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musicforastylesrestaurant · 10 months

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The Box.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - don’t ask me what this is because my brain has some weird ideas and has the weirdest inspiration.

word count - 1.5k

in which, your husband is ready to go on stage for fifteen out of fifteen nights at the kia forum, and the crew team come up with a way for him to get to the stage unnoticed, but his three year old daughter wants to get involved as-well.

Tonight was one of the shows that your husband had to postpone due to the flu. It was his fifteenth out of fifteen shows at the Kia Forum and this time, he was determined to fulfil all of his fans' dreams of seeing him.

Whether it was the first, second, third or tenth time. He always wanted to make them happy.

You stand backstage in the bustling atmosphere of the Los Angeles venue, excitement coursing through your veins as you hold your three-year-old daughter, Amelia, in your arms.

The tour crew rushes around, ensuring everything is in place for the show. Your husband stands nearby in his eccentric yet stunning outfit - silver trousers, a pink open jacket adorned with silver tassels on the shoulder pads, and a pair of pink Adidas Gazelles on his feet. He looks every bit the rockstar he is, and you can't help but smile proudly.

"Mommy, is Daddy going to sing for the people?" Amelia asks, her big curious eyes fixed on her father.

"Yes, sweetheart," you reply with a soft grin, nuzzling your cheek into her brunette curls. "Daddy is about to go on stage and sing his songs for all the fans."

"Wow!" Amelia gasps in awe.

Her gasp of awe alerted her father, who instantly made his way over to the two of you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and hugged the two of you close to him, the feeling of his rings cool against your skin.

"Hey, m’loves," Harry greets, planting a gentle kiss on Amelia's forehead. "Are y’excited t’see Daddy perform?"

Amelia nods enthusiastically, hugging her small arms around his neck. "I love you, Daddy!"

"I love you too, princess," Harry nods, his eyes full of adoration as he holds his little girl close.

Your cute family moment is soon interrupted by the backstage door opening up and seeing the familiar bald head of the backstage crew manager, Steve.

He enters the room, looking a bit flustered. "Harry, it's almost time. You need to make your way towards the stage."

You and Amelia follow Harry and the tour crew to where the entrance to the stage is. The area is buzzing with excitement, and you can hear the cheers of the fans beyond the backstage barriers. Harry glances back at you, his eyes slightly apprehensive about the upcoming task of walking outside in the midst of the eager crowd.

Steve, the crew member, approaches with a couple of other guys and a sly grin on his face. "Don't worry, Harry. We've got a plan to get you through the fans incognito."

Harry raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh, really? What's the plan?"

"We're going to wheel you in this," Steve tells him , pointing to a large black box labelled 'Soft Goods.' "It's going to be like transporting a precious piece of equipment."

Amelia's eyes widen with curiosity as she looks at the box. "Daddy, are you going to hide in there?"

Harry chuckles and kneels down to her level. "Yes, princess. Daddy's going t’hide in here so that he can sneak past the fans without them noticing."

Amelia giggles, finding the idea amusing. "That's silly, Daddy!"

"It might be silly, but it'll work," you chime in, giving your husband of five years an encouraging smile. "It's a creative way to keep a low profile and ensure you get to the stage safely."

Harry glances at the box and then back at you. "I don't know, it seems a bit risky."

Steve interjects, "Trust me, Harry, it'll be fine. We've done this before, and it's worked like a charm. Besides, it's all part of the fun and excitement."

Harry looks at Amelia, who gives him an excited nod, and he finally relents. "Alright, let's do it."

As the crew prepares to put Harry inside the box, Amelia suddenly squirms in your arms, her little face contorting with determination. "Mommy, put me down! I wanna go with Daddy!"

You lower her down gently, and she runs straight over to her father, her tiny arms reaching out for the box. "Daddy, I wanna go in with you!"

Harry looks down at her, his eyes full of love and understanding. "Oh, sweetheart, I know y’want to be with me, but it's not safe f’y’t’be in there. Y’have t’stay with mommy and watch from outside, okay?"

Amelia's bottom lip quivers, and tears start streaming down her cheeks. "But Daddy, I don't want you to be scared by yourself!"

Harry crouches down to her level, trying to comfort her. "I won't be scared, love. I promise I'll be fine. It's just a little adventure I have t’take t’get t’the stage."

"I don't care! I wanna be with you!" Amelia sobs, her little heart breaking at the thought of being separated from her father.

You step closer, placing a hand on Amelia's back. "Sweetie, it's important for Daddy to do this on his own. But he's going to be back before you know it, and then we can all be together again."

Amelia turns to look at you, her tearful eyes pleading. "Mommy, can't I just go in for a little while?"

"I'm sorry, love, but it's not safe," you reply gently, trying to soothe her.

Harry gives you a reassuring nod before addressing his little mini-me. "Y’know what, princess? Next time I have t’go in the box, y’can come with me, okay? We'll have a secret adventure together."

Amelia's tears begin to subside, and she looks at Harry with hope in her eyes. "Really, Daddy?"

"Really," Harry affirms with a smile, wiping away her tears. "But f’now, y’have t’stay with mommy, alright? She'll take good care of you."

Amelia reluctantly nods, but her little arms are still reaching out for her father. "Okay, Daddy. But hurry back!"

"I will, I promise," Harry assures her, giving her one last hug.

He looks over Amelia's shoulder to where you're standing and gestures for you to come forward. You step closer, and he leans in, giving you a peck on the lips. "I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too," you reply, feeling the warmth of his love even in this brief moment.

You pick Amelia up, but she still tries to reach out for her father. "I don't want you to go, Daddy!"

"I have to, princess," Harry says softly. "But I'll be back soon, and we'll have the best time together."

As Harry crawls inside the box, the crew members gently close the lid, and you can hear Amelia's cries getting louder. Harry's muffled voice calls out from inside, "I love you, Amelia! Be good for mommy!"

Amelia's tears continue to flow as she clings tightly to you, watching the box with a mix of worry and anticipation. "I want Daddy to come back!"

"He will, sweetheart," you reassure her, holding her close. "He'll be back before you know it, and he'll be so happy to see you again."

With the plan in place, the crew members start wheeling the box towards the stage entrance, and you and Amelia follow closely behind. As you step outside, the cheers and excitement from the fans grow even louder.

Amelia tugs at your hand, looking up at you with wide eyes. "Mommy, where's Daddy?"

"He's right in there, sweetheart," you say, pointing to the box. "He's having a little adventure, and we'll see him on the stage very soon."

The crew members skillfully navigate through the crowd, Some fans do glance at the box with curiosity, but the clever disguise seems to work like magic, and nobody questions it further.

"Look, Mommy! It's the stage!" Amelia exclaims, pointing ahead.

You smile as you approach the stage entrance, where Harry will soon emerge. The crew members position the box strategically, right next to the stage lift that your husband and baby daddy will soon be stood on, ready to be elevated onto the stage, and you can feel the anticipation building in the air.

A few moments later, the box is opened,and from where your stood slightly down the hallway, Amelia’s head rested on your shoulder, and stood out of the way so you don’t get in the way of everything that’s going on, the two of you watch as Harry pops out, laughing as he dusts himself off.

"That was quite the ride!"

The crew members congratulate him on a successful journey, and Harry gives them a playful salute. "Thanks, guys. That was surprisingly fun."

Amelia squirms in your arms for the second time in the last ten minutes and instantly rushes towards him, hugging his legs tightly. "Daddy, you made it!"

"I sure did, princess," Harry grins, lifting her into his arms as well as he can given the limited space, pressing a kiss to her curls before lowering her back down.

He walks Amelia back over to you and presses one last kiss to your lips before making his way over to the stage lift, As the crowd roars in anticipation, your husband takes a deep breath, ready to step onto the stage and deliver another unforgettable performance. You stand behind him, holding Amelia's hand, and together, you watch him shine as he brings joy to the thousands of fans cheering his name.

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kangaracha · 6 months

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QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 4

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pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

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---

By sheer coincidence, or maybe just rampant bad luck, you do see I.N on the way to your second dance practise of the day, lurking around by the vocal rooms at the same time as you finish a lesson.

You almost walk away, truth be told, when his back remains turned to you, busy talking to someone you don't recognise. You've barely met, apart from scattered exchanges of words (which is still more than you've exchanged with Han, who only ever seems focused on the dance or on doing something silly in another corner of the room), and it seems...awkward, to go over and grab him and not let go, as Lee Know had so eloquently put it. Rude, too, when he is still a sunbaenim, in public and in the group that you're now a part of, two years your senior even though he is younger-

It's a weird situation to be in. That reality hadn't left your mind since Taerin had pointed it out on the day you'd first received the offer; and it's only the safety of that knowledge bolstered by the...unease of turning up to dance practise and admitting that you saw him and didn't bring him that propels you down the hall, trying to catch his attention without interrupting his conversation.

He glances over the moment that you pass by his peripheral vision, pausing midsentence to give you a small wave in greeting and then resuming what he was saying, half-turned as if you are part of the conversation. You hang back anyway, trying not to listen in as he finishes up and his friend departs, leaving you alone in the hallway.

"What's up?" he asks when the other boy is out of earshot.

A sheepish smile sets itself upon your face. "This might sound weird, but I was instructed to...drag you to dance practise, basically."

He stares at you for a second, uncomprehending, and then blanches, pulling several faces in a row. "I nearly forgot about that," he says, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, and then frowns. "Wait, is that what Lee Know hyung said?"

"Basically," you answer, and pull out your phone to show him. One eyebrow raises, a look of disdain crossing his face even as he struggles not to laugh.

"He makes it sound like I'm always late or something," he complains as you start down the hall together, shifting his bag on his shoulder for better comfort. "For the record, I've never been late."

Unbidden, a smile plays on your lips. "Never?" you dare to ask, testing the waters just a bit.

You're pleased when he cracks a smile and a breathy laugh, unable to hide it under a straight face. "Maybe sometimes. Not as much as he wants you to think, though."

You're inclined to believe I.N, despite not knowing much of either side. While you've missed some of the boys in the first week of practise, never ending up close to each other by pure circumstance, you've spent the great majority of that time trying to follow along with Lee Know as he picks at details and mistakes and runs choreography back past the other boys - and toys with them as he pleases, straightfaced enough to make anything that comes out of his mouth sound believeable.

And anything could come out of his mouth, any bald-faced lie he feels like telling in the moment. In practise times, he is a serious and trustworthy teacher, but as soon as the music turns off, anyone is fair game and any topic that will cause havoc amongst the people gathered in the room is preferable.

It's kind of funny, when you're standing nearby and innocently listening in. You have a feeling it's funny when it happens to you as well, but his particular kind of wit hasn't turned towards you yet.

Lee Know is already waiting when you make it to the dance room, the music playing while he lazily marks choreography to the mirror. God's Menu, the track that's beginning to play in your dreams and your nightmares, when you find the time to have them. The bane of your existance, almost, except that the tune is horrifically catchy and the choreo is starting to make its way into your bones and at that point, it is hard to resent any of the track.

He turns as you enter, watching the door swing open in the reflection of the mirror, and then strides across the room to pause the music. "You brought him," he says to you, pleased, as Jeongin trails in behind you, closing the door with the bump of his shoulder.

"Hyung," he says before you can say anything. "Why am I being escorted to practice now?"

"No reason," Lee Know replies, deadpan; but there's an impish look in his eyes that says otherwise, the ghost of the smile that he's hiding curving in the lines of his face. You have a feeling you've both just been the butt of some joke he's only told himself, especially when the look that Jeongin gives you behind his back is long-suffering. Perhaps you hadn't been so right about him not toying with you yet.

Dance practise runs smoothly, as it always does, although there is far less goofing around at the beginning than there is when all eight boys are here together. This is a sombre duo, you notice; Minho is sharp-eyed and precise in what he wants, but gentle in his teaching - I.N is studious in response, trying to press every little detail into his limbs in the short time given.

You are serious about practise too, determined to get it right and trying to emulate the attitude that I.N puts forward as best you can, but...it is hard. Not the choreography so much, although it isn't easy, but the detail, the finer points that they have spent years honing while you were still scrapping for survival in the trainee rooms. They work with a practised ease, falling into a rhythm that molds to the other members that they've beaten into their bodies in the two long years they've danced with each other, but your body won't follow along so easily no matter how hard you try - always a little stiff, or a fraction slow, or too reserved when the rest are opening up. Always sticking out like a sore thumb, no matter the placement or the move.

Dancing was already a sticking point for you, an achilles heel you've worked and worked and worked to overcome, but this is...this is another thing. It's daunting, to come into this room every day and play yourself back on a video and notice the fractions of a second that pass by, the way everyone else moves around each other and you stand like a rock in the centre of their ocean, unable to follow an underwater current you weren't even made to feel.

"Bigger movements," Minho says as Chan's voice plays over the speakers, the nod of his head marking the choreography as he turns his back to the mirror and watches intently. Your kick is good, sky-high and bursting with energy, but the movement after it is quick, and then the throw-

"Bigger," Minho says again, arms reaching and pulling in example even as the music moves on. "Keep going."

You pick it back up at the prechorus, stretching for that extra movement he wants to see, trying to embed the feeling of it right down into your bones. It's hard, and it's tiring - your mind slips to something else, or your breath hitches funny in your throat, and your body wants to slip back into its old way of dancing, rather than stretching to its limits. You've always found details hard, to spot and to correct, your confidence in your own judgement lacking; unlike singing, where you were sure you knew what you were capable of and when you strayed from your goals.

The music ends with a final bow to the mirror, your mouth open and your chest heaving, the dance burning like liquid fire in your veins. You have to remind yourself to hold the pose and hide the weakness of your limbs for several seconds, a small moment you hadn't really thought to practise in the past - your eyes stray to Jeongin, taking up the spot just in front and to your right, waiting for him to break first before you relax too, shaking out your arms.

"It was good," Minho says, his voice lifting upwards in what you think is a hopeful tone. "Better than the other day."

"Still not good enough though," you reply, though you store the compliment away in the corner of your mind, pleased that he isn't saying you haven't learnt anything. Debut or not, you've always taken pride in being an excellent student, and you need that one thing to hold on to right now, when everything else is so up in the air.

"Not yet," Minho agrees readily, leaning back against the counter at the back of the room. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, the expression unreadable. "Not that it's an easy dance. Keep working on the details, and it will keep getting better."

You feel like there's an or else attached to that sentence that he isn't saying, a black cloud that hangs over you as his voice peters out and his gaze watches you thoughtfully, though what he's searching for, you don't know. All you can do is nod in response and push down the cold fear, letting his eyes drop away as he turns to say something to Jeongin that sounds much more positive than your review.

"Can we run through Top today too?" Jeongin questions when he is done, one sleeve wiping the sweat from his brow. "We're going back to that this week, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Minho confirms. "One week before we go."

"Top?" you question with a frown; the name sounds familiar, maybe from the extensive list of tracks sitting in a folder on your phone waiting to be listened to, but you can't summon any memory of the track itself off the top of your head.

"Our Japan promotion next week," Jeongin says. "You haven't heard it yet?"

"I think I have it somewhere, but I've been focusing on the album," you reply. "You're going to Japan next week?"

"You don't have the new schedule?" Minho questions.

"No?" you reply tentatively. "Not one with Japan on it, anyway. The only thing on my schedule is dance and vocal. No one's told me anything else." Not even Chan, though he'd been...busier this week. More distant, only around for group practise and then gone again. You've seen most of the boys around by themselves, practising one thing or another, but not Chan, who seems quite happy to leave you with Minho and focus on whatever duties he had that were drawing him away. Not that you could blame him, when you were just an additional problem thrown on him right before a comeback. If you were him, you'd probably find someone else to deal with it too.

Jeongin reaches out, patting you on the shoulder sympathetically. "No one tells me anything either," he says, so serious that somehow, he circles right back around to funny. It surprises you, so much that a smile cracks across your face unbidden; which in turn makes him laugh, a short breath that swallows itself back down before it can become a proper giggle.

Minho is immune to the humor, arms crossed over his chest. He looks like he has something to say, his brow furrowed in a particular way, but all he says is, "Lets do Top," and turns to the computer again, scrolling through the tracklist.

Jeongin turns towards the mirror, flashing you a smile as he picks a spot on the floor to begin. You shuffle out of the way before the music starts, dropping onto the couch in time with the first note and reaching for water. Minho wanders across the room in no real hurry, watching Jeongin pick up the first beats of the choreography on his own, the spaces where the other members are supposed to be around him gaping wide.

"Are you at the front for the chorus?" Minho asks over the sound of Hyunjin's voice playing through the speakers, Jeongin joining him at the side of the room as the verse plays out.

"Yes," Jeongin replies.

"Oh, I.N-ah!" Minho crows, and then picks up the dance as Hyunjin's part ends and Seungmin begins, his voice clear and crisp as the beat behind it drops out. "Main dancer I.N-ah!"

Laughing, Jeongin follows, joining in time with the music. You watch, mesmerised as they work their way through the chorus and then back into another verse; this is obviously choreography made for a whole group, not to be done on its own, but even with the obvious gaps in the timing, it looks...cool. Fun, you're surprised to think, even though the fast, sharp movements never seem to stop and I.N obviously tires the longer it goes on, his action softening and his body starting to forget the movement that comes next, limbs hesitating a fraction too long.

Minho oscillates between dancing and watching, eagle-eyes following every small shift in the other boy's body from start to finish. It's impressive, how much he can see at once, how there are so many timings missing with the other members and yet he knows where and when everything is supposed to hit, his brow furrowing or his head cocking to the side when something isn't quite right.

"You know what to work on for that," he says when the music ends, shrugging when Jeongin's eyes find him in the mirror. You move for him, leaning over to the computer to pause the music before the next song can start playing.

"Everything?" Jeongin guesses wryly, pushing his hair back out of his eyes.

"We haven't done it for a while," Minho says. "Wait until we all do it. You're going to be the only one in time."

"Because I'm at the front," Jeongin says, but he manages to smile anyway, turning away from the mirror in search of his water bottle.

Minho is unsympathetic, following him across the room. "Well if we put you at the back, how will anyone see how cute you are?"

Jeongin twists sharply. "That's true," he says, masking the laugh that threatens to spread across his face. "You're smart, hyung."

"I know," Minho replies, and then he turns away, picking up his jacket. "Are you going home now?"

"No, I have a lesson."

"I.N-ah, are you practising everything today?" Minho's voice rises with each word, the grin on his face growing wider and wider. You lean back against the counter as you watch, amused at the way they bounce off each other as Minho pokes at his ribs and I.N laughs, skittering away out of reach. "You're so cool. You're going to be a rockstar."

"Get out of here," Jeongin says, shoving him away.

Minho laughs, stepping towards the door, and then turning to you. "You were good today," he says; his voice light, but not uncaring. "You're going to sing next time."

"Thankyou," you say, your head dropping, unable to accept the compliment face-to-face. Someone outside catches Minho's attention in the next moment, drawing him towards the door.

"Hey," Jeongin says before you can follow, drawing up beside you. "Give me your number, and I'll tell you when I'm in here practising."

You blink at him, your hand automatically reaching for your phone before stalling again. So far, only Minho has asked for your number, to organise times for these practises. "Are you sure?" you question. "You don't have to do that."

I.N nods, his phone already in his hand. "As your sunbae, I have to make sure Minho's teaching doesn't kill you," he says, a smile tucking itself away behind his cheek as he pretends to be completely serious. "As my elder, you should be here to make sure he doesn't kill me."

You're the first to laugh again, the sound bursting out of you unbidden at the face he makes, the specific way he intones each word. He looks pleased at your reaction, a smile lighting up his face. "Deal," you say, and you pull out your phone, tapping his number into a new contact.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder

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3zethe3zr · 5 months

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STP Voices preening headcanons

These are mostly based off of my designs for the voices (silly little anthropomorphic corvids - each a different species with a different accessory) But i thought they were too fun not to share :]

Now, in some particular order:

Takes absolute shit care of themselves and their feathers:

Broken (Collared Crow)- I feel like this one is self-explanatory. Its Broken. His feathers are fifty shades of fucked up and hes trapped in too much self loathing to ever consider preening, social or not. The manacles have damaged his wing feathers to the point that even without the chains, he cannot fly. Cold (Common Raven)- Feeling nothing does not mean they experience any discomfort when unkempt and sees self maintenance as wholly boring. Is absolutely rank. Also considers social preening an absolute waste of time, is lucky to have Hunted as a bestie Cheated (Chough)- Never gets in horrid enough condition that Broken and Cold do, but somehow manages to be worse. Does not see the point in self maintenance when his feathers are just going to get fucked up in the future, but the second he feels he's too unkempt he will start complaining. Doesn't enjoy social preening either, so the others have to force him at metaphorical gunpoint, and he whines the entire time

Takes insanely good care of their feathers:

Opportunist (Eurasian Magpie)- First impressions matter! He is always ridiculously well put together and shiny. Wants the connections social preening could give (and maybe a friend), so tries to initiate it frequently. Often the one badgering Cheated to take care of himself by appealing to Cheateds' better nature. Cheated does not have a better nature. Hunted (Malayan Black Magpie)- Well maintained feathers have a fuck ton of benefits for a Weird Fucked Up Prey Creature so Hunted is insanely diligent about making sure every feather is in order, and gets cagey and on edge when this is not the case. Social Preening is its primary way of bonding and it greatly enjoys it. The one keeping Colds feathers from getting too nasty.

Perfectly average preening habits, nothing to write home about:

Hero (Carrion Crow)- Tries his best but often ends up a little scruffed up around the edges Skeptic (Taiwan Blue Magpie)- Normally keeps themselves very presentable, you can tell when their mind is occupied as they get unkept very quickly Contrarian (Steller's Jay)- Always looks perfect without having to try at all. Everyone else hates this.

Would have good care of their feathers BUT:

Paranoid (Rook)- Anxiety is a double-edged sword, he takes very good care of his feathers due to it, but can also over-preen and has a few bald patches. His gloves bend his wing feathers out of shape and that only stresses him out more. Does not trust any of the others to preen him. Smitten (Blue Jay)- His feathers are ridiculously well groomed, and he cares about looking good. However, he does not take that helmet off ever, and nobody else is allowed to take that helmet off- so his facial & head feathers are as fucked up, bent and grimy as Broken and Colds. Perhaps even worse. Outside of the helmet thing, he delights in social preening. Stubborn (Jackdaw)- Being in good condition means he can fight for longer, so preening is a worthwhile investment to make. Post fight, you're going to need a fucking construction crew to put him and all his feathers back into place. Doesnt enjoy social preening and gets fidgety and bored fast.

#fridge rambles #slay the princess #stp #stp voices #oh god im going to have to tag everyone arent i #voice of the broken #voice of the cold #voice of the cheated #voice of the opportunist #voice of the hunted #voice of the hero #voice of the skeptic #voice of the contrarian #voice of the paranoid #voice of the smitten #voice of the stubborn

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witchthewriter · 7 months

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: swearing, some fighting - all in your honour though!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

After a long day, your s/o decides to take you to a nearby tavern and have a drink. It had been a while since either of you had gotten out without a duty to do. However, your evening was cut short when a drunken asshole insulted you.

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍

・Merlin would never be able to keep such a big secret from his spouse; he'd want to give every part of himself to you. And so he had. You welcomed the secret with open arms.

・So when you made your way down to the tavern after a particularly challenging day, you were not expecting to be outright insulted.

・The bald fat (toothless) man let the words escape his drunken mouth without the hint of a thought of consequence.

・Big motherfucking mistake.

・A bewildered laugh came from Merlin. His mind already sifting through the many spells he was about to use.

・You looked at him, and simply nodded. This day had been too heavy, and the insult, no matter how untrue, was still hurtful.

・'Out of nowhere' (as some patrons would later explain it), the man flew from his chair and landed in the lap of the burliest man there.

・Strong man was furious and as he looked down, anger rose within him (you could physically see it ... he turned red...)

・Without even lifting a finger, your hater had been punched, and kicked straight out of the tavern. Not before Merlin made him land in a pile of dung.

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐓

・When your honour is in question Lancelot does not play around.

・As he hears the insult, automatically, his head moves to the left, and he blinks once.

・Without a word he unsheaths his sword and waits for the low life to do the same.

・When the low life doesn't, Lancelot makes someone give him a sword, and drags him outside.

"I'm going to make you think twice before saying such filth."

・And the high pitch ring of steel on steel rang out in the air.

・The whole time your head was in your hands, because truly, you had heard worse. You were tough, and all you wanted to do was get a bit sloshed with your hot ass husband.

・But no, he insisted on fighting for your honour ... like he always does.

・And low and behold, the Knight of Camelot won.

"Are you alright, my love?" Lancelot's lips were pressed against your ear, and you nodded.

"You know you don't have to do that for me-"

"Oh I know," he replies quickly, giving you a half smile. "But you are my spouse. And I will always protect you."

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑

・Scoffs, a smirk on his lips as his eyes narrow on the idiot who insulted you.

"Do you know who I am? Well... I guess not. Someone with a brain would never insult the King nor his Queen/Consort"

・Gasps were heard around the tavern

And the man went as pale as Gaius' hair

"Ah, I see you've figured it out. Thought I might have to spell it for you."

"Oh Arthur," you scolded, bumping his shoulder.

・You had heard it all in your lifetime, and one day you decided that the words of sheep do not affect a tiger.

"What would you like me to do with him, my love? The dungeons? The stocks?"

・You watched as the man quivered. He would have been in his mid-twenties, barely a whisker on his chin.

"Hmmmm," you pretended to think. Your mind already made up. It was a silly little comment, from a silly little boy.

・Arthur knew you too well, his gaze turned stern on the young man. A rusted sword hanging on his hilt. He had begun to shake.

"I think we should leave him be. Maybe he won't let his tongue wag so freely."

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋

"Excuse me? What was that?"

・Percival instantly shot up from his seat at the table. The candle flickered as he did so, and you reached out to steady it.

"Perci, it's fine, really." You mumbled, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself. But one of the positives of having such a huge husband is that he will win against nearly anyone in a fight.

・Well, most of the time, men are too scared to even fight him.

・As was your insulter.

・Whose bravado slowly diminished as he watched the large Knight loom over him.

"What I- what I meant was-"

"Apologise."

"Sorry, I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean it!"

"Now leave."

"Yes, yes of course!"

・You were actually impressed by the cowardice of this man. He didn't put up one ounce of a fight. Just followed exactly what Percival said.

"Thank you," you whispered, a smile appearing on your face.

"No. Never thank me. I will always stand up for you."

𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐀𝐍

・A raise of his eyebrow, and a turn of the head. A cold, intimidating demeanour washing over him. Elyan noticed the clean face, shining armour and coat of arms on the man's cloak.

"Say that again. I dare you." His voice was a growl; low and rumbling.

・The man, no, knight, did not shrink or apologise.

"Oh what a match. The marred and the deaf. A great pair-" the knight turned around and laughed with his men.

"Mmm." Elyan looked at the arse like a snake deciding on dinner.

・Your hand itched to grab the dagger at your waist, but Elyan knew you too well.

・Looking at you, he put a hand on your arm and slightly nodded his head. I want to handle this, his eyes said.

・Folding your arms, you took a step back, 'be my guest,' you answered with a smile.

𝐆𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄

・Aggressive asf

・Doesn't even ask who said it first, he just throws himself at anyone and everyone who laughs

・Absolutely punching and kicking, grabbing heads and banging them together.

・You shake your head but join in, because that's part of the reason Gwaine loves you. You never let him have all the fun.

・And you would never let anyone talk crap about you. Especially to your face. That's not the reputation you wanted to hold.

・But who knew brawls could be romantic? With Gwaine somehow they are...

・Especially when he holds a man down so you can give him a few punches, Gwaine smiling at you.

"That's my girl/that's my guy"

・But it's not like you're allowed into many taverns anymore

・Only when Arthur, the King is there, that you're allowed to enter.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍

・Instantly his nose flares, invisible steam streaming from them.

"Apologise. This instant."

"Ooohooo," was the only reply he got. Along with the awful sound of drunk men's laughter. Well, more like coughing and wheezing.

"I'll ask one more time. After that, you'll be on the ground."

・The men barely looked in your husbands direction. Big mistake...

・Leon moved to block your view of what he was about to do.

・Because his word was truth.

・Within a second, the man who insulted you was on the floor, nose broken and bleeding.

・Once he's sorted it out, Leon turns to you and holds out his arm for you to take.

"Are you alright my love?" His concern falls on you and doesn't leave until you're feeling better.

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cemetery-sunset · 29 days

Text

☮Choptop Sawyer Headcanons #1

Main Masterlist

Texas Chain Saw Massacre Masterlist

494 words

Bobby is the older twin. He’s more protective and mature than Nubbins, but still chaotic and fun-loving. Obviously.

He goes by multiple names but does not truly care what he gets called. Usually, his family calls him ‘Bobby’, or ‘Chop’, most of the time. He doesn’t really want to be called just plain Bobby around victims though. Then he would prefer the scarier ‘Bloody Bobby’ or ‘Chop-Top’... but overall, he does not care, he will respond to basically anything. (“Coonshit” is Drayton’s favourite though. Not Bobby’s. Don’t call him “coonshit”.)

He will blast his music throughout the house and will, without a doubt, scream along but cannot hold a tune for the life of him. For being such a lover of music, he really does not have the talent to play music or sing. But that doesn’t stop him from trying! He has a guitar (that he took from some victims). And he sometimes moves the big skeleton in the side room so he can play the piano. Drayton hates when all he hears is that racket. Bubba and Nubbins think he’s great though, Nubbins even sings along (though, not well).

Bobby has a whole collection of wigs. Some fake, some from real victims, some from animals. He likes switching them up all the time. To match his vibe or outfit. He has various textures, lengths, colors, and styles. More often than not, he will keep them more like trophies and just stay bald. It gets too hot to have hair all the time. Stupid Texas.

The most expressive member of the family. He has his music, his clothing, and his style, he never changes himself for anyone or anything. And is proud of that. He’s proud to be a hippie. Proud to have been a soldier (A First Class Sergeant to be exact. A/N: That fact is not a headcanon btw, that is just the actual status he had in the military.). Proud to be a cannibalistic murderer. Bobby does not know the definition of “shame”. Truly.

He tries his best to protect Nubbins from Drayton. He’ll talk back and threaten to fight, but that just means that he shares the beating with Nubbins. He would gladly take a beating for his little brother though, so he doesn’t complain to Nubbins, nor anyone else about it. Instead, he just opts to complain about stupid silly things.

Chop loves having mitchmatched/patterned socks. he will steal the socks off of his victims' feet if he likes them enough. He likes when his clothes have patterns and look cool, rather than solid colors. They just look more interesting that way.

He will always scope out cute clothes that the victims wear and will strip them. Sometimes he strips them after they're dead, and sometimes he gets too excited and strips them before then. If it’s something he can’t exactly wear, he will chop it up and use it for patches on his preexisting clothing.

#texas chain saw massacre #texas chain saw massacre 2 #tcm 2 #tcm game #tcm 1974 #choptop sawyer #chop top sawyer #choptop x reader #chop top x reader #bloody bobby sawyer #all american massacre #chop top sawyer x reader #choptop sawyer x reader #fanfiction #x reader #headcanons

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lovejosephquinn · 1 year

Text

NSFW Alphabet. These are my own head canons and opinions for what I think Joe would be like in the bedroom and let's just say I don't mind the sound of it. 💀

A is for Aftercare: Joe's a cuddler through and through, we all know that his love language is touch and after going at it for as long as humanly possible, there's nothing better he enjoys than wrapping his arms around you and snuggling up, humming silly rhymes at you, tickling your arm sweetly and telling you how much he adores you.

B is for Body part: Joe adores his hands being all over you, he loves the feel of your skin against his, the smoothness of the contact as he glides along your body so sensually and effortlessly, there's not one part of you that he couldn't name a favourite because he literally tells you that he wants and loves all of you every single day.

C is for Cum: Joe's a sucker for pulling out at the very last second, muttering for you to get down on your knees, to open your mouth as you watch him fist himself extremely unsteadily, his cock throbbing encaged inside of his hand.

D is for Dirty Secret: Joe will keep your underwear for safe keeping, occasionally taking it with him to places when he knows he's going to be without you for a long time, a special memory to keep him satisfied.

E is for Experience: Joe knows his way around the bedroom, his most favourite thing to do is explore your body, finding out what you like and dislike the most, knowing not what someone he previously might have been with had liked doesn't mean you're going to. But he's tried many different tactics and several positions to keep you going, so you're always up for seeing what he's going to get up to next.

F is for Favourite Position: Joe will bend you over wherever he pleases, he loves the feel of his balls slapping up against you, where he can gain the most control and feel all of him inside of you. It's a must for him to be able to stare uncontrollably at your ass jiggling whilst he pounds you.

G is for Goofy: When he's all in it, there's full seriousness until the moment it ends. But there's the odd time (especially when he's had a few drinks) that he'll be giggling when you're making certain faces, mimicking the moans you made and stupidly strip teasing in front of you, except he's tripping over his own two feet.

H is for Hair: Hair pulling. Hair tugging. A straight up yes for him. As for the crotch area, traditionally groomed, not too hairy not too bald, the odd curl to match his own head of hair. Standard.

I is for Intimacy: There's no beating around the bush, Joe's intimate levels are second to none and you will always feel taken care of in any sense when he's around you, but in the bedroom it's always took up a notch from the way he's got a hold of you or is egging you on and begging for your own release over his.

J is for Jack Off: Whether it's in front of you or away from you, Joe will always be thinking about you when he's getting busy by himself. His imagination runs wild and he'll just find himself rubbing down over his trousers, thrusting his hips up, eyes closed getting a straight up view of you on top of him, he'll edge himself for a while until he's a shaking mess.

K is for Kink: Degradation. Joe will make you feel like he hates you but then will love you even more afterwards, calling you names, pulling your hair, choking, marking and spanking. He's more dominant than you'd ever think possible and he'll go multiple times just to hear the sweet sounds of your screams.

L is for Location: He's typically a bed man, but he's not opposed to having you up against the wall if he can't be bothered to make it there first, the elevated feel of you bouncing on his length whilst he ploughs up into you is something that could make him cum instantly.

M is for Motivation: It doesn't take much to get Joe going, his sex drive is so high that he'll be making both threats and promises that if you're out, when you get home and you've been teasing or just generally look really good, you're in for it.

N is for NO: Joe really doesn't entertain the thought of anal sex, he's all for playing around with you when you're being fucked but he's not all bothered about trying or doing it.

O is for Oral: Joe prefers to go down on you all day long, there's nothing he'd rather do than have your legs spread apart and be tasting and enjoying his favourite meal. But in the same breath, if you're offering he will not refuse and will go all out to make sure he's fucking that pretty little face of yours until you're panting for air.

P is for Pace: He loves to tease you by starting off slow but then it'll build up, especially when you're practically begging him to fuck you harder, he will obey as soon as he feels your cunt clench around him, a soft grunt leaving his lips and there's no stopping him after that.

Q is for Quickie: If there's only time for that, he'll take it. But Joe much prefers to be able to take his time with you, hours of pleasure, making sure you're satisfied each and every time.

R is for Risk: Joe isn't one to take a real risk when it arises, but it doesn't mean that he's not game to experiment if it's something that he likes the sound of.

S is for Stamina: Joe's become a master of edging, he'll make sure you've orgasmed several times before he does and even if there's the one time that rule for him may slip, he'll keep going, urging you on to keep taking what he's giving you so well.

T is for Toy: Joe will love using your toys on you, he'll even let you use it on yourself whilst he just lays there watching you, his eyes boring down towards the main show you're putting on just for him. He even enjoys it when you use a vibrator on him, sucking on his balls whilst stroking it around his sensitive area just below his tip.

U is for Unfair: Teasing is his favourite past time, it's his very own mission to have you shaking and squirming before him before he let's himself gain pleasure. You're pretty sure he gets off on watching you beg for him to fuck you or to even just slip a finger in just to rid the ache he's encouraging.

V is for Volume: You're definitely louder than him, and that's just how he likes it. But when he moans you know about it. The soft groans that leave his lips when he first goes inside of you send you to a blissful melodic heaven. His favourite thing to do is whisper dirty things into your ear, telling you what he's going to do to you, how amazing you feel but finishing off in telling you that you're such a good girl, his good girl to be exact.

W is for Wildcard: There's no in between when Joe's under the influence of alcohol, he's either all sweetness and light or completely feral for you. The fantasy he's always had is eating you out down the side of an alley way, the wetter the better, your legs are squirming around him, wrapped around his neck to keep a grip of just where he wants you.

X is for Xray: An absolute head canon, my own opinion if anything. But his size is just above average, more girth than anything, something that you would definitely feel and he knows exactly how to use.

Y is for Yearning: An average sex drive, once he's in the mood there's no stopping Joe but he's all up for a quiet night in and good cuddle, even going out on a date night and spoiling the shit out of you and not having it end in passion is good enough for him.

Z is for Zzz: Joe's not one to go straight to sleep after sex, it actually wakes him up a little more and he'll talk your ear off or do his best to make you laugh, even when it's the middle of the night, he's quick to remember a story to tell you whilst you're cuddling away, his speech will start to slur but you'll eventually drown out his voice into the back of your head whilst you slip into peaceful slumber yourself. The occasional mhmm back to him is all he needs to know you're listening. It's rare he'll be asleep before you.

#joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn x reader

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moogghost · 3 months

Text

i've been meaning to design these two for weeks now ever since i got hit with a vision for designs for them both.. these bosses are so creature to me i'm happy with how these guys turned out

more thoughts on the designs specifically under the cut bc i had a lot of thoughts when designing both as well as some lore thoughts since i've had them in my head for a few weeks now :3

pinging marciale-

it's a silly two headed dragon! it has two heads/faces as is, so i wanted to incorporate that somehow in the design

it can manipulate the goopy jelly bits of itself at will :3 that's how it often goes into a ball to roll around its boss arena

speaking of The Goop i am aware that pinging marciale doesn't have the more 'bony' looking jelleton bits in it however this guy looked bald without them

probably the most friendly looking of the bosses and it probably isss in a way at least in the lore rotating in my head. also absolutely the least 'orderly' of them all lmao

because its arena takes place in what i've always assumed to be a library/archive of sorts i like to think this guy is a archivist/librarian. or at least is meant to be one

also probably some sorta astronomy vibes because gestures to the constellations on the ceiling of its boss arena. do u think this guy likes sleeping under the 'stars' before its boss fights bc i sure do

one last more character central thing i think it would like drums. or play them even. this is just bc of the amen break in phase 3 of c0ld st0rage yea but also i think pinging marciale would go crazy on drums

asynchronous rondo-

i could not tell you why but this creature gave me bird vibes (actually i can it's bc i assigned rondo's boss theme to an unrelated bird robot oc of mine so rondo got assigned bird by association)

the inside of the funnel basically contains most of the goop that makes up all of rondo's faces, which it can make several (even uses some of them as hands if it really wants)

the 'eyes' of the faces themselves function as search lights!

further on the topic of the faces the mouths are also how it uses some of its attacks. like sting ray my behated

has more wheel like feet bc honestly? it felt like a vibe. rondo can skate if it wants

functions as the guard/a sort of security in the spire since. well. gestures to its boss arena

also pointing at the sushi(??) plates in the background of its arena and that it looks like a sushi conveyor belt i think rondo could cook. whether this is for the jelletons or the hypothetical prisoners idk i didn't think that far into this. ...and not that i'd imagine there's much purpose for that in the memverse but shhh let's ignore that anyways this cone can COOK 🔥🔥🔥

very quiet i'd imagine. not very talkative unless it's singing! (i know pinging marciale sings too but. i think rondo is more of a singer)

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #splatoon side order #side order #pinging marciale #asynchronous rondo #ghost gets attached to the random bosses in side order who could've possibly seen this coming (cough the legion of stationery cough #sorry you can tell i kinda thought more about pinging marciale than rondo i love them both but the circle is my glorpy #i love fighting the circle it's my favourite spire boss sorry #ghost's art

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octuscle · 9 months

Note

Hey dude, do you possibly have any suitcases for Johannesburg? I’m there for work cause my employer owns a stake in a gold mine but I can’t find my luggage and I’m meeting with the mine supervisor soon. If you have one it would be appreciated.

In fact, I would have a suitcase. I can make it available to you with pleasure. At first sight it looks very suitable. Suits, shirts… Just what you need. Okay, already at first sight the suits are a bit too fashionable for you… You prefer rather classic dark blue. But what should you do? You need something to wear. But as you look at yourself in your bathroom mirror in the hotel room, you wonder if you shouldn't go naked. The suit is three sizes too big for you. And still too tight at the hips. Who should wear something like that? You have no time to think or change anything. You grab your laptop bag and head out.

In the elevator you have to loosen your tie knot a bit. It was probably tied too tightly. You look really silly. But at least you seem to have gotten a little color in the few hours you've been here. But maybe it's the tinted mirror in the elevator.

On your way through the hotel lobby to the exit, you feel the pants adjusting to your body. Or vice versa. Very strange… In any case, the pants are no longer tight on your stomach. And the legs are no longer too long. As you step out of the cool lobby onto the street, the warmth hits you like a blow. You wipe your forehead with your hand. And over your head. There is no hair! Your head is bald. But you seem to have grown a beard. The doorman calls a cab. You get in and tell the driver your destination. You are a bit frightened by your voice. A huge bass fills the interior of the cab. The driver turns to you and says that he would normally only drive fucking white people to this address. It would be nice to be able to drive a tie-wearing bruh.

You have no idea what the brother is talking about. You look again at the agenda of the appointment on your cell phone. And search LinkedIn for the supervisor's profile. A white guy with a Dutch-sounding name. Sure, like all the managers here. The driver keeps pulling you out of your thoughts and asking you questions about soccer and rugby. At first you are annoyed, because you actually wanted to prepare for the meeting again. But after a few minutes you are in a passionate discussion. Rugby is more your sport than soccer. The driver says that he is not surprised. You look like a professional rugby player yourself. You laugh boisterously. And you flex your biceps. But not too hard, so as not to burst your sleeves. And as a farewell, you give a generous tip.

The technology at your Johannesburg branch works perfectly. You get into the building with your door card without any problems. The iris scan in the elevator recognizes you immediately and automatically takes you to the right floor. There, a pretty hot fellow is waiting for you and asks you to follow him into the meeting room. Cute little white ass… You wonder if it would hold out to be fucked by you. In the conference room he asks you if he could bring you a coffee. Yes please, you answer. Black. Like you. He grins. And licks his lips. You slide him your business card. He should get in touch.

There's nothing better than appointments where your conversation partner feels superior until he sees you. You are a colossus. With excellent taste and polished manners. And a razor-sharp mind. It only takes you a few minutes to tear the supervisor's report apart. You're already looking forward to the audit. The main thing is that you get that cute ass as an assistant.

Perfectly fitting pic found at @seasoned-men-of-color

#male tf #muscle tf #male transformation #race change #muscle transformation

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welldonebeca · 1 year

Text

The Finger Situation

Summary: Jon catches Sansa masturbating and gives her a hand. Pairing: Jonsa Warnings: Porn watch. Masturbation. Dirty talk. Smut.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Keeping Up With the Targaryens - Masterlist

Sansa pulled the curtains of the little guest room she'd been stored in.

Robb was out with his girlfriend, Jon was off with Theon and she finally - finally - had their house to herself.

After the Joffrey mess and the stress of trying to get into UNI, she deserved this break.

Their home was always so busy, she never had a single moment to herself! Everyone was always all around, the walls were paper thin, and maybe father was the only one in her family who actively respected a closed door.

Coming to stay with them for a few weeks was bliss.

It wasn't all easy - she still had to deal with Jon, which was pretty much like having Arya - but being with the boys meant she had a little bit of freedom.

Still, Robb wasn't living alone, but with his best friends, Jon and Theon. A pair of pricks who were always all around her house growing up.

Theon was pretty crude, although he tried to be respectable when her parents were around and teased Sansa a bit less when she threatened to tattle on him. But Jon was different.

He was Robb’s best friend since, like… forever,

He was too hot for his own good, and an emo prick.

Well... not emo.

But he always wore black and always looked like he was sulking on some bad feeling no one could see, all pouty.

It was way worse when they were younger. Jon was always a loner - especially in contrast with Sansa, who was prom queen twice! - but he had grown out of his awkwardness, and was...

Nice.

Charming.

And he knew it, he fucking had to know.

Jon would walk around without his shirt, have his hair all pretty around his face and pout when she was looking at him, all fucking stupid!

So maybe she had an itsy bitsy tiny little small crush on him.

And what was the big deal?

As long as he didn't know it was alright.

All Sansa had to do was get it out of her system!

And now she finally had time and the house for herself.

Back home, getting off really was always the same thing. A little clit rubbing, a few open bookmarks, a pillow on her mouth to muffle any sound, and that was it.

But she wasn't home. And she was all alone.

Sansa sat on her bed all naked and pulled up a video on how to actually do it right.

Get herself off, of course.

It wasn't like she could have a toy for herself or anything, it was just herself. And now was the best moment to do it, because when else would she have the chance?

The video was simple enough. A woman with her legs all spread, her bald pussy in full view, but instead of her own hand, it was another. Bigger. Veinier.

A man's hand.

Well... she could still follow along.

So, she placed the phone on the desk by the side of her bed, and then lied down, turning her head to the side to watch it.

"First, you spread her," the man hummed, voice deep and slow with a very distant accent to it. "You see how my sweet girl is all wet? Glistening?"

Sansa nodded. Yes, she was very wet.

"She gets like this when I kiss her silly," he purred, sounding proud. "And I've made it very special today because she wanted to be part of this little tutorial so badly."

The woman giggled.

"Now, you must know," he continued. "You have to be sweet with your girl. Kiss her and play with her... I pinch and play with her nipples to make her like this... of course, you can always do this..."

He moved his fingers to her cunt, spreading her folds, touching her around her clit and then on it, rubbing it slowly, and Sansa followed obediently.

"This will always, always make her all wet," he affirmed. "Every girl... well, everyone with a clit, but let's focus our language here. Every girl has a sensitive clit, but you have to touch it the way they like it. Some feel a little more sensitive on a special side, some can't have direct stimulation... my sweet girl here can't cum if I play with the left side because it's not sensitive enough. It's the perfect edging partner."

To prove it, he moved his finger to circle just the said side of her clit, and the girl squirmed.

"See how she drools?" he hummed. "You want her very, very wet, very sloppy."

Sansa squirmed.

Sloppy. Stupid word.

Stupid word that made her all stupid wet.

"Once she is like this, and only once she is like this, you can put your finger in," he instructed. "Slowly, very gently. Let her relax and accept it."

Sansa moved around to get her finger in, and huffed at the stretch.

Oh, no one told her that fingering herself was an ab workout!

Maybe that was why the girl wasn't touching herself on camera. She would have to be very bendy to look sexy while doing it.

Still, Sansa tried her best, and if felt better than she thought it would.

It did. It really did.

Her finger was touching some place she really hadn't touched before - even when she had actually tried a while ago.

It was new, it was good, and it was hard to do.

"Now pull slowly," the man commanded. "And push... fuck her slowly, give her time."

She complied and whined in pleasure at the same time the woman let out a very little sound.

"You'll know she is enjoying it when you feel her cunt fluttering your finger... my pretty girl here will moan sweetly, but some girls are shy. You really need to coax the moans out of their lips."

Sansa wasn't shy. Well, she was, but she was home alone, and it felt so stupidly good, she wasn't even caring about being quiet.

"Don't give her more than she can fit," he instructed. "Especially if she hasn't taken any cock before."

Sansa squirmed.

"Sweet little virgins need time," he cooed.

Suddenly, her door opened.

"Sansa, are you-"

"Oh my God!" she screamed, reaching for the sheets.

Jon stopped, frozen by the door.

"Get out!" she screamed, trying to cover herself up.

He didn't fucking move.

She was going to die. That was it.

Sansa was going to die by embarrassment.

The woman moaned randomly from her phone, and she felt her whole face and neck just burning deeply.

"Curl your fingers," the man instructed. "Just like that, good girl."

She pulled the sheets up, covering her face with the thick covers.

"Sansa," he spoke slowly.

The sounds of the video stopped.

"What are you doing?" he asked, almost accusatory.

“None of your business!” she screeched.

This was just like one of their arguments back home. So childish!

"Sansa..." he stepped closer.

She covered her head, not wanting to be seen.

"Can you just leave?" she begged. "And put my phone now. Please."

She wasn't in the mood nor had the patience to fight with him now.

"What are you watching?" he asked.

Sansa didn't answer, and she could see him sitting on her bed.

"How to finger a pussy," he read the title. "By... dragonrider?"

She whined, closing her eyes.

"Jon, please," she begged. "Just let that go."

Great, now he was going to rub that on her face.

He moved, but instead of leaving her, he closed her door and walked back to her bed, sitting down.

"Don't you know how to finger yourself?" he asked, voice too casual for the question he was asking her.

She covered her face with a hand.

"Jon..."

"I'm just asking," he shrugged. "You're 18 now."

"I've never done that before!" she huffed. "I'm not like Theon."

He didn't move.

"So you're a virgin?"

"No," she stomped her foot. "I dated, remember? Harry? I started dating before you even had a girlfriend!"

Jon scoffed sounding.

"So you had a boyfriend, and he never fingered you?" he asked. "He must not have been good enough, then. I fingered Ygritte good before I even knew what I was doing."

She rolled her eyes.

"I make her cum," he told her. "I did all the time. Did your sweet Harry do that for you?"

Sansa just pouted, uncovering her head to glare at him.

"Haha," she rolled her eyes. "Is that all you meant to do? Rub it on my face how you could make your girlfriend cum and how I have to get myself off if I want it?"

He shrugged, and she crossed her arms.

"We didn't... do that," she huffed. "Just so you know."

Jon looked at her, unaffected by her state.

"So you are still a virgin?" he asked.

She looked away from him, burning red, and just wanted to yell at him, but Jon shrugged, very comfortable on her bed.

"I'm not making fun of you," he assured her. "But you shouldn't learn how to pleasure yourself with porn. That's doomed to fail."

Sansa rolled her eyes.

"I know how to pleasure myself!" she argued. "I just... I didn't know how to finger myself. It's different."

Jon looked back at her and sighed.

Shamelessly, he tapped on the bed with his hand.

"Come here," he instructed her. "You're not gonna learn from a video."

Sansa eyed him suspiciously, but walked to the bed anyway, holding her sheets close to her body before sitting down by his side.

"Well, what do you suggest?" she pouted. "That I read an article?"

He straight up chuckled, and then looked at her, licking his lips, and his eyes were tainted with something more.

"You need a teacher to help you. Show you," he said simply, leaning closer to her. "I could be your teacher."

Her whole face burned, and her eyes widened in shock.

"Jon..."

He leaned closer to her.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered.

But she shook her head.

"Please," Sansa exhaled. "Don't."

He kissed her, and she was eager to take it and kiss him back, and just let him when he moved his hand to her blanket and pulled it off before pulling her closer by her waist.

She understood now, what it meant, to be kissed silly and made wet and needy.

Harry and Joffrey had never kissed her like that.

Slowly, as if not to startle her, Jon moved her, laying her on the back and climbing up and up until her head was on her pillow, and his hand moved slowly to between her legs, caressing her knee and her thigh.

She gasped when he pushed a single finger into her easily. His finger was too thick, almost like two of hers, but he was so delicate it didn't even hurt.

"So warm, Sansa," he whispered, biting her lower lip. "You got yourself all wet, didn't you?"

She nodded, whining a little.

"Poor girl," he cooed. "Never had a boyfriend nice enough to show you how good-"

He curled his finger and she gasped when she felt him brushing against a sensitive pot in her.

"-it can be to have a finger in her cunt."

"Was too scared," she whimpered.

Jon sighed, shaking his head.

"Poor, poor girl," he hummed, kissing her neck.

He moved down slowly, and she gasped when she felt him kissing her chest, licking her nipple before sucking it into his lips, pulling his finger out and pushing it back into her.

"Look at you," he cooed, letting it go. "Those tiny little tits..."

Sansa whined, though arching her chest to him.

Her tits weren't tiny!

They were just a little small.

"Do you think I could suck fit one whole into my mouth?" he looked at her. "Think your little tit can fit all into my lips while I finger your virgin cunt?"

His words, dear Lord...

Suddenly, Jon moved to his statement, spreading his lips, and she gasped when his teeth grazed against the top and bottom of her breast, and she moaned when he sucked it all into his lips.

Sansa arched her hips, and moaned loudly when he slipped a second finger into her.

"Jon," she grabbed his hair, not knowing what to even do with her hands.

His hair was so nice, soft and curly and pretty.

"Sweet little Sansa," he moved back, kissing her skin slowly to her other breast. "Squeezing me sweetly on your cunt."

She arched her hips to him, needy.

"Jon," she moaned.

"Feels good, sweet Sansa?" he licked the underside of her breast. "To have my fingers in your cunt?"

She nodded, ad tried to get closer to his hand when he pulled away slowly, fucking her with his palm far, far away from her.

"Please, Jon," she pleaded. "My clit."

Jon hummed a little.

"I don't know, Sansa," he curled his fingers, tickling her sensitive walls and she moaned. "You only asked me to finger you, and I am fingering you."

She whined, raising her hips, trying to chase him.

"I can't cum like this!" she argued. "Please, Jon."

"You're right," he used a hand to spread her legs more. "You can't, right? It doesn't matter how much I finger your sweet cunt and don't play with your clit, I'll only be edging you."

And he kept fingering her as if he hadn't heard his own words.

"Jon," she protested.

He moved back to look at her, and she could finally see it in his eyes.

"Yes, sweet girl?"

"Please," she pleaded with him. "Please, play with my clit? Please?"

Jon licked his lips.

"And why would I do that?" he teased her, his voice and face mocking her.

Sansa just wanted to smack that smug look out of his face.

"Cause you're good?" she tried to argue. "A good lover?"

He just moved faster, and she could hear the sounds of her cunt taking his fingers, already feeling herself all infected with arousal.

"That is true," he agreed. "But I like being mean to you so, so much."

Jon pulled his fingers again, and she was about to protest when he just grabbed her and manhandled her to lay on her stomach and raise her ass, pushing now what felt like three fingers into her.

"And I think you like it too, don't you, sweet girl," he cooed.

Sansa moaned, half her face smashed on her pillow.

"Fuck, Jon," she yelped.

He fucked her fast, rough and with no mercy.

"Yes, Sansa?" he asked.

He changed the motion of his fingers out of a sudden, and she cried out when he touched something especially sensitive in her.

"Jon!" she screamed.

"Stupid sweet Sansa," he slapped her ass. "Look at your cunt. So sloppy."

Her pussy squeezed around his fingers more.

That word, that stupid word.

She could cum right now. Just a little rub, and she would cum.

"Please," she cried on the bed. "Please, I need to cum, please."

She felt him before she realised he had moved. His tongue on her cunt, around her hole, just taking her wetness.

"Please," she cried, trembling already. "I need- please."

And then, suddenly, he wrapped his lips around her clit, fucking her hard with his fingers and sucking her in a never-ending grasp.

And Sansa came.

Loud, shaking and crying.

"There you go," he hummed, tongue licking her clit softly. "Was this what you needed, Sansa?"

"Yes," she cried.

He continued to move his fingers.

"How do you say, then, sweet girl?" he asked.

Sansa whined into her pillow, sensitive.

"Thank you," she moved her hips. "Thank you, Jon, thank you, thank you."

He pulled his fingers away, and she was about to turn around when his tongue moved a little more daringly, licking her cunt clean, licking and tasting her up hungrily.

Sansa was shaking and moaning, oversensitive and overwhelmed.

Before she could cum again - or beg to cum - the sound of the door opening made her stop, and Jon stopped quickly.

"Guys?" Robb called. "We're home."

She gasped, but Jon moved quicker than she could think.

"We can finish this when we have privacy, sweet girl," he caressed her ass.

He left, and she watched him go, panting.

Oh, they sure would.

. . .

"The Fingers Situation" was posted in my Patreon in the 12th of January. To read its sequel "The TV Show" before anyone else, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and I post every day.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega

#jonsa #jonsa fanfiction #jonsa smut #jonsa fluff #jonsa series #jon snow #jon snow fanfiction #jonsa fic #jon snow smut #sansa stark #sansa stark fanfiction #sansa stark fanfic #sansa stark fic #sansa stark smut #jon snow x sansa stark #jon snow x sansa stark fanfic #jon snow x sansa stark smut #keeping up with the targaryens series

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 1 year

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Okay so silly question, but I haven't read the books since I was 9... was Tom Riddle still hot at the time of killing Lily and James? And it was only after he was resurrected that he became a bald snake man?

All the thoughts on Tom Riddle ever.

That would make sense, wouldn't it?

Canonically, as per JKR intended, Tom Riddle is not hot at the time of killing Lily and James and looks pretty much the same he does by the time we meet him after the cauldron resurrection.

In Tom Riddle's memories we see dark magic take its toll and Tom grow progressively less hot as he ages. This, Dumbledore assures us, is how we know he's evil.

However, this is a heresy blog, which means I get to look far too closely at canon and try to make sense of things that just don't make sense and would cause JKR anguish.

It never made any sense to me how Tom could be charismatic enough to have gotten all the Death Eaters together, decades after having left the country, having no background to point to, little money/money with suspicious origins, without being super good looking.

It just doesn't make any sense.

Add onto that that somehow, in the cauldron disaster which was Voldemort's second choice of resurrection he avoided for years, that he somehow comes out looking exactly the same? When it's a body he made in twenty minutes in a cauldron that doesn't even seem to work properly?

I call foul.

And Dumbledore has reasons to do this. Dumbledore has... very strange rationale when it comes to what is a sin and what isn't. Given the way he talks about Tom Riddle's deformed looks, he believes it emphasizes the point that the man is pure evil/wholly corrupted, Dumbledore is trying to convince Harry that Voldemort is so irredeemably bad that Harry has no choice but to kill himself. Dumbledore has every reason to doctor those memories, which he prepared himself and carefully selected for Harry's consumption, to make Tom progressively into the Voldemort Harry recognizes.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #tom riddle #voldemort #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #meta #headcanon #opinion

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astudyincontrasts · 2 years

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Could we get a Viktor drabble where he’s doing that thing teenagers do when they written their name and your name in their journal to see how they sound with your last name?

And getting caught 👀

As you wish, anon. And if Viktor getting caught writing things about reader is your jam, might I suggest A Theory by @gaybybirth which is the fic that dragged me kicking and screaming back into writing on tumblr.

Round and around and around that long finger. How he could twirl chestnut strands so much and not have given himself a permanent little curl or even a tiny bald spot behind his ear was beyond you. As it was he had cowlick after wispy soft cowlick curling errantly in the mess of his hair. It was irritatingly endearing, terribly distracting. Had your own fingers itching every time he started up that bad habit to slap his hand gently aside and and rake your own fingers back down his scalp. Difficult not to think what it would feel like, the silk mess of that hair carded between fingers. To watch him tilt is head back, close those tired amber eyes slowly. Thick lashes dark against pale cheekbones. Let you kiss bruised, tired eyelids softly...

No.

No, thoughts ran away with you far too easily. Not even thoughts - silly fantasies. He was terribly busy, terribly important. Him and Mr. Talis. Busy building the future of Piltover and leashing the power of those terrifyingly unstable hex crystals to allow teleportation across continents, across worlds. And all you could think of was touching that babyfine soft hair that formed a v at the nape of his neck. About the way his voice was always so softly quiet, terribly gentle.

He'd let you hold one, once. A hex crystal. Dropped it into your palm and smiled at how you'd sucked breath in hard and fast as you cradled it like a live bomb. Closed your cupping palms around it with his own.

"Can you feel it?" He asked.

All you could do to swallow, throat sandpaper grit and eyes round saucers. You could feel his fingertips against the outside of your wrists, feel the brush of his thumbs against your own and the warm of his palms to your knuckles. And yes... the shallow pulsing electric vibration of the deadly dangerous crystal you held. Like licking a battery without the copper taste, and with the warning crackle through the whole of your forearms straight to spine.

Lightening in a stone, if not a bottle.

Blue luminescence reflected in gold eyes as he pulled the careful cup of your hands apart and took the stone back. Eyes only for one thing and it surely wasn't for the tech assistant in faded grey and tatty coveralls, constantly smeared in gear grease and always in the background; fixing all the little minor issues the new golden boys of Piltover managed to create with their unlimited intellect and vastly overestimated mechanical expertise.

Sure, they could both design the future, write complex mathematic and arcane problems as foreign to you as Noxian calculus... but ask either to find the actual source of a lack of power in a time train gear network they had designed? Forest for the trees, you supposed. It was fine, you were good with details, with the trees, if this metaphor held.

Details like that hair twirling. Like his shy smile. Like how you'd be under and deep in the guts of a piece of mech and fumbling blindly for a tool only to have him press it into your searching fingers. Never could figure out how he always knew exactly what you were looking for without even having been asked. Nine eighths spanner? In your fingers. Ten quarter allen wrench? Done. The finest pair of needle nose pliers? His fingertips soft against your grease stained palm as he pushed it there in silent passing. Reading your mind.

If only you could read his.

So nice then, that one night, when you’d dragged yourself out from under the guts of their latest prototype, to find him sat there alone, the only other living soul in the lab and shaking an empty pen between twirling the silk licks of his hair.

You rolled tired shoulders and unzipped coveralls to tie the arms round your waist over your sweated tank top. Wandered over to pull the pen from his fingers and put a fresh one in hand. So lost in thought he failed to notice. Went right back to scribbling. Curiosity had you glance over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of whatever incomprehensibly complex mathematics he was entrapped in.

And instead stared down at two open pages scrawled with your name. And his. And little rough sketches and doodles that had a heat rising under your skin with the searing intensity of a late summer sunburn. Under your lean over his shoulder Viktor had swam to the surface, fresh pen stilling its most recent scrawl of your name before it dropped and he scooped one elegant hand under the jacket of his notebook to slam it shut and spin on you. Luminous golden eyes wide.

Before you could stop yourself you’d reached past him fast as a striking snake and grabbed up the notebook. Back pedaled a few steps as you flipped through it. Your name, his name, doodles and drawings and.... oh. You turned that page sideways and squinted. OH.

“Wait. Please...” His voice was broken, begging. Mortified.

“Viktor. Do you...” You were going to tease him, grinning, delighted. Until you looked up and saw him wilt, the fine splay of one hand hiding half his face as he slumped back onto his lab stool. Oh no.

Still, you weren’t giving that book back. Yet. Tucked it behind the small of your back in the waistband of coveralls and closed in on him. Very much emboldened by all the scribbles on those pages, lovely spidery litany of your name over and over again intertwined with his. Had you slot yourself between the long spread of his lean thighs. Permanently stained and calloused hand tugging away the one that hid his face by the wrist.

He resisted, and for a strained second you felt sure he was going to rise, spindle legs carrying him backward off the stool and out of the lab. But instead he gave, and let his hand drop, heat burning fever under pale skin beneath. Hot as steam burnt steel under your fingers as you caught up the fine angles of his face. Glad he didn’t seem to mind the scent of gear grease and petrol on your skin. Or how rough your thumb was as you slid it over the little freckle under his eye.

“Have you settled on one?” You couldn’t help your teasing nature, had to ask. So pleased he would be so obsessed as to fill pages with your names together.

“Please.” Still pained, he tried to pull his face from the frame of your hands, tried to reach round you to grab the book back. Instead you caught his arm behind you and pressed it higher as you leaned in.

Took a chance and pushed your forehead to his temple. Watched him exhale a shiver and turn amber eyes up toward yours. So close you could see the flecks of brown and green imbedded in the gold depths. Unable to help yourself, you pressed him.

“What else have you written about us?”

#sfw #viktor x reader arcane #viktor #arcane #drabble #ty for this adorable prompt #love me some embarrassed Vitya #gn!reader #but if you think I based reader on Audrey from Atlantis?#you right #two for flinching

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webginz · 2 months

Text

i had the worst shower ever. i was like, tripping out. reminded me of my "episodes" i had in middle school. just like voices and not knowing where i am. and not being able to get back to reality.

well now im on my way to the dentist, theres no way in hell they wont be able to notice i was just crying. (from fear of going to the dentist, not from the shower thing lol)

im so scared :(

[took out a part here but it was just about stress and disordered eating things from this morning]

then i got to the dentist and it sucked. long dentist story ahead

okay dentist. everything that couldve gone wrong, went wrong.. i tried acting normal, and we had small talk or whatever like normal dentist x ray stuff, but she could instantly tell something was wrong with me, i guess.

she gave me a health form to fill out. i was still chill and this point and was like oh yeah i have blood pressure problems but its only if im up moving around!! so not doing that at the desntist hehe amirite?! i also checked anxiety and i think thats what she wanted. just personal confirmation everything was gonna go wrong.

after she learned i had anxiety, she was nice, too nice imo... like i was a child. im okay with that though i guess. (i mean.. she could definitely tell i was just done crying)

she was like "the xray blanket is heavy and could help with ur anxiety" BUT I WANTED IT OFF AND COULD BARELY TALK SO I JUST NODDED. it made me feel so overwhelmed immediately. THIS IS WHERE EVERYTHING STARTED GOING BAD

im also just constantly aware of my hair and when you lean back on the stupid dentist seat my hat falls off. its like LOOK THE FREAK WHOS SCARED OF THE DENTIST AND PULLS OUT ALL HER HAIR!!

whatever. so there i am on the dentist chair. bald spots for the world to see. xray blanket sensory overload. sunglasses on top of my regular glasses. but im pushing through.

she starts using the tool on my teeth. a metal vibrating thing that sounds like a drill. my worst most awful fear is high pitched drilling noises. if im in a good mood i can put up with them for a bit, but obviously todays not that day. i try not to freak out, but she notices and asks if im okay and im like "yah" (with tears)

but then my mom comes in and shes like "can you not do it a different way?!?!" "shes freaking out" and just making everything WORSE. (used the chaos here to get rid of the dumb xray thing)

ive been on and off hyperventilating through all of this btw... i heard one of the dentist ladies say "shes crying and breathing really fast..." which was like. kill me now please god.

so back to my mom asking "can you not just do it a different way?" they do have a different way btw. without the scary machine! but then dentist lady says "she used this machine the last 2 times she was here? we dont have enough time to do it manually." (proof i was just having a bad day and i totally can be normal!!! but hearing this made me feel awful like i could feel all the dentists were thinking "she did it fine last time why is she carzy today?!?")

she then asked to step away to find the MAIN dentist lady.

at this point i was crying shaking hyperventilating and felt like i was gonna throw up from nervous energy. also my mom is pestering me a bunch (shes concerned but making everything worse, her hearts in the right place tho ily mom)

so big boss dentist lady is here. she says she looked at the xrays (from the beginning, remember?) and i have A GAZILLION CAVITIESSSSSS!!!!!

she says for my dental things from now on i should go to a SEDATION DENTIST!!!!

i was so out of it i didnt even know what to say. well now i do!!!

im not usually that scared. i was having a VERY BAD morning.

the dentist i go to now is all women. the sedation dentist is a MAN, that none of the women there had ever met. I HAVE TO GO MEET A MAN TO SEDATE ME SO I CAN BE ALONE WITH HIM? SO HE CAN DO MY TEETH? i might have a silly joking tone to this post but with this im being so serious. im scared as hell that thats just gonna end with me being raped.

i dont like male doctors/dentists/anything and always have my mom with me when i have to. there was a female assistant when i had my endoscopy and female nurses when i had my surgery. i dont want to be alone, asleep, in a room with a man i dont know. JUST BECAUSE IM SCARED OF THE DENTIST???

god i keep seeing stuff in the corner of my eye as im writing this. i think my psychosis is coming back for some reason.

every things going wrong today and forever

pls like/reply this post if you read it all im sorry for my ranting

#personal #i need a journal im sorry

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squeakyclamart · 1 year

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ok hold on. Ok guys hang on wait listen hear me out. Ok listen guys hang on, wait, wait -- guys wait listen to me

actually I don't really have a way to explain myself here . Yes I turned the pizza guys into animals I'm sorry. You don't understand i'm having a moment here, this has been driving me insane for days

I CAN explain my design choices however

Pizzahead - fox - I think "triangle head," my brain goes immediately to fox. Foxes just got that Shape, yknow? I almost went for a hyena for funny laugh, but outside of hyenas having a bit too stocky of a build (and not quite the tail I wanted), I figured foxes also make silly little noises so hey. Whatever

Peppino - tasmanian devil - You already know why .I mean come on. But also the color scheme worked out rather nice, with the white patch being his 'shirt'

Gustavo - little owl - I wanted him to be small and relatively round but also some creachure that has a natural rivalry with rats/mice. I could have gone with cat, but decided Nahhh and went with funny little owl instead. Brick meanwhile is still a rat because I think that's funny

Pepperman - capybara - Ok listen. He looks awful here. He looks downright terrible. But also I want to keep him that way. The stem does not help but without it he looked bald . Anyway I had a rodent theme going for the tower gang initially, and even if that changed as Noise became a rabbit, I still liked Pepperman being a big fucking capybara because I think it's Silly. Also because capys are one of the few rodents that come in a reddish color in certain lights. So

Vigilante - guinea pig - He is small. He can tuck his legs in under himself and look like he's got none. He's not threatening in the slightest. The most he can do is squeak really loudly at you. And I think he should stay that way. He is a leftover from the tower gang having a rodent theme Also look up guinea pigs wearing cowboy hats. you will not be disappointed

Noise (and Noisette) - rabbit - Ok everyone listen. I know it's a popular thing to turn this man into a rat, and I'm totally on board and I agree, and I originally had him as a rat, however. It created a sorta Pluto and Goofy thing between him and Brick, which would be funny and fitting, but I just didn't vibe with it. Plus that one comic with Pepperman calling Noisette's hats "rabbit ears" has stuck in my head like some sort of parasite and I can't get rid of it

Fake Peppino - he is just peppino but his anatomy is fucked up and he's goopy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gerome - cat - there is no intrinsic value or reason for this I just wanted to turn him into a small cat

Mr. Stick - heron - It was beamed into my mind like a prophecy. Tall lanky ass bird (to fit with Gustavo also being a bird) with big long beak. what else could you ask for

anyway. um. Yes. Sorry . I can't really explain myself for this one outside of that . yea. ok. bye

#is it cringe? Maybe.#Am I having a good time? Yes #pizzaposting #pizza tower #Maintagging this is fucking terrifying but also I know people have that tag blocked due to discomfort with recent events. Which is very #reasonable by the way!!! Would like to say here that I do not condone actions of the creator nor am I happy with aspects of the game #that are still rather Upsetting #however my brain has fukcing turned them into animals.#among other developments in my head that is slowly ripping them away from the source material and turning them unrecognizable #listen. We're having a moment #clamart #I am NOT tagging this as individual characters #pizza tower spoilers #I'll tag that tho #I need a tag for them as This. Erm.#pizzacreachures #how about that

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fatalezr · 8 months

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Recruiting Kitty

Yorkshire, the present day…

Kitty ran her fingers through her red hair as she looked at herself in the mirror. ‘Would you still have found me gorgeous, my love?’ she pondered as she found a couple of grey strands. She smiled to herself. ‘Yes’ she knew, ‘yes, he would’. Even now at age 60 she could still pass for a woman nearly 20 years younger. She ran her hand over her body, over the black straps of her bra, over the full cups with their delicate pink floral details that covered her ample bosom. She passed over the large suspender belt above her waist with the same patterns as the bra and adjusted the high-legged knickers that sat over the black suspender straps that fell down her thighs. She took her time adjusting the suspender straps, making sure they were tight and gave a noticeable pull up to the black welts on her brown stockings.

He would have loved to see her in this lingerie. Her heart pined for a moment as it so often did before she refocussed on the task at hand. She felt a murderous glee as she picked up her Walther PPK, another key part of her tribute, and the spare magazine that lay to its side. She put the mag in the top of her right stocking and picked up a long black suppressor. ‘Enjoy the show, my love’ she thought as she gave one last look in the mirror before heading out of the bathroom and into the motel bedroom.

The man on the bed was sweating profusely and he tried his best to make noises but they were muffled by the cloth gag in his mouth that Kitty had affixed. His arms and legs struggled against his restraints but Kitty knew there was no way he would break them. She was too good, too much of an expert to allow her prey to escape her grasp. Kitty looked at the man. He was balding and slightly overweight as he lay in his white vest and loose boxer shorts. He was giving Kitty a pleading look as he saw the gun in her hand. His struggles made her body tingle and she watched him, revelling in the sight of the deadly dance before her eyes.

‘Silly man’ Kitty thought. They were always such easy targets. It had been simple to find the dating app that he was using and set up a profile and within minutes they had been connected. They had arranged a drink for that evening. The conversation had been passable but Kitty knew the moment he laid eyes on her he would be ensnared. She had worn a black silk blouse and a tight brown leather pencil skirt. He accepted without a moments hesitation when she asked him about spending the night and by the time she had kissed him once and taken off her blouse, he was ready to do anything for her, including indulging her tying up kinks that she had told him of. He had briefly hesitated when Kitty had pulled out the cloth gag but she had unzipped her skirt to reveal the sensual lingerie underneath and he had been putty in her hands. Only when he was fully secured had she pulled the gun from her handbag and set off to the bathroom to prepare and let him wait.

‘Let him know his worth’ a voice inside her head seemed to say and Kitty smiled. ‘Of course, sir’ she silently replied.

“Pathetic man” Kitty said, looking down at the gentleman who was struggling against his bonds, “you’re nothing, just a sad wretch for me to play with”. The man started to sob but it just encouraged Kitty. She began to thread the suppressor onto the Walther PPK. “Did you honestly believe that you’d sleep with me?” she chided him, “you, a pathetic rat, and me, a goddess”. She gave a final firm twist to the suppressor to ensure it was in place and then chambered a round in the gun. “Your sad little cock couldn’t give me pleasure” she told him, aiming the gun towards his chest. “The only pleasure you’ll give me is when I place my bullets into you”. She laughed as the man sobbed. “Yes” she said, “my gun is worth more than you”.

She brought the weapon to her lips and gave the suppressor a lick with her tongue. “Mmm” she moaned softly, feeling her passions rise as the man looked on fearfully. She licked it again before aiming the Walther straight at the man’s chest. “I’m going to put not just one magazine into you, but two” she told him, “just to make sure the world is rid of your pathetic kind”.

Kitty could feel her senses screaming out for a release. She had been in this position many times before, but still nothing could compare. She felt as if she was a young 30 year old woman again. Her finger tightened around the trigger of her PPK. Pfft. The gun spat a bullet forward, the shell casing flying to the side and the man spasmed in pain as the bullet hit his stomach. Kitty felt like an electric charge had gone through her body. She was alive and loving the moment. Pfft, pfft, pfft. She placed three more bullets into the man’s belly, each one delivering the same reaction to her.

He was bleeding on the bed and in agony, she could tell. It purely made her more wild for pleasure. Pfft, pfft. She dropped her aim and placed two bullets into the man’s crotch. His high-pitched screams were only just muffled by the gag in his mouth.

“Mmm yes, keep trying to scream” she told him, “it does it for me”. Pfft, pfft. She placed a bullet into each of his kneecaps, causing the man an almost unimaginable level of pain. Kitty chuckled. She felt eyes burning into her, wanting her to do more. ‘Yes, yes, I will, sir’ she said silently, ejecting the magazine and replacing it with one from her stockings. She brought the gun to her lips and licked it, the suppressor now warm on her tongue from the work it had been doing.

She chambered a round in the PPK and levelled the gun towards the man’s head. Her finger paused, then squeezed. Pfft, pfft. His head snapped back and Kitty felt another rush of excitement. Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft. She squeezed off the remaining bullets before giving an almighty cry of “OOOH YES!” that she felt sure might have woken other people in the motel. Kitty admired her handiwork. The man’s face was full of holes and his screaming had stopped. He was bleeding all over, staining everything around her.

“Mmm” she moaned and kissed the gun one more time before turning towards the sky. “Happy birthday, my love”. She could almost picture the face of the Earl looking back at her, a wide smile on his young face.

It had been over fifteen long years since he passed, the injuries in his youth never fully healing and robbing him of a full life. Kitty had done well since then, she could not say she was dissatisfied with her life, but nothing had found the purpose and joy for her that being the Earl’s companion had brought her. He had given her a comfortable existence when he died, but it had been painful for Kitty to see his cousins and other distant family members fighting to get the lions share of his estate. The house and grounds had long since fallen into disrepair and ruin as relative after relative squandered the wealth and it now stood as a sad reminder of better times in her life.

Kitty revelled in the smile from the Earl’s face for another second before stopping and dressing quickly into her clothes. She put on her leather boots and left the motel room quietly, walking swiftly towards her car. She slowed as she approached the vehicle and saw another woman standing by it in a dark overcoat, her hands by her side. Her brown hair was perfectly trimmed to shoulder length and she stood with a poise that Kitty could appreciate.

“Good evening Kitty” the woman said. Kitty stopped and on instinct put her hand inside her bag to rest on her Walther pistol. “It’s so nice to finally meet in person” the woman continued, “I’ve always been a great admirer”.

“Who are you?” Kitty asked, approaching the woman.

“Well for the purposes of this evening, I’ve been your employer” the woman answered, “but please, call me Sandra. I believe our former masters were business associates. Perhaps you met him - Alex Raymond”.

Kitty almost took a step back. She had no idea who the anonymous woman who had hired her for the hit had been but she had certainly met Alex Raymond before. He had been an up and coming businessman in the Midlands in the early 2000’s before the Earl had passed. From memory, she believed he had also died several years back.

“And who was he to you?” Kitty asked.

“Well I suppose I did a similar work for him that you did for the Earl” Sandra said, smiling wryly, “perhaps not some of the more intimate details, but I know his visits to your estate inspired him as he built his own group of…female associates…he could rely on for work. I heard many tales of your exploits from Mr Raymond, and to witness them tonight…” she showed Kitty her phone on which there was a replay of the hit coming from what must have been a microscopic camera in the room, “well, I’m in awe Kitty, I really am”.

Kitty was still unsure whether this was a trap. “And what brings you here tonight?” she said.

“I wonder if we might take a drive together” Sandra said, “and I can show you something. Search me if you’d like beforehand, I have no guns on my person. My car is right here”. She motioned towards a silver BMW that was next to Kitty’s car. “Sit in the back, keep your gun on me the whole time if you wish”.

Kitty nodded and drew her Walther. She went and sat in the back, watching Sandra as she sat in the front in the drivers seat and pulled away from the motel. They drove for a few moments with neither of them speaking. “Did you know what day today is?” Kitty asked finally.

“I did” Sandra said, “I thought it might make the work more…appealing to you. A chance to offer a tribute to a former lover”.

“And the target? Who was he to you?”

“Oh, a relatively low-ranking security analyst” Sandra said, “but with an eye for detail in code that certain friends of mine did not appreciate. And when the opportunity to advance our interests combined with an opportunity for us to meet, I decided to get you involved”.

“As opposed to doing this work yourself?”

Sandra smiled in the front seat. “When I can achieve two objectives at once, I do so. But to answer your next question, yes, I have done similar work myself. A honey trap is so easy and yet so pleasurable, it really is a delicious way to kill”.

“Variety is a spice of life though” Kitty countered.

“Without doubt!” Sandra said, “and shotguns certainly add variety, if not discretion. Sadly not all of our jobs can be on giant hunting estates”.

Kitty sniggered. It was true the estate had provided a ground for her to do most of her work in relative peace and her shotguns had seen a lot of action. “Do we have far to go?” she asked Sandra, looking at the dark roads around them.

“No” Sandra said, “we’re close by”.

Kitty looked again at the roads and got a sense of deja vu. Their car climbed a hill and then pulled over to the side of the road and Kitty gasped. She knew this place well. It gave a stunning overview of the forested land and at the bottom in a clearing, the beautiful red brick exterior of the East Wing of the Earl’s estate. Looking on it brought a tear near her eyes. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked Sandra furiously, pointing her Walther PPK at the woman.

“Because I want to give you your home back” Sandra said calmly.

Kitty scoffed. “How?”

“You probably know that the Estate was eventually bought by property developers after the family misused it” Sandra said, “well, they sold it too….and they sold it to me”.

“What?” Kitty was taken aback by the revelation. She had stopped following what happened to the house and land after the family had sold it, and now it had been sold to this woman. “I…I don’t understand”.

“The group I work with needs a base of operations in Northern England” Sandra said, “and I want to see this place restored to its former glories, under the stewardship of someone who cares for the place, and who we can work with as a partner. That’s you, Kitty”.

“Are you serious?” Kitty asked quietly, not daring to hope this could be true.

“I’m always serious” Sandra said. “There’s a lot we need to discuss, but for right now, there’s an immediate issue with the house. It’s been occupied by five squatters and they need to be cleared out”.

“That could take some time” Kitty said, “the local councils are not as quick as they used to be”.

“I think there are other routes” Sandra said, smiling. “Let’s look in the boot of my car”. She got out of the door and Kitty did the same, still keeping her gun in her hand but lowering it slightly. Sandra opened the rear of the car and stood back for Kitty to admire.

Kitty felt her body tingle. She was looking at three pairs of black leather trousers, black tops, gloves and next to them, three shotguns, all looking clean, with packets of deadly shells alongside them. She picked up one of the shotguns. It was a Mossberg 590M with a detachable magazine, meaning its capacity would be even more than what she used to fire. It was a thing of beauty. “Very lovely” she said, feeling her body keep tingling from touching the weapon. “Why do you have three?” she asked Sandra.

“Because if you want to do this Kitty, I thought you might like to do it with friends”. She was looking up the road and Kitty saw car lights approach. Kitty went to shut the boot but Sandra waved her off. Evidently she was expecting this car. It slowed as it approached them and stopped near their car. Sandra nodded at the driver, a blonde woman Kitty did not recognise. A red-haired woman was next to her in the passenger seat.

The back doors of the car opened and Kitty gasped as Marie and Josie stepped out from opposite sides, Marie still tall and with some grey in her hair, wearing jeans and a shirt whilst Josie wore a vest top and leggings. She had not seen either woman in almost a decade but they both looked well and smiled as they saw her.

“Marie! Josie!” she called and the three women embraced. “I…how can this be?”

“I got approached a couple of weeks ago” Marie said, looking fondly at Kitty, “and Josie, well, we met again yesterday”.

Josie gave Kitty another embrace. “It’s so good to see you again” she said, “you’re looking well”.

“I am now I’ve seen you two” she said, “how much do you know about…?” She looked towards the estate.

“We’ve been filled in” Marie said, “and I’m ready to have our real home again”.

“Me too” Josie said, “it’s been a while but…” Kitty noticed a murderous smile on Josie’s face. She had not forgotten the thrill of killing.

“Well ladies, I think I might leave you to it” Sandra said, “perhaps I can call round in the morning?”. She tossed Kitty the car keys. “Do enjoy yourselves”. She went to the car with the other two women and sat in the back seat.

Kitty watched them drive away before turning to Marie and Josie. Both women looked at her expectantly. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to ask about their lives, but for now, she knew they all had other things on their mind. She showed them the black outfits and the shotguns in the boot.

“Fuck, we’re going to enjoy this aren’t we?” Josie asked as she picked one of the shotguns up and inspected it.

“I’ve a feeling we will” Kitty said, “now let’s go show there’s still life in us old girls yet”.

———

Kitty led the way through the forest towards the estate, feeling a familiar sense of excitement at the prospect of killing with her former teammates again. They had all changed into the black outfits with leather trousers and tight vest tops. They had donned the leather gloves and each woman had their trousers filled with several spare magazines of shotgun shells for the Mossberg 590M’s that they carried by their side.

The night was still clear and the moon shone down on them as they walked through the trees, Kitty ecstatic to be on the grounds again. They moved quickly and soon came upon the estate, it’s proud walls lit by the moon but many covered in vines or grass that had grown too thick. Kitty frowned. There would be a lot of work to do to restore the place and she dreaded to think what had happened to the interior.

They found a door to the West wing of the estate but it was locked so Kitty continued their search for a way in around the edge, wanting to keep quiet and not disturb the squatters inside. Eventually she found a broken window and with the help of a quick push from Marie, she was able to fit through, dropping quietly into one of the kitchen rooms. She found a locked door and unlocked it from the inside to let Marie and Josie in.

The house had an eerie feel to it. There was dust everywhere and the walls looked barren. Pots and pans had been thrown over the ground and the place smelled terrible, Kitty guessing there had been little maintenance to it. She imagined the electricity would have been cut off too and started making a mental note of all she would do if Sandra’s dream came true and she could work on the place again.

She put it out of her head and focussed on the task at hand. She raised the shotgun, putting the stock to her shoulder like a hunter and began stalking through the house quietly, listening for any sounds of movement and clues as to where the squatters might be.

Eventually she smelled some weed being smoked from one of the rooms and moved towards it, going through the great entrance hall as she did. The chandelier was still intact and in the ceiling, proclaiming the former glory of the house. Kitty kept moving, leading the two other women towards the smell. She paused by the room where the smell came from and listened. Two people were talking, one man and one woman, both slurring their words from the drugs.

Kitty paused to consider their next moves. The shotguns would be loud, and so it would be better to use them on all the squatters at once. She peeked into the room. A run-down man and woman in their 30s were both looking over the weed packet and attempting to roll two more joints. They had their backs to her.

“Go and grab them, keep them quiet” she whispered to Josie and Marie, who both nodded and slung their shotguns over their backs. Marie led the way, creeping into the room and her and Josie were right behind the man and woman before they realised their presence. The man started to turn but was met with Marie’s hand over his mouth and her knee in his back. Josie grabbed the woman before she could scream, muffling her voice with her glove.

Kitty entered the room, pointing her shotgun at the two squatters. “Quiet” she hissed, “quiet or I make this very loud”. The man and the woman both had a look of fear in their eyes at the sight of Kitty in her all-black outfit and terrifying weapon in the moonlight that streamed in from the windows. “Now if my friends take their hands away, you will not scream” Kitty commanded them and both squatters nodded.

Marie and Josie took their hands off the mouths of their captives and grabbed their shotguns from their backs, pointing them at the heads of the man and woman. The woman gave a quiet yelp but no more. “Now, where are the others?” Kitty asked.

“Up…upstairs…a bedroom I think” the man said. “A…above us now”.

“Good” Kitty said. “Lead the way”. The man stared at her but Kitty put her shotgun barrel under his throat. “I am your mistress now, scum. You will do as I say when I say it. Say ‘Yes Mistress’”.

The man nodded slowly. “Y..yes Mistress” he said quietly.

Kitty felt the rush of power as if it was many years ago. She could feel the Earl’s eyes on her keenly as she embraced her warrior nature again. He was loving this, watching every detail with his omnipresent vision. The man led the way back into the main hallway and up the stairs, Marie staying behind him, the barrel of the shotgun firmly placed into his back. Josie had a wild look in her eyes as she followed the woman and Kitty knew that she would be itching to pull the trigger.

The man walked quietly along the corridors, Kitty staying near his side, keeping her ears open. She passed the Earl’s room and was relieved to see it had not been used by the squatters. Instead they were in one of the grand bedrooms. Kitty could see three shapes on the bed as they entered the room. The windows were open, bathing the room in a silver light.

There were two more men and one woman, all looking dishevelled and passed out on the bed. Kitty sniggered as she considered the best way to wake them. “On your knees” she told the man and the woman.

“Yes…mistress” the man said, falling to his knees and remembering the courtesy Kitty had made him give to her. Kitty moved to the centre of the doorway and brought the shotgun up to her shoulders. She aimed for the man who lay in the middle of the large bed, considering where first to shoot him. She felt ready and knew the eyes of her two friends and the Earl were on her. It was time to test the new weapon and see what the 10 shell magazine could do.

She settled on his stomach. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! She fired twice into the man, the room exploding into sound and the shells ripping into his chest. Kitty felt herself grin but went onto autopilot, reloading and shooting. Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! The man was ripped to shreds by her onslaught. The two other squatters next to him on the bed woke with a fright, cowering and covering their heads with their hands.

“Mmm, yes!” Kitty groaned as she ejected the magazine and loaded a new one. Chik-chik. She loaded it and heard the woman from the bed scream.

“No! Please!” she said, looking at Kitty’s murderous face.

“Silence!” Kitty’s voice boomed. “We are your mistresses now”.

Marie and Josie took that as their cue to club their captives on the back of the head and then hurl them both into the bedroom.

“Exactly” Josie said, and Kitty thought she sounded thirty years younger as she spoke, “you scum will do exactly what I say or I’ll make your death so bad you’ll wish you had never been born!”

“Line up against the wall” Kitty commanded them and the two women and two men did as she said, cowering from her voice. “Mistress Marie, what do you want them to do?” she asked her tall friend.

“I want to see them for the filthy scum they are” Marie said. She pointed her shotgun at them. “Strip! Clothes off! Now!”

Kitty’s nipples were hard. The power was back. She was home, she had a shotgun and she had victims. Against the wall, the squatters took off their t-shirts and shorts. Neither woman was wearing a bra and they both had small breasts. They stopped at their underwear.

“Everything!” Marie commanded. BOOM! Chik-chik. She fired above their heads and the squatters came to life, quickly taking off their knickers and boxer shorts. They were all scrawny and dirty.

Kitty laughed. “How pathetic” she said. “I’ve seen maggots that look better than you”.

“You!”Josie shouted at one of the men, “come lick my boots. Crawl to me and lick them”.

“No” one of the women said, “No Gaz, don’t!”.

Marie and Josie exchanged a look before aiming their barrels at the woman. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Her body was pummelled up against the wall by the shotgun shells. Her breasts were hit and she collapsed in pain but the two women did not let up. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Josie and Marie both finished their magazines and reloaded and Kitty saw them both smiling happily.

The man Josie had threatened dropped to his knees and crawled towards them. He stopped at Josie’s shoe and began to lick. “You, Clean my gun!” Marie said to the man who had been her prisoner, and he tentatively got to his knees and crawled to her. She forced the shotgun into his mouth and Kitty could see its hot barrel burned him. It amused her.

“And you” Kitty said to the woman, “you get to be my next victim. She aimed from her torso towards the woman and decided to just pump a load of slugs into her. Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! The ten shells reduced her corpse to ruin whilst Kitty absorbed the recoil like the thrust of a good lover. On instinct, she put her gloved hand down her trousers and touched herself but it felt like the hands were those of the Earl’s, his voice whispering in her ear after a kill. It brought her to an intense place.

“Oh…ladies…..finish them!” she moaned the command to Josie and Marie. Her two friends responded by kicking their victims away from them and aiming down at their prostrate figures. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Chik-chik. BOOM! Both men were blown to pieces from the shotgun shells and Kitty felt herself release again in joy and ecstasy.

She looked up at Marie and Josie, who were both panting and moaning. Their shotguns were smoking. She knew what she must do now.

———

Sandra did indeed call for breakfast at 10am and was served some cold food by Kitty. With no electricity or running water, the morning had involved going to the local village to pick up supplies and arranging some of the works to be done to the house.

“Is it nice to be home?” Sandra asked.

“Yes” Kitty said, “yes, it is”. They looked up at a portrait of the Earl that hung in the entrance hall. “There is one question I have though”.

“Of course” Sandra said.

“How many enemies do you have in Northern England?” Kitty said. “Because I think there’s still life in us yet”.

Sandra smiled. “Oh thankfully, we have quite a lot Kitty, quite a lot”. They chinked glasses of orange juice and Kitty thought the future was surely to be as glorious as the Yorkshire morning outside.

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