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sonkitty · 3 days ago

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Trickery Post #9 - Complicated

We're finishing up the series in this post.

Before we find the answer for tricking the Heaven elevator, let's go over a few things that I missed pointing out in the previous post regarding Muriel.

These are the types of things you pick up on noticing when you've played the pocket puzzles for The Pocket Trick and The Door Trick.

When Muriel is motioning for the miracle touch on closing the doors, their right arm gets very close to that line between elevator doors behind both Crowley and Muriel. Even though they get close, they still don't cross over past that line.

Because they did such a thing, the most likely reason is so that their reflection can be found in a specific way and place on the door handle reflection to the camera's right and Muriel's left. Muriel is "handling" some requirement.

Another thing Muriel does is look down to check their position. They do not start to look up until a door starts to be visually in front of their face.

These moves are to show us how Muriel plays as Crowley's trusted assistant for the trick.

Now let's move onto the real simple explanation for tricking the Heaven elevator. Finding the solution is a weird experience. Is it weirder than finding the Tied Hands? That's debatable since the Tied Hands, by virtue of being what they are, alert you that these games are absurd and full of weirdness. You really do need to be thinking outside the box (pocket) to solve these puzzles.

This play is definitely more advanced because you have to lay out many pieces in front of you and count, among other things. Then you have to trust this absurd method of play.

You might doubt me, but I am experienced enough in this game that I am quite confident this answer is correct.

This play is very, very in-depth, and the post it is based on only has 1 like that isn't mine. In case that was due to its length, going cut by cut, and focusing so much on Overhead Lights, this post is going to be trimmed down. Know that Overhead Light things are happening, even if I'm not commenting on them.

I am going to lay out a lot of pieces.

The more general ideas in play are:

-Crowley did not touch the buttons.

-Crowley did not touch the doors on entry.

-Crowley pretended to be arrested.

-Crowley entered and turned around. Then Muriel entered and turned around.

-Misdirection is a great answer for the question as a basic riddle, "How do you trick an elevator?"

-Something is going on with the lighting and shadows, as if the threshold thinks Crowley is a shadow; he is theoretically invisible on exit.

-Crowley was first.

...

For the first two touches of The Bigger Thresholds Trick, both explanations are only a few words. The explanations include a verb and a noun with the noun matching the multiplicative adjective. By that I mean, in the pub, there are two lanes. In the music shop, there is one sign on the window to the door. Ideally, the simple answer for Heaven would have a verb and a noun to represent the Triple. We're looking for a match to that type of pattern.

Another thing to keep in mind for this trick is that the buttons are the elevator's equivalent for doorknobs.

Excluding Crowley's name or pronoun, the answer for the first touch is two words. They are "switched lanes."

The answer for the second touch is five words. They are, "never let go of the door."

Remember these numbers: 2 and 5.

Given what we have so far, we are looking for a relatively short answer.

Let's go over these ideas and why I was not quite satisfied with any answer yet.

...

Crowley not touching the buttons is the easy answer, but it feels a little too easy compared to the past two touches. It at least references the Triple in that there are three buttons. There is a verb with "touch". The word "not" was probably a clue that the play was "not" so simple as to be done with that answer alone.

As already stated, at some point, I decided I wanted to make visual representations and GIF sets to help communicate that these Threshold Tricks are what they are. I was more strict on what segments of this trick to actually choose as GIFs.

Here is the original set:

Shortly after publishing and seeing the GIF set, it became evident to me that the trick is related to the chosen lighting and shadows of the atmosphere. Since the Threshold Tricks have two rounds, we might be able to get away with not needing a noun for the Triple or be satisfied with finding a three or a triple some other way.

...

Crowley did not touch the doors on entry is part of whatever is happening, but the main thing it lacks is that the noun, "door," is not tripled, and it re-uses a noun from another touch. So, let's dismiss that answer.

...

Crowley "pretended to be arrested" was my best guess by the time I was making the play being described in my post. I came up with it sometime during or after working on my posts about Crowley and Muriel.

Still, I was not convinced it's correct. It lacks a noun. For finding a three, I can mainly look to the letters within this prospective answer. Focusing on the phrase, "pretended to be arrested," there are 3 of the letter "r", 3 of the letter "t", and 3 of the letter "d". That's good to find because that's a triple. There are 3 sets of 3 found. While the phrase is 4 words, it does have 3 spaces when typed or written down.

When the doors closely slowly on both Crowley and Muriel, one of the doors has the word, "LETTERS" on it, so that's a clue that the letters within this answer are indeed worth considering.

Another sign that answer is the correct one is that when the doors close in on Crowley, he is shown to be contained in 3 windows that look like cells, reminiscent of a jail cell.

Still another clue is that Crowley literally says to Muriel, "You're arresting me, why would I be trying to trick you?" while inside the threshold. That's very likely a clue. For The Pocket Trick, Triple Part 2, Crowley has one line that says, "Do you need a lift somewhere?" as the clue that the Pocket Frame is Cars.

One problem with this "pretended to be arrested" answer is that its link with the lighting and shadows is limited. Lighting is heavily a clue, especially if pockets are involved. Pockets are involved here since Muriel put their notepad in a pocket on the way into the elevator. And pockets aren't just apparel pockets in this silly game. They're even visible holes or things framed between other things. The strongest lighting is on Muriel. They are wearing all white. While there are lines of white light along the sides, Muriel is still the subject that dominates the entrance scene and given the most focus in the lighting due to their white attire.

That could fit with, "pretended to be arrested," since Muriel is in uniform as their Inspector Constable presentation.

Another problem is we're still missing a noun in the part of the answer that is not Crowley's name or pronoun. Maybe we can get away with that. Maybe we can't. We're going to find out.

...

For Crowley and Muriel turning around, I suspected that's related to whatever the true answer is, but it's still not the answer. The clues are stronger with the arrest if I start looking at things like a lacking noun and number of letters within the phrase. Plus, the arrest answer is part of the dialogue.

...

For misdirection, both Crowley and Muriel engage in misdirection for this scene. It looks like Crowley is tricking Muriel instead of Muriel being his trusted assistant for tricking the elevator. In turn, they both misdirect the audience.

To find that "misdirection" answer, I had indeed tried to look up if there is a riddle or a joke to answer, "How do you trick an elevator?" I don't remember if I looked up if it was in a game or not, but that's what I found. "Misdirection" is the name of an achievement for a video game called Enter the Backrooms and involves elevators. "The Small Back Room" is the name of Maggie's record shop, and Aziraphale spelled that shop as "Backroom" on his list when preparing for the ball, so it's worth keeping in mind as part of an answer.

Misdirection is such a good answer, but it should be part of a phrase. Crowley engaged in misdirection?

Hmm.

Let's look at the LETTERS clue for this idea.

We already examined letters for "pretended to be arrested," but there is something we can look at in the letters for "misdirection".

Misdirection has a prefix, "mis," and it is three letters long.

I cannot come up with a phrase to be represented by each letter, but since lighting and shadows are on my mind, I can at least come up with, some word, followed by "in shadow" or "in shadows".

Misdirected in shadows? Missing in shadow? Melted in shadow? Meeting in shadows?

Nothing truly clicks, and the other issue is that the answer should be simple enough.

Now it's becoming too complicated. The mechanics are complicated to arrive at the answer, especially here, but the solution should still be a simple answer to the question, "How did Crowley trick the Heaven elevator?"

He pretended to be arrested by an angel.

A-ha!

That feels like the answer, but it's worth exploring the clues further to see if they give us any assurance we got it.

I've added three more words this time with "by an angel", and one of the added words is a noun that is not tripled, but still, the answer is simple enough for me to understand compared to, "misdirected in shadows," or whatever m-word I can think of. Now that I type this post, "Muriel" would be another m-word, wouldn't it? Speaking of Muriel, "angel" would be a way to include Muriel in the answer without directly naming them.

I like this answer so far though I'm a little uneasy about reaching 7 words. There is a tiny silly clue that's okay in that the previous touch of The Bigger Thresholds Trick had Crowley performing the Double from The Pocket Trick. He had 8 fingers out of the pockets, but the right pinky fingertip was cast in shadow. As such, it was 7 fingertips being shown during that touch. If 7 is the maximum number of words and the actual number we're looking for, we've found the answer.

Oh, but "misdirection" is such a good answer or part of an answer, especially with the context of the scene!

Crowley "pretended to be arrested by an angel as misdirection" is probably too many words and too complex for a simple answer. The answer is still limited in its link with the shadows.

Can we have three acceptable answers since it's the Triple and Earthly Objects has a Rule of Three? Or is that, again, too complicated?

...

Another notable thing that happens but does not really fit with any of these answers is that the doors close slowly and end up over Crowley's watch.

I've described the watch as something like a lookout.

Whenever I watch the scene, the doors closing slowly is when it feels like that's where I'm supposed to see the answer.

But I don't.

...

While I doubt this answer is the answer the game is looking for, an underlying core part of the trick in play is that Crowley trusts Muriel.

...

In my earlier play of this game, I remarked that Crowley being first is the most confusing thing he does, given how he tends to manage thresholds and entries with Aziraphale. When he exited the bookshop, he was first with Mrs. Sandwich instead of first alone with someone behind him.

After finding the closer link between Crowley and Muriel, I noticed that not only is Crowley first, Muriel is last. I don't know why it matters, and if it matters a lot since my intuition alarms have quieted over time, but my intuition does tell me it probably has an intentional reason, some unknown value the characters find in it.

I will try to skip over some of the parts of studying things sequentially since the main clue is actually...the repeated use of the word "blah." I told you the solution was weird.

We'll at least acknowledge the Pocket Chains before I go over the "blah" stuff.

Here is a cut that focuses on Muriel:

During the cut, Muriel creates a small pocket with their left hand and notepad. Their left thumb MCP joint aligns with their Pocket Chain.

I'm going to play this part as saying that's Muriel letting Crowley in for using their Pocket Chain during this upcoming trick.

Crowley's Pocket Chain is heavily dependent on human presence, and there will be no humans in Heaven, as far as we can tell. Due to the timing of when and where humans will be on screen during this trick, I suspect the mechanics at work are something like Muriel is allowing Crowley to use their Pocket Chain. Muriel wears all white, and White keeps. So, Muriel's play is to hold Crowley's place in the Rainbow Connection for his Pocket Chain.

Muriel creates a pocket twice with their right arm, torso, and bottom of the screen during this cut as well. During that, their right hand's shadow is over one of their jacket pockets and extended two fingers. These two characters are working together, so that's probably intentional as well.

Onto the "blah" usage.

I cannot believe the things this game gets me to do to play.

In the next two cuts, Crowley says the word "blah" multiple times, and Muriel says the "blah" multiple times with their voices overlapping for the last two "blah"s from Crowley and the first two "blah"s from Muriel.

Why do I care so much? Because of the numbers.

To play this part, I loaded up the video into an editing program and slowed down the audio so I could count the number of times each character said "blah" and when.

Crowley says "Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah." He says it 7 times, and here I am with my most likely answer at 7 words of "pretended to be arrested by an angel," based partly on a hint of 7 fingertips involving pockets from the previous touch on The Bigger Thresholds Trick mixed with a touch in The Pocket Trick.

There are two overlapping "blah"s because Muriel starts to say "blah" while Crowley is talking.

Muriel says "blah" 5 times. If I remove the 2 overlapping ones, I have 3 clear "blah"s from Muriel here on the Triple. The official subtitles clued in me into look for the 3 Muriel said since they are the 3 the subtitles credit.

When I realized the voices were overlapping and confusing me for who said "blah" how many times, I decided to check the audio more thoroughly.

Still in a cut with Muriel receiving focus, Crowley says, "Good job, you've arrested me," with his shadow's movement being cast over Muriel's jacket pockets and pocket chain. That specific dialogue is well-timed with those underlying numbers of the "blah" words I just checked.

Once the shadow is done with its movement, Muriel asks, "I have?"

Then Crowley says "blah" 7 times again with no overlap from Muriel this time. That is 3 times the game has given me a 7 now as a clue. Crowley is repeating this clue in this scene here with the arrest of this Trick.

When I pull back to think about it, the previous two simple explanations of 2 words and 5 words, well...2 + 5 does equal 7.

A lot more happens with the Overhead Lights and the dialogue and Muriel but that 7 was enough for me to start trusting my "pretended to be arrested by an angel" idea for the proper answer. I've only grown to trust it more over time.

It helps include Muriel in the answer, further supporting why it was worth taking the extra time and effort to consider the lighting, shadows, and that Crowley trusts Muriel. Those were all pieces that I considered important, even if I couldn't fit them together until several other steps were taken in the play.

...

Eventually, I finished my series of posts about Crowley's sideburns.

And then I was mostly done.

I have played since then, but it's not play I intended to cover with this project, especially in light of the very-upsetting-to-me news that season 3 was shortened to a 90-minute movie instead of 6 episodes.

If you want to see what I've been up to, check my Tumblr archive starting from July 2024. Most of my work has been struggling to understand retying for the Tied Hands, but I did work on some timestamp notes and a timeline theory. I recently found a couple of new patterns related to The Sunglasses Trick so have a post about that and a Food Curse head-canon that might explain the disappearing plate of Eccles cakes.

Something I've always wanted to add somewhere but had no place to is the following...

The Pocket Trick's core concept is, "Think outside the pocket."

I am not sure I the exact words for this hidden message, but it goes something like this: If you found The Pocket Trick, you've been thinking outside the pocket—using your imagination and playing with words—all along.

I was "thinking outside the pocket" from the start with the assumption that someone or something in the story wanted to tell us about the sideburns. I recognized the forces outside the story put some force inside this information.

Remember this gorgeous shot?

Do you remember that when I said I learned thresholds held significance, I thought Crowley was making the space more his own by using that newspaper like a door?

Do you remember how I said I learned thumb tips help manage Door Mode?

Do you remember how I said the tassels are the thumbs of the Tied Hands?

Do you see the tassel tips on Crowley's pants in that gorgeous shot?

Yeah, that's the game conveying this theme. I was right. He is making that space more his own. Crowley is using his pocket imagination powers to make a door like we thought, but he's doing so with his Tied Hands to help him set Door Mode on that thing.

Not only that, look at the shot just before it...

We see humans, yes, but only on the path in front of him. In the grass surrounding Crowley, there are no humans. Humans only appear past the next threshold, the edge of that path.

Crowley really did make that space more his own.

And if you're wondering how the human spy got into that space, I may have been right about Crowley needing a password to be approached or seen/sensed here. The human spy happened to have it. He had an earthly object, an intent to meet someone, and...a hat. Yeah, I think the hats are part of the passwords for this scene. Every character who acknowledges Crowley exists and can be seen in the park is wearing a hat (Shax, the spy with the briefcase, and the spy feeding the ducks). Everyone who is not wearing a hat goes on about their business ignoring Crowley, mostly giving him some space.

I thought that Crowley was making that newspaper a door to make the space more his own long before I named The Door Trick as a Threshold Trick and long before I realized the Tied Hands existed.

I named the game, Earthly Objects because I was playing with words and sensed the connection specifically to the Good Omens 2 story.

I figured out the thresholds of the sunglasses because I used my imagination of how a door to a snake-eyed demon who regularly wears sunglasses could work.

I figured out the steps for complex windows because I played with words. "The looker looks. The window sees." That was me playing with words before I knew The Pocket Trick existed.

I figured out the names of the Threshold Tricks and the words, or at least decent guesses, for their core concepts.

Obviously, I'm very proud of my play, and I wanted to brag about it somewhere. The end of this series is a place that feels fitting. One of the fun things about the game is to circle back and see all the things you caught and didn't catch before you learned more. You knew things before you knew them, and you didn't know that you knew them.

...

I never did figure out why Crowley wanted to be first when using the Heaven elevator. Well, not fully. I get it has to do with Muriel being "last" and something to do with the angel ranks, but there are more words and ideas I'm missing to find the answer.

In any case, this project is done. I hope you enjoyed this journey of play with me; please let me know if you did.

Thanks for your time.

(For reference: Trickery)

#crowley #david tennant #good omens #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #good omens crowley #good omens analysis #good omens 2 trickery

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simplylove101 · 1 month ago

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2024 Horror Challenge: [42/?]

↳“The juice is loose!" Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024) dir. Tim Burton

Plot: After a family tragedy, three generations of the Deetz family return home to Winter River. Still haunted by Beetlejuice, Lydia's life is turned upside down when her teenage daughter, Astrid, accidentally opens the portal to the Afterlife.

Starring: Michael Keaton, Winona Ryder, Catherine O'Hara, Justin Theroux, Monica Bellucci, Arthur Conti, Jenna Ortega & Willem Dafoe

I feel bad I'm only just now reviewing this movie because I definitely had watched it twice before its release on digital and had more than plenty of things to say about it but oh well. lol I think it's because sometimes I forget to think of the original movie as a horror since it doesn't scare me at all but I adore it just the way it is. That said, while this one didn't scare me too much either, the horror aspect gets a little more heightened with the assistance of Monica Bellucci's character & her powers since it was a little like, whoa dark. lol I kept going back and forth about whether to go see it in theaters or not because people kept being negative about it and saying it'd be a shitty sequel but I decided to let nostalgia win that battle. I was mostly glad I did in a way??? lol As I said, I later watched it again in theaters about two weeks later since my dad really wanted to go see it since he's a big fan of Michael Keaton and I enjoyed parts of it enough to be willing for a round 2. The truth is, yes, it's not as classic as the original movie for a good number of people, myself included (I have seen that some people prefer it though so that's interesting), but I wouldn't say that makes it awful or a waste of time. There were still moments I really liked and I didn't mind paying to see it in the theater at all. As my dad declared at the end of movie, "Well, now that was rather mildly entertaining... But I was a little disappointed. Hmm." I feel like that sums up perfectly what my initial thoughts were. lol I think my core issue with it is the pacing. It feels like it takes a good while to really get going since they certainly take the time to have us play catch-up with Lydia and her family, which didn't really feel needed the way they chose to go about it. Meanwhile, once it does get going, there's like multiple plots going on (Beetlejuice trying to get Lydia to free him, Astrid having her own major storyline, Monica Belluci's character looking for Beetlejuice, etc.) but none of them feel like they're getting the proper time to cook right since it took so long with the exposition, the other characters, and then there's the filler stuff. Now, I love fun filler stuff. I don't hate fun. lol This is a Beetlejuice movie, so you gotta have that. And I know Tim Burton loves a music moment, I do too. You knew there'd at least be one after the first one had the truly classic scene with "Day-O" but it felt like there was too much of that kinda thing in this sequel for me, at least the length of time dedicated to that stuff over plot. I just wish the editor had been able to trim some things down a bit because it managed to feel a lot longer than a basically 90 minutes movie. Anyway, I'm gonna stop being so negative and go back to how there were things I liked about it, despite my complaints. The cast was wonderful, Michael Keaton once again killing it as the iconic Beetlejuice. It did feel like they could have used Jenna Ortega a little better but maybe it's just cuz it kinda felt like they wrote Astrid a little one-note at times. Idk. lol I still laughed plenty and the music choices themselves were fun (Though my dad kept saying "Why did they have to use 'MacArthur Park' for the big moment?? That song sucks" XD) It was nice to be in this wacky world again even with different characters included. Also, no spoilers, but that nightmare sequence at the end was classic horror comedy goodness and I dug it so much. lol There's probably more I could say but I think I'll stop here by saying that even though I wanted to like it so much more than I actually did, I still had fun. It is hardly the worst sequel ever and is deserving of its blockbuster success. I'm glad it didn't get the streaming treatment.

#beetlejuice beetlejuice #horrorchallenge2024

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lunarsands · 1 year ago

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ALSMP Fanfic: Mirror Tenfold, Beyond the Wall - Ch 1

Characters: Scott Major, MythicalSausage, Shubble, PearlescentMoon; featuring the return of vampire!Scott but in an alternate way, and actual!angel!Sausage but cursed; with special guests Sparrow and Rusty the Copper Golem

Tags: Canon divergent, AU, crossover between two Afterlife universes with New Life SMP thrown in for good measure

WARNINGS: Blood, Violence, Injury, consensual blood drinking, PTSD, mentions of death

Summary: The Mysterious Force that keeps picking people up and depositing them into alternate universes comes for Myth and Smajor this time, and plunks them down near a new set of counterparts -- well, new to Smajor. Myth has met this other version of himself once before, in a place called Sanctuary. At least now there's someone with ten times the number of powers to keep Smajor in check, right?

The vampire returns but he’s not going to want a taste of this type of angel blood.

Follows after the events of Thou, O Kings, Fair Be You All - Part Eight of the Soul Liminality Series | Part Four of The Reality Entanglement Series

(Also available on Ao3!)

[A/N: Hello, I’m back! Sorry for the delay in posting anything, I had a rough patch of writer’s block for a couple of months. I’m going to keep chipping away at it! Have yet another Soul Liminality sequel/crossover in the meantime.

How It Started: wrote a dark one shot for the fun of it. How It's Going: well, you'll see at the end of this fic…

The joy of the creative process is never knowing when an idea will perpetuate itself beyond where you thought it was going to end.]

---

Chapter One

Smajor rolled the broken clock across the floor of his new cell, then scratched at his cheek with the frayed cuff of his dingy white shirt. Myth had yet to offer a new one after slicing through the back of it, and there were probably some new rips in it as well as in his baggy black pants from landing on the rough surface of a meteorite some weeks ago. At least the brown leather shoes were holding up. Small comfort, though. There was a pervasive chill in the air from being so far underground surrounded by stone, but he didn’t bother to complain. He doubted Myth would do anything about it.

The cursed angel didn’t seem bothered by the condition of his own clothes – the sleeveless black surcoat with gray trim that he had been wearing since his previous life as a blazeborn, with short black straps down the front and a generous number of tears and holes scattered around from when Smajor had attacked back. The top two straps were torn in half from an attempt aimed at his heart. Likewise, his worn black trousers were shredded to just above the knee. His tall black leather boots had fared the best, with all of the buckled straps along the side still intact.

He had also kept the orange flame-shaped buckle, maybe figuring it worked as a symbolic stand-in for holy fire – or rather, the fires of hell.

When the clock fell over Smajor retrieved it then returned to his spot on the floor and rolled it again, this time using just enough force so that it might bump the door and roll back toward him, but not so much to make a lot of noise. Myth seemed particularly prickly today and Smajor had decided to not annoy him too much because he knew what the cursed angel was like in that mood.

But he was also so bored.

When the clock began to wobble on its way back for the umpteenth time then fell over, Smajor sighed and gave up on it. He stood and went to pick up that morning’s bucket of fresh water. He glanced toward the small window in the door, then lifted it and dumped it over his head. He hadn’t checked the temperature first so it caused an involuntary gasp. “Oh, that’s cold! Where did you get this from? Did we run out of lava or something?”

After the destruction outside their last place of residence, Myth had relocated to a less sculk-infested cavern that still had a convenient lake and lavafall nearby for him to build another obsidian cell. Smajor had, shockingly, stayed true to his word and sat quietly while Myth worked to set everything up again. At the time, Smajor had shrugged in apparent resignation, admitting that he knew full well Myth would only hunt him down again if he escaped, and – again – that he preferred to not die any more times.

Myth had graciously given the clock back to him before locking him up again, then took up his somber station at the table lit only by a soul lantern plus the eerie glow of his inverted halo. And then the dull monotony returned. Away from the sculk, Myth’s own infection had cleared up; he still had some angelic healing, it seemed.

“I got it from the far side of the lake. I felt like taking a long walk,” Myth replied. “Enjoy being soaking wet for hours, by the way.”

“Oh, so you’re getting bored, too, huh?”

“Nope. Just felt like a long walk.”

“Come on, be honest with me – you’re tired of being cooped up down here! You’ve got wings, don’t you want to get out and fly sometimes?”

“No. I’m not some bird needing to follow migratory paths.”

“But you did stick yourself in a cage with me.”

“I’m protecting the world from both of us. Just because you have no powers doesn’t mean you won’t go on a murder spree the first chance you get. And it’s not safe to be around me, either.”

“Wow, you won’t give either of us a new chance, will you?”

“Why should I? What use does the world have for me besides this? I’m already condemned, so I might as well keep you with me.”

“Well, you’re the one who assigned yourself as my warden. You could try tossing me into that portal again, then you could be free.”

“Do you want to be wandering an endless limbo maze forever?”

“Is that any different from being here forever? At least there were interesting things to look at in there. I wish I had appreciated them more. But I was also completely out of my mind at the time. Oh, and I didn’t know then that I might end up spending the rest of my immortal life entombed alive at the bottom of the world.”

“I could put you at the bottom of the Nether for a while, where there’s no water.”

“But there are sounds of life! It’s too quiet here! Aside from the random creepy cave noises. I think there was more light in that limbo dimension, too.”

“Hm. How about if you stop making noise now?”

“Oh, sorry for disturbing your intention to brood in darkness for eternity.” Smajor rolled his eyes. He scrunched up the bottom of his shirt to wring some of the water out of it. The puddle he had caused earlier was draining off through a narrow, hidden gap somewhere in the floor. He had yet to figure out how Myth had engineered the cell. Obsidian wasn’t exactly the most malleable substance. The most he could figure out was that the ichor dripping off his wings had a selective acid-like quality at times.

Smajor had no idea how that worked. There must be more to being a cursed angel than Myth was willing to utilize.

As he straightened the front of his shirt and began to reach to pull at the back of it to wring out that side, he noticed his hands seemed to have a shimmer to them. Had there been something in that water? Maybe residual glow squid ink? The shimmer then grew brighter. He grinned. “Hey, Myth— you know how there’s that glowing light whenever someone gets sent to another world?”

Myth grunted in annoyance, indicating he wasn’t interested in the conversation.

“Yeah, so, looks like it’s my turn for a family reunion with some other versions of me.” Smajor continued to grin as he walked to the door, intending to leer out at the cursed angel once he got there and then he would wave goodbye.

To his disappointment, Myth was now also limned in a brightening light. Smajor cursed.

Myth gave a long sigh and kept a grip on the hilt of his sword, although he left it sheathed as he locked eyed with Smajor. “I don’t care where this stupid magical force sends us – I’m keeping you in my sight, so don’t even think—”

His words faded into the air as they were whisked away. He only hoped it didn’t drop them into the world of the shining seraph and the version of Smajor who could call down whole meteors.

~*~

Myth squinted up through the tree leaves at the pale blue sky from where he lay on the ground, the daylight hurting his eyes. It had been much the same when he had last found himself teleported somewhere against his will, and it had been one of the reasons he hadn’t told his group of counterparts for why he had been late to the fight against the Tyrant King – or, Sausage Supreme, or one particular part of Sausage Supreme’s soul. He was still unclear on what in the world that had all been about, but he also didn’t entirely care.

He needed to find out where he was this time, and more importantly, where Smajor was. The peaceful breeze causing the leaves above to sway seemed to be tempting him to let his guard down. He refused. He fought his way into a sitting position, a few blades of grass sticking to his feathers as he pulled his wings along.

There were oak and birch trees all around. Just some random forest, in the middle of nowhere?

The bad news was he didn’t see or hear Smajor anywhere nearby. Myth surmised, however, that if his nemesis had been in the same place and woke up first, there would be no doubt he would have been trying to strangle the cursed angel while the advantage lasted.

After getting to his feet, Myth took a few staggering steps, putting a hand to his head. It might have been his imagination, but his wings felt heavier. He knew his body couldn’t possibly be that atrophied. It might be something about this world…

Or maybe it was just a side effect of the teleport. Either way, he grumbled to himself and adjusted how his wings were folded then headed off through the trees while keeping an eye out for any signs of Smajor.

He became wary when he started seeing soul lanterns hanging from the trees. The shape of a building came into view. As he got closer, he picked out some of the details of the roof, although nothing about it was familiar to him. He had just caught a glimpse of tinted glass when he thought he saw something move in the shadows to his right. He whipped around, hand reflexively closing on the hilt of his sword.

“Oh, hey, Sausage!” the shadows called in a cheerful tone. “I almost didn’t recognize you! Is this a new look to try to win Scott over? I never took you for the goth type, but those boots are pretty cool! Nice work on the scar makeup, too. Makes you look like you’ve been fighting some tough monsters!”

Myth turned around with a scowl and a frustrated expression. Great, just what he needed – to be mistaken for this world’s version of him. “Show yourself. I have a few things to explain to you.”

The voice now sounded confused. “Can’t you see me? I thought you could sense anything with your gravity-sonar.”

Myth debated whether he should make an assumption based on that comment alone. He unfolded his wings and stretched them out. “Do I really look like a gravital to you?”

“Whoa,” came the astonished response. “I thought that was a cape! You got your wings back! How? A-And why so many? And…what’s wrong with them? They’re, like, dripping—”

Myth cut the voice off by snapping his middle wings in a single flap, sending droplets of ichor splattering against the tree trunks – and onto a humanoid shape within one tree’s shadow. “There you are!” He lashed out with an empty hand to try to grab them so he could drag them out into the open.

However, his hand passed right through them as their portion of the shadow turned into swirling smoke. The smoke reformed into a vaguely more solid figure who was about twenty centimeters shorter than him. “Hey! That’s rude! Don’t tell me you’re actually fully back on Scott’s side! We agreed he was going too far with the evil plans! Sausage!”

“I’m not who you think I am!” Myth yelled back. “I only look like him! Angels don’t just get their wings back if someone cuts them off! I had to die several dozen times and just happened to revive as another type of angel to get these!!”

A sharp gasp came from the shadowy person, then they finally moved out into the light. As they did so, a pair of pale-yellow eyes became visible, along with long, grayish-brown hair and a rather unassuming outfit of a short-sleeved shirt under stonewash overalls. “Th-Those scars are real, too, then? Who are you? Why do you look so much like Sausage? And… are you on Scott’s side?” they added cautiously.

“Not on my life,” Myth growled. Then, seeing the alarmed response, he asked in a less angry tone, “I’ll try to explain, but first, who are you?”

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood shadowcrawler, Shubble!”

Myth searched his memory but quickly gave up with a sigh. “I might have known someone by that name. It’s… been a long time since I saw anyone in my world. I come from a place that didn’t have a happy ending, and I’ve been busy keeping two monsters from destroying it even more.”

“Ohh… …Wait. You’re from where, exactly?”

Myth sighed again. “Do you have any concepts of parallel universes here?”

“Do you mean like the Nether, or the shadow dimension?”

“No, I mean like an entire duplicate of everything, but with either very small or very big differences.” He flicked his top pair of wings to emphasize his point. “I was once known as Mythical Sausage, but now I just go by Myth. Because the Scott of my world wasn’t just evil with a possible hidden good side, he went full-on obsessive murderer. And I was his target. And in my world, you just keep reviving after death with new powers. Up to a point. And now he’s loose in this world. And since he wasn’t near me when I woke up here, that means he might be somewhere else. Which means the Sausage you know is in a great deal of danger.”

Shubble seemed to get an amused look on her face. “Well, I don’t know about him being in danger, he’s pretty strong. Okay, let me ask – if you’re a… six-winged angel, what is your Scott?”

“He has no powers anymore, but that doesn’t mean anyone should underestimate him. Also, a tip – he goes by Smajor, so if for some reason you run into two Scotts that look the same, use that to call him out.”

“Why ‘Smajor’?”

“Because, to put it politely, he’s a major pain in the neck.”

“Oh, ours is like that, too! Vampires, am I right?”

“Great,” Myth grumbled. “Vampire again. Didn’t need a round two of that.” Yet then he smirked and chuckled slowly. “I bet cursed angel blood won’t taste very good. Maybe it would even make him choke.”

“Cursed angel?” Shubble asked curiously.

“Why else do you think I look like this?” Myth spread his arms – and his lower pair of wings – to indicate his whole appearance.

“Well, I don’t know – angels can dress in goth style if they want, right? But, um, say – can I help you find new clothes that aren’t, like, shredded and falling apart? You might need some better cover and even some armor while you’re wandering around.”

Myth threw an irritated glare at her. “Do you really think I have time to worry about that with Smajor out there possibly hurting someone right now?”

“Sorry. It was just a thought. But we should go see Sausage – uh, my Sausage? – because he might be able to help! He keeps an eye on a lot of things around the place, so he might have seen your Scott – uh, Smajor. And then I guess figure out how you got here, and how to send you home. There’s still a second monster you have to get back to watching out for, right? What’s that one like?”

Myth didn’t answer. He waited to see if she might figure it out.

Shubble only tilted her head, momentarily looking like a dog or even a cat observing something from a different angle of perception. After a few seconds she said, “Something too scary to mention, huh? I’ll stop asking. Let’s go! I think I know the best place to find him at this time of day. And we’ll keep an eye out for this Smajor of yours on the way. At least Scott will be holed up somewhere avoiding the sun. I honestly don’t care much for the sun, either, but I’ve learned to live with it.”

It was at this point that Myth probably should have clued into something, himself, but any memory of meeting a shadowcrawler in the past was far too distant – and if Smajor had happened to become one during the long test of the limits of revival magic, he didn’t have the opportunity to learn their weaknesses.

After a few minutes they came to a well-worn path through the trees. As they walked along, Myth was sorely tempted to offer to fly them to wherever Shubble was leading, particularly when they passed by two people that were playfully chasing each other and appeared to be animal hybrids – one a wolf, the other a fox. They both stopped and stared, but Myth kept his head high and continued forward like he had every right to be there. He had a sneer at the ready in case they mistook him for this world’s Mythical Sausage, too. Fortunately, it seemed like they had been intimidated into keeping any such thought to themselves.

However, Shubble came to a halt. “Hey, I have to do something real quick. You can just keep going straight on this path, and I’ll catch up! I can move faster through the shadows, so don’t worry if you get really far ahead!”

The color disappeared from her features as her form darkened to blend with the shadow of the nearest tree. Myth tried to keep eyes on the slight distortion she created, yet then she disappeared completely. He returned to walking but remained alert in case this turned into some kind of trap.

Then, from behind him he heard a wolf howl, followed by a second howl and then the yip of a fox – although none of them sounded alarmed. Instead, it gave off the sense of some type of conversation.

He supposed they might be gossiping about the grim angel they had just witnessed. Far be it for him to care. Although, for half a second it struck him as odd that he hadn’t heard Shubble’s voice – but then he realized her business could have been unrelated. So, he continued onward until a mountaintop village came into view over the trees ahead of him. He narrowed his eyes. Then resentment twisted his lips. That wasn’t a village.

That was Heaven’s Reach.

There were many more buildings – all sparkling, pristine in appearance – than he had managed to build back in his home, but he recognized the meager few that matched locations with his. He moved off the path into a spot with fewer trees and spread his wings. He could obviously guess where Shubble meant they would find her Sausage. Maybe he could do some reconnaissance first and get the drop on his counterpart before he could use any gravital tricks on him.

However, as he was taking a few test flaps of his middle wings to see if the heavy feeling was still there, Shubble phased upward from the ground right in front of him. “I wouldn’t recommend that. He’s got a few measures in place against hostile flyers. Besides vampires, there are a couple of troublesome dragons around. They think they can ransack any place they want to try to get gold.”

“So, not only would I get mistaken for a creature of the night, I might be mistaken for a whole dragon?”

“Hey, you never know! Besides, it’s better that you stick with me so I can explain things.”

“Does that rule out carrying you up with me?”

“Uhm…” Shubble leaned to look around him at his wings. “No offense, but I don’t want to get any more of that stuff on me.”

“Oh, none taken at all,” Myth proclaimed sarcastically. “Let me go wash it off – oh, wait, I can’t. They’re permanently like that and I had no say in it.” He folded them down onto his shoulders, returning them to the cloak-like appearance

“Sorry” Shubble said in an awkward tone. “Let’s, uh, just keep going on the road. Ummm, can I ask what happened, though? I didn’t know angels came in, uh, that condition. Are you some kind of hybrid angel?”

“Nope, I happen to be a specific type.”

“Oh, so, doesn’t that mean you’re special?”

“No. I’m what other angels aspire not to be.”

“You know what, I’ll just ask Sausage later. He knows a lot of things that he doesn’t talk about much, either.”

“You’re really nosy.”

“Well, you know what they say about cats and curiosity!”

“What… does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m curious! Because I’m like a cat!” Shubble grinned as if the answer was obvious.

Myth stared at her, then grumbled, “I’m missing something here, but I don’t care enough to ask.”

He did, however, feel a stab of reluctance as they climbed the stairs cut into the cliffside. He quickly shut away the emotions tied to his memory of his old home, including how he himself had destroyed the church during his maddened-wither hunt for Smajor.

Shubble continued to lead the way, heading for a tower with a large sign reading ‘Hero’ down the side. Myth rolled his eyes. When she pushed the door open, he stopped and regarded the door frame with more than a little distrust. “I’ll wait out here. Not enough room for my wings.” He lifted his middle pair and fluffed up the feathers to demonstrate. In reality, he was preparing to take flight if necessary – hostile flyer defenses or not.

Shubble shrugged and stepped inside. “Hey, Sausage, there you are! Take a break from studying maps, will ya? I met someone who needs our help finding a bad guy. He’s right outside!” Her tone seemed overly cheerful. Myth took a few steps back and braced himself to hear a copy of his own voice…if not less gruff.

“Okay, you’re right. I should take a break. I’m just still trying to find the best place for that… trap…” The voice of the gravital version of Sausage trailed off as he followed Shubble outside and his gaze landed on Myth.

Shubble ran over to stand beside the cursed angel. “Hey, so, you never told me you had a dark and brooding twin brother!”

“Y-Yeah, I don’t!” A clicking sound came from Sausage’s exosuit as he switched polarity modes. “Shub, get away from him, NOW!”

“What? B-But he only looks scary,” she protested. “Give him a chance to explain—”

“Shub, move. I know who he is.”

Myth gritted his teeth and let his lip curl upward. Was this the version he had met in the limbo dimension, from before he had become a seraph? Where was his Scott, then?

Wait, no, Shubble had said Scott was a vampire. That other Scott had been a merling at the time. Then who was—

Myth was in the process of blinking from realization when suddenly Sausage was up close with an extraordinary grip of one hand on the cursed angel’s throat, a blast of gravi carrying them both away from Shubble until Myth was shoved up against one of the wooden pillars of the church. A storm cloud rapidly formed overhead, discharging a lightning bolt into the ground at Myth’s feet a moment later.

Myth let his wings droop and raised empty hands with fingers spread to show his sword was out of reach. “Ah. It’s you. Okay, well, here’s me surrendering because I can’t compete with you and your collection of ten powers.”

“What are you doing here?!” the superhero demanded. “How did you get here?! That trans-dimensional summoner version said he wouldn’t ‘bother’ you again! I should hope he didn’t change his mind to start disrupting other people’s universes!”

“It wasn’t him. It felt different. And I didn’t ask to be here! Just like I didn’t ask to be dragged into that fight at Sanctuary!”

“Which one?!” Sausage retorted. “Against that villain version, or that other angel?!”

Myth narrowed his eyes then lowered his voice almost to a growl. “My quarrel is with him alone. As long as you don’t start spewing garbage about saving my soul, we can either work together or go our separate ways, because I don’t have time to debate good and evil. I wasn’t the only one brought here from my world. I need to—” He then swore. “Or I have to assume he was also dropped here, and not some other universe.”

Myth swore again more quietly. Shubble came over and put a hand on Sausage’s elbow as if she might try to pull his arm away. “Sausage, please calm down. He said he was protecting his world from two monsters, and one of them is loose here!”

Casting a defeated glance at the ground, Myth corrected her sullenly, “Might be here. I guess I can’t guarantee he ended up in the same world as me. But I can at least try to look and then figure out… something.” His expression became pensive, then he raised his eyes to them. “Do you happen to know the location of an Ancient City in the Deep Dark?”

Sausage gave him a puzzled look, but Shubble piped up, “Yeah, I’ve seen one while traveling through the ground!”

“Good,” Myth murmured, “Then I have a backup plan.”

“Whatcha gonna find down there that could help?” Shubble asked. “There’s nothing but Wardens down there! And maybe some sculkborn.”

“Listen to me when I advise you to not go anywhere near the portal, ever,” Myth replied. He shifted his gaze to Sausage. “So, hero, I know what your powers are all about. Anything I should know about your Scott? Mine doesn’t have any powers, but don’t count him out. He can be tricky and violent given the slightest chance. He has been acting peaceful lately – aside from mouthing off – but he is not to be trusted.”

“I think I’ll keep that information to myself for now, thank you.”

“Fine. And how about letting me go, gravital with the strength of a giant who can zap me with lightning in a split second anyway?”

Sausage hesitated. Shubble patted his arm. “My instincts say we can trust him. Come on, let him go. You know I’m not a pushover, either!”

The superhero loosened his fingers, then sighed and stepped back. He then gently scolded her, “You’re supposed to stick to the night watch.”

“He was wandering around near my house! And I thought he was you! Was I supposed to ignore him?”

“No, but you could have gotten hurt. It’s not as safe for you during the day.”

Shubble gave a teasing grin. “You’re worrying too much again~”

Myth eyed the cloud that lingered overhead then crossed his arms. “Please don’t tell me you two…”

“She’s my sidekick!” Sausage blurted out. “Uh, teammate.” He looked chagrined.

Shubble, meanwhile, laughed. “That’s a big leap of logic there, Myth. We’re just teammates against the forces of evil! He’s not my type, anyway.”

Sausage spluttered for a second, then coughed. "Moving on from that topic, we should start looking for your… monster?”

“My version of Scott. I guess I didn’t make that clear,” Myth disparaged. “I think you got distracted not wanting me to know all the powers yours has.”

“Well, he’s been running around as a vampire for months and not even using any of his other powers, so it doesn’t really matter,” Sausage said in a stilted tone. “We don’t have to worry about him as much during the day, so if we locate yours before nightfall, we won’t even have to worry about him getting involved. If you want to come inside the hero headquarters and look at the maps, we can make a search plan. You and I can fly, Shubble can look while phasing through the ground.” He put a hand to his chin in thought. “Maybe we can enlist some allies along the way.”

He turned and walked back toward the white tower. Shubble smiled ruefully. “He’s gone into strategy mode. He gets like that all the time now. Kinda been a thing since our Scott went evil.”

“Well,” Myth said with an acerbic tone, “At least he seems interested in catching him instead of just killing him.” He folded his wings in tightly to fit through the doorway.

Shubble stared after him. A mix of sympathy and concern began to well up inside her.

~*~

Smajor moved quickly but quietly through the dark oak forest, shivering from the cold of his still-wet clothes combined with the constant darkness created by the dense canopy. He hoped he could find some type of shelter before a skeletal archer or zombie spotted him. There was plenty of shade to protect them from the sun, after all.

Being without powers was bad enough, but not having a chance to get armor or weapons made his freedom feel a little bittersweet.

He had felt relieved when he woke up and hadn’t seen Myth anywhere nearby. There was no doubt in his mind that the cursed angel would slay him again to keep him down and out until he had a way to cage him. This was not their world – something about the air felt off, and it wasn’t because he had become accustomed to living at bedrock level.

Maybe the shade was even a blessing so his eyes could adjust. He had to admit, the fresh air really was wonderful. He was almost tempted to stop and lay on the grass for a while. With all the trees Myth wouldn’t be able to spot him from the air, anyway…

Those thoughts were shoved from his mind as he heard someone moving behind him. Not a rattle of bones, or zombie groan, but some presence was there—

Not Myth. Myth would have already rushed him, or said something, even if the dense trees hindered his wings.

Smajor saw a brief flutter at the edge of his vision.

Whoever it happened to be was also too small to be Myth.

Then he heard his own voice from somewhere behind him say, “Ah, what’s this? I smell a poor, lost little human. I could go for a snack right about now…”

Smajor froze; a conniving smirk then spread across his face. He braced himself and didn’t even flinch when clawed fingers grabbed onto his arms, then one of the hands grasped the top of his head to tilt it and expose his neck. He waited until he felt a breath against his skin to speak, putting on an exaggerated frightened tone. “Oh, no! Not a big, scary vampire sucking my blood! Whatever will I do??”

“What in the Nether—?” came the response. The fingers gripping his hair let go, then moved back to his arm to spin him around.

Smajor smirked back at the red-eyed, white-haired and dapperly-dressed version of himself. “Hello, other me. Looks like I was right about a family reunion.”

“Is this some kind of joke? What are you – a shapeshifter? Why that form? Cyan hair? And what did you do, fall in a river?” The vampire version of Scott then narrowed his eyes as he demanded with accusation, “How did you even know I was here?!”

“I didn’t. You see, I’m a bit lost. I’m from a different universe.” Smajor held out his hands to mime some motions as he went on to explain, “I was picked up from my home and transported here. I don’t know where ‘here’ is, but I figured I might run into a different version of myself. Not the first time it’s happened. The other one I met was a fish, and then later he showed up as a sparkly dandy who could call down meteors.”

For half a second Scott looked startled at the mention of fish, then dug his fingers into Smajor’s arms again. “What are you, then? You smell human.”

Smajor shrugged despite the sharp fingernails poking through the fabric of his shirt. “It turns out that in my world after a certain number of deaths the magic that bestows powers stops working. Now I’m just a boring old immortal. But you—” He smiled greedily. “—You’re only one death in, from the looks of you. Savor it while you can – over a hundred gets tedious after a while.”

Scott released him to look him over; hearing that he possibly had no abilities made the vampire assume he could overpower him in an instant if he made any suspicious moves. “Well, you’re wrong about one thing. I haven’t died yet.”

“You’re a vampire,” Smajor said flatly. “That kind of automatically makes you dead – undead, as it were.” He kept his stance casual but an idea had taken over most of his mind and he was itching to pitch it to his double.

“…I can hear your heartbeat speeding up. Are you afraid of something?”

“The person who caused me to die so many times is probably here, too. I won’t lie, he makes me nervous – even if I’m already depowered, he keeps proving he won’t hesitate to kill me again. The rules of your world might work differently, so this time I might die permanently if he catches me.”

“This is getting elaborate if you turn out to be a shapeshifter. Who might this killer of yours be, and what does he look like?”

Smajor gave a cold smile. “I call him Myth. He’s currently an angel again. Have you ever seen a seraph before? Ridiculous number of wings and grossly overpowered – although, he doesn’t seem to have access to holy fire anymore, and his wings are covered in weird goop. He’s very grouchy-looking. I doubt you’ll miss him. He might even mistake you for me, so be careful.”

Scott’s expression became troubled and he turned away for a second to contemplate this development.

Smajor watched him carefully. “You might know a version of him named Sausage.”

When the vampire’s face changed to be startled by the revelation, Smajor lunged and grabbed him, then leaned in close to breathe on Scott’s neck and hiss into his ear, “But maybe you can help me get powers again. You wanted a snack? Help yourself – but make sure you turn me before you’re through.”

Scott seemed almost too calm as he shifted his head enough to get Smajor within his line of sight. Smajor abruptly felt his body lock up and his eyes had to refocus as he found himself getting tunnel vision. Scott easily removed the overzealous human’s hands from his arms then stepped away. “I’ll consider it,” he answered, sounding unimpressed. “I’m not just an average vampire, so I don’t know what the full effect might be. I’ve never turned anyone before.”

Smajor tried to twitch his fingers but no part of his body would respond. “What – What did you do to me?? Th-This isn’t how my powers worked when I was a vampire!”

“You’ve underestimated the type of world you ended up in. I have more than just the powers of a vampire.” Scott walked around him and trailed his fingertips across Smajor’s throat. “So, you might be getting in over your head if I try to turn you. There’s no guarantee you’ll get only vampire abilities. Are you sure you want to risk it?”

Smajor followed his double with his eyes – getting a very close view of his fangs due to the tunnel effect – until he had passed behind him. “Yes,” he insisted, nearly snarling. “I’d do anything to have powers again. I can’t stand Myth lording it over me that he won simply because my list ran out.”

“We’ll make an experiment out of it,” Scott said, smiling as he walked back into view. “But not here. We’ll make our way under the cover of the shadows to my home, and that way if anything goes horribly wrong, I’ll do you the honor of burying you where your grave can serve as a warning to others if they get too close to my lands.”

The effect on his vision disappeared; Smajor cautiously took one step forward just to make sure his body could also still move. With a smug smirk, he replied, “Lead the way.”

[ Chapter Two ]

#alsmp #alsmp fanfic #scott smajor #mythicalsausage #dangthatsalongname #shubble #more to be listed in future chapter #soul liminality #x10variant #lunar yarns

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southernbrainspiders · 2 years ago

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Seven Years Later

Hey, y'all. So here's a final post for anyone who's still following this blog -- I expect that, over the past seven years, nearly everyone who used to follow it has left, but there might be a few still around, so I just wanted to put this here.

If you're trying to remember who this is, I used to blog about my experiences working the graveyard shift at a gas station in Mississippi. I was an angry 20-something misanthrope who had left my grad-school program due to various conflicts and was working at a gas station while I tried to figure out what to do next. I had a lot of complaints about the customers (because, you know, it was retail, and customers really are pretty terrible even when you're not bitter and misanthropic already). The blog kind of trailed off when I got a secondary-school teaching certification and landed a job teaching 11th/12th-grade English at a school in the next county over -- because, of course, it just wouldn't be right to talk about my students in a public forum.

Anyway, I’m kind of back, just not on this blog, so I thought I’d give anyone still around an update on the last seven years of my life and where you can find me now. Oh, and this probably goes without saying, but I will deny all knowledge of this blog. I look back on my younger self and cringe, as I think we all do, and would prefer to leave that here -- I've matured, I like to think, and all that angry misanthropy is much more contained now, rather than just flailing around undirected.

So I wasn't at the high school long before I left that too. The turnaround was actually extremely quick -- by October, I was filling out applications to return to grad school. There were a few reasons for this, which I'll enumerate, but it all really boils down to the fact that I wasn't a cultural fit. (This was originally basically an essay in itself, but I'm trimming it down to a bulleted list.)

This was a school that did not believe in education except as it pertained to test scores. My job was 50% babysitter, 40% prison guard, and 10% ACT Prep. There was a weird current of anti-intellectualism among the faculty, and that carried over to the students.

The prison guard thing isn't as much of an exaggeration as I would like -- my morning duty was helping keep the students kettled in the auditorium until the first bell rang, because the administration didn't trust them to be out in the halls. I had to accompany my class to the cafeteria to make sure they sat in their assigned seats and didn't make too much noise.

On a related note, several members of the faculty frequently bemoaned the fact that corporal punishment had been recently banned from the school system. (Our student rosters still had a column on them indicating which parents had given permission for the school to hit their kids.) They pretty casually talked about the fact that the parents still did that part at home, though, describing things that, where I grew up, would have been called child abuse.

One of my duties was to teach students to write for basically the first time ever -- a writing section had been added to one of the tests, so it had to be incorporated into the curriculum now. Because, of course, since it hadn't been on the tests before, the school had been just not teaching writing at all. Students were very against the concept of writing assignments.

This was a very conservative and very religious area. I'm neither of those things. A standard "getting to know you" question was "what church do you go to?" Faculty meetings started with a prayer session. I didn't try to hide my lack of religion, and even tried to use it as a teaching moment when students asked about it, breaking down the word "agnosticism" to its roots and affixes. A number of students decided I needed to be Saved and started trying to witness to me or whatever you call it.

Between the backlash to the writing assignments (seriously, the students hated those to a degree that shocked me) and my general status as a cultural outsider, a number of the students developed a severe dislike of me. And it was a small town, so they quickly found out where I lived. Within the first month, my home was egged thrice and my tires slashed once. This was when I started filling out grad-school applications.

It was an intensely stressful experience, is what I'm saying. I should have picked up on the red flag when I noticed I was one of... I think half a dozen? new teachers that year. (There were at least four, but I can't quite remember the number.) It was a small school; the turnover rate was just insane. Most of the others left before the year even ended -- in fact, one of my students told me that I was the first high school English teacher they'd had that lasted the whole year. The new math teacher just packed up her classroom and left one day, no notice or anything. The only new hire that stayed for the next year was actually an alumnus of the high school in question and thus was already part of the community & didn't have much adapting to do.

I stayed for the whole year because I needed the money; if I'd had a spouse's income to fall back on like most of the other new teachers did, I probably would have left mid-year too. It was hellish and I was basically in a constant state of mental breakdown. I'm not ashamed to admit I cried in school multiple times -- never in front of the students, thankfully, but once in front of the principal. I decided that even if I didn't get into another graduate program, I had to leave this place because it was turning me into a person I didn't like -- I was starting to yell at students for acting up, which is just intolerable.

Luckily, I did get accepted into a couple programs. One of them offered funding and a TA position, so I took it without a second thought even though it meant starting over as an MA student. (So now I have two Master's degrees, one in English Literature and one in English Language, which is extremely redundant.) I moved across the country to Indiana.

Turns out I'm actually a pretty good teacher at the college level. When I can focus on education rather than babysitting, I can genuinely thrive. Most of my students still weren't that interested in learning English -- I was teaching a freshman-year writing class -- because it's a STEM-focused university and the humanities are barely tolerated, but just the fact that they actually want to be at the school and have some motivation to learn makes all the difference. I got multiple awards from the department based on student evaluations.

My TA position expired at the end of last year, because I was supposed to finish my PhD and graduate, but my dissertation is still in progress. (My mental health is still pretty shaky, but that's just the baseline of who I am as a person, not the result of the environment I'm in this time... it leads to me not being as productive as I probably should be.) I was able to get a position working for the university library instead, though, so that's where I am now.

As a side project, I do a podcast, The Maniculum, where a friend and I read, discuss, and joke about medieval literature, then try to adapt it to TTRPG games. We have a small audience of a few hundred, but I think it's going quite well. I've been managing our Twitter presence, and as Twitter started looking like it might go down, I saw a lot of jokes about people fleeing back to Tumblr. This struck a chord of nostalgia within me, and yesterday I went & made us a Tumblr account. I haven't posted anything there yet -- I'm planning to do an introduction post later today -- but if anyone reading this wants to go follow it and see what happens, it's @maniculum.

And, for anyone who does go there to check it out, remember: if you knew me as Southern Brain Spiders, no you didn't.

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pioneeroverc-my-5000th-sideblog · 1 year ago

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FOUR MONTH ART IMPROVEMENT RATE COMPARISON - May 2023

art block: 2/19 (from 2/19)

personal: 19/19

study/figure drawing sessions: 12/129 days(from 32/105) check numbers on these

Same goals as yearly - absolutely not, I've really fallen off on these. Currently re-evaluating whether these are actually doable

Finish DAB Lesson 7 - no, but I did make good progress on it last month!

1 finished piece with 2pt+ perspective plotted background (or two sketched screenshot studies with same) - I assume this was supposed to be 'per month'… I did five things with actual perspective in the entire four month period but two of them were just sketches and most of them were very plain and undetailed. NO WONDER I'm not getting better at this lol

one screenshot study per month - can focus on any area (perspective, expressions, colours, composition, etc.) - I DIDN'T DO THIS AT ALL

In May, I will have even more mileage drawing hands interacting with things and have experimented with different ways of ideating on composition thumbnails - actually true!Definitely not anywhere near good at drawing hands yet but my 3D sense improving is helping me draw interactions. I tried a few ways of doing thumbnails but nothing has really stuck more than my painful 'just draw a bunch of stuff and try to fit it together afterwards' process. At least I tried

Studies done: FIGUARY, DAB stuff, breakdowns for some random objects I needed to draw, Proko ribcage and shoulder bones, lots of tracing (boot opening contours, heads to see how eyes fit in at 3/4 view, stylised hair/outfit trims to see how different artists do them), one fold study, some form intersections

Ups and downs here, with periods of Good Study interspersed with (more) periods of I Am Too Unmotivated To Do Anything. Whenever I am struggling to draw something, I end up just not drawing anything at all, even stuff that's unrelated and should be fun for me. This is something I really wish I could overcome because it ends up making me more stressed out overall when I have The Thing I've Been Putting Off and then all my other fun ideas AND STUDIES in the back of my head that also feel like they have deadlines on them. I'm still having trouble drawing stuff that isn't a character staring blankly off-screen with a solid colour background.

I started drawing a bunch of fake FEH alts during this period, and although I've really enjoyed designing them and getting to do more in-depth inking and rendering for once, I do feel like my time could be better spent drawing full pieces with backgrounds and, like, any thought for composition (since I'm hitting my skill ceiling with perspective and anatomy in particular for the alts - and the full pieces look 5000x more impressive). I still have a bunch of time-sensitive ideas for them, so I'm really not sure what to do here.

IMPROVEMENT METRICS

Anatomy/gesture: I am CERTAIN that my figure drawing improved because of Figuary but none of my actual finished stuff reflects that… I'm going to say same as last year just because I literally can't tell

Backgrounds/perspective: Much worse than last year lol

Composition/storytelling: Thinking about negative space more and still trying to add supporting elements. Worse than last year though

Colours/values: still having problems with stuff being too dark but also still working on it. Screencap studies could probably help this. Starting to get better at controlling saturation. Actually better than last year! Woo! Not a total failure!

Lighting/rendering: better than last year again, CAN I PLEASE TRADE THIS POWER FOR SOMETHING THAT'S ACTUALLY USEFUL??

PLAN OF ACTION FOR NEXT FOUR MONTHS:

Re-evaluate yearly goals

Finish DAB Lesson 7

one screenshot study per month, focussing on values first

two object studies per month

In September, I will have a better understanding of how the parts of the body fit together and be better at manipulating them, as simplified forms, in 3d space.

#art improvement #art progress #end of four months #this is really late in the month but i'm pretending it's still the first week of may

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lackyghost · 2 years ago

Text

12 Days of Christmas

ON THE 1ST DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME...

Bakugou Katsuki grumbles his annoyance as he pulls his jeans on over his powerful legs, securing the zipper and button. He pulls his long-sleeved shirt on next, the material taut over his arms and chest, loose around his trim, toned abdomen.

His blonde hair is wild atop his head, barely contained by the black beanie he tugs down over the spikes, squishing them down so they poke out at every angle from beneath the brim.

His red eyes are fierce and furious as he looks outside, seeing the snow falling and scowling at the tiny white specks as he tugs his woolen socks on.

Katsuki has always hated winter, never having been one to easily withstand the cold, especially not with how it fucks with his Quirk.

He grabs his thick winter jacket, a dark green in color, lined around the hood with a tawny faux fur, zipping it up before grabbing his keys. He ensures his phone and wallet are in place before opening the door and stepping out.

The sound of something falling to the side has him quickly jumping back, looking down and blinking in surprise at the vase he’d just tipped over.

Frowning, he picks it up, situating the ONE ORANGE CHRYSANTHEMUM inside it before standing back up, looking around. If he were in an apartment, he would be asking his neighbors which of those bastards had tried to get out of a date by giving the wrong door number away.

But Katsuki lives in his own house, and has for nearly a year now. He’s never gotten mail for anyone but himself and a couple times for the old woman who lived here before him.

He frowns as he looks the flower over, turning to bring it inside as he looks around the vase for a note or anything, but finds nothing. He fills the vase with water, drops the flower inside, and then walks back to open his front door, looking around for a note that might’ve fallen.

“What the fuck,” he says, confused.

He tugs his front door shut and locks it, looking around as he heads toward the front gate. He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials his long time friend and patrol partner for the day.

“Oi, Deku, did someone leak my address?” He demands.

“I don’t see how that could happen, Kacchan,” Midoriya Izuku says. “Why? What happened?”

“Nothing, nerd,” Katsuki says, sighing in annoyance. “I’m on my way in. Make sure Hatsume finished tuning up my gauntlets.”

“She dropped them off in your office a few minutes ago,” Izuku says. “It’s been really quiet lately though. I think getting a lot of new faces in the HPSC has really been changing things for the better.”

Katsuki grunts. “Right. Whatever. I’ll be there in fifteen.

————————————

ON THE 2ND DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME…

CW//Manga spoilers.

Katsuki groans as he sits up in bed, stretching his arms up and out over his head. He’d had a late shift last night and he’s sore all over the place.

People like to call Katsuki destructive because of his Explosion Quirk, but does anyone give Deku shit when Blackwhip snags on a parked car and slams it into a billboard, knocking the whole thing down?

Of course they fucking don’t.

Ever since the war ended, life in Japan has steadily been moving back toward more normal ways of living. It’s a new normal, and one that is still in the works, but it’s getting there.

There had even been a program set up to help rehabilitate villains, one that is heavily monitored by Detective Tsukauchi, who uses his Truth Quirk to ensure the people in said program genuinely wish to better their lives.

Not everyone got out fully intact though, Katsuki certainly didn’t. While his right arm was saved, it gets stiff easily and he had to reinforce his hero costume with compression sleeves to avoid damaging his right forearm further.

His body is still heavily scarred, having gained more over the years, but the massive jagged wounds on his left shoulder, above his heart, on his lower abdomen, the one that coats nearly all of his right forearm, and the mark that covers the right side of his face up along his jaw and cheek, over his eye, are the most notable.

Sometimes when he looks in the mirror, he sees a badass who survived death.

But today, as he uses the toilet and brushes his teeth, he avoids the mirror, not wanting to see someone damaged.

He goes back to his bedroom to get dressed for the day. He doesn’t have patrol until after noon, but he needs to go get groceries. It’s an inevitable part of life, and he refuses to use delivery services because he isn’t some incompetent asshole.

He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys as he heads for the front door. He pulls on his coat and steps down into the genkan to trade his house slippers for his black boots.

He opens the front door and freezes when he sees TWO GRENADE SHAPED PILLOWS sitting there, both wrapped in clear plastic, angled to face his door.

“The fuck?” He says, looking around.

He steps outside and picks one up, feeling through the plastic for anything hard like a hidden device or any type of weapon. He checks the other one as well, but finds nothing.

With a frustrated sigh, he takes them inside, tossing both over by the counter, where the vibrant flower still sits in its vase.

He goes back out his door, locking it and scowling as he eyes the edge of his front gate with a narrowed gaze. “Oi! Whoever you are, stop leaving shit by my fuckin’ door!”

————————————

ON THE 3RD DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME…

Katsuki jerks up out of bed, gasping loudly and clutching his front, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His body is coated in a light layer of sweat, beading across his brow and dappling his chest and back, wetting the sheets beneath him.

“Fuck,” he says, voice coming out croaky.

He throws his legs over the side of the bed, standing up, feeling a bit unsteady as he walks to his door. He keeps his hand on the wall as he goes, just in case. His throat feels dry and he desperately needs a drink.

He doesn’t bother with a glass when he gets to the kitchen, simply flips the sink on and leans over it to gulp the cool water straight from the tap.

He turns it off after a moment, still breathing hard. He closes his eyes, calming himself down a little more before straightening up.

He knows there’s no way he’ll be able to go back to sleep after that nightmare, so he fills the electric kettle and pulls a mug down, dropping a bag of chamomile tea into it.

While the water heats up, he leans against the counter by the window that looks over his front garden. He looks up at the moon and the snow falling slow and steady in front of it. There’s a stillness tonight, sounds muted by the thick layer of snow that covers the ground and his roof.

He hates it.

Times like this, he wishes he still lived with one of his friends. He would never admit it to them, though he’s sure they know, but he really appreciated having someone with him during these shitty moments.

The electric kettle clicks, signaling it’s done, and he pushes away from the counter, pausing when he sees something shift outside. He goes up on his toes, wishing he had gotten a growth spurt like almost everyone else he knows but no, he stopped growing at 176cm.

His eyes dart around for signs of anything, but he finds nothing. With a frown, he goes back down and turns to fill his mug, brushing it off. It’s likely just a squirrel or bird anyway.

He sniffles lightly, hating the dryness in the air, and he makes a mental note to add more water to the humidifier.

He sits on his sofa and sips at his tea as he grabs the remote, turning the TV on. The news channel pops up right away, going to a story about the former Paranormal Liberation Front.

“It seems Toga Himiko has actually been astoundingly helpful,” the first reporter says, a broad grin on her face.“Since she can use the Quirk of the person whose blood she consumes, when she uses the late Bubaigawara Jin’s Quirk, she can use his Quirk to then use the abilities of others.”

“Yes!” The second agrees, nodding profusely. “Just look at this video from last week’s mudslide rescue operation!”

A video goes up, showing dozens of Uravity’s lifting debris up while various heroes go in to pull people out. As she goes along, Sako Atsuhiro uses his Compression Quirk to shrink down larger debris, adding the marbles to a bag slung around his shoulder.

“Wow,” the first reporter says as the short clip cuts out. “How amazing is that?”

“Really amazing!” The second says. “What are the rest of the ex-members up to?”

“Some are still in Tartarus, of course, but of those who are out, they’re all making marvelous changes,” the first explains. “Shimura Tenko has been fantastic for safely clearing up old buildings, as his Decay Quirk turns it to dust, so there’s no risk of large debris landing on anyone. Himura Geten has apparently found his calling working with zoos, especially the penguins. Todoroki Touya has supposedly been working with the teachers at UA to learn to control his Quirk, and hopes to follow his father and brother into work as a Pro Hero.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, clicking the TV off as he stands, empty mug in hand. He works with Shouto, and the Half-n-Half bastard has been delighted since Touya started working with the One For All agency along with the majority of their graduating class.

Katsuki just thinks he’s an annoying shithead.

A small thump on his front door has him tensing with the mug halfway in the sink. He tilts his head, waiting.

When nothing else happens, he silently sets the mug down and tiptoes over to his front door, quietly unlocking the deadbolt, turning the knob, and tugging the door open, thrusting one hand out, poised to let off a blast.

But there’s nothing there.

He blinks once and looks down, finding a small box.

He grumbles as he leans down, lifting it up and opening it, still suspicious.

Inside, he finds THREE BAMBOO CUTTING BOARDS.

“Stop leaving me shit, whoever the fuck you are!”

————————————

ON THE 4TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME…

Katsuki stumbles through his front gate, sore all over from getting bodily slammed into a brick wall by fucking Kirishima Eijirou, who had crushed his communicator and didn’t get the update that Katsuki had caught the firecracker Quirk user.

Which is fucking insulting to be mistaken for. Katsuki does not make firecrackers, he makes explosions.

But Eijirou, all raged out in his Unbreakable form hadn’t realized it was Katsuki rounding the corner, and now his whole back is covered in bruises that won’t get to heal until tomorrow because their agency’s on call healer had already left by the time he’d gotten back to the office.

Which is fair, as it’s definitely past four in the morning, possibly later, but Katsuki won’t know for sure until he’s inside and can check a clock, since the fucking attack from Eijirou had crushed his cellphone.

He grumbles vague death threats toward his redheaded friend as he pulls his keys from his pocket, stepping up onto his front porch and pausing when his boot crunches something that sounds distinctly porcelain.

He slowly raises his boot and steps back, leaning down with a hiss of pain to lift the little tray up. It’s lightly covered in snow, but the FOUR SAKE GLASSES are beautiful. He almost feels bad about shattering one of them.

They’re all black at the top, but fade to a bright blue on the bottom portion, the color more stunning under the faint moonlight. He frowns, carefully shifting the tray to one hand so he can unlock his door.

If his phone was working, he would send out a text in his group chat, demanding to know who the fuck is leaving him shit.

At this point, he’s pretty sure it’s the ‘Baku-Squad’ morons playing some type of prank on him.

He sets the tray of sake glasses down on his counter, next to the new cutting boards. The orange flower is still flourishing in the vase, sitting at the center of the counter.

He sighs as he heads into his bedroom, walking past his bed, where the two grenade throw pillows are set against his all black bedspread.

He pulls his sweatpants and sweatshirt off, dropping it all in the basket at the corner of his room as he walks over to his bathroom, too tired to give a fuck about anything right now.

He just needs a hot shower and a nice, long morning and early afternoon of uninterrupted sleep.

————————————

ON THE 5TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME…

“No, I don’t give a fuck, I’m not going there for Christmas,” Katsuki says, one arm crossed over his chest as he holds the phone to his ear.

“And why not, brat?” His mother, Mitsuki, demands. “I promise, we aren’t going to try to set you up this year.”

“Really,” Katsuki says flatly.

“Really,” Mitsuki says. “But… if we just happen to have some eligible single men and women over…”

Katsuki groans loudly, dropping his head back. “Seriously, hag?”

“We just worry about you,” Mitsuki says with a sigh. “You’re twenty-three and you’ve never even been on a date!”

“I don’t need to date,” Katsuki says, hating this conversation. “Besides, I don’t need some poor bastard linked to my name who can’t even fucking defend themself.”

“I guess,” Mitsuki says. “But… you know… there are some hero tabloids who’ve started saying you’re a virgin.”

“Oh my God,” Katsuki groans.

“Dating someone would make that go away,” Mitsuki says, as if it were an innocent suggestion.

“I don’t give a single fuck what anyone says about me,” Katsuki says dryly. “I’m sure that right next to that fuckin’ magazine was an interview with the last person I slept with bragging about it.”

“Probably,” Mitsuki grumbles, obviously pouting.

“I ain’t doin’ this now, I gotta get ready for work,” Katsuki says as his coffee machine beeps, finally finished brewing and filling his travel mug.

“Alright, fine,” Mitsuki says. “Be safe out there.”

“Always am,” Katsuki says, and then hangs up before she can mention the sludge villain, or the war, or the second time he was kidnapped.

The first had sucked, but the League of Villains then hadn’t actually wanted much to do with him and he’d been more bored and pissed off than anything.

But the second time, when he’d been kidnapped in his third year by some fucking villain enthusiast who thought she could lure the fucking LOV over by holding him hostage was shitty. He’d been chained to a wall, shot up with Quirk suppressants, the kind used for medical procedures, and beaten black and blue.

When rescue had finally arrived, his face had been so swollen that he hadn’t even been able to see who had actually gotten to him first. All he knows is that it was some rookie who’s name was left off the report, and that they used a Fire Quirk, which is fucking common.

He puts the lid on his travel mug as he walks to the door, shuffling it from hand to hand as he pulls his coat on. He steps into his boots and opens the door.

His eyes flick down to the stoop before he steps forward, and he rolls his eyes at the black box sitting there. It’s not all that tall and pretty narrow, but about half a meter long. He huffs as he picks it up, holding his coffee between his elbow and pec as he opens it up.

Inside are FIVE GOLDEN RINGS.

They’re too big to be for fingers, but too small to be bracelets. They’re also not standard gold, and he frowns, tilting his head as he lifts one up, turning the metallic golden silicone band. They all have a strange bulge at the top, with something hard inside.

He squeezes one curiously and it starts to vibrate. He scrunches his nose up, looking down at the other four.

Realization hits him after a moment and his entire face flushes a violent shade of red. He throws the whole box of cock rings into his house and quickly steps out, locking the door and storming away, refusing to look back.

————————————

ON THE 6TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME…

Katsuki rubs a hand down his face, yawning as he waits for the line to connect, his phone ringing in his ear. The kitchen smells like coffee, the scent much stronger than usual as he’d doubled the amount he usually puts in the basket.

Finally, the line connects and a low voice drawls out a lazy, “Hey there, partner.”

“You’d better be fuckin’ ready, Patchwork,” Katsuki says, moving his hand to rub at his eyes. “I ain’t gonna go easy just because you’re new to this.”

“Aw, but why can’t we just take a lazy day?” Touya grumbles, an obvious pout in his tone.

“Because I’m pissed off, so I’m either going to kick some villain ass or I’m going to kick yours,” Katsuki says, and then lets out another yawn.

Touya chuckles over the line. “I’d let you kick my ass anyday, Doll.”

“Don’t need to let me do anything,” Katsuki says, turning to grab the coffee pot, tilting it to pour into his travel mug. “I can kick your ass easy.”

“Sure, sure,” Touya says. “I definitely believe you.”

“Fuck off,” Katsuki says, scowling as he shoves the lid onto his mug. “My shitty ass friends keep leaving me weird ass gifts for some dumbass prank and it’s fucking annoying.”

“I see that,” Touya says, and then a knock sounds on Katsuki’s door.

Katsuki growls as he hangs up, storming over to the door and pulling it open. He sees the ex-villain there, about to open the box and he smacks it from his hands, sending it to his living room floor with a loud crash, the sound of something metal slamming together making them both cringe.

“What the hell,” Touya says, words crackling around a laugh. “Hope that wasn’t anything breakable.”

“I hope it was,” Katsuki grumbles, moving to look at the box.

He squats down, covering it so Touya can’t see over his back as he rights the box with his free hand, lifting the lid. His eyebrows raise at the SIX NESTING BOWLS inside. They’re clearly high quality, made with a spout end, small handles on the sides, each with a small taper, clearly made to fit atop pots for double boiling.

“Damn, those look cool,” Touya says and Katsuki blasts a small explosion at the man, making him snicker as he bounces back to the door. “Come on, we can’t be late, Doll.”

“Fuck off,” Katsuki says, sighing as he lifts the box, carrying it over to the counter.

“So, why do you think it’s your friends?” Touya asks curiously as he steps back outside, eyeing the blonde as the man locks his door.

“Because only my shitty friends know what I like,” Katsuki grouses.

“Ah, so it’s all good stuff then, huh?” Touya says, tilting his head. “What’d you get yesterday?”

Katsuki’s cheeks flush darkly as he turns, shoving his free hand in his pocket. “Rings.”

Touya raises a brow at him, but Katsuki doesn’t meet his gaze, lifting his mug to sip at his coffee. It’s way too bitter, but it helps to warm him up.

“Didn’t think you were one for jewelry,” Touya says.

“They weren’t—“ Katsuki starts, but cuts himself off. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Whatever you say, Doll,” Touya says, snickering as they walk past his gate, making their way toward the One For All offices.

————————————

ON THE 7TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME…

The hot water rains down Katsuki’s head as he pants, one of the golden cock rings sitting just under the head of his dick as he strokes himself, panting heavily as he thrusts into his soap slicked hand.

“Fuck,” he hisses, feeling his edge rapidly approaching.

His eyes are closed, and his other hand is behind him, thrusting a slicked up dildo into his ass. He’s not great at hitting the right spot and he misses his prostate half the time, making himself growl.

But he really isn’t in the mood to be going out to some bar for an undoubtedly mediocre fuck, and he’s pent up. He’s a young, healthy man with a high sex drive, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of the limited amount of free time his job allows him.

The music on his waterproof speaker is suddenly cut off as a call comes through. He grits his teeth angrily, grunting out an annoyed, “Ignore.”

Obviously, the stupid fucking machine heard him wrong, because the sound of the call connecting beeps and a familiar, obnoxious voice says a low, “Good morning, Doll Face.”

Touya’s voice is lower than usual, rough with sleep, clearly also not yet used to this weeks patrol schedule that has the both of them paired for the rest of the week.

It’s the perfect baritone to send Katsuki over the edge, and he barely manages to cover the sound of his moan with a growl, doing his best to make angry noises as his spend spills out onto the shower floor.

“You good there, Doll?” Touya asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Why the fuck are you calling me so early?” Katsuki snaps, his face flushing red as he turns the vibrator on the cock ring off and sets both it and the dildo down on the shower ledge.

“Well, I wanted to know if you like black coffee, or if you want good coffee today,” Touya drawls. “I’m walking past that new café, want me to grab you something?”

Katsuki licks his lips, his brow furrowing, still feeling a little hazy from his orgasm. “Fine.”

“Alright, see you soon!” Touya says, his voice far too cheerful.

Katsuki just grunts, dropping his head against the wall as he curses under his breath. A moment later, his music starts back up again and he lets out a long groan.

“No, no, no, you are not allowed to have feelings for the bastard who kidnapped you,” he scolds himself.

He shuts the water off, grabbing his towel to dry his body before wrapping it around his waist as he makes his way over to his bedroom. He pulls on clean boxers, a pair of jeans, and his favorite black skull shirt.

He shoves his phone, wallet, and keys into his pockets as he makes his way over to the front door, shoving his feet into his boots and his arms into his coat. He pulls the door open and his expression falls completely flat.

There are SEVEN MANEKI-NEKO STATUES poised around his front stoop, all angled toward Katsuki, their raised paws all waving at him almost tauntingly. As if Katsuki were going to need all the luck he could get.

“Lucky number seven, huh,” Katsuki says, rolling his eyes.

He grabs the statues, moving them all inside and setting them just in the genkan so he can deal with them later.

————————————

ON THE 8TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME…

Katsuki opens the front door, immediately looking down, sighing at the box there. He picks it up and carries it inside, opting to look at whatever stupid shit it is as he waits for his coffee to brew.

He opens the lid and cocks a brow at the black fabric inside. He raises it up, snickering when he sees the bold orange FUCK OFF across the chest. He sets it aside and lifts the next one, black again, with a lazy scrawl out in hiragana saying If I haven’t offended you yet I will get to you soon.

He sets that one atop the previous and flips through the other items, finding that it’s EIGHT GRAPHIC T-SHIRTS.

They’re all black, and he sighs as he reads the next one. WHAT’S UP, FUCKERS? He snorts as he sets it aside to read the next one, which he actually already owns, but it's ripped; I don’t care, go away.

The next one has him fighting back a grin, MORALLY FLEXIBLE, which his friends had started calling him after he’d defended several of the LOV members after the war, pointing out that they weren’t evil, but that they genuinely had gone through some shit.

There likely would’ve been a second war or some world ending shit if he hadn’t been able to convince Aizawa to reach out to the League of Villains. But that connection he’d formed with them, especially after nearly having been killed by them, really helped solidify a bond.

Though the League still functioned well through Katsuki’s third year at UA, it was shortly after his second kidnapping that they officially disbanded. He’d fought against them all several times by that point, and honestly, it had pretty much just turned into Himiko gossiping as she danced around him, or Touya, as Dabi, flirting relentlessly.

Katsuki pushes the memories away as he lifts the next shirt, There’s no need to repeat yourself, I ignored you perfectly well the first time, which has him laughing softly. He shakes his head, lifting the next, which just has a skeleton hand raising a middle finger, the greenish tint to the white decal meaning it’s likely glow-in-the-dark. The last shirt simply says NOPE in white on the front, which he’s pretty sure he actually owns in reverse coloring.

He pulls his sleep shirt off and tugs the MORALLY FLEXIBLE shirt on, grinning like an idiot as he pours his mug of coffee.

He refuses to let his idiot friends know that he’s enjoying the gifts, but if they catch a glimpse of the t-shirt, it wouldn’t be too bad.

But he will never admit to using the cock rings.

And as soon as he finds out which of his friends—he is positive it was Kaminari—chose them, he is going to strangle them.

He puts the lid on his travel mug and sets it on the counter next to his keys and wallet before going to his room to pull on his jeans and a pair of thick wool socks. He does the button up on his pants as he walks back into the living space, rolling his eyes when he hears a knock on the door.

He pockets his wallet and grabs his mug, walking over to the door and tugging it open as he grabs his coat, juggling the mug as he shoves his arms into the sleeves.

“Nice shirt, Doll,” Touya says.

“Fuck off,” Katsuki says, stepping into his boots and walking out, turning to pull his door shut.

“Damn, guess I shouldn’t have gotten you a coffee, huh?” Touya says and Katsuki turns to look at him, finally noting the two to-go mugs in his hands.

Katsuki slowly pockets his keys. “S’ it the same shit as yesterday?”

“Yup,” Touya confirms, holding one out, raising a brow.

“Whatever,” Katsuki says as he takes it. “Might as well take all the fuckin’ heat I can get.”

“Exactly,” Touya says as they start walking, the burned man close at his side. “We can just pretend we don’t both know you like caramel macchiatos. It’ll be our secret.”

————————————

ON THE 9TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME…

Katsuki wakes up with a gasp, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, but this time it’s not from a nightmare.

He rubs his hands down his face, groaning in annoyance. He slaps his hand down on the side of his blanket, whipping it up off himself as he sits up, grimacing at the sticky cum in his boxers. He walks to the bathroom, hating the flush that rises to his cheeks as he thinks back to his dream.

Can he really be blamed for creaming in his pants when he’d been dreaming about lying across his kitchen table, his head dangling off the end as Touya fucked his throat, his scarred hand wrapped around his neck as he choked on the man’s length?

Just thinking back to it has him getting hard again and he curses his stupid dick.

He blames Touya for this mess—the guy is a relentless flirt, and the way he likes to lean over Katsuki’s back and whisper in his ear while he’s filling out paperwork is hot. It’s stupid, he hates it.

But fuck, the guy is literally hot.

As someone with a Quirk that uses heat, Katsuki’s body temperature is higher than most people’s, as is Touya’s. Most people feel cold to him, one of the reasons he doesn’t like getting close to people, especially not in the colder months.

But Touya is also a fire user, and his body temperature sits even higher than Katsuki’s. It’s a fact that has him shuddering as he climbs into the shower, dropping his gross boxers on the floor.

He knows Touya’s hands would sear into him as he touched him, and he draws his own hands along his chest, across his nipples and down his abs, finally gripping his cock, stroking himself slowly.

He’s gotten off to thoughts of his temporary partner nearly every day since working with him, and he’s pissed off. He shouldn’t want anything to do with the man, he should not be standing in his shower, jerking his cock faster as he closes his eyes, wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by the man’s lips—would the lower feel rough?

He wonders if Touya likes it as rough as Katsuki does; if he could satisfy him better than the useless extras he picks up in bars once in a while. Katsuki has to be nice to those people, has to not leave marks to avoid lawsuits and shit.

But Touya doesn’t care what people think about him, and Katsuki wants to be marked. He wants to be fucked so hard that he blacks out; wants to be shoved against a desk, a wall, a counter, he doesn’t care—he just wants to be taken.

“Fuck,” he groans as he cums, spilling out over his hand onto the shower floor, panting as he squeezes the head of his dick before stroking himself a couple more times.

He smacks his forehead against the tiled wall before grabbing the first of his soaps. He’s angrier now as he scrubs himself down, shame burning his cheeks.

He will never admit that he, Bakugou Katsuki, The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, gets off on the thought of being dominated.

He turns the shower off, roughly drying himself off as he steps out, swiping his cum soaked boxers from the floor as he goes back to his room, chucking it all into his laundry basket. He pulls on a clean pair of boxers, jeans, and he doesn’t even look at what shirt he grabs before pulling it on.

A knock sounds on his front door and he frowns, crossing the room to grab his phone, cursing when he realizes he spent way too long in the shower.

He half jogs to the front door, swiping his wallet and keys up, shoving them into his pockets as he opens the door. Touya is looking into the latest of Katsuki’s gifts with a raised brow.

“More dumb shit?” Katsuki says, rolling his eyes as he pulls his coat on.

Touya shrugs, meeting Katsuki’s gaze. “Dunno Doll, seems pretty fuckin’ hot to me.”

Katsuki tenses, reaching out to snatch the box from Touya’s hands. His face flushes a dark shade of red when he sees the NINE SILICONE BUTT PLUGS.

They’re laid in order, getting progressively larger, each one with a different colored gem on the flared end.

“What the fuck,” Katsuki chokes out. He slams the lid of the box down and drops it into his genkan, tugging his door closed with a slam and locking it. “When I find out who is leaving me this shit, I am going to murder them.”

“Seems like they deserve a thank you,” Touya says, snickering when Katsuki glares at him.

“They deserve a broken nose,” Katsuki says, nostrils flaring as he shoves his hands into his pockets, marching off to the front gate.

“Hmm, not a bottom?” Touya questions, eyeing him curiously.

“Go fuck yourself,” Katsuki snaps.

“You gonna let me borrow one of your new toys for that?” Touya teases.

Katsuki’s entire head turns red and he spins around to let off a small blast at the burned man, who cackles loudly.

————————————

ON THE 10TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME…

Katsuki groans as he sits up on the couch, his back and neck stiff from having slept there all night. But after yesterday’s mystery gift, he is determined to catch the bastard leaving him shit.

He’s pretty sure Chargebolt will be dead by the end of the week, but if Red Riot, Cellophane, Earphone Jack, or Alien Queen also have to die, then they just have to die.

A small scraping sound from outside has him going stone still for a moment, and then he sprints for his front door, throwing the lock open and tugging the door open.

His front gate swings shut and he snarls angrily, knowing he was so fucking close to catching whoever it was.

He grabs the little box and slams his front door shut, opening the box, genuinely not sure what to expect. He’s gotten such a massive variety of shit, he doesn’t even know how to feel as he tugs the lid up.

He raises his brows in surprise at the TEN MEASURING SPOONS AND CUPS inside.

The two sets are both magnetic at the handle, so they can’t be easily lost, and he gives an impressed frown. They’re good quality, as all of it has been.

He lets out a long, frustrated sigh as he walks into the kitchen placing the new items in his sink. He turns the hot water on and grabs the sponge, squirting some dish soap on it as he starts washing the new items.

“Fucking assholes,” Katsuki grumbles. “Bastards givin’ me fuckin’ whiplash with this shit. What the hell.”

He places them all down on the drying rack and turns the water off, drying his hands on a dish towel before moving to his bedroom so he can get dressed for the day.

He pauses at his desk, where the butt plugs are, and he turns, opening the lid and lifting the middle one up, swallowing as he turns it in his hands. He wonders if he could find someone who would like to spend time opening him up with them, breaking him down as he’s slowly stretched more and more over hours.

His hands tremble as he lifts the largest, wondering how it would feel to have something that thick inside him. He wonders what it would feel like to be filled with lube and plugged with the large piece, forced to stay open and ready for whenever Touya wanted to claim him, and could just shove him along the nearest surface and fuck him stupid.

“Fuck,” Katsuki says, hissing as he drops the butt plug to smack his cheeks. “Stop thinking about him.”

He does his best to shove his desires deep down into the pits of his brain, trying to ignore the way his dick has hardened just thinking about it. He lets out a shaky breath as he pulls his pajamas off, pausing when his phone starts to ring.

Katsuki looks over at his screen, the picture of Touya sticking his tongue out and winking that shows up, the one the man had set for himself at the beginning of their week together—the one Katsuki had sworn he was going to delete.

He grabs his phone, swiping the answer button and grunting out a low, “What.”

“Are you ready for me, Doll?” Touya drawls, and Katsuki’s cock twitches, though he valiantly ignores it.

“For fucking what?” Katsuki snaps.

“For some mind blowing coffee, obviously,” Touya says, and a knock sounds on Katsuki’s door a moment later. “Come on, let me in.”

“Fuck off, I’m getting dressed, gimme a goddamn second,” Katsuki snaps, gritting his teeth as he throws his clean clothes onto the bed.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to helping you with that,” Touya says, and Katsuki can hear the smirk. “Although we would have to call in for the day, and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t end up with clothes on. You’d also probably need to take the day after off because I would—”

Katsuki hangs up, hating how red his cheeks are. He pulls his boxers and jeans on, having to tuck his now fully hard cock against his leg, hoping his coat will obscure it so that the ex-villain doesn’t notice it.

————————————

ON THE 11TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME…

The sound of something loud landing on Katsuki’s front porch has him flying off the couch.

“I’ll get you this time you fucking—fuck!”

His attempt to reach the door is thwarted by his throw blanket tangling around his legs, tripping him, making him land belly first on the hard floor. He shoves up right away, kicking the blanket off, but by the time he reaches the front door, there’s no one in sight, just a large box right in front of the door.

“I will fucking kill you!” Katsuki screams.

He grits his teeth and grabs the box, which is surprisingly heavy. He brings it into the house, setting it down just outside the genkan so he can shut the door.

He rubs his hands over his face, frustrated and furious, before stepping up to the box. He lifts the lid and his eyes blow wide at the ELEVEN POTS AND PANS inside, all stainless steel, heavy bottom pans, stamped with the Yoshikawa brand symbol on the wooden handles.

“Shit,” he mumbles, lifting the first piece out, turning it over. “Maybe I won’t fucking kill them.”

He sighs and puts the pot back in, lifting the box to carry it over to the kitchen. He turns the sink on and soaps up the sponge, pulling the pieces out one by one as he scrubs them, setting them on the rack to dry.

His phone rings and he looks over, seeing Izuku’s face on the screen, covered in mustard from an incident several years ago. He huffs a small laugh, reaching over to use the side of his hand to answer and put the speaker on.

“What d’ya want, nerd?” Katsuki grouses.

“Did you ever figure out what was going on with the stuff showing up at your house?” Izuku questions.

“It’s just those fucking idiots,” Katsuki says with a sigh. “There’s no way it could be anyone else.”

Izuku fails to muffle a giggle. “Are you sure, Kacchan?”

“Positive,” Katsuki says, narrowing his eyes and turning the water off. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“I just had an idea, but I could be wrong,” Izuku says. “Just something I’ve noticed lately.”

“And that would be?” Katsuki drawls.

“Nothing, I’m sure I’m wrong,” Izuku says, and then snorts softly. “Have a good day, Kacchan.”

“Hang on a fucking second!” Katsuki shouts, but the line clicks off and he scowls furiously. He turns the water back on, gritting his teeth as he washes the next of the pans. “Fuckin’ nerd. No idea what the fuck he’s talking about. Who the fuck else would know this shit about me, hah?”

A knock sounds on the front door and Katsuki huffs as he shuts the water off, placing the last of the pans on the drying rack. He wipes his hands on a dish towel and swiftly moves over to the front door, tugging it open.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Touya says, and Katsuki gives him a flat look. The man just chuckles and holds out one of the two coffees in his hands. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Fine,” Katsuki says, grabbing his coat and shoving one arm in before grabbing the coffee from him.

“So, what’d you get today?” Touya questions, looking down at the distinct print of a large box on the porch. “Something very raunchy, I hope.”

“Fucking pots and pans,” Katsuki says, stepping outside and tugging his door shut and locking it.

“Aw, you gonna cook me somethin’ good with ‘em?” Touya asks.

“Fuck you,” Katsuki snaps, shoving his keys into his pocket as he starts walking. “Why the fuck would I cook for you?”

“Because I’m your favorite,” Touya says easily as he falls into step beside the blonde.

Katsuki squints at him. “You kidnapped me.”

Touya groans loudly. “Are you still hung up over that?”

“You kidnapped me!” Katsuki shouts.

“Do you want me to kidnap you again?” Touya asks, raising a brow. A slow, devilish smirk curls his lips. “Oh, you want me to chain you up again, eh?”

Katsuki’s coffee explodes in his hand.

————————————

ON THE 12TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME…

Katsuki is perched up in the tree just outside his house. His entire body is shivering even with thermal underwear, his thickest pants, snow pants, sweater, and winter coat on. His mittens have done little to keep his hands warm and he kinda of wishes he’d just taken his gauntlets home.

But he will not fail this time.

He’d gone to bed hours earlier than usual last night, and he’s been up in this tree since a little after midnight. He’s not positive on the time, as he hadn’t taken his phone with him.

Shit like this isn’t exactly new for him though, so it’s not something entirely out of the realm of his usual workings. But he still fucking hates winter—and stealth missions. But his Quirk is fucking explosions, and he was not made for stealth.

He sees a figure in a black coat walking up to his front gate, carrying a box and he narrows his eyes. The frame is fairly slender, but the set of the shoulders is strong. There’s not much on the chest, so it’s obviously not Mina, and it’s too tall to be Kyouka anyway.

It’s not tall enough to be Eijirou, who is now a fucking giant after having a Quirk evolution after a traumatic incident a couple years back.

So, it’s either Hanta or Denki.

The figure makes their way toward his front stoop and Katsuki slowly slides his gloves off and rubs his hands together as he narrows his gaze on the culprit who has been haunting his days recently.

When the person leans over to place the box down, Katsuki launches himself forward with a blast. The person quickly swivels around and starts running to the gate.

“Not this fucking time!” Katsuki shouts, altering his course.

He lets off the largest blast he can with how cold his hands are, and manages to pin the person down face first in the snow. He cackles loudly and parts his legs, straddling the person as he flips them over to look down at them. He grabs the black scarf obscuring the person’s face and tugs it out of the way.

He goes still in absolute shock when he is not met with Hanta or Denki.

Or literally anyone else he would have expected.

“What the fuck,” he chokes out.

“This is a nice view, doll,” Touya drawls, a lazy smirk curling his lips, tugging harshly at the staples in his cheeks and chin.

“You?” Katsuki says, eyes wide. “What the fuck!”

“I hope you liked them all,” Touya says, that cocky expression still firmly on his face. “It’d be so nice to help you with some of them though.”

“Fuck you,” Katsuki says, his face heating up. “What the fuck is in the box today?”

“Why don’t you go see?” Touya says, giving him a wink.

Katsuki scowls, but stands up, harshly grabbing Touya by the front of his coat and dragging him over to his house. He swipes up the medium sized box and shoves open his door, tugging Touya in with him.

He locks the door and plants himself in front of it as he opens the box. His heart is beating wildly, part of him hoping it’s nothing remotely sexual, while another part of him wants it to be something absolutely lewd.

He blinks in surprise when he sees TWELVE MIYABI KNIVES inside. There’s a magnetic holder behind them, and he pulls it out, making a sound of surprise.

“These are my favorite knives,” he mutters.

“I know,” Touya says, sitting down and shoving his boots off. “Shit, it’s hot in here. What the hell?”

“Why the fuck did you get me so much shit?” Katsuki demands. His mind goes back to their conversation from yesterday and he scowls harshly. “Is this fucking pity for when you kidnapped me?”

Touya scoffs and looks up at him as he unzips his coat. “Do I look like the type to pity someone?”

Katsuki scrunches his nose up, but grumbles out a small, “No. Shut up.”

“There ya go,” Touya says cheerfully, dropping his coat on the floor. “You gonna make breakfast?”

“Seriously?” Katsuki says, arching a brow.

“I’m actually pretty sure you’ve got my favorite,” Touya says, tilting his head, his eyes darkening. “You ever been eaten out, doll?”

Katsuki’s eyes go wide and he nearly drops the knives. “What the fuck?”

“You say that a lot,” Touya points out. “I’ve noticed something about you, y’know.”

He stands up, taking a step closer to the blonde, who swallows thickly. Touya hums, tilting his head as he reaches out, taking the knives from Katsuki and placing them on the entryway table.

“You like being close to me,” Touya says. “You push Red and Sparky away when they get close, but not me.”

“You’re warm,” Katsuki says, crossing his arms. “Stop reading into it.”

“Personally, I also like being around you,” Touya continues. “You’re so much fun, doll. I would love to have you under me, writhing in pleasure.”

“I will fucking report you for breaking parole,” Katsuki warns.

“I’m not breaking parole,” Touya says. “I have to be with a licensed hero, Dynamight.”

Katsuki scoffs and shoves him back. “I ain’t gonna fuck you just because I meet your criteria.”

He sneers heavily, an anger building in his chest along with an ache he tries to ignore. He grabs the doorknob, his other hand moving to flip the bolt, but a large, scarred hand slams into the wooden frame, stopping his movements. The searing heat from Touya nearly burns Katsuki’s back as he steps up behind him, leaning over to let his breath fan across Katsuki’s ear.

“You are my criteria, doll,” Touya says, voice husky and low.

He slides his hand down to Katsuki’s, and then glides it up along the blonde’s jacket-clad arm. When he reaches his shoulder, he pulls the thick material back and leans in to kiss Katsuki’s neck, making him suck in a sharp breath. Touya hums a pleased sound and trails his lips along Katsuki’s skin.

The blonde tilts his head slightly, hating how much he wants to give in to this.

Touya’s other hand goes up to Katsuki’s hair and grips the roots, tugging his head to the side, fully exposing his neck so Touya can sink his teeth into his soft skin.

“Touya!” Katsuki gasps, the sound mixed with a moan as his cock swells in his pants.

“Fuck, yes,” Touya says as he pulls away. “You’re so fucking strong, aren’t you, Katsuki? But you want me, I can see it in your eyes. You want me to make you mine.”

“Sh-shut up,” Katsuki says.

Touya harshly smacks his ass. “Don’t lie to me, doll.”

“Fuck off,” Katsuki says, his chest tightening.

“Last chance, Kitty-Kat,” Touya says, clicking his tongue. “Either admit you want me, or I’m going to leave and ask to be reassigned.”

“No!” Katsuki blurts out, his cheeks heating up.

“Three…” Touya says. “Two…”

“Fine!” Katsuki shouts. “Fucking fine, okay!? Yes! I jerk off to thoughts of you fucking me, I dream about you using me. Is that what you want to fucking hear!?”

Touya snarls out an animalistic sound as he grabs Katsuki’s shoulders, roughly turning him to face the burned man so he can crash their lips together. He bites down on Katsuki’s lower lip, tugging on it and eating up the moan the blonde lets out.

He doesn’t let Katsuki move away as he starts shoving his coat off his arms, then moves to tug his snow pants off his body. When he does let the blonde finally fill his lungs, he quickly steals his breath again by gripping Katsuki’s shirt and tugging it up over his head.

But he doesn’t let the blonde get his hands out; instead, he twists the sleeves and uses the material as a makeshift rope to bind his wrists together. Katsuki’s eyes go wide, but Touya just chuckles darkly and grabs the middle of the binding, using it to drag Katsuki down to his bedroom.

He roughly shoves the blonde down onto the bed and rips his pants from his legs, his palms lighting up with his excitement, singeing the fabric. Katsuki nearly shouts at him, but Touya narrows his eyes and the blonde swallows down his retort.

“Good Kitty,” Touya says, and Katsuki shudders at the praise.

Touya chuckles as he pulls the thermal underwear down, his eyes lidding when they land on Katsuki’s cock, which is dripping already, the head flushed a violent red.

Touya bites his damaged lower lip as he rubs Katsuki’s thighs, pushing them up to his chest, folding the blonde. He licks his lips as he climbs onto the bed.

He moves his grip to Katsuki’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart and groaning when the man’s hole twitches in anticipation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure my Kitty feels good,” Touya murmurs as he leans in to lick a stripe up Katsuki’s taint.

“Fuck!” Katsuki gasps.

Touya gathers up plenty of saliva as he leans in, and lolls his tongue out, dripping his spit over the man’s hole. Katsuki shivers at the new feeling as Touya licks a circle around his hole before pressing his tongue inside.

The staples on his cheeks rub harshly against his skin, but the scraping just adds to the pleasure. Katsuki tries to hold still, but he can’t help the way he squirms to try to get the man’s tongue deeper.

Touya hums a pleased sound as he wiggles his tongue, pulling it out to lick around him again before planting his lips over the hole and sucking. Katsuki chokes out a moan at the sensation and Touya pulls away to gather up another glob of spit to add to the mess he’s making.

He plunges his tongue back in, thrusting the muscle as deep as he can, loving the moans the blonde lets out, and delighting in the way he clenches around his tongue.

He sucks again and Katsuki curses as his cock jolts, his chest heaving at the feeling. He’s not even aware of the moans escaping him or the way his cock is drooling against his stomach.

Touya pulls back to gather up more saliva, but this time he uses a finger to push the spit in, curling it to rub Katsuki’s prostate as he licks up to his balls. He sucks one into his mouth as he ruthlessly thrusts his finger, soon adding a second to the mix.

Touya releases his balls and pulls his fingers out, moving down to thrust his tongue back inside, and then sucks again and Katsuki shouts, some cum dribbling from his cock as he tries to hold off on his orgasm. Touya pulls back to lob some more spit onto his hole and then jams three fingers in.

“Now now, be a good Kitty and wait until my cock is in you,” Touya says, his voice nearly a purr.

Katsuki whines, but nods, biting on his lower lip. Touya smirks at the sight, loving how obedient the little hero is under his touches. It has a fire building in his chest, one that demands he stake a claim on the gorgeous man he’s been pining over from afar.

“Where are all the fun things I gave you?” Touya questions.

“On the dresser,” Katsuki says, voice pitched up and shaky.

“Good boy,” Touya coos, pulling his fingers out and quickly walking over, noting that one of the cock rings is gone, and he smirks as he grabs another.

He slides his hands along the butt plugs too, and grabs the second to the largest size. He walks over to the bed and leans over the blonde to kiss him, thrusting his tongue into his mouth, ensuring the man’s mouth is a pool of saliva before pulling back and shoving the plug past his lips.

“Slick that up for me, doll,” Touya says and Katsuki nods, a little dazed.

Touya moves back down to Katsuki’s hole, pulling his cheeks apart to go back to licking around his hole, making him twitch. Katsuki’s moans are muffled by the plug, but he can’t help the way he presses closer to the burned man, feeling levels of pleasure like never before and the man hasn’t even touched his cock.

Touya pulls away from his hole and leans up to pluck the plug from Katsuki’s mouth. A thick line of saliva connects him to the toy, and Touya leans in to lick along Katsuki’s lips, breaking the line.

He shuffles back and rubs the plug around Katsuki’s hole before slowly pressing it in. He knows it’s going to sting, being larger than his three fingers, so he eases it in with short thrusts, ebbing it further in with each movement until the widest part passes the muscled ring and his hole practically sucks it in.

“Fuck!” Katsuki gasps.

“Almost,” Touya muses.

He slides the cock ring onto Katsuki’s length, and the blonde moans at the light contact, feeling like all his nerves are on fire. When Touya turns the vibration on, Katsuki nearly screams as his orgasm is ripped from him, his dick squirting out ropes of cum that Touya catches in his hand, using his other to turn the ring off.

Katsuki is too out of it to see the way Touya uses the blonde’s cum to coat his cock, but he blinks his eyes open, unsure of when he’d closed them, when he feels the man pull the plug out. Touya guides his dick to Katsuki’s hole, using one hand to pull the man’s cheek to the side. He groans as he slowly pushes in, muttering out curses as he sinks in.

Katsuki clenches around him and Touya hisses at the vice grip, smacking the man’s ass. “Relax, Kitty.”

Katsuki closes his eyes and tries to force his ass to calm down, his teeth gritted. “Forgive me for never taking a real cock up my ass before.”

Touya pauses halfway in, his eyes going wide as he gawks at the man. “You—”

“Fuck off, I’m not a virgin,” Katsuki snaps.

“But you’ve never…” Touya trails off.

“No,” Katsuki says, eyes still squeezed shut. “No one ever thought the big, angry hero would want to bottom.”

“Oh, Katsuki,” Touya says with a groan as he sinks the rest of the way in. “I am going to ruin you.”

“If you don’t, I will never talk to you again,” Katsuki says, cracking his eyes open.

Touya grins wickedly, pushing on Katsuki’s legs to fold them up toward his chest, squishing his bound hands up against his pecs. He hums as he slowly pulls out, and then slams back into him, immediately setting a brutal pace that has the blonde choking on his own threats.

Touya reaches one hand down to the man’s cock, which is quickly swelling back up, and he flips the ring on. Katsuki shouts and Touya leans over him to kiss his lips, loving the way the man submits to his desires, letting him dominate the kiss. He groans as he pulls away, kissing down the blonde’s neck to suck on his pulse point.

“Touya,” Katsuki moans.

“Yes, Kitty?” Touya says, his own breathing picking up as the pleasure quickly builds.

“More,” Katsuki says.

Touya blinks in surprise, having expected the opposite.

“Oh, fuck, you are perfect, aren’t you?” Touya says.

He pulls out and grabs the shirt binding the blonde’s hands. He uses it to tug the man up as he shuffles him up to his headboard. He harshly turns him around, shoving Katsuki face first against the wall, pushing his arms up over his head.

He grips his cock as he moves behind the man, finding his prize and thrusting up into him. He pauses only for a moment to rip his shirt off, throwing it to the side. He grabs Katsuki’s hips to pull him down against his cock as he slams up into him, unknowingly making one of the blonde’s fantasies come to life.

Katsuki shouts as he cums, making a mess of his headboard and pillows, but he can’t possibly find it in himself to care as Touya continues to pound into him, his cock rubbing along his prostate with every thrust, making him see stars.

“Fuck, Katsuki,” Touya groans, the man’s insides clenching around him so deliciously.

Katsuki garbles out something unintelligible, but his cheeks flush as he says it, so Touya grips his hair and tugs his head back, forcing the man to look at him.

“What was that?” Touya pants out. “Come on, be my good Kitty.”

Katsuki locks eyes with Touya, his pupils so blown the red of his irises are only slivers.

“Use me.”

Touya slams his lips against Katsuki’s as he cums, burying himself deep inside as his body twitches with the intensity of his orgasm. He continues to mutter out broken curses as Katsuki’s ass milks his dick, making him groan and grunt into their kiss.

“God,” Touya chokes out as he parts from the kiss just to drop his head against the blonde’s shoulder. “Fuck, I think I’m in love with you.”

Katsuki’s face flushes a violent shade of red and he squirms, the ring on his cock still going, but Touya just hums thoughtfully as he pulls out. He tugs Katsuki against his chest, curling his arms around him as he unwraps his wrists, the fabric slightly burnt from mini explosions. Touya lets out a long exhale and kisses Katsuki’s cheek while the blonde pulls the ring off, squeezing the top until it stops.

“I say we take a nice, long bath, order in something for lunch, and then I’ll clean up the bed while you take a nap,” Touya says.

“What?” Katsuki says, tilting his head, his nose scrunching up with his confusion.

“I told you, you’re mine,” Touya says, kissing over the bite mark he’d left earlier. “And I plan to take good care of my Kitty.”

Katsuki’s cheeks heat up. “Whatever, just stop with the fucking presents.”

“Today was the last day,” Touya says with a chuckle.

“Random,” Katsuki murmurs.

“Don’t you know the song?” Touya questions, humming the tune as he kisses Katsuki’s jaw. “On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…”

“Oh my God, no,” Katsuki says, pushing away from the other man, who snickers. “No, that’s too fucking sappy.”

“Maybe,” Touya says, standing from the bed and walking off toward the bathroom. “I’ll go start the bath.”

“Whatever,” Katsuki murmurs, running a hand through his hair. He pauses suddenly when the sound of the bath reaches his ears and he raises his head. “Wait, why the fuck do you know where my bathroom is!?”

Touya’s maniacal cackle sounds and Katsuki groans as he flops onto his back.

“Seriously?” He grumbles. “This is who I fucking fall for?”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Touya says from right next to the bed and Katsuki’s eyes snap open as his cheeks heat up.

Touya just winks and scoops Katsuki up into a bridal carry, which has the blonde blushing even darker.

“What the fuck,” he chokes out.

“I told you, I’m gonna take care of my Kitty,” Touya says, planting a smacking kiss on Katsuki’s temple.

Touya sets Katsuki on his feet when they reach the tub, and the blonde winces. Touya grumbles as he climbs into the tub, holding out his hands to help Katsuki climb in front of him, sitting between his parted legs.

“We didn’t even shower first,” Katsuki says.

“Don’t care,” Touya says, wrapping his arms around the blonde, pulling him against his chest.

Katsuki lets himself melt into the hold, and Touya smiles as he looks at the man, feeling impossibly soft as he kisses his head.

“It’s a good thing I told Deku you were taking two weeks off for Christmas vacation starting today, huh?” Touya says.

Katsuki jolts upright. “I’m missing work!”

Touya scoffs, pulling him back against his chest. “I just told you, you’re on vacation. Two weeks of me being with you all day, every day.”

“I’ll kill you,” Katsuki grumbles as he leans back against Touya, who snorts softly.

“Just wait, doll, by the time your vacation is up, we will have fucked on every surface of this house,” Touya says and Katsuki bites his lower lip. Touya chuckles and kisses his shoulder. “And you’ll be totally in love with me.”

“Now that would be a Christmas miracle,” Katsuki grouses.

Touya shrugs, a shit eating grin pulling his lips. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll just kidnap you again.”

#dabibaku #bakudabi #dbbk #dabi x bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #aot fanfiction #ao3 link #smut #christmas #crack fic

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arkhailcreations · 1 month ago

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Outside

A long time ago I was a child on earth. I grew up, I learned to play games and watch tv shows and movies and videos and draw and write. I never felt like anyone understood me. I felt as though life was just an obstacle to avoid and ignore until I could get back to the things I enjoyed. All I ever wanted was to be alone but every day I was forced into the world to talk and look and feel and hear. I was in hell. Then when I was fifteen something changed. I was In school as usual, feeling overwhelmed.

But then I put my head down on my desk and I noticed all the sounds of the classroom went away.

I looked up and everyone was gone.

My teacher and all of my classmates, I quickly made my way out to the hallway and no one was there either.

I walked back home and no one was on the streets.

And I went into my house and no one was home.

So I went to my room, got on my computer and I played games and watched tv shows and movies and videos and I drew pictures and wrote stories.

Eventually I realized that lots of time had passed, but the sun hadn't moved, no one ever came home and I was still by myself.

I thought nothing of it, went back to my room and continued as I was. I didn't get tired or hungry and I kept doing what I was doing and time kept passing.

Eventually I realized how much time should have passed by now and I began to worry.

I thought maybe this was all a dream, that I was going to wake up and be late for school.

Or that I was in a coma in a hospital bed somewhere.

But eventually I realized if that were true I would just have to wait and see, since trying to wake up did nothing.

And I waited and I didn't see.

I kept playing games and watching tv shows and movies and videos and drawing pictures and writing stories.

I never needed anything new.

I played the same few games I had always played.

I watched the same tv shows, movies and videos I always watched. And for all intents and purposes I could make an infinite number of pictures and stories just by using my head.

One day I remember I ran out of space on my computer.

And I remember I looked at the bar of storage on the screen and I wished that I had more, and I closed my eyes and I blinked and suddenly I did have more.

And that Is when I realized my power.

I looked down at my keyboard and I wished I had a newer one, without any broken keys and not so dirty.

And suddenly I did.

And I looked at my fingernails and I wished that they were cleaner and shinier and more uniformly trimmed.

And suddenly they were.

I kept doing this with more and more things.

Soon I didn't need a computer to play my games or watch my tv shows, movies and videos or draw my pictures or write my stories. And I continued as I was.

So much time passed.

I didn't bother keeping track, time was just a shackle of that world I lived in before, a reminder of when the world was mine and when it wasn't.

Months? Years? Decades? Centuries?

I had no idea, but as quiet as ever I continued on.

It was absolute bliss.

All of my dreams came true.

I did everything I ever wanted in every game.

I watched all of my tv shows, movies and videos until I knew each one word for word from memory.

And I drew more pictures and wrote more stories than I could count, of and about everything I had ever known in every way I could imagine.

And once I did all that I started over.

Again and again.

Then one day something different happened.

Suddenly there was a woman and she spoke to me.

I didn't listen to her words but I noticed something in her hands.

It was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

The color was different, the shape was different the parts were arranged in a way I had never thought of before.

She held it out in her arm and she twisted her fingers and it opened in a way I never thought of, revealing a wide and intricate pattern I could have never dreamed of.

In the pattern was a flower, its pedals curved and spread out and its stem twisted and turned and there were even more colors and then suddenly it closed.

And I looked up and I saw her face.

And this time I heard her words.

"If you want more like this you have to come with me."

I wished that I could take the object and that she would leave and I could have it.

And I closed my eyes and suddenly she was gone.

And I could.

I took the object, I opened and closed it like she did a thousand times.

I studied every minuscule detail and how each one related to all of the others.

And I drew new pictures and wrote new stories inspired by it and I watched my videos and tv shows and movies with it in mind and they felt new again and I played my games with it in mind and they felt new again.

Everything was changed.

And so much more time passed.

And I did it all again and again and I never grew bored but as time passed I couldn't help but wonder if that woman might have more things like this.

If she had something else that would change me forever. That would teach me something new and beautiful and intricate and wondrous.

And that thought followed me.

And after a very long time I finally decided to try it.

And for the first time ever I wished for a person to come back. And she did.

It was as if she knew what had happened and she drew a deep breath and closed her eyes.

She looked at me and reached out her hand, beckoning me to follow her.

I wasn't sure so I waited.

And waited.

And finally I decided to take her hand.

And suddenly I was somewhere else.

I was at a restaurant, surrounded by people, at a table with the woman.

I felt the cold table against the skin of my hands and the chatter of the people shaking my eardrums and the scraping of forks against plates somewhere unseen.

I was overwhelmed.

I put my head down on the table.

I closed my eyes and wished it would all go away.

But it didn't.

I was back in hell.

I was about the start crying but before I could the woman grabbed my chin and she lifted it up and she pointed my head towards the window to my left.

The sky was a shade of blue I had never seen before, the clouds twisted into magnificent shapes I never envisioned and I saw birds flutter through the sky in chaotic and elegant patterns.

I was mesmerized.

I turned fully to face the window.

I stared outside for a while.

Suddenly someone came to the table and dropped something off. The woman beckoned me to turn around.

I saw some kind of dish laid out before me and before I could even think the woman put something in my mouth.

I was enraged, I didn't like eating much and I certainly hated trying new food.

But It was sweet and complex and crunchy all in ways I had never known before and I chewed and I swallowed and I looked back at the woman confused by all of this.

She smiled and laughed.

"You can go back now if you want, just remember I can bring you back here any time you wish."

Suddenly I panicked and the woman vanished.

And the restaurant vanished.

And I was back in my room.

I thought about it for a very long time.

And time passed.

And I went back to playing my games and watching my tv shows, movies, videos and writing my stories and drawing my pictures.

But after a long time just like before I had that want again.

To try something new.

To see new colors and hear new sounds and taste new sweetness.

Even if it meant hearing the talking and the scraping and feeling the light and the coldness and the crying.

And I was content not to, but after so long I brought the woman back and she took me there again.

This time we were at a park.

And there were people who got too close to us and distant sounds of loud cars and bright sunlight shining in my eyes.

But there were also majestic swans floating on the water which glistened and rippled in radiant patterns.

And grass that swayed and flowed harmoniously through the gentle wind.

And I found a patch of flowers and the woman plucked one and handed it to me and I smelled it and it smelled like something I had never smelled before.

As the sun set she kissed me on the forehead and I was back in my world.

A long while after that I brought her back again and again she took me away to that world.

And again there was pain but there were also things and people and places and sensations that I had never known before.

And sometimes the pain was worse.

Sometimes it was worse than It had ever been before, even worse than it was before I discovered my power.

And I wasn't able to make it go away and once I finally was it followed me back to my world and it took me a long time to recover.

But time passed and I went back out again.

And every time I went, though sometimes there was pain, every time I saw something I had never seen before.

Something that made me feel that magical feeling of discovery and wonder and enchantment. And, to me, sometimes, that was worth it.

#writing #art #original writing #writers on tumblr

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years ago

Text

Of Jealousy and Friendship - Pt. 1

Topic number 2 won in the vote to be written next! So without further-a-do, let’s get going!...This ended up being a two part thing. Oh Well. Here’s part one. - B GN! MC Summary: MC makes a lower demon friend who may secretly be hoping for something more than friendship. The Demon Bros are not about to let this happen. Part Two: Here, Epilogue: Here It all started in magical potions. When you first arrived, the course wasn’t so bad since you took it with Beelzebub. The two of you always partnered up; the hour would consist of you jokingly scolding Beel for trying to eat ingredients and making light hearted jokes with one another whenever the teacher turned their back. But once the second semester started, Beel was moved out of the course as it had gotten too expensive to keep him in a class where most of the subject matter was edible. Which left you alone and bored in the classroom as the teacher went on and on about Mandrake roots and what they can be used for. You let out a heavy sigh and plopped your forehead onto the desk. A soft snort came from beside you. You glanced over to see a demon with his feet propped up on his desk staring right back at you out of the corner of his dark green eyes. He smiled at you with a tilt of his head. “The lectures are a total snooze fest right? I joined this class cause I thought we’d be making potions and causing stuff to explode. Not sitting here twisting our thumbs all day.”

You bit back a laugh as you worried glanced over at the professor, who was none-the-wiser to the little conversation the two of you were sharing. You looked back over to the demon. His dark skin caused those hauntingly green eyes of his pop out at all who met his gaze, with carefully trimmed and styled black curls sitting stylishly on the top of his head. There was a playful and mischievous energy to him that reminded you of Belphie, Asmo and Mammon. “Unfortunately suffering through this section of class is mandatory to be allowed to mess around with the fun stuff.” The demon groaned and threw his head back. “Urgh, that’s so unfair. What’s the worst that can happen? The potion explodes and kills us? Newsflash teach, we’re already dead.” You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out at that one. “Well actually the worse that could happen, for you at least as I am a very mortal human, is that you’d suffer the consequences from one of the potions. Anything from shrinking to de-aging to charms, all kinds of things. I’ve seen the effects of a potion gone wrong a number of times during my time down here. Trust me; you don’t want to be on the receiving end.” He looked over at you with an analytical eye as the corners of his lips tilted upwards. “So you’re the human that everyone’s talking about.” He trailed off, and glanced over at the teacher to make sure they weren’t looking before stretching out his hand towards you. “I’m Cane. You know despite being the talk of RAD, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone mention your name?” You took his hand into your own and lightly shook it. “I’m MC.”

Cane leaned back into his chair, “It’s a pleasure to finally put a name and face to that glowing reputation of yours, MC. I see your pretty good at this potions thing, and I hear that you’re a lot of fun. How about you meet me downtown for supper later and we can study and get to know each other a little better?” Your initial instinct was to agree, but then you paused as you thought of the brothers. “I don’t know. I don’t think that Lucifer or the others would like it much if I went out on my own.” The demon huffed and light heartedly rolled his eyes. “You won’t be alone, you’ll be with me. I may not be as powerful as them, but I’m still a pretty good fighter.” He teasingly placed a gentle punch onto your shoulder, “Besides, it’s not like they’re boss of you. Are you really going to let a bunch of snobby Lords keep you from making the best of your time in the Devildom?” That last remark hit a nerve. If there was one thing that had spread quite quickly about you around RAD, it was that you were known for being a little reckless, prideful, and never being able to back down from a challenge, and boy did that statement have you itching to prove him wrong. You smiled, a sharp dangerous smile, at Cane. “I’ll go. And we’re going to do so much more than just go to a lame restaurant and study. You want to have fun and take risks? We’ll have fun and take risks. Whatever you want to do...to a degree,” you added in quickly remembering that you were talking to a demon and if you didn’t implement any boundaries there was no telling what you’d get yourself into, “I’m in.” Cane’s eyes sparkled as his smile widened. “Damn. I guess it’s true that you’re a bit of dare devil. Alright, you’re on. Meet me at Hell’s Kitchen a 4pm. We’ll study and hit the books as promised, but afterwards...Get ready for the night of your life.” ***

The brothers were concerned. You had rushed into the House of Lamentation after school and sprinted to your room, changed out of your uniform and promptly shouted that you were “going out” before taking off before any of them could complain. Mammon had tried to argue that someone should follow you, and while that wasn’t a terrible idea, Lucifer wanted to give you the question of the doubt. Worst case scenario, you come back home a little scratched up and learn your lesson about taking off into the dangers of the Devildom. At least that’s what he had thought when you had initially left. It was now bordering midnight, and you had yet to return home. So yeah, the brothers were very concerned. Mammon was pacing and ranting about how this all could’ve been avoided if they had only listened to him for once. Leviathan was trying to distract himself with his game, but everyone could see the worried glances he kept throwing to the entrance and clock as the minutes ticked by. Satan sat near where Mammon and would occasionally scold or correct him, and sometimes even throw in his own ideas on what could be done while he thumbed through a book on location spells. Asmodeus was strangely quiet, sitting near the fire by himself with arms wrapped around his torso as he stared into the flames. He would occasionally move a hand to wipe at his face before it went right back to hugging himself. Beelzebub had lost his appetite. He sat next to Belphie, taking comfort in his twin’s presence, while Belphegor pretended to be unbothered and asleep, even though his mind was racing with the many stupid situations you could’ve gotten yourself into. And Lucifer...He just sat in a door near the entryway, his eyes fixed on the entrance as he silently waited. Finally, just as the clock stroke midnight, they could hear your recognizable laugh from behind the door. “Oh my god! That was incredible! I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun in life!” Leviathan stiffened at the statement, his hands gripping tighter onto his game. “What did I tell you? I promised you the night of your life, and I sure as Diavolo always make sure to deliver,” everyone froze at the sound of the teasing male voice. “Though I didn’t expect the Seven Lords’ precious human to be a complete bad ass. You were amazing out there.” Leviathan mumbled something before getting up and leaving the room. Mammon growled lowly and looked at the others, “Anyone know who the hell that is?” Asmo finally stood, wiping at his face as he did, and began to stride towards the door, “Why don’t we find out?” Without waiting for a response, Asmodeus swung the door open and pulled on a bright smile as he reached out and wrapped an arm around you. “MC, darling, you didn’t tell me you were bringing over guests! Don’t tell me you’re trying to have fun without me?” You blinked up at the Asmo before smiling softly at his tactics. “Oh, hey Asmo! I didn’t expect you to be up. Cane here was just dropping me off.” The demon in question didn’t even so much as stiffen as Asmodeus’s dangerous stare shifted over to him. Instead Cane stood there, relaxed, with a shit-eating grin on his face. Asmodeus raised an eyebrow at him and allowed a bit of his demonic aura to exude around him. “Oh really? At this time of night? Makes a demon wonder what kind of mischief the two of you had gotten up to,” while maintaining eye contact with Cane, Asmo rested his chin against your shoulder. “You know dear, if you wanted “fun” that badly all you had to do was ask. I assure you I could’ve shown you a much better time.” He purred and softly kissed your shoulder. You shivered, missing the way Asmo stiffened as he noticed something, and swatted at the Avatar of Lust as you moved away from him. “Down Asmo. It’s nothing like that. Cane’s in my magical potions class. We went out to study together and decided to hit a couple clubs while we were out. No biggy.” “If it’s ‘no biggy’ then why were you out all night without giving us any kind of warning of where you were going or how long you’d be out?” Everyone whirled around as Lucifer stood in the doorway with a frown etched on his face and his arms crossed. He took a step closer to you before freezing mid-step, his nose twitching. His eyes flared red as they fell onto Cane. The lower demon tensed and curled his hands into fists, but seemed to be refusing to back down. Lucifer snarled, “What exactly was it that you said the two of you were up to tonight?” You frowned and stepped between Lucifer and your new friend. “Hey! Stop it! He didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re implying. And I wasn’t aware that I needed permission for every single thing that I do!” You snapped poking his chest as you moved into his space. “So excuse me for wanting to go out and enjoy myself for once!” Whatever fear Cane had been showing, quickly slipped away at seeing you stand your ground against the mighty first born. “Yeah. What they said.” Lucifer growled and caught your hand into his own, pulling you close and leaning in, “You’d be wise to remember that you are in the Devildom and surrounded by beings that have no where near as good intentions as you’d assume. Being so reckless and naïve down here could get you killed again, I thought you had learned that.” His tone was cold and unapologetic as he practically spat the words in your face. You glared at Lucifer as you yanked your hand out of his grasp. There was so many things you wanted to say to him, but none of them would be right to say in front of an audience. You huffed and turned to face Cane. “I am so sorry about those two. Thanks again for tonight and bringing me home. I’ll see you tomorrow in class, okay?” Cane gave you a side smile as he scratched the back of his neck. “It’s nothing. I had a great time hanging out with you. Hopefully we can do again...under better circumstances. Goodnight MC.” He took a step towards you and pulled you into a hug. You smiled, wondering how Lucifer and Asmo could be stirring up such a fuss about a guy who had been nothing but kind to you, and gently hugged him back. What you couldn’t see, was Cane making direct eye contact with the two other demons, as one of his wrists gently brushed up and down you back and he very lightly nuzzled, so lightly that you could just barely feel it, his face against your neck. “Hey, what’s takin’ everyone so- WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK?!” Mammon stormed forward and yanked you out of the demon’s embrace, already changing into his demon form. “Who the hell do you think you are scenting our human, huh?!” He lifted Cane off the ground by the collar of his shirt, causing the lower demon growl as he scratched at Mammon’s hands. You yanked on Mammon’s jacket and arms and tried to get him to back off. “Woah! Mammon, relax! It was just a hug!” “No it wasn’t,” Satan grumbled as he and the rest of the brothers (excluding Leviathan who was now sulking in his room) stood in the door way. “The fact that you don’t know that makes this even worst. But this isn’t a conversation we should be having out here.” Beel stared down at the demon with a fierce glare. “You should leave while you’re still able. And if you know what’s best for you, you’ll stay away from MC.” “Wha- Beel! Cut that out!” Cane took a step backwards, fear beginning to spill into his expression as he finally realizes just how out-powered and out-numbered he is. Still, he was stubborn pain in the ass; it was part of the reason he had been so drawn to you in the first place as he related to your reckless habits. He held Beelzebub’s glare and returned it with one of his own. “I think that MC can choose for themself who they do and do not hang out with, thanks. They already said they wanted to see me tomorrow so they will. We’re friends after all. And classmates,” his grin sharpened as he continued. “I do have to thank you, Lord Beelzebub, for that opening in magical potions by the way. Never would’ve got in if you hadn’t been kicked out.” Before he could say anymore, he was met with a punch in the face. Belphegore lazily shook out his hand and his looked at Cane with an unbothered expression. “I believe we told you to leave. Now get. The. Fuck. Out.” Cane scoffed and turned to you once more. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Dare Devil.” You would’ve snorted at the nickname, but you were to distracted from the brother’s behavior. “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow. Get home safe, Cane.” With another nod, the demon left; leaving you alone with six of the seven brothers bubbling with jealousy, anger, and concern.

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whoacanada · 3 years ago

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(Hey, look! That Zimbits AU where Jack goes into PR after retiring from the NHL and NHL!Bitty comes looking for advice about coming out!)

“Your ten-o-clock, remember?” April gestures to the conference room with her pen. “The cutie the Hurricanes coughed up for Pride Night outreach? He’s here.”

Jack tugs down the blinds with a cautious finger and zeroes in on the handsome blonde sitting awkwardly at one end of their large conference table, conspicuously alone. “There’s always suits for outreach talks,” Jack hazards, looking back at his receptionist over his shoulder. “They never send players alone.”

“It’s what we’ve got on the books. Eric Bittle, Carolina Hurricanes. No plus ones.” April whispers, checking her calendar. “Well? Get in there, Boss; and buckle up, he’s got an accent.”

Eric Bittle looks up, his dark brown eyes wide and unfairly attractive as Jack extends his hand, Bittle rising to take it. Everything about Bittle is polished and perfected; suit tailored, hair coiffed so neatly Jack would posit he’d gone in to have it trimmed before he’d arrived this morning. He’s pulled together so tightly, in fact, that Jack can’t find any loose threads, and if he remembers his time in The Show correctly, no loose threads means Mr. Bittle’s probably hiding something.

“Eric? I’m Jack Zimmermann. It’s great to meet you.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Bittle chuckles, and Jack’s heart would skip a beat if he wasn’t so certain there’s a huge piece of context still missing from this meeting. “It’s still very nice to meet you in person.”

“So, tell me about Pride Night,” Jack pops the button on his suit jacket and settles down across the table. “What, exactly are the ‘Canes thinking about doing that involves you coming to see us?”

Bittle bites his lip briefly, gaze darting off before coming back to settle on Jack, and Jack is reminded of so many media training sessions it’s like he’s back in Vegas again.

“I may have, ah, fudged the reason for my visit a bit. Yes, we have Pride Night coming up, yes I’m the designated sacrifice, but I’m more here on personal business.”

Jack eases the tip of his pen from the legal pad, recognizing an off-the-record admission is coming. “How personal?” He questions. “Are we talking potential legal trouble or just potential social trouble? Or no trouble at all.”

“I’m gay.” Bittle says plainly. “Whatever trouble that may be. My team knows it, my family knows it, and I want to come out — I need to come out — and I can’t mess it up.”

Jack is grateful for his game face, reaching for the coffee carafe near him to couch his surprise and no small measure of his excitement. “Oh, you mean like I did?” Jack jokes, earning a soft smile.

“No active player has come out since you retired,” Eric skirts Jack’s comment, taking the mug before gingerly amending, “Not voluntarily, at least. I’d like to break that streak. Given your experience, and what you do now, it seemed like the smart move to come speak with you.”

“Well, I’ll be the first to admit my behavior didn’t lend itself to much confidence with the public at large, but that’s why I’m where I am today. Making sure people like you can learn from my mistakes.”

“And you made a lot of mistakes,” Bittle murmurs, taking the mug from Jack gingerly, glances back out the window as he takes a sip, and Jack fights a smile when he realizes what’s happening.

“Are you . . . chirping me?”

“Makes me less nervous,” Bittle admits, apologetic. “But that was rude, I’m sorry.”

Bittle’s eyes are bright. His smile is bright. Everything about him is warm, inviting. Jack might be biased, though, he’s always had a soft spot for compact blondes.

“Don’t apologize.” Jack leans back in his chair, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. “You might be the only one in the whole league right now that doesn’t need to apologize.”

“I think I need to have a partner,” Eric clears his throat. “I can’t come out without a reason, otherwise what’s the point.”

“That answers one of my first questions, gives us a place to start. Yes, a boyfriend gets you points, but not in the way you’re thinking. If you come out with a guy on your arm, the story becomes maintaining the relationship, not that you have one or that you are ‘out’ at all. The scandal is the relationship falling apart, or you flirting with a fan when you have your partner at home, that kind of drama.”

“And if I just say, ‘hello, I am a homosexual’ people will think I’m promiscuous, or just trying to get laid.”

“Maybe. Are you?”

Bittle’s expression turns indignant, lips twisting into a judgmental frown that reminds Jack of his grandmother before a scolding.

“What kind of question is that? Yes, of course, but they don’t need to know that. But that doesn’t — You know, you gave me hope?”

Jack doesn’t quite startle, he’s well beyond the jumpyness of his youth, but he has no clue where this conversation is about to go.

“When you came out, when you were drafted, your cup season . . . every time you succeeded, beat the odds, it made me think, maybe, I could do it, too. I could be a professional athlete, I could play hockey, and it didn’t matter who I wanted to be with.”

Jack knows there’s a ‘but’ coming, he can feel it; so he gets there first.

“But . . . then I overdosed.”

“Then you retired.” Eric corrects. “Two years before I signed with Carolina, and you just gave up. I was going to be the first out NCAA men’s hockey captain, you ‘retired’ in scandal, and suddenly the trustees didn’t want the attention. Back to square one.”

“Eric, I wasn’t well.” Jack defends gently, knowing Bittle isn’t trying to be cruel.

“You let them get to you! You were supposed to be untouchable. I needed you to be untouchable.”

“Eric.”

“I’m sorry,” Bittle looks down at his hands, the table, anywhere but Jack. “I genuinely didn’t intend for any of this to come up so quickly, you’ve been nothing but charming and here I am dumping all my baggage on you like we’ve been talking for years . . . ”

“It’s actually alright. I’ve made peace with what happened to me, what I put myself through, and I wasn’t kidding that I’m very intent on making sure I can help others avoid the same pitfalls. So, what do you need from me right now?” Jack asks, genuinely curious. “An apology? A hug? You wouldn’t be the first to ask.”

“I want . . .” Bittle huffs, closing his eyes and evening his breathing. “I want dinner.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve loved the idea of you since I was sixteen, but now I actually need your advice on how to do this without losing my mind, and I can’t plan my future from a boardroom, so, I want you to take me to dinner. I want to hash this out like two normal, well functioning adult men. Also, maybe alcohol.”

“Speak for yourself on the well-functioning part,” Jack chirps himself, “but I think dinner can be arranged. I assure you, you’ll have my full support moving forward. The firm’s, as well.”

Bittle’s lips quirk, holding Jack’s gaze. He caught the slip, and now there’s nothing to do but own it. They lapse into a gentle silence. Jack sipping his coffee, Bittle doing the same. Jack isn’t sure what he’s waiting for, the puck is at the end of his stick. He flashes a smile. Bittle blushes.

“So,” Jack begins. “Do you like Burmese?”

____

They part ways and April’s eyes are huge with suspicion. “Should we discuss fees?” she asks. “Do we need to start billing? Sounds like it went well.”

“Nah, we’ll talk later about payment,” Jack replies, folding his jacket over his arm, hiding the slip of paper with Bittle’s personal number and trying not to stare as the forward walks away. “I have a strong feeling I might be handling this pro bono.”

#Zimbits #OMGCP #my stuff #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #PR AU #NHL!Bitty #tw: overdose mention #I know I’ve been gone forever here’s a treat to say sorry

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atticuswritesstuff · 3 years ago

Note

Chrollo with a smarty pants/genius darling who acts out or tries to escape just because they’re bored/understimulated?

Author's note: I actually really fucking love this prompt so I am SUPER excited for this one. I too get very bored/understimulated often. Sorry, I got to it late cuz I just got back from a Montana trip!

Yandere!Chrollo x Bored!Reader

Summary: Chrollo's darling becomes bored being locked up all the time, decides to take yet another unsupervised trip out of the mansion.

Warnings: Anal/Assplay, overstimulation, punishment, spanking, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, yandere themes, BDSM themes, degradation

Character Description: afab, she/her use that's it

Word count: 4.5k

Attempt number seven. Seven times you had slipped through his fingers since the beginning of the year alone, each time becoming more and more elaborate.

Chrollo scoffed, storming through the woods, scanner in hand. It was beeping softly, indicating you weren't far.

It wasn't like you made any attempt to escape discreetly, jamming a fork into the neck of one of Chrollo's guards, puncturing his jugular before you made your way through the garden to the edge of the forest. As Chrollo watched a recording of it from the cameras, he was shocked at how nonchalantly you stabbed him before calmly walking off. If you had intended to run far, you weren't moving very fast.

The tracker started beeping a little faster now. He was getting closer.

The early April air was nipping at his cheeks, he couldn't fathom how you were out here in your pajamas, barefoot at that. Chrollo was more worried about you than just finding you. While your previous attempts had been clever, methodical, and downright genius, this time was very different to him. As far as he knew, you'd never killed anyone, and now you had decided to not only kill someone but patiently wait for him to be unfocused before sneaking upon him. You planned this.

Chrollo walked a couple more meters, finding the tracker was leading him to the nearby lake. When he came to the forest's edge, he could see you sitting at the edge of the dock, staring up at the moon.

You heard him approaching as soon as he broke through the treeline, it took him a bit longer to retrieve you than expected, although you attributed that to him thinking you were going to try and run far. A couple miles from the house wasn't necessarily far for a commoner, but this was farther than you'd ever been allowed.

Chrollo's heavy footsteps walked the length of the dock, stopping right behind you. He knew you would come quietly, after the first few times, you'd stopped escaping to try and get away, instead, you found the chase to be much more thrilling.

"Time to go, darling," He hummed nonchalantly.

"Five more minutes," You replied, swishing your feet through the near-freezing water, "The moon is so pretty tonight, wouldn't you agree?"

Chrollo gazed down at you, you were surprisingly clean considering you'd just stabbed someone. Not a single drop of blood on you anywhere. The only thing shielding you from the cold being a thin cami and a shamefully short pair of shorts.

Chrollo always admired your body, but the pajamas were a nice touch. They were a recent purchase, baby blue fabric with white lace trim, god how he wanted to tear the set off you.

"I didn't think you'd have it in you to take a man's life, darling," Chrollo stated.

"I didn't either," You chuckled, "But it's done now."

"Why not just sneak away?" He replied, sitting on the dock next to you, "He was unfocused, you could've done it easily if this was where you intended to go all along."

"You're right, I didn't have to kill him," You sighed, bringing one of your feet onto the dock, "I just wanted to see if I could. You left an anatomy book on your desk, I found the major arteries of the body to be very interesting."

"Now that I think about it," You continued, "Maybe I should've run farther, seeing you so desperately trying to find me is rather amusing."

“You enjoy being chased like a rabbit?” Chrollo mused.

“Believe it or not the thrill is more exciting than anything you’ve ever gifted to me,” You scoffed, “At least running gave me something to do that required thought. Something you seem to forget to provide.”

Poking at Chrollo’s care tactics wasn’t smart, but you didn’t know how else to get through to him that your current environment was extremely understimulating, and that you needed more. You could tell he was growing upset, but he wouldn’t dare show it outside of the house.

You pulled your knee to your chest, resting your cheek against it, "Do I have to go back?"

"Of course you do, darling," Chrollo replied, a warm hand rubbing up and down your back, "Why wouldn't you?"

You scoffed, "Probably because being a prisoner of marble and glass is dreadfully boring."

Chrollo's hand stopped, "You think the life I've worked so hard to build is boring?"

"Yup," You replied flatly, "Honestly I thought you kidnapping me would be a lot more fun, but it's even more boring than my old life."

Chrollo was becoming angrier with each word that came out of your mouth.

"Don't get me wrong, I know how hard you try, but my god I don't know how you stand it. You're sweet and all, but you're gonna bore me to death sooner or later, escaping actually gives me something to do," You hummed, pulling your other foot out of the water, "Anyways, we can go back now, this chase was more boring than I expected."

You rose from your place, turning to walk back to your cage. It took Chrollo a minute to get up and follow you, partially from the shock of your completely arrogant and nonchalant demeanor. The person you had become over the past two years almost reminded him of a certain magician he once knew.

Chrollo eyed you as your hips swayed, every muscle in your leg flexing and relaxing as you walked. It was something he adored about you, before he took you, you were one of your tribe's best, strongest dancers. The way you swayed and glided while you did the most basic of tasks was alluring to him. Now, he just watched you sit around and observe everything.

The view from walking behind you wasn't necessarily bad, though. Your pajama shorts gave him a nice view of your ass as you walked.

Sauntering through the woods, you could no longer hide how cold you were, the incessant shivering and blue tint to your skin proved that fact. Your feet even more so from being in the water.

You knew Chrollo was upset with what you'd said, you could tell immediately, but keeping the truth from him wasn't an option anymore. You had started to care for him some time ago. You really appreciated him, but god if he didn't allow you to do something you were going to lose your mind.

When you could just barely make out the edges of the garden approaching, you stopped mid-path, "Chrollo?"

He caught up to you in an instant, "Yes, darling?"

"I don't want to go back if I have to live like this," You felt tears well up in your eyes, "Please."

His hands found your hips, "Live like what? Talk to me darling, how can I make it better?"

"I don't want to just sit around and wait for you to come back. I'm tired of you being at my beck and call. O-Or just fucking sitting around waiting for you to come back," You felt a solemn tear roll down your cheek, "It's so fucking boring. Please just take me with you or give me something I can do for you or-"

"Darling," He cut you off with a firm hand over your mouth, the other still settled on your hip. He shushed you softly, lessening the pressure on your mouth, "Don't panic, I'm listening. I promise I'm hearing you, just speak slowly alright?"

You nodded, he took his hand off your mouth slowly, "Keep going, what can I do to help you?"

You thought about it, more tears spilling down your cheeks, "Take me with you. Don't leave me by myself anymore. I just want to be useful."

Scooping you up bridal style as he headed towards the garden, "I understand. Even in your old life, you were always helping others, weren't you?"

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your head into him. Closing your eyes, you breathed in his scent, trying to commit it to memory.

Chrollo's feet hit the marble floors of the hallway that led into the house, you could feel his warmth returning as he carried you inside.

"While I understand your frustrations, you did try to escape my love," He started, bringing you into your shared bedroom, "And that requires a punishment."

You winced, shaking your head against him, "Please, not again! I'm really sorry Sir I can do better-"

"No," He shushed you, setting you on the foot of the bed, "I have the solution to your problem, but only if you take your punishment, alright?"

You nodded slightly, your tear-stained cheeks slightly puffy and red from the cold.

"Alright," He purred, his hands rubbing up and down your shoulders, "I'll try to make this at least somewhat pleasant for you, ok?"

You nodded once again, finding comfort in the fact that he was at least going to please you.

"Lay back for me," He stated, pushing you back by your shoulders, "I'll be right back."

You stared up at the ceiling in anticipation, the last punishment was hard enough, but you couldn't pass up the opportunity to finally get out of the house. Chrollo had returned from the closet, setting something on the bench at the foot of the bed. He took off his shirt before crawling over you.

"You know what your punishment is, right?" He asked, a face cupping your cheek.

You nodded, "Yes, Sir."

"Good girl," He whispered, leaning down to give you the softest of kisses, just barely ghosting over your lips as he pulled the knife out of his back pocket.

Pressing it to your throat, you froze, knowing it had already begun.

"Just focus on me, darling," Chrollo whispered against your lips, "I won't cut you."

He kissed you once more, harder this time as he slowly dragged the knife down your neck. It was a 50/50 chance he would intentionally cut you, even if he said he wouldn't. It was the only thing he'd ever lied to you about, knowing that made your heart race.

His tongue invaded your mouth as he slid the knife down your chest, coming back up to cut your bralette off in between your breasts. You didn't even register the pain from him grazing you with the knife until it started throbbing.

You looked down, seeing a thin line of blood-forming directly in between your breasts.

"Whoops," he chuckled, gazing down at the same mark you were. He sat up, straddling your hips and now pinning you to the bed by your throat. Your bare chest tempted him to carve his name into your breasts, then you'd really know who you belonged to. Chrollo briefly cut the straps of your bralette, allowing the flimsy fabric to fall away, revealing your breasts to him.

Setting the knife aside, Chrollo dragged his nails down your chest, briefly squeezing your waist before leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses all over your neck. He trailed downwards, backing off the bed as he kissed your waist, your breasts, swirling his tongue around each of your nipples lightly before backing off entirely.

"Turn over," Chrollo demanded.

"No." You said timidly, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"I'm sorry?" Chrollo replied smugly, "Wanna repeat that, darling?"

"I said n-no," You said, now even quieter than before.

"No? You don't want to be punished?" He asked, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs teasingly.

You shook your head to confirm that you indeed did not want to be punished in the way he was thinking.

"Even after killing my guard and escaping? You sure you don't want to be punished?" He asked again, his condescending tone making you whimper as you shook your head again.

Chrollo sighed, "Very well."

What? He's serious?

Untying the bandana from his forehead, he was quick to grab your hands and tie them together, placing them above your head, "I'll please you since I know that's what you really want."

Your heart jumped in your chest, somehow excited at the fact that you had gotten out of it.

Chrollo wasted no time cutting your shorts off, leaving you completely naked and exposed to him. He brought your legs up to the edge of the bed, bending them close to your chest, "Stay like this for a moment, ok?"

You gave him brief 'mhm' before he left, crossing the room to his chest of drawers. You heard him open it, the soft sound of things being moved around before he quickly came back. Craning your neck up to see what had been retrieved, you were quickly thwarted by Chrollo who pushed your head back down.

"Patience," He sighed, "Be a good girl now, hm?"

You grumbled, but let him hold you down. You knew this routine all too well, reminiscing about the fond memories of your legs pulling against the rope he was now starting to tie around your ankles. He took the time to tie up each leg, making sure they would not be able to come out of the bent position he'd placed them in.

"So pretty," Chrollo cooed, rubbing his hands up and down your waist, "Alright darling, eyes closed."

You shut your eyes as he brought a blindfold to your eyes, the soft silk being tied around the back of your head.

"There, now that you can't fight me," He started, using brute force to flip you over so you were bent over the edge of the bed, knees on the bench, "We can begin your punishment."

"That's not fair Si-"

A sharp smack was delivered to your ass, "Hush."

You went quiet, whimpering into the plush comforter.

"You"

Smack.

"Broke"

Smack.

"My"

Smack.

"Rules"

Each word was punctuated by a harsh spanking to one of your ass cheeks. You were only four in and it already stung.

"I'm sorry!" You cried, trying to wriggle away from Chrollo, "Please Sir!"

"Mm, please what darling? Please punish you?" He hummed, rubbing your bottom with smooth circles.

"Nuh!" You whined, your voice becoming whinier under the threat of fully submitting.

"I told you I would please you, but only if you took your punishment like a good girl," Chrollo hummed, leaving a kiss on each cheek, "Do you really expect me to please you when you're not going to comply darling?"

You whined, wiggling a bit more.

"What do good girls say, darling?" Chrollo asked, softly rubbing your arched back.

"P-please," You huffed.

"Please what, love?" He replied, quietly undoing the bottle of lube he had brought to the bed.

"Please punish me," You whispered, "Sir."

"That's my good girl," He hummed.

Chrollo squirted a bit of lube onto his first two fingers, letting it warm a bit before bringing them to your ass. Mewling as Chrollo started rubbing your puckered hole, he wasted no time plunging a digit into your ass.

"Fuck!" You cried out, feeling him slipping in and out up to his first knuckle. You shook against the rope.

"Aww, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were starting to enjoy this." He teased, pushing his finger up to his second knuckle, "You're taking me so well, I can only imagine how well you're going to do later."

You gave him a long, drawn-out moan in response. He wanted you to beg, either for more or for him to stop, either way, he wanted you to be a mess.

The discomfort started to fade as he pushed his two fingers fully into you. Now, you could feel your arousal dripping as he steadily finger-fucked your ass, trying to stretch you out best he could with just two fingers.

"Already taking my fingers so well," Chrollo cooed, picking up the pace, "I think you're ready to be punished, don't you?"

You shook your head, knowing what would come next.

"Oh come now, don't be like that darling." He replied, slowly pulling his fingers from your tight hole.

You whined at the loss of contact, while it wasn't quite the pleasure you wanted, it was starting to feel good. You waited patiently as Chrollo left the bed, finding the necessary tools needed in his bedside drawer before coming back to the bench.

In one hand, he held a set of purple anal beads that gradually got bigger, in the other, a vibrating wand he fully intended on using on you. While the vibrator wasn't ever used during a punishment, Chrollo saw it to be a mercy for your honesty, therefore, he would keep his word, making his punishment at least somewhat pleasurable for you.

"Tonight's going to be a bit different, love," Chrollo started, setting the vibrator on the bench, he began covering the anal beads in a generous amount of lube, "I need you to trust me, ok?"

You didn't know what he meant by different, you assumed more painful, but knew that there would be no pleasure without pain, "I trust you."

"Good," He hummed, rubbing the first ball against your lubed hole, "You ready?"

Your faint 'mhm' had Chrollo pushing the first ball in, earning a whimper from you. It wasn't much bigger than Chrollo's finger, but you could still feel it. Mere seconds later, he was pushing the second ball in, the equivalent to a little more than two of his fingers.

You were quietly whimpering and mewling into the comforter, hoping he wouldn't hear how much you were enjoying the slow stretch.

"I need your hands," Chrollo announced, pulling you firmly upward by your shoulders, "Put them here."

He shoved your arms down toward your pussy before pushing you back down on your chest. Before, your hands had been resting on the comforter above your head. Now, they were firmly squished between your thighs. You felt Chrollo press something round into your hands before tying your wrists up. Mid-tie, he readjusted the foreign object to rest against your clit.

The vibrator.

You began to squirm a little bit, knowing that this is what he meant by tonight being a little different. You waited patiently as he tied the ropes tight, making sure you wouldn't be able to move it away, then he turned it on.

"Ah...oh fuck," You moaned, the vibrator already working to make you come undone, "Sir.."

Your moans were becoming more sultry, needier, you began panting as your legs worked up to a steady shake, he knew he would break you tonight at this rate.

"See? I told you I would please you," Chrollo hummed, pushing the next ball in, you cried out even louder, "You have permission to cum whenever you'd like."

Knowing this was going to make it a lot harder, he wanted you to submit, to break, "D..Da-Ah!"

You were stuttering as the next ball was pushed in, your asshole stretching around it.

"What was that? I don't think I heard you, princess," Chrollo teased.

"Daddy!" You wailed, giving into the submission he so desperately wanted. Your pussy began fluttering around nothing as the vibrator sent deep shock waves through your pussy, "Please!"

"Please what, princess?" He smiled, palming your ass cheeks.

"Please punish me!" You moaned, needing more stimulation, "I'm sorry I tried to escape! I've been a bad girl!"

The sight of you writhing under him was pathetic, you were truly becoming a mess and he hadn't even really touched you. Seeing how hard you were trembling, Chrollo took pity on you. Watching your pretty pussy clench and release, needing some form of stimulation, he decided to at least grant you this mercy.

Plunging two fingers into your dripping hole, he crooked his fingers, quickly finding your g-spot, "Is this what my darling needs?"

"Yes! Oh, fu-fuck please daddy!" You moaned, fucking yourself on his fingers, "Gonna cum!"

"You have permission princess, it's ok," Chrollo reaffirmed, working his fingers inside you.

It only took seconds, the knot that had been building inside you finally burst, causing you to clench around his fingers. The vibrator held firm against your clit after, the pleasure becoming painful. You started to cry through the blindfold.

Chrollo licked the mess off his fingers before slowly starting to pull the anal beads out one by one. You whined and whimpered as he did so, the action only causing you to clench to avoid feeling empty. It did nothing, Chrollo continued to pull the remaining few beads out, your asshole gaping slightly

"Mm, you're doing so well baby," Chrollo sighed, pulling his own pants down. Pumping his cock a few times before rubbing the crown of it up and down your slick.

"Daddy! D-Don't do that!" You whined, trying to pull away from his ministrations.

"What? This?" Chrollo asked innocently, repeating the action.

You lost it, cumming on the spot as the tip ghosted over your pussy, your shame covered your face in a heavy blush. It barely took anything for you to cum with the stupid vibrator continuing to buzz against your clit at the highest setting.

"S-Sorry daddy.." you slurred, still trembling as you felt your mind go blank.

"Aww, is my baby that much of a cock drunk little slut?" Chrollo teased, pressing the tip of his painfully erect cock into your ass, "I know you are, my pretty little darling wanted to be punished this whole time, huh?"

You heard him, but could barely form enough of a sentence to answer.

Chrollo pushed into you slowly, relishing in the tightness of your ass, your gummy walls fluttering around him as you were overstimulated. The feeling of being full had your tongue lolling out of your mouth.

Once fully seated inside you, Chrollo slowly dragged his nails along your back before palming your ass. Pulling your ass cheeks apart with his thumbs, he gave a few long, slow thrusts, watching the way you clenched around his cock.

"Fuck," Chrollo moaned, "I almost don't even want to punish you with the way this tight little ass wraps around my cock."

You could only moan in response, trembling as he continued his tortuously slow pace.

"How many spankings do you think you'll receive from tonight's actions, princess?" Chrollo halted, only halfway inside as his hands trailed upwards along your outer thighs, "I think forty is a good number? What say you, love?"

"Nuh-uh!" You cried, wiggling against his touch as one of his hands left your skin, "Thirty!"

Chrollo chuckled at your offer, "I was originally going to settle for twenty-five, but thirty works for me, darling."

With a crushing force, Chrollo's hand came down.

Smack!

"Count, or I'll start over," Chrollo demanded.

"O-One," You whispered.

His other hand rose while the other soothed the spot he had just spanked.

Smack!

"Two!"

Smack!

"Three," Chrollo's hands were relentless, switching cheeks each time he smacked you in order to give your poor skin a break. He was merciful enough to rub the spot he had spanked before doing it again.

It took minutes to work your way up to the end, you came twice throughout the process as the vibrator held firm against your clit.

Smack!

"Twenty-eight!"

Smack!

"Twenty-nine!"

Smack!

"Th-Thirty!" You were sobbing, shaking uncontrollably under the weight of Chrollo's punishment.

"There we go, all done," Chrollo cooed, softly rubbing your cherry-red ass as he set another slow pace, "You did so well for me, darling."

A warmth grew in your chest, you really did enjoy being praised by Chrollo, even if it was after a punishment with his dick in your ass. He enjoyed it too, loving the way you clenched around his cock each time he spanked you, it took a lot of focus to not cum mid punishment.

You were writhing the pressure in your core already starting to build again, your trembling never stopped, even throughout your punishment. Chrollo kept up his word to please you, but god at what cost?

"I want you to cum for me again, angel," Chrollo hummed, his hands finding your waist as he began picking up the pace, "I want to absolutely ruin you."

"No no no! Daddy, I can't!" You sobbed, knowing you would be doing more than just cumming if this kept up.

"Oh? Is my princess trying to hide the pretty mess I know she can make?" Chrollo asked, knowing what you were implying.

Grabbing the knife, he cut the ropes from your legs. He rolled your limp form over onto your back, yanking the blindfold off so he could watch as you helped overstimulate yourself. With one arm by your head to support himself, he guided his cock back into your ass, resuming the brutal pace he set.

You held Chrollo's gaze as he went absolutely feral, drilling your ass while holding one of your legs up over his shoulder. You could barely conceal your tears at this point, broken moans showing him just how bad you needed a break, but he was intent on making you squirt before he stopped.

"I know you need this," Chrollo purred, pressing his forehead to yours, "Just give in to my love, your body wants this."

You started to shake harder, legs trembling even more aggressively, he was pushing you to the edge.

"Fuck! Da...Daddy," You groaned, knowing you were only seconds away, "Kiss me, p-please."

Pulling you into his lips as you came, your screams and cries muffled against Chrollo's lips as you drenched his cock and thighs with your cum. You barely registered the feeling of his cock throbbing as he filled your ass with cum. It took several seconds for your orgasm to stop before you were finally able to collapse back onto the bed.

Chrollo was quick to shut the vibrator off as he pulled out, knowing your body had enough. He admired the way his cum began slowly trickling out of your ass while he untied your hands.

"You did so well, darling," Chrollo praised, leaving soft kisses on the inside of your calf, "So so good."

His kisses trailed upwards, his lips softly tickling your thighs as he caressed them. He continued upward with his continued praise and love, making sure each part of you had received some form of physical attention before kissing you passionately.

You were still panting, your heart thrumming in your ears as he brushed your hair away from your face. At least he held true to his word.

With your hands now free, you pulled him in for another kiss, wanting to stay enveloped in his warmth forever.

"So, my little brat," He started, interlacing his fingers with yours, "Was this enough of a cure for your boredom?"

You giggled, giving him a weak smile, "It was, but as I recall, you mentioned what sounded like a more long-term solution to this problem."

"Ah, that," Chrollo sighed, rolling over next to you. You turned on your side the best you could as he gazed up at the ceiling, "I was thinking you could officially become a spider."

Your breath hitched in your throat, "You mean like part of the phantom-troupe?"

"Yes," He replied curtly, "You'd be with me all day every day, same rules apply, but it would give you a chance to use that intelligence of yours."

You grinned, thinking it over, "Sure, why not?"

#chrollo lucilfer x y/n #hunter x hunter x reader #hunterxhunter #hxh #hxh 2011 #hxh imagine #hxh x reader #hxh x you #hxh x y/n #chrollo #chrollo x you #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo x y/n #chrollo smut #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #phantom troupe #phantom troupe x reader #chrollo lucilfer smut

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messers-moony · 3 years ago

Text

So Perfect 2 | J.P

Paring: Young!James Potter X Fem!Lupin!Reader

Summary: James falls in love with a bookstore called, Lupin’s Library, and can’t believe what they’re going through.

Preparing for a date seemed easy enough, except when it’s with a twenty-five-year-old man that already has a child. Granted, the twenty-five-year-old man was handsome, very handsome; maybe that’s what made this so hard. Every dress that she tried on didn’t seem to fit or didn’t seem to look right.

Y/n was looking at her appearance in the mirror when a light knock was heard on her door, “Come in!”

Remus almost dropped the tea he was holding for her, “You look spiffing.”

“Spiffing?” Y/n crossed her arms with a stupid smile, “That’s all you could come up with?”

“Dashing, beautiful, gorgeous?” Remus shrugged, “I'm not good at this whole thing. ‘S why I’m into blokes, remember?”

Y/n hummed, reaching for the tea he was holding for her, “Thanks, Remmy.”

“No problem.” He replied, taking a seat on her twin bed, “So, are you excited?”

“Nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“Yeah, I mean, he’s already got a child, Rem!” Y/n said exasperated, “If this goes well, then he’ll expect me to be Harry’s stepmother, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

Remus placed two hands on his shorter sister's shoulders, “You’re going to be fine. No one is more prepared for that than you are.”

“I’m regretting this.”

“If you don’t go on this date, then I’ll never call Sirius.”

“That’s not fair!”

“It is.” Remus replied, “How about this-”

“Oh no, you only do this when you know you’ll win.” She murmured.

Remus smirked, “If you go on this date and have fun, I’ll ask Sirius out. If you don’t go on this date at all, I’ll block his number.”

“But you and Sirius are perfect for each other.” Y/n whined, “And so are you and James.” Remus countered.

Y/n pouted, and Remus smiled, “Now go have fun on this date. James is waiting outside.”

“Are you shitting me?!”

Remus laughed, “Nope!”

Y/n scrambled to grab her things, and Remus watched amusedly, “You’re the worst, Rem!” She yelled as she began to leave the bookstore.

“Love you too, sis!”

The door closed behind her, and she was releasing breaths of air. James turned to see her out of breath and a flush on her cheeks. It made him smile. She looked absolutely breathtaking too. Y/n’s hair was styled, and her dress looked dashing on her. James offered her his hand, and Y/n took it with a gentle smile.

“Sorry for making you wait.” Y/n apologized, “Rem was no help.”

James chuckled, “It’s fine.”

James opened the car door for her, and she got in. Instantly she felt out of place. Y/n hadn’t been in a car since high school and ever since then had taken public transportation or walked. She and Remus didn’t have money for a vehicle, so they made do with what they had. The seats were black leather, and the car didn’t have a spec of dirt on it.

He got into the driver's side of the car smoothly and took notice of Y/n’s awestruck expression, “I take it you like my car?”

“I’m sorry.” Her expression turned sheepish, “It’s been a minute since I’ve been in a car.”

James quirked an eyebrow, “Remus and I walk or ride buses to get by.”

“Well, I’m glad I could be with you for your first experience back.” They both laughed.

It was so easy with James. Conversation flowed like water, and the air was light like clouds. His hand went from the shift to intertwine his fingers with hers. Y/n’s face flushed, and James smiled genuinely. James couldn’t remember a time when a girl made his heart race and butterflies fill his stomach like this before.

When they arrived, Y/n was starstruck. It was fancier than she thought. Her heart pounded, and insecurity filled her body. James made his way to her side of the car and opening the door for her again. He helped her out of the car and felt her hand tremble just the slightest bit.

“You look beautiful.” James assured, “No need to be worried.”

Y/n swallowed thickly, “Hey,” James turned her face to his, “If I thought you were underdressed, I would’ve told you. You’re gorgeous, and I think you’ll be the prettiest girl in the room.”

“Thank you.”

He gave her another one of those beautiful smiles before walking up to the hostess, “Name?”

“Should be under Potter.”

The hostess smiled, “Right this way.”

James motioned for Y/n to go first, so she followed the hostess to the table. Y/n sat down, and James sat across from her as the woman set down two menus. Maybe it was a force of habit, but she couldn’t help but let her eyes travel to everything around her.

He smiled, slightly amused by her way of checking everything around her. It wasn’t the fanciest place that he could’ve taken her - there was much better - but he didn’t want to overwhelm her. It wasn’t pitying that drew him toward her, though. There was something about her that made him feel like a teenager again.

The place was made of what appeared to be a dark wooden material. The lights were a dim yellow, and the tables were polished beautifully. The booths were comfy and with red cushioning. The atmosphere was cooling and dry.

Y/n had opened her menu and began to survey it, “Pick whatever you want.”

“Are you sure?” Y/n asked, “I really don’t mind-“

“This is a date.” James reminded as he held her hands from across the table, “Let me treat you so well that you a second date.”

Y/n blushed, “You’ve already done that.”

“I have?”

“Shut up.”

James chuckled, kissing her knuckles, “Whatever you want, love.”

Half of the food on the menu Y/n hadn’t even heard of. Granted, she and Remus never really ate out much as kids. Usually, their mother - Hope - would cook them dinner as their father - Lyall - got home from work. Dinner was generally around seven-thirty or eight o’clock.

The dinner went by gracefully, with lots of banter and getting to know each other. It wasn’t until the end of the date where James had paid despite Y/n’s efforts, and they got into the car where he had asked the dreadful question. They both sat in the parking spot when James had turned to her.

“How do you feel about children?” James asked and quickly added, “I know that you’re good with them because of the reading on Saturdays but, I mean, about having children?”

Y/n wrung her hands, “I never really thought about it.”

“Why?”

“I have two jobs and a sick brother to take care of.”

Y/n replied, “Kids don’t really fit in. I’d also have to have a significant other to have children. Which I don’t have.”

James nodded, “Okay, but if you were to have a significant other.”

“I mean, I’d like to.” Y/n shrugged, “My life is just hectic right now. Bringing a child into this life wouldn’t be fair.”

Okay, so this isn’t going anywhere, James thought; I need to be blunt, “How would you feel about being Harry’s stepmother?”

She swallowed, “James….”

“I know that’s a hard thing to answer right now. Especially with us just getting started.” James added, “But if you aren’t interested, then this isn’t worth starting.”

“No, I know and understand.” Y/n said, fidgeting with her hands in her lap, “I’m sure it’s hard to find someone, you know, already having a kid and all.”

James nodded.

“I’d love to be Harry’s stepmother.” Y/n replied as James’ face lit up, “But I still have the bookstore, the bar, and Remus to take care of as well. It’ll be stressful.”

“I’m not asking you to be a stay-at-home mother.” James chuckled, “I’m just asking that at the end of the day, you come home to us.”

“And hopefully,” James smiled sheepishly, “Sirius can knock Remus off your list.”

Y/n chuckled, “Hopefully. Remus is a handful.”

“He seems nice.”

She snorted, “Until you officially meet him.”

“Well then,” James smiled, taking her hand in his as he began moving the car, “Looks like we’ll be having double dates.”

Y/n squeezed his hand as he began to drive. The car drove effortlessly over the unpaved roads. Light music played in the background. The sky was a beautiful blue littered with sparkling white specks. The moon was crescent and barely a sliver. James had gotten to a stoplight when he spoke up again.

“My house or yours?”

“Whichever.”

James smiled and turned the wheel to the left, “Okay.”

It didn’t take long to realize that they were going to his house. His neighborhood was much different than hers. Granted, she lived on top of a bookshop, but it was still different. James lived in the suburbs. The houses were breathtaking, and the streets looked clean. Asphalt roads were freshly paved, and sidewalks looked new. The homes were family-sized, but they looked ginormous compared to her and Remus’ studio apartment only suited for one.

James pulled into the driveway, and Y/n was flabbergasted. It was a two-story house, mostly white concrete, and the accents were a dark brown color. The grass was freshly cut, and the vegetation was trimmed. The backyard appeared to have a pool and a patio area, but Y/n could barely tell over the solid fence.

His keys jingled as he placed the key into the slot and the door opened with ease. Gently, he motioned her to go first. The floors were dark oak wood, seemingly similar to the dark paint on the accents of the house. Everything was so clean, exactly like the car, not a spec of dust laid on the surfaces.

A movie was playing on the television in the room on the right. The kitchen was on the left, and the sitting table was in the room beside it. James shut the door behind him, locking it. He took off his coat and shoes, placing them at the front door. He smiled.

“I take it you like the house?”

“It’s beautiful.”

James smiled, walking to the kitchen, and Y/n took off her shoes before following him. He sighed when he opened the fridge, and Y/n had taken a seat at the barstool in front of the island. James picked up an empty bottle of wine that was still residing in the fridge.

“You keep empty bottles of wine in the fridge?” Y/n questioned as James rubbed his face with his hands.

“No. Bad habit of Sirius’.”

Y/n quirked an eyebrow, “He lives here?”

“He acts as he does.” James muttered as he recycled the empty bottle, “But no, Sirius lives a couple of doors down. But I feel like he should be paying rent here.”

Y/n laughed, “Regardless, I’ve known him since elementary school, so he’s like my brother. Harry calls him uncle and everything.”

“That’s adorable.” Y/n said, “Do you have any actual siblings?”

“Nope. Jus’ me.” He answered, motioning to himself, “Sirius has a younger brother named Regulus.”

“His parents obsessed with constellations or something?”

“Supposedly.”

“Where is Harry now?”

“With Sirius.” James replied, taking out a full bottle of wine, “Told him I might get him tonight or might not.”

Y/n took the glass of wine he offered her with a smile, “Mind if I ask why the tv was left on?”

“My cat.”

“Cat?”

“Technically, not mine.” James explained, “It’s my ex-fiancées, but she left him here, so he’s mine now.”

“And your cat likes the tv?”

James nodded, “What's his name?”

“Moony.”

“Moony?”

“Yeah. Harry named him actually.”

Y/n smiled. They continued to talk, and the night kept going on by. It was well past midnight when James drove her back home to her shared apartment. The car ride was silent, primarily with music playing lightly in the background once again. He walked her to the door of the bookstore before bidding her goodnight.

Gently James pressed his lips to her forehead, “Goodnight, get some sleep.”

“You too…” Y/n muttered, blushing as she walked into the bookstore.

She hadn’t even made it up the steps when Remus began talking, “Had a good night, I presume?”

“You’re a dick, ya know?”

He smirked and closed his book with a thud, “Runs in the family.”

Y/n gasped playfully, “You ass!”

Remus chuckled as they both walked up the steps, “Seriously though, good night?”

“Yeah, really good night.”

442 notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 3 years ago

Text

A Royal scandal 4

Modern royalty au

Image from Instagram

cowritten with @lizzygal

Note - There will be no taglists for this. You can subscribe to the ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia, talks of virginity.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7.8k

Story masterlist

Valkyrie, or simply Val, watched the entire thing unfold before her eyes and was helpless to stop any of it. All of it. All she could do was watch. Much like one would watch a train accident happen before their very eyes.

She had tried. In truth she had.

However, Sarah was the Queen Mother and Val was a member of the Royal Guard.

There was little she could do.

“Your Majesty,” she purred one last time, in one last attempt to save a situation that she knew deep in her heart was not going to go well at all. “Perhaps you would prefer to go inside and I’ll bring them into the reception area?”

Everything was wrong. So very wrong.

Outside the palace was normally empty.

As it was located in the center of the capital. An old historic building from imperial days that covered numerous city blocks, was where the government was run and where King Steven resided. Press knew better than to hang around outside the imposing palace gates as the king never left out them and was uninterested in opportunities to have his picture taken. As did the Queen Mother.

And yet, that morning, a whole gaggle of photographers were lined up and waiting for the visiting royals. Or so they had shared with Val.

Her Grace, Hope van Dyne, never went anywhere without getting her picture taken. In Val’s opinion, she probably had the phone number to every tabloid office in the world.

Sarah’s voice was kind. Soft. Gentle. It made Val want to wrap her queen up in a blanket and make her go inside so she could deal with their unwelcome guests. She stood beside Val at the top of the steps of the palace, provided with a great view of the black sedan that had pulled in through the gates. The flashiest possible way to enter the palace instead of through the underground garage like everyone else.

“Oh no. That’s hardly necessary. They wanted a scene. Let us give them one.”

Not liking the sounds of that at all, her brown eyes flickered over to look at the slim woman with a head of artfully styled strawberry blonde curls, a button nose and rose petal lips. She was every bit as regal as her title, even if she had not a drop of royal blood in her body.

“You can’t think that they actually called the press to say that the Duchess Hope was the woman with His Majesty on the video from the royal banya?”

Sarah’s cool blue gaze flickered to her royal bodyguard before returning back to the sedan so she could observe her former friend climb out, followed by her raven-haired daughter who waved to the photographers on the other side of the iron gates.

That was exactly what Sarah suspected the second she’d seen it in the morning paper. Though she doubted she would ever find out who had started that rumor.

“Have you found out why they’re here?”

Grimacing, Valkyrie shook her head, unhappy to not have an answer for her queen beneath the cloudy chilly winter day. “Not yet Your Majesty. We have reached out to the Maharaja’s Staff and are waiting to hear back. Soon though we suspect.”

Any second now Val hoped her phone would ring so she could tell the queen.

Which led to Sarah turning her head to look away from her guests as they climbed the stairs. She looked away from the large fountain that the sleek luxury car was parked beside and gave her last true smile for what she suspected would be till lunch. Reaching out, she placed her hand on Valkyrie’s wrist. One of her preferred bodyguards. She’d been loyal and had on two occasions nearly given her life in service of her country. “I trust you will find out and inform me as soon as possible. Do not fret. I doubt they will be leaving anytime in the near future.”

Only a lifetime of service kept Val from cracking a smile.

Instead, her dark eyes watched the silver haired Queen of the Netherlands climb the steps towards them. Smiling. Dressed expensively with a heavy coat made from numerous small furry animals.

Queen Janet van Dyne approached as if it hadn’t been years. She came to stand beside Sarah and greet her in such a way that would make for a perfect picture. Or so Sarah noticed. She greeted her as if they were still friends who spoke frequently on the phone and still sent one another gifts. As if their children had married and everything was fine.

“Sarah! How wonderful to see you, you have not aged a day.”

Janet reached out with gloved hands trimmed in mink, leaned forward to place a polite kiss on Sarah’s cheek in greeting and was more than a little surprised when Sarah stepped away. Her own hands remaining clasped in front of her and out of Janet’s. Greeting or otherwise.

“Janet,” was all that came from Sarah’s mouth. A look went from Janet’s coat down to her dress and then shoes, pausing there before coming back up. “Is that the dress you wore to Lizzie’s grandson’s wedding?”

Surprised by the greeting, or lack thereof, Janet paused and then smiled brightly, knowing that though the cameras could not hear them they could capture this image on film. “Yes. We’re focusing on becoming sustainable out in the west. Going green isn’t merely a project meant as royal busywork.”

Sarah could actually feel Valkyrie stiffen beside her at mention of the Green Initiative that Steve had tasked her with and had been far from busywork. It was something that Sarah could go on and on about, one of her many efforts that she busied herself with and yet, she found she didn’t want to expend that much energy on her once friend.

Hands still in front of her, fingers laced together where she could feel her wedding band. Sarah tilted her head slightly to the side. “I wouldn’t know. We remain a governing monarchy here.”

Janet blanched. Her lips formed a straight line, nearly as straight as the way her spine stiffened.

Though Sarah was unable to enjoy it as she turned her attention to the daughter. Hope van Dyne. Formerly Princess Hope but now Duchess Hope, after having been stripped of her title and recently reinstated to a lesser one, in Sarah’s opinion anyway.

Hope looked lovely as ever.

Tanned. Dressed exceptionally well. Smiling exuberantly.

It almost warmed Sarah’s icy heart.

“Sarah! How are you? You look wonderful!” Exclaimed Hope, sounding genuinely thrilled to see the woman who might have been her mother-in-law had things gone differently. She stepped on up with outstretched arms and was greeted with a serene face that looked at her in confusion.

Sarah said nothing. Not a word. Sarah maintained eye contact and looked at Hope as if waiting for the younger woman to say or do something.

Thus leading to Hope blinking in confusion and lowering her arms, looking to her mother for assistance as this clearly was not the welcome she expected.

“Is something wrong,” Hope asked a bit nervously as a winter breeze ruffled the fur on her mother’s coat. Sneaking under the cashmere of her own, as she hadn’t had time to properly shop for winter here. This was her mother’s idea. It was her last hope. Her father had refused to hear her and not even her mother could plead her case this time. This was it.

“I was about to ask you the same.”

Val watched Hope’s confusion and fought hard to not say anything at all, and it was becoming painful to watch in her opinion. Her gaze veered over to all the photographers that were watching more than taking pictures. Even they seemed to realize this visit was not starting off smoothly.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

Val risked a look over at her queen. Her queen who was peering at the young woman who had referred to Val’s people as ‘war criminals’ or ‘superstitious backwoods fools.’

Unable to take another moment of it, Valkyrie cleared her throat.

Finally making Sarah take mercy on Hope who really should have known better in her opinion. “In civilized societies, a duchess would curtsey to a queen. Perhaps things are different for those who are merely ceremonial in purpose.”

***

Someone called your name and for a second, you were terrified that Wanda had come for your ass.

Not that you could blame the best friend you’d had since high school.

Upon heading into the offices of the royal palace that morning, you had intentionally avoided her , secure in the knowledge that she was pissed at you and you really did not want to have the fight you knew was coming someplace public like the office.

So, you’d been groveling via text and promising to go out with her that night for a girls night, swearing on your honor that you would tell her everything! Because Wanda was no fool.

Wanda saw the new dress you had on. Wanda saw your new shoes. Wanda noticed your perfect makeup and styled hair. Wanda also brought up the facts that you’d not been home that night or early morning, as well as the crucial one regarding your flatiron that was still in the bathroom the two of you shared.

Needless to say, you had a lot of explaining to do.

There was no getting around it. You were going to have to tell her about Steve. Sure, you’d swear her to secrecy until everything came out. The palace had made its announcement this morning about King Steven being in a relationship that he would make public soon. A second public statement had come from the Palace PR Guru, Maria Hill, stating that without a doubt, the king was not involved with Duchess Hope after a few rumors had burnt their way through the palace and news cycles.

Besides, Wanda should know. Wanda deserved to know. You and Wanda had come on this adventure post university together. Wanda had to know before it came out in the form of an official palace announcement, or else Wanda might very well skin you alive.

Hearing your name on a female tongue had you snapping up, your attention diverted away from the emails you were checking.

Wanda?

No.

It was not Wanda.

It was an Indian woman in a well-tailored pantsuit. Her dark hair was swept up in a chignon. Her lips a shade of red that had you lowkey thinking about asking for the name and shade of said lipstick. Her dark eyes bore right through you. As if spearing you from your chair and to the wall of your office.

“You are the King’s Chief of Staff?”

While your natural first instinct was to report that was what it said on your door. Professional-you put the kibosh on that right away. Inner you was somewhat intimidated by this powerful woman who looked as if she knew your every last secret.

Head held high this woman so informed you in a tone that let you know she was here for nothing less. “The Maharaja has sent us. Duchess Hope of the Netherlands has stolen from us and is here with the intention of pleading political asylum. While the Maharaja would like nothing more than to have her brought back for trial of the theft of our priceless treasures. I will settle for what was taken and no less.”

Ok. Well. Maybe you thought too soon.

Maybe Wanda was preferrable over this person.

“Oh…goody…” came from your lips with a frown.

“General Odinson sent me here. He told me that you would be able to help resolve this issue for me post haste.”

Oh of course General Fucking Thor Odinson would send this person your way so he didn’t have to deal with this international nightmare of an incident.

Letting out a deep breath, you held up a finger. “Let me just send this out real quick…what’s your name?” And you typed as quickly as humanly possible on your encrypted laptop.

“Ekta. I am with the Maharaja’s Royal Guard.”

Because of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be? Why wouldn’t Hope have stolen from the Maharaja and bounced? Though you’d never had the pleasure of meeting her face to face, you’d heard more than your share about the infamous Duchess, then Princess, Hope.

Typing. Typing. Typing.

“You’ve got any pictures or detailed descriptions of what the items stolen look like? I’m sure His Majesty will be very curious. And, you know, the more information of what we’re looking for the better.”

And done.

With a tap on your laptop, you’d sent out an email to the Finance Minister. Then up you stood.

“Of course,” Ekta answered coolly.

Not that you blamed her. If you were in her shoes, you would have been super pissed off too. Being robbed was never fun.

“Let’s go see if we can track down His Majesty. If not, we’ll make an appointment with his secretary and then go see who is in the office of our Royal Guard. Someone is always in there and I know that Carol, she’s Captain of the Guard, is working right now.” You explained, as if you felt that telling this unhappy woman all these things could somehow make everything right. Probably not. But you still had to try. It was in your nature to fix problems and you most definitely wanted to fix this problem.

Ekta said nothing.

She merely followed you out of your office and into the hallway which was lined with doors and walls of tasteful and probably expensive original art.

You looked to the left.

Then to the right and nearly died then and there at your luck.

How had you gotten so lucky?

There, mere feet away and closing, was not just Carol but His Majesty, deep in discussion about something that was irritating them both.

You had an inkling that you knew what was at the heart of their discussion.

The sight of you made them stop talking and pause in their tracks, which told you that you had been the one that they were seeking.

Before anything could be done, you bowed. “Your Majesty, just the person I was hoping to find.” Up you flourished your hand to gesture at Ekta, who you could feel was beside you, practically putting off rays of righteousness. “We have a visitor from the Maharaja’s Royal Guard. This is Ekta. She is here because of something that concerns the Duchess Hope.”

The reaction that came was almost immediate from both Steve and Carol.

A look as if Steve had suddenly smelled a dead animal came over his face. Carol however cocked her hip to the side, lifted her chin in a dark blue pantsuit, almost demanding in a knowing sort of way. “What’d she steal from you guys? Art or jewelry?”

For the first time ever, you noted a moment of Ekta’s veneer breaking. Like she was taken off balance. “The duchess stole from you too?” Then, almost as an afterthought came, “Your Majesty?”

And this was news to you too.

You had no idea that Hope had taken souvenirs with her that weren’t free to take when she fled the Royal Palace for India all those years ago.

When Steve spoke, his teeth were clearly clenched together. “Yes. Both. She raided my mother’s room as well as the halls for art and pieces that are priceless. Sacred treasures from my countries history that can never be replaced. She filled her suitcase with on her way out.”

“Every now and then an item will appear on the black market. We can only assume that she is selling them when she is in need of money.” Carol helpfully added.

Beside you, you could practically feel Ekta tremble. Shake out of control one could say.

“Is the Duchess Hope here?”

For that you had no answer.

Carol however had one. “Yes. Her Majesty is taking tea out in the gardens with the Duchess Hope and her own mother.”

After being brought abreast of that development, you had a statement to make. One you thought was obvious. But none-the-less, out it came. Maybe none of them knew? “It’s snowing outside.”

Thus leading Steve to turn his attention on you. Finally. And when he did so, he looked at you as if you were only his Chief of Staff. He looked at you kindly without the heat in his eyes from earlier that morning, when he’d woken you up by pushing himself deep into your body until the both of you reached a climax that made your eyes cross and left an impression of his teeth broken into your shoulder.

“Yes. Mother wanted to be sure that the Duchess Hope did not steal anything else from within the palace walls whilst they are here.”

Well then.

Even you had to admit. The Queen Mother could be downright frosty when the occasion called for it. Pun intended.

“She’s having tea with Queen Janet and Duchess Hope outside? In the frigid temperatures?”

You couldn’t quite make yourself believe it. You blinked. You looked from Steve who appeared casual after his statement, like he just told you the winters here were cold. Over to Carol who was pulling out her phone from her pocket. Acting like you hadn’t said anything out of the normal.

“Your Majesty, I’ll take care of Ekta and deal with this issue. If anything arrives concerning this issue. I will contact you. Nakia will come fill my place today.”

If Steve was greatly upset by any of his, he made no outward indication of it other than a nod of his head that he both heard and understood and accepted what Carol had told him. His attention was instead focused on you.

“I have a meeting concerning the Switzerland trip about the proposed embassy. Go get your notes. You’ll be joining me.”

***

Her Grace, the Duchess Hope van Dyne, had finally made it in the palace after that psycho, the Queen Mother Sarah, had the audacity to serve tea in the garden as flakes of snow drifted down. And if that weren’t barbaric enough, afterwards, she then led them around the winter garden as if Hope gave a damn.

Hope had problems and Queen Sarah was not very receptive to any of her attempts to thaw the ice that had formed around Sarah’s heart. Nor did her mother, Janet, have much luck.

When did Sarah turn into such a bitch?

Sarah should have been ecstatic that Hope would even return to this shithole. Sarah’s son was still single, he needed a queen and his backwoods hovel wanted a queen and Hope had royal blood. What more did Sarah need? Did she need it written down?

When did Sarah turn into such a horrible host?

Hope remembered a distinctively different Sarah. When she had lived in this palace, Steve’s mother had coddled her, practically waited on her hand and foot to be sure that Hope was happy and settling in so far from civilization. Where was that Sarah now?

Somehow, Hope had managed to break away, pleading a need to use the powder room around the time her toes and fingers went numb. As she hadn’t had the time to properly shop for clothes to wear in this frigid shithole. India had been so gloriously warm. She’d loved India. Hope would have loved to stay there but things had gone south.

Eventually, like everything else, it’d blow over.

Until then though, she needed someplace safe to stay. She needed to stay somewhere that the Maharaja couldn’t get her. What she needed was diplomatic immunity. However, that wasn’t going to happen since her father refused to even see her, so she’d just have to settle for sovereign immunity. Granted, Hope hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to see Steven and tell him that she was ready to get married now. For crying out loud, he should have been groveling at her feet for her to come back to him. Especially after that sex tape which had been burning up the internet and royal circles. If there was anything that Hope could do, it was bounce back from a scandal.

This was just ridiculous.

The Queen Mother should have been inviting them to this lunch with her son, instead of practically throwing Hope and Janet out. Which was exactly why Hope was wandering the halls in the search for Steven’s office. Toes tingling in her fashionable pumps. Her fingers burning from the warm air in the administrative offices.

Hope would need a whole new wardrobe once she got Steven onboard with her plan. As his current plan of ignoring the sex tape was absurd. These things needed to be tackled head on. With her as his queen by his side, Hope could handle all of it.

Ah, she found herself pleased at the sight of the royal seal over a doorway marking it as the king’s office.

Valkyrie followed her closely. That bitch.

As soon as Hope was queen, she’d be one of the first on the firing block. Following her around like some manner of commoner who might fill their pockets with royal gold. It was absurd. Hope was born a princess and one day she would become one again.

Hope remembered Valkyrie from when she was a young member of the guard and now, she was a Captain and just as irreprehensible as Carol, who Hope also despised. Both of them had to go. Reaching out with a hand that held a ring belonging to the sister of the Maharaja, Hope opened the door and marched right into the office of Steven’s secretary. Who was apparently gone for lunch.

Not that the room was empty.

Nakia, who had been seated on a couch in the office, stood. Dressed in a dark blue suit that all the royal guard wore. Her face stony at the sight of Hope and then darkened further in disgust. She stood tall. Regally. Holding her head high when she spoke down to the former princess. “The king is busy.”

Not that Hope would settle for anything less than seeing Steven in person immediately. She stepped forward. “The king is having lunch with his mother in fifteen minutes. I know for a fact he’s not doing anything of importance. Get out of my way, or I’ll have you selling souvenirs from a cart outside the palace when I am queen.”

At such a statement, Nakia found herself wanting to both laugh and spit in the face of this western woman. One who had referred to her people and country as little more than a backwoods hellhole full of illiterate stone pounders.

How often Nakia had dreamt of being so close to the Duchess Hope, how she thought of ripping out this woman’s forked tongue.

“Let her in,” came Valkyrie’s voice in their native tongue from the eastern regions of the land.

Sending Nakia’s dark eyes past Hope. A knowing expression claimed her features. “His Majesty is in there waiting for our queen.”

A shrug came from the senior guardswoman.

Nakia would be the first to admit, she had not been hopeful when the crown prince had been coronated as a teenager. No one in the country had been particularly hopeful but now, nearly everyone supported their king. His Majesty was a good king who served them all as much as they served him.

Nakia was protective of her king. She wanted her king to marry his Chief of Staff yesterday. Her land was in need of a queen, a woman’s touch one could say.

Knowing what was at stake with the coming lunch that her king would attend with his mother and lover, a visit from the Duchess Hope would not put him in the best of moods. The Queen Mother always grew quiet when King Steven was in such a mood. Why would Nakia allow such a thing to happen?

“Perhaps if he tells her she isn’t wanted here she’ll leave sooner? Let her in. That is an order.”

Pursing her lips unhappily, Nakia stepped back.

She wasn’t about to open the door to His Majesty’s office for this interloper. However, she would no longer stand in the way. Nakia even made sure to send a look that screamed impending homicidal violence. Spurring Hope quickly through the door without another syllable directed at Nakia.

Which was fine with Hope.

Hope couldn’t get away from Nakia quick enough.

Wanting distance sent Hope into the king’s large office without much thought. Looking as if it belonged in an old Victorian estate with dark wood, so many books, old art and thick dark Turkish Rugs.

What Hope did not expect was how much the prince had grown.

No longer a gangly young man whose mother had to have padding sewn into the robes that he was coronated in. This man sitting at his desk was big in every way. Exuding power in a manner that most could only dream and for a second, seeing Steven look at her with shocking blue eyes and stubble darkening his face, she was rendered speechless.

“What do you want Hope,” came Steven’s voice, more than a little annoyed. Far more emotion than she’d ever seen from the young man. Who was now very obviously a man.

This was not the Steven she remembered.

Before her was not the young man she remembered at all. Every last bit of him was very much a king and Hope suddenly, possibly for the first time in her life, found herself regretting many of the past choices she made. It seemed her mother was right. She’d been far too hasty in her youth. Her mother had told her that the prince would mature like a fine wine. Hope had written that off as nonsense meant to trap her into an arranged marriage like so many women before her.

Now?

Now she was looking at a tall powerful man close a very modern looking laptop and turn his attention on her in such a way that made her gut coil. What would it have been like to be the woman in the video? And where the hell did that thought come from? She had been wrong. So so very wrong.

Finally, gathering herself, Hope peered around the office and fussed at the pearl buttons on her coat. “I saw the video…” A noise came from Steven that she’d never heard before, yet, she went on. “…and since we’re still technically engaged, I thought I would return to help you put out the fires of this scandal.”

Another noise came from the king, a derisive snort.

“Wow. That’s cute. Highly amusing coming from you.” Though there was no hint of heat or passion in his words that had been so evident on that video. In her opinion, he didn’t even sound bored. Worse. Steven then leaned back in his seat, peered around her and asked, “Who let you in here?”

Those words, those uncaring words as if she were little more than the two guards outside his office made her burn, bristle.

Which had Hope clearing her throat, bristling one could say. “Actually, it’s more than cute. If you recall, I come from a distinguished royal house. Our engagement is a legally binding agreement.”

For the reaction she got, she might as well have told him it was showing outside.

As she was prone to when there was silence that needed to be filled, Hope pushed the waves of dark hair over her shoulder. She shifted from one foot to the other and watched Steven lean back in his chair.

Finally, as if sensing that she wasn’t going to leave, Steve offered her a shrug. Finding the mere sight of her numbing. He could have cared less what she did one way or the other. So long as she stayed out of his room. He had valuable things in there that he was fond of. “I’m not marrying you. Do with that as you will, you’ll find no sanctuary here.”

This was most certainly not the Steven that she had left all those years ago. It took Hope a second to collect herself, to steel herself. No one had spoken to her in such a way in quite a while. Her brain screamed at her that damage control needed to be done but she was not sure how. In what way? What did she say?

Hope’s brain screamed at her that the plan was failing, everything was going wrong. This was not supposed to happen this way and now she was failing horrendously. What did she do? How could she fix this?

Pricks of pain came from her fists as her nails dug into her palms. Telling Hope that when she unclenched her fists, she would see blood. “You have to marry me!”

Oh this was bad.

This was really really bad.

Across the expanse of his desk, Steve remained calm. Almost to the point of uncaring and such demeanor was reflected in his words. In the way his broad shoulders shrugged and how he rubbed his rough cheek, as if that were more interesting.

“I do not need or want your assistance for anything, forget that video. There is no reason for me to be ashamed of it.”

“Steven! Listen!”

He could see the desperation on her face, hear it in her voice and after so long, he wished he could say that it was rewarding. He wished that he could say it made him feel better after everything that had happened.

It didn’t.

There was just nothing. Little more than cold numbness. Steve felt absolutely nothing.

Nothing was there anymore.

When he looked at Hope there was nothingness.

It reminded him of his father. He hated when he felt that way, when he thought of his father. There was no one on this earth that Steve loathed more. It was his very purpose for being, to not be his father. To end that cycle. To let it die with him.

Most irritably, he shifted in his seat. His eyes found the picture of you both on his desk from a trip to Scotland.

Hints of his father swirled with every syllable only furthering his inner revulsion with himself, his genes and heritage.

“When you left, I did not officially break our engagement as a common courtesy to your father. No more no less. I am a king. You cannot compel me to do anything.”

Pools of blue found Hope again though. A little bit of serene malice hovered between them.

“If you continue to be an annoyance, I will. I am a king now. I have a country to govern. I do not have time for the childish games and pursuits that occupy the western families.”

“Steven this is serious! I could go to prison! In India!”

May his ancestors help him, his first initial response would have been to remind her of her place, remind her of how he should be addressed.

His Majesty.

Exactly as his father would, he swore he heard his father’s voice in his ear.

“You have to help me out! I’m begging you! I don’t care about that other woman. You can have all the mistresses you want!”

A peek down at his watch told Steve that he had minutes to wrap this up and go collect you. Minutes. He had minutes to regain his sanity before he saw his mother.

Minutes.

“Steven!”

Standing from his chair, he shook his head. Doing his best to silence the sound of his father telling him he was not good enough, was not worthy, was not fit to rule. His voice was soft because Steve would not yell like that man. “No Hope. I’m sorry, but no. You remind me of my father. You make me feel like him. You bring him back to life and I cannot live with his ghost. So no. You will have to deal with the consequences of your actions like the rest of us.”

Her eyes went wild.

Steve could see it and was glad he wasn’t within reach of her. He watched her grab a Fabergé Egg from the end of his desk.

Colorful glass accented in gold with rubies around the middle. It fit in her hand but only just, being the size of an ostrich egg and then it went soaring through the air where it smashed loudly into a wall. Denting the dark wood and shattering. Smashing into dozens and dozens of colorful pieces that fell to the floor.

Having felt the very loss of hope itself, she turned to set her storm on him. “You’ll regret this, Your Majesty.” Before turning and leaving, slamming his office door behind her as hard as possible. Leaving Steve with the sound of his father telling him that he wasn’t worthy.

***

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

It was a question for the ages.

A swipe or two of lipstick always gave you the courage you needed in any occasion. But then again, this was not merely any occasion. This was lunch with your boyfriends mother to officially meet her and get to know her, because you were in a serious committed relationship with her son. Because you loved her son.

Oh, and her son was the king, so there were expectations on that already plus with her being the Queen Mother, that was sorta already an expectation of its own.

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

You wanted to look your best because the Queen Mother always looked immaculate. But you also didn’t want to risk getting lipstick on your teeth. Leading you to peer once more into the bathroom mirror.

No. No lipstick. If you put on lipstick you’d be thinking about your lipstick and you needed to focus on making a good impression.

Otherwise, your makeup looked fabulous. Really. Five stars. Two thumbs up.

This had you stuffing your makeup back into your purse and kinda sorta looking up when the bathroom door opened, shut and was locked. Because really. Why would the door be locking?

In the art deco styled bathroom, Steve’s form was very clear and your eyebrows shot up.

Luckily, you were alone, considering how beyond pissed off he looked. One hundred and ten percent not fit to have lunch with his mother. Not with him in this condition.

You had no idea what happened, but something had happened.

He crossed the red and white marble tiled floor. Walked past the gilded edged stalls and stained-glass doors to where you stood at one of four sinks with bronze fixtures and ornately framed mirrors.

To be honest, it was your favorite bathroom of all time. Your Instagram was full of pictures of this bathroom, selfies in this bathroom, up-close pictures of the stained glass.

“Are you ok?”

Beneath his smoothly shaven face, his jaw twitched. “Fine. Are you ready?”

He was tense enough you wouldn’t have been shocked if his joints started to pop, or his teeth cracked from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Seeing him like this was a no go for Queen Sarah. Everyone knew that she hated to see her son like this and at first you never knew why, not until someone had told you that her husband had the same mannerisms. Steve’s father done the same thing when he had been angry.

While it was common knowledge that Steve was not his father, Steve would never hit his mother.

Some memories could just never be wiped clean.

Having Steve like this was not how you wanted this first lunch with his mother to go. Not one bit. Both of them needed to be on cloud fucking nine. Meaning you were going to have to do something.

“Almost,” was what you told him. A plan already set into motion as you grabbed a few paper towels from the bronze dish that held them between sinks.

One last peek at your hair and you were set. Purse in hand. You stepped on over to press your lips to the flat firm line that was Steve’s mouth. “Could you hold this for me?”

Steve never questioned you or thought twice.

Whether it was from love or trust, or he was too angry over whatever? No one would ever know.

But you seized the moment! Pounced on the opportunity.

You acted as if you were going to check your pumps and instead, set down the paper towels so you could kneel at his feet. Before Steve even had a second to think about it, you had his pants unbuttoned, unzipped and down around his knees. Knowing that the king went commando that morning worked seamlessly into your plan.

His dick hung softly between his muscular creamy thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold my purse with both hands, Your Majesty.”

Though soft, his size was still above average. His penis was solid. Thick. A pink tip peeked out beneath foreskin that was stretched over his member. Soft as velvet, you kissed his slit as you pushed his foreskin up to reveal his shaft.

“Remember the first time I ever saw your dick?”

You sank down on his soft flesh after, sucking him in till nearly all of him fit in your mouth. It rarely happened. Only when he wasn’t erect. When Steve was erect, it wasn’t physically possible unless you unhinged your jaw and didn’t have a gag reflex.

“Oh god…” he gasped out at the warm and wet sensation of your mouth closing around him. Cold air on his ass cheeks. Exposed. Vulnerable. His sac hanging heavy and you down on your knees, taking nearly all of him in your mouth.

Steve clung to your purse like a lifeline.

Thinking back, you hummed out thoughtfully, knowing how fantastic the vibrations felt on him. Knowing that the warm softness that was his dick would soon harden. Until then, you enjoyed how you could take him like this. You relished the smell of him, musky and male. Savored how smooth his skin was on your tongue. Reached up and cupped his testicles that hung down for you.

It’d been at a fundraiser.

A black-tie affair for something or another, who could remember?

The two of you had stolen away towards the end, snuck off when everyone was mingling together and socializing. Slightly tipsy or buzzed from the open bar.

Not the two of you.

No.

Both of you had barely drank. Focused instead on getting away so you could steal some moments together. Moments like these. Moments where your hands were all over one another, your mouths hungry for one another. Frantic for that connection between your bodies that nature demanded and you both were trying so hard to make happen.

Tonight was the night though.

You were determined.

Sucking him deep. Swirling your tongue around him. You could feel Steve starting to thicken up which had you popping off his mouth and surveying the sight of his dick taking on a pinkish hue as blood filled it.

“Are you thinking about it, Your Majesty? About how fucking big your cock is? About how it shocked me? Remember?”

Based alone on the sound that came from Steve, you could deduce that he remembered. Possibly even vividly.

“I remember,” you cooed, licking his pink head and suckling on the end of his dick. Flicking against the hole with your tongue. Massaging his balls. Taking his hardening shaft in your other hand. Needing him to feel only you. Needing him to be here with you. “It was the biggest dick I’d ever seen in my life.”

”You don’t have to.” He had whispered to you in a dark corner of the atrium. Hidden by plants and furniture.

Not that you’d cared.

By that point he had gone down on your countless times and you’d never seen it. Only feeling it through his pants when you’d made-out or groped him, when your bodies rubbed against one another in a frantic urge for completion.

“Jesus Christ Steve! You’re the only man I know who doesn’t want his dick sucked.”

“It’s not that…” he came back with, pausing and finally giving in, allowing you to unzip the black pants of his tux and yank them down. Pull them down and out it popped.

Erect.

Hard. So hard.

Foreskin drawn back to reveal an angry red head smeared with pre-cum.

It was massive, a beast, the hugest dick you’d ever laid eyes on and from on your knees, in a ballgown, made up to feel like a princess. You gasped. You straight up gasped like you were a teenage girl seeing your very first penis. Albeit, the one that was so full of blood it bobbed eye level with you, pointing upwards, was considerably more impressive and probably five inches longer than that first ever dick, easy. As you didn’t exactly have a tape measure on you for comparison.

“Oh my god…” you whispered, well aware that your eyes were wide and mouth was very likely a perfect O. “It’s so big! It’s like the biggest I’ve ever seen! Steve your dick is huge! What do you feed it?”

His voice was a bit concerned. Embarrassed even?

Was he embarrassed about this behemoth in his pants?

“I’m sorry, I know. It can be uncomfortable to give me oral sex. You really don’t have to. I don’t expect.”

But you had cut him off with grabby hands wrapping around his erection, pushing up his foreskin and licking the salty jizz that was starting to ooze out. “Shut up, Your Majesty. Tell me how you want it.” In your ministrations you had lifted up his generous manhood and set eyes upon the heavy balls that hung down between his thighs. “Holy Canada! You have a set of balls to match. You have no idea how much fun I’m going to have fitting those in my mouth.”

When you finally ripped your eyes away from his sexual organ, you shook your head and admonished him severely. “I cannot believe you’d keep this from me!”

Exactly how you knew Steve liked, you sucked on his head and played with the tip of your tongue on his hole. You took him as deep as you could as his erection grew harder and harder in your mouth. Tracing your tongue along the sides and pumping him with your hand until his girth grew so wide, you were unable to touch your fingertips around him.

Up and down you sank on his cock. Till he was rigid beneath your lips and you drug your teeth along at times to heighten the sensation.

Slurping. Squeezing his balls. Hollowing out your cheeks and swallowing any salty release that began to dribble out. You savored the sight of his fingers clenching your purse tightly and his eyes screwed shut.

Between languid trips up and down his length, you pulled off to lick his blunt tip with the flat of your tongue.

“What are you thinking about, My King?”

At first, you didn’t think he would or could answer, which was fine. Your attention was on the round edge of his organ. Licking it. Flicking it with your tongue. Playing with it till you sank back down.

After a few seconds.

After a deep breath from Steve.

After that, he managed to get out.

“Thinking about that night. The night I took your maidenhead.”

Your maidenhead?

Well, that was a trip to past. It sent your eyes up and your mouth back off him so you could speak without a mouth full of dick. “Mmm. Thinking about how you went crazy? How you went all feral and popped my cherry?”

In your hand his penis twitched.

It was too perfect an opportunity to not pounce upon it.

If you couldn’t make him come from saying these filthy disgusting true things to him, did you really deserve to marry this man? “Your Majesty? Does it turn you on to think about my having been a virgin? About how you’re the only man to ever be in my body? Do you remember how tight I was? How hard you had to push to break my hymen?”

Little motions came from Steve. Whether he knew it or not. He was making small thrusts into your mouth that you hummed around, sucked on.

Something hit the floor.

Hands were on your head, fingers were in your hair. A wicked smile curled over your lips and Steve was methodically pumping into your mouth.

He sounded strained. He sounded like he was in pain.

“Felt so good. You’re so good to me. My angel. You were so tight.” He declared, announced, would have shouted to the heavens if he was capable. Each word came out in cadence. Almost in a chant. “Felt so good. Feels so good still. You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.” On top of feeling you sucking him deep. Paired with your fingers holding his testicles tight. Mixed with your fist wrapped around his base. It was a glorious storm coming together to make him shatter.

Steve was going to come. He was going to come like right now.

It sent his thoughts spiraling along with his words.

“Love you. Love your body. Love being in you. So warm and tight and mine. All mine. All of you is mine. Want you. Want to fill you. Want want want.”

Gasping out. His breath gone. All air left his lungs when Steve climaxed into your mouth. A pitched noise did come that was followed with his fingers pulling your face against him, his pelvis pushing into you. A moan that made him weak in the knees followed that told him you were pleased with him. You were happy.

If he died in the next moment, he would have been a happy man.

All Steve could feel was pleasure. It consumed him body. It whited out his mind. It made his balls empty into the warmth of your mouth, till he was certain that nothing remained.

Even then you weren’t done.

Helpless. Awestruck.

Hopelessly devoted, Steve watched you drag your tongue around him to clean him up. Catching the last few spurts of ejaculate on your tongue before you showed him, then swallowed his seed.

Rendering him panting and sweaty.

He dropped down onto his knees and he kissed you. Mindless. Unable to think about anything else other than your mouth and being lucky enough to have convinced you to be his woman. Steve kissed you deeply, uncaring about the fact he could taste himself, unconcerned when his tongue curled around yours that he might have gotten some of his own ejaculate. His Majesty didn’t care.

Nor was he overly concerned about his knees being on the cold marble tile when he groaned against your mouth. “Love you. Love you so much. Love you to the moon and back.”

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