#|| nghh I try to resist and just reply things on my breaks

[luckyberet]

Me: cannot wait to set up that blog so Guarranq can show you noobs how real wolf howls.

[seimeinotaka]

Queen’s Pleasure (Vil x MC fic)

The Pomefiore Queen doesn't show any weakness and always carries himself with restraint. However things might change with a little something Ann has in mind, with Vil being on the receiving end.

Explicit content under the cut!

Thanks to jellyfishy for beta-reading this!

Vil arches an eyebrow, almost amused as his adorable girlfriend shows him what she had managed to buy and somehow bring here in secret. He had shown some interest in her proposal, but he hadn't expected her to go to such lengths to bring a double-sided strap-on.

"Ara ara, you really want to ravish me," he says with a haughty smile and defiant eyes. Ann always wants him to release himself, and this is another of her ideas to help him relax.

"I imagined you'd look fantastic on the bed, and maybe I want to hear you screaming my name."

Vil presses a finger against her chin, not before touching briefly her lips with his.

"I'll indulge you, fufu, but you’d better work hard if you want to wreck me," he says with a smirk, as she is unbuttoning his vest. He is the Queen in charge, after all. He will not go down without a fight.

Though he can't deny that her eager lips against his neck and her hands removing his layers of clothes have their own charm, him being on the receiving end is a nice change of pace.

He sits on the edge of his bed as Ann straddles him, eager green eyes meeting his amethyst ones, before their lips link and their bodies are close to each other. He skillfully opens her blouse with a free hand; if she will do him, he wants the sight of her beautiful body to taunt him, as her hand traces his chest. Her soft fingers are careful to not leave any marks, though this doesn't stop her from pinching his nipple.

"!" He breaks the kiss, though Ann laughs softly ignoring his frown.

"Your Majesty, I will not leave any marks, it was just a little greeting," she whispers against his ear as her hand tugs his reddening nipples gently, halting his breath for a moment. He feels something on his groin but refuses to break his perfect face. Earn my screams, he thinks to himself, just as she casually decides to suck on his other nipple. Gently, lovingly, absolutely sweet as his other nipple is being rolled between her fingertips.

He huffs, trying to reassess himself, though he can't stop that sound too similar to a soft moan escaping his lips.

"Vil," Ann says, pressing her body against him, "don't you want me to take care of you?" She gives him a cute pout that won't have any effect on him. "Or... could it be... that you're playing hard to get so I tease you relentlessly, like a masochist Queen?"

The devil must be hiding behind that smile because he feels shivers down his spine and he swallows hard.

She doesn't wait for his answer, humming happily as she stands up for a moment and discards her clothes. She doesn't let Vil set the pace and this both frustrates and excites him, much to his chagrin, or so he thinks anyway. She straddles him more closely as her hands roam his body and she buries her face into his chest.

You'd expect that if she's fully naked and on top of him, he is the one dictating the scene. Truth is, his dick is getting harder and his pants are starting to bother him. She's not showing the dominance of a sinful queen, but she's far from a coy maiden either, her adoration is pure but so is her horrible teasing of his body.

And that is much worse, he quickly realizes because he can't brace himself properly against the devilish charm of the temptress nor resist the sweetness of the angel.

His breath is already shaky, even if he tries to keep his cool when she eagerly unbuttons his pants and longingly caresses his cock, and his body reacts to her beautiful touch.

"Haa haa.." he breathes to calm himself, "are you this eager for me?" His words are laced with his enchanting venom, that would make anyone surrender to him, throwing their body his way.

"Yes," she replies without hesitation, "I want all of you, especially your moans in the form of my name."

His body twitches and he groans between his teeth, cheeks blushing madly, as he wonders when did she get so good at turning the tables on him.

Can she repeat those words...Wait no.

She makes him discard his pants and his underwear and he can feel the warmth of her thighs so close to him.

"I can't neglect my Queen, I swore to be your knight," she says as she pulls him for a kiss and her hand strokes his dick. Vil wants to protest for the sake of protesting, but his body seems to enjoy her touch and he finds himself at points eagerly letting her ruin him.

But the pride of a Queen is strong and he demands to ascertain himself. "I thought you were going to wreck me Ann," he says defiantly.

"I will, my dear Vil," she replies sweetly.

Before he can protest, she pushes him against the bed and has him lay on his back. Without thinking, he opens his legs because his body works faster than his mind and is more honest than his mouth.

Ann moves to the end of the bed, and places a tender kiss on his tip, a bolt of electricity cruising his body. Little does he know is that when she shoves his cock in her mouth, she's readying a finger, coated in lube. When she's sucking him hard and his thoughts are only about how good her mouth feels, she gently prepares his ass.

Even if he might have been interested in men as well, his ass is as pristine as him before he met her, so she slowly lets him adjust to her finger inside him. Vil is almost a natural, not needing much time to be ready for a second finger, maybe because he wants her to ram him already and his body is succumbing to her touch.

"Nghh, if you take this much time, I might grow bored..." he says between huffs, but his erection is now very prominent and his threat is him just wanting more attention.

It's obvious when he grumbles as her fingers leave his hole when she prepares the strap-on, coated in lube.

He imagined she'd be shy wearing it, but no, somehow she looks more confident and the flash of lust in her eyes makes him too eager already.

She softly coos him as she goes inside him, the strap-on different than her fingers, slowly so he gets used to it just as he had taken her gently the first time.

He breathes heavily, his body being filled is more different and exciting than he had thought, and he frowns when she slides out.

"Does it hurt?" she asks often, and he laughs because she takes good care of him.

It's then that he believes he can still assert himself, posing scandalously, legs parted open, inviting her, provoking like the model he is. The Queen doesn't beg and doesn't yield, even if the fullness of the strap-on is making it hard to stay still. Even as Ann begins to get the hang of it, and goes in with more vigor and confidence, Vil poses rebellious and arousing, like the haughty Queen he is.

But once Ann has thrusted inside him more than a couple of times and the strap-on against his prostate makes him see stars, Vil stops trying to run the show and instead finds himself becoming the show.

The haughty and composed Pomefiore Queen, who tried to be in control as his ass was rammed is now groaning without restraint, hissing when Ann hits that sweet spot, and huffing when she slows down to tease him. And when she answers to his complaints with a hard deep thrust, his toes curl as he lets out the most indecent sounds he would have never imagined.

Fuck, he is loving this.

He wants his sweet Ann to degrade him, to make him beg and cry, and he has quickly learned that maybe she has a cute and sinister sadistic inside, as she says with a bright smile, "I want to see you crying like that again. You sounded so cute just now."

"You're snidely, absolutely evil."

"Maybe I finally understand why you love pinning me down."

He is not supposed to be this hard, but he wants that. His erection is twitching and he lets out a moan when she begins pumping him, his cute Ann not wanting to neglect any inch of him. He bucks his hips, wanting more of her hand against his cock, but she presses him down, and the strap-on hitting his sweet spot again makes him forget his original intention.

"Hehe, good boys are patient," she says between heavy breaths. "Aren't you always telling me that good things come to those who wait, Vil?"

She dares to smile so sweetly at him when she's horribly teasing him. He wonders if he overdid it in the past with her and she's doing this to get even, and if she can repeat those words as well, his dick reacting to her sweet poison.

Her fingers squeeze him as she slams her hips against him. Vil's legs are sprawled so indecently and react to every movement of hers, no longer done on purpose. And this makes him even more delicious, because he is giving away his control and there's a primal beauty in his primitive pleasure.

"I want to see the faces you make that not everyone can see...I want to be the only one..."

"As if I'd let anyone else do me like this," he groans and receives harder pounds as his reward. His body arching, the dignity of the Beautiful Queen all thrown away in exchange for pure pleasure.

Ann looks both relieved and even more aroused, her cheeks so red, but she has a determined look, one that makes shivers go down his spine. No one will have Vil Schoenheit as she does, and no one will fuck him better than her. And boy, she's raising the bar, her faster-paced ramming inside him driving him to the edge.

He finds his release shortly after, his cum falling to his stomach as he lets out the loudest, hoarsest cry he has, as his entire body shudders from the intense wave of pleasure. Breathless he lies on his bed, dazed and exhausted as he hears Ann moan, having just finished herself, his orgasm the one thing she needed to come, because there's nothing more beautiful in the world that Vil coming indecently, her name moaned from his lips.

He stays still for a moment, his head spinning and his body trying to cool down, as he hears faintly the sound of water and Ann washing the toy carefully. He wouldn't ask for anything else, that toy must be perfectly taken care of because Vil has discovered the gift in receiving and they'll spend many nights like this in the future.

Just as he's recovered slightly and has moved to the center of his bed, he feels her lying next to him, her body pressed against his, lips gently on his neck.

"Did it hurt?"

"Not really, my cute girlfriend took good care of me."

"You won't be walking easily tomorrow," she says, lifting her gaze as her hand caresses his cheek.

"Fufufu, you forget who you're talking to. I'll have you prepare a potion for me to drink. I want to drink it from your lips."

"You're sounding demanding already Vil, even if you were begging me to do you harder."

He hums as he leans down to kiss her lips. She returns the chaste kiss.

"I am a demanding Queen. Though I'll admit I greatly enjoyed this." He throws his arms around her, clinging to Ann as she runs her fingers through his hair.

"I won't say no if you want to do this more often," Ann whispers as Vil snuggles against her.

"Of course you won't, my beautiful personal knight has to please her Queen. Though, I want to reward you later, perhaps when you least expect it."

Ann chuckles as her fingers gently rub his scalp.

Soon Vil finds himself falling in a deep slumber in the arms of the woman he loves.

-

Before Vil and Ann start dating, Ann had jokingly (not really) sworn to protect her Queen. While Vil thought she was joking, it became a recurring topic between them, so sometimes she will affectionately or sarcastically call him "Your Majesty" and he might refer to her at times as his knight. Ann started learning the sword from Silver and she DID swear on the sword so~ Also Vil and Ann are switches, so they have the best of both worlds lol

Thank you for reading!

[blesspastacraig]

You Better Treat Me Like Church (SP Drabble Bomb Day 3 - Ex)

How fucking dare he, Tweek of all people, tell him how to parent?

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765684/chapters/34179495

There’s references to past mpreg in this, so if that’s not your cup of tea all g. 

Chapter Track - Church - Alison Wonderland

Someone’s pounding on the door. Not just knocking but like, really beating the shit out of it. Craig groans and rolls over. The clock on his bedside table reads 12:30 AM. He was actually asleep; it’s been the first consecutive couple of hours of sleep he’s gotten in a good while. The person keeps pounding on the door, and it’s followed by the sharp shriek of a baby. Craig moans again.

Why would the universe do this to him? He finally got her to sleep.

The person banging on his door isn’t giving up, so Craig rolls out of bed, hoping he can at least get the noise to stop. He feels terrible about leaving his daughter screaming in her bassinet, but this area is dodgy. There’s no way he will open his door to some weirdo in the middle of the night with a baby in his arms. Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time he’s gotten up in the dead of night to tell some crackhead to stop yelling, or to call the cops because of a domestic dispute.

The first thing he sees through that scratched-up peephole is wild blond hair.

Tweek.

Fuck.

He can’t even pretend he isn’t home, because Tweek knows he never goes out—not anymore, anyway. Where would he be at 12:30 AM with a baby? Certainly not with Tweek in the backseat of his parents’ car. Never again. Those days are long dead.

Craig still opens the door, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He’s sort of relieved that it’s Tweek, though, and that he won’t have to call the cops again. All the same, he blocks the doorway so Tweek can’t rush in.

“It’s asshole o’clock at night,” he gripes, the tiredness making his voice sound thick instead of the tough he was going for. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Craig,” Tweek says dumbly. “Craig, you’ve gotta -ah- let me in. I can’t stay with my parents anymore man, it’s messing with my head.”

Craig wishes he had a working brain cell, but between the tiredness and his daughter screaming from their bedroom, he’s got nothing.

“I don’t want to,” is his answer. “You left us.”

“Craig,” Tweek repeats his name like it’ll make Craig change his mind. He cranes his neck to look behind Craig and into the messy apartment. It’s a shithole, Craig knows that, but it’s all he can afford. He hasn’t got the energy to keep it neat and tidy the way he did his childhood bedroom. Maybe he’d care more if he wasn’t covered in baby puke and dribble the majority of the time.

Technically, Tweek is still on the lease, too.

“Craig, she’s crying,” Tweek points out.

Craig wants to slam the door in his face right then and there, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stays, like an idiot.

How fucking dare he, Tweek of all people, tell him how to parent?

“Yeah, thanks to you, asshole. I got her to sleep and I was actually sleeping for once in my fucking life.”

“Sorry,” Tweek says meekly. “I couldn’t stay there any longer, man. They -hnn- they make me crazier than I already am.”

“Fuck,” Craig sighs, and then he finally relents, standing aside for Tweek to come in.

Tweek looks cold, and skinny, but apart from that he looks healthier than he did before he left. That’s a surprise, but not a bad one. His eyes look kind of far away, though, and Craig’s not about to place any bets for his sobriety.

He’s still skinnier than Craig, which Craig absolutely despises.

Pre-pregnancy, Craig had been much skinnier than Tweek. Now, not so much. Like he really had the fucking time to diet when he could barely afford to feed his kid. It’s all well and good for Tweek, to come and go as he pleases while Craig is alone, stretchmark-riddled, and fat.

“I have to go get her,” he says, and heads towards the tiny bedroom that he (and Tweek, once) shares with his daughter. He couldn’t afford a two-bedroom flat and he can’t really afford this one-bedroom either. Not without Tweek’s income as well, and the idea of asking his parents for money makes Craig feel nauseous.

She’s still screaming, and Craig thinks it’s because he’s left her alone after being woken so suddenly. She’s so clingy that he wants to scream sometimes. He loves her, but he hasn’t gotten to do a single thing for himself since she was born. Even when Tweek was still there, he was essentially useless - either too high or too depressed to get out of bed.

He reaches into the bassinet (secondhand from a thrift store) to lift her up, and brings her to his chest, where she feels safest. Craig shushes her and rocks back and forth a little, but she’s still whining. He figures since they’re all up, he’ll just feed her now instead of within the next half hour or so. (If she wanted to sleep, Craig would have totally let her.)

He brings her back out into the living room/kitchen - it’s all sort of just one room crammed into a tiny space. Tweek is sitting on the old, disgusting couch they found on the side of the road when they first moved in. He watches Craig try to comfort their crying kid like he’s magic or something.

Craig goes to place her on the play mat he has in the middle of the living room floor, but he has to be careful: she can roll now. But what else can he do? There’s only one of him, and he only has so many hands.

“I can hold her, man,” Tweek says quietly. Now he wants to be quiet. Wonderful.

Craig frowns at him, unsure.

“I can hold her,” Tweek insists, more determined this time. “I’ve held her before, Craig.”

“Not for months,” Craig says. He’s not sure if he trusts Tweek anymore, but a break would be so freaking nice.

“I took care of her at the hospital, when you were all -nnn- zonked out after your c-section.”

“You had help,” Craig says bitterly, but he hands her to Tweek anyway.

Tweek seems to have retained whatever basic baby-holding knowledge he had before taking off. “She’s so big,” he remarks wistfully. Of course she fucking is, she’s a baby, babies grow you goddamn moron.

Craig heads for the fridge to fix up a bottle. He can hear Tweek talking to her in the background, like he knows anything about her at all. All he really knows is her name: Bijou. Craig kind of hates it now, but that’s mainly because Tweek chose it. Tweek had been so passionate about it: “she’s our precious gemstone Craig!” And Craig had kind of just gotten caught up in his excitement. They were definitely too young, but they loved each other, or so he thought. Tweek had been so excited, and he appealed to Craig’s sentimental side - the one he really only has for Tweek. Tweek went on about how the baby was half him and half Craig, how could they kill something they created together and Craig totally bought it. It’s not that he would take her back now—he wouldn’t—she’s here and she’s his. But he’s so tired, and upset that Tweek made all these promises only to break them.

He heads back over to the couch and tries to take his baby back from Tweek. Tweek resists. “I can feed my own kid, man,” he says, and Craig hands him the bottle out of sheer exhaustion.

Craig flops down beside them on the couch and puts his head in his hands.

“You can stay on the couch,” he states. “I’m not having you screw me anymore.”

“That’s fair,” Tweek replies, still intently watching Bijou drink. “I went to the hospital you know, like -ah- like you wanted me to.”

“You did?” Craig’s surprised; that was the main reason he kicked Tweek out in the first place: because his episodes were getting worse and he just wouldn’t go. He just self-medicated and made everything so much worse. After that, Tweek had just fallen off the face of the earth. Craig thought he’d at least want to see Bijou, but there was nothing.

“They held me against my will at first, but I went and I stayed. They put me on this heavy shit man, that’s why I’m -nghh- talking kinda weird, but it works,” says Tweek. Craig has noticed him talking slower, but it’s actually more of a normal speed, as opposed to Tweek’s regular mile-a-minute rambling. “I’m sober though,” he adds. “Except for this antipsychotic stuff.”

Craig isn’t sure if he believes it, but he supposes he’ll find out if he lets Tweek stay here indefinitely. “You can’t just come back like this and think I’ll be okay with it,” he says. He’s more flabbergasted than annoyed at this stage. If he wasn’t so tired, he might have yelled, but he just hasn’t got the same bravado that he used to have before he had Bijou.

“I know, I just couldn’t stop thinking about -nnn- you and her in the hospital. I knew you’d be angry at me so I went -ah- back to my parents’ thinking maybe I’d call you and you’d let me see her but like, they’re awful, Craig. I just can’t.”

“I know,” Craig says sadly. “That’s why I said you can stay. I hate them more than I hate you.”

Craig burned a lot of bridges when he had Bijou, including with his own parents. They’d been so angry with him, which only doubled when he dropped out of school. After a particularly nasty argument he packed up his shit and headed to Tweek’s - he ended up staying there until they found this apartment. Tweek’s mom helped them get it, but other than that, they hadn’t helped financially. Especially not after Tweek left; they’ve seen Bijou maybe once since she was born.

Tricia would sometimes come to visit, and tell Craig that his parents weren’t that mad anymore and he should just come home. Or at least ask for help, but his pride won’t let him. He doesn’t want to admit he made the bad choices that he did. Accepting their help now feels oddly like failure.

“I can help, if you want,” Tweek offers. “I don’t have a job but I could -ah- look after her, like how we originally planned.”

“I’m not making any decisions about you tonight,” sighs Craig. “Show me, don’t tell me.” Tweek nods, and he looks down at Bijou.

“She’s nearly done, man she’s hungry!” He laughs fondly. Craig just wants to go to bed, but he doesn’t trust Tweek to be any good at putting her down. He yawns and tries to keep himself awake.

“Do you wanna burp her?” he asks. Do you remember how?

“Okay,” Tweek answers. “Do you have a towel, or…?”

“Mhmm,” Craig says, before dragging himself to the laundry to grab the first clean towel he can see. He throws it at Tweek, who catches it somehow. How is he not tired? Craig is tired to his bones. He’s crying-silent-tears-at-3am-while-Bijou-is-being-fed tired. Or sobbing into his pillow as she screams because she got her first cold, and Tweek isn’t there. When he hasn’t had a break or slept in days, when she cries every time he tries to put her down.

If Tweek stays, maybe, just maybe, he’ll get some respite.

Tweek is doing okay with burping her, but he keeps looking over at Craig for validation, like he’s not sure he’s doing it right. Craig doesn’t want to put him out of his misery just yet. “Do you think you’ll be able to get her back to -hnn- sleep?” Tweek asks.

“Yeah,” Craig replies. “She passes out after being fed. She might not stay asleep though.”

He reaches for her. “She’s clingy,” he adds. “She’ll fall asleep on me.” Ultimately, she doesn’t know Tweek. Craig is the only consistent person in her life, even if she’s too young to truly know it.

“I’m taking her up to bed,” Craig says as he settles the sleepy baby in his arms. “The couch is yours, but you know I don’t have any spare pillows or blankets that aren’t hers.”

“I know,” says Tweek. “Thank you Craig.”

“Help me with the baby, and you’re okay.”

He doesn’t know if Tweek will actually keep his word, or if he’ll even keep taking his medication and stay sober. Craig does know that he loves him in a stupid, self-destructive way and that even if he does break his promises all over again, Craig will probably still open that door.