#''i love being... i like being able to imagine it.'' writhing and wailing on the floor in a pool of blood | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dorimena · 3 years

Note

I seriously love Bakugou and Todoroki. Especially Bakugou in his tight winter costume in S5. And I love Dom reader and femdom more than a sub. Can I pleaseee request Todoroki or Bakugou where the reader is recording them playing with a vibrator or dildo but get overstimulated because they can't cum from the cock ring because it's their punishments since they forgot their anniversary so reader also forget to stop the toys even if they beg reader to stop in the camera.if you don't mind the request

I don’t mind~ May your sin be forgiven with this prayer (˘⌣˘人) This sounds really, really sexy, so I had a blast imagining and putting this into words.

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; bakugou katsuki & todoroki shoto

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 2.1k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fem!reader, sex toys (dildo, vibrators, cockring), overstimulation, cam sex (recording), exhibitionism, semi-public, dom!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; balcony sex (?), threesome, whiny Bakugou, weeping Todoroki, punishment, orgasm denial, aged-up characters, Bakugou and Todoroki are both 20+

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; Unravel Me by Sabrina Claudio and Fuck Love by XXXTENTACION ft. Trippie Reid somehow helped me piece this together. Sorry if there are any typos! It’s not proofread.

𝕯𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝕿𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖑𝖊

“I-I-”

“W-we! We-”

You watch as both men struggle to speak, trying to ask for forgiveness, once again. It’s the fourth time this hour, the way Bakugou tries to open his mouth wide enough to not slur his words and Todoroki tries to correct Bakugou while keeping himself coherent.

It’s cute how the smartest guys in your life seem to fail miserably in having a decent human conversation

Well, you can’t blame them either, not with the way you keep toying around with the intensity of the vibrators taped to their dicks, cum drying on the toy enough to show anyone who looks up on the balcony that these two men, with such stature and muscles, are easily falling apart.

“Speak better, sweethearts. Can’t have you guys sounding so dumb on camera, right?”

Oh yeah, and you’re even recording them, in case anyone else would want to watch the rising proheros break.

You’re not actually going to show them to the public, but maybe to their friends. Maybe Kirishima would like to watch? Kaminari? Sero? Or maybe Iida? Midoriya?

Heck, the girls might even ask some day.

But you know what makes you curious about showing this video to their friends?

The way both Bakugou and Todoroki are presenting themselves beautifully, as if they’re pro porn stars saving the wanks rather than proheros saving the day.

It’s cute, how Bakugou’s puffing his muscular chest in the air as if they were the juiciest tits ever, which they are, and how Todoroki is somehow sensually humping the air with every buzz against his furious red tip.

Your eyes stay on the screen, making sure the lighting is entering nice enough to make it seem like they’re glowing, other than their post-orgasm glow.

How many times have they come by now?

“Babes, how many times have you cum?”

They both shake their heads.

Of course they wouldn’t know. They just take what they’re receiving. They’re making up for their mistake.

You still pout, tapping the touchable screen to even out the weird lighting as another cloud covers the sun, again.

Maybe giving their punishment out on the balcony wasn’t such a good idea.

As you look down to the floor below them, seeing the once growing puddle of cum slowly be pushed by the wind to trail off towards the side of the balcony, seeping through the small opening and probably dripping feets below is what keeps you positive, happy knowing people will eventually look up and wonder ‘what the fuck is going on?’

Well, either the drying cum gives away your dirty activities or it’s Todoroki’s wailing as an orgasm is ripped out of him forcibly.

Pity nothing comes from his tip, not since some time ago.

They both thought they deserve to cum and be satisfied?

Maybe you should’ve put the cock rings on them before making them come the first two times, but their reactions and frustration with how little some cum leaves or how their body reacts with the dry convulsions makes you giggle in pride.

Pretty babes.

“Todoroki, shut up. You’ll make the neighbors look over- oh! Oh, that’s what you want? I understand.”

And poor Todoroki is just shaking his head way too fast, enough to give him whiplash, but you just snicker as you reach over to a white box.

An unfamiliar white box.

Bakugou’s eyeing Todoroki in pity, wondering what the other will have to endure as he keeps trying to fight off his orgasm.

How he’s doing it, he has no clue. But god his dick hurts.

He’s been wanting to cum for the past 30 minutes, but with the way he resents this stupid cock ring, he’d rather not humilliate himself in front of you and figure out how else to please you.

Maybe he should offer to eat you out?

The way his body is super tense and his breathing is shallow doesn’t escape your attention, less how much pity is showing itself on his face as he shakes his face in disapproval with Todoroki’s recent dry orgasm.

Good thing you invested in this double dildo.

Neither of the boys take notice with how you’re lubing the dildo that looks like it’d belong to you. It’s quite pretty, long and thick enough to hopefully please your boys.

Even if they won’t get to cum.

“Bakugou,” you start, smiling as you watch his once bright eyes suddenly darken as shock takes over his face.

What the

“Fuck is that?!” He yells out, accidentally letting his body relax as it finally submits to the vibrations of the toy, his yell turning into an unbroken series of high-pitched moans, his hips losing control with how incredibly close he is.

“A double dildo, baby. Look! It even looks like if I’d be fucking you two, isn’t that fun?”

Bakugou shakes his head, gasping ‘no, no, no!’ before he falls forward, balancing himself with his palms as he sobs through his first dry orgasm. Maybe he shouldn’t have held back for so long, not with the way his body unforgivably goes through waves of pure unsatisfied pleasure.

Todoroki, meanwhile, is nodding eagerly, eyes welling up in happy tears at the idea of getting fucked, in getting more pleasure and love from you, even if this is meant to be punishment.

But, why are you exposing them like this?

They forgot your anniversary.

Your 3rd anniversary as a throuple, the anniversary Bakugou swallowed his bite and pride to confess to you how much he loves you and how he’s falling in love with Todoroki too; the anniversary Todoroki finally let loose the dam of emotions and even if a bit tipsy, agreed he too was falling in love with both you and Bakugou, how he hasn’t ever felt so understood, so loved, so safe.

So, yeah, how dare they forget?

But if they wanna be dumb, you’ll help with that.

It’s been a while now since you’ve turned off the vibrators and since you’ve prepped them well enough to take the dildo together.

The scene in front of you is gorgeous, ethereal, sublime.

You just want to ruin them like this everyday.

“Aagh! Ugh! F-fuck! Sl-slow do-own! Haaah~”

“S-sorry! ‘m s-sorry! Ca-an’t! Nnah…”

It’s cute watching them argue a bit, how Bakugou can’t take how fast Todoroki is fucking himself back on the dildo while also pushing the toy deeper into Bakugou. And Todoroki doesn’t actually look sorry, not with how his eyes keep crossing everytime he manages to get the toy to hit his sweet spot.

He’s trying so hard to win your forgiveness by putting up with this, but it’s kind of sad knowing you’re not going to stop anytime soon, or take off the cockrings.

Not like they know anyways.

Bakugou might’ve known, might’ve noticed, with the way he’s trying to keep this dragging as slow and steady as possible; with the way his precum is struggling to escape the confines the cockring gives; with how much his red and miserably hard dick keeps jumping with every push Todoroki’s ass gives him.

You’re lounging about, resisting the urge to get off to the scene in front of you, or else they’d start begging to let them please you as apologies, and knowing how sentimental this day is for you, you know you’d immediately give in.

But this is punishment for their forgetfulness.

So, as the cherry on top of this cum covered balcony sex sundae, you’ll also forget about them.

It lasted for a while as you got bored with how neither of them seemed to be reaching another orgasm.

If only the dildo had a vibration option.

But the vibrators still taped on their dicks will have to do.

So you turn them back on, and oh would you look at that! The cockrings could also vibrate.

The pleasure-filled scream coming from Bakugou and the cute, drawled whine of your name Todoroki lets out makes you feel grateful for thinking ahead, kinda.

Now both boys are writhing against each other, different ways to let out their desperations and dying need to properly cum manifesting in either rapid fucking on the dildo to simply submitting to the minstruations of the other party.

To put it in better, shorter words, Bakugou took the reigns in fucking the dildo in such rigor and strength that made Todoroki lay on his chest, ass still up as he simply took everything Bakugou kept pushing into him, mouth opened as hiccups and drool escaped. His eyes settle onto your form, watering as more tears gather on his waterline before dropping to the ground his face is resting on.

It feels so good, so, so good he can’t believe this is punishment. Even if he hasn’t been able to properly cum for some time now, he still thinks you’re being nice with them. Must be because of the anniversary that you sadly reminded them of.

He’s trying his best to push back on the dildo, wanting Bakugou to feel just as good as him, just as fucked as him.

And everytime the toy hits him just right, Todoroki sees stars, feels an all too familiar tingly sensation as he tries to grab his dick, but when you turn the vibrator up even more, his hands just lay on the ground, nails raking as he tries gripping on something, anything.

He really, really, really needs to cum. He wants to cum.

Keep being a good boy for you.

But all he gets is a choked sob of your name leaving his mouth as his eyes roll to the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed upwards as the strongest orgasm takes over his body, he’d be convinced there’s an earthquake happening. Small whimpers of how much it hurts leaves his mouth soon after, his dick twitching pathetically as it slowly becomes purple, barely a dribble of cum managing to escape.

Bakugou is in no good shape either, loudly moaning and crying out how good you’re fucking him, how he’s taking your cock, how good he is being, to please, please, please let him cum.

But actually cum, to let him contaminate the floor even more with his sperm, to let him taste it even, if that would make you happy and forgive him.

He’s close to wailing by now, hips going impossible faster as he forgets all about poor Todoroki riding out his high.

And the moment you turn on the vibrators intensity, he gets dizzy, breath getting stuck in his throat as his brain tries to process the spiraling of his warm, hot orgasm growing too much, burning him everywhere as if it were lava.

Small sparks sound on his fingertips as he howls and gets hurled into his own orgasm, back arching and head thrown back as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

He didn’t even notice the tears rolling down his cheeks, not with how his mind only cares about how good yet bad this orgasm feels.

Not even how loud his high-pitched wails of how good it feels, how much it hurts, is enough to alarm anyone near the radius of this defiling act.

Both boys are left shuddering or twitching through their intense dry orgasm, the way their bodies react with the built up cum in their dicks, with how hot and how wreckless they’re becoming with their quirks.

Still connected with the dildo, neither move, unless it’s some pathetic hump to help drag the orgasm a little more before they try to even remember what letter your name begins with.

Bakugou’s whimpering.

Todoroki’s crying silently.

Both blinking the haze out of their vision as they remember about the buzzing, about the relentless feeling on their really, really sensitive dicks.

Bakugou’s crying now.

Todoroki’s just busy mewling like a slut by now.

And when they both turn to look at you, they gasp so loudly one of them begins choking on air and the other with saliva.

Where’d you go?!

Come back!

And ‘come back’ and ‘forgive us’ is the only thing anyone could possibly hear for the next few hours as they fuck the dildo and let the vibrators do their job in milking more and more orgasms out of them.

If only they’d look closer, they would’ve seen a post-it note stuck on the tripod of the camera telling them you went to the kitchen and that they better come crawling.

Oh well, you’re enjoying the view anyways as you sip on some liquor of your liking, turning off the vibrators as you slowly walk to the balcony.

The sun’s beginning to set. You’re not that cruel in letting them fuck each other in the cold.

The bedroom is much better, and comfier.

Perfect for you to finish the job and let them finally, finally, get their deserving orgasms.

You’ll be sure to milk out

Every.

Single.

Drop.

#✿; impurity #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #todoroki smut #bakugou katsuki smut #todoroki shoto smut #sub bnha #sub bakugou #sub todoroki #ლ; blasphemy #𝖇𝖆𝖐𝖚𝖌𝖔𝖚 #𝖙𝖔𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖎.𝖘

2K notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 3 years

Note

Oohh how would shouta and hizashi take their submissive readers virginity?

(What to expect - virginity, NSFW, dubcon, noncon. If you’re wondering the type of piercings Hizashi has, they’re dydoes (or kings head) and a pubic piercing. MxM penetration, anal plugs (Hizashi’s wearing one while he diddles u hehe))

Gently, I imagine.

If their darling is submissive, too afraid to run or fight, then there’s no need for them to be harsh.

They can take their time, be sweet and loving.

"Shhhh, you're getting loud." Hizashi holds a fingers to your lips as you lay there, panicked whimpers, distressed whines tumbling out of you.

Shouta huffs at the irony, his fingers working at the button on your jeans, then the zipper, then hooking into your belt loops, tugging the pants down easily as you begin to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, breathe with me, you’re alright.” Hizashi places a a hand against your chest, pressing you back against his warmth as he begin to take deep, steady breaths, encouraging you to do the same.

You can’t calm yourself though, eyes wide and fixed on the man in front of you, drawing your legs up and away from him as he rids you of your jeans, trying to keep your panties from his view.

If your wrists weren’t tied together, lashed to each other with soft, black ribbon, you’d be clutching at Shouta’s fingers as they ghost over your calves, up to your knees.

“P-please-” Is all you can whisper, fear settled so thoroughly in your body that you’re almost frozen.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to be gentle. ‘Zashi’s just holding you so you don’t wiggle too much and hurt yourself.” Shouta’s words are measured, steady even when he slips a hand between your knees and forces them apart.

You want to sob, but you can’t. Shouta breathes out a quiet “fuck” as he looks at your panties, running a finger across the waistband.

“She’s shaking like hell Sho.”

“It’ll be fine. It’s just nerves. Everyone’s nervous their first time.”

It’s nerves, it’s fear, it’s terror and dread. You’re horrified, and scared, and you’re shivering as if the room is freezing, even though it’s warm, cozy.

Hizashi dips down, brushes his lips against your neck, and you flinch, your shoulder rising to push his head away, his mustache tickling your flesh.

“Hah, you ticklish? That’s so cute.” The blonde coos, his arms circling around your stomach as his husband begins to tug down your panties. You’re sitting in Hizashi’s lap as Shouta strips you, the two men working together.

The blonde is already shirtless, pants-less, in nothing but boxers. You can feel his warm flesh through your hoodie, pressed against your back.

“My first time, I came in my pants.” Hizashi chuckled, thumbs rubbing at your sides. “Embarrassed myself to tears. The other dude thought it was hot, dropped right to his knees and pulled out my dick and got to suckin’. It kinda hurt, but he was fingerin’ himself at the same time and well, teenage-me was able to get it up immediately.”

You suppose he’s trying to ease your nerves.

Shouta gets your panties off, tosses them to the side as a hand grips each of your ankles, and then you’re spread wide.

A cry gets caught in your throat at the humiliation, Shouta and Hizashi both pausing to peer at your pussy, Hizashi letting out a low whistle.

“Damn, you’re a fuckin’ snack!”

Shouta lets go of your legs, and you snap them shut, closing your eyes as your cheeks burn.

“When I first had sex, I was a one-pump-chump. The girl I was with at the time said it was fine, but I didn’t know how to get her off. I’ve learned a lot since then.” The dark haired man offered his own story, hand slipping between your legs no matter how you twisted or clenched your thighs.

“Wooo! Imagine that, little ole Sho losin’ it after one stroke!”

“That’s what happens when you lose your virginity when you’re thirteen, ‘Zashi.” But Shouta has a gentle grin on his face, and his words held no malice towards his husband. Just two men in love recounting stories.

The dark-haired man leaned towards you, one of his fingers petting slowly over your folds as he did. Shouta wasn’t shy about kissing you, his lips warm, soft, stubble prickly against your skin.

He pulled back, breathing hotly against your lips. “How do you touch yourself? What feels good? I don’t want to overwhelm you, it’s easy to see that you’re sensitive.”

You trembled even harder, sniffling, closing your eyes as his finger still ran softly over your folds, barely touching.

“Sweetie-pop, can you show us? Show us how you want us to touch you down there.” Hizashi’s hands were playing with the edge of your hoodie, easing it up, his warm digits skimming against your skin.

Both men are waiting on your answer, watching you with lust-filled gazes as they run their hands over your skin. They’re already touching you, burning your skin, and you want to scream. All that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

“How do you masturabate? Do you like touching here-?” Aizawa presses his thumb to your clit, wiggles the digit and you tense, shaking your head.

“-Here?” His fingers trail down to your entrance, one slowly beginning to push inside. You whimper again desperately, shaking your head side to side while looking at the man in front of you with pleading eyes.

“’K, this is gettin’ old-” Hizashi interjected. “I’ll ask one last time, and then Sho’ and I get to touch you however we want to, got it? How do you want us to touch your cute lil’ pussy?”

“I don’t know!” You wail, tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re so overwhelmed, and scared, and you just want to go home.

Neither man moves for a second, but then Hizashi is letting out a an excited sigh, hunching his back so he can kiss at your shoulder before questioning. “You don’t know?”

“I’ve never-never touched my-myself down there.” You manage to hiccup, and Shouta rubs your knee soothingly, his grey eyes trained on your face.

“That’s alright, there’s no need to cry.” One of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing away salty tears. “We just want to make you feel good.”

You’d feel good if they took their hands off of you.

The hand that’s been rubbing over your folds becomes bolder, parting the lips of your cunt even as you try to squeeze your thighs shut. All that does is trap Shouta’s hand against you, his fingers sending little jolts of unsteady fire burning through your tummy.

“Mm, wait, please-” You whimper, desperate to escape this sensation.

Aizawa doesn’t wait.

Hizashi slips his nimble fingers underneath your hoodie, rucks it up over your chest and you burn with embarrassment at being exposed like this. You want to hide your face, but with your wrists bound, all you can do is cover your eyes with shaky fingers.

“Look at ‘er, god, you’re delicious. Just wanna eat you up! Sho, after you finger her, think I could eat her out? I wanna taste.”

His lewd words make you cringe, and you can’t even think about how it would feel, the blonde pressed between your thighs, tongue laving against you over and over-

“One thing at a time, she’s already a bit dazed. Maybe another time.” Shouta’s gently stimulating your clit, brushing his knuckles over it, watching you twitch with each pass of his fingers against the sensitive little organ.

“Alright, relax now, okay? Breath out for me.” The man instructs, and you could almost laugh; if the man thinks you could relax, he’s an idiot-

A wet finger pushes inside of you slowly, and you gasp brokenly, mouth falling open. There’s so much pressure, you feel stretched and it almost burns, but he’s not stopping.

There’s a squelch, and cool liquid rushes over your hole, slips inside as the finger slightly retracts, and you shudder at the feeling. It’s weird and you feel like you can’t breath.

The finger inside rubs at your walls, and your muscles clench at the foreign sensation, unsure whether it feels good or bad.

“Calm down, you’re okay. I’m just stretching you out. Tell me if something feels really good, alright?” Shouta is acting as if he’s speaking to a child, a spooked rabbit, a baby. His eyes keep flicking between your flushed face and your pussy, enamored by the way you suck his finger inside, at the feel of your velvety walls, the slick feeling that he can’t wait to experience hugging his cock.

“I can’t, I can’t, please-”

“You can, doin’ so good for us sweetie.” Hizashi chirps, and you realize his hands are resting against your bare chest, idly squeezing at your breasts. You had been so focused on his partner’s actions that you had missed his coy advancement.

One finger turns to two, and two fingers turns to three, and you’re quickly reduced to a sweaty, blubbering mess, begging the men to wait, to slow down, writhing in Hizashi’s lap while his husband violates you.

The pressure fades away to a comfortable stretch, and by the time Shouta begins to move his fingers with intent, you’re already close to your limit. Your thighs are still clenched together tightly, but the dark-haired man has plenty of room to maneuver his hand, moving his fingers in and out, letting his thumb tickle your clit.

You can’t stop your legs from shaking, abs clenching in pleasure, little noises that fall from your mouth without your permission. It feels good now, and Aizawa and Hizashi seem to know it, speeding up their movements, manipulating your body as a team.

The orgasm that washes over you is gentle, the build up to it steady and measured. The pleasure is expected, and yet it still hits you like a train, hips jerking against Shouta’s hand as he continues to finger you through it, a smile on his face as you drench his hand, pussy drooling.

“I’m sorry, oh no-oh no I made a-a m-mess.” You sob, mortified at your body, at your reaction, feeling gross and disgusting and a sweaty mess while both men watch you fall apart.

But Shouta just slips his hand from between your thighs, holds it out towards you expectantly. You’re confused, still trying to hide your face behind your bound hands, but then the man behind you is leaning forward, sucking Shouta’s fingers into his mouth, right next to your face.

You can hear him sucking your juices off his husband’s fingers, feel the shame coloring your cheeks deepen and spread. He’s so noisy about it, licking the digits, running his fingers between them, and your pussy clenches when you catch sight of a piercing nestled in the middle of his tongue.

You feel dizzy.

“Mmm, just like I though-” Hizashi purrs as he cleans his husband’s hand. He pulls back, growls in your ear “-Delicious.”

Then the two men are switching positions, Hizashi handing you off to Aizawa who settles you easily onto your back, head in his lap. Hizashi pulls at your hips, lifting them up to stuff a folded pillow underneath them, and you begin to realize what’s happening.

“Wait! Please! Hold on, I-I-just wait, oh god, please wait!” The fear is evident as your voice cracks pathetically, but you aren’t above begging.

“’Zashi’s a bit smaller than I am, figured that he’ll be nicer to ease you into it. If-” He shoots his husband a glare “-He keeps his cool.”

Hizashi was grinning as he shucked of his boxers, completely shameless as he revealed himself to you. “Hey, can’t blame a man for bein’ a bit excited. I mean, look at this little sweetie, all laid out like this.”

You felt exposed, afraid. Hizashi’s length bobbed against his stomach as he moved forward, grabbing your legs and settling them on either side of his hips.

There was a piercing in his cock, several piercings.

He was circumcised, with a prominent mushroom tip that held three prominent barbells along the edge. Another barbell glinted ominously behind the curve of his dick, settled right at the base on the top, blonde pubic hair trimmed neatly to showcase the piercing.

“No, no please don’t. I’ll do anything, please, just not this! Please, please-”

“The piercings feel really good.” Shouta murmured, one hand cradling your head, the other pressed to your chest underneath your hoodie, keeping you anchored to the bed as you squirmed.

“I got this one ‘specially for you sweetie!” Hizashi took hold of his dick, pointed it down to show off the barbell in his pubic area, displaying it to you proudly. “It’s supposed to hit your cute lil’ clit when we’re going at it.”

The words washed over you, and the severity of your situation hit you. The planning required to get a piercing, have it heal-plus the idea that he expected to be actively using it with you again and again....

You started bawling.

“P-please! Don’t do this, please don’t! No no no no, no, no-” Your words were garbled, practically nonsensical, but that’s what you were trying to say. Whether or not they could understand you was out of your control.

“Hey, shh, shh. You’re okay sweetie.” The blonde placed a hand on your thigh, but that only served to make you sob harder.

“Calm down, we aren’t going to hurt you. It’ll feel good (Y/N).”

“No-oo! ‘M scared!!” You cried, and if your vision wasn’t blurry from tears, you’d have seen Hizashi’s green eyes soften, his lips twitch downward into a concerned frown.

The married couple looked at each other, Hizashi hesitant and moved by your teary display, but Shouta was firm.

“You’ll be okay. It’s normal to be a bit frightened during your first time. But ‘Zashi and I have a lot of experience, we’re going to take good care of you.”

You don’t have time to protest, Hizashi settling between your thighs again, those long hands of his guiding his cock to your drooling entrance.

Shouta’s kissing you then, insist, his tongue pressing against your lips, distracting you.

Hizashi pushes inside, you gasp, and Shouta plunges his tongue into your mouth. There’s too much sensation, between the warm rod settling into you and the slimy tongue slipping around your own, and you can’t do anything but cry.

You cry when Shouta pulls back, when he places a soft, uncharacteristic kiss to your nose, brushes your tears away with his hand.

You cry when Hizashi groans, finally seating himself balls-deep in your cunt.

You cry when he pulls out, thrust back in with a smooth roll of his hips, swearing underneath his breath.

Shouta leans over you, grabs his husband by the back of the head and pulls him in for a passionate kiss. Long blond hair slips over Hizashi’s shoulders, tickles against your skin but it’s just another sensation that you can barely register, overwhelmed and already too fucked-out to focus.

The piercing at the base of Hizashi’s cock does stimulate your clit, especially when the man presses himself flush against you, circling his hips in a quick grinding motion. The metal rubs against your folds and you feel like screaming, it feels good but you don’t want it to.

The metal through the flared mushroom tip keeps brushing against a spot inside you that has you seeing sparks, but you still feel uncomfortable, too full, too stretched.

Hizashi fucks you slow, his husband petting awkwardly at your face.

Minutes pass, you’re not sure how long, but then Hizashi is going a bit faster, then faster again, Shouta’s telling him to slow down, but the blonde pants out “Can’t Sho’, she feels so damn good-”

The metal keeps grinding across your clit, and then you’re shrieking as an orgasm slams into you full-force out of nowhere.

It had been feeling good, but the combination of the tip of Hizashi’s cock hitting your sweet spot, plus the barbell along his pubic bone rubbing your little nub as he humped your cunt had you spasming, mouth dropping open and your eyes rolling back.

The next few moments are hazy, but you know Hizashi pulls out, lets out a low groan and then there's a bit of warmth striping across your stomach. Aizawa is saying something in that low baritone of his, but you don’t know what.

Your limbs feel like jelly, you feel too hot but chilled at the same time, feverish, sweaty. Shouta pats your cheek “Still with us?”

“Uhnh....”

Aizawa laughed then, a full, throaty sound that made his stomach quake, and both you and Hizashi looked at him in surprise.

It was rare for the man to make such a noise.

“You good Sho’?” Hizashi asked, a puzzled smile on his face. Aizawa nodded, calming himself down a bit to respond, a broad grin still plastered across his features.

“I’m more than good, this is.... you were perfect.” The last bit is directed at you, and Aizawa leans down to kiss you, even though it’s clumsy and awkward. Still, he persists.

When he breaks away, he reaches for his husband, and pecks him on the lips, before shuffling backwards on the bed, your head sliding off his lap.

“Do’ya wanna lay down sweetie-pop? Or sit in the chair and watch?”

“Wha-?” You blink at the blonde, a hand rubbing at your puffy eyes. You’re thirsty.

“She’s exhausted, have her lay down. Plus, you can kiss her when you start getting too loud.” Aizawa prompts his husband, and Hizashi swats playfully at the dark-haired man, but heeds his advice.

You’re maneuvered up the bed, until your head rests on the pillows. Your wrists stay tied though, and your brows knit in confusion. Are they leaving?

No, Aizawa’s removing his boxers, Hizashi’s on his knees, his face by yours scrunched up as he reaches back to his rear.

A glimpse of Shouta’s cock, and you’re suddenly extremely grateful that you had been under his husband, and not taking the monster Shouta had been hiding behind his boxers.

But your attention is torn away by Hizashi, who’s holding up.... a plug, shiny with lube.

Shouta shuffles behind him, grabs his husband’s hips, and then Hizashi is kissing you, whimpering into your mouth as Shouta enters him.

You can’t find it in yourself to feel sorry for Hizashi. At least he’s going to enjoy himself, sharing that part of himself with someone he loves.

Bitterness rises within you as you realize; you aren’t able to say the same.

1K notes · View notes

lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

Text

Compromise

Yandere Alpha!Aizawa x omega!reader

Warnings: omegaverse fuckery, yandere, dark themes, very slight daddy kink, very slight breeding kink, PiNk NiPpLeS

A/N: I wrote this for a friend and that friend is me. Entirely self indulgent which is wack because usually when I write AOB shit I have the shield of it being a request up. Usually I try to stray away from describing things about skin and bodies for self-inserts, but I did a little bit for this one. Anyways, have some nasty trash

(DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT ASKING FOR MY PERMISSION)

Aizawa was a patient and experienced man. He was no stranger to having a cat he rescued off the street become reclusive in his domain— only making appearances when they needed to eat, drink, and relieve themselves, so it was not too alarming when he brought you, a criminal vigilante, back to his home and you had reacted similarly. He wasn’t worried. He figured that as an omega, he’d find you deprived and wanton sooner or later.

He understood that you needed your space. It surely had to be a bit of a culture shock to you for the first couple of days or weeks, and he certainly knew that you’d need your time to cool off after being plucked so suddenly off the streets like you were. The last thing Aizawa wanted was for you to hate him, so at first he had repressed his need to claim you immediately in order to help you acclimate to your new environment. He was fervently against forcing himself on you, even if his nature told him that it was his right.

Before you became a suitable partner, you had to be his pet. You had to be his comfortable pet.

So he left you alone in the room he’d set up for you, only hoping that you’d come out to visit him on your own accord before you fell into your first heat in your new home. Your stubborn heart never showed its face, but that wasn’t a dealbreaker for the erasure hero. If anything, your petulance stirred him. It beckoned him.

The day finally came when you had your first heat, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn��t looking forward to it. It was only natural for Aizawa to be drawn to your room when he caught a whiff of that delectable scent, that musty aroma that was so indisputably you, that it got him hard as a rock instantaneously. Like a moth to a flame, he found and rescued you from your own aching turmoil. The alpha claimed you, and marked you, and fucked you, and loved you, until you were nothing but a messy pile of satisfied lust melded into the guest room sheets, panting and writhing and thanking him for taking very good care of you. You were soft and warm and you fit around him perfectly. You were heaven on earth, crying into his shoulder, clawing at his back, begging for him to give more, more, more, and he did, and you wailed and came for him over and over until you inevitably passed out— splayed on the bed all cute and tuckered out and his. He had been elated.

He had hoped that after the first time he mated with you, you’d be more personable. However, after the fifth heat, Aizawa had to admit that your indomitability would not be broken so easily. He figured that he was spoiling you— letting you stay hidden and alone for as long as you wanted until your heat broke and you could use him for the one thing you’d value him for as an omega. That was the thing. He was letting you use him, and though that may have made you his comfortable pet, that didn’t further your advancement into becoming a suitable partner; it just made you a spoiled princess. He just had to let you know that though a princess you may be, you were his. He’d spoil you on his own terms, and that was only after you learned who held the reigns under his roof.

Six hours had passed since he first caught your scent. You were early this month, which was a pleasant surprise. That could’ve been because of your change in diet; Aizawa had been feeding you lean meat rather than packaged protein in hopes of getting you to act a little more congenial, but that hadn’t changed your mood much. You still glared and recoiled whenever he entered the room, which was nothing compared to the storm of swears you had whirled at him while trying to claw his eyes out when he first brought you to the condo. Still, he’d prefer that you at least thanked him for feeding you and making sure you had plenty of blankets to sleep with at night.

But now that you were in heat— now that you were needy, and desperate, and hungry for an alpha, Aizawa knew that dealing with your less-than-pleasant mood would be worth it. However, this month, he would not come to your aid when he caught the first signs of you torture. He’d have you wait for however long he could stomach it

Aizawa was surprised when you finally came out to the living room.

What Aizawa was expecting was an insolent omega with a potent glower on her face— that consistent brat’s disposition. What he wasn’t expecting was that the brat was going to be wearing one of his long sleeved shirts with nothing but her panties underneath, and he didn’t expect it to be so fucking cute. Did you miss his scent? Was his shirt some sort of comfort object to you?

You were becoming such a good girl.

A sheen of your own need coated your thighs and your potent aroma wafted around the living room. It was nearly unbearable. Aizawa didn’t bother to hide the raging tent in his pants. He wanted you to know that he smelled you, that he wanted you, and that it was no mistake that you had been neglected for hours. You were being punished and you should know. He lifted a singular brow, prompting you to speak.

Instead of begging for him immediately like he expected you to, you surprised him for the second time with an accusation:

“You are being cruel.”

Your voice was hoarse, as if you’d been crying, or moaning, or both, and Aizawa loved it. The corner of his mouth twitched up and he extended his arm out, beckoning you to climb into his lap, and like an obedient little bitch, you did.

Your knees were on either side of one of his thick thighs, one of your hands were pulling pathetically at the shoulder of his shirt while the other pressed lightly to his neck. Shouta felt a shudder climb up his spine when you squeezed your legs together and he gave his own leg and experimental bump, just to watch you clench your teeth together and hiss.

You burrowed your face into the crook of his neck. Aizawa took you in, pressing his nose to your hair, relishing the mixed aroma of your shampoo, your sweat, and your pheromone. You gave out a wanton little whimper when he pressed his hand lightly to the small of your back. Aizawa bumped his leg again, and you shuddered against him, letting out the smallest sigh. Noisy baby girl.

You were everything lovely in this world— his little rose.

“Sadist,” you accused, slowly rolling your hips as you began riding his thigh. Your nails dug into his shoulder when he gave you another bump. You growled, but it was no more threatening than a hiss of a kitten.

Aizawa smirked against your hair. Even the loveliest of roses had their thorns.

“How do you figure?” He asked in a slightly mocking tone, because his true nature when he got intimate was no secret to him nor you— not that you objected to it… in the moment. “I haven’t laid a finger on you.”

He slid his large hands down your waist to your smooth, bare thighs. Your body flushed with warmth, and Aizawa could tell that you felt his cock pulsate against your leg by how your cheeks burned a deeper shade of lustful red.

“You’re… neglecting me,” you murmured into his chest.

Aizawa tutted at you and you hummed against him. It was baffling how similar you were to an actual pampered cat.

“Neglecting,” he echoed, baleful and bemused while still oddly roused by how you were trying to appeal to his alpha ethos. “Do I not bring you food when you are hungry? Water when you’re thirsty? Have I not invited you to stay with me in a loving home that you’re free to roam on your own accord only to leave you be when you choose to stay shut away in the lonely room?”

You peeled your head away and scowled down at him. Your plush lips pursed in a way that thrilled Aizawa. His eyelids grew heavy as he imagined pushing his fingers between your them while his cock plunged deep into your soaking, needy, little omega cunt. God, how he missed feeling your walls tighten around him. He thought about what it was like being inside you all the damn time, and it was torture knowing that you were a only a room away from him, and that he could have you at any time so easily, but you’d never be able to love him like he wanted you to if he commanded you to fuck him. Even now, waiting this long while he knew you’d let him in easily, but knowing he had a point to prove, was absolute torture. If patience was a virtue, Aizawa was a goddamn saint.

Trembling, you said, “you kidnapped me, actually. That’s not as loving as you might think, Eraser.”

“No, sweetheart.” Aizawa brought his hand up to your face. His thumb caressed your lips, and they parted readily for him. Your mouth wrapped around him as you hummed tentatively around his thumb. You suckled on him with buzzing warmth, trying to sway him away from having a serious conversation, because it was obvious that right now, you did not want to talk about your ‘kidnapping’; you wanted Aizawa to rut you. “I saved you.”

Aizawa pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop! and with the same hand, he proceeded to squeeze your cheeks together. “And you’ve not been very gracious.”

Aizawa could see a fire building up in your eyes. The carnal side of him wanted you to lash out, just so he could push you onto the floor, head down, ass up, and teach you some goddamn manners, but he had to tell himself that you needed to learn. This thought waged war against the sudden realization that his thigh was warm and wet with your lust, and that was quickly pushing the limits of his resolve. He didn’t think that you even knew you were scenting him, which might’ve made that all the more hot.

You’re hurting, he thought to himself. You’re hurting and you want him. You want to be pumped full of his seed, to be bred like a blue ribbon bitch. You want him to use you.

Aizawa could feel his blood rushing while you reached around his head to pull his hair tie out, letting his messy black mop drape over his face. Your lovely hands softly grasped his wrist and with a voice too damn sweet for your own damn good, you asked, “what do you want?”

“For you to be a good girl.”

“I— I’m here, aren’t I?” You asked, as if that would suffice. In retrospect, it would, but Aizawa wanted to be greedy with you. He wanted much more.

So he lied. “That’s not enough, princess.”

“God, please, tell me what I need to do for you to… to fuck me. This is excruciating!”

“Oh. Is my little kitten in heat?” Aizawa moved his hand from your cheeks, down to your warm neck and squeezed. “Is that why she’s finally crawled out of her hideaway?”

Aizawa grabbed the back of your head and you gasped. Your hands slid down to below your stomach, but Aizawa yanked on your hair, causing you to cry out and grasp at his arms before you could dip your treacherous hands into your ptanties. He watched as your nipples hardened harshly through his shirt that really did fit you well.

You whispered out a cute little, “yes,” as Aizawa pushed the shirt up to reveal the tender, pink tits he’d been missing for weeks. Licking his lips, Aizawa experimentally pinched one of your swollen buds between his middle and index fingers as he palmed your sore, swollen breasts. You moaned as you rubbed yourself harder onto his thigh, as if that would be enough to get you off, though it clearly wasn’t by your hushed pleas for any kind of relief. Aizawa ached. He could feel his own pre-cum dribbling out of his cock every time you barely brushed against him.

“Poor baby,” Aizawa cooed before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. Your body shook while his tongue swirled around you. You placed your hands on the top of his head and began kneading your fingertips through your hair. Aizawa groaned, the reverberations in his chest deepening, the edges of his teeth teasing your sensitive bud.

“Eraser,” you mewled, because you were a vigilante criminal first and foremost, then with another tug, you warbled out a, “daddy,” because you wanted to stir him on a crueler, more personal level, and to tip the bucket over, you knitted your fingers into the back of his head, and pleaded, “alphaahhah.”

Aizawa pulled back and growled, ripping his shirt up and off your shoulders. In nothing but your panties, your entire body flushed in either embarrassment or asoursal— possibly both. Aizawa wanted to worship every inch of you.

You tried to kiss him then, but Aizawa wasn’t having it— jerking his head away just enough so your lips were a hair away from his. You groaned defiantly, then pushed your face past his so his nose was lodged against your neck, below your scent glands. Since Aizawa was having a fine time teasing you, he rolled his tongue up your neck, just to hear your voice catch in a pathetic squeak that set every single nerve ending in his entire body aflame. This was sadomasochism in its prime. Aizawa enjoyed it immensely.

“I’ll come out more— a couple times a week.” You promised desperately, catching that Aizawa wanted to bargain with you.

“Not enough,” his gruff whisper against your skin sent ripples of goosebumps across your arms. “Though I love looking at my little pet, I want to be able to touch her, to hold her, to hear about her day. I’m going to need more from her. Do you understand?”

You paused. Mirthless. Shaken. His. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He asked, before giving you another long lick.

“Yes-“ of all the names he’d like to hear from you— sir, alpha, Shouta, Eraserhead, you chose, “- daddy.” While in this state, your lustful, breathy sighs was the only air he needed for his lungs and hearing you call him daddy woke up something covertly instinctual in him. Your name was his heartbeat.

Baby girl. Baby girl.

“I can… join you for breakfast or dinner on the weekends… when you have time.”

“-I can make the time,” Aizawa cut in, murmuring against your skin. “Go on.”

You groaned in frustration. “I don’t know what the hell you want, Eraser! I can’t be your little housewife!”

Aizawa didn’t miss a beat. He was used to your outbursts, even when they were a bit too sudden. He also knew that when he bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulders, you would moan and pull in his hair. When you did, all he had to do was grab your wrists, hold them above your shoulders, and watch you become a panting mess.

Housewife? As if Aizawa wanted you to be so tame. Someone to cook and clean for him? The concept was cute, but that wasn’t on brand with the woman he loved. Aizawa knew who you were, and that was not a doting slave, although the thought of you in an apron and nothing else besides that apron was an exciting concept.

“I don’t want a housewife, kitten. I want a mate.”

Your face flushed. Aizawa’s cock throbbed between your wet thighs. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you, and you kept pushing yourself against him, and god could he not wait another agonizing second of not being inside of you. He was about to let up— give in, give you what you both wanted, and then try again the next time you were desperate for him. He was about to, but then you hit him with a deal.

A myriad of promises escaped your lips, each richer than the last. Some of them were cute, domesticated bullshit that tickled Aizawa’s interest: movie nights, a kiss in the morning, brushing teeth together. Others tickled Aizawa in a different way: massages, surprise blowjobs, something concerning a collar and a leash.

Before he knew it, Aizawa was grinning. He couldn’t say that any of the ideas you spouted in your time of need, but in all honesty, the promise to try was really all he needed.

“I think we might be in business,” he said, and his grin turned into a kiss, and that kiss turned into his tongue brushing against yours, and his enjoying the taste of your moan turned into him ridding himself of the sweats that kept him from you.

The head of Aizawa’s cock twitched and glistened, wet with urgent desire. His stomach tightened when he grasped his throbbing base. You gave him a hungry look. “You wanna prove to me you'll be my good girl?” he purred, appraising you. You bit your lip and nodded attentively, ready to take any request he sent your way. “Then why don’t you ride daddy’s cock?.”

You laughed then. It was a sort of short, relieved kind of laugh that was more of a thank you than anything else— a yes, sir, anything you say, grateful for this opportunity, sir sort of noise.

You pulled your soaking panties to the side and formed a gyre with your hips, moving in circles, coating Aizawa’s cock in your slick. You licked your lips as his cock head teased your saturated slit. You hummed, practically quivering from the idea of having his cock push into you and it took everything out of Aizawa not to grab on to your hips and force you down on him. He needed to enjoy the show before being brute.

You dipped down onto him. Your mouth fell open, but no noise came out. Aizawa flexed his jaw, trying hard to hold onto the last remaining thread of his restraint. You locked your hand onto the back of his neck and eased yourself off of him— you hadn’t gotten even half of his length inside of you, but still your face tensed in pained pleasure as you rolled back down his shaft.

“Fuck. Sho. I can’t-!”

“What is it, baby girl? Is daddy’s cock too big for you to work with on your own?”

You gave him a withering look. You locked your fingers into his hair and forced your lips back on his. He chuckled lowly against your kiss, palming your breasts as you began to ride him.

Aizawa groaned inwardly because fuck, you felt so good rhythmically sliding up and down his cock— so warm, so sloppy, so tight— fuck, so tight that you couldn’t fit all of him in you. You moved your ass so well that Aizawa was surprised he hadn’t made you ride him before. Of course, every time the two of you had gotten intimate (intimate being being Aizawa’s word of choice because he loved you too damn much) in the past, it's always been rushed, carnal, and desperate. It didn’t help that Aizawa liked to take the reigns, and that fact battled with Aizawa’s desire to watch you move so fluently, so sensuously on top of him. You were a marvel to witness, and if he could, he’d savor this moment forever, but his corporal instincts took over.

Aizawa gripped onto your hips. Your pupils dilated.

Aizawa pulled you down onto him and when your mouth fell open this time, a high yip rang out from the back of your throat. He bucked his hips up, hitting you hard and deep each time you came down on him. You whimpered and mewled, digging your nails into his skin as your lust and need rolled down onto his thighs.

“Such pretty noises, kitten.“ he pulled your head back to him so his lips were against your ear. “I’m gonna ruin your little cunt, baby girl. How do you like that idea?”

“Hnngggg. Yes, daddy, please, please.”

Aizawa smirked. Good girl.

He bit your neck and you squeezed around him. He wrapped his arms around your body and stood up, moving you to the arm of the couch. You wrapped your legs around him, locking them around his hips with a grin Aizawa didn’t think you knew you had on. Fingers pulled on skin as he pistoned his hips, slapping into your fast and hard, filling the room with slaps and squelching and the sounds of you hissing and moaning and pleading for more. His skin turned red where you scraped your nails across, hopelessly trying to pull him more into you, and so he did.

He pushed himself to his hilt and watched your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and Jesus Christ if you weren’t the most enchanting fucking creature on this plain earth. Aizawa pushed your shoulders back so you laid flat on your back with your legs hanging off the couch. He admired your stomach as his cock pressed against it, hitting your spot again and again, eliciting sweet music from his precious fucktoy.

Your pussy fluttered as your sputtered out nonsensensical praises for your alpha— the only man that could take care of you, the only man that would ever touch you again.

“Feel good, baby?” Aizawa hissed through gritted teeth as the base of his cock began to inflate. “You like it when I take care of you?”

You were lost to your words, only able to whimper back at him, clutching at the couch cushions with trembling fingers.

“C’mon girl, I know you can handle much more than this.”

“Shooutah,” you managed, squeezing your eyes shut as two thick tears rolled off your cheeks. “Pleaaase.”

“What is it, little kitty? Use your words.”

“I wanna make you a daddy,” you cried, your toes curling, your body shaking. Aizawa growled, his vision sharpening, his cock pulsating. You crooned, “I wanna have your baby. Please— please! ”

Aizawa couldn’t believe his ears. His perfect little mate playing with his instincts like that, just for a good fuck? Naughty kitten. He hunched over the couch, hand wrapping around your neck, squeezing lightly, forcing you to look at your mate. You squeaked, brows furrowing, breath faltering. You were giving him such a pretty and pathetic look. He couldn’t stand it.

Aizawa felt his knot swell all the way up when his lips once again collided with yours. You spasmed around him, and the added sensation of the sweet reverberations of your moans against his lips blew him away.

Aizawa could forgive you for making empty promises every now and again, but if you were going to say something so dangerous while he rutted into you, he might have to teach you to choose your worlds a little more carefully his way.

His knot locked you into place. His cock throbbed intensely as ropes of thick, hot cum lined your quivering cunt walls. Aizawa groaned when you howled, the two of you harmonized and synced, bonded to each other once again. Elation coursed through his veins, and he could tell by the beautiful euphoric look on your face, he could tell you were feeling the same way.

Trapped in each other’s daze, Aizawa couldn’t be happier stuck to you like this. He wove his fingers through your sweaty hair and kissed your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, and your lips.

“I love you,” he whispered, because he couldn’t lie to you like this. You said nothing back, because you couldn’t lie either. It bothered Aizawa, but not enough to ruin his good mood. You didn’t love him yet because you didn’t know him. If you were true to your word and spent more time with him, letting him show you that the two of you were each other’s perfect mates, that could change. It would change.

At least when the swelling went down, and Aizawa could lay back on the couch, you curled against him and let him play with your hair. The two of you laid entwined together for a long while. Aizawa was content having you in his arms, but when your breathing grew heavier and he knew you were asleep, he was glad to be carrying you back to bed, his bed, where you’d be sleeping in from now on.

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck @kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow @wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai @eggpienutbuttercroissant @usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello

#bnha x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #yandere bnha #bnha yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #omegaverse #aob #alpha!aizawa #yandere!aizawa #yandere!aizawa x reader #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha reader insert #reader insert #x reader #alpha x omega

10K notes · View notes

buglife · 3 years

Text

Shh I got inspired by those doodles I did of Monomon and sick bby Quirrel so I wrote a ficlet.

----

It had been a few months since Monomon found a tiny pip rolling around the trash in the City of Tears. She thought at first that it was some sort of ball that some child had lost. Then it sneezed, which scared the hell out of her. She had looked closer and she was surprised to see a nearly transparent pip crawling around the garbage. The poor thing was dented up and was attempting to eat a discarded cloak. When he saw her, he hissed and curled up into a ball, thinking that if he couldn’t see her, than she couldn’t see him. She had picked him up, this little shivering ball of tenacity, and took him with her.

One thing lead to another and she had found herself as an adoptive mother to a baby isopod. The doctor she took him too told her that he shouldn’t even be out of the pouch, let alone being all by himself. Either he was abandoned or something unfortunate happened to his mother, and having the guard investigate gave her no answers. She decided that it was probably going to be a mystery forever, and decided to focus her energy on raising her newly acquired son.

She had named him Quirrel, after an old philosopher who often wrote about the beauty of the world. She somehow knew he’d be able to see the world for the beautiful thing as it is and not be focused on the doom and gloom of it all. She was a scientist, so of course she could find beauty in even the smallest micro-organism and all the way to the desolate wastes. Something told her he’d see it too.

Her high hopes proved to be true, as he turned out to be a rather clever little pip. He was still far too young for speech, or even to be roaming about by himself, so she decided to conduct a little experiment. Sign language wasn’t uncommon in Hallownest, but most non-hindered bugs tended to learn it after they have mastered speech and not before. What if she taught Quirrel, a little pip, some sign language now?

Her experiment bore fruit, and he learned some signs quickly. It was only a few words now that were simple to sign. He was still a baby and lacked the fine motor control for the more complex signs, but he could at least tell her when he was hungry or if he wanted something. She imagined that this experiment could do a lot of good in the end.

What concerned her however, was the lack of actual noise he made.

Quirrel was an incredibly quiet baby at he beginning. He simply refused to make much noise at all, and when he did, he flinched as though expecting to be punished for it. It had taken weeks of positive reinforcement before he started making the noises a little pip was expected to be making. It was very endearing to see him babbling and having her students babble back at him. His tiny eyes would light up and he’d wiggle in excitement before continuing the ‘conversation’. Even with all the encouragements from both her and her students, he still preferred to be quiet, napping through most of the day whilst in her pip pocket. That was normal for an isopod this young, but it was still concerning that he felt that he had to stay quiet.

That changed early one morning when he started to audibly fuss. Usually he’d just try to escape when bored, writhing about and trying to climb out of the pocket. But today, at the most ungodly early hour, he was making noises, squeaking and hissing in what seemed to be discomfort. Monomon had at first though he was hungry, but he outright refused his usual leaf paste. She tried tiktik bits, sliced fruit, and even a cookie, but he refused it all and grew increasingly more frustrated with each rejected food item.

She had tried asking him to tell her what was wrong through sign language, but he was either unwilling or unable to bother with it.

Finally he had enough, and began to wail, loudly. She had never heard him make a noise that loud before and it startled her enough to spill the juice she was trying to tempt him with all over herself. He only stopped loud enough to take a breath before belting out another heaving cry, little eyes overflowing with tears as he made his discomfort known.

“Shhhh….shhhh...it’s okay, my little one.” She attempted to try and comfort him, but he just wailed louder.

Concerned, she picked him up and tucked him under her chin, trying to soothe the sobbing pillbug, when she noticed what could be causing all this pain. His forehead was burning hot, and he was faintly shivering as he bawled into her veil. It wasn’t hard to figure out that her pip was ill and she plucked him out from her embrace to take a better look at him.

There were bags under his eyes and his face was tinged blue with heat. He had his mandibles open wide enough when crying that she can see some swelling in the back of his throat. She gently palpitated his belly and could feel the organs within twist and with every movement he cried harder. So, he was nauseous, which made sense on why he would refuse a cookie. Fever, chills, sore throat, most likely he picked something up from one of the students. She mentally kicked herself, she should have made her students wash up before picking him up as they liked to do. She should have not allowed them to give him little smooches and hugs. She should have not brought him with her at all when among the masses of students and archivists that swarmed about her. But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him all alone, not after what he’d been through.

The fact of the matter is that no amount of hindsight was going to change the fact that Quirrel caught something and was currently not having a very good time about it. His wails were starting to sound raspy and wet, no doubt that his sinuses were starting to be affected too. The sheer amount of screaming wasn’t helping matters and her thoughts raced on what she should do.

“Modern Manca Medicine, Chapter Seven, pages nine through ten,” She recited out loud as she recalled one of the many books she absorbed after taking Quirrel in, “Common treatment options for sickly manca and juvenile pillbugs include swaddling and standard fever reduction tactics for most invertebrates. Hrm... Grubs and You: A New Mother’s Guide, Chapter Nine, page twelve. When a child refuses to eat, honey is a suitable way to provide needed nutrition and slip in medication without upsetting the stomach. Hrm... that would work, wouldn’t it?”

Quirrel continued his crying, rapidly losing his voice, and she brushed a kiss on the top of his head to comfort him. His antenna twitched and his sobbing died down just a teensy bit, but it was enough for her to notice. He must have smelled her and realized she was going to help him, his eyes were too full of tears to be much use to him at the moment. She grabbed a spare blanket and wrapped him up tightly to deal with the shivers. He instantly stopped wriggling so hard and she managed to slip him back into the pip pocket without much incident.

Next, a cool cloth was needed. She needed to bring down his fever so he could rest. That wasn’t too hard to find. She ended up tying the wet cloth on his head like you would a kerchief, pinning down his antenna so they can cool down as well. She was quite happy to find that after she did that, he had stopped his wailing. He was still making noises of discomfort, squeaking and hiccupping, but he wasn’t outright screaming anymore. Her auditory organs was most happy with that turn of events for sure.

“Herbal Remedies for the Modern Bug, Chapter two, pages one through twenty.” She floated quickly to her herb cabinet, selecting dried bundles here and there. Lemon balm for fever, mint and ginger for his stomach, marshmallow root for his throat, maybe licorice root too? Lavender and Chamomile to help him sleep so he can focus on getting better, yes, that should do it. She mentally ran through the list, using a free set of tentacles to rock Quirrel gently. For now he seemed content to stay in his pocket, squeaking here and there as he braved through his illness. Poor little pip...she resolved to give him extra cookies once he felt well enough to eat them.

She put a kettle to boil and threw her selected herbs inside to seep and condense. She would have used her alchemical equipment to do this faster, but she didn’t feel like taking him downstairs where there would be students and workers showing up. When Quirrel started fussing again, she replaced his now warm cloth with a freshly cooled one, and he quieted down again.

Finally, the kettle had boiled enough and she strained the liquid into a bowl. Next, she took out a jar of honey and began the delicate procedure of making medicine that won’t be instantly spat out by a fussy grub. She calculated that a 2:1 ratio should work the best as he would be less likely to spit up something that tasted relatively good. Eventually, she mixed up a small cup full of her makeshift medicine and retrieved a clean eyedropper. Calculating body weight, she drew up half a measure, and with that finished she went to attempt to give it to Quirrel.

He, of course, put up a fuss, and began screaming again. She understood why, he wasn’t feeling well and his belly was hurting. The last thing he would want right now was something to go down into said hurting belly and she was not surprised when he tried to bite her a few times. Unfortunately for him, Isopods are not known for being able to do much more than nibble. Using that to her advantage, she let him latch on to the end of one of her tentacles, letting him get nice and occupied, and then shoved the end of the eyedropper into the corner of his mouth. The medicine was squirted down his throat before he could do anything to stop it and for that he bit her harder. He even hissed a little and it would be adorable if he wasn’t feeling so poorly.

He let go to scream again, but then stopped and stuck out his tongue. He was obviously tasting the honey now, and he loved honey. Monomon sighed in relief, at least next time she gave him a dose she wouldn’t get bit for her troubles. He opened his mouth a couple times and blinked, looking up at her face. He lifted up his hands and wiggled them.

“Abah?” He sniffled, trying to clear his throat and sinus.

“Hrm, what do you want, my little scholar?” She was pleased to not longer see him screaming. “Use your hand words.”

He made two fists and bumped them together. <”more,”> he signed.

“Of course, you can have more honey. I think you deserve it, after putting up with all that.”

He seemed happy with the idea, and she was able to give him another teaspoon of honey before he signed ‘done’ at her. His little belly could only take so much now and she took the time to wipe his face clean. He fussed at the cleaning, but yawned once she finished. Clearly the medicine was starting to work, his breathing was better and feeling his gut showed that it was settling down. She gave him a nuzzle and a kiss and tucked him back into his pip pocket. He was asleep nearly instantly and she gently strapped the pocket to herself once more.

Once he was secure she floated downstairs and was once again, swept up into the chaos of the Archives. Someone had accidentally released the charged lumaflies and they were setting books on fire.

Thankfully, Quirrel slept through the whole thing.

#hollow knight #fanfiction #my writing #monomon the teacher #quirrel #sickfic #baby quirrel #tiny scholar au #terra lumina #monomom #my niece learned some sign language when she was a toddler and it really helped with communication #she could sign if she wasn't feeling good or if she was tired #so here's how quirrel started off fluent in sign lanquage #hurt/comfort #i think you can call this hurt comfort?

69 notes · View notes

wingsofkpop · 3 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.X: Was it Worth it in the End? Part One

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, very heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting, blood and gore, mentions of death and murder, mentions of trauma, some satanic themes, etc.

word count: 7,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

A/N: It’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience and support! Please enjoy!

“—this plan is fucking insane!”

“You said anywhere was better than the mansion!”

“That was before I knew you were claiming sanctuary with the very people that sent Teenage Chewbacca to maul Jinyoung and I!”

“It was Minho who turned Changbin! How many goddamn times do I have to say that to get it through your thick skull!?”

The incessant bickering of the two voices gradually lifts Jinyoung from his slumber, reintroducing his mind to the workings of reality. He flutters his eyes open, surprised at the lack of light, and forces himself to sit up. At his sudden movement, his head roars with pain, sending a dizzy spell through his limbs. He manages to swallow the temporary vertigo and keep upright, quickly realizing his current position in the backseat of a car.

“Jinyoung?... Oh thank god—he’s awake.”

“It’s about fucking time.”

“(Y/N)? Jaebeom-hyung?” Jinyoung squints, attempting to map out your and his brother’s silhouettes through the blackness. He manages to pinpoint the annoyed glare of the latter in the passenger seat, thus concluding that you are probably driving. “What happened? How did I get here?”

“While you were taking a snooze, that fucking superwolf broke into our home and nearly ripped my throat out.” Jaebeom snorts, “Of course, not until after he impaled me with my own landscaping.”

“I managed to stake him before he hurt Jaebeom.” You pipe in, “But we don’t think it killed him—only slowed him down long enough to let us get away.”

Jinyoung shakes his head in both confusion and shock, immediately regretting the decision when his brain pounds like a bass drum. He allows himself a moment to pass the ache before cautiously speaking, “And… where exactly are we going?”

“Yeah, Wonder Woman. Why don’t you tell my brother where your brilliant idea for refuge is?”

Jinyoung can feel the intensity of your glare from the back seat.

“I’m taking us to the wolf pack.” You murmur softly, “If anyone has a chance of talking Changbin down, it will be his own people.”

“And as I was explaining to our dear (Y/N), the wolf pack also has a pretty large bounty over our heads.” Jinyoung hears Jaebeom release a heavy sigh before leaning back in his seat, “We’ll be attacked the moment we step foot out of this car.”

“Would you stop being so damn paranoid?” Your frustrated demand echoes throughout the car, “Not everyone is out to kill you—”

“I’ve made a lot of enemies over the centuries, little dove… Killed a lot of people—pissed off even more.”

“Maybe, but I know you didn’t kill Jackson Wang.”

The car grows dead silent minus the heavy breathing of who Jinyoung assumes to be his hybrid companion. He tries to make out Jaebeom’s expression, but it’s too dark. His imagination will have to do.

“Everyone says you did, but I know there’s more to the truth.” You say, “I may not know what exactly happened, but Jackson’s death wasn’t your fault—either of your faults.”

“And how exactly do you know this?”

“That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that the pack is our only viable option at the moment, and I need you to trust me on this.”

Jaebeom sighs, “Good God—this is not happening.”

“I trust her.” Jinyoung answers without hesitation, reaching across the council to lay a hand on the hybrid’s shoulder. “We have no reason not to, hyung.”

“And why the hell not?” To his dismay, Jaebeom shrugs away from Jinyoung’s touch. “Give me one good reason why I should trust you with my life.”

“Because I could have let Changbin kill you… but I didn’t.”

Jaebeom grows silent again. And although no words are said, Jinyoung knows—and knows that you know—that the conversation ended in your favor. Jaebeom may be a paranoid, narcissistic sociopath, but even he is capable of hope in the darkest of moments.

A sudden gasp disrupts the hushed atmosphere, resonating from beside Jinyoung a mere foot away. For the first time, he notices a third body propped in the seat next to him. The figure writhes and releases a set of whimpers before growing still once again.

“We have another issue.” Jaebeom murmurs darkly, “Changbin bit Tzuyu during our fight, and when I tried to heal her with my blood… it didn’t work.”

Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, “What do you mean it didn’t work?”

“Minho transformed Changbin into a weapon that would have the power to kill you and Jaebeom—the only two invincible beings in existence.” Your explanation causes Jinyoung’s heart to sink, “His venom can’t be cured by Jaebeom’s blood, so…”

“So Tzuyu is going to die unless we find a cure.” Jaebeom finishes with a hum, “We better get to it fast cause the hallucinations are already starting.”

“The pack will help us.” You affirm. “I know they will.”

Jinyoung truly hopes that your confidence is well placed. Afterall, it is his, Jaebeom and Tzuyu’s lives all on the line.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do this.” Mark stresses, flipping through the grimoire with enough force to tear the pages. “This spell needs a lot of power—”

“Can’t you do what Youngjae does and channel something? Like a celestial event?”

Mark shakes his head. “Even that won’t be enough. I would have to channel the power unnaturally… through black magic.”

“It’s only one spell—what harm could it do?”

“Black magic is dark magic, Jack.” Mark directly addresses his werewolf companion, shaking his head even more feverishly. “It’s unpredictable… We could offset the balance of nature and—”

“I don’t give a shit about the balance of nature, Mark!” Jackson cuts in, “This may be our one and only chance to get rid of the Primes—to protect our town and the ones we love… Don’t you think that’s a little more important than upsetting the magic gods?...”

“You don’t understand—magic always comes with a price.” Mark says darkly, “I can’t trust what will happen if I use black magic… For fucksake, Jackson—I could kill you.”

Jackson places his hands on Mark’s shoulders, staring deep into the witch’s eyes. “I trust you with my life, Mark… and I know you won’t let me down.”

Mark debates with himself, attempting to find a solution past the chaos of his thoughts. His gut tells him it's a bad idea, but Jackson, his best friend, is telling him otherwise. He’s right—it is only one spell—and like he said, Jackson trusts him…

Mark just has to trust himself too.

“Alright.” He finally nods, “I won’t let you down… I promise.”

“Mark-hyung—Mark!”

At the call of his name, Mark’s mind springs from unconsciousness. His eyes snap open, discovering multiple familiar faces staring down at him. He releases a pained groan, just now recognizing the ache running through his entire body, before murmuring softly:

“What… happened?”

“How much do you remember?”

Mark attempts to pilfer through his memories, recalling his argument with Minho that resulted in the theft of his magic and the moments thereafter where said witch transformed Changbin into a super werewolf. He closes his eyes shut and leans back with a huff.

“How long have I been out?”

Youngjae hums, “At least a couple hours. Minho locked us in the old crypt after you passed out, so we really don’t have any sense of time.”

“Sounds fucking fantastic.” With a deep moan, Mark forces himself into a sitting position. His spine wails at the movement, but he pays it no mind and instead stretches his arms over his head in an attempt to work out the knots in his bones. He also takes the time to survey his surroundings, discovering, just as Youngjae said, to be inside the dingy, crumbling underground cavern beneath the mausoleum. He can’t remember the last time he’s been down here—how ironic.

“I’m guessing Changbin made a beeline for the Project Estate?”

“Didn’t even hesitate.” Youngjae answers, “You don’t think he got them… do you?”

“I honestly could care less about the Primes right now.” With Youngjae’s help, Mark manages to push himself to his feet before finding purchase against a stone pillar. He takes a second to catch his breath, then continues, “There’s an exit down here that leads into a bunch of old tunnels underneath the graveyard. If we can find it, there’s a chance we might—”

“I wouldn’t think about it, hyung.” Mark’s suggestion dies on his tongue as his favorite witch emerges from a dark corner. Beside him, Youngjae releases a surprised gasp while seeming to shrink in on himself. Mark, on the other hand, doesn’t budge.

“Enjoying this villain complex a little too much, don’t you think?”

“You don’t seem very happy with me, Mark-hyung…” Minho smirks.

“Okay—you’ve had your damn fun.” Mark sneers, “Let us all go before I really start to get pissed.”

“Like you can do anything about it anyway, without any magic and all—” The witch wiggles his finger in which the ancient ring still rests. “—and don’t worry. Once the blood moon fully passes, you’re all free to leave.”

“You’re a real fucking psycho, you know that? You really think Changbin is gonna manage to kill both Jaebeom and Jinyoung by himself?”

“I could care less if he does.”

Mark’s eyes narrow, “Why are you keeping us down here? What else could you possibly want?”

“Well, I want to make you suffer as much as possible… but that was already kind of obvious, don’t you think?”

“I’m serious, Minho!” Mark’s hiss echoes between the stone walls of the crypt, bouncing back in his ears like a record on repeat. “Why go to all this trouble to kill the Primes? To mess with me? Are you really that desperate for revenge? That you’d hurt your own people trying to get it?”

Minho shakes his head with a growl, “You all made it very clear that I was never a part of this coven.”

“That is such bullshit!” Mark peers over his shoulder to find Lia emerging from another part of the cavern, followed closely by a quivering, wild-eyed Jisung. “You just never got over the fact that we chose Mark as coven leader—not you!”

“At least I could have kept Nayeon alive!”

“Nayeon’s death wasn’t Mark’s fault! It wasn’t any of our faults!” Lia screams, “Why are you so strung up about this anyway!?”

“Because I loved her!” The atmosphere grows strangely tense at the young witch’s confession, effectively forming the beginnings of a large lump in Mark’s throat. That mass only grows as Minho continues on, “She was the only one who understood me! She believed in me when no one else would!”

Through the corner of his eye, Mark can see the same shock and pain spreading along Youngjae’s features as his own, as well as Jisung’s.

Lia’s expression, however, does not change. “I think you forget that all of us loved Nayeon—all of us are still grieving. It’s not just you.”

“You don’t understand—”

“Then make us understand for crying out loud!” Lia exclaims while throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “You go on about all this bullshit that we never try to include you, when it’s you who never tries—it’s you who always pushes us away!

“We’re supposed to be a team—a family… We are all that’s left of this coven, and look at us now.”

Minho remains silent.

A single tear cascades down Lia’s cheek as she shakes her head. “Nayeon-unnie would be so disappointed… in all of us.”

At her words, Mark feels his heart practically sink into his stomach. He notices the blank expression etched across Minho’s face, wondering what could possibly be going through the young witch’s mind. For a moment, he has hope that Lia’s speech actually knocked some sense into him—that he’ll actually make amends and set them free.

But alas… he speaks too soon.

“Apné sà mene…” Mark immediately recognizes the incantation for a boundary spell, attempting to hurry toward the doorway in which Minho retreated towards. His chest smacks into an invisible barrier, sending his body sprawling back to the crypt floor. Both Youngjae and Lia rush to his side to help him back to his feet—a new pain lingering in his side.

He glares at the retreating witch with all his might.

“You’re gonna regret this.”

“Not as much as I regret ever looking up to you.” Minho waves his hand one final time, making sure to flash his ring, before disappearing up the staircase that leads out of the crypt. With a bitter taste in his mouth, Mark watches as he goes, continuing to do so until he hears the familiar sound of a closing door.

He turns to the trio. “Any chance one of you can break the boundary spell?”

“I might be able to siphon enough power from Lia and Jisung to take it down—” Youngjae shakes his head, “—but it will only be temporary. Maybe ten seconds or less?”

“That’s better than nothing.” Mark nods, “When Youngjae breaks it open, you guys will go through the passageways and head to the Wang Cabin to warn the wolf pack—”

“No.” Lia interrupts his explanation, “Minho will be able to sense our magical energy the minute we step foot out of the boundary. You, however, do not have any magic at the moment.”

“You need to warn the pack, hyung.” Youngjae agrees with a nod, “You’re the only one that can get out undetected.”

Mark feverishly shakes his head, “There’s no fucking way I’m leaving you three here. It’s not happening—”

“Don’t worry about us.” Lia says, “I have a plan to stop both Minho and Changbin.”

“What do you mean?”

“Minho bound Changbin’s power to his own in order to complete the transformation.” She explains, pointing up toward the ceiling. “Once the blood moon is over, Minho will no longer have the power to uphold the spell, so Changbin will no longer be able to remain in his enhanced form, which means…”

“Which means we have to stop the spell before the night ends.” Mark breathes, “Okay… How do we do that?”

“Youngjae can siphon Minho’s magic which should give us enough power to counteract the spell completely… that is, if we can get close enough.”

“Once Mark-hyung warns the pack, we’ll have more than enough backup to take him down.” Youngjae adds, “We need to do this now, before he comes back.”

Mark shakes his head again, “I don’t know about this—”

“We can do this. Trust us, Mark.”

Lia’s determined gaze strikes a chord deep within Mark’s chest. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so serious and resolute…

He’s never seen her look so much like a leader.

“Fine.” He reluctantly agrees, “Let’s do it.”

“Lia? Jisung?” At Youngjae’s call, both of the younger witches offer their hands for the siphoner to take. His own hands glow as he begins the counter incantation, gesturing for Mark to make his move with a nod of his head. Mark does as requested, carefully sliding past a crack in a nearby pillar to enter the secret passageway.

He spares one final glance at his coven mates, admiring the fierce passion along each of their features, before turning into the tunnel and becoming one with the shadows of the night.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Sometimes you forget life even existed before your time in Moon Dye Bay. Maybe it’s a result of your newfound interest in supernatural existence, or possibly due to the close relationships you’ve made throughout your stay. In the entirety of your time of living, you’ve never once called anywhere home, and while you still refuse to commit yourself to such a description, you can’t deny that this strange, little town has come pretty damn close.

Before you moved to Moon Dye, you lived in Chicago for about a year while finishing up your graduate work. Not quite in the city, but in a borderline rundown suburbia on the outskirts. There, you rented a decent condo for dirt cheap and found a well-paying, easy office job right down the street. It was every college student's greatest dream—until it wasn’t.

To this day, your mind still doesn’t recall the event as vividly as it should. Probably in an effort to ease the underlying trauma and fear. Even so, you don’t like to think back on it too much… Who would—when you’re the only survivor in a massacre of dozens of innocent people?

But even so, if it weren’t for that day, you would never have ended up in Moon Dye Bay… nor learned that fairy tale creatures aren’t quite fictional afterall.

You push the thought away to focus on pulling into the nonexistent driveway. The passenger beside you releases a rather loud groan as the car rocks back and forth, but you choose not to comment on his obvious distaste of your driving. You’re too exhausted… and frankly, you just don’t care at this point.

“You guys stay in the car.” You say while killing the engine and shrugging off your seatbelt, “I should talk to them first just in case, so try not to get yourselves in any more trouble while I’m gone.”

Jaebeom clicks his tongue, “Says the one who can’t seem to go one day without being attacked.”

“Hyung—” Jinyoung goes to scold his brother, but your voice beats him to it.

“Last I checked, it was your girlfriend, your proxy vampire minion, and, surprise, surprise, you who have all tried to turn me into a human blood bag.” You exit the car before throwing one final glare at the hybrid, “Keep treating me like some sort of liability, and the next time someone tries to kill your pompous ass, I won’t be so kind as to save your fucking life.”

With that, you shove the vehicle door shut with a little more force than necessary and storm toward the cabin, attempting to push the annoyance from mind. You wouldn’t usually waste your breath on something like Jaebeom’s pettiness, but with the combination of the stress of the current situation and fear for everyone’s lives at stakes, you really don’t want to deal with the hybrid’s need to make you feel like the dumbest person on the planet.

You eventually reach the front door, lifting a hand to knock at the wooden surface. The ominous silence of the nighttime tugs at your nerves as you wait—hopefully one of the wolves is actually up at this hour… maybe you should have called beforehand?

As each minute passes, your patience grows thinner and thinner. Even after another series of rather obnoxious knocks, no one opens the door. You debate returning to the car and discussing a Plan B with your undead squad, but decide to check the backyard first. Maybe the pack is having some sort of late night bonfire…?

You carefully navigate your way around the cabin, using the light of your cellphone as a guide through the darkness. Minus catching your toe on a loose board in the decking, you manage to make it to the back of the cabin unscathed. However, the sight that you find is definitely far from that of the bonfire:

From what little you can see, the yard is completely trashed. Picnic tables lay in splintered halves while other pieces of furniture are either smashed to smithereens or tossed to the side. Even Dahyun’s clothesline is no longer standing, and is instead strewn carelessly across the grass along with its collection of unfolded laundry. A particular sweatshirt catches your attention, appearing somewhat dirty in the minimal light. Once you’re close enough, you take the garment in your own two hands to better identify the mysterious stains… and you almost wish you hadn’t seen it in the first place when the realization settles in your head:

A large splotch of fresh blood is decorated across the fabric like an unfinished painting.

“Shit…” You curse, searching the area for any other possible clues of the pack’s whereabouts. Near the edge of the pond, you discover what seems to be an array of footprints in the mud, leading into the black of the quiet forest. There are multiple sets, you find, and you hope they all belong to the werewolves in question…

You know you should return to the car and report your findings to Jaebeom and Jinyoung, but something in your gut tells you that someone is in trouble.

Before you can dwell on the cons, you push forward into the woods, following the muddy footprints as best as you possibly can. Between pushing away mischievous branches and stepping over lazy logs, you’re almost reminded of the path you traversed before you met with Mina… You can only hope the events that follow this time aren’t as horrific.

“Yugyeom!...” You call softly, trying not to mistake each tree trunk as the silhouette of a person. “Bang Chan!... Anyone out here!?...”

The screech of the nightly breeze is your response. You eventually lose the footprint trail, unable to base your path off of anything but intuition. Your desire to turn back is strong, but you’ve come this far… and you doubt you’ll even be able to find your way back to the cabin at this point.

Your body tenses as a high-pitched wail enters your ears—a wail that sounds oddly similar to that of a human. Against the siren in your head screaming red flags, you head in the direction in which the noise came from. The silence pesters you as you go, practically electrifying your nerves from the inside out.

Out of nowhere, your foot catches some kind of large branch or rock, sending your body sprawling toward the earth with a loud gasp. You manage to break your fall with your arms, ignoring the gentle ache in your wrists, and scramble to grab the phone you dropped on the way down. Your anxiety is practically through the roof by the time the device is back in your grasp, but you muster up the courage and move to continue your search. However, the reveal of something that looks oddly like a human limb freezes your muscles.

It wasn’t a branch you tripped over… it was a leg.

“(Y/N)...”

It takes you a moment to identify the voice between the shock and fear, but all at once, your uneasiness shifts to concern.

“D… Dahyun!?”

After moving your light for a better view, you discover the female wolf slumped against a tree and covered head to toe in what seems to be a combination of blood and sticky mud. Her clothes are practically stained crimson, which you quickly realize is the result of the large jagged rock protruding from her abdomen.

“Holy shit… What happened to you?” You drop to her level to better assess her condition. There are more wounds embedded across her arms and chest—wounds that resemble claw marks…

“It was Changbin…” Your heart practically plummets to your stomach at her revelation. Dahyun pauses to cough—a couple projectiles of blood spewing from her lips—before continuing, “He attacked the pack… but he—he was different… Super strong and super fast and—and… It’s almost like he was—”

“Upgraded.” You finish, “Minho transformed Changbin into a weapon to kill Jaebeom and Jinyoung—the same spell Mark tried to use on Jackson.”

“It was more than that, (Y/N)...” She shakes her head, “Changbin wasn’t… wasn’t like himself…”

“What do you mean?”

“He was a monster…” You allow the wolf to grab your hand, ignoring the sticky feel of her blood against your skin. “I don’t—I don’t even know if anyone else is still alive… I don’t—I mean, I can’t—”

“Shhh.” You hum gently, reaching up to push away the hair melded to her sweaty forehead. Dahyun somewhat calms at your touch, but just from the wild expression along her features, you can tell the poor girl is scared out of her fucking mind.

“We’ll deal with that later, but right now, I need to get you out of here—”

You don’t have the chance to finish your sentence before she’s practically lurching away from you.

“No! You’re the one who needs to leave!”

“Dahyun—”

“He will kill you, (Y/N)!” She hiccups, “You need to run before he finds you!”

“I’m not just going to leave you here to bleed out—”

“She’s right.” You whirl around at the new voice, and to your surprise, discover a disheveled Yugyeom emerging from the darkness. Similar to the female wolf, gaping claw-marks decorate his face, chest and lower abdomen. His arm also seems to be broken and his knee badly dislocated—you can almost see the bone peeking out of his skin.

You hurry to catch the wolf before he collapses, carefully lowering him to lean against the same tree Dahyun is propped against. A pained wheeze passes his lips, but his expression remains as stoic and as determined as ever.

“If you care about your life, then you’ll run.”

“And if I care about yours and Dahyun’s lives?”

“We’re already as good as dead.”

“No—” You shake your head feverishly, “—I refuse to let you throw yourself to the big bad wolf like some fucking martyr, so you either start moving or I’ll drag you by the skin of your teeth.”

Yugyeom’s expression softens. “You sound like Jackson-hyung…”

If it were any other situation, you would have allowed yourself the time to respond to the newcomer’s comparison… but you’d rather not stay and risk the chance of encountering any more surprises.

“C’mon.” You carefully throw Dahyun’s arm over your shoulder, mindful not to push the rock deeper into her abdomen. Once you’re sure she won’t buckle back to the forest floor, you offer your free hand to the third party. “None of us are dying tonight.”

A familiar, malicious chuckle has your limbs growing numb.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Like a creature of the night, a smirking Changbin saunters into view. His clothes are torn and tarnished with blood, yet there’s no trace of injury along his skin. With the little light you have, you can just barely make out the black veins decorating underneath his eyes—the magic is already starting to consume him.

“Listen to me…” You murmur cautiously, maneuvering your body so Dahyun is safe behind and out of reach. “You’re under the effects of dark magic, okay? You’re not yourself—”

“I’ve never felt more like myself than I have now.” Your eyes dart around the area as Changbin leers closer and closer, attempting to find something sharp or heavy enough to knock him out. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any tea mugs or large branches in sight—

“I don’t want to hurt you, Changbin…”

“Really? Cause I sure want to hurt you…” He smiles devishly, “In fact, I’m just dying to rip out your fucking throat after that bullshit stunt you pulled back at the manor—”

“Leave her out of this, Bin.” Yugyeom hisses, clutching his chest while keeping himself supported against the tree. “If you have a problem, then take it out on me… Not her.”

“Oh, don’t worry… I’ll get to you next, hyung.” Changbin suddenly approaches, providing you no preparation as he snatches your wrist and pulls. With the little strength she has left, Dahyun attempts to defend you, landing a couple heavy hits against the attacker’s head. However, it only takes a good shove to send her flying to the ground—leaving you helpless in the arms of the beast.

You try to throw your own punches, but Changbin is both stronger and faster by miles. In the blink of an eye, he has your figure pinned to the ground with a calloused hand around your throat. Your lungs immediately go into a frenzy as the superwolf cuts off your oxygen supply. You claw at his fingers, breaking skin and fighting for breath, but his grip remains as firm as steel.

“…Think of…” You choke—your eyes beginning to roll to the back of your head. “…J-Jack…son…”

“What the fuck did you say—!?”

A loud bang erupts through the area, drowning out Changbin’s demand. Through the dark spots of your vision, you notice a gaping hole in the center of his throat. Another bang sounds, and this time, his head is blown to shreds of brain matter and skull. His grip immediately loosens, permitting your intake of oxygen once more. You quickly scramble away from the now unmoving corpse, gasping for air and clutching your swollen neck.

You’re almost glad it’s dark, so you can’t see the extent to which Changbin’s head had been mutilated.

Your ears are still vibrating when someone takes your shoulders.

“Jinyoung…?”

“Are you hurt?”

“No—no… I’m fine.” You allow the vampire to help you back to your feet. “Is… he?”

“For now.” Jinyoung hums, leading you into a nearby circle of light. To your surprise, you discover Mark carrying Dahyun with one arm and supporting Yugyeom with the other—a large shotgun splayed along his back. “Mark is a remarkable shot… I don’t think you wish to see, but Changbin won’t be bothering us for at least a couple hours.”

You release a sigh of relief. “Great… But now what?”

“Yugyeom says the rest of the pack is holed up in a secret bunker deeper into the forest.” Mark speaks for the first time, “We should head there… We all need to talk.”

“There’s no time like the present.” Jaebeom pipes up, emerging from the shadows with an unconscious Tzuyu in his arms. “I don’t know about you guys, but I really don’t want to be here when this guy wakes up…”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jackson is floating, aimlessly traveling through a white fog in which reality doesn’t quite reach. The Other Side is funny like that—Jackson doesn’t exist in the eyes of nature, therefore, when he’s not visiting the land of the living, he’s merely suspended in a state of nonexistence with nothing but the company of his own thoughts. He’ll spot the spirit of a fellow supernatural every so often, but even then… he’s completely alone.

Until he found you.

A wave of fondness spreads through Jackson’s veins—as if he had drunk a comforting cup of hot tea. In all the time he’s spent in the neverending nothingness, he never once thought he’d be able to feel again… but like a firework in the black of night, you sparked every bit of hope and passion and liveliness lingering within his mortal spirit. Maybe it was your determination that reminded him of his past self, or maybe it was your eyes—so bright with the stars of mortality—that made Jackson want to live again, to experience the warmth of your smile and the chill of your gaze in the depths of a true beating heart.

Something about you just makes him feel so… human.

Jackson snickers to himself before peering over his shoulder, having previously noticed some kind of blurred silhouette in the distance. It’s too far to tell, but he can just barely make out the approaching shape of another spirit—likely a newly deceased supernatural. He prepares to retire back to his thoughts, but is, however, interrupted when an ice-cold feeling overtakes the entirety of his being. Jackson freezes, both from the cold and his realization:

The witches know about his plan… and they’re not happy about it.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“—so once Youngjae siphons Minho’s power, he’ll be able to reverse the spell and turn Changbin back to normal.” Jaebeom keeps his focus on the witch as he relays his explanation to the many other audience members scattered around the bunker. He never thought the day would come where he would actually be working in tandem with Mark Tuan, the motherfucking magician himself, but here he is—

“What if Youngjae can’t perform the spell in time?” The pack’s beta, Yugyeom speaks up from his seat at a small, cardboard table stationed in the tiny kitchenette. He stretches his newly healed knee out in front of him before sparing Mark an inquisitive glance, “What happens then?”

“Minho’s power is the only anchor keeping Changbin alive, most of which he's drawing from the eclipse. Once that power runs out, then Changbin’s form will give out, which means—”

“He’ll die.” Dahyun finishes, pacing from one end of the underground shelter to the other. If it weren’t for the blood stains on her clothing and the large bandage encompassing her exposed abdomen, it would be impossible to tell she had been stabbed only minutes ago.

Being a werewolf certainly does pay off.

Mark nods, “Yes.”

“How long do we have then? Roughly?”

“‘Til the moon goes down, so about an hour and a half. Two hours at the most.”

“Shit.” She curses, “We’re so fucking screwed.”

“Let’s not jump to the worst of all evils so quickly.” Jaebeom fights the urge to roll his eyes as his brother, always the hero, appears from the next room before assuming his perch beside your sitting figure. He hands you an ice pack while still speaking to Mark, “You’re certain Youngjae will have enough strength to disarm the witch?”

“Not really, but it’s the only option at this point.”

“While this pathetic excuse of a plan is super great and all, there’s still a pretty big fucking elephant in the room.” Ignoring the harsh glare the witch sends his way, Jaebeom continues, “There’s a cure for werewolf wonder’s bite, right? Some sort of witchy antidote or spell—?”

“As sorry as I am for your vampire girlfriend, I never thought of a cure when I designed the spell.” Mark’s eyes flash with something akin to resentment, spilling amusement through Jaebeom’s veins like a toxin. “When I want something—someone dead, I want them to stay dead.”

Jaebeom snorts. “Still the same punk ass kid you’ve always been, Tuan… It’s nice to see that nothing’s changed.”

“You’re a fucking prick—”

“Mark-hyung. Don’t.” Yugyeom places a calming hand on Mark’s shoulder, stopping him from storming over to where Jaebeom is currently smirking like a fool. The wolf glances at the latter before shaking his head, “We have bigger things than petty rivalries to worry about.”

To Jaebeom’s disappointment, Mark agrees with a sigh.

“Right… It’s just been a real shitty night.”

“For all of us, it’s safe to say.” Jaebeom doesn’t miss the warning look his brother sends his way, shaking his head scoldingly before turning to the witch-werewolf pair. “Could Changbin’s blood possibly reverse the venom’s effects? Similar to Jaebeom?”

Mark shakes his head, “Changbin isn’t a hybrid like your asshole of a brother. His blood has no healing properties whatsoever—”

“But there has to be something.” Your voice immediately cuts the former off, allowing Jaebeom some time to suppress the urge to fly across the room and tear the witch’s tongue from his mouth. “Youngjae once told me that magic always has a loophole, so a cure has to exist—we just have to figure out what it is.”

“I admire your positivity, little dove, but we don’t exactly have the time for trial and error.” Jaebeom peers over his shoulder at a sleeping Tzuyu—who is still showing no signs of possible consciousness or life in general. Her skin is flushed and sweaty with fever, but he can sense how her limbs tremble beneath the poison coursing through her veins. His chest tightens for a moment, only until he returns his focus back onto the conversation at hand:

“Minho might have an idea, but it’s a long shot.” Mark exhales, “Once we take him down, there’s no guarantee he’d tell us—if there is a cure, that is—and with the combined effects of your and Changbin’s venom, I have no clue how long your girlfriend has until—”

A sudden clatter has everyone leaping from their seats. Yugyeom flies to the bunker door in mere seconds while Mark snatches his shotgun from the kitchen counter behind him. Through the corner of his eye, Jaebeom notices Jinyoung usher you behind his form before pressing a small pocket knife between your fingers. The blossoming of the black bruises along your throat sparks rancor through the hybrid’s veins, and he readies himself into his own fighting stance.

“Yugyeom!?... Are you in there!?”

Yugyeom’s hostile expression transitions into one of relief—the tension melting from his body like snow. Although the voice is apparently familiar to the rest, Jaebeom remains tense as the beta goes about unlocking the bunker door. He almost expects a cackling Changbin to come bursting through the trapdoor, but is pleasantly surprised when a new figure comes into view—another limp body thrown precariously over his shoulder.

“Oh my god! Chan—Felix!” Dahyun immediately rushes toward the pair. Her gaze practically alive with fear. “Holy shit—is he alive!?”

The newcomer, who Jaebeom assumes to be Chan, sets down the teenager, presumably Felix, on one of the bunk beds with the help of Yugyeom and Mark. He catches Jinyoung helping a third figure, a teenage girl who can’t be over eighteen, into the bunker as well. Judging by her glassy irises and quivering lips, she seems as if she is going to burst into tears at the drop of a thimble. The group’s collective ragged appearance, Jaebeom knows, signifies the aftermath of one hell of a fight.

“What the hell happened out there, Chan!?” Yugyeom’s demand awakens the hybrid from his trance, forcing him to return his focus to the newcomer.

“H-He found us…” Chan murmurs darkly, “I… I tried to protect them… but he was too strong…”

“How is that possible?” Jaebeom frowns. “Sabrina the Witch over here blew his fucking head off—”

“They had to have been attacked before then.” Jinyoung places a calming hand on his shoulder, which he is quick to shake off.

The strange werewolf nods in agreement, “We took our time to get here—didn’t want to risk running into him again…”

“Wait…” The room grows hushed at Dahyun’s exclamation. When Jaebeom turns toward the female wolf, his annoyance falters at the panicked expression etched along her pretty features. “Where the hell is Chaeyoung…?”

Chan remains silent and still, like a boy fresh out of war, but Jaebeom has witnessed enough in his many lifetimes to see the answer written all along his face.

Yugyeom stands. His expression grim, almost sorrowful, as if he already knows too.

“Bang Chan… Where is Chaeyoung?”

“…she’s dead…” His whisper is barely audible, yet the hybrid can see how deeply those two words wound the crowd around him. “…bled out… there was nothing I could do…”

“Fuck…” Dahyun shivers before burying her face into her palms and letting out an even louder curse, “Fuck!...”

“I’m so sorry…”

Your soft voice carries over the female wolf’s sobs. Fascinated, Jaebeom watches as you maneuver your way across the bunker to kneel in front of a now sitting Bang Chan. You take his trembling hands between your own and peer up at the wolf with the most sympathetic gaze he has ever seen—his own heart can’t help but lurch at the sight.

“I hate to add to the list, but we have another issue—” Mark groans, pulling his hand away from the incapacitated teenager’s neck to press it against his own perspirating forehead. “—Felix was bitten…”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

“Dahyun—please.” Yugyeom sighs, “I just—shit.”

“We need to find that cure. Now.” Jinyoung steps forward, turning to speak directly to Mark. “I will go to the graveyard to assist your coven. With my help, it should be fairly simple to disarm the rogue.”

“Don’t underestimate him. You’re still gonna have to put up a damn good fight.”

“I can well manage on my own.”

Jaebeom shakes his head with a sneer, “I seriously doubt that, considering you got yourself poisoned the last time you played goddamn Superman.”

As much as Jinyoung puts up the invincible front, Jaebeom has known his brother for a long, long time—and also knows that the previous encounter with the superwolf left him much weaker than before. He can see it in the trembling of his hands and the pained lines etched along his forehead. He’ll get himself killed long before he reaches the graveyard.

“Jaebeom should go too.” You rise from your kneeling position to join the group. “Two pairs of hands are better than one. You can protect each other.”

“Absolutely not.” Jinyoung disagrees, “Jaebeom needs to remain here in case Changbin resurrects again.”

“We don’t have the time to worry about that. The witches will need all the help they can get.”

Jaebeom scoffs, “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but (Y/N) is right. We don’t know what we’re up against—better for us both to be there than just the one.”

Jinyoung stares at Jaebeom for a brief moment, as if searching his face for some hidden secret, before inhaling a deep, yet silent breath and finally nodding, “Fine. But if Changbin attacks—”

“We’ll handle it.” Yugyeom nods, “Thank you… for doing this.”

“We all have something to lose.” Jaebeom doesn’t miss the glance Jinyoung sends in your direction before making his way over to the bunker exit. “I just wish to make sure that no one else dies.” The last bout of final farewells are shared along with the reminder for everyone to remain on their best guard. In an attempt to follow his brother, Jaebeom moves to climb the ladder, but is stopped by the call of his name:

“Jaebeom, wait!...” He pauses—his interest piquing as you rush toward his temporary perch. Your gaze is shy, he notices, but still contains the fire of a thousand burning suns. “Just… be careful out there, okay?”

His response is indifferent. “Not to worry, little dove. I’ll make sure Jinyoung returns to you in one piece.”

“Promise me you both will return in one piece, please…”

Jaebeom’s annoyance immediately dissipates at the stressed enunciation of your words. His cold expression melts into a mixture of surprise and astonishment, mirroring the conflict brewing throughout his chest. He clears his throat, attempting to expel the emotions creeping up his back, before nodding:

“Y-Yeah, sure.” He gulps, “Can you… take care of Tzuyu? While I’m gone?”

Your gaze softens. “Of course. Just please stay alive.”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond, untrusting that his words will make sense if said aloud. After providing you a silent farewell, he climbs the rest of the way out of the bunker where Jinyoung is waiting. His brother offers a pointed glance when he completely exits the safety of the bunker.

“I trust you’re ready for this, hyung?”

“Let’s get this shit over with.” Jaebeom rolls his eyes, “I’m getting real tired of running from Teenage Chewbacca.”

38 notes · View notes

is-nini · 3 years

Note

it's me again, how about sugar daddy hinata? nsfw is totally okay!!! i'm on a hinata thirst trail <|0v0|>

Sugar daddy! Hinata x reader

Request byyyyyy: @askelizabethliones

AAAAA thankiu for requesting! Uhm-i hope this is good for your taste? And im so so sorry if Hinata is out of character! Enjoy, again thankiu!

Warning:

The use of collar, degrading, cursing, slapping, Hinata being HARD HARD dom.

A sigh escape from Hinata's lips, it has been a while since he take a rest. The pile of work upon his desk has settled finally releasing a relief sigh.

He rubs his temple slowly, he need a relief. Anything that could make him relax. Suddenly a knock was heard from the other side of the huge door.

"Come in".

Hinata said, grunting a bit. When the door opened you step inside with a smile on your face a fancy silver bracelet was dangling on your wrist, a beautiful necklace with the letter H that stands for Hinata were resting prettily on your chest. You wore a sundress with see through sleeves that shows off your shoulder.

"Daddyyyyyyyyy~".

You softly whine out as you close the door softly, Hinata looks at you and smile, seeing your outfit that he bought using his money, seeing you use the stuff he bought for you really makes him happy.

"Hello baby, how are you doing?".

Hinata put his hand down and smile at you. Your presence really calms him down so much as you walk inside with a little pout on your face.

"Dadddyyyy~ daddy has been busyy~ take a rest daddy".

You walk closer to him and turned his chair so that he'll look towards you. He smile at you and pulled your hips closer to him and peck your lips as you fall into his lap.

"Baby needs daddy's attention? Why? Is daddy's money on every inch of your body's not enough to satisfy my baby?".

He smirk as you tremble a little from his words. You shake your side from side to side and push your body against him.

"Wantt daddyy~".

Hearing your whine and plea he chuckled as he grab your butt and squished it hard, your body gave out as you Lean on him more, feeling the muscles he gained from playing volleyball.

He slip his hand inside your dress and stroke your pussy from your underwear. You're jolting from his touch, his tap on your now wet pussy.

"Hmm, you're already wet?".

Hinata questioned as he took his hand away and move to your necklace, he takes the necklace off and take something from his drawer. A collar.

Collar that's filled with gems and a Hinata written with diamond that costs thousands even millions of dollar, but he didn't care. Seeing you full of his money makes him hard and horny.

He takes the leash with the finest rope and hook it against the collar, you're so so pretty, such a sight to be hold.

"D-daddy!".

You squeak out, feeling wetter because of the collar around your neck, marking you as his. Hinata smile and grabbed your waist and chin, he pulled your chin up and suck on your neck that's not covered by the collar.

"So pretty, pretty girl full of diamonds and gems, you like that don't you? Having money and expensive stuff all over your body, forcing me to waste my money on my stupid cute little sugar baby?".

He laugh as he saw you tremble and twitching around, trying to make a friction on your wet pussy. Hinata notice this of course and push your skirt up, revealing your silky white panties with a wet mark on top of your pussy.

"D-daddy! P-please! I-i-i need yo-you!".

You wail and whine, hinata almost feel bad for you, almost. The fact that you look so pretty writhing and looking him as if you cannot do anything without him makes him want to see more of your dumb little act.

He just chuckled and help you stand up, he pull your panties down,

You mewl and whining around with tears on the corner of your eye. Hinata takes a underwear build only with a silky red rope. You're eyes widened and shake your head but your daddy knows you better. He knows that you will learn to like it no matter what.

"It's sooo smooth baby, you'll like it. It's made with the finest silk that you could ever imagine".

And he's not lying, when he said it was soft, when you slip the expensive underwear the soft and smooth texture almost makes you forgot about what your daddy's about to do, he helped you put it in slowly, taking his time to trace your thick thighs and skin.

This underwear is not meant to protect your pussy, this is so Thin and small, the thickness is only 1/4 inch, and it goes all the way from your hips down across your butt and your clit and back to your stomach.

Hinata made you sit on his lap as he spread his leg so that you can't grind against his leg, he smiled as you starting to sob because if your unsatisfied pussy, he cooed and stroke your cheek softly as if he's not torturing you with the underwear.

"Don't worry baby, i will make you satisfied okay, your cute little pussy won't be left unsatisfied, let daddy has his fun yeah? Be a good little dumb girl for daddy".

He slowly pulled the side of your underwear making the line of the underwear pushed against your little clit.

"W-WAIT! D-DAH-DADDYH!".

you shout out, surprised, he keeps pulling and unpulling the underwear, making you moan and sobbing against him. Hinata watched as he looked at your pussy's wetness that slowly drips to the fancy marbled floor.

Hinata laugh as he saw your worn out face, he hasn't even touched you and you're so worn out already.

Hinata stoped teasing you for a while as he looked inside the drawer, looking for something. His eyes lit up when he saw a specific toy, a long black like wand that looks like a pipe but with no bumps whatsoever.

You're too worn out to notice but snapped out of it once you felt something touching your pussy, being desperate for any release, you grind to the toy, Hinata is disappointed, you're grinding something that's not him."

"Stupid girl, you don't get to grind to anything that's not me. You're such a slut aren't you, so desperate until you're grinding on something that's not daddy".

You whimper and look at him, blabbing out the word sorry. Hinata shake his head with regret and put the toy on the table for a while. He glare at you, making you scared to the core, Hinata put his hand on your pussy and slap it a little bit, it's not hard but it's enough to make you jolt up and whimper.

"S-SWOWWI! SOWI D-DADDYH! SOWI!".

(Sorry! sorry daddy! Sorry)

You whimper and tremble, but Hinata doesn't listen. Your daddy doesn't take order from you and so he slap your pussy over and over and over again until his hand is covered with your wetness, some are dripping to the floor.

He then slap your butt and pussy switching between the two, after about ten slaps each he went straight to your now hardened nipple that's visible through your dress.

"Not wearing a bra? Such a sluty girl, doesn't wear a bra to meet daddy. You have no shame huh? Or are you just that horny".

You nod your head, not trusting your voice, luckily Hinata let that slide, seeing your stupid fucked out face makes up for that mistake.

Hinata slide you to his right leg that's packed with muscle. He put your pussy right above his thighs and bounce you a little on his leg.

"Since you like to grind so much, why don't you grind on daddy's leg hmm? You'd like that don't you? Daddy's little slut really loves to grind".

You moan out incoherent words, lost inside the head of pleasure. You feel your breast bouncing as you bounce to the tempo that your daddy set for you.

Hinata pinch and played with your nipple as he switched from bouncing to slide you back and forth on his thighs, at this point you have no control, your body is being controlled by Hinata and you don't mind.

He stopped when he felt your pussy twitching as you whine and squeal, feeling lost and helpless as the pleasures gone from your grasp.

Hinata held your hips so that you wont be able to move, he stare at you as if saying that if you moved and grind on him, he won't give you his long cock.

He opened his expensive trousers as he looked inside his drawer again. His long cock went out from his trousers and slap against his stomach, you tremble watching it.

He take a handcuffs adorn with gold graving and some expensive gems, he cuffs your hand as you feel helpless. Hinata stands up while bringing you with him.

He takes your leg and wrapped it against his hips as you tightening the warp against his hips automatically. He slams his cock inside you as you moan and look up yo the ceiling, not being able to think straight anymore as your daddy pound you into oblivion.

"D-DAD- DADDYH~ DA-DADD-!!! S-SOO! GWOOD-! GWOOD!".

you shout out, tounge rolls out as he played with your nipple and help one of you butt with his huge hand. You finally taste the sweet relief and squirt hard against him, he felt your wetness goes everywhere, some rolls down to his pants, some splashes up towards his outfit.

"Ah- dirt little stupid slut- really liked being fucked by daddy huh? We just started and you're already squirting, you're pussy is tightening up against daddy".

He growl out as you keep moaning his name. You're eyes rolls back as you see stars. The pleasure is too much until you felt a huge load of cum shoots inside you.

You moan so loud you swear that this whole manor can listen to your dirty business, at least the sound proof room helps you to save the embarrassment.

He hold your body so hard as you try to catch your breath, you cannot think, everything just goes stary like and you have been fucked stupid.

"Ah~ such a good girl".

Hinata cooed while admiring the gems and fancy outfit on your body. You're such a beautiful sight, body worn out, mumbling about how good it is, body trembling and Hinata's sement slowly seeps out of you the gems that's shining makes you lookd like the diamond and the little gems around you is bowing down to you.

"Ah~ so fucking pretty~".

And with that you become his cock sleeves for the whole night.

#hq smut #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #hinata x reader #hinata x you #hinata x y/n

60 notes · View notes

rocorambles · 4 years

Note

Imagine Hinata with an s/o who hasn’t been able to get off from him no matter how hard he tries, and even if they somehow cum it isn’t satisfactory for s/o. Hinata is so frustrated at not being able to make his s/o a mess for him until he happens to find sex toys. He tries a vibrator just to experiment and is shocked when s/o cums so quickly and so loudly. Cue him buying everything he comes upon online ready to make s/o his teary eyed fucked out fantasy.

You know what I love about this? Hinata being a supportive boyfriend and understanding that it’s not a reflection on his “manhood” that he can’t make her feel good. And yeah, it’s frustrating, but he 100% would do his best to make her feel good no matter what it takes~

Warnings: NSFW, Sex Toys

After you had moved in with Hinata, the two of you began exploring each other’s bodies more and more. Sweet, chaste kisses became heated make-out sessions. Gentle caresses became roaming, intimate touches. But when you had finally told Hinata you were ready to have sex with him, it had been an awkward and painful experience despite all of Hinata’s efforts to make you feel good and you cringed when he finally pushed past your tight walls, wincing as he slowly rocked back and forth. You tried to focus on your lover’s face and the love you felt for him helped you a bit as pain mellowed into discomfort, but it never got any better than that and by the time Hinata finished inside of you, your mind was a million miles away.

You try to console your boyfriend as he guiltily stares down at you, upset that he had cum without you, but you don’t let him finish you off that night and there’s a tension between the two of you when you fall asleep. Every night after that, Hinata and you experiment, trying to figure out your body’s weak spots, and there are nights that you feel something curling inside of you and you earnestly tug at Hinata’s orange hair as he ravenously sucks on your clit, but your release is always a small and gentle rumble. Nothing like the mind blowing climaxes your girlfriends talk about. Nothing like the wailing, eye-rolling convulsions Atsumu boasts about to Hinata in the MSBY locker room.

Hinata’s frustration becomes apparent in his harsh, but sloppy spikes and in his ever shortening temper and Bokuto and Atsumu try to cheer up their younger teammate, but when none of that works it’s Sakusa who angrily orders an intervention, sick and tired of the poor team dynamics. And it’s so embarrassing that Hinata’s lips stay glued even with Sakusa scowling at him and Atsumu antagonizing him, but when Bokuto slings a heavy, comforting arm around his shoulders and looks at him with genuine concern he breaks down and spills everything.

Sakusa shifts uncomfortably and Bokuto flushes while Atsumu listens intently, but all three men patiently wait for Hinata to finish his rant. But when the blonde setter eagerly brings up a sex toy site and begins to lecture Hinata about how this could help him and Bokuto stares on with wide eyes, Sakusa storms out the door, rolling his eyes at his teammates’s stupidity, but glad that they’re on their way to a solution.

You’re surprised by Hinata’s excitement when he dashes into the home after practice, a package in his hand as he grabs your hand and drags you to the bedroom. You smile at your boyfriend, glad to see him not as down as he’s been for the last few weeks, but you’re nervous as you both strip, not wanting this to end with disappointment once again. You hum in contentment at the affectionate kiss he gives you and you both moan as your tongues languidly twist around each other, but you squeal when a sudden vibrating pressure presses against your clit. A knot quickly forms and grows within you as you writhe on the bed sheets, unused to the intense pleasure you’re feeling, and when you lock eyes with Hinata’s awed and hungry gaze, you reach your peak with a loud wail as your mind goes blank.

Needless to say, after that package after package arrives at your doorsteps as the two of you dive headfirst into this new world and every time you think you’ve felt your maximum amount of pleasure, Hinata is there to urge you even further into a delirious puddle, spurred on by his love of seeing your eyes roll back as drool and nonsensical lust-filled words trickle from your wide open mouth. He never tires of seeing what a wet sopping mess you can make of yourself and the sheets (or whatever surface he has you on). He never tires of hearing your lewd cries for more or your wanton moans that echo throughout the house. And maybe you just needed a push to connect with the sex-crazed slut inside of you, but he definitely never tires of the way you now can’t get enough of his cock, and he moans at the way your pussy clenches around him as you bounce on top of him, your weighted nipple clamps swinging wildly as your body quivers from the feeling of being filled so thoroughly as a small vibrator taped to your clit stimulates both Hinata and you.

#haikyuu smut #hinata x reader

205 notes · View notes

authenticcadence18 · 3 years

Text

Butterfly pt. 1

Here’s the pre-Battle For Mewni canon-divergent Starco fic I wrote in 2017!!!

Have a note from my younger self to give context to the story:

“I'm not quite sure what events lead up to this or what happens afterward...this story is just a piece of what I imagine could happen during Toffee's eventual attack on Mewni. This scene takes place on Mewni, and Marco obviously used his dimensional scissors to get there.....duh 😜.”

(Also I wrote this four years ago, when my writing style wasn’t nearly as developed/polished as it is now. I could spend hours editing it, but I‘d feel kinda bad doing that to my younger self😂.)

...

AO3

...

"STAR!!!!!!!!!"

Marco struggled relentlessly against the green chains of energy that prohibited him from moving, but there was nothing he could do but watch, horrified, as Toffee drained the life out of his best friend

"STOP!!!! YOU'RE HURTING HER!!!!!"

Piercing green magic gushed from the severed crystal imbedded in the villain's hand and swirled furiously around Star, whose electric blue eyes were growing dimmer by the second. The princess lunged at Toffee, wand-in-hand, in one final attempt to subdue him, but his magical assault had weakened her body beyond repair. With a shrill moan, Star collapsed to the ground and lay motionless, the light in her pupils now almost completely extinguished.

A sob tore through Marco's throat as he struggled against the magical shackles binding him for the umpteenth time, only to discover that he was now able to move freely. He scrambled to his best friend's side and frantically began checking for a pulse, for breath, for anything that indicated she was alright. All the while, he continued to assure her, "It's okay, Star, you're fine, it's going to be fine, please be fine, you'll be just fine, Star, PLEASE be fine!!!!"

But he felt nothing.

Star Butterfly—crown princess, heir to the throne of Mewni, and Marco's best friend—was no more.

"......you killed her......" Marco uttered blankly, staring into the sunken black eyes of the girl who'd radically changed his life in such a short amount of time. Trembling, partially from despair and partially from fury, he inclined his head to meet Toffee's watchful gaze and repeated, "....you KILLED her...!!"

Toffee chuckled, the chilling timbre of his voice not quite clicking with the spindly bird form he still had possession of. "Well, not technically," the former Ludo corrected Marco smoothly, hovering above him with a smile that could have been perceived as understanding, had he not already revealed his hand. "I've merely drained her magical life force. It would be possible to restore it and revive her if you had any healers around, but..."

He smirked.

"I believe the Chancellor is still...out of commission."

Marco's eyes narrowed. "Alright, fine! You've got Star! What about me? Are you going to suck the life out of me too before I karate-chop you into the next multiverse???"

Toffee tisked, an almost fatherly expression appearing on his face. "Oh Marco," he crooned gently, as if gently chiding a disobedient child. "There's no point in that. Without her?" He gestured to Star's broken form. "You're nothing."

With this, the villain cackled menacingly and snatched up Star's wand before zooming out of the cave and slamming a rock in front of the entrance with a wave of his hand, leaving Marco alone with the shell of the coolest girl he'd ever known.

With Toffee gone, the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in....

Star was gone.

And it was his fault.

"....STAR!!!!" Marco wailed, tears blurring his vision. "THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!!! I—it's all my fault..... If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have had any reason to cleave your wand in the first place!! You...you'd be alive..."

He took one of Star’s cold hands in his, despair weighing him down so heavily that he doubted he'd ever be able to stand again.

"You trusted me with your friendship, and I hurt you. You trusted me with your life, and I let you die....

"...you trusted me with your heart...." he managed to choke, the final lyrics of Ruberiot's song reverberating within his skull, "...and all I did was push it aside......"

He knelt near Star in silence for a few minutes, grasping desperately for answers within his head. How could this have happened? How could he have let this happen??

"You know," Marco murmured weakly, "Jackie and I decided to stop dating pretty soon after you left Earth. I knew finding my best friend and being there to support her was more important than focusing on a girlfriend, and Jackie agreed....but I also think she was convinced that I'd fallen for you..."

He winced.

“...but I guess none of that really matters now, huh?"

Marco gazed down at the princess's fallen form, wishing beyond belief that he'd done things differently in Star's time on Earth, wishing he knew what he could have done to prevent her from ending up like this, wishing he'd been able to see the truth before it had been too late to act upon it.

"I'll finish what you started, Star," he vowed, determination seeping into his voice. "I promise, I'll do everything I can to protect the citizens of Mewni and defeat Toffee. And I promise that I'll never stop looking for a way to bring you back and that you'll always be the best, most amazing friend I could've ever hoped to have, and that..."

His voice cracked.

"...and that I'll always love you."

Gently, Marco brushed a rebellious strand of blonde hair off of Star's forehead and planted a soft kiss on her brow.

"Goodbye, Star."

With this, Marco's resolve shattered, and he broke down in gut-wrenching sobs, shoulders quaking and chest burning.

So it made sense that he didn't notice when the two hearts stamped on Star's cheeks began glowing faintly.

Slowly, translucent webs of purple began weaving themselves around the princess's form, lifting her up bit by bit as they did so. Star herself did not stir, but something within her most certainly was stirring.

When Marco felt Star's fingers shift away from his, his eyes shot wide open. Out of instinct, he jerked back upon observing her continue to rise off of the ground, still unconscious. As the webs grew thicker and thicker, encasing the princess's entire body, the rosy glow emanating from them only grew as well. Marco watched in awe as the chrysalis began to vibrate when it rose to around five feet off of the ground. Faster and stronger it writhed, until at last, with a searing flash of light so bright and pink that Marco lost his vision for a couple of seconds, the figure within burst free.

"......am I dead? ..... Marco, is that you?? Are we both dead???"

Marco, unfortunately, was currently incapable of offering any sort of response. He simply stood, gaping, with his eyes set upon the girl hovering a few yards away from him.

Star waved her hands in Marco's direction, only to recoil when she found more than eight fingers—and purple ones, no less!—at her disposal. "Yikes!!" she shrieked, recoiling.

Her eyes narrowed as she examined her two newly-formed sets of limbs. "....wait a minute."

Tentatively, she craned her head back--and gasped with joy at what she discovered.

"MY MEWBERTY WINGS!!!!!!!" Star giggled gleefully, twirling circles in the air on a pair of intricately-patterned lavender wings. "THEY'RE ALL GROWN UP!!!!!!"

And indeed they were. Star Butterfly had at last unlocked the full heritage of the Butterfly dynasty coded deep within her DNA. Unfolding from her back were two massive butterfly wings adorned with shimmering hearts. Six arms extended from her torso now, and a pair of dainty antennae bobbled above her head. Her hair, now also a shade of dark violet, had shortened significantly as well, so as not to get caught in her wings.

"This is so cool...!" Star breathed. "Marco, what do you think??"

The sound of Star repeating his name finally snapped Marco out of his stupor.

"....STAR!!!!!!" he proclaimed elatedly, hastily rushing over to her with a luminescent grin on his face. "You're okay!!!!! Well—more than okay, actually!"

Beaming, Star scooped Marco up in a six-armed hug and spun him around in the air a few times, the two of them laughing and celebrating as if the events of the past month or so had never occurred.

But just as quickly as Star's mood spiraled upward, reality set back in as she began recalling where she was. Quickly, the princess set Marco down before planting her own feet on the floor.

"Wait a minute..." she voiced with uncertainty, cocking her head at her best friend. "Didn't Toffee, like, drain my powers and more or less leave me for dead? That's the last thing I remember..."

Marco nodded with a little shiver. “…yup.”

"So...how am I prancing about on newly-grown mewberty wings now?"

Marco shrugged. He had to keep blinking to assure himself that Star’s transformation wasn’t just a cruel trick of his heartache-addled mind.

Star stared at him for a moment, perplexed. Then, without quite knowing why she was led to do so, she tentatively raised a hand to her forehead and touched it—in the very spot where Marco had kissed her only minutes before.

Instantly, a wave of understanding pummeled Star, and she staggered back.

"...it was you!" she gasped.

But before she had the chance to elaborate on this, the stone guarding the entrance to the cave groaned and started shifting to the side.

“You know something, Marco?” Toffee called out as he pushed the stone away. “I’ve been thinking...maybe you have some potential after all! You see, I’ve been meaning to find a new—erm, shall we say, host? And what better person to destroy Mewni as than the former princess’s best fri—“

Toffee took pride in having mastered a distinctly precise ability to mask his emotions. It was one of the qualities that kept him on his toes after centuries of plotting against the Butterfly family. But even he, the immortal monster of legends and tapestries, could not contain his bewilderment at the sight awaiting him.

Star Butterfly was fine. More than fine, actually. She had never appeared more powerful. And Marco Diaz, the seemingly-useless karate boy, was standing right beside her.

Heroes and villain stared wide-eyed at each other, each wondering how to gain the upper hand. After matter of seconds that consisted of Toffee darting his gaze between the princess and her prince, understanding suddenly dawned upon him. He chuckled, quickly regaining his composure.

“Well well…” the monster crooned with a smirk, directing his gaze towards Marco. “Looks like you aren’t as much of a disappointment as I thought.

“And Star! Why, you look just like your mom did the last time we fought. It's a shame to think of her discovering that her dear little princess finally earned her wings but tragically had the life re-drained out of her before she really got to use them…I’ll be sure to dispose of her before she has to find out." With these words, Toffee fired a blast of green magic at the currently-wandless Star, smiling wickedly.

Star, however, wasn't going to give herself up so easily this time. Eyes and hearts igniting, she thrust her hands forward as searing pink magic gushed out of them like a waterfall and formed a bubble around her. Toffee's blast fizzled and sputtered away as soon as it touched the force-field.

Toffee's eyes widened in shock and then narrowed in disdain. He fired another shot at Star, and then another, and then another, but the warrior princess deflected every blast as effortlessly as if she'd been doing it for her whole life. When Toffee realized that he'd lost his chance to defeat her, he made a last-ditch attempt to gain the upper hand by manifesting a giant, luminescent green limb and snatching Marco—who'd been soaking up every second of the battle from the sidelines, awestruck—with it....not realizing his action would have the opposite effect of what he intended.

"NO."

The next thing Toffee knew, he was lying flat on his back with the wind knocked out of his host's puny lungs. He could vaguely make out the hazy form of Star Butterfly hovering over him with a venomous glint in her eyes.

"You can try and kill me all you want, but touch Marco....and I'll destroy you," she declared in a razor-sharp whisper.

For the first time since he'd lost his finger to Moon, all those years ago, Toffee's stomach--though, technically it was still Ludo's stomach--lurched as an unpleasant chill seized his body.

He was afraid.

With the last of his energy, the villain rose from the ground and frantically fled the cave, leaving Star's wand behind in his haste.

Star remained hovering in the air, glaring after him with the same stone-hard expression on her face.

".....Star?"

Tentatively, Marco approached the princess and grabbed the hand that was nearest to him.

"You can calm down now. He's gone."

Star's shoulders relaxed, and she gently sank to the ground, her wings and extra arms folding up and disappearing as she did so. Marco immediately knelt beside his best friend and helped her to stand, supporting her weight while she re-adjusted to her normal form.

Star winced, holding one of two hands to her now-pale forehead

"Ugh....Mom didn't tell me how draining it is to earn your wings...." she grumbled.

Marco, on the other hand, had never felt more alive. "Star, that was amazing!!!!" he exclaimed. "You just took down Toffee, the same guy who managed to defeat the entire magic high commission and drain their powers in less than two minutes!!! And after he'd drained your power, too!!!!! You still managed to beat him!!!!!!"

Star stared at the ground for a bit, the gears in her head whirring. Finally, she raised her gaze to Marco, hand still poised at the top of her head.

"But I couldn't have done it if it weren't for you.”

"....what do you mean?" Marco asked—though deep down he suspected he understood what Star was getting at.

"I--I'm not sure..." Star replied sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders with a meager chuckle. "It's just...it's like....you replenished my power source. I can feel it was you. But I can't figure out how!!"

Marco bit his lip, uncertain as to how he could be more anxious in this moment than he'd been when Toffee was about to possess him.

Then, he spotted the royal wand, which was still strewn on the floor. Swiftly, he scooped up the heirloom and held it out to Star, who seemed to snap back into focus upon seeing it.

"You're right, Marco," the princess decreed, reclaiming her wand from her best friend. "We'll talk through this later."

Grinning mischievously, Star sprang into the air and raised her arms, and suddenly she was a butterfly again!

"Right now, we have a kingdom to save!"

...

Thanks for reading!! I actually wrote part of a continuation to this back in the day but I never quite finished it...soooo I’m going to try to finish it and then post the conclusion sometime!

(And AGAIN there’s a lot of canon-divergent stuff in this fic, I know Star isn’t ACTUALLY biologically a Butterfly😅. But I didn’t know that four years ago, lol!)

#Cadence writes #Ancient art #(fic counts as art technically)#(Lol)#star vs the forces of evil #svtfoe #star butterfly #Marco diaz #starco #toffee the lizard #toffee of septarsis #star vs the forces of evil fanfic #also uh #tw: temporary character death #sorta?#angst

14 notes · View notes

donttellthemangosiwashere · 5 years

Text

Creativitwins as... (1: Ball Pit)

Creativitwins as things me and my twin brother have done, part one of who knows man

I am remus and my twin bro is roman. no shit, nearly 1 to 1 re-skinning of one of our childhood moments

Tags: Human au i guess? I cast Deceit as dad so there's that, couldn't decide between him and Logan for a while but i think this fits. Sympathetic Deceit and Remus, clearly. Creativitwins fluff, some light violence (like a snowball fight sort of game… i dunno me and my bro were little stupid)

---

Roman and Remus loved to play in the McDonald's playpen, with all the colorful plastic balls, pretending to themselves that the rainbow orbs were fairies that swarmed inside a bottomless pit. Roman preferred to pretend the fae gathered there to hold children up and keep them from falling forever; Remus liked to think they were evil fey, trying to drag you down to your doom.

They turned the two 'theories' into a game -- they would play the meddling fairies, and gather plastic balls to dump on each other in an attempt to bury the other deeper into the pit. Roman was faster and more dexterous, swimming through the pit like a graceful dolphin in a sea of orbeez, gathering armfuls and armfuls to dump on his brother, balancing an impressive amount of toys for someone with no stable feet on the ground.

Remus was more furious and frantic in approach, easily swept up in the excitement of competition. He settled on grabbing smaller handfuls of the colorful plastic balls around him (not the ones dumped on his head, cause those were Roman's points and fair is fair) and chucking them at his brother so they lightly popped off his shoulders and started to pile around him like a volcano. Roman would dive around to collect more ammunition, ruining Remus's slowly climbing mountains, but he never swam back up farther than he had last been buried, keeping the points between them consistent.

While Roman could duck around and swim through the pit, Remus had trouble moving through the ocean at all, especially once he started to get buried pretty deep in. His throwing technique and incredible aim for a five year old made up for it, but never quite enough to win. Roman's gather-and-dump method usually just resulted in the rainbow globules bouncing off of Remus's head and rolling far enough away that they didn't count, but Roman moved so fast and gathered so many that he was doing more damage in the long run. Every game would end with Remus, now fully submerged, grabbing Roman's ankles and dragging him down with him into the pit, leaving them both surrounded by colored bubbles that glowed ever so slightly with the light seeping in from the nearby giant playhouse window.

It was like standing inside a rainbow, surrounded like being plunged into the deep end of a pool, but perfectly able to breathe, no more than the pressure of a heavy quilt around their bodies. The vibrant colors, cool touch of plastic, and golden sunlight breaking through in streams gave it a magical feel. It was one of their favorite places, despite the number of times other kids had jumped into the pit and landed on one of the buried boys, assuming they had the fairy pool to themself. They would stay there underneath the tide, cackling over their game and how Remus cheated every time by grabbing his ankles, until their vivid imaginations got the best of them and they made their way out, afraid of drifting too close to the part of the bottomless pit that didn't have fairies to save them. (The day they were old enough and tall enough to discover the bottom of the mock-pool was a very boring day indeed.)

Today, like any other day after being picked up from school by their father, they were taken back to the fast food restaurant, who hoped that they would tire themselves out enough to take naps once they got home. As soon as they were done eating, they dashed for the ball pit, ignoring their guardian's usual joke about how they shouldn't go swimming right after they eat. It wasn't real swimming, dad.

And so the game began. Remus shimmying madly as he tried to gain some sort of motor function in the mess of colors, lobbing globes at his brother as he ducked around and meticulously gathered one of each color, making sure he had at least one complete rainbow to start the game. They didn't notice when another, slightly older kid joined them in the pit, watching them cavort around and laugh and screech. They did notice when a yellow ball smacked against Roman's neck, catching him off guard and making him swallow his laughter. They both turned and gave the newbie a confused, borderline angry look. He just shrugged, grabbed another, and threw at Roman again. Roman ducked that one easily, then dove down into the rainbow sea, scaring the other boy a little bit. (Remus decided it was, in fact, Roman being freaking weird, and not Remus being unable to swim.)

Roman popped back up in front of the stranger gathered some orbs into his arms, and dumped them onto the kid's head with a smile.

"No, you play like this!" He explained with a laugh when the other kid gave him a disgusted expression.

"That's no fun, I wanna throw 'em, like he does."

"I wasn't throwing!" Remus grumbled, offended at the accusation, "I was tossing, totally different! See,"

Remus grabbed a blue globe and 'tossed' it to Roman, and Roman didn't flinch as it softly batted his shoulder and bounced away. Roman turned to the other kid with the same smile still on his face,

"Like that! You can play, but you can't hurt anybody."

"Okay." He nodded, and started pulling more toys to himself as if gathering for a snowball fight. Roman dolphined away again, gathering another pile. Roman switched between the new player and his brother, Remus had no trouble picking favorites, his crosshairs never leaving his brother's torso. Unfortunately, the new kid had the same idea, and the notion of "don't hurt anybody" went completely ignored. He kept beaning Roman, plastic orbs whizzing by his head and slapping into him with audible thwacks, and Remus knew they couldn't hurt that bad, but he was still getting more and more furious.

Finally, it happened. A red ball, right into his open eye. Roman stopped ducking around, little hands holding the front of his face as it scrunched up, in an expression Remus recognized as him desperately trying not to cry. Fed up, Remus wiggled furiously until he was facing the new kid, and he threw a ball at him to get his attention. He might have been aiming for his head, sure, but that was totally warranted, Remus thought. (Besides, he missed.)

"Hey! That hurts, stupid! Stop throwing!"

"Be nice!" Roman managed between his hands, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. They were red and puffy, but his eyes hadn't fallen out or anything, which was something Remus had worried for a moment -- his imagination manifested in strange ways.

"You can't play if you're going to be mean!" Remus demanded, putting his metaphorical foot down, as when he tried to stomp his feet literally it was incredibly disorienting to not land on anything hard, and did in fact look a little ridiculous. The other boy glared at him and stuck his tongue out, and Remus felt the heat blaze up his cheeks.

Just as he decided to return the gesture, he felt the soft plips of plastic rain on his head as colored globes bounced off his head, and he saw his smiling brother out of the corner of his eye. Remus elected to ignore the other kid in favor of playfully shoving his brother down into the pit by his shoulders and laughing,

"Ew, gross, I had my mouth open, Ro!"

"Eww! Sorry!" Roman laughed, disappearing under the bubbles.

"They taste like feeeeet! ... You should try one--"

"EW, Rem, stop!"

He forgot about the other boy in seconds, his attention wholly consumed by the urge to bury his brother into the fae-swarmed sea of death below their feet. He gathered the little plastic toys, throwing two or three at a time, flailing around with every limb in his fervor to compete. In the chaos of his own disastrous dance, he didn't even feel it when the purple sphere thumped harshly against the back of his head, thrown from just a few feet away. He hardly noticed that he hadn't seen Roman come back up in a while, assuming he was still swimming around, looking for a strategic position out of Remus's throwing range. He didn't even think to look at the floor outside of the playpen, where Roman had climbed up, and was jogging behind him.

He did hear the screaming.

His head whipped around, just barely catching the sight of Roman in the air, descending like an unfurled cannonball onto the other kid. He landed on the older boy, and started wailing on him with both arms, punching him and yelling and the kid haphazardly swung back and screamed in return. Remus watched for a few seconds, totally in awe, until he felt the bruise forming at the base of his neck and realized what had spurred this attack on. He started writhing, trying to get over to them and so something -- pull the older kid off of Roman? Maybe. Help Roman punch the life out of him? More likely -- more furious now with his inability to swim in fairies than ever.

He heard a woman yelling, and turned to look back at the eating area where she was standing, but he didn't listen to what she was saying. He was more concerned with the look on his father's face -- bowler hat pulled down at an angle to subtly hide himself from the mother's vision, other hand clasped over his mouth, a fervent and obvious smile in his eyes as he urgently and unsuccessfully willed himself not to laugh. When she made a move towards the three of them, Dad stood up, beating her to the door as he walked over and stood in front of the still dueling duo. He told Roman to let the other kid go. Roman kept swinging.

He said it again, more sternly this time.

Roman kept swinging.

He crouched down in front of him and grabbed his shoulders, yelling now.

Roman shrugged him off.

Remus was grinning madly now, and Dad gave Roman an incredulous look as he continued to beat down on the stranger, his mother still yelling from the doorway. Dad grumbled and stepped into the pool -- an absolutely beautiful expression on his face as he almost slipped, and had to catch himself -- and grabbed both boys by their shirts, forcibly dragging them away from each other. Roman was still struggling, relaxing only when the other boy immediately ran behind his mother's legs as soon as he was released.

Dad scolded Roman for a second, then let him go and went to talk to the strangers. Roman trudged through the pit, joining Remus closer towards the middle. They didn't say anything for a long time, a frustrated pout on Roman's face as Remus smiled like he had just been given Christmas early.

"You're in trouuubleeee~!" Remus sang, shimmying his shoulders as Roman finally cracked a smile.

"He deserved it, he was a bully!" Roman huffed, but Remus saw him puffing out his chest just slightly.

"You actually started a fight! Dad's gonna kill you."

"Wha-- I didn't start it! He started it!"

"Boys!"

They both jumped, a shared panic flashing through their eyes as they slowly turned to face their father. He was looking down at them with a painfully neutral face, and gestured for them to get out of the pool. Remus had half a mind to let the bottomless pit take them to Narnia or something, but Roman was already helping him up onto the carpeted floor.

The walk to the car was silent -- and thank god Dad and the Lady didn't make them apologize to that kid, or a now mobile Remus would have socked him just to prove a point -- and when they clambered into the back seat, they waited for him to say something. He slowly closed the drivers side door, clicked in his seat belt, started the engine, adjusted the mirror, stalling...

And then he started laughing.

Remus and Roman looked at each other, wide eyed, identical grins creeping onto their faces.

"You two are going to be the death of me. Wait until your father hears about this."

"So we're not in trouble?" Roman asked sheepishly, a stark contrast to the giddy swinging of his legs. Dad laughed again.

"You would have been the only one in trouble, Roman. Violence is not the answer to a problem." Dad scolded, and Roman deflated a little, until Dad reached back from his seat, turning to face the boys and ruffling their hair in turn.

"But, I'm proud of you for sticking up for each other, in your own way... Besides -- don't tell your father i said so -- but he totally deserved it."

The radio switched on, blaring Disney music as laughter exploded from the troublesome twins.

#creativitwins #ts creativity #ts intrusive thoughts #ts roman #ts remus #intrusive thot #sanders sides #ts deceit #sanders sides fanfiction #i guess #sympathetic remus #sympathetic deceit #baby sides

129 notes · View notes

franklyshipping · 4 years

Text

Day 23 ~ Christmas 2019 Ego Fanfics

WOOOOO DAY 23 MY FRIENDOS LET'S CARRY ON WITH SOME SWEET ROMANCE! LET'S DO IT!

TAGGING: @darkipli-ler @darkipliler @giggles-and-pink-mustaches and @wilford-lee-warfstache

Now we come…to the patron of Christmas. This being is known far and wide for being the bringer of hopes and dream and gifts and jingles and jangles and happiness to all those in the world who deserve it. That’s right, it’s Daddy Yule-UH…I mean Father Christmas. The jolly, bearded, chunky, sack bearing guy himself…though for some reason he seemed to be wearing garters on top of his trousers, and he also had a pink moustac-ohhh…it seemed Wilford Warfstache was taking on the role of Santa this year. He’d just collapsed with a happy sigh into a squishy armchair in the main living room, and smiled to his boyfriend.

‘Wowie that was tiring!’

Dark, who was on his knees next to the Christmas Tree, looked to Wilford with a sigh and a raised eyebrow.

‘That, my dear, is because you insisted upon putting all these presents under the tree whilst in your full Santa Claus garb.’

…there was in fact no lie here. Wilford was fully dressed up as Santa, with the white beard, the hat, the boots, red trousers and waistcoat and jacket…all on top of a fat suit. As a result, amidst the present depositing task, Wilford had gotten very tired very quickly. Even though he was sat, he still managed to put his hands on his hips as he replied to Dark passionately.

‘But I have to practise wearing it for an extensive amount of time if I’m going to be able to do it for the kids on Christmas Day Dark! Just imagine their cute little smiling faces!’

Dark let out a soft laugh, lounging on the floor on his side in white, suit-like pyjamas as he smiled up at Wilford.

‘You sap.’

‘You still loooove me!’

Dark rolled his eyes with a snicker, before raising an eyebrow when he felt something nuzzling his hand. He looked down with a grin and crooned.

‘Yes, yes I love you as well, god you’re as bad as him…’

Gooper gurgled and giggled, particularly when Dark used his blunt nails to scratch his underbelly playfully. Dark smirked at the little creature, before sending that smirk Wilford’s way.

‘Wow, you two really are alike.’

….Wilford was grateful for the fake beard right now because it hid his embarrassed blush very well.

‘You hush it! And don’t torture the poor bumpkin, he’s worked hard today!’

Dark rolled his eyes once more, before having mercy on the giddy, trembling little glob. He pet him instead as he softened his voice affectionately. Gooper had helped them so much today, working so tirelessly, he was a special, warm-hearted little glob.

‘That is true….I don’t know how we all survived in this house in the past without you…’

Gooper cooed and wiggled softly in response to that, before Dark booped him with a smile.

‘Alright, enough heartfelt things, off to bed or that underbelly is mine!’

Gooper squeaked adorably, and nuzzled Dark’s fingers before hurriedly speeding out of the room, making Dark chuckle and sigh, before looking back to Wilford.

‘Shall we head off too love?’

Wilford hummed, stroking his fake beard in thought, before straightening up in the armchair as he replied.

‘In a minute, while I’m in this chair though I wanna test something, c’mere.’

Dark raised a curious eyebrow as he stood, ambling over as his boyfriend beckoned him….but then the suave gentleman pursed his lips when Wilford patted his lap with a grin.

‘Come sit on Santa’s lap.’

‘No.’

‘C’mooon!’

‘Absolutely not!’

‘But Daaaark we have to check if I’m comfy for the kids!’

‘….fine.’

Dark huffed, looking around to check that they were absolutely alone….before he settled himself on Wilford’s lap. He couldn’t help but smile when Wilford grinned and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him softly as he spoke.

‘So?’

Dark averted his gaze, feeling a tad bashful since it was such a sweet little moment between them.

‘You are comfy….as you always are, love.’

Wilford grinned, keeping Dark close so he could relish seeing him succumbing to the sweetness of it all. Wilford reached up to take of his fake beard, before cupping Dark’s face with his hands as he purred.

‘C’mere….’

Dark obliged happily, and soon they were both melting into each other’s lips, kissing warmly and gently and happily. Dark was gripping Wilford’s jacket as Wilford’s fingers snuck and nestled into Dark’s hair, and it was all beautifully sweet….until Wilford whispered.

‘Santa thinks you’ve been a naughty, naughty boy this year…’

Dark spluttered and pulled away from the kiss, cheeks going pink as he shoved Wilford’s chest, the owner of which was cackling his heart out.

‘Wilford! That’s rude!’

Wilford snorted amidst his mirth, eyes gleaming with his happy cheekiness as he purred.

‘Darn right it is honey, how’s my lap treatin’ ya?’

Wilford wiggled his hips with a smirk, which made Dark jump and let out a low growl. He leant in nose to nose with his boyfriend, and his eyes were narrowed threateningly….if Wilford wasn’t careful, Dark was seriously going to punish him for bringing rudeness into their sweet moment.

‘Any more rudeness out of you….and you’re getting it.’

Wilford’s and Dark’s eyes met….and Dark knew right away, before Wilford had even spoken….that Dark was going to be dishing out punishment to Santa Claus instead of mince pies.

‘….Daddy Yuletide at your service-!’

‘OH THAT’S IT!’

Wilford yelped with wide, giddy eyes as Dark ripped open his jacket and waistcoat, yanking off the fake belly strapped onto Wilford….before using his devilish fingers to dig into Wilford’s real tummy.

‘WOHOHOHAHAHA BAHAHABE NAHA!’

Wilford threw his head back with laughter, batting at Dark as he writhed around in the chair, trying to get up to escape….but with Dark solidly on his lap, that was impossible. Dark smirked, eagerly squeezing and scribbling Wilford’s soft abs as he purred.

‘Seems to me that it’s Santa who’s been the naughty one this year….and he needs to be punished.’

Wilford shook his head adorably as his limbs flailed, his cheeks a dark pink now as streams of bubbly cackles spilled from his lips. He tried hard to initially curl up, but Dark had leant right on top of him, so there was no chance of shielding any of his sensitive spots….Wilford was screwed.

‘NAHAHA IHIHI DOHOHON’T I DOHON’T!’

Wilford tried to insist, but he should have known better than to try and play to Dark’s morality….because when it came to tickling his beautiful annoyance of a boyfriend, Dark had no morality. He just smirked and tickled to his cool heart’s content.

‘Oh but you do….you’re such a naughty thing, and we can’t have any of that on Christmas Day, think of those poor children!’

Wilford howled as Dark dug into the sides of his stomach, making him kick out and squeeze his eyes shut with desperate flusteredness. It was such torture, and the fact that it was his evil, loving, teasy Dark tickling him to pieces….made Wilford crumble even more.

‘PLEHEHEASE BAHABY! I-IHIHI’LL BEHE GOHOHOOD!!’

Dark hummed in a disbelieving manner, relishing in how Wilford trembled and twitched as he used one finger to trail about over his tummy.

‘Hmmm….you don’t sound particularly sincere.’

Dark sneered, before slipping his finger into Wilford’s navel and swirling it about devilishly, making the moustached man beneath him squeal and arch his back cutely.

‘AAAEEE IAMIAM EHEHEEE IHI AHAAAAM!!’

Dark chuckled fondly at his hyper-sensitive darling, letting out a light, happy sigh as he watched him screw up his face with mirth and beg for mercy….whilst at the same time, never lifting a finger to fight him back. It was so beautiful to Dark, Wilford was so beautiful.

‘Mmm….you know, I’m still not sure….’

Dark purred, twisting his finger in the ticklish bellybutton at a slow, evil pace to make Wilford wail and shudder, encased by his ticklishness. Wilford was beyond embarrassed by this point, he was red faced, hot, nearly hysterical, and flustered not just by the tickles, but also by the smirking and chuckling from his boyfriend that he couldn’t escape.

‘PLEHEHEHEASE BAHAHABY!!’

Wilford cried with wide eyes, and Dark smiled…dammit, he never could protest against those sweet, chocolate, puppy dog eyes. Dark let out a playful growl under his breath, smiling at Wilford playfully as he crooned.

‘I suppose I don’t want you to go completely crazy….’

Wilford panted and giggled, relishing in the chills and goose-bumps happening all over his body as he looked up at Dark from beneath his eyelashes. He loved Dark so much, and honestly, Dark was someone that Wilford would allow to drive him crazy. Dark’s heart flustered when Wilford sported the beautiful, tired, lopsided grin in the whole world.

‘Hohow Chrihistmas spirited ohof you….’

Dark raised an eyebrow at his sarcasm, and leant in to ghost his lips over Wilford’s teasingly as his crimson eyes glimmered with flirty playfulness.

‘Really? You really think it’s a good time to get sassy with me?’

Wilford nibbled his bottom lip….before leaning in and nipping Dark’s bottom lip with a giggle.

‘Ahabsolutely.’

Their eyes me again, before Dark leant in and captured Wilford in a more passionate kiss, causing the moustached man to purr and melt and let the kiss take up all the focus in his mind. He even rested his arms on Dark’s shoulders as they made out….but Dark wasn’t done with his punishment yet. He smirked into Wilford’s lips as he let his fingers teasingly splay against Wilford’s inner thighs….and he chuckled when Wilford’s breath hitched.

‘….b-bahabe….’

Wilford’s whisper was weak and shaky, and his lips were already twitching as Dark smirked against them and purred, letting his fingertips trace the sensitive areas.

‘Yes dear?’

Wilford whimpered, smiling properly now as his eyes started to water adorably, and his thighs were twitching.

‘….i-ihit t-tihickles….’

Dark snickered fondly, growling as he kept softly kissing Wilford, wanting to drive him absolutely over the edge of flusteredness.

‘Excellent….’

Wilford whimpered even more as Dark’s fingertips and blunt nails ragged and circled all over Wilford’s vulnerable, sensitive inner thighs. Within minutes, Wilford was a mess of splutters, squeaks, beet red blushes and whines as he felt himself weakening completely at the tickling and affection.

‘P-Plehehease….D-Dahark….’

Dark smirked, raising a playful eyebrow as he purred, still teasingly tickling.

‘Yes dear?’

Wilford whined as he gazed at his boyfriend, his hands now moving to cling to his pyjama shirt as Wilford’s begged oh so preciously and handsomely.

‘P-Plehease….D-D-Dahahamien….m-mehercy….’

Dark blinked a few times, and his smirk melted away into a tender smile….dammit, Wilford using that name always made him weak….but in a way that Dark loved. His hands moved away from Wilford’s thighs so they could cup his face, making Wilford gasp and giggle residually amidst the mercy.

‘Anything for you, my naughty, naughty darling.’

Wilford absolutely lit up and giggled when Dark started to snuggle into him….and there they stayed. Honestly, they were probably the two naughtiest little shits in the entire household….and yet if anyone were to walk in now and see all the cuddling, kissing and smiling….they would say that it was nicest thing in the whole damn world.

WOOOO HOPE YOU ALL LIKED THIS NEXT FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOOOO LUV YOUS XX

#markiplier #markiplier egos #darkiplier #dark #wilford warfstache #sfw #romantic #ego fic #ego fanfic #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #day 23 #christmas 2019 #wilford

36 notes · View notes

intothestarkerverse · 5 years

Note

hi, so I would like to request a starker prompt where its about the mummy au! where peter is eve, tony is rick, scott is jonathan (why not) the mummy is thanos, anu-san-mun is death. I just love the mummy and the avengers.

Summary: So I have chosen to go for the trifecta here! What follows is a Mummy AU for my lovely Nonnie...a Non Powered AU for @starkerweek, and a Protective!Tony Bingo Square fill for @starkerbingo .

Non Powered AU - Starker Week (Day Two)

Protective!Tony - Starker Bingo

The only downside to all of this was that he wasn’t going to get to see Howard’s face when he heard the news.

Well…actually, there were multiple downsides to this, like dying and the rat that was trying to chew through what remained of his shoe leather…but really, it was the whole Howard thing he was most concerned with at the moment. He’d been livid when Tony turned his back on the family fortune and his bright future to join the French Foreign Legion. Tony’d lied when he said he was out for adventure. Oh no, primarily, he was out to piss off Howard and possibly stumble into enough treasure to be able to return home wealthier than his old man…because honestly, that would feel good.

Being hanged in an Egyptian prison wasn’t actually one of the ways he thought this was going to end, but in retrospect, he probably should have realized it was a distinct possibility given his life choices.

Tony rested his forehead on his knees and tried to ignore the sweltering heat, the bugs skittering over his hands on the ground, the loud arguments erupting around the prison beyond his cell door, all of them in loudly spoken Arabic that he could only barely comprehend. His head was splitting. It was a shame the prison guards weren’t more sympathetic to a man’s hangover. He needed water. Or better yet, a little hair of the dog. The likelihood of him getting either one was…well, it was slim to say the least.

The sound of footsteps stopping at his cell door surprised him. Was it time to die already? He hadn’t even fully finished imagining Howard’s reaction to the news! “Hey, boys, I guess it’s true what they say about time flying…” His words were interrupted as he was forced to his feet and dragged out of his cell. Not towards the gallows, though. Towards the visiting cells? Who was visiting him?

God, had Howard found him? Was he about to be rescued by his bastard of a father and taken home to New York, because if he was…he’d rather hang, to be frank.

He was cast without ceremony onto a patch of ground surrounded by iron bars. Pulling himself up with a grimace, his gaze settled on two figures that did not appear to belong at an Egyptian prison. Men. English men if he could hazard a guess based on their wardrobe and the rather stuffy way in which they carried themselves. English men always had posture like someone had rammed a rod up their ass.

Speaking of ramming something up someone’s ass…

The little one was pretty damn cute. Soft chestnut curls just visible beneath his sun hat, tiny wire rimmed glasses perched on a pert little nose, plump pink lips that he kept wetting with the tip of his tongue as he stared, wide eyed at Tony through the bars. He was pretty. Prettier than the girls back home in New York. Prettier even than the woman he’d taken to bed the night before…the one who had him facing his death in what was likely a very short time. Hell, if he’d met this pretty little thing last night instead of the thieving piece of shit accompanying him, Tony would have probably given him the trinket and still be back at his room in the boarding house taking the boy apart instead of swinging from the end of a rope. The boy seemed to shake himself out of his stupor and stepped forward with a nervous smile. “Oh, hello, pardon me, I don’t mean to be rude. You just…you are not what I was expecting at all.”

The little one had a soft tone and a proper English accent that made Tony want to live long enough to hear that gentile voice reduced to a rasping, cursing wail of pure desire…

“Is it true that you know the way to Hamunaptra?”

Wait. What? “Hamun…I should have known.” He was never lucky enough to have a piece of ass that fine thrown his way without some kind of caveat. “Yeah, baby, I can take you to the City of the Dead. But I might beat you there since I’m about to be hanged…you get me out of here, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Hopefully down on him was going to be at least one stop before their final destination.

The boy looked alarmed, turning to cast a look at the man who had accompanied him, hopefully not a lover…though given the look of the guy, he’d be no competition for Tony anyway. “Well, I…I don’t know. That does seem to be quite a predicament…”

Tony laughed, “Yeah, you could say that. But I promise you’ll like me better alive than dead, sweetheart.” Reaching through the bars he grabbed a handful of that starched white shirt and tugged the boy closer until he could just reach his lips through the bars. He was a little up tight, but he was English. Tony had been anticipating that. He tasted like honey and lemon and after a moment’s hesitation seemed to relax into the kiss, letting Tony tease his lips apart with his tongue and delve deep into the moist recesses before he pulled away with a growl.

Flushed pink, lips swollen, the boy straightened his cravat and cleared his throat. “I…um…I’ll see what I can do, shall I?”

“Ugh, to think I ever found that scoundrel attractive!” Peter grimaced at his own reflection, dropping the fingers he’d had pressed to his lips. He really had been stupid to think that the kiss meant anything to the American. Tony was a dying man desperate to live and he had done anything necessary to prolong his miserable life.

Like a fool, Peter had fallen right into his trap.

“You are far too intelligent for this, Peter. Chin up, old chap. You can ignore that American pig long enough to find the Book of Amun-Ra and then you never have to see him again.”

So what if he was rakishly good looking? Peter hadn’t thought so in prison, but Tony’s hair had been long and his beard had been unkempt and he’d smelled of wet camel and alcohol. When they had met at the docks later and Tony had presented himself with cleaned and trimmed hair and a goatee so masterfully groomed that Peter was half tempted to ask if he’d found a barber to have it professionally done, Peter had to admit that the man was perhaps the most handsome one he had ever set eyes on. The kiss…the kiss had been positively sinful, but apparently that devil hadn’t felt the same way.

Well. Peter didn’t need him anyway. He was an academic! He had books and brains and that ruffian was probably going to wind up swinging from another rope the moment they parted company. Best not to lose sleep over him.

One moment Peter was dressing for bed and the next he was facing the end of a pistol in the hand of a strange man in desert garb with facial tattoos that Peter could almost just begin to decipher. “Oh dear! Can I help you? I think you have the wrong room…”

“Where is the map?”

Peter grimaced as the barrel of the gun was pushed into his chest. “Over on the desk.”

“And the key?”

“Key? I don’t have a key…” Peter’s confusion was interrupted by the sound of his door splintering. There, standing in the rubble of the ruined entry was the very scoundrel he had been disavowing only a moment prior. He looked resplendent with a gun in either hand, a look of determination on the chiseled features of his too handsome face and his once carefully coiffed dark hair falling in haphazard strands across his forehead.

“Let the kid go.”

Peter’s gaze was ripped from his rescuer only long enough to glimpse the second attacker attempting to enter through the porthole. Apparently, Tony too saw that figure and released a volley of bullets. Really, Peter had never seen anything quite as inherently masculine and impressive as Tony Stark facing off against his attackers. Never mind that now the boat was on fire and there seemed to be a great many more of the men in black than just the two that had been attempting to infiltrate his cabin. He didn’t even have a thought to spare for his brother, to wonder where on earth Scott was and if he had gotten free of the ship.

At least, not until they had dragged themselves up onto the shore of the Nile and Peter was watching everything on the ship burn. He shivered in the night air and bemoaned the loss of his clothes, his books, his tools…although, he didn’t mind the look that Tony was giving him as the American’s dark eyes raked over the thin, wet night clothes that clung to his skin…

“What was that about nothing bad ever coming from reading a book?”

Peter cast the man a weary look. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”

Tony just snorted and grabbed Peter’s arm, jerking him sideways down an alley and a steep but short descent of stairs. “Okay, so he’s whole and he’s got the book and we’re basically screwed. We gotta keep you away from him.”

“That is a plan I do rather like, I have to admit.” Peter let a little whoosh of breath as he was knocked backward into a wall and pressed firmly there by Tony’s rock solid form. Eyebrows raised, he opened his mouth to question the move, but a hand was pressed against his lips and Peter followed Tony’s gaze to the mouth of the alley where a mass of entranced slaves were beginning to trickle by. Peter’s eyes widened, but he didn’t make a sound.

As the final stragglers in the crowd edged by, Peter and Tony left the safety of the alley and attempted to race across the square to the next thoroughfare on their way out of the city. They were stopped by the undulating mass of insects that descended from the sky and formed a living, writhing curtain in front of them.

Peter gulped audibly, following the voice to face the now regenerated and empowered Thanos. He was large and frightening and ugly. The boy could not help but grimace, hands trembling slightly at his side.

“Leave the kid alone.” Tony stepped in front of him. Dear, sweet, brave Tony. He had underestimated the American. He wasn’t a scoundrel. He was a hero. A true hero like one from novels and fairy stories. Peter had no doubt that he would die to protect him from Thanos if that was what it took, but he really didn’t want to see that exquisite example of the human condition die because of him. It seemed such a waste. He was, after all, just a librarian and it did not seem that his feelings for the man were at all reciprocated.

Breaking away, Peter moved to join Thanos, his gaze meeting Tony’s for a moment as he passed him. They were outnumbered. Thanos had the upper hand. They couldn’t fight him and succeed. Not here. They needed the book of Amun-Ra and one of them had to be alive and free in order to fetch it. “I have to do this…but…I’m not saying you can’t rescue me if you’d like. In fact I’d much prefer that actually…if you feel up to it, that is.”

The last thing Peter saw as he was spirited away by the resurrected Thanos was the look of sheer determination on Tony’s face.

Maybe he did have feelings for Peter after all…

It took extreme physical effort on Tony’s part to hold himself back, to formulate some kind of a plan…even a half-assed one, as he took in the sight of Peter chained to a platform alongside a female mummy that had to be the ugly guy’s girlfriend. Great. Just great.

Scott had the book. Scott had been behind him a moment ago but had either been detained or was too cowardly to enter the antechamber with Thanos and the brunt of his legion.

Well, Scott might be a coward, but there was no way in hell that Tony was going to let Thanos sacrifice Peter to bring his girlfriend the rest of the way back from the dead. So, he didn’t have guns. He’d ran out of ammunition and lost the pistols themselves several mummy hordes ago. All he had, in fact, was a sword he’d taken from a statue and his own stubborn will to reclaim the boy whose body he hadn’t even gotten to taste yet.

The kid could not die a virgin. He was way too pretty to die a virgin, and he had to be a virgin. Stuffy British boy like that…his kiss at the jail had probably been his first one.

Okay, enough planning. Sometimes, you just had to wing it.

With a yell, he raced from the shadows with the sword held high, swinging wildly at the undead who swarmed towards him, breaking through enough to snap the chain on one of Peter’s wrists before he was pulled back into battle once more. He wished his movements were a little more refined. Maybe if he’d taken fencing like his father had wanted. As it was, he was chopping at the dessicated figures sloppily, watching as pieces of mummy rained down around them and tried to rejoin the fray with whatever means they possessed. A few disembodied feet were wiggling in the sand, hands crawling like spiders in search of something useful, heads chomping at the empty air.

A scream tore Tony’s attention away from his foes to the dais and the still semi-restrained figure of Peter. The boy was desperately trying to pull his free arm loose of the chains while the female mummy crawled up his body with a dagger in her hand.

“Leave. My. Boy. Alone.” Tony broke away from the pack, racing the distance between himself and the Englishman who had stolen his heart. He dived for the mummy, his head connecting with her chest and throwing them both over the side into the sand as he swung the sword against that last bit of chain to free Peter’s other hand.

“So I’m your boy, now, am I? I don’t recall having agreed to that…”

“Are we really going to argue semantics now, baby?” Tony dodged a strike from the mummy and her blade. “Get that golden book of yours from your cowardly brother in the other room and let’s end this before they end us, hm? Then I can show you why you really do want to be my boy, Peter. By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me…”

“I. Do. Not. Beg.”

“We’ll see.”

“Hmph, we do have to survive this first, you know.”

“Right, so go get the book already!”

“So bossy,” Peter turned up his nose at the man but still raced back towards the entrance, dodging the writhing parts of fallen mummies as he went.

Tony was just reaching the end of his rope. There were far too many of these dried out defenders of Thanos and it didn’t help that even when he thought he’d killed them…some part of them came back with a vengeance. The girl was another problem all together. If he looked away from her for even a moment, she tried to follow after Peter and he had to charge after her. “How many times I gotta tell you, lady, the boy is mine?”

He was losing steam. He didn’t know how long he was going to be able to keep this up. Truthfully, he might have given up a couple dozen foes ago were it not for the the stodgy little English rose he was trying so desperately to save.

“I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” Peter’s voice shouted from the entry and Tony cursed as he dived for the girl again, grabbing her heal and jerking her off of her feet before she could race at Peter and bury the dagger in his chest. Tony hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him and suddenly surrounded by a swarm of the disembodied parts of the mummies he had slain.

“Read it, Peter, for God’s sake, read it!”

“Oh, right, yes…” He slammed the book against the wall, hefting it’s heavy cover open and began searching the golden pages for the proper inscription.

Thanos waved the mummy parts away from Tony with a motion of his hand. He’d found another one of those daggers like his girlfriend. He was holding it tightly in his fist and looking at Tony in a way that reminded him way too much of Howard. Disapproval and disappointment. His two best friends. Tony’s fingers closed around the hilt of his sword on the sand, determined to go out fighting for Peter if not for himself.

Peter’s voice rang out loud and clear through the chamber. Thanos seemed to pause, real fear in his eyes as a phantasm of ghostly light passed over the room. But when it was gone, Thanos was still there and he still looked prepared to kill Tony.

“Peter…that didn’t work.”

“It should have worked!”

“It didn’t work.” Tony grimaced at the figure as he bent over him, dagger poised to strike.

“Tony? Tony…no…”

Peter’s strangled cry of alarm was enough to snap Tony’s focus back into place. He lashed out, kicking the figure with both legs and attacking with his sword. It was only when the blade had buried itself in the other man’s gut and Tony was covered in blood and thicker, more nauseating things, that he called out a choked. “Yeah, no, I was wrong. It totally worked…”

How many people got to lose their virginity in the Egyptian city of the dead to a man who had nearly died to save him? Not many, Peter would wager.

“Does this I mean I get to keep you…or am I just one in a long line of conquests?”

Tony propped himself up on an arm to regard the boy with a playful smirk. “You really think I’d go to this much trouble for a conquest? You’re real pretty, Peter Parker, and the sounds you make when I fuck you are a thing of beauty…but I’d have never gone this far to save someone unless I intended to ‘keep them’.”

“Oh, well that really is too bad, Tony, because as I recall…if anyone is to be property and possessor in this relationship, I do believe that I am to be the one keeping you.”

Tony rolled his eyes but leaned down to peck Peter’s lips once, twice, three times. “You know what, Kid, that’s just fine by me.”

“Splendid! Have you ever been to South America, Tony? I have heard from other scholars that they have mummies there too…”

Tony covered Peter’s mouth with a hand and propped himself up again. “Scott! Scott! I know you’re somewhere around here. Scott, come take your brother back. I’ve changed my mind. I want to give him back…”

Squirming free of Tony’s hold, Peter let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh you!”

#starker #starker week 2019 #starker bingo

81 notes · View notes

patricianandclerk · 5 years

Text

Replete and Ponderous

Aziraphale has a kink.

Crowley thinks it's funny, but that doesn't mean he's not going to indulge it to the nines. For @azfellandco.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed against Crowley’s mouth, and Crowley smiled, pushing the angel’s hair out of his eyes, where a few strands had come away from his bun. It had started out loose, but rhythmic activity had rendered it a mess, and Crowley wondered what it would be like to have the angel’s hair untied entirely, to grab him with a fistful of it and see him writhe.

“What, sweetheart?” Crowley asked, shifting the angle of his thrusts just slightly and thrilling at the way Aziraphale moaned, his lip quivering. “Not enough for you?”

“You really do— Oh, you really do blow my insatiability out of proportion, you know.”

“Do I? Did you or did you not, angel, beg me to have you until you were ripe as a new peach?”

“Yes, but—”

“To ride you ‘til your belly was, what was it, replete and ponderous?”

“Yes, but—”

“In short,” Crowley said, dragging his spit-slick thumb over Aziraphale’s clit and watching his stomach jump, feeling his cunt clench, “to fuck you until I couldn’t anymore?”

“I don’t know why I bother with poetry,” Aziraphale mumbled, his cheeks flushed an astoundingly rosy red, “you always render it rather moot when you cut through it with such direct language.”

“You don’t want me to be direct?” Crowley asked, with a little mock pout, and he rolled them over, tugging Aziraphale on top of him. Aziraphale cried out at the sudden shift of positions, and Crowley listened eagerly to the slight slosh inside him, where Crowley had filled him right up… He pressed his hand to the swell of Aziraphale’s belly, markedly rounder than usual, and he pressed down, feeling where the angel was taut and full. “How’s that, darling?”

“Oh, Crowley, you beast,” Aziraphale gasped out, shifting slightly on Crowley’s cock, his thighs a beautiful weight on Crowley’s own, and Crowley watched his face, watched his red cheeks, his heavy breathing, and he thrust up, delighting in the movement of Aziraphale’s belly, stuffed so full as it was. “Aah—”

“You see, angel, I think you lied,” Crowley purred, dragging his palms over Aziraphale’s stomach and making him whimper, but he was rolling his hips down against Crowley’s cock, taking what he wanted, what he needed, and Crowley let his cock grow just a little bit thicker, just enough to stretch—

Aziraphale heaved in a gasp, his pretty eyes going wide, and his fingers pressed tight against Crowley’s hairless chest, trying to grab for purchase there, as if that would steady him.

“Lied, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked, leaning forward, and he moaned at the way it pressed his belly between the two of them, putting pressure on the swell, but Crowley noted he didn’t pull back. So much pressure… “What about?”

“I don’t think it’s about my come, that’s all.”

“Oh, well, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, breathing laboured, eyes closed, “I’m sad to tell you, dear boy, the world, in fact, does not revolve around your ejaculate. Not even my world.”

“I think,” Crowley continued, ignoring the slight burn in his own cheeks, “that it’s about what my come can do.”

“And what’s that? Make flowers bloom? Mend furniture? Run for M.P. in Hackney North and Stoke Newington?”

“No,” Crowley said, trying not to laugh, “I think it’s because it could get you pregnant.”

Aziraphale froze, staring down at him, and then his face twisted, his lips parted, his eyes widening, his brows— Oh, yes. Yes, Crowley was familiar with that expression, and he moaned as he felt Aziraphale’s cunt clench around him, twitching as he came: he thrust up into Aziraphale as he did, squeezing the angel’s hips, his thighs, and he committed very little hitched, keening moan that the angel let out to memory, burying them deep where he’d be able to come back to them later (and come back to them he would, with frequency).

“That’s it, huh, angel?” Crowley asked, grabbing at Aziraphale’s arse, laughing when the angel jumped and gasped. “You want me to fill you up with my come until it takes.”

“No, Crowley, dear boy, you’re being patently – aah, Crowley! – patently ridiculous, I don’t know what you—”

“You do! You want me to breed you! You want me to get you pregnant!” Crowley crowed, pressing their bellies together and grinning savagely when Aziraphale choked. “Huh? Yeah? That it, angel? You want me to come deep inside you, keep it stuffed up in you, make you fat and heavy and pregnant with it? They’d really know there was a demon on top of you then, wouldn’t they, carrying my infernal—”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale wailed, and Crowley held his tongue, watching him, but Aziraphale only whined and smacked his chest. “No, don’t stop talking, I just can’t get enough of you into me like this, I want to go back—”

“You want me to take you on your hands and knees?”

“Please,” Aziraphale said plaintively, and Crowley let him get up, falling forward on his forearms, although the little whimper he let out when Crowley’s cock slid out of him was more than gratifying. Crowley was up and behind him within a few moments, fucking into Aziraphale again in one smooth shift, and Aziraphale moaned, his back arching, and like this, his belly hanging down, Crowley could hear it, could hear the wet shift of his come inside the angel, could see the way it swung, just a little, and he couldn’t help but feel a little hot under the collar himself, imagining Aziraphale with a belly just like this, all the time, all the time—

He lay kisses all over the angel’s back, between his shoulders, against the blades, against the back of his neck as he pistoned his hips, and was all but babbling as he went on, “Sss’that what you want, angel? Be nice and fertile for me? Let me get you pregnant, look after you like I look after my plants?”

“My dear, I should hope you’d treat me a lot better than you treat your plants,” Aziraphale moaned.

“What, you don’t want me to take the spray bottle and get you right here?” He gave a particularly vicious thrust, and Aziraphale’s laughter was muffled into the mattress before it trailed off into another moan. “No, no, I know, sweetheart, you don’t need watering, you just need filling up.”

“My dear—”

“Breed you, angel,” Crowley said, biting the back of Aziraphale’s neck and feeling his whole body shudder. “Fill you up with me, fuck you ‘til you can’t walk straight and then watch you waddle when this belly blows right up again—”

He was grabbing at it, not too roughly, but just grabbing, squeezing a little, and Aziraphale put more of his weight on one of his arms, the other coming up to land on top of Crowley’s hand, both their palms against the side of his stomach, and he could hear Aziraphale gasping, hear his tight little noises, feel him jump, twitch, hear every single noise…

“I’m going to,” Aziraphale gasped out, “I’m going to again, Crowley, I need, I want—”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Crowley asked, nipping at his ear, the hand that wasn’t tangled with Aziraphale’s stroking up his back. “What can I give you, make you happy?”

“Oh, please keep talking,” Aziraphale said breathlessly, “and my— I can’t reach my cl— Can you…?”

“Sure I can, sure I can,” Crowley promised, and he shifted his angle again, laying kisses over Aziraphale’s back as he reached his spare hand underneath, pushing underneath Aziraphale’s belly, and that made it move, made the flesh give just a little bit less than it usually would, so full as he was, and Aziraphale whimpered. “That’s what I’m gonna do, angel, my beautiful angel, gonna make you as replete and ponderous as you want, gonna stick a plug in you, keep my come in you ‘til you can’t stand it anymore, let everyone think I’ve already got you pregnant, with everything I have stuffed in you, the way you’re toddling around—”

It wasn’t so spectacular as the last one: Aziraphale sighed, this time, and he didn’t feel so urgent as he rode through it, but Crowley couldn’t help but grin, nipping his satisfaction up the length of Aziraphale’s back, gently playing over Aziraphale’s clit as he rode it through, making sure it wasn’t too oversensitive.

“You ready, angel?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale nodded, then sighed again as Crowley came, grunting and closing his eyes tight shut as his grip tightened, feeling the pressure dissipate as his cock pulsed, felt Aziraphale take him in.

They fell to the side, after, and when Crowley moved to pull away, to go get Aziraphale something to drink, maybe a little something to eat, and a wash cloth, he caught hold of Crowley’s wrist.

“You said,” he said, his cheeks pink, “you said, erm—” He trailed off, and Crowley watched him, pressing his nose into Aziraphale’s hair, and nuzzling it.

“Yeah, angel, I know. You don’t really want to get pregnant, it’s just a game, just talk. You haven’t even got a uterus, right? Or Fallopian pipes, or any of the rest?”

“Fallopian tubes,” Aziraphale corrected him. “Fallopian pipes, indeed, it’s not plumbing, Crowley. And— No, no, that’s not what I was going to say, although, er, you’re quite right. Very much just a game. No, just… Er, well, that is to say—”

“Ssspit it out, angel.”

“You said you’d put a plug in me,” Aziraphale said. Spoilt brat, Crowley's angel was.

“You know what you are, angel?” Crowley asked, in his most long-suffering tone.

“The love of your life, your husband, your most beloved one?”

“A pest. You’re a pest.” He finished this sentence by blowing a raspberry against Aziraphale’s neck, and the angel laughed and struggled, squirming, but Crowley conjured a plug into his palm all the same, and held it up for Aziraphale’s perusal. There was a moment’s pause, and then, in a very good – if he said so himself – impression of Aziraphale’s own voice, Crowley said, “My dear, could you make it just a smidge bigge—”

“You’re so cruel to me, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, pouting just slightly, and Crowley laughed, widening it a little before he pulled out, gently sliding it into place, so that the flared base was flush against the angel, stretching him nice and wide, keeping everything in.

“Am I, angel?” Crowley asked. “Am I cruel?”

“Dastardly, my dear.”

“Good,” Crowley said, and kissed his cheek. “You want some of those truffles in the fridge?”

“Oh, yes, I would love some, and— some cocoa?”

“Your wish is my command.”

My Ask | My Ko-Fi | My Ao3 | Requests always welcome!

#as defined by dictionary #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #fanfic

92 notes · View notes