Prompt Post #7
PART SEVEN IS CLOSED
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Pairing - [Spoilers if any] - kinks or [FILL], in reply to a prompt
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( Prompting begins here. )
Plunge.
Do with that what you will, and don't forget to add the word you want at the end.
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"You like that, Slut?" Kurt asked, slapping Puck across the face. Puck strained against his cuffs. He hung from a butcher's hook suspended from the ceiling. His feet barely touched the floor, only slightly supporting him. Most of his weight was supported by his arms. He loved it.
"Yes, Master!" Puck said.
"What do you want now, Slut?"
"Fuck me, Master! Please!"
"You want my cock? Or should I leave the plug in you and go take care of a few things?"
"No, Master, please! Put your cock in me! Fuck me!" Puck begged.
"I think I can manage that," Kurt said. He spread Puck's cheeks to reveal the base of a wide red buttplug. Kurt twisted the plug inside Puck, listening to Puck moan before pulling it out. It came out with a squelch, and Kurt knew that Puck was still stretched and lubed. He dropped the plug on the floor, put a little extra lube on his cock, and plunged into Puck's hot ass. Stretched or no, it was still tight ( ... )
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tickle
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"T! That tickles ( ... )
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When Mike walked into the room, he paused, staring at Blaine. The former-Warbler smirked, beckoning his still-dripping lover over ( ... )
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She was a Freshman in college and had decided, for just this year, she would take the chance to explore. Experiment. And if that meant calling up Noah Puckerman to ask about drug connections, then so be it. As it was, that had happened weeks ago. Rachel was getting used to smoking marijuana on the weekends, now. But enough about Noah and drugs, Rachel had more important things to do right then ( ... )
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Wes mewled as he stretched out on the bed. He'd had a long day and he was worn out. He was glad that he and David shared a room so that they could cuddle. And maybe do some other things. He stripped off his clothes and stretched out further, his long black tail flicking side to side.
“You seem so stressed,” David commented as he sat down next to Wes. “Want me to rub your back?”
“Mmm, yes,” Wes said.
David reached over and started to rub his boyfriend's back. He started at Wes' shoulders, kneading the stiff flesh. Wes purred as David massaged him, his tail swishing lazily. David worked Wes' back over for a while, kneading out the kinks. Wes mimicked his motions on instinct, kneading his fingertips into the bedspread ( ... )
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~!~
Next word: cough
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“That’s not possible,” Quinn says, arms wrapped around her belly.
“Right. Whatever,” Puck says. “I want my money back. I need more dip.”
“Fine,” she says. She pulls her wallet from her purse, handing Puck a ten dollar bill.
Puck shoves the money in his back pocket. “I hope whoever it is can handle ice, ‘cause you’re one frigid bitch.”
Quinn shoves the wallet back into place, blinking back tears. Then, unbidden, the memory of that night comes back to her, the night she lost everything.
***
“Quinny, what’s wrong?” he said, brushing her hair back from her forehead.
“Nothing. It’s nothing Daddy. Finn’s just being stupid,” Quinn said.
Quinn’s dad pulled her more firmly into his lap. “Nonsense. My girl doesn’t ever have to put up with that. Not from a boy. What did he do?”
“He didn’t do anything. He’s just…” her voice trailed off as she shivered ( ... )
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When Matt called, Mike left Tina and college in the middle of their second semester, dropping everything to go to Pennsylvania and meet up. It didn’t take long for another “accident” to happen. Only this time, they were more careful. And that night they finally made the distinction between friends and more. It was incredible.
The “accidents” kept happening, and eventually Matt got caught. But by then, they were practically married. Mike managed to keep from being convicted, but Matt was sentenced to two years on some of the pettier of their “accidents”.
Mike visited every weekend, bringing Matt what he could. Cigarettes (for currency) and food (because prison meals were terrible), mostly. His visits were also conjugal in nature, allowing them moments of privacy and love ( ... )
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If there is one thing that Santana hates more than Rachel Berry, it's the curse of mediocrity. Or maybe, part of the reason she hates Rachel so damn much is the immense feelings of inadequacy, of normality, that pint-sized, man-handed Hobbit manages to inspire in her. With people like Quinn, like Brittany and Finn and Puck, Santana feels like she belongs - she feels normal, unexceptional, which is fine when it's a common thread between them: they are all losers, and will remain losers, destined to live out their days in anonymity.
But Rachel. Rachel was born to shine, and next to her, Santana has never felt so dull.
Sometimes the weight of Santana's hatred feels tangible, like a shroud, heavy and encompassing. Sometimes it makes Santana herself feel heavy, like she's dragging herself down, and taking those around her along for the ride. On those days Santana can't bring herself to look in Brittany's beautiful, innocent eyes, to dance along with Mike's new ( ... )
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The dust…
The dust gets everywhere, in their laundry and their rooms, their computers, hell even in their food.
Kurt doesn’t blame Carole for not wanting to stick around through this. He only wishes he would’ve accompanied her when she invited him along.
Especially since his dad had to take off for a conference out of town. With his dad and Carole gone, the only other person left is-
“Hey, Kurt,” Finn says sitting in a folding chair, kicking his feet up on the step-ladder the construction crew had left. He grabs a sandwich and goes to take a big bite of it.
“Are you insane,” Kurt asks, waving his hands to gesture at the chaos surrounding them. “Do you really think it’s healthy to eat anything in a room surrounded by this much dust?” He takes a second to glance at Finn’s sandwich. That just ends up adding more fuel to the flames already building up inside him. “Especially that,” he says, pointing at the offending sandwich ( ... )
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