Mature Drabbles
WARNING! HUGE WARNING BELL HERE!!!
This page consists of some fanfictiony (meaning one or two) and some just plain drabble of a very mature content, be it sex, blood and gore, or a combination of the two. If you dislike either. Read no further. Thank you.
Same commenting rules apply: number of drabble and comment in the comment box.
1. You may not know this little secret, but I will tell you. Under the condition that you do not repeat it to any soul. There is a worker in the biggest chocolate factory in the world that is unlike any of the workers. She is not little, nor a man. She is also not an inventor, nor a taste-tester. She is merely to keep company of the greatest chocolateer in the world. There is one very important thing you must keep in mind when thinking of her; she is not right in the head. Much like our beloved inventor, she is quite… shut-up in a very uppity and annoying way, yet, unlike our beloved inventor, she has moments of relapse. Yes, as I have stated, she is not right in the head. No one knows of her because no one pays enough attention. As little Charlie was once asked, “Do you ever see anyone come in or out of that factory?” If you were one that pays attention to detail, you would say, “Yes, there is one person I see.” She is the only human to leave or enter the large factory.
This secret must remain under lock and key for as long as you live or something dreadfully awfully terribly horrid will happen. What, I do not know, but I am bound to find out for telling you this story. It is a short story, nothing very long, but nothing terribly short either. It is something too in the middle, if you ask me.
You see, as he was passing through his very eatable room, Mr. Willy Wonka spotted a blob of yellow amidst the meadow of delectable grass. When he approached, he saw something that looked just as wonderfully scrumptious as the grass she lay on. It was a simple, bright yellow sundress that went to mid-thigh with white, strappy sandals. She was laying on her stomach with her knees bent and feet in the air. As Willy walked by, she looked up from the blade of grass she’d been staring at. And, being in an awfully content mood, Willy smiled a greeting at the young lady.
“Willy?” she asked softly.
“Yes?” His blue eyes shot down at her from under the brim of his hat.
“Can we take a ride in the glass elevator?” The girl, with her spiraled dark hair, looked back at the candied grass in her hand as it finally began to get sticky. She’d been lying there, studying the treat for about two hours. The way her mind worked was quite simple. She was a normally working woman, with normally working body parts and a normally working personality. The trouble was, she preferred the simplicity of most things. Her preference in simplicity was what had drawn Wonka to her in the first place.
“Of course we can,” he responded with a grin. Extending his hand, he helped his long-time friend and companion up off of the sugary meadow and walked with her towards the elevator. Without thinking, he walked right into it, smacking his face and bouncing off the surface. Landing on his butt with a muffled
thud, he laughed nervously. As he got up, he rubbed his bottom. “I really have to get lights or something.”
Giggling, the girl at his side pressed the button to open the doors, and they slid apart with a ding! “Can I pick the button?” she asked sweetly.
Smirking, he said, “Any one you like.”
She looked up and down the rows of buttons with labels next to them. When she found one she thought to be appealing, she had to get up on her tip-toes to reach it. Even then, it was a few inches too high. A strained, almost whimpery, sound came from her throat as she stretched to hit the clear button.
Smiling at her difficulty, Willy set his walking stick down and put his arms around her thighs, lifting her a good six inches off of the ground. Emitting a shrill squeak, she reached her pale hand out and pushed the button, her tongue curling over her upper lip in concentration. As her feet touched the ground, she turned to face the bright inventor. Smiling happily, she snuggled closer to him and took a deep breath, inhaling his scent.
His velvet jacket smelled of laundry soap, but his scent was that of mint, chocolate, blueberries, strawberries, cherries, and the natural smell that all men seem to have. Her favourite smell in the world was Willy Wonka. It was a good reason why she loved to take naps in his bed, surrounded by his satin sheets. Sometimes, he would nap with her, always with his arms in a protective embrace.
“Where are we off to, Scarlet?” he asked in that high, innocent-seemi
ng voice of his.
Her only response was to point at the highlighted button.
Those bright violet eyes of his slowly trailed up the lines of buttons on the interior of his nifty glass elevator all the way to the highlighted room: Willy’s Room. He looked back down at the woman that came only nose-high to him and tilted his head, that signature, and sometimes creepy, smile fading quickly. “Why on earth would you want to go there when you can go anywhere in the factory?”
Her small mouth opened wide in a large yawn. “Sleepy. Can I use your pillows?” Her bottom lip jutted out in an adorable pout. She had dark green eyes and they were glistening up at him like she was five years old. Try adding twenty-five years to that.
Unable to resist that look from her, Wonka drew in a breath and raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Ssssure,” he let the word whistle from between his lips.
At that particular moment, the elevator jerked upward at a diagonal angle as the machine took its command. The action tossed Scarlet into Willy where he was forced to catch her by her armpits on his forearms. With a harsh sound, the girl’s bare knee slid along the bottom of the glass, reddening the skin and gracing her with a sensitive circle on her walking appendage. When she drew in a sharp breath and her brows knit together, Willy quickly stood up to figure out what was wrong. From the upset look on her face, he could tell it would be something so utterly small, that she would worry about it until he made her laugh. Bending down on one knee, he noticed that hers was red and trying to bruise a little. The injury, however, was not serious enough to truly bruise. She would be fine by next morning. Knowing it would comfort her, though; he blew out between puckered lips, making his breath cool. Instantly, she started to relax as his breath soothed the burning in her raw knee.
There was a ding to interrupt the silence, signaling that they had reached their destination. Being the gentleman that was somewhere in him under all the felt and funny haircuts, he picked up his walking stick and handed it to Scarlet, then he picked her up bridal-style and carried her down the small distance to his bedroom door. He had slight difficulty turning the knob, what with a person in his hands, but he ultimately managed to get the room open.
Setting her down on the foot of the queen-sized bed, he moved to the head and pulled back the black down comforter. He then helped her crawl under the covers and settle between the lavender satin of his bed sheets. Right away, she snuggled close, burying her body in the feel of the cool thread.
As was ritual when Willy, himself, would put her in bed for a nap, he bent over and kissed her forehead, nose, and then mouth very lightly. Though, this time, something differed slightly: he felt a slim arm wrap around his neck and press into his friendly gesture harder. For a few quick moments, they stayed very still, calculating each other’s reaction. Then time seemed to move at a normal pace and Scarlet whispered, “Lay with me,” like candy against the man’s lips. All he could bring himself to do was nod.
Carefully, he shed his mulberry velvet coat, monogrammed dress shoes, and hat as he crawled into the bed facing his old friend. He drew her close, like he’d done so many times before. This time… this time was different in its ways; some minor, others larger.
For example: a slight change was that her hand rested on his bicep, gripping it with her small fingers through the cloth of his shirt, and her toes were twitching with muscle spasms. Larger differences were the fact that, instead of resting her head in the crook of his neck, she looked into his violet-swarmed pupils intently as she let her lips flutter near his. Then, as his embrace tightened slightly and that much more of their bodies touched, Scarlet set her mouth on his, waiting for him to accept, or deny, her offer.
Quite the opposite of what the girl expected, Willy drew her bottom lip between his teeth and worried it ever-so-slightly. When she didn’t pull away, he locked their lips together in a soft manner. Their eyes stayed open and starting at the person across from them. Scarlet watched as Willy’s eyes widened when she teased her tongue along his upper lip. Now, it wasn’t like Mr. Wonka to pass up a great opportunity when he found one (hell, look at the Oompa Loompas!), so he accepted her offering with enthusiasm and responded with slightly more force. He did a sweep of her mouth with his quick tongue, tasting everything all at once. He couldn’t help but feeling the same reaction from the woman beside him as their tongues danced and the kiss became something other than friendly.
As concentrated on the kiss as they were, other changes started to take place. Scarlet’s leg bent and slid up Wonka’s thigh under the satin sheets. His answer was in actions, not words, when one latex-clad hand moved down to tickle up her leg to the edge of her sundress, where he played with the hem a little. Slowly, and feather-light, he skimmed up under the dress with just his fingertips, causing her body to erupt in gooseflesh. He continued his journey until he brushed the edge of her cotton panties. As cautiously as he could manage, Willy slid his hand down the front panel and pulled down slightly while putting pressure on Scarlet’s vulva.
This bold move of a long-time friend surprised the small woman, yet she tried to arch into his touch. The tightness of their embrace did not leave much room for other movement, so she had difficulty in physically reacting to his actions. Though, when his gloved finger ran the length of her labia and eventually parted them, she managed to squeeze a rather soft moan into his mouth.
Instead of doing things standard, like flipping the brunette on her back and essentially screwing her through the mattress, the desert-thinker-upper keept her pinned to his front with his hand up her skirt. Slow, steady, teasing, he worked his hand deeper into her folds until he found the spot he was looking for. He smiled proudly when she gasped against him. At a decent pace, he took his middle finger and gently pushed it inside of her, and, as he pulled out, he added his index finger, pushing in harder.
Scarlet’s reactions were exactly what he wanted as her breathing came in labored gasps and her grip on his arm tightened intensely. Kissing her roughly, Wonka introduced a third, and final, digit to his collection and thrust them between her thighs in time with his tongue. After a moment, he switched gears, his tongue thrusting in her mouth as he withdrew his fingers below. And as his pace quickened, he began to twirl his fingers ever-so-slightly to hit all the right spots.
In and out. In and out. In and out. Every time he brought her closer and closer, her inner walls clamped down on his hand and her body rocked up against his. Her moans turned into heavy gasps and he placed his mouth by her ear. His high male voice dropped an octave as he whispered at her ear in a sing-song tone, “Only this candy man can.” At that moment, her grip everywhere tightened, both inside and out, as her climax reached. Her legs closed possessively over his wrist and hand when he tried to pull it away.
When he finally got free, he brought that hand to her mouth and ran a finger across her bottom lip. She licked his finger swiftly in answer, then watched as he removed what she didn’t with his own tongue, savoring the taste. “Now that’s what I call candy.”
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