#the green and gold suit her very very well
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katelynnwrites · 14 days ago
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jule brand, england vs germany, international friendly, 26/10/24
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redsray · 8 months ago
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Batkids playing any kind of board game but make it extra competitive because whoever wins gets to choose what Bruce wears for the next gala.
Bruce, in a sparkly top and skinny jeans:
Reporter: Ah, who chose your outfit tonight, Brucie?
Bruce: That'd be my eldest, dear!
Dick, behind him, full into the gala persona: Flattering, isn't it? He should wear it more often, don't you think, sweetheart?
Reporter, flushed: Oh, absolutely.
Bruce (to Dick): Get a new fashion style. Please.
Dick: Never.
Reporter: Who would be responsible for your wardrobe tonight, Brucie? It's certainly a statement.
Bruce, head to toe in a pink suit and Hello Kitty accessories: Gorgeous, isn't it? All the credit will have to be given to Jason, though, I'm afraid.
Reporter: Your second son, if I'm not mistaken?
Bruce: The very one.
Jason from across the gala hall, trying to not cough up his drink with laughter:
Tim, next to him: He's pulling it off, though. Little spins and everything.
Jason: Still ridiculous. That's Batman right there, Timbo.
Tim, snickering: The Dark Knight, huh?
Bruce, dressed in a collared white shirt, sweater and skirt, looking like he just came out of a light academia novel:
Reporter: Wow, Brucie. Who do we thank for that wonderful outfit choice?
Bruce: Ah, flattering, is it not? Tim's choices when it comes to fashion are wonderful, if not a bit simple.
Tim, nodding from behind him: Only the finest satin skirts. Charming, right?
Tim, to Bruce: Don't call my style simple, Mr. all I wear is black.
[Jason handing Dick $10 in the background because Bruce does, in fact, pull off a skirt.]
Reporter: Oh lord, what a gown! Who influenced your fashion choice tonight, Brucie?
Bruce, in a long green and black gown with gold accessories, nothing short of royal-looking: I fear only one person I know could choose an outfit as gorgeous as this one.
Damian, proudly next to him, in a smaller, matching gown: Only the most exquisite. You lot in this flimsy country cannot compare.
Bruce: Yes, Damian has a fine taste in fashion. He gets it from his mother.
Damian, quieter: Well certainly not from you.
Bruce, dressed in an elegant white dress shirt, long black pants and a corset with red accessories, a fan in his right hand:
Reporter: What an entrance! Anyone to give credit to for the wardrobe, Brucie?
Bruce: That'd be my daughter, she certainly shines with her choice of clothing.
Cass, grinning with a matching fan: Very pretty.
Bruce: Thank you, Cass.
Reporter: Woah, that's certainly new. Any reason for this choice of clothes, Brucie, dear?
Bruce, in a snapback cap, loose jeans and a band t-shirt, complete with rings and a chain around his neck: Well, all of my children are creative, but... Duke might just take the cake for this one, love.
Duke, losing his absolute shit next to Jason, Dick and Tim: You look great, B.
Steph doesn't usually go to galas, but she participates in the game nevertheless. If she wins, god help Bruce, because it's a gamble with her. He either ends up wearing a gorgeous outfit with eccentric and trend-setting accessories or literal checkered pyjamas. Worst yet, he has to say he picked it himself, since he can't directly blame Steph.
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🪱🧠 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠🪱
It's Wednesday, peeps! Post a brainworm, tag some friends!
Today, I'm thinking about ...
... Eddie playing guitar in the band on a luxury cruise ship. Sure, the passengers are a bunch of snobby assholes with an abominable taste in music, but Wayne was so eager for him to fill in when his coworker's son broke that arm, and the pay is decent. Almost worth putting on the straightjacket of a suit and the bowtie that makes him feel like a clown.
At least he isn't stuck doing the entertainment programme for the passengers’ spoiled little brats. He's seen the stupid, cheap costumes in the staff garderobe. The seams on that Peter Pan costume are frayed and coming apart, and whatever poor girl has to play Tinkerbell will barely be able to cover her ass in that flimsy dress.
Except the person who shows up to collect the brats on the first day, clad in sheer tights and the skimpy green atrocity, glittery tulle wings strapped to their back, isn't a girl. Eddie’s fingers fumble on the guitar strings - not that he can be blamed, he thinks - and Tinkerdude turns and fucking winks at him. He herds the brats out and into the waiting arms of his partner, a lanky, freckled chick wearing what looks like … yup, the Peter Pan costume. Then he's gone, leaving Eddie marveling at the vision he just beheld.
He meets Tinkerdude in the garderobe later that night (and absolutely doesn't almost swallow his own tongue, thank you very much), and the next night, and the night after that. Over the course of the cruise, Eddie finds out more and more about him.
His name is Steve. He's set to study business economics. He'd rather do something with kids, but his dad insisted he take over the family business. Right now, he's doing a gap year, getting to know different jobs on the cruise line. He wears the skimpy fairy costume so that his partner Robin won't have to. He likes sports and 80s pop music, he has a heart of gold and a delightfully bitchy sense of humor, and he makes the sweetest little noises when Eddie fucks him against the wall of the staff garderobe on the last night of the cruise.
And if Eddie gets a call a few weeks later, asking him to play guitar on another ship because the son of the cruise line's owner specifically requested him? Well, he's about to find out one more thing about Steve.
Edit: The incredible @arelliann drew Steve and Robin in their costumes!!! 💚
Some no-pressure tags: @eyesofshinigami @a-little-unsteddie @steddie-island @vegasol @medusapelagia
@sunflowerharrington @matchingbatbites @devondespresso @tangerinesteve
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repulsiveliquidation · 7 months ago
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Two is Better than One || The Orgy
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Part 4 of The Orgy
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.
warnings : Mommy/Daddy kink, oral sex, anal sex, pillow riding, plug usage, strap-ons, swearing, dirty talk (degrading)
The cameras flashed with every move she made. Her hair was perfect. Her makeup was flawless. Her suit was impeccably made. It fits every curve, toned muscle, and pound of flesh she had, not a single stitch out of place. She was La Reina of course, perfect in every shape and form.
The beige complimented her skin beautifully, her confidence allowed for nothing underneath to look so elegant and poise. She smiled like she owned the place, the cries for her to look a certain direction normally bubbled her anxiety but tonight she was feeling herself.
Down at the other end of the red carpet stood another blonde who knew she was gorgeous. Her tie sat on her chest in a perfect knot, her shirt was pressed and her pants had the perfect crease down the front. The black and white brought out the color of her hair and her mesmerizing eyes. She sauntered in with full confidence, shoulders back and chin up for all the photos she knew would have her best side. She looked over and saw the Spaniard at the end, talking to the most beautiful girl she had ever seen.
The girl had on the most beautiful emerald dress that showed off her curves, the thin straps and satin material brought out the beautiful blues and greens in her eyes. The gold necklace and accessories around her wrists rang through the sound of flashes going off. Leah made a beeline towards you, tapping the Spaniard on the shoulder and greeting her politely. You smiled and handed her a mic as well, slipping into the perfect segway of the World Cup final.
Nothing beats a story about the final straight from the captains themselves. This was a promising story and you had the privilege to be the one to write it. The two captains enjoyed the rivalry that had been quite light over the years but there was evidence of a lot of maturity between them and the admiration they both had for each other was very apparent.
Leah explains how the game only motivated the girls to play harder and work harder. Seeing it from the stands and knowing what Alexia had gone through was something that Alexia echoed when asked what it was like playing the Lionesses and not having Leah on the pitch battling it out.
The two made their way into the auditorium, parting ways a little more starstruck than when they set foot on the carpet, the image of you was one that both captains had running around in their minds that night.
Leah approached the bar and asked for a whiskey sour, standing at a cocktail table drumming her fingers on the table while her head bobbed to the music. She sips the last bits of her drink when the smell of your perfume enters her orbit. You had walked behind her towards the bar, a big smile on your face as you sipped the margarita that appeared in front of you a little too quickly.
Leah took a deep breath and walked up to you, handing her an empty whiskey crystal glass and asking for another. You smiled at her and minded your business, not wanting to talk to her more than you needed to, being a journalist and all. Leah surprised you though, leaning on her arm as she stirred her drink.
“I loved doing that interview with you, by the way, Y/N.”
“Oh, I appreciated your time, I’ll make sure to use all the best parts in the final cut!” you thanked her, sipping on your drink nervously. The English woman carried herself well and towered over you a little, smirking a little too smugly at you.
“Are you here with anyone?” Leah asked forwardly, the two double shots of whiskey drinks on an empty stomach already gave her a little buzz.  
A little taken aback and flattered by her line of questioning, Leah was happy to see you shake your head. You were about to ask her the same when the slightly more intimidating captain appeared behind you and asked for a rum and coke in the sexiest accent you had grown to love.
“Hola, Y/N. Leah,” Alexia acknowledged, taking her drink from the bartender with a quiet “gracias,” at the end before she sauntered off back to her friends.
“She knows your name,” Leah said, pointing out that her tone suggested that she knew you before the red carpet interview. Leah was a little disappointed that she had never seen you till tonight, let alone know your name.
“I work for Barça, I’m their sports writer,” you explained, finishing your drinking and asking for water.
Just as Leah’s about to ask you more about your job, your producer texts you that the star guest, Aitana Bonmati just arrived and you need to interview her. The latest Ballon d’Or winner was your last interview before you could clock out and enjoy the party so you make sure to tell Leah that you wanted to talk to her and take up her time.
“She’s my last interview, have an extra strong marg waiting for me?” you tell her and run off, smiling when you hear her stutter her agreement. Leah smirks and turns to the bartender, “You heard the woman, have a marg ready when she’s headed over here again, yeah?”
Over at the Spain delegate table, Alexia had been chewing on the little stirrer in her glass, eyes dark and staring so hard, Marta was sure there would be lasers coming out of her hazel eyes if she put her mind to it.
“Are you trying to kill her, Reina?”
Alexia snapped out of her angered trance and brushed off her co-captain, annoyed that her attempt at wishing for Leah’s downfall was interrupted.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Ale, if looks could kill about half the room would be dead. You’ve death-stared everyone she’s talked to.”
“How do you–”
“You’re not as subtle as you think, capi. Go get yourself another drink and wait for her at the bar.”
Alexia huffed and stood, readjusting her jacket before walking to the bar. She stares at Leah sitting there, immediately deciding to occupy the seat you were in before you left. Just as she’s about to lift herself into the barstool, Leah pipes up and what she says tips her anger past its boiling point.
“Someone’s in that seat,” Leah provides, looking at the Spain captain with a smile.
“And who might that be?” Alexia asks, albeit a little roughly.
“Your new sports writer, Y/N. She’s asked me to save her the seat.”
“Well, I’ll wait for her too then.”
“Do you need to have everything I have a chance at, Putellas?”
“Please, the better team won that day. And it wasn’t England.”
“You fucking–”
“Hola capi!”
Both their heads whip around and look at you, your big smile making both of their anger dissipate. The bartender listened and had a fresh margarita waiting for you like you requested and Leah smiled as she pushed it towards you. Alexia helped you into your seat and Leah glared at her. You were starting to get a hint of what was going on, feeling a little proud of yourself.
“What were you girls arguing about hm?” you ask innocently, raising your strong drink to your lips. Leah and Alexia nursed their drinks and didn’t answer you before the Spaniard mumbled something in Catalan. You understood the language and giggled, replying to her snarky remark. Alexia laughed and added to it, making you laugh a little harder. The English woman on your right had her eyebrows crossed, a look of pure annoyance on her face.
“I-I made sure he made your drink strong, did he make it right?” she interjected, reaching for your chair to swivel you to face her. You take a long, flirty sip and smile, nodding your head.
“It’s perfect Leah, gracias,” you compliment, rubbing her arm. You feel the ripple of her muscles under her jacket and realize that she’s flexing on purpose, making a conscious effort to feel around a little more.
“Did you make sure no one stole my seat while I was gone?” you ask cheekily, knowing that Ale probably came up here and tried to take your seat.
“She did but I made sure it was kept safe for you, princess,” 
A dark blush creeps up her neck and Leah decides then and there that she wants to keep your neck that shade of red with all her bites when the annoyed Spaniard interjected and spun you back around towards her.
“¿Qué trato tienes con ella?”
"¿Por qué Ale, estás celoso capitán?"
“¿Te estás olvidando de quién perteneces, princesa?”
"Mm, papi, ¿no podemos agregarla a la lista de cosas bonitas que colecciono?"
“¿Es eso lo que quieres, niña bonita?”
"Sí, papi, la quiero tanto" you beg, pulling your best puppy eyes that are guaranteed to make Alexia fold. It does the trick and she nods, swigging down the last of her drink and standing. She steps towards Leah and adjusts her jacket, smirking a little.
“Williamson. Come with me a second.” 
Leah scoffs and stands, following the Spaniard to a quieter side of the room.
“What, Putellas?”
“She has requested for you to join us in our room tonight.”
Leah can’t believe her ears. She blinks a few times and asks the two-time Ballon d’Or winner to repeat herself.
“She wants to fuck you, Williamson. You want her, don’t you?”
“You two a thing?”
“A thing of convenience, yes. Is that a problem?”
“No, quite the opposite.”
“Good. We’re in room 116, meet us there in fifteen minutes.”
Alexia leaves with you on her arm, a little drunken smirk on your face. Leah walks back over to the bar and asks for a cold glass of water. She chugs it all and waits ten minutes before she walks over to the elevators. Her hands sweat a little, and she’s nervous. She stands in front of room 116, hesitant to knock. Just as her right hand gets the courage the door opens and it startles her but your welcoming face calms her racing heart.
 “Come in, you’re right on time!”
You walk in behind her and Leah gawks at the bed and all the stuff on it. There were more toys there than she had at home, harnesses that looked custom-made, and dildos that looked hard to take. Alexia sat in the meeting chair near the window, leg crossed and arms on the rests. Leah stands a little intimidated before you sit in Ale’s lap and look mesmerizing under the tinted orange lights.
“Welcome Williamson, I’m surprised you didn’t chicken out,” Alexia teases and you smack her arm, leaving Leah to cover her chuckles with a few unconvincing coughs.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Putellas.”
“Play nice the two of you or you’re not fucking me.”  
Alexia sighs and regroups, taking a deep breath.
“Leah, welcome. I’ve got a few rules that we use to make this enjoyable. Would you like to say your safeword, amor?”
“Strawberry,” you answer obediently, snuggling back into Alexia’s arms.
“Mine is Apple,” Alexia tells Leah before Leah decides to sit on the edge of the king-sized bed.
“Watermelon,” Leah supplies, leaning forward on her elbows. She smiles, watching your eyes sparkle as she winks at you.
Alexia gets a little annoyed but keeps talking. Her hand around your waist tightens and you lean into her more, green dress a little creased where her hands feel you.
“You will do as I say when I say it, no arguments understand.”
Leah was about to answer her but you piped up with a voice so soft and subtle that it sent shivers down Leah’s spine.
“Yes Daddy,” you whispered to Alexia, standing up and sauntering over to the side of the bed. Leah smiles and watches you, and you smile, seeing both the captain’s eyes on you.
“Mind if you help me take this stunning dress off Mommy?” you ask Leah, watching as her eyes go dark when you use that name on her. Leah nods, walking over to you and helping you unzip your dress. You smile at Alexia and watch her fiddle with her jacket, knowing she’s already feeling hot inside.
“May I?” Leah asks you, pushing the emerald material off your shoulders. You smile and nod, feeling the English skipper’s hand take in all your curves and edges. Leah leans in and kisses along your shoulders and back, whispering how beautiful you looked in that dress and how she longed to see it on the floor in a pile next to her clothes.
Alexia stands in front of you and tilts your head up, eyes boring deep into yours. She smiled kindly, leaning in and pecking your lips. You kiss her back and Leah takes the opportunity to mark your neck up how she wanted to earlier. You moan into Alexia’s mouth and smile against her lips, reaching your arm behind to cradle her head.
Alexia pulls away from you and you step to the side as Leah crashes her lips on Alexia’s. Alexia grabs her face and kisses her back hard, moaning into Leah’s mouth. You stand and watch, biting your lip and rubbing your thighs together. You’ve slipped your underwear off and unclasped your bra, climbing onto the bed how Alexia liked. Leah pushes the Spaniard’s jacket off as hers comes off too, hands in pants struggling to get each other naked fast enough. Hands roam and explore, muscles taut and on display for you to feast your eyes on.
When the two of them finally pull away, you’re on your knees and smirking, holding Alexia’s strap in your hands. She smiles and takes it from you, Leah helping her put it on. There’s a dramatic shift in power in the room, with you and Leah taking a more submissive role as Alexia takes control.
Leah gets on her knees beside you just as Alexia gives her her first command of the night.
“Lay on your back Leah, wanna use your mouth.”
The tingle that sentence sends down Leah’s legs was one that she hoped happened every time Alexia shoved her cock down her throat. Leah did as she said, laying on the bed with her head at the edge. Alexia caressed her cheek and smiled, kissing her lips briefly. Leah sat between your legs, a little buttplug in her hands that you didn’t know was coming.
Alexia’s cock sat on Leah’s face as she caressed her chest. Leah’s nipples perked at her touch, the cold room keeping them rock hard. Leah moaned and smiled, licking up the silicone as the blood in her body slowly rushed to her head.
Alexia stood tall and pressed her cock to Leah’s lips, watching her face get more and more red. Alexia’s hips fuck into her mouth slowly, hands holding her head steady. You, on the other hand, pushed Leah’s legs wide open to play with her wet folds. Leah’s dripping, feeling your fingers play with her clit and ass.  
Alexia gently wrapped a hand around Leah’s neck, feeling the cock bulge in her throat. Your fingers slipped into Leah’s pussy and she moans, the vibrations sent around Alexia’s cock and she felt it in her palm. Alexia smiles and chuckles, slapping her breast a few times before speeding up her hips. You sucked on the buttplug and Alexia watched, eyes hooded and lips already red and bitten from concentration. She pulls out and spits into her open mouth messily just as you slip the plug into Leah, hearing her moan and pant in pleasure. 
Leah scoots up and feels the blood from her head distribute properly, the plug inside her settles just right and she looks up at you with a smirk. She licks Alexia’s spit from all over her mouth and makes sure to keep her eyes on Alexia.
“I wasn’t expecting that but I am so fucking thankful I said yes.”
“Ready for more, Mami?”
“Fuck yes,” Leah pants, turning over and waiting for Alexia to give her further instructions. Alexia smirks, hand reaching for your face and kissing you hard. Leah watches, eyes bouncing between you and Alexia. She takes your breast in her mouth, sucking noisily as you lay down for Alexia.
“Open those pretty legs for me, mi amor,” Alexia asks, and Leah latches off your breast with a loud pop. Your legs open wide and you’re soaked, pussy glistening for Alexia to enjoy. She swipes her fingers through your folds and licks her fingers clean, both you and Leah watching her in awe.
Alexia looks at Leah and she feels immediate obedience fall over her, ready to do her every wish.
“I want you to ride her face while I fuck her pretty pussy. And when I say ride her face, I mean use her like the fucking whore deserves to be used. Got it?”
“Yes Daddy,” Leah replies easily, the title sending pleasure through all your veins. Leah settles on top of you and lowers herself onto your mouth, hands gripping your hair as she grinds down on your tongue. Alexia pushes your legs back as wide as they can and thrusts her hips forward for her cock to effortlessly slide into your pussy. Leah moans when you start sucking on her clit, your hands massaging the plug in her ass gently as you sucked.
Alexia watched you and Leah closely, hips pounding into your hole hard. She almost bent you in half, legs wide open which only helped her cock into your pussy deeper. Leah slipped off your face and turned around to face Alexia, leaning forward with her hands gripping Alexia’s big ones as she ground a little harder on your tongue. Alexia held her steady and kissed her roughly, moaning into Leah’s mouth. You spanked Leah’s ass and fucked it with the plug inside her, feeling her hole clenching on your tongue that you just slipped in. Alexia leaned back and you cried out for her to fuck into you faster, eyes rolling into your head as you struggled to focus on eating Leah out while Alexia fucked your brains out.
Leah was close too, thighs shaking as your skillful tongue suckled and flicked over her sensitive clit. Alexia fondled your clit with her rough hands, angling her hips up into your sweet spot to push you towards the edge. You pulled the plug inside Leah out and that was more than enough stimulation for her to come, orgasm ripping through her hard. She shuddered and moaned your name alongside Alexia’s, collapsing off of you and panting hard. Alexia grinned and simply pulled out, turned you onto your knees, and pushed her big cock back into you. You moaned and cried out for her, feeling your arms get pulled behind your back.
Alexia held you down and pounded into you, lips muttering dirty things into your ear to spur you on.
“You take it so well, amor. Can’t wait to see Leah on the end of my cock when I’m done with you hm? You wanna come all over it and make her taste how much of a good girl you are for me?”
“Yes Daddy!” you scream, coming hard and all over her cock. Alexia ruts into you despite your cries of sensitivity, pulling out only when she knew she’d leave you shuddering for a good thirty seconds afterward. Alexia kisses you and holds you as you settle, kissing your damp hair gently.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Leah compliments, the stars in her eyes tell Alexia that she’s more than ready to take her cock.
"Ven aquí, cariño,” Alexia beckoned, Leah crawled over and kissed Alexia’s neck slowly going lower and lower. Soon she was face to face with her wet cock and Leah immediately took it in her mouth, tasting you all over it. Leah moaned, eyes locked with Alexia’s who looked almost feral.
She studied her expressions and smirked a little menacingly, eyes dark and lust-driven. You sat obediently by her side, watching Leah suck Alexia’s cock and taste you on it.
“Doesn’t she taste like magic, cariño?”
“Yes Daddy, she does,” Leah answers, kissing the tip before kissing Alexia passionately. Alexia tastes you on her lips and you can see their tongues fight for dominance, the exchange of your taste turns you on immensely.
Alexia settles in behind Leah and smiles at you. She caresses down Leah's toned defender thighs, knowing exactly where Leah could feel Alexia’s cock on her. Alexia kissed her shoulder and neck, whispering in her ear only for Leah to hear.
“Want me to fuck your ass, cariño? Did she get you nice and loose for me?”
“Yes Daddy, please fuck my ass,” Leah begged, feeling a shiver run down her spine. Leah bends forward onto her elbows, pushing her ass out for Alexia. Alexia leans in and spanks her hard, kneading the defender’s meaty ass. She looks over at you and chuckles, seeing your thighs rub harder together as you refrain from touching yourself without her permission.
“Need something, amor?”
“Wanna feel good Daddy, please…”
“Hmm, but I’m fucking our guest amor, I can’t do you both,” Alexia points out matter-of-factly as if Leah wasn’t even there. And boy did that turn her on.
“Please Daddy, it hurts…” you say, hips grinding down on the bed when Alexia gets an idea.
“You wanna show your latest collection how good you are at riding, amor? Want to grind that gorgeous pussy on a pillow and show her how you make yourself come?”
“Yes, yes please Daddy, I’ll show her how good I am for you,” you tell her and grab a soft duck feather pillow and straddle it, grinding your hips gently for Leah and Alexia.
Leah watches you through hooded eyes and a melting mind, feeling Alexia’s tongue slip into her ass as her fingers rub soft circles over your swollen clit. You put on a little show, grinding seductively on purpose to show Leah all the tricks up your sleeve.
Leah moans when Alexia’s cock slips into her, feeling the cold lube and thick appendage stretch her wide. Leah grips the sheets but keeps her eye on you, watching your hips ride that pillow expertly. Your face is full of erotic expressions when Alexia chuckles.
“Faster amor, I think our guest loves your little show, don’t you Leah?”
“Y-Yes!” Leah exclaims, feeling Alexia’s hips fuck into her ass harder. Leah’s head droops as she moans in pleasure when a large hand grabs her hair and forces her to look at you riding the pillow.
“Eyes on her, cariño. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? Isn’t she just perfect?”
“S-She’s so beautiful, Daddy,” Leah croaks out, feeling Alexia pull her back against her chest and her hand moves from her blonde hair to around her neck. Alexia’s hips smack her ass with a loud clap, echoing through the hotel room.
You can barely hold back anymore, holding the pillow taut and grinding your clit down in a particular way that shoves you head-first into your second orgasm of the night. The sight of the two captains fucking and Alexia’s dominant side on full display was more than enough for you to get so turned on and come so hard your ears were ringing. You almost missed the part where Leah begged and begged Alexia to let her come and make a mess on her cock.
“Daddy, Daddy please!”
“Please what, Mommy? You want to come?”
“P-Please, please! I’ve been so good!”
“You have been the perfect guest cariño, so perfect for us Mami,”     
“Close Daddy, so fucking close!”
“Come cariño, come on Daddy’s cock,” Alexia allowed, pounding into Leah’s ass a couple more times before Leah almost passed out from her orgasm. You caught her and kissed her everywhere, Alexia caressing her cramping legs as Leah slowly came back.
“Fuck, that was-”
“Exquisite.”
Alexia threw her harness off and laid back, pulling the two of you into her sides. You gave Leah a look that she understood immediately. Leah’s hands roamed naughtily down between Alexia’s legs as you took Alexia’s breast into your mouth. Alexia physically relaxed into the mattress and chuckled, opening her legs a little to let Leah in a little more. Leah’s fingers slipped into her pussy and pressed up immediately, finding her sweet spot and rubbing it hard.
Alexia moaned Leah’s name and yours, cradling your head that sucked her breasts one after the other. Her breath shallowed and her chest heaved, hand on your head as you leaned over her and licked her clit as Leah fingered her.
“Amor! Ca-Cariño!” she cried out as she came, feeling her ears ring and legs shudder hard. She panted and you slipped back beside her. Leah gently pulled her fingers out of Alexia and she sucked on them, moaning at the taste of the Spanish captain.
“Delicious,” Leah stated, settling back into Alexia’s side.
“When you come to England in two weeks, stop by?” Leah asked you and Alexia, pecking both your lips.
“Sí, we have to play both sides out no? Like Champions League,” Alexia states seriously, you and Leah laugh and she starts chewing you two out in Catalan again which somehow lulls Leah to sleep.
Two weeks later, when you and Alexia make your way to England for the second leg of the Champions League semi-final against Chelsea, they crash at Leah’s house for the night. Alexia sat in the living room grumbling about the lack of good football on TV while you and Leah tried to reheat the takeout Leah had picked up from a local Chinese place down the street.
After dinner, Alexia suddenly got a little antsy, snuggling into Leah’s chest while you sat between her legs. Her hands were less subtle, finding their way under Leah’s hoodie, caressing the warm skin gently. You were the same, already settled on Alexia’s lap kissing her neck. Leah smirked and turned the TV on a little lower before caressing down Alexia’s arms.
“Does Daddy need something from us?” Leah asks, kissing Alexia’s ear softly as she whispers into it.
“Want you two, couldn’t stop thinking about that night at the hotel,” Alexia admits easily, melting into Leah’s embrace. Leah watches as you grind down on Alexia’s crotch when she shakes her head and looks back at Leah.
“Want you to fuck me Leah, want amor to watch you use me, cariño please,” Alexia pleads so beautifully, eyes filling with tears that only make Leah’s cunt throb.
“I can do that darling, you promise to be good for me angel?”
“The best, I am the best.”
“That you are, baby. I want you two in the room naked and on your knees at the foot of the bed.”
They scramble and Leah grins, turning the TV off and taking her time before she goes into the bedroom. She stood at the door and heard hushed whispers, before silence. She walks in and smiles, seeing the two of them exactly where she wanted them.
Alexia sits a little taller than you do, rocking a little on her knees in anticipation, clearly not accustomed to giving up control in the bedroom but seeing Leah’s eyes change and go dark with pure lust and sexual motivation only made her core ache in eagerness of what was to come.
“You,” Leah points rudely at you, “on the bed at the head. Not a fucking sound,” you nod and scramble onto the bed where she asks, hands folded neatly in your lap.
“And you,” Leah steps in front of Alexia, “lay down in the middle and be a good girl.”
“Yes Mommy,” Alexia answers, lying in the middle of the bed obediently. You settle at her head and caress her brunette and blonde hair, while Leah sits comfortably between her legs. Leah wastes no time and dives into her dessert, slurping and sucking on Alexia’s folds, fingers drumming up her muscular thighs that threatened to crush her head between them.
Alexia’s hands don’t know where to put themselves and Leah pulls them into her hair, eyes fixated on the thick Spaniard in her four-poster bed. Leah slips two fingers into Alexia like she had the last time they fucked and it sends Alexia’s brain spiraling, having tried to desperately recreate that feeling since Leah left the next morning.
You too can’t decide what to do with your hands, having been trained by Alexia to wait for instructions before moving a muscle. Leah can tell that Alexia has given up all her power today and that she held the reigns. It was a power that made her chest swell with pride.
“Ride her face, darling. That’s all her slut mouth is good for, isn’t it?” Leah taunted but Alexia only got wetter, the slick practically pouring out from the Catalan.
“Yes Mommy, she eats pussy so good,” you supply, straddling Alexia’s face before she can say anything. Leah smirks and presses her fingers up into Alexia’s sweet spot that she remembered from the last time. Alexia moans right onto your cunt, lapping up your juices that made your thighs sticky.
Leah pulls her fingers out and climbs off the bed, pulling her favorite strap out and securing it to her hips. Alexia can’t see what she’s got on but she can hear it and it sounds heavy. You ogle at the appendage between Leah’s legs and your eyes go wide, the ribbed dildo was long and thick, surely as big as Alexia had ever used on you.
Leah thrusts three fingers into the Spanish woman and fingers her hard and fast merely to open her up, Alexia’s legs struggling to keep themselves open as you leaned forward to ride Alexia’s tongue that had slipped into your heat.
“She feels so good Mommy,” you tell Leah, watching her fingers push into Alexia’s gaping pussy till the webbing. Her slick made a wet patch on the blanket under you three, your slick making a mess on Alexia’s beautiful face. She was in heaven, she thought, the two weeks of dreaming about this day made it worth the wait and it was more than she was expecting.
“She does feel good, sweetheart. Can you hear how wet she is?” Leah teases, reaching out for you for a kiss. You kiss her hard and moan, feeling Alexia’s big hands grab your ass for some stability.
“Want something a little special, darling?” Leah asks as she pulls away from you. She pulls her fingers out and watches you nod, tongue out like a panting like a dog. You think that Leah’s gonna let you have a little fun with Alexia but you were in for a little surprise like Leah said.
Leah presses her Alexia-covered fingers into your mouth deep into the cavern, pressing down on your tongue to pull a gag out of you.
“That is my favorite sound in the world, cariño,” Alexia pipes in, grinning wide with her slick-painted chin and lips.
“It is music to my ears,” Leah chimes in, pressing her fingers deep into your throat again to hear you gag. Tears fill your eyes and you stumble a little, falling forward onto Alexia’s torso.
Leah pulls out a strap from under her pillow and gives it to Alexia. You slip off her and stare, connecting the dots in your head.
“Daddy’s gonna fuck you while Mommy has her way with me, got it?”
Leah smiles, helping Alexia pull the harness on. It settles right above her cunt which leaves it all for Leah while you could comfortably ride Alexia at the same time. Alexia sees the dildo Leah’s got on for the first time and smiles, stroking it gently.
“Will it fit Mommy?” she asks innocently, grabbing the lube Leah handed her to coat the toy with. She made a show of spreading the lube all over it, using the leftovers for her cock.
“We’ll get it to fit, darling.”
Leah manhandles you onto Alexia with her clean hands, spanking your ass hard as you look close to tears. She guides the toy into your pussy and you whine, the stretch was more than Alexia’s tongue could prepare you for.
“So full Mommy, feels so good,” you sigh, bottoming out on Alexia’s cock. She smiles and caresses your thighs before you add something that sends lightning through both Leah’s and Alexia’s veins.
“Your turn Daddy,” you grin and bite your lip, kneading Alexia’s breasts. Her hands on your hips suddenly go tight and Leah’s hands on your waist press you forward to expose Alexia’s heat. Leah swipes a little more lube on the tip and slides herself home, kissing your back as whines and whimpers leave Alexia’s mouth.
“Fuck, Mommy,” Alexia starts but takes a sharp breath when Leah bottoms out, “your cock is so big.”
“Too much, darling?”
“It’s perfect Mommy,” Alexia moans, moving her hips on her own. You began to ride her cock, feeling Leah’s thrusts which felt like she was fucking you too. You hover over Alexia and take her cock, feeling her thrust up into you as you try your best to ride her.
Leah ruts into Alexia like a dog in heat, the sticky lube creaming at the base of Leah’s cock as she enjoyed the view of your tight grip on Alexia’s cock to spur her on.
Alexia moaned loudly, feeling the ribbed cock inside her graze over her sweet spot. It jerks her hips which sends her cock so deep inside you that you’re sure you can feel it in your stomach. Your hand caresses your belly and lo and behold, there’s a cock shaped bulge just above your belly button.
“Oh Daddy, you’re so deep!” you moan, canting your hips on her cock faster to chase your high. Leah grips your waist but feels the skin tug under her hold and moves them just over your palm resting on the bulge that came and went.
“Daddy, you really are deep darling,” Leah tells Alexia whose hand, which is the biggest of the three, rests on top. She smirks when she feels the rhythmic pulse of her cock inside you.
“¿Cerca?” Alexia asks you and you nod when she feels Leah fuck into her pussy harder. It sends shivers down her spine and pleasure right through her body. Her eyes roll into her head and she smiles in pleasure, pulling you down for a searing kiss. Leah leans back and fucks up into Alexia’s swollen sweet spot, making sure the whole ribbed cock grazed it over and over again.
You aren’t sure who came harder.
You aren’t sure who screamed louder.
You aren’t sure how you ended up in a suspiciously Leah-scented hoodie.
Alexia asks herself the same question.
“Hello, darlings,” Leah’s voice sounded distant but comforting until there were kisses pressed to your head and several more on Alexia.
“What happened?” Alexia asked, tucking herself into Leah’s side and looking up at her.
“You two fell asleep the moment you came at the same time. I cleaned you up and put fresh sheets on. Now I need you two to finish this bottle of water before the pizza I ordered gets here.”
“We haven’t got any more games over here do we?” you ask Alexia as she sips on the water while Leah gets the pizza from the delivery man at the front door.
“No, but I think I can convince Jona to have international training to use the facilities at Arsenal or something because I need her dick again.”
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slut4celebs · 17 days ago
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Diss Me
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Billie Eilish x Reader
Trigger Warnings: SMUT, MDNI. The smut is literally so quick guys, but cunnilingus warning.
Word Count: 1,348
Request/Synopsis: "a fanfic where Billie and reader have a feud in the music industry, readerbeing the only artist who sells as much as billie does and is about billie's age, reader one day writes a diss song which is clearly about billie (but doesnt say her name) but people start to realize that diss says a lot of things which come across as really flirty. When they meet at the VMA's billie goes up to reader to demand some answers about this and reader straight up flirts with her? It can become smut or fluff from there, up to you." In which Billie and the reader have a love-hate relationship.
Please request here. :)
There was a scoff heard around the room as Billie took her headphones off. (Y/n) was at it again, trying to start bullshit drama with her. Her fingers tapped on the table in front of her in thought. For two people never meeting, there was a strong tension between the two of them. Maybe it was because they started their career at the same age, became hits at the same time, and often have their successes compared rather than mutually celebrated. Billie looked at her brother, who had a raised brow, trying to figure out exactly what her sister had been watching.
"Have you heard this new diss track about me?" She questioned, not even sure if she wanted her brother to hear it. After all, the lyrics at one point went 'I might hate her but man I wish those blue eyes stared down at me while I give her cunnilingus.' Finneas rolled his chair over to her, holding a hand out to his sister to listen to the song, and he adorned a smirk as he shook his head at (Y/n)'s antics, obviously trying to bait Billie. "I don't even know what to think of it. Is she hating on me or is she flirting with me?"
Finneas leaned back in his chair, turning back to his soundboard. This was supposed to be a writing session, but Billie was too busy obsessing over (Y/n)'s new song. "Your name isn't even in the song, Billie. What if she isn't even talking about you in it?" Oh, she definitely was talking about Billie. What gave it away was 'Your peak was at your green hair, babe.' Which wasn't at all true if HIT ME HARD AND SOFT was anything to go by. Which it was. Billie felt annoyance rumble in the pit of her stomach as she tapped her shoe. "Listen, why not just ask her about it Saturday? You two are going to see each other." Finneas reminded her with a knowing look before putting a beat together.
Billie rolled her eyes over her brother's nonchalance over this. Scooting in, she began writing some lyrics, backlash to the song. In that moment, Billie decided she needed to get her frustrations out as she wrote angrily on her paper. Her brother couldn't help but be amused over this long feud going on between the two. After all, Finneas could see that the two were very talented artists who were turned into enemies due to the media. But honestly, they would be such a force to be reckoned with if they just set aside whatever animosity they had for each other. They could probably even write a duet that would stun the world. However, people might not get that chance if they didn't get over themselves. If they would stop playing into the media's games.
Billie walked down the VMAs red carpet in a suit jacket and the currently infamous and trending bubble skirt. Her hair was pulled out of her face with gold pins. She couldn't help but feel irked when a figure got ushered behind her on the carpet. It was (Y/n), she knew by the yelling. Anyone else, she would love to share the carpet with. (Y/n), though. She'd rather be dead than there at this moment. Billie turned her head to meet (Y/n)'s gaze, a look of mirth in her eyes. "Come on, let's get a picture of you two!" People kept cheering. They couldn't just decline the photos so they posed along the carper, getting some solo shots as well.
Once inside, Billie glowered at her. The look made (Y/n) want to laugh as she kept walking forward, ignoring the thick tension. "What the fuck was that song?" She asked, growling. (Y/n) tilted her head, feigning confusion and innocence. "Oh, fuck off. Don't give me that. I reached my peak in my green hair era? You want to give me cunnilingus?" She crossed her arms, obviously not as amused as (Y/n) and Finneas were over the lyrics. There was a palpable silence that passed through them. Billie was obviously waiting on an answer. A real answer, not some bullshit (Y/n) might manufacture in the moment.
(Y/n) was about to answer when Billie pulled her into the restrooms. "If you really want to give me cunnilingus, do it. Right here, right now. Get on your knees and I'll show you who has reached their goddamn peak." She growled, the demand making (Y/n) look at her in shock. There was no one in hell that Billie was serious right now, right? But by the look in her eyes, (Y/n) could tell she was joking as her hand moved, no eye contact breaking, locking the door. "Look at you, now. You had so much to say on your diss track, but now that we're face to face, you're short on words?" She questioned, a brow raising.
Her mouth went dry as she licked her lips, looking up at Billie. "No, not lost on words, just surprised. I meant my lyrics, I do want to give you cunnilingus as you stare at me with those blue eyes." She stated, placing her purse on the counter and dropping so hard on her knees, they'd probably bruise. Billie couldn't help but feel powerful at that moment, making her musical arch-nemesis fall to her knees so easily. Billie fingers couldn't help but slide through the girl's hair in admiration, unaware she was even doing it.
(Y/n) slid down Billie's panties and immediately got to work, sliding her tongue through Billie's folds. She moaned at the taste of the girl's dripping cunt before her tongue circled around her clit. The action made Billie weak in her knees as (Y/n) began to suck on her sensitive nub. She gripped the bar that was to hold hangars as (Y/n)'s tongue made its way to her entrance. It started as kitten licks then progressed to (Y/n) eating Billie out nosily like she was her first meal in years. The sound of squelching and the mixing of their moans filled the bathroom, and Billie couldn't help the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head. (Y/n) pushed her face in deeper to her cunt, her nose hitting Billie's clit as she worked.
Embarrassment hit her with how quickly (Y/n) made her cum. The girl pulled away, both of their chests heaving. One from cumming, the other from slight suffocation of her own doing. Slick coated (Y/n)'s chin and she went to clean it as Billie's racing heart started to finally calm. "I don't hate you," (Y/n) said, shocking the black haired girl as she fixed herself. (Y/n) was applying her make-up, looking at her from the mirror. "I wrote the song because I always thought you hated me." She admitted, retouching her red lipstick, going over it with clear gloss.
Billie's brows furrowed. Making her way over, her hands fell to her hips. "I don't hate you either." She said softly. A small smile danced on (Y/n)'s lips as she turned around. The two kissed, messing up the freshly done lipstick, but neither of them particularly cared at the moment. Right now, they were just lost in each other.
"Well, how about this… We go out there together, we have fun, and then… We can go on a date or something." (Y/n) offered, holding out her hand to take Billie out of the restroom. Billie agreed and the two walked out as if (Y/n) didn't just single-handedly deliver Billie's best orgasm to her. For the rest of the night, they just spent time getting to know each other, dropping the hate that the media had forced them to have for each other. Hate that neither one of them actually had for each other. It was evident, though, that this was a case of the media putting two brilliant women artists against each other, but they were breaking the cycle.
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The Colosseum
I started writing this and have no idea how to finish it or where to take it from here. I had an idea but lost it halfway through ���
Valerie had had it with all of the ghosts in Amity. She could hardly sleep, was missing schools as a result because she was either too exhausted to stay awake long enough in class, or another ghost attack was forcing her to miss the entire period to go deal with that day’s trouble maker. Almost every part of her body hurt in one way or another. Bruises that should have faded by now but haven’t because every day she was out collecting more. She couldn’t blame Phantom either. He seemed just as tired and beat up as she was even with his healing factor.
With the number of ghost attacks having nearly tripled in frequency, they’d both come to the mutual decision that working together would be the best course of action to deal with the constant onslaught. And reluctantly, Val had to admit that Phantom might not be as bad she first assumed. She hadn’t anticipated actually getting along with the ghost as well as she had been. Much less the realisation that they could almost be considered…fiends now. Maybe. She refused to laugh at his god awful puns though, he didn’t need anymore encouragement.
But even with Phantom’s help, she was so tired. So, so, so very tired. And so one could say Valerie was well within her rights to say that this situation, was just more bullshit she didn’t need right now.
She had been trying to cram for the next upcoming test when there was a sudden flash of light, so bright it was blinding and she had to shield her eyes with her arms from the fear that this light might burn through her eyelids. Her body tingled, and she felt something wash over her. When the light subsided, just as quickly as it had appeared, she slowly opened her eyes.
“Where the hell am I?”
She was in a colosseum. The stone of the structure was a deep purple with intricate glimmering gold details carved into the walls and pilasters. There was a magic in the air that felt different to the sensation she would get in the Ghost Zone. The sky above was pitch black with more stars than Val had ever seen visible in Amity, and two moons.
So, not Earth then, she concluded.
“Hey Red, where are we?” Valerie spun around to see Phantom floating over to her, his eyes scanning the area around them. Then Val looked down at herself to see that she was in her Red Huntress suit. She couldn’t remember putting it on. Maybe that was what the full body sensation from earlier was about.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Val checked herself over, making sure she had all of her weapons on her should she need them. When she was satisfied she did, she put her hands on her hips and let her gaze wander over the arena.
“I don’t think we’re on Earth anymore,” Phantom muttered as he took in the sky above them. For a split second Val swore she saw his freckles glow a soft green as he was taking in the stars above them.
“We should start looking for a way out of here, or at least figure where here is,” Valerie had just turned to start walking when the ground rumbled and shook, “What-”
Another blinding flash of light appeared behind them. And once again, it had vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.
“What the hell was that?” A new voice asked from behind them.
Val and Phantom turned in unison to stare at the group in front of them. All of them were dressed in some sort of hero ensemble. It seemed the voice had come from a man donning a brown leather jacket over an armoured suit with a red bat symbol across his chest, an assortment of guns and other weaponry strapped to his body, and most notably a red helmet. He and the rest of his group seemed to be taking in their surroundings the same way Val and Phantom.
“Who are you? Were you the ones who summoned us?” Came a new voice, from a young man (or was he a teenager?) dressed in black leggings with a red tunic, utility belt, and a chest harness connecting to the symbol on the centre, a black cowl and a cape. In his hands was a bo staff. He and the others had all dropped into combat ready stances the moment they became aware that they weren’t the only people in the colosseum.
And from here I couldn’t figure out how to continue
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ranticore · 9 months ago
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I wanted to keep drawing some pern dragon stuff because I'm now writing a full AU set in weyr but I didn't want to put this stuff on my main blog or patreon due to it being basically for my own reference, though i felt others would like it too! so here is My Take On Dragon Wings By Type...
It's no secret I love drawing bird wings and prefer them a lot over traditional dragon wings. Growing up, I read the pern books featuring cover art of dragonfly-like wings with lots of little translucent panels, which I always loved. So I thought I'd try to nail down some wing shapes & structures by blending those two things i like together. I am aware dragons fly by telekinesis but I prefer a more realistic type of creature design so I will be choosing to ignore that fact. I do not care about strict canon compliance but I do like to keep some of that framework there as well, for fun.
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The wing is made up of three main sails, as well as a propatagium sail (in front of the elbow). They are relatively polymorphic and can expand or contract to an extent to change the shape of the wing in response to flight demands, like the wing of an airliner. The trailing edge can expand and the slots between the spars of the 1st wingsail can deepen or become shallower (where those are a feature). The main structural matrix is opaque, while the membranous 'sails' are translucent and let light through like stained glass. These are a bilayer of membrane with air sandwiched between, which forms part of the air sac & respiratory system.
It makes sense for the original engineers of dragons to diversify dragon wing types by colour so that when fighting Thread, there's a dragon for every conceivable aerial job.
[individual descriptions under the cut]
Queens have the longest wings, though the largest bronzes can rival them for surface area. Gold wings are high endurance - a queen can fly further than any other dragon in active level flight, leaving even the swiftest bronzes behind if they can't muster up the energy reserves to catch her. She is an effective flier at all elevations and can pass very low over terrain without issue as well; she is an expert at taking advantage of the ground effect, where extra lift is generated within one half of a wingspan above land. This way, she can pass low below the main wings fighting Thread to catch any stragglers without expending too much energy. However, she is not very agile and may need a bit of a run-up or cliff-edge to get airborne.
Bronzes are suited for command positions during Threadfall, rising highest and maintaining that altitude effortlessly by soaring on thermals. From this vantage point they can easily survey the wings of riders below and make tactical decisions to direct the tide of battle. They have the size and stamina to chase queens, but might find it difficult to keep up on the flat, so they continually select for fitter hatchlings as only the best manage to mate. It takes a very clever and agile bronze to catch a green, if they are so inclined.
Browns are swift, highly agile, and the fastest vertical fliers, ideal for diving through the Thread mass from top to bottom while the other types pass horizontally. During earlier Passes, browns were capable of using their speed to catch queens, but as queen & bronze endurance gradually increased, browns struggle to keep up if they haven't managed to immediately catch their mate in the starting scrum, which is unlikely due to the bulkier bronze dragons being able to shove the browns aside.
Blues are fast on the flat and nicely manoeuvrable, with enough endurance to last a full Threadfall. Good all-rounders with a characteristic vertical take-off, they work best in the horizontal plane in battle but really they can do a little bit of everything. They often beat browns to catch greens, being very precise in flight and almost as manoeuvrable as their green mates.
Greens make up for their low stamina with their extreme manoeuvrability. Their short and elliptical wings let them turn on a dime, hover, and even fly backwards if they are sufficiently skilled. They have the fastest wingbeats, flying with a distinct thrumming sound. Of all the types they are least likely to be hit by a stray Thread, but they tire easily on the flat and have no soaring ability at all, often tapping out midway through battle in favour of replacements. In battle, greens excel at catching odd and skewed clumps of Thread that don't fall as predicted, or ones that are missed by the other riders. Green mating flights are a whole different beast to gold mating flights, where extreme aerial acrobatics are favoured instead of endurance and altitude, and these flights may be over within seconds. You need to be able to withstand a Lot of G-force to be a green rider.
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sserpente · 10 months ago
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A "Happy" New Year indeed 🥂🎇🍾🎆
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Synopsis: Tony gifted you all a trip to the Bahamas to spend New Year's on the beach. Even Loki was invited but when no one else wants to spend time with him, you gather the courage to act on your secret crush on him until you end up sneaking away together...
A/N: Et voilà, just like that, I turned a couple older requests from @mandywholock1980, @frzntrx and anon (I’m so sorry for the delay) into a little treat for New Year’s Eve. “Slide well” into the new year tonight as we say in German! I’ll see you guys next year with lots of book news and of course, more Imagines! Thank you all for your love, for your comments, your kind words when you send me requests, for your likes and your reblogs and this year in particular, your patience! I appreciate you all so much and that’s almost 24k of you at this point! So crazy! To an amazing 2024!
Words: 2556 Warnings: smut, SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2
Where is that damn bathing suit? You’d packed it, right? You knew you’d packed it. It was on top of your suitcase so you wouldn’t forget. With a sigh, you rummaged through the clothes you’d brought, creating an utter mess in the process.
Holidays with the Avengers. Hallelujah. No wonder you were so worked up. It certainly wasn’t every day you unwrapped a neatly folded plane ticket to the freaking Bahamas on Christmas morning, a “little” treat from Tony Stark who had flipped the ice-cold temperatures in New York City the bird and booked you all a trip to the other end of the world.
Seeing both Steve Rogers and Thor topless was a delectable sight—not to mention how absolutely gorgeous Natasha looked in her black bikini. You felt self-conscious about yourself, to say the least, but the hilarious part was that it wasn’t because of a bunch of shredded superheroes; it was because of a very mischievous prince who had the very essence of the multiverse coursing through his veins.
The kiss had been… incidental. Rules were rules and Tony had been very clear about all the damn mistletoes he’d hidden across the tower and it was Thor who had not let either of you leave until you fulfilled the silly tradition. Ironically, it had been Loki himself who’d caused all that attention around the mistletoe all those years ago. He only had to blame himself but heavens… he sure knew how to kiss.
And just like that… there you had it. After spending Christmas, or Yule, as he liked to call it, Loki had—unbeknownst to him—managed to make you fall for him. He, who just so happened to have become the most powerful being in the entire universe; or multiverse, in this case.
There it is. The black bathing suit you pulled from the pile of clothes, at last, was your favourite, complimenting your body shape in just the right places. You’d already caught yourself wondering on the plane what Loki would think when he saw you in it. After all, he was a god. He’d met a number of goddesses and princesses, not to mention a stunning female version of himself. How could you, a mere mortal woman, possibly impress him? Hell, you didn’t even have superpowers. Nothing that would grab his attention. Perhaps you should have brought the mistletoe and steal another kiss. Perhaps you could get him drunk so he wouldn’t remember your heartfelt confession if he didn’t reciprocate it. Or maybe you shouldn’t say anything at all and keep the cheeky God of Mischief an exciting fantasy in your head. You’d totally not named the green and gold vibrator you had bought as a Christmas present for yourself after him… you would never do that…
Despite the fact that the Avengers were slowly—really slowly—warming up to the idea of him being around, Loki was alone when you joined the others at the beach. He’d conjured a green blanket with a gold rim to sit on in the blazing sun, his dark green trunks leaving nothing to fantasy. Although he wasn’t nearly as shredded as Thor was, godly strength aside, you were certain he could haul you into the air and one-handedly fling you across the ocean if he wanted to. Or maybe do push-ups while you were sitting on him…
“Hey.” You sat down next to him without waiting for an invitation, your gaze flicking over to the gang playing volleyball in the sand. “I don’t understand…”
“They hit the ball with their bare hands and fling it across the net. If it lands on the ground on the opposite end of the field, their team scores,” Loki said matter-of-factly.
You chuckled. “Not the game. Why are you not playing?”
“Please. This is hardly the most enjoyable place for a Frost Giant,” he replied. His voice was just as icy as the tale he was telling.
“I see… I’m sure no one would mind if you returned to the hotel until it’s dark. It’s gonna be a long time until midnight still.”
Loki scoffed. “Of course, they wouldn’t mind. In fact, they are likely hoping for it.”
“Well, maybe you can tell Thor—“
“Thor is making things worse. My brother has always had quite the talent for ignoring me when he’s with his friends. I am not going anywhere.” You could practically hear the unspoken words: I’ll stay out of spite and sulk.
“Okay then. But maybe you should wear sunscreen. The sun’s pretty aggressive in these parts of Earth.”
“I am a god. I don’t get sunburned.” Indignity swung in his smooth voice as he lifted his chin in defiance.
“Are you sure? At least sit in the shade then. If you’re uncomfortable, I’m sure we can find you some ice.”
“No”, Loki spat, earning him a frown.
“Hey, what’s with the attitude, Trickster?”
“This is ridiculous. I have a multiverse to look out for and Stark had nothing better to do than reduce me to… to…”
“…someone he’d trust enough to bring on holiday with him?” you offered.
Loki glared at you.
“You still feel like you don’t belong?”
Another glare.
“I don’t. Not with them. The only reason I am here is because of Thor who has conveniently forgotten I am even here.”
Your glance found his pale back as he spoke. Loki sighed.
“Would you feel better if I put this… sunscreen on?”
“I would, actually. You don’t wanna start the New Year as red as a crab. You should be blue,” you said, chuckling at your own joke.
“My true form might scare away the other hotel guests.”
“O-oh. No, I meant… blue as in drunk. Wait, so your Frost Giant form is… you have blue skin?”
Loki nodded. “And red eyes.”
“Damn… can you willingly control that? How you look?” You grabbed the sunscreen bottle from your beach bag and squirted a small amount in your palm. It caught fire the very moment it connected with Loki’s bare skin. Heavens… had he just… flinched?
“Odin put an enchantment on me when I was an infant. I could turn if I wished but it mainly triggers if I touch Jötun artefacts.” He didn’t seem all too delighted by the idea.
“I see.”
Quickly, to not get carried away by your fantasies, you rubbed the sunscreen on his back and shoulders and then offered him some more for his face which of course, he declined.
“Well… It’s gonna be a long evening. As soon as Tony brings out the schnapps, you can forget about reasonable conversations.”
Loki smirked. “Thor brought Asgardian ale. They will be unreasonable long before that.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
You shuffled a little closer, careful not to sit in an awkward position and look at least a little sexy. “Do you plan on getting drunk?”
“It’s the beginning of a new year. Hardly a reason to celebrate.”
“Hmm… probably not if you turn thousands of years old. Still, living the life we do, we should be grateful for every year we’re still alive.”
Loki scoffed. It was easy for you to say, of course. You didn’t carry the entire multiverse on your back.
“I’m going for a swim. It’s getting a little too warm for my taste,” he announced.
You nodded, watching how Loki stood, strolled across the beach, and all but jumped into the ocean. You had to close your mouth to make sure you didn’t start drooling over him. Unfortunately for you, Tony sauntered over the very moment you picked up your jaw from the floor.
“You have a thing going on, don’t you?” the billionaire said. It wasn’t a question. In fact, you were quite certain he didn’t even expect a response.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve seen the way you look at him. I’ve had dozens of women look at me like that. You want my advice? Stay away from him. Loki is trouble. I don’t care if he’s the harbinger of the multiverse now.”
“Don’t worry, Tony. I can take care of myself,” you replied with a flat voice. “You could ask him to join you guys, you know. He was sitting here like a pile of misery.”
“He is a pile of misery. And how is this my fault? He could have asked to join too.”
“He shouldn’t have to,” you shot back. Checkmate. Tony sighed, shook his head and, after taking a huge gulp from his water bottle, returned to the volleyball field.
Alright then… if they were not going to celebrate New Year’s with Loki, then you would. You didn’t like beach volleyball anyway.
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Loki had been right about the Asgardian ale. You’d been curious to try it and mesmerised by the taste. By dusk and only one small cup later, you were drunk. Well, sort of. You were present enough to form functioning sentences and sensible thoughts but you would be lying if you claimed that Loki hadn’t noticed your predicament.
Torches, driven into the sand, illuminated your unconventional party location, throwing dancing shadows on the ground and the palm trees around you. Music was blaring out from the speakers behind the bar where an employee, bless his soul, was preparing one alcoholic drink after the next. At some point, you had grabbed Loki’s hand and dragged him away from the centre of attention, somewhere you could talk in peace. You had so many questions—about him, about his thoughts, about his life. And the more questions you asked, the more you realised that apart from Mobius, perhaps, no one had ever taken such interest in him—over Thor, anyways.
You must have been talking for hours at this point.
“Loki? Can I ask you something… personal?”
“Twelve minus twenty-five!” Tony yelled. Right. Twenty-five minutes until the New Year.
The God of Mischief quirked an eyebrow. You took that as a yes and to be fair, he looked adorable holding a cocktail glass with a little paper parasol in his left hand.
“You’re a prince… and you’re a literal century older than me. You must have… lots of experience?”
“Experience with…”
“You know… intimacy. You, um…” You took a sip of your own cocktail. It was a Long Island Ice Tea, one of those you knew got you drunk even quicker than you intended. But you needed the liquid courage. It was the last day of the year, you might as well be daring. “You’re a really good kisser is what I’m trying to say.”
“Ah…” he teased. “You’re still thinking about our kiss, dear?”
“It’s hard not to. You wanna know the truth? I have the biggest crush on you. Not sure what’s stopping me from ripping your clothes off your body right now. Probably the fact that we’re not alone.”
Loki smirked. Then, with a start, he stood up and put both your and his cocktail glass on the little coffee table next to you both. Your heart skipped a beat when he offered you his hand. “Come with me.”
“W-where?”
“Somewhere we are… alone.”
Your eyes widened. The way he purred the words you were all but putty in his hands when you allowed him to pull you with him, back into his hotel room. They were big, massive suites all on the ground floor, actual cottages with straw roofs, a minibar, and king-size beds.
“It’s almost midnight. Whatever your plan is, we should probably—“ You didn’t get any further. As soon as the door fell shut and the room was drowned in darkness, Loki’s lips were on yours, his hands exploring your body and tugging on what little clothing you were wearing in this warm climate.
They were gone before you could blink, your legs wrapped around his middle, his hands on your butt, carrying you to bed. A moan escaped your lips when he broke his passionate kiss to get rid of his own clothes. He was wearing a white unbuttoned shirt, one that’d already had you drooling all over him, combined with another pair of dark green trunks.
You were about to comment how hot you thought he was when he kissed you again. You moaned again, felt his hard length pressing against your inner thigh. Instinctively, you spread your legs further, inviting him in. Still, he took his time.
One of his hands cupped your face, the other disappeared down to where you were already throbbing for him. Loki found you wet and eager, your back arching when he began to pamper your clit with gentle pressure, massaging the sensitive little nub until you went absolutely feral for him.
He was proving it, you realised. Proving a point. Answering your question. Yes, he had experience. And he was about to show you just how he could make his partners feel in bed. Fuck…
You whined when he pulled away but before you could complain, he pulled your legs apart even further and sank his length into you. He slid in meeting no resistance, filling you to the brim. For a moment, you both froze.
“You… feel like you’ve been made for me…” you heard him growl against your ear.
“Loki…” It was all you were able to respond when he began to fuck you, stroke after stroke after stroke. He was right. It felt so good you feared you’d pass out and miss out on the fun and you realised soon enough that you didn’t need his hands to give you bliss.
Loki buried himself even deeper inside of you, his forehead resting against yours; grinding so closely against you he created friction where you needed him the most. Slow and deep thrusts made you throw your head back. And then, all of a sudden, you could hear everyone outside count down from ten.
You came the very moment you heard the Avengers’ scream “Happy New Year”, followed by fireworks illuminating the night sky. Flickering, colourful lights fell through the gap of Loki’s curtains, reflecting the firework inside of you.
Pulsing around him, he kept pounding into you until he too reached his peak, his face buried in your neck.
The fireworks were still going by the time you were able to grasp a proper thought again, a whimper escaping your lips as you relished the feeling of Loki jerking against your walls and filling you with his seed.
“Happy New Year, Loki.”
“Happy New Year, dear.”
The God of Mischief smiled—it was quite possibly the most genuine expression you had ever seen on him. He pulled out and you rolled over so you came to lie on top of him. He was even more comfortable than the king-size bed. But when you tried to sit up and climb out of bed, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you captive.
“Where do you think you’re going? We’ve only just started.”
“Oh f-fuck… that sounds tempting but we should… probably wish everyone a happy New Year?” Loki quirked an eyebrow yet again. “Or maybe not…”
He smirked and allowed you both to sit up. With a simple snap of his fingers, he produced two glasses of champagne and handed you one. “Perhaps… I will start celebrating New Year’s after all.”
You grinned as you clinked your glasses. “But only if we do it exactly how we just did it.”
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A/N: Happy New Year everyone! ♥
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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months ago
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honestly looking at the designs for Vil's hometown event, the colors are giving Gucci. They're pretty close to gucci's brand colors.
[Referencing the new upcoming JP hometown event!]
Oooh, that’s so true!!
Vil aside, the outfits of the other boys do have very similar colors to Gucci’s signature ones, which are a terracotta red, a deep green, and a faded gold. Black and/or beige are also common in Gucci designs:
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And well, what do ya know?? 😂 Jamil, Azul, AND Ace have beige suits with deep green undershirts, reddish-brown ties, and golden clasps/accessories. (I think Jamil wears a red-brown undershirt and has green lapels; it’s hard to tell from his pose.) They all also seem to have very dark liner, which, realistically, is probably meant to help their faces stand out in photos if they’re on a red carpet, but also fits into the Gucci color scheme.
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I believe Yana references luxury fashion sometimes for her designs, so maybe that was the intention here?? The color scheme also calls back to the Evil Queen's huntsman, so it creates a cool double meaning that fits the theme of a red carpet event starring Vil!
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A friend recently proposed the theory to me that while Vil is the Evil Queen (and therefore is dressed most differently from the other event boys), Azul, Jamil, and Ace are dressed like the Huntsman to represent different aspects of him. For example, Ace is a card solider of hearts—so he’s the box that the Huntsman is meant to bring Snow White’s heart in. Azul could represent the deal the Huntsman made to spare Snow White’s life, or, alternatively, his kindness/mercy in letting her go. Finally, Jamil represents the profession itself and the Huntsman’s servile role to the queen.
I love seeing multifaceted fashion like this 🫶
UPDATE: Yes, it’s formally confirmed in the event that Vil’s guests are dressed up like the Huntsmen while his own outfit is inspired by the Beautiful Queen. The former are going to be his entourage and bodyguards as he walks down the red carpet!
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kaizokuniichan · 5 months ago
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Poker Face
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Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader
Summary: A cocktail waitress in the Gran Tesoro casino takes a liking to Zoro and you can’t stand it. Reader is toxic. Pettiness ensues.
Note: Takes place during Film Gold although it’s just the backdrop. No canon characters apart from Zoro.
Word Count: 4.6k
Warning: Basic toxic behavior, degradation, spitting, hair pulling, devious back shots
Tags: @eelnoise @bby-deerling @kibblz-n-bitz @sunshinescribes @sleepymarimo
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You were going to kill him. You were going to throttle him if he didn’t get that busty cocktail waitress’s hands off of him.
All night you’d been trying to convince yourself that the woman was simply doing her job of preying on the weak-willed desires of male patrons in exchange for their lecherous ogling. But Zoro wasn’t just any male patron, and her needling went far beyond a means to an end. She wanted him, and she’d done everything outside of plop herself into his lap to make her point.
Cacophonous hoots and hollers from the other Blackjack tables dulled in your ears as you watched the woman scratch her talons up and down the starched sleeve of his cream suit jacket. He remained infuriatingly obtuse while draining another glass in his typical, uncouth manner. Though he continued to ignore her advances, you still ground your teeth when her blood red, coffin-shaped claws dug into his arm. There was only so much of his obliviousness you could take—after all, he wasn’t the type to allow just anyone to put their hands on him. At this point, it appeared that he was playing some sort of game to fuck with you. For what reason, you couldn’t say.
The urge to ruin her perfectly installed lash extensions with a violent slam to the table spread like venom in your veins as an envious green serpent curled and coiled into a hiss behind your darkened eyes. He was more than aware of the murderous intent licking at your fingertips, yet he refused to spare you any glance or make any move to shove the woman off. Yes, he was most certainly fucking with you.
Another roll of dice bounced softly onto the felt tabletop and the man beside you raised his glass with a jubilant shout. He’d been hopelessly trying to win your affection by purchasing all of your drinks and asking you to blow on the dice as his “good luck charm”. He is quite handsome you thought to yourself as you admired him. A bit on the older side, and much more clean cut than what you were used to, but cute enough all the same.
With wicked ease you ran your fingers down his arm to mirror the wretched tart on the other side of the table. You caught the polite man’s warm smile and tried to picture yourself falling for someone more elegant like him, but unfortunately your heart had already been claimed by the rugged, classless oaf sitting on the other side of the table.
Before you could stop yourself your feet carried you to the other side where the two of them sat—her head resting on his shoulder, and his eyes flitted to you when you stood in front of them.
“Well, isn’t this cozy.”
He’d only been mildly thrown off by the acid in your tone, but she had more sense to cower.
“I’m sorry, is there something that you need?”
You couldn’t decide if you were satisfied with the tremor in her voice, or annoyed that she’d even dared to speak to you.
“This doesn’t really seem like very “professional” behavior.”
“I’m…sorry?”
The woman was an idiot. Anyone with half a brain could see you weren’t in the mood for mindless chat, especially with someone as irrelevant as her. You chose to ignore her and returned your attention back to him.
“Are you really doing this?”
He remained silent while little flickers of amusement tickled his lips. The woman eventually gained enough sense to disentangle herself.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize he was your-“
“He’s not. Have at him sweetie.”
You placed a palm to his face and mushed it as you walked past while simultaneously knocking your shoulder into hers. Under her breath there was an utterance of some sort that involved the word “bitch”, and it took everything within you not to whip back around and hurl your purse at her head. No use damaging a perfectly good bag.
As your heels clacked across the marble floors your body trembled with rage. A stiff drink probably would’ve done you some good but you weren’t in the mood, and the rest of the crew were off gallivanting around the casino but you had no desire to join them.
As luck would have it, a stool was vacated right as you arrived, and once settled in your seat, you plopped your purse on the counter and rolled your shoulders. The tension in your muscles slowly faded, and the heat simmering beneath your skin was cooled by the vent blasting overhead.
Your short-lived luck soon met its end as your attempts at flagging down the bartender were unsuccessful. After several fruitless waves, you made the decision to just end the night, but your movements were halted when a warm hand softly touched the small of your back. The touch was much too unfamiliar to be anyone from the crew—and certainly not that damned swordsman. You geared up to tell off the unwelcome guest but when you turned around you were met with the sensual gaze of the handsome man from the previous table.
“Need some help?”
You flashed him your most dazzling smile. He deserved it.
“From you? Of course.”
You heard his short intake of breath and knew you had him completely hooked—not that it took much effort really. From appearances alone it was obvious he was someone who easily garnered lots of attention. And yet you were the one who’d bewitched him, and he longed for your company. He wished to serve you, and you began flirting with the idea of allowing it. Hopefully that shitty asshole a few tables over had a perfect view.
The harried bartender finally arrived with your seltzer and lime, and your prior annoyance was quelled by his sincere apologies. The gentleman stopped your hand when you offered a tip, sliding his card over instead.
“Someone as pretty as yourself should never open their wallet.”
You snapped your clutch closed with a smirk. The guy was completely entranced.
He sat down beside you and began to ramble about his name, where he was from, and whatever it was he did that made his pockets long. You were sure it had to be interesting, but all of his words were diluted by the fog of your lingering jealousy. It was unfair to him, but you needed the distraction to keep yourself from being vexed for the rest of the night.
The squeak of Handsome Stranger’s chair blew aside your bitter thoughts when he tried to subtly inch closer, so you threw him a bone and adjusted yourself to allow the slit in your skirt to reveal more skin. Embers of his desire glowed deep his eyes, and he took a nervous gulp of his scotch before speaking.
“I hope I’m not being too forward but I would love to invite you back to my penthouse suite for a little nightcap, if you were so inclined?”
Your suddenly rose when you felt a piercing, steely glare from somewhere off to the side. Observation haki was not something you were completely practiced in, but it always seemed to appear in the most convenient times.
It was unfortunate that this sweet man was an innocent casualty in the toxic web he’d been ensnared in. The dim lights of the casino reflected in his enlarged pupils as he waited expectantly for your reply—as did the gruff man in the distance.
“Oh I would love to. But I have my nightly upkeep that I must maintain. Lots of serums and oils and creams to remain all nice and soft and sweet for tasteful men such as yourself. I wouldn’t want you to catch me looking anything less than perfect.”
He leaned closer and gently placed a cool hand over yours.
“If you come with me tonight I’ll have people that can handle your every need. Just stay with me. Let me take care of you.”
The guy was smooth, you’d certainly give him that. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles and he cocked his head to the side as if to bring his lips to your cheek, but a large hand grabbed his shoulder and forcefully shoved him back.
“She’s not going anywhere with you.”
Well. That barely took any time. You’d planned on at least allowing the man to walk you to the elevator.
“Excuse you,” you pouted theatrically, “that was very rude.”
Zoro slipped between the two seats to block the man from your sight.
“You done having your fun?”
Still playing nonchalant, you removed your lipgloss from your clutch and applied a few swipes across your lips.
“I don’t know what you mean. Please step aside so I can finish chatting with this lovely gentleman.”
Zoro side-eyed the man still gathering himself from being nearly toppled over and let out a dry laugh.
“You’re kidding, right? You’re gonna have to do a lot better if you wanna get a rise outta me.”
You sniffed and pretended to touch up the rest of your makeup though you knew it wasn’t needed—you looked absolutely divine.
“Well clearly it has, otherwise you wouldn’t be over here harassing my-“
“Your what?”
The man finally straightened himself out and stood by your side.
“Miss, is this guy bothering you? Shall I call security?”
Aw, what a sweetie. You began to feel a little bad for him when he was shouldered aside by Zoro’s massive body.
“So,” he scoffed, still ignoring him, “not only are you tryna piss me off, but you’re doing it with someone who thinks you’re weak?”
“Not everyone needs to use brute force to get their point across Zoro. We’re not all Neanderthals.”
Zoro’s face morphed into a taunting smirk that filled your belly with lava.
“True. But I know someone who needs brute force when they’re being a hypocritical brat.”
You fought the urge to tug him closer by the lapels of his suit jacket and bite his stupid lips just to shut him up.
The head of the unsuspecting man ping-ponged between your prickly jibes, and he stepped back as the realization of his use as a ploy began to sink in.
“I think I’d better just go.”
Zoro flashed him a maniacal grin as he stumbled away, and you began to gather your things when his arm hooked around your waist to drag you back into his chest.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Well,” you sighed as you tried to pull yourself free from his grasp, “you’ve effectively ruined my fun for the evening so I’m off to bed. Maybe you should go find your little girlfriend from earlier.” You heard him snicker as you walked away.
A sea of affluent casino-dwellers parted as you lead him back to the elevators, and he pressed his hard body into your back as he reached out to push the button. His warm breaths against your neck melted your glacial attitude, and his closeness was so foreboding that the levy of your sanity nearly collapsed.
The elevator doors slid open and he pushed you inside as a crowd of elaborately dressed guests exited. The night was fairly young so it was unlikely that anyone from the crew would come looking for you.
The lift climbed the floors with smooth efficiency and paused occasionally to allow more guests to enter and exit. The excitement in the box was palpable though it couldn’t quite penetrate the curtain of tension separating the two of you from the rest of the crowd. His fingers curled firmly around your hip and the subtle poke in his slacks left you breathless. Glancing at your glossy reflection in the gold-plated walls proved to be a mistake as you were met with menacing eyes and a callous grin that promised retribution.
You were under no impression that you’d part ways once you arrived at your floor, and your hands shook as you searched your bag for your key. Anxiety clawed at your chest when he swiped the key from your hands to slap it onto the card reader, and the soft click of the locking mechanism signified the final nail being hammered into your coffin. You were fucked.
Before you could gain your bearings you were shoved roughly into the wall with your arms pinned behind your back and a harsh mouth pressed to your ear.
“Bet you’re real proud of yourself, aren’t ya?”
Your heart pounded in your chest as you wobbled on your heels.
“You’re the one who started all of this with that slutty harlot downstairs.” Your sane mind would’ve admonished you for using such degrading language towards a woman, but your morals had been cast aside the moment he’d stepped out in that delicious cream suit—effortlessly sexy as always.
His low chuckle carried the rumblings of an approaching storm that rippled down your spine. “All I did was sit there and mind my drink. I can’t help it if a random woman has some kind of agenda.”
“Come on Zoro, you’re not dumb. You know what her agenda was, and you could’ve shut that shit down, but you didn’t.”
He loosened his grip on your arms when he felt your muscles strain but then re-tightened it when he remembered you mushing his face earlier.
“Why should I have shut her down,” he asked smugly. He obviously was living for your embarrassment.
“Because she’s not even someone you’d be interested in fucking.” He quirked a brow in surprise.
“Oh, she’s not?”
You chose not to speak and he pressed himself into your backside—the imprint of his arousal nestling between your cheeks.
“And who’s someone I’d be interested in fucking then?”
You had no witty reply as he pulled your long skirt up your thighs, so slowly you could almost feel every satiny fiber rub over your skin. He bunched it around your waist and gave your ass a squeeze.
“You played too close to fire the sweetheart. Now I’m gonna fuckin ruin ya.”
With a swiftness even you weren’t prepared for, he ripped off your lacy underwear and tossed it aside where it lay in tatters on the marble floor. He turned you around and shoved a thigh between your legs to prevent your escape. Not that you ever would.
“You chose the right guy to piss me off you know, knowing full well he wasn’t gonna rough you up the way you want.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I was just having an innocent conversation.”
“Don’t play cute with me, you knew what you were doing.”
He forced your head back to leer at you through those stupid green-tinted sunglasses and you wanted to smack them off his face. Dick. How could he make something as tacky as wearing sunglasses indoors look sexy?
“Why have you been fucking with me Zoro?”
“Someone had to wake your ass up,” he murmured with a satisfied smirk.
You realized just how foolish you’d been—you were never the one who was in control. The man was an analytical genius, and you were always meant to be the prey. Your carefully curated web of petty games paled ten times over in comparison to anything he could construct.
“Okay. Since you’re the one that’s clearly in charge here, whatever am I to do?”
He rolled his eyes. “Quit the blushing good girl act and get your ass on the bed.”
“Couldn’t I at least get a kiss first,” you pouted and fluttered your lashes. You knew he hated when you pretended to act sweet and demure.
“No. Clearly you don’t deserve it yet.”
You must have taken too long for his liking for he took matters—and you—into his own hands by hoisting you up and throwing you over his shoulder. The weight of your body had hardly ever been an issue for him—what was an issue was your smart ass mouth.
“I’m surprised you could even find where the bed is.”
Your suite was fairly large so realistically it could take more than a few steps to actually reach it, but he clearly wasn’t in the mood for your diatribes. With a scoff, he roughly deposited you onto the luxurious bedding.
“The worst thing I can do right now is leave you here unfulfilled and unsatisfied, so maybe you should keep your mouth shut.”
You buttoned your lip and began unbuckling your shoes, and his eyes softened as he watched you wince while wiggling your toes.
“Dunno why you even bother with those things anyway, you know you can’t stand on them for more than an hour.”
“It goes with the outfit,” you sighed, tossing them aside.
“It’s a shame you’re not gonna get anymore wear outta that outfit.”
You leaned back on your elbows and watched him pull off his suit jacket and unzip the jumpsuit underneath down to his waist, though he didn’t remove any more than that.
He grasped your ankle to pull you back to the edge of the bed and tore your skirt apart at the slit as if it were rice paper. In the blink of an eye you were left bare and splayed before him like a feast waiting to be devoured. And oh how ravenously he would devour you—gnashing his teeth as he pulled you apart, and leaving nothing but the entrails of your bleeding heart behind. And then he’d sink his teeth into that too.
With his length completely exposed he flipped you over and propped you up on your elbows. His hand pushed your head down into the mattress, and he slapped your ass a few times, smiling to himself as you yelped from each impact. You felt him bite into the meaty flesh of your ass before following it with another harsh smack, and you hoped a reddened imprint of his teeth and hand would remain on your skin as a dirty reminder.
“I know you can do better than that. Spread your legs and arch your back more.”
Annoying as always, he demanded more while giving you virtually nothing. Your first instinct was to display disobedience, but his threat of leaving you high and dry made you compliant.
“Please Zoro, I’ve waited so long.”
You heard a clattering behind you that you assumed was his sunglasses being tossed aside. His rough fingers slid up and down your opening, and you whined when he refused to probe any deeper. You wiggled your hips in a wordless command.
“You’re such a needy girl, aren’t ya? Where’d all that fake innocence go?”
His fingers continued to tease you while he taunted, and your annoyance gave way to desperation.
“Zoro please. I’m begging you, please.”
A harsh smack on your pussy made your knees buckle.
“The begging’s nice, but I’m still waiting to hear an apology.”
You’d do anything but that. He was the one who started all of this.
“No?” He sighed in exasperation. “Alright then. Guess I’ll just leave you here to take care of yourself.”
“No wait!”
His hands crawled up your spine to grip your shoulder and the back of your neck, and he leaned over to tickle your ear with his lips.
“You want my dick that badly?”
Your tears wetted the sheets as they spilled from your eyes.
“I do, I want it so bad. So fucking bad. ’m sorry for being a brat.”
“Yeah?” His voice was strained. Clearly he was also holding himself back from giving in until you’d truly earned it. After a final swipe of his fingers along your slick folds he tapped your ass with his cock a few times before positioning himself.
“There it is. Keep begging for it.”
He gifted you with his tip, but your euphoria was short lived when he refused to fill you any further. You needed to feel every pulse that beat along the veiny underside of his length. As he stretched your walls torturously slow, your relieved whines were muffled by the silken sheets. The wait had been torturously long.
He slid his cock between your lower lips and the lubricant of his precum mixed with the wetness leaking from your pussy. One of his hands grasped your wrist to twist it behind your back and he repositioned himself once again at your entrance.
“Even though you don’t deserve it, I’m gonna fuck this needy pussy anyway.”
You gasped and sighed thankful whimpers as he pressed forward and stuffed you with a burning stretch. You’d have to adjust to his girth—every single part of his body was impossibly thick and wide. Calloused fingers tripped over your clit in an attempt to loosen your muscles, and before you knew it the two of you were fully connected.
His fingers crawled into your scalp and hooked around your tresses to tug your back, and you clenched walls and you unhinged your jaw with a deep moan. Finally, for the first time tonight, your desires were being fulfilled.
His hips snapped against your ass and all you could do was lay there and take it. The stillness of the room was rattled by the harsh slaps of your skin connecting and your rhythmic whiny moans. He was quiet, save for a couple of low grunts as he held you in place to mercilessly slam into your sex. He seemed disconnected—using you as his own personal toy to get himself off, so you were then taken by surprise when his gravelly voice finally acknowledged you.
“This what you needed to get you to behave? You’re something else. You know this is only meant for me, right? This is all mine, understand?”
He pulled your head further back and cupped your jaw, and you could see his eyes glow red from your peripheral.
“Yes. I understand.”
“You understand what,” he demanded as he smushed your cheeks together.
“My pussy is yours. I’m all yours. Only yours.”
You felt his cock throb inside you and he cursed under his breath. His groans rose in volume when your tongue slid and curled between the two fingers he’d stuffed inside your mouth, and he pressed them further down your throat to make you gag.
“Fuck, you’re so needy. Look at you tightening up around me.”
You heard him chuckle and he removed his fingers to caress and grope your curves—pinching your nipples and squeezing bruises into your skin. He never ceased his thrusts as his hand slid between your legs to circle your puffy clit. Jolts of pleasure electrified your nerves as he defiled you—hammering away until your foundation crumbled to dust.
He finally let go of your hair to hike his knee up on the bed and your body flopped bonelessly onto the mattress. The bed frame knocked noisily against the wall from the merciless onslaught, and you mourned the definite loss of your security deposit.
He sunk his teeth into your shoulder to draw out more of those precious sounds he loved so much while his tongue licked to soothe the raw skin. You could hear the faint tinkling of his earrings clinking together when he nuzzled the crook of your neck.
“Stop being so quiet. Use that big mouth of yours and let me hear you.”
You gulped, filling your lungs with muggy bits of air.
“I don’t…want anyone to hear.”
His movements stilled.
“Yes you do.”
The air in your lungs was trapped as you held your breath.
“Why would you stop?”
“Because I know you’re lying.”
His cock twitched and he relinquished some of his practiced control by sensually grinding his hips, achingly slow. A totally different rhythm from what he’d started with.
“I know you wish that waitress could see us now.” His voice had dipped to an intimate murmur as he stroked your walls. You could hear the crude sounds of how slick and slippery you were at the base of your connection—he’d reached so deep that he prodded your delicate center.
“You want her to see who all of this belongs to. That I’m all yours.”
You whimpered with every rough slam of his hips, and he picked your head up to crush your lips together. His tongue invaded your mouth and you gripped the sheets as trails of saliva trickled down your chin.
He ceased his invasive overtaking of your mouth to lick up the wetness dribbling down your jaw.
“Open your mouth.”
His voice was a puppeteer that held the strings to control your body. You opened your mouth in a stupor and stuck out your tongue, and he chuckled at your immediate compliance before spitting the remnants of your saliva back into your mouth.
“Hold it there and keep your tongue out.”
You dared not disobey. He kept your head in place to examine your face and you rubbed your ass against him in an attempt to get him to fuck you harder. He smirked and finally let go of your jaw.
“Swallow.”
Immediately you closed your mouth and gulped, savoring your tastes mixing together. He continued grinding against your ass until he pressed you back down into the mattress to resume his rough thrusts. You went to bring your fingers to your clit to help yourself along but he yanked your hand away and pinned it back onto the bed.
“Nuh uh,” he tutted, “you don’t get to finish. Be good and lay there.”
You whined and begged him to let you cum but he smiled wickedly and selfishly chased his own high. Even if you weren’t permitted to touch yourself, his cock still reached the deepest depths of your insides—kissing that fleshy patch of bliss which left your body immobile. His grunts became faster as his balls slapped against your ass, and the squeaks of the weakened bed frame synchronized with his frantic thrusts. You chanted his name and arched your back as he gripped your waist to pound you into the mattress.
He fucked you in a frenzy—biting incoherent curses into your skin. And with one last slam into your abused pussy his body seized and he groaned as he released inside of you so fully that it spilled out to form a ring around the base of his cock. Your walls fluttered as you desperately rubbed your clit—still keeping your back arched to hold him in place as you rushed to follow. It only took a few firm circles around your bud before the muscles in your core tightened and your legs shook as electricity spread throughout your body to shock every one of your nerve endings. You let out a cry into the sheets and Zoro thrust lazily to help carry you along until you sighed weakly and relaxed.
He pulled out smoothly and the warmth of his cum slid down between your thighs and onto the floor. After straightening back up he turned you around and finally pressed his lips to yours. You hummed and wrapped your arms around his neck, and his hands came down to squeeze your ass a few times before giving it a smack.
“That’s my girl,” he smirked as he laid you back down onto the bed and laid next to you.
“That was so mean,” you giggled as you rested your head on his chest and dragged your fingers over his pec.
“You deserved it. Acting like such a brat, as if it wasn’t obvious that I’m already yours. And you’re mine.”
Your body buzzed from his words and you cupped his cheek to kiss his jaw.
“Yeah, I’m yours. And you’re mine.”
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tavolgisvist · 23 days ago
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At Laudate in Newdigate I decided that Saturday to take a very modest 250 milligrams of LSD in a final cup of tea with Joan before setting off for St John’s Wood to pick up Paul McCartney and Peter Asher and Tony Bramwell, the Apple team due next day at Bradford. <…> Paul seemed very positive and played us some rare recordings; ‘dubs’ he had made of songs, written by him for others, dubs on which he was singing for the first and last time. Maybe one day they will make an album of them, but maybe it will have to be over his dead body for I don’t see him wishing to complete that particular symphony in his lifetime. I said I had taken a dollop of the dreaded heaven-and-hell, and Paul said it should be an interesting journey, and it was. We stopped at a pub on the way up and I astonished myself by coping remarkably well up until the point where I asked the barman if I could buy a filthy table which stood in a corner covered in cigarette burns and the stains of long dead pints. <…> ‘Drink up,’ said Paul, seeing the signs and playing Dad. ‘Write your name here please, Paul,’ said the barman and we left.
We arrived in Bradford after dark. Some disabled people were operating rowing machines in a charity marathon in a local showroom. We wandered in and looked, leaving some silver in the collecting boxes, neither the first nor the last of the small spenders. It was midnight as we checked into the hotel. There wasn’t a soul or a sound except for the red-nosed night porter, as old as Moses. Paul had brought Martha (My Dear) with him – the sheepdog of the same name. ‘Can you shampoo her?’ he asked the porter who recoiled in terror. ‘It’s her arse,’ said Paul, and he put his fingers in the thick curls around Martha’s back passage and pulled off a cluster of clinkers. ‘Look!’ I nearly fainted. ‘I’m afraid not,’ said the porter. It was very late after all. Next morning, another lovely day. I felt very nice and clean around the brain, always have a lovely morning after acid. A few months earlier Paul and I had gone shopping for suits; he had told me navy blue pinstripe was already on the way back (meaning that he wore it) and I fell for it – and ordered one. I had taken it with me to Bradford; just right for Bradford I said. I wore it down to breakfast and then we went off to the Victoria Hall where the Black Dyke Mills Band were waiting on hard wooden chairs, looking bloody marvellous and real and solid and honourable and stocky and lots of other words like that. Paul had on a magenta shirt and a white jacket, double breasted, with black trousers (no one had ever told him they were on the way back), and the Black Dyke Mills Band was quite stunned by his charm and by the way he handled the music. Marvellous recordings were made, indoors and later in the street, of both ‘Thingumybob’ and ‘Yellow Submarine’. It was a good morning for everyone because the portable recording unit worked, the band and McCartney worked, and the press worked out beautifully – I saw dozens of old friends and we had a few pints and then lunch. At around three o’clock, as we filmed the last TV interview (‘How do you like Bradford?’ ‘It’s great …’; fast-moving stuff like that) I decided to off the suit and black shoes, put on a pair of red corduroys and a white Mexican cotton shirt from Olvera Street, Los Angeles, a couple of beads, an Indian scarf and down my throat went another 250 milligrams of the dreaded heaven-and-hell drug. What a day for a daydream. ‘Should be an interesting journey,’ said Paul. The chauffeur said: ‘Back to London?’ and we said ‘yes’, not sure that it was the right answer.
<…> As we rolled away from the South Midlands and approached the Northern Home Counties the acid really started to bounce. It was late afternoon and if there was a heaven to be found on this soil, then I reckoned it would be found this evening, in the green and gold of this divine countryside. ‘Would you like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar?’ ‘Yes,’ said Peter Asher. ‘Where would you like to go?’ I asked. ‘AA Book,’ said Paul. ‘Pick the most beautiful name in Bedfordshire,’ I said, ‘that’s where we should go.’ Peter looked at the map for what seemed like two hours or more. ‘Harrold,’ he said, after fifteen seconds. ‘Harrold?’ said the driver, naturally knocked out with delight to leave the M1 and crawl down B, C and D roads to a village no one in the car, including himself, had ever heard of. We wound through Bedfordshire checking off the signs steadily until we reached the village sign: Harrold. Oh, it was a joyful Sunday sight. It was the village we were supposed to have fought the world wars to defend, for which we would be expected to fight the third when told to, but won’t. It was a Miniver hamlet on the Ouse and there were notices telling of the fete next Saturday, and a war memorial which made me weep. Thrushes and blackbirds sang and swallows dived into thatches and a little old mower wheezed as we walked down the only street there was past the inn which was closed, past the church which was open, nodding to a sandy man with a 1930s moustache and khaki shorts as he clipped his hedge and stared at these city people with funny hair and clothes. It was seven o’clock and acid or no acid, it was opening time and I steered us into the most beautiful village inn the world has ever known and there were three or four people in there, or more or less; magical antique villagers with smocks and shepherd’s crooks and also there was a fruit machine offering Jolly Joker tokens. Through the dancing lights, past the sparkle of the green and tawny bottles, I saw the sandy man with the khaki shorts. <…> ‘Welcome to Harrold, Paul,’ said the sandy man, the local dentist, downing the rich gold beer he had earned with his shears. ‘I can hardly believe it, in fact I think I’m dreaming.’ We next found ourselves in his house, below dipping oak beams, a banquet provided for us, hams and pies and multi-jewelled salads, new bread and cakes, chicken and fruit and wine; and the dentist’s wife, a jolly lady, still young beyond her maddest fantasies, bringing out her finest fare. Paul McCartney was at her table in the village of Harrold.
Hiding at a turn on the crooked staircase stood a little girl, shy and disbelieving. But she had brought a right-handed guitar and landed it in Paul’s (left-handed) hands but the wizards were producing this play by now and floating with the splendour of this, the strangest Happening since Harrold was born, the dentist and his wife, and the neighbours as they crowded the windows and the parlour, and the children, all caught their breath as Paul McCartney began to play the song he had written that week: ‘Hey Jude,’ it began. I sat peacefully, full of the goodness you can find within yourself when goodness is all around and the dentist’s wife picked up on it and asked why life couldn’t always be like this and I told her there was nothing to fear, nothing at all and the dentist brought out the wine he had been saving for the raffle at the fete next Saturday and we drank that to celebrate the death of fear and the coming of music to Harrold and then, and gradually, the dentist was freaking and he asked me what I thought I was talking about and for a moment it was very tough, very. Ah, but Dr Leary’s medicine was good that day and we came back to a good position again, but I didn’t feel quite right about the dentist after that, and I don’t think he felt quite right about me, but how was he to know and what was I to do? You don’t just tell strangers you’ve been taking that naughty old heaven’n’hell drug. It was now eleven o’clock and we were still in the house and the inn was closed but a winged messenger came to say that as this was the night of nights, never to return, the inn was to be re-opened. ‘In your honour, Paul.’ It was 11 p.m. Paul had The Look on his face, the ‘do we don’t we?’ I nodded: tonight we should. The pub was absolutely full. The whole village was here. Paul played the piano until at three o’clock a woman stood and sang ‘The Fool on the Hill’ and he left the piano to dance with her and kiss her on the cheek and then I went and sat in the little garden and cried for joy that we had come to Harrold. It was a most beautiful garden, with hundreds of old-fashioned flowers, lupins, foxgloves – that sort of thing, and Alan Smith came out, pissed as a newt and said, ‘Why so sad, old friend, why so sad on such a night?’ ‘Not sad,’ I said, ‘not sad, old pal, just happy to be alive.’ We left then, waved away by the Harrolds, by all of them, and we never went back and I never looked at the map again, not even to see if Harrold was there.
(As Time Goes by Derek Taylor)
(Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI)
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fandxmslxt69 · 11 months ago
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One and Only
Prince!Loki x f!asgardian noble!reader
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Warnings: um none. maybe a few grammar errors or weird sentences, some suggestive content (mentions of sex like once) Reader is mentioned to be wearing a green silky dress, and Loki is sort of wearing his suit adjacent to the one in Avengers + His horns.
A/N: Dearest lovely @fictive-sl0th - first of all, thank you for organising this amazingly fun Secret Santa event for us- it's been so much fun and I'm happy that it's my first event on Tumblr! Secondly, I truly hope you enjoy this little thing Camille- your prompt was so much fun and I hope I did it justice!
Synopsis: Loki is forced to find a bride, and things take a turn when a familiar face shows up.
Prompt: King Odin wants Loki to marry so he orders him to pick a bride during the annual yule ball. (He’s not amused haha) But things take a spicy turn when you show up and turn out to be a coveted noblewoman instead of the tempting, mysterious villager you pretended to be during all your earlier accidental encounters. In the end Odin gets what he wants ;)
Word count: 2.7k
“It’s time to do something useful. You will find a bride as soon as possible, Loki. With my heir off playing dress up on Midgard, I have none but you to wed off,”“Now, I’m sure Thor will come back with a nice bride-” 
“Asgard will NOT have a mortal woman as its first bride. Not now, not ever. It’s decided. This year’s Yule ball will be to find you a bride. Only Asgard’s finest, most eligible women will be up for a chance at marriage with you,” 
Loki grumbled to himself as the maids fussed over him. This was useless. Loki had no desire for marriage for another few centuries. His mood went from poor to sour to downright depressed and cynical as the days counted down to Yule. He thought perhaps someone would talk some sense into Odin, and yet there was a sinking feeling in his stomach after Odin declared his choice that told him he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. 
One of the maids tucked too hard on his cape, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Watch it,” he snapped. The maid muttered a quick apology, but before he could get another word in, there was a knock at the door before Frigga stepped in. 
Loki felt himself relax as she walked into his room, taking her time to look him over as she walked closer. “I’ll take it from here,” She addressed the women softly. They nodded and hurried out the door, but Loki couldn’t help letting out a groan while watching them hurry out. “I’ve scared them out of their minds,” “Now now,” Frigga stood beside him as she smiled at him in the mirror. “I’m sure Ingrid understands the stress you’re under,” Loki grumbled again under his breath. “I will find her later, to apologise,” Frigga hummed as she fussed at his clothes. He was wearing his finest Asgardian leather, the colours of the armour were a deep green and a rustic black only leather could give off. Frigga had ensured the suit stayed in the best conditions, even going as far as ordering the gold arm plates remade to be in perfect condition. He looked like the perfect image of the Asgardian prince. Regal and poise, and impeccable fashion taste. Even his head piece was polished thoroughly, and it lay on his bed, waiting for him to pick it up and wear it. His signature horns. His signature dress. 
He’s just missing that signature Loki grin. But he had no intention of giving anyone that smile. It was already someone’s. He had no desire to share it with another. 
“What are you thinking about?” Frigga had stopped fussing over him and stood behind him, watching him intently through the mirror.
“Nothing,” He lied quickly. 
“Nothing?” He nodded. “Exactly. Nothing,” She hummed, turning around to grab his horns from the bed. “Very well. I do hope we get to see that girl you’ve been sneaking off to see. Perhaps she will be a good fit,” He nodded, the words not registering until a few seconds later. His eyes widened, and he spun around to look at her. “What? What girl?” He closed the distance between him and his mother, grabbing his horns from her. “There is no girl. There’s never been a girl. What are you talking about?” 
Frigga raises her eyebrows. “Right…”
He nodded, carefully placing the horns on his head. There is no girl. Not anymore. 
She won’t even be there, so what’s the point?
“I don’t think there is anyone for me,” The words fell out of his lips before he could stop them.
Frigga’s eyes softened. “My dear boy, if I can see everything you hold, I know someone out there can too,”
Yes, he thought. She can, but what about everyone else? Odin? What did he think? The thoughts only soured his mood even more. “Perhaps we should go now,” He said curtly, holding his arm out for his mother. Frigga smiled softly, an edge of sadness in her eyes. 
“Very well,” She said, hooking her arm around his as they left his room.
*                                                               *                                                               *
Asgard’s usually plain ballroom had transformed itself to fit the spirit of Yule. Decked in only the most lavish of decorations, the ballroom glittered and sparkled as people settled in, women dressed in their finest robes and men in only their best attire. Loki stood by his mother and Thor as Odin drilled on, giving thanks to those who came, and promising a dance to every woman from Loki before he was to pick his bride. With every word he spoke, Loki felt a shiver run down his neck. He had no desire to be here, but this was not the first time he had been forced to forget about his own feelings and opinions, so he knew how to power through the night. 
You stood in your own corner with your mother, who made comments at everyone she could get her hands on. You only rolled your eyes or muttered a word in conversation, your mind too preoccupied. You had no idea how to feel about coming. At first, you had no desire to go. Why, all of a sudden, was Loki wanting to get married? Had he not told you, mere days ago, that he had no intention to run his life? It’s silly, it’s not like you were in love with him (maybe a little) or betrothed to him, but it still felt like a small dagger to your heart. Then, you thought perhaps he had a change of heart. Or perhaps it was his mother’s idea. Perhaps you even had a chance. He knew you, at least. He flirted with you, outside of this castle at least. And then you remembered that he only actually knew you as the girl he ran into at the village. And suddenly, bile rose up your mouth and you threw your invitation out. 
But naturally, your mother wasted no chances to shove you with any respectable man, and a prince is as respectable as they come- and there was nothing in the Nine Realms that could have stopped her from going to the Yule Ball. So here you found yourself, in your finest green silks (unintentional) and the best pieces of your gold as your mother fussed over every piece of hair out of place. 
You watched Loki from your corner as he danced with the first few women. He had a polite smile on his hands, and a few times you heard him laugh at something one of them would say, and your gut twisted and your lunch made its way up your throat. The laughs brought you back to your own secret encounters with him, nights you spent wandering the village and exchanging stories. You remembered the first time you made him laugh so freely, and it unlocked a new desire in you- to make him laugh for eternity. 
Perhaps that was a little too obsessive at the time. But you couldn’t blame it on yourself. Loki was the kind of man who wormed his way into the heart and nested there forever. Once he was in, there was no way to flush him out of your system. Certainly not after knowing what lay beneath his clothes and his….various talents. A blush crept up your neck just at the thought of those sensual nights with him- frantic, urgent and allconsuming. 
When he laughed with his new partner, something hard set in your gut. Maybe you didn’t have the best chance at winning this, but Norns, you were going to make sure he knew those laughs were yours first. 
You handed your glass to your mother, ensuring that your dress was in its best condition, and  fixed the draped piece of fabric over your shoulders. You could feel all eyes on you as you walked as elegantly as you could to Loki as the song ended. “Your Highness,” You interrupted politely, and the woman shot you a dirty look. “Am I have your next dance?” Loki began to say something before he fell silent, his eyes widening a fraction as they took in your face, and then trailing down your body. He made a noise at the back of his throat as he reached for your hand, motioning with the other for the songs to recommence. “Of course,” He said, although it sounded strained.
You smiled, stepping closer as he pulled you up against him, your bodies moving in sync to the music, your name fell from his lips in a stunned whisper. 
“What are you doing here? Did you sneak in?” Loki asked in disbelief. 
You laughed quietly. “No, Your Highness, I got my invitation like everyone else here,” He frowned, that pretty sculpted face of his scrunching up. “What? But…I thought- you’re just-” “A simple village girl?” You finished for him.
He paused, then looked almost offended. “Darling, simple is an offensive word to use to describe yourself. Nothing about you is ‘simple’,” Your heart skipped a beat, and those butterflies erupted in your stomach again. “Thank you, Your Highness,” “Oh quit that,” He said as he spun you around. “You say it like you don’t know me,” 
“Perhaps I don’t,” You replied.
“You know me better than all the others in this room,” He leaned in, smiling softly. “How in the Nine Realms did you get here, darling?” You bit your lip, trying to fight back the stupid smile from spreading across your face. “I told you, I got my invitation. I came here with my mother,” He hummed. “So, you are not a villager,” He frowned slightly at his own stupidity. How had he not asked before- in all your recent encounters? Perhaps the mystery that came with you was too addictive- the ability to leave behind all masks and remain bare to a complete stranger was…a safe haven, he supposed. You did know more about him than anyone else attending tonight. Secrets he’d never shared. Jokes he never told. Books he had no one to talk with. No one but you. You held so much of him, and he thought he held so much of you- but how much of it was real? You giggled. “No, I am not,” “Hm. Cheeky. It seems I have been fooled,” “Not…fooled. Simply….misguided. An inaccurate conclusion. I assure you though, I had no intentions of deception. I stand true to every other word I said,” You added, as if you could read his face, as if you could hear the worries and doubts in his mind. “But you never said you were noble,” You shrugged. “And you never asked,” A smile tugged at his lips, an odd sense of comfort settling in him. You were still…you. “No…I suppose I never did,” He leaned in then, dropping his voice to a whisper, “You look ravishing tonight, though. How have I never seen you in such a fine colour?” 
You blushed really then, looking up to meet his piercing eyes. “You look quite good in that colour yourself, Loki,” 
He chuckled, offering no other reply as you continued to dance. Soon, the song ended, and you stepped back from each other. Before you could turn to leave and potentially cry and laugh your heart out, he took your hand and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on it. He looked back up at you, and Norns, how gorgeous he really looked- all smirks and piercing eyes and those horns. “I hope to have another dance soon, my lady,” You nodded quickly, your mind short circuiting as another woman came up to ask for his next dance. You stepped back, before speed walking back to your spot by your mother. Of course, she shot a billion questions an hour, but you only ignored her, eyes focused on the man dancing at the centre of the room, glowing brighter than even the sun. 
Time passed, and you had no idea how many dances Loki went through before other pairs began to join. You danced with a few, but really your mind kept wandering back to Loki. 
When was he going to ask you that second dance? Was he really going to? 
Maybe he had somehow telepathically heard you, because just as you finished your dance with a nice gentleman, Loki stood from his seat at the front- having taken a break from dancing- and made his way back to the dance floor. 
The entire ballroom held its breath, and you stupidly turned around as if to make conversation with the person closest to you, or even run. Before you even had the chance to utter a sentence to a poor woman whose face looks pale with fear, your name rang loudly throughout the ballroom, coming from none other than the most handsome prince you had even laid eyes on. You turned around slowly, face tilted up to meet his eyes. “Your Highness?” He held out his hand, a smile tugging at his lips. “May I have another dance?” Everything felt deathly still as Loki led you back to the centre of the floor, and the music started again. You danced and you twirled across the floor, hand in hand with Loki as he grinned widely at you. He didn’t grin like that at anyone tonight. Maybe you were reading into the situation too much, but your heart melted just from his smile and the way his eyes held such pure joy as you danced through not one, but two, but three songs. By the end, you were breathless, partly from dancing, but partly from his fixing gaze and the overwhelming urge to kiss him. Even after all the times you’ve met, you were always consumed with the need to kiss him, to touch him, to run your hands through his hair and trace every line of his body. He was addictive, and while you had always thought love took its time to settle in, some part of you always knew that Loki might just be it. 
You were nearly drowning in the colour of his eyes, and that soft, bright smile he wore for you. Your face hurt from how hard you were smiling at him, and you were so close- just a little higher and your lips could connect with his. It was almost trance like, how soft his lips looked were hypnotic, and the way he eyed yours with a desperate need only encouraged you. You leaned up, he leaned down a little, arm wrapped around your body, lips almost touching and-
“Ahem,” Odin stood from his throne, and you felt the spell shatter. Damnit. 
“I believe,” Odin paused, his eye landing on you and Loki, who jumped apart from one another like you were set on flames. Your cheeks were flushed, avoiding the eyes of everyone, and Loki stared right ahead at Thor, who you noticed was smiling widely and making incredibly disturbing faces at his brother. “Prince Loki has found a bride,” 
Loki’s eyes flickered to you, his mouth opening to argue with Odin. Probably to argue- to say that he hadn’t even asked for your opinion, to add that marriage takes time, or should be considered and debated. 
Maybe you were foolish, or a little too desperate, or maybe it was the magic of Yule that possessed you, but you simply smiled and gave a little bow to Loki. 
“You-,” He swallowed, looking around nervously. “You would accept? If I asked you to be my wife?” 
You smiled widely. “Would you wish for me to be your wife?” A pause, then a small nod. “I don’t think there is anyone else I’d like to share my jokes with,” Your heart was pretty much exploding in your chest. Your hands were definitely shaking, and you thought you might just pass out right then. “Well, lucky you, because I only want your jokes, and I only want your smiles and your laughs to be mine. I…I would be honoured, to be your wife, and to call you my husband, Loki,” 
Sounds of cheer echoed around you, and Loki’s face broke out into the widest grin you had ever seen as he looked at you like he had just handed him the world. “I had no idea you were obsessed with me,” He said, though you could barely hear his words over the sound of festivals. 
“Maybe a little,” You replied, and his grin only widened. 
“Well, I’m obsessed with you a lot,” He tugged you closer to him, sealing your lips in a kiss.
Tags: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman
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ghulehunknown · 11 months ago
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Mistletoe’d: Papa Emeritus III x F Reader
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“Papa’s going to be coming down your chimney tonight.”
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 (coming soon!)
**WARNING - NSFW CONTENT - MDNI**
Summary: After the Ministry Christmas party, you join Terzo in his bedchamber for some festive activities.
CW/Tags: characters drinking alcohol, established relationship, clothed female nude male, blowjob, penetrative sex (P in V), condom use, cunnilingus, face-sitting, face fucking
Word Count: 4381
Available on AO3! Primo | Secondo | Terzo | Copia
Author’s Note: This is the third day of the four-part series XXXmas at the Ministry, a collaboration with @copias-sewer-rat, @molly-ghuleh, and @bupia - please read their works too!
Happy Hornidays! ❄️
xoxo, the Naughty Ghulehs 💋
Primo | Secondo | Copia
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A HUGE thank you to AlexandrMcQueer on Twitter for the accompanying artwork! Check out the full NSFW version on her account.
Tonight was finally the night of the annual Ministry Christmas party, and Christmas Eve. Papa needed your help to pull everything off, so all week you were scheduling with the bakers, the cooks, the cleaning crew, and decorating.
But after this evening, you could relax. Well, aside from tending to Papa’s needs and making sure the ghouls didn’t get too soused that it ruined their unholiday in the morning. But after the party, you could enjoy the festivities.
Everyone began milling about and socializing in the main hall, picking at the large charcuterie spread and ladling punch or eggnog into glasses. It looked like everyone from the Clergy was there. Even Imperator and Nihil showed up, though they did not seem too sociable, seating themselves at a table in the corner. Primo immediately sat himself in one of the few chairs scattered around the hall with a large mug of something warm.
Suddenly the ghouls began whooping and you turned your head to see Terzo enter in a lavish looking Santa suit - it was made of crushed red velour with flecks of red sparkles and appeared to be trimmed with white feathers.
“Nice suit, Terzo,” you quipped, eyeing him up and down as he approached you.
“That’s Papa Claus to you, principessa,” he said with a snarky grin and giving you a smooch on the lips. “And you’re Santa’s little helper.”
That you were. He’d ordered you the shortest green elf dress, although the skirt was more like a tulle tutu. The outfit was a whole ensemble, complete with an elf hat with ears, pointy shoes with bells on the end, and candy cane patterned tights. You felt ridiculous, but ’tis the season.
Everyone was in their best holiday attire - anything from ugly Christmas sweaters to formal wear. The ghouls were all dressed in elf costumes, with the exception of Dew, who was dressed as Rudolph - an antler headband fitted over his mask and a red nose strapped to the front of his mask.
Cardinal Copia was wearing an old Saint Nick red and gold cloak over his red cassock, and a poorly made attachable white beard. Secondo was dressed in an all black 3 piece suit that had a subtle fleur de lis pattern, and was chatting with one of Primo’s ghouls.
The night went on, and you were actually managing to have fun. The ghouls turned one of the snack tables into a flip cup station (much to your dismay as you shuffled the catering staff carrying fresh trays of food back into the kitchen) and several of the Siblings started Christmas karaoke, with a very drunk-looking Copia taking the lead.
Terzo flitted between you and the rest of the guests, chatting with various Clergy members (and skillfully dodging Imperator each time). He snuck up behind you, squeezing your ass.
“Make sure these old fucks are having fun, eh?” he said lowly in your ear, nodding backwards to the senior members of the Clergy.
“And just how am I supposed to do that?” you said, one eyebrow raised, his hand still under your skirt.
He winked at you, handing you a bottle of opened bourbon before cupping your ass cheek in his hand and rubbing it. “We’ll cheers soon, then I can have you all to myself.” He leaned in closer to whisper in your ear. “Papa’s going to be coming down your chimney tonight.”
He clapped you on the ass then darted between people again. “Everybody - eggnog!” he shouted towards the crowd, raising his arms up. He was herding everyone to the center. You thought you might die on the spot from your cheeks burning red, but everyone was paying attention to him - thank Satan.
As everyone poured themselves another glass and gathered, you went around and splashed a bit of bourbon in everyone’s cup.
“Some bourbon for your eggnog, Cardinal?” you asked Copia, approaching him with the bottle.
“Eh, none for me,” he said, hiccuping and covering his glass. “It’s strong enough as it is! I’ve had th-three already.”
“It’s nonalcoholic, Cardinal,” you responded, blinking at him. He looked puzzled and walked away.
You made your way over to Primo who was almost snoozing in his chair. “Papa Primo?” you asked, holding the bottle out, gesturing towards his half empty mug. You weren’t sure if he was dressed like Scrooge on purpose or if those were just his pajamas but he mumbled something that sounded like “Bah,” and shook his head swiftly, the tassel at the end of his nightcap swinging around.
Everyone was standing in a semicircle around Terzo, who for once seemed just slightly lost for words. “Well, uh - shit,” he began, eliciting a few chuckles from the crowd. “I do not know what else to say, other than it’s been a fucking great year. We had two fantastic tours, and we’ll be continuing into next year… I, eh - met someone very dear.” He glanced at you briefly before continuing. “We won a motherfucking Grammy…!”
The ghouls whooped and cheered while the Siblings and other Clergy members clapped. You glanced over in the corner. Even Imperator seemed pleased - maybe.
“Sì, sì it has been phenomenal. You should all be very pleased with yourselves. So pleased in fact I think you should all celebrate, in eh, whatever means you choose to do. And if I do not see you all before the New Year, have an unblessed holiday. Now, we toast! Tomorrow morning we will celebrate our Savior’s birth. But for tonight, we sin.” He held up his glass and the others did the same. “To Lucifer!”
“To Lucifer,” you said, chiming in with a chorus of voices. You swallowed your bourbon-eggnog concoction - mostly bourbon by your heavy hand, you found as you winced slightly, the liquor burning down your throat. You didn’t drink much and this was your first holiday gathering at the Ministry. Next month would mark your first full year here, and the first time you laid eyes upon him - your Terzo.
“Eh, see you next year, Papa!” piped up Copia, still hiccuping as he nodded and ducked out of the crowd. You smiled at the Cardinal’s little joke. Terzo stopped in his tracks for just a moment and acknowledged Copia before walking away.
He rolled his eyes as he walked towards you then his face brightened. “Hello,” he said, standing very close to you.
“Hi, Papa,” you said, smiling at him and holding up the last bit of bourbon, swishing it in the bottle. “Saved the last for you.”
“Mmm,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. “How much? I need to keep my stamina for later.”
You took a swig and shuddered - Satanas, you still couldn’t drink straight liquor. “Not much now.” He chuckled at you and took the bottle from your hand, knocking back the rest. You coughed a couple of times and reached for some party punch, completely forgetting the one you reached for also had alcohol and coughed again.
He patted you soothingly on the back and asked, “Are you okay, tesorina?”
You nodded, finally grabbing the nonalcoholic punch and chugging some.
“Will Papa have to take care of his little elf this evening?” he said, trailing the back of his index finger over your cheek.
“No, Papa,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’ve barely had anything.”
“Good. I have a surprise for you tonight, amore.”
“Hm. Any hint?” you asked coyly.
“Not a fucking clue. Come to my room in five minutes just as you are.” He picked up a handful of hard candies from the snack table and popped a few in his mouth, staring at you while walking backwards a few paces before turning around and heading down the hall.
You continued to mingle with the other Siblings, trying hard to conceal your blushing cheeks but to no avail.
“Someone’s excited about something,” one said.
“It’s nothing,” you murmured.
“Come on - spill!”
“Well, Terzo and I -”
“Terzo?” said another.
“Oooooh!” the others said in a singsong tone almost in unison.
“He said he has a surprise for me, in his room.”
“So you graduated from office visits to home visits now?” asked the first Sibling, looking impressed.
“Well…I’ve seen his bedroom a few times,” you said, not willing to divulge the full truth just yet. You’d been spending most of your nights in his room and sneaking back into the Siblings’ quarters early in the morning. Even though each Sibling had their own room, you knew your Sisters would hear the door to the suite open.
“I think this is the most serious he’s been with anyone,” said the second Sibling. “I’ve been here a few years and usually he’s done with his fling after two months. But you’ve stuck around.” You shook your head, not willing to believe this hype only to be let down. You just wanted to live in the moment and enjoy what you had with Terzo. “You should go - you don’t want to keep him waiting.”
You smiled and bid your fellow Siblings goodbye as they all made lewd gestures to imitate various sex acts and waved you off, wishing you luck.
You walked down the silent and dark corridors, passing ghouls and Siblings alike shrouded in the shadows to have their midnight dalliances, no doubt egged on by the holiday cheer and the alcohol. You smiled, thinking about not having to hide in a hallway like when you first started dating him. Now you had his entire bedroom to have your sultry romps.
You opened his door and walked into his Papal suite, the familiar lush decor and smell of mahogany filling your senses. You passed by the small and elegantly decorated Christmas tree by the fireplace. You wondered just what his surprise might be when you saw him propped up against the wall, a rose in his mouth and —
What was that?
He was dressed in his Santa jacket and hat, with nothing else on - save one thing. Your eyes trailed along his upper body then snapped to what was in between his legs. On the end of his throbbing hard cock was some mistletoe, tied around his shaft by a red ribbon and a little gold bell below it. He waggled his eyebrows and at the same time isolated his pelvic muscles to make his cock bob up and down, tinkling the bell.
“How long have you just been standing there all hard waiting for me?”
His face fell momentarily and he took the rose out of his mouth. “I thought you would like it.”
“I do!” you said, suppressing laughter as best as you could while stepping towards him. You held onto the lapels of his jacket and leaned in. “I do.” He smiled again, a smug look of satisfaction washing over him.
“Good,” he said, handing you the rose. “Because you’re going to get stuffed and glazed just like Secondo’s honey ham.”
You bit your bottom lip, smiling. “But I don’t think it’ll be quite as delicious as you, amore.”
“It should be. I’ve been eating a lot of pineapple for this.”
“Really? Then I’ll have to taste it for myself,” you said, feeling the heat pool at your core.
He cupped your face in his hands, kissing you deeply, slipping his tongue in. You weren’t sure where to place your hands so you held onto the rose with one hand, the other in his hair. He swiftly brought you closer to him, his quivering cock poking at your thigh under your tulle skirt.
“Mm!” you said, surprised at feeling his hardness brush against you.
“Well,” he said, pulling away to look at you. “It’s not going to kiss itself, tesoro.” He twitched his cock again, making it bob up and down and wagged his hips side to side, making it shake the other direction and sounding the bell.
You eyed him slyly as you bent down, gently falling to your knees before him and placing the rose on the floor. You took his cock in your hand and began stroking his length, eyeing the perfect pink tip at the end. Each time you stroked him, the bell would chime.
“Oh cazzo,” he sighed, leaning his head back, his lips parted.
You flicked the tip of your tongue against the head of his cock and watched his abdominal muscles contract. He was like putty in your hands.
“You like that, amore?” you asked teasingly, his shaft in your palm.
He glared at you from the corner of his eye. “Stai zitto,” he said through moans as you continued to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. But you could swear you saw a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth as he said this.
You closed your eyes as you took his entire length in your mouth, sliding him in and out and clutching onto his hips. The little leaves on the mistletoe tickled your nose each time the bottom of his cock reached your lips.
Clink! Clink! went the bell each time you slid him in and out of your mouth.
He started to whimper and moan quietly, his eyes closed in pleasure. His hand was on the back of your head, gripping your hair tighter the faster you went. At one point he began thrusting into your mouth, probably no longer able to contain himself.
Clink! Clink! ClinkClinkClinkClinkCLINKCLINK
“Mmm!” you mumbled around his cock as the greenery around his member assaulted your face over and over, scratching your nose and cheeks a little bit each time. CLINK.
Your eyes welled with tears as he hit the back of your throat repeatedly. CLINK. At this point you were hardly doing any work, just kneeling there and being used as a vessel. CLINKCLINK
“Satanas you’re going to make me cum like that,” he panted as he continued pushing his hips into your face.
You smiled around him - well as best as you could - and brought him closer by gripping his ass cheeks.
“Ah - cazzo!” he exclaimed, suddenly pulling out of your mouth and panting.
“Terzo?” you asked, trying to look up but you were unable to as his hand remained on your head as he used you to prop himself up and regain composure.
“I can’t cum too soon and ruin the evening, no?” he said, standing up straight and helping you up off the floor. “Not when I haven’t even taken care of you.”
You kissed his laughter lines around his mouth as he spoke, his Papal makeup smudged from your kisses earlier. “You always take such good care of me.”
He turned to face you and held you in an embrace, kissing you passionately again, his hands roaming all over your body. He began to massage your breasts through your costume, building the arousal between your legs even more. Your breathing quickened as you both moaned into each other’s mouths.
“Fuck this fucking blouse,” he said breathlessly, breaking away and tearing at the front of your green cardigan, the buttons flying across his floor - eliciting a ‘Shit!’ from you. “Mmm!” he mumbled, kissing you again, pawing at your chest.
He fumbled around your back at your bra clasp, unhooking it after a couple of tries. You urgently slid the straps off your shoulders and tossed the bra to the floor. He bent down to take your nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue around it and sucking. He alternated, pinching the other one between his fingers.
“Oh Terzo,” you sighed, running your hands through his hair, fiddling with the silver strands peppering his raven hair. He’d never admit to it, but you saw the box dye left on his bathroom counter.
Instinctively you squeezed your legs together, alleviating some of the need to touch yourself. You felt your heart race and a shiver run down your spine.
“Fuck me, please Papa,” you sighed, breath trembling.
“Mm?” he said, glancing up at you between your breasts with a glint in his eyes. He kissed all over your chest, up your neck and finally, your lips. “Is la mia principessa ready for her Papa to fuck her brains out, hm?”
“Yes Papa, please,” you said, still in a breathy whisper. “Fuck me.”
He nodded his head towards the bathroom and glanced over. “Go get a condom and meet me in bed. I’ll get the lube.”
“Why are there none in our nightstand drawer?”
“‘Our?’”
“Shit. You know what I meant.”
He grinned. “Ti stai dimenticando? We used them all last night and I didn’t have time to take some more out.”
Slightly embarrassed at your gaffe, you made your way into the bathroom and started opening drawers. “Where did you put the box?”
“Bottom drawer!” he called out.
Did he think differently of you now? Would he think you were too presumptuous and want to call the whole thing off? Or potentially, were you just overthinking things as usual? “Found it! Oh fuck, shit!”
“Sorella?” He sounded concerned and rushed over to find you on your hands and knees kneeling near the toilet.
“Almost got it!” You had dropped the roll of condom wrappers behind the toilet and had wedged yourself between it and the vanity. “Help me, Terzo!”
“Ah, I see now,” he said slyly. “Call for me in a panic just so you can entrap me.”
“What? Terzo, no, I really do need help, I drop- ”
“Sì, I can help,” he said, kneeling down behind you, his cock right up against your ass.
“It’s just, argh!”
“Argh!” he imitated you, running his hands all along your body.
“It’s right there I can’t - reach - !”
“Has anyone told you how sexy you look with your ass in the air in candy cane tights?”
You rolled your eyes but you knew he couldn’t see. “Er, no - um, thank you. But I dropped the condoms behind the toilet.”
He craned his neck to see. “Ah. This is quite the pickle we are in. You with your hand behind the toilet and your ass against my cock.”
“No, I believe it’s your cock against my ass.”
“What am I to do, tesorina? What should a Papa do when finding his lover in a compromising position, hm?” He leaned down and trailed kisses along your back, momentarily freezing your arm from the continued search of the condoms.
“Fuck…” you whispered, feeling his mouth move further south and his hands finding their way around your waist.
“What’s that, bella? You think Papa should fuck you? You called me in such a panic earlier that I did not bring the lube…mmm, what should we do?” he said, kissing you just above your ass. “Is la mia principessa ready?”
Your body ached with desire. You needed him inside you. He trailed his finger along your tights-covered behind, poking around where your entrance was. “Darling, I think your tights are just a little wet. Let’s see just how wet you are inside.” He gripped the fabric and you heard it ripping apart.
You let out a surprised gasp as the chill air hit your warm, now exposed nether regions. He entered you with a finger and your body shuddered against him as you whimpered quietly.
“Oh yes,” he said in an amused tone. “You are very ready.” He slid out and up to your clit, playing with it gently as you moaned and rocked your body back and forth to feel the friction against his fingers. “So responsive. Una così brava ragazza.”
“Please, Papa,” you said under your accelerated breath. “Please fuck me.”
“Don’t worry amore,” he said, reaching over you and grabbing the sleeve of condoms that you were having trouble getting just moments before. “I will.” He tore off one and ripped it open.
You readjusted yourself on the tile floor so you wouldn’t bang your head against the toilet or the side of the vanity as you heard the crinkle of the wrapper and the clinking of the little bell still attached to his dick.
“Oh FUCK!” you both said in unison as he entered you. He slammed into your dripping cunt with such ease, you felt him bottom out immediately. The tingle of the mistletoe against your clit heightened the sensation.
Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink! In and out, in and out. You both moaned each other’s names in pure, unadulterated passion.
“Ah - merda Sorella, you turn me into a teenager again. Fucking on the floor out of sheer desperation for one another.” Now he was so deep inside you the bell muffled against your body. CLUNK. CLUNK. CLUNK.
“So - mmm! - you’re d-desperate for me?” you said teasingly against the cold tile.
“La mia diavoletta pensa di essere così intelligente, eh? È ora che chiudi la bocca.” With that he fucked into you so hard, so fast, you couldn’t say another word. He pushed your head against the floor roughly, your cheek pressed against the cool marble so hard you could feel the grout indent. He nearly knocked the breath out of you as he hit your g-spot perfectly each time, a relentless grip on the back of your head.
“Ohhh - !” you moaned as he rammed into you over and over. CLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNK. He was thrusting faster, riding out his orgasm, his nails digging deeper into your hips.
“Fuck - I’m going to - cum - Sorella - !” He pounded into you, tapering off his speed as he came, his cock twitching a final time before he slumped over your back, breathing heavily.
“Satanas,” he breathed, his chest heaving wildly as he pulled out, your body shuddering under him at the loss. You heard the snap of latex and the condom hitting the trash can liner.
You turned around and sat down, leaning against the toilet. You watched him untie the mistletoe and take it off, tossing it aside. “So how was it, with that?” you asked, nodding towards the discarded plant.
“Honestly? It was a little itchy. It might just be a novelty.” He tossed himself on his back against the floor. He looked at you, his chest still rising and falling from being out of breath. “How was it for you?”
“Honestly? It was a little itchy,” you repeated. You both smiled and laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
“Come here Sorella, I did not intend to leave you wanting. Hop onto Santa’s lap.”
You crawled over to him and straddled his lap, gazing into his eyes.
“What do you want this year for being such a good little girl?” He asked, caressing your arms and looking at your breasts before flicking his eyes up into yours.
“I want…endless kisses…and a mind-blowing orgasm,” you said, leaning down to kiss him.
He returned the smooch. “Mm, I did not know a present for you would also be a present for me. Come closer and sit on Santa’s face…that’s it, Satanas yes please.”
You moved up his body until you were straddling his face, then delicately lowered your body on him, doing your best to move your skirt out of the way.
He sputtered, spitting out the tulle from his mouth and pulling your hips towards his face again. He batted at the layers of fabric, cursing in Italian, before finding your cunt.
Your eyelids flitted closed as your lips parted in a silent “oh.” He took your clit in his mouth and sucked on it between his lips. He alternated between that and flicking your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. You looked down to gaze in his eyes but his face was completely hidden under a green tutu.
You began to buck your hips against his face as he used the flat of his tongue, building up the friction and feeling yourself closing in on orgasm. He switched up and deepened the suction on your clit, flicking his tongue against you simultaneously.
“Oh fuck Terzo - fuck, I’m so close!” You rocked back and forth as you pinched your nipples, heightening the sensation.
His fingernails dug into your hips again as he sped up his ministrations. Grabbing ahold of your waist, he slid you along his mouth faster and faster.
“Oh, Terzo!” you cried out in ecstasy, trembling on your knees above him as you came hard and fast in his mouth. He didn’t let up the motions or the intensity until you pulled away, giggling from the overstimulation. You climbed off of him and sat down next to him, both smiling at one another.
“How are you feeling? Good?” he asked, stroking your thigh.
You nodded your head. “Yes, very. But can I lay down next time? I’ve been on my knees an awful long time.” You both laughed.
“There’s Papa’s little hoe hoe hoe,” he said with a devilish grin. “Of course, amore mio. Anything for you.”
You held onto his hand, playfully caressing all his fingers. “It’s been a very good Christmas so far,” you remarked.
“Mmm. And you haven’t even opened your presents yet.”
“There’s more?”
“What, you thought this was it? No Sorella, go look under the tree.”
You eyed him suspiciously as you stood up, legs still a little shaky. You walked out of the bathroom and into the living room.
You hadn’t noticed the presents under the tree earlier, but there were a few. A lot, actually. Somehow even your gifts for him were under there. One of the ghouls or housekeeping staff must have moved them for you.
One caught your attention - a gold envelope poking out from the middle branches of the tree. You reached inside the tree, accidentally sending the package spilling onto the floor. Two plane tickets splayed out on the floor.
You picked them up in wonder - your name was at the top of one, and his on the other. You walked in a daze over to him.
“You did not truly think I would leave you with just my cock for Christmas, did you?” he said, following you out of the bathroom and now leaning against the wall. “I love you, principessa. I call you princess because to me you are. My sweet little thing. I want to give you the world, my world…would Italy be a good start?”
You flung your arms around him, tears in your eyes. “Yes, Terzo. I think that will be an amazing start.”
[Stay tuned for a continuation of this story!]
Italian to English Translations
(la mia) principessa ((my) princess)
tesorina (little treasure/darling)
amore (mio) ((my) love)
cazzo (fuck)
Stai zitto (Shut up)
Ti stai dimenticando? (Are you forgetting?)
Sorella (Sister/nun)
bella (beautiful)
Una così brava ragazza. (Such a good girl.)
merda (shit)
La mia diavoletta pensa di essere così intelligente, eh? È ora che chiudi la bocca. (My little devil girl thinks she’s so smart, eh? It’s time you shut your mouth.)
Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future works!
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thepunkmuppet · 6 months ago
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costumes / looks I desperately need gerard way to wear on stage (add your own in reblogs!!)
greek statue, he’s fully painted white including his hair with a white toga with a golden wreath thing on his head. I just think that would look sick
police uniform covered in blood
straight up zombie with full on green decaying gory make up
one of the heathers from heathers
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either the blue cheerleader outfit from the i’m not okay mv or the iconic red ones from teenagers. then we’d have a little trio!
ghostface. possibly cunty ghostface as a treat
vanya from umbrella academy - young version with the school girl fit and black mask OR the all white comic version of course
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also number five from umbrella academy (classic school boy fit)
this sounds weird but I think this would be really cool and meta for wwwy - a stereotypical mcr fan / emo. as in with that one black parade t shirt, heavy eyeliner, black nails, side swept emo fringe, studded bracelets and belts, skinny black jeans, vans or converse. again a very meta concept, after their old person looks in 2022 I can really see them doing this as a whole band this year and I would loooove to finally see gerard in the fashion style that’s so associated with him and his music
howl from howl’s moving castle
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possibly also sophie from howl’s moving castle
slenderman
literally just satan. like the most stereotypical devil, give them fully painted red skin, horns, fangs, yellow or black eyes, maybe even goat legs. probably with a majestic black suit or something, or for a succubus vibe a black flowy dress with a slit down the leg. now that I think about it, this would be a SICK wwwy look to shock us all, esp if ray mikey and frank all dressed as other demons or the souls of the damned or some shit.
peni parker - he made her!!
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question mark jumper from doctor who
also missy from doctor who omg
jane doe from ride the cyclone, possibly with added marionette or cracked porcelain makeup like in some renditions
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classic majestic white-robed angel, with enormous fake wings and maybe even sparkly gold makeup and a big gold halo. also would be cool in all black, or all white but covered in blood (red, gold, or black, all would look cool)
buffy summers in prophecy girl, except he also has blood all over his neck from where the master bit her. I hope he’s watched btvs I think he would very much enjoy it this look would fit with their vampire vibe sooooo well
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classic frankenstein’s monster
mothman. not only is he a heartthrob but he’s also a hunched goblin cryptid to me. the duality of man (he/theys)
jane prentiss from the magnus archives. if you don’t know she is a living flesh hive of sentient worms, she’s decaying and full of holes. again with all the nasty decaying rotting prosthetic makeup plus THE RED DRESS!!!
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mr darcy vibes, sopping wet regency man with a big puffy white t shirt
opposite side of that, fuck it give him a full on ballroom gown
henry creel from stranger things (pre-vecna, nurse outfit)
any disney princess
crowley from good omens. my man looks GOOD in those anthony janthony aah sunglasses he has
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cute flowy summer dress with like a flowery pattern. either go cottagecore with it and have flowers in his hair, or go full white soccer mum and put him in huge cunty sunglasses a massive straw sun hat with a ribbon on it
all-black cowboy!!!! the fact I’ve never seen him in a cowboy hat is actual sacrilege. also would very much appreciate an all-pink sequin studded cowboy
any alice in wonderland character, especially alice herself, the classic disney movie look with the blue dress and the bow in the hair. he would also do a great chesire cat (spooky big grin makeup paired with his weird ass dramatic facial expressions?? inspired) or a super extravagant queen / king / knave of hearts. also 100000% the mad hatter omfg, he was BORN to do a jefferson from once upon a time look!!
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aliveinacoffin · 1 year ago
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Kinda request
hi! I just wanted to ask if u could write a fic of any fandom and character of ur choosing! I enjoy reading your fics so much and I would love to read one of your own liking! Thank you and have a great day <333
i love you guys so much i literally would eat a baby for you guys PLS 😭😭 decided to write a gta v fic with micheal because GYATT damn do I love him, also sorry this took so long, I have like, a trillion fics to write 🥲
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Wedding Ring
You knew Micheal was married with a wife and kids, and that he went through hell and back to keep them safe and alive. When he goes off this crazy adventure and he has to hide from the cops, where does he go? That's right, the woman who he has been sharing a bed with the last four years.
Fem!Reader: She/Her pronouns and descriptions
TW!: NSFW, cheating, ghosting, manipulation
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It was a nice and sunny day, something that was usual for a city like Los Santos. Still, you took advantage of this fact. You were lounging in your backyard with nothing but a swimsuit on, trying to suntan in peace with your music playing loud as possible, enjoying the feeling of the sun's hot rays on your skin. 
That peace was quickly disrupted.
"Why the fuck are you playing music so god damn loud?" A familiar gruff voice barked from behind you. You snapped your eyes open, quickly sitting up to see the offender who disrupted your peace and broke into your house.
"Oh Michael." You groaned, laying back down on the white pool chair. The separated plastic part of the white chair dug in a satisfying way into your back.
"Seriously, Jesus it's eleven in the morning." Michael stumbled over to your phone, angrily smashing the side buttons.
"Damn who shit in your cereal? Or maybe drink would be better." You scoffed, pissed that he was even here. The old man hadn't contacted you in months, ghosting you after he fucked you in some shitty motel near sandy shores. 
"An old friend of mine and my whole fuckin' family." Michael mumbled, and you watched him behind your black sunglasses approach the bottom of your sunbleached chair, resting his hands on your ankles. He looked down, light green eyes watching his hands trave circles in your ankles. With his motions, his gold wedding ring glittered in the California sun.
"Why are you here?" You asked, not bothering to move from your position hands resting on your stomach. Your fingers suddenly felt very bare.
"I just wanted to see you, is that such a crime?" He shrugged, but his hands started to trail higher, now rubbing on your calfs. 
"Well, aside from the fact you haven't spoken to me in months, let a lone texted me. No, I guess not." You pulled your legs away, sitting on the side of the long chair. You still watched him, hands grabbing tightly on the metal, burning the palms of your hands.
"You know how it is, life gets in the way." He tried to wave you off, shrugging his shoulders. Michael had already taken off his suit jacket, white shirt looking grey with your vision. So he expected you to just hop on his dick right away?
"Yeah, I'm sure it does. With your wife and family keeping you busy." You got up, walking over to grab your phone and speaker.
Michael didn't say anything to that, instead he just watched you. He silently followed you inside, stopping you from closing the sliding glass door on him.
"Seriously Michael, why are you here?" You growled at him, not bothering to spare a glance back at him. You stopped at your sink, resting your knuckles on the metal appliance. His heavy footsteps followed you, and through the window above the sink you saw him come up behind you, watching you.
"I just have a lot of stress, and my therapy is always telling me to get rid of it." Michael's large hands rested on your hips, still watching your face.
"Then go to your wife. I'm obviously not anybody to you." You looked down, unable to meet his watchful gaze. Instead, you regrettable made eye contact with his ring. "Go home, go to your fuckin' over priced shitty therapist and your shitty family that your always whining about." You snapped, but you made no motion to move away from his hands.
"They left me." He admitted lowly, and that made you look up. Michael was not an honest man, he was a lying hypocrite who constantly cheated on his wife. He was always the type to skirt around the truth when it harmed him and constantly complained when he could. The man had left a life of crime, that much you knew, and ever since had regretted it.
"Why?" You asked softly, making eye contact with him again in the window. It was hard to see him, with your glasses and the bright sun outside, so you opted to take them off, making the appeal of Michael much clearer. Though, you couldn't stand stand look at him.  Michael loved making eye contact with you, for a reason you never knew. But it absolutely pained you to watch his eyes fill with want and desperation. 
"I'm not a good man. I chase things that I'll never get, things I can never keep." He leaned over your back, breathing into your neck. He pushed your hips back, pulling you flush against him. His hands wormed their way under the elastic of your bottom, rubbing and pinching the fat there. He pressed gentle kisses into your neck, lightly nipping the skin that was presented to him.
"Is that right? What about the things you have?" You knew for Michael no matter what he did, no matter what he got, nothing would ever be good enough for him. The perfect life he could have in his own expensive mansion is ruined by his own self hate and incompetence. 
He just scoffed at that, like the very notion of his luxury car and permanent retirement from life was so hard, something to just be brushed off like nothing.
"What about me? When will I stop being enough? Or have I already?" You asked, stopping his movements. He had already gotten the strings halfway down your ass, reaching just the top part of your bottom. Michael stilled, unmoving against your warm body.
"No, I can never get enough of you. I had to work on my marriage, but I never stopped thinking about you." Michael admitted, and that made your head hung low. You knew he was prone to just saying whatever would get him into your pants. He always knew what to say the exact words that would make you drop to your knees.
"Or maybe because I'm some pretty young thing who won't give you crabs." You tried to lighten the mood, tried to tease to cover up the aching hole the older man had unknowingly made inside you. He had created a Michael shaped hole in your heart that made you mourn during random hours of the day, and when he would fill it in the late hours of the night it soothed your bleeding heart.
"Hah, maybe." That made you tear up, eyes fluttering while he slipped off your bottoms, groping you fully. You could feel his hard on pressing into you, demanding its way onto you.
He slipped two calloused fingers down, tracing up and down your slit, gathering the wetness that has accrued.
"You act so fucking bratty, but you're so god damn wet." He barked in your ear, mocking you as he slipped a finger in. You sighed, rocking back against his fingers, wanting, needing more. Who knows when the next time he'll come back? 
If ever.
"Come on, you know I can handle way more than that." You rushed, wanting to just get this over with and never wanting this to end.
He tugged on your hair, pulling at your scalp.
"Don't rush me, just shut up and look pretty." Michael's past actions would attest to that, he loved it when you argued, when you threw fits and pouted, he loved every minute of it. Because he knew that if he pushed you for enough, you'd beg for his cock, you'd be crying and whining for it, you'd be crying for him.
Michael never was the one to love a submissive woman, would he like to have one? Sure, any man would. But after a while it would get boring, there'd be no angry sex, no makeup sex, there'd be no back talk for him to shut up. Plus, it would be like speaking to a void, nothing important would actually be said, just a blank woman who agreed to everything and anything.
"Then fuck me silly, hey, that rhymed!" You laughed, before a moan got caught in your throat. Two more fingers shoved themselves into you, stretching you out quickly. It would've hurt more if you weren't already wet and near painfully horny. In truth, Michael was the only man you've slept with in a while. You've had flings with other people, maybe one or two serious relationships thrown in, but when you met Michael, an old depressed angry father, right up your alley might you add, at that disgusting old bar, well, everything and everyone else was thrown out the window. Then, you started seeing each other regularly, you dropped all the people you were talking to, even the sweet girl who had really taken an interest in you, and he had stopped going to cheap hookers, instead going to you solely to satisfy his sins.
He said nothing in response, merely just resuming his harsh treatment of your body, curling his fingers inside you beautifully, his memorization of your body never once faded. Your moans grew louder, curling into your counter until your stomach pressed painfully into the sharp edge.
"Just put it in me already, you old fuck." You spat, trying to push back against him. Michael pulled his fingers out, slapping your ass painfully.
"Watch your mouth when you're begging for my cock." He growled, nonetheless, he pulled down his zipper dutifully and fished himself out. He slid himself up and down your slit  wetting himself with your juices, bumbling and pressing into your clit over and over again. It drove you absolutely crazy, unable to buck and finally just put himself into you. You arched, trying to entice him as much as you could, white knuckle gripping the sink. 
Finally, finally he slowly slid into you, and you both let out a low groan. Michael must've been impatient, since he thrusted his way fully into you, filling you so fast it felt like he was in your ribs.
"Fuh-fuck Micky." You whined, and he wrapped his arms around your middle section and boobs, holding you tight while he absolutely rammed into you. Usually, because of his age and inactivity, he preferred to be on the bottom, let you do all the work. But he must've missed you, maybe he was pent up, or maybe he was taking his anger out on you. Either way, it felt heavenly, his thick cock ramming into you, feeling him drag inside you in and out at a brutal pace, not allowing you to think. 
"Of course you like that, huh? Like my cock inside you, treating you like some cheap slut." He growled in your ear, and it would've made you wetter than you already were if you couldn't feel the cool metal digging into your boob. The reminder of what it meant searing into your soul. You hummed lowly, darting your eyes away from him, finding the counter suddenly interesting. Michael seemed to sense your mood shift, and slowed down, but he never stopped. Instead taking to shallow thrusts inside you.
"What's wrong?" He asked, more annoyance in his voice than care.
"Nothing, why'd you slow down?" You lied through your teeth, trying to buck your hips and resume his pace. But he held you tight and close, even if Michael never really worked out, and was closer to fifty than forty, he still had years worth of muscles underneath.
"Because your poutin', now tell me what's wrong?" He asked again, tone sharp and asking to be tested.
"Your ring." You spat out, feeling slightly ashamed.
"What about my ring?" Michael snapped at you, fully stopping his movements.
"It's digging into me." You knew that wasn't the only thing that bothered you, it haunted you almost everyday knowing you were technically a homewrecker. He had two kids and a wife waiting at home for him, and even if he complained about them, even if both him and his wife cheated on each other constantly, it was still wrong. Usually when you complained about his ring he moved his hand, or set it down gently to the side. But not this time.
Michael groaned, and in one swift movement he threw the ring across the house, and you heard it cling! loudly behind you.
"Michael-" You started to reprimand him, but he bent you over fully on your counter, and let you go. He placed his hands on the counter, using it to slam into you again.
"Oh fuck!" You yelled, eyes nearly rolling into your skull.
"Told you." He was breathless, and you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. 
"To-told me wh-what?" You squealed when he pressed that delicate spongy spot inside you, making you see stars.
"I needed you, all I can think of is you. All your annoying remarks, the way you feel around me, how you look at me like I'm not an absolute piece of shit." Michael leaned down, pressing his head into your neck, nuzzling into you.
"Then why'd you leave?" You managed to gasp out, feeling your orgasm steadily appeared. That wave of pleasure was slowly crashing closer, it made the thoughts in your head become less coherent, nothing mattered aside from the way Michael made you feel.
"I didn't have a choice, I didn't want to. Had to. I never stopped thinking about you." He lifted one hand, and trailed it down, circling your aching clit. You keened, clamping down on him while your vision whited out. Michael grunted, fully pressing himself into you, and you could feel him filling you up, painting your soft walls white.
You both took a minute to breath, still connected while you panted. Slowly, slowly he pulled out of your over-sensitive walls, leaving you achingly empty. You and him just stood there, panting, unmoving.
“So, you gonna dip, or are you going to hang out here for a bit?” You asked, still a little breathless. There was that bitterness again because no matter what Michael said, he’d end up leaving one way or another.
“I think I’ll hang out here for a little bit.” He shrugged, and as you spared him a glance you watched him tuck himself away, not bothering to clean himself. 
You sighed, hobbling over to your bathroom to grab a wet wipe to clean yourself up.
“Whatever.” You called out. “You know where the door is.”
Michae did end up staying for a week or two, sleeping in the same bed as you and spending any time he could with you. For a second you believed he really did change, that he really did want you, instead of what you could offer.
But one day, when you came home from work and called out to no response, you realized he was gone. You sighed, split between wanting to check under the couch or living your life with as little damage to your psyche as possible. 
The former side of you won, your heart pounding in your ribcage. A new wave of sadness ushered over you, your heart aching as your stomach turned, pain overtaking your whole body.
He took the ring with him.
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saliosis · 8 days ago
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happy halloweeen!! here's my take on a "core refresh" pack (part 6)
1, 2, 3, 4, 5 + more under cut
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frankie's fashion is very experimental. they like to explore themselves through what they wear since they're just learning things about the world. to symbolize their personality, they have a "quirky" style of fashion. mostly mismatched, mostly all over the place. there's not really a category for frankie's style... not that i can think of. they like to wear anything, honestly. dresses, suits, overalls, shirts, shorts, boots, heels. they're trying to figure out their style, so sometimes they'll incorporate some more colors. they like black and white, but they add teal in. yellow is another color added.
they don't wear real/natural silver because they've learned that this can harm their fellow monsters. any silver accessories they have is fake (painted grey, because that's a way to work around it)
they experiment with piercings
this was in my og design, but they have a huge patch over their left eye. it's plaid, so sometimes they try their best to match their outfits well enough for them to look aesthetically pleasing
likes patterns. stripes, plaid, etc. etc.
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clawdeen's fashion is furry and bold. again, this is the fashionista of the school. she is the queen of fashion. again, she likes fur and animal print. whatever she chooses to wear is what usually sets the trends and expectations for those at monster high. she loves to explore herself though. i'd say her style evolves, but these are the main ideas of her fashion. she loves purple, but she also loves green. maybe has a french fashion inspiration? i don't really know how to label it. it's sort of mcbling, but also the style you'd expect of a very cunty aunt who likes shopping. she likes pants best, ngl. jeans are great. skirts are fine by her, she just loves pants.
i like the idea of clawdeen constantly changing up her style. yes, she can also wear something like her g3 outfits. much more coordinated. what i've displayed is the style that takes up most of her closet, tho
she wears glasses, but she has different pairs for each outfit
green is a color she loves so much but doesn't make use of it enough
the wolf family has a little emblem thing i've snuck onto each. it's a golden circle pendant with a small moon on the inside, two little bars holding up the design so it floats. it could also look like a money symbol... idk like coins. it's good luck. mostly for money manifesting and all. she runs with the gold and goes crazy. only gold, no bronze accessories. ever.
on days of the full moon, she will wear super loose clothing. the moon cycles could also impact her fashion choices.
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draculaura's fashion is very iconic. a sort of gothy, classic, and romantic sort of look. i'd say she likes to take a spin on victorian styles and make them modern... while also mashing together those 2010s pink/black skull prints and tees that we all know and love. i really like the idea of her in a long dress that hits the floor. i would say she's romantic goth. she likes frills, long ball gowns, lace, and hats that can cover her from the sun whenever she has to travel outside in the daytime. lots of slip dresses if she wants to be more casual. elegance, but done cutely.
the silhouette of an outfit is what matters most to her when it comes to fashion
if she wears a skirt, she wears a big petticoat underneath. a very big petticoat
her parasol can be used interchangeably with a large hat. she always wants either or to match her outfit. and they are always kind of extra
her "victorian" style is a sort of nod to her immortality. she probably likes that fashion period best and likes to try and honor that
i like the idea of her experimenting with her hair. it was a g3 idea, kinda. but bangs, streaks, half and half, etc. i like to imagine draculaura being into the big goth hair
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cleo's style is very similar to her g1 style. gold. blues. elegant, fresh, modern, and incredibly easy on the eyes. obviously, she loves to flaunt her designer clothing around school. and since she is so popular, it's expected for her to serve look after look. you will never ever see her look bad. every cleo portrayal i've seen never has enough mummy wrap. she needs it to survive and yet, she only has like, one or two bands on her arms. my cleo's fashion is all about wrap-themed clothing. she has lots of wraps. sometimes she comes up with ways to mix that or even show off her monster trait and heritage. she loves see-through, glittery material too, obviously paired on top of something. but it's glamourous. it's rich. it's sometimes a little 90s inspired, but mostly fresh.
this cleo loves pants. loose pants work, i suppose. but she likes them baggy. one of the best examples of what she likes to wear for pants would be those baggy pyramid-textued pants i designed for her once
gets custom made jewelry (braclets, earrings, etc) that spell out her name in hieroglyphics
likes shorter skirts, but secretly admires longer skirts ten times more
blue lover. any shade. try her. she will obviously mix around her makeup, nails, and hair to work around whatever blue she's feeling
loves gems. lots of gems. real ones, obviously.
doesn't like socks very much. she can literally just do the same thing socks do for feet with mummy wrap. same with stockings
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