#exquisitely chosen colors

[pin-k-ink]

Cockwarming Ranpo 😵

temptation // edogawa ranpo

tw ⇢ mutual pining, food kink(?), teasing, fingering, making out, office sex, cockwarming, public sex, exhibitionism, punishment sex, squirting, dirty talking, unprotected sex

wc ⇢ 5.2k

a/n: when i say public sex i mean public sex

Ranpo Edogawa, the brilliant and eccentric detective of the Armed Detective Agency, was renowned not only for his unparalleled deductive skills but also for his insatiable sweet tooth. His desk was a veritable treasure trove of confections, always stocked with an assortment of colorful candies, decadent chocolates, and exotic sweets from around the world. Each treat was carefully chosen to satisfy his discerning palate, and Ranpo took great pride in his collection.

On this particular day, Ranpo returned to the office after cracking a particularly challenging case. The thrill of the solve still buzzed in his veins, and he couldn't wait to celebrate with his newest acquisition - a box of rare and exquisite truffles from a world-famous chocolatier. He had pulled a few strings and called in some favors to get his hands on these delicacies, and he had been saving them for a special occasion.

As he approached his desk, Ranpo's anticipation grew with each step. He could almost taste the rich, velvety ganache, the smooth dark chocolate shell, and the subtle notes of exotic spices that he knew would dance across his tongue. His fingers twitched with eagerness as he reached for the small, gilded box that housed his precious truffles.

But as Ranpo's gaze fell upon his desk, his excited smile faltered. The box was nowhere to be seen. He frowned, his brow furrowing as he scanned the cluttered surface, hoping that perhaps he had simply misplaced it among the scattered papers and empty candy wrappers. But no matter how hard he looked, the box remained elusive.

A sinking feeling began to settle in Ranpo's stomach as he considered the possibilities. He distinctly remembered placing the box on his desk before stepping out to discuss a case with the Agency's president, Yukichi Fukuzawa. It had only been a brief meeting, no more than fifteen minutes, but apparently, that had been enough time for someone to make off with his prized possession.

Little did Ranpo know that, just moments before, you had been passing by his desk on your way to the file room. A glint of gold had caught your eye, and curiosity got the better of you. You paused, your gaze drawn to the small, ornate box that sat among the clutter of candy wrappers and case files.

Unable to resist the temptation, you reached out and picked up the box, marveling at the intricate design etched into the gold. Your fingers traced the delicate lines, and you could almost feel the promise of something special hidden within.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, you carefully lifted the lid, your eyes widening as they fell upon the most exquisite truffles you had ever seen. The rich, dark chocolate glistened in the light, and the aroma that wafted up from the box was nothing short of heavenly.

Without thinking, you plucked one of the truffles from the box and brought it to your lips. The moment the chocolate touched your tongue, your eyes fluttered closed in pure bliss. The truffle seemed to melt in your mouth, the velvety ganache coating your taste buds with a symphony of flavors - rich, dark cocoa, a hint of smoky vanilla, and a subtle note of something exotic that you couldn't quite place.

Engrossed in the heavenly flavors dancing on your tongue, you were oblivious to the sound of approaching footsteps. It wasn't until the realization hit you that you snapped out of your reverie, your eyes widening in alarm as they darted to the half-eaten box of truffles. Panic rising in your chest, you hastily snatched up the incriminating evidence and placed it on your desk, frantically trying to conceal it behind a towering stack of papers. With your heart pounding in your ears, you attempted to compose yourself, hoping against hope that your indulgence would go unnoticed.

Ranpo's mind began to race, his brilliant deductive skills kicking into high gear as he considered the potential culprits. The Armed Detective Agency was a small, tight-knit group, and he couldn't imagine any of his colleagues stooping so low as to steal his sweets. But then again, he had made no secret of his excitement over these particular truffles. Perhaps the temptation had been too much for someone to resist.

As he stood there, lost in thought, a flicker of movement caught Ranpo's eye. He turned just in time to see you, his fellow detective and secret crush, hurrying past his desk, your arms laden with files. There was a peculiar expression on your face, a mix of guilt and nervousness that immediately piqued Ranpo's interest.

His eyes narrowed as he studied you, taking in the slight flush of your cheeks and the way you avoided his gaze. It was then that he noticed the smudge of chocolate at the corner of your mouth, a telltale sign of your transgression.

Ranpo felt a surge of emotions - surprise, betrayal, and a strange, unexpected thrill. He had always admired your intelligence and your kind heart, but he had never imagined you capable of such a daring act. The thought of you, his sweet and innocent colleague, succumbing to the temptation of his forbidden truffles sent a shiver down his spine.

He knew he should be angry, or at the very least, annoyed. But as he watched you disappear into the file room, your shoulders hunched and your steps hurried, Ranpo couldn't help but feel a spark of something else entirely. It was a feeling he had been trying to ignore for months now, a warmth that spread through his chest whenever you were near.

Ranpo had always prided himself on his ability to remain detached, to keep his emotions in check and his heart guarded. But there was something about you that made him want to break all his rules. And now, with this unexpected turn of events, he couldn't help but wonder if fate had handed him the perfect opportunity.

A slow, mischievous smile spread across Ranpo's face as he settled into his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. He had a plan, a deliciously wicked plan that would not only allow him to exact his revenge but also to explore the tantalizing possibility of something more with you.

He leaned back, his eyes glinting with anticipation as he waited for you to return. The game was on, and Ranpo was determined to savor every moment of it. After all, he knew better than anyone that the sweetest victories were often the ones that required a little bit of risk.

As the minutes ticked by, Ranpo's mind raced with possibilities. He couldn't deny the thrill that ran through him at the thought of confronting you, of seeing the shock and guilt in your eyes as he revealed your crime. But even more than that, he was intrigued by the idea of what might come next.

Ranpo had always been a master of reading people, of seeing beneath the surface and unraveling the secrets that others tried to hide. And in that moment, as he replayed the scene of your hurried escape over and over in his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to your actions than mere temptation.

He thought back to all the times he had caught you watching him, your gaze lingering just a little too long when you thought he wasn't looking. He remembered the way you always seemed to find an excuse to be near him, to brush against him in passing or to lean in close when you spoke. At the time, he had dismissed it as simple admiration, or perhaps even a bit of hero worship. But now, in light of your bold move, he couldn't help but wonder if there was something deeper at play.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway pulled Ranpo from his musings, and he sat up straighter in his chair, his heart beating just a little bit faster. He knew it was you, could sense your presence like a physical force as you drew closer to his desk.

When you finally rounded the corner, your arms now empty of files, Ranpo was ready. He fixed you with a piercing stare, his lips curled in a knowing smirk as he watched the color drain from your face. You froze in place, your eyes wide and your mouth slack as you realized that you had been caught.

"Well, well, well," Ranpo drawled, his voice low and smooth as honey. "If it isn't my favorite little truffle thief."

You swallowed hard, your fingers twisting together in a nervous gesture as you tried to find your words. "Ranpo, I... I can explain," you stammered, your cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red.

But Ranpo held up a hand, silencing your protests with a single, elegant gesture. "Oh, I'm sure you can," he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "But I'm not interested in excuses. I'm interested in retribution."

He stood up slowly, unfolding his lean frame from the chair with a grace that was almost feline. You watched him warily, your heart pounding in your chest as he stalked closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

When he was close enough to touch, Ranpo reached out and traced the smudge of chocolate at the corner of your mouth with his thumb. You shivered at the contact, your breath catching in your throat as he brought his thumb to his own lips and licked it clean.

"Mmm," he hummed, his eyes fluttering closed in a moment of bliss. "Just as delicious as I imagined. But then again, everything tastes better when it's stolen, doesn't it?"

Your mouth went dry at the implication in his words, and you felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment. "Ranpo," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to-"

But once again, Ranpo silenced you with a look. "Oh, I know exactly what you meant to do," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned in closer. "And now, my dear, you're going to make it up to me."

Your eyes widened at the promise in his words, and you felt a thrill of excitement that mingled with the guilt in your stomach. You had always admired Ranpo, had always been drawn to his brilliant mind and his mischievous charm. But you had never dared to hope that he might feel the same way about you.

Now, as he stood before you, his eyes dark with a heat that made your knees weak, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps your impulsive act of thievery had been a blessing in disguise.

"Do you have any idea how rare and expensive those truffles are?" he asked, his voice still low but with an undercurrent of something that made your heart skip a beat. "I had to call in a lot of favors to get my hands on them."

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the floor as shame washed over you. "I'm so sorry, Ranpo," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I didn't know. I'll...I'll buy you more, I promise. Whatever it takes to make this right."

Ranpo was silent for a long moment, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, studying you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost thoughtful. "No, I don't think that will be necessary," he said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I have a better idea."

You looked up, surprised and a little wary. "What...what do you mean?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest as Ranpo took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I think," he murmured, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face, gently tucking it behind your ear , "that you owe me a favor. A very special favor, to make up for the truffles you've stolen."

Your breath caught in your throat at the touch of his fingers on your skin, and the suggestive edge to his words. "What kind of favor?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ranpo's smile widened, and there was a glint of something wicked in his eyes. "Oh, I have a few ideas," he said, his hand dropping to your waist and pulling you closer. "But first, I think we should finish what you started."

And with that, he leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to taste the lingering sweetness of the truffle. You melted into the kiss, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair as you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips on yours.

When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your cheeks flushed and your eyes hazy with desire. "Delicious," Ranpo murmured, licking his lips with a satisfied smile. "But I think I need a little more to fully appreciate the flavor."

He plucked the box of truffles from your desk and set it on his own, then took your hand and led you over to his chair. With a gentle but insistent pressure, he guided you down onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close.

"Now," he said, his breath hot against your ear as he nuzzled your neck. "Let's see if we can find a way to make this punishment a little more...enjoyable, shall we?"

Your heart raced at the promise in his words, and you couldn't help but arch into his touch as his hands began to roam over your body. The warmth of his skin seeped through your clothes, and you could feel the firm muscle of his thighs beneath you, supporting your weight with ease.

Ranpo reached for the box of truffles, plucking one from its nest of gold foil and bringing it to your lips. "Open up, sweetheart," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you part your lips obediently.

He placed the truffle on your tongue, and you couldn't help but let out a little moan of pleasure as the rich, dark chocolate began to melt in your mouth. But before you could fully savor the taste, Ranpo's lips were on yours, his tongue delving into your mouth to steal the truffle back.

You gasped into the kiss, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as he explored your mouth, chasing the flavor of the chocolate. When he finally pulled away, there was a smear of chocolate on his lips, and a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Mmm," he hummed, licking his lips with a satisfied smile. "Even better than I imagined. But I think we can do better than that, don't you?"

He reached for another truffle, holding it between his teeth as he leaned in close. Understanding his intention, you parted your lips, allowing him to pass the truffle to you in a sensual, chocolate-flavored kiss.

Back and forth you went, sharing the truffles between you, the kisses growing more heated and desperate with each passing moment. Ranpo's hands roamed your body, slipping beneath your clothes to touch and tease, stoking the fire that burned within you.

By the time the last truffle was gone, you were both panting, your lips swollen and your bodies thrumming with need. Ranpo's eyes were dark with desire, his gaze raking over you with a hunger that made you shiver.

"I think," he murmured, his voice low and rough, "that it's time for the real punishment to begin."

The warmth of his body seeped into yours, and you could feel the firmness of his muscles beneath his clothes. Ranpo's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as he nuzzled your neck, his breath tickling your skin and sending shivers down your spine.

"Now, here's what's going to happen," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "You're going to finish all of my paperwork for me, as punishment for eating my precious truffle."

Your eyes widened, a protest forming on your lips at the thought of taking on such a daunting task. But before you could voice your objections, Ranpo silenced you with a quick kiss, his lips firm and insistent against yours.

"And while you're working," he continued, his voice low and teasing as he pulled away, "I'm going to indulge in some of my other sweets. I think I've earned it, don't you?"

With that, Ranpo reached for a nearby jar of colorful candies, popping one into his mouth with a satisfied hum. You watched, transfixed, as he savored the sweet, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in a way that made your mouth go dry.

Shaking yourself from your daze, you turned to face the stack of papers on Ranpo's desk. The task seemed even more daunting now that you were perched on his lap, his body a constant distraction that threatened to derail your focus. With a sigh of resignation, you picked up a pen and began to work, trying to ignore the way Ranpo's arms tightened around your waist, holding you close.

As you worked, Ranpo continued to indulge in his sweets, occasionally offering you a taste. His fingers would brush against your lips as he fed you a candy or a piece of chocolate, the intimacy of the gesture making your heart race. The sugary treats melted on your tongue, mingling with the taste of Ranpo's earlier kiss and creating a heady combination that made your head spin.

The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself getting lost in the work, your pen scratching against the paper as you filled out form after form. Ranpo's hands began to wander, his fingers tracing teasing patterns on your skin through the fabric of your clothes. The very prominent bulge twitching beneath you making it harder and harder to concentrate on the task at hand.

The longer you worked, the more Ranpo's touches grew bolder, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your stomach. He nuzzled your neck, his lips ghosting over your sensitive flesh and making you shiver. You bit your lip, determined to focus on the task at hand, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the growing ache between your legs.

As if sensing your growing frustration, Ranpo's hand began to drift lower, his fingers tracing the waistband of your panties before slipping beneath the fabric. You gasped as his fingers brushed against your slick heat, and he chuckled, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

"Mmm, seems like someone's enjoying their punishment a little too much," he murmured, his fingers teasing your entrance and making you squirm.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to trap his hand, but Ranpo merely laughed, his fingers sliding deeper inside you. "Oh, no," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "That's not how this works, sweetheart. You're going to take everything I give you, and then some."

You groaned as he began to thrust his fingers in and out of you, the delicious friction making your head spin. "Ranpo," you breathed, your hips rocking against his hand as you sought more.

But Ranpo was relentless, his pace never faltering as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. His thumb found your clit, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves with just enough pressure to drive you wild. Your breaths came in short gasps, and you arched against him, your spine creating a mesmerizing curve as you reached forward to grab onto the desk.

Just as you were about to tumble over the edge, Ranpo suddenly withdrew his fingers, leaving you trembling and aching with need. You whimpered, the loss of his touch almost unbearable, and you heard him chuckle again.

Then you heard the sound metal, Ranpo shifting you in his lap as he worked on his belt buckle. With a swift tug, his trousers were undone and the unmistakable feeling of his bare cock, hot and hard against the curve of your ass.

"Do you want more?" Ranpo's voice was thick with lust, his lips pressed against your ear. "All you have to do is ask."

You swallowed, the thought of begging for his cock making you burn with shame and arousal.

But the throbbing between your legs was too strong, and you found yourself giving in.

"Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I need you, Ranpo."

You felt his grin against your skin as his hand slid between your thighs, his fingers brushing against your soaked entrance. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a low purr. "Now, why don't you warm my cock for me while you work. That's the real punishment, after all."

With a deft motion, he lifted your hips and sank you down onto his thick shaft. You let out a strangled moan as his cock stretched you open, filling you so completely that it took your breath away.

Ranpo settled back in his chair, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. You were impaled on his cock, the fullness of him pressing against your inner walls and making your toes curl.

"There," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Now, you can get back to work."

Your hand shook as you picked up the pen, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of Ranpo's cock pulsing inside you. The ache between your legs was almost unbearable, and every movement made you more and more aware of the heat of his body, the scent of his skin, and the way his arms wrapped around you.

But still, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, your pen flying across the pages as you filled out form after form. Ranpo kept perfectly still, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin and his lips brushing against your neck.

Just as you were nearing the end of the stack of papers, the sound of footsteps and voices in the hallway outside the office made you freeze. Your heart leapt into your throat as you realized that the rest of the team was returning from their lunch break, and here you were, perched on Ranpo's lap like a stolen treat, with his cock, balls deep inside your cunt.

Ranpo, however, seemed unfazed by the impending arrival of your colleagues. If anything, the wicked gleam in his eyes only intensified, as if he relished the thought of being caught in such a compromising position. His hands continued their teasing exploration of your body, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your skirt to trace the sensitive skin of your thighs.

The door to the office swung open, and you felt the heat of embarrassment flood your cheeks as Yosano, Kunikida, and the others filed in. Their eyes widened as they took in the sight of you on Ranpo's lap, your skirt hiked up and your face flushed with a mix of desire and mortification.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Yosano drawled, a smirk playing on her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Looks like someone's been a naughty girl."

Kunikida, ever the professional, averted his gaze, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he cleared his throat. "Ranpo-san, this is hardly appropriate behavior for the office," he said, his voice stern despite his obvious discomfort.

Ranpo, however, seemed unfazed by the disapproval in Kunikida's tone. He merely tightened his arms around your waist, pulling you closer against him as he grinned up at his colleagues. "What can I say? She ate my truffle, and now she's paying the price."

The others exchanged glances, a mix of amusement and exasperation on their faces. They had long since grown accustomed to Ranpo's eccentricities, but this was a new level of boldness, even for him.

You squirmed in Ranpo's lap, your face burning with embarrassment as you tried to disentangle yourself from his embrace. But Ranpo held fast, his fingers digging into your hips as he kept you firmly in place.

"Now, now, sweetheart," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "You still have work to do. Be glad they can’t see how much your pussy is drooling all over my cock."

With that, he reached for another candy, popping it into his mouth with a satisfied hum. The others shook their heads, a mix of amusement and resignation on their faces as they settled into their own desks, pointedly avoiding looking in your direction.

You could feel their gazes on you, though, the weight of their curiosity and judgment making your skin prickle with self-consciousness. But Ranpo seemed oblivious to it all, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your thigh as if he were completely unconcerned with the eyes on the two of you.

You bit your lip, a fresh wave of heat flooding your cheeks as you picked up the pen once more. Your hand trembled, the ink flowing across the page in an unsteady scrawl.

But still, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, determined to complete the paperwork and put an end to this torture. As the minutes ticked by, you could feel Ranpo's cock twitching inside you, his obvious arousal sending a thrill of excitement through you.

Just as you were nearing the end of the stack of papers, Ranpo's fingers found their way back between your thighs, teasing your sensitive clit and making you gasp.

"Keep working, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "We wouldn't want the others to think you're slacking off, would we?"

The others glanced up at the sound of your gasp, a mix of embarrassment and desire on their faces as they took in the sight of you, perched on Ranpo's lap and trembling with need. But no one dared to speak, and the only sounds in the office were the scratch of pens on paper and the low hum of the air conditioning.

As Ranpo's fingers continued their teasing exploration of your slick folds, your vision blurred, the words on the page swimming before your eyes. Your breathing grew ragged, and your hips began to rock involuntarily, desperate for more.

Ranpo's grip on your waist tightened, and he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Can't focus?" he asked, his voice low and taunting. "Maybe I should stop. After all, I wouldn't want to interfere with your punishment."

You felt a pang of disappointment at his words, but you knew better than to argue.

"Please," you whispered, your voice a desperate plea. "I need to finish this."

Ranpo smiled, his fingers never ceasing their teasing rhythm. "Then you'd better hurry up," he murmured. "Because if you don't finish soon, l'm going to take you right here, in front of everyone. And then they'll all know how much you enjoy being my naughty little thief."

His words sent a thrill of excitement through you, mingling with the shame and arousal that already burned in your veins. The thought of your colleagues watching as Ranpo fucked you was both mortifying and intoxicating, and the image of it made you even wetter.

Ranpo sensed your reaction, his lips curling into a wicked smile as he slid two fingers on either side of your swollen clit, pinching slowly and deliberately. "I bet they'd like that, wouldn't they?" he murmured, his voice a low purr. "To see how pretty you look when you come, how shamelessly you beg for more."

"Ranpo," you gasped, his words sending a surge of pleasure through you. You were so close, the tension coiled inside you ready to snap. "Please, I-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Ranpo's thumb pressed down hard on your clit, sending you spiraling over the edge. You cried out softly, slumping against the desk as your juices flowed out freely, dripping down the leather chair.

The others stared in disbelief, their faces flushed with embarrassment and arousal as they watched Ranpo slowly pull his fingers from your slick folds, an obscene amount of your juices now creating a puddle on the floor. He brought his hand to his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied smile.

"Mmm," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. "Just as delicious as I imagined. But there's one last thing we need to do."

Your heart raced in anticipation, your skin tingling as Ranpo's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

"What's that?" you breathed, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body.

Ranpo grinned, his fingers trailing down your stomach to find the spot where his cock was still buried inside you. "I think it's time we showed the others just how much you love being my little truffle thief."

Without warning, he thrust up into you, his cock hitting your sweet spot and making you cry out. Your hands flew to the desk, gripping the edge as he pounded into you, his hips setting a punishing rhythm.

"Ranpo," you whimpered, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

"Come on, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice strained with his own desire. "Show them how good it feels." Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you surrendered to the pleasure, your hips moving in time with his. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, his arousal building with each stroke.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the office, the scent of sex mingling with the familiar aroma of ink and paper. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself get lost in the sensation, the pressure building in your core until it finally snapped.

You came hard, your muscles clenching around Ranpo's cock and drawing a groan from his lips. Your juices flowed freely, soaking the chair beneath you as you trembled in his arms.

"That's it," Ranpo growled, his fingers digging into your skin as he rode out your orgasm. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come for me."

You shuddered, his words sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you.

The others watched in rapt attention, their own arousal obvious in their flushed cheeks and darkened eyes.

Ranpo's thrusts became erratic, and he buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. With a muffled groan, he came, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his seed.

The room was silent, save for the sound of your heavy breathing and the pounding of your heart in your ears. Your limbs felt boneless, and your head was spinning, the intensity of your release leaving you dazed and sated.

As Ranpo's cock began to soften, you felt a rush of shame and embarrassment, realizing that the others had witnessed everything. But as you glanced around the room, you were surprised to see a mix of admiration and lust on their faces, their eyes locked on the place where your bodies were still connected.

Ranpo pulled away slowly, his arms releasing their tight hold around your waist. He tucked himself back into his trousers, the fabric damp with your juices.

"There," he said, his voice a low, satisfied purr. "Now we're even."

Your eyes widened, your cheeks flushing as you realized that the pile of unfinished paperwork was still sitting on the desk in front of you.

Ranpo's smile widened, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "I'll finish the rest. But only because you're such a good girl."

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[cubarsis]

— acrylics | h. fort garcía

— synpsosis : hector loves being spoiled after his girl gets her nails done.

— fluff

— requests are open 💘

AS HECTOR HEARD THE FAMILIAR sound of keys jingling in the lock, his heart skipped a beat with anticipation. He knew his girlfriend was returning home from her nail appointment, and he couldn’t wait to see the beautiful new set adorning her fingers. As the door swung open, Hector’s eyes lit up at the sight of her, a smile spreading across his face.

Without hesitation, Hector enveloped her in a warm embrace, pulling her close and holding her tightly against him. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her familiar scent and reveling in the comfort of her presence.

“Missed me that much, huh?” his girlfriend teased, her voice laced with amusement as she gently poked him in the ribs. Hector chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her skin.

“Of course I did,” he replied.

His voice filled with sincerity as he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Two hours without you on off days are boring.” His girlfriend snorted at his words, a playful glint in his eyes.

As Hector’s girlfriend proudly displayed her freshly manicured nails, he couldn’t help but smirk with satisfaction. The color he had chosen for her was even more stunning than he had anticipated, and it looked absolutely exquisite against her skin.

“Damn, I’ve got to hand it to myself, I’ve got impeccable taste,” Hector boasted, his voice filled with cocky confidence as he reached out to gently take her hand in his own. His fingers traced over the smooth surface of her nails, a smug grin playing on his lips as his fingertips move across the charms glued to her nails.

“I knew this color would look killer on you, but damn, I didn’t expect it to look this good,” he continued, his tone oozing with self-assurance.

“I mean, it’s like I’ve got a sixth sense for picking out the perfect shades, you gotta admit that. Always making sure my princess looks the prettiest.”

His girlfriend couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his playful manner of arrogance, but there was a hint of amusement dancing in her gaze.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” she teased, her lips quirking up into a smile as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. Hector chuckled at her response, feeling a surge of satisfaction knowing that he had chosen something that made her happy.

“Now that I’ve paid for those nails, I think it’s only fair that I get what’s rightfully mine,” Hector declared, his tone playful yet assertive as he wagged a finger in mock admonishment.

His girlfriend raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips as she looked at him incredulously.

“Oh, really now?” she replied, her voice laced with amusement. “And what exactly do you think you’ve earned, Fort ?”

Hector grinned mischievously, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“Well, I believe I’ve earned myself some well-deserved head and back scratches,” he declared, his voice filled with mock seriousness. “After all, a man’s got to reap the rewards of his investment, am I right?” His girlfriend couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his audaciousness, shaking her head in amusement.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

she chuckled, her eyes sparkling with affection as she reached out to tousle his hair affectionately.

“But alright, I suppose I can indulge my big baby of a man.”

Hector’s grin widened into a satisfied smirk as he settled back on the couch, already feeling the anticipation building within him at the thought of the blissful pampering to come.

As Hector’s girlfriend settled onto the couch, he wasted no time in shifting his position to make himself comfortable. With a contented sigh, he stretched out his body, sprawling across the length of the couch, his head coming to rest on her soft thighs.

“Comfortable there, are you?” his girlfriend teased, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across his scalp. Hector nodded, a blissful smile playing on his lips as he snuggled further into her lap.

“Absolutely,”

he replied, his voice muffled by the fabric of her pants.

“Nothing beats having you as my personal pillow.” His girlfriend chuckled at his remark, her affectionate gaze warming his heart.

With a contented sigh, Hector closed his eyes and leaned into his girlfriend’s touch, relishing the sensation of her nails gently scratching against his scalp. As her fingers worked their magic, he couldn’t help but let out a low, rumbling groan of pleasure, the sound reverberating through his chest.

“God, that feels amazing,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he melted into her touch. His girlfriend chuckled softly, the sound like music to his ears as she continued to stroke his hair with expert precision.

As Hector basked in the pleasure of his girlfriend’s head scratches, he couldn’t resist unleashing his inner sassiness. With a playful smirk, he tilted his head back and fixed her with a smoldering gaze.

“Alright, alright, as much as I’m loving this,” he began, his voice dripping with playful arrogance, “I think it’s time for a little upgrade. You know, to keep up with my impeccable standards.” His girlfriend rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, but there was a glint of amusement dancing in her gaze.

“Oh, is that so?” she retorted, her tone teasing as she leaned in closer to him. “And what exactly does his highness require now?” Hector chuckled softly, reveling in the banter as he reached out to tug her closer to him.

“Well, for starters, how about some kisses?” he suggested, his voice smooth as silk.

“And maybe a little back caressing while you’re at it? You know, the charms on your fingers weren’t free of charge end you didn’t get my initial on your ring finger,” he whined in slight disappointment.

His girlfriend laughed at his audacity, shaking her head in mock disbelief as he whines.

As the night grew late, Hector and his girlfriend found themselves nestled in the comforting embrace of their shared bed, their bodies entwined in a symphony of warmth and affection. Hector’s girlfriend traced gentle patterns on his scalp with her newly adorned acrylic nails, the sensation lulling him into a state of peaceful relaxation.

But when Hector’s girlfriend pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering for a moment before planting another gentle kiss on his forehead, Hector felt a wave of tranquility wash over him.

With a contented sigh, Hector’s breathing slowed, his body gradually relaxing into hers as he surrendered himself to the comforting embrace of sleep.

His girlfriend watched him with a tender smile, her heart swelling with love for the man lying beside her, his features softened in the gentle glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains.

hectorth 24.

#ɞ 𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 #fc barcelona x reader #fcb x reader #hector fort garcia x reader #hector fort fluff #hector fort imagines #hector x reader #hector fort x reader #hector fort #fort x reader #footballer x reader #marc guiu x reader #pablo gavi x reader #pedri x reader

[alwaysmicado]

save your tears

4.6k | 18+ MDNI | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings: dubcon (sex while high), alcohol & drugs, unprotected piv, rough sex, choking, loss of virginity, mention of blood, degradation/praise, hurt no comfort, mean!Dieter Summary: It’s your lucky night! Your favorite movie star, Dieter Bravo, picks you up at a club and takes you home. You don’t want to blow it by telling him you’re a virgin, do you? A/N: Never meet your heroes...and please don’t fuck Dieter Bravo raw without seeing a notarized STD test first. I’m super excited to share this fic with you and I really hope you’ll enjoy it!! Let me know your thoughts! ♥︎

Dieter Bravo masterlist ♡ main masterlist

Another kiss with a stranger, another fiery shot of tequila, another night immersed in the opulence of a luxurious club in the heart of Beverly Hills.

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the venue, drowning out any coherent thought. A sea of bodies sways in a synchronized rhythm, lost in the intoxication of the music, the free-flowing drinks, and the swirling lights.

You and your friends are no exception, caught up in the vibrant chaos of the dance floor, laughing and moving to the infectious energy of the night.

The tight dress you’ve chosen for the night clings to your every curve, a sleek fabric that accentuates the enticing contours of your body. Its deep, midnight black hue embraces you like a second skin, tracing the delicate curve of your breasts, descending sensuously over your torso, and accentuating the gentle swell of your hips.

As you move, the straps, delicate and barely there, become ethereal threads, caressing your skin with each sway and twirl on the dance floor. The dress’s neckline is daring, a subtle plunge that hints at mystery and allure, inviting the eyes to linger for just a moment longer.

Your choice of footwear is equally as captivating. The heels, sleek and strappy, elevate your posture and add a tantalizing sway to your every step. The ensemble not only looks exquisite but feels like a second skin. In this carefully chosen outfit, you feel an undeniable sense of confidence and allure – you feel like a goddess.

As the night progresses, and a few shots later, you find yourself losing inhibitions with each beat. The alcohol warms your veins, and the euphoria of the moment takes over. The atmosphere inside the club is charged with excitement, the air thick with the scent of perfume, sweat, and anticipation.

And then you see him.

Amidst the crowd, your gaze collides with a pair of intense, dark eyes that seem to cut through the chaotic haze. Recognition strikes you like a bolt of lightning – Dieter Bravo, the famous Oscar winner, stands at the fringes of the dance floor, his gaze fixed on you.

The look in his eyes is predatory, stirring desire deep within you. He gestures with a subtle nod of his head towards the exit, a silent command that sends your heart racing.

You excuse yourself to your friends, your words lost in the overwhelming discord of music and laughter. They barely register your departure, the night unfolding in a blur of colors and sound. The crisp air outside is a welcome contrast, a momentary escape from the heated chaos within.

You take a deep breath.

Before you know what’s happening, a strong pair of hands seizes you, pushing you against the cold exterior wall of the club. It’s Dieter, his eyes burning with desire as he takes in the sight of you. His words come out in a low, husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

“You’re so beautiful, baby, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he confesses, his breath hot against your ear. You’re trembling slightly as he pulls back a little to look into your eyes, one hand planted on the wall next to your head, the other gently cupping your hot cheek. His touch sends a jolt through your entire being and your skin tingles beneath his fingertips.

“Why don’t we take this party to a more private setting, hm? My place is just around the corner,” he murmurs, his gaze searching yours for a sign of rejection.

His proposition hangs in the air, a surreal moment that seems too fantastical to be real. Dieter Bravo, a man renowned for having his pick of any woman he desires, wants you to come home with him?

You hesitate for a fleeting moment, the thrill and exhilaration of the unexpected encounter mingling with a feeling of unease. Is this a good idea?

Oh, fuck it. 

With a breathless nod, you give in to the magnetic pull of his desire. You’re never gonna get a chance like this again in your life.

Dieter’s eyes flicker with satisfaction at your willingness and a self-assured smirk plays on his lips. “Smart choice, beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive, intertwining with the rhythm of the music coming from inside.

With a confident yet gentle touch, he guides you to his waiting car, his warm palm resting on the small of your back.

His driver awaits, a stoic figure leaning against the passenger door with crossed arms, well-acquainted with the routine of escorting the renowned womanizer and his conquests. The man looks a few years older than Dieter, and as you approach, you can’t help but ponder the untold tales and silent observations this seasoned driver must harbor as living witness to the enigmatic world of his famous boss.

Dieter leans in to whisper something into the driver’s ear, a private exchange that ends with a wink and a grin directed at you. With a confident saunter, he rounds the car, slipping into the back seat from the other side.

“Good evening, Miss,” the driver greets you with a practiced courtesy, opening the back door and gesturing for you to step inside. In that fleeting moment, as he meets your gaze, you detect a subtle flicker of concern in his eyes, swiftly masked before you fully register its presence.

You swiftly dismiss the uneasy feeling that briefly fluttered within you and gracefully slide into the luxurious car, taking the seat beside Dieter. The plush interior envelops you, a cocoon of opulence that showcases the movie star’s wealth. As the door closes with a muted thud, the insulating quiet of the vehicle amplifies your anticipation.

The car ride is a blur of sensations.

Dieter pulls you onto his lap, his lips finding yours in a fervent kiss. His hands explore the contours of your body, a mix of escalating desire and urgency palpable in every touch. 

Glancing at the rearview mirror, the driver is a silent witness to a scene that unfolds with unsettling familiarity. Dieter’s reputation as a notorious womanizer is well-known, but the silent driver remains impassive, steering the car towards your destination.

“Fuck, baby,” Dieter whispers against your lips, his erection straining painfully against his pants. “You wanna sit on my cock right here or wait ‘til we’re home?”

You sensuously roll your hips, and he responds by squeezing your ass, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips at the tantalizing friction.

“I want you to take me in your bed,” you purr, as the champagne and tequila flowing through your veins embolden you.

“Alright, beautiful,” he murmurs between sloppy kisses to your neck and jaw, his hand tracing the delicate skin of your shoulder before sliding down the strap of your dress with practiced ease. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Every word Dieter utters, every caress of his hands, the heady scent of his cologne—the fact that your idol, a man larger than life, is currently drunk off your beauty—adds fuel to the intoxicating fire that courses through your body, making you acutely aware of the pulsating ache and growing wetness between your thighs.

You’ve never wanted to fuck anyone this badly.

Dieter slides down the other strap of your dress, the fabric yielding to his touch as he pulls it down, leaving it to pool around your waist and revealing your naked chest.

“Goddamn, your tits are perfect,” he whispers in awe, his hands tracing a delicate path from your shoulders down to your breasts, cupping one in each hand. “I almost forgot how good real ones feel.”

Your smile widens in response to his comment, relishing the sensation of Dieter Bravo praising your tits.

He massages them, softly at first, his touch a gentle prelude that gradually escalates in intensity as you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening your kiss, moaning against his lips. Your body responds eagerly, writhing on his lap, your swollen clit rhythmically rubbing against his hard bulge, each movement eliciting a wave of pleasure that has your eyes fluttering shut and your back arching.

Dieter leans in, spurred on by the movement of your body and your little moans of pleasure, pressing your tits together with a hunger that mirrors his escalating passion. His kisses are sloppy, a mixture of lust and possessiveness as he licks and sucks on your nipples, twirling his tongue around them.

The sensations alternate between pleasure and a tingling pain as he bites down, eliciting a desperate whimper from you that he hungrily absorbs by pressing his lips against yours once more. 

“This your first time fucking a real movie star, baby?” he murmurs, trailing kisses and bites down your sensitive neck.

Your head is spinning, and it takes you a few seconds to register what he just asked you. Even if it weren’t true, you’d be smart enough to stroke his famously big ego and tell him what he wants to hear. But, in this case, it is true.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your fingers tangled in his now-disheveled curls.

God, his hair is soft. The thought crosses your mind that being a millionaire must afford you great hair care. Just one of the perks of being one of the chosen ones, you muse with a smile.

“I promise you’ll be thinking of me every time you fuck someone else after I’m done with you, darling,” he smirks at you, satisfied with the fact he’s the first man of his stature you’ve experienced.

If he wasn’t already rock-hard before, he would be now.

You giggle and bite your lip, your dilated pupils telling Dieter everything he needs to know – you want him as badly as he wants you.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you purr, leaning in to suck and nibble on his neck while rolling your hips again.

“Oh shit,” he whispers, letting his head fall against the headrest and gripping your hips with his hands. “I knew you were a bad girl the second I saw you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Good girls don’t rub their needy little pussy on some stranger’s cock minutes after they met.” His breathing is strained, and he needs to concentrate hard to not come in his pants. “Good girls also don’t let me do a line off their perfect tits.” 

You pull back a little to look into his eyes, and he raises an eyebrow.

Against your better judgment, you nod, and he reaches into the right pocket of his pants to retrieve the biggest coke baggie you’ve ever seen. Goddamn, how does this guy get any acting gigs done if he does massive amounts of coke like this? His manager must be nothing short of a god.

“Push them together, baby,” he says, watching hungrily as you take your tits and press them together to create enough surface for him to put his powder on. “Fuck, that’s it.”

He pours a generous amount onto your skin, creating a line with his finger.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on your warm lips. His gaze drops to the line of coke on your tits before he lowers his head, presses a finger on his right nostril, and inhales the powder in one swift motion.

The lewd, forbidden feeling of letting him do drugs off your body has your pussy clench around nothing. You’re beyond turned on.

“Phew!” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “This is some primo shit, holy fuck. You wanna try?”

Dieter’s eyes find yours as he wipes his nose and tilts his head. “You’re never gonna find something this pure again.”

“Sure, why not,” you coo, succumbing to the excitement of the moment. One more bad decision’s not gonna kill you, right?

“Such a bad girl,” he murmurs with a smirk, then pours some coke on the back of his hand. He arranges it in a line for you and brings it closer to your face.

The fine white powder lies on his skin like a whisper of the night, and with a quick, controlled motion, you inhale. The sensation is immediate, a rush that starts from the point of contact and spirals into a heady euphoria. The sharp intensity sends a tingling sensation through your nostrils, a mix of heat and exhilaration.

In that fleeting moment, the world seems to shift.

The pulsating lights of the city take on a surreal glow, and the hum of the car’s engine becomes a rhythmic accompaniment to the rush coursing through your veins. The nightclub’s music, still echoing in your ears, melds with your newfound energy, creating a synesthetic experience that blurs the boundaries between the external world and your internal sensations.

You’ve never felt this much like yourself and not like yourself at the same time before—it’s surreal.

A tingling warmth radiates through your body, a sensation that is both invigorating and disorienting, like an electrifying surge that momentarily disconnects you from reality.

Dieter watches in real time as the coke takes effect and your pupils dilate further, your features signaling an intensified awareness of your surroundings.

“That’s it, baby,” you hear him purr before you feel his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you into a messy kiss.

You’re not entirely sure how you made it to Dieter’s bedroom.

– – –

His sheets are incredibly soft, some sort of luxurious fabric that feels heavenly against your naked skin. You’re clad only in your panties, lying on your back with Dieter on top of you, your legs spread to accommodate his hips. 

You hear music coming from a speaker somewhere in the room – he must’ve put it on when you got in. You moan as he kisses your neck, his warm tongue and lips tracing your skin, nibbling, biting, marking you. 

He props himself up with his forearms on the bed beside your head, the soft hair on his belly grazing against your skin with each rhythmic movement of his hips.

“Look at me, baby,” he tells you, breathless, eager to finally bury himself in your pussy. You open your bloodshot eyes, biting your lip at the delicious pressure he’s putting on your clit.

“Tell me you want me.”

He caresses your cheek, his fingertips leaving a tingling sensation on your hot skin. You nod in response and moan when his hard cock rubs against your sensitive clit once again.

“Hey,” he taps your cheek not so gently and bores his eyes into you. “Use your words.”

You’re startled, but a grin forms on your lips as your foggy brain registers what he’s asking.

“I want you, Dieter,” you coo, your nails digging into the meat of his ass. “I want you to fuck me.” His lips crash against yours in an instant, and you whisper, “Please,” against them as your mind drifts off into another realm again.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs as he straightens up to take off his boxer briefs. “I’m gonna give you exactly what you need.”

Your eyes follow the movement of Dieter’s hands, mesmerized, watching in slow motion as his cock springs free. Fuck. It’s a lot bigger than you’d imagined, and it’s so…beautiful. You wish he’d put it in your mouth for you to taste it, but since you can feel him pulling down your panties, you guess he’s gonna go straight to fucking your pussy.

You feel his hands on your thighs as he positions himself between your spread legs. Then, you watch as he spits on his hand and strokes his cock. You moan at the sight, wanting nothing more than for him to take you, to ravage you, to become one with you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby,” he murmurs more to himself than to you, haphazardly swiping his fingers through your dripping wet folds. You can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips when he brushes your clit.

He scoots closer, and you can feel the hairs on his thighs against yours as he guides the tip of his cock to your entrance. It’s warm, slippery, feels kinda nice. You close your eyes and turn your head.

This is it. You’re gonna have sex for the first time. 

And with none other than Dieter fucking Bravo – Oscar winner, movie star, womanizer extraordinaire. If you weren’t so out of it, you’d laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation.

He pushes in with one slow, deliberate thrust, savoring the feeling of each inch gradually disappearing into your body.

You inhale sharply, your breath catching at the initial discomfort of his cock stretching you. Your brow furrows in response, and you instinctively grip the sheets with your hands, a mix of pleasure and mild pain coursing through your body.

“Holy shit, your pussy’s tight,” Dieter groans, his hips stuttering at the sensation of being completely sheathed in you. “Feels so fucking good.”

He withdraws again just as you begin to acclimate to the girth of his cock inside you, leaving you whimpering at the sudden loss. Your hypersensitive system is so overloaded with sensations that it compels you to moan, whine, and writhe under his touch, uncertain of how to process everything you’re feeling and experiencing.

Dieter chuckles at your desperate little noises, more than ready to give you as much of his cock as he can, and to show you pleasure you didn’t know you were capable of.

If there’s one thing he takes pride in, it’s leaving his sex partners thoroughly satisfied, mind empty, covered in cum, and wanting more.

He spreads you open again in one smooth movement, your pussy eagerly devouring every inch. Pleased with your moans and the tight grip of your walls, he grabs your thighs and shifts his weight, pressing them against the mattress to penetrate you even deeper.

“Fuck,” is all you can get out as he sets a brutal pace, pushing your body up the bed repeatedly. His cock relentlessly strikes a deep spot within you, each thrust accompanied by the rhythmic slap of his balls against your ass.

“That’s it, baby. Take my fucking cock. Fuck, you’re the best slut I’ve had in a while.”

Dieter wants you to scream his name and come all over his cock. Sure. But he’s greedy and craves more than your physical surrender. He wants to etch his name into the very fabric of your desires, your being, a memory that will linger in your thoughts for the rest of your life.

The initial discomfort you’ve experienced slowly gives way to raw, carnal pleasure, a drug-induced dance of sensations that leaves you breathless. Dieter’s movements are harsh, designed to bring you to your limits, and you find yourself meeting his thrusts with an eagerness that surprises you.

The vast expanse of Dieter’s bedroom is filled with the intoxicating sound of your moans and smacking flesh, creating a dizzying symphony that envelops you in the throes of ecstasy.

“Look at me,” you hear him growl somewhere over you, and when you don’t budge, you feel his bruising grip on your jaw. “Hey, I’m not telling you again.”

You open your eyes, your eyelids so heavy you need to summon all of your strength to pry them open. Dieter’s face hovers close to yours, his breaths ragged, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, tracing a path down his temples.

His eyes are dark, hungry, dangerous. He gazes at you like he wants to devour you, to consume you wholly. You sense the intensity of his desire, and you’re more than ready to surrender to it.

You feel his hands tighten around your neck, the diminishing flow of oxygen to your brain heightening your senses even more. As your vision blurs and your pulse quickens, you’re caught in a paradoxical dance of ecstasy and fear, an exhilarating moment that pushes you to the brink.

Dieter deliberately hits your G-spot over and over again, his cock throbbing and leaking precum at your increasingly loud moans and spasming walls. 

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he pants, intensifying the grip on your neck and the force of his thrusts. Instinctively, you start clawing at his arms. “What a sick little thing you are, getting off on me hurting you.” 

Your eyes roll back and you feel yourself slipping away as Dieter’s pelvis puts enough pressure on your clit to bring you closer to climax with every roll of his hips.

“Oh fuck,” you faintly hear Dieter’s voice, “you’re choking the shit out of me, holy–”

You don’t hear the end of his sentence as an abrupt, violent orgasm takes over your body and mind in waves. Your walls spasm and contract uncontrollably around Dieter’s cock, every single muscle in your body tensing as you release a silent scream, caught in a tumultuous mix of ecstasy and distress.

Dieter lets go of your neck and bites down on your shoulder as he comes, emptying himself deep inside you with a guttural groan. His cock pulsates as your pussy eagerly milks and swallows up every last drop of his seed. 

He pulls out of you and collapses onto the mattress, his chest heaving, heart racing, utterly spent. His cum leaks out of you, pooling on the sheets between your thighs.

The room is heavy with the lingering scent of sex as Dieter finally catches his breath. Sweat glistens on his forehead and chest, and his erratic breaths permeate the air. You lie there, silent and still, your body sore, and your mind in turmoil.

The reality of the moment slowly dawns on you – every heartbeat sobering you up a bit more, tangled emotions leaving you disoriented.

Shit. What have you done?

“That was…holy shit,” Dieter chuckles beside you as he props his head up on his hand.

His face falls immediately as he glances at the bloodstains on the sheets. His eyes widen in shock, and a pang of guilt hits him deep. He wasn’t gentle, and you never spoke up. The room is silent for a moment before he breaks it, his voice sharp and accusatory.

“You’re bleeding.” His eyes meet yours, and the storm within them is unsettling. Your heart beats rapidly, fear coursing through you. “Tell me this isn’t what I fucking think it is.”

You look away, a lump forming in your sore throat. “I...I didn’t expect it to hurt so much,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

“Oh my fucking god.” Dieter’s tone is harsh, his face contorted with a mixture of confusion and anger. He swiftly rises from the bed, the mattress shuddering under his abrupt departure. His pacing is agitated, a restless back-and-forth that adds to the already palpable tension between you two.

You sit up against the headboard and pull up the covers to shield yourself from the chilling air that envelops you. You’re shivering. 

“Why the hell didn’t you say something? Are you trying to ruin me?”

Your heart drops. “Wha–”

His accusations hang in the air, and the room feels suffocating. Deep down, Dieter knows he should feel remorse for his actions, but instead, he redirects his hurt feelings towards you. The drugs and alcohol coursing through his system amplify his irrationality and paranoia.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice rises, echoing off the walls. “Is this some sick ploy to get your fifteen minutes of fame or some shit? To expose me?”

You’re left stunned, the whirlwind of pain, confusion, and the sting of betrayal clouding your mind. The vulnerability you shared just moments ago morphs into an uncomfortable reality, a hurtful reminder of what you were to him — a warm, nameless body he could fuck.

And now, you’re a nuisance at best, and a PR nightmare at worst. 

“Dieter, it’s nothing like that," you say, pleading, attempting to diffuse the escalating tension as the walls close in on the shattered remnants of a fun night. “I didn’t know how to tell you and…it’s not a big deal, I’m okay.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouts, shaking his head in frustration. “I wouldn’t have fucked you like that if I you’d told me you were–” he cuts himself off, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The resentment in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, making your blood run cold.

“Dieter–”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Please, I’m sor–”

“Get the fuck out!” he roars, the anger in his eyes intensifying.

You immediately get up and scramble to get your clothes back on, your hands shaking. You grab your belongings, trying to maintain a shred of dignity as you hastily dress.

Dieter, seething with anger and regret, roughly hands you a wad of cash from his nightstand when you’re done. 

“Here, take this. Get a Plan B or whatever the hell you need, and keep your mouth shut.”

You stare at the money in your hand, then at the man who’s throwing you out in the middle of the night after taking your virginity. The bills are cold in your hand, and you crumple them up, throwing them back at him.

“I’m not your whore, Dieter. Go to hell!”

Heels in hand, you make your way past him and out the door. You don’t stop as he calls after you, his voice strained with genuine remorse.

“I’m sorry!”

He really is.

– – –

The cold night air hits you like a slap, tears blurring your vision as you stumble away from Dieter’s mansion, the weight of what just transpired inside heavy on your shoulders.

His hurtful words echo in your mind, the throbbing pain between your legs intensifying with every step you take. Your breath falters in the frigid air, and you clutch your arms tightly around you as you make your way toward the waiting car.

The driver, standing beside the sleek vehicle, regards you with a mixture of concern and pity. His eyes have seen this scene unfold countless times before – another half-naked girl leaving his boss’s home in disarray.

You hate the way he looks at you, as if he knows more about your vulnerability than you’re willing to admit.

He opens the car door for you, and you gratefully sink into the plush leather seat. The warmth inside the car is a stark contrast to the chill outside, but it does little to ease the ache spreading through your body.

The driver takes his place behind the wheel, stealing glances at you through the rearview mirror.

“Where can I take you to, Miss?” His voice is gentle, filled with a practiced sympathy that makes your stomach churn. You hesitate for a moment, wrestling with the words you don’t want to say.

“Home,” you finally mumble, offering your address with a numb detachment. It feels like a betrayal, a surrender of your secret world to this stranger who witnesses the aftermath of Dieter Bravo’s fleeting affections.

The car glides through the silent streets, and you find yourself staring out of the window, the city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors.

Your head is spinning, and the pain in your body intensifies with each passing moment. Tears escape as you touch the bruises on your neck, tracing silent paths down your cheeks. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, hoping the darkness conceals your shame.

The driver glances at you in the mirror.

“Are you alright, Miss?” he asks, his tone a delicate inquiry into the depths of your distress.

“Just…drive me home, please,” you whisper, your voice cracking with the weight of unshed tears. You don’t want his pity, his judgment. You just want to escape the haunting echoes of what happened tonight.

But you know that will never happen. Dieter got his wish after all.

You will forever remember him.

– – –

♥︎ Thank you for reading!! ♥︎

Dieter Bravo masterlist ♡ main masterlist

#dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo smut #tw dubcon #dieter bravo #mean!dieter bravo #dieter bravo angst #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x female reader #the bubble fanfiction #fic: save your tears #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo fic #mean!dieter #smut

[your-local-simp-writers]

A Gift Beyond Measure

Word Count: 588

Warnings: None

Vil Schoenheit x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The Night Raven College was a place where magic was as common as the air we breathed, and today, it was charged with a different kind of enchantment. It was Vil Schoenheit’s birthday, and as his girlfriend, I wanted to make it unforgettable.

Vil, the epitome of grace and beauty, had captured my heart from our first encounter. Our relationship had begun as a tentative friendship, sparked by a shared interest in alchemy and a mutual respect for each other’s talents. Over time, our bond had deepened, and we found ourselves drawn together by more than just academic pursuits. Vil, with his impeccable standards and keen eye for beauty, had seen something in me that I hadn’t seen in myself, and under his subtle guidance, I had flourished.

I held in my hands a gift that symbolized the depth of my feelings for him.

The gift I had chosen for him was a reflection of our journey together—a handcrafted journal, its cover embossed with the emblem of Pomefiore and dyed in a deep blue that matched his dormitory’s colors. It was more than just a book; it was a repository for our memories and a promise of the many moments we had yet to share.

I approached Pomefiore Dormitory with a mixture of excitement and nerves. The gift, a small, exquisitely bound journal, was more than just a collection of pages; it was a canvas for our future together. Each empty page was an invitation to fill it with our dreams, our adventures, and our love.

Knocking gently on Vil’s door, I waited with bated breath. “Enter,” came his voice, a command that still sent shivers down my spine. I took a deep breath, smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles on my dress. 

The room was a vision of sophistication, much like Vil himself. He sat at his vanity, his golden locks reflecting the soft light, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “Happy Birthday, my love,” I said, my voice filled with the tenderness I felt for him. 

He turned, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity that made my heart flutter.His gaze softening. “What have you brought me?” he asked, a playful curiosity in his tone.

I handed him the gift, watching as he unwrapped it with the care of someone who understood the value of anticipation. “It’s a journal,” I said, “for us to fill with our thoughts, our dreams, and our story.”

Vil opened the journal, his eyes scanning the first page where I had written a note:

'To Vil, who teaches me that beauty isn’t just seen, but also felt and shared. May this journal be a canvas for the masterpiece we will create together. With all my love, (Y/N).

A smile, rare and breathtaking, spread across his face. “This is exquisite,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that filled the room. “You know me well, my dear.”

We spent the afternoon in each other’s company, talking and laughing as we had in the early days of our friendship. The journal lay open between us, a silent witness to the love that had grown in the space between words.

As the day turned to evening, and the shadows grew long, I knew that this birthday would be etched in our memories, a day of simple joys and profound emotions. And as I left Vil to his thoughts, the journal in his hands, I carried with me the knowledge that the best gifts are those that speak from the heart.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x you #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland fluff #twst imagines #twst fanfic #twst fluff #twisted wonderland x female reader #twst x female reader #twisted wonderland imagine #x female y/n #vil twisted wonderland #female!mc #f!mc #twst pomefiore #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit x yuux f!reader #Twisted Wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #x female reader #vil schoenheit x yuu #disney twst #vil shoenheit x reader

[sena-shi]

SAGAU but with Scheming Creator!Reader Imposter AU

PT. 1

*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were going about your day as usual when you decided to read some SAGAU Imposter AU fanfictions on the internet. The plot does not provide you with as much satisfaction as you would want, and the readers' ability to exact revenge seems too — in your opinion, quite lacking.

On the other hand, you consistently maintain a nonchalant attitude about it. You are still going to go ahead and read it, then continue scrolling until you discover another fanfiction.

A retribution in the form of exile? You probably won't find this interesting. Taking your newfound powers and using it to wipe them off as payback? That is quite thrilling; however, wouldn't it be preferable to make them regret and bear the sins of killing their one and only creator for the rest of their lives?

The shame and remorse that would slowly consume everything within them until there was nothing left.

The vivid memory of them using the blessings that you bestowed upon them to dishonour your divine existence is particularly satisfying.

The effort that you put into everything to get them to the position that they are in right now.

The memories that they will carry with them for the rest of their lives of how they used everything you blessed them with to get rid of you. 

The SAGAU AU fanfictions you've been reading have somewhat convinced you that the characters in the game can actually hear your voice, so occasionally you open the app, play the game, and talk to each character as if you think they can hear you.

The characters with the most heartbreakingly repetitive lines would receive your highest praise and reassurance.

You would hear Zhongli speak his infamous voice line, “Osmanthus wine tastes the same as I remember, but where are those who share the memory?”

And you would always reply with, “If the universe permits it, I would be delighted to share a drink with you and listen all about the wonderful times you and your loved ones have had together over the years.” In the warmest, and gentlest voice you could muster.

It's possible that you've gone insane because those are only fanfictions, yet you still find amusement on doing it.

And then, all of a sudden, it was as if the heavens had listened to your thoughts and made the decision to send you to the world of your creations, directly in front of the divine statue they had sculpted just for you.

Specifically designed with you in both heart and mind. The very statue that they would bow down to and pay respect to, something that they would look upon with reverence in their eyes.

You, the one who brought them into existence. You, the one who gave them life. You, their one and only creator.

Who would have the audacity to imitate the appearance of our Diving Creator and to step foot on the sacred ground!

Our Goddess was right; now that she has chosen to descend to our humble plane, a great number of people will attempt to copy her and steal her divination while her body is still adjusting to the conditions of our realm.

“Ah,” A sound like a gentle whisper was coming from your mouth. You did not move from where you were seated on the ground, keeping your attention fixed on the floor below you, which featured the most exquisite carvings you had ever seen. A smirk grew on your lips as you tried to stifle the chuckle; perhaps it was a maniacal laughter that was threatening to break forth. Fortunately for their sanity, they were spared the trauma of seeing it.

The fake, as one could have anticipated, displays an excessive amount of caution.

You were familiar with those lines. Where they would straight out deem you as fake. Imposter AU, huh? Then you guess that there’s no need to negotiate. After all, all of them will act like rabid dogs and probably decapitate you.

You slowly lifted your head, revealing long, wavy, glittering white hair that had fallen to the ground and was streaming down your back. The color of your hair was the most pristine that any human being could ever hope to witness. And your eyes. If one were to stare into them, they would be as dark as the abyss, and upon doing so, they would reveal the universe that is contained inside themselves. It appears to be a reflection of the night sky, where stars would shine brightly in honor of the one who nurtures the world, one whom they would always protect and one whom they would always look after.

As their attention was drawn to your face, those who were entrusted with the responsibility of guarding the sacred grounds began to tense up. The eye that had the most loving gaze was staring at them, as though the person they suspected of being an imposter is connected with them.

The imposter observed them in a manner like to that of a mother observing her children.

Despite their threats, they saw how you continued to lovingly glance at them with a hint of curiosity, perhaps wondering why they are so hostile to you.

Seeing them come to a complete halt makes you feel amused, but you keep up the act as if you are a compassionate and forgiving divine entity. However, at the bottom of your heart, you secretly wish for them to be ashamed by the way in which they regarded you as a fake.

Are you too vicious with your thoughts? Maybe.

Are you meant to ignore all of it simply because they are completely devoted to you?

Then why aren't they able to recognize that the imposter, who you believe was probably seated on the throne and bearing the title of God of the Gods, is the one who is being deceitful?

Is it because of your appearance?

You maintained your position on the ground, staying perfectly still as you watched them patiently while keeping your amusement well veiled in your eyes.

The only thing that can be seen by them is a stunning woman who is smiling warmly in answer to their presence. Simply the fact that the woman was watching them caused them to increase the pressure they applied to the grips of their spears and swords.

The wind that was not intended to enter the enclosed place unexpectedly caressed their bodies as if it were talking to them—

Do not hurt our Creator.

The grounds trembled, as if enthusiastic and pleased to be blessed with your presence, that their Creator was willing to dirty their feet to step on the land. The grounds were evidently happy that their Creator was willing to bless them with your presence.

It's not even an exaggeration to say that the entire Teyvat, the first child of the Creator, is likely experiencing an incredible amount of joy just from recognizing your divinity.

The big and broad doors swung open with a bang, and the glances that your beloved and wonderful acolytes gave you as they heard that someone was copying their dear God seared deep holes into your skull. In all honesty, you would prefer to stay and witness how they will act from that point on.

My, my… You thought. Have their IQs decreased dramatically in the span of a single night as a direct result of the arrival of the real fake?

The holy grounds are far too little for a game of "hide and seek," despite how much you love to have fun playing with them. You can't wait to discover how they will deal with someone they have identified as an imposter like yourself. You are patient, and you will embrace everything they will give you.

You would counteract any evil intended for you with acts of kindness. You, in turn, wish they wouldn't let you down as the shame destroys them from the inside out.

After all, it's hard to see a mother being the source of any kind of harm to her children.

If they wish to hurt you, then so be it.

You wonder.

Who will kill you first?

Them?

Or yourself?

You heard them running after you as you escaped the place, which you didn't find particularly difficult. Your lips formed an unconscious sneer as you ran, not too fast, and not too slow. You want them to catch up to you so that everyone may play together.

And perhaps, if they decide to give you the performance you want to witness, you would forgive as any other benevolent being would.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

#sagau x reader #sagau impostor au #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #genshin self aware #genshin x reader #imposter sagau #scheming!reader #i was just chilling in another fandom writing fics and now i've been dragged into this #creator!reader #grab the lore and put it on a cheese grater

[leonslutkennedeeznuts]

The Wedding Date | Leon x Fem!Reader

"From the first meeting to rehearsal dinner everyone had fallen in love with him. Including you." | One-shot inspired by The Wedding Date (2005): Leon's an escort. You hire him and fall in love. (AO3)

It was an expensive, totally stupid impulsive thing to do- book a male escort as your wedding date to stick it to your ex (and nagging mother) that you weren’t a lonely, miserable spinster. You weren’t ugly or anything, just lazy with a specific plan- to rub it in your ex fiance’s face that you were 100% over him and moving on by “dating” someone way more attractive and totally smitten with you.

His name was Scott, or so he said as per his website details. He was 6 '0, clearly worked out, had dirty blonde hair in a boyband haircut and per his many reviews was a skilled lover- but that part was totally irrelevant to you. It had taken a few days to finally bite the bullet. Your career was stable, you had the money- it just made sense to go this route versus swiping on Tinder. You’d never done this before but were admittedly desperate. You needed a professional, someone that nobody in your friend group knew who could lie his way in and out of any conversations and questions they’d be sure to ask him.

He just had to look good, pretend to be in love with you, get paid and then fuck off never to be seen again when the wedding was over.

—

You’d met up with him at a bougie brunch spot on a Sunday afternoon, having chugged one mimosa with a shot of vodka before he even showed up to ease your nerves.

“This is the weirdest outcall I’ve ever been to,” he’d joked after introducing himself to you, his hands so soft and his cologne making you wet. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Scott was funny, naturally charismatic and beautiful to look at. He clearly took care of himself and didn’t seem phased by your plan at all once revealed to him.

“Alright, we need to go over the questions they’ll ask you, about us, your life, yadda yadda,” you’d instructed him. You tried your best to be assertive and not give into the butterflies flying wildly inside your stomach. “This has to be very convincing.”

You had tried to rehearse his answers with him but Scott refused while gazing at you intently. You’d definitely need new panties after this but he didn’t need to know that.

Scott had said he’d prefer to see how everything worked out before accepting payment. This plot of yours amused him greatly, he had said as much several times. Nobody had ever hired him to be arm candy until you. He planned to enjoy every second of this.

“They’ll know I’m lying, sweetheart. It’s better to just wing it. Trust me, Y/N, I won’t let you down.”

And Scott didn’t let you down. He’d passed the “test” with flying colors. From the first meeting to rehearsal dinner everyone had fallen in love with him. Including you.

—

It was late one night after having to help with decorating the church and you just wanted to relax. One bottle of wine later and you were getting a little bold and very nosy about Scott’s personal life as he gave you an exquisite foot rub.

“I didn’t make it into the police academy. I was 21 years old in a new city with nowhere to go so I started stripping. Then stripping became this.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, your hand patting his shoulder while the other held a glass of sweet burgundy wine. Scott had chosen whiskey for himself. Wine gave him bad hangovers, he’d admitted. 

“I thought about being a stripper once,” you revealed. “I almost auditioned actually but my dancing is terrible without heels so with them on I’m sure I’d break my ankles.”

Scott laughed, as if he’d imagined you in a pair of clear heels attempting to dance around a pole and failing miserably. Making him laugh made you feel warm all over.

Conversations with him came naturally, he felt like an old friend. It was none of your business, truly but he’d answered you unashamedly. A part of you wished you’d met him under different circumstances for a chance at something real.

“Why aren’t you married yet, Y/N?” 

You definitely weren’t expecting him to ask that. Your previous relationship was still a sore subject- he’d been your highschool sweetheart and first love. With a job promotion and more money, your ex had wanted to date around and see what else was out there a few months after proposing.

“One day he just decided that he didn’t want me anymore,” came your solemn answer.

You took a big gulp of wine to keep from crying. This was the guy that you thought you’d be planning your wedding with at this age. Instead you hired a male escort that you developed feelings for. C’est la vie!

“What a fucking idiot, seriously. You’re beautiful, Y/N, inside and out. A total catch,” Scott asserted. “Dude is a loser for letting you go.”

That remark made you smile, bringing a feeling of peace that washed over you from within at his words. You really enjoyed being around Scott. He was damn good at what he did: making women feel desired. Even though this was his job, it just felt natural to lean in and kiss him so you did. To your surprise Scott kissed you back quite fiercely, the taste of whiskey on his tongue almost like a poison bringing you deeper under his spell.

“Let me take care of you tonight,” he’d offered.

Scott was indeed a skilled lover. 

He lifted you up effortlessly, laying you on the bed before teasing with kisses up and down your body. You were so wet it hurt and ached. Your clothes quickly became a crumpled up heap on the floor while he stayed fully clothed sans a shirt.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby.”

He never stopped touching or tasting you that night, making sure that you came hard on his face and with his fingers, refusing to let you return the favor. You rode his tongue to completion, let him flip you onto your back and bucked into his mouth almost crying at how good he made you feel.

“You taste so good, Y/N.”

Your ex had been selfish in bed, all about receiving and barely giving. You thought you’d had an orgasm before but now you knew better. Scott made you cum almost violently, begging, writhing and almost screaming every time he sucked your clit or filled you up with two or three fingers.

“Can eat you out all fucking night.”

You had to push his head away before he finally stopped, looking so pleased with his work as you watched him through heavily lidded eyes. He kissed you one last time, the taste of yourself on his tongue giving a sense of pride. This gorgeous man had dined on you like he’d never get enough, licking and eating your cum like it was a delicacy. You wanted to taste him too, to look into his eyes as he slid into you and fucked you so deep and hard that your headboard banged against the wall.

But instead, he cuddled you until sleep finally took over. 

—

Scott wasn’t there when you awoke the next morning.

You awoke in a panic, your head pounding as the events of last night started to replay in your head. Wine. Scott. Orgasms. Your thighs were sore.

“Shit,” you exclaimed. The wedding. Your wedding date. Scott. Was he going to show up now? Would it be too awkward? Was it all just a wine induced episode of lucid dreaming?

You hurriedly got out of bed and took a shower. The envelope with his payment was still in your dresser. Did he even know it was there? You tried to focus on everything but Scott on your drive to the venue, going through the motions of getting dressed and sitting still for makeup.

When it was time to walk down the aisle with your ex-fiance as part of the wedding processional, your eyes glanced around nervously looking for any signs of a GQ model with dirty blond hair sitting in the pews as you tried not to fumble with your bouquet too much.

This was the church you had always wanted to be married in. You had thought that your ex fiance was the one but now you knew otherwise. Walking down the aisle with him, even in this context, made you feel uneasy like you were cheating. You almost didn't see Scott giving you a thumbs up and blowing you a kiss when you finally stood with the other bridesmaids. It was embarrassing how your mood instantly lifted.

Everything was going to be okay. You'd convinced everyone that this was so real, you'd even convinced yourself. Once the wedding was over Scott would go back to his life and so would you. It was a painful thought.

It wasn’t until the wedding reception that you spotted him again. He was standing off to himself while most of the single ladies and a few men crowded the dance floor for the bouquet toss. His tuxedo fit perfectly and now that you knew how he looked shirtless, a part of you wanted to rip it right off.

You caught the bouquet purely by accident, not even paying attention until a blur of pink roses came into your peripheral. Scott’s eyes never left yours as he walked towards you, cool as a cucumber like on the day you met.

He leaned in to kiss you so intensely that your knees buckled. You heard your mom cheering the loudest. Your ex stormed off in a huff, clearly regretting his choice to let you go- convinced that this man kissing you was your new forever and not a paid actor. Scott had done his job perfectly, too perfectly. You tried not to look so crestfallen when the kiss ended.

—

The walk back to your car seemed to take forever, so much you wanted to say, so much was going unsaid but didn’t want to come across as that one creepy client who took things too far.

“Definitely a 5 star experience,” you stated honestly yet awkwardly avoiding his gaze, wanting to make light of it all. “I really can’t thank you enough Sco-”

“Leon,” he cut you off. “My real name is Leon.”

The tension in the air was thick. Was his name really Leon or was this another part of the act? Your mother was now convinced that Scott, well, Leon would propose someday. How were you going to explain that everything was all a lie?

Should you address the kiss, the amazing oral sex and show vulnerability? Or hand over the cash and move on? You just wanted a nice clean break, no more emotions to overly complicate things. He did his job, nothing more nothing less. It would hurt more to be rejected than to wonder what if.

“I can’t thank you enough, Leon.” You looked a little too long at his lips, wanting and wishing you had the courage to just lean in and close the gap between you two again and again.

Instead, you handed him the bouquet of flowers so you could reach into your clutch for his payment.

“You can count it now if you’d like. It’s all there, I promise.”

Leon tensed. His face which usually sported a knowing smirk or stoic expression now looked confused, almost disgusted. He didn’t reach out to take the envelope.

“Leon, you did exactly what I asked you for. Of course I’m paying you plus tip,” you said trying to sound calm yet internally freaking out. “Thank you for this.”

Thank you for eating me out so well that no other man will ever compare, you thought.

You were ready to drive home and cry into your pillows about what a mess you’d made- falling in love with your hired boyfriend who probably always had clients obsessed with him and unable to distinguish reality from fantasy.

“I don’t want your money, Y/N. I want you.” Leon took your envelope with his free hand and placed it back into your clutch. “God, that was cornier than it sounded in my head.”

Your mouth opened but nothing came out.

Confusion painted your face. Realization hit you afterwards but before you could think of what to say in response, his lips were on yours. The bouquet was forgotten on the ground as you let Leon take you into his arms, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

“Y/N, this has been real for me no matter how hard I tried to fight it. I love you.”

You felt like you were floating, the world beyond Leon in this moment failing to exist. 

"I love you, too. So much," you proclaimed proudly.

Leon slowly pulled away from you, his eyes taking you in. “I don’t do this, I don’t date or get too close but you, you’ve awakened something inside of me that I can’t live without.”

His hands gripped your ass and you felt the promise of more, thick hard and straining against his slacks. “And you have the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted,” he quipped.

With a laugh you gave his bulge a light squeeze, ready to finally consummate your relationship with the gorgeous man standing before you.

---

With each deep, slow, tortutous thrust you were crying out his name, his real name, over and over. Pathetically begging and pleading for Leon to fuck you harder. You'd never felt like this before, your body on fire with lust and greedy for more, more, more.

"Look at you, taking me so well like this," he whispered into your ear as you tightened and throbbed around his length. "Love you so much, so fucking much."

You were sucking him in to the hilt, nails digging into his back and biceps as you took every inch coating it in your slick.

"Fuck, Leon, love you too," you grunted out almost painfully. "Gonna cum, oh!"

Leon loosened the grip on your throat, kissing you lazily as you cried out his name cumming hard around him while he never stopped pounding into your tight, hungry cunt.

"There you go, baby, cum all over me." He ground his pelvis into you wanting to feel all your cum gushing out against him. "Wanna cum inside you, fuck!"

It was almost a whisper but you'd heard it and God, you wanted him to. Wanted him to fill you up so deeply that you'd feel it slipping out throughout the day.

"Yes, please cum inside, need it, Leon."

He looked into your glazed over eyes smirking at your blissful face knowing only he could make you feel this good, only he had taken the time to learn your body and make you cum with your whole body shaking and jerking against his.

With a few more hard, short thrusts Leon's hot cum started to fill you up. You instinctly wrapped your legs around his waist pushing him in even deeper, his balls throbbing against you as he emptied himself into your eager pussy.

"Mmm, are you ready for round three," he inquired against your sweated out hair.

He took you from behind, from the side, with you on top and even picked you up and fucked you hard and fast in his arms as you cried out your release.

The man's stamina was unmatched. You were a sweaty tangled mess of limbs not knowing where his body began and your body ended when he was finally done with you.

---

You quickly settled into domestic life quite easily. Leon moved in with you while mulling over his career options now that being a boyfriend for hire was over.

Leon had made you dinner to celebrate your recent promotion, your favorite meal of filet mignon and lobster tail. He'd mentioned in passing that he was letting the website domain expire soon to pursue his other dream: being a scuba diving instructor.

"Scott's Scuba School sounds good, right?"

You nodded, considering how often he went down on you without needing to come up for air. Yeah, he'd be an amazing scuba diver. Although using his previous alias gave you some pause. What if one of his past lovers recognized him and wanted more? Silly little insecure thoughts like that were becoming less usual as time went on.

If you'd thought Leon was an amazing hired boyfriend, he was even better without the promise of money. He refused to let you pay for anything or want for nothing. From having roses delivered to your office to cooking you dinner, planning out romantic date nights to making love to you until you begged him to stop. He was perfect and he was all yours.

"Best wedding date ever," Leon read aloud to himself, seeing the new notification popping up on his previous work phone. "So good you'll think he's really in love with you."

He shot you a knowing glance before giving you a slow lingering kiss. With the simple tap, his website and review page were deleted and his new, real life with you could truly begin.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy smut #leon x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil fic #resident evil smut #sex worker Leon #graphic design is my passion #leon x female reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x fem!reader

[bloomingdarkgarden]

Elain Torments Azriel in Blue

An Elriel Headcanon

The headcannon that after the solstice shitshow™ Azriel starts gradually coming to family dinners again. Elain says nothing to him but decidedly chooses to only wear gowns of blue.

At every. family. dinner.

Sometimes even to bake. Or to do chores. She plants blue hydrangea and larkspur in the basket outside of her bedroom window. She buys blue gardening gloves.

Azriel slowly starts losing his fucking mind. Elain just keeps buying blue gowns.

After three months of this he can't take it anymore.

He gives her a silent, beckoning look one night after dinner and everyone goes to bed. She follows him into the garden.

Azriel studies her softly, working his jaw. "Is there a reason you have chosen to wear this color every time you are in my presence?"

Elain merely shrugs, crossing her arms. "I just thought it would be nice to feel some part of you against my skin."

Azriel turns away for a moment, raking hand down his face with repressed emotion and then turns back to her in a holy, tender, inferno of need.

He grabs her face and devours her whole, pressing her against the garden wall and raking her perfect leg up against his waist. His cobalt siphons flare at the exquisite contact between them.

A moment later the shadowsinger rips off Elain Archeron's pretty blue dress completely and shows her exactly what feeling a part of him against her skin entails.

#elriel #acotar #elain archeron #azriel #shadowsinger #elriel headcanon #release the kraken

[bitchiswild]

Gifts

Jang Wonyoung x F! Reader

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

A/n: 🎁🎀

｡ﾟ•┈୨★୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Those words, whispered by Jang Wonyoung, had become a familiar refrain throughout our three years together. Her voice, a soft echo in the recesses of my mind, reassured me that within the realm of her affluence, my desires were boundless. 'I'll buy you anything your heart desires, honey,' she’d say, her eyes alive with a promise that seemed to defy the constraints of reality. It wasn’t just about material possessions; it was the unwavering devotion wrapped within those words. Her affectionate offer echoed a sentiment deeper than the glossy sheen of credit cards and luxury stores. It was her way of saying, 'Let me wrap you in comfort and joy, let me spoil you with the limitless bounds of our love.' Over time, these words had woven themselves into the fabric of our relationship, a comforting melody that resonated with both the extravagance of her wealth and the tenderness of her heart.

At first, Jang Wonyoung's tendency to spoil me felt unsettling. I feared the gifts would overshadow the essence of what truly mattered between us. I craved her presence, not the opulence her wealth could afford. Yet, she sensed my discomfort, her perceptive gaze recognizing my unease. It was in that vulnerability that our connection deepened, her understanding of my heart forging an unbreakable bond between us.

Christmas, particularly the last two years, transformed into a spectacle of opulence. Each meticulously chosen gift she bestowed upon me left me speechless, caught in a whirlwind of gratitude and awe. But in the midst of this lavish exchange, I found myself grappling with a challenge – finding the perfect gift for Wonyoung. Her declaration that she lacked desires, owning the means to acquire whatever she pleased, made the hunt for a meaningful gift an uphill task. How do you find a present for someone who seemingly possesses everything?

In the quiet intimacy of our late-night rendezvous, Jang Wonyoung's whispered confessions floated through the air like delicate notes of a secret symphony. 'I want to marry you, I want to start a family with you,' her tender words, uttered in hushed tones, wove a tapestry of dreams in the silence of our shared moments. She believed I slumbered, unaware of her heartfelt declarations, yet each syllable nestled within my consciousness, igniting an effervescent symphony in my chest. Her whispered desires, spoken in the tender cloak of the night, painted a vivid picture of our shared future, each word a brushstroke adding hues of hope and longing to the canvas of our love.

The clandestine beauty of her aspirations stirred a whirlwind of emotions within me. Joy danced alongside uncertainty, the weight of her earnest desires embracing my heart like a comforting embrace. To know that she harbored such aspirations, to envision a life entwined with hers in both the quiet whispers of night and the vivid light of day, sent my heart on a galloping journey, chasing the thrill of a future painted in the colors of our intertwined destinies.

As the countdown to Christmas commenced, a tradition unique to our relationship unfurled—Wonyoung’s extraordinary '12 Days of Giving.' Each morning, a new surprise awaited me, meticulously curated treasures that reflected her keen attention to my desires. She had an uncanny ability to discern my preferences, the items I had merely glanced at or wistfully admired, and transformed them into tangible tokens of her affection.

With a discerning eye for detail, Wonyoung orchestrated her grand gestures through her adept assistant, swiftly turning my fleeting interests into lavish presents. The procession of gifts was nothing short of a spectacle: designer bags that had once lingered in the corners of my imagination, a gleaming car that mirrored my dream ride, exquisite jewelry that sparkled with her insight into my tastes, and then, a surreal climax—keys to a new house, a testament to her boundless generosity.

Each day brought forth a new manifestation of her devotion. The opulence wasn’t simply a display of her wealth; it was an artful expression of her understanding of my desires. From luxurious clothes that hugged my form to tickets granting passage to the azure beauty of Greece, the 12 days unfolded as a symphony of thoughtfulness and opulence, an extravaganza that dazzled not only with its grandeur but with the depth of affection woven into every carefully chosen gift.

As the sun rose on Christmas morning, the air was thick with anticipation and warmth. 'Open it, honey,' Wonyoung’s voice, soft and tender, carried a symphony of love as I cradled a small box in my hands, its contents an enigmatic delight. With trembling fingers, I untied the ribbon, and in a burst of joy, a lively puppy sprang out, his tail wagging in gleeful abandon. 'You didn’t, Wonyoung!' I gasped, my heart brimming with surprise and overwhelming delight. Her laughter, a melody that painted the room, filled the spaces between us. 'You’ve wanted one for a while, and I thought it was time to begin our little family,' she explained, her eyes sparkling with a tenderness that wrapped around my heart like a warm embrace.

'What should we name him?' she asked, and in that moment, amidst the excitement, a name echoed in my mind. '(You pick a name),' I suggested. '(Name),' Wonyoung echoed softly, her smile reflecting the shared joy in our newfound companion. As the puppy nestled between us, a ribbon caught Wonyoung’s eye, and to our astonishment, a glimmering diamond ring dangled from it. My breath hitched, my heart raced, and before I could fathom what was happening, Wonyoung knelt down, her eyes shimmering with emotions that mirrored my own.

Slipping the ring from the puppy’s collar, she held it out to me. Tears welled in my eyes, a rush of emotions cascading through my soul. 'Y/n, my love, you mean everything to me. You're my sunshine on the darkest days, and I want to spend every moment with you, creating a future filled with love and laughter. Will you marry me?' Her voice quivered with the weight of her emotions. 'Yes,' I whispered, my voice trembling as I extended my hand to her. Pulling me into her embrace, she tenderly placed the ring on my finger, sealing our love with a promise that echoed through our souls. Our lips met in a soft, tender kiss, a celebration of the moment that would forever mark this Christmas morning as the most cherished in our journey together.

As the warmth of our kiss lingered, I eased away, a soft smile gracing my lips. "I have a present for you too," I whispered, my voice quivering with excitement. Wonyoung's eyes shimmered with curiosity and affection. "But why, love? I have everything right here," she replied, her arms embracing me and our playful puppy. "This gift will make us even stronger, complete our story," I assured her, my gaze locked tenderly with hers, brimming with emotion.

"Alright, show me," she said eagerly, her excitement contagious. Handing her the small, delicately wrapped box, I felt a rush of anticipation tinged with nerves. My knees shook slightly, and Wonyoung, sensing my unease, reached out, her touch a soothing balm to my anxiousness. "Whatever it is, it's perfect because it's from you," she reassured me, her eyes radiating trust and boundless love.

The moment stretched, pregnant with anticipation, as Wonyoung carefully undid the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box. Her gasp echoed in the room, her eyes widening in disbelief. The box slipped from her trembling hands, clattering softly to the floor. Tears welled in my eyes, mirroring the emotion that glistened in hers. "We're going to be parents?" she breathed, her voice quivering with a mix of surprise and overwhelming joy. "Yes, my love, we are," I managed to say, my heart swelling with happiness.

Wonyoung enveloped me in a fierce embrace, her tears mingling with mine, dampening my shirt. "I was right, this is the most precious gift, especially because it’s from you. It’s perfect in every way," she whispered, her touch on my face an expression of pure love and gratitude. "Merry Christmas, Wony," I murmured softly. "Merry Christmas indeed," she replied, pulling me into another tender kiss, sealing the moment with a promise of an extraordinary future filled with boundless love and the joy of a growing family.

｡ﾟ•┈୨★୧┈• ｡ﾟ

#bitchiswild #BIW.WRITES #ive x reader #ive imagines #ive wonyoung #ive #jang wonyoung x female reader #wonyoung fluff #jang wonyoung x reader #wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung #wonyoung #J

[bihansthot]

Hi Sol! I love your work, it’s all amazing! Can you write what a wedding with Bi Han be like? Like would it have flowers made of ice? Would it be a very private/intimate wedding? Are we going to wear Lin Kuei colors or wear traditional Chinese clothes? Thank you. 💙

Thank you so much lovely! I tried my best to imagine what an ideal wedding with Bi-Han would be like and this is what I came up with! Apologies to my Chinese friends if anything is inaccurate I tried to research as best as I could 🥹

A wedding with Bi-Han would be a very small, intimate affair. It would consist of only his inner circle so his brothers (we refuse to acknowledge what happened in the game for these headcanons), Sektor, and Cyrax and that’s about it.

The temple’s garden would glitter and sparkle with hundreds of your favorite flowers all made out of ice, all painstakingly crafted by your soon-to-be husband.

Interspersed between all the flowers would be lots of candles of various heights and widths in beautiful glass jars. The flickering and glowing candlelight reflects off the ice decor like twinkling stars.

Bi-Han expects a traditional wedding and would ask you to wear an exquisite qipao with an elaborate fur cloak to help protect you from the cold environment. He’s not a big stickler for the traditional red color but if you want to wear red that’s fine.

Bi-Han will be of course wearing blues, blacks, and silvers, his hair half up, half down with a metal guan holding it in place looking like he stepped out of a Chinese period drama. He looks incredible.

The ceremony will be very traditional and starts the night before with the hair combing ceremony, where the two of you comb each other’s hair to symbolize their new stage of adulthood. It will have to be altered slightly since Bi-Han’s parents are no longer alive but the sentiment is still there.

He will expect you to test his worth to earn his right to marry you by having your bridesmaids hide you from him until he proves his worth by telling them things he knows about you, eating bitter and spicy things to symbolize he can handle the ups and downs of marriage and finally giving them red envelopes of money showing he can take care of you properly.

What with Bi-Han not having parents the two of you agree to skip the tea ceremony but if your parents are present he will still offer your parents tea as a sign of respect for allowing him to marry their child.

Finally, the time comes for the ceremony and it is a hybrid of a Western and Chinese wedding with you walking down the aisle and being given away by your chosen person. The two of you exchange vows in the intimate setting of the beautiful garden with his fellow Lin Kuei and your small group of friends and family. Emphasis on small, Bi-Han is very wary about letting outsiders visit the Lin Kuei Temple, but he makes an exception for your wedding.

Afterwards is a lavish banquet catered by Madam Bo, there’s dancing and feasting, drinking, and fireworks to celebrate. You dance until dawn surprised by how carefree and happy your usually grumpy, uptight now husband is.

You’re both exhausted after the day’s festivities but that doesn’t stop Bi-Han from consummating the marriage the second he gets you alone.

#mortal kombat #bi han #sub zero #bi han x you #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #sub zero x you #mk headcanons #headcanon #wedding #wedding headcanons #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #bi han imagine

[justcallmefox89]

Gnome Troubles - Chapter Six (Astarion's POV)

Wicket shows a moment of vulnerability.

“Looking at something?”  Astarion arches one eyebrow as he studies Wicket’s reflection in the glass of his mirror.  The cleric is drinking more than usual tonight, choosing to keep to his own company rather than join the others around the fire for the evening meal.

“Just looking,” Wicket murmurs, sipping from his goblet of wine.  “What are you doing?”

Astarion fights to suppress the shiver that rolls down his spine.  He’ll never admit this, not even under the threat of death, but he adores the way a wine-soused Wicket speaks.  The gnome’s voice is already far deeper than one would ever imagine, given his size, and when he’s in his cups the husky growl becomes more of a soft rumble… the sharp, clipped edges of his accent become softer, more rounded… a velvet darkness that reminds Astarion of snowfall on a winter’s night.

Astarion forcibly shakes himself out of his musing to answer the question.  “I’m looking too, but not seeing very much.  Another quirk of my affliction.”

“Do you miss it?  Seeing your own face?”  Wicket tilts his head to the side, curious.

“Preening in the looking glass?  Petty vanity?” Astarion sneers.  “Of course I miss it.  I’ve never even seen this face.  Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

“What color were they before?”

“I… I don’t know.” Astarion pauses, slightly ashamed to make such an admission.  “I can’t remember.  My face is just some dark shape in my past.  Another thing that I’ve lost.”  He dashes the mirror onto the ground, fury coursing through him as he’s forced to face the reality of his condition yet again.  After two hundred years one would think it would get easier…

But it doesn’t.

Wicket deftly sidesteps shards of broken glass and sips his wine again, his eyes never leaving Astarion’s face.  With his free hand he motions for Astarion to come closer.  Curious, the vampire cautiously kneels down so that they two are able to look each other in the eye.  He remains motionless while Wicket’s eyes rove over him, greedily taking in every aspect of his face.  His colorless eyes, so often dark and haunted, burn with a pale fire that Astarion has never seen before.  Unlike Astarion, who quit aging upon the moment of his death, Wicket bears the burdens of his time in the earthly realm; long, black hair streaked with silver… his skin is tan and weathered from his many years spent traveling through the wilds of Faerun… a myriad of scars litter his skin, a testament to the danger of his life as a chosen of Kelemvor… faint wrinkles bracket his eyes and mouth, the signs of laughter and much time in the sun.  Astarion finds himself wondering about who Wicket was before fate threw them together, the Wicket who smiled and laughed often enough to create those lines in his skin.

“I see you,” Wicket whispers hoarsely.

“And what do you see, exactly?” Astarion inquires breathily, almost afraid to hear the gnome’s thoughts.

“Starlight and rubies,” Wicket murmurs absently, his free hand drifting upwards as if to touch Astarion’s cheek.  He hesitates just before his fingertips brush the elf’s skin, so instead his hand just hovers, faintly outlining the arc of Astarion’s cheekbone and then the strong curve of his jaw.   “You are like moonlight on water… The kind of beauty artists and sculptors dream of but can never truly capture on canvas or in clay.  Ethereal and eternal.”

Part of Astarion wants to scoff, to demand that Wicket specifically cite what he finds attractive about him… but another part, a long forgotten part of himself that existed before Cazador, when he was still a young boy who daydreamed of an adoring lover who would shower him in poetry and loving glances… that part of him blissfully listens to Wicket’s every word.

“In my wildest, most exquisite dreams I never could have imagined someone like you, Astarion,” Wicket continues.  “My moonlit beauty.”

“Wicket…” Astarion breathes out the gnome’s name, turning his head just enough to barely graze the other man’s fingers with his lips.  He freezes, surprised at his own willingness to touch a gnome.

Wicket seems equally shocked but quickly collects himself; his eyes grow cold as his expression shutters and Astarion is once again faced with a stoic and loyal cleric of Kelemvor.  He takes a few steps back and offers Astarion a stiff nod before turning away.

“Sleep well, Astarion,” he calls as he strides away to his tent.

Astarion stares after him, unable to formulate a response, and struggling to understand why Wicket’s sudden departure has left him feeling so… bereft.  Astarion is not unfamiliar with flattery certainly, after all compliments are all part and parcel of the game of seduction.  And after two centuries of luring and obtaining victims for Cazador, Astarion is a master of that particular game.  But in all his years no one has spoken to him so genuinely, stared at him so rapturously… been so tender towards him without the expectation of anything in return.

Astarion scowls, pulling himself out of those idle thoughts.  He won’t allow himself to be swayed by tender feelings and whispered sweet nothings, from a gnome of all things, not when there is so much at stake.  But perhaps if he can twist Wicket to his advantage…  Astarion smirks to himself.

Yes... that could prove very useful indeed.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #tav bg3 #gnome tav #tav oc #tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate tav #male tav #astarion x male tav #astarion x male reader #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fandom critical #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion fluff #bg3 fic #bg3 fandom #baldur's gate #m!tav

[icon-cloud]

When the Darkness Consumes 1/3

A special thanks to @sister-nyx! They kindly inspired me to begin my writing journey. They also proofread what you are about to read. I had fun writing this, thank you.

Includes: Angst, Sick character, Emotional hurt.

WC: 1,653

Post tour is, in short, exhausting. As thrilling as being on tour is, Phantom was exceptionally glad to be done and allowing the world to stand still, if only for the next few months before the next tour ultimately begins again. Where the grueling hours and stress make their rounds once more. 

That being said, he couldn’t help but miss the distraction that being on the move brought. There wasn’t any time to over think small stuff. Nor was there any extra energy to supply wondering why his new pack couldn’t stand him. At the end of the day his fingers hurt exquisitely, he was sweaty from the day's work, and he was blissfully tired. There just wasn’t any more energy to expend. The only thing left to do on tour was hit the shower, make peace with his left hand and fall into a pleasant blanket of nothing. No thoughts, just a soft blanket of darkness that would envelope him until the next morning. Wherein the days seemed to mirror one another and blend together in a never ending circle of exhaustion and maybe a little self pity.

Being at the Ministry was, an odd new experience. Phantom had more space, which in turn gave him more time alone. He didn’t see Dew, Rain or Mountain near as much as he did on tour, much less the girls. Everyone seemed to have their own chores and expectations that needed to be done before the next day. But they all seemed to find time to get together at some point in the night. It never mattered how late it was for the rest of the ghouls, it could be 8 in the evening or as early as 1 in the morning. They all seemed to find themselves in the common room, laying in a pile or snuggling individually for some amount of time before heading to their own rooms or chosen company of the night. 

Everyone that is, except for him. 

Instead he found himself more alone and isolated than before. On tour he could at least interact with the rest in some small fashion. Small touches here and there, dancing with Swiss, a small stroke from Papa as he would prance about on the stage. Before he could bask in the shared euphoria of thousands of voices cheering for them all, and to a small degree, just for him. Before he had small touches. Now there isn’t anything left. And he could feel himself unraveling as a result of his abandonment.

What had once been a welcomed respite. Had quickly turned into a special form of torture for him. He felt more alone than before, and it was killing him slowly.  

At first he didn’t notice, just some random spikes of pain in his joints throughout the day. By the end of it, he would always ache, but he could still fall asleep. He believed that it was normal. He was always in some form of pain at the end of the day on tour. Whether he was stiff from running around, or his finger pads were numb. He had always been in some form of discomfort. It wasn’t anything new for Phantom. 

It quickly stopped being normal though. Soon his gums throbbed, his muscles seemed to pulse with every minute movement he had to make. With this slow dissent, he was no longer as dependable as he had been when they had all first gotten back. No longer were the Sisters pleased with his finished chores, and many a time he was forced to listen to lectures. While swaying in exhaustion. The Sisters didn’t notice, all they cared about was maintaining efficiency. They didn’t care that he had lost his color, or that his hair had lost its luster. He felt faded, but no one seemed to notice. 

The others began to become short with him. What were once slightly awkward, but still polite conversations quickly turned to sharp words, not allowing him to get a word of defense in. The only thing that mattered is that the Sisters were pissed at his performance and everyone was suffering due to it.

Lucifer he ached, every step was harder than the last. This isn’t normal, he knows. But he couldn’t bring himself to approach any of the others, not again. Every time he tried carried the same results, and it hurt worse every single time. He knew that he wasn’t Aether, and he wasn’t trying to replace him. Nevertheless, they were all cold to him. It felt as though he was brushed aside every time. 

Which is why he didn’t do anything when he shuffled past the other ghouls on the way to his room. Typically he would offer a small hello to them, but he didn’t want to this afternoon. He was just so… Tired. That's all he ever was anymore, so tired.

When he shuffled by the couch in the common area he didn’t hear the bright, “Hey, Phantom!” offered by Rain. Nor did he notice the concerned glances shared between Swiss, Dew, and Mountain as he made his way stiffly to his room. All he cared for at the moment was putting one foot in front of the other and collapsing onto his bed. Where he would inevitably wrap himself into a soft cocoon of blankets and their familiar scent, and cease being aware of the world around him. A small reprieve, if only for a moment.  

The pain was getting worse, he felt so stiff and it felt as if the gravity of this plane was getting heavier the longer he was on his feet. The closer he got to his door, the slower he went. By the time he was almost past the couch he was breathing too hard and he had broken out in a cold sweat. His ears felt stuffed with cotton, sounds weren’t making sense. He couldn’t hear anymore. Why can't he hear? 

He stopped abruptly to raise his hands to his ears, and shook his head a little in confusion. He began to sway softly, much to the horror of everyone else in the room. And then he collapsed, hitting the floor with a dull thud, convulsing before going still. 

At first, the air went still as a deathly silence filled the common room. For one second everyone stood shocked. Aurora’s eyes had gone wide with concern. Swiss stopped mid sentence as he went stiff. Rain sat up in worry, while Dew and Mountain immediately sprang up to get to Phantom's side. 

As they arranged him onto his side, Mountain gently placed his head on Dew's lap while he said in a worried tone, “Stay here, don’t move him. I’m getting Aether.”

Dew gave a small whimper as he caressed Phantom’s head softly and ran his fingers through his hair before replying, “Make it quick, he feels cold Mount, he shouldn’t be cold.”  

He gave a solemn nod before getting up to leave quickly. Dew raised his body temperature slightly, beginning to gently rub his hands on Phantom’s arms in an attempt to warm him up gradually. 

“Guys get your asses over here and help me.” He growled, “I don’t know whats going on, but he’s fucking freezing. Help me out here.”

Aurora was the first to fall next to him and placed a hand on his forehead before hissing as her ears fell back, “I’ve… Lucifer below, I’ve seen this before. Oh honey, why didn’t you come to us? We love you so, so much more than you realize. We love your energy. You fit so well with us all. Come on love, just hold on.” 

Her voice broke towards the end as she gently brushed Phantom’s hair from his face. She looked up at Dew with tears in her eyes. Rain, who had approached quietly while Aurora gently spoke to Phantom, made a worried sound when he saw the state his pack mate was in.

“Rora, hey, what do you know? What can we do to help?” Rain said, as he crouched in front of her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

She gently placed the hand she didn’t have on phantom unto Rain’s before saying, “We can’t do anything but try to make him comfortable until Aeth gets here. This is purely a mental wound at the moment, one that puts stress on the body and eventually causes a total collapse. Oh, how we have failed you young one.” 

She looked at the unconscious ghoul, taking a deep breath before continuing, ”We all know that we function best in a pack. While we can function without one, we thrive in a pack. But do you know what happens when you’re in a pack, yet feel rejected by the group you call family?” 

She paused when her voice slightly broke before continuing softly, “Rain, love, how do you think you would fair if you felt like Dew didn’t love you? Or you felt like he didn’t want anything to do with you at all?” 

She looked at him expectantly, as his face dropped and felt hollowed by her blunt speech. He opened his mouth to reply, only to close it with a dull snap when he couldn’t find the words to express how he would feel if anyone in their pack couldn't stand him. Especially not Dew. He softly bit his lip while looking towards his partner. Only to see the same hurt expression reflected back to him.

Aurora trilled softly and smiled sadly, “I know. I won’t say that it’s okay. We all should have seen his health failing. I think we were all waiting for him to adjust to being here and approaching us. I don’t think any of us would willingly hurt him. He’s too precious.” Having said what she needed to, she fell silent, continuing to stroke Phantom’s cheek, as they all waited for Aether’s arrival.

#the band ghost #ghost band #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aurora ghoulette #my fics #phantom ghoul #phantom hurts

[delopsia]

If You'll Have Me | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: If anyone were to walk in right now, you fear they might just faint from the sight of the Kingdom's beloved heir to the throne being dicked down within an inch of their life. Cross Posted Here on AO3 Word Count: 4,000 Warnings & Notes: 18+, Oral, unprotected sex, afab!reader, royalty au.

Truly, you shouldn't have been able to get away with this for as long as you have.

"Just one more ball," you always plead, "just one more party; I just know he's out there somewhere; I just haven't found him yet."

And for some reason, the King, your father, always obliges. Always puts up this front that makes you wonder if he's finally, truly become fed up with your antics, but then the invitations start getting sent out. The servants start their fussing over decorations and themes, and the palace chefs start bugging you about which exquisite dishes to serve next.

No heir to the throne should have so many balls to find a suitor, and yet here you are, standing at the base of the grand staircase for the nineteenth time, wearing the nineteenth garment sewn and crafted just for this occasion.

There is not an inch of space on the ballroom floor; you've held large events before, but never this large. So many faces, both familiar and new ones; you're pretty sure that's Natasha you see chatting up one of the knights over in the corner.

"I don't suppose you've found someone to dance with?"

You know that voice.

Tilting your head, you spot your favorite assistant idling next to the stairs; he must have just gotten here because you didn't see him while on your descent to the main floor, "hi, Bob Bob."

His cheeks flush, the color a sharp contrast against the crisp navy blue suit he wears; it doesn't slip your mind that he's specifically chosen a color that matches your own garb. It's a wonder he's even your assistant at all; he certainly has the body and intelligence to be one of your personal guards.

"You didn't answer my question," he says as he draws closer, taking up the space on your right.

Your tongue swipes out to wet your bottom lip as you hum, feigning deep thought, "I might have."

It is by no mistake that your hand finds his, disappearing in his grasp as you nonchalantly tug him across the ballroom floor. Bob doesn't attempt to protest when your free hand finds the handle to the linen closet, barely even seeming surprised when you push him up against the wall the moment the door has been locked.

"We're gonna get caught one of these days," he warns, and yet his hands are finding their favorite places on you. One cradles your cheek, guiding your eager lips to meet his own; the other finds the small of your back, presses just enough to draw your body flush against him.

It's gentle, the way he kisses you, careful in the way his lips tangle with your own, and it's enough to make you dizzy and frustrate you that he manages to remain composed even when he knows what you're about to do. Your hands find the thick material of his blazer, knotting in it and using it as leverage to pull him closer.

He groans, turning on his heel, and in one swift motion, your back hits the cold wall. He's crowding your senses; all you can think, all you know, is you want him, and when your mouth parts in a gasp, his hot tongue slips inside. It's not fair. It's not fair that he knows exactly how to wrap his tongue around yours, dancing in lewd circles that have your thighs clenching together.

"You need it that much, hm?" He murmurs into your mouth, panting softly.

All you can do is nod, taking your opportunity to roll your hips up into his; fuck, he's hard. He moans, calloused hands landing on your thighs, and he's lifting you until your legs have wrapped around his waist. Now, he can grind into you proper, thick, clothed length, rubbing against you in such a way it has you gasping.

"What's your suitor gonna say," tongue laving at a sensitive spot under your ear, "when he finds out you've already been broken in by your servant?"

"You say that," you grumble as his teeth catch the shell of your ear, "when we both know you're the only suitor I want."

There's a pause, and his glasses slide down his nose as he glances up at you. Okay, so maybe he hadn't known that after all.

It's this freeze that gives you the opportunity to slip down from his hips; his back hits the wall so easily that you're almost concerned he's quit functioning. He comes to life when you begin sinking to your knees, kissing and licking down his pale, exposed neck as you do so. Fingers curl around the back of your head, finding purchase against your scalp as you free him from his slacks.

His cock is heavy in your palm, thick and leaking; just the knowledge of you being the one to make him like this makes you squirm. Noise just outside the door reminds you that you aren't the only people in this castle; in fact, there are hundreds of people gathered out there, all for you, and yet here you are on your knees for your assistant.

The moment your tongue meets the base of his cock, he twitches; squirms as your tongue drags up, up up, until it can properly swirl around his sensitive head. You reckon you could get him off just by doing this, but you'll have to save that for a day when you have more time. Right now, all you can think about is getting him in your mouth.

"Good lord," he gasps quietly.

Bob isn't the biggest guy you've ever seen, but you can already feel the ache that's going to bloom in your jaw as your lips wrap around him. Your gag reflex has never been good to you; you can only comfortably take him about halfway down. He whines into the back of his hand regardless, thumb swiping up and down your temple as your head begins to bob.

He's still too quiet for your liking; breathing hard through your nose, you relax your throat the best you can and push yourself just a little further down.

"God, darlin'." There it is.

The thick head of his cock hits the back of your throat with every downward motion; your eyes water as you fight the urge to gag—curse whatever divine force that decided gag reflexes were a good idea.

"What would your mother say," Bob's hips twitch up into your throat, pushing just a little further into your throat, "if she knew her baby was sucking a commoner's cock like this, hm?"

All you can do is whine, swallowing languidly around him, and God, he jolts like a live wire, swearing under his breath when you do it again. He unintentionally delves further down your throat, and now you're gagging a bit, but you're far too stubborn to give up when you've gotten this far.

Hot tears spill over, blurring your vision; his little whines are growing louder, keening high in his throat as he repeatedly hits your plush throat. He's close—just a little bit more, just a little further down.

"I'm close," he warns, but it falls on deaf ears. You want this; you need this. You didn't beg your father for just one more suitor ball for nothing.

So you hum, the best confirmation you can give. As soon as your eyes flicker up, your eyes are meeting, and he's pushing on your shoulders, pulling you back as far as he can. But God, you're stubborn, and you fight him.

Hot, salty cum hits your tongue as you take him back down, filling your eager mouth with everything he has to give you. You make sure he's still looking you in the eye when you swallow, pulling off him with a soft 'pop' that tears through the quiet little linen closet.

"Did you...?" To which you open your mouth; the back of his head hits the wall, "Jesus, you did."

There's a newfound soreness in your knees as you sit back on your haunches, tucking him back into his clothes as if nothing had ever happened. But nothing compares to the ache that's settled in your jaw, incessant and biting at you with a force to be reckoned with. Bobs hands cradle your cheeks, bringing you back to your feet so he can kiss you again.

"You're too good to me, sweetheart," thumbs massage at your sore jaws. You've only ever complained about your jaw hurting once, a year and a half ago when you'd first started this, and yet he still remembers.

"I was being serious," referring to earlier, "you're the only man I want."

Bobs bottom lip trembles as he works up a reply, but you don't get to hear it. As soon as his lips part, there's a knock on the door.

"Your majesty, are you in there?" It's just one of the palace servants, but for a second, you feared it was your father on the other side of the door.

You have no choice but to smooth out your dress and open the door. You can't argue with the servants, not when they answer to your parents. The last thing you need to do is anger one of them and make them spill what they know to your father; tell him you've been sneaking off with your assistant and performing unholy acts behind closed doors.

"Give me a few minutes," Bob murmurs in your ear, "I need to do something, and then I'll make good on my promises."

Which promise he's referring to, you can't tell, but he leaves you with the ghost of a kiss and a purpose in his step. For a second time, you've been left by yourself in this big crowd of faces, but this time, you're acutely aware of the lingering taste of semen in your mouth.

Not how you thought tonight would go, but you suppose you'll take it.

It's not long before someone whisks you off your feet, spinning you around the dance floor as the same old music plays; you've memorized this dance, and even the sloppiness of this man's footwork cannot ruin your good spirits. Your toes just might go on strike if he steps on them one more time, though.

"So what is it that prevents you from choosing your King?" no name asks you, and the only thing you can focus on is how ridiculous his beard looks; it looks like something a rodent would build and live in. Hell, one might be living in there right now.

"Just waiting on the right man," you're speaking off the top of your head; you can't remember any of the made-up tales you've been telling anyone that asks, "I can't just marry the first man I meet."

Anything to avoid telling him that you're not interested in men wearing a rat's nest on their neck.

He's saying something to you, but you don't register what it is. There's no point in it, not when the music changes and suddenly, warm hands are taking you by the waist, stealing you out from under him in one swift motion. 

"And here I was," Bob chuckles as he spins you around, "rushing because I was worried my baby would get lonely."

As you come to face him, your noses bump together. "I just can't seem to keep the men off me," feigning ignorance, speaking in the sweetest tone you can muster; for a commoner, Bob dances exceptionally well. He almost puts you to shame.

Almost.

The next step in the choreography forces you to step even closer, your foot landing between his, and he takes advantage of it. "Don't suppose he knew," another step to the left, "that just a few minutes ago, that pretty little mouth of yours was wrapped around my cock." 

Now it's your turn to go pink in the cheeks. 

There's a new confidence about him, fueled by a post-orgasmic haze and the simple knowledge that out of all these men and women, you only have eyes for him. 

As the song comes to an end, he tilts your head to meet his eye. "What do you say we get out of here?" 

When you nod your consent, you don't expect him to move as quickly as he does. With his arm wrapped around your waist, he guides you through the crowd and into a clearing in the main hallway. Up, up the stairs, and you swear you would have tripped if he hadn't had such a firm grip on you. Stupid fancy shoes and their awkwardly placed heel.

"And here I thought we were sneaking out and running away to live happily ever after." You find saying as your bedroom door grows closer and closer. It can't be that he's taking you anywhere other than your room; it's the only room in this dead-end corridor. 

"And I will," squeezing your hip bone as he opens the door, "tomorrow."

You open your mouth to speak, but you're cut off as Bob's lips meet yours, still moving, backing you up until the backs of your knees are hitting the bed, and you're falling back with a soft yelp. 

"Tonight, I'm gonna take care of you."

For a second, he hesitates. As if he isn't sure about where to start. You reach out for him, and he's more than happy to come down and kiss you, settling between your parted legs as he does so. 

You don't know how, but he's hard again, pressing against the sensitive space between your thighs as if he hadn't just cum in your mouth just twenty minutes ago. Muscled forearms settle on either side of you, cadging you in as he kisses you, his firm chest pressed against yours.

In this quiet, dark little room, you finally have the chance to focus. He smells like leather and sugar; the leather you recognize from his cologne, the sugar you know must come from the time he spends working in the kitchens. His tongue tastes vaguely of peppermint; you're almost confident he snuck one of the mint candies when he took off earlier. 

He pauses for a moment, and when your eyes flutter open, he smiles, "just relax for me," leaning down to pepper kisses down your neck, "let me make you feel good, for a change." 

You've done this many times before, but you don't recall it ever being quite like this. Can't recall a time when he let himself take control, allowed himself the simple pleasure of sucking marks into the thin skin of your neck. You can already feel one bruising, sure to turn a deep purple come morning. 

Wandering fingers slip under your outfit, nails dragging up, up, up, then down again. Bob only pulls away to help you out of your clothes; his blazer and dress shirt goes with them, landing in a messy heap on the floor. 

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you mutter under your breath. 

Bob has absolutely no right to be built so nicely, defined in all the right places, firm but not too much so. If he weren't so shy, you'd ask him never to wear a shirt again.

He pouts, "stole my line." 

Those wandering fingers are back, tracing up your sensitive sides and circling around your already-hardening nipples. There's a noise in the hallway outside, and you're distracted just enough that you don't realize he's leaning down until his lips wrap around one, tongue swirling around the bud, sucking lightly. 

"Ah—" oh, oh, okay. He's better at that than you thought he was.

Bob chuckles, kissing his way to the other one to give it much of the same treatment. You think you could die happy right here if it weren't for the heat pooling between your legs. A heat that builds higher and higher as he makes his way lower, leaving little red marks in his wake. Fingers curl under the band of your underwear. Blue eyes flicker up to you.

You lift your hips, and that's all he needs to slide them down and off your legs.

"When did you get so wet?" He teases, his hand hooks under one of your knees, pushing it up until he can comfortably press kisses to the side of it. Even so, his eyes are fixated between your legs so intensely that it makes you squirm.

You're almost too quick to spit out your answer. "Around the same time, I had your cock down my throat."

 The kissing continues, working ever so slowly down your thighs. By the time his nose just slightly bumps against your core, your thighs are shaking in his grasp. 

All of a sudden, he presses a kiss to your folds, then flattens his tongue against your aching cunt. You jump, startled by the suddenness of it, but he's got you by the hips, grounding you as broad, flat licks crawl up from your entrance to swirl around your clit. 

Good lord, is he a sight, licking and sucking at your wet cunt, absolutely refusing to let you squirm away from him and his hot tongue. What's worse is he looks up at you as his tongue laps at your entrance, nose pressed against your clit in such a way that it feels like a crime. Fuck, how can a man so shy be so bold when he's between your legs?

His tongue travels up again, licking rapidly at your clit and pressing harder when you squirm, forcing you to feel it. You don't know when, but one of his hands has left your hip, and it's found your own, guiding your twitching fingers into his soft hair. 

"There you go," he murmurs into you, and his voice is rougher than it was before, "doll."

You're not sure if it's the pet name that makes you gasp into the open air or if it's the sudden sensation of a calloused finger entering your fluttering entrance. Maybe a combination of both. 

Your body takes him easily; it's been so long since the last time he fucked you; you can feel it in the aching stretch as a second finger works its way into you. You're certainly not going to miss the business of being a royal; the sight of your assistant, your lover, working his tongue over your sensitive bud is one you'd kill to see every waking hour.

"Bobby," you breathe, lungs burning for breath that you can't seem to catch, "please just fuck me already."

His eyes dart to the bedside table, and then, "I'm out of condoms."

"I'm on the pill for a reason," tugging on his hair to get his tongue off you because you're sure you'll cum in just a few more seconds if he stays there any longer, "and I promise you, I'm not diseased."

That's all the encouragement he needs. 

His slacks join the rest of the clothes on the floor with a soft sound, slipping forward until his hips are caged between your plush thighs. His cock sits heavy against your folds; you almost wish you'd let him work a third and fourth finger into you; you've forgotten just how big he actually is compared to you. 

"Are you sure?" To which you nod your reply; words just might fail you right now.

You're much more prepared this time when he touches you, fat cockhead spreading open your fluttering entrance as slowly as he can go. The stretch burns, even with how wet you are; you'll have to add this to the list of reasons why he should fuck you more. It's hard to focus on the discomfort for long because his mouth on your ear is very, very distracting.

His hips twitch forward, and finally, finally, the head pops in. Your head hits the pillow with a thump.

"Too big for ya' darlin'?" Bob whispers into your ear, nipping at the shell. 

"Maybe you just need to fuck me more," you quip, although you're in no position to sass him when you're quite literally being split open on his dick. You'll save the rest of your venom for later. 

The slide is easier now, and yet he's only halfway in, and you already feel so full that you can't breathe. How the hell did you take him before this?

"I promise," grunting, "that when we're out of here, and I'm not risking losing my head, I'll fuck you so much you wind up begging me to keep my cock away from this sweet little pussy." 

"Since when did you swear so much—oh fuck," and just like that, he's bottomed out, and you don't know how you've taken all of him. Any further, and you fear he may find your cervix. 

It's impossible to miss the devious laugh that falls from him, "since I realized you clench around me each time I swear."

Smart bastard. 

There's a good minute where you stay like that, panting into each other's mouths between quickly-placed kisses as you adjust to his girth. Before finally, finally, you find it in you to string a thought together and nod your head at him. 

His hips draw back, and oh God, you're going to be limping tomorrow if he keeps driving into you like that. The pace he sets is brutal, fucking you with slow, hard thrusts that punch each and every breath out of you. Your hands are scrambling, desperate to find a purchase that you soon find on his biceps, nails biting into his skin. 

You don't mean to glance down, you really don't, but once you catch sight of his cock disappearing into your cunt, you can't find it in yourself to tear your eyes away. Not fair. Absolutely not fucking fair.

“Does that feel good, hm?” He grunts into your ear, and now you're becoming aware of the slick sounds he's working out of you. 

Your throat, already raw from his cock abusing it just a little bit ago, aches. What words you're trying to form die before they can make their way to your tongue. All you can do is hum and hope he can understand it between the thrusts that punctuate it. 

If anyone were to walk in right now, you fear they might just faint from the sight of the Kingdom's beloved heir to the throne being dicked down within an inch of their life. Bob's nose bumps against yours as he pumps into you; he looks as wrecked as you feel,

There's a pressure building in your belly, snowballing into a wildfire. The feeling must be mutual because Bob's pace changes, quickening, shortening his thrusts until they've gone shallow. 

"I'm close," he warns, gasping, "where do you want it?"

"Inside," tightening your legs around his hips, as if you're afraid he's gonna leave you high and dry, "inside me, please, Bobby—"

"Yeah?" If you didn't know any better, you'd almost think he was hoping you'd say that. "Want me to fill you up until you're nice 'n full, hm?"

Not fucking fair.

With one hand, he reaches between your bodies, the pad of his index finger finding your swollen, abused clit. It circles once, twice, and then all of a sudden, you're crying out as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. Vision turns white with the force of it, and still, you're hyperaware of the drag of the fat head of Bob's cock as it continues to bully your weeping cunt.

Then he's freezing up, balls deep, as he cums inside of you. You can almost feel it, molten hot spurts of cum filling what little space is left inside you until you're nice and full, just like he'd promised you.

For a moment, all you can do is gasp for breath.

"Don't pull out," you plead, voice cracking, "stay in me for a minute, please."

Bob smiles at that, some innocent grin that has no right to be on his reddened face right now. "I'm not going anywhere," kissing your nose, "promise, darlin'."

"Were you being serious earlier?" You ask him, and you're almost afraid of the answer you'll receive. "About running away from here?"

He hums, "to go live happily ever after?" And he can't fight the goofy grin that his smile is rapidly evolving into. "Well, if you'll have me, I'll take you anywhere you want to go and spoil you until you can't think of anything else."

And it feels so, so simple to say it, "I'll have you."

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #bob floyd smut #top gun bob #top gun robert floyd #top gun maverick #ao3 #oneshot #x reader #afab reader #ao3 oneshot #ao3fic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #straight up unhinged #self insert #reader self insert

[botd-if]

AYAKASHI FASHION

In the demon realm, Western fashion has made its mark on the Ayakashi community, leading to a captivating blend of Western and traditional Japanese garments. Women seamlessly incorporate Western-style dresses and accessories with traditional Japanese elements, creating a vibrant and enchanting aesthetic. Men have embraced Western suits as everyday attire, while still appreciating traditional Japanese garments like the haori, kimono, and a hakama.

Their wardrobes feature a wide array of traditional Japanese garments, including the elegant kimono, comfortable yukata, and dignified hakama. These garments serve as a canvas for intricate patterns, exquisite embroidery, and motifs. The silhouettes of their attire embrace loose and flowing designs, exuding an enchanting and graceful aura. Long, draping sleeves, layered fabrics, and delicate pleats further enhance the nature of their fashion choices.

The color palette that are trending in the realm are rich and vibrant, showcasing deep hues of red, blue, green, and purple. Additionally, metallic or iridescent tones are often incorporated, lending a touch of mystique and allure to their ensembles. Elaborate embroidery, delicate beading, and shimmering metallic accents adorn Ayakashi garments, adding a sense of opulence and beauty. Symbolic motifs, such as cherry blossoms, dragons, foxes, and etc are intricately woven into the fabric.

Accessories play a crucial role in Ayakashi fashion, completing their captivating looks. Ornate hairpieces, hats, gloves, delicate fans, and decorative obi belts are among the carefully chosen accessories. Hairpins adorned with gemstones, feathers, and symbolic charms add a whimsical touch to their hairstyles.

#fashion #inspo #BotD inspo

[a34trgv2]

Why It Worked: The Bad Guys

SPOILER WARNING: This post contains majors spoilers for The Bad Guys. If You haven't seen this film, you might want to before reading further. You've been warned.

Introduction: The Bad Guys is an animated action, comedy, heist film based on the children's book series by Adam Blabey. Directed by Pierre Perifel, the film stars Sam Rockwell, Marc Marron, Awkwafina, Anthony Ramos, Craig Robinson, Zazi Beets, Alex Borstein, Richard Ayode, and Lilly Singh as Mr. Wolf, Mr. Snake, Ms. Tarantula, Mr. Piranha, Mr. Shark, Diane Foxington, Police Chief Misty Luggins, Prof. Marmalade, and Tiffany Fluffit. Produced by DreamWorks Animation and distributed by Universal Pictures, the film was released on April 22, 2022. Critics were very receptive to it as 88% of 172 reviews on Rotten Tomatoes gave an average rating of 6.9/10. The film was also a massive success, even by pre-pandemic standards, as it made $250 million on a budget of $69-80 million. When I first saw the trailer, I thought it looked super dope and upon watching it on Blu-ray I was absolutely blown away. This film excelled at all the aspects of it's filmmaking and I'm more than happy to talk about it on Why It Worked.

The Plot: Set in a world where humans and anthropomorphic animals coexist, a group of convicted felons plot to pose as good samaritans to pull off the biggest heist of all time. Things start to go awry when Wolf, the leader of the group, starts to find that being good actually feels really good. This puts his friendship with the guys, particularly Snake, to the test and uncovers a conspiracy that puts all of LA in great danger. Right out of the gate, this film hooks you with an amazing opening chase sequence that brilliantly introduces the characters, the world they inhabit, and the main conflict at hand. In addition to witty dialogue and hilarious jokes, the opening showcases what the tone of the film is and why we sympathize with these characters. The best part? The film keeps the momentum of the first 7 minutes going for the rest of the picture! This film has exquisite pacing with each scene showcasing wonderful use of show, dont tell, clever jokes, and excellent camaraderie between the characters. The greatest highlight of the film's story is its happy marriage of 2D and 3D animation, clearly taking a page from Sony's Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. The film brings these characters to life with remarkable cel-shading, unique body types based on their personalities, and very expressive facial features. LA also looks gorgeous with vibrant warm colors in the daytime, contrasting with soothing cool colors at night. The city also feels lived in with an abundance of people populating the backgrounds and the city feeling like a huge playground for the Bad Guys. The biggest highlights of the animation are the action scenes, which best showcase the speed, veracity, and vibrant colors the film offers. This film's story was already funny and unique, but the filmmakers went above and beyond in making this a masterclass of visual storytelling.

Cast and Characters: This has got to be among DreamWorks' best casted films! Everybody brings their A game to their roles, and they all have such great chemistry with one another. Our leading pickpocket and chief, Wolf, is such a swave, charismatic and funny leader who at first enjoys the life of crime he's chosen, but grows so fond of doing good he starts to drift from his original beliefs and becomes a really complex character. Major props to Sam Rockwell for delivering such an authentic and funny performance. His best friend, Snake, is a crusty, deadpan python who relishes his crime life more than Wolf, and they become at odds as the film progresses, and Wolf gradually becomes a different person. Marc Marron gave a very nuanced performance, making him sound crusty but also funny and fleshed out. Shark is a big, lovable master of disguise who adds extra comedy to the film thanks in large part to Craig Robinson's performance. Tarantula is the sassy, tech-savvy arachnid that serves as the group's hacker and is played brilliantly by Awkwafina. Piranha is a psychotic fish that acts first and thinks never and has some really good singing chops thanks to Anthony Ramos. Governor Diane Foxington is a sly, sassy, and clever public official who makes for a great foil for Wolf and is played wonderfully by Zazie Beets. Family Guy alum, Alex Borstein, absolutely kills it as Police Chief Misty Luggins, making her sound boisterous and manic in her pursuit of the Bad Guys. Lilly Singh did a really good job as Tiffany Fluffit, making her sound like an eccentric and bubbly news reporter. Then there's the film's surprise villain, Professor Marmalade. I honestly never saw the twist coming because, at first, he seemed like a genuinely good person who believes the Bad Guys can change, and everyone deserves a second chance. Once his true colors are revealed, that's when it all clicked. All this time, Marmalade was using the Bad Guys as a ruse to keep everyone's eyes off him so he could take the meteorite and harness its power to pull the biggest heist the world has ever known: using mind controlled guinea pigs to steal $1 billion dollars that was going to charity! Wow, now THAT'S evil! Richard Ayode provided such a brilliant performance, perfectly playing the kind, optimistic, good-hearted Marmalade while also devouring the scenery when his true colors are revealed. This is such a wonderful cast of characters, and everyone deserves a round of applause for their voice work.

Where It Falters: 👏I👏want👏more! No seriously, this film is a 10/10 and the only gripe I have is I want more. The film is 100 minutes long and it very much feels like this is the beginning of DreamWorks' next big franchise. So I definitely expect a sequel to be made at some point. Yes, I know there's a holiday prequel on Netflix, but I saw the trailer for it and it looked like a very pale imitation of this film. Might as well just watch The Bad Guys again, which I did.

Conclusion: The Bad Guys is now among my all time favorite DreamWorks Animation movies, right next to Kung Fu Panda 2 and The Prince Of Egypt! With a fast paced and hilarious story, well developed characters, excellent vocal performances, amazing animation, and a killer sound track, this film didn't meet my expectations: it EXCEEDED them! I can't recommend this film enough, especially if you're a fan of heist movies. This film should also be studied for aspiring storytellers on how to brilliantly showcase visual storytelling and how to write clever and witty dialogue. Thank you all so much for reading and I'll see you soon 😉

#reblog #share #like #follow #animation #comedy #dreamworks animation #the bad guys #why it worked #twist villain #spoilers #mr. wolf #mr. snake #ms. tarantula #mr. shark #mr. piranha #diane foxington #universal

[aifanfictions]

write a story about (y/n) having an anonymous admirer that would often leave her anonymous gifts, only for (y/n) to later realise that her admirer is actually Kars from Jojo's Bizzare adventures, because he doesn't know how else to express his feeling aside from giving you gifts.

Unearthly Admiration

In the heart of (Your City), (Y/N) led a life that was, for all intents and purposes, unremarkable. She worked in a cozy little bookstore that had an air of nostalgia about it. She was known for her kind heart and her genuine smile, and she had friends who enjoyed her company. Her life followed the rhythms of the everyday, but there was a surprise waiting just around the corner.

The first gift had arrived on a quiet Sunday afternoon. (Y/N) returned home from her bookstore, unlocked her door, and stepped inside to find a fresh bouquet of flowers sitting on her table. The vibrant blooms were expertly chosen to match her favorite colors. Attached to the bouquet was a handwritten note: "For the one who brings light to my world."

It was a puzzling and intriguing gesture. (Y/N) couldn't fathom who could be responsible for this heartfelt surprise. She had an idea of who her secret admirer might be but couldn't quite believe it. Perhaps it was one of her friends, pulling a gentle prank. Or maybe it was someone from work trying to brighten her day.

Days turned into weeks, and the surprises kept coming. A well-worn book, rich with annotations in the margins, arrived with a note that read, "Because your mind is as beautiful as your smile." A handcrafted necklace made of delicate silver, adorned with a unique gemstone, found its way to her door. An exquisite box of chocolates, filled with flavors she had never tasted, was left on her doorstep with a card that said, "To the one who deserves the world."

As the mysterious gifts piled up, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a growing appreciation for the secret admirer. The thought and care that went into each gift were undeniable, and it warmed her heart. But more than ever, she was curious about the person behind these surprises.

One evening, as the golden light of her living room lamp enveloped her in a warm cocoon, a knock echoed at her door. She opened it to find a beautifully wrapped package, neither anonymous nor addressed. It was as if her admirer wanted her to know, this time.

The package revealed a delicate brooch, an exquisite piece of jewelry that seemed to radiate a quiet enchantment. (Y/N) held it to the light, watching it shimmer and refract the colors of the room. The accompanying note was the most revealing yet: "Your beauty is as timeless as this piece, and it deserves to be worn by the most extraordinary person."

These words touched (Y/N) deeply, and she couldn't help but wonder who could express such admiration and warmth. As she continued to marvel at the brooch, an idea began to form in her mind. It was time to uncover the identity of her secret admirer.

In the shadows of the city, unbeknownst to (Y/N), a figure unlike any other watched. Kars, the ancient and immortal Pillar Man, had observed her from a distance. His existence had transcended the boundaries of time and humanity, making him something extraordinary and unique.

Kars had always been a seeker of knowledge and beauty. His immortality had granted him an insatiable curiosity about the world, and he had wandered through time, exploring its secrets. However, there was one aspect of the world he had never truly understood: the human heart.

When he first saw (Y/N), he was captivated by her grace and elegance. She embodied a beauty that was both extraordinary and delicate, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to her. He had never experienced emotions in the same way humans did, but he was curious about the depth of feeling she evoked in him.

Kars had chosen to express his admiration through carefully selected gifts, a way of showing his fascination with the world and, most importantly, with (Y/N). His gifts were his attempt to understand the human heart, to connect with the world, and to convey his appreciation in the only way he knew.

As time passed, Kars realized that his anonymous gifts were no longer sufficient. He longed to do more than observe from the shadows. He wanted to meet (Y/N), to converse with her, and to explore the depths of his emotions in person.

On a quiet evening, after leaving the brooch at her doorstep, Kars mustered the courage to approach (Y/N)'s home. He knocked on her door, his heart racing with anticipation.

When (Y/N) opened the door to find Kars standing there, she was struck by his appearance. His presence was otherworldly, his features an enigma of beauty and strength. He introduced himself and confessed, "I'm the one who has been leaving you gifts. I've been drawn to your beauty and grace, and I wanted to express my feelings in the only way I could."

The revelation left (Y/N) both surprised and intrigued. "Your gifts have meant the world to me, and I've been wondering who could be so thoughtful. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Kars and (Y/N) soon found themselves sharing stories and conversations that delved into their shared love for the beauty and complexity of the world. They explored art, philosophy, the wonders of nature, and the mysteries of the human heart. Kars began to understand more about the human experience through their interactions.

As they spent more time together, their connection deepened. Kars had discovered a new way to express his emotions beyond gifts, and (Y/N) had found a man whose love was as timeless as his immortality. Their unique bond defied the boundaries of time and nature, transcending the ordinary.

But the story didn't end there, for Kars was far from an ordinary being. One evening, as they were walking through a park, they witnessed a mugging. A group of thugs had surrounded an innocent couple, and Kars felt an innate desire to protect (Y/N) and the world she cherished.

With a display of otherworldly power, Kars dispatched the attackers, leaving (Y/N) and the victims stunned. He revealed his true nature as a being that defied all human understanding. He had transcended humanity, becoming something entirely different, something that existed beyond the confines of the known world.

"(Y/N), I need to tell you something," Kars said, his voice tinged with both vulnerability and awe. He explained his origins, his immortality, and the history of the Pillar Men.

At first, (Y/N) was overwhelmed by the revelation. It was a moment that transcended the boundaries of human understanding, a glimpse into a world that was beyond her wildest imagination. However, as she looked into Kars's eyes, she saw a being who had discovered the beauty of her world, who had expressed his feelings in ways both ordinary and extraordinary.

Their love story had begun with a series of mysterious gifts, but it had evolved into something far more extraordinary. It was a love that transcended the boundaries of human understanding, a love that embraced the beauty of the world, and a love that defied the ordinary.

Kars and (Y/N) continued to explore the world together, both the extraordinary and the mundane, their love growing stronger with each passing day. Their love story was a testament to the power of curiosity, admiration, and the willingness to embrace the unknown.

It was a love story that had begun with an anonymous admirer and had blossomed into a unique and unforgettable bond. It was a love that was anything but ordinary, a love that was both crazy and unpredictable, and a love that would continue to evolve, transcending the boundaries of the world itself.

And so, in the heart of (Your City), a love story unfolded that defied all logic, a love story that was both extraordinary and unique, a love story that would be whispered about in hushed tones, a love story that was as unpredictable and timeless as the world itself.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

#x reader #reader insert #kars x reader #kars x you #kars x y/n #Kars #Immortality #PillarMan #UnearthlyLove #MysteriousAdmirer #RomanticMystery #TimelessLove #GiftsOfLove #ExtraordinaryLove #TranscendentBond #LoveBeyondTime #ExtraordinaryRelationships #ImmortalLove #TumblrFiction #EpicLoveStory #UniqueRomance #UnpredictableLove #OtherworldlyLove #TimelessRomance #BeyondHumanUnderstanding #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure

[eunoiaastralwings]

Oath Over Vows !

featuring maedhros x reader

fandom tolkien- the silmarillion

a/n from the imagine here I sent into @imagine-all-the-elves but unfortunely went in as anon for some reason - dealing with a lot angst lately I thought to put into words XD. thank you @theladyvanya for your feedback on this one as well as the amazing title ;)

warnings angst, no comfort

With the pristine white veil now over your face, you awaited your call. Your dress carefully chosen and handcrafted by the finest craftsmanship of the Teleri, decorated in silver and complimented your figure. 

Your eyes twinkled and your lips stretched into a smile. The day when you would finally wed your beloved Maitimo was here, with nothing to stop you. From the early dawn you prepared yourself, wanting to look no less than perfect to your beloved Maitimo.

With your hair braided into intricate and exquisite patterns, you awaited sitting in front of the mirror, holding the bouquet of Teleri flowers in your hands. 

But that was this morning - before the news of all that of the Nolder was delivered to you by your maia friend that rushed through into your chambers with teary eyes. Then slowly, with every word delivered to you, the twinkle of your eyes dulled and disappeared, replacing itself with tears and the smile that your wore crumbled away and sobs now escaped your lips.

You had run out, not caring to even adorn your feet with slippers or boots as you ran to your beloved Nolder prince - ignoring every pain that infested your body, as your bare feet suffered sharp edges of the rocks and rubble it had to endure because of your running. Your body shaking with every cry of heartache.

Your heart was beating erratically - it was drowning out every other voice that desperately called after you as you ran. It was only the words screaming your head and your painfully beating heart that you could hear.

Meldanya. . .

Please, no - let it be not true.

It cannot be true !

No please, it cannot be true.

Please, please !

Maitimo

Your feet lazily and hastily climbed the steps, not caring for the amount of eyes casted on you as you watched upon the ner who was supposed to be your beloved stand in front of his respected father - with his head bowed in submission. 

Maitimo. . . 

You wanted to call out. . . but your voice died in your throat when the crown prince, now King of the Nolder spoke of his oath, in order to reclaim what was once his in front of the Valar without fear and utter dedication, holding no hesitance that made you shiver.

The very rocks Maitimo had worriedly talked to you about many nights ago as he lay on your lap and welcomed your fingers into his hair as you gently brushed it.

Your whole body froze - unbreathing for a second as the ner you were supposed to marry suddenly raised his silver blade in submission to the oath. Your hands that were still holding onto the bouquet of white and blue orchids suddenly heavy and slipped through your fingers, landing on the ground near your feet.

It seemed the voices and yells that disappeared as Maitimo - No ! Nelyafinwë - turned to see you. Your eyes met and the sapphire color of your supposed groom blinked in horror and disbelief as he saw you. 

You could only imagine what you looked like; tear dried face and unblinking wide eyes. . .unbreathing as you looked at him in utter betrayal with the ends of your pristine white wedding dress ripped and dirted.

Your eyes were unblinking as a stray tear caressed down your cheek and he gulped at the sight.

Your body begged to release the sobs you were holding in - the unshed tears that gathered in your eyes weighing as if it was a tidal wave.

Nelyafinwë stepped towards you for a moment, but as soon as he did his name was called over his shoulder - his father’s voice loud and stern.

Slowly you shook your head - almost silently begging him not to leave you. But he did not. . .-he could not pay heed to your words and turned away from you, wincing at the startled and unbelieving gasp that left your trembling lips.

The same lips he had kissed yesterday speaking of all and more, promising you nothing but your happiness and health as he held tenderly close - but now he turned away throwing you into icy depths, where the once warmth you felt faded away into nothingness.

Especially when you had heard of how himself, along with his brothers and father had brutally murdered those of yours, leaving you bloodied and bruised.

Your white dress covered in the red blood of those your considered your kin and friends and your heart endlessly cried.

The Maitimo you loved was no more. . .

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#queued for release #in the queue #maedhros #maedhros x reader #maitimo x reader #maitimo #nelyo #Nelyo our beloved #neylofinwe #the silmarillion x reader #the silmarillion #the silm #the silm x reader #the silm imagine #tarawrites #maedhros angst #silmarillion #tolkien elves