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pasukiyo · 5 months

Note

Voldemort x malfoy reader where he’s in desperate need for an heir so he ‘does’ the reader over the large dining table with a lot of ‘yes my lord’

BLOODY WATERS

tom riddle/lord voldemort x f!malfoy!reader word count; 2,585 warnings; impregnation, blindfold, restraints, smut smut smut summary; lord voldemort was in need of an heir, so how could she refuse to do the honors for her most generous lord?

One touch.

One touch was all it took for her to break.

She saw nothing except darkness, but Lord Voldemort moved behind it, relishing in the fact she was blinded. She shivered when the tips of his fingers grazed over the curve of her shoulder, trailing off when they reached the crook of her neck. With the simplest of touches she was a mess, with the simplest of touches she was trembling, with the simplest of touches she was aching.

She couldn’t see the way the corner of Lord Voldemort’s pink lips twitched, the way his gaze mapped out each goosebump that stood erect on her skin. She couldn’t see the way his eyes, dark with a splash of maroon, devoured her, but she could feel them, feel his vision’s hunger as she sat there shivering on the top of the dining table, blinded, and completely nude.

“Quite the pretty little pet you are, Miss Malfoy,” his voice murmured lowly, a husk to it that had her pressing her lips and her thighs together. Lord Voldemort’s gaze fleeted down to her legs as they squeezed themselves together, relieving some of the pressure she felt between them. He clicked his tongue at this, blinking back up to where her eyes would be, had they not been veiled away by a piece of black cloth. “Trying to relieve yourself already?” He drew nearer, leaning over her, his breath like smoke rolling over her ear. “Naughty little thing. Open your legs, lest you wish to be punished.”

His words held power, raised fear within her as well.

“Y…yes, my Lord,” she squeaked, lips agape as she panted, spreading her legs once more despite her aching clit sobbing, begging for friction once again. She squirmed against the restraints locked on her wrists, her arms steadily growing more uncomfortable being tied behind her back. But she was determined to be good for him— she refused to let him down. “It won’t happen again, my Lord.”

Lord Voldemort’s smirk grew wider at her obedience, tilting his head to catch a better look of her quivering chin, at the wrinkle in her brow peeking at him from just over the top of the blindfold. “Good,” he said simply as he pulled away from her, dark tendrils of hair falling over his face, casting a shadow across his skin. He reached out towards her again, this time his fingertips trailing up and down the valley between her breasts, feeling the quakes her heartbeat left behind.

She breathed and her chest heaved into his touch, her bottom lip quivering, a plea to just beg him to do something heavy on the tip of her tongue. She bit it back, desperate to please, desperate to obey. So instead, she said nothing, only let herself balance on the brink of bliss.

Lord Voldemort’s fingers traced a circle around the nipple of her left breast, a gasp stumbling past her lips, her skin warm in his touch’s wake. “We haven’t much time before your brother and the others will be arriving,” he said in a low murmur and her cheeks burned with the reminder. Here she was— tied up and blindfolded, completely bare before her Lord and her brother was somewhere in their family’s manor— not to mention she was sitting completely naked on the table they’d eat their supper on.

A flash of shame warmed her cheeks but it was quickly replaced by a different kind of warmth when Lord Voldemort placed a hand on the side of her neck with his hand not on her chest. The pad of his thumb soothed over the base of her throat, lightly pressing down but never applying too much pressure. The lump in her throat bobbed against his finger when she gulped.

“So you are going to be obedient while I fuck my heir into you, is that understood?”

If she wasn’t already soaked, she was dripping now. Her bottom lip quivered once more and a soft whimper escaped, nodding her head in reply, unconfident she’d be able to speak without sounding pathetic. Lord Voldemort wasn’t satisfied with this as an answer however, because of course he wasn’t.

“I’m not certain you understand,” he said, his hand creeping up her neck to claw at her chin, his grip tight and firm. “I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you plead for me to give you a child, I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you.”

Another whimper stumbled past her lips and Lord Voldemort warm grip tightened on her chin, squishing her cheeks. “Please! Please, my Lord, I would be so honored to be the mother of your children. I’d do anything to please you, my Lord, I’d do anything to have you inside of me!” She wailed, her dignity lost and thrown away. She was aware of how pathetic, how foolish she sounded, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when her Lord wanted to give her the honor of being the carrier of his heir, not when her clit ached so much she could just shatter.

She of course couldn’t see the way Lord Voldemort’s lips twisted into a smile, but she could only imagine what he looked like as laughter thundered throughout his chest, permeating the dining room. He removed his hand from her face and for a moment, all was silent and all was still. She was panting, breathless as she tried to listen, wondering if he was even still in the room.

“My… my Lord?” She dared to call out, growing more frustrated with the restraints on her wrists and the cloth over her eyes. If only she could just see—

—oh.

All at once, she was full to the brim and her mouth fell open, a scream ripped straight from her throat, tears salty and stinging her eyes. With a mere snap of his hips, her Lord bottomed out inside of her, the head of his cock reaching a sensitive place so deep within, she was seeing stars. Her toes curled in on themselves and she pulled at her restraints, squeezing her eyelids so tight despite being blind already.

Lord Voldemort hissed beside her ear, his breath warm as it loomed over her cheeks, his lips a ghost over hers. If she dared lean in just an centimeter closer, they’d be touching. “My pet is so warm, so tight,” he growled, pressing the bridge of his nose to the crook of her neck and inhaling, taking a deep breath before exhaling back in her face. “So breedable.”

He snapped his hips against her again, his cock ramming back into that sensitive spot inside of her and she yelped, balling her fists behind her back. Her back was arching and her chest was pressed against his now, one of his palms pressed to the small of her back and the other pressed to the space between her shoulder blades, pulling her in even closer. Still, their lips didn’t meet, despite being so close in distance. He only grazed his mouth against hers, dropping his head to let his breath fan over the delicate skin just below her jaw, sending shivers slithering down her spine.

“And to think my heir will have your pure-blood and mine…” he hummed against her jaw, his teeth teasing at her skin there. “…the power will be limitless.”

He bucked his hips into hers again and tears began to wet her blindfold, a broken sob tumbling past her lips but her Lord, her most generous Lord, collected them with his own, sealing her cry with a kiss. Her tongue stood no chance against his, nor did she even try to challenge him, already willing to give up her entire mind, body, and soul to him. She was practically limp in his arms as he thrusted again and once more, twisting a knot at the pit of her stomach that was already threatening to break.

“Hush now, little bird,” he whispered against her lips when he pulled away from their kiss, thrusting again until he set an even and steady pace, his forehead flush against hers. “Soon you’ll be mine and all will be well,” he murmured, their noses brushing together before he slammed his hips inside of her, ripping a meek from her throat. “But just as I said, we haven’t much time. I expect Abraxas and the others will be arriving soon.”

He was pounding her now and she was dangerously close to coming now, pulling and tugging against her restraints. “My… my Lord!” She cried, wishing she could see him, wishing she could touch him. Lord Voldemort must’ve noticed the way she was rebelling against her restrained and must’ve pitied her, for he was reaching behind her back— his pace never once slowing and the force of his thrusts never once weakening— to undo the knot he’d tied to keep her wrists together.

Relieved the moment her wrists were free, one of her hands practically flew to his shoulder, the other reaching to the back of his head to grip at the rich, dark tresses there. Her tears were wet against her cheeks as they managed to slip underneath the blindfold and when she pressed her face into the breadth of his shoulder, they soaked his skin.

“My Lord, I’m… I feel so… I feel so close,” she mewled into his flesh as she fluttered around his cock, squeezing him even tighter which only encouraged him to piston his hips harder into her, clawing at the skin on her back, certain they’d leave marks. “You aren’t to come until I tell you to,” he hissed beside her ear, one of his hands venturing up her back until they threaded in the hair behind her head, balling his fist and tugging at the roots. “Tell me you understand.”

“Yes my Lord!” She gasped, her swollen and aching clit throbbing and her cunt fluttering around him once again. Lord Voldemort slammed against her impossibly harder, his pace so fast she was sure she was slipping between the realms of consciousness and unconsciousness. The room was thick with sex and sweat, the sound of skin slapping against skin permeated and bounced off every wall.

Somewhere beneath all the sex, she could make out the very muffled voices of her brother and someone else somewhere in the manor. Only then did it occur to her that her brother had been here the entire time, that it was entirely plausible he could hear them.

Before she could even begin to finish her thought, the blindfold was ripped from her face and she blinked through the blurry haze of her vision until the image of her Lord appeared. Even under the dim light of the dining room, she could make out his pale skin, the maroon that circled the black of his pupils, the black tendrils of hair that fell before his eyes. Gods, she could stare at Lord Voldemort all day.

And to think she was his.

She blinked up at him through tears as he pounded into her over and over again, pushing her closer to the edge, so close to bliss she could practically already taste it. Lord Voldemort stared right back at her, his lids hooded over his eyes, his lips pressed together as he held her close with one hand between her shoulder blades, the other on her cheek, his thumb soothing over her skin and collecting tears.

The voices outside the dining room doors were louder and closer now, and she could identify the voices belonging to her brother, Abraxas, and Tiernan Lestrange. She pinched her eyebrows together as she peered over her shoulder towards the door, snapping her head back forward to meet Lord Voldemort’s gaze.

“My Lord…” she began, to which he enveloped her lips in a kiss, his teeth sinking down into the plush of her bottom lip. She whimpered as he tugged her lip, leaning away until it slipped from between his teeth, snapping his hips once, twice, thrice.

Then, “come for me. Come all over me while I pump you full of my heir.”

She threw her head back and squeezed her eyelids as she clenched around her Lord’s cock, his palm catching the back of her head and forcing her forehead onto his as he spilled inside of her with a stutter of his hips. His eyelids were closed and his brow was knit as if in concentration as he bucked his hips into hers with particularly rough thrusts, ensuring she was taking every ounce of seed he was giving her, ensuring she was tainted inside and full of his children.

She was seeing dots of color in her vision the longer he stayed inside of her, unwilling to move, unwilling to let a single drop of his cum go to waste. She was fluttering around him, her forehead falling down to his shoulder as she panted, inhaling and exhaling to will her heartbeat to slow to a steady pace.

Abraxas and Tiernan were even closer now and only then did Lord Voldemort slowly— almost reluctantly— pull away, eyes glued to her cunt as her entrance fluttered and cried with the absence of him, watching the waterfall of their mixed juices slide down her slit. “My… my Lord, it seems as… as though they are on their way—!”

A silent gasp forced her mouth agape when, with his middle and forefinger, he gathered the nectar spilling from her pussy and dragged it up her slit, forcing it all back inside of her. Her back arched and a moan ripped through her, echoing throughout the dining room and she swore the voices outside the door fell silent.

“Can’t let a single drop go to waste now, can we?” Lord Voldemort hummed as he pulled away, reaching forward to press his fingers against her lips. Almost immediately, she welcomed his digits inside her mouth, swirling her tongue over his fingers and swallowing the remnant of their sin. She panted when he pulled his hand away, pulling his trousers back up his legs, buttoning his shirt.

She blinked, turning her head side to side, unable to remember where her dress had been discarded through the murky haze of her mind. Fortunately, her most generous Lord had already fetched the black material from the floor, fixing it over her head and soothing the wrinkles with the palms of his hands.

For a moment, her heart fluttered as he outstretched his hand for her to take and she did, allowing him to aid her in hopping down from the top of the table. The grip he had on her hand tightened when she wobbled, unable to feel her legs for a moment. Lord Voldemort drew her in closer until their chests were flush against one another, one hand still enveloping hers and the other cupping her cheek, letting his thumb soothe her skin.

For a moment, she blinked up at him and allowed herself to be lost in the bloody waters of his irises, wondering if he was hers just as much as she was his. She wondered if this was love, being claimed in such a scandalous yet euphoric way.

Lord Voldemort leaned down until their lips brushed against one another and she fisted either side of his shirt, her eyelids fluttering closed as she anticipated his kiss.

Then, “you’re mine now. And while my heir grows inside of you, it’d do you well to remember that.”

a/n; finally wrote a tom riddle fic after so long! and it's a request! to the requester, i hope this was what you wanted! and i hope you all enjoy! also a reminder to fill out my taglist form if you'd like to be added to any of my taglists!

TAGLIST

@your-nanas-house

@sallowsarchives

@lyis

@michelle-26

@iamthejam

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut #wizarding world #harry potter #harry potter fandom #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle x y/n #lord voldemort

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mitsies · 1 year

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BREAKFAST IN BED ! ; megumi fushiguro > you try to surprise your boyfriend. it only kind of ends poorly.

megumi wakes to the smell of burning and the absence of you in bed next to him.

these are two signs that should tell him that his morning is going to have a very atypical turn, as he blinks the traces of sleep from his eyes and sits up in your shared bed. the burning sounds intensify from down the hallway. megumi checks the time— it’s 8 in the morning on a saturday.

typically, he’s the one who wakes up first, not you. your phone remains on your side of the bed, and he sees a snoozed alarm notification. you planned on waking up before him, he realises. something crashes from the kitchen, and megumi takes it as his cue to check out whatever the hell you were doing.

the kitchen may as well be a warzone. there’s unidentifiable burnt little squares that he assumes might be a failed attempt at french toast, with spots of powdery white flour exploded all across the countertops. an omlet with visible shells peeking through lies lonesome on a plate. the only thing that seems like it was made properly was a mug of steaming black coffee, just the way he likes his. in amidst this chaos, you stand with your back towards him, hunched over the sink scrubbing vigorously at a charred mass stuck onto a pan, doing your best to scrape it off before it’s adhered to the thing permanently.

the whole scene might be a disaster, but he feels a strange warmth (which you’ve taught him is love) pooling in his chest and sending heat sparking across his skin. it’s such a lovely thing, the world right then in your little apartment. he thinks he’d like to live in this moment with you for a long time as he silently moves to stand behind you, letting his hands support him on the countertop as he leans against your shoulder, pressing his chest near your back, greeting you with a rough voice, “morning, babe.”

inhaling sharply with a start, you drop both the cast-iron pan and the sponge you hold into the sink with a jump. warm water splashes all over the counter surrounding the sink, drenching your (his) shirt and splattering droplets over his face. you blink at him. “oh. it’s you.”

he gives you a look of faux-annoyance and thinly-veiled affection. “expecting someone else?”

“yeah, actually. was waiting for my other boyfriend. i made him breakfast.”

megumi snorts, taking his hands off the now-soaked countertop and letting one fall to your hip, pulling you close. “are you trying to poison the guy?”

you frown at him, huffing indignantly, “that wasn’t my intention. we have an unusable kitchen, actually. everything is broken.”

“mhm,” megumi hums, eyes flitting over the absolute carnage in the apartment, “super broken.”

“yeah. super broken.”

you untangle from his hold, much to his discresion, moving to pick up a washcloth to presumably try and dry up the water and the flour coating the counters. “why are you awake, anyways? it’s early and you have the day off, right?”

“i could ask you the same thing,” your boyfriend states. megumi moves to get another rag, taking on the spilt water all around the sink whilst you focus your efforts on the kitchen island.

you pause and purse your lips. “i already said. i was trying to make you breakfast.”

“i thought that was for your other boyfriend.”

he holds in his amusement as you make a face at him. “oh. yeah, him. my super tall and handsome and romantic and attractive boyfriend. yeah, i was trying to surprise him but,” you gesture vaguely to the remains that could hardly quantify as food, “it didn’t work out.”

megumi snorts a laugh. “really? where’s this boyfriend now?”

you dramatically slump into the countertop, a hand on your forehead, sighing theatrically, “i guess he’s not showing up. how tragic. i’m just so sad.”

he finishes wiping the sink area dry, moving to your side as you continue your monologue, “all my food is going to go to waste. after i spent so long on it, too.”

“i guess i could step in for your super tall, handsome, romantic, attractive boyfriend,” megumi muses with a lazy smile growing as you beam at him, “i’d be honoured if you’d have me.”

“have at it. though, i’m not sure how much of this is actually edible.”

he examines the array of food. from the burnt toast (?) to the eggshell-laden omlet, he’s not feeling too keen on trying out your cooking, as much as he loves you. but there’s one thing that might not kill him if ingested— the black coffee, sitting untouched by the plate. it’s not steaming quite as much, a testament to its age, but when he picks up the mug it feels warm in his hands. he raises a brow at you as you grin at him so widely that your face might split in two. his face flushes warmer than his drink at your undivided attention.

“don’t smile at me like that.”

your expression doesn’t waver. “hm? like what?”

“i dunno.. like that,” he waves a hand in your face and you laugh, swatting it away. a twin expression is reflected on his own features.

“my bad, babe. i’m just happy, i guess.”

he looks at you inquisitively. “happy why?”

“so nosey. can’t i be happy just because?”

“you’ve always got ulterior motives.”

you gasp playfully, gently bumping into his side. megumi tries his best not to let the mug spill at your movements while you continue. “so rude. i’m sorry i’m in a good mood.”

“i’m just asking why.” you hum contemplatively before letting your head rest on his shoulder from where you stand.

“being around you. i like mornings better when you’re there.”

megumi’s heart feels like it might explode in his chest. he’s so, infinitely lucky to have you, he thinks, just the luckiest that you’re his to love and his to hold and have and wake up with and make breakfast for since you couldn’t be trusted with a spoon and fork. he’s lucky you love him. megumi takes a sip from his coffee, and it tastes like love.

✄ this was written for the mitsies 3k follower event with the prompt "don't smile at me like that." "huh? like what?" "i dunno... like that."

[⇥ 3K EVENT MASTERLIST] [⇥ 3K EVENT INFO]

#megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #megumi fanfic #megumi imagine #megumi headcanons #fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro #fushiguro #fushiguro x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #mitsies 3k

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chosoclub · 2 months

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SUNDAY MORNING ⋆ CHOSO KAMO

PAIRING — choso ° f!reader GENRE — lazy sunday au!smut!oneshot WORD COUNT — 1.7k TAGS — MDNI ° fingering (f!receiving) ° some smooch smooch ° drooling ° slight spit play ° slight voyeurism ° dirty talk (i didn't overdo it TRUST) ° giving gentle dom!choso a chance to shine CONSPECTUS — The sun like a bright, amber blanket, veils you and Choso as the two of you spend a lazy Sunday in bed.

The golden sun peeks behind the window shades, the partitions separating the light into smaller seams that overlook the bed. Choso softly snores next to you; his breaths are dense, and his eyelids are molded perfectly, resting against the pillowcase. His hair spreads across the pillow, strands idle on his forehead; the rest of the dark mane is a tangle near his temple. You reach over and plant a kiss against his cheek. His black eyelashes twitch before resting on his waterline again.

The lingering of your lips has him fluttering his eyes open, umber retinas melt into yours, and the edges of his eyes curl when he smirks. Good morning, he rasps, voice like honeysuckle, bitter from the long night of slumber, sweet at the sight of you.

Under the covers, his hand moves with a smooth slink to your waist. It’s unexpectedly cold in contrast, but it slips behind your lower back and scoots you closer to his abdomen. He leans to kiss the spot between your jaw and neck.

“How’d you sleep?” He murmurs under the hood of your jaw.

“Not bad. Did you sleep well?” He emerges back to face you, smiling.

“Yeah, I did.” His hand tips your back closer to lean against his torso. His chest is warm; you can smell the trail of his cologne from the day prior. He rests his chin atop your head, saying, “We can stay here, like this for the day. How’s that sound?”

His words reverberate when your forehead is against his throat. You chuckle, first at the vibrations of his nodes, second at the suggestion.

“You wish, I have too much to do.”

He brings his other arm to crawl under you, encircling around your upper back. He rests it there, sighing before squeezing his biceps slightly around your arms. His muscles are protruding, and arteries veiled by the beige skin begin to seep through even though he isn’t pressing hard enough that you can’t escape.

“Looks like you don’t have much choice.” He presses a kiss to your scalp and shuffles you closer to his chest.

You mumble against his skin that this isn’t funny. The only response is another kiss atop your head. He lets you pry from his arms, a pout revealing itself when you detach from his skin.

“But it’s still early. Can’t you stay a little while longer?” He softly whines. It’s not a tone you hear from him often, a slow mutter; It’s dissimilar to his normal, intense, and quiet demeanor. His eyes gaze into yours, slow blinking, trying to lure and trap you within their conditions: staying in bed all day. Before you can process his movement, despite how slow it is, he has his arm trailing your waist again; this time, his fingers softly grip the flesh of your hip. C’mon, it’s Sunday. You should rest, he coos. He’s like a siren and you’re the delible sailor who is risking plunging into his trap until he has his claws sunken into your skin.

He leans over and lingers his lips over your collarbone. Just a little while, he adds. He kisses the area, then travels up your neck for another kiss. He’s four kisses deep on your neck when you realize it’s too late for you; without even realizing it, you sink like an anchor straight into the perimeter of a bear trap resting on the deep-sea sand.

He reaches your chin, pressing his plush lips against the hollow of your mouth. You melt into him, his bottom lip is warm and inviting, and the tip of his tongue is soft as it slowly probes at the divets of your lips. Letting him in, accepting delicious defeat, you tilt into the kiss, and when he hangs his mouth open, you mix your tongue with his. His mouth is dry, and you can taste the slumber from the ridges of his tongue. The kiss turns messy quickly; slick, pink lips that nibble at yours. Drool seeps out of Choso’s mouth that you lick up against his chin — He groans in response, unknowing that something so trivial as you tonguing and swallowing his spit could make him rock hard and have him dragging your pelvis against his. He hovers his hand under your shirt, reaching your breast and gently taking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, a soft whine escaping your lips when he flicks the bud. It leads him to push his mouth even closer to yours, the sloppy, wet kiss full of warmth and desperation, your chin and upper lip covered in his spit.

He’s swallowing every gasp that escapes your mouth as his cold hand now hesitates over the waistband of your panties, as if silently asking is this okay? As if the heat that has overtaken your cheeks, your heavy breaths, and the viscous sap that pools in your cunt aren’t already enough of an answer.

His kisses settle to quick, wet pecks on your face before he pulls away, “god, you’re so sexy when you’re like this.”

“Like what?”

“Desperate for me.”

Something about his words and how his lips glisten as the morning sunlight creeps up the bed has heat traveling up your abdomen. Choso smirks, bringing his middle and ring finger up to his lips, coating the digits in saliva. Tipping his head forward, idle strands falling and framing his dark eyes full of intention, he scoots his hand under the waistline, cold fingers caressing over the goosebumps on your skin and prying your thighs open. When his middle finger reaches the opening of your pussy, collecting the wetness that’s already formed, your eyes roll back into your head, and your eyelids succumb to the pleasure. It’s acute the way he watches you; You’re desperate to have him kiss you again, a dry film already taking over your lips, but you know it won’t happen. He’s honed in on watching you get off from his fingers.

He slides his middle finger up the middle and to your clit, the soft, slick spot already rosy and sensitive. A moan escapes your lips, causing him to pick up speed, and despite your eyelids hanging low, you can see Choso tilt his chin up in satisfaction before pressing his lips against your neck. He draws a tight circle around the boundaries of your clit, ring finger pushing past your entrance – He groans against your skin when he feels you shamelessly buckle your hips in rhythm with his thrusts. He retreats his fingers, twisting them like coils as he enters again, making you writhe and whine against his jungle of hair.

Mmm, he hums lowly, “So wet, listen to the sound of that,” he slides his middle finger inside, pressing against your swollen walls. And you do hear the flow of your pussy, coating his fingers, the squelch that makes your toes curl against his calves. Beckoning your pelvis with the two fingers, Choso tips your hips forward against his hand and the bed to get more leverage and allow you to bear your hips to his thrusts. He draws his tongue against your neck, laving in slow circles sending tingles up your back, and draws his coated middle finger to slide up your swollen clit until you’re whimpering against his ear; The molecules in the air are fizzing as the coils inside your pussy rend, the heat overwhelming and making you downright delirious. He picks up pace inside your walls, pushing his fingers until he’s knuckle-deep. Choso keeps his cheek against your neck, listening to your moans resonate against his skin. You tighten your folds against his fingers as you feel your climax crescendo. He draws his fingers out to the fleshy tips before pressing them inside once again, swirling them within the confines of your cunt. When his thumb reaches over to your pearly clit, gently pressing and stimulating the rosebud, it’s game over. His fingers have you oversensitive, writhing and moaning against him, which only has Choso going faster and his dick growing harder.

“You’re so sweet when you’re trying to come from my fingers,” Choso peers down under the covers and at your hips that buck and thrust against his digits in desperation. He’s twisting his fingers knuckle-deep again and suckling at a spot on your collarbone until it’s bright red and glistening with spit. “I know you got it in you, baby,” he adds.

“It feels – ah! – too good,” you arch your back, whimpering helplessly into the covers. He curls his two fingers inside the pillows of your pussy, relaxing them, drawing them out, back in, and curling them again, still keeping your clit stimulated until you become an arousal-filled, overstimulated mess. You orgasm all over his fingers, moaning against his chest at the sensitivity of your cunt. Choso pauses to draw his fingers out slowly, your eyes half-lidded, watching him bring the digits into his mouth and lick up the honey-coated fingers while his burnt umber eyes stare into yours. He relishes at the sight of you, strands of hair stuck to the glisten of your forehead, mouth hung slightly open, and eyes rolled back. It makes him feel proud to be the only one to have and see you like this, pussy spilling pearly-white cum and lips sultry to kiss him. The corners of his mouth quirk, watching your breathing slow as you float back to Earth. He drops his arm over your upper back to drag you against his chest. He doesn’t mind your sweat, in fact kissing your shiny forehead and saying,

“See? I truly meant just a little while.”

“So unfair,” you mumble.

“You can get me back when you have the energy,” He separates your forms to look down and shoot you a wink.

You’re too tired to say another thing. The potential responsibilities of the day dissipate until you can’t even remember why you wanted to leave in the first place. The sun isn’t even near its peak position, and Choso’s chest is so warm, and the way he smiles at you is lethargic. He presses a kiss to your lips, you taste of yourself and his spit as your heavy eyelids set in the amber light.

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kiyovazquez · 23 days

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Memories - Macaque x Kiyo

Notes: I like to write although I may lack practice. English is not my first language so I used a translator, I'm sorry if the writing has spelling mistakes or pronouns are changed haha.

It was a warm night with a full moon, where its silvery glow filtered through the bright lights of the city. From atop the roof, the warm wind brought echoes of pop music and muffled laughter rising from the apartments.

On an old blanket of light blue and white, Macaque lay in a carefree posture, a half-drunk can of soda in his hand. Beside him, Kiyo gazed up at the night sky; her short dark hair contrasted with the pearly color of her scaly skin.

The young goddess turned her face to her six eared demon friend and gave a half-smile.

—I can't believe you went so many years without dating— she whispered in a jocular tone. — You've got to be kidding me.

Macaque gave him an amused look back, undeterred by the teasing.

—Maybe I exaggerate a little— said Macaque with a half-smile, before taking a sip. — There was the occasional fling, but I was more focused on getting revenge on Wukong and making his life miserable than I was on my love life.

Kiyo listened to him intently, her eyes reflecting the moonlight.

—But... —she encouraged him to continue.

Macaque let out a short laugh and sighed, as if recalling some memory of his past wanderings.

—I must admit I have a few stories to tell— he admitted mischievously. — Some antics from my youth that might interest you. But that's for another night...

Macaque laid his back on the old blanket, leaving the half-drunk can to one side. He clasped his hands behind his neck and closed his yellow eyes in a carefree attitude. He smiled sideways as he heard a soft moan come from the lips of Kiyo, who stood beside him.

—Come on, I know well your taste for bragging about your exploits— she prompted him mischievously. — I don't think a few past love stories will tarnish your reputation.

Macaque opened his healthy eye and looked at her from the corner of his eye, with a mischievous smile peeking between his lips.

—Are you jealous? — he asked mockingly. — Why so much interest in my love life?

Kiyo raised an eyebrow, unfazed by the joke. The moonlight reflected off her scales, giving her an unearthly glow.

—I'm simply intrigued to learn more about you— she replied calmly, lying down beside him on her side so she could see him. — Unless you fear not living up to your own legends.

Macaque let out a short laugh. He knew the goddess had succeeded in disarming his cunning trap. So, he took a deep breath and prepared to evoke his most secret memories to please his astute listener, who looked at him intrigued to learn more about his love interest.

—The truth is that I have only fallen in love twice— confessed Macaque in a low voice.

Kiyo arched an eyebrow in a mocking gesture, though her eyes revealed a hint of surprise. Over 500 years of existence and only having two affairs was hardly believable.

—I don't believe you— she replied mockingly.

—There is a difference between mere carnal pleasure and true love— he replied wisely.

—I must agree with you on that one— Kiyo admitted, easing his mockery. —May I know more details?

Macaque averted his gaze and his smirk faded. He reflected with a more serene and calm countenance.

—Mmmhhh... – he mumble between my lips, debating internally. — If I talk too much, it could ruin my reputation— he said in a thoughtful tone.

—Not even for me? — the girl asked. Her eyes, veiled in doubt, searched his. —I promise to keep silent.

Macaque analyzed her request. Talking about his first love with her, his only friend, didn't seem so far—fetched. However, he still wasn't sure he could trust her with his secret.

Kiyo noticed his hesitation. Her voice, suddenly softened, caressed his ears:

—We have all fallen in love with people who in the end have not been worth it, you should not be ashamed of that... —she murmur, trying to reassure his friend. — Forgive me, you shouldn't tell me if you don't feel comfortable talking about it.

Kiyo lay down next to him, contemplating the starry blanket above them. Only a few stars shone amidst the darkness of the city. Macaque pondered silently, wondering whether to finally unveil that memory buried for centuries. The warmth of his friend enveloped him, softening the old wounds of time.

In the background, a soft melody was playing from the young goddess's phone, with a metallic light blue tone. Macaque did not recognize the song, but its rapture filled his serene mood.

After a while of thoughtful silence, he spoke in a murmur:

—Wukong....

Kiyo looked up into his friend's yellow eyes expectantly. That revelation was coming after centuries of secrecy.

—I guess he was my first love.

The goddess could not hide her surprise. Was he in love with his now nemesis? The one who once tormented her out of past grievances. Kiyo ignored the details of the story between Wukong and Macaque, ignorant of a past not yet fully revealed, only that they were great friends, brothers in the order founded by the Monkey King where together with other demons not only guarded their home, but sought to rebel against the gods. Until, after the defeat and imprisonment of Wukong for five hundred years, some grudge broke their bond. And in their last encounter, Macaque lost not only an eye, but his life at the hands of what was once his best friend and brother. He later resurfaced, thanks to Lady Bone Demon's “favor”, but what happens next is a separate story.

—But you hate Wukong now… —muttered Kiyo, still trying to assimilate that unexpected revelation.

—You said you'd keep quiet— Macaque reminded him with just a hint of annoyance at the break in his story.

He exhaled a sigh and continued. Her yellow eyes were lost in the silvery moonlight, avoiding her friend's curious gaze.

—I was an insignificant, weak and lonely demon back then. Wukong was the first to see more than that in me. He saw my hidden potential, a potential I was not even aware of yet. And I fell prey to his vision, to his trust.... I fell in love with the one who for the first time made me feel valuable. The one who saw me as something more than a shadow....

Kiyo listened hurriedly, lying on her side so as not to lose detail of the story. She watched Macaque's face, which looked remote and sorrowful at the same time. His yellow eyes were lost in the moon or wandered to another distant point, avoiding her gaze, as if he regretted even today to stir with his words those feelings buried deep down for ages. His voice held echoes of sadness, resentment and spite not entirely healed by time. Kiyo understood then that the wounds of the heart are the slowest to heal.

Kiyo waited in silence, contemplating Macaque's lost gaze, still absorbed in old memories. Shee did not want to interrupt his train of thought.

At last, in a barely audible whisper, she dared to ask:

—Did you ever tell him?

Macaque denied with an ironic grimace.

—I kept my secret out of cowardice. I was afraid my love would ruin our friendship or be unrequited. But I think he knew— a sad smile curved his lips. — Wukong had that telltale look that betrayed he was deciphering my feelings even without words, but he preferred to feign ignorance to spare us the awkwardness.

Kiyo looked at him with a mixture of compassion and regret. She did not want his friend to relive old useless pains.

Macaque noticed his regret and spoke in a calmer tone:

—After Wukong's imprisonment, I tried to remake my life outside the Brotherhood. I had the occasional carnal encounter with demons and mortals, men and women alike, but they were only fleeting moments to forget. When I saw him with that monk, something snapped in me. Jealousy and spite choked my reason. It was my undoing.

He said this last with a wry smile. He admitted his bad temper, although the spite of the one who once made him feel special and now abandoned him to his fate, was deeper.

—Wukong made me discover what's behind this facade. And in the end, he left me alone again, just like before I met him. I guess this stupid heart still hurts even today.

A sigh escaped from his chest, laden with the melancholy of unfulfilled dreams. Kiyo understood that fear of risking everything for unrequited love. And he also understood that time had not completely healed the wound of the unconfessed youthful passion for his enemy of today, for the one who was once his most precious brother and his everything.

Kiyo understood Macaque's feelings perfectly. She herself had known Wukong's love not long ago, recalling his tender words, warm embraces and sweet caresses. Even though she knew now that it was wisest to maintain a friendship, deep down she longed for the peace lavished on her by his company and their courtship that she once saw as a dream achieved.

Gently she slid her hand up to meet Macaque's, entwining their fingers in a mute comforting gesture and asking if she could take the next step.

—Wukong had the ability to make himself indispensable to those he loved— she sighed, resting her empathetic gaze on him. — I know what it's like to be made to feel unique only to be abandoned. I'm sorry you carried that pain for so long.

Macaque was surprised by that physical contact unaccustomed to such displays. A small, barely perceptible blush appeared on his cheeks and he smiled a smile of gratitude, squeezing Kiyo's hand in silent gratitude. She truly understood his suffering, and with her gesture she was giving him the warmth he so desperately needed to finally heal the wounds of the past.

—Time heals everything. It no longer hurts; only a closed scar remains. Now I focus my energy on other, more profitable goals.

—What do you mean? —Kiyo asked curiously.

—Oh, you know. Annoying grumpy little gods who sleep like hibernating bears— he replied mockingly.

Kiyo feigned indignation, punching him gently in the chest which made Macaque laugh.

—How dare you talk about me like that! —she protested with laughter.

—Calm down, I never mentioned names. If you identify yourself, it's your problema— he replied with sly mischief, causing Kiyo to blush with embarrassment.

The two continued to laugh merrily, leaving sad memories of the past to which they belonged. Their hands remained clasped in a sign of the trust and comfort they now shared with each other, aware as they were of not being too physical with even their closest confidants.

When Kiyo's song ended and a new one began, Macaque still didn't recognize the melody, completely oblivious to the current pop culture, but he could hear part of the tune.

"And even though I think about you day and night

I'm not sure if this whole love thing

Sounds quite right"

—So... —whispered Kiyo, looking away from the song and focusing on the golden eyes of his partner.— You mentioned two loves.... who was the second one?

—Mmhh? —Macaque murmured, puzzled.

—You said you fell in love twice. You already told me about Wukong, who was the other person who stole your heart?

Macaque blushed slightly and let out an enigmatic chuckle that left Kiyo intrigued. Was he teasing her?

—You'll know in time— he replied, averting his gaze again to the stars.

Kiyo was about to complain when she noticed a subtle squeeze on her hand. She looked up at Macaque and was moved by what she saw. Though he was looking up at the sky, his face wore a smile different from his sarcastic grimaces: it was warm, serene, even tender. Her golden eyes shone like stars in a peaceful countenance as her face was bathed in moonlight, letting it reflect the warmth and peace she felt inside.

Several minutes passed before Kiyo understood the hidden meaning behind her gestures. A blush covered her cheeks as she realized the obvious.

Oh...

Silently, she entwined her fingers in his, returning the sentiment with the same tenderness. She was falling again.

#artists on tumblr #lego monkey kid oc #sun wukong #self ship #aztec culture #monkie kid macaque #six eared macaque #fanfiction #fanfic #macaque x reader #macaque x oc #macaque x y/n #macaque x wukong #mooncloud #selfship community

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how-to-fail-at-ship-jumping-au · 2 months

Note

I'm gonna give you a bit of a weird existential, potentially incredibly confusing, perspective on life. I think that everybody who ever existed is a character in a story. Me, the other anons, you, everybody. The author of your story is less an author, and more a transmitter, showing your story to others and allowing them a format to have an opinion. All your actions and choices are both yours and the authors because you were there first really, but whatever your reality is may just be the one the author has chosen to show us. We're all humans, take a peek behind the veil, we're the audience to a story to which we may not know how it will end. We have ideas, we see the foreshadowing and the dramatic irony, and we can make predictions yet there is no promise of being correct. Try as we might, we can promise nothing in terms of safety or the correct option to choose.

I think Janine is enough of a one off of somebody who saw beyond the fourth wall and went too far trying to assure that she is real herself, when it doesn't matter in the end if you're real to us, because you're real to you, and thats all that should matter.

Listen to the tapes. They'll explain the rules of your world in comparison to ours better than whatever crisis this may induce will.

I think if I come back, I'll stop hiding behind the anon. Good luck, and chin up. We're all rooting for you guys.

- 🎤

#ship jumping au

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yesbutmakeitgay · 25 days

Text

Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl

Chapter 10

Carol Danvers x Reader

Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3

Summary: A peek into what Carol has been up to during these trying times.

Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.

Word count: 778

A/N: Officially halfway through the fic!!!!

I Tried To Write, But It’s Killing Me Inside

Carol lands her ship on the strange planet and veils it, you both get out all geared up and ready for the last minute mission. The place is hot and sandy with big rocks scattered around, it almost looks deserted.

The Captain scans the area with her eyes, "We should split up to cover more terrain," she instructs, "keep your comms on and meet back here in 15." You give her a nod and do as you're told.

Carol starts walking after she sees you leave, sensing something off about the environment. A couple of minutes go by and she hears you through her ear piece, "Carol, I think someone's here," you whisper.

"Send me your coordinates." She receives some signal but it's too choppy to understand, "Can you hear me?" Her voice growing desperate, "Angel?"

Static.

She turns around as quickly as she can to get back to you, but when she does, she finds a small army of full body armored soldiers waiting for her. They start charging at her with weapons of all sorts and she gets to work on every one of them. When she thinks she's almost done, backup shows up with even bigger weapons. It takes her more than 15 minutes to get through all of them, but when she does she flies back to your meeting point.

She arrives, but doesn't find you there, panic starts to set in her mind. She follows your footprints in the sand until they disappear somewhere down the path. She keeps going and sees a body in the distance, lying against a rock. Upon closer inspection she realizes it's you, unconscious, fully bruised, head bleeding, uniform destroyed.

"Angel?" Her voice is drowning in despair, when you don’t show a reaction she picks you up and rushes you back to the ship. She pilots it as fast as she can to get you to the compound.

"Please wake up." But the next time you did, you didn't know who she was.

Carol takes the Skrull memory device off and gets out of bed, Goose following behind her. She's wearing sweatpants and a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt that she probably hasn't changed all week, there are dark circles in her eyes.

She's been off duty since her last mission and she hasn't left her Louisiana home at all in that time. Her ship is parked in the backyard, veiled and untouched.

As she gets to the kitchen her cell phone starts ringing, she doesn't even look at who's calling before she silences it. "They keep calling," she rasps to Goose, annoyed. She makes coffee and puts some takeout leftovers in the microwave.

They sit at the table with breakfast, "I shouldn't have told her to split up," she mutters into her coffee, "it's all my fault." Goose just meows in return, already having had this conversation everyday for the past few weeks, "I should have known." Carol can't seem to think about anything else, she feels crushing guilt and grief for what happened, but also can't muster the courage to face you.

She picks up a newspaper in an attempt to distract herself. She blinks a few times to get her stinging eyes to focus, but gets stuck rereading the same sentence over and over again, failing to get her brain to process the words. Another call pulls her out of her thoughts, coming through her intergalactic device, "Val," she grumbles, before turning it down. After that, she gives up on the newspaper.

When she's done eating she takes the rest of her coffee to the porch to get some fresh air, Goose sits right beside her, "I should have gotten to her faster." The memory of the mission never leaving her mind, always trying to find a way it could have gone differently, "How did I let this happen?" She’s all out of tears, traces of the past weeks still marking her cheeks.

A third call starts ringing, this time, on her landline. She runs to stop it, but she's too late, the call goes to voicemail, she's about to delete it until she hears Kamala's voice, it is sweet and caring and full of kindness.

"Hey, I know you know we've been calling, please pick up, please, so we can talk. Whatever it is you're trying to achieve, it's not working, you're hurting her a lot more by not being here. You can just come by the compound, we can set something up. You owe it to her. Okay, um, goodbye."

Before even thinking it she pulls the phone cable out of the wall, regretting it immediately, "Fuck!" she yells into the empty house.

Chapter 11

Clap if you missed Carol Danvers!

Tags: @graniairish @carols-photonblast @thelittleliars @unicorniusfallapatorius @prplepeony

Let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

#carol danvers fic #carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers angst #kamala khan #valkyrie

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

Text

Remedy

TW: mentions of blood. Smut. Language.

SUMMARY: period sex with Rafe.

WORD COUNT: 1600

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

Hii can you do period smutt with Rafee... like the reader begs him to eat her out because her stomach hurts from the cramps... and he's all gentle and later she asks him to lay on top of her and fuck her slow and hard... and he keeps dirty talking in her ear and is really passionate...

Remedy

There was always a torturous existence veiled beneath that specific time of the month for you and this was because of your hormones. It also didn't help the fact that your boyfriend, Rafe, managed to make every single moment sexual. Whether it was innocuous or intentional, it had your thighs pressing together in the need for relief. And yet, you were too anxious to appear needy as your relationship was still blossoming into the coming stages of comfort that would be expected on longevity. For that, you would simply endure the side effects of being a woman, shedding that painful lining, as he would smirk at your inability to sit still as you laid your legs across his lap.

"Something wrong, baby?" He teased as you held your hand over your lower stomach, the depths of the cramps twisting and pulling to such a degree that you were desperate for even a moment's relief.

"I'm hurting…"

"Oh…" He seemed too distracted on his phone to notice your actual comment, a second of silent analysis drawing his eyes back to you, "Ohhhh…" He smirked.

"I know Sarah craves things like chocolate when she has hers…do you want some? I think we have something in the pantry-"

"There is something…" You bit your bottom lip atrl the thought. On any other day, you would already have your fingers wrapped within his blonde tresses as he would have your back pulled into that familiar arch. But the worry of being too forward kept you stubborn in your reservation. At least it had until now…

"Yeah?" He now devoted his attention fully to you. Phone set on the coffee table as he waited patiently for your explanation.

"Orgasms help with cramps."

"Do they?" He scoffed. "Hmph…"

"Please Rafe…It hurts…"

"Do you want me to take care of you, baby?" You nodded as you watched that usual arrogance shift into expected mischief as he pulled your legs to either side of him.

"I don't want you to feel like you have to because its-" He silenced you with a kiss, slow but dominant, before pulling himself back at the rest of his heels.

"Did you forget that I was the first one to make you bleed, baby? It doesn't bother me…"

"That's different…"

"Why?"

"There wasn't as much…" You confessed with a crimson hue plaguing your cheeks.

"Just more lubrication, right?"

"Rafe-"

"Sit back…let me take care of my baby…help with those annoying little cramps, yeah?" Your eyes were pulled into a roll before you could convince him otherwise. Not that you even wanted to try.

"Rafe…" You moaned, watching his eyes peek from between your thighs as he managed to undress you in effortless motions and crane your legs at rest over each shoulder, a devilish smirk colored eith your blood having been more erotic than any instance prior to this. And as he returned his tongue to your clit, focusing on this as his fingers made slow work of your sex itself, you basked in the relief his touch left behind.

"So warm baby, I can't wait to be inside of you…Gonna feel so good for me, aren't you?"

"You want to?"

"You think I'm getting you this wet just for you?" He chuckled. "As much as I love making you come baby, I need to be taken care of after hearing you come…" He moved his lips to your ear. "Something about your moans that make me need to come…"

"Rafe…" You groaned as he curved his fingers, the feeling applying a pressure that acted as a double negative to your feminine discomfort. For that, you began to move against him.

"That feels so good doesn't it baby? I can see it on your face…making you a bit desperate isn't it?"

You nodded. "Please-"

"Mmm…those sweet little pleas..keep begging me baby…let me know how bad it hurts so I can make it all better…"

"Please Rafe don't stop…please…" You breathed and groaned as he would nod into you, kissing your neck and jaw, before teasing your lips.

"Do you have any idea what just the thought of your blood on my cock is doing to me?" Your jaw clenched at his words. You remembered when you gave your virginity to him how excitable he was when validating this with that line of blood on his spent shaft. The way his eyes widened in wonder and his jaw clenched as he savored it to his kiss. You believed it was a heat of the moment situation. But you realized now it had been a full-fledged kink. And you couldn't deny how it excited you.

"Please, Rafe…I want you inside of me…"

"Would that make my baby feel better? My cock massaging those tense muscles in there?"

You nodded, whimpering as he scoffed.

"I'm gonna take real good care of you, sweetheart." He undressed rather quickly, his cock at a painful attention, before he would slip between your thighs. Instantly, the relief of his dick made you express a deep exhale before you felt him suddenly retract. Sharp snaps of his hips contradicting the usual rough waves of prior fucks. But this was almost gentle, at least as close as Rafe could get to it.

But even if the pleasure behind such thrusts was tender to some degree, the depth reminded you that it was still very much Rafe. Deep but slow. Hard but thorough. It was clear he understood his task, but also held the intention to quell his own kink in the process as the inner warmth was temperate beyond what he was used to, and it made everything better. He could move deeper, faster, harder, all while you were warmer, tighter, and producing those perfect little moans that made him needy for his own orgasm.

But he refrained from ravaging you. Instead, he would nurse your skin with passionate kisses and fondling, massaging each ache as if he could read your mind to this. The perfect display of care and carnality existing hand-in-hand as he built you to that cusp.

"What day?" He asked somewhere between thrusts, countless having made you wet with perspiration and breathless from those deep pistoning motions sending you back into the arm of the couch.

"What?"

"What day are you on?"

"Three."

"And how many are there?"

"Five-"

"You are going to let me know on the first day. And then for the next five, I'll make sure you never have to worry about those cramps…"

"Are you gonna tie me down?" You chuckled. "I have work, Rafe, how do you expect to make me come every fifteen minutes to keep them at bay?"

"If I have to…"

"I'm sure everyone would love the voyeurism in that…"

"They would be so lucky…But no..I can make you come so many different ways. Make you touch yourself when I call you on your lunch breaks…make you meet me in the parking lot so I can give it to you in the backseat to help those dam cramps…" Your body tensed to the arrival of his thumb to your clit.

"Not to mention what you know I can do with my tongue…a vibrator…that tight little ass-"

"Rafe!"

"So many ways to make you come…and five days a month to figure out which way is best-not to mention the days in between..but something about this feels so fucking good!"

"Rafe…" You warned.

"But since we're starting late this month…gonna have to get deep…" He pulled your legs to your chest as you winced.

"Oh my-"

"Yeah baby…that's what I like to see…that perfect little pout…" He moved back just enough to witness the penetration. Porngrpahoc a sight as it was, your groans had been the true aphrodisiac to him.

"Feel how my cock loves it baby? Feel how badly I need it?"

"I need it…"

"Then take it…because you're hurting, baby…I’ll let you lead-but only because you’re hurting..." You nodded as he would extend his thrusts sharper, longer stall time before he would repeat the process, all until you reached that curve.

"Rafe-"

"Bleed on me, baby…let me take that pain away…"

"Fuck!" You belted as that wave of warmth washed over him and allowed him the final need for his own release. But the second he was spent, he withdrew. Pulling the blood to his lips, he rolled his eyes to the mix of the taste before looking back to you.

"Next time, you're gonna tell me of the first day so you can sit on my face and I can feel you come on my tongue-"

"Rafe-"

"Not to mention how I'll make you come over my thigh when you visit me at work…And when we get back home…" He smirked, "You'll never have to worry about having cramps again because I take care of my girl, don't I?" You nodded.

"Always." A gentle kiss allowed you a hint of copper and musk in the compression of your lips as you pulled back to fins that fire still raging behind his eyes.

"Still hurting baby?" He asked as you nodded while he flipped you onto your stomach.

"Let me see if a new angle makes it better. Maybe squinting? Maybe my fingers on your nipples?" He lifted you against his chest, enough to feel how the ideas narrated had excited him aloud.

"Oh sweetheart…you have no idea what you've done for me…"

"Yeah?" You asked, turning to face him.

"Show me…"

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @belcalis9503

#rafe cameron #rafecameron #rafecameronfanfiction #rafecameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks rafe #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #obxsmut #outer banks #obx fanfiction

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 month

Text

Recap - a Malevolent fic

A certain auteur director doesn't like to repeat himself.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis and @sparklyandheroic.

Quick authors' note:

Hey! It's been a while! :D We had a silly little idea for a recap episode, and unfortunately Kayne has decided you're all the victims. You know how he feels about repeating himself. Hopefully this doesn't bode too ill for our protagonists...

“Listen up, kids. Listen up. It's edumacation time!”

The voice came out of nowhere. So did the pyrotechnics (though the observant might note they came with no heat—this was a library, after all), and the distinct and memorable sound of a smoke machine.

Fog poured across the floor. “Come one! Come all! To the great fan-friendly recap…ap…ap!”

A white sheet suddenly flapped open, hung from nothing in front of Tabby’s armchair.

Kayne’s voice came from nowhere. “I said, come one, come all!”

Like the floor was greased, acolytes slid quickly around the stacks, all looking startled, quite a few afraid. More armchairs appeared, some made of leather of questionable origin, some that squished uncomfortably when sat on. (One acolyte took a sample of the liquid that came out, because terminal curiosity ran through all of the Keeper’s people.)

Behind them all the Keeper let out a yip as an armchair knocked her metaphorical legs out from beneath her, skirts puffing up in a floof as she was not-unkindly deposited into a seat of her own. “Kayne! What is—”

“Better!” And there he was in the armchair next to her. Kayne had eschewed the normal suit; he was in a fluffy pink bathrobe, with matching slippers, and his hair was in curlers. He leaned over the plush arm, cupping his mouth to stage-whisper to her. “It’s a bit. No harm, no foul. We good?”

“A what?” The Keeper said, voice jumping an octave.

“It’ll be fine, Keeps,” Tabby said, sitting up in her armchair; if she didn’t try to leave it, it seemed she could wriggle around as she pleased. She peeked over the back of it, giving a little wave to the god of the Scriptorium. “It’s just movie night with big brother. Right?”

“But,” the Keeper pleaded.

Tabby mouthed ‘play along’ at her.

The Keeper sighed. “Movie night, then,” she said, twisting the edge of her veil in her hands.

His smile wasn’t… great. Tight. Eyes angry. “Well, aren’t we lucky you and your experience are here? Shall we?” He offered each of them an enormous bucket of popcorn.

Tabby took one cautious handful. “She’s still learning how to ‘yes, and’. You know. What’d they do this time?”

(Kayne knew what he was doing. He’d provided each acolyte with pen, paper, and little digital cameras to keep them occupied, not unlike giving a child crayons in a restaurant.)

“See,” he said, “we are the audience. That is, we are the stand-in for the audience, who knows who they are, and knows what they did! Or if they don’t, they will. They should know…” His voice dropped an octave. “I don’t. Like. To repeat myself. But it’s that old expression…" He smiled, smooth and baritone again. "‘Those who don’t listen have to feel.’ You know that one? Here’s another: ‘Some people have to learn the hard way.’ And… action!” He snapped his fingers.

There hadn’t been a projector between them a moment before, but now there was. With a whir, it started.

“I understand you’re upset,” the Keeper said gently. “Perhaps you and I should just—”

Tabby twisted in her seat, eyes wide, shaking her head with warning.

The Keeper let out a small sigh, fingers twisting unnaturally amongst each other.

An old-fashioned title-card appeared on the sheet, flickering in black and white: MALEVOLENT: A PRIMER. REEL ONE NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION.

Kayne’s voice sounded not from him (his mouth was full), but from the creaky vintage wall-speakers that appeared in the air around the chairs.

“In the beginning of time,” said Speakers Kayne, and the white sheet suddenly filled with a slow-motion explosion.

Explosion was the wrong word. It was expansion, void-excision, movement and light and depth, a universe being born. It was jerky, a sixteen-frames-per-second view of the past; and at the core of it ( light heat darkness things for which there were no words ) sat a cluster of gods.

Everyone there could feel them. Like their presence was here, now.

No one made a sound.

“Hold on a minute,” said Speakers Kayne, followed by a record screech. “Too far back.”

But the reel (if that’s what it was) didn’t stop, and in the moment before the projector seemed to run out of film, its end smacking against the picture head, they all saw a blob of darkness and a million eyes sort of gooping eagerly into a field of shockingly yellow flowers, somehow splashing like water as if in joy for discovering the color.

The reel changed. Flickering, tinny music rolling through, a player piano doing its best. Speakers Kayne resumed. “You all remember this, ” he said, and it was Arthur Lester’s office. No, Parker Yang’s office, shared with Arthur, only Parker was dead. Very dead, throat squeezed so hard it was permanently misshapen. Beside the body, Arthur curled up, gasping. In front of them lay a book.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Speakers Kayne, and the film sped up.

The Scriptorium understood timelines. It wasn’t like anyone there didn’t know this story. But it was one thing to know it, and another to watch it—fast, jerky, funny if the content weren’t so horrific. Arthur and John, on the run. Arthur and John, fighting, killing, driving, crashing. Arthur and John, being lured to the Dreamlands through trickery and mindless obedience. Arthur and John, in terrible, terrible trouble.

The reel ran out in the prison pits.

“Sorry, but we’re doing a time-skip,” said Speakers Kayne. “That one’s a lot of the same thing, you know—back and forth, to the shit-corner and back, eating a guy and crying… blah, blah blah. On we go!”

The new reel started, just as fast.

Amazing, how brief Hastur’s appearance was in this form. Blip: there and gone, descending on Arthur like some kind of magician’s silk cloth, then disappearing again.

Then suddenly, the reel froze. It froze on Arthur in the snow, losing so much blood—impossibly red and shocking in this black and white image. It froze on his face, tormented, agony and pain, twisting him almost into someone else, as his tears froze on his cheeks.

“He ain’t cryin’ over spilt milk!” said Speakers Kayne as though that was just the funniest damn thing on earth.

“Brother,” said the Keeper, and the word was not just coming from her but resonating through the ground, rumbling up through the armchairs.

“Easy,” Tabby said.

“Oh, no no, I’m not being mean! It’s because this is actually the big moment. The moment it all changed for him,” said Speakers Kayne.

“Boo,” said Armchair Kayne. “Keep the commentary to yourself!” He threw some popcorn, which stained the sheet with buttery grease.

Speakers Kayne ignored himself. “See, this is where I… take a hand in things.”

The reel resumed. Faster. Pulling away, as if whatever view this was hung on a rope. Away from the snow, away from the continent, until Earth shrunk to a tiny blue dot, until they were in Carcosa.

Hastur was screaming.

Silent. Which somehow made it worse, arching back, arms and tentacles out, freakishly stop-motion-like, damn near losing his form and reverting to the oily blob that once fell in love with flowers.

“See, here, ” said Speakers Kayne, “is where I decide what to do. Sometimes, I take just a little bit!”

A blurred movement on the screen which this jerky, sixteen-frames-per-second reel could never have portrayed, smooth and bright and shocking. It felt like a knife, somehow, like some kind of scalpel swung at speed.

The Hastur on screen didn’t seem to notice.

The view changed: suddenly, it was a hand, Kayne’s hand, holding a wriggling, struggling piece of yellow cloth about the size of a young cat. Tiny black tentacles flailed from its bottom; still, it was silent.

“See? My own little proto-Yellow, ready to insert!” said Kayne. “Different sizes do different things. You can tell THE AUDIENCE —” the words echoed outside the Scriptorium, into distant halls and distant ears, into the awareness of those who thought they were safe, thought it was just a story—“that their favorite version is… well, all of him.”

Back to Carcosa.

Back to Hastur, grieving, going through rubble, visibly losing his shit.

And a giant hand came out of nowhere and grabbed him, same as the former hand had held the tiny slice.

“Yoink!” said Armchair Kayne, throwing more popcorn.

(The more observant of acolytes realized at this point that the grease stains were forming some very dangerous runes, and averted their eyes.)

Giant Kayne (with a backdrop of planets, of spinning galaxies) smiled at the camera, eyes in full shadow, and gave the other half of the King in Yellow a shake. “Would you believe there’s a timeline where this guy is in Larson?” He threw back his monumental head and laughed, each guffaw shaking the room, rattling the bookshelves.

Then he tossed the King over his shoulder.

“But that’s not what you get!” announced Speakers Kayne, and the reel… rewound.

Back to Carcosa. Back to Hastur, barely maintaining his form, flying over rubble and trying to find anything left, anything that survived, anyone.

That impossibly smooth white swipe again, like the flash of a knife. “Different sizes do different things!” said Speakers Kayne again. “Anyone remember this guy?”

A tiny golden hamster appeared—strange, with little horns and little face tentacles, in an airy, clean cage on a table they all recognized—as the thing sat less than twenty feet away.

“The Yellow that made was a real menace! But what was left barely squeaked by,” said Speakers Kayne, and a laugh-track followed.

None of the acolytes laughed.

“What was left of Hamstur was too small, but I’ll tell you what… then it became a challenge!” said Speakers Kayne, and once again, the reel rewound.

Once again, Carcosa—the King, on the ground now and draped like a funeral shroud over some body no one could recognize in the condition it had been left.

Swipe.

The hand reappeared. In it sat a tiny, tiny Hastur.

Music piped over it: “Suuuuunny days, sweeping the… clouds away…”

“Sunny?” gasped someone.

“Yep!” said Speakers Kayne, fourth walls be damned. “At least, I assume one of you said his cute widdle name, so anyway: smallest version of this guy I could get with any sort of independence or personality. Speaking of personality!”

The reel ended.

Awkwardly, taking his time, making it hurt, Armchair Kayne rose, took the old reel off, and fumbled with the new one, muttering. One of his hair-curlers fell out and bounced under Tabby’s seat.

The reel started again.

Addison. A portrait showing a man, Larson, from a hundred years ago.

The reel sped up even more quickly, as if this wasn’t worth anyone’s time.

Armchair Kayne plopped back in his seat. “Boo! Unremarkable! Boo!”

And then Arthur—

Wait. This wasn’t what happened. Was it?

Arthur went to New York City.

The Butcher almost got him (and their shotgun race through apartments was… something to watch at this speed).

He met with Charlie Dowd-Noel, and sprang the Butcher, and they all headed up north to face the Order of the Fallen Star, and…

Through the speakers, high-pitched, came Arthur’s frustrated sped-up voice: “Larson’s not here?”

Wah-wah-waaaaah, sounded a sad trombone. “Sunny too liddol,” said Speakers Kayne. “Too tiny. No projection. So Larson missed the party in his honor. Alack and alas!”

The whole affair still went to shit.

Elder Things, a freaky machine, cultists all over, a horrifying-looking man (“Stupid Vizier!” shouted Armchair Kayne. “Boo!”) with some kind of thing on his head, its tentacles buried deep in his eyes and ears, dried blood no one had bothered to clean all over his face, dried in streaks down his neck.

The cult died, messily and bloodily, defending nothing.

At the end, Arthur still stood. So did Charlie Dowd.

So did the Butcher, but whoever was in control of this film didn’t care about him. Arthur and Dowd—Noel—limped out. (Armchair Kayne laughed: “Look at ‘em go!”) They drove back to the city. Noel, there, handing documents to Arthur before they parted ways.

Arthur, stopping by the hospital—

(And there was a flash just a glimpse just a moment of Kayne standing above Daniel’s bed with that same galactic smile, eyes in shadow)

—just in time to say goodbye before Daniel died from his wounds.

Grieving, weeping, Arthur fled.

“You see,” said Speakers Kayne, and several acolytes jumped, “at this point, he couldn’t stay. He’d be implicated in so many murders! I mean, that would’ve been fun, but Noel was…” A sigh. “A good friend, and got him out. Papers. Names. Look at him go!”

The driving, though sped-up, was kept in its entirety. Arthur, driving, John’s eyes and hand navigating, as daylight slid over his face and abandoning it to darkness, as headlights played across his pale cheeks to show his still-falling tears.

“They fucked off!” said Speakers Kayne. “To Vermont! Oh, look how cute it is!”

A brief zoom-in on a door with “Peter Saltzman, P.I.” in stencil.

The reel ran out. This time, like the first, it replaced itself.

Music started—a tinny, solo violin, as the camera pulled back slowly from that closed door.

And it was interrupted by Arthur’s scream.

“See,” said Speakers Kayne, “he couldn’t get away now. Too many things just got Fucking Lestered (how’s that for a tag), and between the nightmare-eater and our lovely King, he couldn’t be left alone. Bad dreams! Bad memories! I, uh. Wasn’t as involved here as I should’ve been, to be perfectly honest. Kinda missed what Blondie was doing? Arthur failed my test, see (and this is an aside to the audience you’re standing in for, you lucky devils). Without a worthless little man and his fucked-up god-piece to follow, they never found what I wanted, so I’d moved on. But then!”

Another title card appeared: MEANWHILE IN ANOTHER WORLD...

Hastur.

Hastur, casting dangerous spells, the kind of wild magic that required even him to create a rune circle, to set protections. Hastur, casting some magic with all his limbs raised and dripping as if it had cost him much blood.

And an infant girl appearing in the center of the circle and beginning to cry.

“Oh wait, wait!” said Speakers Kayne. “Also!”

A third title card appeared:MEANWHILE IN ANOTHER OTHER WORLD...

A woman. A goddess of some kind, with black hair, and pale skin, and they knew her even if they didn’t know her, and—

“Nevermind that bitch,” said Speakers Kayne with a weirdly frustrated affection, and the film sped up yet again, granting the briefest glimpses of this woman dressed in red, of this woman reaching into darkness as if into the aether, and of Arthur twisting in bed, tormented by dreams.

The excess speed suddenly stopped.

The reel continued to roll, but abruptly, it was not jerky, not old-timey at all. No: right now, it was real.

They were all staring through the sheet at a broken-down school-house basement, abandoned somewhere in Vermont, where Arthur Lester, on his knees, gawked toward a young Faroe.

She was precious. Dressed in yellow, happy, healthy, and her little brow knit as she tried so hard to do… whatever she was trying to do here. “You should say sorry,” she said in a high, sweet voice. “Since you were bad.”

The cracking sound was sharp, loud, echoing. It hurt; several acolytes put their hands over their ears, and all of them jumped.

Arthur… lost all his color.

The rest of this scene continued to play out for a few moments, in this grimy old basement: the little girl, all a-glow in health; the god behind her, gleaming and smearing as if whatever camera this was couldn’t quite hold his image; and Arthur, who was now gray, who was black and white, as if he no longer belonged in the scene at all.

“But you know all that, ” said Speakers Kayne, and without giving anyone time to process anything, the film sped up again. It went back to projection on a sheet, but this time, it stayed full-color.

They saw Arthur go to Carcosa.

They saw him skinned. (Blood dripped to the floor, staining the edges of the sheet.)

They saw him marked, though not what caused it. (“Boo!” shouted Armchair Kayne. “There was some good sex in the Woods, too, afterward,” he told Tabby in over-loud confidence, “but you know how it is—a good director never shows his face on film.”)

They saw Faroe grow, and Arthur adapt (but he stayed gray). They saw John rage, and Dis get involved, and Arthur finally put on some weight (but Arthur stayed gray).

They saw music, and glimpses of the beginning of Rites (“Gotta keep the archive warnings consistent, I guess, ” said Armchair Kayne), and preparation for the Games, and Faroe—

A moment of Faroe, holding The Once and Future King.

Fast forward.

Faroe running away. Hastur taking Arthur and John on a road-trip from hell to find her. Hastur’s son (“He doesn’t know any of this part,” said Armchair Kayne), Gokar’luh, making so many preparations, first fueled with the smoldering embers of being wronged and the bellows of a revenge promised, and then, when Faroe spoke to him with kindness, a moment where that armor cracked and he wept for the unjustness of it all. His tears were bright as gold.

Disaster.

For a moment, the screen went dark. Someone made a low, choked sound, like an abortive sob.

It resumed, quick again, flitting from scene to scene.

Hastur. (With a gray crack through his whole form, like he was a photograph that had been badly folded.

Parker. (The film slowed a bit to show his little adventure, stealing and rescuing Sunny, and their time on the run.)

Larson. (Only in red tights and with his Van Dyke, though, as if earlier moments didn’t deserve the footage.)

Dagon getting involved, and gods beginning to question what the hell was going on with this composer, and Faroe growing sure and strong atop her striding beast, and Dis reluctantly drawn into the drama ( “Lestered!!” both Kaynes said at once).

Hastur slipping out at night to make Carcosa safe, Hastur making new enemies who were then defeated, Dickensian-looking Ialdagorth sneering directly at the camera, Arthur poisoned (and the reel, for no reason, focused on him throwing up horrible black chunks for more than a moment too long), and John forgetting who he was (and… growing? Bigger? Glimpses of his whole self, too large for Arthur, leaking out his colorless pores), and the crack in Hastur widening, and Arthur still gray, and a birds-eye view of a crazy double-birthday celebration with a genuinely heartwarming image of Arthur (still gray and shocking against that bright-lit sky) holding Faroe, atop some tower, watching the pyrotechnics, his head resting on hers.

A single second (sound included) of a full-color three-dimensional deeply enthusiastic Odd getting deeply, enthusiastically railed by—

“Oops, sorry! Even the best directors screw up sometimes,” said Speakers Kayne, and cackled. “Anyway, he was into it.”

“No, really, he was into it,” said Armchair Kayne. “Like, a lot. Which I say because there was some confusion. ”

And suddenly the reel was done.

THE END? appeared in a title card, followed by six seconds of wildly dramatic music over a groundhog looking absolutely aghast.

Armchair Kayne stood, whooping and clapping, as the lights came back up.

Everyone felt… dazed. Dizzy. Acolytes took eyes off of the screen and shared glances with each other. Some looked visibly nauseous, trembling in the seats; others wiped blood from their eyes.

Kayne’s clapping slowed. His smile faded. His eyes darkened, as if the curlers in his hair were somehow casting impenetrable shadow. “Pity,” he said.

It was obviously leading. The silence had to break. “Wh… what is?” said someone.

“They made me repeat myself.” Kayne shook his head, tsk -ing softly. “They’re going to regret they did.”

And he vanished.

The projector exploded, pieces skittering across the floor.

All the armchairs he’d conjured vanished, dumping acolytes onto their asses. Notes scattered everywhere, and one checked to see if the liquid sample had vanished or not. It had not.

“Keeps?” said Tabby slowly. “What… what the fuck just happened?”

The god’s sigh was heavy. “Something that bodes very, very ill for the players of Carcosa. At least he gave us some warning.”

“Should we try and warn them?” Tabby said, twisting in her chair.

“It won’t help. They’re not even the targets, someone else is.” The Keeper sank into her chair, boneless, miserable. “I hope you lot are happy.”

Tabby frowned. “Who?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the Keeper sighed.

Abandoned on the floor, the grease-stained sheet shivered as if alive, until an acolyte finally took it away to study.

-----------

NOTES

A tinny, solo violin A groundhog looking absolutely aghast Glorious baby-Hastur-loves-yellow drawn by @flamdoodles!

#malevolent #malevolent au #malevolent fic #surrogate fic #surrogate series #surrogate malevolent #kayne malevolent #spoilers

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jrob64 · 7 months

Text

I Loved You First - a Daddy Charming birthday fic for @kmomof4

As many of us in the CS fandom know, Krystal is the best cheerleader, encourager and flailer for our Captain Swan stories. However, she also loves the relationship between Emma and Charming, so I've written a Daddy Charming birthday story for her. l wish you the happiest of birthdays (a day early), my dear friend! Love you!

Special thanks to @cs-rylie and @snowbellewells for checking this story over and leaving lots of lovely comments and suggestions!

STORY SUMMARY: Emma and her father share some special sentiments with each other before he walks her down the aisle to marry her True Love. A canon compliant missing moment for 6X20, just prior to Emma and Killian's wedding.

RATING: G

WORDS: 1083

ALSO POSTED TO A03 and ffn

*********

David Nolan paced in the hallway outside the room where Mary Margaret was helping Emma get ready for her wedding. He could hardly believe he would be giving his daughter away in just a few minutes, and to a pirate, no less.

He remembered in Neverland when he said he would see to it that Hook would never get Emma. David wasn’t too prideful to admit he’d been wrong. Nobody can stand in the way of True Love, after all - he and Snow were proof of that.

And now that pirate, whom he’d tried so hard to hate, was his soon-to-be son-in-law…and his best friend. While Killian was earning Emma’s heart, he was also earning her father’s trust and friendship. So much so that Emma and Mary Margaret teasingly accused them of having a ‘bromance’.

The door opened and Mary Margaret emerged, brushing joyful tears from her cheeks. “She’s ready, David, and she looks absolutely beautiful!”

David pulled his wife into his arms, murmuring, “So do you, Sweetheart.”

She hiccuped a laugh. “You’re only supposed to notice the bride on her wedding day, not her mother.”

He leaned back, giving her one of his trademark smiles. “There will never be a day when I don’t admire your beauty.”

“I knew I called you ‘Charming’ for a reason,” she beamed. After kissing him soundly, she wiped his lips clean of the lipstick she’d left behind and said, “Now, go see your daughter before it’s time for us to walk her down the aisle.”

David straightened his tie and buttoned his jacket, then gently rapped his knuckles on the door. “Emma? May I come in?”

“Sure, Dad,” came her reply.

He turned the knob and slowly opened the door, peeking around the edge of it. His breath hitched when he caught a glimpse of his daughter. She was truly a vision in her wedding gown and veil, causing him to blink back tears of his own. “Oh, Emma,” he breathed.

“How do I look?” she asked nervously, twirling in a circle.

“You look…perfect,” he managed to choke past the lump in his throat.

Her cheeks flushed at his praise and she looked down at herself, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in her gown. “Do you really think so?”

“I do,” he assured her.

“Hey, I think that’s my line today,” she giggled.

David laughed and stepped forward to take both of her hands in his. “Any second thoughts?”

“None,” she said confidently. “Besides, if I don’t marry Killian, you might just snap him up.”

“Very funny,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. Then his expression sobered. “I know you’ve had a lot on your mind the last few weeks, but I want you to put everything aside today and just enjoy your wedding.”

“I’ll try.”

“I’ve thought about this day ever since we found out we were having a daughter. I was sure no one would ever be good enough for you, but Hoo-, um, Killian has proven himself time and time again. I suppose if I have to give your hand in marriage, it couldn’t be to a more worthy man.”

“You didn’t always think that.”

“I know, but I was, well…I was wrong.”

“I’m sure Killian would be very satisfied to hear you say that,” she quipped.

“Of course he would,” David sighed. “But enough about Hook. What about you? How are you feeling?”

Emma’s face took on a serene look. “I’m happy, Dad. Really, really happy.” She swung their still-clasped hands back and forth.

“Happiness looks good on you,” he replied, letting go with one hand and using the other to spin her around. Then he pulled her back toward him, putting his free hand on her waist as hers moved to his shoulder.

They slowly danced in a small circle around the room to music only they could hear. “We missed out on so much of your life, Emma. I’m very glad we didn’t miss out on watching you fall in love and marry the man who won your heart.”

“I know we lost a lot of time with each other, but let’s not talk about regrets today, Dad. We’re together now, along with Henry and everyone else in town. I have more family and friends here than I ever dreamed was possible. And I’m marrying a man who has been at my side without fail, even when I didn’t really want him to be.”

David chuckled. “He has proven himself to be persistent, that’s for sure.”

Their swaying came to a stop as Emma looked up into her father’s face. “You and Killian are such good examples for Henry. He’s lucky to have both of you in his life, and so am I.”

They heard the wedding music beginning to play, and David checked his watch. “I guess it’s about that time. Will you allow me to get a little sentimental before we leave this room?”

“Just don’t cause me to smudge my makeup.”

“I’ll try not to,” he promised, then took a deep breath. “Emma, from the moment your mother and I found out we would be having a baby, I wondered what our child - what you - might grow up to be like. Nothing I imagined even came close to the person you are - strong, smart, determined, brave, and so very, very beautiful. You’ve defeated dragons, ice monsters, witches, the darkness and Hades himself; yet you’re one of the most loving, generous, and kind-hearted people I’ve ever known. To say I’m proud of you doesn’t do justice to my true feelings. I love you, Emma, and I’m blessed beyond measure to be your father.”

A tear spilled over her lower lashes, and David dug into his pants pocket to retrieve a white handkerchief. After dabbing the wetness away, he tucked it back in his pocket, kissed her forehead, then pulled her into a hug, cupping the back of her head, as usual.

“I love you, too, Dad,” she whispered in his ear.

They stayed that way for several moments, until they heard a tap on the door. Mary Margaret stuck her head in, whispering reverently, “It’s time.”

David nodded and stepped back, gripping Emma’s upper arms as he looked into her eyes. “Ready, Princess?”

“Yes,” she replied firmly.

“Alright, then,” he said, “but just remember this - Killian loves you now, but I loved you first. You’ll always be your daddy’s little girl.”

“I’ll remember,” she said, a soft smile on her lips.

“Good. Now, let’s go get you married.”

*********

Please join me in wishing Krystal a very, very happy birthday!

Tagging: @hookedmom @kmomof4 @cs-rylie @qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @wyntereyez @the-darkdragonfly @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @julesep3026 @courtorderedcake @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @captainswan4life85 @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @huntressandlioness1 @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @laschatzi @zaharadessert @jennjenn615 @yasbio2015 @lyssapup27 @nachocheese-itsmycheese @singersdd @mie779 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @bdevereaux-blanche @soniccat @searchingwardrobes @jarienn972 @apiratewhopines @softkilly @goforlaunchcee @kymbersmith-90 @captainswan217-blog

#ouat fanfiction #a birthday story for kmomof4 #happy birthday Krystal!#daddy charming #I loved you first #jrob64 #art by jrob64 #canon compliant #missing moment for 6x20 #the cs wedding episode

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i-am-still-bb · 7 months

Text

Treat for 22/10:

One of them is a modern witch and an owner of a famous potions recipe blog. The other one is a bit of a fanboy / just trying not to get his eyebrows synged off…

A/N: Originally conceived as an AU of The World Next Door. That had me stuck though. So we have this. But it still has similar elements, age gap, instructor/student dynamic, etc.

—

Fili drummed his fingers on the walnut conference table. One. Finger. At. A. Time. Focusing on how there were pits in the wood and some scratches in the varnish beneath his fingertips.

“Do you have any ideas?”

The silence following the question stretched on a beat too long and Fili knew he was supposed to answer. “Can you rephrase the question?”

“Enrollment numbers are dropping.”

“I’d noticed.”

“We need better student engagement and retention. Do you have any ideas? You are the most junior member of staff.” That last part was a thinly veiled dig and threat.

Fili shrugged, brushing off the words, “We could try putting some stuff on social media, teasers, sneak peeks, behind the scenes stuff. Stories about how potions and other magic sometimes go awry.”

Frowns appeared on the tenured track professors’ faces as soon as the words “social media” had left his mouth. This is why he rarely spoke up during these things. He kept his head down, did his research, lectured, and quickly attended conferences and published.

Alice, the other young faculty member, specializing in potions that assisted in the growing of plants, clapped her hands. “My students would love something like that,” she grinned. “And I think it would do them good to see us as human, to see that we also make mistakes and singe our eyebrows and armchairs off.”

The department head looked skeptical. “It is an ‘interesting’ idea,” Fili could hear the air quotes around the word. “I think one of you younger people should be in charge. And as Ms. Yu is already assisting the Archives in their project then it should be you, if you don’t mind.

Fili did mind. Very much in fact.

“It shouldn’t take that much time, maybe an hour a week,” the Head continued.

And that was how a decade later Fili found himself spending more time on social media (Instagram, TikTok, and the like) promoting the university more broadly and the potions department specifically.

He had asked for an assistant and was denied.

It was fun.

Sometimes.

But other times he was just answering basic questions, or telling people “NO! ABSOLUTELY DO NOT MIX THOSE THINGS TOGETHER!” and then hoping that they actually listened.

Most of the time he was typing up replies, proofreading, posting, recording response videos, without paying much attention to the usernames that came across his screen. Sometimes there was one that would strike him as particularly ridiculous or clever; he would screenshot it, crop it, and save it to a special folder on his computer. He did the same with responses that made him give up home for humanity.

But then there was one user, K.O.A.K., who asked questions that often made Fili pause and wonder and sometimes his only response was “I don’t know” even after he did some research and some serious thinking.

They had a video chain going back at least six months at this point.

Fili’s videos were well-lit against a carefully chosen background from a tripod; all courtesy of a performing arts student who interned for him for a semester. Really, she had bullied him into letting her do an unpaid internship. She was a double major and she said that the content of his videos were fantastic, but everything else was tragic.

So now part of Fili’s large office / workspace was permanently set up for filming videos.

K.O.A.K.’s videos were probably worse that Fili’s had started out as. He always held his phone which sometimes made Fili nauseous while the user tossed ingredients into a travel sized cauldron that sat on a stove that had a single burner and plugged into a wall outlet. The wooden table it sat on was scarred from mishaps and frequently littered with ingredients, snacks, dust, and the occasional iced coffee cup of varying fullness.

K.O.A.K. never showed his face.

His hands featured in nearly every video. Sometimes his bare feet (which Fili had scolded him for, “What if you spill [insert potion here]? Or it boils over?” K.O.A.K.’s only response had been laughter, and to show off a fairly impressive old scar on his shin from just that thing happening) appeared.

Fili shared tricks for making a potion that temporarily improved hand dexterity. “Roast the willow root before cutting it into thin 1 inch strips.”

K.O.A.K. responded with a video demonstrating the differences between his original potion, one following Fili’s tip, and then one where he had added some olive oil to the foil packet before roasting, and then had roughly minced the root.

Fili amended his notes.

He toyed with the idea of sharing his phone number as they starting talking about more than just tips and tricks for potions. But decided against it. This account operated in an official capacity. And it was probably bad enough that he was carrying on personal conversations through it.

But he did notice that the twinge of excitement he got when he saw a notification form K.O.A.K. was the same as the one he would get early on in a new relationship. He had more than a little bit of a crush. It was merely academic, or so he told himself. He did not often get to talk about potions with anyone else.

—

Direct Messages between You (Prof.Durin) and K.O.A.K.

You: Why don’t you have a degree in this? You’re better than some of my grad students.

IDK.

You: You should apply to Erebor’s program.

I don’t think they’d take me. I never took those ridiculous tests.

You: I’ll get them waived.

… I may not have finished secondary school

You: I’ll see what I can do.

—

Fili dismissed the class early. The first day of a new semester was always short. Most of his students were out of their seats and out the door before Fili had finished wiping down the whiteboard. Except for one. He was standing by the lectern, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Did you have a question?”

The student shook his head. “I just wanted to introduce myself.”

Fili consulted his attendance sheet for a moment, “It’s Killian Oaks, right? If you would prefer something else, I can certainly do that. I just don’t have a note from the college about anything like that for you.”

“It is. But that’s not how you’d know me.”

Fili frowned in thought, one hand splayed over his papers on the desk. There was the niggle in the back of his brain that told him he was missing something.”

“You’d know me as . . .”

Taglist: Everything: @silvermoon-scrolls Fili/Kili: @dubhlachen

#bb writes #fili/kili #fiki

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dawnchariot · 2 months

Text

To Quell a Storm

imogen/laudna | 764w | fluff

And that’s when she met eyes with her, black eyes that look like a void where the stars play.

Wanted to write a little fluff thing. I have this whole modern setting going on in my head so it trying to get it out. I might add another chapter or just keep it as a short one off. Hope y'all enjoy <3 Reposting as its own link here on tumblr.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The creaking shelves sighed as Imogen grabbed a hefty tome from its perch. She put it onto the cart she was wheeling around, placing it carefully among the growing stack of books she had to rearrange. She carried on, skimming her gaze across the shelf. The soft light of sunset peeked through the mostly closed curtains against the far wall as she turned to a new aisle. The slight creaking of the cart wheels, the gentle thuds of her shoes against the wood flooring, and the ambience of a day ending kept her mind soothed, kept any anxiety out. Imogen closed her eyes and sighed, letting the calm serenity wash over her.

She began pushing the cart before she opened her eyes fully, and almost immediately bashed into a figure with a thunk. Her eyes shot open as she looked at the obstacle blocking her way. And that’s when she met eyes with her, black eyes that look like a void where the stars play. The lank figure with pale skin and black hair before her almost dropped the book she had in her hands.

“Oh! Terribly sorry! I should have noticed you coming,” a velvety yet cheerful voice sounded. Imogen’s eyes wandered over the person for just a moment, noting how that black hair covered her face almost like a veil falling over her crown. She had a beauty mark on her cheek, near one of her eyes. Imogen shook her head for a moment.

“Oh, uh, it’s quite alright. Just wasn’t expecting a customer this late,” she replied, fiddling with the cart handle.

“Is it closing time already? My apologies, I will wrap up with this soon,” the black haired woman beamed at her a smile that was as soft as the light warming the library. Thoughts started to swirl as Imogen thought of replies. What is this woman doing here? Looking at books duh. So stupid. Does she need to be told the library’s hours? Well, she just said she’s gonna finish up. Ugh, why are you an idiot? Just say okay and be done. But what if she puts a book in the wrong area? Does she know the categorization? Her heart beat faster as it felt like her head was going to burst. Her throat felt as if it was swelling, closing, her breath caught behind a barrier.

Then, a hand cupped Imogen’s cheek, a soft thumb brushing it. “Are you okay?” the woman asked. The thoughts stopped. Her heart rate slowed. Her senses focused on the cold hand against her warm cheeks. Her eyes staring into the comforting void.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Do you need help with anything? Just a note, we close at 6 PM,” Imogen mustered out. She exhaled through her nose. She hoped the woman didn’t notice the shakiness in her breath.

“Thank you! I was unsure about the hours. I am just looking for a silly romance book called "The Rat and the Ballerina". Do you have it in here-Oh, sorry” she replied, apologizing as she took her hand away. Imogen almost protested then blushed a delicate red. God, what was wrong with her?

“That is quite a popular one right now. It’s over here,” she said as she left her cart to chaperone the woman to the area. The book’s home sat at the end of the shelf on the opposite side. She pointed it out once they got to the location, both of them reaching for it. Imogen’s hand placed over the dark haired woman’s, and her hand recoiled just as quickly as it was placed. The dark haired woman just smiled still, giggling. Not at her she felt. Otherwise her thoughts would be berating her once again.

“I’m Laudna, by the way. I think I’ll be coming here more often,” she said. Her voice held so much brightness in it. Not a brightness one squints at, but a brightness one is drawn to. Like a lamp light in a dark room, a fire in the cold night. Safety.

“I’m Imogen, nice to meet you. I work most days so if you ever need help again, I’ll be here,” she replied, holding her hand out. Laudna blinked between the hand and Imogen for a moment before shaking Imogen’s hand with a delicate touch.

“You have such a lovely name! Alright, tata for now!” Laudna said as she whisked herself away to the counter where Imogen's coworker helped finish the transaction.

‘Laudna… You have a pretty name, too.’ Imogen thought. She found herself excited for the first time to come back to work.

#imodna #imogen x laudna #critical role #imogen temult #laudna #cr3 #bells hells #imodna fanfic

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r1ddlessy · 2 years

Text

fashion show with klitz

warnings: male masturbation, blowjobs/face fucking, cum play (?), kind of sub klitz, reader has hair that can be put in a ponytail

a/n: this is filth and i apologise in advance.

"thanks for paying for everything klitzy, you really do spoil me." you grinned as you helped him carry the several bags to the bedroom.

"anything for my bunny." he smiled back and pulled you into his arms once everything was settled. as you inhaled his scent and felt his warm hands settle on the exposed section of skin peeking above your skirt, the cogs in your brain whirred and an idea came to fruition. you pulled away suddenly from his grasp and bounced excitedly.

"i can do a fashion show for you, pumpkin! it'll be super fun and you can tell me what your favourites are..." before you could go on a long tangent trying to convince klitz he already agreed.

"where should i sit as the audience?" he asked, biting his lip in anxious excitement. you giggled at how seriously he was taking it.

"go sit on the sofa in the living room! i need time to prepare." you shooed him out of the bedroom and he complied, raising his hands in surrender as he walked out which made you laugh again.

once you were alone, you changed into the first set. baby pink satin and white lace adorned your body and you decided to finish the look with your signature lip gloss and a pair of white thigh highs. as you padded into the living room you spotted klitz sitting on the sofa, his hands bouncing on his thighs as he waited before your footsteps alerted him of your presence. he looked up slowly, drinking in your appearance from the socks to every inch of your exposed skin as well as the skin that was thinly veiled behind satin and lace. he swallowed hard.

"you look beautiful,bunny." he said thickly. you grinned and twirled for him.

"look it's got little bows!" you walked closer to show him the bows on the gore of the bra and the front of the panties and klitz's breath hitched. klitz's eyes settled on the curves of your breasts and he felt a tent rise in his trousers.

"they're very cute, bun." he managed to mutter weakly. you nodded in agreement then quickly walked off to change into the next set. klitz sighed in relief at the short break that allowed him to calm down his boner. a few minutes later however, he heard the tell-tale footsteps and you appeared like a vision of beauty in a set that left little to the imagination. the bra and panties were made of sheer fabric with hearts dotted on, and a pink garter accompanied it.

"oh fuck." klitz groaned softly as his problem returned with a vengeance, the fabric around his crotch straining painfully. he looked up at you with both a look of awe and then embarrassment as he realised what he had to do.

"baby, i can't handle seeing you like this without..." he gestured to his affected area. your gaze trailed down until you saw the problem and smirked.

"is that all for me, pumpkin?" you asked, an innocent tone teasingly adorning the question.

"you know it is, bunny." he said through gritted teeth. you giggled softly then stalked over to him.

"there's no shame in relieving yourself, klitzy..." your hands crept up from his knees to his thighs until they reached the button and zipper of his trousers. "especially when you look so pretty while you do it."

you murmured in his ear, leaning over while you tugged the zipper down. klitz's hands reached out to grab your hips but you teasingly slapped him away. "no touching yet, sir!" you freed klitz's member and licked your lips at the sight. "why don't you get started for me, pumpkin? maybe we can both give each other a pretty show when i come back."

you winked and practically skipped out of the room to change.

klitz groaned as he watched you go, but followed your instructions dutifully. he wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and started pumping, the image of your scantily clad self burning at the forefront of his mind. he threw his head back and closed his eyes, too lost in his own pleasure to notice you come into the room in the last outfit.

"having fun without me?" you teased, leaning against the doorframe clad in only a pink lace bodysuit that hugged your frame snugly. klitz immediately opened his eyes and his movements stuttered as he drank you in.

"you're so fucking beautiful, bunny." he groaned. your skin warmed at the praise.

"don't stop for me, pumpkin. i wanna see you make yourself feel good..." your hands trailed up your own body, cruelly reminding klitz of what he couldn't do. you pouted when his movements stilled as he watched you. "i guess i'll have to do it myself then!" you sighed dramatically but klitz saw the grin on your face as you swayed your hips tantalizingly in your walk to kneel in front of him.

before klitz could even register it, your lips were wrapped around the tip of his cock and inching lower. klitz groaned lowly and instinctually wrapped a hand around your hair, gripping it in a messy ponytail. you pulled off with a "pop".

"what did i say about touching me?" you pouted up at him. "you can fuck my mouth and tell me how pretty i look with your cock in my mouth, but absolutely no touching." you stated firmly, an evil twinkle in your eyes as you looked up at klitz. klitz practically whined as he looked down at you, desperate to be able to touch you.

"this is cruelty, bun-" his complaint was cut off as he felt your lips on his cock once more. his hands gripped the cushions of the sofa to prevent themselves from wandering and getting him in trouble. "not fair to do this to me when you look so good taking my cock in that little outfit." he complained through gritted teeth. you merely shrugged in amused callousness.

klitz remembered you had allowed him to fuck himself into your mouth and decided the restraint put on him was worth it.

it was harder without being able to grab your head and pull you forward to take more of his cock, but he could still thrust into you by shifting his hips. the first thrust caught you off guard and made you splutter a bit, before you composed yourself and took him further. klitz's hair was sticking to his forehead by now, the power you had over him was unimaginable. as his thrusts got more confident and desperate, your eyes started watering while klitz's cock twitched on your tongue.

you knew he was close, it was time for the grand finale.

you tapped his thigh, indicating you needed a breather and klitz provided it. your hand quickly replaced your mouth as you jerked him closer to climax.

"where'd you wanna finish?" you asked him, panting slightly with smudged lipgloss and mascara decorating your face. klitz thought you couldn't have looked more beautiful.

"can i finish on your chest, bun?" he begged. you nodded grinning up at him as you offered your chest as his landing pad. klitz moaned as within two motions of your hand his warm seed painted your chest and trickled down the valley of your breasts.

"thank god you didn't stain the bodysuit..." you giggled as you stood up to wash. klitz panted slowly as he recovered then shrugged.

"i can buy you another one in every colour."

#ramblings...to klitzy!✍️#bimbo reader #klitz x reader #klitz smut

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barbiewritesstuff · 2 years

Text

Church Encounters

-- I heavily debated posting this, because I was kind of afraid that people wouldn’t like it, but I had this idea and I needed to write it so I’m posting it anyway. I thought it was sweet.

Also the title is a play on ‘Chance encounters’ but idk if it works lol, my pun game isn’t great

Tw. Christianity?, Catholicism?, Church? (I don’t know if I need to tag these, I’ve seen people tag them so I am playing it safe but yeah…) --

You had been looking forward to mass since the end of the previous one, and now that it was done you felt happy and relaxed. You didn't care about the raging storm, or the fact that you had walked from base housing to church and you would need to walk back amidst the thunder and lightning as you made your way towards the door.

Something on your right caught your attention. A group of five familiar children stood waiting, peeking outside every so often to check for cars.

"Where are your parents?" You asked the oldest one, Peter.

"I don't know. They said they would join us but they didn't come"

"Did you call them?"

"We don't have a phone"

You knew how Admiral Simpson felt about phones in sites of worship, due to having accompanied his family to mass a few times as backup when the girls, a set of rowdy triplets, were babies.

You fished your phone out of your purse and looked through your contacts until you found Cyclone's number. The phone didn't even bother to ring, instead giving you the sound that signified it had no signal. The storm raging outside must have been running interference.

"No luck. I'll wait with you"

"You kids okay? Hi, my name is --" Someone spoke behind you, you turned around.

"Hangman!" you exclaimed, surprised.

You had never seen him in church, despite your regular attendance to services, in fact, you hadn't even known him to be religious.

Almost involuntarily, your eyes scanned his form. He looked good, better even, than when he wore the tight navy uniform. He was dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt, black slacks and thoroughly shined shoes. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the way his hair was gelled.

"Y/C/S" he replied, an awkward expression etched on his face. He retracted his outstretched hand.

"I didn't -- You --" he let out a nervous cough "Do you -- err -- often attend services?"

The fact that he hadn’t recognised you didn’t bother you. You were hardly wearing base appropriate clothing with your black dress, ‘Sunday best’ shoes and Chapel veil covering your long blonde hair. If you had looked at yourself from behind, you probably wouldn’t even have recognised yourself.

"Every week"

"Ah"

"I usually sit at the back" You explained

"I usually sit at the front" He replied

"We're waiting for their parents, they didn't show"

"You can go home, if you want… i'll stay with them" Hangman offered

"It's fine, I'm their babysitter" You waved him off

"I am their youth minister…" He retorted

"That is so sweet, Jake" You said, your voice soft and gentle. The tone in which you had spoken took both of you by surprise

Clearly, he hadn’t expected this answer from you, as he suddenly grew interested in his shoes. He looked at the floor with a light blush and his face broke into a wide smile, the first genuine smile you had ever seen on his face.

For a reason unknown to you, the idea of Jake as a youth minister made your heart flutter. Perhaps it was the image floating through your head of him running and playing with a group of children, or even the fact that it was so unexpected that it forced you to think of Hangman as a soft, kind man. Or perhaps it was because of the way he was looking at you all shy with the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. You tried to push the feeling down, but it wouldn’t be deterred.

"Maybe, you could both wait with us?" Peter said, trying to hide the mischievous smile on his face. His eyes glanced between the both of you and you blushed.

"That seems reasonable," Jake said, coughing nervously again.

You nodded, the movement of which shifted a bobby pin and caused it to fall to the ground. Both Jake and you bent down to grab it at the same time. Luckily, you narrowly avoided knocking your heads together when Matthew, the second oldest, swiftly grabbed your cardigan and pulled to move you out of the way.

"Thanks"

" 'S alright"

You removed the rest of the pins from your hair to distract you from the awkwardness of the situation.

Conversation with Hangman usually flowed well. Sure, it was usually made out of bickering and insults, but the conversation flowed without too much unwanted silence. Here, under the protection of the church entrance, it seemed like a line had been crossed. It seemed like Hangman had been just as keen on keeping his private life to himself as you had, now that you had glimpsed into each other’s secrets you didn’t really know what to do with yourselves.

The last bobby pin was stuck, everything you tried to get it to leave your hair only made it pull painfully on individual strands. Jake saw you wince and almost subconsciously, his hands moved to help you in your task. He managed to remove your chapel veil right as a familiar car stopped by the church steps. Cyclone ran out of the driver’s seat, wearing his Sunday best and carrying an umbrella.

“Thank you both for watching the children. We had some car trouble… How was mass?”

“Dad, hurry! I’m hungry!” Peter and Matthew shouted before disappearing into the car.

“I’m sure they’ll tell you all about it” You told Cyclone, trying to cut the conversation short on behalf of his children’s growling stomachs.

“Y/C/S, how about I drive you back. You’ll get ill if you walk home in this weather” He offered. You had been about to refuse when thunder roared and lightning cracked with such force that it made you jump.

“Yes please!”

You bid Jake goodbye and ran underneath Cyclone’s umbrella. He accompanied you to the back door of his Sedan and opened the door. You squeezed yourself in and waved to Jake one last time, he raised a hand in return.

You had spent the better part of the evening looking for your Chapel veil.

It was one of your most precious possessions, not only because of the religious aspect but because it had been your great-grandmother’s last gift to you before her tragic passing only a few years ago. You had looked everywhere from your handbag to every nook and cranny of the house. You had even walked back to the church to check your seat. In the end, you laid down in bed, defeated and distressed.

The loss of your heirloom made your sleep restless. You woke up every few hours wondering where you could possibly have put it and wondering if your great-grandmother was looking down on you now, disappointed at the loss. You eventually abandoned the idea of rest and woke up, four hours before your alarm to make yourself the strongest coffee you could stomach. You try to read for a while, but even that doesn’t distract you, in the end, you decide to give your dog the walk it has been dreaming of and spend three hours, in pouring rain, stopping by every bush, every wall and every hedge San Diego has to offer.

Training was harrowing, but it is the only thing capable of distracting you from your loss. Now that it was over, though, you could feel yourself slipping back. You had hoped Cyclone would have found the in his car as it was the only place you hadn’t been able to search, but he had said nothing when you had seen him.

“Can you believe it?!” Halo exclaimed in a loud voice that cut through the noise of the running showers and the fog in your mind. You hadn’t heard a word she had said, although you could guess the subject. Halo had been on a date the previous evening with one of the male nurses she had met during your yearly medical exam. He had asked her out during her vision test, an unromantic gesture that had apparently been a hint of what was to come during the date.

“Sorry?” You asked, putting in the code to unlock your locker and opening it.

“Honestly, Y/C/S, where is your head at today? Did you even listen to anything I said?”

“Yes, I did” You lied “Sorry, I --”

You looked inside your locker to find a neatly folded piece of fabric and a piece of paper. Your heart leapt in your chest when you recognised the intricate design of your great-grandmother's chapel veil. Something was written on the note. You knew the handwriting was Hangman’s, the neat cursive handwriting a rare enough sight among men that you would be able to recognise it anywhere.

“Forgot to give it back to you, sorry. If you’d like, we could sit next to each other next week? We could also grab lunch afterwards? -- Jake. PS. Change your locker code, it was way too easy to guess…”

“Everything okay? What are you smiling at?” Halo asked “Is that a note? Who is it from?”

You hid the note behind your back.

“Y/C/S, you tell me right now!” She tried to grab it from your hand but you threw it back inside your locker and shut it before she could get her hands on the piece of paper

“What’s going on?” Phoenix asked, arriving with the rest of the team for their showers. The men’s locker room having been rendered unusable by a burst pipe, you had all been made to share as a temporary measure.

“Y/C/S received a secret note from someone and she won’t show me” Halo whined

“Surely that’s the point?” Jake said, making his way to a locker behind your best friend.

“She was smiling” She said

“So?” You asked, an involuntary smile plastered on your face.

“So? Baby, you’re smiling at a note… Clearly, you like the person who wrote it, and I will not let my best friend have a crush she doesn’t tell me about”

Behind Halo, Hangman smiled

“Crush, huh? Now I’m interested too… Go on Y/C/S, tell us about the mystery person” He said, moving in closer to the both of you. The rest of the team listened in from the sidelines, with smirks and smiles on their faces.

“I hate you all” You laughed making sure to shoot Jake a wink as soon as Halo turned back to her locker with a huff.

#fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #original fic #jake seresin #hangman top gun

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reinekes-fox · 7 months

Note

Will there be any scenes in the mountains in one of your stories?

Maybe a hike in the high mountains, with a sudden snowstorm trapping the MC and a RO in a small cabin...

There will be! Because I love mountains and hiking, but I havent hiked in years :,(

In HaD (going on a hike with your youth group but you can be a little asshole and ditch them to instead go hiking with some ROs (or if the MC has the right rank they will be able to simply do what they want)) and in WiBi (with certain ROs this will totally happen).

Why not in BoaR? Because it wouldnt fit into the story. But have some reactions under the cut! Context: Wing MC knows about the magical world behind the veil that hides it from normal humans!

Fuchsia King

She looks around, dust is thick on every surface and coats her finger when she drags it across the table. Grey sticks to the tip and she shakes it, what did she expect? But still, her breath comes out as a white mist, its cold in here too. Skin tingling from the absence of the harsh wind that seemed to hurl snowflakes in their faces, as if it wants to stop them. She allows herself a grin. She is unstoppable and with her help so are you. But right now? Both of you don’t have a way to start a fire, a quick search turn out that the cabin also has nothing of use…

You turn around when she begins to undress, you can hear her chuckle and flinch when you feel her cold hands on your neck, gentle like a cool breeze. “I am going to change.”, she almost whispers, “And I know you are freezing too.” For a second she embraces you from behind, her slightly warmer body pressed against yours… taking the strength to shift from your touch and you gently lay a and over hers, squeezing it between your fingers. She mirrors the gesture then she steps back and you can hear her take a deep breath. You don’t turn around when you hear her pained groans and hear the clattering of her teeth on the wooden floor… the hair on your skin raises as the smell of blood grows stronger and you let out a relived breath when it vanishes. Slowly you turn around, going on one knee and embrace the giant wolf with all its fluffy fur.

Chase Watson

He looks around, the cocky smile back on his lips as soon as he closes the door and locks out the winter and the angry howl of the wind. He walks around the tiny cabin, with a few steps he has crossed it and kneels down in front of a fireplace. “We can start a fire!” You raise an eyebrow. “How?” Wordlessly Chase snaps his fingers and catches the tiny spark in his gloved finger… gloves… You jump forward and grab his hand, janking it away as the flying amber threatened to grow and latch onto the wool. Chase stares at you, then he hides his face in his still gloved hands with a groan.

“That was embarrassing!”, his voice comes out muffled and you can see his grey eye peeking at you, “Can we pretend that never happened?”

Droznik Juschka

He rubs his fingers together and shudders as the sudden absence of harsh winter makes his skin tingle. With a heavy sigh he leans against the door and doesn’t move for a few seconds, looking at you. “I am never going to try out a damn shortcut!” he mutters, mustering the motivation to push himself off and together the two of you start to look through the cabin for something to start a fire with. The search turns out futile and both of you settle on dragging every piece of clothing and fabric you can find into the tiniest room. Suddenly he stops, staring at you.

“Are… are we building a nest?” he asks, the usual fun coming back to his voice.

Astoria Rapace

“I didn’t know this still exists.” she muses, her fingers running over dusty surfaces, not noticing your still shivering state. “Do you know…” she stops when she hears you cough, her mouth an annoyed line. “Come here!” she orders you closer, her slender fingers on your face and eyes staring into yours… you feel like you are staring at the eye of a storm. “You do not freeze.” she says slowly, her words like a charm. You do not freeze anymore… but still, your body is shivering when it gets too cold.

E. Falkenflug

They let out a deep sigh, burying themselves further into the thick scarf. “Two holy Songbirds are stuck in an abandoned cabin.” they mutter, “If I ever direct a horror movie that’s going to be the plot!” Stubbornly they refuse to show weakness but they were as relived as you when they saw this cabin… Now they allow themselves a moment of rest, head laid back on the couch and eyes closed.

Slowly they open them again, green and bloodshot a morbid combination that would look good only in description. It shows that they put their wellbeing behind their duty. And again their sense of duty wins as they rise, throwing a pillow at you… “Don’t stay there, help me get a fire started!”

Marter

They were nearly asleep, dozing peacefully when the familiar sound of a message wakes them up, dragging them back from pleasant memories only seen in dream. But this is more important and they force their tired eyes open, focus on the present not on the past. It’s a message from you. Or rather a picture.

A cabin? It looks dark and cold, illuminated only by the flash of the phone.

Marter: ???

Wing: I finally got out of that snowstorm!

Marter: What? Why were you in a snowstorm??

Worry eats at their core, it makes them sit up straight, mind racing with one more silly thought after the other. They have to help you. They don’t even know where you are.

Wing: doesn’t matter. Just glad I found this cabin

They sigh, at least Wing is safe… that’s the most important thing!

Wing: So, you want to go hike?

Wing: When we ever meet each other, I mean.

They can feel the nervousness behind those words and their answer takes time… time that you spend staring at the message, inwardly cursing yourself and your clumsy frozen fingers for pressing send instead of delete! Why do you even have a signal here?

Marter: As long as we stay clear of snowstorms sure. Lets go hike together

#anon ask #birds of a rose ros #boar ros

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fallenartistwitch · 1 year

Text

i accepted chaos

┼ Ylith and her adventures mates founded themself in a uuum funny situation? And the fire ghoul wasn't really happy about it

⏃ part two coming soon

_________

I walked through the now empty church, the clattering of my heeled shoes filled the empty silence.

Terzo and Leander already walked off to finish to set up some things while i had to do some commission at the ministry.

The cold breeze of the autumn hitted me as i stepped out of the church's doorway, ah yes im gonna become a penguin yup i probably will become a penguin if i dont wear something warmer.

As I passed the fountain I looked at a huge oak tree not far from it, leaves were fluttering freely at the base of the tree moved from the weak wind. I loved that tree, its one of my favorite place where to spend my free time.

___________

i stepped in front of the big door that leads to Copia's office, i knocked on it holding tight in my left hand the sheets I picked up all around the ministry.

"come in" said a voice

i putted my hand on the handle turning it and then pushed the door reveling the inside of the office and the two figures that were inside.

"hi Selia" i waved happily at her, she was standing next to a little library full of documents and other things , trying to adjust something, she waved back with a big smile.

"oh hi papa" i said trying to say it in a fake serious tone, facing the figure that was sitting in the armchair behind the huge desk, where there were some papers scattered around.

"hi whor- i meant sister hi sister" she said it also trying to fake a serious tone

"HEY IM NOT A WHORE YOU LITTLE BITCH" Selia chuckled

" i meeeaannn- " she looked at me up and down repeatedly

i looked down to see how i was dressed. i was wearing my nun habit but the dress barely reached below the knee, high knee socks, my bangs and two front strands of hair were peeking out of my veil, heeled shoes, lace gloves to keep me a little warmer.

...

yea i looked like a whore but i wouldn't give her the satisfaction to admid it.

"shut up little bitch" i responded

"jealous that i'm wearing warm clothes when working while you are freezing?" said Solein, she was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants .Lucky, but i didn't really mind wearing my nun habit if it weren't for the fact that I become a penguin every time it's cold.

"maybe. Now where is Copia? I have to give him those papers from Terzo" i said putting down on the desk the little pile of paper i was holding, trying to find the papers i had to give him.

"he went to check up some things for the next tour" answered Selia

"Alright, do you want to come to search him with me?" i said looking at her

"sure" she answered

"i can't-" i didn't let Solein finishing her sentence and grabbed her wrist forcing her to stand up.

"HEY I HAD WORK TO FINISH YOU KNOW??" she yelled while i was pushing her out of copia's office door.

"do i give a fuck?" i answered, in response Solein punched me on the top of my head

"OW- THAT HURTED YOU MOTHERFUCKER" i kicked her ass

"oh there she is" Leander's voice interrupted us, me and Solein were so concentrate to teasing each other that we didn't notice we arrived.

"oh hello again Leander, hello Papa" i said gently waving at him

"oh hello Sister you must be Ylith right? You can call me Copia" he said in a gentle tone and with a big warm smile.

"yes i'm Ylith, i was searching for you to give you these papers from Terzo" i said handing him those that looked like letters.

"oh yea thank you Sister Ylith" he smiled at me taking the papers from my hand

"no problem Copia, and you can just call me Ylith"

"Alright Ylith, now please forgive me but i have to fix some important things about the tour, bye everyone" he said while starting to walk away.

"Bye Copiaa" we said in choir.

"Now back to what we were doing" Solein said kicking my ass and then start running

"COME HERE YOU FUCK" i said chasing after her while Leander and Selia followed us laughing.

we rushed towards the kitchen, i grabbed a pan and started chasing Solein around the table while she held a ladle to try to defend herself. Selia and Leander faces where completely red from the laugh.

__________

i was still chasing Solein around the garden this time until we stopped out of breath in front of a sort of den.

"ok peace please i lost five lungs doing this" said Solein out of breath

"AHAHAHAHAHAH" Selia face was fully red from how much she was laughing

"HELPSFF AHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAH" giggled Leander leaning on a closed door of the den. Or at least we though it was closed.

The door suddenly opened and Leander hugged the floor.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAH IDIOT" we started laughing at him spread on the floor, without noticing the figures that were watching the scene from the inside of the den.

"you're gonna help me out or keep laughin?" asked Leander handing his hand so we could help him stand up.

"well i would prefer the second option you know" i answered grabbing his hand and helping him stand up

a growl caught our attention, it came from the inside of the den. The figures that were inside were Copia's ghouls.

They were giggling, probably because of the scene they finded in front of them. They were all laughing expect one, he looked annoyed and angry.

"um ops sorry, we leave immediately" said Leander adjusting his suit. It suddenly hit me, the breeze of the autumn, the cold and silent wind.

The angry ghoul walked towards us, he was the shortest of the group, he looked like a little angry gremlin aw.

"Can we at least know the names of the people who made noises and fell into our den?" he growled

"im Leander" , "im Selia" , "I'm Ylith and she's Solein" i said pointing at my friend standing next to me.

"Oh so the whore has a name" a smirk appeared on his face.

"Sodo! Don't be mean at her!" said one the ghoul holding a banana behind him, he turned his head to look at the ghoul that just spoke ,oh so the angry gremlin's name is Sodo.

"ahahah" i said in an ironic tone " really funny angry gremlin" he turned his head quickly as i pronounced the last two words.

"How did you just call me?" he hissed stepping foward me.

"angry gremlin" i repeated those words, the ghouls giggled.I could feel the heat raising from the ghoul in front of me. Fire ghoul uh?

"Listen here you whore-"

"HEY! I'm not a whore!" i shouted, i heard Solein whisper a "yes you are", i turned around facing her, she understood that i heard what she said, and looked around pretending she didn't said anything.

"Me and you still have something to solve"i pointed at her the pan i was still holding

"ooh attention the whore is angry" i turned back facing the fire ghoul,

"you're the angry gremlin here" the heat increased again, thing i didn't really mind considering i was still wearing my nun habit.

"do you know what i can do?" he growled stepping threatening towards me.

"do you know that i don't give a fuck?"

"and i also have a pan and i know ho to use it" i pointed the pan at his face threateningly. As the fire ghoul was about to respond another ghoul interrupted us.

"Ok alright put your angry and pans aside" said the ghoul looking at both of us.

"oh come on Aether i wanted to see them fight"

" i know Swiss i wanted to see them fighting too but we have a tour soon and we need Sodo" so the banana ghoul's name was Aether and the other is Swiss i already know the names of three of them we're doing progress boys.

"ugh you're right, but after the tour you two can fight i want to see who will win ok?" Swiss replied

"alright i guess i'll have to wait then"i chuckled looking at the fire ghoul in front of me. His stare was pointed on my body, on my uncovered and insignificant body. He felt the stares on him and looked away.

At the time i didn't realize it but, he was blushing.

-----------

Masterlist

#dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #swiss ghoul #aether ghoul #cardinal copia #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #sunshine ghoulette #sister of sin #ghost the band #the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul x reader #sodo ghoul x reader #sodo x reader #stories

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

Text

Leverage Part 2: The Adventures on the Coastal Venture

TW: smut. Degrading Language. Violence. Bondage. Blood.

SUMMARY: With the pogues having escaped, you are left without any allies on The Coastal Venture. But you manage to find one hell of a distraction.

WORD COUNT: 2500

Leverage Part Two: The Adventures on the Coastal Venture

You'd begun to lose track of the time, which forced you to count irrelevant ticks and creaks echoing throughout the ship. But each time you'd surpass double digits, your mind would refocus on his touch still lingering upon your body. And with the accompaniment of this was the guilt. The guilt you'd stopped fighting him. The guilt of what you allowed him to do to you. The guilt that you liked it and wanted even more.

Yet when the door flew open, a lighthearted expression over a man portraying angst more often than not, you were able to veil your excitement with annoyance to just how elated he was. Even if silently, you were admiring the new sparkle behind his eyes and literal ‘pep’ in his step. But more than this, you knew what it meant for you...

"You should've seen it...all climactic and shit... but we got the cross...I got the cross..." Your heart came into a pretzeled twist as a multitude of questions raced through your mind. All of which would be answered by his continuation.

"Don't worry, your precious little pogues all got away...but WE have the cross..." His eyes now fell to you, lain just as he left you, bound and waiting.

"And I....have you..." His eyes lowered to the entirety of your body, new tremors exchanged with the ones of former pleasure as he was well aware of his reigning effect on you. An effect where uncertainty and excitement burned behind the same set of wide eyes watching his every movement.

"You're lucky, you know..." His words softened your gaze just enough to no longer be in narrow lines.

"I'm in a VERY good mood...and that can only mean good things for you..." He smirked, lips connecting to your ankles as you'd retracted them out of habit. Not as if he'd attempted anything back in the Outer Banks, but from what he'd done a few hours prior.

"You know how much I love it when you squirm..." He admired the look of worry behind your eyes, more heavy with lust than this distant fear.

"Now come here- '' He growled, tearing you to the end of the bed as your legs were adjusted to his hips. But as he'd prepared himself out of his boxers, cock in hand, he'd noticed how you didn't try to flee. Your legs were now free and instead of kicking him away or using them as some sort of distance, they were desperately wrapped around him as if he kept you grounded. For this, he would delay his pleasure-but only for a moment.

"I'm curious to know..." He began, lowering onto his knees and pulling each of your legs over his shoulders-a true glutton for your taste.

"What would a pogue do with THAT much money? What do you want?" You fought the arrival of his name from coming behind your lips as no former wishes would compare to how he felt between your legs. It was enough to endure the guilt and intrusive thoughts of self loathing. And this was because Rafe Cameron knew how to please...

"You have my support if it’s clothes, probably why Sarah wants it, dad’s always getting on her for overspending-" Your eyes narrowed as you'd believed this had been spoken as an insult. "All those expensive silks and stains on you though....all so I could ruin them...lingerie that would be stained with your cum because of me being unable to keep my hands off of you..." He cocked his jaw.

"S-security-" You interrupted, hoping to direct your focus somewhere else-anywhere else as the guilt overpowered the tease of his breath on your bare cunt.

"And you don't think I could give you that?" He inquired, a single lick pulling you into a violent tremor, making him chuckle.

"All this trouble...and all you wanted was someone to provide for you?"

"I can provide for myself-" You nearly spat as his brows rose, eyes peeking over you as his fingers threatened your opening, drawing rings of your arousal.

"Not everything, sweetheart...We both know that nobody has ever made you come like me..." He slipped his ringed finger inside, knuckle deep, before repeating the process with the middle one abreast, only to keep then still solely for pressure.

"And I intend to make you again...and again..." With the words of repetition upon his lips, he'd pumped his fingers slowly inside of you, increasing the speed as your eyes came to a close and your hips began to work against him. Upon one of these movements, however, the feeling of a third stretching you impossibly wide was enough to make you moan beneath him.

"Only a whore could take three fingers like this-" Your hands attempted to reach for him but could only clutch the headboard as you'd remained tied. He chuckled as you'd both been reminded of this by the sound of the metal buckle singing against the iron board behind you.

"All the ways I could have you right now and all that I can think about is making you come on my tongue...I've never been good with self discipline..." He shook his head, feigning disappointment, while watching you writhe beneath him, fingers continuing as he spoke. Their curl hitting THAT spot with precision as you'd shook beneath him.

"Good girl...let me get that spot...just like that....right there...makin' you moan so pretty for me...I swear it's my favorite goddamn sound in the whole world...my little pogue slut coming around my fingers-"

"Rafe-" His words were too much, too heavy with derogatory subjection and still so arousing. Because you knew they were true. You were acting accordingly for him- because of him, and he reveled in it.

"Am I wrong? Or is your pussy just this wet because you like boats or some shit?" You'd screwed your eyes tightly at the arricial of your orgasm made possible by his quick fingers and didn't words.

"Please..."

"What? You want me to let you come or let you go? Because it can't be both, sweetheart..."

"I-uugh!"

"What? Huh? Gotta use your words for me..." He patronized.

"It's your one chance...tell me and I'll let you go...but you'll spend the next week sitting like this until we get back home then...watching me stroke myself...teasing you...maybe even showing you what you're missing-" The thought enraged you at envisioning him with someone else, not because you loved him, but because you had allowed him to have parts of you nobody else ever wanted when they saw. And you felt cheapened at the thought of him doing the same to someone else. To summarize, you were jealous, but too damn stubborn to admit it.

"Fuck..."

"I'm willing to compromise..." He smirked, rising back to his feet, edging you into a denied orgasm, before twisting you onto your stomach. The unkind belts eating into your wrists as neither of you paid any mind to this as he'd lifted you in alignment with his own waist.

"Just in case you DO manage to find a way back without me...I'm gonna mark every fucking inch of you so they know you weren't so innocent..." To this, a sharp slap came to your ass. Before you could even react to this, another followed in suit.

"Anyone else tries to fuck you...any angle...they'll know you're tainted. My cum stuffing you until you're dripping, my fingerprints in bruises on your neck...And now my handprint on your ass...fuck, I love this ass..." He hit it again, this time, rubbing over the sting with his thumb. "Maybe I'll come in it-"

"Rafe!" True horror spread across your face.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, not yet. Maybe next time. Told you, I'm in a good mood...and besides, not done with this pussy yet..."

"Please stop-" You'd regained some sense of consciousness over the recent intoxication of lust to rival him, but it was weak at best.

"Let me be clear-" A slap to your ass sent you into a jolt and an accompanying wince before you returned in alignment.

"THIS is what happens when you're bad...opening that dirty little mouth for anything but my cock..."

Your body shuddered to the sudden pleasure of his tongue flicking against you from your bent positioning, his fingers pulling apart your folds for a proper and thorough angle.

"And THAT is what happens when you're good...You wanna be good for me? Or you want ro keep being bad? Either way...You're gonna be SO fucking sore..." He chuckled as you'd muttered against your initial hesitancy. Having accepted your fate, you'd decided to no longer fight against it.

"Good..."

He leaned over you from behind in an impressive reach, unwrapping the one belt from the headboard as the other kept your wrists together, but now free to bring you close against him. And he did, forcing you to rise against him-back to chest, as he'd taken your jaw in his hand to kiss you. A lustful kiss, absent compassion, leaving you breathless as he stopped abruptly.

"Prove it." He challenged you as you turned against him. But as you'd prepared to let him inside of you, he showcased his disapproval..

"I already know how it feels to fuck you...And that isn't for ME...that's to make YOU feel good-" He tsked against you, "Being a bad girl...SO selfish…" With this, hands fumbling with their restraints, you'd positioned him at the edge of the bed.

Lowering yourself to your knees, you'd prepared him within your hands as he collected your hair in a single fist, unsurprising by the size of his large hands. You licked your lips one single time before taking him to the depth of your throat. Your name cursed out immediately, your fingers wrapping around the portion of his base that would not venture in suit with his shaft, and the reflex ignored had proved more to yourself than him that you were anything but a good girl...

"Fuck..." This single curse, low and spoken in a growl, pulled him even further into you, driving him to fuck your throat. Reservations damned for you both, he'd thrusted and you'd taken it, he'd moan and you caused it.

"You know how to make me come-so fucking do it!" He ordered, pulling you by your hair as he'd assisted you to straddle him due to your hands remaining tied.

"Please unbuckle them-" You pleaded as he'd teased you with the aching head of his cock.

"Not when it makes you behave..." He chuckled, a rough thrust sending your head back immediately.

"Thats right baby...takin’ my cock so deep...Now fucking ride me like you're sorry...." You began to bounce, sporadic slaps to your ass breaking the collection of moans and groans otherwise spoken in broken unison.

"Fuck...I love the sounds you make..." Your confession brought him to kiss you, hand to the back of your neck, as his tongue dominated over your own as you struggled to pace any sense of breathing.

"Needy aren't you, sweetheart? My cock not enough for you the first time? Huh?" He teased as you hesitated, feeling guilt berate you if you were to answer honestly. For this silence acting in a form of disrespect, he'd taken his hand to your hair and pulled tightly.

"Tell me or you don't get to fuckin’ come. Not now. Not tonight...But I will. Over and over again-"

"Fuck!"

"Tell me!" He grunted behind clenched teeth as you acquiesced.

"Rafe! I need more! I need to come!"

"You think you deserve it? Yeah?" You nodded tears brimming in your eyes in fear of his rejection.

"I think so too..lucky I'm in a good mood..." He teased, allowing you to come around his cock, the increase of lubrication validating along with the spasms of your pussy. Clenching his jaw with how this felt against him, holding him in a vice, your eyes pulled open softly to find the most devilish of smiles quote fitting for his reputation.

"So good baby, you did-" But now you wanted more. Not just another release. Not just an extension of what he felt like. But you wanted HIM to lose control. For this, you unhooked your arms from behind his neck and pushed him onto his back. Before he'd even collided with the bed, you moved over him, taking him into you unapologetically rolls of your hips.

"Oh shit!" He groaned as you clawed down his chest, lines of blood mended by the heat of your tongue.

"Fuck..." He groaned beneath a smile before pleasure turned this grin into winces. You'd continue this series of rises and falls as he'd begun to come undone beneath you. Sloppy thrusts made up into you as you'd suddenly withdraw from him.

"What's wrong, Rafe? I thought you LIKED teasing..."

"Get back on my cock, you fucking bitch!" He commanded, winded, as you only smirked wildly at him.

"Beg me." You ordered as his eyes illuminated with wanting to obey whereas his words rebelled.

"Get. Back. Here." He rose as you'd only force him back down onto his back, teasing him as if you'd obey, only to inch higher until your thighs rested on either of his cheeks.

"Make me come again..." His eyes narrowed to you. He obliged, more for his pleasure, than yours, as his hands wrapped around your legs and to your core as his mouth went to work. Lips and tongue in a tango throughout your pussy as your fingers ran a relay through his hair, pulling and tracing.

"It's right there! Oh my God! It's right fucking there!" You became unhinged before feeling him guide you onto your back, never breaking his strides, as an animalistic growl echoed as he pulled you further onto the bed.

The way he'd abused your pussy left you clenching in seconds. Fingers wrapped between the comforter beneath you and to the long strands of his blonde hair sticking to his forehead as he'd increased sensations against you as if he was angry.

"Come for me, you fucking slut! Come on my face! Now!" He ordered as you'd obeyed, but just as you'd felt that orgasm, he'd buried himself inside of you.

"Take all this fucking cock...like you will every day until im fucking sick of you!" He pulsated into you, deeper and deeper for what was seemingly impossible.

"Rafe!"

"Coming again? God, You're a slut..."

"Your slut..." The words left your lips as he'd taken your hair.

"Say it again-" But you hesitated, grip intensifying through his locks.

"Say it again before I come in your ass!"

"I'm your slut!" He nodded

"Then make me come. Come on, fuck me back! THERE we go! THAT'S it! THAT'S my girl! Come on..." He pulled your knee to your chest, spread wider for him as he ignored the winces of overstimulation and pain from you and focused on his own release, that was imminent to your groans and scratches drawing lines of blood down his arms.

"I think we're gonna have a lot of fun together..." He teased breathlessly, something you'd agreed to silently as you knew this would never work as love, even if a part of you wanted it to. But it didn't mean you couldn't enjoy it while it lasted. However long that would be...

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