#these could all potentially work for f frame

[lilypixels]

Beggin: A Mini Shorts Collection

Hello hello! I come bearing gifts: three high waisted shorts :D I hope to make more one day, so this is tentatively considered part 1, but we'll see. Consider this a gift for all things happening in June too~ **All shorts have clipping issues when sim bends at stomach (not sure if i can fix that tbh...) also, due to height, they clip with some shirts but they also work with a good amount ! Even ones that aren't crops!!**

Accendio Shorts:

BGC

16 denim swatches

M frame only

Disabled for Random

Biscuit Shorts:

BGC

16 swatches

M frame only

Disabled for Random

Nightwalker Shorts:

BGC

13 swatches (most of original goth kit swatches plus more; i matched the colors of 2 with the netting cause it annoyed me)

M frame only

Disabled for Random

Huge shoutout to my dear friend @zynoox for being a BIG help as I made these mwah <3

Download: SFS | Patreon

[emmyrosee]

You went to bed before Kiyoomi.

You never do that. Ever since you’ve moved in with him, your nights end with a massive pile of cuddling limbs and sweet words of sticky nothings that have you cocooned and ready for a peaceful night.

But tonight, he snapped at you. Something about being too “irate” over “something small.”

He missed dinner. And normally, that wouldn’t be a massive issue for you. But he was with asshole of a PR member who’s been trying to get with him for months, calling themselves his “work babe.” Who were you to think nothing funny wasn’t going down?

It's not a lack of trust from Kiyoomi that has you choked up. It's a lack of trust with them.

You know more than anyone when kindness turns to love, it's the same thing that happened between you both, and it kills you to think they could preform the same spell and potentially take your man from you.

You tell yourself that if they can take him, they can have him.

But the idea hurts none the less.

It hurts enough where you're curled up on your side of the bed, far from Kiyoomi's, where his smell lingers and the coldness on your body isn't offset by his warmth like it usually is. You whimper and bury your face in the meat of your pillow when you hear the front door open, and a soft call of your name follows. You didn't even know he left, to be frank, but you don't say anything as he stalks into the bedroom with another call of your name.

"Are you awake?"

"Am now," you murmur.

"Can we please talk about things?" He sounds desperate, like he knows this is killing you, weighing you down like a sac of bricks and keeping you from him.

"You talk," you say, nodding into your pillow. "I have nothing to say."

"Okay. I understand."

A muscular arm reaches over your frame to reach for your hand, and when you don't put up a fight to keep his hand away, he sighs shakily.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, linking his pinkie finger with yours. You screw your eyes shut and sniffle, and you hear him swallow thickly. “I was just so upset to know that you were right to worry-“

“What?”

“Wait- No!” He says quickly, panic in his voice. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant.” He’s never been good with his words. You let him continue, your heart sinking into your stomach all the same. He sighs shakily, “I meant that you were right about me being here. I should’ve been. We haven’t had dinner together in weeks, and I just… I got so caught up in new sponsorships and gigs that I wanted more, and I thought they had more to give.”

“They want you, Kiyoomi,” you mumble. “I see it. It’s the same way I bugged you when we first started dating, just to show how much I liked you. They’re doing that.”

“I know,” he sighs. Then, he pauses, squeezing your pinky, “I went to talk to them. Told them if they couldn't keep it professional and cut the shit, they can search for other clients. Because I don't want them making either of us uncomfortable anymore. And even if they did want me, I don't care.” He crawls over to you and bends slightly to have his head dangling in front of you, curls flipping upside down at the action. “Because I want you.”

You snort at the sight.

“So can we please cuddle, and you grab my teeth or sniff me or whatever feral thing you usually do?” He asks, leaning forward to kiss you on the nose. “Miss your stupid affections.”

“I miss giving them to you,” you say, moving a finger up slowly to try and pick his nose, just to make him squirm, a sign of a truce. He grunts and whips his head back, letting your laughter fill the room, rather than your tears. When you feel him sit back on his side of the bed, you take your time in flipping over, finally meeting his dark eyes again, filled with hope and adoration that has you falling in love with him all over again.

"You are irresistible," you say, reaching for his hand again.

"Don't care. I don't want anyone looking at me if it means you and I never fight again."

You laugh and gently kiss his hand, flicking your gaze up at him, "we'll go look at paper bags for you to wear this weekend."

He removes his hand from yours to gently cup your cheek, thumb stroking over the swells lovingly.

"It's a date."

[notjustjavierpena]

(Mid)summer Loving

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Yes, based on that new picture. I’ll call this my first contribution to getting railed in a sundress season. 

Summary: The last two years of being with Joel has transformed the both of you. Mostly him. For the better. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, joel’s kink is being loved and appreciated, long haired joel!!!, healthy joel, established relationship, piv sex, size kink (it's big), rough, loud and desperate sex, dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, railed in a sundress season contribution, they are so soft for each other, bit of aftercare. 

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55988128

(Mid)summer Loving

It happens when you hear him through the crowd of people in the community center. Your head whips in his direction, your eyes settling on the crinkles around his eyes as he laughs at something Tommy has said to him. He swirls the whiskey in his glass and downs it with slight difficulty because he is still smiling. 

You are only a table away, sitting with some of the women from your patrol group who gossip about potential suitors in the room, especially amongst the newcomers. However, you don’t really pay attention to what is being said because the love of your life sits across from you. It makes you able to admire him, struck by his transformation since he first came to Jackson and barged into your life. Your heart is so soft for him. 

The most obvious change is the hair. It’s gotten longer, the ends curling slightly in a way that softens his otherwise rugged appearance of big leather boots and tripled layered clothing. He used to have it shorter, and while you loved its fluffy bounce on top of his head whenever it was caught in the wind, it doesn’t compare to how it now frames his face by just brushing his collar in the back. It may be a subtle shift to others but to you, it means that Joel is more at ease with who and where he is, and that he has allowed change to find him.

His beard, too, has filled out. It is now thick and even, not at all the patchy scruff that you noticed the first time he talked to you by the rag pile in the trading center. He’d searched for fabric that could be used for shining the creations that he makes when seeking respite in wood carving. You had noticed the patch that resembled a heart first, your own heart skipping a beat as you forced yourself not to point it out to him immediately. That patch is gone but you’ll spend no time mourning it when the result is Joel looking healthier than ever, almost as if his body has responded to happiness with you by filling in all the gaps that heartbreak had left. 

Then there’s his face. It glows, despite his age, with a newfound youth, the signs of weariness and stress of years lived too hard it once bore completely wiped away. When you first met him, your heart had ached for his tired eyes, bags underneath them revealing all the sleepless nights and the burdens that he carried. The way they shine when they look into yours has your heart at ease and you can only hope he feels the same. 

Around you, the women keep chatting, talking animatedly and giggling while you sip your drink and stay silent until they are nothing but a low hum in the background. 

You only snap out of it when your name is said out loud. You furrow your brow, “Sorry?”

“I said that you don’t have to worry about things like this,” one of them chirps happily, “You already got your man.”

“Guess not, guess you’re right,” you chuckle softly and start to feel shy. You have never been one to be glaringly obvious in your happiness to the point where you display it at every opportunity but then Joel came along. He may worry about the gap of years between the two of you, often feeling undeserving of your love and attention but you only wish that he could see himself from your point of view. To you, he is everything. He doesn’t see how his presence calms and grounds you, how he makes you feel safe even in a world beyond repair. In his embrace, you feel even the biggest of anxieties and the worst of your challenges shrink into nothing. All he has to do is put his gentle, calloused hands on you and talk to you in that familiar southern drawl, and then your mind quiets down instantaneously.

However, if not his hands or his voice, his loving gaze also seems to do the trick. He suddenly turns his head in your direction, catching your eyes, and the sound of the lively conversations from each table mutes to nothing. He smiles at you and mouths a ‘you okay?’ at you. 

‘Save me’ you decide to mouth back at him, making a face to see him smile with amusement. He slaps his brother’s back before putting both hands on the table to push himself to stand. You didn’t think he would take it seriously but just the sight of seeing him approach you makes you want to go home with him. 

“Ready to go, honey?” He asks when he reaches your table, placing a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezing. 

“Hi Joel,” your friend group says in unison.

“Ladies,” he nods and they giggle like schoolgirls, “Gotta get this one home.”

You shake your head with a little smile at their reaction. Then you swing your legs over the side of the chair. Joel helps you up and a moment after having said your goodnights, you leave together like you’ve done for a few years now. 

Outside, people are scattered across the town square where a huge bonfire has been erected in the spot where the Christmas tree usually stands. Today is the annual midsummer celebration. Jackson is decorated with bundles of flowers that have replaced the painted eggs that tell people it is Easter. You smile at the memory of Ellie having been forced to join in on getting people in the spirit of Easter which had resulted in you trying to guess which of the eggs hanging from the sky had been crafted by the angry teen. You had decided that it might’ve been the one painted completely black.

Now, bright colors from nature hover above your head instead as you make your way down the main road. Joel holds your hand all the way home. He strokes the back of it with his thumb, feeling no pressure to fill up the silence between you as it has reached a point where it is comfortable. 

When you reach your shared house, Joel stops you by the front door instead of opening it for you in the gentlemanly way he always does. He stands in front of you, the porch light softening his features as he gazes at you.

“You seemed a bit distracted with your friends tonight,” he notes, “Is everythin’ alright?” 

“Just thinking about how lucky I am,” you answer with a smile, your voice sincere, “To have you.”

“I’m the lucky one, baby,” Joel huffs out a little laugh of disbelief, trying to brush off how flattered he always feels each time you say things like this. He gathers your hand in both of his, lifting it to kiss the back of it a few times, “Best fuckin’ thing that ever happened after the world ended.” 

“Don’t let Ellie hear that,” you tease gently. In your chest, your heart hammers against your ribs from being loved by him. 

“I’d never dream of it,” he steps closer with his eyes burning to get closer to you. You see them darken slightly as desire fills them and your heart jumps into your throat at the realization of what he wants. 

You. 

He wants you. 

That’s the one thing that has also changed since you met him; he has become much more untameable when he has you around. Who knew that his stamina was so impressive? Who knew that Joel Miller getting a confession of love - whether it consisted of the actual words or simply was said in your actions - would have him dragging you to somewhere private as soon as possible? 

“I love you, Joel Miller,” you say dreamily, pulling the trigger, “To the day that I die.”

And then suddenly Joel rips the door open so roughly that you’re afraid it might come off its hinges, pulls you inside along with him and slams it shut behind the both of you afterward. He locks it without hesitation, not about to be interrupted by any of your neighbors even if it’s most likely that everyone is out and about the town to be social. 

You are pressed up against the door next, his broad hands resting on your hips as he holds you against it. He bunches up the skirt of your sundress, groping your sides on top of the fabric, and you sling an arm around his back. Your other arm reaches up so you can cup the back of his head, your fingers sliding into the hair there. He has the perfect length for pulling these days - you should know - but you’ll wait for the right moment. 

His lips nearly bruise yours with how hard he kisses you, beard scratching your skin as he practically eats at your mouth to the point where your head swims and your belly swirls with hours of suppressed desire. You need him now, already soaked through your underwear and ready for him to be inside of you.

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, heart beating rapidly in your chest. So much that your breathing is already uneven, “Please, Joel, please.”

“S’alright, baby, I know whatcha need,” he rasps as his lips messily start descending on your chin, all the way across your jaw until his mouth attaches to your throat. You let your head bump against the door with a breathy moan, giving him access to bruise your neck too. He creates a purple mark that you will try to hide tomorrow during patrol to avoid interrogation on how Joel Miller is in bed. Only you can know. 

Your skirt falls down the slight amount it has been pulled up when Joel goes to unbuckle his leather belt. The noise of the metal sends a shiver through you, anticipation rising to your cheeks by heating them up underneath no touch. You look down to see the belt hanging open, him shoving the denim down around his thighs afterward and following up with his briefs too. 

The sight of his cock makes your mouth water. He is fully hard already, standing into the air at full attention and threatening to smear your pretty dress with his precome by poking into your belly if he dares get closer. You moan pathetically and he shushes you gently. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes you like he would a child that has scraped their knee. He curls his fingers in the fabric of your dress once more before hiking it up along your thighs until he can stuff the bottom of the skirt into the top of your dress, effectively holding it up so it doesn’t fall down over your soaked panties again. 

You grab at the sides of your underwear to shimmy out of them but Joel doesn’t exercise enough patience to wait for you to step out of them, so he hooks his fingers into the front. He finds your eyes when he feels how wet the cotton fabric is, doesn’t directly say anything about it but just shows you how full-blown his pupils are at the realization. Without warning, he yanks your panties to the side. 

Satisfied with his work, he makes you gasp as he bends his knees to reach down and splay his strong hands on the back of your thighs. He lifts you off the ground and wraps you around him, pressing his knee into the door to hold you up while guiding his throbbing cock into you. You moan desperately at the initial sting, brows furrowing with slight pain as he sheaths himself inside of you to the hilt. 

“Oh my God,” you whimper, letting his name fall from your lips in a helpless chant as he pulses from how your walls choke him as you strain to take him like you always do in the beginning. He might just split you open right here in the hallway when he starts fucking you. 

“Shh, you can take it,” he whispers with the most brutally gentle peck on your zipped lips, “It’s okay. She knows it’s big, baby, but she can take it. I always fuck ya real good, don’t I?” 

You nod helplessly, and fuck you, he does. It’s fast and hard and dirty. The poor wooden door rattles alongside the jingle of his belt buckle with each slam of his hips, the doorknob painfully gnawing into your lower back, and you fear the fabric of your underwear will snap from the strain that is put on it as it sits to the side. Sometimes you think you might even cut a hole in some of your pairs with how often Joel, still two years later, rushes to get his cock into you. There’s something oddly satisfying and offensive about just being able to bend over and let him see that all he has to do is push in. 

“That’s it, look at me, baby, such a good girl f’me,” he praises to get you back to him, not here to lose your attention to the way his cock feels inside of your tight heat. Your eyes settle on him again, your mouth hanging open to elicit pathetic gasps each time he knocks the wind out of you by driving his hips up into you and effectively pounding your g-spot. His face is so close to you; you can feel his breath and share it with him, can study every little imperfection in the form of tiny scars and dark lines that you hadn’t been able to see earlier from your seat a few tables over. 

“Joel,” you pant, digging your heels into the small of his back, clinging on desperately and angling your hips as he has his way with you. The slight adjustment has him going deeper, touching something inside of you that ignites the first sparks of an orgasm. Your nails claw, dig and scratch at his back in ways that would have been enough to draw blood if he wasn’t wearing a shirt, “Fuck, baby! Don’t— ngh, don’t stop.”

“You feel so good,” he replies with a groan, most likely powering through the exhaustion and strain on his body to make you feel even better. He is everywhere on you, his hands on your thighs, gripping and squeezing. He is everywhere in you too, his cock twitching inside of you each time you cry his name.

“I’m—“ you sob.

“Let go, baby, I can feel ya,” he growls when you dance around the edge of your orgasm because your fingers on both hands tangle into his beautifully chocolate hair, yanking harshly as impending pleasure knocks the breath out of your lungs. Your skin burns, your whole system halts and goes into overdrive at the same time until all you can do is shout silently at the ceiling. Your walls clench in mind-altering ecstasy then and your quietness is over, replaced by a relieved whine as you come on his dick. It is intense from how fast you’ve gotten there since he entered you, your body writhing as it is held against the wall. He fucks you through it, has you wailing as he chases his own high. 

You cradle his head during his last few thrusts, feeling his damp breath against your shoulder as he buries himself inside of your spent cunt and comes hard. It feels so good when he groans as he fills you up, the sound vibrating through his entire body. You whimper at the ceiling with the way he pulses deliciously with each breathy moan until he has no more to give you. 

He leans all his weight into you as he comes down again, holding you in place with his chest against yours to make sure that you won’t fall down and drag him with you. He gives you a moment and places a string of lazy kisses on your lips until he slips out of you with a soft sound. 

Carefully, he places you back down on the floor and eyes you as he does it to be certain you won’t collapse. He moves off of you when it feels safe to do so. 

“I say it back?” He asks as he leans against the door with you. Automatically, you tilt your head towards him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, turning his head a second later to fully look at your disheveled state. You have a hand on your chest to calm your breathing but it still matches your fluttering heartbeat. He still aches between your legs.

You look back at him, awaiting his words with short breaths, “Say what?”

He makes a gesture to the both of you, “Before what we just did happened. I tell ya that I love you too?” 

“No?” Your reply is almost a question. 

“Shame on me,” he smiles and turns his whole body so that he faces you completely, shoulder against the door. His eyes soften as he reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch is nice when the sweat has started to cool you down, and you lean into his palm, feeling the roughness of his calloused skin against you. 

“Shame on me, indeed,” he murmurs, eyes on your slightly open mouth, “Because I do love ya. More than I can understand sometimes.”

“You don’t have to say it back every time, Joel. I know,” you try to brush off how much your body and mind buzz at the same time. 

He shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving your mouth, “No, I do needa say it. You deserve to hear it. I love you.”

You nod and reach to hold his wrist when he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your open mouth. Just a few minutes ago, the now-careful hands had been rough on your skin and his words had dripped with sin.

“Now, how ‘bout I take you to bed?” He asks and pulls your dress’ skirt out of the top, watching it tumble down and fall back into place around your knees. 

While you wait for him to get dressed again, fatigue seems to finally have caught up with you because you feel like you might collapse in your hallway at that suggestion. When it’s safe to do so, you let yourself fall into his arms and he catches you without hesitation. 

He scoops you up, goes upstairs with you in his arms, undresses you, washes you down with a warm flannel, and gets you into bed. You curl up on your side and after a while, after hearing his boots come off and the shuffling of clothes, the bed dips from his weight. 

The warmth of his body against your back lulls you to sleep. Oh, how simply he loves you. Forever doesn’t seem like a lot to ask for.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤���

[lilacxquartz]

part 9 of 19 of kinktober: brain riding

kenjaku’s brain x reader

plot: kenjaku would like to try something a bit different with you — themes: oral sex, brain riding, gender neutral pronouns for kenjaku, f!reader, coercion, potentially body horror — a/n: if the idea weirds you out, this is your warning to click out, otherwise read on <3 — w.c: 800ish

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

“Come on, I promise it’ll be fun,” Kenjaku teased, dragging your fingertips along their still freshly sutured incision, “it’ll be unlike anything like you’ve ever experienced before.”

You stammered in slight uncertainty, narrowing your eyes into a concerned stare; studying the liquid that trickled out of their partially undone form. “I-I don’t know, this might be too weird… even for me.”

Kenjaku could only smile as they pulled you back down over their body, urging you to straddle over their frame. They didn’t want to pretend with you anymore—at least not since you last saw their technique and surviving form—so this was simply… the next big step forward.

“Trust me,” they coaxed, lowering their voice into a breathy whisper, “I promise it’ll be fun. If you’re that scared, you can sit a little lower over my vessel’s face and we can work our way up.”

You could only blink as your mind paled at the thought, still struggling to imagine just how this could possibly go. Admittedly, this was something that you had never once anticipated before and yet here you were, giving into the impossible.

“Alright, just… just give me a moment, okay?” you replied in a strained tone in an attempt to calm yourself down.

They simply stared up at you as you straddled over their stomach, their arrogant grin slowly widening with each passing second.

“Do I just… hover over the brain, or?” you asked in a resigned tone.

They tilted their head back in anticipation. “I’ll tell you when, how’s that?”

A whole flurry of troubling thoughts swept through your mind the more you tried to talk yourself into carrying the act through. For one, you felt suddenly… insecure? What could the view for them even be from that sort of angle? Given that your thought process could be easily reflected on your expression, they pulled you down ever so slightly by tugging at your wrists to at least, reassure you.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” they murmured, trying to pad you forward on your knees, “I can promise you that my eyes will be closed if that’s what’s bothering you,” they lied, wanting nothing more than to revel in the view.

You tilted your head in half disbelief, not quite believing them. “R-really?”

They hummed with a confirming nod, finally getting you to hover right where they wanted. With a quick pull, they cast aside the skull cap for now, propping it over to the bedside table before shooting their tongue up towards your clit, hoping to steal a taste while you were still adjusting.

A slight yelp escaped your lips as the rest of your body tingled in a pleasurable shudder; your legs settled parallel over the soft, fleshy mass felt almost softly foreign when compared to any other area of flesh. The tissue was alarmingly supple and left you feeling a little afraid for them.

“A-and you’re sure that this doesn’t hurt you?” you asked in a somewhat innocent tone, genuinely concerned for their safety.

They lightheartedly laughed in response to you, their tone of voice adopting a nonchalant edge, “Well, it might mess up my vision a little but don’t worry, I can fix all of that later. Besides, my brain is firmer than the average person’s, so you’re not damaging a single thing.”

Kenjaku technically meant that first part in a joking manner, but they partially regretted their jab a second later, knowing that you wouldn’t take it in the way they hoped and would very likely hesitate to let yourself go fully.

To counter this, they attempted to pull you down a little closer; their brain tongue greedily lapping up wherever it could feel, the rest of the rosy matter slightly pulsating as it did so as the subtle movements almost caused them to tremble.

Continuing, they licked at your folds whenever you slipped up and tried to steady yourself. Your clit was the primary focus, but your lacking confidence was something that they’d have to train you out of in the future; which was already pre-planned in their mind. Working with what they could, they flicked at your skin’s swollen peak, pushing you towards a quickly building climax. Perhaps it was both the fear and the arousal and the unknown; all three things combined to overwhelm you into a heated mess.

In a way, it was surely frustrating due to the host’s body responding with want and need, pooling tingling pleasure in between their legs. They couldn’t stop now however—not when you were so close—so instead their tongue zigzagged at an almost hurried rate, sending rising shocks of shuddering bliss through your body, forcing you to eventually coil and flood in a seeping release that trickled into their cerebral lips.

As you finally stilled your grinding process, you sat back over their chest and then rolled over to your back, your body involuntarily flinching slightly at the cap they used to secure back over their brain.

“I’m never letting you live this down by the way,” they teased, already planning the next moment they’d do this with you again (and again and again.)

And to your surprise (not that you’d admit it to them), you didn’t feel completely opposed to the idea.

~~~

related art piece

[strawberrystepmom]

yami x f!noble reader. cw smoking, sex insinuated, misogyny and mentions of marriage as well as fertility but not on yami's part. i just like these two sorry for party rockin | wc 1.1k, divider thanks to @cafekitsune

you can read more about these two here

“I know it’s impolite to ask but what happened between the two of you?”

Yami chuckles, shoulders pressed against the rickety headboard behind him. 

“Who?” He asks, well aware of what you mean despite his attempt to seem unsure. You sigh, turning to look at him. 

“Charlotte.”

A moonbeam pours in over the two of you, the room otherwise dark and silent, the stillness emboldening you to finally ask him some questions. Tightening the sheet that is wrapped around your body, you dare glance up at him to find him already staring at you, as though he’s trying to figure out why you’d ask in the first place.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out,” he shrugs flippantly. You get the sense that he’s downplaying but keep it to yourself, wide eyes watching his every movement. “We were more different than we thought and decided to go our separate ways and it has been mostly fine.”

Perhaps it’s naivety (or the four failed engagements) but you believe that you understand what he means, nodding slowly. You’ve always viewed love as an ever changing puzzle, similar to the one in your father’s study at home. A wooden frame holds ceramic sliding tiles and you position them again and again until a picture is clear and in front of you - what you’ve been looking for the entire time. 

You blink hard and glance down at your hands, once again pulling the linens over your exposed cleavage. Goosebumps prickle your skin, forcing you to dive further under, and he notices and pulls you against his warm side.

“Since we’re asking questions all of sudden, how about you?” He raises a brow, sliding lower into the bed and giving you room to rest your head against the firmness of his stomach. “Four is damn near impressive.”

Mirroring his prior shrug, you contemplate quietly what it truly means to tell four men you don’t want to marry them. Arrogant is what one told you and you found it hard to disagree when he was red cheeked and yelling at you. Frigid was what another said, accusing you of hiding potential issues with producing an heir for his family. A third said nothing but left you silently to consider your opinion of yourself, sitting in a wooden backed chair in the study where that slide puzzle rested on a table across from you while he cast you a disappointed glance.

The fourth and most recent you objected to before he could harm your ego further, refusing his offers of land and jewels. You have both of those things. You’re an heiress in your own right despite the sons your father has now sired amongst your 11 siblings. Physical means mean nothing to you when what you desire is deeper than gilded flesh. 

“I cannot commit to living a life where I will be unable to be who I am.” 

You finally answer after prolonged silence, giving yourself permission to be honest since he was honest with you. 

“So you don’t want to get married?” He asks, finally lighting a cigarette but politely blowing the smoke in the opposite direction of you. You shake your head, the back of it against his stomach, leaving you to look up at him. “The opposite, actually. I would love to be married and to have a family but not at the cost of myself and having to be misunderstood to maintain peace.”

He hums, a sound you believe is some level of understanding of what you mean, and inhales another puff. 

“What makes you so different from all the other noble girls?”

The question would be offensive if it were to be asked by anyone else but you know Yami. He’s rough around the edges and sometimes a bit too curt in saying what he means but there’s genuine curiosity not derision in his tone. 

“I’m apprehensive to say that I am all that different considering how similar our upbringings tend to be yet I feel like I’ve never quite fit in with them.” Your head remains resting in the cradle of his slightly bent middle, the cherry glow of his cigarette illuminating his face enough you can make out those wise eyes staring at your mouth. “I’ve never loved high society. It’s suffocating and everyone is very judgemental and most of them have already, probably correctly, theorized that I will be a spinster left to take care of my siblings for all my life.”

A chuckle rumbles through him in tandem with a shake of his head you can see thanks to the glow of his cigarette. He mumbles around the filter, one big hand coming to rest on the covered dip of your waist. “Don’t say shit like that. You’re pretty and smart and funny once you get to runnin’ your mouth so what’s the point in pretending you aren’t?”

Your face warms beneath his praise and your eyes dart away from him, choosing to settle on the specs of dust floating through the single beam of light shining through the room. You’ve already given him more of yourself than you intended and not simply your body, your feelings as well. There’s no turning back so you continue, feeling your heart beating in your throat while speaking.

“I believe it’s easier for me to make all of this my fault,” you nearly whisper, keeping your gaze locked on the ceiling above while you’re making a confession. “To believe there’s something wrong with me rather than the system we use to decide people’s value.”

Stamping out his cigarette against the windowsill with his free hand, he squeezes your waist with the occupied one and draws your attention back, leaving you blinking up at him.

“Well don’t. It doesn’t seem like you’re the problem here at all.” Another squeeze and your heart beats in time with it. There’s an easy smile on his face, one you can barely make out in the dim room, yet you match it with one of your own.  “I think you have plenty of time to find someone if you want to,” he continues. 

“I think the same of you, Yami.” An unexpected response. He raises a brow, sliding further down into the bed beside you. You remain with your head against him, tucked into his side, a large arm wrapped around your waist. “I think the woman who ends up with you will be lucky.”

Pulling you tighter against him, he considers your sentiment and hums.

“I guess you’ll have to ask her when that day comes if she’s lucky or not.”

You nod once, deciding to let silence win you both over as the night continues to fade away, hoping to prolong your time with him as much as possible without any further interruption.

[spikesbunny]

♥︎ SWEET TEA ♥︎

+ warnings: use of aphrodisiac, food play (tea is drugged), dom ruan mei, fingering, use of pet names (sweetheart, darling)

+ ft: ruan mei x gn reader

+ wc: 0.7k

+ @ficsforgaza kinktober: day 14 - aphrodisiacs/food play + ruan mei (m.list)

nsfw under cut, minors dni!!!

ruan mei was always tinkering with something. she loved testing out how plants caused reactions in people, especially those that could be considered aphrodisiacs.

but she never let you try them. she insisted that it was safer, just incase any severe side affects occurred. she would never hurt you.

but you wanted so desperately to try it, to see how it heightened the feeling. were your orgasms harder? were you easily aroused? more sensitive? did it affect your behaviorism?

and so, she finally decided to test it out. after all, it would be better to observe how one reacted, rather than just test on herself. she made sure you were comfortable being randomly dosed, as she didn't want you to be fully aware when taking it (after all, she must take precautions to now potentially skew her results!).

you could smell tea brewing, thinking nothing of the overly sweet smell. she probably made some sort of sweet tea with an artificial sweetener she designed, concern not even a thought in your mind.

after all, there was no point in questioning her, right? she normally made you tea, so it wasn't something unusual.

that was, until you drank it. the liquid was sweet, almost too sweet, and made you feel kinda fuzzy, almost like some twisted version of melatonin.

or so you thought, until you felt your skin burning, aching for your girlfriend. heat was pooling in your gut, a sudden need for release clouding your brain.

you try to ignore it, but the longer left unattended, the worse it gets. finally, you work up the courage to whimper out her name, her graceful figure now standing in the doorway.

"what's wrong, darling?" she coos, so sweetly. she knew exactly what was wrong - it was hard not to, your face was flushed.

"i- i need you," you whine, much to your disproval. you were crumbling, lust coursing through your veins at rapid speeds.

she hums, pulling the chair out to better access your legs. "yea, you want me? does my sweetheart need me?" her words had you melting, nodding eagerly as she works your bottoms down, pressing her fingers between your lips. "suck"

you take them into your mouth, looking down at her, framed so prettily between your legs as you work on her digits, coating them in saliva before she withdraws them.

she eyes your pretty hole, kissing your thighs as she complements you, showering you with "so pretty"s and "my darling looks so ready f' me already", circling her fingers teasingly.

with a free hand, she jots down her observations onto a notepad. "warm skin, sensitive to the touch, extra whiny, trying to rut against the air..." she list off, still tracing around your hole. you whine, trying to get her to already sink them in.

"paitience, dear" she hums, before finally dipping one finger in, curling up to massage your walls. you whine, squirming from barely any stimulation, watching her write down notes.

it was insane to you, how composed she was, as if you weren't feeling your orgasm already creep up onto you.

ruan mei continues her jotting, now adding a second finger, peaking up to observe your face. "red, flushed, lips are bit raw, maybe some tears from overstimulation? all plays into sensitivity..." she whispers, still writing down notes.

her words were so arousing for no reason at all, clenching around the two digits she was leisurely pumping in and out of you.

"there it is, sweetheart" she coos, jotting down notes while muttering "clenching at two fingers" under her breath.

you can barely take it anymore, especially when she breaks her usually distant demeanor, placing a kiss on your inner thigh. "you're doing so good, love, this aphrodisiac really did the trick on you."

that was it, your orgasm crashing over you at her words of praise. she gives you a small smile, continuing to press her fingers into you as you ride it out, before withdrawing.

she writes down two final notes, muttering as per usual - "came after praise" and "was such a good subject."

she sets the pad aside, rising from her position between your legs.

"i'm assuming that wasn't enough, i believe i put too much into your cup... how about we continue this in the bedroom? my observations are done."

you nod, following her graceful figure out of the room. you couldn't deny, being ruan mei's test subject sometimes wasn't so bad.

©2024 spikesbunny- please do not repost or translate my works on other media sites ♡

[ahqkas]

♯ TO LIKE YOU OR LOVE YOU ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! theodore nott was known to be just like an eurasian magpie — drawn by nature to snatch up and fly off with shiny things. it was no surprise the two of you found yourself in possession of a time turner (which certainly showed you an interesting image) ( based on this rq.!! )

WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, time traveling, friends to lovers + lmk of more if found !!

WORD COUNT! 1.8k

NOTES! i love this prompt sm u have no idea how excited i was to find a request for it ☹️☹️ this is a repost bc tumblr wasn’t showing this in the tags. all the credits to the devider bellow belong to @/plutism !

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

TIME WAS THE MOST INTERESTING THING A HUMAN RACE COULD HAVE STUMBLED UPON. It was woven with infinite threads of moments, decisions, and possibilities. Each thread held the potential to shape the fabric of the future in ways unimaginable. It was both a river, flowing inevitably forward, and a maze of paths that twisted and turned, leading to dramatic outcomes. The very idea that time could be manipulated, that one could step outside its relentless march, was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

And Theodore Nott managed to do just that.

The passage of time was like a dance between light and shadow, where the present moment was a balancing act on the razor's edge of now. Like the White Swan and the Black Swan. Memories of the past tugged at the heart, whispering tales of days gone by, while the future beckoned with a siren's call of unknown adventures and uncharted territories.

Time was both a friend and an enemy. It was a healer, softening the edges of pain and grief with its gentle touch, allowing wounds to scar over and hearts to mend. Yet, it was also a thief, stealthily stealing youth, opportunities, and moments that could never be reclaimed. It moved with a steady, unyielding pace, indifferent to the desires and pleas of those who wished to slow it down or speed it up.

And with a Time-Turner, one could do marvelous things. This delicate device, seemingly unassuming with its petite hourglass and golden frame, held within it the power to transcend the natural flow of time. It was a key to the past and the future, a tool for exploration, and a bridge to moments that had long since passed.

The Time-Turner allowed its bearer to step beyond the boundaries of the present, to revisit decisions and events with the wisdom of hindsight. It offered a chance to right wrongs, to experience lost opportunities anew, and to glimpse the world that was awaiting. Each turn of the hourglass was a dance with destiny.

But the true marvel of the Time-Turner lay not just in its ability to revisit the past, but in the taunting glimpse it offered into the future. To step beyond the present and witness what lay ahead was a privilege reserved for the brave and the curious. The future, with its infinite branches and pathways, was a place full of dreams and nightmares, where every possibility coexisted in a symphony of potential outcomes. Everything could be possible in the future.

The golden chain of the forbidden magical item hung in Theo's grasp as he presented it in front of you, showing you the new possession he managed to get his grasp on. You didn't know how and from where, and you were positive you didn't even want to know the details. The delicate hourglass within the frame shimmered with an almost ethereal glow, hinting at the ancient magic contained in its confines.

His eyes, a pretty shade of Italian skies and deep seas, gleamed with a mixture of mischief and carefulness as he looked at you through his eyelashes.

"I'm certain you're familiar with this, am I right?" he asked, the tone of his voice low and conspiratorial, as if he were sharing a treasured secret with you. And at some point, he truly was, because what the two of you were about to do was something forbidden.

You nodded slowly at his words, your gaze fixed on the delicate device between his fingers. Whispers of its powers had circulated through the halls of Hogwarts, tales of old wizards and witches who had bent time to their will, reliving moments or altering their paths. But seeing one in Theo's hands, real and touchable, was something entirely different. The Time-Turner pulsed with promising adventures beyond the ways of the present.

"How did you get one of these? They're forbidden."

"Let's just say I have my ways," a hint of smirk danced at the edge of his lips upon his answer. He was mysterious like that, the Slytherin. Working years on creating the perfect facade for his persona: the quiet and intelligent student to most of Hogwarts, the cunning and bold boy to his closest ones. You had to admit, he was really one of the smartest students in your year. No one would ever suspect him for the acts he had done. "It's about knowing the right people and being in the right place at the right time."

Raising an eyebrow at his poorly said explanation, clearly wanting to hear more, you gave him a pointed look, but Theo just chuckled softly and laced your fingers together in one, the Time-Turner now caged in your joined palms. "Don't worry about it. Just trust me."

His reassurance did little to satisfy your curiosity, but there was something about the confidence in his voice that made you want to believe him. Besides, the allure of the Time-Turner was far too great and enticing to resist.

"Okay," you breathed out in a nervous exhale. Theo swung the chain of the magical device around both your and his neck, bringing you even closer than before. His fingers set the hourglass into motion with a synchronized turn. The world around you shimmered and blurred, the magic of the Time-Turner whisking you away from the present. Your stomach ached a little at the sensation, and when the whirlwind of colours finally ceased, you found yourself standing on the exact same spot, near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

The warm summer air was still the same, the sun casting a golden hue over the grounds of Hogwarts. Before you could fully grasp where — or when — you were, you heard voices nearby. And they sounded all too familiar.

Instinctively, you and Theo ducked behind the huge batch of Hagrid's gigantic orange pumpkins, peeking out cautiously to see who it was. What you saw made your breath hitch in the back of your throat. Just a few yards away, strolling casually along the path that led the Quidditch pitch to the castle, were two people you recognized immediately. But it wasn't just their faces that were familiar; it was everything about them.

It was you. And Theo.

Only, you both looked older — just by a year or two, but the difference was noticeable. Your older self walked slightly ahead, your hand loosely held by older Theo's as you seemed to chat so easily with each other from the distance. The sight was surreal, as if you were watching a scene from one of your friends' muggle movies full of romance and comedy.

Your older self laughed at something the older Theo had said, the sound ringing out in the stillness of the day. There was a lightness to your step, an ease in your movements that spoke of comfort and confidence. You looked happy — truly happy — in a way that filled you with a strange mix of emotions.

Older Theo, too, looked different. He seemed more relaxed, his usual guarded expression softened into something more open, more at peace. The way he looked at you — like you hung the stars on the night sky just for him — was something you'd never seen before, at least not from this Theo, your Theo, standing beside you now. The affection between your future selves was a sight to see, and you wondered in what universe was this really happening. Could it be your very own?

The two of them stopped walking near the entrance to the castle, close enough to feel the homely feeling Hogwarts provided and far enough to stray from any onlookers. Older Theo pulled the older you gently toward him until you were standing close, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so intimate, so familiar, that it made your heart ache with a longing you hadn't fully acknowledged until now. Your older self leaned into his touch, smiling up at him in a way that made it clear how much you openly cared for him.

And then, in a moment that made you widen your eyes from the unexpected gesture, older Theo dipped his head and kissed the older you, his lips meeting yours in a tender, lingering kiss. Watching it was like seeing a secret version of your future — a future where you and Theo were more than just friends, where you were something much deeper, something lasting.

Beside you, the present-day Theo was silent, the look in your eyes matching yours as he took in the scene before him. You could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his hand gripped yours just a little too tightly. This was as much a revelation for him as it was for you — a glimpse into a future neither of you had dared to dream about.

When your older selves ended the kiss, your older self smiled softly at the boy, leaning into his touch when his lips met your forehead. They stood like that for a moment, wrapped up in their own little world, before older Theo spoke, his voice carrying on the wind just enough for you to hear.

"Did you see the look on Malfoy's face when he missed that last shot?" a smirk formed on your, apparently, boyfriend's face as he intertwined his fingers with yours and began to lead the way towards to castle yet again. "I thought he was going to hex his broom out of sheer frustration."

"I'm surprised he didn't. You know how he's with Quidditch — he treats every practice like it's the World Cup final."

The words echoed in the silence around you, sinking into your mind and heart like a promise — a promise of what could be, if you both were brave enough to act upon it.

Before either of you could process what you'd just witnessed, the familiar pull of the Time-Turner gripped you again, the world dissolving into a blur of colors and sounds. When you landed back in your own time, the warm summer day had been replaced by the cool shadows of the evening, and the grounds of Hogwarts were once again quiet.

Theo's hand was still in yours, his grip firm as if he feared letting go would make the memory of what you'd just seen slip away. You turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his in a shared surprise. The future you'd just witnessed was no longer some distant, abstract concept — it was real, and it was possible. The only thing standing in the way was the courage to take that first step.

Theo's expression was a mixture of shock and something deeper, something more profound. He looked at you as if seeing you for the first time, really seeing you, and in that moment, you realized that the future wasn't just something that happened to you. It was something you created, moment by moment, choice by choice.

And in that instant, you knew that whatever came next, you wanted it to be with him.

[kentoxo]

Could you please make a yuta x reader one where goes violent over seeing y/n get hurt?? I love your fics😭

1000000000% lets do it

pairing: reader (f) x bf!Yuta (aged up)

synopsis: in which you get hurt in a dangerous mission, and Yuta cannot contain his anger

warning: curse killing, cursing, gore-esque imagery. Additionally, potential spoilers?

setting: pre-Shinjuku and kinda pre-Culling (sorry if this spoils anything as well x)

a/n: this is kinda long, im so sorry! i got really into the idea. thank you anon for the sick prompt, and for enjoying my writing! it warms my heart and makes my days so much better to know that you like my works :)

This wasn't your first mission with higher grade Sorcerers.

For a while now, you've been allowed to join the bandwagon of the higher ranks, learning from them and their style of fighting. This came to fruition after Yuji had not only sent a letter of recommendation, but put in a good word in for you when speaking with Gojo and the council. Despite Gojo's concern, since you recently just became a Grade 2 Sorcerer, he trusted Yuta's word. And he had yet been led astray, considering you graduated with flying colors within all your ranks.

Well, until today.

You joined this mission with Yuta, Maki, and Toge. You never felt worried as you were surrounded by Sorcerers with profound knowledge as fighters, cursed users, and cursed weapon users. But you always pulled your own, ensuring to tackle Curses that were much easier for the other three. But in this comfort left room for your naivety and misjudgment to flourish.

"There's glass all over," Maki murmurs, leading the charge through the dim hallway of the hospital. The entire hospital unfortunately had a code black, in which an active shooter entered and caused many tragedies. To this end, the hospital was entirely evacuated and closed up for further human investigation. "Watch your step."

Yuta was behind you all, with Toge and you at center keeping in eye on the rooms you all were passing. The gruesome scent of dried blood and still bodies shot pangs of nausea to your stomach. As you quietly held your stomach, Toge taps your shoulder and offers you a mint. "Thank you, Inumaki," you hum, immediately chewing the artificial menthol.

As broken lights flickered, and medical supplies were sprawled all over the ground, Maki quickly stops. Looking up at the signs for direction, she lets out a deep sigh, "we're here." You were in the ER wing of the hospital, which was reported to have seen the most deaths. "Prepare yourselves for what you're about to see."

You all nod, with Yuta quickly placing a hand on your shoulder. "You two go on ahead," Yuta hums. "I'll send Rika to scout ahead of you." With those words, the Queen of Curses appeared from behind Yuta, her large intimidating frame taking over everyone's shadows. "Please warn us, Rika."

With that command, Rika takes charge, allowing Maki and Toge to slowly follow behind her. Yuta narrows his eyes to meet yours, a soft smile playing at his lips. His hands slide down to your own, and give them a light squeeze. His hands were so refreshing compared to yours, which were clammy with nerves. "Are you anxious?" He asks curiously. You sheepishly nod. "This isn't like you-- you're never this nervous."

You give him a shrug, "m'not a fan of hospitals, and seeing... dead people."

Yuta straightens his lips and nods, "I'm not a big fan myself, especially considering your role in this mission. It is why I stopped us here to talk about it first."

"Hm?"

"It would appear that there is only one curse, a Grade 1 cursed spirit. For this, the only thing we need you to do is identify the lives lost," Yuta hums quietly. His blue eyes dim and he could feel pangs of guilt from your solemn expression. "I wanted to warn you without making you feel incapable. But I believe in you so much that I know you'll be able to do this."

You look into his eyes, the ones that put you in a trance every time. Those damn dak eyes could get Yuta whatever he wanted out of you, despite your feelings and detest. You give him a reassuring squeeze, "I got it."

Yuta's infectious smile returns, "that's my girl." He cups your face into his hands and parts a peck on your forehead. "Let us handle the spirit, ignore it and focus on your task."

You nod, finding peace once again in his gaze. But the soothing air was quickly stripped when Maki's voice is heard from the other room. "Yuta! Y/N! We found it!"

You two quickly rush over, with you trying to brace yourself for the sight. When entering the ER, you noticed how completely in disarray it was. Dividing curtains broken and on the ground, gurneys scattered all over, 50% hosting dead bodies. You hear your breath shake, but concern quickly waived when Yuta patted your back.

"Look at all of their wristbands," Yuta advises. "It's the easiest way to find the victim's name and date of birth."

You nod, preparing yourself for it all. As you did, Yuta left you to join Maki and Toge. You didn't give it too much of a look, as Yuta insists you ignore it. But you noticed an energy emanating from a gurney that felt purposely centered in the room.

As you rushed through each body, numbing your brain from the lifelessness in the room. You tried to keep focused, despite the grunts, groans, and yelling you were hearing from behind you. Yuta needs me to do this, you think to yourself. Focus!

But your nerves were sporadic as you listened to them slightly struggle. "Maki!" Yuta yells, his katana working overtime as he sliced through the spirits power. Maki was immersed in her combat with the spirit, deflecting all its moves in swift, but struggling manner. She was always a clean fighter-- definitely one of the best in the newer generation of Sorcerers. But, even so...

"Ah--!" Maki uses her staff to deflect injury, but the power that poured from the spirit was too strong for even her to stop. She was pushed to her limits, and flung to a wall, the plaster shaping around her beat body. Cuts were now ornate on her body, with some likely leaving scars.

This was the moment you turned and realized the gravity of the situation. Maki falls to the ground, having enough energy to soften the blow. You quickly begin to rush over to Maki, to which Yuta immediately yells at you to stop. "Don't!" Yuta spat. He begins to take over the battle, the distorted-looking spirit beginning to tango with Yuta. "Stay away-- Maki will be fine!"

You gulp from the nerves as you watched Toge quickly make his way to Maki instead. He picks her up and places her in a corner, allowing her to take a moment to breath. Turning around, Toge waits to meet eyes with Yuta. Yuta, with amazing footwork, manages to put some distance between him and the dangerous entity. When his blue eyes meet with Toge's, he immediately pulls down his collar. "Switch."

The two men quickly vanish before appearing in one anothers places. Your eyes widen when you see Toge, blood running down his mouth, begin to fight with the spirit. You look over to where Maki is, noticing that Yuta was already performing Reverse Technique on her. "Rika, go help Toge!" Yuta commands, with Rika quickly floating over to join Toge's efforts.

You rush over to Yuta and Maki, in which Maki was sat with groans and grunts spilling from her lips. Your heart was racing, the feeling in your legs threatening to escape. "Wh-what... h-how can I help?" Your words are imbued with anxiety.

"Keep yourself safe," Yuta instructs, "don't worry about us-- we'll be fine!" He looks over at the bodies you were previously searching through. "Continue your mission, don't stop!"

You nod, but realized you couldn't when you met eyes with the spirit. The abstract being was completely ornate with bandages, syringes coming out of its 'body.' It had one eye that was able to travel around its body, being able to look at all its surrounding if choosing so. Its eye then noticed Yuta and began to advance towards him, ignoring Toge completely. Toge rushed behind it, but his efforts would be futile as the curse was much faster than him.

"Yuta!" You scream, staying in space with your arms spread. Your technique, which Gojo coins as the Onion Infinity, is a technique in which there are multiple layers between two objects. Of course, your strength is dust in comparison to Gojo's, meaning the layers of shield is only a tactic to give you more time to consider your next move.

The curse is stopped by your technique, but slowly realizes that it can claw its way through it. Yuta notices and looks up at you with immense worry, "Y/N, why didn't you listen to me? I told you to continue what you were doing!"

"It was charging at you-- I didn't have a choice!" You argued, your strength slowly depleting with every layer being broken. While Yuta continued healing Maki and expressing his gripe over your defiance, you begin looking around. You noticed Toge on his knees, struggling with the pain in his throat after using his technique. Rika made her way to the curse, but struggles to stop his unrelenting advances towards you.

"Y/N, move out of the fucking way, now!" Yuta screamed. "You're going to get hurt!"

You move, but not quite where anybody was expecting. You run over to a small wheeled cabinet, ripping out the drawers in search of something. After a sea of bandages and pills, you found a dark green bottle. Your eyes drag on the medicines name and quickly look over at Toge.

"Inumaki-senpai!" You shout, throwing the medicine towards his way. As you hurl it, you didn't realize your barrier had completely been broken, and a sharp pain was met in your stomach. The curse had transformed its arm into a stake, piercing your stomach and through your back. Your spinal bones crack at its force, forcing blood to be coughed out.

Yuta's eyes widened, and he went deaf. Only a piercing ringing could be heard for him, putting an entire halt to his healing. Maki sits up, well enough to get back on her feet but not quite all there. She adjusts her cursed weapon, shaking Yuta's shoulders desperately. She shouts with urgency, but Yuta could not hear her.

He felt his world shatter while your gruesome screams returned his sound. He got up, ignoring Maki's touch and attempts to keep him calm. "Yuta, please!" Maki urges, "we're going to get her out of there right now."

He raises a hand, "stay down, Maki. You should not continue to fight with your injuries."

Maki slams his back, "are you insane? You can't take that thing on your own-- it will kill you!"

"Rika," Yuta hums quietly. Rika nods and quickly creates a gap between him and Maki. She clouds over Maki, keeping her from assisting him. "I'm very sorry to do this, Maki. But you are in no shape to continue this mission."

Maki growls, "Y/N is going to die here if I don't help you!" She looks over at Toge, who was downing the throat medicine you passed him. Her eyes widen at your quick thinking. She looks back at Yuta, "how the hell are you going to--"

Yuta slowly walks over to the curse, who finally ripped out its arm from your body. A string of pained curses leave your lips, your entire body going completely hot in discomfort. You could feel yourself go dizzy, but you still find it in you to begin your own Reverse Technique. Its weak and slow, but you had no other choice. You weren't sure whether you were going to make it out or not.

Without another moment wasted, Toge narrows his eyes on the curse and opens his mouth, "explode!" Although it was not enough to kill the curse, it was enough to damage it. The equivalent of blood splatters from its body, the obsidian-colored liquid finding home on the broken floor.

Yuta drags his katana on the floor, the DNA of the curse sticking onto the cold blade. While continuing his stride, Yuta lifts the blade horizontally and swipes a bit of the blood onto his index finger. As the curse writhes trying to regain itself, Yuta consumes the blood and swallows it down like a pill.

"Rika," Yuta begins with a dark, hollow voice. You look over worriedly, the pain of your stomach preventing you from uttering a word. You had never seen Yuta this... furious before. So angry that he almost appeared desolate, depleted of all life. "Lend me your strength over here."

Rika leaves her post, and rushes behind Yuta. Maki takes this opportunity to run to you, taking you into her lap. "H-hey!" She holds your face in one hand and shakes you, fearful of the way your eyes rolled behind your head on their own. Your body was fighting consciousness as you healed yourself, uncertain if it would work at all.

An unfamiliar, strange feeling pours into all of you, with Toge looking back worriedly at Yuta while making his way to you. You force your eyes to stay focused on Yuta, with your mind frustrated with your sudden inability to speak. Tears finally stream out, and you watch as Yuta's curse energy glow around him like a dark aura. Toge ignores it for now, downing the last bit of the medicine before looking down at you, "heal faster."

Though you yourself were exhausted, Toge's cursed speech shot a wave of energy in you. Your Reverse Technique hastens, your flesh slowly making its way to connect with one another again. As your body was making a promising recovery, Yuta's body was being completely coated with his cursed energy.

Rika's arms transformed themselves into stake-like shapes, mimicking the same ability as the foe before them. "Hold it down for me, Rika," Yuta instructs coolly. Rika quickly creates more stakes with her body, using them to push the curse to the ground, and nail it down with her new, stake-like limbs.

As the curse struggled under Rika, Yuta hovers over it and chuckles. "Does it feel good?" Yuta asks in a hum, watching in attempt to get free. It hissed at Yuta's face. "I figured it didn't. The only thing that's going to hurt more than this, is your death."

You look over worriedly at Yuta as your body was near its full recovery. Maki and Toge held you, as you felt restless in this moment. Yuta was furious, and you could barely even talk to try and calm him down. You could only hold your stomach in pain, and watch as your lover relieves his frustration and regret.

He begins to cut away at the curse, using his weapon to chop away at its limbs. Yuta could only see read, and his arms pulsed with yearn to destroy. The curse would screech with each slice of his katana, earning no remorse from Yuta. His face was cold, his body unreactive to the agony that he was causing. Rika no longer had anything to hold down, and stood back as Yuta was faced with just the head of the curse. The once intimidating eye was now shrunk, looking small under Yuta's undeniable strength. It screeches with what you imagine is begging for mercy, but Yuta was deaf to it.

Not that he couldn't hear, but he could not care.

With one hand in his pocket, the other held up the katana right above the curses eye, giving it a few more moments of life. "Die," Yuta mutters. Without another second more, he drops the katana down onto the curse, killing it, and eradicating it from this world. He returns his weapon to the sheath behind him, color returning to his body and eyes as he makes his way towards you.

He takes you from Maki's hold and holds you tight, "fuck, fuck, fuck-- are you okay, Y/N?"

Maki slaps his forearm, "you're hurting her, Yuta."

He panics, loosening his grip as he frantically searches for calmness in your pained expression, "I..." His voice breaks, defeat clear in his eyes. "Y/N, m'so sorry I let you get hurt... I really fucked up this time." Tears coat his dark blue eyes.

You bring a weak hand up to pat his chest, unable to verbally ease his mind. You only lean into him a little more, your heart calming down from his touch. You were glad it was over, and more glad that you were in Yuta's arms.

Maki manages to stand, helping Toge up as well while Yuta stood up, keeping you carried safely in his arms. His strength, despite his immense output of cursed energy just now, felt boundless now. It was almost like he didn't break a sweat.

Maki pats Toge's back a bit, while Toge coughed out a last bit of blood, "she held her own, though. Her strategy to get Toge back into the fight was very surprising, but wise."

Yuta was indifferent, "she could have died from my carelessness. I shouldn't have let her come to this mission." You begin to pat at his chest in defiance but he wasn't keen on hearing you out. "I almost lost my partner. I'm not interested in putting us in that predicament again."

"If you won't vouch for her, we will," Maki insisted. "She understands the dangers of doing this, and still wants to continue her growth. I'd say she deserves to continue these missions, considering she still wants to do them."

"Salmon," Toge manages to say while nodding his head.

Yuta's eyes drop to yours, trying to find some sort of disagreement. But your eyes held conviction and fight. Despite your pale face and weak body, you still held that vigor that made Yuta fall for you in the first place. He looks down at your stomach realizing that your technique was giving out.

"Lets go back and see Doctor Shoko," Yuta hums. Although you were safe and sound, Yuta's grip and hold on you did not relent. His hands still had a bit of shake to them, and Rika was much closer to Yuta than usual. "I'm glad you're still here," Yuta whispers the moment he watched your eyes flutter shut.

hope this was good ahhh

[zahri-melitor]

What can you infer about the editorial meddling Young Justice went through?

Oh god. It’s like the old quote about pornography: you know it when you see it. Spend enough time reading comics and you can just tell.

Notable problems with the Young Justice 2019 run that smack of interference:

You can really tell there was external pressure to include Steph in the run and that she was not originally intended to join the team or appear any further than occasional cameos such as the flashbacks at the Hall of Justice as a link to Tim’s final scene in Tynion’s Tec run. Structurally her story makes no sense whatsoever for how to put a plot together. Steph’s not an original Young Justice character, the run already was supporting two new female characters plus a reboot of Amethyst introducing Amy to a new generation, even before we look at the crossovers from other titles in the imprint. The fact they ended up throwing in a single issue entirely about 'what Steph has been up to and her fight against Cluemaster' in the last section of the run makes it even worse, as that was valuable page time wasted pandering that could and should have been used to give Jinny Hex or Keli Quintela more development.

The entire ‘Drake’ situation, which for a costume change had very little build up, was under-designed, and then disappeared with Tim back in the Robin costume between two panels. It was a test balloon from someone that was comprehensively shot down by some mix of the fandom and editorial, and I remain convinced that DC is gunshy about a new costume and identity for Tim all the way up to the present day because of how badly it was handled.

It was being used as the anchor for Wonder Comics, leading to the required mega crossover (that also spilled over into Bendis’ Action Comics to give it some more space), putting even more pressure on the title to be telling a big crossover story when it was still trying to re-establish “your favourites are back” and suggesting potentially expanding the Young Justice lineup out to around thirteen characters, a massively oversized team that the title was not set up to handle.

Lost in the Multiverse was where the story started to get bogged down by being pulled in too many directions by expectations.

It’s also super telling that the last third of the book got turned over to essentially doing one-shot character pieces about the Core Four, the last defence of a run that can see cancellation coming and doesn’t feel confident launching a new story arc they don’t expect to get to finish. Some of this stuff was clearly background character work they would have preferred to have dripped out over a longer run.

Also I know I’m repeating myself, but having the Tim piece focus on Steph mostly, in the frame of Tim and Steph’s relationship? That’s not where I’d be spending my time when looking at Tim Drake in the focus of Young Justice. How he’s coping with his returned memories of having two or three different lives now? Thinking about what ‘Tell Conner you’re sorry’ means? Discussion about his feelings in terms of moving on from being Robin or not? Nah let’s talk about Steph's problems with her dad instead. That’s not a natural fit compared to what everyone else got and does not follow from any of the preceding story.

Still ropeable that the whole set of storylines about regained memories and alternate timelines doesn’t get to intersect with Lois Lane (which spoilers but also is committed to storytelling about ‘people have memories of other places bleeding through’ prior to the full Infinite Frontier retcon) or explore how those memories change things for Tim, Bart or Cassie (Kon at least does get a story about reconnecting in Action).

And that’s just off the top of my head, ignoring any of the more subtle signs.

I love Young Justice 2019. It is a run that adores Bart, Kon, Cassie and Tim (and particularly Bart. I cannot explain to you how much this story adores Bart if you’ve never read it) and the opening 6 issues make me feel warm and fuzzy every time I read them in terms of how cleverly it works to explain how we get everything back. There are clever subtle moments in the text that give a lot more depth to the story that are implied rather than spelled out: how Cassie suddenly remembers Bart when Bart comes near her, suggesting that her returned memories are a Speed Force side effect from being a lightning rod to Bart; Cassie and Tim sense Kon using TTK and recognise it as familiar, something the new characters cannot; the fakeout in the art where when Tim’s memories are restored, he sees Cissie in his memories, but unless you know the exact YJ98 page being referenced you’d think it was Steph; etc.

But gosh it would have been so much better if it had not been required to devote so much page time to crossovers and to pandering to fans, among other elements.

[mraprilfools]

I just realized I never actually linked this to my Tumblr! VOX FANS HAVE SOME VOX SMUT.

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: E Pairing: Vox x F!Reader

CW/TW: None

Summary: The Vox-Tek Employee handbook is over 500 pages thick and you're expected to memorize every word. Your boss, Vox doesn't seem to understand why that's an unreasonable expectation. What's worse? After so many infractions he decides to call you into his office to punish your flagrant breaks of company protocol! Preview under the cut

The Voxtek employee handbook was so thick you could beat somebody to death with it. You knew that because you assaulted some creep on the way home with it one night! It was well-organized, you gave it that! But with so many different rules, standards, and procedures you struggled to memorize it all. You’d read the thing front and back multiple times and STILL found yourself breaking some obscure stupid protocol somewhere.

And your fucking boss was a grade-A asshole.

Vox didn’t let a single one go, no matter how minor. When you first started working there you had a phone that wasn’t under Voxtek regulations. So he confiscated it until after work. When you brought in a magazine that was doing a story about the mysterious Radio Demon’s reappearance? He fucking set it on fire and told you that propaganda toward Overlords other than Vee’s was also a violation! Eating anywhere but the break room? Forbidden. Even the food you could bring in had to be Vox-tek approved locations for takeout!

You SWORE you were safe to at least browse on your phone during lunch breaks. To rant about how your boss was an uptight little prick who didn’t know how to unclench his metal butt-hole once in his life. Your bestie on the other end listened to you vent via text messaging, and the two of you even shared some jokes. It was a good way to let off some steam in a place you always had to be on high alert at all times.

A peace that was shattered when Vox came strolling into the break room. The sight scared you straight in your seat, you immediately hit the power button on your phone to hide the conversation. The man had the usual dashing smile that he always wore in public. But you know he was fucking plastic. Fake.

It was unusual for Vox to ever come into the break room. You had a feeling it may have to do with the fact you were alone right now. Normally he’d send Papermint or one of his other secretaries to pick up his coffee but here he was in the…not-flesh grabbing it himself. The smile never left his face as he strolled over, setting his metallic hand on the table beside you. The familiarity he took with you put you further on edge. The coffee mug in his other hand, branding his hatred toward Alastor freely. What a salty cunt.

“Hello Sweetheart! How are you settling into our company? I know we’ve… had a rough start but it’s only because I see so much potential in you. I’d hate to see you wither on the branch!” He was sickeningly cheerful as if his constant reminders of your rule-breaking weren’t annoying, and you couldn’t say a word.

Through clenched teeth, you answered with a fake smile, “I’m doing my best Sir! I’m SO glad to be working here! It’s a real honor.”

The artificial cyan smile spread from frame to frame, a whimsical chime echoing for his speakers. “So glad to hear it! Always glad to see an asset join the team. And-- you have been good? No further questions or infractions?” Vox held the coffee cup forward as if to pull forth a confession from you. The slandering you both on company time was technically against policy but, as long as he didn’t go through your private messages? What could he know?

And you also did have that novel in your bag you bought on the way from work that was more ‘propaganda’. Again, secure in your locker and never opened so what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. With confidence, you answered, “Not at all sir! I’ve taken great care to memorize the entire handbook!”

You’d seen it on the news segments multiple times, how he strangely managed to drink coffee with that screen of his. And you got to see it in person for the first time, sighing with satisfaction when he drained the bitter brew. His head was one of life’s greatest mysteries. “Excellent! That’s what I like to hear!” Vox stood up, making his way to the exit. The sound of his heels clicking against the polished floor. You felt yourself relaxing, dropping your shoulders and letting out the breath you were holding to slump in your chair. You couldn’t relax around that guy.

“Oh--!” Vox snapped his fingers, making you sit up straight in your chair all over again, mechanically turning your head to look his way. “I almost forgot! I need you to come by my office at Seven, I want you to bring me the reports on the new Voxflix pilots aired this week. I don’t need to remind you what to do with the other two copies right? Of course not-- you’ve read the handbook. I’ll see you then!” Vox waved farewell before you could stop him, the door clicking shut before you could explain that no, you did NOT.

Dick.

From what you could remember protocol required a second copy for the record room! You’d completely blanked on the third. But your lunch break was not long enough you could fish out the employee manual and double-check it. With a sigh of resignation, you hoped that you’d remember when it came closer to seven.

[angelst4re]

Hiiii i love your work sm <3 ur one of my favorite jamie x reader accs, i already requested smth like this a bit ago but theres absolutely no Caius stuff whatsoever (my babys underrated🥹) 😭 i was wondering if you could write a caius smutt? Id love smth with a daddy kink but if thats not smth youre comfy with do whatever ^~^ and maybe the reader being Bellas sis👀 SJSJSJSJ but yea thats all

of course!! i remember getting some caius requests a while ago but i never got around to writing them which is a shame because they had so much potential :( this also turned out a lot longer than i expected! i hope you like it my love <33

Only You- Caius Volturi x Fem!Reader

summary: caius had offered you a life of everlasting luxury, all you had to do was leave your life behind

warnings: contains smut!! daddy kink (hoping and praying it isn't cringey!), oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex

notes: caius my beloved i don't write enough for him :(

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Why don’t you think about it, hm?” His thumb was placed under your chin, tilting your head up so you would look at him.

“I just… I don’t want to leave my family- my sister!” You frowned, thinking about how Bella would react if you had suddenly ‘run away from home’.

“Your sister is a fool, my dear. She’s already in a relationship with one of us. But-”

“Edward? That can’t be true! He still goes to school, he’s not a- he can't be a… vampire.” The word tasted bitter on your tongue as your eyes met Caius’ again.

“Oh, but he is. But you see, he isn’t like us. He lives a very different life, one very similar to yours. A very repetitive, tiring, mundane life. But, my darling, I can change that for you. All you have to say is one word, then you will be mine- and I will be yours- forever.”

You looked back down at your shoes, a pair of dark red heels you had bought especially for this visit, and thought. You were tired of your life as it was, a dead end 9 to 5 job, living in your fathers house as you couldn’t afford the rent on your apartment, it felt like you were living the same day over and over again and there was no way out. But this could be the way out. There was nothing Caius couldn’t offer you. A never ending life of luxury, who would be so stupid as to turn it down?

“I’ll think about it.” You promised him, “I will return tonight and leave with you if the answer is a yes. But if I decide not to, then this will be goodbye.”

He gently stroked his cold fingers over your cheek as he nodded his head.

“We return to Volterra at midnight, if you decide to come with us.” Was all he said before he turned around and walked away, leaving you by yourself in the alleyway.

You had a decision to make. And you had 4 hours to make it.

However, there was no decision to make, you already knew what you were going to do. And you knew there was going to be no regret in doing so.

By the time you returned home, it was almost 9pm. You were glad to see Charlie wasn’t home, and you had been told Bella was at the Cullen’s house, so you rushed into the kitchen and pulled out a page of paper from one of Charlie’s notepads and scribbled an apology note, explaining that you were leaving tonight, that this town was holding you back, and telling them not to contact you as you were leaving your phone behind. You took your phone from your bag and placed it next to the note, before heading to your bedroom.

You took your old gym bag and started filling it with clothes- although you knew you wouldn’t need them, Caius would spoil you with dresses made of the finest velvet and silk, and anything else you could possibly want. You also packed the only photo you had of you and you and Bella, in a photo frame she had made you at school. You hated the thought of leaving your little sister behind, but there was a chance that you weren’t. If she was already in a relationship with Edward, there was a possibility that she would also become one of them.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You had made it back to Volterra, Caius did not let you out of his sight the entire journey. Every time Marcus or Aro (or even Alec) would make a comment about you or Caius’ relationship, he would only hold you closer and remind them of how he would turn you in the morning, once you had rested, and that you were sure to become more powerful than they could imagine, which made you smile to yourself.

Later that night, Caius had shown you around where you will be staying, and you couldn’t believe how beautiful the room was. The walls were a deep red, as was the bedding, but there were also gold accents such as a few decorative vases, and curtains that covered the door to the balcony. Everything looked so luxurious, so expensive. You were sure you were dreaming.

“Caius,” you gasped as you looked around the room, “this is beautiful!”

“Look in the wardrobe, I hope you like what was chosen. I don’t know anything about your personal style, but-”

“Oh my gosh!” You pulled out a dark red nightgown, it looked quite short as you held it up, and that was when you noticed the black lace that decorated the hem of the dress.

Something shifted inside of Caius, a smirk began to creep onto his lips as he walked over to you.

“I think you should try it on, baby.” He said, his fingers lingering on the hem of your t-shirt.

“Do you think it’ll look good on me?” You asked, in a seductive tone as you turned around to face Caius.

“You would look heavenly in anything.” He said, leaning down to your ear to whisper “or even nothing at all.”

At that, you decided you couldn’t take it anymore, and you kissed him. He seemed surprised by it at first, but he soon began to take control and kissed you back. There has been so much sexual tension between the two of you ever since you first met. He knew from the beginning that he wanted you by his side forever, and you knew you wanted to take him to bed. And here you were.

You were quickly stripped of your t-shirt by his quick hands, tearing it in two as he pushed you down onto the bed. You giggle as your back hits the mattress, before he captures your lips again in a hungry kiss.

"Caius I-"

"Darling, that isn't my name…" He says, giving you a teasing look. His eyes sparkled when you replied,

"Sorry, daddy."

"Now, that's my good girl." His lips returned to yours once more as his hands slid down your body, your back involuntarily arched as he slid your trousers down your legs, followed by your panties, leaving you in nothing but your bra.

After noticing this, you reached around your body to take your bra off, but you were stopped.

"Now you're with me, sweetheart, you'll never have to lift a finger. Daddy will do anything for you, all you have to do is be a good girl for me, okay?" He unclasped your bra and slid it off your body, dropping it to the floor beside him.

The way he looked at your body surprised you, nobody had ever looked at you like this before. He looked like he had just won the lottery, or he had just been told the best news of his life. His eyes took in the sight of your breasts for a moment, cupping one with his hand and brushing his thumb over your nipples which caused you to let out a breathy moan as your eyes fell shut. He repeated this action on your other boob, and you found yourself spreading your legs apart further, your back arching and your cunt begging to be touched.

“Caius-” You were cut off, unable to finish your sentence, by the vampire biting down on your shoulder- not to turn you, but as a warning. “Daddy,” you corrected yourself, panting as he continued to toy with your nipples, “I need you to touch me.”

“But I am touching you, darling.” He teased, his lips pressing gentle kisses over the spot where he had bitten you, “how do you want me to touch you, hm?”

“I want you to… use your fingers… down there.”

“Ah, I see,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he pushed himself up, holding your legs to keep them spread for him as he moved down to get a better view of your aching cunt. “Awh, sweetheart,” he mocked you as he ran a finger up and down your slick folds, “is this all for me?”

“Yes, daddy. Only you.”

It was as if your words carried magic, as his face was buried between your thighs in an instant, his tongue delving into your core. He finally got a taste of you, and he was certain he would never get enough of this.

Your back arched impossibly further and your nails dug into his shoulders through his black silk shirt. His tongue was circling your clit, then he was sucking the nub between his lips, and then you felt one of his hands on your thighs move, and he was teasing a finger over your hole, feeling your cunt pulse as he pressed the tip of his finger inside of you before pulling it back out again and circling your hole once more.

He enjoyed teasing you like this, after years or even decades of having nobody to touch in such a way, he never wanted this to end. But as you were still a human, he knew your body would not be ready for his yet, and he was trying his hardest not to flip you onto your stomach, prop your hips up and fuck you brainless. But it was impossible to resist when your moans escaped your lips, they were like music to his ears, but he wanted to make sure you were ready.

He had given in, he slipped his middle finger into your hole and let go of your clit with a ‘pop’ sound. As he fucked you with his finger, he decided you were ready to take another one, so his index finger joined the first one in stretching you out.

“Darling, I’m afraid of hurting you if we go any further. You need to let me know you’re definitely okay with this, I’m being serious.”

“I can take it,” you panted, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, “please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, daddy.”

It only took seconds for him to strip off his clothes, he was then completely bare in front of you. You’d be lying if you said your eyes didn’t shoot straight towards his cock, but the sight of his beautifully sculpted torso made your cheeks flush, and you suddenly felt a little self conscious in front of him. You tried to push that feeling aside, especially when your eyes found their way to his cock again. It was a little bigger than anything you had taken before, which excited you more than you expected.

“You have done this before, right?” He asked, gently as he stroked his cold hand up and down your thigh, returning to his place, kneeling between your legs.

You nodded your head, and he seemed to feel a little relieved.

“Only twice- both with humans.” You thought you should clarify.

“That’s okay, sweet girl. It’s just a little bit different for us.”

He took his cock in his hand, pumping it a couple times in his fist before he rubbed the head against your clit, making you bite down on your lip as he had left you feeling very sensitive.

“You see,” he began as he brought the tip of his cock down towards your hole, lining himself up with you, “we don’t get tired very easily,” he started to move his hips, the first couple inches sliding into you with a surprising ease, “that means I could take you all night and not have to stop, I could watch you come apart again and again and not grow tired,” once he was fully inside of you, stuffing you to the brim, he looked down at you and into your eyes, “but it won’t be like that tonight, darling. I don’t want to hurt you, and I haven’t done this in quite a while, I may not be able to control myself.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “don’t be afraid to be rough with me. I can take it. I promise.”

At that, you felt his hips move and his dick twitch, and he began to slip his cock out of you, so just the tip remained, before pounding back into you, earning a breathy moan from you, and him to mutter lewd words under his breath as your cunt pulsed around him.

“I love you so much, you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He asked, his brows furrowed as his hips began to thrust at such a pace you had to wrap your legs around his waist and dig your nails into the bedsheets in hopes to keep you from floating away, because it felt better than anything you had ever felt before.

“Yes, daddy. Always your good girl.” You babbled, words spilling from your lips without any thought process. You were unable to think about anything other than the pleasure he was giving you.

You could feel him deeper inside you than you’ve ever felt before, he was hitting spots you never knew were there, causing your brain to feel fuzzy, along with your tummy. You could also feel a knot starting to tighten in your stomach, which felt like it could snap at any point, sending you over the edge.

“I love you too,” you finally said back, “so much, so so much.”

“I know, sweet girl.” He said, a sympathetic smile on his lips, knowing you were getting close.

He flipped the two of you over, he was now sat against the headboard and you were sat on his lap, bouncing on his cock, desperately chasing your high.

You felt his hips begin to thrust upwards, and his cock was even deeper than it had been before. His hands were placed gently on your hips, as to not bruise your skin. He guided you up and down on his length, and you threw your head back, shameless moans spilling from your lips.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so close. Please, please can I-”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you. I’m right here. Cum for me, show me how good I make you feel.” His thumb stroked over your clit, helping to push you over the edge.

In moments, you felt the white hot pleasure rush through your body, making your thighs tremble beneath you as you collapsed onto Caius’ chest, your body going limp, trying to process the most powerful orgasm you had ever experienced.

As your walls clenched and pulsed around his cock, he was pushed over the edge and his hips bucked up as he spilled his seed inside of you, causing you to whimper due to the overstimulation. He apologised and kissed your forehead, holding your warm body close to his cold chest as you came down from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and when you finally returned to reality, you turned your face to look at Caius, giving him a lazy smile as his fingers combed through your hair soothingly.

“There she is,” he smiled, trying to help you get comfortable on his lap, forgetting his cock was still buried inside you. You let out a groan when you felt it twitch, you weren’t sure you were ready for round two as you suddenly felt overtaken by tiredness, you could feel it in your bones.

“I don’t think I can go again, I’m sorry-”

“No, no, don’t apologise. You need to rest, my dear. I’ll stay here as long as you need, but if you’d rather sleep by yourself that’s perfectly fine.”

“Stay.” Was all that you could say before your eyelids fell shut once more, and you dreamt of the life you would live with Caius. You dreamt of a big home, the sun shining through the windows and onto your white bed sheets. You dreamt of waking by the side of your newly wed husband. You dreamt of all the possibilities that came with living forever, with your love by your side.

[qierxing]

Glass Doll

Commissioned by the wonderful thefangirlhasarrive Yan!Vil x F!OC TW/CW: Implied long term drugging, manipulation, unhealthy relationship, obsessive behavior

“So? What do you think?”

Victoria looks up from the crinkled script to the director, then to the nervous scriptwriter next to him, dark bags sagging under his eyes. 

In all honesty, it was a mess. The actions were near impossible to decipher, the transitions were abrupt, and the whole thing felt like a five tiered cake only a couple inches away from collapsing. But. But. There was a glimmer of something raw and rich in the text that had her pause in remuneration. She’s been through enough B-rated films and top grossing releases to know that what she read has a spark that she hadn’t seen in a very, very long time.

“I think it’s something that we can work with,” came her measured reply. The script writer looked ready to collapse in relief at her verdict, no doubt knowing that his work could have never seen the light of day if it weren’t for her approval. 

“Wonderful!” The director smiled, clasping a meaty hand onto the script writer’s shoulders, jostling the poor man. “I had a feeling you would see the potential. Mr. Schoenheit did as well!”

The smile drops from her lips as soon the words leave the director’s mouth. So it wasn’t just hinging on her opinion. Her lips curl ever so slightly in a sneer as the director continues going on about plans of casting, set dressing, and script refining. 

Now, Victoria had nothing against the up and rising actor Vil Schoenheit. She’s never crossed paths with him, so the only thing she knew was that he was a NRC alumnus and no matter how hard paparazzi did try, his private life is still a mystery to this day. In this day and age, she has to admire how he’s managed to escape the prying eyes of the ravaging media.

But she did not like being set aside like a delicate china plate in favor of prettier, shinier silverware.  

“And what exactly does Vil Schoenheit have to do with this?” Her cold question snaps the director out of his rambling to turn with a face of disbelief.

“Why, he’s your co-actor! We got him to agree a while ago–we just needed your agreement.”

–

It was after Victoria went through various dress rehearsals and makeup testing that she got to meet the person she is supposed to go mad for. He is indeed beautiful as the people say. Vil’s beauty is knife-like, all sharp edges with nothing to sand them down. His eyes, especially, are hypnotic; an enchanting amethyst purple that one could not help but look twice to appreciate. His shiny blond hair is done in a deliberate way that the stray strands curl and frame his face perfectly for viewing pleasure. Each part of his appearance is meticulously crafted to the point where Victoria wondered if he himself could pass as a work of art.

He introduces himself with a confident air that makes her lips tilt upward unconsciously. She did so like those charismatic enough to meet her fierce tawny eyes head on. Perhaps she can almost forgive the director for the earlier slight of weighing their opinions against each other. 

“Victoria De La Rosa. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Schoenheit.” His thin, bow shaped lips curl into a satisfied smile at her confident introduction. His bare hand accepts her own outstretched one with a surprisingly firm shake.

“As do I, Ms. Rosa.” 

The filming goes along swimmingly, with only the usual minor hitches and mishaps of a movie shooting. During breaks, Victoria has come to relish in the company of Vil, whose presence feels like a balm in the hustle and bustle. Although she is no stumbling wide-eyed rookie, Vil’s advice is insightful and not condescending, a refreshing change from her previous contracts.

“Your speech is slurring a bit here,” Vil taps a manicured finger on her paper, highlighting a line. “Make sure to enunciate. Lady Sigrid is not someone who minces words.”

She nods in agreement, making a mental note. The two of them were sitting next to each other in director chairs, going over their parts together while interns and prop designers rushed past to help set up the backdrop for their scene. 

“I didn’t think you were much into horror.” The words leave her mouth before she can think about it, and her face colors dark in embarrassment as she realizes what she’s just said to the famous actor. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable! It’s just–”

He cuts her off with a husky chuckle that makes her spine tingle in a strange way. “It’s just that I’ve never done horror movies?”

Victoria can only nod in response. He leans his head back with a contemplative hum, his white neck gleaming in the dull showlights like porcelain. (Seriously. She must ask him later about his skin routine)

“If I may return your question with my own?” Vil posits, “Why did you decide to act for this? I’m well aware an actress of your caliber has better pickings besides this smaller studio.”

A warmth blooms in her chest at the subtle compliment laced in his question. He wasn’t wrong. If she had to give one reason…

Psychological horror is something Victoria greatly adored, in all of her acting stints in movies. There is no need to rely on a hidden red paint bag to burst and cover your body in fake blood for the fear to sink into people (she certainly appreciated not having to clean it off each time they had to reroll). Indeed, what lurks in the recesses of the mind, she thought, would be far scarier than stab wounds or chopped gore.

“I think far too many people think that horror is something that is supposed to make someone scream,” she carefully says. “And it can be. But I’m getting tired of the predictable zombie apocalypse or serial killer thrillers. I want something that can truly make someone shudder and think about why we fear.”

Vil smiles with a flash of blinding white teeth almost akin to a snarl, as if he knew exactly what she would reply with. “Precisely. You and I both know what makes this particular production worthy.”

The director calls for them in the distance, and Victoria has no time to dwell on the way his pretty lavender eyes had made something burn in her core.

—

Being with Vil felt like downing sparkling wine–bubbly, fizzy, and most of all, titillating. 

Her heart soared whenever he handed her water bottles or leaned in close to whisper tasteful quips in that velvet smooth voice of his. It’s almost scary, just how much he knew what would make her perk up with pleasure. It’s like he actually understood her, not like the others who only saw her superficial shell. 

It made her hopeful, optimistic. Real friends were hard to come by in the industry. It was not that far of a stereotype to say that actors were cutthroat in their endeavors to reach the top. The games her fellow coworkers played were akin to the political machinations in the time of the Seven. As much as she wanted no part of it, Victoria knew she could not escape either.

It’s a rare day to relax for once. The first batch of filming had been done, so while the film was being post-processed, the director decided to let the actors have a quick breath before they were back to the grindstone.

She had intended to put the day to good use: a trip to the hotsprings spa she adored, then afterward, some time in the antique bookshop she had found a while back, and finally seeing Neige’s new movie that had come out. A ping on her phone distracted her from the planning in her mind.

With a huff, she’s about to mute her notifications when she sees the Magicam banner with the quote “@vdelrosa 👀 lookin kinda cozy”. Her frown deepens. It’s from a rando account, but her gut twists, and she taps her thumb on it, a post popping up. The comment was nestled under a picture. When she takes a closer look, she realizes with a strange sense of detachment that the picture is of Vil and her during the filming, when they were exchanging quiet conversation with each other. The picture’s angle is intimate and with a realization of disgust, Victoria realizes someone on the set had been leaking pics, or worse, paparazzi had managed to bribe someone. 

Victoria knew better than to look through the other comments. No doubt it would be a riotous mass of either those against her or egging on the tabloid like gossip. Her fury burned like a wildfire inside her, and before she could think, her phone was hurled into the soft covers of her bed, hard enough to make a weighted dent inside the fabric. 

Her phone chimes again and she groans as she realizes her phone wasn’t muted, so distracted by the post that had exposed her to the public. Victoria picks it up again and once again she pauses, because this time, it was a text message banner.

You had also gotten tagged in that post, right? Don’t worry, I took care of it, dear.

Victoria’s heart fluttered when she read the sender’s name: Vil. Her stomach churned even more at the sweet endearance. Dear. Dear. It was so casually said, yet she couldn’t help but feel like she was floating in the clouds at the nickname. 

And despite the danger that whispered, Victoria couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone anymore.

—

It was a simple vial that caught her attention.

Vil had invited her to practice their lines together in his dressing room, which she agreed readily, trying not to let her pounding heart show in her eager face. He had stepped out for a moment, but as the seconds ticked on, her eyes began to scour the room in fascinated curiosity.

In the midst of the rich swathes of fabrics thrown over chaises and makeup containers decorating the creaky old vanity table, a dark midnight blue vial stood innocently among them. Unlike the other makeup vials, it had no label and was unusually tiny. Against her whisper of unease, she picked it up and realized with a flicker of surprise, that it was translucent. An unknown liquid sloshed inside the glass, fizzing and bubbling ominously. 

She furrowed her eyebrows in distant confusion. As far as she knew, there were no brands of serums that had this kind of carbonation in the formula. It would be the first for her. Perhaps a nutrition drink of some sorts? But such a miniscule size–how much did he pay for it? And what were the benefits?

Before Victoria could blink, the vial was magicked away from her hand, and she whips around to see VIl with a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. It was the first time Victoria had seen someone use their magic so flawlessly, without any effort or incantation. Yet, despite the light countenance the actor bore, there was something taut with tension in his smile, like a bow drawn with an arrow.

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you that looking around someone’s belongings is rude?” His voice had none of the scolding she expected from someone having their belongings rifled through. Certainly, it was her wrong, but something didn’t feel right.

The awkward situation is remedied faster than expected, but Victoria doesn’t miss the way Vil treats the vial far more preciously than she had expected for a skincare item. 

—

“How’s your shooting going along?”

The sound of the coffee shop echoes around, clinks of cutlery and cups tinkling in booths behind them. The shop workers were smart enough to stick them in the hidden corner of the shop, where it was dim and only lit by the weak sunlight streaming through the one gothic window next to them. 

“Tori?” She finally drags her gaze from the stained glass to Neige’s worried chocolate eyes. 

“It’s been going fine.” She sips at her earl gray tea latte, relishing the warm sweetness that blooms over her tongue. It quickly warms her bones from the chilly Shaftlands air.

Neige purses his lips, but takes a sip of his own drink. Hot apple cider. He’s never been very fond of caffeinated drinks, even if his work would have been improved by it. Instead, he leans in on his elbows.

“How’s Vi? The two of you aren’t…fighting, are you?” Victoria bites her tongue at Neige’s cautious question. 

“No way,” she shakes her head firmly. Neige looks somewhat relieved at her response. 

“That’s good. A lot of people find Vi…” he pauses, tongue prodding the inside of his cheek in a thoughtful look.. “...hard to work with. But he means well. He always does.”

Victoria takes another scalding sip of her latte to stop herself from saying anything in response. Vil’s crooked smile flashes in her mind, the tiny bottle practically burning a hole in her pocket. She feels guilty for the ulterior motive of this supposed catch-up, but there was no one else she could turn to. 

“Neige, you’re a mage, right?” The question takes the young man back. He nods hesitantly.

“Yes?” He tilts his head with a raised eyebrow. The winter light makes him even more radiant, like an angel. “But why are you asking?”

Victoria couldn’t stop the question from leaving her lips. “How well versed are you with potions?”

For a moment, the only sounds that could be heard were the cafe patrons’ murmuring and the dry leaves blowing outside. Victoria’s own heart hammered, for she knew she was toeing the line of no return. Neige’s conflicted countenance flickers back and forth from concern and confusion. 

“Alchemy?” His voice lowers even more quietly. “I’m not exactly a pro at it, but I did decent in school.” 

He pauses, then: “If you really want someone with potion expertise, you should be asking Vi. I heard he was the top of his alchemy class.”

Something cold slithers in her gut at that. As if aware of Neige’s words, the vial presses into her leg, practically molding itself into her very skin. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust Vil,” she deflected quickly, “It’s just that I don’t want any chance of this being…you know.”

He doesn’t need any more explanation. Neige nods his head in understanding when Victoria extracts the vial from her coat pocket with sweaty fingers, sliding it over the table into his opened palm. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Neige discreetly examines the vial with a scrutiny that was unfamiliar on his youthful heart-shaped face. “It’ll take me a while, though, if it’s not a basic potion.”

Victoria bites her tongue. By now, Vil probably had noticed it gone missing, and she could only hope by then, she would be apologizing for a misunderstanding. 

If it was a misunderstanding, that is. 

—

A celebratory toast. That’s all it was supposed to be. All it was meant to be. 

The box office release has been a smashing success, and Vil wasted no time in extending an invitation to share a drink over their ‘hard work’, in his words. 

But this?

She steps into the foyer of the regal penthouse, looking around rather uneasily. The interior was just as lavish with various tasteful paintings dressing the halls and elegant embroidered rugs lining the white marble floors. The click of heels turns her attention away from marveling silently to Vil giving his usual charismatic smile. 

He had dressed up, alright. It almost made Victoria self conscious, even if the midnight blue dress that hugged her form just right and the glittering pearls on her neck could hardly be called underdressing. Vil, on the other hand, donned a casual white peasant blouse that showed a generous expanse of his fair neck and collarbone, with waist high black pants. His hair had been slicked back, with only a couple strands of dyed hair free to frame his face and neck. 

“Thank you for coming. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” Victoria shakes her head as he leads her through the hallways to the grand living room and seats her on a fancy deep purple Rococo style sofa. He wastes no time in taking the spot next to her much to her chagrin and directs her attention to the spread on the coffee table in front of them. 

“Please, help yourself.” He pours a bottle of champagne into two crystal glasses, handing one to her. She welcomed the familiar sensation of alcohol burning on her tongue, followed by the fruity lightfulness of the aftertaste. Just as she takes it, the doorbell echoes, and Vil excuses himself to greet it, leaving her disoriented by the sheer luxury of the room.

A buzz, disturbing and urgent peeled through the air like the hum of agitated wasps. It was her phone.

Tori, how did you get this potion?

Neige. Her heart immediately stops. Before she could type a reply, her phone buzzes again.

If I’m correct, it’s a love potion-and those have been banned for decades now. I don’t think it’s possible to have one unless you went to the black market or somehow brewed it yourself

Love potion? Her mind races with this information. What was a love potion doing in Vil’s room? Suddenly, Neige’s words surface in her mind.

 “If you really want someone with potion expertise, you should be asking Vi. I heard he was the top of his alchemy class.”

How many drinks has she accepted from Vil? Even this champagne that had already wetted her lips was not any different. She had simply trusted him, and because of that…

Another buzz. 

You’re not safe, where are you?

“My dear?” Vil’s silken voice cuts through her veneer of panic. 

Tori?

Try as she might, when she looked up, Vil immediately saw past her flimsy facade and bore witness to the muted horror that painted her face. She had finally pieced the puzzle together.

“You know, my dear, I didn’t want this to happen.” A sigh, as if he was a disappointed parent who was trying to make their child see sense. “It wasn’t easy making that potion.”

Her eyes desperately scanned the room for anything, any clue that could be used for escape, or more importantly, a weapon. But what could she do against a mage? Vil was blocking the only exit out of the living room.

”If you didn’t catch on, the potion would have done its work.” Her breathing quickened. “But, we’ll make it work, won’t we, my dear?”

“Nothing to lose, nothing to fear. The shining crown is meant for me. ” With faint dread, she realizes he’s chanting a spell, but as her body succumbs to the raw, primal instinct to survive, it is already too late.

“Fairest one of all.” 

Just as the last word leaves his lips, her body locks like a ball jointed doll, frozen in action of bolting, her last ditch attempt to escape halted right in its tracks. Her voice comes out in a frustrated scream, but even that, too, crackles in her throat.

“Come to me.”

Her body refused her control and with the same kind of seductive sway, her legs had floated her to the very villain who put all of this in motion. His smile now was cruel, puncturing with the jagged sharpness she had seen all those weeks ago. Still, embarrassingly enough, his hands were gentle as they caressed her sides and even worse still, made her burn with yearning. 

“Until you fall completely in love with me, my darling,” Vil’s warm breath hovered over her own lips, teasing with the possibility of what she could have. “You will not be able to disobey me. Curses are powerful things, as you know.”

Victoria wanted to scream. She wanted to punch Vil, throw things at him. But she couldn’t. All she could do was watch helplessly as her body perfectly curled into Vil’s own lithe form and her hands began to undo the laces that held his shirt together. 

She wouldn’t be alone. She just wouldn’t be able to remember what it’s like to be herself.

[greatlydelirious]

You can't just write "model nude for Vincent which of course led to passionate, mind-melting sex" and never mention it again! WHERE BLEASE BLEASE BLEASE

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

Vincent Sinclair x F!Reader

Ask and you shall receive!

wordcount: 4k words

warnings: fluffy smut, body worship, lovesick corny bastards

Candles sway gently as they cast an orange glow throughout the room. The darkness mixed with the low light perfectly heightens the dips and curves of your body. Bare skin sparkles and your most private areas are hidden by shadows. Enough to tease while still leaving room for imagination.

“More to the left?”

You await further instruction with bated breath. Half from the innate eroticism of what you were doing and half because of how hot the basement is. A light sheen of sweat has accumulated over your body. Although paired with the lighting it only made you look more breathtaking to the man in front of you.

Vincent turns his head to the side while silently evaluating you. Unconsciously he begins to tap the eraser part of his pencil against his masked lips. He was a true artist hyper-fixated on his craft; or as you’ve come to learn, his muse.

-

Often you sat with Vincent when he was carefully crafting a new sculpture or drawing out ideas that popped into his head. “Sat with” truly means he had you situated in his lap or within arm’s reach. He told you once that your presence calmed him and made him more productive. Bo grumbled about how if he didn’t know better, he would have thought you and Vincent were the ones conjoined. Not an outlandish comment since you two were practically fused at the hip.

Vincent is a man of few words and even fewer demands. Day after day he works on his projects while simultaneously taking care of you. Any need you have; he makes sure it is met. All he asks for in return is your companionship. Yet you still couldn’t stop the nagging feeling to do something more. After days of contemplation, you finally come up with the perfect way to thank him for all he does.

The idea came to you after sifting through the plethora of books Vincent had under the metal frame of his bed. It was hard to keep yourself preoccupied in the vacant town of Ambrose, so you usually found refuge in books. Most of them were older than you, save for the few Lester would scrounge up after going through the belongings of the people unfortunate enough to stumble here. By this point, you’ve read them all; some even twice.

After noticing you sighing while staring at the cracked ceiling, Vincent tugged you by his bed and pulled out the hidden treasure for you to scour through. You felt like a kid on Christmas day. Each book looked more interesting than the last. One, in particular, had you enraptured at the very first page. A picture of a naked woman was on the yellowed and slightly aged paper. She bashfully turned her face away from the camera as the only scrap of fabric on her body was a strategically held piece of sheer fabric.

“Tasteful,” You admonish silently.

Lord knows what kind of nudie magazines his twin brother Bo had. Just imagining the possibilities made you cringe. Shaking your head, you continue to skim through the intimate photography book. In between some of the pages were torn pieces from Vincent’s sketchbook that contained rough drawings of poses like the ones inside. You smile at the idea of Vincent blushing while using these photos for reference.

Of course, he uses the images for art purposes only. You blanch at the weight you didn’t even know was there, leaving your shoulders at the reassurance. Intimacy was extremely important to not only you but your relationship. Each touch expressed words that Vincent could not and would not utter. So, the thought that he would seek pleasure outside of yourself made you feel insecure.

You knew it was unfounded, but like any woman in love, you strived to make your man happy and fulfilled. The last time you brought up concerns of you potentially being an inadequate partner to Vincent, he vehemently shook his head and whined like he was the one doing something wrong. It almost annoyed you that he was so perfect. Vincent is intelligent, but not pompous. Silent, but not dismissive. Talented, but not showy.  Truly a caring lover despite the dark acts he participates in.

As you reach the end of the book an anecdote gets the gears in your brain to turn;

“The foundation for any good art form is a subject to expand creativity upon. Whether that be a person, place, thing, feeling, or as this book showcases, pose; inspiration can be found anywhere. In special cases, an artist has a specific muse that sparks ideas in them. Next time you’re talking to an artist, ask them what their muse might be.”

It’s evident that Vincent makes good use of this book, but maybe you could offer him something more interactive. He wrote all the time that you are “one of a kind” to him, so using you as a reference, rather than a random woman, might work better for him. Offering this might also have the added benefit of making you feel more useful.

You close the book with a determined snap before sliding it back with the others. After taking a steadying breath you make your way toward Vincent.

-

When you propositioned your idea to Vincent, a deep flush immediately ran down his neck as he eagerly nodded. Ironically, now you were the one who felt flushed. How could you not when his gestures while concentrating are so adorable? Although when he rolls up his sleeves to reveal the thick veins that run from his hands to his forearms, your thoughts quickly become less wholesome.

That pencil was the size of a pinky in his large hand. Hands that made even you feel small when they roamed across your body, savoring the sensation of your skin against his. Your own gently twitch at the memory of what that feels like. With a large hand came thick fingers that always seemed to wander down to your-

A small grunt pulls you from your ogling. Looking up, Vincent shakes his head before finally taking a seat in the chair a few feet away from the worn couch you were currently lying on. The position you are in puts you on display while keeping you comfortable.

You’re lounging on your side with your left leg draped in front of your right. Your thigh kept your modesty below even if the “v” of your groin was still visible. A pillow kept your head aloft, letting you watch Vincent as he worked away. Your left arm sat atop your thigh while your right arm crooked lazily next to your head.

To Vincent, you are the most gorgeous reference he’s ever been blessed with. To you, you felt like the textbook definition of self-conscious. Although the man has seen every little inch of you during your highs and lows, you couldn’t help it. It’s vulnerable to be in your birthday suit with someone while not in the throes of passion.

However, judging by the way Vincent slightly maneuvered his hips, your gift was having a bonus effect that you weren’t the only one feeling. Time goes by in a slow crawl. The more minutes that pass, the hotter you get. Despite the warmth encompassing your body from the boiling wax in the room, goosebumps prickled across your skin.

You try to adjust yourself surreptitiously. A feat when his eyes flicked up to you every other damn second. Your fingers itch to release the ever-growing ache between your closed thighs. You almost marvel at how Vincent has managed to keep his cool for so long.

There are subtle giveaways of Vincent’s own desire. His adam’s apple bobs up and down and the grip on each item in his possession is a little too tight. Figurative floodgates open as you watch the rather large bulge in his pants strain under the zipper. Yes, you knew what you were getting into by volunteering to pose, but by this point, it was plain old torture.

In a twist of fate when you squeeze your thighs together to feel some pressure, Vincent looks up at the same time. There was no doubt he saw the way your muscles bunched. Especially since instead of glancing back down to his drawing, his eyes stay fixated on you.

The sketchbook and pencil slip to the ground as Vincent abruptly stands up. Instead of pouncing on you, Vincent stalks toward you. He soaks you in from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. Just like before you let him take the lead, not daring to move a centimeter unless prompted. Even if you want to do quite the opposite and hang onto him like a spider monkey on a tree. Each step he takes toward you makes you want to do the latter.

A calloused thumb makes perches on the much softer flesh of your cheek. Vincent gently rubs the skin there while staring straight into your soul. You answer his unspoken question by wrapping your hand around his wrist, your own thumb rubbing against the pulse point that thrummed underneath. No words were needed to communicate how much you wanted this; how much you wanted him.

Releasing your hold on Vincent, you let out a shaky breath as he trails down your neck to your collarbone, leaving heat in its wake despite his feather-light touches. He skims the side of one breast before doing the same to the other. His eyes are fixated on how your nipples immediately pucker at the close contact. The skin is taut and anticipatory.

You gasp when he rolls the bud in between his middle and forefinger. Vincent lavishes both with attention; lightly twisting and rolling them while you arch in his expert hands. When he is satisfied with how he worked you into a needy frenzy, he continues his descent down. He squeezes the soft flesh of your breasts, sides, and hips, until stalling at your thighs. Two large palms caress your trembling thighs up and down. All you can do is watch as he indulges in your body.

Despite his breath coming out in flustered pants, Vincent slowly peels your leg off the other and opens you up like he was savoring every moment. The warm air hitting the wetness between your thighs makes you flinch. Vincent darts his head up to look at you. Your face is reddened by your desire and your lips are parted so you can intake oxygen better since the atmosphere is thick with humidity and tension.

Tentative fingers slide against your folds. A grunt sounds above you as Vincent spreads your slick, marveling at how drenched you are already. When a single digit sinks into your pussy, you sigh in relief. Pent-up emotions left you needy, wanting, and craving just the slightest hint of satisfaction.

Obscene noises fill the room as a second finger joins the first. Vincent stretches you, but it’s still nothing compared to the real thing. Regardless, you’re panting by this point. Velvety walls quiver around rough skin while you cry out for more. Thankfully, Vincent knows your body better than you do. You swear you see stars when the two fingers inside you stroke your g-spot. Simultaneously, his other hand begins to work your clit. Now he was demanding with every firm, fast touch.

“Right there! Feels so good baby.” You moan out your encouragement as you quickly reach the metaphorical ledge of your fast-approaching release. Vincent hums in acknowledgment before working double time. Blessed by perfect timing, his fingers derive sinful rapture from the respective pleasure points he is expertly rubbing.

The mental foreplay earlier had you so on edge you knew you wouldn’t last long. In seconds you are cursing and moaning Vincent’s name. Your heels dig into the fabric of the couch, and you hold the forearm closest to you in a death grip as you finally give in to your orgasm. You fuck onto his fingers while you ride the waves, each new one making you shudder more than the last.

When he finally pulls out of you, you’re soaked. If you didn’t feel so good you would be embarrassed by the mess you made on not only yourself but the couch. Still dumb from your orgasm you can barely register the extra weight dipping the cushions. Vincent slings your shaky legs over his wide shoulders to make room for himself. Your legs lock tight when warm breath hits your delicate skin.

Instead of the familiar waxiness, a tangible hot mouth connects with your core. The sensation makes you cry out and scramble to find purchase. Your fingers interlace with Vincent’s long hair and when you tug, he groans, sending a delicious vibration straight to your clit. His tongue lashes at anything it can reach. “Tasting” isn’t even the right word; it was like he was memorizing every nuance.

The sight of the two you should be a painting in its own right; an erotic scene depicting a man’s face buried in a woman’s sex while her thighs clamped down on either side of his head. Maybe you could ask Lester to find you a video camera…

Movement rocking you causes you to look down. Vincent’s hips are gyrating as he humps the couch in shallow thrusts. That alone made you feel like you were on the precipice of another orgasm; and when he starts sucking your clit, it almost becomes fact. But you are desperate for all of him and you would be damned to be envious of a couch.

“I need you, Vincent.” Removing your grip on his hair, you opt to pet his head. A part of you thought if he didn’t feel your touch, he would be too lost in you to even hear your words.

One final lick stripes up the length of your sex followed by a kiss to your mound. You stare at the ceiling to pray to any God that was out there because dear Lord this man was going to be the end of you. How can he eat you out like an animal then turn around and be so sweet? The only phrase to describe what you feel is sensual whiplash.

By the time you find your bearings, Vincent is standing next to you with his mask secured back in place. However, you do notice a light sheen under his chin that makes you blush a feverish red. He wore it with pride though, chest puffed out and heaving. His erratic breathing has nothing to do with exertion, not with his stamina.

Stepping back, Vincent makes quick work unbuttoning his overalls. When you make a move to help him undress, he pushes you back down. With a huff, you don’t argue and watch the show in front of you unfold. He peels the beloved sweater off next to reveal a lean frame carved by taut muscle.

The man looked like a specially curated statue himself. All cut lines and understated masculinity. You forget how easily he can snap you in half with how deceptively sweet he was. The shiver that rakes your body is an amalgamation of instinctual fear and arousal.

Soon enough Vincent is as bare as you. Your mouth waters as your eyes move down. Vincent’s cock juts out hard and proud. You always marvel at how impossibly long and equally thick he is. “Perfect mind, perfect heart, perfect cock,” You muse in your head. The tip blushes pink as it shines with a coat of pre-cum. Nothing excited him more than tasting you.

A noise akin to a growl confirms that Vincent knows exactly what you’re thinking. In only two large strides he situates himself on top of you. Blindly his cock rubs against your folds as he cages you between his strong arms. Still sensitive and slippery from your previous orgasm, you let out a high-pitched moan when the wide head of his cock nudges your clit.

He tries, again and again, to push inside your tight depths, but you’re far too slick to give him easy passage. Vincent grunts in frustration before you take him in your hand. As you squeeze his length to maneuver him, he starts to thrust into your hand.

“Does that feel good baby?” You coo the question while making your fist tighter. Your ministrations elicit more noises from the normally silent man.

“Do you want to feel something even better?” With an emphatic nod, Vincent mewls.

In the beginning “dirty talk” made you slightly embarrassed, but when he reacted to it the way he did, embarrassing yourself was the least of your worries. Biting your lip, you help slip the head of his cock into your pussy. Just the girth of his tip is enough to make you wiggle your hips to accommodate. You push your head against the pillow when Vincent finally sinks into you. Pleasure outweighs the slight bite his cock always leaves you with.

Exhaling sharply, Vincent shakes from restraining himself to give you time to adjust; but you’re tired of waiting. You wrap your arms and legs around him like you imagined earlier and pull. “Take me. Now.” For emphasis, you dig your heels into his ass which makes another inch slide into your wet pussy.

And take you he does. Without further encouragement, Vincent bottoms out while still having more shaft to spare before pulling out and doing the same all over again. You become lethargic in your lust-fueled bliss, going lax in his hold while moaning breathlessly. In no time Vincent quickens the pace. He delves into you hungrily, taking each little morsel you have to give.

Long dark tresses act as a curtain hiding away the lovers’ impassioned faces. All you can see, and feel is the man above you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. When you think you’ve reached the height of pleasure you’re surprised once again.

Vincent folds back your left leg until your knee is next to your head. A loud whine escapes you at the surprise new position that made his cock sink into you even deeper. Vincent nuzzles the side of his masked cheek into your newly elevated foot. A deep rumble akin to a purr leaves him almost soothingly. It’s his way of verbally praising you for taking him so well. The sound is a sweet contrast to the way he was rapidly snapping his hips into you.

Each of Vincent’s breaths comes out haggard. Unsurprising given your joint exertion and the mask smothering his airflow. Although this was his normal you wanted him to be comfortable and see your lover in his most intimate state. You’ve seen him unmasked before, but it’s been ingrained in him to hide. That’s not something you’ll ever get behind.

With trembling fingers, you stroke the skin just under his mask, “Please Vinny… can you take it off?”

Your syrupy sweet moans mixed with the pet name demolish Vincent’s trepidation faster than an atomic bomb. A dull thud comes from the floor as warm flesh presses into your neck. Frenzied wet kisses smother the sensitive spot that leaves you more breathless than before. In tandem, fingers begin to sloppily rub your clit again in fast circles. Vincent shifts to support himself on his forearms to better drive into you. He was more than desperate to feel you find your ecstasy around him; he was practically frenzied.

Each gentle caress and sharp thrust make your mind begin to melt like the wax mere feet away. Your bodies felt like malleable putty. No longer are there two different people, but a beautiful combination of one. He was you and you were him.

“Oh God, Vincent please don’t stop,” The words come out slurred like you were drunk on his cock. “I’m so close!” Every time he reaches the end of your depths, his pubic bone roughly rubs your clit. It was too much; he was too long, too thick, and too good at making you lose your mind.

You cling on to Vincent like a lifeline as you come undone around him. Incoherent words string together to make a non-sensical sentence. Only your cries of pleasure are recognizable.

Your pussy tightens like a fist around his cock as each spasm makes you pull him in deeper. Vincent loses himself in you, giving four more manic thrusts before also letting go. With a strained groan, Vincent calls out your name before slamming your hips against his and shooting his release inside you. Warmth spreads in your core to a point that you feel almost uncomfortably full, but it’s an ache you welcome wholeheartedly.

For a few agonizing moments, Vincent continues to move inside you. Each extra thrust of his softening cock pumps his cum deeper and deeper. The overstimulation makes you whimper and claw at his shoulders. With one last deep thrust, he finally stills. A soft kiss is lovingly placed on your temple before Vincent supports himself back on his palms to gaze down at you.

Vincent truly was his brother’s twin. The malformed visage on the right side of his face doesn’t scare you, but only makes your heart further soften. Which at this point would mean the organ was pure liquid because of how much you love this man.

You muster a tired smile as you bring a hand to the scarred flesh of your lover. Instead of flinching away, he leans into your touch. Never did he tire of your little pets. Vincent slowly leans back down to pull you into yet another kiss. Lips and tongues dance in a languid tango backed by an orchestra consisting of light hums and deep moans. Every time you feel like you have no more energy to give, Vincent breathes new life into you.

After sharing your mushy feelings via your mouths, you both pull back panting as if you romped for a second time. The telltale twitch of his cock still buried in your pussy is evidence enough that Vincent would of no qualms with going for round two.

Sighing, Vincent reluctantly leaves you to search for a rag. It takes all your willpower not to whistle at the sight of his toned ass. “Someone call the police because this man is packing in the front and the back,” You have enough restraint to keep the comment to yourself as well.

When he finishes cleaning you both off, Vincent grabs the forgotten drawing that tumbled onto the floor. A noticeable blush spreads across his face and down his neck as he holds his sketchbook. Sitting up you stretch your hand out, “Can I see it?”

When he hesitates, you put on your best pout. “Pretty, pretty please? You can’t make love to me like that and not show me what you drew.”

Only after one more round of saying “pretty please” while adorning puppy eyes that would make even Bo falter, he gives in. You’re drowning in anticipation by the time he offers the book for you to hold. Any composure you recovered quickly dissipates. At your silence, Vincent tries to grab the picture until he sees the tears swelling in your eyes. He immediately tips up your chin expecting to see disappointment but is only greeted by adoration.

Despite the time constraint, the drawing was extremely detailed. Unlike his other sketches that consisted of haphazard lines and rough ideas, this piece looked fully actualized and it’s even shaded. To say you were impressed was an understatement. You had never seen your body look so beautiful before. What makes it all the more sentimental was knowing that’s how Vincent saw you.

A thumb wiping away your tears helps ground you enough for you to find your words, “It’s wonderful Vincent. You’re wonderful.”

Then something rare happens, Vincent smiles; a wide, boyish, genuine smile unobstructed by a mask.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

[thewhitewitch-bitch]

In Astris Supra (Chapter 8: Prima Nocte Videt Notus Lateri Tuo)

Agatha Harkness x F!OC

Read it on AO3

CW: Demons, demonic possession, blood, slight gore

New York City

December, 1724

"I appreciate your discretion in all this, Doctor." I said as our footsteps echoed off the cold stone steps, "Given that you reached out to me in particular, I'm sure you're aware of the potential circumstances?" 

"Indeed," he replied, producing a wrought iron key from the pocket of his black wool coat, "You're not the first witch I've encountered in my time, but thankfully you're the first one who hasn't tried to kill me. Not to mention that I find your published works on the effects of various poisons on the body's systems to be quite an interesting read. I figured you would be willing to look into this."

The memory of the original proposition played over in my mind, occupying my thoughts as we continued down the frost laden, dark tunnels beneath Fraunces Tavern.

The letter was brought to me surprisingly by Hatch some two weeks prior, clutched tightly within his beak. According to the note, Dr. Christopher Connors, a coroner in New York City, had been asked to conduct an inquest into the manner of death of two young girls, ages fifteen and seventeen, respectfully. The older gentleman was at a loss, the nature of their deaths seemed... unnatural. Having read my findings in the British Medical Journal under the pseudonym Dr. Anthony Druid, and being an associate of Rupert Kingsley's, Connors sought me out and offered to pay a generous sum for my assistance in the case. 

"I don't trust it." Agatha had said after looking over the letter for herself, "Never trust a man."

"Says the woman who's spent the last twenty years rampaging through Salem after killing her coven." I mumbled, hoping she wouldn't hear me. There had been something else included with the letter that I had not shown her. Connors had provided a series of detailed charcoal sketches of both victims. Just a passing glance of them told me that I had no choice but to assist. 

"You can't possibly be considering it!" Agatha exclaimed. I glanced over at her, folding over the sketches and tucking them into the pocket of my wool overcoat that hung by the door of Agatha's cabin. While I had not been a permanent resident there, I did establish myself there as a regular visitor, maintaining my lodgings in Boston to further my studies in private.

"I'll be back by the new year at the latest." I said, loud and clear as I waved a hand, summoning clothes and food into the saddle bags beside my coat, "Trust me, darling; I need to look into this." 

Her hand reached out to grab my wrist, but I was too quick for her. I ducked out of her grasp and out the door before she could protest any further.

I opened my palm to form an orb of light, illuminating the cold tunnel in a pale, white glow. Connors was a bulky man, I realized as I followed behind him. His thick frame might have been intimidating to others who were not equipped to fight. But his gentle green eyes and his kind face gave no evidence of foul intentions, despite his rather morbid occupation. Agatha was right to assume that most men couldn't be trusted, but looking through the eyes of a Lunar witch, the lenses were different. It was easy for me to read the intentions of a person by simply studying their face. He was no threat to me, or to anyone for that matter. Looking past him, we were fast approaching a large wooden door with a heavy padlock. The bodies had to be in there, kept out of sight from mortals who were incapable of understanding what they saw. Connors' heavy footsteps came to a halt in front of the door, the key in his hand shaking as he did against the cold. He glanced back at me with a cautious glance. 

"Are you sure you want to see this, Miss Stuart?" he asked me softly, his breath wafting past his mustachioed lips like wisps of smoke.

I nodded though my heart was slamming against my ribcage, "I have to be sure. If this is what I think it may be, our very existence may be at risk." 

Connors nodded and put the key into the lock. It clicked loudly, the sound echoing menacingly off the walls followed quickly by the creaking of the door as it opened. The smell hit us hard. The sickening decay of flesh despite the numbing cold was enough to turn even the strongest of stomachs. I reached into the pocket of my coat and pulled out a small jar of aromatics to hold to my nose. Connors held a handkerchief over his nose as he stepped inside, his complexion turning pale green as we approached a pair of sheet-covered lumps on a wide oak table. The room was even darker than the hall, if that was even possible, but with a quick flick of my wrist the light floating above my hand moved about the room, lighting candle stubs and lanterns before wafting up over the table to fully illuminate the room. 

"Tell me about them." I said, my eyes glued to the pair of covered corpses as I approached them. Connors tucked himself into a corner of the room where he wouldn't have to look at them again. Once had been more than enough for him it seemed. 

"Edith O'Brien, age fifteen, and Mildred Adams, age seventeen," he explained, his tone flat as if he were reading straight from his notes, "orphans staying under the care of a Miss Rebecca Stanworth. Both girls were supposedly on their way to do the day’s washing when they suddenly became afflicted with some sort of neurological condition. They began to have fits, collapsed to the ground, and died within minutes."

"Who informed you of this, Doctor?"

"Miss Stanworth did. She saw the whole thing from the kitchen window. The girls barely made it past the garden gate before they fell."

Keeping the jar of herbs under my nose, I stepped over to the smaller of the two bodies and drew back the sheet. Just as the sketches had shown, Edith’s body had been left in horrid condition. 

She was thin, though most girls her age could stand to have a bit more meat on their bones, but from simple observation it was plain to see that the girl was suffering from malnutrition. Her cheek bones were hollowed in, her eyes sunken into the sockets, her ribs protruding, her golden hair brittle as dried straw. Even after two weeks of decomposition, the body had stayed in decent condition, no doubt due to the cold. But what was most alarming about her was her skin. Though pale and faintly greyed due to her current condition, situated brightly over her chest was a mark. It was viciously large, spreading across her chest, down her left arm and up the side of her neck, sourced directly from her heart. Colored like a fresh bruise, in various shades of mottled purples, reds, and blues, it had spread like poison in her veins, like a parasite that had suffocated her slowly then all at once. 

Taking a quick glance at the Adams girl, the condition was exactly the same, down to the pattern of the mark on her body. I sighed heavily and stepped away from the table, covering the girls back up as I did.

"Is it what you feared, Miss Stuart?" Connors asked me. I glanced back at him with worry in my eyes. 

"What do you know about demons, Dr. Connors?"

He shrugged, "Outside of what is written in the Lord's book, not very much." 

"Then allow me to enlighten you." I offered, propping myself against a wall across from him. "Demons as you know them are servants of a Dark Lord. They are called 'fallen angels', 'hellspawn', 'children of Satan'. But demons have existed far longer than your God. They are quite nearly as old as the earth itself, and they are harbingers of chaos and cruelty. Demons as you know them have been portrayed as slaves to a darker power, but this is simply not true. They work as singular entities within a greater sphere of evil, creating doom and chaos as they see fit under the watchful eye of the High Lords of Hell. But something isn't right here."

I pointed to the girls on the table, "These girls were possessed by the same demon at the same time. For a demon to be able to split its soul into two pieces... it's just never been recorded before. No witch or sorcerer has ever seen this before. Did Miss Stanworth mention any odd behavior? Foaming of the mouth, speaking in Demonic Script?" 

Connors shook his head, "Nothing like that at all. Perhaps if this demon has managed to split himself in two, his power is not at its full strength?" 

"Perhaps..." my voice trailed off as I tried to run through every possible scenario I could think of. Connors watched me diligently as I pondered, eventually clearing his throat to draw my attention back to me after he thought of something.

"Miss Stuart, if these girls are deceased, then does that mean that this demon is roaming free once again? Are more people in danger?" 

"Yes, Doctor. I'm afraid so. I don't believe this is a lower demon running amuck amongst the people of the city. Only a demon with a great amount of power would be able to do something like this. I fear that a Lord of Hell has come to unleash terror upon the Colonies." I muttered, though the sound bounced off the walls so easily I knew he could hear me loud and clear. He made a gesture over his chest, the sign of the cross, if I remembered correctly. 

"W-Well, how do we stop it? Do we need to exorcise it? I can fetch a reverend-"

I held up a frozen free hand to stop his rambling. The last thing we needed was a reverend to be involved. The poor bastard would only get himself killed trying to banish the thing without any magical authority. 

"That won't necessary, Dr. Connors." I drawled, straightening up off the wall. "Demons, higher demons especially, have a particular fondness for witches of my variety. I'll summon it outside the city and banish it properly. No need for anyone else to get hurt." 

Connors tilted his head curiously, dropping his handkerchief back into the pocket of his coat, "You're a curious woman, Miss Stuart. I do hope you're successful in your endeavor." 

"So do I."

-------------------------------------------------

I had every intention of dispelling a demon that night. Standing atop a snow-covered hill north of the city, summoned tomes in hand, surrounded by candles, I was fully prepared to begin the summoning ritual when I was interrupted by the sound of furiously flapping wings. Glancing up into the cloud covered night sky, outlined against the barely shining first quarter, was a raven, making a dive toward me. 

"My lady!" Hatch cawed exasperatedly as he set himself down in front of me. He shuddered against the cold of the night and looked up at me with urgency. "I'm so very sorry to interrupt, I know you told me not to but-"

"What, Hatch? What is the matter?" I asked him calmly. 

The raven shuffled his little feet in the snow, as if he were afraid to tell me. Then, he looked up and spoke. 

"You recall the encounter you had with one Lady Death prior to my transformation, yes?" 

Of course, I had told him the truth. No secrets were meant to be kept between a familiar and its master. I nodded, urging him to continue quickly. 

"When she said she would allow you to save me as a favor to a 'her', you assumed it was your mother, correct?" 

"Yes, I could not think of anyone else who-"

"It was Miss Harkness, my lady." Hatch interrupted. My brow furrowed. 

"What?"

"They were... and I believe still are... intimate with each other. I figured you would want to know the truth, rather than be deceived any further." 

I should have felt angry. I should have felt enraged. I should have wanted to kill her. But all I felt was the gravity of my chest caving in again. She used me. And I was completely blind to it. Even with my guard still up, I felt as though I had the wind stripped from my lungs, the warmth pulled from my body. I was alone again. I fell to my knees. The candles around me shuttered against the rush of air, but they did not extinguish. No tears sprang forward, no cry escaped my lips... I just... felt... numb.

I had had every intention of dismissing a demon that night. But now that intention was gone, replaced by a sensation of emptiness that I thought had been cast aside long ago. I was exposed, vulnerable. And that was exactly what he wanted.

As I sat there, my familiar at my feet, the air became colder, so much so that even the smallest drop of water would freeze solid once exposed. Hatch ruffled his feathers and hopped out of the circle to warm himself beside the candles. The skin on my fingers began to turn blue, tiredness washed over me suddenly, and a voice, low and raspy whispered in my ear. 

"Poor little witch... all alone in this world. Perhaps... you'd like a bit of... company." 

A shadow passed over me. The bitter cold of the air returned to its prior chill. My frostbitten skin returned to its normal shade of pale pink. The hole in my chest remained, but a new sort of ache over my heart had formed. I winced and pressed a hand against my chest only to feel a sharp pain. Glancing down, I drew back my winter cloak, coat, and shirt, to see that a bruise, no larger than a penny had formed there, its coloration and nature alarmingly familiar. 

"Well then," I whispered to myself after a hard swallow, "if this is to be my punishment for trusting in her, so be it. But you will not drain me, Demon. Not as long as I have any say in it."

I pulled the small knife from my boot and held out my right palm over the pentagram at the center of the circle. Pressing the blade into my hand, the sting of the blade was partially numbed by the cold and was quickly replaced by the warm flow of crimson blood. 

"Adprehendo te daemonium, virtute mea alligatum, usque ad mortem meam!"

As droplets of blood curdled on the pentagram, the voice of the demon in my head growled menacingly. He did not expect a witch of my caliber, but the decision to kill me had come too late. He could not do so now unless I allowed it. 

"Fine... but you will grow weary of me soon enough. And when you do... your flesh... shall burn. So sayeth Asmodeus... Bane of Solomon... Lord of Hell." 

I rose to my feet and stepped out of the circle. Hatch followed behind me until he caught up and perched on my shoulder. I climbed onto my horse and took a strong hold of the reins.

"Hatch, deliver a message to Miss Harkness for me, please." I ordered flatly. 

"Of course, my lady. What would you like me to tell her?" 

"I will not be returning to Salem again. And she would be wise to not seek me out. Aislin Stuart will no longer associate with the lover of Death." 

Hatch dipped his head and fluttered off my shoulder, turning southward as I spun my horse to the west, aiming to put Agatha and our history behind me.

What a fool I was to believe that I could...

[lonestarflight]

AU Space Shuttle Enterprise

Circa 1985 to 1987

From my Alternative History Post (link) this is how the Space Shuttle Enterprise evolved from the 4th operational orbiter in 1985 to the prototype unmanned shuttle.

More History on the Shuttle:

• April 1983: Enterprise is returned to Palmdale for her disassembled and rebuild.

• As a weight saving measure her mid-fuselage is returned to Convair for a complete rebuild to bring it inline with OV-103 and OV-104.

• to further lighten her frame, her aft-fuselage is rebuilt with similar materials as her sisters.

• Engineers at Rockwell suggests rebuilding or replacing her wings as well but NASA doesn't have room in the budget.

• May 1985: at long last, Enterprise is rolled out and joins the fleet. She weighs slightly less than Columbia. Her main issue is her wings are heavier and weaker than the other Orbiters.

• September 1985: STS-21 is Enterprise's first mission

• 1987: During the Shuttle hiatus following the Challenger Disaster, she went through a mini refit that saw her exterior markings change. (NASA in this timeline returned to the Meatball logo sooner than in the OTL)

Circa 1988 to 1993

• April 1988: STS-30 is Enterprise's first launch following the hiatus.

• December 1993: following STS-61, Enterprise is retired due to being the oldest in the fleet. Endeavour takes her place in the fleet.

• June 1994: Enterprise is flown to Dulles Airport, Washington DC, and is given to the Smithsonian for eventual display when the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center is built. NASA retains the option recalled her if needed.

• 1998: NASA studies modifying the Shuttle-C software to work on the Space Shuttle and potentially using Enterprise as a reusable Shuttle-C. The reasoning behind this option this configuration would be a cheaper alternative to the X-33 program. However, while the shuttle could be retrofitted with the software, the shuttle would have less cargo capacity than the X-33 and still required use of expensive legacy launch facilities (ie VAB and LC-39). The study ends with only the software in a beta state.

• December 2003: Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center is opened with Enterprise being one of its major exhibits.

• November 2003: the Shuttle-C software is used to return STS-118 Columbia to Earth and with critical damage to her structure (mainly her port wing and some internal damage from a collapsed landing gear).

• May 2004: NASA recalls Enterprise to replace Columbia.

• August 2004: initial plans are to return her flight, unmodified. However, NASA develops the Shuttle-C software further and changes it's name to A.S.Tr.O.S (Autonomous Space Transport Operating System).

• New wings! Enterprise is fitted with new wings which are of a modified design and lighter and stronger than the wings of her sisters. With other upgrades and modifications, she is slightly lighter than her younger sisters.

• Some within NASA joking refer to her as Enterprise-A, as a reference to Star Trek.

• September 2006: to commemorate the 30th anniversary of her unveiling to the media, Lockheed-Rockwell rolls her out of their Palmdale facility to rechristen the Shuttle. In attendance, Leonard Nimoy, George Takei, Nichelle Nicholas, Walter Koenig, Christopher Doohan and Rod Roddenberry.

- when asked by the media, Leonard remarked she is still a sight to behold and is glad she will continue her mission of exploration.

Enterprise A (unmanned)

• July 2006: to test the A.S.Tr.O.S. during a return to earth and landing, a new series of Approach and Landing Tests (ALT) were conducted with NASA's 747 SCA (N905NA) at the Dryden Flight Research Center, Edwards Air Force Base. 15 flights are flown to put the software in the real world, with two astronauts on board to step in when needed. Barring some higher than normal landing speeds, the software passes all of its objectives.

• It should be noted, while the rebuilt Enterprise is mainly used as an unmanned orbiter, this is a misnomer. It is more accurate to call her a hybrid shuttle. NASA has the option to convert her back into a manned shuttle if desired or needed.

- This nearly was used in 2015 during STS-154. Space Shuttle Atlantis was after conducting maintenance/upgrades on the Hubble Space Telescope (HST), the crew was unable to disconnect the shuttle from the telescope. CTS-48 Enterprise was already on LC-39B for a cargo mission to the International Space Station. All that was needed was to remove supplies from the payload bay and reinstall the seats in her crew space. Fortunately, this rescue wasn't needed as the Astronauts conducted an unscheduled EVA and manually disconnected the Shuttle from the HST.

• November 2008: first flight of Enterprise-A (CTS-11)

• When Columbia was given a cosmic restoration for her display, the first set of wings from Enterprise was used to replace her damaged one.

• 2019: Enterprise is retired for the final time following CTS-74.

• 2020: Enterprise is on display at Space Center Houston with the restored Star Trek Galileo Shuttlecraft prop.

Original artwork by bagera3005: link, link, link

[pankowperfection]

The Interview

Summary: You finally apply for a job in the city, but the interview doesn't go quite as planned

Warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), teasing, spanking, choking, Rafe's dirty mouth, inappropriate work relationship, rough sex, 18+

A/N: this was inspired by a dream I had, hope you like it

You couldn’t believe you’d gotten the call. You’d applied for the job on a whim, always wanting to move to the city but never risking the comfort of your current life. You’d quickly accepted the interview, the assistant on the other end of the line relaying flight and hotel information to you that you scrambled to jot down. A few days later you arrived in New York, spending the night prior mulling over the perfect outfit and how your resume looked in the portfolio you’d brought along. 

The morning of the interview you check your appearance one final time in the floor length mirror. Your bright red skirt stands out and shows your sense of style, fitting right in with the culture of the city. It hugs your curves just right, giving you a boost of confidence once you step into your stilettos. Your black shirt pulls the look together, see through sleeves showing off some of your tattoos. The walk to the office is short, a slight spring in each of your steps as your excitement grows. 

As you wait for Mr. Cameron in the posh waiting area you can’t help but grow a bit nervous. Did you actually belong here? Could you handle living in one of the biggest cities in the world? Your thoughts start to race, palms growing sweaty and heart hammering away in your chest.

When the door to the corner office opens it stops all together. One of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen emerges, dark blue suit clinging to his muscular frame. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, showing off a little hint of his sculpted chest along with the gold chain dangling from his neck. 

Your eyes finally reach his face and you suck in a sharp breath. His jaw is sharp enough to cut glass, a small smirk forming on his kissable mouth as he catches you checking him out. And god, his eyes. A blue so beautiful you could get lost staring into them. You were in big trouble if THIS was your potential boss. How could you work for someone that you wanted to fuck you senseless?

Shaking away the inappropriate thoughts you push yourself to your feet to greet him as he closes the remaining distance between you. “Miss Y/L/N? Hi, I’m Rafe and I’ll be conducting the interview today.”

You reach out to meet his hand in a formal shake, but the moment your skin touches sparks shoot throughout your body. You swallow sharply, pressing your thighs together to try to dull the ache forming between them. He seems to notice, giving you that sexy smirk again as he waits for you to reply.

“Hi, nice to meet you. You can call me Y/F/N by the way.” You give him your best smile, trying hard not to show how much his mere presence has affected you. 

“Great. Follow me please.”

He turns on his heel, giving you the perfect view of his toned back and delicious ass as he returns to the office he came out of. You urge your feet forward, following him into the room and taking a seat on the plush wingback chair in front of his massive oak desk. 

‘I’ll cut right to the chase. Your application has been the best one I’ve received so far. I don’t want to waste your time or mine by asking you questions I can answer by looking at your resume or talking to your current employer. So how about we treat this as a “get to know you” type interview and see if we think this is a good fit for you or not?”

He leans back against the desk, sharp eyes catching every small shift in your body language. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before meeting his gaze once again. “Okay Rafe. What would you like to know?”

He chuckles softly, rounding the desk and picking up his phone to make a call. “Hi Veronica. Yes, we’re going to go out to lunch, can you call my usual spot and let them know? Thanks.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All throughout lunch he had gotten more bold with his efforts, not even trying to hide his not so professional interest in you. The conversation had quickly shifted to something dirtier; talks of favorite positions and things you wanted to try being shared between you both. He’d ended up on your side of the table, hand resting hot and heavy against the bare skin of your thigh, slowly inching further and further up underneath your skirt. 

“Tell me honestly sweetheart, if I feel your panties right now are they going to be wet?”

His breath against your ear makes you shiver, more arousal soaking through the already ruined lace. “Yes Rafe. Totally soaked through.”

He decides to find out for himself, lightly grazing his fingers over your core and forcing you to bite back a moan. 

“Damn baby you are soaked. How about we go back to the office and do some paperwork, then we can finish what we started, yeah?” 

You eagerly nod, anxiously waiting for him to pay the tab before letting him lead you back outside onto the sidewalk. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thankfully the walk to the office is short. The documents you have to sign to accept the employment offer are even shorter. By the time you wrap up mostly everyone else has gone home from the night. The space outside Rafe’s office is dark, not a single light on as far as you can see. 

“Now that you’ve got me all to yourself, what are you gonna do with me?” 

He slowly stalks over to where you are reclining on the couch, kneeling down on the floor in front of you while sliding his hands up your thighs once again. “I’m gonna get to know every inch of your perfect body.” 

He pushes your legs apart, picking up your left foot and starting a tortuous path of kisses from your ankle to the edge of your skirt. He repeats on the other side, your blood rushing straight to your pussy as he bites and licks up the inside of your thigh. 

“Rafe please. Do something.”

He chuckles darkly, pulling away and sitting down on the couch beside you. 

“Patience baby. Come sit on my lap, now.”

His commanding voice only turns you on more, scrambling to climb over his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Now be a good girl and hold still. If you move, I’ll stop.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, one strong hand cupping your jaw while the other slides down to the buttons of your shirt. His lips feel like heaven against yours, moving in such a way that you feel it all the way in your core. 

When his tongue dives into your mouth you can’t help but moan, struggling not to grind your hips down into the growing tent in his pants to offer you some relief. 

To your disappointment he pulls away, kissing and sucking his way down over the bare skin of your neck to your shoulder. He takes his time to leave his mark, covering your tan skin in small bruises in a show of ownership. His tongue soothes each bite, your breathing growing heavier by the minute.

“God, you taste so good. Can’t wait to get my tongue buried deep inside of you, make you soak my face when you cum.”

You groan at his words, that damn dirty mouth doing nothing to quell the fire burning beneath your skin. His fingers start to roll your nipples, bolts of pleasure shooting throughout your system as you fight the need to try to take more than what he’s giving. 

“Rafe, god. Feels so good.” He smirks up at you before spanking your ass, the sting making you jolt forwards, your clit just barely grazing his zipper and making your thighs shake. 

“Doing so good for me baby girl,” he coos, maneuvering you onto your back and settling between your thighs. He quickly removes his tie, securing your wrists in a tight knot and pushing your hands up above your head. 

As his lips descend over the swells of your breasts, down over your exposed tummy, you can’t help the anticipation swirling through your system. His tongue dips into your navel and you tremble beneath him, imagining what it will feel like when he licks your pussy. He pushes your skirt up around your waist, setting each leg over his shoulders before leaning down to your sex. 

He decides to tease once again, laying an open mouthed kiss over the lace of your panties. You feel his smirk against your skin as you moan loudly, desperation taking over after a full day of build up. “Oh please. Please Rafe, I need you.”

“So pretty when you beg baby, but I told you. I’m gonna get to know every. inch. of. you.” Each word is punctuated by a kiss around the edges of your panties, followed next by his tongue. He traces every edge of the pink lace, returning to your center once again and licking a stripe over your slit. You feel like you’re about to fall apart at the seams just from the simple touches, right on the edge and waiting for him to push you over. 

His fingers slowly peel the soaked fabric to the side, his mouth blowing cool air over your hot skin. Two fingers dip between your folds, stroking softly from your entrance to your clit several times before plunging inside. He expertly curls them as he pushes and pulls against you, your orgasm racing closer by the second. 

He finally gives you his mouth, one flick of his tongue over your clit quickly turning into a frenzy. He laps at your sensitive nub eagerly, working his fingers in a slow tempo compared to the quickness of his tongue.  He hums his approval at your taste, vibrations making you cry out as your buck your hips into his face. When he sucks your clit  into his mouth he pushes you over the edge, a loud scream echoing off the glass walls of his office. 

“Oh god. It’s too much.” Tears spring to your eyes, overwhelming pleasure that is borderline painful wracking through your body. He laps up every last drop of your release, continuing to lazily finger fuck you while crawling up over your body to kiss you hungrily, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

You eagerly reach for the seam of his pants, wrapping your hand around his impressive length and starting to stroke him. He groans and its the hottest thing you’ve ever heard, only encouraging you further to undo his button and zipper, reaching inside his boxers to finally touch him skin to skin. You use his pre-cum as lube, smearing it over the tip before starting to twist your hand as you pump him slowly. 

“Shit baby, I need to be inside you, right fucking now.”

He pulls his pants and boxers down to his knees as your eyes drop to his cock, standing tall and proud. Your mouth waters at the sight, desperate for the chance to feel the weight of him on your tongue. He wraps his hand around the base, giving himself a few more strokes before his eyes return to you.

You’re mesmerized as he drags his thick head through your folds, gathering your slick before lining up. He barely pushes in, just the tip stretching you out as your back arches off of the sofa.

“Rafe. Untie me, wanna touch you.

As soon as your hands are free you wrap them behind his head, nails digging into his scalp before pulling him down for another heated kiss. Your teeth clash as you fight for dominance, your tongues winding together as he takes your breath away. 

He thrusts in slowly, wanting you to feel each inch disappearing inside of you. “Fuck sweetheart, feel so good wrapped around me. This pussy was made for me.”

You moan at his dirty words, clenching around his cock and making him let a low growl loose. His dominant hand wraps around your throat, eyes threatening to roll to the back of your head due to his dominant behavior.

“You’re mine now y/n. To do whatever I want with. Say it.”

He accentuates his point by pulling almost all the way out before slamming roughly back inside, knocking the breath from your lungs with the force.

“Mmm, Rafe. I’m yours. Please fuck me.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smirks before withdrawing once again, this time setting an ungodly pace as he pistons in and out of you. He’s hitting all the right spots, your nails digging into his clothed back as you try to somewhat contain your moans and whines. 

“Let me hear you, wanna know how much you love this cock.”

He pushes your legs back towards your chest, allowing him to angle in even deeper and you swear you can feel him in your stomach. You clench tightly around him and he groans loudly, starting to somehow thrust even harder than before.

“Just like that Rafe, don’t stop. Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Let me have it baby, wanna feel you drip off of me.”

His thumb finds your clit and rubs harsh circles as you desperately cling to him for some sense of reality. Your orgasm hits you like a train, body trembling as you cum harder than you ever have. He doesn’t stop his motions, only spurred on further by how hot you look and sound falling apart while chanting his name. 

A few moments later he groans out your name, pace faltering as you feel his hot release coat your walls. After a few final thrusts he collapses on top of you, kissing you lazily while his cock stays buried deeply. Your nails scratch softly over his freshly buzzed hair, trailing down over his broad shoulders and tracing random patterns. He hums his appreciation, breath tickling your neck and making you shift slightly. 

He finally pulls away, helping you to your feet as you both straighten up your clothes. He walks you to the door, playfully swatting your ass.

“Can’t wait to do this all over again tomorrow. Oh, and please wear red again, its my favorite color.”

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