#oh and maybe a lower processing speed

[d4ndylionn]

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder.

In which your all-time-favorite cannibal starts her day by insulting your attempt at a new look, your husband doesn’t take kindly to such insults.

Warnings - Body shaming, swearing, insecurities, Susan ugh Susan, Alastor in general, suggestive themes at the end

“You look absolutely fantastic, cher!” The Radio Demon loudly proclaimed, his trademark smile pulled wider than usual as he took in your form out of its usual wear.

“Stop, you. I’m only wearing this because it looked sad sitting in the closet.” Your reasoning was silly in his opinion, “Clothes have no expression!” He would’ve said but kept to himself to refrain from making you sad.

“Well, worry not, my dear!” Alastor began, taking your hand into his and pulling you towards him at a surprising speed. “Alastor!” You yelped as he twirled you in your new dress, closing his arms around you as soon as your back hit his chest.

“You’ll always look delectable in whatever you wear…”

His voice lowered as the static in his throat rumbled from behind you, making the hairs on your neck stand on end as you squeak and noticeably shiver. “My! Stop teasing!” You finally break away from his hold and slap his bicep, scolding your husband for his behavior while he only chuckled. “Alright, alright, cher, let’s go on an outing today. Rosie will absolutely adore your look once we visit Cannibal Town!”

“Oh my stars! Alastor! Sweetie! So nice to see you lot around here again!”

Once you and your husband stepped foot into Rosie’s Emporium and into the long lines of cannibals waiting to see their overlord, the said woman weaved through the crowd with a bright smile before gasping loudly at the sight of you,

“Oh honey! You look absolutely divine, you gorgeous, gorgeous girl!” Rosie quickly held both your shoulders and gave you a little twirl with how giddy she was about you. “Oh dear, we’re doing a lot of spinning today!” You muttered as the Cannibal Overlord settled you down on the ground while dusting your shoulder off with a pat. “I told you she’d love your look, cher.” Alastor chided in with a smug grin, leaning on his cane as he waited for Rosie to stop gushing over his beautiful wife. (He’d have to wait months before the smiley woman would ever stop). After an hour of conversing, Rosie had taken her leave to continue on with her work, leaving you two alone to stroll around outside the emporium.

“You look good, girl,” A voice as rough as sandpaper spoke from behind and down your gaze was the lady in blue that you know and hate love. “Thank you, miss Su-“

“For a waitress, that is!”

Well you were caught off guard and so was your husband, “A what now?” His eye twitched as he tilted his head, the hands that were gripping his microphone now dented it. “Your little wifey here looks like she could lose a few of those tubs workin’ at a diner! No husband would wanna stay with this.” Susan gestured to you, specifically your torso. So embarrassing, really, you were so humiliated that you unconsciously pulled at the fabric covering your stomach to at least let you gain a sense of non-exposure. It was all for naught when you felt Alastor’s hand snake around your waist, the fabric under his arm pinned to accentuate your hips.

“Maybe try and aim to be someone like me! A natural beauty! Unlike your sorry excuse of a-“

“I admire the concern, Susan!” Alastor’s ever-present smile felt as if he was baring his teeth at her instead, he pulled you closer to him in the process as he narrowed his eyes at the cannibal. “Certainly big talk for a woman with a big mirror for her equally big, sagging mass of skin she calls natural beauty!” With each venom he spat, he got closer to her face, the static in his voice becoming too loud for the rest of his insults to be heard, leaving Susan to just scoff and walk away from you and your husband. Even when he had the last word though, he still gave his last word, “We’re glad you had room for a conversation with us! I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to fit!”

“Slow down, Buck, the woman’s already leaving, let’s go home.” However amused you were, the lingering sense of humiliation gnawed at you, unnoticed by your husband who continued ranting about Susan. “Big talk! Haha! I was on a roll there, cher!” A laughing track played from his cane and when he received a hum in response was when he noticed your soured mood.

Night had fallen in Hell and the two of you spent it inside your shared hotel room, the gentle breeze of the bayou that took up his room did little to cool the burning sensations in your body. “Alastor, please, I-“ “No way in Hell are you listening to that ornery old bitch, dear.” The Radio Demon trailed his claws along your stomach before he gripped your hips tight, “Your body was made to be worshipped, not insulted.” he led his hands up to rest one hand on your neck and the other intertwining with yours. “Praised by me alone.”

Your throat constricted in the way you knew well enough and as his hand left your throat, a ghostly-green chain was left in his wake.

“I alone own you, body and soul.”

#artists on tumblr #hazbin hotel #alastor my lil deer boy #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #dandydrabbles #thedandybookshelf

[august126]

✮Tutor✮

SUMMARY: you’re Ethan’s tutor and he finally passes a quiz, you want to reward him.

WARNINGS:dick sucking,and Praise Kink

WORD COUNT:1,043

you had been ethan’s tutor for a while now, whilst he knew a lot in economics, he still struggled, so your teacher assigned you to be his tutor until he didn’t need you anymore. he often gave you rides to the library, so it wasn’t as bad as mindy made it out to be when you first told her that you would be tutoring him. she told you to be careful, that he was number one on her suspect list, and she couldn’t trust him. 

you didn’t believe her, he was just a nerd, honestly. 

the next time he picks you up he seems excited about something, so you blink at him and raise a brow, “did something happen?” 

he smiled like he had been itching for you to ask that question, so he turns off the engine from his already parked car and turns to you, “you know the test i had to retake?”

your head tilts in interest, “mmmhhmmm…”

he bites his lip for a mere second, “i passed.” 

your mouth widens from a gasp to a smile, immediately moving to pull him into a hug, “you did so good, ethan! i told you, you already knew the stuff you just needed a push, you’re so good at this. i’m so proud of you.” 

you can feel his smile against your ear, “thank you— i wouldn’t have done it without you.” 

you finally pull away, noticing how his cheeks are tinted a cherry pink, but not why, “is there any way that i can reward you, maybe i’ll take you to dinner—“ your eyes finally fall to study him for a second, before they notice the bulge in his pants, that he almost immediately tries to hide in embarrassment, “oh my god, ethan!” 

you’re laughing, not in a mocking way, or to humiliate him, but rather in shock, playfulness. the idea of him being hard because of you, or something you said, something about that was so adorable, “stop—“ 

your head tilts again when you look at him, lower lip tucking underneath your teeth before you lean in, “or… maybe i can reward you by fixing that.” 

you can hear his sharp inhale, and the way his heartbeat speeds up when his eyes finally meet yours, to find the genuineness in your words. he blinks a few times, processing your words, “okay.” 

“is that okay? if not— we don’t have to, i can just take you to dinner and we can forget about this—“ 

his lips curve to a smile, “no, no, i want this, it’s okay, do you want to?” 

“i wouldn’t offer if i didn’t want to, ethan.” 

“right,” he bites his lip gently when you lean over the console, hands gentle as they move to undo his belt. the sound of metal against metal is clearly something he hasn’t heard before when it’s done by someone else, especially in the way his cheeks flush even more, almost panting already. 

excited, he was so so excited, it was taking everything in him to not buck up when you move to the hem of his underwear once his belt is off. your eyes flicker to his one more time to make sure it’s okay, and he gives you a small nod of reassurance. when you move to pull his boxers down slightly and to pull his cock out, he first licks his lips at the feeling of the fabric against his dick before hissing when the cold air meets his skin. 

you can’t help the way your eyes widen at the sight of him, he was big, bigger than you ever thought he would be. you’d heard rumors that he had a tiny dick, was a virgin, even some that he had a big dick, but you never imagined it to be like this. the length and girth of it almost had you salivating just at the sight.

”jesus, ethan,” your thoughts come out as words. 

“is it too small—“ he immediately becomes insecure, and your eyes widen at him in disbelief. 

“small? you’re kidding, ethan, this is the biggest dick i’ve ever seen.” 

he chuckles sweetly, his cheeks now a furious red, “you’re lying.” 

you scoff before finally leaning down to where his dick was, being held by your hand at the base, “no way.” 

your breath against him was enough to make his dick twitch in your hands, a small whimper rumbling from his chest. that was enough motivation for your lips to split open, taking his tip into the warmth of your mouth. you could hear his hand grip against the leather of the armrests next to his seat when he felt your mouth on him, another whimper coming out as soon as you move down further, tongue flat against the underside of his dick, noting one of the veins that ran up it. 

“oh my god—“ a whine slips from his cherry lips, flushed from how much he had been biting and licking them. he pants heavily when your head comes back up, tongue swirling around his tip, whimpers came out with every move you made. this was definitely his first time receiving head. 

your eyes close as your head bobs on him, saliva coating his dick with ease. his whines, whimpers, and moans are something you could never get sick of, especially when the pitch gets higher as you swirl your tongue around his tip again. his hips stutter for a second, he was trying to buck up, to thrust into your mouth. 

“holy shit— i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna fucking cum—“ his moans grow higher in octaves when you go back down, tongue still playing with the vein that decorated his dick, it wasn’t until you had reached the base, practically deepthroating him that you felt the warmth of his cum shoot into your throat. it’s hot, and salty, but you swallow it as soon as you move back up and off of him. 

his eyes are watering, and his breaths are heavy, he looks so cute. 

you pull him in for a sweet kiss, the saltiness of his cum on your tongue when your lips collide. 

“can we do this again sometime?” he mumbles against your lips. 

you smile against his, “we’ll see.” 

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #im thirsting over him so bad rn #scream vi smut #ethan landry x reader smut #Scream #scream 6 smut #scream smut

[eddieschains]

Happy Birthday

Joseph Quinn X Fem!Reader

TW// 18+, rpf (don’t like it, don’t read it), face sitting, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), this is a repost

You woke up to the sun shining in your eyes, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes you look over to see Joe sleeping peacefully, his beauty making you smile. Today was his birthday, and you had planned on making a big deal out of it even with his protests.

“Joeeee.” You groan as you turn over, lightly shaking him. “Joey!! Wake up, it’s your birthday!” You shake him harder, excitement filling your voice like a child on christmas morning.

He groans in response, throwing the duvet back over your body and pulling you into his chest. “Too early.” He whispers, the morning voice coating his throat.

“But we have so much to do today.” You frown. He kisses the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you while rubbing your back.

“Like what?” His eyes are still closed as he talks to you.

“Well I was gonna make you breakfast, then thought we could go for a walk downtown. Maybe we could go to that ice cream shop you love so much.”

“Mmm I do like that shop.” He smiles, finally opening his eyes meeting yours.

“And we can’t forget all the birthday sex I was gonna give you.” You smirk, and his head instantly pops up.

“Well that wasn’t on the calendar.” You giggle, pecking his lips. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get this birthday started.”

“Of course that would perk you right up.” You laugh, deepening the kiss. His hands fly to your waist, pulling you on top of him without disconnecting your lips.

You place your legs on either side of him, grinding down into his half hard cock. It’s no surprise that the mere mention of sex has helped him grow even a little bit.

“So, birthday boy, how do you want me?” You ask, placing your hands on his chest while he contemplates.

“Well since i’ve got you in position, I think you should climb up here and sit on my face.” You stare at him for a moment while he just smirks and raises his eyebrows up and down.

“But it’s your birthday, shouldn’t I be giving you head?” You ask, cocking your head to the side.

“I thought you said you planned on a lot of sex? We have plenty of time for that later. Now get up here.” You sigh, giving in to him as he pulls your thighs up to his neck.

You hover above his mouth, always nervous that you’re going to suffocate him, and slowly lower yourself on to him. You can tell he’s getting annoyed with the slow pace of your movements, and grabs your hips, pulling you on to his mouth.

“Oh!” You yelp, giggling at his actions. Your laughs soon turn into moans when he slides his tongue from the bottom of your pussy up to your clit. “Shit, Joe.”

He moans an mm-hmm into your dripping cunt, sending vibrations all through your body. He spends a couple minutes licking and flicking his tongue up and down your slit before attaching his mouth around your clit.

“Jesus.” You breath out, your hands finding his head to hold on to for leverage. He sucks your clit furiously before grabbing your hips and angling your body forward. His mouth stays on your bud while his fingers slide through your wetness, toying with your entrance. He doesn’t warn you before sliding two of them deep inside of you.

“Joe! Fuck me!” You can feel him smile without releasing you from his mouth. His fingers start moving rapidly in and out of you, frantically begging for you to cum.

You start to grind down on his face, helping you speed up the process as he curls his fingers inside, hitting that soft spot inside of your cunt. “Shit shit shit. Just like that baby, feels so fucking good. Oh my god.” You’re moaning nonsense as you feel yourself getting closer to release.

He continues his motions with his fingers, moving faster with every thrust. Holding your clit in his mouth, he continues sucking, but now also moving his head side to side earning the most pornographic moan you’ve ever felt come out of you.

Your brain is too focused on the pleasure to warn him about your orgasm before it comes rolling through like a train. “Fucking- FUCK Joe!” Your shaking legs are trying to get away from him as he slaps his hand down on your thighs, keeping you in place. He removes his mouth from you, replacing it with his fingers. He softly rubs your clit in circles, letting you ride out your high until your able to compose yourself again.

He helps you remove yourself from your seat on his face, slowly placing you onto his lap. “Fuck baby. So tight for me.” He moans as you slide yourself down his cock.

You lower your head into his neck, still not quite able to fully hold yourself up, as he wraps his arms around your waist waiting for you to adjust to his size before moving.

Lifting your head from his neck, you look at him and nod, giving him permission to start moving. He grips your hips softly, and slowly bounces you on top of him, eyes locking with yours.

His thrusts are slow and sensual, less frantic than the way he was working with his hands and mouth. He wanted this to last, even with the promise of more to come.

“Feels so good. God I love you so much.” He moans, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss is deep and passionate, neither of you fighting for dominance over the other. Just relishing in the closeness of each others presence.

You try to sit up, finally regaining your strength, to take over his thrusts with your own body before he pulls you back down to him.

“Mm-mm. Stay right here, want you close to me.” You smile, laying back down on his chest while he slowly moves himself in and out of you. You can’t remember the last time you two had sex like this. Making love. That’s what it was. And it felt great.

It felt like there was no pressure to reach an end goal of an orgasm, although that was definitely going to happen. You were just enjoying the feeling of comfort in one another. You grind your hips slowly, matching his thrusts making the sensation even better.

“God this feels good.” You whimper, as he pecks your shoulders.

“Yeah? You like this?” You mumble an mm-hmm before he grabs your hands, intertwining your fingers with his.

You both speed up your movements just a little bit, both of you feeling your coils about to snap. Attaching your lips to each other once again, you can feel his cock start to twitch inside of you. You both moan into the kiss, a feeling of pure bliss coming over the two of you.

You continue grinding until your coil snaps, a wave of heat rushing over your body at the same time you feel his cum coating your walls. You both continue your slow movements to ride out your highs, never disconnecting your lips.

Once you both are satisfied, you remove your lips from each other, staring into the others eyes with pure love.

“I love you so much. Happy birthday baby.” You smile, returning for one last peck before lifting yourself off of him.

“This is already the best birthday i’ve ever had.” He smiles, pulling you into his arms. “But just so you know, I am going to destroy you later.”

You laugh, pulling away from him and standing out of the bed. “Food first.”

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn rpf

[sturncrazy]

LIFE OF THE PARTY PRT 2 🔥ish

- Chris Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

- KINDA smutty 16+

- warnings: uhh making out heavily and a little rough. and some touching whatnot. oh also language.

- authors note: this one’s a tad smut, so if that’s not your vibe, don’t read it. AH OK nervous to post this one but here!

- word count: 1,516 w

summary: you and chris, your least favorite person ever, end up getting sent to 7 minutes in heaven after the game of spin the bottle does not go in your favor…but things between the two of you escalate.

oh and here’s part one of u didn’t read

and part three for when ur done!

You moved in and the door was immediately slammed behind you by another player.

“OKAY YOU TWO 7 minutes starts now…don’t do anything stupid” they chuckled

You stood shoulder to shoulder with chris, both of your backs against the wall, completely unsure of what to do. The room was dark except for the small sliver of light pouring in through the crack in the door. You stole a glance at Chris and could only barely make out his features in the darkness. The silence became too much for you so you cleared your throat hoping any sound would be enough to inspire at least something.

“D’worry.” Chris started, still not looking in your direction. “I’m not actually excepting anything to happen in here.”

“Oh…okay. yeah no me too” you fibbed wiping your sweating palms on your skirt. guess it really was just you who’d read something into that last kiss. stupid. there was another silent pause before he muttered.

“I knew you’d be scared shitless of 7 minutes in heaven anyways”

“what’d you say?”

“nothing…just that i knew you’d never actually do this sorta thing when people weren’t watching you….judging you. not capable of having fun, remember?” He said sarcastically actually looking at you for the first time

“seemed like you were having fun during that last kiss” you taunted with a sudden flood of guts

“Wha—well—guess i’m just a good kisser” he fumbled. had you actually managed to to make chris nervous?

“yeah sure that’s what it was” you mocked

“we’ll i’m sorry a little spin the bottle make out was too hot and heavy for you to handle. pardon me, miss vanilla…probably saving yourself for marriage or some shit”

“vanilla? please you wouldn’t even be able to handle me if you tried” you snapped, immediately being shocked by your own words. The tension in the room was electric. You could hear Chris’s breathing sharpen as he processed your statement. He swallowed loudly in a moment of quiet before responding.

“you’re wrong.” he said flatly.

“huh?” you mumbled, still mulling over your own statement from earlier.

“i said, you’re wrong. I could handle you”

you felt your mouth go dry and you heart start racing as you turned to look at him in the barely there light. he wet his lips with his tongue before chewing on his lower lip as he continued to stare at the floor, his chest rising and falling quickly. your mind was speeding, but one thing was clear. you wanted him. badly. maybe even needed him. and this was the only chance you might get.

“prove it” you challenged staring at him. he turned to look at you finally, his eyes wide. his mouth dropped open slightly looking for something to say, but apparently coming up short. you reveled in this new found sense of power. you had him in the palm of your hand.

“I said, prove it” you stated again, calmly.

Chris’s eyes searched yours for a second desperately before you grabbed a fistful of his shirt fabric and pulled him in to you. your lips smashed together in a passionate kiss before pulling apart, stopping with your faces inches apart from each other, breathing heavily. you waited wanting to give him the next move. he didn’t disappoint. he pushed his lips back against yours and slammed your body up against the other side of the wall, grabbing at your waist hungrily. You were taken aback by this sudden aggressive side of him. It was hot to feel how needy he suddenly was for you. You let in a sharp inhale at the feeling of him lightly biting down and pulling at your bottom lip, giving him a chance to slip his tongue into your open mouth. one of his cold hands slid up higher to the space of your waist between your skirt and top to the exposed part of your skin, gripping at your warm flesh sending shivers down your spine. as the other held the side of your face and neck in place all the while exploring your mouth with his tongue.

You ran your hands up his chest and around his neck to the back of his hair. You felt his breathing unsteady at the new sensation, which made you wrap your fingers through the locks of his hair and pull slightly. He let out a small groan into your mouth that made you feel heat start to form between your legs. But you couldn’t let him know what he was doing to you just yet. you pulled away from his lips just enough to whisper to him

“still no fun, chris?”

“Shut up and keep kissing me” he growled back. you obliged immediately, latching back onto his lips. he ran a hand down past your skirt to your thigh, gripping it tightly. It sent fireworks through your body and you let out a small pathetic whimper. he chuckled at this a little before pushing your hair behind your shoulder with his other hand, giving him access to your neck. he squeezed your thigh so tight it stung as he moved his mouth to your neck. He left sloppy wet kisses all over the most sensitive parts of your vulnerable skin making you moan again and pull at his hair, impossibly trying to bring him closer to your body. hearing your apparent enthusiasm only made chris want more and he began to bite and suck just above your collarbone.

This was too much for you to handle and the space between your legs cried for some sort of friction to ease your desperation. you rolled your hips forward, the one leg still in his grip now slightly wrapped around him, bringing your lower halves slack together and pushed against him harshly. you felt chris’s body shudder against you and the hot air of him gasping against your neck.

“fuck. don’t do that” He said freezing against your skin, not moving.

“what?” you breathed out, still focused on mainly trying to satisfy your own torturous build up, pushing up slightly against him again.

He sucked through his teeth hissing at your movement before shooting up to face you, grabbing your jaw.

“I said. Don’t fucking do that again” he repeated looking distressed. you felt a smirk start to creep across your face as you realized the effect you were having on him.

“Chris don’t tell me just a little kissing got you all hot and bothered” you taunted not breaking eye contact

“fuck you y/n” he said not moving. you slowly leaned back in to kiss him gently, your hips now against the wall a safe gap between the two of you. He kissed you back, seemingly falling for your sudden act of innocence. you started to slip your hands from around his neck down his chest lowering them slowly down his stomach towards his hips. He let out a small whine. you moved one hand past his waistband and down to his clothed crotch, immediately feeling his painfully hard length pressing against his jeans.

“nnggh oh god” he groaned at slight touch of your hand. you fake gasped as you teased

“chris are you hard for me already” against his lips. he let out a strained half laugh

“I hate you” he rasped

“that’s not what it feels like to me” you said softly as you started to palm him lightly through his pants.

“oh fuck” he moaned as he collapsed slightly against you, burying his head into the crook of your neck breathing heavily. His dick strained and throbbed through the layers of restricting fabric against your hand.

“ALRIGHT LAST MINUTE GUYS” a voice shouted from outside the door, reality checking you. You began to pull your hand away and chris latched his onto your wrist.

“don’t stop y/n” he snarled. you made a fake yawn sound planning it painfully cool as you teased him yet again.

“sorryyy times up chris. guess you couldn’t handle it” you said pushing him off of you and toying with a bracelet on your wrist. without warning he grabbed your wrists swiftly with one hand, slamming your hands above your head and kissed you heavily again. he pulled back still restraining you

“oh i can handle you any day, baby” he said before moving his free hand up the inner part of one of your thigh. he stared into your eyes and he slowly slid his fingers up higher to your desperate heat. Finally he reached the thin lacey fabric of your thong covering you. you pathetically moaned again, finally being touched where your body was screaming with need. he rubbed gently against your hardly covered folds. and let out a chuckle.

“fucking soaked for me already and i didn’t even have to do anything”

“sh-shut up chris” you struggled to get out. he let out a small laugh again.

“please if i had you in here for just a little while longer i’d have you screaming my name in minutes” he said before pulling off you just in time for the door to swing open.

—————————————————————————

uhhh so what we thinking….actual smut part three?

#SoundCloud #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #smut #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #fanfic #fanfic smut #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo fandom #solo triplets x reader

[pxgeturner]

Miguel O'Hara is a world-renowned professional boxer, and Hobie's other best friend. One night he finally makes the two worlds collide and sparks immediately fly between the two of you. But will he distract you from meeting your publisher's deadline? And will you distract him from getting World Champ?

before you follow. m.list. Iron Fist gfx library. series m.list. tag list.

Prologue. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. Epilogue.

wc. 1.5k

an. hi. its me! Giselle, or gi, or gigi to few (not to be confused w gg, that is one of my moots. she makes really cool art.) n e ways here is the awaited Prologue for Iron Fist. Oh goodness I'm so nervous. I just want to make a few things clear. the reader is an author (obvs). She's recently graduated uni and is Latina! I write with a woc!r in mind always. I try to be as inclusive as possible, pero porque soy Mexicana, r might lean towards being more Mexican but I'll try to keep her Spanish standard and not be too specific to my family's culture. much love! hope you enjoy <3

please don't forget to reblog! likes do nothing to boost engagement.

Your foot taps against the floor. The damn blank document stares back at you. Mocking you is what it’s really doing. Fuck you, you think, I achieved my goal. I published a book and it is a damn bestseller! Only problem is that the readers want more. It’s been… some time since your first book. And sure, Jess said you can take a break before starting a new project. But you also know that it’s good to ride on existing publicity. At least be able to make an announcement that you’re writing something while all this excitement lasts. Maybe you should write something about vampires. You love vampires and how they fit into romance and how them drinking blood is a euphemism just a bit away from, the whole cannibalism-equals-all-consuming-love trope and how when a vampire attacks it’s often an allegory for rape and— but you have nothing to add to the conversation. You have nothing new to say, no new perspective or hot take, or twist. You have nothing. No ideas.

Not a single word on the page.

You have an idea, leaning forward to peck the keyboard. “F-u-c-k. T-h-i-s!” You highlight the text and italicize it.

Fuck this. At least it’s words on the page.

You reach for your cup and take a sip. “If all else fails I can ride on the rest of the signing bonus and royalties for a bit since the book is doing good, and once that dries up, I can apply to be circulation assistant at a library or something.” You sigh and take another sip. “But nobody has to know for now.” You get up, searching for your phone. You find it resting on the arm of the couch, you grab it, sliding onto the cushions, resting your head where your phone just was. “God, don’t make me a one hit wonder, I wanna be a star. I wanna be the one to push that bitch Colleen Hoover into obsoletion. Please God. Please.”

You open your phone and look for your mother on speed dial.

“Hola, nena!” Your mama’s voice is happy, she must be having a good day. You move into the kitchen. You need a snack.

“Hey, mama, how are you?” You hold the cell with your shoulder as you look through your pantry.

“Good, good,” you find a pack of roasted seaweed snacks and grab it.

“I went on a date anoche.” Your shoulder drops and the pack of seaweed slips out of your grasp.

Mi mami fue a una cita. Con un man! You stand there, trying to process that she is actually back on the dating scene.

“How did it—” you aren’t holding your phone anymore. You use the wall as support to lower yourself to pick up your phone and snack.

“—ay, mami, lo siento, mi cellular se cayo de mi mano.”

“Todo bien, hija! I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok, I’m ok. Anyways— how was the date? What’s he like? Am I going to have a stepfather soon?” you joke.

“My time for marriage is gone, muñeca, I’m just looking for companionship, pero, tu lo sabes.” You hear some subtle clinking in the background of the call, she must be stirring her coffee. You open your snack and park yourself on the couch. “Are you writing?” Ugh. Not you, too.

“I was, just finished for a bit before I called you.”

“You called me to procrastinate.” You choke on your seaweed from the accusation.

You clear your throat, “I called to check in with you. I call you practically every day.”

“But right now you called me to check up on me as an excuse to not write. Nena, I know you.”

“Okay, fine. I might be having some writer’s block,” you admit, sighing.

“And that’s okay, nena, but then you need to get out, get some inspiration. Allow the world to give you a story.” There’s mama, with her easier-said-than-done advice. But, maybe you should get out of the house.

“Alright, I’ll go out soon.”

“Tonight,”

“—I will go out to the Chinese place across the street and nothing more. I’ll talk with Hobie when he gets back to see if he has any ideas.” You hear your mama make a noise in her throat.

“You still live with that boy?” Here it comes. You’ve lived with Hobie Brown for three years and have known him for five. She’s always been apprehensive of him, since he’s radical and looks like he’s been in jail, with all the metal in his face, and why does his hair look like that? But Hobie is the one who’s kept you sane all these years. He’s held you while you cried and pushed out of your comfort zone when you were getting too stuck into your routines, most likely by dragging you to a concert or a protest. You help him thrift and flip clothes and ever since that one time his stylist had an emergency and canceled, you now help him tighten his wicks every so often. On days like that the two of you stay in, watching nostalgic movies and listening to any demos he’s recorded recently. He’s like a brother to you at this point.

“Yes, mama, I still live with Hobie. Nothing’s changed.” You move the phone down to your chest and take a deep breath.

“I didn’t like him when I first met him,” you clench your jaw as she continues— “…and although he’s one of those kids, I can tell he is a good boy. I’m glad he takes care of you.” You relax. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone you could kiss.” “It would be nice, but right now it’s not happening.” “Alright, muñeca. I’ll leave you alone for now, but keep your eyes open for a nice man.”

“I will, con cuidado, mami, besitos.” You make a kissing noise into the phone, and she responds with a goodbye of her own, and you wait for her to hang up the call.

You sigh, and look at the coffee table. Hobie left his song book at home, weird. It’s open to the song he was working on the other day. It’s a slower song, you can still hear the melody. You drum your fingers to the tune. He’s on an unfinished verse. You pick up a pen from the little catch-all dish and scribble down a line or two.

…

Hobie weaves through the roar of chattering, anticipating fans and into the tunnel, and walks past employees and into Miguel's prep room to see him tying his shoes. “Hey,” Miguel looks up. “Hey.”

“Are you excited?” He moves to sit by the boxer, shimmying up against his shoulder.

“Haven’t really been excited for one of these in a while.” Miguel breathes.

“Well, one step closer to retirement!” Hobie bounces out of his seat. He turns to face his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna do great, you big fuckin’ bear of a man.” He ruffle’s Miguel’s hair.

Miguel gives a half-ass hum in response.

“Well then, I’ll be out there, mate, cheerin’ you on.” He puts his hands in his vest pockets and walks out the room.

As he reaches the empty doorframe, Miguel speaks up. “Thank you, Hobie.”

“Anything for you, mate.” Hobie nods and goes to join the audience. Miguel fastens his gloves and puts on his robe. He warms up waiting for his coach.

“Ready, O’Hara?”

Miguel turns around. “Always ready for a fight.” He clenches his jaw. Walking down that hallway, the festive colors lighting up his path and the music blaring, he does his little bit, the movements molded into muscle memory.

This is it. This is his last year fighting. If he gets world champ again, he’s free.

Soon, he gets to fight his last fight. And dammit, the world championship will be his last match. Then, he’s never gonna have to come back.

He weaves under the ropes, entering the ring. Sitting on the stool, he shrugs off the robe and lets Carlos put the mouthguard in.

“You are going to show this guy exactly why people call you el oso!” Miguel beats his gloves together and nods. He might not like his job right now, but he really wants to hit something and goddammit if his opponent doesn’t look so beatable right now.

Coach Carlos steps out of the way, and Miguel stands to walk to the ref as he calls for him to center.

“We went over the rules in the dressing room.” Right before Hobie got here. “I want to remind you to protect yourself at all times, and obey my commands.” Ring the damn bell already. “God bless you both,” I don’t need it but this kid might. “Touch up,” here we go. He touches gloves with his newbie opponent and each goes back to their respective corners.

Miguel takes an orthodox stance.

The bell rings.

Miguel lands the first punch. He also lands the last.

#Iron Fist 🥊 #my writing #boxer!miguel o'hara #boxer!miguel #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #boxer!miguel x author!reader #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderverse #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv x fem!reader #atsv x you #age gap relationship #miguel my love

[starcrossedxwriter]

Unbreakable Part 1 (Erik Killmonger x OC)

A/N: here is the summary for our new story! Enjoyyyyyy!

Warnings: This is an AU with bits of the movie and the comics mixed together

“Fuck! J-Just like that.” Naja screwed her face up in one that gave the impression of a woman lost in the throes of pleasure, internally rolling her eyes at the haphazard thrusts of the man on top of her. 

In fact, she was merely counting down the minutes until he came and would leave. She supposed the time was good to clear her mind and reminisce.

There was that guy from London, her brain immediately recalled.

He was her favorite one-night stand to think about when she needed an extra boost to get off. Now, that man was gorgeous and he fucked like a God. She actually felt a tinge of guilt when, after he made her cum for hours, she returned the favor by torturing him for hours… and not in a pleasurable way. To his credit, he lasted a long time, which earned her respect. 

I hope he is doing ok, she thought to herself. Well, she knew he wasn’t. But had he just given up his supplier of stolen vibranium faster, he’d likely be doing better. 

“You like that??” He demanded as he fucked into her like a jack rabbit. No finesse, no skill, no care. He did not even ensure her needs were met. 

That’s ok, she decided. If his fucking was any indication of his skills in other activities, he was actually doing her and her pussy a favor. 

“Yes, I love it!” She called out, cringing at her own voice. She faked her orgasm to finish the ordeal faster. 

Anytime now, Bast, she called out to the god above. This was getting irksome. 

It seemed Bast heard her calls and blessed her, the man finally cumming and filling her. She silently thanked Wakanda for the painless, side effect free birth control that would last her five years. 

He rolled off of her, his chest heaving slightly while Naja was wholly unruffled aside from a thin layer of sweat. 

“That was… something,” she offered with a fake smile, a content and pompous smile he did not deserve forming on his lips. 

The male ego, she shook her head as she slid out of bed and threw a robe on. After returning from the bathroom, she was surprised to find him still lounging in her bed. Most of her night time companions knew the rules… no one stayed the night. But this one, Kofi…

No, this is Kwame, she thought to herself. 

No… Kwame actually knows how to fuck you. Or at least, attempts to make you cum even if he doesn’t succeed. Kwame gets an A for effort. Is there a grade lower than F we can give this one? Maybe it’s Amari? She tilted her head as she studied him. Hell, she did not know who he was but she did know one thing: he clearly did not know when to get the fuck out. 

“Ok well, this was fun but I should be heading to bed,” her tone was polite but left little room for negotiation. She gathered his clothes with lightning speed and tossed them onto his lap.

He pushed himself up onto her forearms. “Wait, you serious?” 

She stared at him, a dead panned expression painted on her face. “Yea. I sleep alone. I had fun though,” she lied with ease and a smile. 

“Oh… ok.” He started gathering his clothes, Naja wholly unmoved by the hurt glimmering in his eyes. “When will I see you again?” 

“I’m at the bar… working every night,” she handed him his shoes to speed the process along. The sooner he was gone, the sooner she could pull out her vibrator and actually service the ache between her legs. 

“So we can do this again sometime?” He asked as she shooed him toward the door. 

“Definitely, definitely. I’ll call you. Get home safe.” She pushed him out of her front door, locking and dead bolting it behind her. 

She rolled her eyes before returning up the stairs to her bedroom. She did not know why she even bothered. Every time she brought a man home after her shift, she knew they would likely not be able to please her. But she allowed them into her bed anyway. Fucking, even if it was lackluster, filled some void.

She settled into bed, about to pull out her trusted and faithful bullet when her phone rang. She groaned, glancing at her phone. 

Dayo. Her boss. 

“It is offensive to call someone this late, Dayo.” She chastised as she settled into bed. 

“I gave you an hour. I assume your suitor has returned home?” 

“He just left. What’s wrong?” 

He sighed. “Another child went missing in the village tonight.”  

Her heart sank. “That’s the 15th child in the last three months. Soldiers?” 

At his silence, she let out a frustrated groan. “The family?” 

“Devastated but not talking. They won’t admit it was the King’s men, which means they were threatened. The father tried to fight back and was killed. The mother had to be taken to the hospital, she was distraught and collapsed.” 

“FUCK!” She paced up and down her bedroom, the wood panels of her floor creaking softly. 

“I just wish we knew why he was targeting this village specifically. I reached out to the network across the rest of the city and the country and nothing like this is happening elsewhere.” 

She shrugged. “This is the poorest village in the Capitol. It’s like child soldiers across the continent and trafficking across the world. You steal people from those who do not have the resources and means to fight for their return. The King maintains his throne and his games with intimidation and violence. We will find them, Dayo, and we will liberate our people. I promise. I will talk to you tomorrow. Let me know if the family needs anything, I can try to go to the markets tomorrow night during my shift.” 

“Everyone needs everything, Malika. Thank you for doing what you can. For the liberation of Niganda.” 

“For the liberation of Niganda. Good night, Dayo.” 

She sighed, the ache between her legs vanishing completely. She grabbed her kimoyo beads and went over to the plain, nondescript wall across from her bed. She pressed the beads to a circular groove in the wood, both lighting up a mysterious shade of light blue. She glanced over her shoulder, as if someone were watching her, as the wall parted to reveal a walk-in closet.

However, this closet was filled with more than just clothes. It was a small arsenal. Spears, blades of all shapes and varieties, guns of equal diversity, even a bow and arrow, which she never got to use but she liked the look of it. And clothes. All black, fashioned to hide a many assortment of weapons in the oddest places, laced with vibranium to protect her body. She missed donning those clothes. And while those days might be over, the cache of weapons she maintained proved that some habits never died. 

She pulled a duffle bag out of the back of the closet, the bag filled with passports, Nigandan currency, and Wakandan dollars. She pulled out a notebook she kept stashed under everything else. She flipped through it, each page filled with notes from her years in Niganda. The last 20 pages or so were each numbered with the name and # of a child. Her notes, witness accounts, leads. All of it jotted down on those pages, a complex map that helped her get no where closer to find in those children.

She did not know #15’s name yet but when she learned it, their name would join their number on the page. She wrote down the bit of information Dayo shared, figuring she could fill it out more tomorrow after she spoke with him in person. 

All these children, all these souls lost. And no one seemed concerned or like they cared, no one willing to risk their lives to find them and save them. No one except those in the Nigandan Liberation Front. Dayo was their leader and he was committed as anyone to overthrow the tyrant that ruled over this country. 

Her writing was interrupted by a ping from her kimoyo beads. 

“Damn, can no one leave me the fuck alone?” She wondered aloud. However, she knew if someone was calling this line, it was important. No one from Wakanda ever bothered her unless there was news to share. 

She knew it would be an encrypted and recorded message, it was too risky to ever call her and expect her to answer. She checked her beads once a week at different times and intervals, usually there was nothing there. 

Shuri’s upper half materialized from the beads. Her voice was professional and calm, very unlike her. 

“Malika, please return home. The Royal Talon will be waiting for you on the other side of the Nigandan-Cannan border at the following coordinates at 2 a.m. in seven days. Your presence has been requested in Wakanda for two months by order of the King. Please confirm that you received this message.” 

“Anddddd this is why I never check this fuckin’ thing,” she mumbled, frustration coursing through her. 

Two months??? The power of the throne had clearly gone to T’Challa’s head. And only giving her one week to prepare to leave? And how many children, she glanced at the photos in her book of each one, would go missing in that time? How many families would be torn apart while she stayed in the safe bosom of Wakanda?

She hated herself for knowing she had to go, hated him for forcing her hand. He knew how she felt about that place, knew why she had chosen the path and life she had chosen. Why she had only stepped foot in her borders twice in the last seven years. But an order from the King was an order from the King, she took liberties but even she could not refuse him. 

As she laid in bed, frustrated, her mind already churned on what lie she could tell everyone to explain a two-month absence. She had already laid the groundwork for relatives in South Africa. Perhaps she could use that. 

“Ugh!” She now only had a week to get everything in order. “Every King on this bast-forsaken continent is a tyrant,” she mumbled to herself before flopping to her side to try to sleep. 

***

When Naja stepped off the Talon, she was thankful to only find General Okoye waiting for her, her stoic face a sight for sore eyes. She was thankful the rest of the family remembered she hated the excessive fanfare of returning home and immediately being pestered by a million people. It had been a long time since she saw many of them so she figured a certain King would ignore that directive. But she was thankful to have a moment to ease into seeing everyone. It was already an adjustment, as it always was to be back on Wakandan soil in the first place. It still felt new, every time, even though this was technically her home. It did not feel like home to her, not anymore. 

“General,” her lips tugged into the smallest of smiles as she saluted her old friend. It was the first genuine smile she could remember giving someone in months. There was little happening in Niganda worth smiling about anyway and when she did, it was usually fake. 

“Naja.” Once Okoye returned her salute, she reached out and squeezed Naja’s hand, Naja returning it gently, before their faces returned to their usual stoic and neutral expressions. “I trust your journey was well.” 

“It was. Though it was difficult to spin my absence on such short notice. Do you know why the King saw it to order me home?” 

“No.” 

Her answer was simple, and Naja knew, untrue. Okoye was one of two people in this palace privy to all of the King’s decisions and thoughts. But she also knew Okoye would not give her a single inch. It was worth a shot though, she reasoned. But it also let her know the reason was not straightforward, which meant her nap in her quarters would have to wait. 

“Of course. May you take me to his office if he is not too busy? I know the way to my room from there.”  

Okoye did not nod or answer her. She merely changed the direction of their walk through the palace toward T’Challa’s office. Naja tried not to get too wrapped up in the bustling movement and sounds of the palace. The last time she was here, it felt more like a ghost town than anything else, lifeless and dreary. Wakanda had weathered the Blip better than most countries but it still struggled and during those five years, the palace wore the scars of its lost King and Princess and half its population. But with their return, life and joy returned to the palace and all of Wakanda. She was happy for it. They all deserved it, to be whole again. 

She did not let the facade she had on fall until Okoye opened the door to T’Challa’s office, her brother in law sitting behind his desk reading. He glanced up, a wide smile gracing his tired but ever youthful features, as his eyes landed on Naja. He immediately stood up, joy rippling off of him like waves. One thing she always appreciated about T’Challa was, even when he and Nakia were not together, he treated her like a younger sister. A colder one than the one he actually had but a sister nonetheless. 

“Thank you, General. Naja, welcome home.” 

“My king,” she saluted him. She waited for the firm click of the door closing behind Okoye before she offered him a smirk. “My king summons, I answer.”

“No need for the formalities, sister. And I know you despise hugs. But it has been 7 years, humor me?” He rounded the desk to stand before her. 

“I was told the Blip only felt like minutes to those of you who were gone. So technically, for you, it has only been two years. But as my king, I suppose you make the rules. You get seven seconds.” At his raised eyebrow, she shrugged. “One for each year.” 

She allowed herself to be gathered up in his arms, the man squeezing tight. She forced herself not to fall into it, though she wanted to. The warm embrace of family, she had missed it. But instead, she merely cleared her throat, letting him know the timer on their emotional reunion had indeed run out. 

To his credit, he immediately released her, his hands holding onto her forearms as he took a step back to examine her. She chuckled and rolled her eyes as he attempted to inspect her form for any injuries or drastic changes that would worry his Queen. Seven years might have passed since she last laid eyes on T’Challa at his coronation but time had done little to change either of them.  

“You look well. Thin,” he remarked. “But well. How are you?” 

“Glory to Bast, I am in good health,” she offered lazily as she sat in the seat opposite of his desk. She tried not to look at the pictures that littered the office, keeping her eyes trained on him, knowing she would find more than one that featured him. She did not need or want to see him ever again.  “Food in the Capitol has been sparse since the return of everyone from the Blip.”

“Do you need more money? I know the alias and job you chose does not offer much.” 

She shook her head. In addition to the money she made at the bar she worked at, all War Dogs received a salary discreetly added into their accounts disguised as local side jobs and businesses. She had more than enough money. 

“No, no, no. Thanks to you, I am the world’s richest bartender. Just the monarchy hoarding resources, there is more than enough to go around for the wealthy. And the black markets continue to thrive there under the King’s nose but what I usually get from there, I give to those who need it more,” she shrugged. “I’m good. I’ve survived on less.”  

“Anything of note on those black markets?” 

She tilted her head before shaking it, T’Challa’s shoulders sagging a bit. “Aside from delicious meats and vegetables the royals have now deemed delicacies? No.” 

“Well, make sure to eat two plates at dinner. Or else your sister will not rest tonight.” 

She nodded. “Two plates? That feels gluttonous. Though I suppose I need to reacclimate to this… abundance,” her eyes flickered to the obvious signs of wealth and prestige littering his office. A pang of guilt hit her for even being able to indulge in it. “So I’m sure Nakia will make it her mission to fatten me up before I return home. So are you going to tell me why you’ve grounded me for two months? I hope it’s a good reason. Do you know how hard it will be to explain a two-month disappearance?” 

T’Challa’s deep chuckle filled the office as he sat back in his chair. “Only you would consider a vacation and a bit of time off a punishment.” 

She scoffed. “It is hardly a vacation when it comes as a direct order from my King himself, one he knows very well I would never refuse.”

“You could refuse.” His eyes twinkled with humor as he handed her a glass of Wakandan rum, the one thing he knew she missed from home.

“And face the wrath of the Black Panther?” She shook her head, throwing the entire glass back in one gulp before sighing contently. She slid the glass across the desk, gesturing toward the decanter, T’Challa refilling it for her. “The people outside these walls may call me ongenaloyiko* (the fearless one) but I am still smart enough to fear the greatest warrior in all Wakanda. But as your elder,” she started to say with a wink that she knew would agitate him. 

“You may have surpassed me in years thanks to the Blip, dear Naja, but you are still my younger sister always,” he reminded her. 

“Then tell me why you brought me back. Niganda is in a precarious place right now… things are… brewing. This is a long time to be gone.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “The other War Dogs in the region report no issues. Remember, Naja…” 

She sighed. “I know, I know. No interfering and we only care about things that threaten the interests of Wakanda. I’m being a good leashed watch dog now, I promise.” She knew she was not off to a good start, lying to him so soon. But she hated the new role expected of them. To witness the suffering of the world but do nothing to help. The other War Dogs in Niganda may be fine with such an existence but one thing she had in common with her sister, Naja would always do whatever she could, as long as life pumped in her veins.

“Good.” She was surprised he believed her. “I brought you back for many reasons. The first and most important being that your sister is pregnant,” Naja’s eyes widened. “And due any day now and she has spoken of what a great support you were during the birth of Prince T’Challa while I was…” 

“Fake dead,” she supplied. She knew the Blip was not a laughing matter. It was traumatic for those gone and those who were forced to stay and carry on. But they had all survived, she saw little point in dwelling on it. 

“Yes. And I knew she would be happy to have you here for the birth and a bit of time afterward as well. Second, you have a nephew that is growing day after day and barely knows you. I did not know my uncle before he died. You can understand that I would prefer for history not to repeat itself.” 

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on stealing vibranium and selling it to the highest bidder while I’m here,” she mumbled as her thumb traced patterns in the condensation of her glass, trying to stay aloof at the mention of his father. 

“I’m serious, Naja. The War Dog program is important but N’Jobu taught me that it is not more important than family and connection. And third, I am hoping that some time back here will give you some perspective and perhaps… change your position on certain matters.” 

She scoffed, standing up to pace his office. She was dressed simply, far too simply to address the King some would argue. But there were perks to her position and her reputation, no one would correct her. Her standard soft black pants and tank top provided comfort and agility and ensured she never stood out. Tucked into her waist band was a gun, she had forgotten to remove it on the plane. Though she felt safer with it, even here, on her person. She had left her other weapons at home, her calf felt uncomfortably bare without her blade attached to it.

“And there it is. So just so I understand the rules of engagement. Are you speaking to me now as my King or as my brother?” 

“I speak to you as your brother, Naja, always.” 

“Except when you ordered me home,” she muttered as she leaned against the window sill, her eyes starting into the heart of the capital city. A small part of her ached. She’d never admit it aloud but she did miss it sometimes. She had tried for so long to find something like it but nothing compared to Wakanda. She ignored that, pushing it into the depths where she stored every other feeling she did not want to deal with. 

“You may reject the displays of our love and affection but it will stop none of us from giving it or caring for you.” 

“I am happy with how things are now, T’Challa. I have no interest in changing my position on certain matters.” 

“We are entering peace talks with Niganda, and while you do not trust them -” 

“I do not trust them because they are untrustworthy,” she cut him off sharply. “I’m the best War Dog you have there. You’d do well to heed my warnings where the Nigandans are concerned.” 

“If these negotiations go well, there is an opportunity for you to consider a position that is here in Wakanda. You are the best War Dog I have in any country on this planet, Naja. But it’s been 15 years. We have other War Dogs stationed in Niganda now, thanks to you, who can ensure the peace treaty is adhered to. You can come home.” 

“Those other War Dogs don’t know what they are doing. And… This is not my home, T’Challa,” she muttered. 

“You can spend as much time as you want away from our borders and pretend to be Malika, a lowly Nigandan bartender all you want. But you will always be Wakandan, Wakanda will always be home.” 

“And the best way for me to honor Wakanda is by doing what I have always done: serve her. Protect her interests. In Niganda.” 

She and T’Challa stared at each other for a few moments. While most would have withered under the intense gaze of their king, Naja did no such thing. It was T’Challa who finally broke their standoff, bowing his head as if to signal his surrender. 

“For your sister’s sake, I ask that you merely consider it. She misses you terribly. And not just your physical absence. She misses who you were.” 

She rolled her eyes and chuckled as she walked back over to his desk. Her eyes fell on a picture of T’Challa, Nakia, and their son. She picked up the frame, her fingers grazing along the patterns surrounding their smiling faces.  

“Who I was is of little consequence now, T’Challa. This is who I am. It’s been 15 years and my sister would do well to accept this version of me. Wakanda and I are better for it anyway. Does she know I’m here?” 

“No, it is a surprise for dinner tonight.” 

She sucked her teeth before nodding. “Fine. I will serve out my two month sentence - without complaint - and I will not tell her of your clever but well-intentioned manipulation to force me here. But I say this with all the love and reverence for you as my brother and my King, when these two months are up, I will return to Niganda with or without your approval. Are we clear?” 

Few could talk to T’Challa as she did or had the privilege to make demands. But when Naja spoke, T’Challa listened. “Crystal clear. It is good to have you home, sister. We missed your bubbly personality and disposition around here.” 

“It is good to see you too, T’Challa. Congrats on the new baby. Next time you want to send me encrypted messages, send me good news like that. I’m going to lay down until dinner.” 

“Naja!” 

She stopped and turned around to face him once more. 

“I recognize, accept, and love who you are now. But I would push back on one point.” At her raised eyebrow, he continued, “Wakanda is served well by every version of you because you love her and she loves you back. This version of you is extraordinary. But better implies there was something wrong with the equally extraordinary version of you from before. And there wasn’t.” 

Something pricked the back of her eyes as she turned away from him, a sting she despised about as much as physical affection. 

“This is why I hate coming back,” she huffed. “Tell anyone my eyes so much as misted and I’ll kill you in your sleep.” 

He chuckled. “Bast’s fiercest warrior and daughter never cries. Even if my eyes witnessed such a feat, I would not know the words to share it with a soul.” 

She smiled before exiting his office, immediately swallowing the emotion she felt. She hated how out of sorts she felt being back here. Seeing T’Challa in the flesh again after seven long years, the emotions of being back here in this home and in this city, finding out her sister was pregnant, the emotional exhaustion of switching from her alias back to Naja… this was why she preferred to be alone when she first got home. Had not been on Wakandan soil for an hour and she had already been through a rollercoaster of emotions. 

Naja moved through the halls silently and swiftly, moving like a panther herself to ensure she did not run into her sister. Though she was not happy about being forced to return, she was excited to see her sister and her nephew. Though Nakia still treated her like a fragile dove, her sister loved her beyond comparison and reason. 

When she finally found her way to her room, she stripped down and curled into bed immediately. A content sigh slipped from her lips as she settled into the comfort of the soft mattress and linens. The room was obscene, triple the size of her home in Niganda. It was home to her and served her needs but it left much to be desired compared to what she left behind. 

Don’t get used to it, she thought to herself as she already started to drift off to sleep. Two months and then we’re out of here.

***

Naja yawned deeply as she rushed to dinner, realizing she was several minutes late. She hated that T’Challa was right, per usual. 

A break from life as a spy was not so bad. She did not know how to relax and rest but her body seemed determined to ensure she did it. She slept like a rock, a call from T’Challa 10 minutes past dinnertime was the only thing to jolt her from her sleep. 

She paused outside the family dining room, her heart warming as she heard her nephew spitting rapid fire questions at his parents about training. Her sister’s voice filled the room. 

“Will you teach your sister how to train when she’s old enough?” She heard Nakia ask. 

TJ’s small voice responded. “Would that be safe for her? I don’t want her to get hurt like I do.” 

“As safe as it is for any Wakandan,” Naja offered with a teasing smile as she rounded the corner. 

“Auntie Naja!!” TJ sprung from his seat with the strength of a cannon and ran into her outstretched arms. “I missed you!” 

“My prince!! You are getting taller and taller every day!” She tickled his sides, his giggles filling the dining room and everyone’s hearts with warmth. “And when you’re training that little one in a few years, you should remember what my baba always told us. Our battle scars are our strength, our power, and…” 

“A reminder from Bast that we lived another day to serve Wakanda,” TJ finished, reciting the words Nakia and Naja’s father always said. 

She cradled him against her chest for a moment once more before letting him go, his small hand gripping around hers to drag her farther into the room. 

“Now why doesn’t he have a time limit on your affection?” T’Challa’s voice was filled with fake indignation. 

She merely shrugged as TJ demanded she take the open seat next to him. 

“I simply like him better than you.” 

However, before she sat, she rounded the table to her sister. 

“Sister. No, don’t get up,” she cautioned as Nakia started to move. The hug she bestowed was longer than most would receive but she could tell by the unshed tears in Nakia’s eyes that she needed it. She cradled one hand to Nakia’s cheek before the other rested on her belly. “How are you? And how is my future niece, Wakanda’s next great warrior?” 

“We are both well, even better now that you are here. You’re so thin.” She tsked slightly, T’Challa and Naja sharing a knowing glance and chuckle. “You need to catch me up on everything. But first sit. Eat.” 

As she returned to her seat, she watched as a silent conversation passed between her King and Queen. Though Nakia’s face appeared happy, there was something brewing beneath the surface. She could sense the anger passing through her to T’Challa, a guilty look plastered on his face. She watched as he busied himself with his own plate to avoid her glare. 

She did not know what to make of it as she piled food on her plate, she could not deny she was starving. However, she realized the reason for that silent conversation quickly as two voices grew louder and louder as they moved toward the dining room.

“If you had just listened to me, we wouldn’t have been late! Your elementary knowledge of nanotech is useless. I could’ve finished it in an hour if you hadn’t been there mansplaining,” Shuri ranted as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. She was so frustrated she did not even notice Naja at the table or acknowledge her. 

“Aye! I went to MIT, short bit,” a sharp American voice filled the space, Naja’s blood turning to ice water, her head whipping toward the door so fiercely she could have broken her own neck. She felt as if her heart completely stopped as she watched Prince N’Jadaka enter the dining room. “That shit’s hardly element-” his words immediately fell off as his eyes fell on Naja, his entire body paralyzed in mid step. 

The pair merely stared at each other, the dining room rapidly filling with tension so severe even the staff ceased moving. And only four people, save the Prince and Naja, knew the source of that tension. Her body did not move an inch, her fork still hovering in the space above her plate as indescribable rage took control of every cell in her body. She could feel it deep in her bones, 15 years worth of pain she had buried warped into a monster. Her nephew’s presence mere inches from her were the only calming presence she could feel, the only thing keeping everything from boiling over. 

“Well… this is painfully awkward,” Shuri muttered as she sat down in her seat next to the Queen Mother. “W-Welcome home, Naja.” 

She cleared her throat, an even and cold timbre falling on her voice. No longer did Naja, the sister and friend, sit at the table. Naja, the spy, with her iron clad facade sat before them. Cold, unfeeling, ruthless. Unbreakable, she reminded herself. That was the weapon she had fashioned herself into. That was who she was now. And she was better for it. 

“Thank you, Princess. I am happy you are back and well. I see much has changed since my last visit. Erik.” 

He had started to make his way to his own seat but stilled at the sound of his American name. It was the name he had gone by his entire time in Wakanda when he moved here as a child after his father’s death. Prince Erik, preferably just Erik, he forced everyone to call him. But Naja… she was the one person aside from T’Challa he allowed to call him by his Wakandan name. She knew he had once loved hearing her say it as much as she loved to say it. She knew the dig, however coded it was, hit its mark, a part of her savored in the hurt that crossed his face. 

“I prefer N’Jadaka,” he offered as he sat down in the last open seat directly across from her, which only increased her anger. 

“Hmm… So you have returned to Wakanda for the birth as well, Erik?” She asked, ignoring his preference. She would never call him N’Jadaka or prince again. She did not care if the whole damn country referred to him as such. 

He sucked his teeth. “Nah. I’ve been back for months… I owed T and Wakanda a favor so I’m home for good, helpin’ rebuild after everythin’.” 

The entire table seemed to shift as rage wafted off Naja. She cut her eyes from Erik to T’Challa, the rest of the room falling away as she threw him a glare that made him thankful the heart-shaped herb ran through his veins. However, beneath that glare, T’Challa knew it masked hurt and one question only he and Nakia could likely decipher. 

How could you? 

“I have suddenly lost my appetite. Sister, I will check in on you in the morning. Good night.” Her fork loudly clanked against the dinner china before she rose from the table. She ignored the calls of her sister and T’Challa for her to stay as she turned to leave. She slowed herself just enough to kiss her nephew on the forehead briefly before exiting without a second glance.

He was home… How could T’Challa not tell her? Tell her that she would be living under the same roof as him for months? Did he consider her too fragile for such knowledge? That her feeble, weak mind would collapse or fall apart? Those days were behind her. 

She had turned all that hurt and pain into fuel, it drove her and pushed her. And now here he was, and all that hurt she suppressed for 15 years, all of that was back with one look at his face. She hated him, despised him. She did not want to look at him, much less sit across from him at every meal for the next two months. 

She could not do it. Fuck the King’s commands. She was returning to Niganda tonight. Even if she had to hitch hike the entire way. 

She was so wrapped up in her escape plan that she did not hear the footsteps behind her until she felt a presence directly on her back. Without thought, she pulled out the gun still tucked in her waistband and cocked it, aiming it directly at… T’Challa. 

She ignored the bang of the Doras’ spears on the ground as she kept the gun aimed at him. She was thankful it was just him. That was the one thing she did not enjoy about her life as a spy, her instincts were too difficult to turn off now. 

“Still ever vigilant, I see?” T’Challa raised his hand to the Dora, silently ordering them to stand down, wholly unperturbed at having a gun pointed at his chest. 

“Well, you never know when someone’s gonna betray you,” she spat with venom that made him flinch.

“I understand you’re upset...” 

“You understand nothing,” she seethed, taking a step toward him. She lowered the gun, the weapon shaking in her hand. “I understand that you knew I would not agree to return if I knew he was here so instead of telling me of the birth and asking me to return, you forced my hand. I understand that you used your title and my love for my sister as manipulation to force a reconciliation. It. Is. Not. Happening.” 

“You cannot avoid him forever. You are both part of this family.” 

She paced, agitated and frustrated. “I can and will avoid him forever. Because if I don’t, I will use his body to test out the multitude of ways I know how to kill someone.. I can’t believe you didn’t warn me he was here.” 

“I am sorry. I thought it would help but I was wrong.” He sighed before gesturing at the gun. “Will it help?” 

She thought about it and nodded. 

The black fibers of his suit emerged and covered his whole body. With perfect precision, she shot him over and over again, emptying her clip until his suit was bright purple with the stored kinetic energy of each bullet. The loud bangs reverberated through the halls, her eardrums rattled. 

“Better?” He asked when she finally lowered the gun and tucked it back in its hiding spot.

“Yes… and no. You’re still able to talk,” she muttered. Though shooting something did take the edge of her anger off. 

“I am sorry for deceiving you. You are right, I knew you would not return if you knew Erik had returned home permanently. But your sister… and I… we need you here. I know what he did, the pain he caused you. And if you do not speak to him ever again, you would be within your right. But I ask very little of you, Naja. And right now, I am asking you to stay here,” Naja was annoyed that he somehow already realized she was going to run back home. “And endure for us. Two months and then you can leave and I will not utter a word to convince you to stay. I promise.”  

She nodded. “Fine. But just so you know, any ill conceived notion you had of me returning to this country for good? That is gone now. As long as Erik Stevens calls Wakanda home, I never will.” She turned on her heels and disappeared down the hall, leaving T’Challa alone surrounded by shell casings. 

She only paused when she heard him yell back, “I’ll have dinner sent to your room. Please eat or your sister will kill me.” 

She scoffed. “That’s not reason enough,” she called back. Though they both knew she would eat whatever was brought to her. 

***

Unlike Naja, Erik was able to hide his emotions a tad bit better and hold it together through dinner. However, his emotions did not include rage, except for toward T’Challa. All he had felt at dinner was the hot, uncomfortable spotlight of guilt and shame. What he had done, he’d never forgive himself. And any stupid notion he once had that Naja could forgive him one day was wiped out in a manner of minutes. 

“What the fuck, T?” Erik demanded as he stormed into T’Challa’s office, the King nursing a glass of rum as he continued to work. 

“Your ex already shot me several times this evening, figuratively and literally. So go easy on me, N’Jadaka.” 

“You told me she didn’t ever come back to Wakanda? That she moved on??

T’Challa shrugged. “Those things are not untrue. Naja is a War Dog stationed in Niganda,” he admitted. “You wanted nothing to do with Wakanda once you left and worked for the US Government so I could not reveal War Dog identities to you. And when you came back, I thought it best that she remain out of sight and out of mind.” 

Erik’s eyes grew wide. “W-wait, w-wait… a watch and report back War Dog or a Hatut Zeraze-era War Dog?” 

There was a distinction, one only a precious few in the country knew. For most, the War Dogs were merely spies, a Wakandan-style CIA force that watched, patiently integrating themselves into their host country’s world to report back critical information to protect Wakanda. However, past kings used a specialized force of them for other purposes, ones the average Wakandan knew nothing of, purposes that actually kept Wakanda safe and protected all these years. 

T’Challa sighed and rubbed his eyes. “The latter until my coronation. She was handpicked during training by my father, and worked her way up to leading missions across the continent and beyond.” 

Erik scoffed. “Missions… I know what missions mean. Assassinations, torture.”

T’Challa tilted his head. “None that we would ever admit to.  She is stationed in Niganda 90% of the time unless my father needed her for another assignment. When I became king, I disbanded that portion of the War Dogs and she has been our lead War Dog in Niganda ever since.” 

The stinging heat of anger and fear prickled his brain. The Naja he remembered was soft, not in a bad way either. You wanted to lean into her and soak up her warmth. It was comforting and soothing. However, he knew first hand the things she would have had to do to be part of that specialized force. And he would not wish the damage all that had done to his own soul on anyone else, least of all her. 

“’N you didn’t think to tell a nigga she was comin’?” 

“I thought 15 years was enough time for you both to move past everything that transpired. Clearly I was wrong.” 

“She still hates me?” 

T’Challa scoffed. “Is there a word stronger than hate? Because that may be more accurate.” He paused. “Do you still feel guilty?” 

Erik merely nodded, his finger fidgeting with his father’s ring, which he had worn around his neck since he was a small boy. 

“15 years and one look at her and all that shit just comes right back,” he let out a low whistle. “She looks damn good. Different though. Not just physically. She’s colder than I remembered.”  

“You miss her?” 

He nodded. “Yea, being back here this year. She’s gone but every fuckin’ place in this damn country reminds me of her. I fucked up.”

“You still love her?” 

Erik shrugged. “A lack of love was never the issue. Doesn’t matter if 50 years go by… it’d still be her. Only her. Who knows, maybe I can make this shit right. Can’t be a coincidence that Bast brought us both back?” 

“May I be honest with you, cousin?” 

“Me saying no ain’t ever stopped you.” 

“When Naja first joined the War Dogs, her father made a personal plea to my father and I  to reject her application. When I asked him why, he said that though they were crafted by the same hand, his daughters could not be more different. Nakia, he said, was an assassin’s blade. Beautiful, striking, and when wielded with the right hand, deadly. While Naja was no weapon at all. She was a delicate sculpture, something to gaze upon, he said. She could be a weapon, like anything. But one blow would be all you get and the cost would destroy her and she would never be the same again.” 

“This fuckin’ Wakandan proverb shit,” Erik mumbled. “Like what the fuck does that even mean?” 

“It means… You broke her, N’Jadaka. And that isn’t a judgment or condemnation,” he added at the pain that flashed across his face. “I understood then and now what ailed you when you did what you did. But you broke her. And to cope with that pain, like you, she picked up all those broken pieces and fashioned herself into a weapon that is more deadly than even Nakia ever was. Someone who is unbreakable. She is the most lethal weapon I’ve ever seen with stunning effectiveness and precision. She is pragmatic, she is cold, she is cunning, and merciless. And for her, love for anything other than this country and its throne is weakness. She is not the Naja you left here 15 years ago. She may look like the woman you love but she is an entirely different person, N’Jadaka. Be wise and remember that.”

“What are you saying?” 

“I am saying that as much as I would love to see the two of you reconcile, this Naja will sooner kill you before she will let you close enough to break her ever again. Goodnight, cousin.” T’Challa grabbed his glass and stood up, walking to the door, leaving Erik to contemplate the consequences of his actions. 

Tag List: @miyuhpapayuh @pipsqueak-98 @injerafiend @themakingsofdion

A/N: Ok I've never written Erik before so I'm really excited. I also feel like this OC is very unlike my others so I'm excited about.

Drop a comment and let me know what you thought or if you want to be tagged!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #black panther #erik kilmonger x reader #erik killmonger angst #erik killmonger #Erik Stevens x reader #michael b jordan fanfic

[strwbmei1]

cw: friends with benefits, dubcon, name calling, reader is a fighter of high ranking status, sub!afab reader, mommy kink, some brainwashing, strap action, crying, degradation, bondage, dumbification (?)

You and Kafka had a.. complicated relationship, to say the least. To the public, she was a criminal and you were hunting her down— though, behind closed doors, it was hard to tell who was hunting who.

"Kafka. Why are you here?" You grimaced as you said her name, as if it was some sort of disease. "Oh, but I simply wanted to see you." Unfazed by the tip of your blade threatening to slit her throat; Kafka's expression stays the same.

You feel cold metal pressing against your stomach. A gun. Her gun. "So, you're a big shot now... Think you're too good to be tied up beneath me?" Your grip on the hilt of your sword loosens for a split second. "You..!"

Kafka takes advantage of your moment of weakness, effectively disarming you and pulling you in by your collar; her scent as intoxicating as ever. "We both know you'll end up on my bed again one way or another— so let's speed up the process."

"Listen to me."

You were going to refuse. Resist. Who does she think she is, telling you how you'll act? Does she really think you haven't changed? No. You weren't the same girl you were before. You aren't just going to let her seduce you.

Maybe.

NSFW under the cut !

You bit your lower lip as Kafka traced her fingers all over your body; struggling to no avail with ropes of silk bounding your wrists to the headboard of her bed. "..Fuck you."

"Mm.. sure. You aren't really in a position to talk to me like that, are you, bunny?" Kafka's smile only widened as she took your current state in; all tied up and ready for her to use. "Wait here."

A sigh of relief left you as soon as Kafka did the room. Though, as soon as the woman returned, you felt everything but relief. She held an 8" strap-on in her hand; the maroon tint at the base fading into a gradient of purple.

"You're kidding." You muttered, eyes widening at the sheer size. Kafka smiled almost reassuringly, yet you felt she was enjoying your reactions— and you'd be right. "What's wrong?" She mocked.

Your gaze traveled to Kafka, then back to the strap. "That's way too big..!" Cold and deft fingers took your chin between them, nails like daggers ready to pierce through your skin. "Oh, don't look at me like that, darling. You brought this upon yourself."

Kafka leaned in closer, licking her lips before pressing them onto yours. She moans into your mouth as she kisses you slowly, yet hungrily; the kiss as addictive as she is— at least, until you bit her lip.

"Tsk. You never learn your lesson, do you?" The mattress dips as Kafka gets up and puts on the strap. Even with the taste of blood on her lips; her eery smile hasn't wavered— not once. She knows she has you where she wants you. "You always make this so hard for me, sweetie.."

As you were about to open your mouth to speak, she pressed the tip of the strap on your lips. "Go on. Suck on mommy's cock." Begrudgingly, you followed her orders; using your limited range of movement to take in as much of it as you can.

"That's it.. good little slut." Kafka ran her fingers through your hair, pleased with the way you're gagging on her length and the way your throat bulges.

The seemingly innocent gesture quickly turned into her pushing your head down on her cock even further, forcing you to take more of her. "Come on, angel. I know you can take it."

"Mmph.. shtoo- much..!" Your sounds are muffled by her length stuffed down your throat, the vibrations making Kafka's head fall back. "Fuck.. such a fucking whore."

Fat tears wet your eyes, threatening to spill and run down your cheeks. "Aww.. are you gonna cry? Gonna cry for mommy?" She cooed, her thumb caressing your cheek and mockingly wiping your tears away.

You coughed as she finally pulled away, a feeling of emptiness lingering in your throat. "You're gonna take all of mommy's cock this time."

"Listen, you're going to be a good slut for me and take whatever I give you. You'll do whatever I say like the pathetic toy you are."

You're not sure if Kafka used her brainwashing again. You prayed that she did; that you'd have an excuse to give in— to give in to her. You'd do anything but believe in the truth that you're just her plaything; and especially in the truth that you enjoyed it. Wanted it.

Before you even realized, you had already spread your legs for her. "Good girl.." if you had known any better, you would have heard the sadistic laugh Kafka let out upon admiring your sorry state; her work of art.

Kafka's eyes didn't stray from you as she inserted the strap with little trouble, attentively watching your face contort from pleasure. "Just a few inches left... I told you you could take it."

You let out a soft moan as she completely bottomed out, mumbling about how full you feel. It was humiliating how easily your body took her in, as if you were made for this exact purpose.

"So tight, taking me so well." She hisses, thrusting at a slow pace without letting you adjust to the sheer size. Yet, it felt so fucking good. Why were you even trying to resist in the first place? It feels so good turning your brain off and just letting mommy use you.

The small bump on your stomach that disappeared and reappeared with each thrust didn't go unnoticed by Kafka. She presses down on it, making you feel even more full as her cock rubs against your most sensitive spots. "Mommy please, it's too good-"

Kafka shuts you up with a kiss as she picks up the pace, swallowing the moans and mewls you tried so hard not to let out. "Shh.. I know, I know." She wipes away the tears you weren't even aware were leaving streaks down your face.

"Do you want to be a good girl? Wanna be mommy's good girl?" You merely nod in your cockdrunk state, moving your hips to meet with hers. Her hand reaches down, palming your clit roughly.

A loud moan escapes you; head falling back at the sudden stimulation. "Please- I'm gonna..!" Kafka puts a finger on your bottom lip. "Good girls don't cum."

She knows how desperately you need it; how much it hurts, but you wanted to be a good girl, didn't you? You can hold it in.

Her thrusts grow deeper and harder. "Please, stop..! I don't want to cum, wanna be your good girl mommy please-" Kafka adored how desperate and needy you really are. You can pretend to be as high and mighty as you want— but in the end, you're nothing more than her slut.

"Then, don't cum." How she loved being mean to good little girls like you; setting you up for failure. Her smile only widened when you squirted all over her and her strap.

"Bad girl. Looks like I'm going to have to punish you."

———————————————

╰┈➤ Taglist ; @blue-spices , @fvrina , @dukemira , @sensanctuary , @large-octahedron , @sinsmockingbird

#x reader #smut #・❥・strwb smut #kafka honkai star rail #hsr kafka #kafka #kafka x reader #kafka smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut

[pistachiotalenti]

saw this post by @bottleofchaos, decided to write something for it! idk!

~

"Golly, you two are too sweet."

It doesn't process in Dream's head, at least not at first. But then a weird silence falls onto them, the kind that's made when someone is expecting a response that hasn't come yet. George's eyes fall from Dream's face to search for the source of the voice, and Dream follows his gaze until it lands on the small, white-haired lady sitting at a table nearby.

She stares at them, eyes wrinkled, lips curled into a knowing grin. Now that they're all looking at each other, Dream understands that they've officially started a conversation with this woman. He has nothing to contribute besides a series of stuttered false starts: oh, uh, haha, uh, thanks–?

She interrupts him before he can spit out a whole thought. "So which one of you popped the question?" she asks, her smile spreading even wider, sweeter.

Dream nearly chokes. "Who– what–"

"I couldn't help but notice your rings," she says, uncurling her hand from her walker to point between them.

My rings? Dumbly, Dream looks down at his own hands, at the rings he wears with nearly every outfit. There's nothing really to notice about them today, other than that the one he usually wears on his pinky is missing–

George pulls his hand up between them, the thick silver of his borrowed ring gleaming pretty on his second-smallest finger. Dream starts to feel faint.

"Oh," he starts. "We're not– uh–"

"He did," George replies, and the shock that slams into Dream's entire body nearly throws him off his feet. He looks to George at a breakneck speed. George merely smiles up at him with that cheesy beam, the one where his cheeks pucker up into his eyes and his mouth spreads so wide that the very edges of his teeth show, the one that makes Dream so fucking happy to see up close in person—and my god. It hits Dream now that it's that exact type of exchange that makes them look so incredibly married, not just to the millions of viewers who search for moments like this, but also, apparently, to this random lady waiting for her order in Starbucks.

Satisfied, she claps her hands onto her knees and leans into George's space. "Oh, that's lovely! I'm sure you must've felt like a million bucks."

"I did," George answers, uncharacteristically sweet. Dream thinks that each word coming out his mouth feels like a punch to the face.

"And you," she continues, turning to Dream, "I bet you were really nervous, huh?"

Dream falters. He didn't ask for the spotlight on him, but now he's left to deal with it and this insane lie George has crafted for the two of them. He figures he should just be honest and tell her that this was one big misunderstanding, a big joke, but then he jumps at the invisible touch on his lower back. It's George, looking up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes and resting a hand on his waist like it's something he does all the time, or even ever.

Dream feels his entire face turn hot. This fucking asshole.

"Uh– I– yeah, I mean–" He can't think at all, not with this weird, dumb warmth lingering at the base of his spine. A small, still-coherent space in his mind flashes back to a few months ago at Twitchcon, where he had infamously held George's waist for the briefest of moments. He hadn't been so eager, hand not as solidly placed against his back the way George's hand is on him right now, but even if it had been, Dream wouldn't expect it to look (and feel) so... romantic.

Maybe it's a weird thought, but Dream feels like such a girlfriend in this moment, such a piece of arm candy, small and held and cared for, and it's so strange—yet also only so expected—to find himself in this position alongside George. It's a lot to think about. It's so much that he abandons thinking at all, and instead lets his tongue and teeth go on autopilot.

"I was, yeah. I mean, look at this guy. He's gorgeous. Of course I'd be nervous asking him to marry me!"

George lets out a sputtered laugh. The hand on Dream's back twitches, curling briefly into the fabric of his hoodie before slipping off and away. Dream would feel smug at successfully throwing George off-guard, if only he didn't miss the touch.

"Oh, shush. You're both handsome. You look great together," the lady assures with a wave of her hand. "But you know, in all honesty, looks don't matter. What really matters is how you two interact, and work together, and... and love each other, really."

It's an alarmingly heartfelt bit of advice, one that George takes with unexpected sincerity. "That's true. I mean, I... we met online, so I actually... I didn't know what he looked like for years, even while we were talking."

"Oh, wow. Really? That's... that's real commitment there. That's lovely." Awe flashes across her face. Dream catches George's eye, and by his strained smile, Dream can tell they both feel exposed in this instance, teetering on the edge of something a little too real, cutting a little too close to who they are and what they've been through together. The stranger before them knows no difference, chatting onward. "No, of course, I should've known two young men like you would've met on the Internet. What is it called, the one on your phone? Tinder, or Grindr, or..."

"Uh–! Grindr," Dream says, chuckling a bit as he falls back into the absurdity of this conversation.

"Sure! That sounds right. My grandson, Brian, bless his heart. He actually met his partner on one of those apps on the phone, and now they're engaged. Isn't that wonderful?"

Dream and George both chime in with the polite response, congratulating the woman for the exciting development in her family. Giddy, she basks in the well wishes. "It'll be first time one of my grandkids will get married. I'm so excited." Her dreamy expression off into the distance suddenly lazer focuses onto the both of them. "What are your names? I'll have to tell Brian about you two. I think it'll really please him to know that there are other young folk like him who are married and happy and thriving and..."

Dream and George exchange a precarious look. There's no way in hell they'd give their real names, lest the wrong people get the wrong idea and end up spreading rumors across the Internet about Clay and George's secret marriage. So George looks back to the woman. "My name is Nick."

Dream scoffs, just quiet enough to escape suspicion. "And I'm Karl."

"That's lovely. Thank you, boys. I hope you two live long, happy lives together!"

It's a sweet sendoff. The two wish her and her grandson the best, then they leave the Starbucks, making sure to pick up their drinks before the barista can holler out their true names in front of this woman they wholly, egregiously lied to. And for the most part, the moment is over with reality restored and all turning back to normal.

They're not married, or engaged. They're not even a couple. They're just... Dream is just...

"Idiot." It's the first thing either of them have said since stepping out into the Florida sun. Dream turns to George, who despite the mean name-calling, shakes his head and smiles along his straw like he's as fond as ever. "You're an idiot."

"What do you mean?" Dream asks coolly. It earns a bright smile from George, as he had hoped.

"Oh my god, don't even do this right now."

"What?"

"No, you're such an idiot. I can't believe you did that to that poor lady."

"Did what?" Dream laughs. "You were the one who lied to her first."

"No, I didn't lie. I was just going with it. But you were the one who straight up said you proposed to me."

"What? There's no way– you know that's not how that works. You are not gonna pretend you're innocent in this."

George smiles his little shit-eating grin. "I'm always innocent."

"Okay, now that's a lie."

George barks out a laugh, loud and wonderful and so very George that it makes Dream's chest ache a bit. And it aches more when George raises his hand again to brandish that matching silver ring, the one that brought them into this mess in the first place. George sighs wistfully.

"But really, I can't believe that actually happened. Like, after all the times we talked about someone thinking we were actually a couple?"

"It's insane."

"It's epic."

Dream snorts. "Sure."

"Next time, we should do that thing where one of us pretends to propose in a fancy restaurant so that we get free dessert or something."

Dream giggles, "Okay, that actually would be epic."

"Right? You can be the one that proposes." George waggles an eyebrow at him. "Unless my gorgeousness would make you too nervous."

With a roll of his eyes, Dream turns away and laughs. "Oh my god, shut up. You're so–"

"Or was that a lie, too?" George challenges, smirking because he already knows the answer.

"No, that– okay, no, I would– in this fantasy scenario, I would not get nervous just because you look... handsome, or whatever." It's a weird hill to die on, so Dream decides to make it weirder. "I would be super cool when I propose to you, all Chad-like."

"When?" George echoes. He's not even able to hide his surprise at the slip.

Dream flounders further. "No, oh my god, I mean 'if'. Er, I mean– I'm not proposing to you."

"Yet."

Dream rolls his eyes again, fond. "Yeah, sure, yet."

George laughs, pleased with himself. Then he shrugs. "Ah, I dunno. I guess we'll see if you get nervous then, once it actually happens."

Dream smiles behind his cup. "Idiot."

#dnf #dreamnotfound #idk i sort of shat this out if you will #fic #my writing #mine #thoughts

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐅𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Sherlock and Y/N have always teased each other relentlessly, claiming one was fixated on the other. One day while on a case, they realize that their banter holds a ring of truth. Fluff!!!

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: Anonymous

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"Sherlock, its my day off. Explain to me what I'm doing at Barts." Lestrade checked his watch and sighed. "I've already missed the game's first half! This had better be good."

Sherlock sat hunched over his microscope. "It's important," he said, eyeing his work. "It's about your bank robbery, actually. There were palm prints left behind that can be traced back to the suspects."

Lestrade perked up. "You've got a match, then? That's great! I'll send out the cavalry."

"Don't be absurd," Sherlock scoffed. "The results are still processing. We'll know in a few hours."

"I don't understand. Why am I here, then?"

Sherlock peered up innocently. "You told me to keep you updated."

"Bloody hell, you should have texted me!" Lestrade cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "I had to take a cab straight from the other end of the city! Now you're telling me to wait here, twiddling my thumbs while you work?"

Sherlock blinked up at the detective inspector. "My apologies," he said, turning back to his work table.

Lestrade's hands were itching to wring Sherlock's neck when Y/N walked through the lab doors. Her shoes clicked against the linoleum flooring; she was clearly in a rush. "I'm here!" she called, nearly crashing into a rack of instruments.

"About time," Sherlock sing-songed.

Lestrade stared after her curiously. "I thought you'd sit this one out. Didn't seem like Sherlock here needed any help. He even let John off his leash today. I figured I was the only one he suckered into coming in."

"I called, she came," Sherlock cut in. "Perks of having an ardent fan. She's infatuated with me, you know."

Y/N raised a brow, amused. "I know you're desperate for my attention, Sherlock, but let's take it down a notch, alright?" She turned to Lestrade and shrugged. "He called, I came."

Sherlock grinned.

Lestrade glanced at the two of them, unimpressed. Since he'd know the pair, they had always maintained the running joke that one was fixated with the other. Though it had started off as friendly banter, everyone was convinced that there were hidden affections beneath the snark of their words.

"I'm glad you're here at any rate," Lestrade said. "I've got the media breathing down my neck because of these blasted robberies. Maybe you can help him speed things up." He glared at Sherlock on the last bit.

Y/N nodded. "I can try, but I'm not sure if there's much I can do. You know that Holmes is the expert in these matters. He'll figure it out soon enough."

Sherlock smirked. "How very confident you are in my abilities. Though I would advise caution on your part." He lowered his voice to a teasing whisper. "Your obsession is showing."

Y/N feigned exhaustion. "Just as delusional as ever," she sighed. "Now, are you going to sit there grinning at me like a lovesick schoolboy or are you going to solve the case?"

"Right then," he chuckled.

Lestrade darted his eyes between the pair, taken aback for a moment by their unabashed flirting. He rubbed a hand over his temples, annoyed that he had missed the football match for this.

"It's in for a penny, in for a pound with you lot isn't it?" He sighed, glancing at his watch.

"Oh, do lighten up, Inspector," Sherlock said cheerily. "Miss Y/N is simply enraptured by my intellectual prowess. We can't hold that against her."

"Don't you start!" she laughed. "Everybody knows that you're the one who's hopelessly in love with me. You might as well admit to it!"

Sherlock leaned back in his seat. He quirked a brow and studied Y/N. His eyes glinted playfully. "Very well then," he said with confidence. "I'm in love with you."

The room was quiet for a moment. The only sound was the buzzing of the industrial lighting up above. Sherlock folded his hands together casually, awaiting Y/N's response.

"Well?" He asked, amused. "Has the cat got your tongue?"

Y/N narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You weren't supposed to say that."

"Say what?"

"That you love me."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't mean it."

Sherlock tilted his head to the side. "Don't I?"

"Oh for crying out loud!" Lestrade laughed. "You two idiots obviously fancy each other! Can we fast-forward the mock surprise and get on to better things?"

Y/N turned to Sherlock, grinning. "Is the detective inspector right?" she asked. "Do you really fancy me?"

Sherlock winked. "Against my better judgment, I can assure you."

She stepped towards his work table and pulled at the collar of his dress shirt. "I knew you would be the first to admit it. Sherlock Holmes, you're positively fixated on me, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "Guilty as charged. Now, what would you say to lunch? Granted, Bart's cafeteria food is mediocre at best, but I'm sure you'll be beset with thoughts of me anyway."

"You might be onto something there. Lead the way, Holmes."

Though nothing much had changed between them, the recognition of something already there lightened their steps to the door. Lestrade watched as the pair left the lab without so much as a goodbye, their eyes locked only on each other.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Lestrade smiled. "That's how it is around here."

He relaxed against the counter and settled in for a long wait. He checked his watch; the game had ended. Lestrade let out a contented breath.

He didn't mind at all.

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Hey! Try reading Painted Faces!

Thanks to the anon who requested this! Sorry about the long wait!!!! 💖🧁

If you’d like to be tagged in any future Sherlock fics, just tell me in the comments! (and if you’d rather not be tagged in ALL Sherlock fics, please specify; EX: Reader x Sherlock, Reader x John Watson...)

Requests are open!

tagging: @spencerrxids  @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson ​ @lucywrites02   @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes  @twisted-monster @starryeddie @high-functioning-lokipath @the-chaotic-cow @turkisherlockian  @kabubsmagga @aephereal ​ @andthevillainshallrises ​ @baby-bloos ​ @cookiemumster1 ​​ @eternal-silvertongued-prince ​ @bogginsreadings ​ @lumosouls @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock x you #sherlock fluff #reader x sherlock #sherlock imagine #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes fluff #greg lestrade #sherlock fanfic #benedict cumberbatch x you #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch #bbc sherlock fluff #bbc sherlock fanfiction #sherlock fic #friends to lovers #fanfic #fanfiction #bbc sherlock fic #bbc sherlock imagine #sherlock self insert

[pininiu]

Binging the blooming panic angst hour content and immediately got inspired to make a little xyx mini fic where the mc isn't good at being yelled at

(I've been convinced to post it)

"It's alright! I can do this perfectly on my own." Perched on top of a foldable chair, you try reaching for the light bulb to change it.

Xyx speeds through the hallway the moment he sees what you're doing. "Love, at least wait for me to hold it still for you."

You relax as you finally unscrew the dead lightbulb. "No, see? I can handle myself quite-" As your weight shifts to show your achievement, the legs of the chair shifts. Apparently you haven't opened it properly all the way.

You expected a loud thud on the floor followed by a sting throughout your body. But instead you were met with a soft warmth enveloping your frame. Surprisingly your vision is still upright. It takes a moment for you to realize that Xyx has caught you. A flush of embarrassment spreads throughout your face from failing magnificently.

You turn to face your lover. "U-um, thanks, darling-"

"YOU SHOULD BE MORE CAREFUL!!!" His hold gets tighter as he hugs you properly. "God, love, what if I wasn't here! At least wait for me when you plan to do stupid things like..." His voice trails off when he realizes you were shaking.

"Y-yes. I'll be m-more careful." A weak voice barely louder than a whisper was all you could muster. Rather than returning the hug, you were curling into yourself.

Xyx cups your face to make you face him. "Are you okay, love? Hurt anywhere? Maybe your adrenaline is still spiking." Softly stroking your back with his other hand to soothe you.

Softly shaking your head and placing a hand on his to keep it there, making sure to feel his warmth. You remind yourself that it is safe. That 'he' is safe. But it doesn't stop your ragged breathing. Carefully, you lean into his embrace. "I'm p-perfectly fine. I'm not hurt or anything..." It takes another shaky breath before you manage to continue. You bury your face into his shoulder, trying to avoid his gaze but still yearning for his warmth "...I'm just not good w-with yelling."

It takes a moment to properly process what you mumbled last. His hand's pace on your back stops. "O-oh, shit. I'm so sorry, love." Xyx's voice was hushed, afraid to scare you more. "I'm not mad nor upset. Did I scare you?" Why did he ask that? Of course he did. He's scared you and now you're afraid. 'God, why can't I do anything right' he keeps saying in his head. His embrace loosens in fear of making you more uncomfortable

"N-no" You hug him back. Meeting his gaze to find his face filled with concern. You lean your face into his hand still within your grasp, keeping eye contact. "I-I just..." It was hard trying to find the right words. "...have bad memories of being yelled at." Your gaze lowers "I-it's stupid, I know."

"Nothing about that is stupid." Xyx kisses your forehead. "You also said those words to me. I'm sorry for raising my voice, love" His thumb rubs gentle circles on your cheek as he peppers you with kisses. "I'll make sure it never happens again."

You giggle at the shower of affection. All your worries are being washed away. "Not even in bed?" You tease.

Xyx pauses with his stare locked onto you and that innocent smile you're displaying. "You cheeky little thing. Maybe there are exceptions." He smirks before giving a peck at the tip of your nose.

#blooming panic #xyx #woah my first drabble #no thoughts only comfort #am i projecting? #maybe

[daybreakxfamily]

Tackled

First request of the blog, thank you for coming into my inbox and leaving a cute scenario! I’m more then happy to oblige. Also, I’m still taking requests, they’ll be open unless I say otherwise~

Tagging: @anime-allover​   Thank you for the request~

tw: none

It happens more often than you’d think, since Yuri’s friend works with you guys often, he will make an appearance at the office to come visit you and his sister. But you’ve noticed how affectionate and clingy he gets with his sister, always jumping to give her a large hug or gift her with some flowers that he bought. Not that you're jealous or anything, he also gives you his share of roses and lilies, but sometimes he’ll forget that you also are there and ends up surprised as to why you're here.

When he realizes his mistake, he’ll apologize and shyly kiss your temple or cheek, embarrassed that he made a big no-no in front of his sister who likely scolds him for ignoring his significant other. Although you’ve mentioned in the past that it never really bothered you, some of the other ladies in your section can’t help but spread small talk, teasing them for the fact that Yuri seems to love to forget you for his sister. It started getting under your nerves at the sight of the two happy siblings, what you once adored and cherished about their bond turned sour at the hands of your annoying co-workers. 

You loved Yor as a person, she was one of the people you respect and hang out with often outside the office. She was even the one to introduce you to your current boyfriend and you couldn’t thank her enough. Yuri is a kind man who always can provide for you, and cute too so bonus points on that. Once you got over the initial problem- moving offices and being tasked to work less with people- you finally thought of a funny plan to get back at Yuri in a kind way.

After a while, it was easy to catch onto his behaviors and take note of his actions when he visited, seeing how he enters a room and makes a beeline to Yor’s desk. You examine any likely paths he would make and there you devised a mischief plan. 

One day, when you’d overheard Camilla talking with another group of women in the office about the arrival of her boyfriend, it became clear that it was time. Running with grace, you finally spotted Yor before slowing to a quick pace and calling out to her, fixing any wrinkles or dust off any dirt from your uniform.

“Yor! Hey, I just finished filing those documents head told us about. How is it going with the printing process?” 

Matching her walking speed, they carefully hooked onto their arm, aware of the confused smile on her face. “Oh! [Reader], I just finished, I was thinking of maybe dropping by and asking you if you’d like to eat lunch together… hmm. What made you happy all of a sudden?”

Yor watched as you gleefully smiled, wondering what was going on in that little head of yours. Before she could get a response, the cheerful yell of her younger brother startled her from across the hall. “Yor! I finally found you!”

‘Well, here it goes…” mentally, she was prepared to be hugged by her brother, letting it happen before she heard a loud oomph and turned around. 

In Yuri’s arms was [Name], smiling and laughing to themself as Yuri snuggled into their head, blinking before seeing that it wasn’t his sister that he was hugging. But still, seeing you made his day even better, picking up your smaller figure and twirling in the air. “[Name]! I’ve missed you, how dare you come between me and my sister~” he jests, still carrying for you before settling you down, holding you by your lower back and keeping you close. The feeling of his hand on your waist made you flustered, but it was comforting to see that you finally had his attention first for once.

Yor fawned at the sight, already imagining the wedding in all its finer details before wiping her tears in a napkin, “Oh [Name], I can’t wait til your Mx. Briar-”

Cue Yuri and [Name] both becoming shy and matching the shade of red of their eyes, rubbing their necks before asking if they all should go out for dinner tonight if they are all free. Yor excitedly agrees before leading them all down the hall, Yuri following as he tells his sister how they still need to visit her and her family sometime; although he grimes at the mention of her husband. All the while, you smile at the succession of your plan.

[09/10/2022]

SpyxFamily belong to Tatsuya Endo*

#Forged Files #yuri briar #yuri briar x reader #gn!reader #established relationship #short fic #scenario #spyxfamliy

[saikokirakira]

Worshipped, not Bound (Jake Lockley x Bakunawa!Reader pt.2)

a/n: guess who's back on their Moon boi shenanigans? Me. I literally speed-wrote three parts in my attempts to procrastinate writing my Miguel O'Hara spicy WIP, so our favourite limo driver now has 4 parts in his introduction. also I quit my job. :))

Prev: IV. Jake pt.1 | Next: IV. Jake pt.3 | AU Masterlist

warnings: jake “the simp king” lockley origin story; angst as a sub-genre?; one-way intense pining; divorce babe; show's interpretation of DID; Tommy Wiseau joke; language / one (1) f-bomb; non-canon Philippine mythology

You returned to London with no problems.

Well, maybe two.

Marc and Steven.

Maybe Layla, but she didn’t return to London with Marc after the entire fiasco in Egypt.

It was cruel to make Steven and Marc think that you remained dead after releasing Bakunawa.

But it would be even crueler to bring them back into your world after they’ve been set free by Khonshu.

Still thinking about that twerp?

You rolled your eyes as the snake tattoo slithered around your hand while you raised your paintbrush to the easel.

It’s surprising how they didn’t even try to stop by in your workplace.

While Sidapa still had his glum demeanor, he definitely started picking up Bakunawa’s habit on being a pain in your ass.

We heard that.

“You were meant to.”

“What was that, dear?” your mentor called out from his desk.

“Nothing.”

“You should go get some rest. It’s quite late.”

You didn’t argue and began packing up.

Luckily you lived close to your work place. Just a half-hour walk.

But suddenly… you felt the scales under your skin out of instinct.

You looked up to the tops of one of London’s old buildings.

Nothing. Just the glow of the full moon.

A deep sigh left you at the sentimental sight.

For the rest of your walk, you refused to look at the sky.

 ...

Jake didn’t know why Khonshu wanted him to watch over you.

There were more better ways of him spending time while he was in control of his body.

Like finding where Harrow is for starters.

It wouldn’t be that hard to find the cultist harboring an equally murderous god in him if it was that easy to find you.

Jake tugged his cap lower to avoid the cameras as he snuck in the apartment building entrance before the door locked.

13th floor, Jake noted as he watched the lift stopped. He waited a beat before calling down the lift back down to follow you.

As the lift doors open…

“Oh, hi, Marc.”

Jake froze at the sight of you still in the lift, now smiling at him like catching his hand in the cookie jar.

Now, he was sitting in your living room with a good cup of joe with you in the loveseat across from him.

Where the hell was Khonshu?!

“How long have you been following me?”

“Two days.”

Damn it, why was he being honest?

“It’s good to see you.”

Jake swallowed heavily and kept his head down, hiding his eyes under his cap.

Probably not that honest.

“Did Steven tell you where to find me? Or was it Layla?”

Jake winced again.

While it was Marc who handed the divorce papers before all this happened, but now…

Layla did. All signed and delivered.

She wanted to stay in areas closer to Egypt, and Marc desperately wanted the freedom he’d been asking for since the beginning of being Khonshu’s slave.

It was a quick and easy process, and Marc barely put up a fight when the papers arrived.

It would’ve probably been different if Steven was around.

But Steven…

Steven hasn’t fronted since Cairo… wouldn’t even talk to Marc.

During the aftermath of the battle and Ammit was defeated, Steven just… faded away.

He was still in there but in a deep sleep.

If he only knew that Khonshu still had a hold of their body, Steven would know you were still alive.

But Jake wanted to keep you as his alone for a little while longer.

…

You watched Marc’s silent demeanor very carefully.

You expected him to be angry… or to at least be sarcastic with you.

Actually, you expected Steven to be the one to find you first.

You weren’t exactly hiding in the first place.

Something wasn’t quite right.

“Marc, why did you come looking for me?”

Finally… Khonshu appeared.

I need you to find Arthur Harrow for us.

Without hesitation, your scaled, armored claw had the stranger in a chokehold.

“Who the fuck are you?”

#jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #bakunawa!reader #bakunawa au #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #layla el faouly x reader

[rozestears]

—SUMMARY; Niki was starving, as per usual. Not much of a surprise. But he came running to you instead of the kitchen, why so? He wanted something new, something even better than before, something you have that no greater kitchen can ever obtain.

—CONTENT WARNINGS; Food play, bondage, fingering

Shiina Niki x Fem!Reader . 753 Words

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. BY CLICKING ON KEEP READING YOU ARE AGREEING TO ANY POSSIBLE DARK CONTENT.

Niki's stomach grumbled loudly through the hallways he was running on. His every step speeding up in pace, while panting and sweating intensely. He then passed by a specific room, maybe it was even an office. He then realized that and came to a halt- causing him to stumble over and fall face first. Niki got up quickly, and pulled on the locked knob of a light brown door.

That started to get your attention. Walking over to the door, opening it, Niki got surprised by the sudden motion and fell on top of you. He got a glance at who it was and started to squeeze you tightly in a hug. Which also made it suffocating in your end. Trying to get Niki off and succeeding you asked; "Why're you here, Niki?" at such a time you expected him to be practicing with his unit.

But no, you were wrong. "Oh, no! Today's our break day! So I'm practically free." He responds to you. Silently closing your eyes for a little while, you thought and spoke out. "Well then, what brings you here today?" He waves his hands quickly. And he responds with a desire he's been keeping from you. It made you open your eyes, causing it to widen as you looked at him.

He wanted you.

But you were thrown off, everything was very sudden. Niki's face lit up more and left hurridly. You just stood in place processing what had happened just a few minutes ago. You shook your head and decided to stop thinking about it. Niki's hunger must really be getting to him, huh? You were brought back to that thought, though. When he came back with a contained of whipped cream, and a few rope.

You closed your eyes and held your head in your hands as you shook it. "What are you doing with all that." You asked him. He said he was going to do something with you that involves all these items! As you were about to scold him, he pulled you over to your desk and chair area, where he threw you down and tied you up, restraining your trying movements.

He then went over to the windows and shut them before walking back to the lights, and dimmed them down. Not too bright nor too dark. He came back to you and helped you remove your clothes as you still helplessly tried to break free from him. Niki removed your clothes from the lower area, and looked in awe and admiration.

You wanted to slap him so bad. But you just couldn't. He managed to tie your hands behind the chair aswell. He then gently moved your underwear to the side, and started to rub you gently. Causing your wetness to overflow. He kept teasing your entrance, not even bothering to put his entire finger inside yet.

He went up to you, not bothering to remove his finger covered in your shlick from where it is. He went up to you and kissed you gently. You couldn't reject him at this point, so you accepted him and did the same, melting inside of his warm mouth. And when you were distracted, he pushed his fingers inside of you harshly. It caused you to moan in pain.

He turned to his side and grabbed the whipped cream can placed ontop of your work desk. He placed a fair amount on your chest. He lowered his head and started sucking on them. Licking every once of cream that he placed on you, you felt his warm tongue making it's way around your body, as you rubbed your thighs together, still having Niki's finger inside of you.

As Niki nearly finished, he went faster in pace with his fingers. You felt yourself get closer and closer to your climax, and the next thing you knew, you came right on his fingers. He also finished up on your chest, he came back up to your face level with a big grin plastered on his face. You pouted at him but he kissed you again.

He got up and rumaged through your drawers, and pulled out some wet wipes and cleaned up your chest as he licked off your liquids on his hands. He smiled at you once more, appearing clearly satisfied with what happened. Then he finally untied you, everything on your body was numb. So when you got up you stumbled above him. And as you did, Niki couldn't help but laugh at you.

#ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader smut #enstars x reader smut #shiina niki #niki shiina #ensemble stars #enstars

[itstheoneshot]

Kinktober Day 1

Dumbification/Degradation: Kai

!sub Kai

“Baby boy,” You murmur, “Is everything okay?”

Jongin stares up at you with wide eyes as you hover over him with your hand around his neck. He looks lost and confused, an intentional drop into sub space the cause of this.

“I don’t know,” He mumbles, “You tell me.”

You giggle at him, truly enamoured by his nature and so fucking turned on by it too. The way that he stares at you blankly, not a thought behind his eyes, it’s so beautiful.

“Oh, sweetheart,” You sigh as your fingers press a little harder into his arteries, “You really are so dumb, aren’t you? There’s nothing in that pretty little head of yours at all.”

Jongin’s already flushed cheeks burn even hotter at the condescending words that slip from your lips, his eyes growing hazy and dark with lust as yours do exactly the same.

You watch him intently as you allow contact, gently loosening your grip on his throat as you grind your naked, dripping core along the length of his hardened cock. He whimpers pathetically at the feeling and you bite your tongue to suppress the moan that you want to let out when his cock twitches against your clit. You remain strong, knowing that soon you will have him inside of you but you need to tease him just a little more first.

“You want this, don’t you?” You ask him, tantalisingly grinding your hips down once again.

Jongin nods slowly, his lips slightly parted as he processes your question, his nodding increasing in speed once the words sink in.

“I think so,” He replies, “I make you feel good, don’t I?”

You laugh at his question, finally releasing his throat altogether to then take your hand and ruffle his soft brown hair. He squeezes his eyes shut, pouting his lips as your actions remind him of just how much lower beneath you he is.

“Nini…” You sigh, with another playful roll down of your hips, this time angled to allow the tip of his cock to press against your hole, “I don’t know if you do, sweetheart, are you even capable of it?”

You tilt your head to the side, keeping your expression neutral as Jongin’s own eyes well up with tears. The sight is almost enough to break you, already so close to moving down onto him but you haven’t quite broken him yet.

“I am… I am capable,” He stutters, though his words are drenched in uncertainty and self consciousness, “You’ve told me before that you love my cock.”

You shift back to sit on his thighs, ignoring the whine he emits, ignoring the desperate throb of your cunt, begging you to take him. You trail your fingers down his immaculate chest, stomach, across his hips and down to the part of his body that he has just mentioned. You watch goosebumps raise on his skin as you move downwards and you stifle another laugh as his hips jerk when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock.

“Oh, this?” You ask as you gently begin to stroke him, “I do love it, it fills me up so well… I’m just not sure if you’re very good at using it.”

You are lying through your teeth at this point, Jongin is phenomenal in bed and you both know it, but putting him down and demeaning him is too fun and he falls apart so easily for you.

“I can!” He argues, his voice is pure whine now, “I’m good! I know what I’m doing!”

It is so hard to resist, moving forward to position yourself over him again, hand releasing just so you can feel him against you again. The more you grind down on him, the harder it is for you to say no…

“Maybe I need you to prove it,” You ponder aloud, your abdominal muscles burning as you hold yourself over him, “Do you think you can do that?”

You lower yourself down just enough to take him in just past the tip, though this only serves to tease you as much as it does him. You bite down on your lip to try and contain yourself, but now you are certain that you are mere seconds away from falling.

“I can, baby,” Jongin replies, no longer letting you overpower him, he lifts his hips just slightly to make you take him in further, “Let me show you… I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

———

Kinktober Masterlist!

#kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop smut #exo #exo fanfic #exo smut #kinktober #kpop Kinktober #Kai #exo Kai #exo Kai smut #jongin #jongin smut #Kim jongin #Kim jongin smut

[inafieldofdaisies]

Ship edit and snippet | The Deceiver and The Wolf | vol. 1 / vol. 2

“It was probably nothing but [at that moment] it felt like the world.”

Mercedes placed the last pieces she had selected for him to 'model' out of a deadman's closet then turned to face Jacob with a triumphant smile, a pesky reminder to what he had haphazardly agreed to without thinking she was actually serious. "I'm not trying any of these.", he muttered, his frown only deepening when he realized if she had gone as far as to actually put together outfits, she was about to force him to wear at least one of them for more than a couple of minutes. Her dark eyes narrowed, shining in determination, "You promised." "It was a joke." A snort left her at the excuse, "I thought you don't do jokes." The glare that usually worked on his men and resulted in them scattering out of his sight had no effect on her, only prompting her to cross her arms over her chest, signaling she wasn't backing down. Goddamn it, woman. "Just one, Mercedes.", the words were but a bitter hiss that won a smile out of her, "So pick accordingly."

"Oh, how generous, Mr. Seed.", her focus returned to the bed that was covered in clothes, index finger running over her lip as she set on making her choice, "You're lucky whoever lived in this cabin was your size. Which reminds me… do you know what happened to him?" "No." His voice was even, emotionless, hiding the lie. Truth was, he had a very good idea of the McNeills fate - Stella had fallen victim to crossfire while the man whose clothes he was about to put on, had become just another failed participant in his trials. Zachary was weak, like so many before and after him, and the moment he had learned about his wife's passing, breaking him had turned into even less of a challenge. Something stopped him from uttering out those morbid details, even when Jacob knew they were bound to put an end to this form of torture she had come up with so early in the morning. The exact price would have been watching her carefree smile disappear from her face. Just power through it. "Off and the rest, too.", she ordered eventually, pointing at his field jacket. He made no move to undress, "Did you even pick anything yet?" "Yes. Now, clothes off, Jacob. Or do you need my help?" "Bossy.", he smirked despite his sour mood, refusing to let how uncomfortable he felt deep down show, "Maybe I should take you up on the offer, would certainly make all this worth the hassle."

Mercedes rolled her eyes as he threw his jacket at her, and she caught it without missing a beat, "Keep your undies on." "Yes, m'am." The sarcasm wasn't lost on her. "Keep this up, and I'm going to make you try on the Clutch Nixon Halloween costume this guy has. You sure would pull off that cape." His hands froze right when they were undoing his jeans, "You wouldn't dare." She cocked her head, sending another grin his way as she watched his progress, "We both know, I absolutely would." Seconds later, she was holding onto everything he was used to wearing while he stood in the middle of the bedroom in just his underwear, "Happy?" "Very. Now turn around and no peeking in the mirror, mister." He complied with a sigh, deciding to get things over with faster, now that he had made it past the point of no return. Jacob felt her approach before a hand appeared to his right, offering him a pair of pants that were thankfully green. Familiar. I can do this. He reluctantly put them on, avoiding his reflection as she passed him a shirt in a lighter shade of green, then a darker colored sweater. The realization she was sticking to what he prefered wearing hit him as he slipped the woolen garment over his head, and she helped him drag it down over his chest, speeding up the process. "See. Wasn't I right?", her hands set on his upper arms before he slowly lowered his eyes to the mirror in front of him for the first time since she had put the whole game in motion.

"I'm not wearing it out.", he grumbled out as he stared at himself, almost not recognizing the man looking back at him. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn civilian clothes. "Pretty please?" "No." She laughed at his sharp reply, coming to stand next to the mirror, "You look dashing." "Compliments won't get you anywhere, sweetheart." The way she bit her lip was the first sign of trouble, "A deal then?" "Absolutely not." He grabbed the hem of the sweater, readying to strip it off when she raised an eyebrow, challenge visible in her gaze. "What are you afraid of?" "I'm not afraid of anything.", he snarled, "I have no time to play dress-up." "You're not even a little bit curious what I will suggest?" "No." He was lying again, and the fact he hadn't removed any of the borrowed clothes told her as much, urging her on. "I will wear whatever you pick tomorrow." Silence took over the room, her steeled expression and demeanor telling him she stood behind her suggestion, further confirming it with the pinkie she offered him. "Deal, Jacob?"

Blue eyes shifted to her hand and then back to her face, "Aren't you worried?" Mercedes released a huff, "About what? You dressing me from head to toe in camo and tactical gear until I'm blending with the woods better than the goddamned trees?" "Last chance to back down.", he tried again, knowing full well she wasn't going to, that the warning was ringing hollow. "I've been told I can pull off even a potato sack." The matter-of-fact statement John probably would have classified as prideful, had he been there. "Deal.", he nodded as he wrapped his pinkie around hers, adding under his breath, "Am I really that predictable?" "Just a tiny bit."

#another snippet I had floating around in my head for far too long... I had to share <3 #the Clutch Nixon costume comment!!! hahhaha #at this point I'm blaming Mer coded dresses for every ship edit I make for those two <3 <3 #the collage has a little teaser of Mer's birth name [you're getting first letter] since that reveal would be happening soon in the wip #ship: the deceiver and the wolf #oc: mercedes “mercy” sibley #jacob x mercedes #jacob seed x mercedes sibley #wip: in hope of tomorrow #fc5 ocs #fc5 #far cry 5 oc #far cry 5 #far cry 5 fandom #fc5 fandom #edits #myedits #my ships #ship dynamics #ships #character inspiration #original characters #character edit #ship moodboard #graphic design #otp things #wip #jacob seed x oc #jacob seed #oc character

[ruinationz]

hey guys just wrote the requested fic ever. throws this at you like a rabid dog

thank you to @bambi-on-the-ps3 for additional help

hope you guys like this because i went through all the stages of grief doing this if you make this weird i'll fucking kill you

description from ao3 and shit:

(("Maybe some Caine x Pomni if you're comfortable with it, please? :D"-UrSw33t3stNightmar3, this one's for yuo))

(trips) kyaaah how embarrassing i tripped and fell onto the keyboard and made this oh noooo aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

(or, caine has many sides to himself.)

(pomni is somehow lucky enough to see one that he's never shown to anyone else before?)

actual fic under the cut

In Pomni's eyes, Caine was a highly complicated person.

Through the duration of her stay in the digital world (albeit short), she had seen Caine display his, often shifting, array of personality. Right when Pomni was finally starting to figure out his patterns, the ringmaster would somehow paint himself in new behaviors.

She could only compare his bizarre emotional patterns to a chameleon; One color for one moment, and a different one the next.

Some (and by some, she meant a majority) of his "colors" were...beautiful, in a strange sense.

And others, well...not as pleasing to the eye, to put it simply.

Caine really was something else, and she couldn't quite wrap her head around it.

But even so, Pomni took some sort of comfort in the fact that she at least had familiarity with every shade of his personality that he showed to the group.

...

"POMNI, MY DEAR!"

The ringmaster's characteristically loud voice soon cut through her thought process, and she looked up to find him standing before her.

"YOU DID ABSOLUTELY MARVELOUS IN TONIGHT'S PERFORMANCE! STOLE THE SHOW, IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF!"

...Oh, right. She'd gotten distracted from the situation at hand.

It had been a long day of one catastrophe after another, with not a single moment for the makeshift troupe to rest. And now, the only thing anyone could ever do was immediately collapse in exhaustion after all the antics they were dragged into.

Giving a sigh as she grounded herself back in reality, Pomni managed a small smile as she met the ringmaster's gaze. "W-Well, um...thank you...?"

"YES, YES, OF COURSE!" Even with the absence of facial features, she could tell that Caine was absolutely ecstatic as he beamed down at her.

"AND, YOU KNOW...I TRULY BELIEVE THAT ALL THAT HARD WORK DESERVES...A REWARD!"

...

What?

"...Huh? I-"

Before she had the chance to ask anything further, Pomni found herself taken by the hand as the ringleader dragged her away from everyone else.

For a moment, she was confused.

Where was Caine taking her? What was he planning? Was she safe? Was he safe? Pomni felt like her mind was running at lightning speeds as it sifted through all the possible scenarios, and each one only made the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach grow further once Caine finally stopped the duo in some unknown area of the circus.

Oh, dear.

Knowing the ringleader, he'd most likely do something rash and send everything into chaos. Perhaps his "reward" would be another bizarre "performance". Or...what if it was something harmful? What if it hurt her? What if it hurt him? What if-

Just as Pomni's worries reached their peak, the cluttered thoughts that filled her mind came to a screeching halt as Caine delicately took her hand and, almost hesitantly, bent down to press it to the lower row of the teeth that made up his head.

The ringmaster, in that moment, almost seemed just as shy as Pomni was as he released her hand and returned to his normal posture.

"...I-I, UM..."

He stumbled over his words, trailing off into an awkward silence. She watched as he shifted his weight from side to side, messing with his bowtie whilst he looked away from the jester, then finally clearing his throat before inhaling deeply.

...

"W-WELL! I'D...BEST BE ON MY WAY." He managed to stammer out, as if he'd given up on what he'd truly meant to say.

And just as quickly as he dragged her into it, Caine left the area, leaving Pomni to process the situation alone.

She gave a few surprised blinks as she held her hand close to her, gazing down at the back of it as the realization of what Caine had done slowly dawned upon her.

If that small, innocent gesture, that tiny "reward", was a glimpse into who the "real" Caine was, the shade of his personality that he'd never shown before...

...

...Then god, was it a pleasure to get to know him.

"Did you see where Pomni went?" Ragatha questioned Jax as she glanced around the area.

"Nope. Not my problem," The rabbit shrugged. "Probably never will be."

The doll rolled her eyes at his response. "I'm not too worried, to be honest. I trust her to pop up again!"

"If you aren't worried, then why'd you go and ask about it in the first place? That doesn't make much sense to me."

"..."

Jax snickered at the lack of response from Ragatha. "Don't got a good answer, huh? Looks like I win that one."

Giving a small, frustrated huff, she turned away from him as the two shortly went back to meeting with the others.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #pomni #caine #ragatha #jax #gooseworx #flippy.txt