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lalunanymph · 5 months ago

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MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: mentions of food, mentions of murder, talks of death, predator/prey dynamic, sword to neck trope, reader gets restrained, mentions of injuries, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo, princess!reader, reader is referred to as 'cerena', princess cerena has pink hair and feminine features, reader is in cerena's body, isekai-ed reader

⟡ masterlist

ACT 1, SCENE 3: THE VILLAGE

Life at this little village offered you a gentle respite from the fears eating at your soul, putting the memory of Satoru's bloodthirsty desires momentarily out of your mind.

Whilst under Aeva’s care, you learned how to use an old fire stove, sweep the floors with a broom made of brambles, and prepare some of Northern Haleway’s most famous fare—pigeon mince pies.

In return, she offered you the room in her attic, a quaint, cozy space that did not perturb you with its lack of size but instead, reminded you fondly of your own bedroom back in your real world.

When you weren’t busy with chores and cooking, Aeva gave you free rein to roam about the village with the condition that you were to never reveal your true identity to the poor villagers. You took her worries in stride, always leaving her home with your hood and cloak on; Cerena’s signature pink hair plaited neatly and wrapped under the scratchy hood.

The reason for your excursions to town were simple: you wanted to find out the truth about why you were here in the first place.

You struck up conversations with various healers, visited the village shaman, and even spent an hour talking to the friendly barman on the merits of body swapping and waking up in a different life.

But, your research barely yielded anything fruitful.

It only served to increase your worries, driving you to the brink of a mental breakdown at the fact that you may never go back to your real world again.

That you may never see your mother or listen to her laugh as you both drank rice wine on a veranda; happy memories illuminated by the sun setting over the paddy fields. You may never roll your eyes at your best friend’s piss poor attempts at setting you up on blind dates, or enjoy your morning commute with a cup of turmeric latte.

Every single thought drew you deeper into a pit of despair.

But, you knew you had to be strong.

This was a temporary setback and you have to believe that you will return home. You have to believe that life would not be so cruel as to leave you stranded here, in a place where you were despised and ridiculed. You had to keep the faith; had to hold onto the hope that you would make it home in one piece.

There was no other option.

Satoru slowed his horse to a trot once he arrived in the market square, the guards flanking his sides dispersing to find you at his terse nod.

Those unyielding blue eyes swept across the square, noting the various sellers and stalls surrounding him. The smell of horse dung and rotten food scraps burned through his nose with the force of a thousand fires, and he made a face, wanting nothing more than to get this search party over, find you and take you back to the King.

For a man used to the trenches of war, peasant life will always astound him with its stink and squalor. Children with dirt-packed faces and blackened hands chase after each other. A skinny, malnourished dog feebly lifts its head when his horse trots by and a heavily pregnant woman with scars running down her arms gives him a scrutinizing look while she hangs up her linens to dry.

Satoru intended to keep this visit brief, and he is no more looking forward to the reality of finding you than he is at the thought of how you would react.

It was obvious that this was one of your usual tantrums in retaliation for not getting what you want; an act of rebellion made to paint him in a bad light.

His jaw ticks and his mood darkens at the thought of what he would do if he ever saw you again.

First things first, Satoru wouldn’t hesitate to threaten you by sword point to return back to the castle. Then, he will interrogate you on where you had been, who you spoke to, how you escaped in the first place so he can put anyone and everyone who aided you in this resistance to the sword.

Those flinty cerulean eyes shift across the market square, hoping to find a glimpse of the hooded and cloaked figure Miri had informed him about. But, all his gaze does is meet more exhausted faces; the villager’s blackened, fatigued air drawing his lips downward into a grimace.

He was close to redirecting the search party into the forest where he believed you would be hiding, when he sees the figure of his hunt.

A waifish, hooded and cloaked woman made her way past the fruit stalls, stopping to purchase an apple.

Satoru doesn’t spare another second. He threw his horse into a gallop, reaching for his sword and drawing it out of the scabbard.

The hooded woman seemed to sense his murderous intent for her all the way across the square and lifted her head.

Satoru’s eyes widened when he noticed the familiar slope of your nose; the parting of your cherubic lips frozen in a silent scream.

“Cerena!”

The blasted woman takes off, running as fast as she could straight to the forest’s edge. Satoru doesn’t know what compelled him to disembark off his horse, hastily tying the reins around an apple tree and tearing after you with his longer, stronger legs.

Your terrified expression seared through his brain when you turn around to flash him a pleading look. Satoru gritted his teeth, his larger lung capacity and fitter body making it easier for him to sweep past the trees, darting under the brushes and jumping over fallen logs to chase after you.

There is nothing but the thought of escape in your mind.

As you weaved through the trees, bounding across brooks and fell logs, your breath came out in icy pants, crystalizing right in front of your face.

You wanted to turn around and plead and beg with him to spare you, the sight of the broadsword in his hand pumping your veins full of adrenaline and the need to escape. Like a hounded prey, the predator behind you was closing in, near enough that you could hear his jagged breaths.

“Cerena—stop running!”

You pushed yourself harder, ignoring his words, forcing your legs to bring you towards a gnarly apple tree. Using muscles you haven’t utilized since you were four when you were wildly swinging from jungle bars, you expertly swung your body up the tree, clambering the thick trunk and using the spruces as your support—trying to get off the ground and hide in the foliage so he would give up and leave you alone.

But, luck was never on your side, especially when it came head-to-head with Satoru’s determination.

He circled the tree you were hiding in, those frantic blue eyes darting through the thick leaves, trying to get a glimpse of you.

“Cerena, stop this madness at once and come back home!” Satoru bellowed, cheeks splotched red with anger and frustration. “You mad woman! Get down and face your repercussions, dammit!”

A slight movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you rush to unleash your dagger, cutting through the stem of the hornet’s nest just a few inches from you.

Sensing danger, they hummed, digging their stingers into your vulnerable hand, but you paid the bites of pain no mind—focused completely on evading Satoru.

The prince’s keen ears catch a rustle, like the sound of something being sawed and he looks up into the trees, jaw clenched and icy blue eyes wild.

“Cerena! What are you doing up there? Come down, dammit!”

Without warning, a lump of something brown and scraggly falls right at his feet.

Satoru barely had time to react before he’s surrounded by a swarm of nasty wasps, stinger-triggered and ready to attack him. The sight of him swinging his broadsword to ward off the wasps would’ve been hilarious, if you didn’t use this as an opportunity to scamper down the apple tree and take off like your life depended on it.

“—Cerena!”

Your stomach sank to your feet as you quickly whipped your head back to catch him speeding up to you, the mottled flesh of his face from the wasp stings and those raging blue eyes shocking you through the core with pure, unadulterated fear.

“Please!”

You screamed, needing to run back to Aeva’s hut. She will protect you; she has to.

Sliding into the clearing, you’re almost to the home run when you feel a hard tug around your neck. Your head jerks back and you go crashing to the ground, Satoru’s bigger body enveloping yours.

“No—no!”

The shine of his sword nicks your neck, and you’re both breathing hard.

Satoru’s fiery icy azure eyes bore right into you with such potent hatred, you throw your hands to your face, bracing for the blade to slice through your neck hotly.

One second turned into two. His heavy breathing becomes a grunt, and he yanks you unceremoniously to your feet.

His arm tightened around your trembling body, face a few inches from yours as he sneered.

“You will pay for what you did to me.” Those reddened lesions from the wasps littering his neck and cheeks strike terror into your numbed heart.

“If only you hadn’t ran away from me,” he clicked his tongue as if in disappointment, and to your mortification, brought out a coil of rope from his jacket. “Then, your punishment would not be so severe.”

A hushed sob slips from between your gritted teeth as he lashed your hands together with the rope, tying it tightly enough so you wouldn’t think of running away from him again.

“Please,” you started to cry. “Please, do not hurt me. Do not harm me.”

He grunted, looping the tie into a double knot. “What in the devil are you blubbering about, woman? I have no intention of hurting you.”

Your tears trickled your cheeks like fragments of icy shards, slipping down your neck as you attempted to resist, pressing your bound palms to his broad chest and trying to push him away.

Satoru growled: “Cerena! Behave.”

The flash of disgust and anger in his eyes instantly brought to mind how he had held the sword to your bare neck—how he had wanted to kill you.

Terror seized your lungs, your scream shattering the calm quiet of the forest.

“Help me! Somebody help me! Please!”

You sobbed loudly and with full abandonment, balking whenever he tried to reach out for you, batting your useless hands against his chest and neck to try and buy yourself some time for someone to help.

In the midst of the struggle with Satoru, you missed a wizened figure stepping out of the hut, her bow and arrow pointed right at the crowned prince.

Gojo, noticing the intruder in this scene, raised his eyes, sneering at the lowly woman who dared believe she can take him on with a flimsy weapon.

“You dare point that at me? The crowned prince of the region?”

Aeva steadied her aim, the tip of the arrow quivering. The expression on her face was of fierce protectiveness, surging from seeing you being manhandled like a sack of potatoes by a man who was supposed to honor you as his fiancé.

For a brief moment, you felt a shining sense of hope—that you were going to be safe.

But, he does not yield. Despite not saying a word, his frigid glare is all the loathing he needs to dissuade Aeva from releasing the arrow. Her rheumy eyes shifted from your tear-streaked face to his furious glare and to your dismay, she slowly lowered the weapon, letting it dangle by her side.

Your gasp rang with betrayal and alarm. “Aeva… please…”

Smug that he was let off without much of a fight, Gojo used his raw strength to lift you over his shoulder, your bound hands dangling across his back, your slippered feet kicking in mid-air.

“Please! Don’t let him harm me! Aeva! Aeva—” you choke off a broken sob, unable to bear her devastated expression through your tears.

With every jarring step he took, you get further and further away from the safe house; from finding your answers and plotting your return back to your world.

Satoru didn't just tear your hopes of returning home from your hands, he also stomped them to the ground with the impending dread of his promise to Miri.

The promise to kill you should he see you again.

Crippling agony washed over you, enough to make you bitterly wail, your cries weaving through the trees as fearful images of your mangled body flashed through your mind, the end of your life brought about by this cruel prince's hand.

“Enough with the dramatics,” Satoru muttered frostily as he trudged through the thick snow, reaching his behemoth of a stallion. With barely an iota of effort, he heaped you onto the saddle, giving your thigh a hard squeeze in warning not to do anything funny.

Mounting behind you, he used his sturdier build to keep you caged in between his arms. Gripping the reins and snapping it once, his great white horse whinnies, moving to a trot as the forest and the safe house you spent these three blissful days in disappeared from your view.

You never thought your fate would end up like this: bound atop a horse like fresh game being brought back after a hunt, while a sadistic man who wants nothing more than your demise sat behind you, stoic and silent despite your hushed cries.

Anguish welled deep in your soul, manifesting as endless tears streaming down your face which you tried desperately to hide from him.

His voice broke through your frantic thoughts as a low, baritone warning.

“I told you I will force you take accountability for your actions,” Satoru muttered darkly, slowing his horse to a cant.

Without any warning, he grasped your chin and tugged hard, eliciting a gasp of fear from you, forcing your teary eyes to meet his enraged ones.

“And your punishment has only just begun, Princess.”

mtt fun fact: minced pigeon pies were brought to northern haleway by merchants from the south who introduced this alternative meat source during one of the country's harshest famines

dawn says: what kind of 'punishment' do you think satoru meant? 👀

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

©️ all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost or claim as your own.

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greenandsorrow · 1 year ago

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the price for misbehaving (i)

Alastor in the rut x gn!reader

WARNINGS; 18+, reader with female parts, horniness & hormones, deer/doe!demon!reader, breeding k1nk, primal instincts, mentions of deer mating season, premature ejaculation, masturbation, dry humping, penetrative sex, marking & biting, friends to lovers, very descriptive, smut with emotion, corn with plot, fictional man being pathetic

Dividers by; @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Please do not repost or directly copy my work and don't use it on AI platforms either ❤️

I somehow always manage to write more than originally planned, so this is big. Also, this is my first time writing a gender neutral reader -I'm still learning.

my original idea • ~masterpost~

Alastor is the radio demon. You have no clue how he manages to behave like he's the epitome of etiquette and a true gentleman, while also having the reputation of one of the most dangerous citizens of Hell, an overlord, a sinister killer and a cannibal.

Alastor is your friend. You fell in Hell three decades after him, but the fact that you're also a deer demon seemed to get him interested in you. His smile is less a sign of dominance and more one of sympathy around you. What's more, the radio demon is a tad bit protective when it comes to you. You'll never know it, but Alastor has his way of keeping you safe, discreetly pulling the strings, luckily for your sake.

He had been missing for years and when he had come to your door, big grin, shiny hooves and polished cane and had told you about the "Hazbin Hotel" you hadn't questioned much. It was weird that someone like him would back up Lucifer's daughter on such an idealistic plan, but with the extermination being a constant bane in your life, you had agreed heartily. You had wrapped your arms around Alastor's lean frame in a never recorpirated hug and you'd been off to your new place of residence.

You like the hotel. You and Niffty are old friends, the barman is a familiar face and Charlie is thrilled to have you here. The other residents have been no trouble to you, so you've managed to adjust to your new lifestyle no problem.

Let's not forget one thing though, you're all sinners and Alastor is ten times the amount you are. This comes with consequences for him. Alastor is bound to face an eternal struggle against his animal side, a struggle that he's been destined to lose. According to Angel, the radio demon you call your friend would identify as asexual had he been born later on Earth. But even with that, the urges he has to experience during the rutting season can't be prevented. You're still unaware your friend has to go through this.

But that's Alastor's price for misbehaving.

It's another evening at the hotel.

Charlie and Vaggie are on a date and that means no planned activities for the rest of you. You like the peace and quiet. Your deer ears are lowered in concentration as you're sitting on the couch of the lounge area, reading a book which has turned out to be a sick and twisted edition of Pride & Prejudice.

Alastor's been very distant since the beginning of autumn. More than usual. It's almost October now... and it has peaked your interest why he has been spending whole days locked up in his quarters. Sometime during September, you two had been chatting merrily about jazz, when all of a sudden his pupils had shrank and he had let out an uncharacteristically shaky sigh. You remember how his breathing had sped up and he had smiled politely before vanishing into thin air.

You're about to stand up and go to your room, when your ears practically perk up at the sound of static. You know this sound... and even though it usually means bad news, you look up and give the source of it a little smile. "Oh, hi Al..."

Alastor's antlers begin to grow, but he can control himself for now. The rutting starts hitting him with a new wave of frustration -and it's getting worse now that he's in your presence.

"My favorite y/n! What are you reading my dear?", his grin and confidence hide how vulnerable he feels in this state.

"Charlie gifted me some of her old books and-"

"Oh Charlie! She is a gem, isn't she?" Alastor suddenly leans to the side, as if trying to scratch something out of his hair. His face quickly returns back to its normal grin... but he also begins to scratch his arm.

You chuckle awkwardly. Why is he looking so irritable?

"Well, she's so nice, I can't disagree with you there... and I'm glad she finally decided to take some time off to spend with her girlfriend."

He laughs, showing off his sharp teeth as you initiate in small talk.

Alastor can feel a voice deep within calling him to give in and claim you, breed you 'till his hunger is satisfied. The radio demon's expression fades to an empty, dull stare, as his instincts fight against him. Now you're feeling uneasy and you shift in your seat.

"Ah- sorry dear. Got caught up there, I forgot myself." Alastor takes a quick breath, his eyes narrowing as he struggles to stay in control. "Don't you worry y/n! I'm certainly quite harmless."

He's in full rutting mode, his voice starts becoming breathy -the animalistic urges taking over. It's only getting worse as he stands close to you, the hormones increasing his urge to be near you, to make you his and his alone.

His voice is hoarse now and his breathing heavier. "Have you seen Niffty by chance?"

His ears move as if they're itching him.

You clear your throat and try to keep your curiosity regarding his behavior at bay. "I'm afraid I haven't, she's probably killing bugs somewhere..."

Alastor's expression shifts to one of pure annoyance. To your oblivious so far mind, Al is probably just pissed off at something. "Well then, if you happen to see her, do tell her she better not disturb me at my room... and don't you dare forget it my dear!"

"I- I won't."

His pupils almost completely disappear as he stares at you and his mouth curls into a snarl with his yellowish teeth out.

He has a hypnotic effect on you, you're beginning to feel lightheaded being near him. He takes a step back, moving a safe distance away from you -because he feels like he's gonna launch on you at any given moment. Alastor is getting tired of trying to maintain his composure around you.

He hates how shallow his breathing has become, how the urge to take you has become too much for him to bear. A low growling noise escapes him.

Alastor watches as you resume your previous activity of reading. Humiliated from his lack of control and frustrated from the stinging sensation in his loins he slips away from the lounge.

Alastor is alone now, his eyes wild with lust and desperation, as he looks around his room in a frenzy. He grabs a pillow and starts rubbing his groin against it. He feels like his body is melting from all the heatb -he can't help but imagine the pillow is your backside.

"Oh~", he breathes out raggedly, his inhales shallower and shallower as his imagination toys with him. You'd look so delicious in the place of the lifeless pillow... Alastor's heart is racing and his antlers have grown sharp and tall on his head.

He is overwhelmed, being rather sexually unbothered the rest of the year has made his shaft extra sensitive.

...why him? Why does he have to go through this rutting thing? It makes him feel powerless and he hates it...

Alastor groans in desperation. He squeezes his eyes shut, imagining your soft skin sliding against his body... He thinks of your cute fluffy tail. You get all your clothes tailored so that there's space for it to protrude while he always tucks his own in his suit pants...

In a fury, he takes off his coat and crawls on the bed, placing the pillow between his legs. He's in all fours as he humps it like a real deer.

He keeps growling, the sound mixing with static. He can't stop thinking of you -the perfect mate... another deer. Alastor's mind is playing out all these amazing things, your smile and your voice, your butt, your ears that match his own... and your neck that he'd definitely mark with his teeth if he was ever given the chance.

Alastor is in a trance. With shaky hands he curses himself for, he reaches down to his crotch and takes out his cock. His tip is flushed and swollen and he hisses as he continues to push his hips against the pillow. The deer demon grunts softly, his hips moving involuntarily with restless abandon as he pretends to be mating with a partner.

"Take that... oh~" Alastor's cock throbs painfully, desperate for release. The pillow has been providing him with some much needed friction the last few weeks, but he knows it soon won't be enough to satisfy him. His red hair is sticking to his forehead and he's panting so much -chasing his release with a desperation he'd consider pathetic, if he could focus on anything else than his tightening balls.

Alastor continues to rub against the pillow and the motion makes his tail slip out of his suit pants. He can feel his body heat up even more, sweat beading on his forehead as he approaches his climax.

Your curiosity has gotten the best of you. You can't concentrate on your book and all you can think of is Alastor. In any case, the other residents of the hotel are busy doing their own thing, so there's no one stopping you from walking all the way to Alastor's rooms. There's static coming from his bedroom, but what really intrigues you are the groans... they're rather guttural... You assume he maybe hunted down an animal and he's devouring it? This has to be it...

On the other side of the door, Alastor is shaking with desire and his heart is pounding. The smell of you -that he assumes is part of his fantasy- is driving him insane, as he is almost ready to release a torrent of hot cum on his pillow.

"Alastor?" you knock on the big, ornate door.

This sudden interruption almost causes Alastor to fall over. He quickly covers his twitching member and throws the pillow away from him. One would expect him to feel embarrassed, but his first thought at being caught red handed is to kill you. Luckily for you, it's just a thought.

"Al? It's y/n. Can I come in?"

The radio demon's face contorts in desperation as he realizes how unsatisfied he feels. His hips are still rocking back and forth slightly, despite his attempts to control his body.

Why did you have to pay him a visit NOW? He was so close to finding relief...

Alastor has become desperate and not to mention agitated. What if you smell his arousal in the air? What if you look down and see the outline of his dick in his pants?!

He groans and shifts uncomfortably. The demon closes his eyes for a moment as he tries to even out his breathing.

Eventually, he shakes his head and walks to the door. He has fought against mighty overlords, he shouldn't hesitate to face his harmless friend just because he is in the rut.

Alastor doesn't want to admit it, but he most definitely is in breeding mode. Proof of that... the moment he opens the door, your smell becomes so strong to his heightened senses that he almost cums in his pants from it alone. Your friend bites back a groan.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, my dear?"

Taking in his appearance, something is definitely off to your inquisitive eyes. You notice how he's only in his shirt and vest -something truly rare for the Alastor you've come to know. His bow tie is crooked and the cherry on top... you can see his tail! It's red like his ears and... moving? You wonder why.

"Is he in musth or something?" you joke in your head.

"I was just bored in all honesty... Everyone is occupied with something. Um... you look... sick?"

"Ha!Ha! Don't be absurd y/n! You can't get any sicker than you already are in Hell!"

He can't hide the slight edge from his voice. He claims he is fine, but the look on his face screams otherwise.

Alastor's temperature keeps rising, his body is so sensitive and without realizing it, he neglects to filter his voice.

"Would you like to come in?"

Your eyes widen and you look at him with genuine surprise clear on your features. He quickly catches up that he screwed, but lets it go, the shivers he's starting to experience as his unattended cock is asking for some action having gained all his focus.

The air in the room is thick and you begin to have second thoughts about your decision to come here, but it's too late for that, so you just walk in Alastor's bedroom. His quarters are always clean and intimidating just like their occupant. Still, you like coming here, he's never been hostile towards you and if anything, dancing with Alastor or spilling some tea with him has always been part of your routine here at the hotel.

"Wanna dance?"

"You know I always do." Alastor manages to keep his smile and composure despite the sweat running down his back.

The jookbox starts playing on its own and you casually walk closer to your years long friend. Since he's always been much taller, you place your hands on his chest, while he wraps his own around your waist.

Alastor's lips start tingling as he looks down at your exposed neck. He bites the insides of his mouth until he tastes blood -he can't allow himself to think about you like that.

You sway back and forth in the rhythm of the old timey tunes, inevitably rubbing against him. The new found friction has him biting down on his tongue and clenching his fists behind your back until his nails are piercing his palms -otherwise he'd be howling out in despair.

Immersed in the songs you love so much, you unconsciously shift even closer to your fellow deer demon, but he harshly jerks away from you, his expression growing panicked. "H- haha... I c- can't let you d- do that my friend!"

You frown. Why can't you dance with him like you always do? ...and did the radio demon just stutter? You sigh at his lack of cheerfulness and look down.

Your now downcast gaze gives you a nice view of his... crotch area... and the said area has a raging bulge. Your first thought is to touch it and indulge in the attraction you've always felt for Alastor, but the way his antlers are growing right now and the static that's peaking up again make you turn to leave.

Long fingers wrap around your wrist in an instant and when you turn back at him, his eyes have changed.

"The song's not over dear y/n.", he says in the same strained tone and you swallow.

"R- right... my bad."

He has you pressed tightly against him in no time and he's swaying with you almost like he's on autopilot. And you can now feel his unbelievably hard erection against your lower body. Alastor grunts softly, his eternal smile faltering as his cock keeps throbbing painfully within his pants, desperate for release.

The demon's eyes wander over you, taking in your form. He knows he has to maintain some semblance of control, but his hormones are off the roof. Without realizing the inappropriateness of his actions, Alastor reaches out to touch you, fingers grazing the skin of your cheek. The demon's cock throbs even harder at the contact, leaking pre-cum in his underwear.

"You're so beautiful..."

Heat pools in your belly and your face flushes at his simple comment. He's a charmer, but that's a new one. His monocle slips down slightly as he leans in close, his scent of musk and arousal surrounding you.

Alastor's hands move to your hips, pulling you impossibly close. His eyes lock onto yours, filled with lust and a primal need. He presses his hips against yours and you can feel his clothed cock twitching eagerly.

His monocle falls to the floor as he loses himself in the rutting.

"Al- what's happening?"

Before you can question his unusual behaviour any further, Alastor presses his hardened length against your stomach with intent. A mix of frustration and pleasure is clear on his features.

To say you're surprised would be an understatement, but you don't stop him. You watch in awe as your bricked up friend loses himself to lust and his need to mate.

Your innocent dancing moment has turned into him dry humping you. He releases a guttural groan -too far gone to care about composure.

Alastor begins to grind against you faster, mimicking the movements of a rutting deer. His grip tightens around you, his need growing stronger and overwhelming. The bulge in his pants keeps pushing insistently against you, but you're so stunned by this turn of events that you grab him by the arms and take a step back.

Alastor's eyes flatter open and for a moment... He snaps out of his blurry state of mind. He straightens and clears his throat. He then gives you a stern look, with ears lowered.

"Get out."

"B- but we were-"

"You don't want to make me repeat myself."

The moment he's alone again, Alastor works the buttons of his dress pants in a daze, freeing his swollen cock. A low growl rumbles in his chest -and the deer demon is convinced that if he doesn't cum in the following minute, he's going to die a second time. He keeps making soft sounds, his body aching with the need to mate.

He had you right here, but he can't bring himself to be so vulnerable in front of someone other than himself.

What would Vox say if he found out that Alastor is forced to go through a mating season like some fucking animal? Why does the price of his sins have to manifest into some primal need to breed?

"Fffffuck!"

His mind gets fixated on the ache between his legs.

With an animalistic sound of pure lust, Alastor reaches down and wraps his fingers around one of his heavy testacles. He squeezes it gently, feeling his warm seed oozing out his slit. He leaks copious amounts of pre-cum on his crimson bedsheets. The radio demon watches, transfixed by the sight of his own seed dripping down the length of his hard dick. It's a powerful aphrodisiac for him and he can't help but imagine it spilling into you instead.

His cock twitches in anticipation and he gives in. Every day since the rutting season began, he has been trying to suppress his instincts and today has been no different, if anything, your presence made his hormones go even more nuts... and you should be happy you're not carrying his fawns by now.

Alastor begins to stroke himself -legs spread and sweat making his clothes stick to his body. His breath catches in his throat as his hips involuntarily back into his hand. The tips of his claws grow slightly and he's jerking himself off at a punishing pace now. Alastor's groans turn into pleasured whimpers as he arches his back, driving his erection deeper in his hand.

What would it feel like to finish inside you? To make you come... To have your heat contracting around his rock-hard member as you milk him past the point of no return?

"Oh- ...agh- y/n..."

He's murmuring things in unknown languages, but it all comes back to your name.

Alastor's hips begin to thrust forward in time with his strokes, seeking release from the torment of his lust. He snarls and growls in a throaty manner. He physically can't take it anymore, his balls feel like they're on fire...

The radio demon's eyes roll back in his head, the pleasure is intense, but it's only fueling his desire for a real partner more.

His fingers are sliding up and down his sensitive shaft and he can feel himself getting closer -but he knows that's not enough. Alastor's breath has become ragged, his monocle forgotten along with his pride somewhere far away... his vision is blurring...

Feeling himself nearing the edge, Alastor grits his teeth and pushes through the ache. His muscles tense... and then, he finally comes in a powerful burst of pleasure, shooting thick ropes of cum across the room. He keeps coming, his hips bucking upward, pushing his cock even deeper into his fist as he empties himself.

Alastor's orgasm was intense -almost violent- but it was the sweet release he's been craving all day long. As his climax finally begins to subside, the demon collapses back onto the bed, panting heavily.

However, his cock has remained hard and throbbing between his legs, demanding more attention as he tries to catch his breath.

Slowly, a tired Alastor sits up and glances down at his still engorged member. A part of him is reveling in the feeling of power that comes with being so thoroughly aroused, but he's not ready to admit that. For now, needs to fuck something, anything.

But hasn't he been tormented enough? Why isn't he satisfied yet?

He reaches for the nearest object. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it can take his cock and bear the brunt of his ferocious passion. With a sinister chuckle, Alastor picks up another unlucky cushion and holds it tightly against his hips. His cock jerks repeatedly as he positions himself with the head of his shaft pressing against the soft fabric.

The cushion offers little resistance but serves as an outlet for Alastor's raging desire. He pounds away at it, relentlessly, his body shaking. With the ever present sound of static -evidence of his frustration-, he rhythmically pistons in and out of his makeshift partner with brutal force.

He's been doing this for weeks now, all the unsatisfied hunger making him lose his sanity bit by bit.

The radio demon's eyes are glazed over with passion. He continues fucking the cushion with savage intensity... still he wishes he could take it out on someone made of flesh and blood, someone who would react and offer him some reassurance that he's not going to pass out.

The pleasure is threatening to overwhelm Alastor once again and with labored breathing, he frantically moves his hips-

"N- no, n- no....agh-" he lets out a feral roar, spurting a sticky cumshot onto the cushion. This time, when he collapses on the mattress, he is exhausted.

He doesn't bother looking down at his angry cock, the discomfort isn't going away till the mating season ends...

...let's go back to you now.

After being so abruptly pushed away by Alastor, you went straight to your room. You have a lot to ponder over after tonight. Maybe you did have a small a crush on your friend that had allowed the situation to escalate. His behavior has been so off putting though.

You'd been proud of yourself, considering that you know Alastor better than anyone else in Hell, since he talks about everything with you over a cup of tea. He had been so excited to tell you he'll soon be back on air and he's always somewhere around you at all times. So, the fact that he just expressed sexual desire for you and then told you to leave him alone immediately after...

You would have never guessed that your fellow deer demon is interested in sex. He's been in the company of some of the most desired demons, but he's simply not into that kind of thing... Yet, he had dry humped you like some desperate animal.

His scent had been so blissful to your nostrils, that he had almost woken something primal in your own body. There's definitely a lot of tension between you two now and you hope that tomorrow he will approach you.

You sigh and get all cozy under your bed covers. How should you deal with the situation at hand? You know him. Not just the radio demon, or Alastor the cannibal, but him.

Maybe the whole redemption thing is working after all, but when did you start being so considerate and thoughtful of other sinners' hardships? And if your friend's hardship is a constant hard on, perhaps your services will be appreciated -or you've just been hanging out with Angel too much.

It's a new day in Hell.

You take your time getting ready before joining Niffty in the kitchen to make breakfast.

Alastor is sat on his bed, his face buried in his hands as he trembles with unwanted arousal. He's almost at the point of a nervous breakdown. The radio demon is getting angrier with himself -the urge to find you and claim you is getting worse and worse and he struggles to maintain his calm.

Alastor gets ready. His routine a bit different when in rutting mode. He first relieves some of the pressure in his balls, he then puts on a clean shirt, fixes his hair and places his red monocle back in place. And of course, his smile, because he's never fully dressed without one!

"Oh good morning my fellows! What a pleasant breakfast you seem to be having!" He prefers to eat alone, so him appearing late isn't something worth noticing... but the tenting in his trousers definitely is...

And when Angel smirks mischievously at him, Alastor smiles in such an unnerving manner that the spider demon has to cower behind Husk.

"Al! Morning!" you say a bit too cheerfully. Your ears rise on your head to match your general attitude.

The radio demon grins at you -internally relieved you're not keeping last night against him. He rarely feels any remorse -part of why he's in Hell- but he's not proud of snapping at you last night just because he's irritable and frustrated 24/7. You're a deer demon like him, but you never get in heat like an animal, you weren't as sinister as he was when alive and therefore your punishment isn't as tormenting.

You stand up and start gathering the dishes. Charlie is eager to help you, but you manage to deny her excessive kindness for once.

Alastor swallows a guttural growl as you turn your back at him and start walking to the kitchen, your deer tail and your ass all too enticing for him. His legs begin to move against his will, following you like he's being driven purely by instinct. He is once again biting his tongue hard enough to taste the familiar to him, metallic taste of blood. There is a certain strain the urge is causing him... and for once Alastor is feeling desperate for touch.

"Angel and I are going outside today, he said he wants me to meet a friend of his... Um, I think her name's Cherri or something."

You obviously felt his presence, his red eyes feasting on your form the whole time.

"How delightful, making new acquaintances! I am still decorating my humble station. Haha!"

"Oh, I can't wait to experience your radio show again Al! It's been so long!"

His arrogant smirk is accompanied by a twitch of his stiff dick. The energy boost he feels when you acknowledge his power... it makes him dangerously lightheaded.

He walks closer to you, looming right behind you as you stretch to put something on a high self. Alastor has you trapped between the kitchen counter and his body. The demon's cock throbs painfully against the fabric of his pants. The said fabric growing damp as he grows harder.

With a frenzied urgency, Alastor gives in to his animal side and leans in, his hot breath in your ear is sending shivers down your spine, your pupils dilating.

"Do you even realize what you've been doing to me sweet y/n?"

He is getting impatient... and when you don't answer him immediately, he presses his tent against your ass. "Do you my little deer?"

The sound of static feels the air, his voice distorted and his breathing heavier than before. "You... have no idea how much I want- no... how much I need this, with you."

You swallow, your own breath has sped up and heat has pooled in your tummy again. But when you turn to look at him, you come face to face with a hideous creature with wild eyes. You flinch. Alastor's smile fails him and you swear you hear the most discreet of sniffles coming from him.

"Help me." That's proof enough for you that your friend is going through something he clearly didn't ask for, but it's taking over him anyway.

Angel Dust has described to you how he'd needed time to get used to having multiple arms and you have to file down your antlers daily, so that they don't overgrow and cause you headaches. Alastor on the other hand loses himself to primal urges once a year.

You lock your gaze on his and extend a steady hand, placing it on the side of his pale face. Not only does he allow it, but your small gesture seems to have the effect on Alastor, his demon form receding -and you can see how sweaty and shaky he really is, while also trying so hard to hold back from bending you over the counter and taking you raw right now.

"Stay still..."

It's now or never for you. You hesitantly cup his bulge.

Alastor gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head as he leans into your touch. He's already so aroused that any contact sends shivers down his spine. He buries his face in your neck and starts nibbling or better... biting around your collarbones. It's a cannibalistic urge of his, but he would kill himself before causing you any real harm.

Alastor groans, his still clothed member twitching under the pressure of your hand. The demon can barely think straight -rutting instincts taking over completely.

"I need... I need to be inside you." He can only whisper, reaching down to pull your shirt up, his fingers trembling as he does, revealing your upper body to him. "Yes... I need you."

This is all so sudden for you, but you finally know with certainty what's happening. "You're... mating or something?"

You stop rubbing his clothed crotch and Alastor moans, the sound carrying the old audio-like effect. He nods slightly, his hips bucking against your hand. He's so close to losing control. The mating season has driven him mad with lust. A lust projected on you, it seems.

"Y/n... I need you now."

"Al... They- They're gonna hear us... We're in the frickin' kitchen! ...we can't... can't-"

Alastor's eyes widen and he stumbles back, his erection pleading to be freed from his dress pants.

He looks at you incredulously, angrily. "What?! But I... I said that I need you." He starts panting, there's a look of betrayal on his face that has you short circuiting.

"I'm already half naked here and you're... You're obviously hard- It's too risky!"

"I. Don't. Care."

"Well you should... but..." you sigh.

"I do have another idea. I've been rather inactive in the afterlife but... I can do it for you."

Your friend's heart is racing with anticipation. He tries to control his unsteady breathing -without much success.

"Another idea?" he asks with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I know it's not what you really crave... but I can... you know... jerk you off?"

Did you really just say that?

He begins to unbutton his pants hurriedly.

"Very well..."

As Alastor's pants fall to his knees, he scratches his fluffy ears, presenting his throbbing member to you. It's a sight to behold -long with a shimmering dew covering the tip.

"Do it."

Your mouth waters as your eyes take in Alastor's cock. The head of it is a deep reddish purple, almost glowing. His ballsack hangs heavy, filled with seed, so that he can breed for as long as the rutting lasts. Something must've altered in your brain's chemistry, because you take his balls in your hand, fondling them. The deer demon lets out a low moan, his hips thrusting forward slightly. The sensation of your hand on his sensitive balls is almost too much for him to bear...

"More..." he manages to whisper between pants.

Encouraged by his reaction, you squeeze his balls softly and Al lets out a throaty groan, his dick twitching, almost ready to explode. He's not used to other people touching him.

You're still unsure if that's the right thing to do in the kitchen, where anyone can walk in at any given moment. But he seems to be really into it and the look in his eyes makes it clear to you that you can't just stop now. So that's what he's been struggling with, what's been making him stay locked in his room, until dealing with it on his own wasn't enough.

Alastor's gaze is pleading you and his voice comes out shaky, unfiltered.

"Please... I need more..." He then reaches down and moves your hand on his eager cock. You wrap your fingers around his length, with your thumb resting on his head, tracing it slowly. The sounds he makes and the way his features contort with pleasure makes you start stroking him.

The overlord can't believe what's happening. He has never experienced anything like this and it feels incredible. The more you stroke him, the more he bucks his hips into your hand. "Y- yes... just like that..."

You feel so confident now that he seems to have let go completely, allowing you to do as you please with his body. You know teasing isn't fair, especially in his hormonal state, but you can't help slowing down your hand's movements -playing with the friction you're providing him with. He lets out a frustrated huff of air, his nostrils flaring.

"Faster."

"Nope, I told you I don't want anyone finding us out."

"I didn't ask you darling. It was an order."

You stubbornly slow down your hand even more and you know that this is far from enough for him. Alastor needs more speed, more pressure.

"I... Don't... Give a single penny if they'll hear us... J- just... y/n, get me there." His body trembles with need as he speaks to you.

"You... You accepted to help me... And yet, you- you refuse to give me what I want." He looks down at your lips with a mix of lust and anger in his bright eyes.

You suppress a mischievous giggle.

It's empowering seeing such a strong demon being dependent on you. You can feel the heat radiating from his dick and he makes a desperate little sound when you begin moving your hand up and down his long member again.

You almost feel pity for him -teasing is fun, but you don't want to disrespect him or humiliate him while he's so vulnerable and out of control. Though that decision has nothing to do with the fact that he could kill you, you actually feel strongly for him and the way both pairs of your ears move in sink as you pick up pace is so... natural for you, like you two belong together in a primal sense.

Alastor feels his muscles tensing up and his black heart is pounding like crazy.

"I can't- can't-"

He looks mesmerized at your hand jerking him off at a now delicious speed.

You are so turned on and you want to give him all the pleasure you can, even if you're in the hotel's kitchen. You begin sinking on your knees and you see him gulp. Your friend freezes for a moment, his mind racing with images of pleasure and ecstasy.

"That's new."

"How so Al?"

"I've never had that... but I want to now."

You can't help but smile. He probably never wanted a blow job before and he won't be in the mood for one after the rutting ends.

You're now at the right height so you just go for it, leaning in. Your tongue swirls around his pulsating cockhead and you're surprised from the amount of pre cum he can produce. Alastor's eyes roll back in his head as he lets out a long, low moan. The sensation of your warm breath and wet tongue on him sends shivers down his spine.

"Don't stop..."

You lick his slit and he groans deeply, his eyes squeezing shut. "Yeah... Keep doing this... agh~"

You're offering stimulation and he's gritting his teeth at the feeling, but something isn't quite right. You're once again toying with him, denying him the release he so desperately wants.

"I will have you... eventually."

Alastor then takes a big breath, his cock is still hard as steel. "You're a real temptation~" He glares at you -rather hungrily- his nostrils once again flaring.

"Don't try to make me beg."

"But would you now?" Under any other circumstances, you'd never be that bold with him....

Alastor laughs darkly in response to your challenge, causing a cold chill to run down your spine.

"You wound me, my dear. I would never beg for anything... Especially not when it comes to satisfying this... this unwanted but still unyeilding desire..."

You smile wickedly -your ears conveying your feelings, as always, when they move. In a swift motion, but still cautiously, you push back his foreskin. A low, agonizing moan escapes Alastor's lips as your action exposes his sensitive flesh to the air. Hips jerking forward involuntarily, seeking more contact with your hand...

"You're killing me mon cher~"

"Buckle up Al..."

You start stroking him thoroughly.

The radio demon closes his eyes, ragged breaths leaving his open mouth as you jerk him off. Every fiber of his being is focused on the pleasure. He groans... feeling his elusive climax approaching at last. "Unh..."

You're now applying some serious pressure on his throbbing dick. With a primal scream, Alastor's entire body tenses up and he begins releasing his seed on your hand.

"Oh goodness..." He keeps groaning and you can see him shudder as he does so. He continues spurting thick, white fluid onto your hand, seemingly unable to stop himself.

In his eyes there's a mix of lust and gratitude. He licks his lips unconsciously.

"What else can you do to me?"

"W- What? Me?"

The demon chuckles lightly at your question. His eyes trail down your body appreciatively when you stand up. "And why not you? You're here and I need some action these days!"

He grins and you sigh.

"Well, that means it could be anyone... anyone other than me."

You don't like how this revelation makes you feel sad and disappointed.

A sly smirk plays at the corners of Alastor's mouth. "I suppose it could, but then again, why settle for anyone when I can have you?"

His voice is husky and you like this tone from him. "You and I belong together, dear y/n."

He's clearly considering you his mate now.

Your romantic side wins and you cup his face. That seems to sober him up if just for a few minutes. The overlord looks like he's savoring the sensation and a deep sigh escapes him. "I don't deserve this, not with you."

"But I do want to be present through this... I get it."

The glimmer of hope returns to his eyes. "You have to mean it."

"I won't leave you suffering alone Alastor."

He nods as he thinks it over. "In that case... I'll accept your offer."

You smile sweetly. This isn't that bad. He didn't even ask for a deal. You stand on your hooves and give his cheek a little kiss. He beams at you as he takes hold of his signature cane.

"Oh I think I'm going to enjoy this!"

"Haha, so do I... B- But let's make you something to eat before you get all excited again..."

"That's a wonderful idea darling! And I might as well tell you about Susan's new act while you're at it."

Alastor feels a warmth he hasn't in a long time. As you work on preparing food for him, he seems content and somewhat at peace. But then, like clockwork, the desire is going to build up again. Through the week the rutting hits him anew and he becomes extremely short-tempered. He has to change rooms when Charlie starts singing and he's constantly arguing with Husk.

Alastor surprises himself.

During the times he does manage to control his primitive urges, he's actually avoiding you. He has this idea that he would end up hurting you if things ever escalated fully between you two.

Could this mean that he actually cares about your wellbeing?

He is an overlord. He is the one and only radio demon, there's no way he has a soft spot for his fellow deer demon -who had relieved him of weeks of pent up tension just with their touch.

You, on the other hand, feel no shame nor guilt for your little encounter with Alastor in the kitchen. If anything, the fact that he's still in his mating season is making you wet, longing for more.

One fateful night, all of you're sitting together, you across from Alastor's armchair... and it's impossible to not look down. He has a prominent bulge and you're not even surprised. However, when you look back up, you freeze like a... well, you do freeze like a deer caught in the headlights, because he is staring at you so very intensely.

The air feels thick all of a sudden and his gaze implies many things -to your delight. He excuses himself shortly after, but not before giving you a slight nod. He wants you now. He needs you now.

Experiencing a slight Deja vu, you find yourself knocking on his door the very same night. The Deja vu intensifies at the sound of static coming from the other side of the door. You decide to let yourself in when there's no answer. "Al?"

A pair of big and intricate antlers comes in your vision. The smell of him floods your senses. It's intoxitacing, addictive. You want him too.

Alastor wastes no time.

He pushes you up against the nearest wall, his body pressing tightly against yours. His breath is coming in ragged gasps, his eyes full of lust and desire. The demon growls, baring his teeth in a feral grin.

In one swift motion, he tears your clothes from your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable before him. His eyes roam over your exposed flesh, his lips parted in a wicked grin.

With an animalistic growl, he buries his face between your breasts, sucking on your nipples with rough abandon. You moan and arch your back, the sensation sinfully satisfying. Noticing your response, Alastor's movements become even more frenzied. He reaches down to grip your hips, lifting you up onto the wall.

You then unzip his pants, lost in the haze of your increasing desire for him. Alasor groans when you do that, his hips bucking forward as you free his cock from its confines. It slaps against your lower stomach -rigid and angry.

With another feral growl, Alastor turns you around so that you're facing the wall -gaining a perfect view of your ass and tail.

You gasp as he parts your folds with his thumb, finding your already dripping entrance. Maybe he's not that experienced, but right now he seems to be driven by some infallible instinct. His finger doesn't stay in your cunt for long though, since the man is getting desperate to claim you as his -in a much more effective fashion.

You turn you head to the side and lock eyes with him. You shiver, almost scared at the pure hunger on his face. He thrusts into you with brutal force, driving his cock inside you deep and hard. His hips start pistoning against your ass, as he takes you without mercy. He's breeding, essentially. It's not meant to be slow or soft.

The gentleman you knew is gone for now, but you're digging your nails in his shoulders and letting out whines and moans nonetheless.

With each thrust, he growls like a beast claiming his prize. Alastor's eyes are wild and feral, reflecting the primal lust that consumes him. His heavy balls are slapping against your skin. You're turning to jelly slowly but surely, surrendering to him in way that feels natural to you -not forced.

Your old friend grunts in both pain and pleasure, losing himself in the heat of the moment. His fingers dig into your skin, leaving marks on your hips that show his possessiveness.

You reach behind you, grabbing his thighs to somehow ground yourself from the onslaught of pleasure in your core. A guttural moan escapes him as you touch his sensitive flesh. His hips buck against yours, driving himself deeper inside you and your eyes roll back in your head.

Alastor continues to pound into you relentlessly, his cock throbbing with each powerful stroke. He's sweating and he starts taking off his clothes -in a uncharacteristically clumsy manner.

He can't take it anymore, your tightening walls becoming overwhelming for him to bear. Feeling the pressure building within him, he growls low in his throat and picks up the pace even more.

The new speed he fucks you in has you seeing stars, the knot on your stomach snapping without warning. You cry out his name loud enough for everyone in the hotel to hear -but you simply don't care.

He moans your name as well, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives himself deeper into you one last time. His body shudders violently as he reaches the height of his own orgasm. Hot, thick cum is filling you up and there's so much of... It's dripping out of you and onto the carpet.

He finally did it. He's mated. He's bred you.

Spent and panting heavily, Alastor collapses on you, his forehead resting on your shoulder. You can feel his breath -and teeth- on your skin as you try to catch your breath. His dick is softening inside you, but he doesn't pull out just yet. His primal instinct is still active and making sure you take every last drop of his seed.

After you both relax in the present silence for a bit, he casually lifts you up and places you on the bed -the manhandling making you blush profusely, but he doesn't seem to notice. He lets out a sound close to purring as he lays down next to you, spooning you.

You sigh, feeling exhausted and simultaneously content. You roll over so that you're facing him... and he looks like he's already fallen asleep.

Your heartbeat has turned back to normal and you find shelter in his long and elegant neck, as you start dozing off into a peaceful and dreamless slumber.

He's not cold or ignorant the next morning.

...that morning ends up with him grasping at the air, as if searching for something to hold on to, as your head bobs up and down under the sheets.

It becomes common knowledge that Alastor's mood improves significantly after having sex with you. Something that does occur a couple more times in the spam of a week or so.

You knew the rutting was coming to an end when his desperate and forceful claiming -usually from behind- became passionate love making.

There was this one night...

Like a true gentleman of his time, Alastor had made love to you with deep, sensual thrusts as your hands had gotten lost in his fluffy hair. You had been underneath him.

Your orgasm had been accompanied by a soundless moan as you'd thrown your head back and he'd nuzzled your neck, breath labored and a frown on his face as he'd come shortly after you. You had let him fall asleep on you that night, both of you panting, sweat covering you.

The only time Alastor isn't smiling is when he is asleep, you have come to realize. You can't help but notice how tired he looks as you lay motionless next him. So you gently start caressing his ears -and he groans softly, nuzzling deeper into your touch, without even bothering to open his eyes. A small smile forms on his mouth, a real one.

Is this love? Maybe someday.

The End??

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makingqueerhistory · 9 months ago

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The Story of Sharifa Everyone called me a boy in my childhood but I eventually understood that even though my body was like that of a boy, I was actually a girl. I loved dressing up like girls. However, no one at home agreed to buy me the clothes I liked. I liked doing household chores with my mother, rather than going out with my father. I used to secretly makeover myself with my sisters’ cosmetics. If I was caught. I would be scolded or even beaten. I wanted to play with girls more. Nevertheless at home. in school. the girls did not want to take me in sports with them. Even when I went to play with the boys they used to laugh at my voice and behaviour. Everyone at school, the neighbours, and even the people at home ignored me a lot. I used to suffer a lot thinking why I was like this. I felt very alone. One day I met someone whom everyone called a girl but she thought of herself as a boy. I thought “this person is also like me.” She told me “We are not women or men. We are the third gender.” That person took me to a place where there were more people like us. And their ‘Guru Mom’ kept a watch on all of them. Going there, I did not feel alone. I did not feel that I was different from others. I began to stay with those people. There the rules and customs were different from those of our home. Still, we lived like a family, sharing all the joys and sorrows among us. We live like a family, sharing everyone’s happiness and sorrow. We also feel bad for the people at home. So we go home from time to time. I left home twenty years ago. Since then I have been earning money with my new family by blessing newborn babies and new brides and grooms. Sometimes I collect money from people by requesting them. However, we want to live like other common people in the society, to study, work and do business like them. Nevertheless, most people don’t want to mix with us, don’t want to give us work even if we have required qualifications. However, nowadays many people are sympathetic to us. Nowadays, many people like us are studying from their own homes. There are people like us in all countries of the world. In many countries. they live like the rest of the society. The condition of our country is also changing. The Bangladesh government recognised us in 2013. The government and many nongovernment organisations are working for us. They are providing education and employment. They are working to change the attitude of society. Many third gender people like Nazrul Islam Ritu, Shammi Rani Chowdhury and Bipul Barman have achieved success in social and professional life.

#queer history #queer #lgbt #transgender history #transgender

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honeylullaby · 2 months ago

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“I can’t stand to see ya’ with someone else.”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by one’s own heart @wobblybobbilyfleshybits 🩷 / Declan is wildly jealous to see you with somebody else, and he makes that very clear…

18+ FANFIC / Smut refs & gorgeously feral Declan 🥰 Reader character aged at 21. Hope you enjoy! 🫶🏽

The Rose & Crown — Rutshire’s quaintly village pub — was exquisite. Crimson red carpets, the fireplace roaring divinely in the corner and the welcoming chatter of more-than-friendly locals bouncing from the walls. Nestled in the corner, accompanied by the landlord’s slobbering bulldog, you gulped eagerly from your pint of Guinness, desperate to coax yourself into drunkenness after an atrocious day at work. “Hello, darling.” A beguiling man with a mop of silver hair bounced over, throwing himself in the seat beside you. His enchanting smile sent shivers down your spine, and you allowed him to buy you another drink whilst whispering honeyed words into your ear.

The bell of the front door jingled as Declan O’Hara entered the pub, tight-lipped and adorned in beige, as usual. You had been casually sleeping with him for a few months now, and as so, you were thoroughly aware that he drank many evenings away here — away from prying, judgemental eyes. He had sat himself at the bar, ordering a tumbler of Bell’s finest and disinterestedly flicking through today’s edition of The Scorpion. The grey fox beside you, however, told you a particularly risqué joke, making you release a wondrous cackle. Sighing in agitation, Declan slowly rose from the bar and stumbled over to your table. “Hello. Didn’t see ya’ there.” He mumbled, gulping from his glass and shooting the man beside you a villainous stare. “Hello, Declan. Take a seat.” You peep, and pat the space beside you.

Begrudgingly obliging, Declan took a seat — unknowingly subjecting himself to lascivious flirting between you and your new admirer, an overwhelming compliment here, a soft stroke of your arm there. Each motion made by the man was met from an increasingly reproving stare from Declan. “One moment, doll. Must take this.” The man excused himself, pulling his ginormous telephone from his bag and making his way outside. “Did ya’ sit me here to make me an accessory or was there a reason?” Declan spat towards you, motioning towards the barman for his fourth whiskey. “What ever could you mean?” You question with a smirk.

“Well, I’m sat watchin’ this cunt leer over ya’. Disgusting.” He added, nodding towards the barman delivering him his next drink. “I think you should make that your last. You get rather nasty when you’re drunk.” You remark bitterly. An acerbic snicker pushed from his lips as he lit a cigarette, leaning towards you, his hot breath steaming over your neck. “Ya’ have no idea how nasty I can get.” The Irishman’s voice was devilishly husky — enough to make your thighs involuntarily squeeze together. “Oh yeah? How nasty are you going to get with me, Declan?” You tease, relocating your hand to his thigh and running it dangerously close to his bulge. As your new admirer made his way back to the increasingly passionate scene, Declan muttered towards you under his breath. “I can’t stand to see you with someone else.”

“Sorry about that. Just work.” The man beamed, as you and Declan parted your lustful gazes, as though you hadn’t made conversation at all. “Anyway, doll, what’s to say you come back with me and I show you a good time?” The silver-haired man questioned, pulling at your arm and staring at Declan pompously. That was enough. “Touch her, and it’ll be the last fuckin’ thing you do.” Declan snarled, pounding his fists against the table as he stood up. Overtly threatened by Declan’s warning, the man backed away and promptly made his exit.

“What the fuck was that?” You interrogated, raising arched eyebrows to the heavens — feigning annoyance but terribly turned on by his rage. “Ya’ deserve much fuckin’ better than that.” He growled, knocking back his whiskey like a shot and stubbing out his cigarette. “Well, I wouldn’t know now, would I?” You spit, rolling your eyes. “Ya’ just fuckin’ love to tease me, I know it,” He begins, leaning into you and speaking into your ear with a seductive, hushed tone, “But I��m gonna take ya’ home and show ya’ that ya’ belong to me.”

#rivals #rivals disney+#rivals disney #rivals hulu #rivals fanfic #rivals fanfiction #declan o’hara fanfiction #declan o’hara fanfic #declan o’hara x reader #declan o hara #declan o’hara #aidan turner

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pseudowho · 8 months ago

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Professor Higuruma: Part One, Star-Crossed

Leaving your job behind to study Law, you fall into the gravity of Professor Higuruma Hiromi. Soon, you find yourselves entwined in an affair so deep and alluring, you cannot see where Hiromi ends and you begin.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut from Part One, age-gap relationship (20s to 40s), 'thread of fate', tw- leaving an emotionally neglectful relationship, tw- alcohol use, wet dreams and daydreams

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The bottle would not draft his timetable, and as such, it remained corked. Hiromi's thirst extended past wine and warm bodies, to something altogether more elusive; an alleviation of his crippling loneliness-- that which ground him down to dirt.

Hiromi sat on his sofa, picking up the claret, rolling it in his hands, putting it down, running his fingers through his hair, clenching white knuckles against jittering thighs.

The week had been long. His Department was undergoing fresh demands for classes and time and curriculums and more, that Hiromi had not the staff to facilitate. With the new term about to start, and fewer professors than ever, Hiromi felt like the wick in the middle of a candle burning at both ends.

From the heated sneers that set to flame in the room around him, Hiromi wasn't the only one already balancing on a knife edge. He felt the frost crisp the earth around Nanami Kento, his Literature department already at the end of their tether.

If the rampant deep-seated loathing for the world in which he lived didn't kill him first, the stress would. The loneliness would. The drink would. The pressure would. The late nights would. The loneliness the loneliness the loneliness the loneliness--

Hiromi threw his bottle and responsibilities to the sofa. Too touch-starved for solitude, but too burned out for company, Hiromi grabbed his jacket and keys, and headed for his favourite bar.

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See you later? At the bar across the street.

Let me know when you'll be here.

Are you still coming?

Not dressed up, sorry. On your way?

Got you a drink. See you soon?

???

The Spring evening was too crisp for such chilly rejection. The sun had seemed hopeful, earlier in the day, and you hadn't brought a jacket. You felt the bite upon your exposed arms, a nipping punishment for your optimism. Whether he was here, or not, made no great difference; he had not given you his jacket in a long time.

He would come, you reassured yourself. You'd buy him his favourite drink, and he'd arrive late, all I'm so sorry baby, you know how it is, c'mere, I'll warm you up, with twinkles in his eyes like you'd hung his stars and his hand in yours and the life you had lived and shit don't cry you stupid bitch pull yourself together.

You scurried into the bar, embraced by your own arms, before ordering his favourite drink and yours, as if a summoning ritual. The bar had a happy thrum, warm with love and life, and you saw cherry blossoms drift across the torch lit balcony. It beckoned you. You remained, waiting for your spell to work, with your eyes on the door.

The torches dwindled. A barman went to refill them with oil. Your fiancé had not arrived. The ice in his drink had almost melted, and you sank into a sigh that shredded down to the very core of you. The first time you saw the man in the black suit, arriving on a thundercloud, and sitting a few barstools down from you, you registered him only briefly, past the knife in your gut.

Then, a pair of coal-dark eyes met yours. The torches on the balcony reignited with a whoomph, setting drifting blossoms to pink-spark ember on the Tokyo backdrop. Your breath caught halfway, the scent of smoky petals and spiced cologne on the sides of your tongue. The barest clink of ice cubes settling in the glass, cracked through the moment that time had paused.

The man in the suit opened his mouth, offering only the other half of the breath he had stolen. His hangdog eyes were so curiously expressive. A smile wrinkled his nose. You stumbled across yourself, pressing your fiancé's undrunk drink across the bar to the black-suit man.

"Would you like this? It's in need of appreciation." The black-suit man laughed, a breathy rumble.

"Is it indeed?" He took the glass with long fingers, and you followed the trail of a trickle of the glass's condensation, dripping down his finger's inner length, to pool at the junction between. "Will it taste bitter in the mouth of someone for whom it was not intended?"

You smiled, your eyes narrowing in tease. "It is a gift."

"Oh!" He uttered, laced with small joy. "Then it will be sweet." He took a sip, a vermouth-honeyed tongue darting across his lips with an appreciative hum. "Yes, quite. Welcome, little drink. There is joy to be found amongst the unwanted." You laughed, and Hiromi felt a curious yank upon his finger. He had fallen into your company, and could not get back up.

"I must be old," he laughed again, swiping commas of grey-streaked Inky hair from his temples, "because I've forgotten my manners. I'm sorry for pressing conversation upon you. Thank you for the drink."

You shook your head, without the appropriate words to express how a stranger had warmed you more in moments than you had been in years. Your black-suit man bowed his head, standing, and turning away before pausing. Fate rolled a dice.

"The balcony looks lovely. And, empty." Hovering on one footstep, his gait then steadied, and brogued black shoes clipped across the polished floor. You felt something fine and golden tug within your chest, as torchlight rolled across the black-suit man's disappearing shoulders. Another diceroll raised Fate's eyebrows.

You stood, hesitating between the balcony and the bar. The barman buried a scoop into some ice, watching two strangers interact with an oddly burgeoning certainty. He never interfered. Fate flipped a coin; how readily the stars did align.

"He likes red wine." The barman offered, nodding between your stuttering gape, and the void the black-suit man left in the doorway. You frowned, biting your bottom lip, unaware that your path had been decided before the words left your mouth.

"Then I like red wine, too." The barman smiled. He reached to a row of dusty wine racks above his head, pulling out a bottle with a glassy clink.

"Do you trust me?" The barman asked, placing the bottle before you with a muted thud. You felt a bubble of joy up your nose.

"I do, actually." You replied, awash with certainty as you paid, took two glasses, and headed towards the balcony. As you walked through the doorway, and firelight uncovered the gems hidden within your hair and eyes, your black-suit man smiled, and gestured to the rattan sofa opposite him.

As you sat, strangely comfortable under his gaze, in your state of plain dress, your black-suit man smiled over at you. He looked awkward for a moment, not trusting himself in his own shoes.

"...all this and I wasn't actually prepared for company." You both laughed. Your black-suit man watched you with a glimmer in his eyes, fingers plaited and clasped under his nose, leaning forwards on propped elbows. You struggled to open the wine. He huffed through his nose, your fingers brushing as you handed the bottle over with a scoff.

The man's eyes narrowed as the bottle opened with a brittle schtick; "Loosened it for me--" you laughed again, pinching your nose bridge, "--no no I mean it, I'm really very weak--" You rolled in your laughter together, with him babbling smiling reassurance, while he poured your wine.

"I have one condition to this rendezvous-- please can we not talk about work?" He groaned, clinking your two glasses together in his own hands before passing one to you, still warmed by fading laughter.

"Absolutely. I promise. No work talk."

He was older than you, by an uncertain amount, though you were no girl. You leaned on one palm, in easy silence as you smelled the petal-burst flames. He watched the aurora cast upon your cheeks, feeling his chest fill in a way he couldn't describe.

"...Hiromi." He offered. "My name's Hiromi."

"And it suits you. Should I remain a great mystery?" You gasped, melodramatic with one hand over your mouth.

"Appalling manners!" Hiromi shot. "You owe me a name."

"I gave you a drink! And a bottle of wine."

"Bullshit."

"I don't owe you a thing, in fact--"

The evening trailed away, all warm banter, easy laughter and lingering looks. The conversation grew sloppier, uninhibited, lubricated by wine, of which the bottles nestled, one, two, two and a half. Hiromi had laughed, as deep and rich and mature as the grapes, positively Dionysian, his laughter dying on his lips to catch you mid-shiver. He huffed into his glass, the scent of fermentation rolling back over his own face.

"Here." He dropped, lackadaisical as he sloped past on the way to the bathroom. You blushed to feel his jacket nestle, warm and homely, around your shoulders. He did not appreciate the enormity of the gesture, to you, as he walked away. On his return, you appeared muted, holding onto his jacket around with with two chilly hands. Hiromi felt a stutter in his chest, and sat down beside you.

"...are you alright?" He whispered, soft under the torchlight. Your head drooped onto his shoulder, your neck softened by wine, and he puffed his surprise, short and sharp across your cheek.

"I've had such a lovely time." You sniffed, feeling the clock tick far too late, and you had a busy day ahead, with the start of your new course, and you had to get home and prepare your mind for the beginning of a new life and--

"It...doesn't have to be over." Hiromi intoned, and your belly clenched as his voice rumbled through your core. Your head turned on his shoulder, your nose brushing his. Hiromi spoke again, stroking your nose with his until your eyes fluttered closed, having never felt more certain of anything in his life. "I...I've never done this, but...come home with me, just tonight, and--"

Your phone rang, shrill and piercing and you cried out, jolting away from Hiromi's touch. He chased your lips, his face twisting in a pain you didn't see, as you looked down at your phone screen, slurring.

"Shit...my fiancé..."

Hiromi's belly tumbled, sick with disappointment-- with something altogether more possessive-- and feeling that yank upon his finger, more insistent as he spoke, low and slow.

"Your...fiancé?" The words tasted rotten. Hiromi felt sick, bitter with the sudden loss, hobbled by the brutality of having gained the stars and lost them all at once. He watched you swallow, watched the flash of a wound reopening, piecing the puzzle together so fast now.

"The one who stood you up?" Hiromi toned, venomous with the injustice of the theft. You mistook the direction of his anger, and looked up, your face tight with apology. Hiromi shook his head, raising a hand. Your phone stopped ringing. A few moments passed before your phone buzzed. You read a message as Hiromi stood, turning on the spot, his hands cupped over his nose and mouth.

"You...shouldn't worry. I assume he's coming to pick you up, and I...thank you for such a lovely evening, it's been--"

You laughed without humour, eyes brimming with tears. You shook your head, and nodded, and shook your head again. Hiromi watched you, uncertain.

"I'll walk myself home. He's gone to bed." Hiromi paused, then scoffed.

"You're not walking home alone. Not a chance. Not like this."

He extended a hand to you. You took it, as if tied by the fingers. He held you, like this, all the way home to your cold bed.

You took each others' breath with you as you parted at the door. Hiromi was sure that his loneliness would not kill him first; the drink would not kill him first; the stress would not kill him first; the late nights would not kill him first; the pressure would not kill him first. Being taken to great heights, and then dropped in a dizzying fall, would.

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"Thank you for inviting me in." You whispered, smiling against the shell of his ear. In his bed, soft and open against his body, Hiromi sighed into your touch, your fingernails trailing across his scalp as he groaned. His cock throbbed, thick with promise.

"Couldn't leave you out there, naked." He mumbled against your lips, reaching under the covers to feel you and meeting only the cloth resistance of the mattress, but you were there because he could taste the wine on you, and you were opening yourself to him, he knew somehow.

"You're the one who undressed me." You said, your voice above him, but he was climbing above you, bracketing you to the bed while your voice whispered all around him. Hiromi felt his cock grasped, bucking forwards into the warmth and softness of it, chasing warmer and softer, and he begged you.

"Please you...never told me your name...let me in please, please--" He couldn't see your face with his eyes closed in this odd black moonlight, somehow within you and outside of you all at once. One more rock of his hips seated him within you, plush walls pillowy and smooth and all for him.

He groaned, low and desperate, rocking his cock inside you and he longed for you to welcome him with your arms, but any time he tried to draw them round him they flopped, useless, absent, so he urged you with his hips rutting faster, to pleasure you into holding him. Was it you crying out, or him? He couldn't tell, his pleasure mounting, pulsing through him in waves and why wasn't he trying to stop himself, he hadn't done anything for you--

Hiromi woke with a gasp, his pillow clutched between taut arms as he fucked involuntarily into the mattress, groaning into the mess of cum spurting between his sheets and belly. Hiromi's voice cracked, still lost in his dream, still spilling himself inside you in his mind. The blissful contractions of his cock dizzied him, surely the wettest dream he'd ever had.

Coming back to earth, Hiromi panted, face down in his pillow and a pool of his own sticky seed. His phone alarm rang. He groaned, feeling the catastrophic disappointment of the night before wash over him anew. Seeing the date on his phone in fumbling hands, sent another groan through him, and he buried his hooked nose in the pillow.

The new academic year began today.

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"Higuruma." More statement than question, Hiromi accepted Nanami Kento's proffered coffee as if being reminded of his own name. Hiromi took it, weary and silent, slouched at his desk beneath the crushing weight of having been scooped out in the middle.

Kento sat in Hiromi's visitor chair, regarding Hiromi with cool impassivity. He read the usefulness of any comments he could make, and set them aside for business.

"How do you plan on handling your evening classes? The high-school ones." Hiromi scoffed.

"Nanami, it is 8am on the first day of term, you cannot surely have a plan--"

"We'll offer assistant wages to one or two new First Years." Nanami said, before continuing, sniping and bitter. "If we must lose our Graduate Professors, and if we must host the accessibility courses ourselves, then at least the First Years can gain some income and some experience through teaching."

Hiromi rested his cheek on one palm. He stared Kento down.

"That...that's not a bad idea, actually, Nanami. I shall use that, I think." Kento and Hiromi inclined coffees and heads to each other, an easy camaraderie. Kento let the silence hang as Hiromi scribbled in his diary.

"I don't actually know how we'll do it, Nanami." Hiromi groaned, his face in his hands. "They make staffing cuts as if I can knit a new professor to take some of these classes. How much more 'self-directed learning' can I give these students? It's barbaric. They're being bled dry for this degree, and for what? So they can teach themselves? Shit."

Kento did not disagree, frosty again as the University Chancellors' departmental meeting montaged before his eyes.

"They're paying for a library, and the pleasure of our limited company." Kento sneered, as bitter as his coffee dregs. Hiromi sighed, trying to rub the alcohol away with his fingertips on his temples. Kento's eyes narrowed in cool regard, again.

"Home, or bar?" Hiromi grumbled, steepling his fingertips across his nose.

"Am I so fucking transparent?"

The faintest quirk lifted the corner of Kento's lips. He awaited an answer. Hiromi's head swam with the memory of you, interspersed with the false memories from the dream of being nestled between your thighs, and he felt his cock twitch. Hiromi shook himself out of it, sitting up and shaking his hands out with a huff.

"Bar, if you must know. It was...a late one." Kento hummed again. Hiromi did not elaborate.

"You should try harder to rest, before a work day. It is...irresponsible of you." Hiromi glowered over at Kento, Hiromi's junior by a good few years, quacking after him.

"Yes mother." Kento scowled.

"I could report you." Stony silence. Two chuckles in the office.

"No. You won't do that. You're my best friend."

"I don't have friends--"

"Shush."

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You recalled taking a day off work, on your fiancé's first day at University. You ironed his shirt the night before. You made him lunch, with notes and flourishes. You enjoyed a hot breakfast together, brimming over like the coffee pot about his future, while you worked to support him, and then your future, while he worked to support you. You had opened your arms to release him, and closed them around him on his return.

And god, you had worked, gruelling long hours for three gruelling long years, but despite the great chasm he had dug between you, you had brimmed over again when he landed his new job. A lucrative career. More than enough to pave your way, while he worked to secure your future--

He stayed in bed as your alarm went off. He accepted your affectionate nuzzles, before rolling away into the embrace of bed. Your fingers closed around nothing. You ate cereal. You packed your bag. You bubbled, low and alone. You wondered if he'd mind you slipping a banknote out of his wallet for your lunch. Your belly clenched with anxiety, and you packed a microwave meal instead.

You rocked, rhythmic with the clatter-back-and-forth of the train. Your eyes closed. Your music was soft. Though, not as soft as those coal-soft eyes, the gentle, brushing aquiline nose against yours, of the night before. Not as soft as the bittersweet ache of loss, of failing to know him better. The ghost of his touch soothed the stinging guilt, of wishing you had spent the night in his arms, instead.

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Hiromi was early to his first class, his nerves too frayed and electric to be anything other than hypervigilant. The lecture hall stretched up around him, an amphitheatre where he would slowly watch the soul and enthusiasm be sucked out of those wishing to learn Law.

He had held some optimism, years prior, that his own fractured soul (from years of systemic self-abuse in the Criminal Defense system) could be soothed by teaching the next generation of lawyers, solicitors, and barristers.

Alas, second to idealism, feckless optimism had oft been Hiromi's failing. Alas, the decaying state of education and academia could provide no such balm to his soul while it crumbled itself, and expected its professors to use their bodies and bones to prop up the teetering institution. The grind was different, but just as potent. Hiromi felt the crushing responsibility of leading his department through this storm, and wondered how many would remain on the ship once the rain cleared from his vision.

He resigned himself to filling his chalice with the immeasurable optimism of the fresh and uninitiated. Though under-subscribed compared to prior years, he was still excited to receive his first batch of students for the term. He hoped their passion could bounce off of him, and multiply, exponential.

While preparing his slides for the day, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, Hiromi heard the steady fill of the lecture theatre behind him.

He could not shake the ghost of your head upon his shoulder. He could not shake the taste of your skin from his dreams. He could not shake his regret, for not shaking you by the shoulders and insisting you deserved better, instead of delivering you back to the bed of a man who didn't appreciate the treasure within his grasp.

"I'll be with you in a moment!" Hiromi called behind him, waving one white-sleeved arm in a vague gesture. "Please be seated! I shan't be long."

The chatter crescendoed behind Hiromi, and he turned, clapping his hands together and affecting a smile and speech, gazing into the sea of new faces.

"Good morning everyone! Welcome to your first class. I'm delighted you have all chosen to study the Law-- it means the flow of the insane into our noble professions remains, as ever, consistent." A few smattered laughs from the audience. Hiromi grabbed his clicker, a slide slow flicking onto the great screen behind him.

"My name is Professor Higuruma, and while I will only be teaching you Case Law this year, today we shall talk about what to expect from your course, and--and..."

Oh, god. Those eyes, that haunted him. The body he had made love to while he slept. The shock, mirrored in your own eyes back at him, a participant in his new audience.

Hiromi's arm and mouth drooped, with the tug of the fine gold thread that you, too, felt. The night you had almost shared together passed across two pairs of distant, breathless lips. You felt every pulse, every nerve, every fibre of yourself skip a beat.

How readily had the stars aligned.

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Part Two, Interpretation, coming soon!

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castiwls · 5 months ago

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bed chem .ᐟ

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; 'i bet we'd have really good bed chem'

Requested; anon

Notes; requests are open again!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

It wasn’t often you found yourself drawn to a stranger sitting in the bar on a random Tuesday night. Normally the patrons of your local bar were your father's age and tended to come simply to chat up the bartenders and start fights over who won at pool.

Yet today it was different.

You’d noticed him almost immediately and it seemed he’d noticed you as well as in record time you’d found yourself tucked away in a back corner laughing at whatever joke fell from his mouth. One-night stands had never been a good idea - one too many awkward next mornings had all but made the whole idea lose its charm.

Yet sitting her now? You’d never been more ready for an awkward morning in your life.

You’d never understood what your friends had meant when they spoke about instant sexual attraction. How they could look at a guy and just know yet right in this moment you finally understood.

“You can’t be serious?” You laughed, taking a sip from your drink as the stranger - who you now knew as Dean - simply grinned and nodded his head. “As serious as I can be sweetheart.” He shot you a wink before finishing his own drink and placing the glass down with a quiet ‘click.’

He watched you for a moment, his green eyes shining under the dim lights of the bar. His eyes seemed to ravish you almost as his gaze slowly raked over your face, a slight flutter settling in his stomach.

“So, what brings you to this fine establishment on a tuesday night? I’m sure there is more… interesting places for a woman like you.” He raised an eyebrow, a smile which could only be described as charming growing on his lips as he watched you blush slightly.

Seeming satisfied with himself he slowly crept a hand across the small table, his fingers brushing yours where they were still wrapped around your glass. Your own heart was thundering in your chest as his touch seemed to light your skin on fire.

Your own eyes watched his hand for a moment before clearing your throat. “Small town. Not many options.” A small hum left him as his other hand tapped the table for a moment. “Tight nit.” Dean nodded looking over to the barman for a moment.

The man sent him a guarded look as he watched you both closely while cleaning a glass. “Not everyone's as welcoming as you.”

Nodding you shifted in your seat. “Small town you know. Everyone knows everyone…we’re all pretty close.”

Dean looked back to you, his smile returning. “Your friend at the bar looks about ready to chop my head off.” His smile slowly slipped into a smirk as an idea lit up in his head. The bar tender had been giving him shit all night - all day actually but you didn’t know that.

He was more then sure that he was the guy they were looking for but you seemed far more interesting. This could be a win win almost for him, he’d get the girl and also maybe provoke the guy into acting to prove that he actually was who they were looking for.

A quiet laugh left you. The sound was music to his ears almost as he watched your eyes crinkle. “Coles harmless he’s just…protective.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

You hummed quietly raising the glass back to your lips but Dean’s hand stopped you. His own hand wrapped around yours, bringing the glass back down to the table before leaning closer, his knees brushing yours.

Was this actually happening?

His hand reached out to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“Are you trying to sweet talk me?”

“Is it working?” He grinned, his eyes lingering on your lips.

Shifting you lent closer, your faces only inches apart. “You have a car?”

The words seemed almost foreign on your tongue. The drink giving you a confidence you’d never had before.

But something inside you was screaming that this was the right thing to do.

Dean’s own eyes widened before he cast a look at the door. “I like your thinking.”

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castielsprostate · 4 months ago

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uhm anyway this is my official script outline proposal for venom vs spiderfriend / spiderman 4 / venom 4 !

cockroach!venom is travelling to new york all by himself (the the barman is there too because it's just really funny) while we follow eddie having thee worst day he's ever had. he stubs his toe getting out of bed in the morning, his coffee order is wrong and spills on his shirt, he drops his laptop on the concrete, he loses every lead he had on an investigation, a bird shits on his shoulder, it starts to rain and he doesn't have an umbrella, he gets hit by a street puddle a cab drives through, a fling he's "trying" breaks everything off over text message (gender ambiguous), and then when he's crossing the street he gets fucking BODIED by a truck. he gets rushed to the hospital, barely alive, major trauma, broken bones, brain bleed, cardiac arrest, and before he goes he says, "see you soon, buddy," whilst clutching his lady liberty keychain in his hands

cut to spiderman, doing spideythings on earth 616, swinging through the city of new york,

meanwhile, cock!venom is vroaching it up on the other side of the city, going from alley to alley, dodging cars and pedestrians, barely evading death, looking into windows searching for something, making tiny, whiny little alien sounds. he finds a tasty little treat (rat brains) in between and as he's about to munch spiderman's ass squashes him from falling through a marvel sparkles universe hole. venom attaches himself to spiderman and they are an absolute hate at first sight. by GOD does venom hate peter and does peter try to get rid of venom any and all opportunities! "YOU" "what me?" "YOU ARE THE RED BLUE MAN FROM TV" "well... yeah? i'm spiderman? can you get out of my body please??" venom does not, in fact, get out of his body, but they fight some alley bad guys, one calls spiderman an "uptight fruity" and venom goes ballistic. they fight together, badly, because neither of them is strong enough to control the other and then they fight each other before realising it's pointless. venom ends saying "don't let guys like that get you down, bug, sing your own song, dance to your own beat, it's what we do" to peter when they're done fighting and peter just goes ???

eddie is still dying in the hospital, medically induced coma, anne arrives with dan, they mourn him, getting told there's no chance of survival anymore. they're keeping him alive for mrs chen to say her goodbyes, and unhooking his life support in two days. capcut dream montage where he's raising a family together with venom, eddie says, "this is a life i like better,". that's normal behaviour

spideyvenom is being followed by some woodchippers, venom explains NOTHING to the spider man because they doesn't like the spider man. they have a day where they try to find out whats going on, barely working together, but good enough to find out some information. they have an alleycat fight and venom reveals that he's looking for someone "special to us" after coming all the way from nevada, and peter goes "ah.. mr venom, she must be important to you for you to travel all this way, huh?" "yes, insect... he is important to us" and spiderman goes O.O and then tries to help but no one's heard of an "eddie brock". the city, in the meantime, becomes jittery and weird, and something big is coming. something big and wrong. they go on a venom bender and meet the barman in an underground (gay) club in nyc and have a fun (for venom. terrible for spidey and the barman) night out

eddie is dying, slowly, in the hospital, unresponsive to everyone and everything. mrs chen says a tearful goodbye, leaving a bar of chocolate on his bedside table, anne stays with eddie whilst dan goes with mrs chen to get some food. she holds his hand, cries, maybe. she says, through tears,"i wish he could've protected you longer"

spideyvenom are doing what they can to protect people (venom eats a few of them), swinging through the city when more marvel sparkles appear. by god. that's a lot of fucking marvel sparkles. that's. that's too many marvel sparkles. the sky opens up, there really isn't a lot of time left, the something big, something wrong is here.

swinging through new york, spideyman is listing off everything that's going very, very wrong, trying to evacuate as many people, when venom spots eddie, barely, through a top floor hospital window. in reality he actually spots anne, throwing everything on a hail mary, and decides to crash them into the hospital window. anne ducks to protect eddie, spiderman takes off his mask in anger, "mr venom what the hell??? we HAVE to go, NOW,". venom rejects himself from spiderman, launching him out of the window, and jumping onto eddie, trying to be absorbed, "eddie?... eddie... eddie.. eddie. eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie!! eddie!!! eddie!!!! eddie!!!!! eddie!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!!!!! EDDIE!!!!!!!!!!!!,"

venom goes to anne, looking at eddie, "why isn't our other waking up? what is wrong with our eddie, anne?". "venom, i'm so sorry."

so venom, without thinking, without any hold back, makes anne perform cpr, just enough to flow into eddie. just. barely. enough. and he brings eddie back again, slamming him back into life, waking up another codex in the process, but he doesn't care. because their eddie is back, and eddie is waking up.

eddie says, whilst reaching up to his chest, "hey buddy, i just had the-," "weirdest dream, eddie,"

silence, for a moment, the camera is only focused on them sitting in eddie's glass covered hospital bed before,

"am i dead? are we dead? is this it?" "no, eddie, we are alive," and eddie presses their foreheads together, gently, with no urgency. just relief. eddie gripping the back of venom's goop, entangling his fingers, wanting to feel venom engulf him again. the moment is cut short by spiderman jumping through ANOTHER window "what in the hell are you doing mr. venom??? we have to clear the city, now, we don't have any time for this"

freaked out, a little soggy, eddie says, "venom, that's th-the-the peter guy from tv from the the purple man universe" "yes eddie, we do not like him," "why is the peter guy from tv in here, why does he know who we are,"

spiderman goes ???, eddie braces himself for a fight, gripping venom tighter, he isn't going to lose him again so soon, "listen sweetie, we aren't going anywhere," whilst gesturing to him and venom, "what is going on here?"

something rumbles the ground, anne yelps, spiderman is up and out another window, "no time, gotta swing, we need to evacuate the city,"

eddie is up, getting anne to safety, she says "don't let him go, venom," before venom is filling him in on everything that happened and being shot into battle in his hospital gown. they full body, venom seeps into every part of eddie, impossibly further than any time before, and eddie lets him in

"we have a new tattoo, eddie?" "got it a while back, it's the," "codex?" "codex,"

they save a few people on their way down, venom eats a few bad guys, "you got a new tattoo, too, huh bud?" "it looks cool on us" they find spiderman and, despite their mutual dislike, team up and [epic battle here]. cool co-ops with veddie launching spiderman, spiderman webbing bad guys like a little burrito for venom to eat, eddie does a few kickflips and gets launched by spiderman to get some up-top threats. and the threat isn't clear, it's not knull, it's not more xenophages, it's something neither of them has seen before, and it just keeps coming... until the sky clears up in an instant. like it was snapped away, and spiderman is marvel sparkled back before any of them know what's happening, "mr venom??" "insect! see you never"

half of the city is destroyed (in true marvel hero style), venom and eddie have to get out of there quickly before anyone gets a too good look.

the final scene of venom and eddie is them sitting in central park, debris magically cleaned up, venom safely tucked in eddie's shirt saying some venom-y nonsense and alien purring, two new chickens who they named roan and gaga pecking away by their feet, looking off into the sunset. eddie whispers, "but i like any life with us best," and venom intertwines their hands

spiderman gets marvelsparkled back into the mcu, having the wildest story to tell, and having so so so many questions, with having none answered because it's Doom's Day.

#tom hardy/sony/marvel/disney i expect to have my writing contract on my doorstep by tuesday 1pm!#sjonnie.text #venom #venom 3 #what i want to happen in venom 4.... 🥺 please?#symbrock #is this sooo self indulgent ? yes. do i caaare? no

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on-a-lucky-tide · 4 months ago

Text

Laswell and Nik watch Price play a Rugby match. Part 2.

cw: brief mention of injury, hand job right at the end.

Look, I just love the idea that Nik, Laswell and Price are good friends outside of work. I want to write more of it. All my work is self-indulgent but this is PURE self indulgence.

The plastic chairs were damn uncomfortable and Laswell was pretty sure she could have managed an extra pair of socks inside her boots, but the atmosphere was contagious. Jubilant, loud; people stamping their feet and blowing on their hands in the cold, old comrades meeting again after a long time, families gathered to see fathers, sons, husbands, play.

Plus, she had promised, hadn't she? And seeing her long term friend do something that didn't have the threat of a bullet mixed in was an opportunity she felt she deserved as much as he did.

"Here, Laswell."

A plastic cup of beer appeared in front of her face between the large fingers and thumb of her companion for the day, and she took it in two gloved hands. "Thanks, Nik."

"It tastes very bad," he informed her as he swung his leg over the chair next to her and fell into it heavily, taking a swig of his own with a grimace. "Da. Like barman pissed into a cup."

"Really selling it to me," she chuckled before taking a sip, nose wrinkling. "That is... quite the aftertaste."

Nik shrugged. "It is all part of the experience, and," he ferreted through his jacket, lifting his ass off the seat, and pulled out his hip flask, "ha." He offered it to her first, to which she shook her head, before he unscrewed the cap with his thumb and dumped a generous helping into the top of his drink. "How long?"

"They headed in from their warm up about ten minutes ago."

"Ah, he looked good, no?"

Laswell nodded, her eyes crinkling with her smile as she noted the blush of pride on Nik's face. John Price had, indeed, looked good. He had been rosie-cheeked and energetic through all the drills despite the cold, keeping up with the younger members of his team without any apparent issue.

And, perhaps most importantly of all, he had been laughing and grinning throughout, exchanging banter, and pausing to talk with someone he recognised in the stands, only ending the conversation with a handshake and bump of the shoulders when his coach - a Major something or other, according to the introductory leaflet - bellowed at him.

It was John's boyish glee that had caught Nik's attention more than all the tight woven shorts around thick thighs, the bulging biceps and full chests stretching through Underarmour base layers, and she had watched his eyes blow wide as he fidgeted in his seat, desperate clearly to be closer and bask in John's happiness rather than observe it from afar. She'd sent him for the beer to cool off.

It was an interservice friendly. Navy versus army. A pre-season warm up before the international competition began and the British armed forces would field a composite team of the very best. "Will they win this one?" Laswell asked, chancing another sip of beer and regretting it the moment it touched her tongue.

"Da. The Navy have uh, what to say, fast backs, but their forwards have bad... set pieces."

"Did you understand a word of what you just said?"

"Nyet." Nik grinned. He loved listening to John talk about the game and absorbed every iota of information he could to share in that passion. That didn't mean he was any better than Laswell in understanding what the hell was going on.

"Do you think he'll be selected for the internationals?"

"He has already been asked for his availability."

"Of course he has. Annoyingly, I don't think I've ever encountered an activity that John Price doesn't excel at."

Nik huffed a laugh. "He is an overachiever. Although, not such a good cook. I have never seen someone turn custard into rubber before."

"Aha! A weakness. I will store it for later use."

They lapsed into a momentary pause and watched the crowd find their seats. Nik checked his phone, and then nudged Laswell for a selfie to send to John. They toasted their crappy beers and Laswell conjured her cheesiest grin with a thumbs up. Nik sent it without filters, because he was brutal like that.

Nik (10.15): [image.jpeg]

JP (10.17): good-looking pair of muppets 👍

Nik (10.18): are you feeling ok?

JP (10:19): hammies tight but physio happy.

Nik (10:19): I will help with that later

JP (10:20): countin on it 👌💦��

"You better not be sexting while I am right next to you, Nikolai."

Nik smirked at her and shook his head once. "He is fine. Nervous."

"You got 'nervous' from that?"

"Da."

"Nervous for a Rugby match but doesn't even bat an eye at leaping from a Hercules into an active firefight with a single page's worth of intel..."

"He feels out of practice. He missed the start of the tournament due to work."

"Ah. Story of our lives, Nik." They missed so much living due to work. Kate had missed the birth of both of her nephews, her brother-in-law's wedding, her sister's fortieth birthday party. So many big life events that would never repeat. But that's what made things like this special. It may be a forces match, but John was choosing to do it. He enjoyed it. Sharing in that enjoyment, that moment of happiness, that was special too.

"They are coming," Nik said like an excited boy on Christmas morning, having spotted the players at the mouth of the changing rooms. He stood with the rest of the crowd and Laswell rolled to her feet too, joining in the cheers and clapping as two lines of outrageously built men jogged out onto the pitch.

Nik and Laswell stood in respectful silence as the band played through the national anthem and the two teams lined up to bray along with it, hands on chests. The British national anthem was a damn drone, but at least it allowed everyone to pull it off. They sat down after the applause, when the two captains met with the referee in the middle of the pitch for the coin toss.

John tried to make the glance into the stands discreet, but the smile when he spotted Nik and Laswell - due to Nik's not so discreet full-armed wave - was difficult to hide. Hands on his hips, he looked down, scuffing the grass with his boot bashfully before turning to listen to the referee outline his expectations.

Sometimes she forgot about the sixteen year age gap between them; he was so brilliant at it all, so driven, so focused and relentless, he was her peer and her equal, but she had already been at the game for twelve years when he enlisted at 16. Whatever she felt in that moment at seeing John so pleased by their presence, his cheeks dimpling in that full-hearted grin he had, felt annoyingly maternal. She necked some beer.

Nik leaned in. "He will choose to receive."

"Mhm."

"Laswell," Nik said, feigning shock as she hid her smirk against her plastic pint.

The navy took the ball with them, the ref jogged backward with his hand in the air, and the two teams lined up. John was the 'fly half', which Kate understood to mean he was the decision maker of the team. It required effective leadership and communication to connect the forwards with the backline and navigate the enemy defence. The perfect role for one Captain Jonathan Price if ever there was one. Which explained the bright yellow captain's band wrapped around his bicep, clashing with the green and white jersey with its big number 10 on the back.

A single peep of the whistle marked the start of the game and the navy's number 10 put their boot to the ball, the rest of the team surging down the pitch behind it. One of the backline received the ball and immediately shipped it out towards the wings to begin making progress in the opposite direction.

The difference between American football and Rugby had always struck Laswell; the ball was the same-ish shape, there were set pieces for different scenarios, but that's where the similarity ended. Rugby was about keeping play moving. It was a relentless, brutal battle down the pitch, with hits that made her teeth shake and no padding between bodies and the impact.

The navy was playing aggressively, forcing the army's backline to reset. Every time the army's scrum half dug the ball out of the breakdown - which was what Laswell understood the huge pile of bodies on the floor to be called - John was there to receive it. He was agile, twisting, turning, everywhere at once; a testament to his own hard work to maintain his fitness and mobility.

One of the navy forwards was too slow off the mark and slammed into John once he'd passed the ball, bringing him to the ground hard with a shoulder to the gut. Nik was halfway out of his chair on instinct, and Laswell reached out a hand for his forearm. "It's part of the game, Nik. An honest mistake." The ref blew the whistle. Free kick.

John rolled to his feet, tugging the legs of his shorts down from the creases of his thighs before plucking the ball from the ground. He chose to kick into touch and gathered his team before the lineout. They hunkered down, listening intently. Laswell could hear his voice in her mind, imagined his tone, and when she glanced off to Nik and saw the look on his face, she knew he was doing the same.

John set the backline, barking over his shoulder and gesturing with his arm to get them in position, once he was happy, he indicated to the scrum half to take the throw in. The ball sailed over the heads of the two lines and found the hands of the army's flanker, who knocked it with practised ease into John's waiting palms. It sailed down the line quick, John sprinting behind the line. The navy thought they were going for a try at the wing and sent their players down to meet it. John cut in halfway and took the ball through a gap created by their miscalculation.

The hulking opposition forwards couldn't catch him once he had the space to open up with long strides, and he pushed one optimistic player off him like he was nothing. Laswell heard Nik breathe something in Russian, leaning forward in his chair, only to leap up the moment that ball touched the try line. She stood with him to clap and he threw an arm around her shoulder jubilantly. "He is so good, did you see? Like a jet, I cannot--" she missed the rest, because he was too busy celebrating, half his beer splashing onto the ground.

An orange five appeared on the scoreboard at first, and then John turned it into a seven when he kicked the ball over the middle bar between the two posts. "A conversion, Laswell," Nik informed her, toasting the scoreboard as it ticked up.

John's try seemed to turn the tables. Now that the army's side had seen the defence clinically dissected, it was like they were more confident in picking those holes. Seven turned to fourteen, fourteen to twenty-one. The navy managed to land a try shortly before half time but their fly half, John's junior by about fifteen years, missed the conversion kick, leaving the scoreboard at twenty-one to five.

Nik topped up their drinks while the two teams disappeared off the pitch, and returned with a flushed face after a suspiciously long time away. "You snuck into the changing rooms, didn't you?" She asked as she took the beer.

"Da," Nik confessed, shifting in his seat. "I did not stay long. He had a briefing to do."

"Of course he did," Laswell said, chuckling. No doubt Nik had gone to admire John in his kit up close; all that clinging lycra and polyester around John's frame. For a man, John had one hell of an ass. She was surprised Nik wasn't foaming at the mouth every time John bent over to receive the ball from the breakdown.

The second half started shortly after Nik's return. The army started with the ball this time, kicking it into the second half and chasing after it to shut down the offence before they could make ground.

The navy had apparently had what John would call a bollocking, because they were back to their form of the first twenty minutes, hitting hard and punishing gaps. Nik frowned as John was tackled for the third time in ten minutes. "They are targeting him," he growled.

"Oh yeah," a man to their left chimed in, "reckon their skipper told 'em to break that one's legs."

"Nik, it's trash talk," Laswell warned as the big Russian suddenly coiled with tension. "They will try to close down any advantages. He's one of them."

She, perhaps, spoke too soon, because the next hit made John stay down a bit longer, and he disappeared under a pile of bodies that dwarfed even him. When he finally got to his feet, there was blood streaming from his eyebrow. The ref blew his whistle and pointed at John's face, then the sidelines. He didn't even argue his case, chucking his armband to the scrum half's hand before jogging over to the medic, replaced by a sub.

Nik had been on his feet throughout, and now tracked John to the sidelines with his eyes, no doubt scrutinising his gait for abnormality. "It is superficial," Nik said, perhaps convincing himself not to vault the stands. "He will go back on."

"After being kicked in the head?"

Nik frowned, arms folded over his chest. He wasn't happy about it either.

As predicted, John returned to the pitch at the next blow of the whistle, his head wrapped in bandages and tape. The army had put up a valiant defence while he'd been off, and did so for the rest of the game, allowing only one more try to sneak through and returning it threefold. The final score at the end was forty-two to twelve in favour of the army, and the boisterous celebrations on the pitch carried on through the sportsmanlike cheers exchanged by both teams, followed by handshakes and cheers for the ref.

Nik and Laswell picked their way through the stands to the main bar to wait for John to emerge from the changing rooms. Another thing she quite liked about this sport in particular was that the players cleaned up in shirts and ties before they were allowed out. She had thought it was a services thing, a hang up about order and respectability, but no, they even observed the rule at club level. It was about respecting the clubhouse, the fans, the game and each other.

It took John about thirty minutes to arrive, his white shirt and green tie neatly pressed, wool trousers belted at his waist. Nik was on him in seconds, one hand taking his jaw, tilting his head left and right, to inspect the cut through his eyebrow. "Nik," John said through a soft laugh, "s'olright, been checked over."

"For concussion?"

"Yeah. Just a stud scrape. Nothin' dramatic."

Nik's hand slipped around the back of John's neck and Laswell could see the desperate desire to kiss his partner flash over his face, but in the end he only nodded and drew away. She sighed. So much had changed, and yet so much stayed the same.

"Kate, you made it," John said, that Quokka-smile in place and big arms enclosed her in a hug.

"Oh, I was in the area." She returned the embrace and then pushed the pint of bitter into his hands. "Well-earned, I think."

"Huh, yeah, 'm fuckin' knackered," he admitted, wiping the foam from his moustache after he took a sip. "A few of the lads want to do a crawl through the local bars, but I'm gonna turn in. Monday's chocka."

"I don't blame you," Laswell said, hopping onto a stool. "I thought you'd play soccer, you know."

"Rugby is a gentleman's sport and the captain is a gentleman." Nik sat next to her, his elbows on the bar. "Soccer is for thugs and idiots, no?"

"Hoohoo, shit, don't let Simon hear you say that, Nik," John said, leaning his hip against the bar at Nik's side. "You'd have to sleep with one eye open."

"So, the Liverpool scarf is just for show." Laswell recalled the tattered old thing hanging up in a frame in John's office. It sat right next to his medals of valour and a photograph of the 141 in Belgrade.

"Naw, once a Red always a Red."

"That means something very different where I am from," Nik said lightly.

Laswell chuckled low in her throat and John threw his arm around Nik's shoulder for a squeeze. They stayed until the man of the match was announced and, unsurprisingly, John had been selected by the team for his try.

He received the award in the same understated way he did his medals; a thank you to his team and to the panel, then 'all the best' before heading back to his drink. Once again Laswell watched Nik swallow the desire to demonstrate the affection bubbling beneath his skin. She was glad for Nik that John would require plenty of care this evening; an opportunity to dote to his heart's content.

Despite the generally positive experience, she was glad to flop into the backseat of Nik's hired Audi, watching the streets of London flit by as they left the pitch behind. By the time they dropped her off at the hotel, John was struggling to keep his eyes open, slumped low in the front seat, his arms folded tightly across his chest as if to hold himself together. She exchanged a look with Nik in the rearview mirror, the creases around his eyes betraying his knowing grin. John was clinging on for her benefit. Sweet, but unnecessary.

She opened the door but leaned forward to squeeze his shoulder before stepping out. "Well done today."

"Cheers," he said sleepily, one of his big paws parting over the top of her palm. "Thanks again. 'ppreciate it."

"Any time, John. I enjoyed myself. See you soon."

She patted Nik's shoulder too and he touched her wrist in return, before she left them to head to a well-earned rest in their Premier Inn. Hopefully a kiss too, or Nik might just implode.

Nik managed to convince John into a bath with the promise of a glass of whiskey. Without it, he would be stiffer in the morning and not in a way they could enjoy.

Once John was settled amongst the bubbles, Nik sat at the side with a pillow beneath his rear, one hand in the water to stroke whatever part of John happened to be near, while the other held a novel open against his thigh.

"Thanks for comin' today," John said in the comfortable quiet. His voice was soft, his eyes lidded. He had sunk lower, the waterline lapping at his collarbone.

"Of course. I enjoyed watching you in your element, John."

"It was the... uh, first time someone's come t' see me play."

Nik let the novel fall closed and twisted, resting his chin on the edge of the tub. "Have you not invited the sergeants, or the lieutenant?"

"Ah, they have better things to do 'n come and watch me play rugger at the weekend."

"I think you underestimate how much your team loves and admires you."

John hummed in the way he did when he wanted to argue but knew it was a losing fight. Nik got that noise more and more these days when it came to John's perception of other's opinions of him. He had an accurate and pragmatic understanding of his own abilities when it came to work, but that didn't seem to translate into a sound understanding of how much he was admired. The hum was a step forward towards acceptance, in Nik's opinion.

"You will invite them next time."

"Oh will I?"

"Da. And they will feel honoured by the invitation."

"What if I get my arse kicked? Almost did today."

"Then they will be there to pick you back up again, as they are in the field."

John fell silent, heaving a sigh through his nose. Nik gathered his legs underneath him and slipped his second hand in the water to caress the aching body within it. He ran the backs of his fingers over John's chest, down the valleys of his abdomen to the v-shape dips of his hips, and finally to his thighs.

"How are these?"

"Sore. They'll be fi--mm, Nik...'

"Is good?"

"Mmhm."

Nik rubbed his thumbs in firm circles, feeling knots and tension pop beneath them, and watched John's expression melt back into relaxation. He moved from one leg to the other, working his way up slowly across the large expanse of muscle to John's hip.

"Enjoyin' yerself?" John asked, an eye popping open to study Nik's face.

"Da. Watching your legs today was... hm, it made me want to spread them in the shower and demonstrate my admiration."

If it wasn't for the warm water, John would have flushed, but Nik was content by the shy smile he got instead. "In front of the entire team, eh? Filthy git," John mumbled.

"If you would enjoy others watching me make love to you, then I would consider it."

"Fuckin' 'ell, Nik," John said, scrubbing a hand across his face. His body betrayed him though, because the mere thought of it has caused his prick to harden enough to peak just above the surface. Nik tickled up the inside of John's thighs to his sac, fingertips stroking the heavy weight of it in the warm water. John's knees tilted out to give Nik access and he reached for Nik's chin with one wet hand, guiding him down for a kiss.

Nik kissed greedily as he played gently between John's legs, revelling in the vulnerability of his lover's exhausted body surrendering to the tenderness he offered. His tongue swept into John's mouth, licking the taste of whiskey from his teeth, the tip brushing the ridges of his pallet, sucking his tongue, his lips, before sinking lower to kiss his neck.

John made soft noises of pleasure, his heels skidding across the ceramic of the tub, damp fingers winding into Nik's hair. In the warmth of the water, his skin was soft, sensitive, and Nik knew how to touch him. Had spent many a night learning what made John moan and sigh, how his entire body was a map of erogenous zones desperate for a gentle hand that Nik was more than willing to provide.

When Nik encircled John's prick, stroking slowly back and forth, John let out a pleased sigh. "Fuck, Nik... Dunno whether I have the energy."

"You do not need it. Let me look after you."

"Would prefer t' give as good as I get. Ahh, fuck, Nik..."

Nik soaped his hand using the pump at the side of the bath and returned to John's eager prick. Tired he may be, but his body yearned for Nik as much as Nik's did for him. Nik kept a firm pressure, squeezing a little former on the upstroke, precum splashing over the edge of his fist. "John, you are so beautiful... You are so desperate for me."

"Yeah, Nik, haa, ah, god fuck, I'm close already..."

"Come for me then. Do not hold back. I will have you tomorrow, spread your legs and take what I want..."

"Fuck..."

"I know you wanted me to take you in that changing room, your blood running hot--"

"Ahh, Nik, fu--"

"--I know you wanted to touch yourself in the shower, thinking of me--"

"Mm, yeah, yeah, please, Nik..."

"I know what you need, I know how you ache for it, how you want to be filled by my cock and fucked well."

John latched onto the edge of the tub as he came, his thighs and stomach pulling tight, head pushing back as his cock pulsed in Nik's hand. Nik slowed his stroke, milking out the aftershocks as John gasped.

Nik kissed him lightly on the lips as his pleasure faded to throbbing embers, releasing his softening prick to rinse his hand. "Beautiful."

"Just nutted to dirty talk. Not sure beautiful's really the word."

"You do not see yourself as I do," Nik replied, admiring the brightness in those blue eyes, the ruffled hair, the flush. Beautiful was too empty a word for the majesty of John Price, but it would suffice for now. "Time for bed, John. Come."

Nik helped John out of the bath, teasing him about his shaking legs as he helped dry him with a second towel. John slipped naked into the soft, clean sheets Nik wasn't complaining; it would be easier to tease him open tomorrow morning. He was asleep and snoring softly before Nik had even switched the lamp off, the pillow clutched under his head.

Before Nik could sleep, he worked himself over to a swift and gutless orgasm that would allow him to sleep, knowing full well he would be satisfying himself in John come the morning. He fell asleep admiring the peaceful lines of John's face, eternally grateful he had the honour of calling John his.

#captain john price #cod nikolai #nikprice #kate laswell #writing an american and remembering ass not arse #spoilt writing british pov for cod #i am so hard done by oh woe #yes nik is sober when he drives #but what are they gonna do? take his license away? ahahaha

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velariscalling · 8 months ago

Text

Morally Grey - An Azriel Imagine

Characters: Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Cassian drags the IC to his new obsession: open mic night at Rita's, and much to his delight, Azriel has been paired up to sing with the Reader.

Warnings: Alcohol, suggestive language.

A/N: My first ever imagine is HERE!! Honestly I've been so nervous to put this out as it's all very new to me, but I really hope you guys enjoy it! I'm really looking forward to see how my writing develops as I post more, but for now, I hope you enjoy my first post! It's just a load of silly fun tbh. And finally, thank you so much to @sarawritestories for helping me out with the ending, you're the best! <3

Soundtrack: 'Morally Grey' by April Jai feat. Nation Haven

Disclaimer: GIF isn't mine - credit to whoever it belongs to.

Rita’s was bustling.

As it always was on a Friday night, really. They probably should have known better than to come on a weekend, but the welcoming vibrancy of the bar was a welcome reprieve from a long week’s work. Y/N took a deep breath as the music hit her, exhaling as she let any remaining stress seep from her body and into the night.

Before she could think too much about the busy days she’s had as of recently, a hand grabbed each of hers - one perfectly manicured, one covered in swirls of black ink - and pulled her in the direction of the bar. Mor flagged down a barman who recognised them immediately - it wasn’t a rare occurrence for the Night Court’s Inner Circle to make an appearance here.

After a moment, she handed her a shot glass filled with bright green liquid. “Bottoms up, you’re gonna need it tonight,” she grinned, already having necked her own. Feyre giggled as Y/N raised a questioning eyebrow at the blonde, throwing back her shot anyway and wincing at the tangy liquid.

“And why is that, exactly?” Y/N cocked her head at her friend, who’s brown eyes danced with excitement.

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes playfully, already flagging down the barman for yet another shot, just for herself this time. “You really think Cassian’s going to let us miss out on tonight? He’s been preparing his song with Rhys for days.”

It’s true - Cassian’s favourite night of the week was their newest tradition, open mic night at Rita’s. Four songs, four duos, randomly selected. Or so he says, anyway. He probably matched himself with Rhysand so he could convince him to sing Mysterious Girl together.

Feyre gripped Y/N’s hand from her other side, clearly trying her hardest to hold back a squeal of excitement. “How are you feeling?” She knew that there was more to that question than meets the eye. It wasn’t a secret that Cassian’s little game had paired her up with Azriel, much to his delight.

She put on her mask of indifference that she had mastered over the months of knowing the shadowsinger, refusing to give any details away of her incessant feelings for him that prodded at her constantly. “I am feeling absolutely fine, High Lady,” she smiled, eyes shining, but a scoff from her left interrupted her.

“Please,” Mor drawled, looking at her with a face that said, don’t even try. “You literally can’t fool anyone, especially not us, so drop the act.”

Okay, so maybe she hadn’t mastered her mask as well as she had initially thought, her twin’s nod of agreement cementing that conclusion. “Okay fine, but what do I have to be nervous about? You are all the ones who should be nervous when we out-sing you.” She smirked at them, but they shared a knowing look.

“There it is, changing the subject,” Feyre chuckled, nursing her drink in her hand. Y/N scowled at her, but she could never actually be mad at her. Frankly, she was more irritated by the fact that she knew her so well. “What? Y/N, this is what happens every time we bring him up.”

She opened her mouth to argue, when an arm was slung over her shoulder, and Feyre’s. “Ladies,” Rhysand’s melodic voice sounded over the music as he appeared between the sisters. He nodded at Mor with a grin, who was already on her… third, or fourth shot? Who knows. “Cass will have a temper tantrum if I don’t drag you all over to the stage right now.”

Feyre rolled her eyes with a laugh and allowed her mate to spin her into his arms, and they both made their way over to the Inner Circle’s area of the bar. Y/N’s heart warmed at the sight of them, knowing that her twin, her double in every way, had found her happiness. Mor looped her arm through hers as they walked behind them, her eyes following Y/N’s gaze. “You’ll have that soon, you know.”

Y/N looked over at her. She was so breathtaking, her brown eyes contrasting her golden hair, and her signature red dress hugging her flawless body in all the right places. Any male or female in this room would be lucky to get her, and yet, she didn’t care. Next to her, though, Y/N felt like nothing. As if Mor could sense her thoughts, she squeezed her arm affectionately. “Come on. Tonight’s the night you’re going to show that other side of you- oh don’t give me that look, I know it’s there.”

Y/N huffed, a lighthearted sound, and shook her head softly. “I wish I had your confidence,” She murmured, a dry joke.

“Babe, you’re sexy. When are you going to realise that?” The sheer certainty in Mor’s voice had Y/N raising her eyebrows at her friend, who simply nodded, as if agreeing with herself. “Channel it tonight. I’ll be watching.” She winked, and released her arm as they arrived at their own table right in front of the stage.

Rhys and Feyre had already taken their seats at the centre, High Lord and Lady looking elegant as ever. Cassian sat to Rhys’s right, his excitement akin to a golden retriever, as Amren, who was sat next to him, clearly tried her hardest not to throttle him. Next to Feyre sat Azriel, his looming shadows making the already dark bar appear pitch black in his presence. There were two empty chairs to his left, and finally Nesta sat at the end of the table, clearly trying to make the most of as much peace and quiet as she could get before the night’s shenanigans unfolded. Mor was quick to take the seat next to her, leaving Y/N between her and Azriel. He gave her a short smile as she sat down, ever the emotionless. “Are you ready?”

The low, icy voice of the shadowsinger never failed to take her by surprise. If the living embodiment of darkness could talk, it would sound like him. She looked at him, his hazel eyes glowing even in the darkness, and replied, “Are you?”

Before Azriel could respond, a flute of sparkly champagne slid from Y/N’s left into view. She turned to see Nesta, wordlessly handing her the drink, with grey-blue eyes that told her that she, too, thought she needed an extra little liquid confidence tonight. She noticed Mor biting her lip so hard she looked as though she may explode, and she rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips as she turned back to Azriel. To her surprise, it appeared as though a similar grin was tugging on those lips as well.

He merely raised his glass to hers, eyes shining with a grin that he wouldn’t let fully show on his face. She picked up her own glass and clinked it against his, matching his honey gold gaze.

Let the night begin.

It’s safe to say that the performances of the night were… well, entertaining. Cassian was a little too excited dragging Rhys up to perform their number first, giving major boyband energy up on that stage. Feyre was in fits of laughter, but Nesta looked like she wanted to claw her eyes out… but perhaps secretly enjoyed it behind that mask of disgust. Y/N’s two sisters were up next with a rendition of Love Story in which Nesta was surprisingly involved, followed by Amren and Mor’s take on Lady Marmalade, which was frankly the worst thing anyone had ever heard. If the monster lurking beneath Amren’s skin was anything like her singing voice, then Mother help us all.

It wasn’t long before her friends were cheering and whooping as Y/N stood from her seat - the final song. “Get him girl,” Mor whispered as she passed her, Azriel on her heels. She felt the shadows licking at her ankles as she ascended the steps to the stage, gripping the microphone that had been handed to her on the way.

As Azriel situated himself to her left, she stole a quick glance at him. He was looking at the floor, uncharacteristically tense under the gazes of all their friends. It was no secret that Azriel had the most beautiful voice you’d ever heard, a gift from the Cauldron itself, but it occurred to her now that maybe no one else had heard it before. Aside from her, at the couple of short practices they had done. Even then, she didn’t think he was giving his all.

Y/N faced the front and prepared for the music to play - she was more of a seasoned performer than Azriel. She had played her fair share of gigs around Velaris, a good handful of which on this very stage. If she was showing some confidence, she hoped that it would spark some inside of him. She steeled herself, breathing in deeply as she raised the microphone to her lips, and the music began.

“He’s got gold eyes, crooked smile, knows that he drives me wild,”

She felt the heat of the spotlight on her as she let her voice ring through the bar. It was soft, to begin with, giving the song room to breathe, to build. She looked over at the man she was sharing the stage with, noticing tension already lost from his shoulders at the sound of her voice. His eyebrows were raised ever so slightly, and she knew then that he’d realised how she’d changed the lyrics to fit him, those perfect golden eyes.

“Can’t help myself, no I’m not in denial,”

The smile she sent his way was telling, it spoke a hundred words. But it wasn’t just her grin that conveyed the message she sent: you’re okay, you’re with me, move with me. There was something between them, an invisible thread connecting the two of them, body and soul and mind. Certain thoughts, certain feelings - she could feel his, and he could feel hers. A bond like this had meaning, they both knew this, but neither of them were bold enough to explore it, acknowledge it. Across that bond, she beckoned him: Azriel, you’re with me, and I’m with you… play with me.

“I know he’s no good for me,”

There was a flicker of something in the shadowsinger’s eyes, as if his mind had decided to pull him down an alternative route to the one he was prepared to go down, the one where he’d back out and run. A shadow of a smirk lingered on his lips, as his own shadows danced around him excitedly, egging him on. The weaving tendrils were clearly more than satisfied with the idea that flashed through their master’s mind, whatever images Y/N’s words had conjured up. Azriel, play with me.

“But when he gets down on his knees,”

The spark in his eyes only seemed to brighten as he brought the lyrics to life, sinking slowly down onto his knees before her. The shit-eating smirk he wore on his face in response to her evident surprise could have sent her to her own knees as she beheld him, kneeling, for her. Mother spare her. A quick glance to her right at the others confirmed that they had all had the same reaction she had, and she feared that the bar staff may have to assist in picking their jaws up from the floor. Azriel’s face was challenging, knowing, yet almost the picture of innocence as she felt his response in her mind: You told me to play with you. She sent one word back at him: Bastard.

If he was going to play dirty, so was she.

“He’s so eager to please, knows the right frequencies,”

He reached a hand out as if to touch her - where, she wasn’t sure - but she grabbed it before he could make any contact. Scars felt rough against her soft skin as she walked slowly, teasingly around him and she sang the chorus, her heeled boots tugging her posture upright so her body curved in all the right places. She caught Feyre’s eye as she circled Azriel, still knelt on the floor and looking as though he was more than content to stay there forever. Y/N’s sister looked like her eyes were about to bulge out of her head, her smile growing so big that Y/N thought it would be too big for her face. Next to her, Rhysand simply winked, an encouraging smirk boosting her confidence.

“They say he’s morally grey, what can I say? Grey’s my favourite colour,”

As she made her way back to the front of Azriel’s view, still gripping his hand as he held it upright for her to use, she slowly lowered herself down to a squat in front of him as she sang the line. From this angle, she was now much closer to his face than before, and she noticed the subtle sheen of lust glazing over his eyes. It almost made her lose balance - almost. She brought his hand gently to her lips, placing a chaste kiss onto his marred knuckles, and he took in a sharp breath. Most people flinch when they see his hands, or grimace, or turn away. Not Y/N. No, she thinks Azriel’s scars are part of his story. The backstory to a warrior, a survivor. Scars are not the memory of what happened, but a testament to who you have become.

“Morally grey, what can I say? Grey’s my favourite…”

She rose to her feet, prepared to give Azriel some space to begin his verse, remembering the nerves that clung to him barely a minute ago. As she began to turn, taking the first step away from him, something cold slithered around her ankle, and one around her waist. The shadows pulled her straight back to where she was as the music lowered, and held her in place, as if they knew that hearing his voice would send her to the floor. And Mother above, they knew her well.

“What can I say? No I don’t pray, but for your body, I’ll worship,”

She could have sworn her knees buckled, but she couldn’t tell from the shadows holding her still. Azriel’s voice was like silk, so soft and pure, yet it lit her insides on fire in a way that she’d never felt, burning her up like a beautiful, dying star. If his voice was to be the thing to send her to her death, then so be it. She would die very, very happy. He reached out once again, and this time she did not stop him as he ran his hand up her thigh all the way to her waist from his position on the floor. Even kneeling, his Illyrian frame was intimidatingly large, her body standing not too much taller than his. His eyes watched his hand intently as it traced the curve of her side, as if they didn’t have an audience, one that was most definitely gaping at Azriel’s sudden brazenness.

“Girl don’t be afraid, my love’s a grenade, just be a good girl, you can take it,”

Like an angel rising from the ashes of war, Azriel stood slowly, wings flaring as he rose to his full height. His gaze was already intense when she was the one looking down at him, but now that he was the one towering over her, the darkness in his eyes shot electricity straight through her body and into her core, her head reeling with thoughts so sinful that nothing could save her. His hand on her waist squeezed on the words good girl, and she was forced to bite her lip hard to stop herself from reacting in a way that would later be incredibly embarrassing. His eyes tracked the movement, lingering on her bottom lip as she released it from her teeth with a pop.

“Call me insane but for you, I was made, I’d burn the world down if it’d make you feel safe,”

The fire in Azriel’s eyes blazed as he took one step toward her, and another, and another, closer and closer. The upper hand that Y/N had held up until now had slipped, yielding step after step backward, her control completely faltering. She had always known that doing this with Azriel would likely create some… tension between the two of them, and he must have known, but Cauldron, this was unlike anything she had ever expected. Azriel was so close that she felt his body heat, felt her face warming, likely for everyone to see under the harsh glare of the spotlights.

“It’s you that I crave, and nothing compares to your taste,”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel like Azriel meant every single word he was singing. No, he didn’t write the lyrics himself of course, but the way his eyes burned with such feeling, and… what looked to be desperation, told her there was much more to this than meets the eye. And Gods… the way his voice cracked ever so slightly with a primal need as those final words left his mouth had her praying to whatever higher powers she could to forgive her for the damning shivers he was sending straight to the very heart of that taste he craved so badly.

As the chorus rolled around once more, their voices finally blended as one, and nothing had ever sounded so right. Azriel’s shadows danced freely around the two of them, creating a tornado of darkness, of intimacy, where they were right in the eye of the storm. The song continued, and the pull between the two of them was magnetic, almost hypnotic as they completely forgot about the audience they had; their family who were most definitely gaping like fish out of water. Y/N could feel Azriel’s warm breath on her face as he sang, his angelic voice whispering less-than-angelic promises that only she could hear in the way it trembled.

Y/N honestly didn’t think that Azriel could get any closer - what she failed to consider was that the shadowsinger was in so deep that he wasn’t planning on stopping until there was absolutely no space left between them. As the song once again softened, Azriel took his chance and leaned impossibly closer, abandoning his vocals in favour of a different use of that mouth. Y/N inhaled sharply as Azriel’s lips brushed against hers, gently, experimentally. Some instinctive part of her that knew this was right pushed her forward to press her lips a little harsher against his, earning a shiver from the shadowsinger. She heard a soft rustle coming from behind him as his wings twitched from the anticipation.

As he pulled away, Azriel heard a shaky exhale escape her lips, caused only by the feeling of him, the heat of two bodies pressed close together, the rush of meeting the lips of the person who, deep down, you know is made for you. Your partner. Your mate. That shiver he elicited from Y/N was the final straw - the last thing he needed to cement his plans for the night. His face still inches from hers, he whispered with a voice so low he wasn’t sure it had even come from him, “You’re mine tonight.”

One moment, the IC were watching dumbfounded at the scene playing out in front of them, some wondering if they really should be averting their eyes (apart from Cassian, who sat with a shit-eating grin on his face). The next moment, the stage was empty, a whisper of shadows the only thing left standing in their wake. Azriel had disappeared in a flash, winnowed to who knows where, taking Y/N with him.

“Goddamn, Az,” Rhys chuckled into his drink after a beat of shocked silence. “Nicely done.”

“No! But they didn’t even finish their song!” Cassian pouted, gesturing wildly at the empty stage as the music still played from the speakers.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s their priority right now, Cass,” Mor giggled, practically vibrating from excitement and pride, exploding with glee at what had taken place since her little pep talk earlier.

Rhys set his glass down on the table in favour of throwing an arm over the top of Feyre’s chair. “It’s about time those two did something about the obvious, right?”

As Feyre’s eyes sparkled with delight for her twin, she giggled at his words, overjoyed at the knowledge that Y/N may at last feel the happiness of having a mate. A partner for all eternity. “Yeah… finally.”

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #azriel #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel x you #acotar x you #acotar imagines #azriel imagines

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myjklei · 2 months ago

Text

"You and your boyfriend were hanging out at a mutual friend's party, but things got a little too heated, and you both decided to sneak off to the restroom"

Pairing: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Genre: Established relationship, Idol!Yoongi

Warnings: Sub!Yoongi and Soft Dom!Reader, public sex, quick handjob, praise, cunnilingus, hair pulling (m!receiving), she slaps his cock once, protected sex!!!, he fucks her against the sink, she covers his mouthARGH, they love each other so much:(

Wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: I saw yoongi's video on the day of ggukie's party, and I couldn't resist. He looked so handsome@&%^@$@ i miss him so much:(

Jungkook organized a private listening party for his new album, inviting his closest friends, and of course, you and Yoongi were on the guestlist. The party takes place at a bar, very nice and cozy, with delicious food, good decoration and lighting. Everyone is having fun, drinking, chatting, and laughing for quite a long time now, and you, feeling your boyfriend's eyes, which happen to be right next to you, burning into you. He's wearing a black shirt with a blazer over it, pants and shoes, all in the same color, and a simple silver necklace. A complete snack.

Honestly, if this party wasn't so important for Ggukie, you'd probably have ripped this outfit off of him before the party even started. He looks and smells so good, wearing his most expensive perfume just for you. You're dressed especially well too, in the same color palette as him, a black dress, an overcoat, knee-high leather boots, and silver accessories.

The younger boys and Hobi are drunk, singing and dancing together with other friends. Jin has also overstepped his bounds and is mumbling to himself in his chair. Namjoon is sitting next to you, talking to a nice guy he met. And you're laughing quietly at the clowns you're seeing. Until you feel your boyfriend's fingers caressing your thigh. You look at him, and he's looking straight ahead. You caress him with your foot under the table. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye and smiles at you.

You get up.

"I'm going to the bar. Come with me?"

Yoongi nods, looking up at you.

"Nam," you catch his eye, nudging him lightly, "I'm going to the bar with Yoongi. Text me if you need us."

"Sure, feel free," he says and gives you a sweet smile, then turns his attention back to the nice guy.

Yoongi gets up, and you take his hand, leading him to the bar, where you sit down.

"What can I do for you?" asks the barman.

"How about two shots of the best whisky you've got?"

"Right away."

"Thank you." You smile sweetly and turn your full attention to the brunette next to you. He was looking at you with eyes full of love.

"You're so beautiful."

You laugh awkwardly, "Did you enjoy your dinner? The food here is very good"

"I think so too, I'd like to try their ice cream too"

"We can pass there before we leave"

"Yeah."

The two of you sit in silence for a while, staring at each other and laughing softly.

"Here you go guys, can I help you with anything else?" The barman asks.

"No thanks, dear," you take your order.

"You're welcome. " He turns around.

Yoongi tastes the whisky.

"Is it good, kitten?" You lean your face on the palm of your hand and look at him with a silly smile.

Yoongi chuckles, "The drinks here are great. The two I had earlier have already left me a little cheerful, and I think you too, but you still brought me here. Do you want to get me drunk, woman?"

You let out a good laugh, "funny"

"If that's your plan, it'll work", he smiles.

"And what was your plan when you caressed my thigh?"

"None... I just wanted your attention", he looks at the glass in his hand, playing with it.

"Hey, look at me", you lift his face by his chin. "Now you have my attention."

Yoongi sighs and blinks repeatedly, his gaze on your mouth.

"Give me your wallet," you gesture with your hand.

He takes it out of his pocket and hands it to you without even thinking, you being bossy like that out of nowhere could have been the death of him. You take enough to pay for the two drinks, put it on the counter, and whisper in his ear.

"I just brought you here in case anyone asks where we went. Count to thirty and follow me." You nibble his earlobe, kiss his cheek, and then leave.

"Hi love."

Yoongi's gaze follows you until you disappear down a corridor. He finishes his drink and patiently counts to thirty. And then he's looking for you, he imagines that you're waiting for him in the bathroom, which he doesn't know where it is. He turns down the same corridor you did before, looks around kinda lost until he's pulled tightly by the arm. Yoongi lets out a painful whine as he is pressed against the cold wall of the bathroom. The door is now locked.

"You've got your sexy voice on," he replied with a shaky breath.

"Yes, I do, and you like it."

"A lot."

You start kissing his neck, he sighs and closes his eyes.

"Are you all right, love?" You asked and caressed his cheek. He knows you're asking for his consent.

"Come back to my neck, please" he holds your wrist

"I need to hear you say it," you whisper in his ear

"Yes, I am."

"Ah! love," he holds harder onto your waist with both hands now.

Your hand is on the back of his neck now, fingers entwined in his dark locks. You kiss his neck like a vampire hungry for blood. He puts one of his hands on your waist in an attempt to stay up, his knees are shaking, almost giving up on him. And you notice this, so to give him a hand, you press your knee right between his legs. He gets off balance and accidentally ends up sitting on your thigh.

"Cute."

"That's embarrassing."

"I feel you, and you're already hard. I haven't done anything yet." You run the hand that was on the back of his neck down his body and slide it into his pants. You giggle naughty, "Let me guess, me throwing you against the wall is what got you that way?"

"I like it when you're rough"

"Yeah?", you hiss and press your thigh harder against his cock.

He throws his head back and lets out a delicious moan. You love what you see, but sadly, you take your hand out of his pants and lower your leg, leaving him with a devastated look.

"Baby please..."

"Put me on the sink", you take off your overcoat and hang it on a bag holder since you are in the lady's room.

"What?" he straightens up

"Or you don't want to taste me?"

The kisses are now on the inside of your thighs. He lifts your dress slightly and holds the hem of your panties, looking at you with the eyes of a puppy begging for a treat. You nod, giving him the consent he so desperately wanted, and he pulls your panties off with the help of his mouth, so slow that feels like torture. You can't stand how sexy he can be.

He opens his eyes wide and reaches for you with desperate hands, pulling you close by the waist. He kisses you passionately, the way only he does and lifts you onto his lap. He puts you on the sink carefully without breaking the kiss, which goes down to your neck, collarbones, cleavage, and belly. He's already on his knees in front of you. It's a scene you've seen many times before, but you can never stop involuntarily opening your legs during it.

"Don't forget that we don't have much time"

"Yes mistress", he murmurs while giving you kisses right below your belly button.

It's not customary for the two of you to have sex in public, but everyone needs a break. Sometimes, it's hard to hold back. Like the time you two sneaked out to the car in the middle of one of his coworkers' fancy birthday party, or in the last trip you went together, where you rode him in the hot tub of the hotel you were staying in, at night when no one was around.

You almost made love in bed this morning, but Yoongi had to leave for work to be free by the time of the party, and you had things to do too. Having to hold back while getting ready, you both couldn't take your horniness any longer.

He puts your legs on his shoulders and licks your pussy, you hold him by the hair and close your eyes, breathing deeply.

Yoongi's tongue is not to be trifled with. He can take you there once, twice, and more without getting tired. It's so pleasurable for him to suck you, he doesn't even expect anything in return, just by seeing you feeling good and hearing you calling his name, he can come without even touching himself, or just accept it and stay quiet, like the good boy he is.

"Keep it up, kitten, don't stop. You're doing great," you push his hair away from his forehead and pat his head.

He stares at you from below, caressing your thighs. You look at him and smile.

And with a flick of his tongue, the caress turns into a hair tug. You curse and squeeze him with your thighs. He holds them tighter and smirks without stopping working.

"Baby, I'm close"

He knows. He knows when you're near, you don't even have to tell him. He knows every bit of you, just like you know him. But you still say it because you know it turns him on. He lowers one of your legs to gain better access to your clit, which he rubs with his thumb.

"Yoongi, that's enough," you barked.

"Now love", you exclaimed, trying to stay quiet, and he held you with the hand that was still on your thigh. But instead of relaxing, you began to feel overstimulated as the brunette between your legs refused to stop tasting you.

He ignored your order and began to reach into the pit of your knee to put your leg back over his shoulder. But before he could do that, you pulled him up sharply by the hair.

"Put your hand down."

"I said enough." You hissed, shaking him with your hand tightly in his black hair. He whimpers, closing his eyes tightly, looking for your hand in his hair.

He leans on the sink with both hands around you and opens his eyes to look at you.

"I'm sorry"

"I'm sorry, who?"

He sighs, starting to close his eyes again, but you shake him by the hair.

"Huh? Answer me."

"I'm sorry mistress... it's hard for me to contain myself, I love tasting you so much"

"Oh my kitten, I forgive you, but as I said. We. don't. have. time." You pull his hair harder, and he moans, fucking the sink cabinet underneath you.

"Awn, is baby desperate for pussy?"

"Uh-huh," he moans with a pout on his lips.

"Do you want to cum in mommy's pussy?"

"Yes, please."

"Oh, my always polite boy, I hope you brought a condom, because I'm not leaving here dripping." You release his hair and give it a caress.

He reaches into his pocket for his wallet and pulls out a condom.

"Are we doing this so often? How did I miss that?" You laugh.

"Take off your pants."

He puts the wallet away and puts the condom in his mouth, leaning back on the sink with his arms around you. You smirk and take the condom.

He takes off his belt as quickly as he can, leaving his pants on his feet so that he can put them on quickly if he needs to.

"Take off your underwear and that blazer too."

He does it without contest. When he's finished, you pull him close by the necklace he's wearing. You open the condom and touch his length, moving your hand up and down before putting it on.

"Look at this pretty pinky cock" You give him a kiss, "Is it nice, my love?"

"Yes mistress"

You spit on his cock and speed up your movements, staring at him. And he lets out a long cry.

"Darling, you said we didn't have time!"

"Sorry, it's just that I love watching you squirm." You smile and give his cock a slap, to which he reacts with a gasp.

You put the condom on him, laugh, and lean back against the sink. Looking directly at him, you spread your legs.

"Come here, my love"

He comes closer and puts his hands on your waist, kissing you passionately. You feel his tip rubbing against your entrance.

You put your hands on his hips, pulling him forward, making him sink into you.

You both moan in unison, and he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close. Which you also do when you put your arms around his neck.

Your foreheads are together, and he moves slowly inside you.

"I love you so much, you know?" He sighs at you. "It doesn't matter where I am. My job is to serve you."

He runs his hand down your leg and kisses your neck.

"Am I doing okay mistress?" He asks between kisses.

"You're perfect, my love."

He speeds up his thrusts, and you put your hands inside his shirt, searching for his nipples. His moans are getting louder and whinier. You didn't care until you heard knocks on the door.

"Is the restroom occupied?" A female voice asks from outside.

You cover his mouth with your hand. "Don't stop," you whisper in his ear. "Yes! And I'll be a while, darling."

"But is everything all right?"

You take a deep breath before answering, trying to concentrate as Yoongi thrusts hard into your pussy.

"It's okay, I just need some time!"

"All right then, no rush", she says, and you hear the sound of her heels dissipate.

"Well done, my good boy." You praise him without removing your hand from his mouth. "What do you think about speeding it up a bit, huh?"

He lets out a muffled growl and does as you ask, gripping your thighs tightly and pulling them against him. You throw your head back, holding back a loud moan.

"Keep going baby, you're doing so well", your walls are already squeezing his cock, making it harder for him to work.

He lets out a long, desperate sob against your hand. Shutting his eyes tightly.

"Are you close, sweetheart?"

"Uh-huh," he nods several times.

"Me too, me too, baby. Let's cum together, how's that? Huh?"

You wrap your arm around his neck without taking your hand away from his mouth, and he hugs you tightly around the waist.

He rests his forehead on yours and thrusts a little harder.

"Yoongi"

He opens his eyes, you take your hand away from his mouth.

"I love you."

And he goes off with that, letting out an extended mewl, you right after him. You hold each other trembling, climaxing together.

"That was... wow!"

"Yeah, I can't believe we did that"

"My knees are shaking" he smiles.

You run your hand over his face and neck to wipe away some sweat.

"It's a good thing there's air conditioning in here, even with it we're all sweaty, imagine without it"

"And when you covered my mouth? I almost went mad"

"I knew you'd like it and I wasn't going to do the absurd thing of telling you to stop"

He takes off the condom and puts his pants back on. Picks up your panties, helping you put them on. You both finish getting dressed, and you pull him into a slow kiss.

"What about we get that ice cream and go home?"

"I think that's a great idea."

"Hey, this will be the last time we do this in public, okay?"

"Yes ma'am"

It certainly won't be the last time.

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