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SUMMARY: Five things that never happened to Nightmare.
WARNINGS: Implied underage, implied incest, implied noncon.
( Read more... )
WARNINGS: Implied underage, implied incest, implied noncon.
( Read more... )
"Hey, Little Red Riding Hood!"
Remus ran down the dormitary stairs to catch up with Sirius. He caught him by the arm and spun him around, the better to admire his bright red dress robes.
He himself was dressed in faded cloth-of-gold, so that between them, they would make up the Gryffindor house colours. Sirius noted with a smile that, in his hurry, he’d buttoned it up wrong, making the whole thing look lopsided. Quickly (because if he stopped to think about the fact that he was undoing Remus’ buttons, they were going to be even later) he sorted them out. Then together, they raced through the corridors towards the Great Hall.
Right outside, Remus stopped him.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Sirius pressed their foreheads together with a wicked smile.
“Quite sure, Moony dear.”
And arm in arm, they went in to the Valentine’s ball.
Remus ran down the dormitary stairs to catch up with Sirius. He caught him by the arm and spun him around, the better to admire his bright red dress robes.
He himself was dressed in faded cloth-of-gold, so that between them, they would make up the Gryffindor house colours. Sirius noted with a smile that, in his hurry, he’d buttoned it up wrong, making the whole thing look lopsided. Quickly (because if he stopped to think about the fact that he was undoing Remus’ buttons, they were going to be even later) he sorted them out. Then together, they raced through the corridors towards the Great Hall.
Right outside, Remus stopped him.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Sirius pressed their foreheads together with a wicked smile.
“Quite sure, Moony dear.”
And arm in arm, they went in to the Valentine’s ball.
“Hey hey! I don't use lard just for tea!" Palmer grinned, winking suggestively at Heidegger.
Heidegger blanched.
“No?” He tried his level best to sound nonchalant. “Perhaps you use it in sandwiches as well?”
“Well, yes,” Palmer admitted. Then, with what could only be described as a leer, he leaned closer. “But I can also think of more... creative things to do with it. I think you know what I mean.”
Heidegger was horribly afraid that he did. He was about to make any excuse he could and get the hell out of there, when he saw Scarlet hanging about, trying to catch his eye. She was wearing her cleavage dress, and that always meant trouble.
With a sigh, he did the only thing he thought might possibly put her off. He kissed Palmer.
When they broke the kiss, he watched Scarlet’s hastily retreating back, and listened to her screams, with a certain amount of satisfaction. What the hell, he thought, resignedly. Maybe I can get him to reconsider the lard.
Heidegger blanched.
“No?” He tried his level best to sound nonchalant. “Perhaps you use it in sandwiches as well?”
“Well, yes,” Palmer admitted. Then, with what could only be described as a leer, he leaned closer. “But I can also think of more... creative things to do with it. I think you know what I mean.”
Heidegger was horribly afraid that he did. He was about to make any excuse he could and get the hell out of there, when he saw Scarlet hanging about, trying to catch his eye. She was wearing her cleavage dress, and that always meant trouble.
With a sigh, he did the only thing he thought might possibly put her off. He kissed Palmer.
When they broke the kiss, he watched Scarlet’s hastily retreating back, and listened to her screams, with a certain amount of satisfaction. What the hell, he thought, resignedly. Maybe I can get him to reconsider the lard.
"Bald men are sexy," Clark said to Chloe, blushing when he realised that Lex was standing right behind him.
Lex quirked an eyebrow, laying a casually possesive hand on Clark’s shoulder.
“Really?” he said, in a tone of innocent inquiry. “Do enlighten us.”
“Well, there’s – there’s – Captain Picard from Star Trek. He was sexy, wasn’t he?”
“I suppose so. And?”
Chloe was getting the distinct feeling that she was no longer a part of this conversation.
“And… um… the lead singer of Right Said Fred.”
“Clark! I’m impressed by your knowledge of music trivia. Anyone else?”
Clark turned his sweetest smile on him.
“Hmm… I’m not sure. No-one springs to mind.”
Lex’s answering smile swayed dangerously close to Clark’s lips. Clark’s breathing quickened.
If Chloe hadn’t been sure what was going on before, she knew now. She blurted an excuse and left as soon as possible.
Lex grinned, dropping a kiss on Clark’s shoulder.
“Whatever happened to breaking it to her subtly?”
Lex quirked an eyebrow, laying a casually possesive hand on Clark’s shoulder.
“Really?” he said, in a tone of innocent inquiry. “Do enlighten us.”
“Well, there’s – there’s – Captain Picard from Star Trek. He was sexy, wasn’t he?”
“I suppose so. And?”
Chloe was getting the distinct feeling that she was no longer a part of this conversation.
“And… um… the lead singer of Right Said Fred.”
“Clark! I’m impressed by your knowledge of music trivia. Anyone else?”
Clark turned his sweetest smile on him.
“Hmm… I’m not sure. No-one springs to mind.”
Lex’s answering smile swayed dangerously close to Clark’s lips. Clark’s breathing quickened.
If Chloe hadn’t been sure what was going on before, she knew now. She blurted an excuse and left as soon as possible.
Lex grinned, dropping a kiss on Clark’s shoulder.
“Whatever happened to breaking it to her subtly?”
WARNINGS: Dubcon.
~
"What the hell are you doing?" yelled Griffin, disentangling himself from Demian's arms.
The beginnings of Demian's apology for who knows what imagined offence were quickly cut off by Griffin's reassurances. He glared up at me, attempting to preserve what remained of his dignity by means of a bedsheet.
“Honestly! Surely you’ve learned by now that when we lock doors around here, it’s for a reason.”
“Griffin,” I drawled, happy to have the upper hand over the supercillious bastard for a change, “surely you’ve learned by this point that it takes more than a locked door to thwart the Master’s will.”
He drew his arms up, protectively.
“I have not disobeyed him.”
“Oh, but you have. I was entrusted with teaching this one about his new body. That means that what you were doing” - I crossed the floor to stand directly in front of him – “is my task.”
I captured Demian’s chin in my hand, looking deep into his wide-opened eyes.
“And I intend to see it through.”
I pressed those parted lips with a kiss, and Griffin could only watch me do it.
~
"What the hell are you doing?" yelled Griffin, disentangling himself from Demian's arms.
The beginnings of Demian's apology for who knows what imagined offence were quickly cut off by Griffin's reassurances. He glared up at me, attempting to preserve what remained of his dignity by means of a bedsheet.
“Honestly! Surely you’ve learned by now that when we lock doors around here, it’s for a reason.”
“Griffin,” I drawled, happy to have the upper hand over the supercillious bastard for a change, “surely you’ve learned by this point that it takes more than a locked door to thwart the Master’s will.”
He drew his arms up, protectively.
“I have not disobeyed him.”
“Oh, but you have. I was entrusted with teaching this one about his new body. That means that what you were doing” - I crossed the floor to stand directly in front of him – “is my task.”
I captured Demian’s chin in my hand, looking deep into his wide-opened eyes.
“And I intend to see it through.”
I pressed those parted lips with a kiss, and Griffin could only watch me do it.
SUMMARY: Aziraphale is inconvieniently discorporated, and embarks on a mini-Odyssey across the multiverse.
( Crowley thought, That smells familiar. )
( Crowley thought, That smells familiar. )
NOTE: BDSM content.
~
I don’t know if it’s guilt that makes him do it. He shouldn’t be guilty; it’s me that comes to him, after all. My little indulgence; an hour a week, less, when I’m not in control. No matter how hard I fight to take it back.
Maybe this is his little indulgence. The couple of minutes when he takes the shackles off, heals the bruises on my wrists, restores the raw, scraped skin.
The couple of minutes when, weakened by the release of tension, his hands make me sigh instead of scream. That fleeting time when I can be soothed, rather than sickened, by his touch.
He kisses me sometimes, in those breathless moments. It’s the only time I’ll let him.
I’d never tell him, but it’s no good. The iron and copper of my blood still lingers on his lips. Even his mouth tastes of chains.
~
I don’t know if it’s guilt that makes him do it. He shouldn’t be guilty; it’s me that comes to him, after all. My little indulgence; an hour a week, less, when I’m not in control. No matter how hard I fight to take it back.
Maybe this is his little indulgence. The couple of minutes when he takes the shackles off, heals the bruises on my wrists, restores the raw, scraped skin.
The couple of minutes when, weakened by the release of tension, his hands make me sigh instead of scream. That fleeting time when I can be soothed, rather than sickened, by his touch.
He kisses me sometimes, in those breathless moments. It’s the only time I’ll let him.
I’d never tell him, but it’s no good. The iron and copper of my blood still lingers on his lips. Even his mouth tastes of chains.
NOTE: Mild BDSM content.
~
It’s funny that my most prized possession once belonged to a woman I hated. She was in no condition to miss it when she finally left. Don’t feel sorry for her – she got what she deserved. I can still see the lines I traced into my hand.
All it took was a little modification, though, and it became a thing of beauty.
Binns is droning at the front of the class; the sun is beaming down outside. We swelter quietly, stripped to our shirtsleeves, pretending to write notes while our minds wander far from here. I flourish my quill a little.
Seamus shifts in his seat. His shirt is clinging to his back, damp with sweat. Here and there, unobtrusively, it is flecked with blood. He’ll cover it with his robe when he leaves, and no-one will know, except me. Tonight, with fingers and tongue, I’ll rediscover every tiny mark. Maybe I’ll heal him. Maybe I’ll make him bleed for me again. Whichever I choose, I guarantee he will beg me for it.
I glance around the room, idly wondering how many of the pupils in it I’ve signed my name onto, somewhere where it can be felt but not seen. I tend to lose track a little.
Don’t feel sorry for them either. They love it.
~
It’s funny that my most prized possession once belonged to a woman I hated. She was in no condition to miss it when she finally left. Don’t feel sorry for her – she got what she deserved. I can still see the lines I traced into my hand.
All it took was a little modification, though, and it became a thing of beauty.
Binns is droning at the front of the class; the sun is beaming down outside. We swelter quietly, stripped to our shirtsleeves, pretending to write notes while our minds wander far from here. I flourish my quill a little.
Seamus shifts in his seat. His shirt is clinging to his back, damp with sweat. Here and there, unobtrusively, it is flecked with blood. He’ll cover it with his robe when he leaves, and no-one will know, except me. Tonight, with fingers and tongue, I’ll rediscover every tiny mark. Maybe I’ll heal him. Maybe I’ll make him bleed for me again. Whichever I choose, I guarantee he will beg me for it.
I glance around the room, idly wondering how many of the pupils in it I’ve signed my name onto, somewhere where it can be felt but not seen. I tend to lose track a little.
Don’t feel sorry for them either. They love it.