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flowerbetweenfangs · 23 days

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Cream Filling: Chapter One

Warning: Use of drugs and dubcon.

(MC is dosed with an aphrodisiac and is all too willing... But you know)

This was originally posted on A03 and is my most popular work, so I thought I'd put it here.

I hope you enjoy.

Lightning flashed overhead, lighting up pitch black streets for an instant. Elle Shepard nearly slipped on a horribly placed patch of mud. Windmilling, she caught a streetlight and came to a stop. A crack of thunder made her let go. Another bolt struck, enveloping the buildings and pavement in a brightness that was almost blinding, before a loud boom shook the windows.

Finally, she came upon a neon sign, showing a drink being shaken, then poured into a martini glass. The glass then changed to a coffee mug, the shaker into a pitcher. The words read: Ramses Brew, Bar and Café.

Pushing open the door, Elle stepped inside and pulled down the hood of her raincoat. Closing her umbrella, she stuck it in the container with the rest. Music played, pool balls cracked, conversations blurred together in one continuous hum. A bartender passed out drinks, moving with inhuman speed.

Walking up to the bar, Elle took a seat on the stool near the end. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a stack of papers and set them on the polished wood.

“What will it-” The bartender flinched at her, their nostrils flaring. Their voice sounded like many people talking at once.

“Oh, you’re the human.” They reached into their pocket and pulled out a phone. Tapping on the screen, they sent a quick message and put it away. They dropped their voice and leaned in closer to her. “Sorry, our drinks are a little too strong for your kind.”

They were most likely a demon, with horizontal lined pupils and a pair of antlers. Their sunken face showed a skeletal structure that was more deer than human, with a slight brown fuzz instead of fur. Their hands were coal black, their fingers tapering off to a clawed end.

“Can I just have water?” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, her heart fluttering. Focus! The job was more important than a one night stand.

“Of course.” They bowed their head, before going to a new arrival at the bar.

Sighing, Elle debated pulling her hood back up when she felt the eyes on her. No, she’d have to get used to the stares if she wanted to get this job. A human woman, with dark hair and hazel eyes, wearing dress pants and a button up peach blouse. No horns, fangs, scales, or a tail. Not even markings that would signal she was a mage or tied to someone with magic.

Swinging her leg back and forth, Elle sipped at her water, looking around the bar. There was a pair of trolls playing pool. A pair of drow were in the corner, looking like they were discussing more… Intimate plans. A human looking man sat on the couch, a cane between his legs. A spread of cards were on the table in front of him, small black wisps curling around them. He seemed to be the shortest occupant, he was probably a head and shoulders taller than her.

“Ms. Elodie Shepard?” The voice made her turn.

An angular face stared at her. It was human in appearance, but black scales appeared like freckles, shimmering in the low light. A pair of ram horns curled around cheeks, the ends sharpened and looking ready to puncture anything that got near them. He was dressed in a white button up shirt and a red vest, with a black tie. He was young, appearing to only be in his early to mid 30s.

“Yes!” Elle held out her hand. The speaker took it in shimmering black hands that were very large compared to his body. They left a residue on her skin that she tried to discreetly wipe off when he turned around, looking at the loft above. "But please, call me Elle."

“Let’s go talk more privately.” He walked to the bottom of the stairs, unclipping a chain that indicated the area was closed until the morning.

Elle nodded and followed him. Stepping aside, he allowed her to go first and clipped the sign back in place. Once the links were formed, a small bit of magic rumbled through the floor, making Elle’s knees weak. Gripping the handrail, she kept herself from falling and quickly climbed up.

Once they were in the loft, Ramses clapped his hands and a few candles lit. The light was warm and calming. There were a few couches set up, with a coffee table between each pair facing one another.

Taking a seat, Elle set her papers on the table and cleared her throat. Even with the water, there was still a tickle in her throat.

“Alright,” The man sat down. “So, as you may know, this is my business. Ramses Sesbrun.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I appreciate you coming out so late, but since demons don’t do so well in sunlight…” He shook his hand back and forth like he was tipping a scale. “I still have a limited staff, so I don’t have much of a day shift.”

Elle nodded. “It’s fine. I’ve got this.” She reached into her shirt and pulled out a silver chain, with wire wrapped around an obsidian stone.

Ramses flinched at the charm, before clearing his throat. Elle quickly stuffed it into her shirt and shuffled her papers.

“Alright. So as you may have noticed, we have a bit of a uniform.” He gestured to his attire. “It doesn’t matter if you prefer skirts or pants, just make sure it’s got a white button up shirt under your apron and a tie or scarf.” Inhaling sharply, he adjusted his glasses again. “We have a very diverse staff. If you do get the job, expect to work with all kinds of people.”

Elle simply nodded. “I know it is probably a strange thing, getting a human to apply.” The thought of being around so many demons and patrons of the “other side”, it was somewhat exhilarating.

“A little. But your safety is promised here,” Ramses insisted. “I’ll do what I can to make sure that you and your fellow employees are comfortable in this environment. Everyone here is just looking for a place to unwind.” He smiled at her, showing his teeth were fangs.

Shifting uncomfortably, Elle gave a smile. Those fangs looked like they could leave some decent hickeys. Wait, no, she had to remain professional. “Erm, not to sound too forward, but the job posting mentioned pay?” Right. Stay professional.

“Oh, right.” Ramses picked up a staff of his own papers from a table next to the couch. Flipping through the stack, he left small black thumbprints on each page. No wonder he needed help with the kitchen and other places. He probably couldn’t even touch the food he served his customers.

Finally, he stopped at what he was looking for. “I know the pay is high, but that means I’ll be expecting more from you. But if what I’ve heard about humans is correct…” His cheeks flushed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to rely on stereotypes, but I know humans are known for getting things done faster.” He clicked his mouth closed, not wanting to insert his foot into his mouth.

“Then you’ll be happy to know I fall into that!” Elle said quickly, hoping her tone didn’t sound too desperate. “I promise I’ll be fast and get the work done!” She clasped her hands together. “I just really… Need a job.” A job that seemed to offer a lot of eye candy...

Ramses nodded, taking her papers and flipping through them. “I’ve already read what you sent me, but I just want to make sure…”

He made a couple more noises of affirmation, before setting the now spotted pile down. “I don’t know if you’ll have a uniform on standby, but I think we might have something in your size. If you are willing to come in tomorrow, then I can have Wrecks and Horac show you the ropes.” Tapping a finger to his lips, Ramses’ brows knit together. “You don’t have Arachnophobia, do you?”

*** “Welcome to Ramses!” Elle called out, bowing her head. When she straightened, she ignored the look of befuddlement from the new arrivals. “Just two?”

After seating the pair, she bid farewell to some patrons as they left. They acknowledged her, but seemed more confused than anything else in her presence. When the door closed behind them, she went to quickly clean their table.

Despite looking bulky, the maid outfit they had provided her was light and cool, with a long skirt, deep pockets in the apron. She’d brought her own tights and comfortable shoes. Her hair was tied into a pair of buns to keep it out of her face.

The morning rush was a surprise. Most demons were supposed to be unable to walk in sunlight, but that didn’t stop the clientele from coming in, carrying parasols, charms to protect them, and even wrapping themselves in bandages.

The newly arrived pair were dragonborn, who had quickly fallen into an in depth discussion about maidens and maids. When she approached them with her notepad, pencil to the paper, they quickly quieted.

“Can I recommend one of our Ashburnt Scones?” She asked. “They’ve got an arsenic glaze!”

After taking down their order, Elle quickly scampered to the kitchen and placed the paper on the counter.

“A pair of Coalpressed Muffins with Ashen Dustings!” She called out.

The Drider at the stove nodded, pulling out some blood red pancakes with a tar like topping that he set on plates, the two smaller legs at his waist doing small clean up details. A pair of triple lens spectacles balanced on his nose, which he was constantly adjusting to allow a different pair of eyes to see. Despite his name being “Wrecks” he actually seemed rather dexterous and nimble.

The second was the boarman, Horac, who was frying several cuts of meat and eggs. He seemed immune to the open flames, casually reaching across them to turn over a large slice of ham. Elle tried to not think too hard about the implications.

“Breakfast rush is almost over, rookie.” He said, his voice barely audible over the chaos of the kitchen.

“Thanks!” She took the plates and lined them up on trays, before rushing back out to the main room with the orders.

“I can’t believe a real life human is here,” A goat headed man said as she passed.

“I know. And so fast, too.” Their companion appeared human, but their teeth were too sharp. Enough to pass the line from sexy to frightening.

Just smiling, Elle passed over their food, which they quickly began to ravenously tear into. The remarks, while strange, seemed mostly positive.

By the time the morning rush was over, Elle’s feet were killing her. She collapsed into a chair once the last customer left.

“Elle, can you tell Ram I’m coming in late tomorrow?” Horac said, not giving further details as he went out the back. The bell chimed as he left.

“Sure.” She merely lifted her hand to give a wave he wouldn’t see.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Wrecks said, his voice jolting through her. He hadn’t spoken all morning, only cooked and passed the orders to Elle. The dishes and counters were clean, so she wasn’t going to complain.

Once the ache had mostly gone, she got up and went to change the menus over. The bell chimed again when her back was turned, and she quickly turned back around.

The newcomer had silvery hair, a pair of fox ears twitching on his head. His eyes were closed, his mouth pulled into a vulpine grin.

“Welcome to Ramses!” She tried to pour in the sugary sweetness that customers loved. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” Hopefully, Wrecks wouldn’t mind serving up breakfast still. “So, he did have a human on his payroll.” The new patron muttered to himself. “How quaint.” A bushy silver tail waved behind him.

Elle felt herself blushing. “Can I get you anything? Our Blasterjelly rolls are a customer favorite, along with our Hadesfire Pomegranate Tea.” She reached for a menu to shove in his hands. His gaze seemed focused on her, despite his eyes being closed.

“No,” He held up his hand. “Thank you. You served my friend earlier.” Reaching into his sash, he pulled out a box about the length of his hand, the width of two put together. “He’s too shy to show his gratitude in person, so he sent me in his stead.”

Setting the box on the podium, he turned on his heel and gave a backward wave, the bell chiming as he left.

Frowning, Elle used her pen to open the corner of the box. Inside, she saw a small flat pastry, the side of one showing a beet colored paste. Picking it up, she realized they were covered with powdered sugar. Setting it back down, she closed the box and stuffed it under the podium. How odd she’d been given a human friendly dessert.

“Ready for round two?” Wrecks asked when he came back in, wiping his hands on a towel.

“You know it!” She brushed back her hair, pushing the fox man out of her mind.

The bell chimed, a trio of trolls coming through, looking like they’d gotten off a construction job. A goat headed woman burst through the door behind them, looking frazzled. By the end of the second shift, Elle was nearly laying on the table. Her feet and back ached, her hair was a mess, and the uniform was rumpled.

“And my favorite part of the day…” Wrecks said, flipping the sign to indicate they were closed until the bar opened. He laughed to himself as he went to tally up the totals.

“Count this for me to make sure my math is right.” Taking the cash from the drawer, Wrecks slid it to her. He poured himself a sludge looking coffee, enough steam and heat coming off it to fog up his spectacles. Sweat trickled down his brow.

Elle’s stomach growled, and she found herself blushing. While his lower half made her nervous, his upper half was certainly handsome.

Right. Focus.

“Oh, right.” Wrecks paused. “You can’t…” He struggled to find the words. “Eat anything on our menu, can you?”

“Not without getting violently ill,” Elle admitted, before remembering the podium. “Oh! Right!” Rushing to it, she pulled out the box. “I was going to pack my lunch, but I woke up late!” She’d actually slept in her car because she was terrified of missing her first shift. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for her at home. And driving nearly half an hour both ways seemed like a poor use of her time.

Sitting next to the money, she took out one of the cakes and took a bite. Powdered sugar flew around her in a cloud, sending residue all over the uniform.

Keeping the cake in her mouth, she nursed at the paste and counted out the cash, keeping notes. Once she finished, she paused over the calculations and finished eating. Then, she quickly ate a second, barely tasting it as it went down.

“Get some actual food,” Wrecks chided. “I can smell the sweetness from here. Where did you get that if you didn’t pack your lunch?”

“Apparently one of the customers really liked my service and gave me a gift.” Elle shrugged. She looked down at her tips for the day, her breath catching in her throat. How much money did this damned clientele have!? Pulling out her wallet, she quickly signed off on the amount and collected it. Looking down at her uniform, she excused herself to the bathroom.

There was no way she was going to risk getting it dirty and looking unprofessional. If she was going to be making money like this every day, she was going to take this job seriously. Going to the restroom, she did what she could to clean up her uniform. No way was she going to take a dock in her pay to pay for the outfit.

Her face felt hot. Slipping off the apron, she unbuttoned her blouse and splashed water on herself. Looking in the mirror, she saw her cheeks and neck were crimson. The blush spread even further, hidden by her shirt.

Slipping off her blouse, she stared at the sleeveless shirt, which only showed off more of her flushed skin. It was still hot, but more bearable. And she was NOT undressing more. Splashing her face again, she got her hair damp. Slicking back her loose bangs, Elle took in a deep breath.

When she walked out, she saw Wrecks looking at the cakes. Holding one between his thumb and forefinger, he squeezed it. The paste oozed out, dripping onto his fingers. He had his phone to his ear, waiting for someone to answer.

Elle was about to complain he’d ruined part of her gift, but his expression was serious. It sent a twinge of worry through her, followed by another hot flash. This one made her head spin, and she quickly sat down.

“Where did you get these?” His voice was sharp.

“Some guy dropped them off. Um… Foxy.” She started to recall his face, but all it did was cloud her mind with other details she’d overlooked. The way his collar bone peeked out over his robe. How veiny and strong his hands looked. His lips, perfectly glossy, the fangs peeking out with his grin.

“Shepard?” Wrecks asked.

“Hmm?” She smacked her cheeks to try and refocus. “Where was I again?”

Before Wrecks could answer, the person on the other end picked up.

“Yeah.” Wrecks tossed her a damp towel.

Wiping it across her sweaty skin, Elle began to inhale deeply. She felt hot all over, her body starting to shake. Every fiber of her clothing brushed against her, scraping her raw.

“I’m sure it was him,” Wrecks’ voice sounded like it was coming from the other end of a tunnel. “Bet my first born on it. I could smell fuckery on the box.” He looked over to Elle, licking his lips nervously. “She seems fine now, but I don’t want to touch her, could you get a hold of a human doctor?” He paused, nodding along with the speaker, small grunts escaping his mouth.

“Alright.” He hung up, inching closer to Elle.

“That was Ramses. He’s on his way.” He pulled another towel off the counter and soaked it in icy water, before passing it to Elle. “Those cakes were laced with… Something.” He frowned, brows coming together.

“I guess it was Tanpopo’s way of saying hello…”

“Who?” Although Elle was sure she had a good idea who the Drider spoke of. Her insides twitched, needing to be filled. Sweat trickled down her neck and back. Slowly, she laid down in the booth, her legs facing the wall.

“An asshole who runs the bakery down the road.” Wrecks jerked his thumb behind him. “He thought it would be funny to “prank,” He added air quotes. “Some of our staff last year by spiking some cakes and tea with Hellfire Mint.” Three pairs of eyes watered at the memory. “Most of them were fine, but one of our hosts got sent into early labor and had to go to the hospital.”

Fanning herself with a menu, Elle panted. “I wish I’d been warned.”

“Well, there hadn’t been any problems since then,” Wrecks explained. “Horac was a pretty decent deterrent.”

Elle’s mouth was suddenly dry. The heat was becoming unbearable. Her legs refused to budge, each breath making another flash of arousal go through her. “I’ll get you some water.” Wrecks excused himself, quickly coming back with a glass. He passed it to her. “Now, I’m not sure how long this is supposed to last, but Ramses seemed pretty sure he knew what it was.”

Their hands touched. Elle let out a cry, dropping the glass. She shook, nearly convulsing as the need seized her.

Wrecks jumped back, his legs skittering across the floor, unable to gain traction.

Elle was on her feet, grabbing the front of his vest and pulling him to her. Their lips nearly brushed.

“No no no no no no!” He said rapidly, using his front legs and arms to push her away. “It’s flattering, but you are in no condition to be initiating this!”

His skin was scalding hot against hers. She grabbed his clothing so tight she thought it would rip. Pulling him close again, she ignored the impact of his front legs against her skirt.

“I’m terribly sorry, Shepard.” Wrecks said, before she suddenly couldn’t move.

Looking down, she saw she was covered with white bindings. Webbing kept her still, binding her legs together below the knees, and her arms below the elbows. He then pushed her back into the booth.

The bell chimed. Nostrils flaring, Elle thrashed around to try and sit up as the scent of Demon hit her.

“Oh, thank Arachne.” Wrecks backed away. “You made good time.”

“Of course.” Ramses' voice thundered in her ears. Elle’s lips parted slightly as she continued to wriggle around, trying to get free of her bindings. “Leave us. This is easier if there’s only one target.”

Wrecks didn’t have to be told twice. He picked up his scant belongings and quickly scampered out the door.

Ramses stood in front of the booth, his crotch the perfect height for-

And he was gone.

The door locked.

Then, he was back.

“You’ve ingested Asmodeus Fruit,” He explained, pulling out a knife. “Better known as Lustberries.” Looking at the blade, he set it down on the table. “Hold still.” His visible skin was wrapped in bandages. To protect him from the sun?

The order made Elle still, the only movement was her shaking with desire.

“I’m going to cut you loose. But you have to promise me you’re not going to jump on me. Okay?”

Despite the words barely registering, Elle nodded, her body still trembling.

Ramses cut the bindings, his bandaged hands brushing against her. Unlike with Wrecks, it didn’t send a jolt through her. But his scent, the way he panted with exertion… She found herself leaning forward.

“KNIFE!” He yelled, shoving her back. His hand hit her protective charm, and both of them went flying back. She hit the wall hard, and he slid into the front counter in front of the kitchen. Wincing, he slowly got back up, rubbing the back of his head.

“Are you okay?” Her legs were still bound. She started to climb out of the booth.

“Stay!” He commanded, getting up.

Elle’s legs became weak, and she nearly face planted on the floor. Catching herself, Elle held onto the corner of the table. Her charm hung low.

Ramses rushed over, cutting her legs free.

“Now. Listen.” He shook his finger in her face.

Nodding, Elle leaned forward.

“Go to the loft.”

She rose up, the charm snagging on the corner of the table, the wire wrapping coming undone and the stone falling to the ground, sliding under the booth.

Her feet slapped against the floor, she nearly tripped over the chained sign as she ran. But she was up the stairs, lungs and chest heaving. Collapsing onto the couch, she felt the heat rolling over again, almost unbearable. Clothes continued to rake against her skin so roughly she thought it would make her bleed. Her hands went to her top, trying to pull it off.

“Okay, Elle. I need you to listen to me.” Ramses said, coming up in the loft. “Normally this stuff wears off after a few hours. But it’s demon fruit, so humans suffer-” He let out a surprised noise as Elle rushed over to him.

When her hands touched his shirt, she realized he wasn’t wrapped under his clothes. Working her fingers through the gaps between his buttons, she touched her fingertips to his bare chest. The heat of his skin made her shudder.

Dropping to her knees, she started to unbuckle his belt.

“Elle!” He said sharply. “Hold on!” Grabbing one of her buns, he held her head in place. Lips parted, she looked up. Panting, she reached for him. Despite denying her advances, his erection was growing quickly.

“Here.” He pulled out a vial, a white liquid inside. “Drink this first. I know it’ll be nasty, but-” As he spoke, the white liquid suddenly yellowed and seemed to become crusty.

She grimaced.

“I know. But the other cure is… Not ideal.” He offered her the vial. Uncorking the top, he pressed the glass to her lips.

Slowly, he tilted it. Once the liquid touched Elle’s lips, foul gelatinous sludge tried to worm its way into her mouth. Pulling back, she sputtered and coughed. Eyes watering, she shook her head.

There was glass breaking, and the liquid spilled all over the floor. The fog was gone, but Elle suddenly felt so hot she started to claw at her clothes.

“You’re going to hurt yourself!” Ramses grabbed her arms, straddling her. His erection dug into her as he pinned her to the floor.

“Elle, listen to me.” His breath was warm against her skin, caressing skin, the wetness from it sliding down her body.

Closing her eyes, Elle thrust against him. Ramses let out a distressed yelp, before gripping her tighter.

“Fuck me…” She moaned, rubbing against him. A wet spot was left on Ramses pants, although she wasn’t sure if it was from him or her.

It was getting so hot she felt like she was going to pass out, black spots filling her vision. Her clothes felt like they were tearing large chunks of her skin off.

“I’m… So sorry.” Ramses picked her up off the floor, setting her down on the couch.

“For what?” She grabbed his shirt, pulling him down. Their lips almost touched, but he turned his face so she kissed his horn.

“You’re in no state of mind…” He knelt between her legs. “Just let me try something.” Taking her tights, he clumsily pulled them down. Catching the waist of Elle’s panties, Ramses left her completely bare. At the sight, averting his eyes, Ramses cheeks turned crimson.

“Yep…” He struggled to find the words. “That’s certainly Asmodeus fruit.”

Elle touched herself, spreading the soaking lips wide. Grinding against the couch, she felt herself drenching the fabric.

“Okay.” Ramses draped her legs over his shoulders. “I’m going to try something. If it doesn’t work, then we have one option left.”

Elle nodded, but her mind was buzzing. Grabbing Ramses by the hair, she shoved him into her drenched folds. Whatever response he had was muffled, making her shiver.

His tongue began to trace her lower lips, before he slipped it inside. Ellen held his head in place, biting her lips as he continued to lick. Reaching up, he seized her thighs and spread her legs wider. His breath made her tingle.

Closing her eyes, Elle focused on the sensation, the heat now concentrating in her lower half. Ramses’ head bobbed back and forth, the sounds of licking and sucking so loud in the empty loft. She let out several moans, trying to lock her legs around his head.

Keeping her legs open, Ramses continued to lick, before exposing her clit and swirling his tongue around it. Elle moaned, releasing his hair and grinding against his face. “Come for me, Elle.” He groaned into her, his breath so warm. “Come for me, please.”

Letting her head lull back, Elle moaned and grabbed the couch tight enough to feel the fabric start to rip. She felt the orgasm start to build, each lick eliciting another cry from her. Eyes watering, she nearly screamed when Ramses plunged his tongue inside.

But before she could release, it was like slamming into a brick wall. White filled her vision as the heat became a searing pain. A scream escaped her and she shuddered, falling to the side.

“S-stop…” She panted, tears streaming down her face. “It… It hurts.”

Ramses pulled back, his bandages around the lower half of his face now loose. They were soaked with Elle. Small bits of skin were visible. Despite the pain in her lower half, Elle grabbed Ramses by the shirt. She then climbed on top of him, rubbing her aching groin over his crotch.

“Fuck me, please.” She begged, continuing to grind against his hardness.

“Hold on.” Ramses pushed the table to the other couch, his glasses askew. Picking Elle up, he placed her on the couch. Unzipping his pants, he let them fall to the ground. His fully erect cock came forth, beads of precum dripping from the tip. Elle leaned forward, wrapping her lips around it.

Ramses let out a surprised moan, knees nearly giving out as Elle sucked. Once the few drops of precum were swallowed, the heat drastically reduced. Panting, Elle pulled back and let her tongue swirl around the tip.

Then, she felt herself blushing. The reality of the situation began to crash around her. Pulling her head back, she quickly let go of Ramses cock and put her hands at her side.

“Um…” The wetness between her legs was almost unbearable. “I’m… Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Ramses panted, sitting down on the table. “It wasn’t your fault. I understand if you want to leave now.”

Elle stared at his cock, swallowing hard. It was glistening with her saliva. She should leave. This was not only inappropriate, but they were both in a bad spot. But her body was literally hurting with need.

“Ramses.” Her face was probably tomato red. What had she just done? Ramses probably thought… “This wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. But I should have warned you.” He was attempting to put his dick back in his pants, which seemed to be a challenge.

“Erm…” She prodded her forefingers against one another, biting her lower lip. “This is super inappropriate. But is the antidote for this fruit…” Her voice trailed off as she became more flustered. “You know, demon semen?”

Mutely, Ramses nodded. “I didn’t want you to either get too excited or too disgusted.” He looked up at her when she stood over him. “Because I’ve been told it can be rather potent.”

“So, are you sure you gave me enough of a dose?” She lifted her skirt, showing him her wetness. “Because I would, uh, prefer not to go back to how I was.” Her legs shook, the blush filled her entire body.

Ramses’ eyes went wide, and he took off his glasses, setting them down on the table. “I’m not sure. It’s not an exact science. But…” He was cut off when Elle kissed him, straddling his lap.

“Oh.” He kissed her back, looping his hands around her waist.

“Elle,” He said, his voice muffled by her mouth. His pupils dilated slightly, the blood vessels thickening.

“Hm?” She pulled back, her arms around his neck.

“If you want to wait, the lust will wear off.”

Elle thought about it, but shook her head, “I want to do this.” She nibbled at his exposed skin, hands running up and down the nape of his neck.

“Very well.” He stood, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist.

Setting her back onto the couch, Ramses straddled her, pinning her arms above her head against the armrest.

“Are you still hot?”

She nodded.

Taking Elle’s shirt, he slid it off and let it fall to the floor, leaving her in only her skirt.

“Aren’t you?”

“Sunlight.” He gestured to the windows.

“Oh.”

“Consider this… Paid overtime.” Nudging her legs open, Ramses lined himself up, prodding against her slit. Each touch made Elle gasp, grinding against him.

Then, he slid inside. Elle gasped, instantly clenching around him. Ramses gripped the back of the couch, letting out a surprised whimper. Leaning down, he wrapped his arms around her and began to thrust. Once her arms were free, she let her hands explore him.

The touch seemed to encourage him further and he hilted himself.

Elle screamed in pleasure, digging her nails into Ramses’ shirt. Covering her mouth with his, Ramses began to pound into her, each thrust making her see a flash of color.

“God,” He said between thrusts. “You’re so tight.” His breath was warm against her face and neck. Leaning down, he nibbled her neck. “I…” The blush returned to his face.

Elle pulled him back, their lips meeting again. Pushing her tongue into his mouth, she let them dance as he found his rhythm and continued to pump back and forth. Each moan encouraged him, and he went harder.

As the thrusts went deeper, Elle cried out, her back arching. She ran her hands down Ramses shirt and vest, the fabric chafing against her skin. Unlike her own clothing, it pushed her closer to the edge, but she felt herself hitting the wall again.

Her breasts began to bounce, and Ramses groaned, his legs and buttock suddenly clenching.

“Please!” She begged, squeezing him tightly. “Finish inside me!”

“Fuck!” Ramses yelped, before he released, the fluid spilling out of Elle. Panting, he shuddered, placing his hands on either side of her head. Sweat trickled down his face. Clenching, he thrust against her as he emptied everything inside.

The orgasm finally came, and Elle clenched, wrapping her legs around his and pulling Ramses close. Shivering, she panted and closed her eyes.

“I think… That’s enough.” He slipped out of her and sat up on the couch, his softening cock still shimmering with her wetness.

Elle shuddered, then slowly sat up, rescuing her shirt from the floor and holding it up to her chest. She was covered with the strange black residue from his hands.

“I am very sorry about that.” Ramses zipped his pants up and buckled his belt. “I completely understand if you want to quit.”

“Umm…” Elle worried at her lower lip. “You see, I didn’t exactly dislike it and I really need this job.” She couldn’t even look at him without blushing.

“I could tell.” Ramses eyes went wide and he put his glasses back on. “Although I’m not sure how much of that was me or the Fruit.” He rubbed his face. “I’m going to kill that fox the next time I see him.”

Elle swallowed hard, thinking of the cakes. “Um, before you get all worked up, shouldn’t you get ready to open the bar?”

Ramses rubbed his face with a sigh. “I’ve got some time.” He looked her over. “I know you live farther away, but do you want to get cleaned up at my place? Er, not that I’m inviting you back over for...” He let the silence hang in the air.

Sighing, Elle nodded. “One thing at a time. I need to get this ‘antidote’ off me before it leaves a stink.” The scent of sex was already making her dizzy and flushed.

Helping her up, Ramses helped her dress and helped her back down to the main gathering area, collecting the charm from the floor. Stopping at the umbrella holder, he pulled out a parasol and opened it. When he took a few steps outside, he suddenly staggered.

Wrapping his arm around her, Elle helped him walk.

“It’s not too far," Ramses explained. “Erm, so, about what happened.”

“My lips are sealed,” Elle mimed locking her lips and throwing away a key. “As long as you don’t tell the others about me trying to blow you. And everything else.”

Ramses stifled a noise and looked away. “It’s fine. Just erm… Expect a bonus on your first check.”

“A bonus?” Now she was starting to feel like it was some sort of hush money.

“I take… Very good care of my employees.” Ramses frowned. “It’s hard to keep them on.” Swallowing hard, he sighed. “Elle, what I did back there, I promise I’m not normally like that. I know demons have a reputation for being sinners, but I don’t want you to feel I took advantage.”

“Too bad, I had a lot of fun.” Elle blushed at her words. “Sorry, was that too much?”

Ramses bit at his lip. “No, but I am your boss. I don’t want rumors to spread.”

“I understand.” She felt the rest of the heat finally leave her body, leaving her head clear. “But don’t… ever be afraid to ask. I um, headed after this job for a reason. Not just for the pay.”

Ramses hid his face and nodded.

If every day was going to be like this, then this new job was going to be interesting. She’d have to apologize to Wrecks tomorrow.

At least there was hazard pay.

(You can read part 02 here!)

#monster love #monster lover #monster x human #monster romance #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monsterfucker #terato #demon #demon x human #demon fucker #demon smut #monster smut #demon lover #boss x employee

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nocturne-pisces · 4 months

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Hurricane

Jason Todd x Reader

Mostly like PG-13.

Allusions to heavy abuse.

You think you must have been starved as a child.

It’s the only way that he could leave you this hungry, this hollow. You tell yourself that it isn’t normal to want someone like this. You tell yourself that it isn’t healthy to want someone so much that it twists your ribs around themselves, makes you fold in on yourself because if you don’t the wind will catch and carry you off.

You’re so empty you hear the breeze whistle in your throat, half drunk with a beer bottle in your fist blowing across the opening like a whistle and your whole body is warm. You don’t know if that’s the alcohol or the fact that he’s sitting across from you.

“What’s up with you?”

Jason levels you with a stare, clacks his beer bottle against yours in some mockery of playfulness even though you’ve barely said a word to him all night.

You try to shove it off now, try to swallow down your feelings as the sensation of the bile crawling up the back of your throat burns at your resolve.

“Huh? I’m fine–”

“You’re a shit liar, kid.”

You hate that he calls you that. Kids are innocent, pure; the first time Jason met you he’d had to pry you off of some man while you were trying to cut his fingers off for feeling you up. Jason told that man if he ever caught him doing some shit like that again he’d take a whole hand. Fucking greaseball nodded because Jason was more than a full head taller than him and held him off the ground by his stupid fucking stained shirt.

You’ve always hated that you didn’t scare people like that, you think maybe if you did you could have avoided some hurt.

You roll your eyes, because you are a shit liar and Jason knows better than anyone when you’re keeping things from him. Because he’s the only person you’ve let this close in longer than you probably have the functional front lobe to remember. Concussions are a bitch like that.

“I think I’m just gonna go home,” you offer, knocking back the rest of your beer before your ribcage gets so brittle that it collapses and he sneezes on the dust.

“Alright then, magic man, keep your secrets.”

“You’re obnoxious.”

“And you’re keeping shit from me. I thought we agreed not to do that with this whole sidekick thing–”

“I’m not a fucking sidekick.” Venom drips from your teeth, a snake backed into a corner with nowhere to go but forward viciously.

“And this is what I’m talking about! Any other day you’d just punch me and tell me to get my shit in check but today you look like you’re ready to slit my throat.”

“It’s not off the table,” you murmur, more to the ceiling than to him, right before the last of your beer slides down into your echoing gullet.

“What is going on with you?”

“Just some personal shit, Jason. Don’t worry about it.” You try to give it finality, but Jason can’t even die on someone else’s terms so he doesn’t let this go either.

“What, like your period?”

You don’t even try to stop your hand when your fingers close around the beer bottle and throw it at his head. He ducks and it shatters on the wall behind him, shards of glass raining down around his chair. You know how that feels.

The bartender’s voice is booming from the other end of the bar.

“You two. Out.”

He’s bigger than both of you combined and you don’t feel like arguing anymore so you wave your hand as you dismiss yourself, leaving Jason to pay for the abhorrently cheap beer.

It’s humid in Gotham, suffocating your every breath with smog and uncertainty. Maybe you should just find a place in Metropolis, start over again, but you’re so fucking tired of running. Everyone you have ever met, everyone that has ever left you has taken their pound of flesh. You feel like nothing but bones, knocking together like chutes on a bamboo wind chime before a hurricane.

Jason is your hurricane. Your natural disaster of righteous salvation and you didn’t bring your arm floaties.

You want to drown in him, want to inhale him and choke—

Even if it kills you. He’s never even had a girlfriend that you know of and how fucking idiotic would it be to ask Alfred if Jason’s available, how stupid to ask Dick if Jason’s interested in you.

You peel yourself out of your jeans, your bra, shove your arms through the most comfortable oversized t-shirt you can find and flop onto your back in the middle of your living room.

The ceiling in your apartment holds no more answers than the ceiling at the bar and again you have to swallow back that hollowed out feeling. At some point your eyes slid closed and you slumbered listening to the breeze in the auditorium of your chest.

—-

Everything is warm when you wake up, heat radiates from behind you and from the arm slung over your middle.

But that can’t be right, this isn’t where you fell asleep.

You don’t wait to ask questions, pivoting your body and swinging at whatever is behind you. Someone yelps in pain, your fist connecting with something face adjacent before it’s caught and held fast. Your knees come up to join the struggle and one heavy leg drapes across your hips to still you.

“Goddamnit, will you fucking chill out?”

“Jason?”

Just as you say it your eyes adjust to the light, make out the red bat on his chest, make out the shock of silver that grows in the front.

“Yeah, me, shithead.”

“Why are you in my bed?!” You struggle against his hold, it only gets tighter.

“I came to check on you after patrol and you were like sad girl passed out in the floor.”

“So you decided I needed a cuddle?!”

“I mean, that’s probably not such a bad idea given your fucking attitude—“

“Jason!”

“No! I mean, I didn’t mean to. I tucked you in and just wanted to stay long enough to make sure you were okay and then I fell asleep.”

He lets go of you, lets you get as far away from him as you can without falling off of the bed. He looks like you shot him with his own gun.

“I’m sorry. I uh- I crossed a line coming here-“

“No, wait,” you stop him, reach for him as he moves to get up.

“I don’t understand where I lost you-“

You don’t let him finish. You rush him, connect your mouth to his because you don’t know how else to explain it. He doesn’t react immediately, and you wish that the floor would open up and swallow you whole but it doesn’t.

You pull back, sit up and on your haunches and stare at his dumbfounded face. There’s only a second of silence between you before a hand strikes out lightning fast, thunder clapping against your sternum as you’re jerked forward.

One hand cradles your head, allowing you no room to escape from the kiss suffocating you like the most beautiful Gotham smog. Wisp of smoke soft, signal of something lit aflame. The other presses into your back, calloused and unforgiving, like he’ll float away if he doesn’t hold on. You want to pull him closer but you can’t, your electrons are already crashing together.

You tug at the buckles on his chest kevlar, fingers pinch and twist until they come loose and fall into a heap on the floor. His shirt goes too, the silver of sinew in his autopsy scar catching the moonlight. You’re struck dumb like staring into the eye of his hurricane and seeing the beauty in the pattern of his destruction. Like pitching yourself into a volcano for the warmth.

Because he is beautiful;

and he is broken.

And those two things are intertwined and that is something you understand in your marrow.

You press your lips to the point where the three lines meet right over his heart. His breath catches the same way it does when he’s on the unfortunate end of a knife, but you know there aren’t words you can tell him that will soothe that ache.

So you show him your own.

Bodies roll and he lets out a huffed breath when his back hits the mattress.

A handful of raised tally marks, gnarled and stretched over time, one for every reason your father decided that he hated you that night. You didn’t plan on living after that, you’ve kind of been wingin’ it ever since. Jason’s thumb brushes over the cluster of violence on your stomach, looks from it to your face and understands the exchange.

Your scars and his, all the things that have happened to you.

He happened to you too.

And you can spew adjectives about every natural disaster that has a name and still never aptly describe how much you love his chaos.

And that's okay too.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #batfam #batfamily #red hood #not even really sure i like this one

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smooth-perceval · 5 months

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“Mistletoe…Really?”

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max acts grouchy, but truthfully he loves all the Christmas traditions- especially when his best friend uses mistletoe to get a kiss.

Warning: FLUFF!!!! Max being a grouch, Google translate.

Key: Y/N (Your name) Y/L/N (your last name)

Word count: 1073

A/N: I love this- I’m sorry… maybe I just love max? Who knows- but I hope you enjoy as much as I do- it’s rushed I know I know-

“Oh max- look how lovely it’s all just magical…” sighing in a bliss I found myself spinning in circles, before chasing Max up the steps catching up to him.

Two security standing outside- lists in hand, this was a private party- consisting of a few F1 drivers and a few members of each team. For example; Max, Lando, Daniel, Charles, Oscar, Pierre and Carlos.

Some mechanics attended, and some wives and some girlfriends/boyfriends of each person in this room.

Me however- I was just a friend, a friend to everyone here I guess… more Max’s friend- but a friend to all!

“Y/N?” Looking up the last few steps Max stood their hand out. “Come on, it’s already started.” Eyes wide I quickly apologised taking his hand and hopping the last steps.

“So- who’s here exactly?” Laughing a little Max glanced at me opening the doors for me to walk through first. “You know who is here…” rolling my eyes at him, I held onto the door while he walked in after.

“Yeah but I didn’t know wether there was more!” Stopping outside the two large oak doors he looked down at me, a small smile playing at his lips. “The same original people. Why you expecting someone?”

“Nope, I’m already going home with you.”

“Really?” Eyes wide slightly, he seemed to have moved closer. “Well yeah- we agreed I was staying at your house tonight right? Because it’s closer?” I tilted my head slightly, my hand against one of the doors.

“Oh right- I forgot about all that…” turning away he pushed open the other door simultaneously as I did.

“Oh-” and then the music rang through our ears.

“Y/N your here?!” Smiling wide, Lando practically ran over arms wide pulling me into a tight embrace.

“How’ve you been? Max didn’t say you were coming?-” he glanced at Max before pulling me away from him.

I quickly shot an apologetic smile at Max before linking arms with Lando.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No I asked if you was coming and he said no.”

“Oh- well… I’m here now.” Laughing a little, we both sat down at the bar ordering a drink each.

“Then I said to him are you not coming because he is just trying to keep his feelings for you away.”

“His what?!” My eyes widened, my head snapped. I couldn’t believe my ears.

“His feelings for you? I mean come on it’s quite obvious. You come in the picture as the best friend, max goes of the dating scene, spends every waking minute with you. You’re at every race- if he doesn’t see or speak to you he’s just an asshole… it’s pretty obvious. I think his crazy about you truthfully” sighing Lando took a huge gulp of his drink staring ahead of himself.

“He likes me?”

“He liked-” boom heart deflated.

“Now I think it’s love…”

“He loves me?” I toyed with the rim of my drink, looking over my shoulder once again at max who was now with Daniel, and for him to be around Daniel his normally doubled over laughing- or distracted some sort… his eyes were on me- watching me like a hawk.

“More than you know I think.” Breathing out breath I didn’t realise I was holding looking back at Lando. “I’ve been here five minutes and you’re making me look at someone completely differently.”

“Glad I could help… I could help you even more?”

“How so?” Turning more towards him I listened in. “How about confessing your own feelings?”

“No.”

“Yes”

“How?”

“Sneakily get him under the mistletoe- if he kisses you back, then that’s a win right? If he doesn’t then blame mistletoe.”

Laughing I leaned away waving my hand at him, “there’s no way that would work.”

“If it does, I take thank you’s in the form of alcohol.” Rolling my eyes at him, he patted my knee gently, “it’s Christmas what could go wrong.”

Looking back at max… I swallowed all my pride- I mean how am I supposed to not kiss him when his looking at me like that-

I never see max that way- I mean I did but I had to accept my life without him being more than a friend a long time ago- especially with every advance I made got shut down- wether he meant to or not.

And now? It’s different I felt on fire under his gaze, I felt like he was drinking me in- and like a magnet I was pulled across the room towards him. “Max can we talk quick-” nodding, his brows furrowed concerned.

His hand on the bottom of my back burned, his cologne engulfed my noses- his body radiated heat. I couldn’t… well I don’t want him away from me now, in-fact I want the other arm of his around me- pulling me in.

“What’s up?” Once behind some close doors I glanced around trying to remember where I saw the mistletoe before standing right beneath it.

“So- about the whole me staying at yours…”

“Yeah?”

“You sure you’re okay with that?” Glancing up above us I stepped back slightly, moving him a little closer now definitely underneath the mistletoe.

“Yeah I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise?” Confused he started studying my eyes.

“Y/N what is going on here?”

“What?” Wide eyed I looked back at him. “With your eyes- they’re…” looking up, I caught the small smile creeping on his face before looking back at me.

“Mistletoe…Really?”

“Oh wow would you look at that! What are the odds…” gasping a little I stepped back from max.

“Yeah would you look at that… I guess it’s tradition huh?” And before I knew it he was pulling me back in.

“It would be bad to break tradition right?”

“It really would.”

“Max are you going to kiss me?” Whispering lowly, my cheeks burned as our faces slowly moved closer.

“I was hoping to.”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

“Okay…”

“Do you want to kiss me Y/N?”

“Shh…” huffing I gripped onto his collar pulling him in and finally our lips connected, and everything we both felt for each other over the years was poured into that one kiss, and just like I prayed he wrapped both arms around me pulling my body flush against his.

“God I love you, have done for too long.” Mumbling against my lips he smiled happily.

“I’m glad I’ve waited too long for your love.”

“I’ve waited longer.”

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen

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tourettesdog · 2 years

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DP x DC prompt where, after an identity reveal gone wrong, Jazz (who is freshly 18) grabs Danny and takes him to live in Gotham where she has a scholarship. Between Danny’s ghost powers and their parents’ hatred of Gotham (something about a ghost convention gone Very Badly, and Bruce Wayne refusing to fund their research), they’re willing to risk the crime rates.

Danny can’t resist doing his Phantom thing because of his Obsession, and within about 2.5 weeks Bruce is fighting Jazz for custody rights of him. Well, not really fighting since they could absolutely use a financial backer so Jazz can focus on school. Jazz also likes the idea of Danny getting proper training from Batman to keep him safe, since she can’t just make him stop fulfilling his Obsession.

They’ve been staying in the manor for about a week when Danny and Jazz realize that they’ve completely forgotten to address Dani. She’s continued her traveling for the last several months, but Dani told them on her last visit she was getting a bit lonely and wanted to try schooling-- after first visiting Australia, that is.

Danny and Jazz have kept in touch with Sam and Tucker, so they know that their friends will be able to steer Dani away from Amity Park and in their direction once she gets back... But, oh Ancients, now they have to actually address the clone in the room. And probably face a massive lecture from Bruce once he realizes they never mentioned their youngest sibling (and that they also just let her fly off to Australia by herself for two months without even a cellphone).

They’re not really concerned about the bats accepting Dani (they’ve already accepted that Danny is half ghost, which is a pretty high bar to cross), but they are Very concerned about the Questions her presence will invoke.

Danny and Jazz have managed to keep a lot of Danny’s Bigger ghost exploits under wraps (especially the time travel), but they know Bruce is going to take one look at Dani and it’s going to open up the “Hey so my arch nemesis is Vlad Masters-- yes I have an arch nemesis, and yes that Vlad Masters-- he cloned me-- why? Oh, he’s a halfa like me haha funny story-- oh and it Might be a problem if he ever finds out we’re here so you can’t confront him about any of this” can of worms.

Danny can’t be sure if Bruce will respect his tentative truce with Vlad. He’s pretty sure his new brothers and sisters will want to flog the man within an inch of his fruitloop (after)life if they ever find out about how many times he’s electrocuted Danny.

So at this point they’re just waiting for Sam and Tucker to warn them of Dani’s arrival— and trying to come up with a good cover story in the meantime. They MIGHT be able to pass Dani off as his twin (between Danny being trans and Dani mercilessly catching up to him in height, it seems doable). Only... they’re pretty sure Bruce will call immediate bullshit on them being twins once he tries to find paperwork about Dani. Hell, he probably already has access to Danny and Jazz’s birth certificates and would definitely notice a third one just magically appear (if they even managed to falsify one).

Their next idea (and the winning plan) is to be truthful about Dani being a clone, but to lie about her origins. They decide to pin all of the blame on Pariah Dark since he can’t exactly dispute clone fatherhood rights from his sarcophagus. Boom-- scapegoat.

Within the week, they get a text from Tucker saying Dani is on her way. Within the day, she’s on the front step of Wayne Manor. Dani’s hair is shorter than last time, she’s now exactly Danny’s height, and she looks a little too like him for it to not raise immediate red flags with a family of paranoid bats and birds.

It’s an absolute mess as they try to introduce Dani to the family. Just an absolute plethora of questions about clones and twins. (Apparently, the Waynes have dealt with clones before and are Very concerned? Danny didn’t even mention the word clone, they just brought that shit up in the foyer like it was common knowledge. He has to unpack that later.)

Jason happens to be there, and he’s just staring at Dani the entire time, trying to decide if it’s worth asking why Danny’s new twin(?) feels as dead as he does.

Dani, meanwhile, hears clones mentioned and just blurts out:

“Wait, did Vlad clone you guys too?”

Danny and Jazz belatedly realize they should have ran their plan by Sam and Tucker first. In a panic, they try to pass Vlad off as Pariah Dark’s real name.

Tim just looks up the one (1) Vlad in Amity Park and it spirals from there.

#dp x dc #danny phantom #dp #dp prompt #danny phantom prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #dani fenton #jazz fenton #dogposts #dogprompts

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psiroller · 1 month

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a kiss with a fist and such

i'm working on a lil somethin something where chilchuck and laios get into a fistfight at a bar and then make out. here's a really cringe aperitif to set up the conflict. it's pre-canon, i guess?? falin, namari and shuro are there. unfortunately for them.

nothing much happens in this excerpt but the final will involve romantic interests being violent to each other. i'd recommend not reading it if you're sensitive to that, but it's nothing too far outside the realm of what is portrayed in the manga lol

Laios had read volumes upon volumes of advice for the aspiring dungeon crawler and the content of this research could be summed up as thus: the party leader’s main objective is to keep everyone from killing each other before a monster can. The old king’s dungeon contained labyrinths that slithered like restless serpents, spike traps, false walls, beasts and enchanted baubles, but no trick more treacherous than pitting adventurers against one another. Why bother with conjuring monsters if you could simply torment your intruders until someone snapped? Sometimes a squabble over good loot was all it took for a party to dissolve.

Falin did most of the work in smoothing over the occasional interpersonal conflict, her calm smile and soft voice able to soothe even banshees, but there was only so much goodwill Laios’ kind little sister could afford him. Not everyone cared to learn the ins and outs of minotaur husbandry, or the complicated respiratory system of a seven-headed hydra, halfway down the magic murder hole. Laios didn’t really know what else there would be to talk about in a dungeon, though, so he often ran his mouth to fill the silence.

“Laios, if I hear one more fact about manticore scat I’ll make sure you’ll be living the dream.”

Chilchuck glowered up at Laios, hands on his hips, brows furrowed into a cute little crease.

“C’mon, it was relevant,” Laios said, cleaning his hands off with an already filthy handkerchief. “It’s fresh, so the monster’s nearby.”

“Fantastic news! I didn’t need a report on the texture. Let’s go.”

Chilchuck, the new hire, was an ornery sort. Good at his job—one would hope, with the astonishing upfront fee—but not with people. Laios could relate. A glance at the scrunched-up faces of Namari, Marcille and Shuro confirmed that Chilchuck wasn’t just bitching for the sake of it this time. He searched Falin’s strained grin for some backup, but she was at a loss.

Luckily, there were workarounds for the warrior in want of charisma.

“Cheer up, little guy.” A vein bulged out on Chilchuck’s forehead; Falin grimaced and mouthed an apology behind Laios’ back. “I’ll buy everyone a round at the tavern once the job’s done.”

Chilchuck debated holding the grudge, then sighed with a slumping of the shoulders.

“All the more reason to get a move on, then,” Namari said cheerily, glad to forget the scene they’d just witnessed. She clapped Chilchuck on the shoulder as she passed, staggering him out of his confrontational stance. He grunted and let it go, folding his hands behind his head and continuing down the tunnel.

“Nailed it,” Laios whispered to Falin, who met him with a congratulatory pat on the back. Wasting his cut of the profits on beer wasn’t wise with rent coming up, but the party’s cohesion was important, too. They’d managed to kill a green dragon last week, and it would be nice to keep that ball rolling.

“Good job, big brother! Um, next time, maybe don’t… call Chilchuck that.” “Why? I’m just trying to be friendly.” “Um… well, with half-foots, it’s sort of a-“

“C’mon, you two. Unless you want to get the bill after happy hour ends,” Chilchuck called, his small voice booming off the stone tiled walls. Laios jogged after the rest of the party, armor clanking as he went, with Falin not far behind.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #ficroller #chilaios #preview

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wavnic · 4 months

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“Two elements, maybe working in a bar or small town police department, just minding their own business when one day, boom: they connect. And if the right amount of magic is involved, they become something stronger than they were before. They become love.”

#wayhaught #wayhaught wednesday #wynonna earp #waverly earp #nicole haught #waverly x nicole #nicole x waverly #otp #wives #dom pc #kat barrell #bring wynonna home

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gaywizardemporium · 5 months

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In the Wishverse, the Wishborn setting, wizard magic is categorized by function. There are eight major magical taxa represented by eight major Guilds:

Elementalism: the art of controlling nature itself - air, fire, water, wood, earth, and metal. The Association of Elementalists is really a dozen smaller Guilds in a united front.

Summoning: the art of beckoning spirits to your aid. The Coalition for the Summoning of Otherworldly Entities is similar several schools of magic working together.

Bardic casting: Expressive folk magic unified under the umbrella of Bardic working. The Society for Creative Spellcasting and Magical Self-Expression welcomes anyone whose magical expression is through a creative art.

Artificing: the art of physical spellcraft. The Guild of Artificers and Mystic Weavers makes magical items or embeds magic in physical things.

Necromancy: the art of speaking with the dead and mastery over memory. The Somber Order of Speakers with the Dead are all priests of Finality, the God of Death, and serve them personally.

Illusionism: crafters of beguilement and other spells that baffle the senses. One of the youngest major taxa, has a sudden swell of membership in The Sworn Kinship of the Beguiling Arts when there was a boom of children with an illusory affinity fifty years ago.

Potioning: the smallest of the major Guilds, but a major Guild no less. Potioning is a complex and difficult art, mastered only by the dedicated - but there are quite a few dedicated, as the membership of the Union of Arcane Chemists and Apothecaries attests.

Foresight: Future sight, clairvoyancy, prophesy and other oracular powers , the Seers membership only outranks the Potioners by the slimmest of margins. The Oracular Union of Foreseers and Clairvoyants supports anyone whose vision looks forward in time as well as ahead.

There are forty-eight recognized minor taxa, and countless others unrecognized by the Taxonomic Order. Wizards with uncategorized magic join the Freelancers Guild, if Guild life is for them, or must demonstrate a skill in one of the other taxa, so the wizard may serve them instead.

The Freelancers Guild has the membership to be counted as a major Guild, but has been barred from official entry on account of a philosophical disagreement among the highest wizard council: If the Taxonomic Order permits uncategorized magic, it would then no longer be taxonomic. But, is not the act of categorizing the uncategorized in and of itself taxonomic?

The subject is reopened for debate on the New Year and has since become a part of the festivities for the last fifteen years.

#wishborn #the wishverse #Magic #original setting #original fiction #Wizard #wizard lore #My wizard lore #magic system #The Taxonomic Order of Wizardry #spellcasting #original writing #queer fantasy #queer fiction #nice dichotomy idiot #What lies outside it?#It's a queer fantasy so you can imagine why there's so much importance placed on fitting neatly into categories right #Right?

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strangelittlestories · 8 months

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Do you know one of the things I hate most about being an exorcist? Capitalism.

Hear me out - financial instability is one of the most common risk factors for a malevolent haunting.

Got disposable income? Good news - you move into a haunted house, and you hire an exorcist. Or, if you can’t find a good recommendation, you just move house *again*.

Come from old money? Even better - you probably live in a generational home and - barring any literal skeletons in the closet - you’re probably haunted by family members. Their unfinished business is probably some *literal* business and they’re just gonna give you financial advice. Sure, they might be pushy and lowkey toxic, but they’re invested in your success - you’re their legacy after all.

There’s a metaphysical reason why rental accommodation is riskier too. It’s way harder to make an evil spirit leave your home when you’re not the home-owner.

First off, having the right paperwork can really add some extra oomph to an exorcism. Secondly, most landlords really don’t invest in salting the foundations or decent silver glazing, so guess what? Your shitty apartment isn’t just damp and cold, it has bad spiritual insulation too.

And especially *smart* ghosts can take advantage of your housing insecurity. Want to get your ghost out of there? You might be able to use rental protection law as the basis for evicting your unwanted ectoplasmic squatter (especially if there’s a ‘no spiritual subletting’ clause in the lease). *But* that gets way harder if it turns out the ghost has been secretly paying your landlord rent! Even a bit of change it scrounged up from your sofa is enough - BOOM, it lives there now.

So the best advice I can give you as an exorcist if you’re one of the unlucky masses who’ve been borked by the housing market? Join a housing cooperative or a renters’ union or go live in a hippy commune. Anywhere you have that extra protection - ideally with a bit of paper that says you own the house.

And if you’ve got that bit of paper, and you start to have ghost trouble, your first step is to get a legal copy made on silver paper and with salted ink. It gives your magical protections a quick and easy refresh.

It’s true what they say: a good deed is its own re-ward.

#writing #microfiction #short story #flash fiction #puns #feghoot #capitalism is the bad guy #honestly the ghosts probably need rental protection too #we need government housing for ghosts is what I'm saying

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inkedobsidian · 2 years

Text

~ Is this your card? S.R ~

summary: Spencer and Derek are canvassing bars when Derek convinces Spencer to try and impress the bartender but she has a trick of her own

pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

warnings: none

word count: 1,486

a/n: Based on 4X9 scene! Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

Saturday always pulled a big crowd into every bar, and the one Derek and Spencer were sent to canvas was no exception. Music boomed from every corner as people stumbled from the bar to the dance floor. Derek and Spencer took different sides of the bar talking to everyone from staff members to people just there to have a good time. Derek was easily having a better time in the club than Spencer was, Derek had been offered numbers from various women while a few women had asked Spencer if he was the unsub himself. If he hadn't of showed his badge first most women would've just walked past him. After another group of women denied Spencer's fliers and walked away he quickly gave up on talking by himself and walked back to the middle of the club to find Derek.

"So, how's it going?" Derek questioned as if he hasn't just seen another group of girls dismiss Spencer's offer for a flier and walk away.

"Not good. I gave the profile to one woman she asked if I was the unsub. How are you doing?" Spencer hated that he wasn't as smooth with talking to the public as Derek was and he never really understood why he was the one sent out to talk to people.

"Well, I gave out all my fliers," Derek replied. It was always easy for him to talk to the public but then again he didn't have the social-anxiety that Spencer did, especially in situations like a bar where he had to talk to women.

"How many phone numbers did you get?" Spencer joked. Everything they were in a setting like this whether on the job or not Derek was always given numbers by women, Spencer understood why though he was a smooth talker.

"None. I'm working a case here kid," Spencer immediately gave a questioning look, there was no way that he was going to believe that not a single woman offered their numbers to Derek. "Okay, 4 were offered, but I didn't take any of them."

Spencer immediately could not believe that Derek didn't take a single number that was offered, he was always so open about being single and very ready to mingle even on cases. It wounded Derek a little bit that not one single person had properly listened to Spencer, he knew that he could babble sometimes but he was a sweet kid and there was a reason Derek called him 'pretty boy'.

"Alright look, let me school you real quick. What you have to do with these ladies, just take control of the conversation. When you're talking what makes you feel like an expert?" Derek really wanted Spencer to get more confidence in his everyday life so the lessons start now. Spencer looked like he was understanding but really he was just wondering how much Dereks advice would work considering he doesn't look like him. How seriously would a woman listen to someone 'take control' of the conversation if he didn't look like Morgan?

"Uh… statistics." Derek didn't think Spencer would take the question so literally but the look on Spencer's face showed that that was genuinely the answer that first came to his mind.

"No. Trust me. No. Something else." Spencer tended to rattle on whatever statistics came to his mind and while that's helpful in cases it wouldn't grab the attention of everyone woman Spencer tried to talk to.

"Um, well when I do magic," Spencer replies nodding.

"See? See. That's perfect. Chicks dig magic." Derek didn't really know if women liked magic but if it made Spencer more confident then why not it's worth a try. Spencer on the other hand didn't look too sure.

"I'm gonna give you a chance to work it. Come here," Derek said as he pulled Spencer towards the bar where Y/N was working, "Excuse me, sweetheart. Whenever you get a chance."

"Hi, what can I get for you?" Y/N says leaning on the bar. Derek patted Spencer on the back telling him to be the one to talk.

"Hi, we're with the FBI. We're looking for this man does he look at all familiar to you?" Spencer said putting one of the filers in front of Y/N on the bar. Derek stayed around a little trying to gauge Y/N's reaction to Spencer.

"I mean it's not much of a picture," Y/N said looking down at the very basic drawing of a man the could literally be anyone in this bar.

"I know, you know what might help, actually," Derek took this as his queue to leave and let Spencer do his thing, whatever that was, "Is he has a scar on his eye right about there." As Spencer finished his sentence he stabbed a pen through the drawing's eye causing Y/N to look at him with confusion and intrigue.

"We also know that he's taken classes where he's learned how to distract," As Spencer talks he spins the paper and pulls the pen along not ripping the paper, "and charm his victim"

Y/N then lets out a chuckle as she picks up the paper and looks back up at Spencer who's just got the biggest smile on his face. He realized that Derek was actually right and that he actually charmed someone.

"Okay, that was amazing how did you do that?" Y/N loved magic tricks she thought they were the best so it was lucky that Spencer went up to that specific bartender to try his magic trick on.

"That's privileged information I'm afraid," Spencer replies laughing. Derek watches from a distance as they both just seem to be laughing at Spencers trick.

"Okay, so what do I do if I see this guy?" Y/N asks subconsciously leaning closer to Spencer over the bar. Spencer was still in awe that his trick worked at all.

"Oh you should definitely give me- I mean us a call. you should give us a call." He says stumbling over his words. Y/N couldn't think of anything better than giving him a call even though they didn't even know each other's name.

"You didn't give me your number… or your name for that matter." Y/N really didn't want him to leave without giving his number, she just hoped he was going too.

"Oh, it's behind your ear," Spencer said giggling. Just as he said that Y/N reached behind her ear and pulled out a similar card with his name and number on it.

"Doctor huh? Well, it's been lovely to meet you, Doctor." Y/n giggled putting the card in her pocket. "And just in the case you want it, here's mine." With a flick of her wrist, a card appeared in Y/N's hand and Spencer's eyes went wide. She handed it back to him and noticed it was his card. He got a bit sad thinking she's just given his card back to him.

"This is my card?" Spencer questioned.

"Not on the back it's not." Y/N laughed. Spencer turned the card around to see a number scribbled on it and a name 'Y/N'. He had no idea how she'd done it and honestly, he didn't care he was just insanely impressed. He stared at it for a bit longer and Y/N pulled the card she was given back out showing that she still had the original card he gave her and his number.

"How did you manage that?" Spencer was so starstruck that he'd completely forgotten the case and the fact that Derek was stood watching from a distance.

"That's privileged information, Doctor," Y/N smirked as she replied and was glad that for once she didn't stumble over her words while trying to flirt. Spencer was still taken aback by everything that as he waved to walk away he could only stumble out a simple goodbye. Y/N waved too and just stared down at the card. As they walked away Derek slapped Spencer on the back oozing proud big brother energy.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Derek kept laughing and Spencer couldn't help but laugh too.

"She gave me her number… On my card. Not even the one I gave her." Spencer chuckled. Derek didn't hear what they talked about so he completely missed that, it ended up shocking Derek as much as it did Spencer.

"You got out magic-ed?" Derek started laughing even more. He almost completely missed the fact that Spencer just said that she gave him her number.

In reality, Spencer couldn't stop thinking about how she did it. She'd never admit it but in reality earlier in the night Y/N had walked past Spencer and he dropped one of his cards, she tried to give it back but he'd disappeared before she got a chance so she kept it just in case. The number on the back was in case he was cute, Y/N was so glad she did after officially meeting Spencer.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid

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hiddenhufflepuffs · 12 days

Text

The Forgotten.

✩ Theodore Nott x fem!Reader

✩ Part 1

Summary: Who would've guessed that a Hufflepuff would be convicted as a murderer and the reason a Death Eater escaped his transport to Azkaban. Obviously no one, especially not the convicted herself, Amari Starling, as she tries to prove her innocence in Pt.1 of The Forgotten series.

A/N: hi lovlies! Thank you for taking the time to read this, I haven't posted a story since my middle school Wattpad days. I'm only posting Pt.1 of this to see how it goes (I really hope this turns out well!). If a lot of people like my story, then I'll continue on with the series. If you see any errors than please don't hesitate to tell me, and constructive criticism is accepted:) I hope you have a great day lovlies!

Words: 1k

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

"No! Let me go please! It wasn't me I swear!"

"Silence," the Minister of Magic boomed as he hit his gavel against the sound block, causing the entire courtroom to fall quiet.

I'm panting, hair sticking to my forehead slick with sweat, as I struggle to break free of the cage that holds me captive in the center of the courtroom. How could this happen?! I'm not the one who freed the Death Eater!

"Please," I beg as my voice cracks and tears fall from my eyes.

The Minister glares down at me from his high seat, his grey eyebrows furrowing together against his tan skin. "I said, silence," he states in a stern tone.

"Now, before I ask the jury for their final decision, do you have any last words to try and convince us of your innocence, Ms. Starling?"

My lips tremble as I grasp the rusted bars of my makeshift prison with both hands. I try to steady my voice while choking back a sob, "I'm innocent, I swear. I never set free the Death Eater, I've never even heard of him! You have to believe me!" My voice cracks but I continue on.

"Please Minister, how could I have possibly stopped the transport and kill multiple guards! I have no connection with the Death Eaters, nor a past history of violence! I'm a Hufflepuff gosh sakes!" I begin to sob and gasp for air, trying to think of other ways to prove I am innocent.

The Minister scoffs and looks at a piece of paper, "Hufflepuff or not, you are no more protected from evil than the rest of us. And during our investigation, we've discovered that you are actually friends to more Slytherins' than you are to any other household. Who knows if you found yourself a servant of the Dark Lord while conversing with your...friends. Also, if you are so innocent, then how do you explain having no alibi for the night of the attack, being found in the boathouse with no witnesses, gold for heaven sakes hidden under the floorboards of your bed, and the memory of the remaining guard who lived showing you perfectly as the one who attacked the transport," he half yells at the end as he stands up to lean over his desk and looks me directly in the eyes.

The jury begins to murmur, and I struggle to find the words to answer his questions. My eyes scan the room to find someone familiar, someone who could possibly believe me and convince the others that I am no murderer; but I find no one. Of course they wouldn't let any Hogwart students in to watch, but still the least they could do was make sure that I had someone on my side in the room of my conviction.

I wipe my eyes with the sleeves of my shirt, and stare back at the Minister with as much courage as I can muster. "Minister, I already told you what happened that night. I went straight to my dorm after dinner because I was feeling sick. I then woke up in the morning inside a submerging boat in the boathouse. I have no clue how I got there nor how there was gold under my bed. All I know is that I got out of the boat and made my way back to the school drenched, cold, and confused. When I finally made it back, I found you and some other wizards waiting for me. I'm telling you I'm being set up! Why would I put myself in a half sunken boat!"

It was a weak excuse, I know, but it's the truth. I fell asleep, and woke up in freezing water inside of a wooden boat. I don't know how I got there or what made me sick last night, but what I do know is that this is all a set up. But who would do this to me? Who would hate me so much to plant both a murder and a prison break on me!?

A witch in the corner of the jury section scoffs and stands. Everyone turns their attention to her as she clasp her gloved hands together.

"Ah yes, you just happened to be inside a sinking boat all night and not end up drowning. But here's what I find interesting, why were you found in your regular clothes and not in your pajamas if you claimed to have gone to bed? And how do we know you were actually in the boathouse, huh! You have no alibis for that night! You could've jumped in the water before returning to Hogwarts for all we know! And it is no secret that you are in the top of both your Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, heck, no young wizard should be as powerful as you are, which makes you more than capable to pull off this crime."

The old witch tidies her hair and makes her way down the steps closer to my cage, all while pointing a finger at me and raising her voice, "All of the evidence points towards you Amari, just admit it! You befriended some Death Eaters, they made a good deal with you that you couldn't resist, and for that you agree to set free one of their own, and in the process you killed whoever got in your way. If it wasn't for you not double checking your kills, then the remaining security guard would have never lived, and we would never have been able to see his memories! How are you going to deny that it was you, if we have the memories of a survivor! How!"

The entire room erupts into chatter, some agreeing with the woman, but others still questioning her argument. I glare at the old hag as she smirks down at me from her place in the stands. She really thinks she did something, but all she did was sentence an innocent girl to her doom.

Hot tears fall from my eyes as my whole body shakes with both fear and anger. The Minister bangs his gavel once more, and raises his hand as I opened my mouth to speak.

"Ms. Starling. I'm sorry, but the facts are the facts an-"

"No they're not! Memories can be tampered with and everyone knows that," I scream at him and bang my first against the black bars, "I'm innocent! Check my memories and you'll see!"

"We did check your memories and they were erased! Probably by you to hide any traces of your involvement," the Minister yells back and fully stands straight as he points his gavel at me. I hope you hit yourself in the head with that stupid hammer and knock some sense into your brain.

"WHY WOULD I WIPE MY OW-" I begin but am silenced again by brutal hammering of the Minister on his desk.

"That is enough Amari," he growls as his body shakes from anger, "You have made your defense, now it is time for the jury to decide your fate."

My body freezes at his words. My fate? I thought I was the only one who could decide my fate. Now my future is a different thing, but it looks like I won't have one after this.

The room once again burst in murmurs, and I am left standing there in the middle of all the commotion. My heart is racing, and a pounding in my head forms as minutes of waiting feel like hours. I don't know how I'm able to stand at all right now, but I will my jello feeling legs to not collapse under me.

After a couple more minutes the room quiets down, and a young wizard walks up to the minister and hands him an envelope. I catch him glance at me from the corner of his eye, and for a second I think I catch the young man mouth, "I'm sorry," to me. The Minister adjust his thin glasses against his nose bridge and opens the letter, then after quickly reading it he clears his throat.

"Ms. Amari Starling, you have here by been sentenced to Azkaba-," at that word I fell to my knees and begin to sob, almost not hearing the rest of the sentence, "junior penalty. Since you are 18 years old and still a student, we will not sentence you to prison, rather, you will have your memories taken from you as evidence, and be obliviated. You will be stripped of any magical entities that may expose this world to you. As of this day forward, you are no longer a witch and will live out the remainder of your life in the muggle world, with no memories of your past. You will be placed with a foster family who will be your protectors."

I look up at him from my place on the floor with wide eyes and my mouth agape. Obliviated? Stripped of my wand? My magic? My family? My friends? My life?!

"Wha-what about my magic," I sob out and wipe the tears my face.

"We cannot take your powers from you, but you won't even remember that you have them in the first place to even use them," he states in a nonchalant voice that makes me so furious that I see red. How can he be so calm!

Before I even know what's happening, my cage opens and two giant wizards in black leather atire grab each of my arms, and drag me to the bench of the Minister. I try to fight them off with all of the strength that I have left in me, but it's no use, and I scream as their fingers dig harder into my arms. They force me onto my knees, and I glare daggers at the Minister in front of me as the tears continue to fall.

"You are making a mistake," I sob out through clenched teeth, and turn my head to look at all of the jurors as I continue to struggle against the men in leather. He only stares at me, and before I know it, one of my captors pulls out his wand and begins to take my memories.

All I see before me are flashes of my past: my parents before they died, my grandma teaching me how to use my first wand, my first day at Hogwarts, days of me and my friends laughing, me crying after my first breakup, pulling pranks with the Weasley twins, my best friend Theo and I singing to songs on our way to the Three Broomsticks, and every other memory in between.

Theo! What does he think of all of this? Of me? Does he believe I'm innocent? I hope he saves me and proves my innocence. I can't leave him, he's my safe haven. Please stop!

The memories are gone as quickly as they came, and my body slumps from the spell and my head hangs down. I stare at the checkered tile floor below me, tears falling from my eyes and onto the ground creating little puddles. The guards keep me upright and one forces me to look up at the Minister.

"May you live out the rest of your miserable life in despair," he mutters under his breath, and pulls out his wand to preform the Obliviation spell. It's as if time has slowed, and right as the Minister begins to recite the spell, a loud bang comes from the entrance of the courtroom. I turn my head in time to see Theodore pushing his way through security guards, screaming my name as we make eye contact. I give him a smile right whe

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