Tumgik
#stud would drink them to please you but also likes them
navybrat817 · 1 year
Text
Yep. 😂
Tumblr media
22 notes · View notes
dilfelvis · 2 months
Text
don't count on it
Tumblr media
summary: buck can't sleep. bucky helps him out.
word count: 2675
warnings: period typical homophobia and homophobic attitudes, handjobs, brief objectification of women, brief talks of war, guys being dudes
notes: i began writing this before i watched mota yesterday so forgive me if anything seems out of character. this came to me in a dream at three am and i've been thinking about it since. this is also inspired by @precious-little-scoundrel so thank you for your lovely blog marina. i hope everyone enjoys!
Tumblr media
his entire body radiated with a dull ache deep in his joints. as soon as his back hit the bed, his eyes drooped as if he’d fall asleep right then and there. and yet, he laid there, staring at the dull gray ceiling.
he always did this. he yearned to sleep, but as soon as the time to lay down came, he couldn't fall into a sound slumber. too many thoughts racing in his head, too much aching in his body– too much noise all around him. the hum of the rickety air conditioning, the faint mutters and laughs of his bunkmates as they brushed their teeth and got dressed for bed, his own breathing reverberating in his ears. it all was so mundane, but too overwhelming.
he shut his eyes, hoping sleep would just come to him. he tried to ignore it all– the sounds, the thoughts…but nothing. he was still awake.
the bed dipped next to him, and he didn’t even have to open his eyes to see who it was.
“finally outta the shower?” buck asked, hands tucked behind his head as he waited for a response. “you take forever in there. you're like a woman.”
“yeah yeah,” bucky dismissed, shoving buck playfully as he set his belongings down. “and you didn’t shower long at all. dunno how ya got anything clean in that time.”
“i’m very clean.” gale huffed, cracking one eye open. “i just don’t like showering with other people. i like my alone time.”
“uh huh. you just wanna be able to rub one out in there.”
gale sat up and shoved him, laughing in surprise at his friend's brazen words. it was always like this. bucky, being brazen and outgoing, all while buck watched from the sidelines. he liked it that way. he always felt a weird joy when bucky would tell random stories of reckless things he did in the past, or when he insisted on singing after a few drinks at the bar. he’d always say that he was a prude when he resisted his drunken tugging of his arm, trying to urge him on stage with him. buck never took it personally though– mainly because bucky was right. compared to most of the men he’d been around he was prude. he didn’t gamble, drink– hell, he didn't even have one night stands. many of the guys got drunk and went home with the first broad they saw, but buck didn’t feel anything towards the women who would brazenly grip at his arms and called him a stud. sure, he’s made out with a few of them– and almost made a mess of his uniform– but he never took them back to base. he didn't want to lose his purity like that. sure, he’d done plenty of heavy petting and dry humping, but he’s never went all the way with a girl before. it just didn't happen.
he got teased about it, sure, but he stuck by his guns. he didn't see the big deal in rushing to stick your cock into some random woman and then brag about it the next day. it all seemed very shallow to him. he was always told that sex is special– between two people with a strong, loving bond. and he held that close to his heart. he actually was planning to save himself for marriage– but when you're a hormonal teen…its a little hard to fight those primal feelings.
“oh please, i haven't done that since i got here.” buck said earnestly, laying back down and stretching out. “honestly, i haven't done that in almost a year.”
bucky laughed. “no way. i always joked about you bein’ a prude, y’know, but this is a little far.” he cracked. “where ya too busy? or are you actually that green?”
“i’m not green,” buck grumbled, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “i jus’-- goddamn, i dunno. i wanna save myself, y’know. i try not to do it too often.”
“good god man, you didn't even go for it before you were here? you’re crazy.” egan snorted. “now you’re stuck ‘round all these guys.”
buck just shrugged, laying back down and sighing heavily. “oh well. what can ya do?”
it was quiet, for a moment. buck could feel that bucky was was there, but he was silent– like he was contemplating. buck opened one eye and gazed at him, confused at the way his lips were twitching.
“you…you really aren’t gonna…indulge in any ladies out here?” bucky said, softly, like he was ashamed of asking. “you’re gonna lose it, man. it’s only been a week and i already feel all pent up.”
buck felt his face heat up slightly at the implication that his friend was horny. he bit his lip, dragging his eyes away from his black-haired friend as he let those words soak in. “really?”
“yeah. i– it’s been a while for me too, actually. i didn't really think about how it’d only be us guys out here. shoulda got something before i came out here.”
despite buck’s stance on remaining celibate until his marriage, he strangely understood the other man. even though he hardly engaged in such things, he felt the tension in every room he walked in. everyone seemed taut, like a bowstring– waiting to snap. whenever they’d spar, workout, or shower, the air would be thick enough to cut with a knife. it was an unspoken thing– but everyone felt it. no one wanted to talk about it, because…well, what would that make them? they don't allow fairies in the force, that’s for sure. something so scandalous couldn't even be thought about, unless you wanted a good beat down by every other troop in sight.
“i dunno. i think the last time i did it left me satisfied for a while,” he lied, not wanting to admit that he had the same fire simmering, albeit dimly, in his belly. he never felt like this, so what the hell was his deal?
“bullshit,” bucky swore. “no way your fist leaves you satisfied for years to come. you need a woman, buck. one that’ll rock your world.”
“you know i’m savin’ myself.” buck hummed. “besides, hookin’ up with some random woman doesn't sound appealing.”
“you’re wrong, man.” bucky sighed, laying down next to buck and resting his head on his hands. “it’s magical. raw. primal. makes you feel like a real man.” he grunted, inhaling deeply. “hooked up with this one chick– god, she was gorgeous. eager to go down on me– and she gripped ‘round me so damn tight i thought she cut off my circulation. kept bouncin’ on me and talking about how big i was. goddamn.”
buck’s cheeks flushed at the words leaving his friends mouth. the way he spoke about the woman like she was a pastime or a hobby and not a person was surprising. he could see it, though, clear in his minds eye– a young lady, moaning and panting, bouncing eagerly on bucky’s thick cock, bucky panting and calling her a good girl–
he paused. why was he thinking about bucky so much? and why did it make his face flush even more?
“issat right,” buck mumbled, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach from his lewd imagination.
“uh huh. god– i dream about her all the damn time. what i’d give to be buried in her now.”
silence again. only this time, it felt more tense than the last. the vision that buck had– bucky’s cock, his breathless voice, his flushed face. it made him all hot, like no other girl had before. it scared him.
“you ever been with a girl? obviously not all the way– but at all?”
“of course i have.” buck said defensively. “i– i just…it was high school, maybe. real nice girl, real pretty. she came over to study, and we ended up making out. i was still kinda new to the whole….sex thing, so i told her no when she tried to go all the way. we did end up uh…. rubbin’ on each other though. felt nice.”
“and this was high school?” bucky asked. “and you haven’t been with a girl since?”
buck shook his head. bucky stared at him for a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes as he gazed at the blonde. “damn. no wonder you're so damn tense all the time.”
“i’m not tense.”
“you are. you’re always quiet– thinkin’. you never let loose. i bet if you got a handy you’d be as rowdy as the rest of us.”
“quit bein’ dirty.” buck tsked, smacking bucky’s chest lightly. “i don’t need a handy. i need some goddamn sleep.”
“i’m tellin’ ya man. you need to get laid.”
“i’ll smack ya if you say somethin’ pervy again.” buck promised, making bucky snicker softly.
it was quiet again. buck closed his eyes, but he felt as restless as earlier. moreso, even. he kept thinking about bucky’s last hookup, the way he described her, how tight she was. was she really tight? or was bucky just that big, like the girl said?
and there his mind went again. thinking about bucky. that wasn't normal. he needed to stop thinking about bucky and think about girls. like the girl he frotted with in his childhood bed- whatever her name was. the way she grabbed onto him, panted into his neck, shivering and shaking something awful as she came undone all over his slacks. he remembered being shocked at the gush, his cock still unbelievably hard down his thigh after two orgasms. he remembered how bad it hurt, being hard for so long. he wondered if being in a girl was better. he wondered if bucky’s cock stayed hard after he came inside that girl. no– stop. don’t think about the man right next to you. why did he keep–
“you’re breathin’ funny.” bucky observed.
“no i’m not.” buck argued, flustered at how his friend picked up on his heavier breathing. he prayed that he didn't look down and see his dick tenting in his sweats.
he must've. no. he did. his eyes trailed down the lean length of buck’s torso, landing on the large bulge under the fabric of his sweats.
“see what i mean?” bucky breathed, his voice lower in tone than normal. “you're so tense, buck,” he muttered, his hand moving from behind his head. “always so damn tense.”
buck swallowed hard as he felt bucky’s hand rest on his thigh, slowly inching upwards towards his aching cock. his breath stuttered, his face red-hot– but he didn't make a move to stop him. not at all.
bucky’s hand slid into his loose sweats, past the blonde curls, and gently grasped at his cock. buck inhaled sharply, his hand moving to grab bucky’s wrist in a moment of panic. bucky halted, looking up at buck tentatively.
oh, god.
“don't think,” bucky muttered, giving buck a soft squeeze. “jus’ lemme help, yeah? lemme get rid of that tension.”
buck let go slowly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. bucky’s hand gave him a curious squeeze, making buck grunt and rock his hips up into his grasp. slowly, hesitantly, bucky started to move his hand up and down his throbbing shaft.
“oh, god,” buck swore, his face flushed dark red as he felt his stomach clenching with each milking tug of bucky’s hand. he felt himself, dripping with precum all over his friends hand like a girl. he hardly began touching him, and he was already….
“close,” buck warned, his voice breathy and embarrassed as he started to pant softly. “oh, jesus–”
“no,” bucky grunted, pulling his hand away abruptly, much to buck’s dismay. before the blonde could even complain, bucky was straddling him and staring holes into his pretty blue eyes. “wanna see you.”
buck swore his face was radiating light at this point, and bucky’s gaze wasn't helping one bit. it was so hot and intensely desirous that buck thought he was going to get eaten alive.
bucky grasped the blonde’s cock again, giving it small, rhythmic squeezes as he stared into buck’s eyes, taking in how they were welling up with tears– and how his flushed face was beading with sweat. it was so different, so absolutely wildy hot that buck, ever stoic, was falling apart below him.
buck had never had someone look at him so hotly before– not even that girl back then. it was making him nervous, but also hot and needy. the thought that his friend wanted him carnally set a fire in his stomach and his heart.
he began pumping him slowly, twisting his wrist and squeezing, all with an expertise that shocked him a little. he could still hear the buzzing of the ac and the quiet conversations of the other troops as his mouth fell open, head falling into the plush pillows behind him.
bucky’s breathing was growing heavier. he could feel the other man’s heat as he used his thumb to swipe at his leaking slit, his breath catching as buck gasped beneath him. the blonde swore he felt a certain hardness poking at his thigh, but he didn't care at all right now. he needed to cum. he needed bucky to make him cum.
“say my name.” bucky demanded, his face flushed as he began jerking buck’s cock faster. “need to hear ya say my name when you cum.”
“bucky–”
“nah. louder.” he demanded, his own breath speeding up and becoming ragged as he stroked buck faster. “scream it. yell it. make sure all our boys know.”
“fuck–” buck whimpered, his cool, stoic demeanor completely gone as he bucked his hips up into his friends fist, moaning like a cheap whore. “b-bucky!”
“that’s it. fuck– no one can make you feel like this–” he panted, speeding up his ministrations. “can they, buck? i’m the only one. don’t– ngh- ever let me catch ya with anyone else. i’ll kill ‘em.”
“bucky,” buck whimpered, his stomach clenching one final time as his orgasm washed over him, a fire like he hadn't experienced in forever. his cock shot thickly over the front of bucky’s shirt, making the other man groan and bite his lip as his friend came apart. the way bucky was straddling him, stroking him through his orgasm, the faint sounds of his friends voices through the thin wall– oh, fuck.
he dissolved into pathetic little tremors and whines as he came down, his cock bubbling weakly at the tip. bucky was panting hard, his face red and eyes hungry as he gazed at the blonde. suddenly, buck was sure that there was a hardness prodding at him.
silence.
“you–” buck panted, reaching out to grasp bucky’s erection, only to be stopped. “wha–”
“don’t worry about me.” he mumbled. “fuck, everyone’s gonna be here soon. jus’--” he stuttered, clambering off of buck awkwardly, tucking him back into his sweats. “get some sleep, buck.”
buck was too tired to try and chase after him as he scrambled away. his body felt heavy as he closed his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep.
when he awoke, he went straight to the breakfast hall. he felt like last night was some fever dream he had cooked up in his fucked up mind.
he sat at a table near the window, graciously taking the coffee he was given. only a few minutes later, the chair in front of him had been filled by his friend.
it was dead silent. then, bucky finally spoke, his voice calm and steadier than buck expected.
“sleep good last night?”
buck’s face flushed slightly, but he nodded, his eyes not leaving his plate.
“good.” bucky hummed, leaning back in his chair. “got a mission. you right and ready to fly?”
“you know it.”
“that’s my boy.” bucky smiled, and buck hated that he got butterflies in his stomach from it. “i’ll see ya in the air. don’t fall asleep in the seat, y’hear me?”
buck smiled, taking a sip from his bittersweet coffee. “don’t count on it.”
Tumblr media
taglist: @mooodyblue @lauvmyself @kaiistheguy @slowsweetlove @lillypink
209 notes · View notes
mrsjellymunson · 5 months
Text
Happy Halloween, Love ❤️
Tumblr media
Pairing: Joseph Quinn x fem!reader
Summary: Joe raids the costume department at work and conspires to make this Halloween your most memorable yet.
WC: ~4.4k
CW: 🔞MDNI!🔞, NSFW, RPF, PWP, smut, porn with a little bit of plot, established relationship, role play, dressing up, slightly dom!JQ, choking (referenced), oral (everyone’s a winner), fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex (always wrap it irl), tiny bit of mutual masturbation, squirting, maybe a touch of overstimulation, Eddie and demons are referenced, pet names (numerous, including references to reader as a pet, minion and servant), no y/n or descriptions of reader’s appearance, demon fucking (sort of). Please lemme know if I’ve missed anything, and don’t read this if you’re uncomfortable with real-person fics or any of this content.
A/N: Inspired by the anonymous comment, “It’s as close as we can get to having Joseph Quinn dress up in the Eddie wig and have demon horns”, a scenario which got stuck in my head and wouldn’t leave. This might well be the only RPF I’ll write (they still weird me out a little). I hope this doesn’t put anyone off checking out my Eddie and Steddie stuff 😬 I wrote this fairly quick and it’s not beta-d. It’s also my first time sharing smut, so (constructive) feedback is most welcome!
Tumblr media
You knock on the bedroom door gently, having slipped into your new outfit in the bathroom. Halloween season was always fun with your boyfriend Joe, both of you loving to dress up and create spooky scenarios that would inevitably lead to sexy shenanigans. You’d thought you were the only one dressing up tonight, but you were wrong.
Unbeknownst to you, Joe had raided the prop store at the studio he was currently working at, claiming he needed something for a Halloween party, and he had plans...
“Come in, darling.”
You open the bedroom door, sleeping in slowly, wanting to tease Joe with a slow reveal of the short, ivory satin robe you had on, something innocent-looking belying what was underneath.
A deep, velvet-smooth voice greets you, slowly murmuring, “Happy Halloween, my love.”
It’s Joe. Your Joe. Your kind, generous, loving and silly Joe, but there’s something else about him tonight, something you can’t quite place just yet.
He’s surprised you - the bedroom is dark, lit only by a pair of spice-scented red candles and a small, warm lamp. It’s intimate, but also somewhat lair-like, and the ambiance goes really well with the red and black skull-patterned bed linens you’d bought especially for this time of year. You love it.
Your eyes rake over your man, drinking him in. Clothes-wise he’s wearing nothing but a pair of snug black jeans and a studded belt.
Fuck, he looks so hot.
He’s looking down at the floor, hands clasped loosely behind his back, putting his delectable torso on display for you.
In addition, he’s wearing The Wig. That wig.
You’ve role played with this before; he knows how much you love Eddie’s luscious, chestnut locks, and how when he puts on the voice it all combines to rile you up. One time you even got some fake blackwork tattoos and put them on his arms and chest. That was a very fun evening.
But this time there’s more…
Amongst the curls he’s also wearing a pair of long, spiralling, ridged, red and black horns. They’re beautifully detailed. They nestle amongst the soft kinks, and the curls hide the ends of the horns and however they’re attached, making the effect all the more realistic.
God, he looks amazing.
You’re not can’t determine why he’s been looking at the floor since you came in. Is he being bashful? You’re confused, that doesn’t seem to fit the narrative…
Your question is answered when he slowly looks up at you, with a menacing, Kubrick-like stare.
He’s wearing contacts. Not just any contacts, but full-sclera, black contacts, completely obscuring his natural eyes.
You swallow, hard. Your fingers toy with the sides of the slinky robe you’re wearing, and you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together, trying to provide just a little friction to the area between them. Joe notices.
“Fuck Joe, I mean Eddie, you look-“
He cuts you off.
“There is no Joe here. No Eddie either. Only… your Master.”
You gasp at his voice, how it’s even deeper than usual and slightly menacing. You’ve always been impressed by the way he can control his voice, the timbre, volume, pitch, cadence. You’re momentarily distracted by how you’re not surprised he’s always been in acting work.
“Tell me you’re mine, my loyal minion.”
You’re broken abruptly from your reverie by Joe’s commanding tone, and you willingly play along, knees weakening and a pool of wetness forming surprisingly quickly in your underwear.
“Yes, my Master, all yours-”
You gasp as his strong hand reaches forward towards your throat, wrapping loosely around it. Not squeezing (not tonight, anyway), just demonstrating who’s in charge of this scenario.
Joe your Master smiles in that familiar way you know and love, but he keeps the sinister stare, giving everything a much darker edge.
“Well done, my precious. Now, would you like to have some fun with your Master?”
You bring one hand up from your side and gently drag the the tips of your fingernails along the inside of his forearm, a place you know is sensitive.
He breathes in quickly through his nose, trying to stifle a gasp, though you hear it. His grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly, and he tilts his chin up, narrowing his eyes and looking down his nose at you.
You surprise yourself as you reply, “Yes Master, I’m yours to command.”
Ever the consummate professional, none of Joe’s excited internal monologue shows, and he simply looks at you and murmurs, stretching out the syllables,
“Good girl...”
That’s it, you’re gone. He could do almost literally anything to you right now and you most likely wouldn’t stop him. You let out a small whimper.
Even with the dim light and the darkness of his denim, you can see the bulge in your Master’s jeans.
Releasing your throat, he moves his hand to the back of your neck, gripping firmly but not harshly, bending towards you and pulling your face to his. He crashes his lips against yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth in a passionate, messy kiss, which you eagerly return.
Breaking the kiss, he grins at you again, before removing his hand from your neck and flicking the edge of your robe near your collarbone.
“Take this off.”
You obey, slowly undoing the robe and slipping it off your shoulders. As the fabric slips to the floor you’re left in nothing but the new set that you bought especially for tonight.
Joe’s eyes caress your form, taking in the sheer, red, rose-patterned lace decorated with tiny bows.
But what’s really catching his eye is the fact that your bra is peek-a-boo style, and the ribbon ties are already undone, your nipples on display.
He hisses an inhale, and runs a thumb pad gently over one of your hardening nipples.
“This all for me?”
“Yes, Master, only for you.”
He takes a step towards you and glances to your panties.
“Are these…?”
“Crotchless? Yes, Master.”
He lets out an involuntary growl and brings his other hand to your core, pushing one finger between your thighs and swiping its tip through your already-damp folds.
Feeling your wetness he can’t help but drop his head back and moan.
It gives you a perfect view of his gorgeous neck, and you want to lick it, like you have so many times before.
Seeing Joe dressed up like this and regarding you with such obvious hunger leaves your whole body tingling, and the anticipation of him touching you more makes you feel like tinder about to combust.
You need him to have fewer clothes on too.
Biting your lip, you slowly bring a hand up between you and trace your fingertips over his solid torso, tracing shapes on his skin, touching the fine, soft hair and moving down towards his happy trail, finishing at his belt line. As your fingers reach his belt buckle, you ask,
“Please, Master, may I..?”
Your Master drops his hands to his sides and, with a lascivious grin, tongue peeping out at one corner running over his teeth, he gives you a tiny nod.
You undo his belt and jeans, running your hands inside the fabric and around his abdomen until you get to his hips. He’s not wearing anything underneath, just how he knows you like it.
You push the fabric downwards, dropping to your knees as you go, just how you know he likes it.
His cock springs free and slaps against his abdomen, fully hard already, and you drool at the sight.
Stepping out of his clothing, he positions himself in front of you, abs tensed and legs slightly apart, looking down at you with those completely black eyes, a curtain of dark curls framing his face.
“What are you gonna do for me, my servant?”
“Whatever you want me to, Master.”
You stick out your tongue as far as you can and languorously lick a broad stripe from his balls up the base and shaft of his cock, past his frenulum and all the way to the tip, where you pause at his slit, swirling your tongue and collecting a bead of precum that’s collected there.
Glancing up again, you notice he’s pursed his lips and his breathing has become uneven, all signs you’ve learnt are indicative of him enjoying what you’re doing.
Lifting both hands you gently grasp his base with one, pulling his tip slightly towards you, and caress his balls with the other, as you open your mouth and slide slowly down his length. Pausing after a couple of inches you return the other way, repeating and going further each time until your lips are touching the fingers you have wrapped around him.
He’s fully panting now, lips parted and brows gently furrowed.
“Fuck, precious, you’re gonna fucking kill me one day.”
Taking this as an indication to continue, you hollow your cheeks and suck, earning you a deep moan from his chest.
You move up and down at a slightly faster pace, sucking and licking, enjoying having your face stuffed full of him, until he’s suddenly grasping your chin and pulling you up towards him. His cock leaves your mouth with a soft pop, and you’re soon standing in front of him, eyes locked. Gruffly, he mutters,
“That’s too good, sweetheart, and I’ve got plans for you. Get on the bed.”
You obey, sitting your bottom on the edge of the bed and shuffling backwards until you’re in the centre, leaning back on your elbows.
He climbs on behind you, and using his hands and his knees he roughly pushes your knees and thighs apart, slotting himself between them.
He bends low towards your thighs, inhaling deeply and pausing for a moment, humming and enjoying the scent of your arousal.
At any other time you might be embarrassed, but his behaviour fits so well with the whole demon vibe and you find yourself heating up even more at the action.
He exhales a long, hot breath, which fans over your core, tantalising you further.
Dropping his upper body between your legs, he lets out a series of low growls as he sucks wet, biting kisses up your inner thighs, pausing occasionally to suck hard on the soft flesh. You moan at the sensation, wondering if he’ll leave bruises, excited by the idea that he might.
You use the opportunity to touch the horns for the first time, feeling the details and ridges, enjoying the contrast with the soft, flowing curls.
He eventually reaches your centre, and marvels at the lingerie framing your delicate, glistening folds.
With a gruff, animalistic hum he licks a stripe from your shining hole all the way up to your begging clit. You cry out, the most sensitive part of you finally receiving the attention it’s been craving.
Wasting no more time, he sticks his tongue out as far as it will go and pushes it inside you, moving and licking and devouring you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.
You watch him with hooded eyes, trying to sear the image of this demon-god between your legs into your mind, before your arms give out and you flop backwards onto the bed, just about managing to vocalise,
“More, Master, want more of you.”
He takes the hint, bringing one hand up and pushing two fingers easily inside you, and moving his mouth to lick and suckle at your clit. You moan loudly, pushing your hips down the bed and grinding into his hand and face. He moans at this, and the vibrations start to drive you towards your peak.
He chooses this moment to curl his fingers towards your front wall, hitting that spot inside you perfectly, and you begin to see stars. He keeps up his ministrations, your moans eventually turning to wails as he gradually increases the pressure on your clit, and you can hold off no longer. Your vision turns black, your limbs lock, and for a moment you stop breathing, a bubble of euphoria bursting within you as you come undone with a scream.
He reduces the pressure on your clit but doesn’t stop, forcing you to ride out aftershock after aftershock on his face. Eventually he removes his fingers from your swollen cunt, replacing them momentarily with his tongue, before pulling off entirely. Looking down at you he lets out a feral growl. Licking his lips, he wipes his chin with the back of his hand before licking it clean, before muttering,
“Fuck, so fucking beautiful…”
As soon as he thinks you can manage, he’s pulling at one hip, assisting more than forcing, as he says, “Turn over, baby, stick that beautiful ass in the air for me.”
You do your best to manoeuvre onto your front, keeping your face and chest on the mattress and putting your knees on the bed, lifting your butt. He kneels behind you, parting your knees a little further, running his hands over the globes of your ass, fully exposed and framed prettily by your red thong.
He lets out another, “SO fucking beautiful”, before slapping one palm hard cross one cheek, making you whimper, immediately moving in to kiss the stinging flesh, laving it with his lips and tongue.
He notches his tip at your hole, and, remaining in character, murmurs, “I’ve gotta fucking have you, my beautiful little -uh- pet!”
On the last word he sheathes himself fully inside you, no consideration given for the usually slow and gradual way he’d enter you, animal passion taking over and both of you more than ready.
You groan loudly as he bottoms out, adoring the feeling of him filling you up and how he rearranges your insides every time he does.
He moans as he remains seated within you for a few moments, groaning gutturally and gripping your hips harshly.
You don’t have much of a respite, as after only a moment of acclimation he’s setting a brutal pace, pumping in and out of you with feral force and abandon, wet and breathy sounds filling the room, his cock jolting your cervix with every thrust.
He starts to mutter almost unintelligible phrases in his demonic voice, but you make out,
“So fucking perfect, so fucking good for me, taking me like the cockvessel you are, my good little minion, my pet, my beautiful, beautiful pet.”
It’s all so exquisitely overwhelming, and you start wailing into your pillow.
He chooses this moment to slip one hand around to your front, immediately finding your sensitive, sopping wet bud and pressing small, form circles into it.
This brings you almost immediately to another precipice, and you cry out, “Ohgodohgodohgod!”
You can feel yourself clench down on his length, and he growls out,
“Jeezus fucking christ, squeezing me so tight, fuck!”
Euphoria washes over you again, a tingling heat beginning in your pelvis and spreading through your entire body. You go limp, but your Master holds you to him with one strong forearm, fingers continuing to circle your clit until you move and twitch, body trying to deal with the dissonance of wanting to get away from the overstimulation but enjoying the aftershocks.
As he continues to help you ride out your second orgasm he’s desperately trying to stave off his own, and eventually pulls out abruptly, your sweat mingling as he rests his forehead on your ass, breathing deeply.
You whine at the sudden emptiness and loss of contact, but are grateful for the opportunity to slump onto your side, enjoying the potential for a short rest.
He comes to lie behind you (if you’re honest, one of your favourite positions in which to get railed), but you realise something.
“No Master, not from this angle. There’s no point in you looking like that if I don’t get to enjoy it.”
Growling again (and seeing your logic) he deftly flips you over onto your back, slotting himself between your plush thighs, tip nudging your entrance as he stares into your face.
He moves both of your arms above your head, running his hands up the soft skin of the undersides and holding them there, hands clasping your wrists and pushing them into the mattress.
He seems to consider something for a moment.
“Hmm, I haven’t given these lovely tits nearly enough attention, my love. Especially considering you decorated them so prettily for me.”
That lascivious smirk is back, and with his free hand he opens the slit in the lace on one side and hums as he licks the flat of his wet tongue over one nipple. As he moves away he lets out a sigh through his nose, cooling the flesh delightfully and causing your already hard nipple to peak even more.
He massages each breast with his free hand, but decides that’s not enough, so commands you to, “Keep those there for me, my pet”, letting go of your wrists and starting to use both of his hands on your soft mounds. He’s enjoying pushing his fingers under the holes in the lace, pushing it to the side to expose your soft flesh, squeezing and squashing, pinching your nipples and licking and sucking on your sensitive nubs. You arch your back and moan with delight at the sensations.
Eventually satisfied that he’s given your tits enough attention, he licks a wet stripe all the way from your sternum, up the side of your neck all the way to your jaw, making you shiver in delight and anticipation.
He hovers over you, tips of his curls tickling your forehead. He plunges his tongue inside your mouth again in another passionate kiss, and you can taste the musk and salt from your own skin combined with the unique taste of him.
He returns his focus to getting himself seated inside of you again. He leans forward, holding your wrists with one hand, with the other lining his member up with your hole as he moves his hips forwards.
He slowly slides into you, filling you up yet again. He fucks you slow but ever so deep, the languid pace a welcome change that allows you to feel every vein and ridge of him against your sensitive walls. You’re both trembling, all of your nerves alive with sensitivity.
“Like me fucking you like this, my pet? Want your Master to -mmm- make you cum again?”
Though you know without doubt that would be an absolutely delectable option, you decide you want to do something for him now.
“I want to be good for you, Master. I want to sit on you, wanna ride you so bad.”
His eyes widen and that signature grin spreads across his face.
“Well, what my pet wants, my pet gets, doesn’t she?”
He slowly pulls out of you and releases your wrists, and in an attempt to conceal his excitement, languidly moves up the bed to lounge on a pile of collected red and black, silk and fur pillows. Abs tensed, knees spread wide and slightly bent, cock in hand and giving every appearance of being cocky and arrogant, he’s the perfect vision of a commanding demon. He’s sitting like he’s on a throne, like he deserves this. It drives you wild.
He lazily tugs at himself as he watches you crawl up the bed towards him, though he furrows his brow slightly as you pause halfway to sit on your heels, knees wide apart, displaying yourself for him.
“What’re you doing, my pet?”
You start touching yourself, parting your folds and sinking a finger easily into your dripping cunt, your free hand coming to massage one nipple.
His eyes widen and his mouth opens slightly, and you see his grip on his dick get tighter. You know he loves to watch.
You mumble, as innocently as you can,
“I couldn’t wait, Master.”
He watches for a few moments, entranced, but then remembers what’s on offer and points to his lap, raising his voice a little, aggressively muttering,
“Get up here, minion. Obey your Master!”
His domineering tone sends tingles up your spine and to your core, and you instantly comply, clambering the rest of the way up the bed and straddling his hips.
He holds his cock steady underneath you, running it over your slit, the wet noises exciting you even more.
You place your hands onto his shoulders, stabilising yourself. You take another moment to admire his outfit and presence, holding his gaze before starting to sink down onto him.
As you seat yourself into him fully, that delicious stretch and feeling of fullness returns. You take a moment to enjoy it, before starting to move, lifting up, slowly at first and not too far, before lowering yourself back down. He’s at a fantastic angle, and feeling him so far inside you is intense. You whine out,
“Fuck, Master, you’re so deep…”
He bends his legs behind you and plants both feet on the bed, encouraging you to prop yourself against them. He knows you love to lean back, giving him not only a delicious new angle but also an exquisite view of your tits jiggling as you move, and it also gives him purchase to occasionally buck his hips and slam into you from below.
He’s full-on panting again, and, huffing, he breathes out,
“That’s my good little pet, fucking me so well. You gonna make us both cum, my sweet little thing?”
Wanting to do a good job, you use your thighs to bounce up and down on him, his cock hitting that spot inside you and rocketing you towards yet another high. He’s grabbing at your tits, your ass, your hips, anywhere he can reach, grumbling and growling and clearly desperate to feel every inch of you.
His pelvis is hitting your clit in just the right way, but you need more, and you grab one of his hands and bring it to your front. He immediately begins rubbing his thumb against your clit, and you start to whimper, already close. Before you lose the power of speech he asks,
“Do you trust your Master, baby? Gonna let me try something?”
You trust him implicitly and, although you have no idea what he has in mind, you nod. He moves one hand to your sacrum, stabilising you. The other thumb continues circling your clit, but he pushes the flat of that hand against your belly, like he sometimes does when he wants to feel himself inside of you, except this time there’s more pressure.
You’re rolling your hips against him now, all the different sensations combining to bring you closer to your release. You can hear him panting too, feel him tensing, and you know he’s not far off either. But there seems to be a different kind of pressure building in your abdomen.
You try to say something, but full sentences won’t come out. All you can manage is parts of words, like, “Wait-, no-, someth-, it’s diff-, oh fu-“
Unable to control anything anymore, your release washes over you in a searing wave, but there’s something else too - you feel a hot, wet gush coming from you and soaking his hand, wrist and abdomen.
Unable to process what’s just happened, you simply look at him, open-mouthed but still euphoric.
That’s it for him, he can’t hold off anymore and his release hits him, hard. He pulls your hips down onto him at the same time he slams up into you, face slack and breathing ragged, and you feel his hot, sweet release paint your insides, simultaneously letting out a long, low, broken groan.
Unable to process anything else, his eyes close and his head drops back against the headboard. You get another glimpse of that delicious neck, and run your hands over it and his collarbones as he comes down. He always looks so beautiful like this.
You both need a moment to let your heart rate and breathing come back to some semblance of normal. Evaporating sweat leaves you both with delicate goosebumps on some of your exposed skin, but the change in temperature is welcome.
You’re the first to speak as you look down at his wet belly and ask,
“Uh, Joe. What the fuck was that?”
His face turns slightly pink as, voice back to normal, he bashfully admits,
“I, um, just wanted to see if I could make you squirt, that’s all.”
He looks a little sheepish as he continues, slightly concerned,
“Was it ok? I mean, did you hate it?”
“God no, it felt… amazing! Just, y’know, maybe warn me next time?”
“Of course my sweet. Anything for my baby.”
He plants some wet kisses across your cheeks.
As if wanting to illustrate how much he enjoyed it, he brings his wet hand up to his mouth, sucks his fingers, and slowly shakes his head in delight as he adds,
“Mmm-mm, it was really fucking hot though!”
You slap his chest playfully, rolling off him to settle in the crook of his arm, your head against his chest, running a hand up and down it.
Ever the considerate lover, after a few moments he inquires,
“How was it overall, baby? Did you enjoy it?”
Full of endorphins and the love of your man, you gush,
“Fuck yes, Joe, it was incredible.” As you toy with some of the ends of the wig, you add, “Thank you so much for doing this for me. For us.”
He replies, “Oh love, it was, and I mean this quite literally, my absolute pleasure. I’m such a fucking lucky bastard.”
You both giggle a little at this. Joe delicately removes the horns and wig, laying them reverently on your bedside table so as not to tangle or damage them, another testament to his devotion to his craft, and you snuggle into each other, continuing to murmur sweet nothings and enjoying the afterglow.
After a few minutes Joe admits, “Sorry, I’ve got to take these bloody things out babe, they’re really sodding uncomfortable.”
You both laugh again, as he rises from your shared bed and makes his way to the bathroom to remove the contacts, returning with a warm washcloth, which you take gratefully. As you clean up he picks up the horns, examining them and twisting his fingers around what you now see is a sturdy headband.
He takes the washcloth from you, retuning it to the bathroom. As he comes to sit by you on the bed once more, you spy a small smirk on his lips. You know that look, devious yet playful. He’s got some kind of plan.
“What is it, my treasure?”, you goad, using your fingertips to gently tickle his happy trail and tease at his exposed belly.
He replies,
“I was just thinking, next time, maybe you could wear the horns…?”
Tumblr media
Thanks so much for reading!
Comments and reblogs make my world spin, please let me know what you think!
167 notes · View notes
urfavslav · 1 year
Text
various headcanons of tr characters !
when ran asks you to be his s/o he gifts you gloves. while u may not think anything of it other then his love languages being gift giving. he's asking you to be his forever. they're symbolism that while the gloves would protect your hands, he would protect you.
imagine giving senju one of those sanrio hats that have velcro at the bottom ,, so they stay on ,, yknow ,, but she is so thrilled. so she wears it 24/7
if you say or do something stupid, hanma won't let it go. period. it will become an inside joke, something he uses to see u laugh, also he will do that with things he's done too. use 'em as stories to cheer u up.
emma sano would be so aggressively caring ,, but in the cutest way ever. cutely aggressive texts urging you to drink some water, eat something and get rest before she rushes over to do it for you !
thinking about petshop trio ,, chifuyu and kazutora eventually push baji to get a piercing ,, he ends up getting an industrial ,, sbsjs. it shows when he pulls his hair up also, chifuyu has considered a nose piercing. he likes simple studs.
sanzu deals with mania and or hypomania. for him they can be really scary because he also uses drugs and that heightens how he feels and emotions during that time. he calls it 'madness episodes', after his episode is over (for him they last a while. anywhere from a week to almost 4 weeks) it takes a while to get him calm. even after it ends. haruchiyo craves being close to you, sharing your warmth and inhaling your scent. it calms his nerves like an anesthetic. please indulge him.
kakucho likes chocolate chip waffles. like he just doesn't like pancakes for some reason. you start to notice a pattern when he makes waffles in the morning on his days off. he only eats his choco chip ones. maybe strawberries on top.
when hanma wakes up (whenever his ass does) I think he has like leftover eyeliner smudged around his eyes ,, also playing playing his long fingers and tracing his tattoos ugh
shinichiro with an s/o who's slightly taller but their love language is physical affection. they give minimal acts of affection though. hand holding, hugs. etc. one of shins fav acts of affection is when his s/o ruffles his hair. he'll get all flustered with warm tinted cheeks, eyes squinted and a goofy smile on his face. he's so cute :(
if I saw south, I'd try n hang off his arm ,, I just think it would be funny I also think he's a fan of play fighting ,, i think he will ruffle tour hair and pick you up like a cat ,, by the scruff of ur hoodie
mikey's texts that may not make sense. the typing looks like 2007 scene tumblr, all lowercase with words shortened so bad it doesn't make sense and faces like [:(, XD, :p] his texts look like ; 'hiii bby !!! im almst ther jst wait a bit kay !!!! I promise u he's abt to jump on his bike and visit u, or calls where he's just about to fall asleep but tried his hardest to stay awake for you so he can heat ur voice ,, even though that makes him feel even calmer. it's gonna put him to sleep
koko has money, but like he has nice shit, he takes this nice, modded car, he goes around at night, driving to get a break from the bonten trio shit ,, playing around with his loud ass engine revving it up. then goes on his spotify premium with one of his favorite playlists
for stay home dates mitsuya sets up his record player to play old, classics and sway his partner around when they aren't feeling so good to cheer them up :(
sleeping/nap dates with mikey are a staple ! no matter if you're immersed on a book or your scholastic duties, or even cooking he will pull you for a nap.
sanzu plays around with tarot cards and gives readings when he's completely high or drunk. the other executives pay no mind to it, but when he sobers up and asks the execs what he said about the cards and goes 'yeah, that sounds just about right, but just this and that too." the execs look blown out of their mind and slightly scared that he remembers
★ all works belong to @urfavslav , do not repost on anywhere else with or without credit, do not plagiarise. thank you !
185 notes · View notes
swap-and-possessions · 5 months
Text
October 2023 Update
Tumblr media
The spooky season ends with a month of stories where people past their prime achieve their youth again. This is also another month of male-to-male body swaps, possessions, transformations, and different ways of taking someone's body and identity for one's selfish and lustful desires. October has been a very productive month with 30+ new stories and shorts, most of which are requested by loyal commissioners. Stories on Discord and Blogspot now total to 193 stories! Seven more, and we'll reach the 200th mark! Read them at Discord.
This month's theme was based on the votes of loyal 🌟Star Subscribers🌟. Together, they voted for "Age Regression" with 80% of the votes. You can read these Age Regression shorts and stories on the list below;
✅ –SFW | 🔞 – NSFW | 🔒 – Subscriber Access
•·················•·················•
Tumblr media
🔒🔞 Climax and Regress Mason and Elliot lived most of their lives under the sheltered roof of their conservative parents. It wasn't surprising that they would thoroughly enjoy their first taste of independence during their first year in college. But amid this simple freedom, they were drawn to a party game where you jump from body to body, with the goal of cumming at the given time limit. Win, and you move on to the next younger body. Last long and last young, and you gain everyone's cheers. As freshmen eager to embrace their newfound freedom, Elliot and Mason aimed to please the crowd by playing with the game.
🔒🔞 The Game Mason and Elliot listen to Tommy as he explains the rules. It’s simple. Possess a body. Jerk off under the time limit. Succeed, and you move on to the next younger body.
🔒🔞 Gerald Hughes | USA | 65-year-old Tired after a month away from home, Eli could scarcely contain the excitement of coming home to his lover hungry for his cock. That was until he was possessed, and his long-awaited blowjob was stolen from him.
🔒🔞 Eli Hall | UK | 59-year-old Tired after a month away from home, Eli could scarcely contain the excitement of coming home to his lover hungry for his cock. That was until he was possessed, and his long-awaited blowjob was stolen from him
🔒🔞 Rui Liang | China | 48-year old Elliot finds himself in the body of a Chinese Triad member while in the middle of his revenge against rival triads. It was up to him to fulfill his body’s thirst for vengeance.
🔒🔞 Fancisco ‘Paco’ Perez | Spain | 33-year-old There’s only darkness and pleasure inside the DHC-6 floating in the middle of the Balearic Sea. Elliot finds himself in the arms of a larger man, who knows how to please his body.
🔒🔞 Yusuke Watanabe | Japan | 29-year-old Yusuke hasn’t returned to his home in a year, and his younger brother is eager to partake in the pleasures they once had for each other. Elliot finds himself in the middle of this intimate interaction.
🔒🔞 Charles Foster | USA | 24-year-old Aboard the USS Vanguard, sleep continues to elude Charles. That’s when his squadmate suggested he jack off to tire out his body. Too bad for him, he is unfortunate to be possessed by someone more eager to jack off his cock at the expense of his reputation among his squad mates.
🔒🔞 Party’s End Elliot becomes closer to Mason in a way he could never imagine. #Possession #Age-Regression #Age-Progression #Racial Change #Caucasian #Asian #European #Mafia #Brothers #Military #Series
✅ Rave Party Raves are the best places to find hot studs, and it was the duty of the patriarch of the group to teach newbies how to possess them. Raves are the best places to find hot studs, and it was the duty of the patriarch of the group to teach newbies how to possess them. #Possession #Age Regression #Racial Change #Caucasian #Black #Stories
🔞 Adverse Effects Barry should have read the labels properly because he didn’t expect the age regression potion he spiked his father’s drink with would also act like a potent aphrodisiac. #Transformation #Age-Regression #Father-and-Son #Stories
🔒🔞 Cumming for the First Time, Again Their bodies weren’t the only ones that got regressed by the potion. #Transformation #Age-Regression #Mental-Regression #Mental-Change #Caucasian #Stories
🔒🔞 Ill-Fitting Skinsuit Mr. Murphy has been missing since last Monday. There were no clues as to why he went missing and no threads to follow where he went. In light of his absence, a heavy downpour led Stanley to reconnect with Kenny, a childhood friend he had lost touch with over the years. He was affected the most since he was Mr. Murphy’s favorite student. He was always tired, and strangely, he kept tugging the skin on his stomach. #Bodysuit #Age Regression #Teacher #Student #Caucasian #Stories
✅ Remove These Binds [Possession]
✅ Where is the Seam [Bodysuit]
✅ These Pits [Possession]
🔒🔞 The Power of Money [Possession]
🔒🔞 An Old Friend [Possession]
🔒🔞 Retaliation [Possession]
🔒🔞 Costume Problems [Possession]
🔒🔞 The Best in the Collection [Bodysuit]
Tumblr media
Other Stories
Tumblr media
🔒🔞 Settling Invaders Commissioned by Bodstart In the night sky above, Jeremy wishes on the bright wishing star for a better life. Little did he know that there was no wishing star. It was an alien spaceship hurtling towards his bedroom, and inside was the key to the life he wished for.
🔒🔞 The Crash The night was young when Jeremy's peaceful evening was disturbed by a loud crash in his neighbor's yard. Upon checking, he saw his neighbor -hash- classmate experience something otherworldly that would change their lives forever.
🔒🔞 Suspicions Jeremy suspects that last night's crash connects to Luke's sudden shift in personality. He'd soon learn the Luke he knew was gone forever, replaced by someone (or something) better.
🔒🔞 Human Customs Jeremy finally finds the life he wanted. #Possession #Alien #Father #Son #Musk #Caucasian #Series #Commission
Tumblr media
🔒🔞 The Demon Inside Commissioned by Valagon37 When the slivers of libido faded in his last set of hosts, the incubi, Valagon Raug, uses his demonic magick and charms to seduce a new batch of hosts in the modern world. With the promise of fame, money, and boundless pleasures, Alex, Chase, William, and Jared were lured easily into Valagon's world.
🔒🔞 Origins A step back into multiple millennia of Valagon’s origins.
🔒🔞 Alex Valagon, still a demon but an ex-god, doesn’t have the luxury of worshippers to provide him with husks in the modern world. He must use his wits and charm to seduce men. Lucky for him, there was Alex, whose intense narcissism makes him easy prey for lust demons.
🔒🔞 Chase Valagon ends the search for his second husk when he finds Chase, his modeling senior going to Europe. Only, he wasn’t going to Europe anymore when the lust demon was set on making him his. #Possession #Hypnosis #Demon #Caucasian #European #Musk #Series #Commission
🔒🔞 A Slave to my Brother’s Feet With the device on his neck, Jacob is compelled to follow all of his little brother's commands. And his reward for following was the smell of Ethan's smelly feet. #Hypnosis #Feet-play #Caucasian #Brothers #Stories
🔒🔞 Grade Consultation Electronic beats and infrasounds were all it took to hypnotize Mr. Dan, Leo's psychology professor. #Hypnosis #Caucasian #Teacher-and-Student #Stories
Other Shorts
🔒🔞 Proper Dispossession [Possession]
✅ A Winter Myth [Possession]
🔒🔞 Small Town Sweetheart [Possession]
Videos
Tumblr media
🔒🔞 Possessing Tom Possessing an A-list celebrity has never been easier. I'm glad he came to my hometown just to be possessed by me. #Possession #Caucasian #Ghost #Video
•·················•·················• Head over to my Discord and read these shorts and stories and 193 other stories! If you want to access the NSFW stories, you can subscribe through my Ko-Fi and gain access to every story I’ve written. You can find the relevant links below.
With October’s Age Regression theme over, we move on to the winning theme of November. And that is “👨‍🎓Student & Teacher🧔‍”. See the lives of students and teachers intertwine. Teachers will experience what it means to be an awkward college student and students will face the hardships (and sexy bodies) of their matured professors.. If you want to join for the voting of December’s theme, join my discord and become a Star Subscriber🌟!
I thank my readers and subscribers for their continued support! 
Access the Discord Server here >>> Link How to Subscribe >>> Link
31 notes · View notes
imightgetbetter · 11 months
Text
The Met Gala
Tumblr media
hiiiiiiiii. welcome to rory and matty's universe. i'm actually really obsessed with their dynamic and their story and this is just kind of a taste of what they're like together (a publicity nightmare) and how they interact but also how much they love each other. we'll start getting into it closer to the summer (i'm going to start writing the whole story this month!!!!) and i'm really excited to know what you think. please be nice! if you don't like it, that's fine! i will still be writing love it if we made it, so if you like reader insert, you have that too. i am very excited for this, though. i love rory. she's so cool. i hope you enjoy. as always, leave your feedback and tell me what you think!!! love you all!!!!
Under the lights of the hotel vanity, Rory’s eyes are glittering in a metallic golden shine, a complimentary look to the flecks of gold that are embedded and sewn into the sheer overlay that adorns her body, her skin a shade darker after her most recent visit to an island meant to be home away from the gloomy city she lives in, a place to write her next album that Dirty Hit and Jamie were most patiently (rather impatiently, she would argue) awaiting. On her six-week stint in Capri, Rory received a call from none other than Anna Wintour herself, inviting her to the Met Gala for her very first major appearance on a star-studded carpet. Rory never quite liked the idea of The Met; The Grammys, The Brits, The Arias, even, have all seen Rory in her very best, but there was something about celebrities celebrating awful people in designer gowns that rubbed her the wrong way.
Her attitude towards being a celebrity was similar to that of Matty’s, something the two of them bonded over many times, something they shared in their experience being a couple under a microscope of sorts. Her attitude towards this event, and many others, usually leads to a polite decline and nothing more of it but knowing that this call had been approved through her manager first, and therefore was more of a ‘you’re going to do this’ rather than a ‘would you like to do this’ question, her reply was nothing short of a, “I would be delighted! Thank you so much for the invitation. May I bring a guest?”
And that brings everyone to this very moment, where Rory and Matty are dragging themselves kicking and screaming to The Met Gala.
“Do you think if I just ignore every interviewer on the carpet, I won’t have to say anything to anyone?” Rory shouts to Matty from the stool in front of the only window in the hotel room.
“Can you sit still for five seconds?” Kiara grumbles, rolling her eyes as Rory squints her eyes and purposefully moves her head. “You’re so difficult, you know that?”
“You’ve been telling me for ages,” she smiles, pursing her lips and sitting upright, letting her add the finishing touches to the makeup without any further issues. Matty and Jamie are talking in the bathroom, something about behaving and keeping his mouth shut, letting her do all the talking. Rory knows Matty isn’t going to abide by that very well. He’s never been one to keep his opinions to himself. It’s one of the things that she’s most fond of. “Love, how much longer do we have?”
“You’ve got,” Matty shouts back, checking his phone and stepping out into the hallway, his eyes immediately softening at the sight of her, “you’ve got about fifteen minutes, darling. You look stunning. Holy shit. You’ve outdone yourself, Keeks.”
“All in a day’s work,” Kiara smiles, kissing his cheek and setting all of the tools in her kit that’s splayed across the table in the corner. “It’s time for you to get dressed. You have to be downstairs in twelve minutes. Matty is, for once in your career, ready before you, which is actually kind of sad.”
“Hey! I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone getting held up. Jamie will have my head if we’re late for the shuttle over. Not to mention, I need a drink. Quickly.”
“How considerate of you, Matthew.” Rory takes Matty’s outstretched hands and stands from the wooden stool, her tightly curled hair falling over her shoulders. “Out you two, I’m going to get dressed and then we can head downstairs.”
“I see you naked all the time, I should be allowed to stay.”
“Out!” Rory says sternly, pointing towards the door and giving an encouraging nod to her boyfriend whose eyebrows are quirked on his forehead and his mouth is turned down, less than impressed with the demand. “Matty, seriously.”
Matty rolls his eyes, “Fine.” Grabbing his phone and a room key, he and Jamie step outside, the neatly pressed navy-blue suit and textured tie sitting perfectly around his neck, the pearls adhered to the collar of the suit jacket making for the perfect accessory. His hair is neatly combed, and the single grey strand is falling in his face, a detail that Rory will fawn over when they’re alone.
Rory and Kiara tape her chest accordingly, the baby blue textured and tweed suit buttoned seamlessly at the center of her abdomen, the pants sitting at her waist, hugging her sides in the perfect manner. Mattias June, an up-and-coming fashion student from the institute in London, knew exactly what she would want, what would look best on her, and the execution was exactly what they had hoped for. Rory and Matty were on theme without praising or recreating looks, which was what they aspired for and spoke about.
The last thing that Rory wanted was for her attendance to be misconstrued for ignorance.
Grabbing her sunglasses and the designed handbag, Rory stepped out of the hotel room and locked eyes with Matty, a smile spreading across his face at the sight of her. He simply would never get used to it, knowing that she was all his. Many years of secret pining led him to this, a luxury of living.
“Do not make a scene, you two,” Jamie warns as they walk through the hallways and head downstairs, the crowd outside the hotel already beginning to scream and shout with the murmurs of their names being said for the paparazzi outside. “Courteous and professional. Please.”
“I always am, Jamie.”
“I’m not worried about you, Aurora.”
Rory laughs and takes a deep breath, moments like this will never not be surreal. Matty and Jamie talk for a moment longer, but she’s in her head, preparing herself for the interviews that she doesn’t want to give and the answers she’ll have to. Despite her feelings about this, Rory recognizes the privilege and the honor it is to be here, to be able to go, to give someone’s fashion a chance to shine on the carpet. Rory would remember this for a lifetime, a moment that her art is so widely recognized that she’s walking amongst celebrities she’s watched and listened to for years on the same carpet. A one of a kind ‘I Made It’ moment to last forever.
One moment to last forever, mainly because Rory knows that she will never do this again.
“Are you ready, love?” Matty wonders, grabbing her hand and nodding towards the sea of people waiting outside for their debut.
“I’m neither drunk nor high enough for this,” Rory says honestly, shoving the sunglasses into her hair and tilting her head down ever so slightly to whisper into his ear, “I need six shots to make it through this carpet with all these fake pretentious celebrities.”
Matty laughs, “I will get you a shot as soon as we make it off the carpet.”
“Promise?”
“On my life.”
Rory accepts this compromise with a nod of her head, lacing their hands together and waving at Jamie (as he will be taking a separate car to the venue) and taking the first steps towards the walkway. Overwhelming amounts of flashing lights accompany their walk outside the hotel, screaming of their names as they walk to the bus and Matty lends out his hand to assist her inside (walking in heels is not her strong suit), the flashing subsiding when the door is shut behind them. Matty, Rory and the others inside the van make small talk, Rory holding the handbag facing her body to ensure that no one could directly read it right away. Mattias and Rory created what she felt would be a statement to make with this year’s theme, a statement that would surely keep her out of talks for returning events, but she didn’t really mind, as long as what she had to say was said.
Outside The Met, thousands of people are crowded around to see who’s outside, who’s wearing what, and who might come about. All Rory can think about is making it through the interviews, getting through the awkward part of the night and getting to the party, where she can sing and drink and talk with her favorite company. Matty holds out his hand for her when they step out of the van, making sure that she’s stable on her feet before they begin making their way towards the carpet. Calling cards are shouting out their names announcing their arrival, and the number of cameras that are flashing are enough to blind a person, Rory’s sure of it.
“I am too sober for this, right now,” Matty says through a tight-lipped smile, his hand wrapped around Rory’s waist, holding her close to him. He kisses her forehead, smiling at her as she agrees with him.
“Me too.”
Matty is tugged away for photos of himself, and Rory is whisked away to interviews with Vogue and Rolling Stone before she could properly prepare herself. Jamie opted Matty out of interviews – to save everyone the trouble – and Rory knew that she should be professional and diplomatic, but all she really wanted was to be honest.
“Hello! How are you? You look absolutely stunning,” the interviewer says warmly, and Rory can immediately feel the professionalism leave her body. “I love the handbag.”
“Thank you! Mattias June, who designed this whole look, he and I thought it would be a perfect touch,” Rory smiles, the sunglasses perched on her nose, only giving the slightest peak at the glittering makeup underneath. “I don’t really think we should be celebrating and honoring such horrible people, but what do I know? I’m not really a fashion trendsetter myself, you know? I’m doing this all for the plot. All for a good story.” Rory gestures down to the handbag held in front of her, the stitching on the side reading: STOP HONORING BAD PEOPLE.
Matty walks towards Rory, smiling brightly as she continues talking to the interview about what it means to be invited and how wonderful it is to be with the company of her friends at such a prestigious event. By the look on her face, Matty is sure that Rory said something that will get her in trouble tomorrow, but it’s something he admires about her, she’s never been short of determined to speak her mind. Rory steps off the platform and grabs Matty’s hand immediately, squeezing him as their fingers lace together and nodding towards the entrance of the building.
“Are you ready to get absolutely trashed with me? That’s the only way I’ll suffer through this intolerable event.”
“I thought you’d never ask, my darling.”
102 notes · View notes
jouissants · 9 months
Note
I'm here once again asking for celegorm/celebrimbor and number 39 please and thank you 😝
39. Because time's run out.
Celegorm has not slept in many nights. He will not sleep this night, either. They must be gone by morning and there seems much to do, though in truth there is very little. They need not pack; they will be allowed nothing but what they can carry, and Orodreth will not miss his inspection.
“So we go forth ragged and empty-handed. No different to the Sudden Flame,” Celegorm says to Curufin, shrugging and swigging wine. He has liberated several bottles from Finrod’s cellars. Never fear, cousin, wherever you are. I mean to finish them by morning. One last toast, if you please.
Curufin glowers. He will leave much in Nargothrond, will spend their final hours here lamenting the loss of many great works. That is your trouble, Celegorm wants to tell him. You cannot help but make things, and then you cannot help but grow attached.
Celegorm leaves him to his fretting and sifting and goes out into the corridor. He looks for the great grey bulk of Huan, but he is nowhere to be seen. The halls of Nargothrond are silent save the rap of his boot-soles on the flagstones. Celegorm has the strange desire to race up and down these halls, to let his feet carry him to Finrod’s old sealed chamber where his regent soaks in drink and prays to Eru for his fool brother to come back to him. Orodreth has always been a pale imitation, the end of a run of etchings, grown warped and soft by pressure.
What fool would cast a crown in silver, Curufin said of Finrod. And of Orodreth, he ought not to have picked it up at all.
Presently there comes another set of footsteps. Celegorm stands fast and does not turn to look. He stares into the shadows and gives no sign he hears anything at all until Celebrimbor stands beside him, clearing his throat and shifting foot to foot, for he can never bear to think he is being ignored.
“Have you cleared your chambers?" asks Celegorm. "Cobwebs out of every corner? There will be some young lord slavering to move in on the morrow, the moment we are gone.”
“I am not going with you,” Celebrimbor says.
“I heard that rumor. You are late for your own grand announcement.”
Celebrimbor speaks no word in reply. Yet he says much, for Celegorm knows other ways to listen. Celebrimbor’s blood runs hot. His young heart thrums, be-feared. A foul sweat gathers under his arms.
“Your nerves,” says Celegorm, laughing. “Are you sure you will not come? It seems hardly worth it, to remain here all a-quiver. Where’s the fun in that?”
“You have run mad.”
“Oh, maybe so, maybe so.”
“You will all die out there,” Celebrimbor says.
“No,” says Celegorm softly. “You want to run along ahead and catch Felagund for that.”
At this, Celebrimbor is bested. He gives a small pained cry and folds about himself as though stabbed in the belly. He drops to the stone and Celegorm follows, gathers him up, would take him by the wrists and ankles like a dead hart did he not squirm so. Celegorm draws his arms tighter and tighter about Celebrimbor’s ribs. Such soft bones. Springy, like new green wood.
“Like to make a very fine bow,” says Celegorm.
His mind wanders these days. He sleeps not, hunts less. He wants Huan. Celebrimbor in his arms is taut as catgut.
“Uncle, you are hurting me.”
“You are a little coward, Tyelpe.”
The boy moans. “No.” He struggles as though he might free himself. He kicks out and Celegorm wraps around him like a snake, tangling their legs together.
“You come to me that you may say your piece to me and not your father. You forsake him, you forswear our oath, and yet you will not even tell him yourself.”
Spittle flies hot against Celebrimbor’s cheek. Celegorm nips at his ear. Fine as a willow leaf, it is. Celegorm said as much when he was yet wet from his mother’s warm body.
He is your spit, Curvo, he said also.
Celegorm suckles at his earlobe. Celebrimbor shudders. He wears a stud there fashioned of raw diamond. The works of Celegorm's hands are rough only, and he rarely claims them.
“Am I a liar?”
“Tyelkormo.”
The name is a wound. But O, that dark, warm whisper. Celegorm will never hear it again.
“Am I a liar?”
“Please.”
Celegorm kisses him. There is no more time. He will not tell Curufin, but then he will not have to.
Much later, and very far away, he finds the diamond in his pocket. He casts it away. He claims it is nothing, but nothing ever is. The stone finds its way into the water and into the earth, where it sits and waits and listens for a song.
23 notes · View notes
zzzallnite · 11 months
Video
One of the perks of being born rich is to get to know other people inside the elite circles without making any effort. Daniel is one of those bastards who got hook up with the prettiest ladies, who are also born with enough money and a stable career that would be able to support an entire community. Tonight, he is going on a date with a girl he’d met into at an event just a couple weeks ago. The beautiful girl, named Karla, is like no others: she prefers to away from the spotlight and scrutinizing eyes of her peers, which is a change of air from all the stuck-up ones he had in the past. Their night started with a romantic dinner at a fancy rooftop restaurant, and ended with them making out in a back alley behind a lounge bar.
“I want to show you something...” Karla said with a whispery voice, which excited the stud. The girl slowly put her hand up her skirt, and pulled out a gun. Daniel didn’t immediately feel threaten by it, but he still backed away as a reflex. “Woah, what’s going on?” Daniel nervously laughed. “Just a little roleplay”, Karla smirked. Daniel let out a sigh of relief, raised his hands in the air and played along, “Please, arrest me. I am a very bad guy. You don’t want me to do bad thing to a girl like you.”
Suddenly, a strange force ran through his body, paralyzing him. His knees became weak and the he saw lights dancing and swirling in front of his eyes. Karla caught him by the armpits before he collapsed. The woman oddly showed incredible strength as she tenderly lowered the 6’2” sedated man down on the ground. Daniel tried to fight back and gain control of his muscles, but nothing worked.
“Poor thing... When I said roleplay, I meant that I was playing you... But don’t you worry darling, I will take a good care of you, as a repay for this nice evening”, said Karla as she ran her fingers through the man’s long, dirty blond luscious locks of hair, pulled them back and gave the passing out man a kiss on the cheek and then forehead. That warm touch on his face was the last thing Daniel could feel before the darkness kicked in and his head just tilted back as he completely lost consciousness.
____
Daniel was laid on a gurney, with hands and feet cuffed. The drug the deceptive woman put in his drink was so powerful, even the bright beam of the operating light still couldn’t wake him up. If Daniel was awake, he would recognize that he was inside some sort of room resembling a doctor office. “How does this thing work, again?” Karla asked the old man in a three-pieced suit, who just finished attaching the electrodes on the still-out-cold man’s forehead. “It might take a couple of hours, but with a combination of drug, electrical treatment and hypnosis, you will have this guy over here around your fingers... I know he has some history with you, but let put it aside until the plan is finished”, the doctor said calmly.
And he was right. Karla knew Daniel from about decade ago, when he was enrolled in a private prep school and Karla had another name and her face wasn’t as pretty before the plastic surgeries. When she developed a crush for Daniel’s dad and straight up rejected didn’t cope well with the humiliation that she’d gotten from the man, and since then, she’s been brewing a plan to get back to him and his family – through his son.
“What I am going to do now is firing up the electrical pulse simultaneously as I get the stud aroused; his brain will associate the sexual desire for you with the hypnotic state. You will give him some kind of phrase, which will activate his trance, and then he will do anything you command without any memory of it”, the doctor explained while hooking Daniel’s feet to a pulley and propped them upward. He unbuckled the man’s belt and pulled down his pants and undies. He inserted his gloved fingertips up the unconscious man’s anus and started massaging his prostate. Even in a drug-induced coma, Daniel’s 8 inches cock was still be able to stand rock hard with unconscious arousal. Karla whispered something in Daniel’s ear, while eyeing up the doctor who now touching himself inappropriately with his other free hand.
“Done yet?” he impatiently asked, “If so, could you get out of here, please? There are a few more things I need to... uhmm... finish, before we could wrap it up.” Karla complied, understanding of what about to happened, but she certainly didn’t feel bad for Daniel – he was just a pawn in her grand scheme...
52 notes · View notes
heartofspells · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
Masterpost
@wolfstarmicrofic
Prompt: star studded
He waits until Teddy's gone before he broaches the subject. It seems safer that way, and also leaves more possibility of them acting on it immediately instead of having to delay.
Sirius is standing by the window when Remus returns home from work. He's not sure how long he's been there. He does feel like he fades away when the other man isn't near, something he'd not noticed in the beginning but is becoming more apparent with every passing day. Sirius grits his teeth against it, grinding them together, the sounds echoing through his skull.
He's been drifting, his thoughts scattering far and wide, not even leaving pathways for him to follow back to where he thinks he still partially exists. Flashes of Harry floods him at random times, sprinkled with James and Lily, their faces always bright, laughing, loving, so warm that it aches. Sirius misses them too much to hold it all in, releasing it through gasping breaths.
There are fainter things there as well. The murky brown of drink on a damp wooden bar, music in his ears, hints of his own voice mixing in. Warm fingers running over his skin. A searing pain in his side that he barely notices as it melds with something better that he can't settle on fully. Glimpses of a pregnant moon in a star-studded sky, city lights nearly drowning them out of existence. Stumbling feet up stairs, a throaty laugh as his shoulder collides with a door frame. A startling flash of yellow light, blinding and bursting white spots over his vision that seem to consume him.
"Sirius?"
He startles violently, spinning on his heel quickly as he reaches for the wand no longer in his possession. Sirius grapples for a moment before he remembers, an eerie combination of panic and calm flooding him as they meld together seamlessly. And then his eyes are fixing on Remus' face, back within the flat, the other man gazing at him with a furrowed brow.
"R-Remus," he stutters out after a few teetering seconds.
"All right?" questions Remus, taking a step forward. His hand twitches at his side, like it wants to lift, but it never does. Sirius thinks in a distant sort of way that he wishes it would. "I said your name a few times," hedges Remus slowly. "It took you a while to respond."
Sirius stares for a moment, struggling to form more words until he shakes his head clear. "Fine, yeah," he mumbles, and Remus' frown deepens as he takes another step closer.
"Sirius – "
"I want to go to St Mungo's," say Sirius suddenly, cutting across his own name. Remus opens his mouth, but Sirius doesn't give him a chance to speak. "I need to see myself. What if there's something they're missing that I can find but they can't? What if just being there is all that it takes? Please, Remus. I don't beg, but I'm begging. I don't think this is going to last forever. I feel – " Sirius stops and swallows around the lump forming in his throat. "I feel like I'm slowly slipping away when I'm alone." When you're not here.
Something flashes across Remus' expression and then he's closing the gap between them in one long stride. His hand raises then, resting over the side of Sirius' face, warm fingers splaying down his neck, and Sirius gasps a little, not realizing how much he'd needed the contact. Remus seems to understand, and he does the same to the other side, cradling Sirius in his hands' embrace.
"Okay," murmurs Remus quietly. "Okay, we can go. We can do whatever you need. Let's go."
Sirius slumps forward before he can stop himself as relief floods him. Remus catches him effortlessly, a surprising thing, though much later Sirius will come to the conclusion that it shouldn't have been so surprising after all.
62 notes · View notes
archivehub · 8 days
Text
Title: Peppermint Summary: Steven's title as "the singer" of his and Connie's relationship is challenged. Word Count: 661
Prepare for a doozie. For Glow Week day 4, I used the prompt "Nurture."
The short is also beneath the cut:
Singing had always, unequivocally, been Steven’s thing. Sure, Connie would occasionally join in softly as he belted out lyrics in the car, but those moments remained few and far between.
Steven sang to her as a child, he sang to her as a young adult, he sang as he proposed for the first time; he even sang as he proposed a second time. He sang to her baby bump, he sang at her college graduation, he sang at their wedding, he sang all throughout their honeymoon; and, most recently, he sang as they held their daughter for the first time ever.
This dynamic remained unchanged, unchallenged, for over a decade. That is, until one fateful summer night…
“Your turn, hun…” Steven sighed as an all-too-familiar wailing came blaring through the nearby baby monitor.
“On it…” Connie yawned. She practically flopped out of bed before slipping on a blue robe and a pair of falcon-shaped slippers. Lion followed her out of the room as she then shuffled over to the adjacent nursery.
As a series of ‘it’s okay’s and tender shushes made their way out of the monitor, Steven attempted dozing off once more, having been in the middle of a particularly exciting dream. Just moments before his mind could slip into unconsciousness, however, something unbelievable, absolutely unprecedented, caught his ear: his wife’s unprompted singing.
To say the absolute least, it was angelic. Actually, Steven thought, that was an understatement: it was mind-bendingly ethereal. Had she always been able to sing like that? And since when did she know entire songs in Hindi?
In that moment, he felt, everything changed about their dynamic. He was no longer the singer of the two of them. Hell, compared to her, he wasn’t even a singer. She was leagues upon leagues more talented than he could ever, in a zillion years, hope to be, no matter how little she demonstrated her skill.
His entire body flushed a deep shade of pink. Oh lord, what was happening to him? What were these thoughts he was having?
---
“Morning, biscuit!” Connie beamed as she set little Gracie in her high chair. The woman produced a bottle of milk which the infant instantly ripped from her hands. “Looks like someone’s thirsty,” she snorted. “Speaking of, I made tea. Peppermint, your favorite,” she hummed.
Steven produced a warm, albeit strained, smile. “Thanks,” he nodded. He took a seat beside his daughter, who immediately attempted grabbing his curls as she downed her milk at light speed.
“Sleep well?” Connie exhaled; she placed a frog-patterned mug in her husband’s hand before leaning against the fridge, arms crossed.
Steven felt his eyes widen. “Uhm, very,” he coughed before hiding his expression behind his drink. Something must’ve given away his discomposure, however; his wife quirked a brow. The subtle resistance immediately caused any mental fortitude he possessed to explode into a billion tiny pieces. “I heard you singing last night!” he blurted before immediately burying his face behind his mug once more.
Connie pursed her lips. “Oh, uh… really?” She tapped her gem-studded wedding ring against her own frog-patterned mug. “I learned those songs from my mom,” she half-tittered before taking a sip of her drink, durian juice—she wasn’t a huge fan of coffee or tea, having been put off the latter by a certain affront to all things sacred she had drank as a twelve-year-old. “Did you…” she inhaled, “like my singing?”
“‘Like’?” Steven repeated. He slammed his drink onto the table; Gracie laughed and slammed her own cup against her high chair. “Connie, I-I wanna marry you again! C-can we please have a second wedding?” he begged. “No no, forget it,”—he slapped a palm to his face—“that wouldn’t make any sense…” He rubbed his forehead for but a moment before perking up once more. “Wait, wait,” he began, “I’ve got it!” He threw up his arms. “Let’s have another baby!”
Connie simply blinked.
Lisa Maheswaran-Universe was born ten months later.
6 notes · View notes
mini-metal · 1 year
Text
Waiting For a Girl Like You
Jake Seresin x PoC fem!reader
Requested: Yes
@entertainmentgal8 this is for you. I'm sorry that I'm late getting it out. There will be a part two. Possibly a part three. I'm not sure yet.
A/N: Not edited. Under 18 DNI. No use of y/n. Nickname is Sunny.
warnings: fluff? Bit of angst. Cheesiness. Allusion to smut. But no actual smut.
Word count: 1289
Tumblr media
You and your friends decided to check out the local bar. Something called the Hard Deck. You were on a girls' vacation in San Diego. While you all didn't feel like going to a club, a bar seemed pretty cool. 
You had picked out a burgundy red sundress. It did wonders to your darker complexion. It was sleeveless, with a lace detail, a high halter collar, and was a high-low type. 
You picked out black sandals to go with it. You also may or may not have picked a nail color that matched said dress when you went for a medi/pedi before leaving for your vacation. 
You decided on wearing your hair down. Corkscrew coils and you had it parted to the right. Your makeup was light, leaving the main focus on your plump lips. While you weren't big on jewelry, you settled for a pair of opalescent pearl stud earrings. 
By the time you finish, you were waiting in the living room for your friends. You four would go for a quick bite to eat then head straight to the Hard Deck afterwards. 
Once everyone was ready, compliments were spread amongst each other. You all piled into the cars, with Ashley and Denise driving. 
You all decided on two cars instead of one. In the event of emergencies or the likes. 
You rode with Denise, while Michaela rode with Ashley. 
********
Dinner was amazing! Ashley found a restaurant called Pick Up Stix that was a Chinese restaurant. You all made small talk about the bar and what it had to offer. 
You had Googled it and found out it was a prime spot for Naval officers. Cheers rang out after hearing that. 
Now both cars were pulling into parking spots in front of the bar. Both engines were shut off and all four of you exited the vehicle. With a quick check that they were locked, you all headed inside. 
The cool air was a great welcome compared to the San Diego heat from previously being outside. You all surveyed the area. 
Denise pointed out the small group of people who wore khaki uniforms. 
"That must be the Naval officers! Let's go grab drinks then go mingle!" She suggested. 
To be honest, you weren't really interested in mingling with anyone. You just wanted to enjoy yourself. So you ventured to the bar. You had barely gotten there when a bell was rung. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. 
The bartender was talking to a customer as she pointed to a sign behind her. You glanced up at it to read it yourself. Two rules stuck out the most. 
“He who touches any aircraft here shall buy the house a round of cheer” and “whoever places their phone on the bar shall buy a round of cheer.”
You looked down to see a cell phone on the bar. You smiled. Your first dronk was free. The poor schmuck sighed as he handed over his credit card. At that mom, you walked up to place your order. 
The bartender, Penny as she introduced herself, smiled as she asked what she could get you. 
"I'll take a cranberry vodka, please," you answered. 
She nodded then set to work. As you waited, you took this opportunity to look around. What you hadn't expected was to catch the eyes of a blond haired green eyed man dressed in a khaki uniform. 
He flashed you a megawatt smile then sent a wink your way. You returned the smile, as you felt your cheeks warm. Penny returned with your drink and you offered up a thanks. She smiled again before turning to help the blond haired man. You had raised your glass at him before turning away and leaving. 
You saw each of your girlfriends chatting to a Naval officer. You hummed in awe as you slowly made your way towards them. 
You stood to the side and sipped on your drink. You were really just observing while keeping an eye on your friends. What you hadn't expected was the blond man to walk up behind you. 
You felt a warm breath on your right ear. You couldn't help but shudder. In a good way though. 
"I wasn't aware that you were a part of the group of ladies that walked in. But I can see it now," came a southern drawl. 
Your eyes fluttered at the sound. You always loved a southern accent. Despite being from the Midwest. You turned to look over your shoulder. 
"What gave it away?" 
He chuckled as he replied. 
"All of you are wearing a sundress. Not sure if y'all noticed but y'all seem to color coordinate," he added. 
You looked back to your friends. A soft "huh" fell from your lips. He was right. Ashley had a navy sundress, Denise had a turquoise one, and Michaela had a golden yellow one. 
Instead of responding, you took a sip from your drink. 
Another Naval officer called out to the blond man. Called him Hangman. Which was weird. You kind of tuned it out the zoned back in when Hangman started talking to you again. 
"Would you care to dance with me, sweetheart?" 
You turned to face him, flashing him a look of surprise. 
"Sweetheart?" 
He chuckled again. 
"Well I haven't caught your name." 
"That's because I didn't throw it."
Something flashed across his face. You weren't sure what it was but as soon as it appeared, it was gone. 
"Sweetheart it is. Unless you say otherwise," he replied with a shit-eating grin. 
You rolled your eyes in jest as you shook your head. He held out a hand to you. You hesitated in taking it but you eventually did. He led you over to the jukebox near a piano. 
He dropped a dime in before selecting a song. You snorted at the song choice he picked. Waiting For a Girl Like You by Foreigner. You looked up at him. 
"Smooth choice, Hangman," you sassed. 
He only smiled as he led you out a little ways to start dancing. You instinctively draped your arms around his neck. While his went around your waist. 
"So how long are you here for?" He asked, looking down at you. 
You hummed before answering. 
"Just for the week. We leave Sunday morning." 
He nodded. It was Wednesday. Four days and three nights left. Not that he was counting. You both fell into an easy conversation. You talked about where you were both from. Him from Texas, you from Missouri. You also found out that his real name was Jake. Jake Seresin. Hangman was his call sign in the Navy. He was a Naval Aviator. 
You told him your name. But your friends often called you Sunny. Your favorite flower was a sunflower. You worked as a registered nurse. You were going for your doctorate as a nurse practitioner online. 
The more you talked, the more you felt at ease being around him. You enjoyed his company. You felt safe in his strong arms. 
So when he suggested leaving after a while, you didn't hesitate to say yes. You looked around for your friends only to notice that they too had left with the ones they were talking to. 
You scoffed. 
"Nice to know that they all decided to leave me stranded and not tell me that they were leaving," you mumbled. 
Jake placed a hand on your lower back for a minute. 
"I'm going to go pay off my tab, then we'll head out," he explained. 
You nodded and waited by the pool tables while he made his way to the bar. When he returned, his hand went right back to the small of your back as he guided you out of the bar. 
31 notes · View notes
shutupdevvie · 1 year
Note
would you happen to know of any facetime/cyber sex fics? could be for any of the boys, but danny would definitely be preferred.
hi !! i want to apologize immediately and say that i only know of a few danny fics that fit this and i wish i knew of more of them :(( these are gonna be a mix of phone sex and facetime sex and then i think i did a snapchat fic and a texting blurb and yeah. also most of these are josh because i guess he's just a phone sex bitch idk.
Angel by @jake-kiszkas-smirk (danny // tbh this is not phone sex. it's phone sex adjacent. there's a phone and there's sex and they're kind of related so i decided to include it)
Across the Miles by @gretavanlace (josh)
You've Got Me by @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine (josh)
hard candy by @garbagevanfleet (this is actually cam boy! josh so)
snapchat by @godlygreta (sammy)
Special Delivery by @ficthots (josh // this is a longer fic that's super cute and really good overall plus it has a facetime sex scene)
Looking Glass by @streamingcolors-gvf (josh)
1-800-STUD by @gretasmokerising (one of the only true phone sex danny fics i could find and it's a phone sex hotline so)
D-A-R-K by @arcaneblaine (alt! josh // this is another one that's longer and the phone sex scene isn't fully fledged out but it still makes my stomach turn so i'm adding it)
Cyber Sex by @groggyvanfleet (sammy)
if anyone else has any recommendations, please leave them because i, too, love phone sex fics and would like to read more of them :)))
24 notes · View notes
Text
29 / 11 / 2022
🇬🇧🇺🇸 ENGLISH / ANGLAIS 🇬🇧🇺🇸
PERSONAL FICTIONAL STORY
HUMILIATED BY A CELEBRITY #40 :
NEYMAR, professional football player (1992)
Special guest-star : DRAKE, Canadian singer
Dear readers, this is already the 40th story in the series HUMILIATED BY A CELEBRITY 😁 !!!!!!! I wouldn't have continued if you hadn't been there, so please always be so many to like, reblog and comment on my stories so that I feel supported. I've written about many famous alpha males, whether gay or straight, black or white, French, English, American or otherwise. Whether they are actors, singers, sportsmen....
For this fortieth, I had to mark the occasion with a very handsome and well-liked muscular man. Brazilian professional footballer Neymar is incredibly handsome, I would love to kiss him. I have no chance of doing it, but I made up this story in which a man - whose physical appearance and age is not specified so that everyone can imagine themselves in his place - will become tiny. The hero is going to get tiny, and this is one of the first times I've written about miniaturization. I hope that you will like.
And see you in at number 41 of this series, I hope that many of you will still love this series, because I have ideas for yet another ten episodes of this history series. 😁
Tumblr media
THE SPORT PLAYERS, THE NEW KINGS #2
- KING NEYMAR AND HIS TINY SLAVE -
- CHAPTER 1 - AT NEYMAR'S SERVICE -
Captain of the Brazil national football team, Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior, said Neymar Jr., more commonly known as Neymar, was a king in the eyes of his fans. Time after time, he had started to behave like one. His luxurious lifestyle reflected his taste for celebration and debauchery. As a player of the Paris-Saint-Germain (PSG) team, he was approached by luxury brands to be a model. As a professional footballer, his talent impressed his competitors. Arrogant and superficial, he was also funny and kind to the people he loved.
Neymar, this handsome Brazilian player, had a personal assistant. This one had been in the service of the star for a short time. The previous one had left for an unknown reason. Neymar therefore needed a new personal secretary, someone to manage his social networks and his appointments.
The new man chosen was called Elio, a young Parisian so happy to be behind the scenes at the club in his city. His knowledge of English allowed him to travel with Neymar on his professional and personal trips. His tasks were fairly standard: managing his boss's calls and appointments. Satisfied with his particular assistant's submission, Neymar gave Elio more specific orders, such as carrying his luggage, serving drinks at his parties, and washing his clothes.
But the worst was to come.
Tumblr media
One day, Neymar was on his big bed looking at several dozen shoes he had put on the blanket. It was just part of his large shoe collection. There were over 1000! Anyway, he looked at Elio with a smile.
NEYMAR: "Little Elio, I made you come to my room because I didn't know which pair of shoes to put on, so I tried them all. But now they're mixed up, so you're going to put them away in pairs. But to put them back together, my shoes will have to be licked! Yes, Elio, you will lick my shoes to put them back in pairs! Consider yourself lucky that I don't leave you a specific time, but if you take too long to lick them and put them back in pairs, I will have to punish you! Ahahah!"
Then Neymar put two socks over Elio's eyes and around his head to prevent him from seeing. According to his boss's will, his tongue would be his only way to find his boss's pairs of shoes and put them back together in pairs. Elio started licking the shoes, and the bright colors didn't help him given his blindness. He could use different textures, softer or rougher fabrics. The soles had different patterns, not counting those that had heels or studs. Neymar was amused to see Elio licking his shoes.
When Elio licked one shoe, he licked another until he found the one that looked like the one he licked first. He had to show memorization and speed, but his tongue hurt from licking everything. Neymar was spitting in his mouth so that he had saliva.
It lasted more than an hour and Neymar enjoyed this spectacle of submission.
NEYMAR: "It took you an hour to find my shoes and put them in pairs, I expect you to do it faster next time! It's with your tongue that my shoes will be cleaned from now on. both outside and inside! Now put them away, my little Elio!"
Some time later, Neymar forces his personal assistant to massage his feet. His long, hot, sweaty feet are even more tired after his practices or matches. Accustomed to directing others, to walking, jumping, running,... Neymar likes having his feet massaged. Neymar's height 41 (8.5 US) feet are impressive and Elio is quickly getting used to serving his master. But this one quickly tires of the obedience of his slave.
-
- CHAPTER 2 - THE TRANSFORMATION -
During a trip to Brazil where he is with the national football team, he enjoys a guided visit to an ancient temple of a pre-Columbian civilization. He is particularly intrigued by a book of spells. He asks the temple guide the meaning of a page where a normal-sized man can be seen becoming tiny. The guide explains that the page of the grimoire shown to her by Neymar represents a spell that reduces the size of a human to the point that they become tiny.
Neymar takes advantage of the guide moving away to take a picture of the page, goes to a site to translate the ancient Brazilian language, and realizes that the ingredients for creating the spell are all in Brazil. Neymar finds his personal assistant, who is carrying his jacket and his bag and had waited for him quietly outside the temple.
Neymar sends him to buy the ingredients he needs to create the miniaturization spell, without specifying the reason for these purchases. Elio does all the shopping possible to find the precious ingredients.
Returning to Neymar's villa, Elio brings him the ingredients and Neymar sends him to lick his shoes to occupy him. Obediently, Elio goes to his boss's shoe cabinet to lick them. Neymar takes the opportunity to prepare the spell. He mixes herbs, flowers and spices, boils the mixture in hot water and then lets it cool.
Once the potion is ready, the color red makes you thirsty, so Neymar pours red fruit juice into another glass to trick Elio into thinking it's the same drink. Then he takes the glasses and goes to his room where he sees this pathetic little Parisian licking the soles of his shoes.
NEYMAR: "How many have you already licked?"
ELIO: "40 pairs, sir."
NEYMAR: "40 pairs?! That means you just licked 80 shoe soles!! Ahahah ha!!!! Well, I served you a red fruit juice, drink it with me."
ELIO: "Thank you sir."
To Neymar's satisfaction, Elio drinks the shrinking potion!
Elio was very small, he was only 35 cm tall and he was under his clothes, which had become too big for him. Neymar took it in his hand and lifted it in front of him. Elio was very small and screamed when he found himself face to face with Neymar.
ELIO: "Boss, how did you become a giant?"
NEYMAR: "It's not me who's giant, it's you who's tiny! And now it's time for me to relieve myself."
BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!
A powerful burp almost took Elio's head off! The stench had gone straight to his face.
NEYMAR: "Ahahahahahahahah!!!!! Your face when my burp surprised you!!! Ahahahahahah!!!! Well, glad to have known you but now I'm going to eat you!"
Neymar opened his mouth and was about to drop Elio into his mouth to eat him alive, but he was struggling.
ELIO: "Please, boss, don't eat me alive!!!! I don't know what I did to make you turn me tiny, but I would do anything to stay alive!!!!"
NEYMAR: "Very well from now on you are mine! My feet sweat a lot so you will absorb the sweat from my feet."
Reluctantly, Elio had no choice but to be put against the sole of his former boss's right foot, who then slipped a sock over it. Elio was now glued to Neymar's right foot warm in his sock. Then the Brazilian footballer put his shoes on, and Elio was even tighter against the sole of his foot.
Throughout Neymar's football training, Elio was swallowing liters of sweat from his master's foot. He was a little under the size of his master's foot so all the sweat went straight into his mouth. The worst part was less the smell or taste of foot sweat than Neymar's weight on him because, despite the softness of the sock, Elio was crushed by Neymar. He was running, jumping and kicking the ball hard, which really hurt Elio.
When the training was over, Neymar did not take off his socks directly and waited until he was at home to order his tiny slave, who was completely naked, to massage his feet with his small hands, to lick the other foot in which he had not been. Despite his tiny size, Elio properly licked his master's feet and his tiny tongue passionately licked the sweat and dirt left by the socks. At night, Neymar made Elio sleep in his dirty sock.
The days passed like this for Elio: after a night's sleep in his master's dirty sock, he spent the day in his foot, a different foot each day. His new size had changed his eating habits: sweat from his feet and dirt was enough to be fit.
Neymar had fun with his tiny slave and enjoyed watching him lick his big feet.
-
- CHAPTER 3 - NEYMAR, KING OF BRAZIL -
One day, Neymar was invited to a star party, and he met the Canadian singer Drake, of whom he was a fan. The singer and actor Drake is a giant of 1 m 93, a manly bearded man very cuddly but very dominant. He put his muscular arm around the handsome Neymar's neck.
Tumblr media
DRAKE: "Hey Neymar! It's ok, man! By the way, tell me, where did your servant go? the one who often walks behind you like a dog!"
NEYMAR: "Why Drake, do you want to fuck him?"
DRAKE: "No, I already have slaves for that, and I can have anyone I want. But you told me he's good at cleaning shoes and feet. I thought you could have let me use it a bit, Neymar"
NEYMAR : "Yes, but he's not here."
DRAKE: "So where is he?"
NEYMAR: "In my foot. Come on, I'll show you."
The great Canadian singer and the beautiful Brazilian footballer went to a discreet room, where Neymar took off his shoe and his sock in order to show his tiny slave to Drake. Far from having compassion for the fate of the tiny slave, Drake burst out laughing!
DRAKE: "You mean to tell me that pathetic slave is stuck in your shoe during the day and in your sock at night?! Ahhahah, what a loser! I'm sure a lot of little white guys must be dreaming of being in my foot!"
NEYMAR : "Okay, I'll sell you the spell in exchange for your financial help for a political pyojet that I'm carrying. You won't have to donate a lot or do it officially, but I need the money. Of course. I am very rich but I would need money to spare in case my project fails, or even if it succeeds."
DRAKE: "I'm so rich I don't mind buying you this spell. The prospect of turning little white guys into footlickers excites me. What's your plan?"
NEYMAR: "Oh not much.... Just the restoration of the monarchy in Brazil. The last Emperor of Brazil was Peter II. He was deposed in 1889, and since then Brazil has certainly succeeded in becoming an influential country but it is plagued by lobbies and we must be more proactive in favor of ecology. I despite myself gave the image of a man who did not care about ecological problems, but I must help my country not only by being captain of the Brazil national football team!"
DRAKE: "If helping you become the new King of Brazil is the price to pay to get the shrinking potion recipe then I'll be happy to do it!"
To celebrate this alliance Neymar forced Elio to lick Drake's enormous feet, and seeing a tiny one trying to suck his toes confirmed Drake's desire for a tiny foot licker. He figured he could use it to lick other parts of his body.
Several months passed and, thanks to the financing of the sublime Canadian singer Drake and his own money, Neymar had made an electoral campaign to become the new King of Brazil. Supported by environmental activists and lovers of social justice, Neymar had succeeded in being elected King of Brazil. He was the first ruler since the ill-fated Peter II, who died in exile in France two years after his dismissal in 1889. Elio had lived through this election campaign stuck in his master's foot, in a different foot each day.
With Neymar's accession to the throne of Portugal, Drake had obtained the recipe for the shrinking spell from the former captain of the Brazil national football team. So it's with an Asian boy in his left foot, a White boy in his right foot, a White boy stuck in his left armpit, a Black boy in his right armpit, and a cute White woman in his ass. Three of them had been miniaturized against their will, but the other two had been shrunk on purpose in order to worship Drake and his sublime body.
It was therefore with his tiny slaves under him that Drake attended the coronation of Neymar as King of Brazil and founder of the Neymar Dynasty.
Tumblr media
At this event, Neymar wore a coronation coat representing his country, Brazil, and the city with which he achieved success: the long, thick fur coat was embroidered with the emblem of PSG and the flag of Brazil. It was with this outfit that he had himself represented on a huge royal painting.
Every day, King Neymar I of Brazil received subjects who came to thank him for his action in favor of the people, but he continued to play in the national team of Brazil. On his throne, he wore his sublime crown and had his feet massaged by his tiny slave. For his devotion, Elio received the honor of licking the body, the muscular and sweating torso of his King.
Tumblr media
Life was good for Neymar, who was improving the lives of his people, and it was good too for Elio, who had nothing to do but lick the King's feet, even if that also meant being crushed. under his feet or in his armpits. Long live King Neymar of Brazil!
END OF THE STORY
⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
🇨🇵 FRANÇAIS / FRENCH 🇨🇵
HISTOIRE FICTIVE PERSONNELLE
HUMILIÉ PAR UNE CÉLÉBRITÉ #40 :
NEYMAR, footballeur professionnel (1992)
Apparition spéciale : DRAKE, chanteur
Chers lecteurs, c'est déjà la 40ème histoire de la série HUMILIÉ PAR UNE CÉLÉBRITÉ!!!!!!! Je n'aurais pas continué si vous n'aviez pas été là, alors s'il vous plaît soyez toujours aussi nombreux à liker, rebloguer et commenter mes histoires afin que je me sente soutenu.
J'ai écrit sur de nombreux mâles alphas célèbres, qu'ils soient gay ou hétéros, Noirs ou Blancs, Français, Anglais, Américains ou autre. Qu'ils soient acteurs, chanteurs, sportifs....
Pour cette quarantième, je devais marquer le coup avec un homme musclé très beau et très apprécié. Le footballeur professionnel brésilien Neymar est d'une incroyable beauté, j'aimerais énormément l'embrasser. Je n'ai aucune chance de le faire, mais j'ai inventé cette histoire dans laquelle un homme va être miniaturisé.
L'apparence physique et l'âge du héros n'est pas précisé afin que chacun puisse s'imaginer à sa place. Celui-ci va devenir minuscule, et c'est l'une des premières fois que j'écris sur la miniaturisation. J'espère que vous aimerez.
Et rendez-vous dans au numéro 41 de cette série, j'espère que vous serez toujours aussi nombreux à aimer cette série, car j'ai des idées pour encore une autre dizaine d'épisodes de cette série d'histoire. 😁
Tumblr media
LES SPORTIFS, LES NOUVEAUX ROIS #2
- NEYMAR ET SON ESCLAVE MINUSCULE -
- CHAPITRE 1 - AU SERVICE DE NEYMAR -
Capitaine de l'équipe nationale de football du Brésil, Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior, dit Neymar Jr., plus couramment appellé Neymar, était un roi aux yeux de ses fans. À force, il avait commencé à se comporter comme tel. Son train de vie luxueux reflétait son goût de la fête et de la débauche.
En tant que joueur de l'Équipe du Paris-Saint-Germain (PSG), il était approché par des marques de luxe pour être mannequin. En tant que footballeur professionnel, son talent impressionnait ses concurrents. Arrogant et superficiel, il était aussi drôle et gentil avec les gens qu'il aime.
Neymar, ce beau joueur brésilien, avait un assistant personnel. Celui-ci était au service de la star depuis peu de temps. Le précédent était parti pour une raison inconnu. Neymar avait donc besoin d'un nouveau secrétaire personnel, quelqu'un pour gérer ses réseaux sociaux et ses rendez-vous.
Tumblr media
Le nouvel homme choisi s'appelait Elio, un jeune Parisien si heureux d'être dans les coulisses du club de sa ville. Sa connaissance de l'anglais lui permit de partir en voyage avec Neymar dans ses déplacements professionnels et personnels. Ses tâches étaient assez classiques : gérer les appels et les rendez-vous de son patron. Satisfait de la soumission de son assistant particulier, Neymar donna des ordres plus précis à Elio, tels que porter ses bagages, servir des boissons lors de ses soirées, et laver ses vêtements.
Mais le pire allait venir.
Tumblr media
Un jour, Neymar était sur son grand lit et regardait plusieurs dizaines de chaussures qu'il avait posé sur la couverture. Ce n'était qu'une partie de sa grande collection de chaussures. Il en avait plus de 1000 ! Quoiqu'il en soit, il le regarda avec un sourire.
NEYMAR : "Bon Elio je t'ai fait venir dans ma chambre car je savais pas quelle paire de chaussures mettre alors je les ai toutes essayées. Mais maintenant elles sont mélangées, alors tu vas les ranger par paires. Mais pour les reconstituer par paires, mes chaussures devront être léchées ! Oui, Elio, tu vas lécher mes chaussures pour refaire les paires ! Estime toi heureux que je ne te laisse pas un temps précis, mais si tu prends trop de temps pour les lécher et les remettre par paires, je serai obligé de te punir ! Ahahah !"
Puis Neymar mit deux chaussettes sur les yeux et autour de la tête d'Elio afin de l'empêcher de voir. Selon la volonté de son patron, sa langue serait son seul moyen pour trouver les paires de chaussures de son patron et les reconstituer par paires.
Elio se mit à lécher les chaussures, et les couleurs vives ne lui étaient d'aucune aide étant donné son aveuglement. Il pouvait s'aider des textures différentes, des tissus plus doux ou plus rugueux. Les semelles avaient des motifs différents, sans compter celles qui avaient des talons ou des crampons. Neymar s'amusait de voir Elio lécher ses chaussures.
Quand Elio avait lèché une chaussure, il en léchait d'autre jusqu'à ce qu'il trouve celle qui était ressemblante à celle qu'il avait lèché en premier. Il devait faire preuve de mémorisation et de rapidité, mais il avait mal à la langue à force de tout lécher. Neymar lui crachait dans la bouche pour qu'il ait de la salive. Cela dura plus d'une heure et Neymar apprécia ce spectacle de soumission.
NEYMAR : "Tu as mis une heure pour retrouver mes chaussures et les mettre par paire, j'attends de toi que tu fasses plus vite la prochaine fois ! C'est avec ta langue que seront nettoyés mes chaussures à partir de maintenant, l'extérieur comme l'intérieur ! Maintenant vas les ranger, mon petit Elio !"
Quelques temps plus tard, Neymar oblige son assistant personnel à lui masser les pieds. Ses longs pieds chauds et suants sont encore plus fatigués après ses entraînements ou ses matchs. Habitué à diriger les autres, à marcher, sauter, courir,..., Neymar aime qu'on lui masse les pieds. Les pieds de taille 41 (8.5 US) de Neymar sont impressionnants et Elio s'habitue rapidement à servir son maître. Mais celui-ci se lasse vite de l'obéissance de son esclave.
Tumblr media
-
- CHAPITRE 2 - LA TRANSFORMATION -
Lors d'un voyage au Brésil où il est avec l'équipe de foot nationale, il profite d'une visite guidée dans un ancien temple d'une civilisation précolombienne. Il est particulièrement intrigué par un livre de sortilèges. Il demande au guide du temple la signification d'une page où l'on peut voir un homme de taille normale devenir minuscule. La guide explique que la page du grimoire que lui montre Neymar représente un sortilège qui réduit la taille d'un humain au point qu'ils deviennent minuscules.
Neymar profite que la guide s'éloigne pour prendre en photo la page, se rend sur un site permettant de traduire l'ancienne langue brésilienne, et se rend compte que les ingrédients permettant la création du sortilège se trouvent tous au Brésil.
Neymar retrouve son assistant personnel, qui porte sa veste et son sac et l'avait attendu sagement à l'extérieur du temple.
Neymar l'envoie lui acheter les ingrédients qu'il a besoin pour créer le sortilège de miniaturisation, sans préciser la raison de ces achats.
Elio fait tout les magasins possibles pour trouver les précieux ingrédients. Revenu à la villa de Neymar, Elio lui apporte les ingrédients et Neymar l'envoie lécher ses chaussures pour l'occuper.
Obéissant, Elio se rend dans l'armoire aux chaussures de son patron pour les lécher. Neymar en profite pour préparer le sortilège. Il mélange les herbes, les fleurs et les épices, fait bouillir le mélange dans de l'eau chaude et laisse ensuite refroidir.
Une fois la potion prête, la couleur rouge donne soif, alors Neymar se sert de jus de fruits rouges dans un autre verre afin de faire croire à Elio que c'est la même boisson. Puis il prend les verres et se rend dans sa chambre où il voit ce pathétique petit parisien en train de lécher les semelles de ses chaussures.
NEYMAR : "Tu en as déjà lèché combien ?"
ELIO : "40 paires, monsieur."
NEYMAR : "40 paires ?! Ça veut dire que tu viens de lécher 80 semelles de chaussures!! Ahahah ha !!!! Bon bah je t'ai servis un jus de fruits rouges, bois le avec moi."
ELIO : "Merci Monsieur."
À la satisfaction de Neymar, Elio boit la potion de rétrécissement !
Elio était tout petit, il ne mesurait plus que 35 cm et il était sous ses vêtements, devenus trop grands pour lui.
Neymar l'a prit dans sa main et la soulevé devant lui. Elio était tout petit et cria lorsqu'il se retrouva face au visage de Neymar.
ELIO : "Patron, comment êtes-vous devenu un géant ?"
NEYMAR : "Ce n'est pas moi qui suis géant, c'est toi qui est minuscule ! Et maintenant il est temps pour moi de me soulager."
BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTT !!!!!!!!
Un rot puissant faillit décoller la tête d'Elio ! La puanteur était allé directement sur son visage.
NEYMAR : "Ahahahahahahahah!!!!! Ta tête quand mon rot t'as surpris !!! Ahahahahahah !!!! Bon, ravi de t'avoir connu mais maintenant je vais te manger!"
Neymar ouvrit sa bouche et s'apprêtait à lâcher Elio dans sa bouche pour le manger vivant, mais celui-ci se débattait.
ELIO: "Pitié, patron, ne me mangez pas vivant !!!! Je ne sais pas ce que j'ai fait pour que vous me transformiez en minuscule, mais je ferais tout pour rester vivant !!!!"
NEYMAR : "Très bien à partir de maintenant tu es à moi ! Je sue beaucoup des pieds alors tu vas absorber la sueur de mes pieds."
À contrecœur, Elio n'eut pas d'autre choix que celui d'être mis contre la semelle du pied droit de son ancien patron, qui enfila ensuite une chaussette par-dessus.
Elio était désormais collé au pied droit de Neymar au chaud dans sa chaussette. Puis le footballeur brésilien a mit ses chaussures, et Elio était encore plus serré contre la semelle du pied.
Tout au long de l'entraînement de football de Neymar, Elio avalait les litres de sueur de pied de son maître. Il faisait un peu moins de la taille du pied de son maître donc toute la sueur allait directement dans sa bouche. Le pire c'était moins l'odeur ou le goût de la sueur du pied que le poid de Neymar sur lui car, malgré la douceur de la chausette, Elio était écrasé par Neymar. Celui-ci courait, sautait et donnait de grands coups de pied dans le ballon, ce qui avait pour conséquence de vraiment faire souffrir Elio.
Lorsque l'entraînement fut terminé, Neymar ne retira pas ses chausettes directement et attendit d'être chez lui pour ordonner à son esclave minuscule, qui était tout nu, de lui masser les pieds avec ses petites mains, de lécher l'autre pied dans lequel il n'avait pas été.
Malgré sa taille toute petite, Elio a convenablement lèché les pieds de son maître et sa langue minuscule léchait avec passion la sueur et la saleté laissée par les chausettes.
La nuit, Neymar fit dormir Elio dans sa chausette sale.
Les jours se passaient ainsi pour Elio : après une nuit de sommeil dans une chausette sale de son maître, il passait la journée dans son pied, un pied différent par jour. Sa nouvelle taille avait changé ses habitudes alimentaires : de la sueur de pieds et de la saleté suffisait à être en forme.
Neymar s'amusait avec son esclave minuscule et aimait le voir lécher ses grands pieds.
-
CHAPITRE 3 - NEYMAR, LE ROI DU BRÉSIL
Un jour, Neymar fut invité à une soirée de stars, et il retrouva le chanteur canadien Drake dont il était fan.
Le chanteur et acteur Drake est un géant d'1 m 93, un barbu viril très câlin mais très dominant. Il passa son bras musclé autour du cou du beau Neymar.
DRAKE : "Hey Neymar ! Ça va, mec ! Au fait dis-moi, où est donc passé ton petit larbin qui traîne souvent derrière toi tel un chien ?!"
NEYMAR : "Pourquoi Drake, t'as envie de le baiser ?"
DRAKE : "Non j'ai déjà des esclaves pour ça, et je peut avoir n'importe qui que je veut. Mais tu m'avais dit qu'il est doué en nettoyage de chaussures et de pieds. Ça te dérangerait de me le prêter ?"
NEYMAR : "Oui, mais il n'est pas ici."
DRAKE : "Alors où est-il ?"
NEYMAR : "Dans mon pied. Viens je vais te montrer."
Le grand chanteur canadien et le beau footballeur brésilien se sont rendu dans une pièce discrète, où Neymar retira sa chaussure et sa chausette afin de montrer son esclave minuscule à Drake. Loin d'avoir de la compassion pour le destin de l'esclave minuscule, Drake explosa de rire !
DRAKE : "Tu veut me dire que ce minable esclave est coincé dans ta chaussure la journée et dans ta chaussette la nuit ?! Ahhahah, quel loser ! Je suis sûr que pleins de petits mecs Blancs doivent rêver d'être dans mon pied !"
NEYMAR : "D'accord, je te vendrai le sortilège en échange de ton aide financière pour un pyojet politique que je porte. Tu seras as obligé de donner beaucoup ni de le faire officiellement, mais j'ai besoin d'argent. Bien sûr je suis très riche mais j'aurais besoin d'argent de côté au cas où mon projet échoue, ou même s'il réussit."
DRAKE : "Je suis si riche que ça me dérange pas de t'acheter ce sortilège. La perspective de transformer des petits gars Blancs en lécheurs de pieds m'excite. Quel est ton projet ?"
NEYMAR : "Oh pas grand chose.... Simplement le rétablissement de la monarchie au Brésil. Le dernier Empereur du Brésil était Pierre II. Il a été destitué en 1889, et depuis le Brésil a certes réussi à devenir un pays influent mais il est gangrèné par des lobbies et nous devons nous montrer plus proactif en faveur de l'écologie. J'ai malgré moi donné l'image d'un homme qui se fichait des problèmes écologiques, mais je dois aider mon pays pas uniquement en étant capitaine de l'équipe nationale de football du Brésil!"
DRAKE :" Si t'aider à devenir le nouveau Roi du Brésil est le prix à payer pour obtenir la recette de la potion de rétrécissement alors je serai heureux de le faire !"
Pour fêter cette alliance Neymar obligea Elio à lécher les énormes pieds de Drake, et voir un minuscule tenter de sucer ses orteils conforta Drake dans son envie d'avoir un minuscule lécheur de pieds. Il se disait qu'il pourrait l'utiliser pour lécher d'autres parties de son corps.
Plusieurs mois sont passés et, grâce au financement du sublime chanteur canadien Drake et de son propre argent, Neymar avait fait une campagne électorale pour devenir le nouveau Roi du Brésil. Soutenu par des militants écologistes et épris de justice social, Neymar avait réussi à être élu Roi du Brésil.
Il était le premier souverain depuis l'infortuné Pierre II, qui était mort en exil en France deux ans après sa destitution en 1889. Elio avait vécu cette campagne électorale coincé dans le pied de son maître, dans un pied différent chaque jour.
Avec l'accession de Neymar au trône du Portugal, Drake avait obtenu la recette du sortilège de rétrécissement de la part de l'ancien capitaine de l'équipe nationale de football du Brésil. C'est donc avec un garçon asiatique dans son pied gauche, un garçon blanc dans son pied droit, un garçon blanc collé à son aisselle gauche, un garçon noir dans son aisselle droite, et une jolie femme blanche dans son cul. Trois d'entre eux avaient été miniaturisés contre leur gré, mais les deux autres avaient été rétrécis de manière volontaire afin de vénérer Drake et son corps sublime.
C'est donc avec ses esclaves miniatures sous lui que Drake assista au couronnement de Neymar comme Roi du Brésil et fondateur de la Dynastie Neymar.
Neymar portait un manteau de sacre représentant son pays, le Brésil, et la ville avec laquelle il avait obtenu le succès : le long et épais manteau de fourrure était brodé avec l'emblème du PSG et le drapeau du Brésil. C'est avec cette tenue qu'il se fit représenter sur un immense tableau royal.
Tumblr media
Chaque jour, le Roi Neymar Ier du Brésil recevait des sujets qui venait le remercier son action en faveur du peuple, mais il continuait à jouer dans l'équipe nationale du Brésil.
Sur son trône, il portait sa sublime couronne et se faisait masser les pieds par son esclave minuscule. Pour son dévouement, Elio reçut l'honneur de lécher le corps, le torse musclé et suant de son Roi. La vie était belle pour Neymar, qui améliorait la vie de son peuple, et elle était belle aussi pour Elio, qui n'avait rien d'autre à faire que lécher les pieds du Roi, même si cela voulait dire aussi d'être écrasé sous ses pieds ou dans ses aisselles.
Vive le Roi Neymar du Brésil !
FIN DE L'HISTOIRE
🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽🇧🇷⚽
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
@neymarjr-cf @neymarbrasil @neymaaah @neymarbrasil @neymarchrist @neymarrjunior @footballjock4life @alphamalesuperiority @tinygiant @giantxxx2 @giant-tiny-people @gianttinyboys @giantworshipper @tallmascsub @feetmakesmehard @bat-woodfeet-us @tidodore2 @innerpiratefun @lovefanfiction01 @rainykpoptravelcreator @leftprogrammingroadtripdean @awesomecrowdcontrol1 @drake8866 @drakenigga @tfstation @tfkinksterz
22 notes · View notes
beebrainedstudios · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
The Pack (White Wolves of London- Victor Dane AU)
(Individual refs + details below the cut!)
Finally, I’m done with this illustration! I have been working on and off on this for a month or two now as I’ve been writing the Victor Dane AU (First chapter found here!); for everyone unaware, it’s a Vicious AU where the series takes place in the ADSOM universe, specifically in and around White London. These four are known as the Pack and are Victor’s closest allies (although two members are missing here- you’ll see them later). I’ve been having a lot of fun with the AU, but I wanted to have at least a rough idea of what everyone looked like, so this is concept art of sorts where I mostly solidified the designs from one of the AU’s arcs. It’s also my first time drawing Mitch and Dominic, and I’m very pleased with how they came out, especially Dominic and his grumpy expression. Anyways, individual pictures are below the cut, alongside a few facts about each character’s role in the AU and some of the details in their designs.
Mitch:
Tumblr media
- Mitch Turner is also known as the Raven (and later, the King’s Right Hand). Wickedly smart, surprisingly moral, and very very big, he’s been Victor’s closest ally every since the latter was thrown into prison following a deadly magical experiment. Mitch was worried his unusually bad luck would end up getting the ex-prince killed and tried to look out for him, but just as in canon, Victor proved to be perfectly capable of protecting himself on his own. A tentative friendship grew, and Mitch followed Victor into exile, crime, and eventually politics. No matter where the pair have ended up, Mitch has always been happy to help Victor maintain control of his subordinates by both providing extra muscle and acting as a mediator when things get too heated. He’s usually the one who does most of the actual ruling since Victor is often distracted by external threats to his territory/kingdom; Mitch typically keeps things running while Victor goes to deal with the threats. He also does an excellent job of caring for the rest of the Pack as they steadily join the group, first with Victor’s cousins (the members missing from the picture here), then Sydney, then Dominic.
- Design-wise, this is how I usually imagine Mitch, just in fantasy clothes since this is his ADSOM design. He’s a little duller than usual due to coming from the White World, but he’s still one of the more colorful members of the Pack. He has a lot of scars and a lot of tattoos under all of those clothes, but since the kingdom of Merit is north of White London, its usually too cold for anything less then three warm layers. His design also has a lot of conventions that are shared with the rest of the Pack shown here, such as the gold wolves’ teeth (a sign that they are close allies of the Wolf King), and the pointed triangle-stripe motif you can see on his shoulders and coat; this is known as a “hound’s fangs” pattern and is specific to the kingdom of Merit where Mitch and the rest of the group are from.
- Unlike a lot of the cast of the AU, Mitch has no magic. He’s not a Blackhearted (basically a magic EO) or a mage, but he doesn’t need any magic since he’s plenty strong on his own. Instead, his preferred weapons are his brain, his fists, a set of studded gloves that are essentially brass knuckles, and various other pieces of armor that allow him to put his strength to good use.
Dominic:
Tumblr media
- In this AU, Dominic is a very grouchy Antari who spends most of his time before meeting Victor running away from things. His entire life has been nothing but people hunting him down to kill him, enslave him, or drink his blood, and that has left him with a whole lot of emotional issues and lots of chronic pain from all of the injuries he’s received. His history has a lot in common with Holland’s actually, but where Holland had periods of time where he felt safe, Dominic had very little security after his eye went dark. However, after Victor rescues him from a deadly enemy, Dominic is surprised to find one king who wants to establish a mutual partnership instead of ownership (Victor knows better than to pick a fight with a skittish Antari), and he eventually allies himself with him so he can have a few other people watching his back, earning him the title of the King’s Shadow and the Fox. It certainly doesn’t hurt either that the agreement comes with help for his chronic pain. Over time, Dominic warms up to the Pack and becomes one of Victor’s most loyal supporters, helping him spy on enemies, and if need be, dispose of them before they cause any problems. He also looks after Sydney if no one else is around, and between him and Dol she’s one of the safest people in Merit.
- Design-wise, Dominic has a few things in common with Mitch, such as the White-world desaturation, the “hound’s fang” patterns, and the gold teeth decoration. However, where Mitch’s symbolic fangs are on the hood of his coat and his belt buckle, Dominic’s are threaded into his coat at the shoulders. He also has a golden fang ring that he uses to draw blood for spells like Holland does in ADSOM. I’m pretty pleased with how beat-up I managed to make him look; his hair is gray from stress, and he is by far the most scarred member of the Pack due to his history. He also has terrible posture and likes to slouch- when he’s not, he’s taller than Victor and nearly as tall as Mitch.
- Being an Antari, Dominic has the ability to use a lot of magic; though he’s initially fairly weak due to his condition, he recovers after joining the Pack and becomes one of its strongest members. While he’s most comfortable with using travel spells, he’s also a powerful fighter who’s very adept at using magic to alter the battlefield to give him an advantage, such as summoning shadows to blind the opponent or ice to trip them up. He usually wields several long knives, but he’s perfectly happy to petrify or freeze people too if need be- he’s more of a magician than a weapons specialist.
Sydney and Dol:
Tumblr media
- Sydney is one of the youngest members of Victor’s court and certainly the youngest member of the Pack, but regardless of her age, she has a lot of influence from having Mitch, Victor, and Dominic all wrapped around her fingers. She was rescued from the same threat that nearly killed Dominic, and after Victor found her she never really left, instead cementing herself as a useful ally and friend to the group. She’s essentially their second chance; if a party member dies, she can give them another shot by pulling the threads of their magic or life back together. However, this means that her gift puts a target on her back, and with little to no elemental magic to defend herself with, she relies on her wits and Dol to protect her. Dol has the same backstory as he does in canon- Sydney revived a dying dog she found and he was happily adopted. The wolfhound follows Sydney everywhere, which has given her the nickname Houndsmaster by most of Merit, although the pair are also called the Ghost and the Hound in some circles.
- Design-wise, Sydney shares traits with both Mitch and Dominic, such as the darker fur found on Mitch’s coat and the brighter red that Dominic wears; I wanted them to look like a group without being entirely identical. She also has a tiny bit of blue eyeshadow and hair pigment- according to ADSOM canon, White Londoners often wear a lot of makeup, and I thought that would probably be a trend in Merit as well since the kingdom is supposed to be a little more flippant and arts-focused. I also thought it’d be a cool nod towards all of the eyeshadow she had on when she met Victor in Vicious. As for the hair pigment, that is a massive hint towards who Victor’s other allies are if you’ve seen my ADSOM character designs before. For now, let’s just say it’s a trait she picked up from one of Victor’s cousins- she has a matching patch on the other side too. As for Dol, he’s a black Meritian wolfhound (basically an Irish wolfhound). I never really saw Dol as a Great Dane, he was always fluffy to me, so I went with this breed instead. His gold fang’s are located on his harness.
- In combat, Sydney is the weakest member of the group, so when danger strikes the entire Pack’s priority, including her’s, is to get her out of harm’s way. Usually Dol helps with this by either pulling her to safety or taking down enemies while she finds an exit. He’s tall enough to reach most people’s faces and will happily bite them if Sydney commands him to. As stated above, Sydney doesn’t have any extra magic outside of her Blackhearted ability (this is true for all Blackhearted, it has to do with how they actually get the new abilities), but she usually carries at least one knife on her. I also think she might end up with a crossbow at some point, but I’m still not entirely set on that yet.
So yeah, here’s a sneak peek into the AU and what’s coming up in it! I’ve been really busy recently with lots of projects, so it’s nice to get this done. I’m hoping to do more pics like this for the rest of the main cast. In the meantime, any questions you guys have I’d be happy to answer! I enjoy talking about my AUs and it helps me figure things out. I’m also working on Chapter 2 of White Wolves of London, which will feature a flashback from Victor’s princehood and our first look at Eli, the Blood Saint. It’ll also feature more stuff about Victor’s cousins too! See you guys then!
78 notes · View notes
trentbent069 · 11 months
Text
𝗦͟𝗲͟𝘅͟ ͟𝗜͟𝗻͟ ͟𝗣͟𝗨͟𝗕͟𝗹͟𝗶͟𝗰͟
My latest humiliation-porn script I've written... Set within the public house in which I won numerous quizzes... But all of them combined wouldn't cum close to beating me sexperiencing having my brains fucked out in there very publicly... Unluckily, though, for me, my pathetic maggot of a micropenis permanently appears to be suffering the brewer's droop...
I'm not sure if sibling incest would result in me ending up in a not-so-appealing lock-in, inside an establishment full of bars keeping you conFINED for your cummitting of antisocial behaviour whilst under alcoholic influence... Plus just a single solitary slippery bar I'd invitingly use within its shower to lube-lather up my genuinely Nancy ass crack for the peniletration sake of resident fake queers...
"******! Please! Put it away! You're making a fool out of yourself with that little maggot... Out among all the real man manhoods! Even though they're all actually younger and nearer boyhood than what you are...
Hey, Amy! Over here! My naked lap is now a bit cold... Chilly in the old willy... So I need a hot lap like yours, in two ways, to warm it up for me... Coming of age, tonight, here for you... But let's instead turn that into a differently spelt cumming of age...
And, hey, I'm also having myself a piece of her sexy nubile ass action... She can spit-roast my prime sausagemeat at the same time, and swallow my full semen load as her next drink... Celebrating her sweet 16th here, tonight, but I'll make it up to her for her not having a cake candle to blow out... By her getting to blow ON me, instead...
And, plus, I've got an idea for ******... Yes, his poor sexcuse for a manhood is useless here as a penis... But maybe he can instead trade it in for his rectum becumming an honourary vagina... To keep cumpany Amy's cunt...sorry, I mean vagina...
Hello, sweetie... Sugar me up, a bit...
Amy, you cheeky seductive little madam! With your BIG boobs!
You deserve a far harder spank than that, I've just given you across your naughty bare bottom cheeks!
****! For your paternal Pete's sake, please, PLEASE, use it inside her bum! And not inside her you know what! We don't need ****** becumming the only father HE will ever likely be! A godfather!
I wish she'd make me a sexual offer that I can't refuse... But there's more chance of her sleeping with a horse's head... Rather than with me and my genitalia only as good as a fellow filly of hers...
Well, kind of close, with **** being a stud that's hung like a donkey...
But, ah, ******, you're more like a seahorse... And so are a male that's more like a female... Haha, you BIG horse's arse joke! Enviously listen instead to me gag... Gag on ****'s longer dong than your poor little bellend, with no end to its lousy virginity...
No, I agree with you... And, just to prove it, I'm going to let his sexy shapely ass go giddy-up my incestuous arse crack, after he's finished up yours... Not so much running in the family, but galloping in the family...
Though I don't actually give a fuck for family as a concept... And all I want is to receive a fuck from family... From his pumping family jewels, rhythmically in and out of my submissive Nancy anal ring to him... Rings a familial bellend..."
2 notes · View notes
ginazmemeoir · 2 years
Text
Sister Rivalries TM
With Garuda away to retrieve the Amrit, Vinata was left all alone on Ramaniyaka amongst the nagas. However, Garuda’s little attempt at roasting them alive had shaken them, and they kept their distance from her, perhaps fearing his wrath should something happen to her. The silence gave Vinata plenty of time to hatch a plan to catch Kadru in her lie, and show the world her true self. She had crafted it to perfection, going over each detail, and soon set it in motion.
Kadru sat dressed in a simple red sari in an enormous cave, studded with gemstones, veins of gold running down and the sound of water dripping from a stalactite punctuating the silence. Sculptures and murals decorated the walls, showing the gods involved in a frenzy of sexual activity. Clearing her throat, Vinata asked for permission to enter. With her, she carried the largest pitcher she could find, filled to the brim with soma, and a pot blazing with fire. She had used the last reserves of her power to invoke the fire, thus making Lord Agni witness to whatever would now happen, unbeknownst to Kadru.
She set the pitcher and a goblet down on the ground, the fire still in her hands. “What is this for?” Kadru asked, gesturing to the assortment.
“The Amrit is too potent a liquid maharani. Your body must be trained to handle its effects, or it can knock you out. Hence the somaras. It will rejuvenate you and attune you to the nectar of immortality.”
Suspicious, Kadru further enquired, “And the fire?”
“Fire has been extolled as the greatest purifier devi. Its energy will sanctify and cleanse you.” Vinata replied deftly.
“And where’s your glass?”
“Slaves can’t drink with masters, my lady.” She replied, eyes looking at her feet, mirroring the fire she had lit.
Kadru struck fast and grabbed Vinata’s hair, dragging her down to her feet. Vinata yelped and clutched at her hands in an attempt to free herself, her hair feeling like they would be torn from her scalp.
“Perfect Vinata! Obedient Vinata! Oh Vinu, even as a slave you excel.” She whispered furiously in her ear even as Vinata’s eyes widened with fear. Perhaps she had miscalculated her sister’s hatred for her and overplayed her hand. Even still, she looked Kadru directly in her eye. Kadru slapped her face with the back of her hand, cutting her cheek with her ring. Touching her face, Vinata found her fingers stained with blood.
“Slaves are also not supposed to look their masters in the eye.” Kadru said in a cold voice, pouring herself wine from the pitcher, downing the goblet in one go and going for another helpful.
“Oh Vinu, must you always anger me so?” she asked, leaning back on the bed. Wiping tears of anger, Vinata drew her knees close to her chest and sat beside Kadru’s feet, apologizing in a small voice. Kadru savoured the power she held over her sister at the moment, and the future she had envisioned for her children and herself when they got the Amrit.
Breaking the silence, she said, “You know, we were once close Vinu. Had you not been a bitch, we could’ve remained close.”
Vinata wanted to waterboard Kadru with the soma then and there. But she kept mum. Let her speak today. Let her expel all of her venom, with the fire there as her witness. And when she’ll be done speaking, Vinata would make sure that she would never be able to wag that tongue of hers again. Kadru grabbed her face in her hand, inspecting it. “Hmmm… That didn’t cut as deep as I thought it would.” She said, swirling her glass and drinking more of the wine, finally dropping Vinata.
They sat there in the silence for a long time, with Kadru gulping the wine like it was air. Vinata had to tread very carefully here. Any change in her demeanour, or a slip of the tongue, and Kadru would see right through her even though her senses were addled with the divine drink. Gulping, Vinata said, “It was the bet wasn’t it. The thing that changed everything?”
Kadru let out a cruel laugh, spilling some of the wine on her sari. “Oh please sister dearest, things were rotting between us for a long time.”
“Between Aditi, Sati and Shraddha, our parents didn’t really have much time for the rest of us. They really were the children they had hoped for, weren’t they?” She said wistfully, reminiscing the past.
With this, Vinata could agree. Their parents had a lot of children – sixty daughters, and it wasn’t exactly possible to love each one equally for someone like them, given that they were responsible for literally creating society and held ridiculously high standards. The best ones were lavished with their attention, and the others did whatever they could to win their approval, leading to a lot of intense sibling rivalries, which they never corrected. Kadru and Vinata however, were different. They had been joined at the hip, sisters and confidants first. Kadru’s voice penetrated her thoughts once again.
“Even though I tried, I tried so hard, you were better at everything. Looks, dance, singing, art, writing, you name it and you won it. What’s worse was, you didn’t really seem to care. I tried being happy for you, I really did, but there’s really so much that one can do. So I had to find my forte, and turns out strategy and debate and administration were right up my sleeve. But you can’t really make a good wife with those skills can you.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes.
Her acumen in those areas was the only reason her father even remembered her name, the only reason they could talk for hours. Her mother too would praise her, though those were reserved for the occasional game that she won.
“When we married Kashyap, I thought I could finally be at peace. We could finally be sisters, away from all that competition. Seeing Aditi and Diti, I had vowed that we would never be the same. Who knew that vying for romantic affection was tougher than parental validation? You were the soft-spoken wife, the householder. I was the outspoken one who didn’t really know ‘how to behave’.”
She referred to an incident that had happened soon after their marriage. Along with a friend, Kadru had pranked some sages, who had promptly cursed both to be reduced to rivers. Kashyap had to intervene and save them by drying up their riverine forms. Another time, a sage had mocked Kashyap and she had given him one of her infamous ‘glares’. However this time, the sage cursed her to end up losing that eye, which is why she only had one functional eye now.
“I will tell you when things went south. It was when we told him we wanted to have children, and you told him you wanted only two who would be better than mine. Even in getting screwed you wanted to be the better one.” She said, that burning hatred creeping into her voice again.
“Back then, I said nothing. But then I gave birth to the nagas. The others were so happy at my cute snakelings, even though I could tell they were a little worried about how I’d feed so many kids. You? You barely acknowledged them. You were their mausi, their mother’s sister. I had always cheered you on, and yet you couldn’t find happiness in mine?” Tears glistened in the sisters’ eyes – Kadru’s, through intoxication and years of resentment; Vinata’s because of the life that could’ve been had she been a little more sympathetic to her sister.
“And then came the final blow. You cracked Aruna’s egg open and they flew away, cursing you. I was the one who found you devastated on the floor, covered in yolk and eggshell, sobbing to death! I consoled you, bathed you, fed you! But the ashram ladies blamed me for your impatience! I was the one who was called ‘goddess of miscarriage’! What did you do you bitch?! YOU KEPT MUM! YOU SAID NOTHING EVEN AS OUR SISTERS GANGED UP ON ME, HOVELED UP CRYING LIKE A LAMB! I HAD TO FUCKING CLEAN SHIT FROM THE STABLES TO ABSOLVE MYSELF OF THE SO-CALLED SIN!!” she shouted, flinging her glass across the room, her chest heaving. Tears now streamed down Vinata’s face, realizing why her sister turned into this unrecognizable monster. She realized where she had gone wrong, and now that she thought back to the incident, she really should have handled the situation differently. But did that still give her sister the right to be this cruel, not only to her but to her son as well, who wasn’t even born back then?
Kadru screamed some more, letting lose all the anger inside her. Vinata however wiped her face with her sari; she could not fall weak now. A tragic encounter from the past couldn’t justify her sister and her children’s unbridled apathy and tyranny towards them, and she certainly couldn’t quit now – if not for herself, then at least for her son. Steadying her voice, she asked the question in a measured voice, scared of what might happen next. She could be killed, but she had to take the risk.
“My ladyship, I have always wondered – does Ucchaishravas really possess a black tail?”
“What? No you clueless owl. Obviously not, the horse emerged from the Samudra Manthan.” Kadru replied with an incredulous look, as if Vinata had enquired about the taste of water.
“Well then, how did he get one?”
Beckoning her to lean closer with her finger, Kadru said, “I had the nagas climb on him,” smiling.
“And they agreed?” she asked, joyous in that her suspicion ages ago was correct.
“At first, no. Ever since Shesha had left to go on his adventures and become Narayana’s abode, the others had become more spiritual and preaching. I had to threaten and curse some of them, and soon the rest complied. How do you think they got burnt on Garuda’s back? Many of them will also die eons later in a magnificent sacrifice, at the behest of a king. Besides, I had to win. Can you even imagine me as your slave?” she said, twirling her hair. Vinata had heard enough, and the fire had too, blazing brighter and hotter with the truth now. Standing up, she combed Kadru’s hair and changed her into a fresh sari, the drunk woman complying. Resting her on the bed, she wished her a good night and left with the fire. Now all she had to do, was wait for Garuda.
7 notes · View notes