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reidecorating · 3 years

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Venus & the Sun

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

A/N: I felt compelled to write this because the thought of Spence hating mornings keeps me up - which then causes me to also hate mornings because I’m tired, it truly is a tragic cycle. also! here’s my masterlist!

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Dragging a grumpy & sleepy Spencer out to a picnic on the water where the view was far more than he bargained for

Warnings: Early mornings A tiny bit suggestive, but predominantly just fluff galore <3

Whether Venus is named the Morning or Evening Star depends on what side of the sun it indwells. When the planet glistens and gleams from the eastern sky, it’s a telltale sign it’ll rise before the sun - namely becoming the Morning Star. If Spencer had it his way, he would not be awake before midday on a Saturday morning. If Spencer had it his way, he would continue to snore for some while longer, dreaming - visions of a maladaptive cottage in the Swiss Alps, a handful of mountain goats sprinkled about tufts of unmown alpine grass - certainly not giving a second thought towards planetary placements of a cosmos he never wished to be part of. But Spencer did not have it his way this morning.

She always called Spencer her sun, but he believed that if this were to be true, she was his Venus; arising from the left side of his bed, sparkling and lighting up the world, most mornings, before he had even opened his eyes. The way in which she looked at him made him believe that the ancient Romans had been right about a deity of Venus, a goddess of love and beauty, his proof being the woman by his side. After wheedling him out of the comfort of rumpled sheets, with saccharine kisses and promises of more, at six o’clock, on the dot, she swept him away in a direction he recognised as towards the pier. It was the last place he would go in his free time, but because he was with her, he didn’t mind. As they journeyed on foot towards the sea, missing the growl of the car radiator, it became noticeable how winter lingered in the air, chasing joggers and haunting places where the daylight was yet to reach, as if it had unfinished business even Spring couldn’t prevent it from completing.

Spencer felt no remorse towards anyone he hurt in the mornings. The time he spent existing, before half a litre of caffeine was sent down to his kidneys for filtration, angered him. She knew it, too. Always giving him space as he grumbled, with furrowed brows, at anything that moves, often resorting to giggling quietly and observing his shenanigans from a distance - usually involving a wrestle with a hot jug. As they walked, his fingers found the spaces between hers, grasping firmly to prevent the crisp air from streaming through to their bones. She chuckled at the tender action contrasting his expression. “What?” He scowled humorously. “Oh, nothing,” she suppressed a smile. The scowl turned confused. “You’re just very adorable, even when you despise me,” she teased. “I don’t despise you, I actually love you very much,” the sentence rolled off his tongue like a statistic, “I despise being awake.” At that, a grin broke across her face. “In fact, I think that being awake at this hour should be criminalised, I’ll pass the bill myself,”

“Good luck getting a representative to sponsor that bill, Doctor President,”

“I work for the government. I have connections,”

“And they say this democracy isn’t corrupt,” she grimaced, only partly joking. She saw his laughter in a huff of foggy breath at her comment. “Anyway, when was the last time you had a proper breakfast?” She asked. Spencer thought about it for a moment. Yesterday, if espresso and inhaling air particles counts, he thought. “That… is a… trick question, pretty lady.” The corners of his mouth twitched from behind where his coat collar stood upturned, sufficing in the absence of a scarf, knowing that any answer he provided wouldn’t impress her. Without response, she just held his hand impossibly tighter, walking the tiniest bit quicker.

An unwieldily wicker basket dangled from his fingers, knuckles blue from the early air while they continued on their stroll along the promenade. “You can dismantle the patriarchy another day, Y/N. Please let me carry this for you,” Spencer had asked, insisting she carried the picnic blanket instead. Prevailing winds raced to hide within the drapes of his trench-coat, hiking it outwards behind him in the dramatic way it might if he were on a runway. Over the phone line, she would tell him, “Careful, you may be tempted to leave the BAU if you get scouted by Prada,” whenever she knew he was sat in a budget-meeting hotel room in Los Angeles or New York, wrestling with chopsticks and a container of cold noodles and undoubtedly working a case after hours. Never did he believe her, always taking her flattery with a grain of salt. “Absolutely not. For Givenchy though, I definitely might consider it.” She recalled his response. He acutely remembered the way she’d laughed on the other line, yearning to be the reason she did, forever. Admiring her lover, she struggled to comprehend how everyone in the world didn’t see the same things she saw. He had a beautiful soul. That’s what shone through every crack in his skin.

Brine toothed sea mist had corroded bolts on the wharf over time, the slight stench of rusted metal taking their nostrils time to adjust to. She began laying down the thick flannel sheet over the dewy wood, careful as to not fall over the edge. “Now, I know you prefer sunsets, but trust me, after today you will change your mind,” she chirped, patting down the blanket. Spencer thought he preferred being alone, she changed his mind on that also, and so, he trusted her words unapologetically. “I’m sure of it,” he beamed at her, placing the basket down with a soft thud before cracking his, now, nearly transparent knuckles. “You look like you’re freezing!” She half whispered and half yelled, rushing to take his hands, cupping his much larger ones in hers and puffing out warm breaths of air in order to thaw his joints. After all, the jacket around her shoulders was one that belonged to him, it was the least she could do. Shaking his head at her actions, completely enamoured by the way she fiddled with his fingers to provide some friction, he turned to glance at the hills in the distance, the night falling and stars dissolving into day, like granules of sugar in hot tea. He looked back at her, catching her eyes, already gazing up at him. “I sense you’re about to tell me something I don’t know about sunrises,” she tilted her head. “Close,” he nodded, grin wider than the horizon before them, “I was going to tell you about Venus.” Pointing at the remaining speck of glitter in the sky, he wrapped an arm around her. “The ancient Greeks and Egyptians actually believed that Venus was two separate celestial bodies. A morning star, which the Greeks called Phosphoros, ‘the bringer of light’, and an evening star, Hesperos, ‘the star of the evening’. It wasn’t until a few hundred years later, that they realised that Venus was actually a single planet.” She nodded along, absorbing the new information before cupping his jaw in her palms to feel his lips between her own. “What was that for?” Spencer giggled after pulling away, not opposed to the action. “Just proving to the goddess of beauty and love that I do, very much, love a beautiful person.” The dawn breaking illuminated the rose flush on Spencer’s cheeks. “Fun fact, it’s actually the hottest planet in our solar system. Kind of…” he swallowed looking down at his shoes for a brief moment, “kind of reminds me of you,” he smirked, still an amateur to the skill they call flirting. Shaking her head at him, flustered, she sat down on the sheet motioning for him to take a seat beside her, before unpacking the basket.

A small fishing boat coursed through the water, its hull parting the ocean from Atlantic to symmetrical fountain streams, which were immediately pinned back into place, the way a cobalt fabric cut by the scissors of a seamstress would fall to her worktable. Sitting cross legged above the water, Spencer, from a large flask, poured two much needed cups of coffee, the bright pink ’S’ decorating his one making him raise a brow. She handed him a spread bagel, topped with fluorescent streaks of smoked salmon and cracks of pepper, on a small wooden chopping board, heart fluttering at how his jaw dropped slightly in excitement. “It’s Philly Cream Cheese, by the way, I know you love dairy but I made sure this didn’t have any in it anyway.” A soft smile settled on his lips. “Thank you,” he expressed his gratitude, “for all of this,” he clarified, as he finished chopping up various stone fruit into a woven basket. “Don’t mention it. I just wanted to spend more hours of the day with you,”

“That’s very sweet, but I see exactly what you’re doing. I hope you don’t expect that this’ll get me up at this hour every weekend,”

“Mhm,” a smug look made its way onto her face, “You already know I have other ways of getting you up early on Saturdays,”

“Oh? Okay, was that a-“ he had on an incredulous look, “I’m going to hold you to that,” he chewed down on his lip. She raised her eyebrows at his words.

“Cheers,” she held up her cup for a toast. “Cheers,” Spencer repeated, the soft clink of metal sounding over the crows of gulls overhead. They huddled into each other, watching the vibrance of sunlight meld together like dyes on an artists’s unwashed watercolour palette. Needless to say, she was not at all disappointed when the star of the morning finally disappeared, because a sky full of them could be found in the eyes of the man she called hers, and as he turned to face her, before his hand settled in her hair and apricot flavoured tongue reached her lips, she saw it, for a moment.

#maybe this is all i want #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler #mgg fanfiction #mgg fic #mgg #mine: writing

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the-lady-writes-what · 3 years

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Commission #1

This is for the lovely @ladycallian. Thank you so much for your support!

Villain AU

Villain Deku x Fem! Reader (Vigilante)

Content: kidnapping, dub-con, fingering, oral (receiving), dominance play, praise

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as sweat trickled down your neck and face. Your hands shook as you brought out your weapon. A thick coppery smell clung to the air. Without the body at the villain's feet, no one would have suspected such a slim figure to be capable of murder. Blood pooled around his boots as Deku stepped out into the moonlight. The tattered and blood-stained All Might hoodie made a mockery of the hero whose very brand the villain wore. Deku didn't look like what you pictured him to be. He wasn't nearly as big as you envisioned, a villain who could kill with just a flick of the wrist. Not entirely, at least. He was tall, athletic, and had a gleam in his eye. Dark green electricity enveloped his body as he took a few more steps towards you.

"You must be the vigilante I've heard so much about. But, you know, I've been looking forward to our first meeting for a very long time," said Deku.

Fear overcame your intellect. Your feet were moving before you could think about the situation or plan an attack. It was like your body was moving of its own accord. You ran towards Deku, fighting staff in hand and ready to knock him upside the head. Instead, you raised the staff above your head and pinned your focus on Deku's skull. But in a split second, before it landed on your target, that green electricity grabbed you first.

Your body jolted then froze in place. Pain coursed through you. You opened your mouth to scream, only for the sound to get stuck in your throat. The back of your head fell against the ground. The next thing you realize, you're lying on the ground and staring up at the sky. Black dots danced around your vision. However, just before everything goes dark, a pair of boots step into your line of sight.

You woke up on a cot and wrapped snuggly in a fleece blanket. You sat up to get a better look at your surroundings, but the room was cast in shadows. A light flickered above you, so your eyes were forced to adjust to the new brightness. The room was a windowless chamber. Two doors led out, but where? There was a bookshelf, dresser, and the cot. And then, there was also the armchair that Deku made himself comfortable in.

You sprang out of bed. You patted yourself down, looking for a weapon. Finding none, you put your fists up and waited for Deku's next move. Deku cleaned himself up from the murder he committed in front of your eyes in the alleyway. He showered, put on fresh clothes, and dabbed on cologne for a finishing touch. You could smell it from across the room, thanks to the small space he crammed you into. Deku stood up from the chair, took one look at you, and started laughing. He continued to laugh practically in your face at your defensive position. It bounced off the walls. Deku continued to laugh until he had to hold his belly and complain about his ribs. When he stopped, at last, he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

"It's so precious that you think you can beat me, (Vigilante Name). But let's be real here. I know your weaknesses better than anybody. You wouldn't stand a chance in the little room like this."

His words didn't stop you from trying. You sprinted across the room in a few short steps. Your raised fist was caught in his large hand before it could land. Foolishly, you tried again. It wasn't a shock when Deku grabbed your other fist in mid-air. With your shoes missing and Deku being so much stronger than you, it was easy to work for him to push you back until the back of your knees hit the bed. Deku gave you a shove, a tiny one, to make you fall over. You scrambled out of his reach. This made Deku laugh again, though not nearly as much.

"You're quite the scared rabbit, aren't you, Y/N."

Blood vanished from your face. A cold chill ran down your spine.

"H-How do you know my name?"

"Easy. I know a lot about you. I know where you live, what your day job is, I know where you're attending college, and your major. I know what you eat on lonely Saturday nights in your dorm room and what your favorite color is. You have your own little notebook I've dedicated entirely to you."

"But…why?"

Deku leaned down so that your faces weren't even an inch apart. A piece of rice paper wouldn't even have been able to get between you two. Your noses touched each other, and you could feel his breath breathing down your neck. "Isn't it obvious? You always stood up for me before. So I just thought I'd return the favor by helping you," said Deku.

Your brows furrowed, then you remembered. You remembered a short, lanky boy in your middle school class that was always picked on for being quirkless. You saved him from getting the snot kicked out of him by his bully, Katsuki Bakugou, at least on two or more occasions. To think that such a skinny crybaby would turn out to be…this?

"Help me? Help me how?"

"Let's just say that you don't have to risk your life anymore running around hunting criminals." Deku reached for you and grabbed your chin so you couldn't look away. "I'll keep you safe right here."

"And what makes you think I'm going along with it?" You ask.

Deku smirked. "I'll make it worth your while."

You scoffed. Deku kissed you on the mouth, silencing any further nay-saying. He kissed you like he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer. His other hand wandered to your shoulder and found the zipper at the back of your neck. Deku tugged at it and pulled it down your spine. Your hands pushed against his chest. This didn't stop his hand from dragging the zipper all the way down. Cool air hits your exposed skin. Deku used both his hands to pull, practically rip, the costume of your body. He pulled your arms out of tight sleeves. Deku flipped you over unto your stomach. Your hands cinched around the blankets in fear as your body froze in place. Trapped in his hands, Deku could break your spine in half if he wanted to, and he wouldn't even break a sweat. Deku kissed the back of your neck and trailed his lips down, all the while pulling your costume further and further down.

"You taste so sweet, Y/N. Your skin…is too tantalizing. I wonder, though, if you ever had a boyfriend. I'd like to think you saved yourself for somebody like me." You bit your tongue. Would it be better for your captor to find out on his own, or should you tell him and face the consequences? Either way, Deku was about to find out as he brought the skin-tight suit to your thighs. His lips reached the small of your back, and his fingers played with the waistband of the thin shorts you wore under your vigilante costume. Deku fiddled with it then brought it down where your costume bunched around your knees. There was no movement now that your own clothes became a trap that kept you from getting away. You buried your face into the mattress at the thought of just one layer protecting you. Your fingers clutched the blankets until they ached.

"That's right. You're behaving so well. So good for me," Deku whispered against your skin.

Inevitably, your panties were tugged down your legs to join the rest of your clothes. Deku pulled at the sports bra covering your chest but didn't pull it all the way off. The elastic stretching the fabric pinched as it bunched over your chest. Your exposed breasts were squished against the flat surface of the bed. Metal groaned as you squirmed and wriggled in Deku's grasp. He chuckled at your resistance.

"Are you trying to tempt me, Y/N? You keep rubbing yourself against me. Do you want it that badly?"

You stilled at his touch becoming harder. Deku's hands groped your ass, a cheek in each palm. His fingers gripped you hard enough to bruise. He lifted your hips slightly and pulled your cheeks apart. Deku dragged his tongue along your slick core and dove into the folds of your cunt. You bit your lip until blood blossomed, and you tasted it on your tongue while you tried to keep from moaning. Deku rubbed your clit with his calloused fingers and inserted his tongue over and over into your center.

Something reached inside of you. It wasn't anything Deku was doing or anything of his. It belonged deep inside of your mind, where your pleasure center was. Deku teased your insides and clit, sending shockwaves to your brain. You shuddered at his touch and the way he sloppily ate you out. The lewd sounds he was making sent an army of goosebumps across your flesh. Your jaw opened wide and clenched down on the blankets. Drool pooled around your mouth where your teeth gnawed on the fuzzy fabric. You couldn't stop the moans from escaping, even though they were muffled. Deku kissed and licked your cunt, swiping at your most sensitive bits with precision. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Then, he stopped.

For a moment, you thought you were given a reprieve. You loosened your mouth around the blanket and panted for breath. Deku's hand grabbed the back of your neck and lifted your head. His free hand reached between your legs to play with your cunt.

"I want to hear you. Don't cover your mouth again." Deku warned.

To prove his point, he drove his fingers deep inside your tight cunt. Deku drove them fast and hard into you. Again, something wet ran between your legs and all over his hand. This time, there was nothing to muffle the sound of you moaning. Deku made you whimper just by plowing you with his fingers. He was reaching deep within further than you could with your clumsy fingers. Deku wriggled his fingers inside of your cunt, hooking inside of you and scissoring you. He never slowed down even though you soaked his hand with your lewd juices—pressure built and built at the base of your spine. White-hot pleasure shot down your back and burst. Deku ripped a scream from your throat before he let up.

Deku moved away from you. You heard him step away for a moment. You felt his eyes glued to you as if admiring his handiwork. He was watching you drip on yourself. You shuddered at the absence of his body and hands and the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Deku returned once your body calmed down some. He pulled your clothes the rest of the way off, including your socks. Tossing your clothes somewhere behind him, Deku resettled himself between your legs. You froze again at the sound of his pants' zipper dragging downward. Something hard and long tapped your ass cheeks. Deku ran a finger down your spine before grabbing your hips and lifting you up. The blunt head of his cock prodded at your slick core. Deku shifted his hips back and forth, and with each small thrust, his cock sunk deeper into your cunt. With one thrust, he was buried all the way to the hilt. You grunted once he was fully seated in your tight, wet warmth. He held you close by the hips, rubbing circles into your skin.

"That's good, that's good. You take it well. See how fast your body yields to mine? It knows who it belongs to before you even dare to admit it," said Deku. He leaned his body against yours and engulfed you. He wrapped you tight in his arms and surrounded you. Deku's breath ghosted against your ear, and he grunted as he started to move.

The sound of your strained cries echoed in the small room, along with skin slapping against skin. Deku held you close to him as his breath came in short bursts on your neck. His cock spread you open. Your cunt squeezed and clamped around him. Your body tightened up even as Deku was spreading you open. You struggled to find purchase only to have your arms pinned to your sides by Deku's strong arms holding your waist and forcing you face-down on the bed. Your knees ached from being forced to the floor; hips hurt too, thanks to rocking against the bed frame.

Deku's hand snaked upwards. It glided over your throat and slid his fingers into your mouth.

"I don't have to tell you what would happen if you bite me. You will regret it if you do. Just…fuck, you feel so good. Just soak them like you did with your sweet, sweet cunt."

You kept your mouth open for him. Deku's fingers slid in and out of your mouth, keeping up with the tempo of his thrusts. Drool pooled around your chin and dripped onto the cot. Deku's thrusting knocked the bed into the wall over and over and over. His free hand pinched and pulled and caressed every available inch of your body. Deku sang your praises while choking you with thick fingers. You swirled your tongue around the fingers in your mouth.

"Oh, precious. Y/N, Y/N, you're behaving so well. You're taking my cock like a trained whore. Oops. Didn't mean to call you that." He laughed.

His thrusts took a harsher turn. Deku plowed your insides like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Your body tingled as he sank deeper still inside your cunt. You were dripping down there as well as drooling a copious amount of saliva. Deku pressed down on your tongue and made you gag. His hard thrusts pummeled your insides to the point where you thought he was literally rearranging your guts. You seized up around him, clamped down on the cock filling you up and let out a strangled cry. You poured over him and his turgid cock impaling you. Deku wasn't far behind; you could feel it.

"Mine. Mine. Mine." Deku chanted as he rocked into you.

Your bodies collided a dozen more times. Deku seized up on the final thrust. He plunged deep. You screamed as the tip of his cock rammed against your cervix. Hot cum sprayed your insides, painting your cunt white and spreading warmth in your lower belly. Deku clenched his arm around you to the point of leaving more bruises around your mid-section. You could hear his teeth grinding as his cock twitched once he finished cumming. A few minutes passed before Deku withdrew his cock and his fingers from your orifices.

You slumped against the bed, shivering from head to toe. You shook in the aftermath of it all. Deku slipped away, and then you heard the sound of running water. You didn't have the strength to get up again, and even if you could, where would you run naked? Deku knelt behind you again and swiped a cool, damp rag between your legs.

"Just relax for me. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything," said Deku as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

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secretshinigami · 3 years

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Tangle

Author: @hazblogs For: @beyondplusultra Pairings/Characters: Near/Mello/Matt Rating/Warnings: G Prompt: “mello with even longer hair, braided in some cool style” + “mello x matt x near college AU shenanigans (can be ship or gen)” Author’s notes: ok so you have no idea how hard i hand flapped when i saw your prompt - and then your name. aka i wrote a thing for you last sse which was a very very perfect companion piece for the one i’m gifting you rn. lots of love <333333333

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“Matt. Are you trying to tell me something ?” Mello asks.

“Me ? Communicating ? I’ll have you know that hasn’t happened since the great fire of the library of Alexandria. I was devastated and vowed to never speak again, which I would have fully respected had you not decided to spawn a few centuries later to torment me.”

Mello is tempted to chuck the pair of scissors to his face, but that would probably be dangerous. They are adorned with a little bow and a note that says “Put them to good use !” in tidy, loopy letters.

A snicker rises from the then-two-now-triple bed, a small white head emerging from under the blanket. “I see you’ve found my present.”

“Near, I’ll ask this once and once only: why in hell would you ever think I’d cut my hair ?”

They’ve been growing it out very, very patiently ! It took months ! After the incident and the fact that the hospital had to shave most of it off, adding to the fact there’s now a bald scar patch on the side of their head, Mello tried really really hard to gain a sense of… self-love ? Looking at their face in the mirror was never a chore before.

Feeling the wind blow through their now quite long hair had been amazing.

“It goes into my mouth when we sleep,” Near answers. “I’m tired of waking up and having to spit it all out.”

Mello has half a mind to tell him that if he doesn’t like it that much, he just has to not cuddle up to them in his sleep, but that’s unfair - and also unwanted. Mello quite likes waking up to Matt and Near snuggled up so close to them that they feel loved in a way only kids can feel, with their utmost certainty in the good of this world. It’s a nice warmth, spreading from their chest to their toes.

“Ugh. Fine, I’ll tie them up.”

“What ?” Matt almost yells from his place on the floor, a true cave troll. “I’ve been trying to make you do that for months and you always said you hated it ! And Near doesn’t even have to ask ? I haven’t lived that long to be disrespected in this way. I am appalled, I am betrayed, in my own home-”

“You don’t even go to this uni,” Mello usefully provides.

“Fiend. Rascal. I’m looking up hair braiding tutorials right this instant.”

“Oh, let me join,” Near asks, and soon enough, the two friends are completely ignoring Mello’s fuming, too busy looking at EveryDayHairInspiration videos on Youtube, her chipper voice filling the room with detailed instructions.

Nothing more comes of it. Or at least, that’s what Mello thinks, because they haven’t been jumped on and tied to a chair, where Matt’s deft fingers - and Near’s less deft fingers but keen memory - will wreak havoc on their admittedly finicky strands. They have thin, blond hair, though they know not who in their family passed on those genes. The woes of being adopted. It is almost impossible to comb, in spite of their best efforts and the KeraCare Hydrating Detangling Shampoo that Matt surreptitiously bought and sneaked into the bathroom, but that does not deter them.

Nor does the ever growing “Mello’s hair collection” that Matt keeps, like a creep, “So I can sell it when you become a best-selling author of course !” Mello thinks it’s for doll-making purposes, should he take offence to something they did and want to stab them in a more discreet fashion.

In any case, it’s been a few weeks when Mello comes back to the dorm room to find it in a state of upheaval it hasn’t known since Near arrived. There’s at least three cans of hairspray, a million and a half elastic ties of various shapes and sizes, and an office chair. Mello has been complaining about not having a chair to be able to work at the table, but Matt had always whined that it was “unnecessary, and would take up too much space”.

“Mels ! You’re here !” says the obvious culprit. “I borrowed Mikami’s chair, I hope he doesn’t mind.”

Incredible. The chair isn’t even going to stay !

“Will you come in ?” Near smiles, absolutely delighted at Mello’s crumpled features. “We’ve set up the hair salon.”

“Wow, you two have ambition,” they mock. Mello does feel a little bit of terror at the twin gleams in their eyes.

Near simply ushers them towards the seat, detangling lotion ready, and he begins applying ungodly amounts of it while Matt combs through their hair with vigour. It does feel quite nice, Mello muses, to be pampered like they’re worth it. The amount of sappiness can be felt in the air, the love pouring from their friends right onto them making them feel giddy.

“You okay, Mello ?”

They don’t even know who said it. They startle awake, wondering when they even started to doze off, and Matt laughs heartily at their dazed-out face.

“Oh my god, Mels, you look like you’re in heaven.”

“Mrrgh,” they muster the courage to say.

“Eloquent.”

“Shut up, Near…”

The energy isn’t quite there, though.

A few moments pass by while Near and Matt keep twisting their hair in weird ways, the tingling sensation on their scalp never nearing pain with how careful they are. And then-

“Ta-da !” Matt says, happy as can be.

“We did good work,” Near concurs. “Wait, I have a mirror.”

Mello sure hopes so. Truth be told, they’re quite curious to see what the other two managed to do. Matt makes them close their eyes, spinning the chair for good measure, and Near laughs airily in the background, hands flapping a little.

“Open your eyes !”

They do. At first, they almost don’t see it - their hair is gathered on their right side, as usual. But then they notice the subtle ways in which their hair glows under the light, a small black hair tie at the bottom keeping it together.

Somehow, they manage not to let those annoying tears flow.

“They like it !” Matt whoops.

Near relaxes - he seemed unsure of their reaction, but Matt knows how to read them perfectly, and he knows, he just knows. The force of habit.

The braid stays on for about two days. Mello keeps forgetting it’s there and running their fingers through their hair only to have them tangled in the braid, or turning too fast and flinging it in someone’s face. Near eventually undoes it when they whine about washing their hair, though it returns soon after. He cuddles closer now - Mello feels their heart jump each time they wake up to their two loves, if they can say the word, and they remember that moment throughout the day when they play with the twists.

#fanfiction #death note #submission #near #mello #matt #nearlymellodramattic #ratings: general #hazblogs #beyondplusultra #Near's Bday Finale 2k21

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renaerys · 3 years

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PPG One-Shot: A Balmy Tuesday in Hell

Taking a break from the prompt requests to wish a very happy birthday to @snailbutters! Tbh I like this idea a lot and I’m tempted to expand on it more. Cross posted on AO3.

xxx

When Mike went looking for a part-time job to earn some spending money, he had a hard time finding one that worked around his college class schedule. All the good on-campus jobs were taken, and most of the ones he found offsite required him to be up way too early or way too late with very little flexibility.

The front desk position at the Beelzebob, a local hair salon advertising an array of “wicked styles” for any occasion, was not the most glamorous position, but it welcomed part timers and offered flexible schedules to be discussed on a case by case basis. It was at the tail end of a long week of job hunting with little to show for it, and Mike was tired. Still, he dragged himself all the way there after his three-hour Friday seminar and put on his best retail charm for the interview.

One of the stylists told him to wait in the lobby while she grabbed the manager for his interview, and so Mike sat in a plush, purple chair and eyed the stack of magazines on the coffee table—HJi, Professional Beauty, NHF, and others he recognized from Googling “how to work at a hair salon” last night. A playlist that seemed to consist entirely of K-pop pumped ripples of bubblegum bass through the speakers and had Mike tapping his fingers on his hip. There was no one behind the sleek, glass reception desk, so Mike got up and wandered over to it. He tried to imagine himself with the headset on, fielding phone calls and helping customers pick out one of the many luxury hair products on the walls behind the desk. He touched his own brown hair—plain and getting a bit long, but styled with a little wax for the day—and worried about whether he should have tried a bit harder for this interview. Would he be judged on his own hair? That seemed reasonable enough—

“This simply won’t do.”

Mike startled at the lyrical voice and turned around to find a seven-foot, red-skinned demon in Lululemons appraising him over an enterprising nose. Which would have been a cause for mild to moderate alarm even in Metroville—a hub for lowlifes, Supervillains, and the occasional monster on a mission out of Townsville farther north—except that Mike recognized this particular demon. At which point he got the pun in the name of this place and smiled.

“Him,” he squeaked. And then, remembering his high school retail training: “I mean, Mr. Him.”

Him—Prince of Pestilence, Duke of Depravity, Earl of Evil, et cetera—blushed the color of an open wound. “You’re house trained, I see. All right, this way.”

Him turned on his Louboutin heel and headed into the salon. Mike hurried after Him, unsure whether this was good or bad. Him led him to a styling chair and sat him down. A purple salon cape made its way around Mike’s neck with a flamenco flourish, and Him leaned over his head in the reflection.

“What are we thinking?”

Mike eyed his potential future employer from perfectly curled goatee to artificial mink lashes and hesitated.

This is a test.

It had to be. Surely, anyone manning the phones had to know something about haircare in general. If he was to be the vanguard, the watcher on the Wall, he would have to be able to alert his colleagues of the incoming threats and answer questions about how to fend off anything from tangles to split ends. Mike tried to remember the last time he got a haircut; Boomer had been with him, his eye far more discerning than Mike’s.

“Comb over,” Mike said.

“Quiff?”

“More faux hawk.” He tried not to think of the heat on the back of his neck, and instead of the sly grin on Boomer’s face the last time he’d been under the scissors. “With a low fade. Um, please.”

Him’s fangs gleamed when he grinned. “Good choice.”

For a demon with claws the size of dinner plates, Him was surprisingly adroit and precise to a literal razor’s edge. In fact, Mike was certain Him must sharpen his claws to get them sharp enough to shave the hair from the nape of his neck, which seemed like a sensible time-saver. Blackpink’s Pretty Savage blared over the speaker as Him coifed and styled the thicker locks that remained on top of Mike’s head, combed to the left in enviable, anti-gravity perfection.

“Wow.” He touched the side of his head, marveling at the close but generous cut and the perfect blend. “This has to be the best haircut I’ve ever gotten.”

He got up and removed the cape, only to find Him with a broom in his claw. “I run a clean salon, Michael.”

Mike accepted the broom without question. “Yes, sir.”

Him preened. “Good lad.”

“Does… Does this mean I got the job?”

Him flipped his claw. “There will be a trial period. You young people are so used to texting that I’ll have to determine if you’re fit to answer a phone. But, considering your manners, I have a good feeling about you.”

Amazing! “Thank you so much! When do I start?”

“Honey, you’re already late. I have customers waiting.” Him snapped his claw. “Chop chop.”

Mike swept up his shorn hair and the hair around the chair next to his, dumped it all in a bin labeled “Hair,” and ran to the front desk to answer the phone ringing off the hook. The stylist who’d greeted him, Marisol, helped him with the computer login so he could manage appointments and checkout. It was easy enough, a Square card reader and a cash register and a huge logbook of every sale.

“Middle finger up, F-U, pay me,” Mike whisper-rapped along with Lisa.

A couple hours later, Him handed him a check for the time worked and told him to be back here tomorrow at 3 p.m. Mike accepted the check, but he didn’t pocket it.

“Sir, I should tell you for the sake of full disclosure.”

Him peered down at him with his claws on his hips. “Oh?”

This should not be so hard.

“I’m, well, I’m involved. With your son. Boomer.”

Him clicked his claw, and Mike held his breath.

Boomer had spoken about Him—Baron of Brutality, King of Chaos, Emperor of Enmity et cetera—on just a few occasions throughout their acquaintance. Raising souls from the dead was a hobby of Him’s, apparently, but often his necromantic offspring ended up rotting and were no fit candidates to promenade in civilized society that wasn’t eternally damned and burning. Chemical X cut out that inconvenience, and thus the perfect little boys were reborn, or something. According to Boomer, Him was evil on Sundays, a prolific genius on Tuesdays, and crocheting with his kobolds on Fridays. The rest of the time he was just a normal demon trying to survive in this capitalist post-modern society like everybody else. Anyway, Sunday wasn’t in Mike’s work schedule, so that seemed safe enough.

“I know,” Him said. “You don’t expect me to believe you’d Googled the most flattering hairstyle for your bone structure without help, do you?”

Mike was pretty sure there was a compliment in there, even if it wasn’t for him. “I guess not.”

Him beamed. “Don’t worry. I would never let my favorite son’s romantic life influence the culture at Beelzebob. You’ll be judged before an impartial tribunal of incubi, like everybody else. Now, before you go, I’d like you to dispose of the waste, please.”

Mike learned the value of separating trash that day. Discarded receipts and candy wrappers dumped in the waste bin went into the trash, lunch leftovers went to compost, and cut hair went to sacrificial offerings.

“Sacrifices reduce our carbon footprint and offer protection against flat Earthers. It’s a proven science, you know.”

Mike supposed it would be poor manners to argue with an ancient evil on his crochet day.

xxx

Boomer was all sly smiles and discreet hand touches when Mike treated him to dinner at their favorite Thai place later that week.

“So, your job seems to be paying well,” he said.

“Well enough to take my boyfriend out to a nice dinner now and then.”

“Careful. Spend too much time with Him and your tastes will get really expensive.”

Mike laughed. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll switch majors to cosmetology and join the family business.”

“You know what? He’d probably love that. He tried so hard to get Brick to follow in his footsteps, but Mojo let him mess around on his E-Shares account once when we were eleven and Brick was lost to the finance track forever. I’m pretty sure Mojo did it on purpose.” Boomer leaned in and clinked his wine glass to Mike’s. “Anyway, buy me this dinner before you jump to joining the family business.”

Mike flushed. “I’m—I didn’t—”

Boomer laughed. “Chill! I’m just messing with you.”

The playlist at the restaurant began playing Blackpink’s Kill This Love, and Mike burst out laughing.

“What?” Boomer asked. “You like this song? You know, Him is really big into K-pop lately. Butch thinks someone must have sold a bunch of souls and made a killing.”

“I know.” Mike kissed Boomer’s hand. “It’s just funny how things work out.”

Boomer smiled. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

Their food arrived, and Mike happily ate his meal across from Boomer. And in the back of his mind, he said a little thank-you to Him and whatever chaotic forces he controlled for reviving Boomer all those years ago.

It must have been a balmy Tuesday in Hell.

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff girls fanfic #boomike #ppg boomer #mike believe #ppg him

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elliethesuperfruitlover · 3 years

Text

its gonna be an oolong night

A/N: Yes, I’m still alive. This is for a character that literally nobody is familiar with, and I honestly don’t care at this point. He’s wonderful, attractive, and my god great character yes yes yes. Mat x reader.

Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem! receiving), major teasing, like more than usual for me, but somehow still soft like what the fuck

I also know that a lot is going on right now, fandom-wise, and here in the US.(i swear to god one of these days im just gonna start throwing hands at the police) (or just the world in general.) But here’s some smut to take your mind off that, at least for a few thousand words.

Tag List: @super-unpredictable98, @seanfalco, @seancekitsch, @bisexualnathanyoung, @neuroticpuppy, @misskittysmagicportal, @ghoulsbuddy, @magic-multicolored-miracle, @the-freckled-luba, @maerenee930

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s literally just a dosage cup full.” he said, leaning the small cup towards you. Mat was testing a new brew of coffee, one he made this time. Although you loved and trusted him, sometimes he didn’t have the best execution.

“Sir, you have no idea how much anxiety I’m gonna be having if I have like any of that.” you reply, slowly backing into the corner. You look around for any type of escape, and it seems as if the side door in the kitchen was the only option. As Mat dove forward, you spun to face the door, and placed a finger on the handle.

“One move and I’m gone sir. Not permanently of course, the dick’s too good, but you know I have places to be. Food to eat. Arson to commit.” you say, half-stern, foot inching towards the door.

“Ugh fine. At least I know that I’ve been fucking you right this entire time.” he replies, downing the coffee before throwing the small cup in the sink, walking towards you. The sun was out, and he was simply glowing in it. Especially after that work out with Craig, dear lord, that man was looking scrumdiddlyumptious.

“You always listen. I have no idea if it’s because of your anxiety, or that you drink your respect women juice every morning. But what can I say, you know your way around.” you mutter, letting him come from behind you in order to hug you.

“I don’t think I’d want it any other way. Finding the body’s secrets and enjoying them together. Are you purposely trying to get me to fuck you on the couch, because I will.” Mat whispered into your form. You could feel him press his hardness into you, and a few thoughts passed through your head.

Do I want this man to fuck my brains out? Yes/No

Am I going to have to clean the couch, bed, counter, and or kitchen table afterwards? Yes/No

Will he make/give me brownies afterwards? Yes/No

But I have work to do??? Do That First, And Let Him Tease You Through It/Ignore

“Okay, fine, I’ll let you fuck me afterwards. But you can tease me throughout, it’s always an option.” you mutter, turning around to see the half-smirk on his face.

“Oh, you’re going to struggle, mama.” he said, putting a record on, Keys of Life, as expected.

“We’ll see.”

And fucking see you did. You couldn’t get a fucking break from this man’s fucking hands. He was observing you while you folded laundry, and would purposely brush his hands with yours when you handed a new article of clothing to him. You were washing dishes practically attached at the hip. It took you a good hour to get all of the housework done. Of course, it would’ve gone much smoother if Mat wasn’t sitting on counters like a cat, mind, counters that you were trying to clean.

“Yay, you’re finally done!” Mat cheered, climbing towards you from the end of the bed, gently tugging your pants off. He kissed up your calves, and breathed in deeply once he got to your hips. He let the sigh out, and got to work on treasuring your legs and thighs.

You took a deep breath, and got distracted in thought for a moment. Mat always treated you like, well a queen. Waking up in the morning to cook before he goes down to the shop, and letting you try new recipes. He even let you go back into the kitchen to tour it once. Although, Pablo headbanging wasn’t what you intended on seeing. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t take it back for anything. Mat’s wonderful, and he made sure everything was as it should be. Well, most times at least. It gave you a warm, fuzzy feeling, and you came back to the realm of reality where Mat was finishing his rounds, fingers threading a trail to your underwear.

He also tugged those off, and without a second thought, your legs spread further, and Mat gently kissed along your slit, then using his fingers to separating your labia. Your head sat back on the pillow as his tongue made itself familiar with you once more. His hands came up to hold your hips to his face, and you had half a mind to squeeze his head with your thighs. Tiny, lewd noises filled the once-quiet space as Mat went to town on your pussy, like he hadn’t eaten in days (thats a lie, he ate you out during a work call the night before). His nose gently nudged your clit, and you gasped. He smiled against you as one of his fingers came to toy with it, rubbing gentle circles. You sighed at his touch, but then the fucker began teasing.

His tongue would get within centimeters of your clit before retreating back down. You were very tempted to reach down to hold his head where you wanted. You thought it out for 0.5 seconds before reaching down and gently pressing his head into your sex, adjusting your hips as to where they’re slightly off the bed. He looked up at you, glaring, as he let you have your way with his head...for the time being at least.

He lapped at your excretions, almost disgustingly so, but every noise that come from below further fueled the fire. The burning, aching fire in the pit of your gut that wanted nothing more than to absolutely be ruined by (or to ruin) your lover, as well as the bedsheets that you’d been occupying. For short moments of time, you focused on the feeling of his dreads on your thighs before another intrusion made you gasp out loud, making your hips stutter against Mat’s face, losing their up and down motion. Mat’s fingers were more than skilled at getting where they needed to be, and as you felt them (yes, them, he works quick) scissor into you. Your walls contracted when he moved his mouth over your clit, sucking roughly. Those fucking sounds drove you over multiple waves, but the big one was yet to arrive. You were getting extraordinarily close, and on extremely short notice. You couldn’t make head nor tail of Mat’s fingers or his tongue. All you knew was more and more pressure right where you wanted. The flat of his tongue just needed to move like an inch to the left-

oh jesus fucking christ~

Your legs squeezed around Mat’s face as you came, and you screamed to the heavens, head thrown back. Angelic, almost, except maybe God won’t let you in for this moment, right here in particular. Mat came back up with the bottom half of his face covered in slick, eyes blown with lust.

“Every time you properly give me an orgasm, I swear 5 extra years get added to my life.” you mumble, catching your breath.

“Mm, and well deserved. You taste so fucking good, I need even more time to cherish you.” he replied, shedding his shirt.

You admired him from your spot on the bed for a short moment before the sex gremlin in your brain leaned forward, urging you to kiss your partner. He reciprocated, and his arm found its way back around your body as the two of you made out. Mat’s hard-on pulsed against your thigh, even through those fucking boxers, you thought, as Mat detached from the kiss, moving his way to your neck. He nipped at a few spots, and kissed over your clavicle before finally taking off his last article of clothing, and you contracted once more upon realizing that this man, truly was yours. He wouldn’t be this tender and caring with anyone he found (on second thought, mans does have horrible anxiety, so-). But no, he usually wouldn’t eat out some stranger, then ask them what their favorite surprise flavors in cupcakes are. He wouldn’t carry them to bed after their day was too exhausting to even want to life another finger. He wouldn’t come over and smoke, and talk over records with just anyone.

“I know you’re thinking about something. Come on, my penis is a simple being, it’s not a deity.” Mat says, chuckling afterwards.

“Right... let me just call the pp doctor real quick. In reality, I was thinking about how good you are to me. But please, do feel free to stick it in, I’m waiting sir.” you reply, letting Mat line himself up before he gently sheathed himself in you, causing your head to tip back once more. Mat also let out a beautiful, guttural noise of his own, furthering your own want for him to fuck your brains out.

Mat gently pulled back before starting a decent pace, making sure to let you adjust where needed, and tucking his head into your neck. You looked over to his back, and stare at his ass before deciding to actually focus on the pleasure you were experiencing in that moment. Your hands rested on his back as you gently clenched and unclenched, thinking of nothing more than being absolutely wrecked and fucked out by Mat, letting your thoughts wander to the dirtiest, most filthy parts of your brain. Once you were done practically creaming at the thought of being ruined, Mat groaned against your neck. He was almost whimpering, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his muscles gleamed in the sunlight, which peeked through the blinds.

You just so happened to look down at where Mat was slamming into you, and it was such a wonderful thing to see. There was cream practically streaming out of you, and the spot underneath you was soaked, a good sized puddle of release surrounding your bottom. Mat wasn’t even fully pulling out anymore. That didn’t even matter though, he just felt so good. Too fucking good. The sound of him fucking you into the mattress was so good. So much better than the toy in the bedside drawer. It worked wonders, true, but my god, Mat did you so well. Could never hold candle to him. Mat was getting louder, and the almost full-bladder feeling built inside of you, but that was for another time. Although, the sheets can’t possibly be ruined any further. Anyway, Mat was about to fucking mating press you into the goddamn mattress.

You clenched, and gasped loudly as Mat hit that one spot. The definite, all-in spot that made you see stars when tapped correctly. Your nails dug into Mat’s back, much to his liking, and he drilled you into the mattress, legs held by his hands, and all thoughts thrown out of the window. He was openly praising you, how good and tight you felt, and how he wanted to *shudders* fill you up while he gently, but somehow so roughly made love to you. A few more loud moments passed, and you ground your hips upwards, making sure that somehow, you remained dominant in your own sense. Mat sped up impossibly, hips moving like a blur into you. He reached his end, and cried out, hips pressed directly into yours as he came. His eyes were closed, but he looked so fucking good, head thrown back, chest glistening with sweat. He collapsed next to you, breathing heavily. You contemplated getting up, but Mat always got a smidge clingy after his orgasms, so you were you wrapped your arms around him, in an odd sideways hug. Minutes passed, and you were fighting sleep, and resisting the urge.

Once you were almost out, you heard a muffled noise from besides you.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.” you muttered. Mat moved his head from the pillow and said something very honest.

“I want you to sit on my face. You didn’t get a chance to orgasm again, and I want you to have as lovely of a experience as I did.” he replied, and you were a deer in headlights for a moment. A very aware deer, but like sir, I need some reference. Don’t tell me to pop, lock, and drop it on your face right after I just held my legs in one spot for like 30 minutes.

“Fucking get to it then.” you purred, hips hovering above his face

He waited only seconds to begin absolutely devouring you, nose buried in your pussy. You barely even had to move your hips, as was getting into every spot you needed him to perfectly. His tongue seemed to move a mile a minute, getting all of the best places it could find. You were afraid of what was to happen if he was too quick. Poor thing would need a good five minutes of warning. You fully let go of the tension in your body, and let Mat work his magic, hands holding onto your ass extremely tight, sure to leave bruises.

You screamed when he landed a slap to your ass, harder than usual, and you were just moments away from another wonderful climax. At this moment in time, you wished that you had a mirror on the top of your bed, so that way, you could see everything. It would be so perfect for so many tender moments in time. Or less tender, more rough and “chile, we shoulda got the roast out at 4:45, but it’s 5:25 moments”

Your brain just go happened to think about looking down, and Mat’s blissed out face, mildly flushed in comparison to other moments. You moved your hips just one touch to the right, and it caused you to orgasm on his face. Quite messily for an observer’s eye. Yeahhh, you should’ve warned him about that. Mat wiped his face off, and smiled, kissing your thigh as you fell to the opposite side of the bed. You laughed it off, and almost immediately knocked out.

“You could’ve told me about that, y’know.” Mat said, the next morning. He was brushing his teeth, and preparing to open The Coffee Spoon up for the morning.

“It would’ve ruined the fun. Who doesn’t like a bit of spice added to their coffee, hmm?” you retorted, watching as his eyes drifted over to yours in a somewhat happy, somewhat “oh my god, the fucking nerves of that pun” way.

No matter, because there would be a lot more surprises where that came from.

Mat, for reference:

Masterlist

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iicytodoroki · 4 years

Text

pregame; atsumu miya (nsfw)

‧₊˚ ↱ ᵕ̈ summary: ❝ ya ready to go to suna’s for pregame, right? ❞

‧₊˚ ↱ ᵕ̈ warnings: explicit scenes (use protection!), explicit language, mentions of drinking, f! reader, some degradation, some possession, use of pill vibrator, fingering

‧₊˚ ↱ ᵕ̈ wc: 2990

‧₊˚ ↱ ᵕ̈ a/n: sorry it look me ages to get this done, i rlly wasnt inspired to write smut during that time, so everything i wrote just didnt flow right; so hope you enjoy tho!

You could only just cross your legs as you leaned against the wall, looking across the room. Leering eyes sharpen when Atsumu catches your gaze. A smug look as he looks down and back directly at your (e/c), darkening with a knowing thought. Holding his gaze, challenging him to just try you. But this is your boyfriend we are talking about. He loves a good challenge. Slowly he reaches into his pocket, eyes darkening. You can imagine hearing the slow click, click of the dial turn. The aching buzz against your soft, velvety wall now growing with each click of the remote. Your thighs clutching tighter to help the unsatisfied ache and to prevent the drench seeping through your bottoms.

The vibrating pill was too much for your sensitive walls. Atsumu had to push it in deep to make sure it’s between your rings of muscle so each time you clench harder, the sleek pick just keeps going in deeper, sending intense pulses all around.

It was less than an hour when Atsumu coaxed you with his fingers on the drive here. The pisshead loved rubbing his thumb on the inner, sensitive flesh of your thigh as he drove. But since you were so busy texting the group chat about everyone’s wins, he just has to slip his thick, calloused fingers past your panties.

First, rubbing your sweet button with his thumb, obviously tearing your attention away from your phone. Frowning at what he’s trying to get at, your face could only flush. Next, shoving two fingers in after he feels the slick collecting on his palm. Atsumu’s warm hands contrasting to his cold, metal rings added to your lewd gasps and uneven breathing. Sensing how much you want more of his nationally acclaimed fingers, he drastically sped up his pace. He was shoving two fingers in you then three while being attentive to your nub.

Your body temperature and heart rate was so rapid now. The shoving force of his hand trying to make sure all his knuckles are in and pushing against your velvety walls was too much for a short amount of time. Atsumu was smugly driving with one hand of the wheel, smiling to himself knowing he made you a quivering mess within minutes. Every glance he took to the side, his pants just got tighter and tighter. You looked so good trying to ground yourself by grasping the grab handle above you for dear life. Your whimpers and moans for more ignited his need to to take you. Now.

But sadly, the car came to a halt. You two arrived at Suna’s flat.

Walking in all cheeky knowing you never got your release, he just gave you his shit-eating grin as you both walked in towards your old high school friends. Atsumu gave you a peck on the cheek as he sauntered off to go play around Aran, Suna, and Osamu in the living room. You gave an extra heated glare at the back of Atsumu’s head, conveying how mad you were for interrupting you. But as you got up to go to the kitchen, you failed to notice his fingers in his pocket turning on the remote.

In the midst of bending down to get water from the fridge, tingles from the base to the top of your spine shot up shivers. Then that’s when you froze wide-eyed of the familiar buzzing inside your still sensitive wet, warmth. You remember Atsumu was cleaning up slick juices since you were mad at him causing such a mess, plus he insisted. Still in a daze, your cunny still remembers his presence and was dripping enough that your scheming boyfriend slipped his favorite traveler’s toy in you.

That fucking idiot

You could only curse him out in your head and send glares his way. Only for him to give an oh-so-loving smile from a boyfriend, turning back to laugh with his friends. Which now led you to stand around, idly chatting with other members, all hiding the fact you keep crossing your thighs in order to relieve the subtle need to clench around the very prolonged vibrations.

Maintaining your intense, anger-filled gaze at Atsumu, his own golden hues just darkened in response. To him, his appetite has now become insatiable. How could you be so tempting? Just by staring at him. Those lust-filled eyes and scarlet overcasting your radiant skin.

Oh, you’re so ready

Atsumu got up from his seat, his friends not noticing his sudden parting. He occasionally gave nods of acknowledgement, but most of the time he just stared at you, yearning for your adorable reactions. Now he has you in the palm of his hand. Primed for his much needed savory appetite.

“‘Tsumu, what the actual fuck --,” you hissed. But he quickly took your arm into the master bathroom.

The slam of the door and click of the lock reverberated against the pristine walls. Only the view of his broad, toned back was visible. For a second you thought you made him mad, but then the soft humming and fluttering of your wet walls, which are also starting to leak out onto your thinly laced panties, grounded your mind again. Before you know it, Atsumu firmly grasps your hips with both his hands, digging in to make sure to keep you in place. Oh they are for sure going to bruise in the morning, yet your lower abdomen just got tingly at the prospects.

“Ya know,” his hot breath dancing across the die of your neck, “I’ve been waiting til we got home after the party…”

Atsumu hands’ ghostly touch roamed up until his thumbs reached your underboobs. With each word he gave you hot neck butterfly kisses, while his thumbs roughly circulated your sensitive buds through the fabric.

“But you looked so desperate for my cock,” with a sudden bite and suckle at the junction of your neck, tongue smoothing with his slick over the blooming mark. Shivers down your spine from the cold and meek whimpers made by you

He continues, “like the needy slut you are.”

While your mind was focused on his attentive lips, you failed to notice the tossed skirt in the clawfoot tub. Next thing you know, Atsumu carelessly ripped off your blouse, his mouth was watering just the sight of you, pussy gleaming as the pill continued, and chest heaving from the soft, but sensitive touches. His cock ached so much being constricted. He glanced back to your face where he can read in your darkened eyes, you needed him now.

“‘Tsumu, please hur--,” not needing to finish your sentence Atsumu attached himself to one of your breasts, while the other was mercilessly pinched and rubbed to relieve the pain, over-and-over. Saliva from the rapid lapping of his tongue absorbed the cold draft, perking them. Perfect for the graze and pull of his teeth, eliciting a series of high-pitched mewls. All directed to his throbbing cock.

Urgency finally took over your still foggy mind, nimble hands were able to tug at Atsumu’s dress shirt, reveling at his godly-sculpted body. His being just surrounds you, eyes focusing on the glistening sweat that’s perspiring all over his torso. Smirking at your glossy eyes that seem to scale all over his body he comments, “Like what you see?”

Before he could get an answer, your (e/c) caught the bulging tent of his pants. Just seeing how large the bulge is got you panting more whilst rubbing your thighs.

Just imagine him and the pill inside...at once

While your eyes were trained on his cock, Atsumu unzipped and discarded his bottoms to the side. Standing in all his glory was his raging, red head of his cock, glistening in dripping pre-cum. A thickness you’ve never gotten used to, always need to be prepped for what feels like hours, with a protruding vein just underneath. Just remembering the rough drags that vein has against your spongy walls could make you cum right now.

“Now, now, as much as I love you admiring my cock, I’d love it even more inside this tight pussy of yours.”

As he said this Atsumu turned you around to face the large bathroom mirror, while he atrociously shoved his thumb, index, and middle fingers up your cunt. Rapidly raking inside in the search for the pill.

“Ah! nghh--’Tsumu..!!”

“Wait a sec babe,” he kissed your temple as he smirk knowing your knees buckled, “I need to take it out first.”

In reality, he did find it, but he wanted to keep messing with you. You were making such pretty noises and your face, god he could see the mix of frustration and pleasure written on there. He kept aggressively shoving his hand while scissoring his fingers inside, insisting he couldn’t find it yet. Atsumu’s brute force and the deep intense vibrations built you up to a warm coiling in your lower abdomen. (s/c) hands clutched onto the edge of the counter in anticipation.

After what felt like brutal hours of aggressive to slow fingering, he finally took it out. So sudden, yet so close, he didn’t—would not—let you release.

All you could hear was your heaving breath and the squelching noises of your arousal, a string still connecting to the vibrating pill. Atsumu seeing how all your juices messly attached around his hand made him salivate like a man out in the desert. Your aroma wafted around both of you, igniting this primal need to delve into you and the sinful noise of your pussy, looking for something to fill it. A need to relieve its emptiness.

“Miya Atsumu, you’re an actual douchebag,” you said in frustration.

“Oh really? Then I guess I better treat you,” he brought one hand to the front and another crawling up to your blooming bruised neck.

Enticed at his movements, you watched in the mirror as he opened your lips. Pink, fleshy muscles clenching at nothing. That is until you see Atsumu’s cock slicking himself with his precum and your nectar. He let out a deep groan upwards just at the feeling of the heat your pussy gave away.

“F-fuck y/n, you’re so wet, mmghh,” he moaned.

Biting your lip and stifle a broken moan, Atsumu entered inside, quickly becoming overwhelmed by the tight fit of his cock. No matter how many times you guys fucked, his girth always stretched you out, his plump head had to be thrusted through each muscled ring. All the while your walls kept fluttering around him.

Atsumu’s forehead was now in your shoulder as he bit and licked the area as he thrusted into you, your hips ringing against the marble sink. Wet skin from arousal and sweat tingly as he pulled back to shove in deeper.

Feeling all of his ridges grazing inside you.

Your fleshy walls pulsate around his cock as he eases himself into you inch by rough inch.

“Nghh, ‘Tsumu,” you gasped at another harsh thrust, “I need you, I—I ah…!!!”

You were desperately calling for him to be inside you and shove himself all in so you can finally feel him. Just then, he sheathed himself in you. Your jaws opened in a silent cry of a moan, eyes starting to roll back at how--big and thick-- he is against your walls. Every ridge, every vein was easily recognized. You were so stretched from his sudden intrusion, it slightly burned, but pleasure soon seeped its way in.

“Y-ya—nghh—tight!!” he panted leaving a trail of reds and violets down your neck.

Then feeling him vigorously drill into you, you look down to see his thick cock pushing in and out of your cunt. One hand holding your hips to help him thrusting into you faster.

Overwhelmed and wanting to make this more pleasurable, your head slumped down to let you hurriedly thrust your hips back. You could feel his thick head kiss your cervix, your walls won’t let him go; even the muscley rings he had to go through contracted, so each pull-back his head just tugged on it. Every plunge of his sinful hips probed against your sensitive spot, intensifying the flames of your pleasure.

The way you feel him all around you and inside you, his heavy cock twitching with each whimper, he growled against your neck to pinch your nipples harder. Causing you to writhe in oversensitivity.

You let out a pornographic moan, bouncing off the walls.

“Nghhh!!! ‘Tsumu—!!! Harder!!!” you were raptured in ecstasy. But you need more.

“Look at you, desperate for my cock like the slut you are,” he murmured.

Two fingers push past your swollen lips from constant biting and force their way to the back of your throat. Atsumu hummed in satisfaction as you began to hollow your cheeks and suck as if it was his cock in your wet cavern. Throaty moans would come out from the intense thrusting into your cervix and down your throat.

Huffing and groaning at how close you were, Atsumu used both his hands to lift your hips a little higher, now on your toes, to slam into you harder.

“Shit, y/n, look at yourself,” he huffed, “f-fucking milking my cock…”

He groaned, “all of t-this,” he pumped upwards, hitting that one spongy, delicate spot, “is mine, shit! nghh—this cunt is mine only.”

His cock was impaling you with such a force. He was mindlessly jackhammering into your soft, overworked hole. Your juices have long been trickling down your legs. Allowing his cock to easily slide inside faster and harshly.

Two digits made their way to your swollen button. With his thumb he hastily rubbed down with endless figure-eight’s. Atsumu let out a muffled moan at how your pussy clasped around him.

Your cute little hole is so tight and hot. I could just drill in deeper, wanna fuck you harder.

Atsumu loved that look on your face through the mirror. God, he was so thankful he faced you that way, cause now he can see every fucked-out look you had. Each moan, each mewls from stimulation. Your heaving chest against your bouncing breasts from his thrusted looked amazing to him. Because only he can make you like this. Into this mess only thinking about his cock.

“Look at your greedy fucking cunt, look at yourself in the mirror, taking everything I give you,” he growled in your ear as his callous fingers fervently rubbed your clit.

Looking up, set your stomach feverish lust. You could not even keep yourself up, it was your luscious boyfriend pounding you against the sink that kept you from falling.

It was then Atsumu had this surge of carnal desire, his atrocious thrusting became even more feral. Skin slapping with skin seemed to be louder than your moans and groans. Your mind could only see him, only Atsumu’s body surrounding you, and nothing else. You were so ready to snap, so close to breaking apart, the coil below was agonizingly tight to burst. But you wanted something else too. Needed it.

Using whatever strength you had left, you reached back to tug his sandy-blonde hair to pay attention to your voice, than licking all the violet blossoms on your abused neck.

“‘T-tsumuuu, please--nghhh…! I n-need your cum baby!!” you moaned without a care how loud.

You could feel him smirk against your nape.

“Such a dirty slut, do you love my cum inside you that much?” he teased as he slowed down.

“F-fuck!!! Yess ‘Tsumu I fucking lovee your cum…!!” you shouted frustratingly.

Hearing those words set aflame in Atsumu, he used both his hands to bruisingly grip you higher and sheathed you down his cock. He reached deeper inside you, his head now continuously rubbing at your cervix. Your walls became even tighter. So his thick shaft and veins were scraping along your wet, fluttering walls each stroke.

You were a moan mess, eyes shut and mind set on one thing. Your hand was still tugging at the nape of his baby hairs and the other was clawed at his forearm which was used to press down on your swollen, pink clit.

Shit, I’m there..!! Fuck--I..!

“‘Tsumuuu!!” you screamed; you were ready and so was he.

He brought his mouth to your ear, golden eyes now with a sinful glint, his hot breath casting around your ear and neck, “I need you--ngh-- to cum. Now.”

You throw your head to the side of his shoulder, toes curling, and your pussy clenching everything on his cock. Your cunt was milking him for all he got. Your gushing cum didn’t relent. Atsumu couldn’t take it anymore. Everything around him was so tight he barely could move his cock an inch, so hot he needed release.Until he gave in, too. He thrusts himself as deeply as he can, pressing hard against your cervix as you feel thick ropes of hot cum shooting inside of you. He pumped his cum into you, cock twitching as you felt hot gushes of mixed white juices flood your trembling cunt. You were limp but your pussy continued to milk Atsumu who still kept cumming in hot, white ropes inside.

His momentum began to slow as his cock was now softening. Both of his strong, sculpted arms support you as you tried to recover. Your head is still in a delirium of what just happened. Atsumu slowly pulled out, a shit-eating grin at his work. Dried cum of yours and his trailed down your legs. And more nectar drips out with your cunt contracting at the emptiness. Before he could shovel them back inside your overly-sensitive pussy, bangs on the bathroom door resonated in the place.

“Fucking shit Atsumu,” the voice huffed. “We’re ALL fucking leaving without you guys!!”

Oh my--

...Suna

Before Suna could leave, he yelled out again, “And you guys better be outta MY bathroom and flat!!”

#i glazed over it so pls excuse any errors #if theres obvious ones PLS tell me #i wrote these late at night usually #pregame atsumu miya #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #aran ojiro #suna rintarou #osamu miya #400 follower special fic #400 follower special smut fic #atsumu miya smut

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dissassociativestate · 2 years

Text

HELLISH CREATURE; GOLDEN CHILD

10/05/2021

TW; DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE, VIOLENCE AND ABUSE

You wretched, ugly thing.

Did you ever think anyone could love you?

They never did, they never could.

They saw your mangled body and curled their lip in disgust at your figure. They saw your dependence, your unconditional love, your admiration and pushed you away in terror. They tried to make you into something lovable, but your deformed limbs could never quite fit into that perfect mold they laid down for you.

They tried, of course, to force you inside.

They clipped your wicked wings, sawing through your scarred skin, cutting smooth, neat lines down, down, down, until they reached bone. They ripped them from you, so you could no longer wander amongst the skies and come back to tell them of your fantastical stories. They told you, as you cried and shook, that they desperately wanted to love you. So they took them, they took them, they took them. They took your freedom, your stories and later laughed, a sharp, elegant thing, as they saw you look longingly out your window. You smiled back at them, warm with the thought that, they loved you now. Why would you ever doubt it?

But then, they tore away your sharpened teeth. Took them, so you could no longer nip at their fingers playfully as they fed your their poison, their lies and their hate for the world. So you could no longer bite softly at their dainty hands when you wanted nourishment. Took their pliers and yanked, and yanked, and yanked until your mouth was filled with more blood than teeth. They made you bleed on to pristine, marble floors and then, they made you clean up your unworthy blood from the gleaming white floors, which twinkled, mocking your pain. They made you wear a perfect shining smile, with luminous, straight teeth and taunted you with your fangs when you misbehaved. Yet you smiled still, lips tight against the newness of the plastic, as they scoffed at you, for you knew, they ought to love me now.

And yet.

And yet, they were not satisfied. They kept on taking, taking, taking. They took your claws. Filed them down do far your fingers bled and ached raw, so you could no longer cling on to their unwilling arms. Took your eye. With a rusty old spoon, because heaven knows that you are an shameful creature, and dug. Deep into your eye socket, pinning your eye with their thumb against the frigid metal and yanking it out roughly. You could no longer tempt them, pin them down and stare at their flaws until they ached. They took your tongue, slicing through it with dull scissors, praising their own genius as you clawed weakly at them, without causing any damage. They watched and laughed as you chocked on your own blood. They broke your limbs into a humanoid shape, so you could no longer prowl like the creature you are, the creature you were meant to be. They forced your newly shaped limbs to walk on sharp glass, so they could teach you how to behave like a proper person. They laughed at the shape of your body, they pinched and scoffed and stretched it this way and that, until you were made to cover it all, to hide behind the person suit they so carefully crafted for you.

And through it all, your stupid little heart still hoped.

Until.

Until you couldn’t stand anymore, your feet thick with callouses, limbs angled sharply from the breaks. Until you notices how people turned the other way at their remarks. Until you started to hear their lies. Until you couldn’t eat properly anymore without their help. Until your eye started to truly see. Until their words echoes in your ears, long after they had slipped a small comment about your body. They body they created. Until you saw your wings on their back. Until you couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

Until.

You snapped. The anger building in your chest, your hate, built up and escaped from your lips. Until you took the same tools they used on you and you made them suffer as they had made you to for so many years. And so you cut, and gauged and ripped. Until there was nothing but blood and meat and bones left on those godawful white marble floors.

Your shoulders dropped, and though what was taken could never be returned, you learned to be a creature again. You shed your human shield and walked among humans in your tattered form. Displaying your missing eye with pride and the scars on your back like trophies, no longer afraid. Because now you are golden and precious and beautiful. You are finally growing into what you were always meant to be.

A creature.

#creature #poetry #text post #writing #writer #writers and poets #prose #gore cw #blood #academiacore #dark academia #pls reblog

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writerbyaccident · 4 years

Text

Thrill Ride (Aged Up! Yandere Yo ShindoxFemReader)

Trigger Warning: lemon, noncon, fingering

Standing up on your tiptoes, you nearly jumped over the crowds in front of you to try to sneak a peak of what laid in the tunnel where the track disappeared into the dark. Rollercoasters of all kinds were a blast, but indoor rides had a special charm and mystery to them. The fact that you weren’t able to see how the track had been laid just made the whole experience more exciting, made the thrill all the more real.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you guys drag me onto this one,” your friend fretted anxiously. “How am I supposed to know what’s about to happen?”

“You don’t, that’s the best part!” you teased them.

“Trust me,” your other friend added, “this one is no worse than the others you’ve gone on.”

“If you say so,” she answered with a joking grumble. The three of you were silent for the next few minutes as you shuffled forward, slowly but surely approaching the front of the line. Practically bouncing on the balls of your feet, you almost squealed when it was your turn to find a row to ride in.

“How many in your party?” the operator asked, their tired voice hard to hear in the noisy room.

“Three,” your friend told them.

“Two in row four, one in row seven.” Frowning in confusion, you peered ahead and saw that there were in fact no empty cars next to each other. Sighing slightly, you turned to your friends and shrugged.

“I’ll go alone,” you said. “You guys go to row four.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys on the other side.”

Moving to row seven, you tried to peer down the tunnel again to see if the coaster was getting close yet. You were so focused on your attempt though, that you failed to notice when someone joined you in line. It wasn’t until you gave up on spotting the coaster and turned around to wave to your friends that you noticed who had joined you.

“Hi there,” the stranger grinned at you, his brown eyes gleaming.

“Oh, hi.”

“You don’t mind if I ride with you, do you?” he asked. “I think they’re just trying to pack in as many people as possible.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you answered. This would hardly be your first time riding with a stranger and he at least didn’t seem to be a creep. He looked around your age, maybe a year or two older. Maybe he was even on his spring break for college too, you thought to yourself. Besides, you had to admit that he was cute.

Even in the dim light, you could still see his sharply defined muscles, especially in the tight short-sleeve shirt that he wore. Worried that you were staring, you looked away and turned back to the track. But in doing so, you missed the way that your new companion was staring at you, as if you were a sweet treat that he had been waiting ages to devour. And in truth, he had been.

When the coaster finally returned and the bars before the rows finally opened, you scrambled forward, the stranger close behind you, watching the way your legs moved beneath your short skirt with an eager hunger. As you two sat down, he took the opportunity to brush against your bare skin a few times, smiling apologetically when you glanced back at him.

“I’m Shindo, by the way.” Leaning back to let one of the ride operators check the state of your safety bar, you gave him your own name, not realizing that he had known it for ages already.

“So tell me,” Shindo asked as you waited for the park employees adjust a few last things, “what do you like about rollercoasters?”

“Um, I guess it’s the thrill of it all. Not knowing what’s going to happen next, being pushed to such extremes.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Shindo chuckled, his smile suddenly seeming less friendly and far more predatory.

“What?” you asked in honest confusion. Before answering, Shindo glanced back at the ride operators, and seeing them giving each other the thumbs up, he decided to tell the truth. Half the fun of doing this today would be your reaction, after all.

“Well, considering just how carefully I’ve watched over you,” he smirked, “I would hope that I know you pretty well by now.”

“What—”

“So don’t worry babe, I know just how to give you the thrill you’re looking for,” he murmured in your ear, his grin brushing against your neck. Heart hammering in your throat, you tried to call out to the workers, but before you could make a sound, the coaster sped off with you trapped next to Shindo.

Shindo wasted no time in his task, immediately placing his hand your bare thigh and slowly reaching up to the edge of your skirt. It was then that you learned what Shindo’s quirk was.

“Oh, god,” you whispered as your tormentor stroked your inner thigh with his vibrating fingers. The hum of his ministrations reached all the way down to your bones, and when he first brushes against your clothed cunt with those frustrating fingers of his, it was all you could do not to moan.

“Aw, don’t be shy babe,” Shindo teased you as he rubbed the center of your panties in buzzing circles. “No one’s gonna hear you but me. And I want to hear you.”

It was true, you realized. Even now the rollercoaster continued to race, rushing through the building at breakneck speed. With each sudden dip and each harsh turn, you could feel your stomach flip and your body begin to float. But shaking your head weakly, you pressed a hand over your mouth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing the sounds you knew that you would make if you kept your mouth free. Keeping up that resolve was difficult though, with you getting wetter every second that Shindo touched you until your panties were virtually soaked.

“See?” he whispered as the ride began to climb yet another hill. “You know what you need, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“Please,” you begged quietly. “Please just leave me alone.” Shindo didn’t even answer that plea of yours, instead watching your eyes grow glossy as the ride climbed the hill. And the moment that the coaster began to dip downwards, Shindo forced two of his fingers past the lips of your cunt.

You had thought that the teasing buzz of his vibrating fingers was bad before, but it was nothing compared to how you felt now that he had slipped inside of you. Whimpering softly while your eyes fluttered closed, you felt each and every miniscule motion that he made. The adrenaline from your wild surroundings only seemed to make his movements more overpowering, overwhelming you as he curled and scissored his humming fingers inside of you.

When Shindo reached that spongy inside of your desperate cunt, he let out a groan of his own, loving the way that your warm, soaking wet walls sucked his fingers even deeper into you. Smirking at how well your body knew just who it belonged to, he added his other hand into the mix, rolling your tight little bud between his vibrating fingers.

The sensation was simply too much for you, you could no longer even try to hold back the moans that Shindo was tearing from your throat. The air continued to rush past you as lightness of your stomach joined with the heat at your core, and you felt your legs tremble at the intensity of it all. Your jaw had gone slack, and the sight was simply too tempting for Shindo to leave alone. Letting gravity pull him towards you as the ride took a sudden turn, he melded his lips to yours and slipped his tongue down your throat, swallowing each moan and whimper before you even made it.

That didn’t mean that he eased off of you anywhere else though. No, the fingers of his left hand continued their humming dance inside of needy cunt while the fingers of his right continued to stroke your bud relentlessly. Heat rising and bubbling inside of you, you felt as though your whole body was vibrating with Shindo, the buzzing pleasure of it all making you forget the truth of what was happening.

Then, just as you reached to peak of the ride’s final hill, the tension broke. Shaking fiercely, you let gravity drag you downwards while the rest of your body was flung to soaring heights. Shindo grinned at the sight of your eyes fluttering shut while your back arched instinctively. Only he could make you feel like this, he had known it from the start. And god, feeling you cum over his fingers like that gave him a rush that no other thrill could ever compare to.

As the coaster began to slow down and approach the end of its course, you started to regain your focus. Tears slipping down your cheeks, you were ready to call out for help the minute an employee came into sight. But little did you know, Shindo had prepared for that. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out his phone, and before you even realized what he was doing, he snapped picture after picture after picture. Some were close-ups of your dripping cunt, while others captured the image of both your crying face and your spread legs.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

“It’s okay babe,” Shindo chuckled. “I’m not about to share these with anyone. So long as you’re a good girl, that is. You keep this memory between us like it should be, and I’ll keep these pictures all to myself like I want to. You understand?”

“Y—yes,” you whispered as the ride stopped and the safety bar lifted upwards.

“That’s my good girl,” Shindo said fondly, brushing his lips gently against your cheek. Climbing over you, he exited the ride while you still sat there and smirked at the sight of you stricken silent, still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“And don’t worry babe,” he purred as he leaned down towards you, “I’ll see you soon. There’s plenty more thrills where that came from.”

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seijohsfairy · 3 years

Text

𝙾𝙵𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴

You want to be by his side as much as time will allow you. The end all, be all of your soul. spencer @/kamoniwa and i were screaming about this in dms & we gave each other the green light to write it so hfhdis thank you and also a big thank you to carrie @/ourladyofseijoh aka queen of sacrilege for beta reading and all your help in general ♡ i hope you enjoy!!

meian shugo wordc. 4k+

tw priest!meian, sacrilege, (semi) public, coercion/manipulation, god complex, degradation, religious guilt/ trauma and a lot of catholic imagery in general, he’s called Father

📷

There’s no place to escape prying eyes in the House of God. You’ve always felt this way when you were younger too, clinging to the cold of the thick pillars that carry the monstrous building, old and dark and unavoidable.

Even when there was no such sin to taint your hands and mouth, you could look up and feel the weight of eyes on you through the deep purple and azure of the stained glass, making your throat tight and fight small. Now, they are incessant, eternal, and with each passing moment standing in this place of good and light the walls seem to crumble a little more around you.

But most of all, you’re overwhelmed by the flicks of a gaze you can feel on your back, flitting ever so gently along the edges of your frame. They are soft, no longer suffocating like sand that fills your lungs. No— the prickly gaze you feel on the swell of your cheeks and down your shoulder is more than that. You light a candle and slot it along with dozen others, taking a deep breath. Unsteady, it trembles through your frame with the weight of this place on your shoulders. The dimness of the high ceiling, the chill of the wind that whips inside and brings goosebumps to your legs, none of it is enough to keep you away.

Not anymore, not since you… well. Faith takes shape in many ways, you remind yourself of those words, willing the nerves to die down as the groups of people take their seats and the pastor up front welcomes with kind words. Most of them are elders, some of which you recognize from when you were still a little girl and who you think will keep coming until death knocks. Strange you knew them before the looks started piercing through your soft skin and the image of unsettling loneliness was taken away. You linger in the back of the large room now, next to one of the pillars, carefully studying the plane of light that falls so perfectly on the pulpit. Golden crucifix catching a gleam, and keeping your eyes straight ahead.

Looming as the building is, sometimes you wonder how you’d fare if you simply stopped coming. If the eyes would follow you long after you’ve run around the corner and hid away under the plush of your blankets. You hope they don’t, but a sharp pressure to your chest tells you they would. And if not, the fear of being left all by yourself is what brought you back in the first place, you have no doubt it could drag you back by your ankles once again. The woman behind the organ starts a simple melody as the people rise to sing. Swirling voices that fill the room and seem to tip the peace off it’s axes, and then a simple breath.

Even though he remains a few steps away, the mere presence is enough to have your hairs standing up and your breathing feel laboured, a needed reminder that this— this is why you return. And that meeting him like this is the closest you’ll get to a religious experience again, that from the moment you met eyes with him and felt his gaze on your tear-strung lashes there was something worth saving. The slow melody of the song is interrupted by a deep voice, and you hold the urge to turn around to him right away.

“Back again already.” There’s something in his tone, always. Under layers of composure and confidence it sits, like a bite of fresh fruit, tempting you to take more, taste more, have all of him— He lets out a breath of amusement when you don’t move, burning his pupils into the side of your face. “It’s a bit soon, don’t you think?” It isn’t really a question, so you don’t answer. You only lace your hands together and look away from the pastor to stare at the floor. “Something to repent for that couldn’t wait until Sunday?”

“I wanted to see you,” you whisper, blinking aimlessly at the tips of your shoes. More than that, it hurt being away from him, ice growing on your veins the longer you waited, but you don’t think it’s fair to tell him that. A soft hum is all his response for a few seconds, before he leans over your shoulder to tower over you so easily. You can see his chest from the corner of your eye, the curve of his shoulder and a bit of exposed skin of his neck. And your tongue burns with a need, an unfair whisper of what could be. What secrets lie upon that skin that you’ll never be able to see.

But with his mouth close enough to your ear to raise the small bumps on your arms, he speaks, voice amused. “Little liar.” Those two words are enough to have your tongue rotting in your mouth, glueing it to the base and fighting through the defenses you want to put up. Because despite the hard tone, there’s a certain loveliness to the term. A sickly endearment for broken things. “I think you’re just looking for trouble so you can repent. So are you a servant of God or not, sweet thing? Because I’m starting to have my doubts.” With another step towards you you sway on your feet, hands clamping down on your shirt.

“I—” you try, stilling just as quickly. You don’t know a lot of things, you’re young and though you’d choose to be a bit smarter, a bit brighter; all you’re really sure of is that you start and end with him. And that from the moment you saw him, so holy and otherworldly, you were called to worship at his feet. You must be a servant of God, if this is all you’re reduced to around him. “I am, of course I am. I’m devoted, I swear.” Another chuckle as he presses up against your back now, voices and music fading into the void.

“Your honesty is endearing,” he whispers, bringing up his hand to the front of your throat and tilting your head back just a bit. The rise and fall of his chest seems more melodic than it should. You long to fall to that sound, let it take over your body and mind all at once. But for now his voice will suffice— and if anything, more than that would probably suffocate you. “But you’re just a sinner here. You shouldn’t be standing here like this. You should be on your knees, praying for forgiveness.”

“I will, Father Meian,” you shake as he squeezes a bit tighter, pulling your body against him more. Your breathing hitching, lips dropping open at the squeeze and the swirling in your brain. So lightheaded, like only he can make you feel. “I’ll repent in front of you a million times if that’s what you deem necessary. Please.” His hard-lined, strong body pressed against you, overwhelming every of your senses. He smells like something dark, a spice that interrupts your thoughts. And it’s unfair, so unfair, because he always tells you you smell sweet, but you’re sure there’s no lovelier scent in the world than him.

He hums as he places a soft kiss on your neck, before straightening out when the pastor up front ends his round of greetings and moves back to the pulpit. And you can feel the eyes that seem to look on from above, but now they seem to beg for you, beg to see your skin split open and be bled out from sin, and you know that only Meian could make that a reality. For as much as you are unknowing about, you do know this one thing. You’d pray at his feet for the rest of your days if you could, crawl on your knees and scrape the skin until your bones turn to ash.

If that’s what it means to worship, you think you could. For him. “What ungodly thing did you manage this time? Think you can tell me?” His large hands trail down the curve of your spine to up at your hips, settling there with soft circles and a deep breath. He pulls you back into his large, strong body, as you pretend that you can’t feel the need gush to your center and warm you up top to bottom. “What’s the matter, my little whore? Can’t tell a Father something so bad, is that it? You think I can’t help you when you tell me about how you opened your legs for me every night for the past month, stuffing your fingers inside yourself while you’re thinking of me?”

You gasp, whimpering when he starts pushing his hips to your backside and bunches up your long skirt to slip his hand underneath it. You stumble to the side a few steps to lean into the cold stone and turn your face toward it, quickly grabbing the front of your clothing to push it back down as much as the fabric allows. Meian chuckles behind you when his two fingers slide over the sticky, wet patch of your panties. “Confess. Or else I stop right now. And you’ll stay a filthy, sopping wet, unmarried slut with no place in the House of God.”

You whimper when those fingers slide under the crotch of them to rub between the slick folds of your pussy, letting you drop back your head against his chest where it rises and falls so gently, taking the most private part of you and making it his again. His breaths cascade down your neck when he leans down to kiss along your throat, and you’re so grateful that you’re hidden behind the pillar enough not to make a scene, because it’s impossible to stay silent when the two thick digits dip into you and slide up to curl your walls.

Making you drip down his hand when he pulls them back, then stuffing them right back in place and stretching you open with easy motions that have your eyes closing and legs shaky. “Confess,” he breathes.

“Yes, I-” you whimper, cold of the stone under your palm the only thing to keep you from floating up, scratching your nails into it, “I touched myself while wishing it was you. W-wanted your—” You’re cut off by your own strained moan that you try to keep in, as he scissors his fingers in you and presses the tip of a third inside too, legs shifting open to make more room. You bite through a cry when he grabs your neck and pushes you forward, now clinging to the stone with shaky fingers and your cheek pressed up against it.

“Want my what?” he taunts, curling his fingers again into the spot that has you seeing stars as he motions in and out of your pussy with ease, humming when you arch your back more and push back against him. “Tell me, pretty girl.”

“Your hands and your mouth— hnm,” even with everything spoken under your breath and the organ still echoing through the grand hall, you feel like the words pound between your ears. “And your cock, F-father, oh-” he pulls his index finger out to rest it against your clit instead, rubbing these as he fucks his fingers into you again and again with a ruthless determination, “ah, please Father Meian.”

When the pressure builds up so much that it’s impossible to focus on anything else, heat filling your belly and legs about to buckle, he lifts the back of your skirt up to expose the way his hand works between your thighs and dripping down his fingers with wet squelches.

You bite down on your own hand when the realization comes that you shouldn’t be getting touched this way in public -no matter how Holy Meian is- but stopping now is impossible. He grunts when your walls clench around him, the touches to your puffy clit becoming unbearable. “Always come running back to me so pretty.” And even in such simple words, you know aren’t imagining the care laced in those words.

“Always.” You reach behind you for his wrist when you get too close, throat catching and thighs shaking, digging your nails into the skin. “Oh- m, I- mhng, so close, please—” You can’t help the moan it drags from you, when he grabs your shoulders and pulls your much smaller body back against him, muscular arm pressed like a safeguard over your chest.

You let your eyes drop closed and lift your one leg for better access, before you’re shaking on his hand. “Cumming-” you cry, swallowing a moan when he grabs your throat and squeezes, the music suddenly falling away. You cum apart around his fingers, eyes clenched shut and shaking as he helps you through it, letting your body collapse into him where he holds you up.

“Quiet, pretty thing,” he mumbles though, “be quiet.” Your lashes are heavy with tears when you look around, stumbling back to your feet when his touch drops and he smears your wetness on the inside of your thigh, still keeping you close to his body as he turns you to face the congregation. Everyone is luckily still looking forward. You tremble when he slips his fingers from under your skirt to slide into his mouth. He leans around your other side to hover his lips over your ear. “See all those devoted people? That’s who I should be helping, instead of some stupid girl who keeps spreading her legs like a filthy, common whore.”

Finally, he lets go of you entirely, and you fist your hands in your white skirt when you finally turn to face him for the first time. Warm, angular eyes that seem to look through you, with pretty lips and a jaw to die for, the strong, intense features of the person haunting your dreams night after night. His one eyebrow raises. “Give me one good reason I should hear your prayers at all.”

“I- I,” you start, looking from him to your feet and then back as you hesitate. There’s so little you can say to him, it’s always been that way. You feel at a loss when you’re around him, but strangely, you feel an even greater loss not returning to him. Like the ocean forever chasing the beach.

“I meant it, I wanted to see you. Wanted to hear you and— want your h-help to get rid of this lust. I know it’s a bad thing but,” you swallow, ignoring the tiny twitch of his lips pulling upward, “but I can’t help myself, Father. Please help me.” He takes a moment to look around, before suddenly holding out his hand toward you. Like an offering.

You can only watch how he takes your hand into his giant palm, fingers wrapping around it to pull you away from the main hall to the side of the building. “Lets talk about this in private.” You’re pulled behind his big steps, frowning at the wet feeling of your panties between your legs. You really are some disgusting sinner, you think, as you’re walked through a smaller door into the sacristy. Not entirely separated, but enough to feel like you won’t be found out within a second if you look at him too long.

And you find yourself making that mistake often lately. “I think I know the cure to your problem,” he breathes, turning around to face you, and you drop your head all the way back to look at him as he speaks. “Here,” he drops your hand to his crotch, letting you feel his hard-on under his robes.

“Oh- I mean,” you feel the heat rise to your face now, looking away. You’d been touched and touched him plenty these last few months, the weight of his cock in your mouth still feeling as divine in memory. But when you try to sink onto your knees like you would normally, he keeps you upright, shaking his head. You blink. “N- How else can I—”

“You need something more than simple prayer.” You tremble a little when his hand comes to cup your cheek, urging you a little closer to his warm body as you feel his cock twitch in his boxers, pushing your legs together at the thought of feeling him there. You know it’s bad, but somewhere along the way lust must’ve taken hold of you too tight, because you feel like you can’t breathe. “Because you’re an unholy slut, a filthy little thing,” he whispers, now pushing the sleeves of your top over your shoulders with the murmuring of the pastor in the background. “You can’t be saved any other way, dumb girl. Take out my cock.”

You look into his pretty eyes as you take a breath, before doing as he says and lifting the black layers of robe. You push his underwear down, his huge cock slapping up against his stomach. The little breath you let out before spitting into your palm and wrapping your hand around him is soft, glancing over your shoulder towards the door. “Father, anyone could-”

“No one’s going to come in here,” he hisses, watching you pump your small hands along his shaft a few times, “if you’re quiet. What do you think they’d say if they found you here, stroking a Priest’s cock like a greedy little slut. This is your fault, stupid girl.” The low rumble of his voice is almost hypnotizing, keeping you right in place as he fucks his cock into your fists. You lean down, licking and sucking at the head of his cock with each thrust you get to feel him push between your lips into your warm mouth. But he stops you and motions you over to the table. “On here.”

Though your heart races in your chest, you do as he says. Laying down, kicking off your skirt and panties and spreading your legs for him with your eyes cast to the floor. He’s quick to grab your hips and haul you higher up onto it, pushing your knee up to your chest. His cock drools eagerly as he stands between your thighs, and you hold onto his hand as he pushes up against you. “Take a deep breath, pretty girl,” he whispers, slowly pushing the spongy head against your fluttering hole. “Let me help you. This is how you atone for your sins.”

Then he pushes into you, the thick head of his cock spreading you open and you instantly close your eyes at the stinging stretch, tearing up. “Aw, ah,” you squeak. You’re not a virgin, but it sure feels like it as your pussy is filled with him, pushing in more and more until you can barely feel anything but the way your stomach bulges to fit him. “Father, ah- M-Meian, it’s so,” your voice is muffled when you bring up your free hand to keep quiet, “big, s’big!”

“That’s it, good girl.” He holds still only a little when your poor walls are entirely filled by him, back arching to relieve some of the almost painful pressure in your belly. “My beautiful girl, there you go.” He pulls back, then pushing back inside with a snap of his hips, and you’re mewling to get away from him. It’s too good, too full and the stretch leaves you so empty each time he pulls back. But his large hands tighten on your hips as he forces himself back into your wet, gummy walls without mercy, speeding up the pace with each thrust. “Feel good?”

In the other room, the pastor’s clear voice echoes through the room.

And Jesus answered them, “Have faith in God.”

“Yes, yes,” you chant, letting him lift you up a little to drive his cock even deeper, pounding into your sensitive pussy so perfectly it has you seeing stars. You open your eyes enough to glance at his furrowed brows, enjoying your reactions more than he should. It’s clear when he shifts his hips up to push right into that spot, holding your legs as you try to snap them closed instinctively.

Have faith in God. Truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him.

Instead of going easy on you this only seems to motivate him more, fucking into you even faster. His hips smacking against your puffy clit again and again. “You feel so, hng- good! Oh my— mhm! Too good, t-too good, please give me more! Oh God!”

Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.

Meian doesn’t slow, but instantly lifts your other leg to your chest too, making the table scrape along the stone floor with each thrust into you. And if you’d be able to see through your heavy tears, you’d see the way his lips flatten and a strange determination comes over his eyes. He rests his entire body to hold your thighs up and snaps his hips into you, wet paps of his skin and balls pounding against you. And with that the only thing you can think of chanting is ‘Oh God, oh God, please,’ over and over again as he fucks the thoughts out of you entirely.

And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.

He suddenly pulls out and turns you over, letting you hips bump the edge of the table as you whine and moan, pushing back into your gushing hole as your eyes roll back. “Are you calling me God, baby?” he mumbles, holding your hips down and bottoming out with hard, impatient thrusts. “Calling me your God and coming undone on my cock like this, you want to be my personal whore, is that it?” You’re nodding before you can even realize what his words really mean, feeling his hand slip back between your legs to push over your clit with unfairly slow motions that don’t match his thrusts at all. “Pray to me.”

You do. “Help me, God my Savior, -ahh, for the glory of Your name.” He pounds you open until the pressure becomes so tight you’re clamping down on him, so close to another orgasm. “Deliver me and forgive me for my s-sins,” you cry, voice high pitched and shaky, “for Your name’s sake.”

The heat of his skin on yours seems to collect in your belly, aching to drop you into a second high. “Lord, I pray that You remove my guilt and wipe away my sins, hng- so that I can draw closer to You.” He moans when you clench around him, pounding your tiny pussy open and watching the way your glistening, slick pussy stretches around his fat cock a bit longer. “With You there is forgiveness so that I can, with reverence, serve You. I praise You for forgiving me for my sins even though I do not deserve it!”

You’re practically choking out the last part when he starts rubbing your oversensitive clit faster, with touches that leave your legs weak. “T-Thank You for -oh, God, thank You for loving me unconditionally, ah, ahng, A-Amen!”

“A little louder, baby, I can’t hear you,” he grabs hold of your face to turn it to the side as your mouth drops open and your tear stricken cheek is pressed to the table. It’s such a good sight to watch you completely destroyed on his cock, panting and shaking like a bitch in heat. You reach back to grab at his thighs for some support. Another flick of his finger makes you squeak.

“A—hng-ah Amen!”

“Where do you think God is now? Is he watching you get fucked right now? Do you think he despises you for being such a dirty slut? Tell me,” he growls. You clench around him so hard it’s almost impossible to pull out, sweat rolling down the valley of your breasts. “Or is he between your legs right now, making you cum like the pitiful bitch you are?” Each word is accentuated with the tilt of his hips. “Where. Is. Your. God?”

“You, you! It’s you!” you cry, before finally cumming with a moan of his name and your fingers digging hard into his skin. You squirm under him as he fucks you through it, before you can feel a few more sloppy thrusts. Hot, white ropes of cum fill you up as you try to catch your breath. “God Forgive me,” you whisper when he pulls out, a mix of both your cum dripping down when you push up.

He stares at your wasted body for a bit longer, before tucking himself back into his underwear. He helps you up from the table onto very shaky legs, leaning into the furniture. “You will be, you worked hard.”

You flush when he eyes you down with a smile, taking back your skirt when he hands it to you. And then he leans down to press a small kiss on your lips, before letting the grin pull wider. “See you on Sunday.”

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ikementally-deficient · 4 years

Note

hi! can i ask a scenario/hq for victor with a s/o with a similar personality to his? (nsfw please?)

A thousand words or so of my very finest smut for you, my dear. Full-on Carolina Reaper.

The smile on her face was cool and careful, revealing nothing of her thoughts when she shook his hand as a prelude to farewell. Victor was jolted by how warm her hand was, how soft the skin of her wrist where his fingertips rested against it. He was tempted to pull her against him and smear her precise makeup, run his hands through her hair and make it a disheveled mess, rumple that perfectly tailored skirt suit.

It wasn’t until he heard Goldman cough discreetly behind him and she raised one eyebrow at him over her glasses that he realised he’d been holding her hand far longer than required for politeness. The gleam in her eyes told him she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. Victor cleared his throat and released her hand, but her fingers dragged across his palm as she withdrew. He glanced sharply at her face; she answered with an infinitesimal nod, and the cool smile became a shade warmer.

“Actually, Ms. Lu, there are a few scenarios related to this deal that I’d like to go over with you as well, if you have nothing else in your schedule right now.” He ignored Goldman’s look of bafflement. “Nothing in this stage of development, just some ideas I’d like your personal insight on. We could discuss them in my office?”

Amusement flickered across her face. “As it so happens, I am free for the next little while.” She smiled the cool smile at Goldman and her own assistant. “Perhaps you two would like to get some lunch while we chat.”

Subordinates disposed of, they made their way down the hall to the CEO’s office, faces impassive, walking a careful ten inches apart. Victor ushered her in, then closed the door behind them and flicked the deadbolt. Her briefcase hit the ground with a thump and she pushed him back against the door, grinning wickedly.

“Well, Mr. Li? What’s this scenario you’d like my ‘personal insight’ on?” Her left hand left his chest to skate down his stomach and rest on his hip, thumb rubbing dangerously close to his groin. “If you tell me it’s a real growth opportunity, I might have to leave you hanging.” The aggressiveness of the move made his cock twitch.

Victor chuckled. “No, I think we can dispense with the euphemisms now.” He leans down to brush his mouth against the shell of her ear. “I’d like to fuck you blind against this door.”

“I think that can be arranged,” she answered huskily. The hand flat on his chest clenched around his tie and she dragged his mouth to hers. He ran his hands down her back to yank her pencil skirt up around her ass and lift her against him. She hooked her legs around his hips as he spun them to place her back against the door and ground into her.

Her satin panties slid against his zipper and she moaned into his mouth. He pressed harder, seeking her tongue with his before shifting her weight to one thigh so he could free a hand, popping open the buttons of her jacket and slithering under the silk blouse. Victor could feel her muscles clench as he stroked upwards to find the lacy cup of bra hiding a hardening nipple.

“Ah!” Lu arched against his broad chest, giving herself room to slide out of her jacket and pull her blouse up over her breasts. “Here, full access.” Her hand caught in the soft hair at the nape of his neck to pull his face down to her breast. Victor was never one to let an opportunity slide; he yanked down the cup and sucked her nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. She rolled her hips against him, rubbing against the hard muscle of his thigh. “You’re very good at this, Mr. Li.”

“Anything worth doing,” he mumbled against her nipple, “is worth doing well.” His cock was straining against his trousers and he fumbled for his belt buckle to free it, pressing his knuckles against her increasingly damp panties as he did so. Once his pants were sliding down around his thighs, he hooked the crotch of her panties aside, ignoring the creak of distressed fabric. She let out a gasp when he parted the slick folds of her sex to stroke his thumb against her clit, and bit back a shriek when his long fingers slid inside her.

“How soundproof is your office,” she hissed in a voice caught between arousal and amusement.

“Enough that I shouldn’t need to gag you,” he huffed back as his fingers scissored inside her, seeking her most sensitive spots.

“Ha -- maybe I should gag you, if you’re going to talk like that -- “ Lu’s head fell back against the door as Victor found what he was looking for, and set up a steady counterpoint between g-spot and clit that had her panting. Her breasts heaved into his face and he latched his lips onto the unattended nipple. His freed cock rubbed against her ass cheeks as she rocked against his hand, the satiny slide driving him crazy.

“I need to be inside you,” he said hoarsely. “Are you ready?”

“Oh god, yes -- “ she cut off as Victor withdrew his fingers and reached down to squeeze the base of his cock to guide him into her entrance. “I’m ready for you to make good on your offer, Mr. Li,” and she gave him a wicked grin that had him pushing inside in one hard thrust.

Victor paused, fully sheathed, looking down at her smeared lipstick and askew glasses, then gave a wicked grin of his own. “You mean about fucking you blind?” He scraped his nails down the backs of her thighs and leaned in, pinning her to the door with nothing but his weight and his own cock. “I hope you’re flexible, Ms. Lu.” He caught her calves and lifted them up over his elbows, bending her nearly double against the door and began thrusting, fast and deep. She gasped in time with his drilling, hooking one arm around his neck and slipping her other hand between them, rubbing the pads of her fingers against her clit and letting the tips of her nails scrape along his cock as he slid out and back in. Victor groaned, slamming into her delicious heat, feeling the tension build in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh god, that’s -- you’re so --” Her walls tightened around him as she hissed against his throat. “All I could think about during that meeting -- “ her free hand scrabbled through his hair, gripping tight as she began to shudder against him. “Victor!”

He fucked her through her climax, then felt his knees begin buckle as his own loomed. He slid her down the door, laying her flat on the carpet and pounding into her. At last he shuddered, hilted against her plush ass, sweat dripping from his forehead.

They lay tangled together for a few minutes, hearts pounding in unison through the aftershocks. Eventually, Lu giggled. Victor arched an eyebrow at her.

“I hope you keep a spare suit around here, Mr. Li.”

“I hope you keep spare panties in your purse, Ms. Lu.”

“Not today, unfortunately.” She shook her head, still smiling. “Good thing the rest of my afternoon is clear.”

#asked and answered #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc victor #writing #rating: carolina reaper

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writethehousedown · 4 years

Text

Here Comes the Sun 3/7 (Branjie) -- athena2

Day 3, Puddle: Vanessa has a run-in with a giant puddle that brings Brooke a little closer to her heart.

Thank you to Writ for betaing! I’d appreciate any feedback you have!

Lunch with Brooke. She’s going to have lunch with Brooke.

Vanessa takes a little extra care with her outfit this morning, whipping out a black dress with red and purple flowers–it is spring, after all, even if the weather doesn’t want to cooperate–and hits her hair with enough spray to hold even if the rain returns. She goes with her black flats, because she likes being small next to Brooke, so small she could just nestle against her, so small that Brooke leans down ever so slightly to make sure Vanessa hears her when she talks.

The sun hesitantly peeks out between the clouds, and Vanessa feels in each step that today is going to be a good day. She’s having lunch with Brooke. She finished her giant guinea pig craft, a sturdy foam board and fake fur recreation of Bertha, ready for the class to burst into oohs and aahs when they saw it. She forgets about the massive crater in the sidewalk that sends at least a dozen kids to the nurse with scrapes each year, that the school board has been promising to fix since the dawn of time. Pain in her knees means they broke her fall, and she’s so focused on holding onto the real Bertha in her carrying case that the craft guinea pig flies out of her grasp and slams into a puddle big enough to swim in with a loud splat.

For a minute she stays on the ground, resisting the urge to cry as dirty puddle water soaks the foam. It’s stupid, really, to be near tears over a craft project, but she spent most of the night on it, laying down fake fur with all the care she gives to real Bertha, and she just wanted it to be perfect.

“Vanessa, are you okay?”

Cool hands help her up, and Vanessa knows from the long, pale fingers–fingers skilled enough to cut out delicate snowflakes other teachers wouldn’t even attempt, including coveted Baby Yoda ones last winter–that the hands belong to Brooke.

Vanessa blinks away her daze as she stands. “I-I’m okay.”

“Your knees are a little scraped. The crater strikes again.”

Vanessa looks around Brooke’s shoulder into the puddle, heart sinking as she pulls out the craft. The entire thing is soaked with dirty gray water, fake fur clumped and tangled.

“I guess that’s the end of that,” she mutters.

“I’m sorry, Vanessa.” Brooke’s voice is so sincere it makes Vanessa shiver. “It’s Bertha, right?”

“It was. I was gonna have the kids make little ones and put them around her, like her babies. I guess I’ll have to do it another day.”

Brooke nods. “Why don’t we go inside? You can come in my room and I’ll fix up your knees. I have Batman Band-Aids,” she tempts.

Vanessa smiles despite herself. “Say no more.”

—

Vanessa perches herself on Brooke’s desk, which is much cleaner than hers. There’s neatly labelled trays for different papers, bins for markers and scissors, and a Totoro mug for pens and pencils. Vanessa hasn’t gotten a good look at Brooke’s classroom with its new spring decorations, and the bright colors keep her head spinning around while Brooke rubs cream on her knees. (Vanessa could have done it herself, really, but Brooke had offered in a nervous tone, desperate to help, and Vanessa agreed, touched by how much she wanted to help and unable to resist having Brooke’s hands touch her skin).

Bright green stems stretch up the classroom door, ending in tiny tulips and daffodils that each bear a student’s name. The walls are a construction paper animal kingdom come to life: white bunnies with cotton-ball tails hop around after carrots, yellow chicks splash water at each other, and red birds fly toward the ceiling (as high as they can go while still adhering to fire codes).

“Tell me you didn’t even need a ladder to hang those birds,” Vanessa teases.

Brooke applies the last Band-Aid, her hands soft and gentle. “I didn’t,” she admits, blush creeping into her cheeks. God, she’s adorable.

“I’m assuming you have some trouble hanging things up?” Brooke prompts with a grin.

Vanessa just sighs. “You know those warning signs saying not to stand on a stack of chairs, and you think, ‘what idiot would stand on a stack of chairs’?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m the idiot.” Vanessa cackles. “Tried to put my little alphabet signs over the chalkboard and went down like an avalanche. I was coughing up chalk dust for a month.”

Brooke bites her lip, like she’s afraid it would be rude to laugh, but when Vanessa starts, to let her know it’s okay, Brooke snorts so fiercely it makes Vanessa laugh even harder.

“I’m sorry,” Brooke gasps between snorts, “but that’s hilarious. You know, if you need anything hung up, just ask me.”

“I’ll do that.” Vanessa flexes her knees, now tricked out with the Dark Knight. “You’re a Band-Aid pro, by the way. My knees feel a lot better.”

“Good.” Brooke smiles. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“See you at lunch.”

It’s almost enough to make Vanessa forget about her ruined craft project.

—

Brooke’s kids are in art class with Miss Scarlet for the next 45 minutes, and she gets to work on her surprise for Vanessa.

There’s no template big enough, which means she’ll have to draw a giant guinea pig freehand. Vanessa’s much better at drawing than Brooke, that’s for sure. She usually goes for the trace-and-cut-out method, but Vanessa can actually draw. Sometimes Brooke watches her sketch during lunch, her tongue sticking out slightly, brown eyes narrowed in focus, and Brooke forgets all about her own sandwich, filling her body with nothing but Vanessa.

After ten guinea pig drawing tutorials and five unsuccessful attempts, Brooke spreads the successful poster board out on her long student tables.

She glues white fake fur over the whole thing, adding little brown spots and googly-eye stickers and a pink nose until it looks like Bertha. It’s not as good as Vanessa’s, looking a bit like a potato with legs, but Brooke hopes Vanessa will understand that she wanted to help, wanted to cheer her up after this morning.

When it’s lunch time, she tucks the board under her arm and knocks on Vanessa’s door.

“Brooke?” Vanessa’s eyes drift to the board and narrow in confusion.

“I made you a new guinea pig,” Brooke explains, showing Vanessa the board. “You were so upset about it, and I just…I wanted to help. I hope that’s okay.”

Vanessa’s hand goes to her mouth, and Brooke’s stomach writhes, certain she’s ruined things. She should have never done this, Vanessa hates her—

“Brooke, this is amazing!”

“You like it?”

“I really do. Thank you.” Her fingers brush against Brooke’s as she takes it, and Brooke’s body rushes with warmth.

“Lunch?” She offers.

Vanessa nods.

—-

Brooke hears some of the other teachers talking about the weather forecast, and the idea pops into her head. Something about Vanessa makes her want to be brave, want to take a chance like Nina always encourages. Brooke takes a deep breath and speaks before she loses her nerve.

“I was thinking, um, it’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow. Maybe we could take our kids out for a little picnic lunch?”

Vanessa’s eyes light up, so bright Brooke almost melts at how adorable Vanessa is, especially when she claps her hands and grins.

“I love that, Brooke! Let’s do it.” Her eyes take on a mischievous gleam. “What if me and you make lunch for each other?”

Brooke doesn’t stray too much in her food choices–mostly salads and sandwiches, leftovers of what she made for dinner. She likes routine, likes packing her lunch and knowing exactly what she’ll eat. But something about the prospect of Vanessa choosing things for her, taking the time to pick out what she thinks Brooke will like and packing it all up, makes her think a break from routine might be okay.

“Okay,” Brooke agrees. “Do you have any allergies I should know about? Picky about anything?”

“Ooh, I used to be picky like you wouldn’t believe. Survived a whole year on basically mac and cheese, chicken nuggets, and tortillas when I was four.” Vanessa laughs. “I’m not that picky anymore. No allergies either. PB and J, deli stuff, whatever. Just don’t feed me any broccoli.”

Brooke snorts. “I wouldn’t serve broccoli to my worst enemy. I don’t have any food allergies either.”

Vanessa reaches out her hand. “It’s a picnic date then.”

Brooke shakes it, Vanessa’s skin soft and smooth and warm, sending courage through Brooke’s heart. “It’s a date.”

Tags: rpdr fanfiction, branjie, brooke lynn hytes, vanessa vanjie mateo, athena2, here comes the sun, lesbian au, spring fling 2020, day 3: puddle

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #athena2 #here comes the sun #lesbian au #spring fling week 2020 #day 3: puddle #submission

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bamby0304 · 5 years

Text

Temptation

Summary: When you were drawn to the tall, dark, and handsome stranger at the club, you had no idea what the night would lead to.

Pairing: Boy King!Sam x Ruby, Boy King!Sam x Reader

A/N: This was randomly inspired by Ariana Grande’s breakup with your girlfriend, i’m bored. This fic is for my Come Play square from my @spnkinkbingo card. If you’re interested in a next level fanfiction experience, check out @scentsfromthebunker’s Lucifer!Sam scent :) also, thank you @saxxxology for looking this over for me!! xx

Link: Ao3

Square Filled: Come Play

Word Count: 3530

Warnings: Explicit language. Cheating. Smut. Public indecencies. Dry humping. Dirty talk. Biting. Hair pulling. Fingering. Fear kink. Bondage. Unprotected sex. Blood drinking. Come play. Some violence.

Bamby

He walked into the club, and you instantly lost interest in the guy that sat to your right, attempting to get in your pants with feeble chit chat. One look at him and you knew you wanted a taste. He was the living, breathing epitome of that damned apple from the Eden garden. Tempting, and no doubt deliciously juicy.

You were drawn to him by a force you couldn’t explain, but you didn't care to. All you cared about was having a bite.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t come alone.

She was at least a foot shorter than him, with dark and thick hair- that you wanted to yank as you pulled her away from the beast of a man whose arm she clung to. The look in her eyes, as she scanned the crowd, made it clear she knew just how lucky she was. The girl was gorgeous, your couldn’t deny that, but she was also in the way and had to go.

Not bothering to act discreet, you watched as they moved to the a table and waited for someone to come by and serve them. Internally glaring, you watched the way his arm draped over her shoulders as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. Whatever she said, it made her blush and bite her lip, pressing further into him.

Then he looked up, and you felt a rush of heat pulse through you as his gaze met yours.

His lips twitched into a grin, teasing, knowing, playing, oh so tempting. As his date remained oblivious, turning to suck and nip at his throat, he watched you watching him.

Two can play at this game.

Snapping your head away, you turned to the guy who hadn’t stopped talking beside you. “Wanna dance?” you asked abruptly, cutting him off.

Caught off guard, they guy barely managed a quick nod before you were grabbing his hand and leading him towards the dance floor.

You purposefully picked a spot closer to the edge, but still behind the other countless partners dancing. The lights were dim, with a red tinge, creating an atmosphere that stoked the lust growing inside you.

The beat was long and slow, the kind of song you needed. Pulling the guy close, you wrapped an arm around his neck and began to sway your hips. His hands came down to rest on your waist as he moved along with you, pressing in closer. Grinning knowingly, keeping your eyes on the ground to play the bashful act, you turned in his arm.

He was quick to take the opportunity and stepped right up to you. Hips swaying, you could feel his growing bulge with every move as it pressed against your ass. The guy wasn’t packing anything impressive.

Dragging your eyes up, you caught the gaze of that dark, dangerous, and delicious stranger. He was watching you with this look in his eyes that made you shiver with desire. There was a possessive gleam in his gaze, a look that suggested he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

Keeping your eyes locked on his, you reached up to caress your dancing partner’s cheek as you led him down to your neck. The second his lips began to leave sloppy kisses on your exposed shoulder, your stranger turned to his date.

You watched as he somehow managed to detach her from his arm before she slid out of the booth and sauntered off. You watched as he waited, eyes following her retreating form with a level of appreciation that didn’t come close to her infatuation for him. You watched, then, as he turned to you with eyes so dark they were almost black.

Still dancing and grinding with your partner, you turned your back on him and feigned interest in the man still sloppily kissing your neck.

Hands slid along your waist, sliding between you and the guy grinding against you.

A short game of tug-o-war was played where you were the rope. Both men kept up with your movements, dancing, pressed against you, trying to dominate every inch of you and shake the other guy off. Wedged between your desires and a pest, you basked in the attention, knowing it would lead to a glorious ending.

Your stranger’s grip tightened as he leaned in to the other side of your neck. Only he didn’t suck at your exposed skin, instead you felt his lips brush against your jaw.

“Get rid of him.”

Lips tugging into a grin, you turned towards him. “And why should I do that?”

“Because if I have to do it, it won’t end well,” he warned on a low growl that shook you to your core in all the right ways.

Nodding, you met his eyes for a short moment before you turned to the other guy.

One look down at you and he knew his efforts were for nothing. All you had to do is give a shrug of one shoulder and lean into your stranger, and the deed was done.

Mumbling under his breath about you being a tease, the guy dragged his feet away.

Alone with the stranger, you turned to him, sliding your arms up his chest before wrapping them around his neck. The move required you to press up against his chest due to his height, but you weren’t complaining.

“Does your girlfriend know you’re getting hard on the dance floor in the arms of another woman?”

“What girlfriend?” he grinned, leaning down to capture your lips with his.

Running your fingers through his hair, moaning into his mouth, you continued to sway to the music. His hands grasped your hips tightly, holding you to him as he moved with you. Bodies pressed together, in the middle of the crowded dance floor, you slid your hands all over each other.

His tongue snaked into your mouth and slid along yours, drinking you in. Arms wrapping around your waist, he pulled you flush against him, pressing his crotch into your stomach.

Now he was definitely packing something impressive.

Fingers creeping under your shirt, he pulled the cup of your bra down and pinched your nipple between his finger and thumb. Your gasp broke the kiss, giving him the chance to trail his lips down to your throat. Arching back for him, you whined as he sucked and nipped at your pulse point, making your pussy flutter with need.

Dragging your leg up his, you angled yourself ever so slightly so you could feel the thickness of his thigh against your panties. Moving to the music, you began to grind against him. He helped, holding you right where he wanted as he continued to leave bruises on your neck, and tweaked your nipple.

Tugging on his hair, drowning in his touch, you felt yourself quickly near that sweet ending you craved almost as much as you craved him.

Chasing that approaching climax, your lips parted in a silent cry as he pinched your nipple and bit down where your shoulder and neck met. The pain and pleasure of it all sent you tumbling into an ending that had you clutching at him as you twitched and groaned in the middle of the dance floor.

You could feel him grinning against your neck as you rode out your orgasm. “Ready for the main course?”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the crowd. Lost in the darkened rooms and thrumming music, you followed obediently as he took the two of you to a darkened corner of the club, close to the exit.

Wrenching your arm, he spun you around and slammed you against the wall, knocking the wind out of your lungs. As you tried to suck in a breath his lips sealed over yours, claiming any air you might’ve found.

Growling into your mouth, he tore his lips away and looked down at you with eyes that were black. Not darkened, not almost black, but completely obsidian.

The rush of fear that rippled through your was exhilarating.

Sensing your growing desire, he snarled and dragged you out of the club. Once outside, he hailed a taxi down on the side of the road. As the vehicle rolled to a stop, he bent down and grabbed the back of your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around him. Pressing your ass against the car, he flung the door open and then slid the two of you inside.

You didn’t listen as he rattled off directions to the driver. Instead you found yourself grinding against him, seeking out more friction as you licked at his throat and moaned at his taste.

His grip on your hips tightened as he dragged you against the hardness hidden in his jeans. Clutching at his hair, you held him close and breathed in his ear, panting for more.

A hand slid between your bodies and pushed your panties to the side, effortless slipping two fingers into your waiting pussy. He swallowed your sounds, sealing his lips over yours as he fucked you on his thick fingers. Scissoring you open, he enjoyed every flutter of your walls.

You came twice more in the backseat of the taxi, quivering on the stranger’s fingers. When the vehicle arrived at your destination, he pulled his hand out from between your thighs and licked himself clean, moaning at your taste.

A light slap to your ass prompted you to slide out of the car as he tossed a bit of extra cash to the driver.

Standing outside, waiting for your stranger to join you, your eyes looked up at the dark and seeming abandoned building in front of you. It set an uneasy feeling in your gut as you spotted the dead plants, grafiti, and broken windows. Then, to make matters worse, your gaze landed on a faded and fallen sign that read ‘Needham Asylum’.

“Nervous?” your stanger asked as his hand slid along your back and lips pressed against your shoulder.

Behind you, the taxi drove off, leaving you with the stranger in this strange place. Suddenly all your lust faded as you wondered if this was where you were going to meet your final ending.

Chuckling as you shook with fear, he gave your cheek a gentle kiss. “Don’t worry, if I wanted you dead I would have given you to Ruby.” Sliding his hand into yours he started towards the building, walking backwards as he lead you closer to what looked like the gates to all your nightmares. “Trust me, sweetheart, the only way you might die tonight is if I fuck you to death.”

Tugging on your arm harshly, you crashed into his chest moments before he lifted you off the ground. With your legs wrapped around him, you threw your arms around his neck to keep yourself balance, but that only served to press you closer to him when made him grin.

“Name’s Sam, by the way. Just so you know what to scream later.”

Grabbing the back of your head, he brought you down to him, smashing your lips together in a heated and desperate kiss once more. That, plus the feel of his hard body flush against yours, stoked the flames of your desire back to life.

Deep in the throes of desire, you didn’t even flinch as the doors of the asylum flung open behind you without a single touch. You didn’t blink an eye at the dozens of people inside who ducked out of the way as Sam led the two of you down numerous corridors. Too distracted by the feel of his hands and lips, you simply arched into his touch and moaned, not giving a single care to whatever was going on around you.

His hands slipped, letting you slid down to your feet as he pulled away from you. Standing there, in a room made from brick and stone, you were completely focused on the man you stood in front of as he took a few steps back. Looking you up and down, he reached down to adjust himself before his gaze met your. Watching you, he tore his jacket and shirt off, leaving his chest bare to your eyes.

Drinking in the sight, you felt your mouth water at the sight of all his muscles and flesh. Nothing looked more delicious.

Stepping towards you again, he smirked as he grabbed your dress and tore it in half as if it were nothing more than paper.

You gasped, feeling your panties flood at the show of strength and dominance. “Fuck me…”

“That’s the plan.”

Lifting you off the ground once more, he tossed you onto the large bed. As you bounced on the soft mattress, he began to work on his belt, making a show of it as you sat there, leaning up on your elbows, watching him between your spread thighs.

He didn’t even try to hide the way he took in the view, growling as soon as he spotted how wet your panties were. Pulling the belt out from his jeans’ loops, he knelt one knee on the edge of the bed and reached out to grab both of your arms. You obeyed, handing him your wrists as you pressed them together expectantly.

Once they were tied together, however, he didn’t let them go right away. Instead, he tossed them above your head and then began to crawl over you. Falling back onto the bed, you held your breath as he kept on moving higher until his covered crotch was hovering over your face. Kneeling there, he grabbed your hands and adjusted the belt so it was secured around one of the headrest’s bars as well.

“Now you can’t run.” He grinned down at you, flashing those black eyes again.

You whimpered, clenching your thighs together. “Sam…”

“Shhh.” Crawling back down your body, he leaned over you, brushing his lips over yours. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.” Pulling back to sit on his heels, he finished undoing the rest of his pants before pulling himself free.

Suddenly you were nervous again. The sight of him, hard, red, and leaking… never had you seen a cock so large and thick. It was completely proportionate to the beast of a man who was now stroking it as he watched you have a mini freak out, wondering how on Earth he was supposed to fit inside you.

“Now you know why I had to tie you up,” he started. “Girls get a little intimidated. Hell… Ruby can barely take me. Luckily she’s a demon. The pain just makes it better.”

Eyes going wide, you struggled against your binds at the ‘D’ word. He just chuckled lowly, still stroking himself lazily. “Calm down. As long as you’re with me, no one will harm a hair on that pretty head of yours.”

Dragging his gaze over your body, he settled on your bra. Raising his free hand, he gave a flick of his wrist and tore it away. You gasp at the burn of the material scrapping along your skin but didn’t have a time to complain before your panties were removed in the same fashion.

“Much better,” he groaned at the sight of you completely bare and bound before him. “Ready sweetheart?” He didn’t give you a chance as he lined himself up long your slick slit and thrust himself in all the way.

Your scream echoed, bouncing off the walls as you threw your head back and fought against the leather holding your arms in place. None of it deterred Sam, though. In fact, your cries and struggles only seemed to turn him on more.

Leaning down, he crashed his lips against yours as he started a hard and fast pace, slamming into your cervix with every thrust. You were helpess as he fucked you with reckless abandon. His fingers left bruises in their wake as he gripped you wherever he could hold. Pulling on your hair, biting at your skin, he dominated every inch of you.

It was the hottest thing you’d ever experienced.

Once the initial shock wore off, you found yourself crying out for more as your legs wrapped around him. He enjoyed your pleasure as much as he enjoyed your pain, and groaned into the crook of your neck as he fucked you senselessly.

Pulling away, he grabbed your hips as he began to jackhammer into you.

Watching as you fell apart for the fourth time that night, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and produced a knife. You didn’t even care, too far gone in the moment to worry about him hurting you or not.

Instead of bringing the knife down to you, however, he cut a line along his own neck.

Tossing the knife to the ground, he flicked his wrist in the direction of your binds and freed you. As soon as you felt the leather loosen and give way, he was wrapping an arm underneath you, and pulling you to his chest. You had no chance to fight before he guided your lips to the cut on his neck.

You drank. Out of instinct, you lapped up his blood and moaned at the taste. A rush of white hot heat settled under your skin, burning away everything that wasn’t Sam and pleasure.

He fucked you harder, groaning in your ear as you sucked as his neck. Holding you close, feeling the way your body sung as his blood flood its system, he came. With a snarl, he held you down on his cock as he filled you to the brim with his seed. You felt it overflow and slide down your thighs as he just kept coming, fucking an obscene amount of cum into you.

The intensity of his blood and feel of his warmth inside you pulled you into a fifth and final orgasm. Crying out against his neck, pulling on his hair, you clenched around his cock and milked the rest of his seed from him.

Once the shock waves of your climaxes ended, he laid you back down on the bed. Panting heavily, trying to catch your breath as you chest heaved, you couldn’t take your eyes off him as he remained kneeling between your thighs.

His gaze found its way to your slit and watched as his cum poured out onto the sheets. Without a word, he dragged two fingers along your over sensitive folds. You twitched and whimpered at the touch, making him grin smugly as he collected some of his seed. Still watching him, you sucked in a breath as he brought his hand up to your stomach and let the cum drip onto you.

With darkened eyes, he focused as he begun spread it as far as he could covering as much skin as he could. When there was nothing more to spread, he reached down and collected more cum, only to add it to the rest that was already coating your stomach.

As you stared at him, transfixed by the look of concentration on his face, you were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts as the bedroom doors opened.

“Sa-” The woman he’d gone to the bar with froze in the doorway.

Sam didn’t even look up from his task.

The anger that flashed across her face scared you more than anything else had that night. “You son of a-”

She didn’t get the chance to finish.

Lifting his hand from your stomach, Sam snapped it in her direction, squeezing his fingers into a fist. She was flung against the wall and held there as she began to scratch at her throat as if trying to release some invisible pressure there.

“I am in charge here, Ruby, not you.” Pulling his gaze from your stomach, he turned to glare at her. “I’m the King. You’re not my Queen, you’re my whore. You have no claim on me. Don’t think otherwise… or one day it might get you killed.”

Releasing his fist, he let her drop to the floor. She rubbed at her neck, looking at the two of you with betrayal and fear, before she pulled herself to her feet and scurried out of the room.

Alone again, Sam looked back down at you. No words were spoken as he got back to playing with his seed, spreading it along your stomach. Lying there, staring up at him, feeling his fingers glide along you as something under the surface continued to tingle with foreign energy, you found yourself staying right where you were.

“You’re mine now,” he told you, eyes following the movement of his fingers. When he finally did look up again, your gaze met his obsidian one. “Should’ve stuck with the other guy.”

“Should’ve done a lot of things… but temptation got the best of me.”

His lips tugged into a grin as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep kiss. When he pulled away, he dropped onto the bed beside you. “Thank God for temptation.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Pretty sure God had nothing to do with it.”

Bamby

#spnkinkbingo #boy king!sam fanfiction #boy king!sam fic #boy king!sam x reader #boy king!sam x you #boy king!sam x y/n #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #bamby's spnkinkbingo card #temptation

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mouthingfuckyouforever · 3 years

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It's currently 5 minutes past midnight and I'm contemplating giving myself yet another impromptu haircut

#my mental health is in shambles #my hair is the only thing i can control #the scissors are gleaming in such a tempting way #mentally ill #queer stuff #haircut

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chaotic-typist · 6 years

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Nobody was ever entirely on your side. There was always an ulterior motive for everything. If you wanted something you had to hide your true desires with something else if you had any hope of attaining them. That was the first lesson Shere Khan had ever learned as a kit, and sadly, it had been one hard in the learning. Even among those sharing a common ideal and motivation, no one took interest and solved the idea in the same way. He’d been born to a household servant of a British army officer’s wife. The birth of a boy, at first deemed a source for celebration, had become bittersweet once his mother had realized he’d been born with a limp paw. She had named him Lingre, or lame one, so all would know. Some whispered that he was lame because he was the reincarnation of a money-lender who was injured in a riot. Most, thought it was ridiculous, but it hadn’t stopped others from keeping an extra eye out on him, just in case. He hadn’t been around to see the revolt of ‘57 but the elders he had known, servants to the British elite, warriors who served under his master on the field, Christian converts deemed traitors by nearly all, had been alive during that time, and like all events that occurred during living memory of aging men and women the story in multiple renditions had been related to him more times he could count, each with a different opinion and idea of what had happened. Even today the rebellion was contentious and certainly wasn’t something brought up in polite company during the holidays if one wished to keep the conversation civil. So, he’d grown up mostly alone, with only one other child for company. A paw-licker by the name of Tabaqui, Lungri learned anything and everything of note within the household... whether he liked it or not. The association hadn’t been born out of a genuine interest in friendship. Instead, his only companion had been a scavenger who had stuck around for potential catches. In a rare show of mercy, empathy, or some conglomeration of both, the mistress of the house had taken mercy on him and had assigned him the tasks of hunting and laying traps for pests and other, more dangerous creatures that went bump in the night. This made him very interesting to the lowest ranking member of the household who also happened to be the village gossip. After several attempts to be rid of his obnoxiously talkative shadow, the young tiger had been forced to make due with his continual presence. Eventually he had come to almost enjoy their time together, but at the time he wouldn’t have repeated such a thing under penalty of death. The paw-licker would have only taken this as an encouragement to talk even more, and then Lugri would have had to kill him. Some evenings fate smiled on him and he would catch himself a small bounty from the Raj in the hides of animals he would present to them. Other times his captures would be made into a meal for himself and the leftovers would go to the canine. Sometimes, when the animals appeared too filthy or diseased for him, he’d leave the entire thing to him. He sighed at the memory, and examined the wound before him. The skin was broken and the feathers were stained with the elderly duck’s blood. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for concern. He and Tabbaqui had been foolish. They hadn’t known the risks involved in capturing dangerous animals, in simply being scratched by one if saliva was in any way involved. But this wasn’t something they’d been taught, not something people had thought they’d needed to know, and as a result they’d been a lot less careful approaching and if they had they would have been more careful. The image of Tabaqui curled up in a tiny ball clutching his head and screaming, crying, howling his broken cries of agony for all the pitiless world to hear. Hydrophobia, they'd said. Don’t move any closer, idiot child, they’d reprimanded. So he’d stood, watched as the only soul to give him a shred of respect wail . Until Gray had put him out of his misery, and Tabaqui, his brightness, his presence itself had gone. The windows open and the house grim and unoccupied where once there’d been a lively party with a free alcohol bar. That had been one of the worst moments of his life. The second. The second, the years following the first world war and the horror of realizing just how small, just how easy the powers that be could have you dead, well that was a thought for another place and another time. Thoughts of his childhood didn’t belong either, but that was a problem when the man sitting before him, seemed more child than an adult, clutching the artifact in a clear pout and grumbling about tigers that apparently worried more obsessively after his health than his own Valet. Scrooge McDuck. Said tiger had been tempted to roll his eyes but ultimately resisted, finding the action lacked the seriousness the situation deserved. Instead, he opted to retrieve a small box where he kept the minor first aid supplies, and pulling out some medical-grade disinfectant. It was scientifically impossible for an avian to contract rabies from a mammal, so all that was left was treating the scratches. He was thankful for that. The thought of McDuck foaming at the mouth and begging for death as the symptoms wrought havoc on his tiny fluffy little body, made him feel... something... and that was enough. The world would be deprived of one of the greats, and he’d rather not have been the one to finance the daring duck adventurer’s final expedition. Retrieving an artifact from thieves who had stolen a priceless Indian antique was a worthy use of his money, but if he had to choose someone to come down with hydrophobia, now known as Rabies, he’d have sent someone less... interesting... to take his place. Sliding his paws against Scrooge’s back, years of self-medication came back to him for a moment and he assessed the injury, which was still bleeding profusely. He retrieved a pair of tweezers and began. It was unsurprising to find the duck hadn’t done much by way of self-care. In all likelihood he’d run it over cold waters and considered the matter finished. Sighing openly this time. he went about removing the dirt, first washing the cuts thoroughly, then picking stubborn pieces of dirt out with before taking out the scissors. Unsurprisingly, he found his wrist clenched in a vice-like grip. Scrooge was quite strong, his fluffy feathers belied a hard interior. “Now what are ye thinkin about doin with those, I wonder?” Scrooge asked though his soft voice had an obvious underbelly of steel. “I was attempting to cut the feathers near the site of your injury.” Shere Khan said, explaining with as much patience as he could muster. “This will make it easier to soak the area with Hydrogen peroxide.” Scrooge smiled at him, one of those terribly forced grins that clearly indicated he was trying to be polite and not throttle the person next to him. “I’ll have to pass.” The Tiger and the duck shared a ten-second staring contest, before the cat rose an inquiring eyebrow, frowning. “Why?” The question was short, blunt, and demanded no tomfoolery. Scrooge sighed, then, with an embarrassed cough. “Becausefweatherdamagetakestwelvemonthstoregrow.” Shere Khan looked amused now. "I’m afraid I did not quite get that.” He said with a chuckle.. “What was it you said?” Scrooge sighed, then scratched the back of his head. “The average bird takes approximately 12 months to regrow his or her feathers.” The duck said. “Blame it on me vanity, but I’d rather take a pass on the whole lot.” The two looked at each other for a long moment, before Khan lowered the scissors. Scrooge made a move to get up before Shere Khan halted him with a paw. "A moment please.” He asked when Scrooge began to look like he wanted to argue. “I know of another way to clean it, if you will allow me to be so bold?” He had retried gauze from the . “Fine.” Scrooge huffed, annoyed at the delay. “Get on with it.” The tiger nodded, murmuring a quiet thank you, before Scrooge froze, feeling something warm and wet lapping at his wound. He stared up at Shere Khan, who stared right back, lips stained with blood and yellow eyes gleaming with an unspoken challenge. “So that’s how it is.” Scrooge said softly, then to the tiger’s surprise, he was the first to break off their second stare down, this time dissolving into laughter.”You really needn’t have gone through all the trouble.” Scrooge said, grinning behind him, his smile softer than before, as the tiger continued to lap at his shoulder. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me dear fellow.” Khan said staring at rubbing at Scrooge’s back and ruffling his clothing as he continued his ministrations, feeling Scrooge loosen beneath him and wondering if it was too late to distract Scrooge from taking their conversation wherever direction it was apparently approaching. He noticed that Scrooge still carried the artifact. “I mean the playdate, you’ve so cleverly arranged.” He started grinning like the Cheshire cat. Khan didn’t stop lapping at the duck’s shoulder, but moved the other arm to support his weight against the table, allowing his silence to speak for itself. He felt Scrooge prod his forehead, and he pursed his lips. “If you ever find yourself wantin to chat me up.” Scrooge began. “Ask me out of the stables first.” Shere khan allowed a smile to touch his features before removing a roll of gauze from the kit, staring at it as if it were a long lost friend. “so if I invited you to a round of dinner, adventure and dancing, you would not feel opposed to the idea?” The old duck gave him an appraising look, as if sizing him up against some invisible measuring stick only he was aware of. Whatever he saw was clearly to his liking because the smile returned, this time far gentler. “Aye,” he said softly. “I’m willing to give this a spin and see how this works.” Shere Khan pressed a kiss to the wounded shoulder, before finally wrapping it with gauze. He hoped his mask was in place enough to conceal his thoughts. It was true, while he had very little experience in wooing a mate, he wanted this. He wanted them. Scrooge, beyond even his impressive financial portfolio was a fascinating man, and one who he wished to see more of. But most of all, that ulterior motive he needed to convince himself that this idea merited the energy he would put into it, was the combination of their assets. While both companies were powerful on their own, what they had currently would be nothing compared to what they would be if they united as one. He hoped this plan would work, he was not a man built for rivalry, and if things continued as they were, he knew he’d be required to find a solution he thought better left avoided.

#nd so

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