(no subject)
Author: DazeDee
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Characters/Pairings: Female!Mukuro/Female!Hibari
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm not even very good at this! B|
Notes: I started writing this half-drunk because I wanted to do something for New Years for Lin. Um. It has nothing to do with New Years, but, I like it anyway.
She likes it like this; she likes the softness of the other's skin beneath her hands. She likes the small swell of her breasts; the subtle curve of her hips...
But most of all, she likes the struggle. It's always like this, with her, and that's what makes it so good. Mukuro likes the way she jerks; tries to pull from every touch; featherlight or bruising hard. Hibari never screams, but she growls and curses and best of all she gasps, and through gritted teeth reiderates that once she's free of this she's going to bite her to death.
But right now, Mukuro's the only one doing any biting.
From behind Hibari Mukuro leans in, her soft lips grazing over the other's neck. The girl beneath her snarls, jerking instinctively away, but Mukuro can hardly have that. Her teeth bite down on ivory flesh, savoring the way she smells of cherry blossoms and tastes of steel and sweat and blood and it's so intoxicating, it's no wonder Mukuro keeps coming back for more.
Lotus vines twist tighter around already abused wrists as Hibari's thrashing intensifies, and Mukuro slides a gloved hand up Hibari's pale thigh if only for the reaction she receives. Hibari shudders; not from pleasure- but revulsion and her thighs squeeze shut around Mukuro's daring hand. Hibari's rage is almost tangible- and Mukuro laps it up, because this is the way she likes it.
Hibari likes it too, because when Mukuro uses the lotus vines to pry Hibari's thighs apart her fingers slide beneath the other's panties and come away wet, and a low chuckle escapes her lips.
"Kufufufu,"
Beneath her, Hibari thrashes as Mukuro's fingers push inside, and the last thing Hibari remembers before she comes is that hateful look of smug satisfaction that the illusionist wears upon her face.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Characters/Pairings: Female!Mukuro/Female!Hibari
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm not even very good at this! B|
Notes: I started writing this half-drunk because I wanted to do something for New Years for Lin. Um. It has nothing to do with New Years, but, I like it anyway.
She likes it like this; she likes the softness of the other's skin beneath her hands. She likes the small swell of her breasts; the subtle curve of her hips...
But most of all, she likes the struggle. It's always like this, with her, and that's what makes it so good. Mukuro likes the way she jerks; tries to pull from every touch; featherlight or bruising hard. Hibari never screams, but she growls and curses and best of all she gasps, and through gritted teeth reiderates that once she's free of this she's going to bite her to death.
But right now, Mukuro's the only one doing any biting.
From behind Hibari Mukuro leans in, her soft lips grazing over the other's neck. The girl beneath her snarls, jerking instinctively away, but Mukuro can hardly have that. Her teeth bite down on ivory flesh, savoring the way she smells of cherry blossoms and tastes of steel and sweat and blood and it's so intoxicating, it's no wonder Mukuro keeps coming back for more.
Lotus vines twist tighter around already abused wrists as Hibari's thrashing intensifies, and Mukuro slides a gloved hand up Hibari's pale thigh if only for the reaction she receives. Hibari shudders; not from pleasure- but revulsion and her thighs squeeze shut around Mukuro's daring hand. Hibari's rage is almost tangible- and Mukuro laps it up, because this is the way she likes it.
Hibari likes it too, because when Mukuro uses the lotus vines to pry Hibari's thighs apart her fingers slide beneath the other's panties and come away wet, and a low chuckle escapes her lips.
"Kufufufu,"
Beneath her, Hibari thrashes as Mukuro's fingers push inside, and the last thing Hibari remembers before she comes is that hateful look of smug satisfaction that the illusionist wears upon her face.