon’s long after you drifted off into unconsciousness. 

. . .

“Simon, you wouldn’t happen to be busy right now, would you?”

“Of course not, love. What do you need?” Simon answers over the phone.

“There was a roadkill accident, and my car isn’t in tip top shape anymore. Do you think you could come pick me up? I’m about two klicks down the road from our house,” You say, your phone tucked in between your ear and shoulder as you slide latex gloves over your hands. 

“As you wish,” Simon’s voice rumbles in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

You drag the corpse into the bushes and thank whoever was listening that the only evidence left was the blood pool. It would be quite a shame if any innocent had to feast their eyes on the remains of the carrion. Vultures would have to find another meal elsewhere - this one was yours. Right on time, Simon’s car reverberated down the gravel lane. 

“I didn’t think you would become so reckless, angel,” Simon chuckles, hopping out of his truck to help you lift the body into the back of his car. 

“I like the word hasty more. It sounds better, don’t you think?”

“Whatever you call it, just remember I’m always here to help clean up your messes.”

“And I you, darling,” You nudge Simon as he opens the car door for you. 

“I should’ve seen it in your eyes when we first started seeing each other. You were trying to warn me,” Simon chuckles, humour lacing his words. 

“I always wanted to be able to see you in the morning, Simon,” You begin solemnly. “I don’t wanna be alone, it’s quite boring, isn’t it?” You shrug. 

“Oh, baby, let me finish. I’m keeping you, you menace. Until the day one of us kills the other,” Simon smiles, giving your hand a tight squeeze. 

“That would be how it ends, wouldn’t it?”

“Of course, there’s no other way,” Simon says, a simple grin on his lips. A rare sight, but a common one with you. And just like the rain, it was washed away just as quickly.

. . .

“Shit, love, did you go after a military man?” SImon asks as he gently wipes away dirt and grime from your face. Your clothes were receiving the same treatment in the washer after you took a shower.

“I somehow doubt her boyfriend got into the military with that weak of a punch. He just got the jump on me. . . and had a pocket knife,” You explain, wincing when Simon brushed over your wounds. 

“That would explain all these lacerations, now wouldn’t it?”

“Actually those were from the girl clawing me half to death. The guy did jack all if I’m being honest. Tried to run like a pussy too,” You laugh, your ribs protesting at the act. 

“Sounds like you did her a favour, showing her the real colours of her boyfriend. A shame she isn’t alive to make a change,” He hums, confidently bandaging your arms and face like he had done a million times before. And like he would continue to do a thousand times over. As he does that you down a cheap whiskey from the bottle to ease the pain. 

“Quite a shame. Almost as much as the fact that I have some cleaning up to do later. They were surprisingly bloody for how little it took to bring them down,” You sigh, raking your hands through your hair before realising your hands were still stained metallic red.

“You just take a shower and leave the rest to me,” Simon says with a quirk at the edge of his lips. 

“What would I do without you?”

“Probably end up in jail.”

“That’s both true and insulting.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

. . .

“Simon? I think it’s time for a change.”

“What colour?”

“You know me so well. I was thinking something colourful this time around, really make the sight a seemly one before they meet their end,” You say, looking in the mirror and preemptively mourning for the identity that would be no longer. 

Not if Simon had any say in it. He had a surprising knack for disguise; although, you suspect that a few missions would require a little bit of magic to make it work. Odd, though, considering it’s doubtful that anyone would be left to tell the tale of the infamous Simon “Ghost” Riley. 

“You just get into the bathroom, I’ll be there soon with the dye,” Simon calls out from across the house. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Not today,” Simon answers.

“Well, I love you very much for all that you do for me,” You say, expressing your thanks.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Simon chuckles, entering the bathroom with all that you could ever need for an identity change. “Although, have you ever considered wearing a mask? Speaking from personal experience, it does make a wonderful impression alongside shielding you from the public eye.”

You hum thoughtfully before responding with, “I have, although I’ve discovered the personal touch makes it all the more better. That, and, I think between the two of us, you pull it off way better than I ever could.”

“If you insist, love,” Simon laughs, the sound reverberating throughout you. 

“It’s the truth, now which colour would suit me better?” You ask, alternating two dyes in your hand and in your favour. 

“Tough question. I fear we might need a second opinion,” He teases. 

“You know me too well, get the team on the phone,” You grin, practically bubbling over with excitement. Some may say you were too enthusiastic given the circumstances, but not Simon. He always supported you in your little hobby and dinner parties - much to your surprise. He was everything that you could’ve ever asked for, and more.

. . .

“Hey, love, are you busy right now?” Simon asks over the phone - a surprising event considering that he was never one for calls. They irked him, verbatim words that make you giggle at the absurdity of all.

“No, of course not, Simon. What do you need?” You ask, slightly busy with cooking dinner but Simon always came first. You did put him on speaker though to make it a little easier. 

“Could you come down to the station? Some stories need to be set straight, if you know what I mean,” Simon almost growls out.

“I’ll be there in five,” You reply, dropping the pleasantries as a dark look overtakes you. 

. . .

“What seems to be the problem, Officer?” You ask, acting the part of an innocent victim.

“Can I get you some water?” Fake pleasantries. Nothing upset you more.

“No thank you. I’d prefer to get this cleared up as soon as possible, sir,” You spit out, decisive and curt with your words. 

“Of course. There appears to be significant evidence that forty-eight hours ago your significant other was put at the scene of a crime near the Lincoln bar. Likely as a perpetrator,” Is what the officer tells you, much to your chagrin. Despite the calm facade that you were putting forth, you were fighting the urge to roll your eyes. You know exactly what happened, exactly who was killed, and the reason behind it was all because of a jealous spat between Simon and a man who had the misfortune of hitting on you in front of the infamous Ghost. He just couldn’t control himself when it came to you.

“I find that highly unlikely,” You say brusquely.

“And why is that?”

“He was at the Lincoln bar, but both myself and three other people were with him the entire night. Here, I’ll write their numbers down,” You say, quickly uncapping the pen on the table. 

“We’ve already checked the surveillance, but thank you for these witnesses. There is a gap of time between 9:31 PM and 9:39 PM that we are awfully curious about.”

“From what I remember, he went to the bathroom,” You answer genuinely.

They continued their line of questioning, asking if you had any connection to the victim, if you had seen anyone suspicious, along with other interrogations that all ended with the classic ‘if you think of anything else, notify us.’ You had high hopes that Simon would be released almost immediately and you were proven right when he walked right out of the building over to where you were on the curb. 

“There’s my saviour,” Simon says, embracing you tightly.

“You haven’t forgotten our promise, right?” You ask with a smile.

“Of course not, love. I simply wanted to show my appreciation, as per usual,” Simon chuckles lightly.

“Be your alibi, and never ask why,” You say, interlocking your pinky with Simons.

“Never ask why,” Simon whispers back, promising it like a vow. 

“The boys invited us out to dinner at Price’s, angel. You feeling up to it?” You ask.

“Always if it involves you,” Simon flirts.

You roll your eyes, replying with, “You menace.”

“You know you love me,” Simon laughs. And you did. So, very, much. 

[roamingleaf]

"A Strangers Note"

TW: Masturbation, Stalking, Blackmail, Humiliation, R@pe,

As the sun was set to retire from its stage staining the cloudless sky and the moon was starting to tint that ocean skyline a violet purple, Aubrey couldn't help but feel exhausted from her long day in the office. Today had seemingly been no different from yesterday, or the day before, or--come to think of it, she hadn't noticed how often the days where starting to blur. Nevertheless, the familiar turn, and click of her apartment door was always enough to put a pep in Aubrey's dainty step.

No sooner could that door swing open, did our drained minx find relief from those dreaded, raven black stilettos.

"Finally!" Exclaimed our worn-out vixen. Surely spent from the avalanche of emails and paper works she had to bravely face. All the while navigating the fields of gazes from far and wide that crept across every inch of Aubrey's curving, almond sun kissed physique.

Once those shackles of modernity had found their way back on to the rack that sat perched by the entrance of her door; the form-fitting maroon skirt that desperately clung to her rolling hills would find a new home on the floor not but mere steps away from that rack thanks to a few well placed tugs. Next came a few buttons of her laced trimmed black button up.

The further away from the bustling herd of the world she got, the more those same worries of the day faded into oblivion. Though, more important work was at hand during this witching hour: That being of how much sweet Chardonnay should grace Aubrey's candied lips.

While the crystal wine flowed like a river over the plush, pastel bluffs of her lips Aubrey couldn't help but notice a breezing, white note seemingly stuck to the bottom of her window. Would it be the curiosity, or the wine, that carried those curvaceous thighs towards the letter. Either way, her fingers had been fast at work unwrapping the maze like note to find it read:

"Good Evening Little One. Did you wear that skirt just for me? You must have known my eyes would be glued to the way your tanned peach so elegantly peaked from beneath that maroon cover. What I wouldn't do to know if It felt as soft as the clouds."

A bright scarlet blush spread across her golden cheeks as she read some admirers savory, brazen testament. By the point that note had come to a conclusion the glass had been emptied, set on the nightstand; as other thoughts started to take root Aubrey knew the pyre that hid deep inside her was starting to be stoked by the thought of this mysterious man.

Before Aubrey knew it, a finger, or two had snuck their way down her sweeping, glowing, canvas as if they were racing to see which would find the sticky, glistening treasure hidden behind a snow white, thinly laced, pair of panties.

"Mnh...What am I doing.." Aubrey questioned as she braced herself for her fingers imminent impact with pleasure. Before any other playful inquiries could escape those lips her whispery, intoxicating moans unsuspectingly slipped out as those dreaded fingers begin their lustful dance across that lace covered stage. At first, it seemed the dance would have to struggle through the smothering, cozy, clamps of pillowy thighs pressing against one another, nevertheless, it wouldn't be long that our scarlet minx would seek a new position.

Resting back against the arm rest, her golden, thick arches were spread like butter for her exploring fingers to continue mapping out the secrets of her sacred shrine. Her little middle finger was sure to trace the slippery outlines of her rosy lips till the drenched juices all but soaked that pattern across the lace covering. As that dreaded index finger, never one to be outshined was hard at work circling her pulsating button. There was no more confusion left in her mind by this point, the wine had fully helped her slip into true bliss.

As this sweet symphony softly hummed through her apartment something sinister was stirring. Stashed off in a closet shrouded by shadow was a man, whose camera was more than eager to capture the tantalizing performance playing out before him.

"F-Fuck..." Muttered Aubrey's tender symphony. This thorough exploration was becoming too much for her shrine to take. Without a second thought, almost if guided by the haunting orchestra of her own echoing moans her pearly panties were pulled to the side. With her sparkling, slippery, cove now exposed to the night her trouble making middle finger was swift to slip between those blushing lips to feel the tightness of her own quivering cove.

Unfortunately for Aubrey, that strange, dark, cameraman took this as a prime opportunity for a better sight of such artwork. The winds carried his legs swiftly from the confines of that closet and down that narrowed hallway. All the while recording every last writhe, squirm, and shake Aubrey made.

Aubrey could feel her stingy shrine clinging hungrily to her thrusting finger, it could only mean one thing; Her climax was all but a few more hungry thrusts away.

"I'm cumming..."

As she proclaimed those two precious words, her finger never stopped its relentless thrust inside that gushing cove. All but forcing her head back from pleasure just to be met with the dreaded reality of a phone camera that was not hers. Despite this shocking realization starting to sink in, that long deserved eruption could not be stopped. Even as Aubrey's shimmering, brown eyes stared in shame into that cold lens her cove would not stop till every last drop was squeezed from it.

"What a fucking Whore."

Those would be the last coherent words Audrey would remember from what was supposed to be a well earned restful evening.

-🪶

[worldhistoryfacts]

There was a surprising amount of anti-forest-fire propaganda during World War II:

{Buy me a coffee} {WHF} {Medium} {Looking Through the Past}

Why was the American government so worried about forest fires? And what did this have to do with Bambi and Smokey the Bear? Click below to find out:

[edgessunflower]

Day 4 Peonies: Beauty in everything

Pairing: Chyna x Fem reader

Description: You remind Chyna that she's beautiful in and out and beauty is not just for certain people

Chyna had never truly felt beautiful but god she knew you were and always wondered how she got lucky to have and love you but you always remind her that fate had it's ways and brought the two of you together. She is brought out of her thoughts when you walk in her locker room carrying something in your arm giving her a bouquet of Peonies all different colors and beautiful giving her a soft kiss with the sweetest smile "What's this for?" you wrap your arms around her as she blushes a rosy pink at the action "To remind you that you're always beautiful inside and out" her heart swells and tears form in her eyes caressing your face before pulling you into a tender kiss "Beauty isn't just for the people that everyone says are beautiful for certain things, beauty is in and for everybody no matter what beauty is in everything" she melts from head to toe with love realizing not only were you right about everything to do with beauty but just how unlimited and boundless the love you had for her was in this emotional sweet moment between the two of you before walking to the ring. After her promo and two matches you go to the ring for your highly awaited match against Ivory rolling your eyes at her rant before the crowd was pissed "And I can't wait to show how much of a vixen you are" before you could attack her chyna's theme plays turning to see her walking down the ramp with rage in her eyes "Ivory didn't I say that you could trash talk me all you want but to leave my girl alone?" you swing and hit her with a clothesline going into a full on attack letting out all the anger for the things she did to you, chyna, and your friends who had to deal with RTC and their bullshit for too long that no one deserved to have to deal with "One thing you don't know is that there's beauty in everything and everyone just the way they are and things are" chyna pulls you into a warm hug backstage noticing the same look in your eyes that she's had when she felt hatred toward herself "You're beautiful in and out more than you know" nothing else was said as you hold each other in her locker room sticking a peony in her hair before heading out to dinner together right after Raw finished up.

[oupires]

⋆  .       ♱ ﹐       an   abrupt,   heated   kiss   during   the   middle   of   a   fight,   from   @crimlune   ╱   laura.

THE   WORLD   IS   A   CANVAS   PAINTED   CRIMSON   in   carmilla’s   vision,   a   rage   comparable   to   that   of   a   wild   animal   barely   kept,   leashed,   at   bay.   she   turns   away,   her   back   facing   laura   —   her   lovely,   seraphic,   ruthless   laura,   who   denies   her   what   little   pleasure   a   creature   as   pitiful   as   herself   can   find   in   life.   how   could   someone   as   kind   as   her   precious   laura   be   so   vile,   so   inconsiderate?

❝  oh,   laura  ...  ❞   she   sighs,   a   lamentable   sound   from   that   sultry   voice.   with   fresh   vigour,   so   unlike   her   usual   frail   disposition,   carmilla   leaps   across   the   bedroom,   landing   face   to   face   with   sweet   laura,   cupping   her   rosy   cheeks   in   her   frigid,   sharp   fingers.   with   senses   overcome   by   those   honeyed,   floral   scents,   this   proximity reduces   the   creature   masquerading   as   a   woman   to   her hunger,   to   an   insatiable,   ravenous   thing.   ❝  you   were   born   to   complete   me,   as   i   you!  ❞   she   bemoans,   her   intense   gaze   unwavering   —   was   her   laura   truly   this   blind,   this   mindless,   that   she   could   not   see   reason,   or   was   it   a   viper’s   farce?   was   her   hesitance   just   foolish,   or   was   it   a   calculated   scheme,   a   blade   aimed   at   poor   carmilla’s   heart?   oh,   curse   her!   —   this   loathsome   lark,   this   wondrous   witch   who   has   captured   her   rotting,   still   heart.   ❝  must   you   find   pleasure   in   my   ache?  ❞

eyes   dark   as   the   night,   black   and   starless,   stalk   the   cherished   face   of   her   beloved   laura   like   a   plea,   but   what   they   find   does   not   sate.   red,   mad,   beastial,   harpy   —   that’s   all   carmilla   is;   merciful   no   longer,   with   a   patience   that   has   waned,   she   cannot   yearn   from   afar   no   more.   her   beaten   into   stillness   pulse   rises   from   its   ashes,   pounding   in   the   rhythm   of   a   famished   symphony,   of   one   must   claim   their   fate—bound   mate.

she   breaks   from   that   cage,   she   —   this   lustful   countess   who   takes   and   takes   and   takes,   who   offers her   damned,   devout   soul   in   return   for   damning   another.   and   now   she   takes   laura,   sealing   the   foreordained   claim   on   her   girl   with   her   ghostly,   inhuman   kiss.   and   oh!   —   how   scorching   her   living   skin   is,   burning   brighter   than   the   cruelest   sun;   and   how   feverish   the   pleasure   carmilla   draws   from   it!   her   nails   —   a   falconer’s   talons   —   dig   into   pristine   cheeks   of   the   breathing   vixen,   as   if   this   angelic   purity   of   hers   could   be   consumed,   as   if   that   meal   could   replenish   her   desolate   soul   and   banish   the   beast   from   the   demised   woman.   ❝  see?  ❞   she   moans,   and it’s   an   ugly,   filthy   sound   breathed   into   soft,   human   lips.   ❝  the   stars   have   bound   us   together  ...  we   must   not   fight this,   sweet   laura.  ❞