#but that would be AFTER i finally manage to finish the little beast i'm working on about that Last Fight from Tula's pov | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyperfixated-gvf · 1 year

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Fire/Fear

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Danny Wagner | Rated Explicit | Words: 8.4k

Warnings: Language, smut, passing out

Summary: A hurt/comfort fic that turns into soft smut where the fires onstage are entirely too hot, Sam becomes overprotective, and Danny has to get permission from a doctor to canoodle with his boyfriend.

Written for, in collaboration with, and edited by @gretavanfreaky

Author's Note(s): PLEASE let me know if you don't want to be on the taglist for Sanny fics or other slash fics; I know this isn't everyone's jam, so I don't want to be the one to tag you in things you don't want to read. You can stay on the general taglist, I'll just take you off any Sanny works! Enjoy this fic that has been sitting dormant in my Google Docs for a year (don't worry, I edited it first)! Also, I'm going to fix my Masterlist links and then try to finish the Danny x Reader "Stroke Me" by Billy Squier fic!

18+ / MINORS DNI

~~~

Sam had really been into the pyrotechnics this tour.

Everyone always thought that Josh was the pyromanic, but Sam had always given him a run for his money when it came to the admiration for fire, heat, danger, the pure destructive power that was just so damn beautiful and wily.

But Sam was not one to wax poetic - that was definitely Josh’s area of expertise.

See, Sam was into the pyrotechnics this tour, but also…

Danny.

Or more specifically, Danny and his proximity to the flames and the resulting hot, sweaty, beast of a boyfriend who gleamed a soft orange in the reflection of the fire on his sweat for Sam’s viewing pleasure. Many a show had Sam been distracted by the way rivulets of water would run down his body (often shirtless half-way through the show just from the sweltering temperatures, which was another bonus) when he took rushed, poorly-aimed swigs from his bottle, or the picture of Danny, drumsticks raised high and a smile on his face as he was surrounded by flames. And, as strange as it sounded, something about the smell of smoke and Danny was just…infinitely hot to Sam.

Not to mention – in the name of saving water (save the Earth and all) - the shared showers afterwards.

But as incredibly sexy as his boyfriend was, how the fire made him light up, and how he loved both components of that equation, Sam would have nixed the idea of even a lighter on stage before Josh had even submitted the idea to their tour manager and props guy. It wouldn’t have even crossed the threshold of conception had he known that it would end in a crash and a few screams and the leading thought of holy fuck did we accidentally just set my boyfriend on fire?

Luckily, they hadn’t. But, here, laying in bed with a peaceful Danny in the aftermath of the incident, Sam couldn’t recall what exactly had happened, or if he’d been the one screaming, or whether the scuffed paint and bent tuner peg on his bass could have been avoided.

All he could remember was that even through the smoke and heat and fire, the fear had been icy cold and skin-meltingly hot all at the same time, and he’d thought he was going to throw up when a bunch of stage hands rushed over with water and towels to where Danny was usually poised like a greek god.

The big man stirred against Sam; the doctors said that his body, due to a lack of sleep and a built-up exhaustion, would take a little longer to recover and come to than normal. And sure enough, it had been hours - 3, to be exact - since that awful event and since Danny had been moved at Sam’s unwavering command back to their hotel room, where he’d cranked up the AC, put pillows under Danny’s feet, and had three gatorades and five water bottles waiting on the bedside table.

One big sigh left Danny’s lips and fanned across Sam’s neck. “You haven’t showered yet, have you?”

Finally, after what felt like an excruciating lifetime, Danny was awake.

Sam grabbed a gatorade immediately and turned in his spot so that he could face Danny on the bed, unable to meet his eyes properly as he snapped the lid off the bottle. “Stop commenting on my personal hygiene and drink, fire boy.”

Not even a hello.

Perhaps it was the lack of Sam’s usual jests and snap-backs that alerted Danny to the fact that something was wrong – still, at least – but he drained half of the bottle in one go regardless of Sam’s demand, sipping on it more when Sam fixed him with a glare that said ‘you’d better finish that.’ “You know, you don’t have to–”

“Do you remember what happened?”

They spoke at the same time, but Danny let Sam go first, quick to playfully roll his eyes but always the gentleman. Usually the gentleman – ask Sam on any given night and he might just give you an overexaggerated wink and smirk. “Yes, Sam. I remember everything that happened up until the point that I actually passed out. I don’t have amnesia, you dork.”

Sam scoffed – he was no expert on the mechanics of what really happened when one passes out. Not when it wasn’t alcohol-related, at least, and even then, he’d left (most) of those days behind in his younger years. But, you know - fuck him for being a concered and invested boyfriend, apparently.

“Oh, well, sorry I’m not in the habit of passing out, I guess,” Sam snarked back. Danny just laughed good-naturedly at him and placed a sloppy kiss on Sam’s cheek. But Sam was curious. It was already established that he’d been too hopped-up on adrenaline to properly remember the exact order of events, and he wanted Danny’s perspective. “Just for shits and giggles,” he ventured, and Danny hummed for him to go on, “uh…what did happen? I mean, from where you were sitting,” Sam clarified quickly - again, a little embarrassed of his reaction and inability to remember the entirety of the event himself.

Danny finished off the bottle and battled with Sam for a moment when Sam tried to replace it with a water bottle before he even had the chance to throw the empty one in his hand away. “Chill the fuck out for a second, Sam,” Danny giggled, trying to push away the bottle without spilling any of the contents on either of them. “I just drank that gatorade in like…two minutes flat. Give me a break.”

“The doctor said you have to get fluids in you!” Sam insisted, forcefully pushing the water on Danny, but not exactly wrestling the man for fear of…well, he wasn’t quite sure he could place the fear yet. “And gatorade has so much sugar - you need water.”

Finally, Danny grabbed hold of Sam’s wrist tightly and stopped his attack, looking him in the eyes and seeing remnants of that worry Sam had felt on stage. “I will,” he promised sweetly, taking the bottle because he knew Sam’s intentions were pure, but…not very well executed. “Just, on my time and not shoved down my throat, please.”

Sam grumbled his assent, but kept an eagle eye on the water, making sure Danny didn’t put it down.

“Now,” Danny continued once they settled back down, “I started feeling a little weird after my solo.”

…

The show had started off like many of the other ones on the tour had. Not that it wasn’t memorable in its own way, or boring whatsoever, but - doing relatively the same sets every few days created a nice little flow that was conducive to the beat Danny could put out. It was what he was best at, after all - consistency and rhythm, the heartbeat and drum.

Besides, Josh’s antics could never allow for a boring show, and with Sammy right by his side, Danny could pick a moment in time at random and would gladly live in it forever - tour, venue, song, crowd, or day be damned.

…

“Such a sap,” sighed Sam. But internally, he was swooning. He was a big swooner, but he’d never let Danny get away with the cheesy stuff without just a little bit of ribbing.

“Shut up and let me tell the story.”

“Drink your water.”

“Sam.”

…

So the show had started off well, and the crowd was alive and Josh was inciting even more energy that Danny pushed to match – he was feeding off of the exhilarating feeling of giving the people what they wanted, hearing them chant his name, the drive to prove just how good he was and how he contributed to the band.

It didn’t occur to him until his thirst nearly distracted him from his kit that he’d forgotten to drink water throughout the entire first half of the set.

And he was going to - he was - but then Jake’s ‘WAH’ pedal went out and he was informed via his in-ear that his solo was moving up a spot while the techs worked their magic. He didn’t have time to crack the bottle open and forgot about the water, too focused on his job and finishing the song and making the transition into his solo as seamless as possible.

Did his eyesight go fuzzy here and there? Yeah. But his focus on the kit in front of him was unflappable - ultimately, he was no stranger to fuzzy vision every now and then when he played hard. All he knew was that he was just really fucking hot on top of everything with the periodic explosive columns of flames at his back.

It was only after he raised his sticks to let the anticipation of the beat to the next song lengthen that he caught himself from dropping them in a sudden loss of strength. Again, though - they were approaching the last stretch of the tour and were all hanging onto their mortal bodies as best they could. Fatigue in all forms was to be expected. Perhaps not in the middle of a show, but who really had control over that?

So he went on, and water was pushed to the wayside again when Jake pulled the ‘faster, faster, faster’ gag that had been running since the day Danny had stepped foot in their garage with a pair of drumsticks in his hand - to test his compatibility and chops as a drummer, could Danny actually listen? Could he pick up on the slightest tempo change and keep the band centered?

He could, and Danny would do it back every so often - pick the pace up and grin watching the others adjust - but this time, he was struggling. He was feeling a little sick halfway into their little game, and he wanted to slow down, but it wasn’t like he was gonna lose to Jake.

…

“So it was Jake’s fault,” Sam accused with a frown, throwing the gatorade bottle that had never made it off the bed in the direction of the wastebasket on the other side of the room.

He missed.

“No, it’s not Jake’s fault,” Danny said as he finally took a swig of the water, raising his brows in embellishment as if to say, ‘see? Drinking,’ to Sam’s concern. “It was mine for being stupid enough to not drink water at all during the show. Rookie move.”

Sam took one of Danny’s hands, tender and soft despite his calluses, and started massaging the muscles and joints that helped get them to where they were today. It was a little out of the ordinary - not to say that Sam neglected Danny at all, but this little touch of intimacy was more direct than Sam usually tried to make it. Danny didn’t say anything of it in fear that Sam would pull back; he quite loved moments like this, and he hoped his sigh of satisfaction and pleasure was just enough to get that message across without embarrassing Sam.

“I mean, yeah, maybe it was something a noob would do, but you’re not allowed to take the blame since you almost fucking died,” Sam declared, only a slight waver to the last word. He didn’t actually think that Danny had almost died, but he also didn’t want to think about where they would be if the flames had caught Danny’s fluffy hair, or the material of his outfit, and they actually did set his boyfriend on fire.

Danny gently booped Sam’s nose with the cold, damp bottle in his hand. “I didn’t ‘almost fucking die’,” Danny responded with a chuckle. “And it doesn’t always have to be someone’s fault, Sammy. These things happen. You know that it’s just part of the trade - the heat, the sweat, and…sometimes the fainting, I guess.”

Sam did know that - after all, he’d been videoed struggling at that stupid-hot show in Texas, and then there was that one in Cali that had him all out of sorts, and the…well, in any capacity, Sam knew that it was a part of the trade. Just, maybe not for Danny. Because if something happened to Danny, Sam was embarrassingly dependent on the man for support during their tours - especially since they’d been together together.

The twins had each other to lean on, and Sam had Danny - in all regards.

Sam wiped the bead of water that came from the condensation off his nose. “Well, we didn’t need the fire to make it worse. I’m still blaming both the twins now,” he pouted. “Josh for having the fire in the first place and Jake for egging you on.”

Danny laughed, and the sound vibrated from his chest into Sam’s, from his mouth into Sam’s ears, and it was wonderful. “I think you just want to be mad at someone, and you’re used to it being them,” he teased, even though there was likely some truth in that statement. “I see the way you look at me during shows - I don’t think you want to hate the fire. Plus, if I remember correctly, you were the fire’s biggest supporter.”

The soft, wispy feeling of Sam’s hair against his cheeks and chin made Danny sputter and spit, but Sam kept his proximity, still putting pressure into Danny’s hand as he grumbled, “Well, feelings change. It assaulted my boyfriend and if anything’ll get you on my bad side, that’s it.” Danny wasn’t sure if that particular concept applied to only the fire, but Sam seemed to be in a mood, so he didn’t comment. “So, what happened next?”

Danny, remembering that he’d been telling a story, relaxed into Sam’s expert masseuse skills and continued.

…

It had been Jake to notice first, though. He’d looked back with a smirk after a few beats into the next song, but the smirk had dropped off immediately once he’d caught sight of Danny’s ashy complexion, noticeable even in the firelight.

He had been a little surprised Sam didn’t notice either, but “Caravel” was his time to shine, and he must have been working the crowd at the front of the stage.

Danny’s gaze had seemed a little glazed over and just not quite right when Jake did catch his eye to get an ‘ok’. But Danny had given it to him regardless, and he didn’t blame Jake for taking it at face value in the moment - he knew that Jake would have checked in on him at his next convenience, but solos weren’t to be trifled with.

He’d tried to push through the sudden onslaught of blurry vision and nausea and dizziness, but when he stood up to finish out the main set, he knew he was going down in that instant. It was all he could do to at least try to sit back down and lean forward, hoping that it would keep him from pitching back anywhere close to the fire, and his last thought before it went dark?

He should have drank some water.

…

“I should have known,” Sam said quietly. “I should have been paying attention.”

Danny felt for him - because if it had been Sam who’d passed out instead of him, he’d feel the same way. Why hadn’t he seen the signs? What could he have done differently? What if, what if, what if.

He drained the last of the water bottle and pitched it over in the same direction the gatorade had gone, uncaring if it hit its mark or not, and drew Sam in for a cuddle. Sam clutched at him, lightly brushing his hand down Danny’s back, just glad to have him there in their bed and not in a hospital.

“There’s nothing you could have done, sweetheart,” Danny insisted gently. It wasn’t often that he called Sam petnames, but his boy seemed to need the extra comfort at the moment. “It happened so fast - literally within the span of like, two songs.”

“Yeah. Two songs I wasn’t looking at you for.” Sam sighed and shifted his weight to his elbow, drawing himself up so that he could look down at Danny with a severe expression. “I’m not letting you out of my sight for the rest of tour,” he warned, but Danny just laughed at him and pulled him the rest of the way on top of his body.

Two things happened, then.

Sam started frantically struggling to get off of Danny and, in the process, his hand pressed down on Danny’s bladder – which was now full of two bottles of fluids – who was suddenly very aware of how badly he needed to pee.

“Okaaaaaay,” Danny hissed, covering his crotch and rolling Sam off at the same time before he hit another extremity, “what the fuck, Sam?”

“I don’t want to hurt you! That’s gonna make you too hot!” Sam huffed, standing up so that he was completely off the bed.

Danny took a deep breath and shot Sam a small, disgruntled glare and trudged to the bathroom. “What ever happened to me being the hurt one? Shouldn’t I get what I want?” he grumbled, pouting and not even trying to hide it. “And not getting punched in the groin?”

They bickered from separate rooms as Danny relieved himself and Sam gingerly got back onto the bed, sitting against the pillows instead of laying down. Danny frowned when he saw the change in position, but got in bed anyways, plastering himself against Sam’s side in protest as he draped his arm around his waist and let it hang heavy there.

When Sam didn’t say anything, Danny decided to make the ending of his story clear. “So, yeah. That’s what happened,” he said. “I remember waking up once in the green room, but passed out pretty quickly again, and then we were here.” Sam nodded and sighed again, and Danny took his hand, his own anxiety growing at the silence. “Hey…I love you,” he said quietly, abruptly; he was a little bit worried about Sam’s lack of response and wanted the assurance of his voice – Sam was still trying to find his comfort, and Danny wanted to contribute as much as he could.

Even as crazy about the other as they were, the two men didn’t often exchange the words unless they were whispered into skin after sex or right before they fell asleep, when their bodies were curled around each other and created a space for feelings to spill out in an exhale just before they lost consciousness.

It hadn’t been Sam’s intention to cause Danny unease in the wake of his silence, but in the retelling of the events leading up to it, he’d begun piecing together what happened immediately after. That’s what he’d been thinking of – that’s what he’d been deliberating on.

“I love you, too,” Sam returned, planting a small kiss on the back of Danny’s hand and gratefully accepting Danny’s form of reassurance.

There was a small squeeze from Danny’s fingers that caught Sam’s attention, and he lifted his head to meet Danny’s eyes. “Your turn.”

“My turn to do what?”

“Story time,” Danny said, as if it was obvious. “I told my end, I wanna know what happened after I passed out.”

Sam tried not to blush, but since his memory was coming back, he really couldn’t help it. “I don’t really remember much,” he said vaguely. “I mean…you passed out, we took care of you, and that’s it.”

Danny was quiet for a second, and Sam looked up to see if he’d bought his half-truth.

He hadn’t.

“Bull. Shit.” Danny intoned, letting his hand go to cross his arms. “I’ll just ask Jake or Josh tomorrow if you don’t tell me. Come on, Sam - I deserve to know.”

Sam thought about how he’d feel if he’d been the one doing the passing out, and - yeah…he’d want to know, too. So, he sighed and thought back to the bang, crash, scream, and panic.

…

Danny did pass out forward – right into his kit.

That was where the bang and the crash came from - Sam had looked because that wasn’t part of the show, and if Danny was gonna improvise, it was gonna be at least a little bit rhythmic, not the all-in-one drum slam noise that came from his direction. And where he’d been expecting Danny to be grinning at his joke, maybe blushing because he dropped something by mistake, he was met with the sight of the listless body of his boyfriend slumped over his kit, panicked stage hands yelling and rushing over to him.

“Danny!”

There was no hesitation in Sam’s action when he was faced with the decision of the man behind the drums or the call of the crowd. He threw the strap of his bass off his shoulder without a second thought, not even concerned with the grating, cringe-producing sound of it hitting and slapping against the hard stage floor, feedback scratching from his speakers.

As soon as he was within distance of Danny, he had his hands on him, another addition to the wet rags and ice packs that had materialized in the crew’s hands. “What’s wrong? What the fuck happened? Why is he– is he okay?”

The twins were quickly by his side, asking the same questions, stress evident on their faces. The medic on staff was shooing people back, snapping at them to give Danny some air, but Sam refused to leave his side, selfish as it may have been.

She bent over the unconscious man, feeling his pulse and completing a quick once over as the stretcher was brought over. “I think…this looks like heat syncope,” she said, feeling Danny’s pulse and face. “Heat exhaustion. Come on, let’s get him on a stretcher and off the stage - he needs to get away from the fire and lights.”

A few people began easing him back and lining him up with the hard, orange stretcher many of the venues came equipped with, and Josh put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Go with him. We’ll do damage control and find you soon.”

Sam’s tunnel vision opened up a little bit to include the murmurs of the crowd, hesitant titters flowing throughout the big venue. “Yeah,” he said, nodding, “thank you.”

He followed the line of people off-stage, catching a few comforting words coming out of Josh’s mouth assuring the crowd that Danny was alright and that he’d just gotten a little too hot. But he lost them as they got further away from the stage.

“I told you that he needed more ventilation back there four shows ago,” the medic said sharply to the stage manager. The stage manager was quick to defend himself, saying that ventilation other than a fan was practically impossible unless she wanted him to rearrange the entire venue. “The fire was a bad idea,” she mumbled, obviously trying to keep that opinion to herself with two members of the band (if you counted the one who was passed out cold), but Sam still caught it.

The fucking fire.

The culprit, and by proxy - Josh.

Back in the green room, with cold rags covering almost every inch of skin Danny had to offer without being indecent, Sam listened to the medic arguing with the tour manager about hospitalization. If it was serious enough, whether or not they’d even admit him, if they should go now or wait until he woke up - but ultimately decided that they’d see where they stood once Danny woke up.

“We should leave him here, try not to move him.”

As soon as the suggestion was thrown out, Sam immediately vetoed it. “No. The venue needs to close and we don’t know when he’s gonna wake up. Plus the A/C is spotty - the hotel will be more comfortable.” He left out the small component of added privacy back at the hotel - that they’d be in their room where there weren’t crew members continuously walking through and Sam’s concern and his yearning to touch and cuddle and mother his boyfriend would be out of reach of prying eyes.

“Sam–” the medic tried to reason.

Sam didn’t want to be disrespectful - he knew that the medic had a much more extensive knowledge of what Danny was going through at the moment, but Danny was gonna wake up, and he knew his boyfriend would rather wake up in a private room rather than one where he’d feel as though he was imposing.

“No,” Sam said again. “It’s not like he has a head injury. He’s safe to move and I know that’ll be harder to do than leaving him here and I’m sorry about that, but –”

He was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder and a voice at his ear. “Sam, stop it.” Jake had come into the room without Sam noticing and had seen the beginnings of his tantrum. “They’re thinking of Danny. Don’t try to make it seem like they aren’t – we’re all worried.”

The stern, scolding manner of Jake’s voice ticked Sam off in just the right way. Maybe he was overreacting, but who could really blame him? He was about to snap back when the door opened again.

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” Josh’s voice filtered in from where he’d entered, and Sam turned from one twin to the other to poke his brother aggressively in the chest, garnering a shocked, very confused, and a little bit indignant reaction from Josh. “Hey!”

“It was too much fire, asshole!”

Even Sam was a little taken aback at the hostility in his voice. He needed to tone it down or he’d create another problem for himself – he knew he wasn’t actually angry at Josh, but the stress was getting to him and his brain had latched onto that idea of the fire being too much and, subsequently, Josh’s request back when the tour was still being planned for, when he quoted, “As much fire as fucking possible.”

Sam sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose, putting his hand up in surrender and in a silent apology, to which Josh nodded infinitesimally. Sam was grateful for the unspoken language that all four of them had managed to perfect with the time they spent in each others’ presence. “We’re not Metallica,” he said, softer, with a croak and a swallow that punctuated the end. “We don’t need this.”

Josh looked a little guilty and Sam knew he’d feel bad later.

…

“Do you?”

Sam knew what Danny was asking and bobbled his head. “A little bit. I think he knew that I was just stressed. A little frantic.”

Danny’s arms wrapped tighter around Sam and bodily moved them down the bed so that they could snuggle, despite Sam’s weak protests. “I’m actually a little bit cold, now,” Danny reasoned, slipping a hand underneath Sam’s shirt to rub his thumb against his ribs. “I think maybe you should apologize.” Sam scoffed at the prospect, but Danny continued, “It’s not his fault. Or the fire’s. Really.”

The groan that came from Sam’s mouth was long and whiny. “But it contributed to it,” Sam stressed. He knew Danny was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it. So, with one last groan, he turned away from Danny and reached for the hotel phone.

“You have a cell phone, you know,” Danny said amusedly. “What if he’s asleep?”

Sam rejected the concept. “As if. And if he is, then he’ll wake up. Also, you need food in your stomach. Want a smoothie or something? I can call down to room service.” Danny was about to answer when Sam raised his eyebrows over his shoulder. “But no fast food stuff. Or soup. Or pizza. Too much salt - that’ll just dehydrate you.”

Danny pouted. “But I wanted Dairy Queen. And the kitchen will be closed by now - we’ll have to order out.”

“Fine,” Sam conceded. “But choose something else. Please,” he tacked on at Danny’s unimpressed stare.

“Yes, mother.” They eventually settled for a couple of salads from a late-night restaurant nearby that would be delivered by the hotel to their room. As Danny was placing the order (and sneaking a large order of fries to share in), Sam called Josh’s room, listening for two tones before the man picked up.

The conversation was short, and Josh said that he understood, admitting that even he hadn’t been thinking of the heat-related consequences having that much fire on stage could bring. But Danny took over the phone to further reassure Josh that he didn’t blame him, and that for the last time, it wasn’t the fucking fire’s fault, Sam.

Once Sam had done all the apologizing he felt he could physically force out of his mouth (which wasn’t much), they hung up the phone and Danny had yet another water bottle shoved in his face.

“I’m not continuing the story until you drink,” Sam warned, and this wasn’t a hill Danny wanted to die on, so he broke the seal and drank. Once satisfied with the amount, Sam sat cross legged across from Danny and kept talking.

…

No one really wanted to argue with Sam in that moment about where Danny would go, so the medic chewed her lip and gave the okay to transport Danny into the van, still strapped to the stretcher, and then to the hotel with the warning that she’d be coming to check on him every hour, and if he wasn’t awake within six hours, she’d call an ambulance.

Sam had readily agreed and stayed right by Danny’s side the entire time, even scrunching himself between the front seat and the back on the ground so that he could study Danny’s face and make sure he didn’t wake up suddenly.

Staff had allowed them to use a back entrance to get Danny up to their room real hush-hush, which was nice because Sam wasn’t sure how he’d react to someone asking what happened, and he didn’t want to take that chance.

It was up the elevator, to the room, and into bed, which was when Sam had taken the initiative to stock the table with drinks, hike up the A/C, and actually listen to what the medic told him to do when he argued – passive aggressively and on the down-low – against her staying in the room with them until Danny woke up.

Again, he just wanted a little bit of time alone with his boyfriend so that he could process everything that had happened without other people around to pick apart his mannerisms or actions or words or feelings.

He wanted it to be just him and Danny.

“As soon as he wakes up, call me, make sure he gets some fluids in him, and don’t let him get up and move around a whole lot. That means,” she said, looking away from Sam’s eyes and pausing to think about the best way to phrase it, “no…strenuous activity–” Sam had to bite back a small smile at the implication, but was also quite offended that she seemed to be under the impression that he would jump Danny’s bones the first chance he got whether he was hurt or sick or otherwise not in a ‘jump-your-bones’ state, “--until I can clear him. Capeesh?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Sam agreed, standing awkwardly next to the bed, waiting to get in until she left.

Fortunately, she took her leave then, letting the door click shut behind her as Sam finally took the opportunity to lay himself along Danny’s side - not quite touching him in fear of the shared body heat - and zone out to process.

He was jerked out of his own little world a while later by a knock at the door, not realizing he’d taken Danny’s hand in his. A little unwilling to leave Danny’s side, but still knowing it was probably the twins, Sam got up, pushed the handle down, and opened the door. He’d been right – Jake and Josh walked in immediately, taking in Danny still passed out on the bed.

“How’s he been?”

Sam glanced toward the bed as well. “Conked out good. Hasn’t even so much as twitched.”

The twins hummed, but there wasn’t anything else to say except what the medic had told him, and that information was passed along quickly.

“I talked to the stage manager,” Josh said. “He’s making arrangements for a couple of big fans to be brought out at the next venue for him so he’ll have a little more air flow. The only problem they’re working with is how not to catch the smoke and create a new problem.”

Sam blinked. “I’m sorry, the smoke?” The twins glanced at each other like they’d been expecting this (which, in all honesty, they probably were). “We’re not having any more fire, Josh. Not after this.”

“Sam, the tour would lose so much money if we don’t use those things,” Jake reasoned. “The renting company isn’t going to give us a refund for the last, what - five shows?”

But Sam wasn’t having it. “We are not using them. They can do the math and take it out of my fucking paycheck, but I won’t play a single goddamn bass line if I see so much as a wisp of smoke coming from those things.”

Not wanting to get into it, and knowing that Sam was still in a state that wasn’t going to be conducive to collaboration or reason, Josh put his hands up. “How about we wait until Danny wakes up, and we can talk about it as a band. He should be included in this conversation.”

Jake nodded in agreement, but Sam just glared at them. “Fine. We’ll talk later. But if we’re not gonna talk now, then get out of my room.”

He felt a little immature saying that, but he was riled up again, and that was bad vibes when it came to a still passed out Danny. Sam didn’t want any of that negative energy in the room.

The twins rolled their eyes but stepped out, leaving Sam with the low hum of the A/C and Danny’s breathing once he got close enough.

“They’re being selfish,” Sam muttered to Danny, knowing he couldn’t hear him. “But I doubt you’ll be on my side when you wake up, either, you selfless bastard. We’ll have to talk.”

And then, disregarding his previous restraint in regard to skin-to-skin contact, he wrapped Danny in a hug and waited for him to wake up.

…

Danny was incredibly, undeniably, helplessly in love with this man.

Pulling Sam into his lap, Danny kissed him, long and deep, and murmured, “Thank you for taking care of me, Sammy,” against his lips.

A light flush covered Sam’s throat, and he gave Danny a peck back. “Always,” he said, but made no move to take the conversation nor the action further, despite Danny’s hands – having fast switched to roaming Sam’s sides under his shirt – obviously itching to progress their state into one of more undress, but waiting for a go-ahead which Sam did not give.

All of the sudden, Danny’s hands stopped. “Wait. Didn’t you say the doc told you to call her as soon as I woke up?”

Sam made a face and shrugged, leaning into Danny’s body. “Yeah. But ‘as soon as he wakes up’ is subjective, in my opinion.”

Danny’s snort shook his whole body. “Um, I don’t think she’ll see it that way. Wanna call her before she comes up here herself and sees me awake?”

“Not really,” Sam answered. He didn’t give any further explanation, but Danny picked up on the protective theme throughout the story. Sam didn’t want other people taking care of him - he could do that himself.

And Danny could bear with that – a few more minutes to themselves before they’d inevitably have to deal with the small shitstorm he’d accidentally created. Plus, with Sam in his lap, and energized now that he had a few hours of sleep under his belt, Danny’s mind quickly turned dirty and he resumed his previous quest of getting Sam’s shirt off, remembering that the doc had said something about this exact scenario when he looked at Sam for permission and was once again avoided.

“Wait,” he muttered again, even though he was the only one actually physically doing anything that required waiting, lips having been drawn in by the proximity of Sam’s neck, “so does that mean we have to have permission to fuck, now?”

Sam laughed at the abrupt change in topic and tune, humoring Danny only for a moment before shutting him down. “Just this time. But yes. And also no.”

“No?” Danny was interested. He figured if they’d already broken one rule, why not break them all? Classic Sammy mentality that Danny could actually get behind for once.

“Not tonight, Danny. We’re keeping things PG. Maybe PG-13.” And then, the record scratch stop. The rejection came as both a surprise and a conundrum for Danny until Sam’s next words. “You’re…fragile.”

The offense that Danny took had nothing to do with being perceived as fragile and everything to do with the concept that he was too fragile for sex.

He sputtered at Sam. “I’m not fragile! Babe, come on,” he whined. He and Sam both knew he would never coerce Sam into doing things he didn’t want to do, but Danny also knew that his hesitation had nothing to do with Sam not wanting sex and everything to do with his fear, evident in the way Sam’s expression bobbled from the burgeoning wisps of desire and back to stubborn concern, which Danny needed to address. He rolled on top of Sam before he could process it, wrapping Sam’s arms around his neck. “Feel me, Sammy. I’m not warm anymore. The hottest person in here is you,” he teasingly flirted, “are you sure I shouldn’t call someone for that?”

Sam rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face, but did take the opportunity to gently skate his fingers across Danny’s skin. He was right; there was no trace of the unnatural heat to Danny’s skin that he’d felt at the venue, and Danny had drank two water bottles and a gatorade by now. But still—“I don’t want to be the reason you break again, Daniel,” he maintained. “I don’t.”

Danny shook his head, giving Sam an Eskimo kiss at the same time. “You won’t, babe. Look,” he cajoled, rolling his hips smoothly into Sam’s, “I can show you just how tough I can be.”

Despite his efforts, Sam just tightened his arms and used the leverage to pull Danny down, his weight on top of Sam something he’d been wanting all night but had been a little afraid to do. “No, Daniel. Because I swear, if you pass out while you’re literally inside me,” he warned in Danny’s ear, “we’ll both be celibate until temperatures drop below 70 degrees.”

The laughter Danny let out vibrated into Sam’s neck, making him shiver. “Then you fuck me. It’s not like it doesn’t work both ways.” Then after a second, but before Sam could respond, “And you couldn’t keep your hands off me that long.”

Sam pushed Danny off with a snort. “Oh, fuck off. I totally could.” But the protest was weak and they were both aware neither of them wanted the other’s hands off of them for any extended period of time. “And passing out when I’m inside of you is fucking worse.”

Danny grinned. “Not even a little bit flattering?”

“Nope,” Sam said, and then looked at his watch. Well, where a watch would be if he was actually wearing one. “Oh, look at the time! I’d better call the doc,” Sam sighed dramatically, and then actually got his phone and called her while Danny scoffed and pouted beside him. “She’ll be here within a few minutes,” Sam said victoriously, then eyed Danny’s half-mast. “You might want to calm down.”

Danny was still muttering in discontent when the medic arrived, doing her thing, checking his vitals, and making sure everything was back to the way it was supposed to be.

“Well,” she said, wiping her thermometer off with an alcohol wipe after retrieving it from underneath Danny’s tongue, “all seems to be normal. I’d say definitely no hospital required, and you are free to play your next show with the promise that you’ll actually drink water this time,” she said sternly, having glared at him when he told her that was the most likely perpetrator of the whole thing.

“Will do,” Danny agreed charmingly. And then, with a mischievous look towards Sam that Sam didn’t often see without prior prompting from no one other than himself, asked, “And that means I’m cleared for everything else, right?” The medic looked confused until Danny politely clarified, “The uh…the strenuous activities?”

“Oh,” she laughed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Yeah, that too.”

This time, Danny wore the victorious grin and Sam was the one giving unimpressed looks in Danny’s direction until the woman left. “You’re tenacious, I’ll give you that much,” Sam sighed as he made the first move, pressing on Danny’s chest until he was laid out on the bed once more. “But I guess - since we have the go ahead and you’re so obviously gagging for it…” Danny finally tugged Sam’s shirt up and Sam helped it the rest of the way off, only to yelp when Danny flicked his nipple in retaliation to his quip. “Fucker!” he hissed.

And Danny laughed. “Not until you get the lube, baby,” he grinned, pulling Sam’s hips so that he could grind against him. However, once he’d finished his joke, he settled down for a moment, rubbing Sam’s hips with his thumbs. “You that we don’t actually have to fuck, right? I don’t want you to have to be worried about me, and I’m always down for a nice cuddle, instead.”

Sam scoffed playfully and looked down to where his body was laid atop of Danny’s. “And waste this opportunity now that we’ve gotten the all clear? Absolutely not. Where’d the desperate boy we’ve been seeing tonight go?” he teased, baring his neck to Danny as his boyfriend took advantage of the green light he’d been given and begun placing light kisses to his throat.

Against Sam’s skin, Danny murmured, “Oh, he’s right here, I promise. But, seriously. If you’re gonna fuck me, go get the lube.”

Sam lifted himself off and went to retrieve a tube out of the stash they had, coming back to a naked Danny on the bed (a sight Sam swore he would never get bored of), but only laid it by the pillows as he straddled Danny’s hips again.The room quieted as Sam took Danny’s mouth with his own, sighing into the kisses and reveling in the feeling of Danny’s tongue against his. He loved Danny’s lips - kissing, talking, sucking him off, singing in the shower, whatever – and loved that he got to do this.

Once he’d gotten his fill and Danny’s mouth was left red and a little slick and swollen, Sam smoothed his hands down Danny’s chest, slowly, gently, reverently. He purposefully stayed away from the erogenous zones he knew oh so well, and Danny eventually took issue with that.

“Sam,” he huffed after the third pass of Sam’s palms on his thighs, dick twitching in anticipation every time they got close and a drop of disappointment marring his face every time he passed it by, “are you gonna touch me or am I gonna have to do it myself?”

While the idea was attractive to Sam, he laced his fingers through Danny’s, peppering kisses over his face and neck. “Shhh, I will,” he hushed, “Let me take care of you. I told you I would, didn’t I? Can’t I?”

Sam stopped to look Danny in the eye, a softness there that Danny had loved since they were kids, when the only thoughts of romance manifested in stuck out tongues and expressions of disgust, and knew that Sam needed this just as much as he did. Perhaps by letting Sam take care of him, he could do the same for Sam.

He nodded, drawing one of his hands out of Sam’s to cup his cheek, the atmosphere still charged, but more tender, now. “You did. You can. Anything you want.”

A sweet smile graced Sam’s lips at the affirmation, and he slid the rest of his clothes off before he finally took Danny in hand, the stimulation making Danny sigh quietly and relax. While he set a slow pace with that hand, Sam reached for the lube again and expertly flipped the cap open with his thumb, readjusting their positions so that his hips were cradled between Danny’s thighs before he left Danny’s dick to slick up his fingers.

Some people were uncomfortable with quiet sex, trying to fill the awkward moments with moans and words and music and ambiance, but Sam and Danny were not those people.

They made noise when they felt compelled to do so, but in these beginning moments, when the initial touches were being made and their bodies began to sync up and tune into each other, they were content with the sound of skin on skin and the soft breaths of their lover to tell them where they were.

So, when Sam breached Danny’s body with his fingers, and the only sound that came out of Danny’s mouth was another sigh and an audible swallow, he smiled. He knew he was making his boy feel good. He knew he was taking care of him just as he needed to be.

However, while subtlety had its moments, Sam took infinite satisfaction in the sharp sound on the intake of a breath and Danny’s subsequent, “Sammy!” when he hit a good spot. He targeted that spot, then, first with the one finger he had, and then with the addition of another, and watched as he worked his boyfriend into quite a state of wanton desire. It was love, lust, desperation, and a certain brand of dependence born of a healthy relationship and vulnerability that he heard in the way Danny said his name and moved his hips and looked at him with those dark eyes that held so much love and joy.

Sam couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” he asked softly, returning an uncharacteristically serious pet name. “I wanna show you…how– how much I…”

For some reason, he couldn’t get the words out without feeling as though he’d break into a monologue. How much he loved Danny. How badly he’d been scared. How much he wanted to take care of him and smother him with affection and spoil him until nothing bad could ever happen to him again.

“Do it, Sammy, love,” Danny encouraged with a kiss to the palm of Sam’s free hand. “Show me.”

Drawing his fingers out and adding more lube to stoke onto himself, Sam made sure nothing would hurt and finally pushed himself into Danny with a low grunt - tight, hot, wet, and his - his, that was whole and healthy and with him now. “I will,” he whispered, “I’ll show you, I promise.”

And Danny wanted to tell him, you already have, but Sam’s hand was on his dick again and Sam’s mouth was on his throat, and Sam’s heart was beating in time with his own and he remembered that this was something Sam needed as well, as an assurance to himself.

Sam knew Danny understood. Not only did the man’s empathy make sure of that, but all of Sam’s love, fear, and dependence were reflected back to him in Danny. He began moving, pushing in deep and staying there with shallow thrusts so that he could plaster himself to Danny from head to toe with that connection that bridged the gap between them. The man underneath him whispered into Sam’s ear, sweet nothings alongside affirmations and praises.

“You take care of me so well,” Danny breathed, “you’re so good to me, Sammy. No one else could do it the way you do– you’re everything that I could ever need. The only thing.”

Sam nodded, picking up the pace a little bit to scratch that internal itch growing in both of them, trying to give Danny everything he had, everything he wanted. “Yeah,” he answered back, simple as that, knowing that Danny would pick up every unsaid word. “I know, Daniel.”

In the shared spaces that their mouths occupied, the air became damp and warm between the two of them, exhalations fanning across a new sheen of sweat and microscopic drops of moisture forming on each man’s skin. But still, Danny kept his arms firmly around Sam’s torso and Sam never moved from where he’d wedged both of his arms underneath Danny’s armpits, clutching them together via his back and shoulders – heat, at this point, be damned.

When Sam’s breaths became ragged, and his hips snapped forward just a little sharper, trying to bring them both to the edge, Danny started rolling his hips upward to place himself. “Just a little more,” Danny forced out, the knot in his stomach tightening and tightening until with one last, sloppy stroke from the tip of his cock to his balls, he whined, whimpered, and yipped out his pleasure in completion. Letting his orgasm rush through him, Danny buried his face at Sam’s temple as he bucked into Sam’s hand, coating it and his stomach with strings of come.

Sam, too, released his high moans just a minute later - short, desperate, staccato sounds that matched the jerk of hips into Danny as he let himself go.

Danny stroked Sam’s back as he came down, breathing hard against Danny’s neck before mouthing at the skin there, ‘I love you’s escaping from his throat and his heart and his lungs and soaking into Danny's consciousness.

“I love you, too,” Danny whispered back, not letting Sam pull out nor away and keeping him all to himself. “I love you so fucking much, and I’m sorry I scared you, today.”

But once again, at his admission to guilt, Sam shook his head. “Not your fault. I’m always gonna be scared. I…you know that I need you, too.”

“Yeah. I know.”

The A/C was still turned up to the max, and Danny shivered - his sweat actually working this time and cooling him down quickly. He murmured to Sam, wanting to know if he wanted to take a shower or just get up early and do it in the morning. Sam gently pulled himself out of Danny’s body with a small gasp, and immediately collapsed by his side, wrapping himself around the man in answer to his question.

Danny wasn’t going anywhere.

“Tomorrow,” Sam yawned. “Let’s just rest now.”

And Danny could deal with that.

~~~

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hostess-of-horror · 2 years

Text

A Taste of Sunlight

The Sequel to "Oath of Silence"...

Asked by @khanzi-salamander

Inspired by @winslowdraws

@tiramegtoons @darkmedolie @starleska @snailstrailz @medys-space @lemonbaloni

Content Includes: Blood Drinking, Sleep Paralysis, Flirting, Descriptions of Gore, and Slight Suggestiveness (not explicit NSFW)

---

"Muffin...", Chef Saltbaker purred into your ear from behind. Startled, you shot straight up from crouching. But then you relaxed. How clever... you were in the middle of making muffins for tomorrow's shift. He chuckled in amusement, his deep voice making you feel bashful. "Sorry for scaring you, sweetie pie." Chef Saltbaker giggled, planting a kiss on your cheek, "You look awfully tired. Are you sure you don't want to rest? I can finish up the last batch." He was right. Both he and you had a real busy day, and you agreed to take charge of making fresh treats. As much you wanted to finish the job, you knew that your needs were more important. You agreed, kissed him on his cheek, and went through the catacombs. After working in the bakery for a while now, you had found out that Chef Saltbaker's business was also his home.

Or rather, his "Tomb Sweet Tomb", as you jokingly called it.

Chef Saltbaker had the generosity of allowing you as his apprentice and roommate, since you didn't have the financial means to have your own house yet. He had turned the many funerary chambers into nicely decorated living quarters. The walls of coffins became shelves for pictures and trinkets, the floor was dusted and adorned with lovely patterns rugs, nicely cleaned furniture completed the space. You wondered how long had he been living under here, as you noticed a few older decorations placed around the rooms. The kind of decor that someone's great, great, great grandparents would have in their own house. If you were to guess, Chef Saltbaker had dwelled in these tombs for decades.

You went to your respective chamber. It was already well-made, but Chef Saltbaker had given you the freedom to make it your own. You had many freedoms, other than sharing the chores, and that, you believe, made him the best landlord to ever exist. Pictures - torn magazine pages, photos, drawings, and notes - sprawled across a stone wall. Wooden shelves and a desk provided the necessities and entertainment. Your bed was small, but comfortable, and it was placed up against the decorated wall. Not bad for your first rental. You removed your apron and work clothes to put on some sleepwear. The moment you sat onto your bed made you instantly drowsy. You finally laid down, your head on the pillow, and drifted off to sleep.

....

You opened your eyes. Everything was almost pitch black. Shadows blanketed the corners. Your body was frozen still, unable to move. Your heart pumped rapidly, your ribcage a steel prison trapping a wild, frenzied beast. Your eyes were staring up at the ceiling. Oh God... Not again! You steadied your breath. You've been through this before in the past, no need to panic. This sudden feeling was temporary, after all. But something isn't quite right. You kept feeling an odd sensation and it woke you up. With some struggle, you managed to move your eyes to glance over. You looked to your right.

How long had Chef Saltbaker been standing there?

A dark figure with glowing yellow eyes, he stood there, staring at you. A silent moment passes. He awakes from his stare. "O.. oh! Oh my goodness!" Chef Saltbaker spoke in a hushed tone, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you! And not only that, it seems that I've gotten you stuck in place. Doggone it... I thought I took control of this power. You're not... uncomfortable, are you?" You laid there in silence. "Oh... Right. You can't talk. Whoops... Um... My apologies for all of this. You're probably wondering why I'm here in your room. Well, it's because... I, uh... I'm a little bit peckish." He continued, "The little lady I had was a small one, not enough to fill me up for the night." Peckish? Oh dear. You knew this moment would come. However, you had no know idea whether to be frightened...

Or excited.

"A feisty one, too. Put up quite the fight. I actually felt bad for her after pulling her eyes out with the corkscrew. The eyes are the best part, you know. Surprisingly tasty and very, very juicy.", Chef Saltbaker continued as he approached to your bedside. Such mentions of goriness made you rather desensitized. After all, you were working with a creature of the night. Even taking in a few victims, albeit difficult, was nothing more than a daily chore to you now. Anything for survival and business. Chef Saltbaker sat down right next to you, twiddling his fingers. His lips thinned in embarrassment. The awkward silence filled the room. His eyes shifted around, his mind searching for the right words to say. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth to speak, only to lose his concentration.

"Gosh, I'm in quite the pickle, huh?", a flushed Chef Saltbaker chuckled, "I... I hoped... Uh, well, I mean, I would prefer that you have the ability to speak so that I can know if... if you're okay with it. I don't wanna go through with it if you're uncomfortable. I want to make sure that you - both of us - are in a mutual understanding." You blinked. The only part in your paralyzed body that you could move. Thank the stars, you could move your eyes! Shutting your eyes gave you great relief, exhausted as you were. Chef Saltbaker glanced up. In a moment of realization, he snapped his fingers. "Ah ha! Your eyes! You're blinking! Oh, this is great! I have an idea! Blink once for "yes", and blink twice for "no". Got it?"

Blink.

"Alright.", he paused, letting out a sigh, "Now... Are you sure you want to do this?"

Blink.

"Okay... Do you want me to do a count down before we begin?"

Blink, blink.

"Just making sure... Oh, Honeybun...", Chef Saltbaker growled, bright eyes full of hunger. You could not feel it, but you watched as he leaned over and wrapped his arm around your waist, hoisted up against his chest. A firm yet gentle embrace, his hands mindlessly caressing your back and up to your navel. Your eyes were glued to those familiar yellow-halo eyes - the sign of a creature's craving. But surely, you thought, there was more to his craving than that of your life force. A desire that a gentleman such as himself would have to hold back immensely, for he found himself unable to control the urge to kiss you. His lips were pressed against yours, as if it had been an eternity since he had seen them.You were the air that filled his lungs with life, and the blood that quenched his everlasting thirst.

Inhaling the scent of your hair, Chef Saltbaker buried himself into your neck. His mouth - his teeth - grazing your throat in between lingering kisses. The numbing sensation all over your body had begun to fade, but to your despair, slowly. Every touch was pure agony. You had robbed yourself of expectation, leaving yourself at the mercy of your lover's maddening passion. You wanted it. You could not deny it anymore, you wanted it! You needed it - ached for it! If not for your inability to speak, you would have gave in with a hysterical plea! To wrap your arms around his neck, to melt in his embrace, to surrender to an act that could so easily snuff out your life!

Oh, but if you were to die, then you would have let him be your Angel of Death.

Chef Saltbaker shifted, whispering in your ear, "I can't guarantee that this won't hurt. But I can promise this: it will be quite nothing you have ever experienced before." As you felt more of your body awaking up, a rumbling growl shook you to your core. His baritone voice, a delicacy for your senses, whispered once again, "Just relax... Close your eyes... And allow me to feed, my love." And with those words echoing inside your mind, your eyes rolled back into your skull as his bared fangs carved into your flesh.

The pain, at first, was an excruciating pinch, but only for a moment. Then Chef Saltbaker began to drink. Tiny sips that became pulsating waves traveling down your body. Finally gaining control of your arms, you gripped the back of his uniform. Your hands clutched the fabric tightly with every wave. Your back arched, pressing your chest against his. He was right. This was nothing like you had ever experienced before. But whatever this feeling was, by Golly, you wanted more of it. But such an addiction, just like many others, has its risks. Risks you were undoubtedly willing to take if it all meant for your undying love.

The thirst was exquisite. But the release - ah, the release from his bite! You were free from your paralysis, now wincing at the mark he made. It made you weak. He made you weak, and so did you to him. Drifting from reality and into deep slumber, you managed to catch a glimpse of Chef Saltbaker. His stained mouth was agape, relishing in his feast, licking the remaining blood off his lips. He lowered you down into your bed, his tongue savoring the wound one last time. "Oh... my stars...", Chef Saltbaker gasped, "You... taste like sunlight. Thank you, my sweet... You were absolutely divine..."

#chef saltbaker x reader #my writing #vampire chef saltbaker #cuphead the delicious last course #cuphead dlc #cuphead #the delicious last course

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doubledgesword-2 · 3 years

Text

Breeding Kink

I’m taking this as a kink instead so I hope that’s alright for the request! I apologize if it isn’t! I treated them like drabbles and if I’m honest I’m a bit disappointed in my work ;-; this rose tea is not my best.

Illumi

You opened your door to your pitch-black apartment with the same sluggishness and tiredness you had walking all the way from your work to here. Today had been one of those days, and those were fine once in a while...but the entire week? No, that was not normal. You had been on edge and stressed to the point of burning out. So the plans for this evening consisted of showering, eating something quick, and just dying on your bed. That was until you noticed the figure sitting on your sofa.

Illumi's back was to you; he was so still and quiet, you might as well think he fell asleep while sitting.

"You're late," his voice cut through the silence.

"I didn't know I was expected," you replied, and it was the truth; Illumi had left for a week on a job and didn't even called you. You weren't feeling particularly forgiving this evening, and the edge of your tone contrasted the calm and monotony in his

"It's been a long day, Illumi, is there anything I can do for you?"

Your relationship wasn't the best when it came to normal; there was a lot of miscommunication or lack of it. But Illumi did his best, he was interested in you, and that didn't happen often.

"As my love interest, you should always expect me is a quality that every wife should have. It's their job to wait for their husbands no matter how long they take" Illumi turned slightly to look into your eyes as he talked.

You perked up at the word wife; he had never made allusions to marriage, at least not directly like this. You knew his goals when it came to relationships. Still, you always expected him to leave you in the end for someone more suitable, almost royalty. After all, his parents were very demanding, and you knew you didn't fit the role of the perfect wife, starting with the fact that you worked a regular job and haven't found your nen if you even had one.

"But we're not married, Illumi. Besides, I don't think your parents would approve of someone as vain as me. I'm not strong, and I don't meet the qualifications. So..." you shrugged in the end, dropping your keys on the counter and your bag nearby.

Your hand went to flip the switch; all this talk in the darkness was unnerving you, especially when you took into consideration Illumi was an assassin. Right when you flipped the switch, Illumi's hand was on your wrist, turning off the lights once more. You could feel his toned chest as he pulled you close to him. For a second, you struggled in a fight or flight response, and Illumi's face went to the crook of your neck. His breath on your neck sent chills down your spine as he planted a feather-like kiss on your pulse. The action almost threatening, and it made you swallow. The fear and desire burned equally in your veins as he stretched your clothes, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses all the way to your shoulder.

"I think I've given you too much freedom. Do you think you're in control in this relationship?" He whispered to your shoulder, his other hand holding you tightly to him. "Do you think you can talk back to me just because you're tired? If you're going to be my wife, you need to learn how to behave properly."

Illumi slammed you down on the island counter, both of your hands twisted on your back held with one hand. You gasped and yelped as he did so. Whether it was from desire or fear, you didn't know. He bent over you, leaning close to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and whispering.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you" Illumi's free hand caressed your side, going down and squeezing everything he could. "The first lesson is to obey my every command. Can you do that?"

You nodded frantically, and he tilted his head innocently as if he wasn't holding you down or grinding into your hips slowly.

"Good girl" Illumi turned your body so you'd be laying on your back facing him. His hands went to your shirt, ripping it open, sending the buttons flying all around.

"Second, we have to continue the Zoldyck Legacy..." Illumi caressed a trail down your stomach and undid his pants, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I'll ensure you're filled to the brim, just to be sure it takes. We still have all night to try."

Hisoka

Hisoka had managed to find you where you were staying. You were on a short business trip. After he had disappeared to go on another gig, you didn't think it would matter if you actually did the same for the same reason. But Hisoka didn't like that. Like the petulant child he is, he was expecting to arrive home and be received and welcomed with a nice meal and some more relaxing activities afterward. But all he got was a nicely written note on the counter explaining your absence.

P.S feed your cat dummy :)

"Hmm," the cat meow made him look down to the fluff currently sitting at his feet, "She left you too, huh? Well, at least you welcomed me." He said in a bitterly playful tone.

After feeding the adorable and fearsome beast that guarded your apartment, he went on to look for you. He wanted your attention, and he wanted it now.

You had been staying at a company-paid hotel near the station. It was a relatively short trip, three days max, counting on everything going according to the agenda. After you had finished your last reports, you were set for a nice shower and sleep. Your stomach growling said otherwise, though. So you ordered some room service and went to shower quickly just in case the food came. When you were out in your robes, there was a knock on the door.

"Coming"

You opened the door, still drying your hair, when you looked up at the man serving you. It was Hisoka. Somewhere along the way, after he figured where you were, he had seen the boy coming up with your food, and once that was temporarily disposed of, he went on to serve you.

"Mmm, hello (Y/N)-Chan, how lovely to see you" he rolled the cart inside the room and closed the door by slamming you into it.

"Hisoka, w-what are you doing here?"

"I was lonely and bored. You left me all alone" He licked a trip up your neck all the way to your cheek.

"You leave alone all the time; what's the difference?" You were angry at that statement, 'how dare he?'

Hisoka's eyes widened for a split second, but not in shock, more in amusement.

"Oh," he chuckled, the tone dangerous, "my bad, little pet, I didn't realize this was such a sensitive topic" his tone was whimsical and mocking.

"Here, let's eat, and maybe you'll feel better" without giving you a chance, Hisoka grabbed your arms and flung you into the bed.

After your first release, you felt tired. You had been working nonstop for these two days. Your eyes closed, and his half-lidded ones are the last thing you remember.

"You actually passed out, doll. Was our sexy time too much to handle, or have I been mistreating you all these weeks I wasn't there, hmm~?"

You let out a breath at his playful look. He was rubbing circles on your exposed stomach while straddling you.

"Mmm, I think you're not relaxed enough; we might as well try again. After all, you let all my efforts slip out; I'll have to work hard to fill you up again~" he pouted playfully, looking over your tired form. "Don't worry, you can sleep while I'm at it, little fruit."

Chrollo

You were currently perched on your island counter chair like a vulture looking down at its prey. The entire week had been a mess of deadlines, due dates, and unhelpful people. To say you were stressed was an understatement. You were so stressed you no longer felt stressed.

That's how Chrollo found you when he entered your house. He could've used the front door, but he wanted to surprise you, and now he was worried about your confused face staring down the laptop screen.

You were so concentrated that when his hand laid on your shoulder, you jumped with a yelp.

"Argh, don't scare me like that," you chuckled, giving him a quick peck on the cheek but immediately turned to the computer screen once more.

Chrollo pouted slightly. He had been gone for an entirety of two weeks because of a small job; the least he expected was to be received with kisses, praise, and hugs like it was a kings parade.

He understood the stress, but he wasn't having it.

"Have you eaten anything?" He casually asked.

"Not really, but I can make you something if you want?" Chrollo gave a small smiled at the fact that you'd roll were willing to attend to him. You just needed to relax.

"Don't worry, love, I'll go shower" you nodded, and he turned, making his way down the hall and disappearing. You heard the water turn on muffled because of the closed door.

While you were concentrated on your work Chrollo slipped out of the bathroom, he grabbed you by the waist, spinning you and slamming you against the wall. His lips were possessive and angry as he kissed you. Sandwiched between his toned chest and the wall, you tried to push him back but eventually gave in to the way his fingers caressed your sides, his tongue forced yours into submission, and how he grinds his hips suggestively.

"Chrollo," you gasped when he finally let go of your swollen lips to suck on the skin of your neck. "I have to w-work."

At the mention of it, he bit down hard on your shoulder, making you Yelp.

"No more work" he licked the bite, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. "I just returned, expecting my little darling to receive me with kisses and at least one hug. But instead," his free hand grabbed your hips tightly enough to bruise, "you've overworked to the bone" your hands held his head close to your chest, ruffling his hair in the process and making him look even hotter.

"I-I"

"It's alright, I know how you can make it better" kiss on your shoulder.

"for both of us" kiss on your jaw.

"I'm going to shower, and you're coming with me; after getting on your knees for me, you can let me fill you up nicely."

"But-t" a moan slipped your lips as his knee went between your legs.

"And if you keep protesting, I'll just keep stuffing you until you can't think straight. See if you can work after that"

I hope this was good! I’m sorry if I butchered this 😭

#hisoka x reader #hisoka fanfiction #hunter x hunter fanfic #hunter xhunter #hxh #hisoka x y/n #hisoka morrow x reader #hisoka x you #hisoka morrow #illumi hunter x hunter #illumi x reader #illumi x you #illumi x y/n #chrollo hxh #chrollo x reader #chrollo x y/n #fanfiction requests

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littlestarofthewest · 3 years

Text

Forever ago request that I started long ago and finally finished. Hope you'll see this, anon.

Title: Saved by the Bell | Words: 2,611 | Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Arthur x female reader

You can't exactly tell when it started; you just know it's getting worse. For a few weeks now, you and Arthur have been dancing around each other, making jokes and comments that aren't solely friendly. You also don't remember who started it, but now that you're both in it, neither of you wants to give in and stop.

Somehow, Arthur always manages to do his work right in front of you, often needlessly shirtless, giving you a good look at his muscular body. In turn, you bend over way more than necessary, not caring if your clothes stay in place, exposing your cleavage or legs up to your thighs.

Today, it's one of those days again. Arthur is chopping wood, always in your frame of vision, once again refusing to wear a shirt. He only stops when you use helping Pearson as an excuse to lick your fingers clean at every chance you get.

Arthur disappears after that. You see him again when you're down by the river to clean some clothes. He washes barely a few steps away from you. Unlucky for him, you're not the most squeamish when it comes to cold water. Only dressed in your chemise, you don't care how the stream soaks the fabric, making it cling to your thighs.

By the time Arthur walks over to you, you managed to get a few splashes of water on your chest as well, letting your breasts shine through like a beacon in the night. Arthur's eyes clearly rest there for a moment before he looks at your face.

"Charles said you wanted to come on our next hunting trip. That true?" he asks.

"Sure, why wouldn't I?"

"Lots of wild animals out there. It's pretty dangerous."

You know he doesn't mean that. After all, you've been out with them before. The whole conversation is just another way of teasing you. Arthur is standing way closer than he has to or does with the other girls. Droplets of water are still searching their way through the hair on his chest to run down over his stomach before they find their end at the hem of his jeans, not allowed to venture any deeper. Just like your gaze.

After weeks and weeks of this, it begins to annoy you. "You know, the chance of being ravished by some wild beast out there doesn't scare me at all. In fact, it would be a nice change of pace."

Arthur needs a moment to process your answer, and something in his face and posture shifts. "Are you sure? You could get hurt."

He sounds way too serious, and maybe you should get to the bottom of it, but you're out of patience. You get up and pick up the basket with the clothes before leaning over to Arthur. "I'm tired of the chase, Arthur. If you want your prey, you shoot it, or you don't. You don't make it run until it wants to throw itself off a cliff just to put an end to it."

Arthur opens his mouth but doesn't say anything. At that moment, you decide that you don't want a man who can't be honest about what he wants. You gave Arthur enough hints, making clear that you wouldn't be opposed to taking it a step further with him. If he can't act on that, then you'll call it quits.

"Maybe I'll find someone else to hunt with," you say, walking away. For a brief moment, you have a flicker of hope that Arthur might hold you back, but the silence behind you is absolut. It's over.

[Line Break]

A week later, Arthur and Micah bring in a big score. They're the most unlikely pair out there, but Arthur is also the only one who can keep Micah in check aside from Dutch. Arthur chooses to work with him, so nobody else has to.

It's barely past noon, but a little celebration is born. People are singing and drinking, and while you're usually not much into booze, you make an exception this time. Micah, on the other hand, gets drunk faster than anybody else. That's probably why he tries to talk to you at all. You could never stand him and made that so clear that even a thickhead like Micah accepted that he should avoid you. Today, he seems to have forgotten all about that.

"Come on, doll. We've just gotten off to a bad start. I'm sure we can become friends."

The way he lets his eyes roam over your body makes it pretty clear that being friends is the last thing on his mind. Usually, you would have told him to get lost, but Arthur is walking over to get another beer, and an evil voice inside you tells you to get even.

"Friends, huh?" you say, reaching for the collar of Micah's shirt. You straighten it before running your fingers over his skin, playing with the little hairs on Micah's chest. "That all?"

Micah grins, trying to puff himself up. Instead, he sways dangerously, barely able to stand upright. "Oh, I can be more than that. Say the word, and I'll show you a good time."

It's not lost on you that Arthur hasn't moved from his spot. He's just standing there, listening in on your conversation. "Tell you what," you say, leaning over to Micah and dropping your voice, "I'll think about it, but you have to do a lot better than this."

Arthur drops the bottle he's holding, but Micah pays him no mind, too occupied with you. "Let's go right now."

"Get sober first," you say and push Micah, making him fall flat on his ass. You walk away, hearing Micah laugh behind you.

You hope that he's forgotten all about this when he wakes up. You don't have the nerve to keep him off your back again, but Arthur's reaction was worth it.

Not in the mood to participate in the festivities, you grab a basket from Pearson's wagon before venturing into the woods to find berries or mushrooms. The sun drops down through the trees, basking even the darkest places in a warm light. The bushes hang ripe with berries and picking a few, you wish everything was that easy.

You're about to move on when you hear something behind you. Pulling your knife out, you whisk around, the basket dropping to the floor. Arthur is coming out from behind a few trees, lifting up his hands as he sees you. "Just me."

"Why are you following me?"

"I was just heading into the woods," Arthur grunts. "Is that a crime now?"

You put away your knife and drop to your knees to collect the scattered berries. Arthur moves over to help you, annoying you even more. You can't be angry at him for being nice.

"Cowardice should be a crime," you murmur under your breath.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see how Arthur clenches his jaw, fighting not to give you an answer. Two berries later, he loses the battle. "I'm not a coward."

"If you say so."

"I'm not afraid," Arthur huffs, "just because I'm not an asshole like Micah."

You grab one of the berries so hard that it crushes in your hand. "At least he wants me and acted on it."

"Who says I don't want you?" Arthur hisses.

Your faces are only inches apart now, and you stay there to hold your ground. "If you want me, Arthur, you have to take me. You can't-"

You don't get a chance to finish the sentence. Arthur closes the gap between you and presses a hard kiss on your lips. At first, you're too stunned to react, but then you throw your arms around Arthur's neck, eager for more.

Spurred on by your reaction, Arthur moves closer, and you topple over into the grass, Arthur on top of you. He kisses you open-mouthed and sloppy, his hands digging into your sides. It's almost painful, but you can't hold back either, running your hands over his chest.

While opening his shirt, you rip off a button, and it flies away into the bushes, never to be seen again. Arthur kisses along your neck while his hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts. You arch your back, pressing up against him, and Arthur opens your dress. With quick fingers, he manages to work it down enough to expose you and leans in to kiss every inch he can reach. You thread your fingers into Arthur's hair and can't help that you pull on it when he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Finally," you gasp, and Arthur reaches down to pull up your dress.

His hand immediately goes to your center, his hand sneaking into your underwear to tease your pussy. With how long you've been waiting for this and the rough treatment of Arthur now, it's no surprise that you're soaking wet for him, and Arthur moans against your skin at the touch.

"You really want to get ravished, huh?" he murmurs, and this time you pull his hair on purpose.

"You really should listen better."

"Fine," Arthur grunts, something in his voice that makes your skin tingle in anticipation. "Turn around."

He gives you free and helps you along, rolling you onto your stomach. "Arthur, what-?"

You can't finish the question and let out a surprised squeal when Arthur grabs you by the waist and lifts you up, forcing you to go on all fours. He pushes your skirt up with the same enthusiasm as before and pulls down your underwear, just enough to have access.

For a moment, you can't feel Arthur but hear him rummaging around with his own clothes. Then, a warm hand finds your thigh, the touch setting butterflies free in your stomach. Arthur might talk about ravishing you, but doesn't have it in him to hurt you, still way more careful than you're used to.

He moves closer, making you feel his heat as he brushes his cock along your wet folds before pushing in. You claw your fingers into the ground under you as Arthur stretches you open, pushing in deep until he draws a soft cry from your lips. He stills then, hesitating once more.

"Arthur, please," you say, pushing back against him, "more."

Finally, Arthur moves with more confidence. He thrusts into you while his fingers dig into your hips, holding on to you for leverage. Knowing that you're not that far from camp, you try your best to stay quiet, but with the way Arthur treats you now, you can't suppress eager moans.

When you add the occasional "God, yes" and call out Arthur's name, he groans and goes even harder. You dig your hands into the ground and push back against Arthur, your insides on fire. It borders on being painful, but you still can't help begging for more.

Arthur runs his hand over your back and up your neck before he fists his fingers into your hair. The touch alone sends heat waves through your body, and then Arthur pulls. You're forced to lift your head to avoid the pain and hollow your back, lifting your ass even higher in the process.

Using the new angle, Arthur takes you without mercy, holding on to your hair. You're completely under his control, unable to move unless you want it to hurt. Cries of pleasure escape you, and without warning, Arthur pushes you down on the ground.

He only glides out of you to get into a new position, then he forces your legs apart with his own, pushing back into you. You groan when you feel Arthur's weight on you, and he grabs your hair again, making you lift your head.

"Is that what you wanted, sweetheart?" Arthur asks, something dark in his voice.

Before you can answer, he already thrusts into you, and you remember how you talked about being ravished by a wild beast. It seems Arthur finally takes your words to heart. He barely gives you a second to breathe, holding you in that limbo between pain and pleasure, and your only choice is to take what he gives you.

When Arthur finally lets go of your hair, he puts his hand around your throat, and although there's no pressure on it, the gesture alone has you whimpering.

"You're mine now," Arthur says, his breath hot against your ear. "No more joking around with Micah, you understand?"

"I was just-"

Arthur only moves his fingers, and you become quiet, barely able to breathe.

"Try that again," Arthur says, and you swallow hard, sure that Arthur can feel it.

"No Micah," you say, and Arthur hums, satisfied.

He picks up the pace, only interrupting the way he ruts into you to pull back and push in deep, making you cry out each time. By now, you're sure that at least one person in camp must have heard you, but Arthur gives you no chance to think about it.

He's everywhere, his voice, his touch, and his cock, filling you up so good that you're trembling with lust. You feel like you can barely take it anymore when Arthur reaches under you, his fingers pressing against your clit. Trapped between his hand and the constant thrusts, you can't hold on any longer.

"Arthur, I-" you manage to say but break off when your orgasm hits your core and rushes in waves through the rest of your body.

Arthur holds still as your muscles tighten around him, letting you set the pace for now. You push back against him, riding the last waves before your body relaxes and Arthur glides out of you.

He carefully turns you around, cupping your face with his hand. "You're alright?"

You lift your head to kiss him, a big smile hopping onto your face. "More than alright."

"Good," Arthur says, kissing you back, and you reach down between the two of you.

"Come here, big boy."

Arthur moans when you grab his cock, and when he tries to protest, you kiss him and hold on to his neck. This time, it's you who doesn't give him a chance to move, your hand sneaking into his hair.

Arthur curses against your lips as you tuck at a few strands and his cock pulses in your hand. He buries his face against your neck, his hips bucking, and finally, everything goes quiet.

You both take slow breaths before Arthur lies down next to you, staring up into the trees.

"You know, we could have done that months ago," you say, unable to keep the snide out of your voice.

Arthur huffs. It's a single, somewhat defeated sound coming from deep within. "I admit it, I'm an idiot."

You turn to him, running your hand over his chest. "It's my fault, too. I could have been more forward instead of waiting until even Micah made a move."

"I said no Micah," Arthur groans.

"What? If it wasn't for him, you never would have made a move," you tease. "You should thank-"

Arthur moves over so fast that you barely see it before his lips seal yours.

"I thank Micah in hell," he growls, fury in his eyes. "And I think I said no more Micah talk."

"Fine," you say, rolling your eyes, but you can't help the tingling feeling that his voice sends all over your body. "I'll shut up if you make me."

Arthur laughs and leans over you, his lips almost touching yours. He grabs a strand of your hair, letting it run through his fingers. "I think I know just the way to do that."

#arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #fulfilled requests #my writing #nsft

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mistaeq · 3 years

Text

the stardust crusaders' hogwarts adventure: HCs

tw // none

dora's note: is this dora posting? what the hell? yes it is, i'm finally working. hopefully. i promise i'm doing by best yes ^^ i felt like doing this today, so... finally got to finish a draft that has been there for quite a while.

DISCLAIMER !! y/n is NOT a student in joseph's HCs, they're a GROWN ADULT with a JOB. !!

taglist: @fragolaaaaaaa @outofthiszawarudo @sky1mercy @cheemerthebebopfreak @berryvalentine @yandere-lovebites @catboy-kira @komaeda-kinnie [if you wanna be removed or added, all it requires is a dm or an ask !!]

kujo jotaro

♥︎ when he first sat down under the sorting hat, he didn't know what to expect and did not care in which house he would have ended up. everyone in his family, though, always had been one of two precise houses: slytherin or hufflepuff. so, very deep down, he hoped in one of them. but a different one would have been cool with him too, he would have been the first in his family with a different house sorting. he waited for a time that seemed neverending, but earlier than expected, the sorting hat said: "slytherin."

♥︎ the two of you met for the first time during a quidditch tournament. jotaro was a seeker, one of the most precise ones hogwarts had ever had. you caused him an accident, running over him with your broom, causing the two of you to fall to the ground. needless to say, he held a grudge on you for several days, until you had to get along to train for quidditch again.

♥︎ you wouldn't expect it from a wizard like him, but his favourite subjects are care of magical creatures, to study them, protect them, and get on an empathetic level with them, and muggle studies, to get to know more about muggles, in honor of his father, kujo sadao, who's not a wizard.

♥︎ it didn't take long for jotaro to manage to manifest his patronus. he had tried to practice that spell, since before the arrival of the dementors at the school. the two of you used to practice together after quidditch trainings, making you the first person - apart from him, of course - to witness the awaking of his patronus: a beautiful dolphin, a symbol of intelligence and protection.

♥︎ you will probably have to be the one to ask him first out on a date. he's not the best one when it comes to grades, and he spends quite a lot of time with his friends, trying not to think about it. no, he doesn't really care about having the best marks. you should ask one of his best friends, kakyoin noriaki, about what to do to convince him to go out on a date with you. most likely, he'll say yes because he trusts you enough to feel safe.

♥︎ jotaro does not underestimate your powers and doesn't feel the need to constantly protect you, but he must admit that as soon as the teachers of defense against the dark arts start disappearing every year or try to attack the students themselves, he's a little bit worried about you. he starts showing up outside your classroom at the end of every lesson, to check on you and keep you company until you get to you next lesson's classroom.

kakyoin noriaki

♥︎ when he sat down under the sorting hat, he was really nervous. what if it said that he wasn't even a wizard? what if he ended up in a house that would have disappointed his family? the redhead was shaking like a leaf, even at the point that the sorting hat itself asked him to calm down to allow it to examinate him better. noriaki's terror soon disappeared, as soon as the hat spoke. "okay, okay, my guy. you can calm down. ravenclaw!"

♥︎ the two of you met for the first time in the library of the school. you were looking for a specific book, the one about the fantastic beasts of the wizarding world and where to find them, when a guy who wasn't looking where he was going, hit the ladder you were standing on, making you fall, right... in his arms. ugh, that sounded like a pathetic love story beginning. until you heard a giggle from the corner of the room. the guy that was making fun of that scene was kakyoin.

♥︎ noriaki's favourite subjects are transfiguration, since he always says he has a talent in transforming objects in what he wants, and defence against the dark arts, since he wishes to become a professor one day. why is it related to that? well, since the professors of defence against the dark arts seem to change every year for some reason, his turn will come sooner or later, or not?

♥︎ for kakyoin, it was a little bit more complicated to manifest his patronus. he kept on focusing on the technique and the way he had to move his wand, instead of focusing on his inner power and mind. but after many efforts, it finally showed up: a beautiful fox, symbol of wisdom and guidance. he told you first thing.

♥︎ noriaki will probably be the one to ask you out for a date first. but he would do it through a letter. he's smart enough to write one that will convince you that he's worth it and that he's perfect for you. the redhead can't imagine you already think of him as such. either way, the letter will be very sweer and heartfelt, even if a little bit awkward sometimes. but you'll say yes regardless, he put a lot of effort in it, and has always been respectful towards you.

♥︎ he wouldn't be much worried about you at first, hogwarts is a safe place for the students, after all, right? right? oh, what? in a bathroom the little hermione granger almost got killed by a troll? you know what, nevermind? the guy is gonna be glued to you the whole time, he'll even skip lessons for it, despite how much they mean for him. you're not gonna get attacked by anything, with him by your side.

muhammad avdol

♥︎ everyone envied him when he sat down under the sorting hat, because despite the young age at the time, he looked absolutely calm and collected. he had no anxiety, and his eyes were closed, in complete relaxation, as if him and the sorting hat had some sort of mental communication going on. his smile was endearing, his fingers intertwined in front of his chest. but the hat seemed to take a lot of time sorting him. "your heart said gryffindor, my dear boy. but your soul spoke hufflepuff to me." the hat declared. but then... "hufflepuff!"

♥︎ the two of you met for the first time on the stairs. yes, the ones that like to change. your books had fallen from your arms on the stairs, and since he was passing by, he decided to lend a helping hand. what you didn't notice, was that you were standing right between the stairs and the floor. when the stairs changed, hadn't it been for muhammad's quick reflex of pulling you on his side, you would have probably fallen down several floors.

♥︎ avdol is naturally gifted, when it comes to subjects like astronomy, or his favourite one, divination. he seems to be the only student who doesn't stare at mrs. trelawney as if she were completely crazy. the majority of the ravenclaws, his friend noriaki included, sometimes don't even listen to her. but avdol does, and he's completely in love with the subject.

♥︎ it hadn't been difficult at all for avdol, to manifest his patronus. almost natural, for him. you weren't there to witness it, but you studied and practiced with him for it several times. the last time he tried, a beautiful and graceful phoenix escaped muhammad's wand, symbol of resurrection and life after death, a patronus that the student took as a symbol of hope.

♥︎ none of you two will ask the other out for a date. the love between you and avdol would bloom spontaneously, without the need of dating. you would find yourselves behaving like a couple just naturally. he likes to give you tarot readings and to stargaze with you. the stargazing sessions are the ones that get the two of you closer to each other.

♥︎ avdol would be protective over you since the very beginning. he can sense something's off in the school, and his tarot readings about hogwarts's future keep getting darker and more mysterious everytime. but every single reading hints at an upcoming source of danger, that most likely would be voldemort, he supposes. he has to keep an eye on you. he's scared.

jean pierre polnareff

♥︎ oh boy, this guy was mad nervous when he sat down under the sorting hat. everything but slytherin, everything but slytherin. surely, he knew he wouldn't have ended up in ravenclaw. he wasn't that much of a smart guy, but he did his best. either way, everything would have been cool to him, apart from slytherin. it just didn't sit right to him. but luckily, before jean could ask the sorting hat why was it taking so long, it spoke. "okay, okay, i get it. gryffindor, no doubts!" it said, making the young wizard feel relieved.

♥︎ the two of you met for the first time while he was trying so hard to find his way to the next classroom he had to be in. the school was huge, and polnareff couldn't help but to get confused in the corridors. you offered him your help, but he tried to play it cool, running away and dropping a book. well, you would have brought it to him.

♥︎ polnareff's favourite subjects are charms and flying. they're pretty basic, but he finds them the coolest things about being a wizard. he's a huge fan of quidditch too, but he wouldn't see himself playing. flying lessons give him the same feeling of freedom though, and he loves it so much.

♥︎ it took pretty long for jean pierre to manifest his patronus. he just couldn't focus enough. you've been practising with him, and you manifested it first, so it would have been good to try to help him. until he managed to do it. from his wand, a beautiful horse was freed, a symbol of power, independence, freedom, and nobleness. you could tell jean was satisfied, and grateful to you for helping him in manifesting it.

♥︎ he'll definitely be the one to ask you out first, probably not much time after you helped him to manifest his patronus. that event made him so happy and made him grow so fond of you, that he genuinely wants to improve your relationship, and hopefully, get something more from it. hopefully your heart, hopefully a kiss. but he means it genuinely. he's not trying to exploit you to get your help with assignments. for real.

♥︎ as the years go by, polnareff would start noticing hogwarts isn't the same place that it's always been, or that dumbledore claimed it was. he grows more and more protective of you, every year a worse mess happens, and it's always connected to voldemort. he's not liking it at all. not to mention you're worried, since the gryffindors seem to be pretty involved in it. more than you and jean pierre like to admit. he knows something he's not telling.

joseph joestar

♥︎ in his youth, when he sat down under the sorting hat, he didn't give a shit of what house he would have been sorted in, all he wanted was just start learning magic stuff. joseph was laughing with some handsome boys and pretty girls at the table, and was hoping it wouldn't take long to sort him, his adventure had just started. but the hat actually took really little time to figure out where he was gonna go. "slytherin." it announced, almost immediately.

♥︎ going through the corridors of hogwarts reminds him of many years ago, when you first met. he would never forget the way you told him to go fuck himself, while he was just standing on a chair, reminding everyone that him and his best friend of the time, a young lucius malfoy, were the best kind of wizards because they were purebloods. that was a bunch of bullshit he truly used to believe. luckily, he grew up to understand it wasn't true.

♥︎ now, joseph is a teacher. the last student you would have expected to become one, but he did. a teacher of defense against the dark arts, and he's not planning on leaving anytime soon. he'll keep his eyes open, he heard teachers have been disappearing every year. not to mention a lot of scary stuff is happening at hogwarts. he didn't choose a good time to work.

♥︎ he's always been a quick learner, and he managed to manifest his patronus quicker than many of his classmates. a really cool eagle, a symbol of truth, majesty, strength. despite his attitude, it was clear that joseph was a good wizard, it had to be given to him. and you grew to be into it. to admire it. he secretly liked you, too.

♥︎ joseph took the first step towards you, but he didn't quite ask you out, let's say that to keep his cool, he TOLD you that you and him were gonna date. as if to announce you. you were okay with it, and didn't accept just because you were feeling forced. you accepted because you liked him, and recognized it as a great opportunity to get closer to him. you would have worked on improving the romantic field throughout your relationship.

♥︎ now that he's a teacher, he has to recognize that there's so much going on, that the students do not see. joseph is acknowledged about how dangerous the situation is getting, and more than ever, he reaches out to you, or phones you, no matter the fact that you're working. everyone is talking about voldemort, and he doesn't like the smallest bit of it. he just wants to make sure you're safe.

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jimlingss · 3 years

Note

It's B from @bang-tan-bitches and I would like to request a yandere fic. It can be BTS OT7 x reader or BTS member of your choice x reader. Similar to your amazing isekai story i would like something similar(a long one shot or a multi-chapter, your choice). Whether YN transmigrates to a game or a novel (not as a villain but maybe as a cannon fodder side character that has little importance to the story and just wants to lay low) but YN captures the attention of the love interest(s) and shit starts getting weird, intense, uncomfortable. Maybe it causes the supposed female lead to turn into the villain, maybe it causes the love interest(s) to turn into the villain(s). Maybe YN realizes that something is wrong with the story/game but can't figure it out. Idk. Time period doesn't matter. Modern. Ancient. Fairytale. Fantasy. Whatever.

If you can do this great! If you can't or don't want to, that's okay too. You're an amazing writer with so much talent and I'm really appreciative of all your work. Thank you for taking requests from your fans, I'm sure you've received a lot.

Take care! 😘💜💜💜

at the start of the pandemic, I was getting back into manga and manhwa and then after a few months, I dawdled off but recently, I’ve been getting back into it again haha so this request came at a pretty good time. Hopefully you won’t mind that I’ve taken some creative liberties with this request lol I think it’s more fun if I keep readers on their toes, including the requester.

On another note, I really shouldn’t be writing all my isekai’s with Taehyung as the main lead but he’s just so fitting asdfghjkl

↳ The Fox Bride

2.6k || 99% Light Fluff, 1% Angst || Kim Taehyung || Isekai!AU, Slight Yandere!AU, Nine-Tailed Fox!Taehyung

You are a tutorial character.

But you weren’t always. You still remember being a career woman in the twenty-first century, struggling with overtime and paying bills while trying to keep yourself fed. The success of that ranged from month to month. But more importantly, you still remember that night too.

It was rainy. Your car blew a flat tire. You pulled to the side of the highway and got out.

The last thing that registered was the deafening honk of the semi-truck.

Then you felt yourself flying upwards.

But when you landed, instead of colliding with the concrete and dying upon impact, you fell back onto your ass in the middle of a market on a dirt road. Transported back a thousand years ago.

Your purpose was fulfilled in the next two minutes.

“Are you alright?”

The male protagonist had stretched out his hand and helped you up. The hero. The main character. It was obvious with his bright red hair, shining eyes and bronze armour. He was so starkly different from the rest who were gray and drab, including you who was suddenly in a brown shapeless dress. He was practically a neon billboard in the middle of a graveyard.

“Are you Y/N?”

You looked at him, befuddled that he knew your name. But before you could even respond or provide a line of dialogue, he said, “This is a delivery from Baker Jeon. He gives you his thanks.”

The protagonists handed you a loaf of bread. Undoubtedly his first ever quest.

You looked down, not sure what to do with it.

“Do you know where the blacksmith is?”

You had absolutely no clue. But there was the deafening noise of hammering steel literally ten steps away. You would have to be blind not to see the gruff man shaping a sword at an anvil right on the road and deaf not to hear it. As if that wasn’t enough, the literal sign of the shop read: ‘the blacksmith’.

So you pointed.

“Thanks.” And he trudged off.

You were utterly confused until a background character who said they knew you waved you over. You shared your bread with her, brushed aside when she asked you what was wrong, and you followed her as she walked up to your supposed cottage.

All the while, you saw yourself in the background of the hero’s main quest as he ran through the town.

And that was that.

It wasn’t so hard to figure out where you were or what the hell this was when you put your mind to it. Without much of a job or a family, and no technology but the candle that you had to conserve when night fell, there was ample time.

So you spent it thinking and you eventually solved the mystery.

You were in Beast Boys Harem: A Forbidden Embrace. AKA. a dumb yaoi otome game app that you downloaded on your phone when you were sixteen and bored. You remember because you were too cheap to buy the routes, so you played the tutorial, prologue and read the summaries of the routes online. Now you regret that you didn’t just fork over the goddamn five dollars.

Even more than that, you regret that you even downloaded the game in the first place.

But at least you’re just a tutorial character. You’re free from the storyline and the plot—

That’s what you thought.

Turns out living a thousand years in the past in a fantasy realm as a woman didn’t bode well. It was probably no different from how it would’ve been like in the medieval ages. You had no trade skills. No one was willing to accept you as an apprentice when you were a woman. You found that you were essentially illiterate with a reading level of a preschooler, no one was willing to teach you, and you had no power or wealth when you were without a father or a husband.

And you’re certain what the landlord and tax-collectors are doing is illegal.

But in this world, in this unjust realm, there is no such thing as the law.

“We know you’re in there!”

You jolt from the heavy pounding on the frail wooden door.

“It’s time to pay up!”

Your hands tremble as you set the candle down that’s still billowing of smoke, the flame smothered out mere seconds ago. As much as you want to hide and pull the blanket over your head, you know that door won’t last. They’ll find you if you’re trapped in here.

“If you can’t, spread those legs of yours!” a low voice spits and there’s chortling from the men.

Someone adds, “Sell your body already!”

“Open up! Damn whore!”

Without a single possession but the white nightgown clad on your body, you open the latch of the back window. You cringe at the squeak, trying to keep your movements quiet before the door gives way.

You hoist yourself up onto the window ledge. The door bends with the strength of multiple clenched fists against it. Your feet touch the soft grass outside your cottage. The men shout.

And the door finally slams against the wall, hinges broken.

But by then, you’ve slipped into the shadows.

“Where is she?!”

The blanket is ripped off the bed, curtains are whipped back, every drawer dumped onto the ground and cupboards yanked open. The floor shakes with the weight of their boots and you press your palm to your mouth to silence your panting breaths, slowly stepping away.

“That damn whore slipped through us—!”

But as your shitty luck would have it, a sudden crack has the whole world coming to a standstill.

Shit. You look down at your feet, realizing that the snapping noise came from you stepping on a twig. And it’s exposed your hiding place.

“There she is!” — “Out the back window!”

You grab fistfuls of your dress and bolt.

“Get her!”

With your cottage on the edge of town, there’s nowhere to run but through the dense woods. It’s shrouded in the darkness, no doubt filled with wild beasts creeping through the thicket. The rustling canopy of the trees doesn’t allow the dim, waning moonlight to illuminate your path.

So you’re left blind. Struggling up the high incline of the forest, feet slipping on dirt and mud. But you keep sprinting with all your might, even when the pointed, coiling branches scrape at your calves until blood sheds and the hem of your dress tears in the underbrush.

“Run, little rabbit!” one of them mocks, “Run!”

The four men continue to give chase, gripping onto their roaring torches, shrieking and howling after you. One of them is manically laughing as if your efforts to flee only adds to the thrill. Their greased hands reach out to snatch you, but the tips of their fingers graze the ends of your hair.

Your teeth are sunk into the bottom of your lip, sobs breaking through your aching chest. Your lungs burn, dying for a break or moment of relief. But you don’t relent and luckily, you manage to build distance between you and the men. Only, that luck comes crashing down by a fucking hole.

A hole in the forest floor that you don’t see. That has your footing all wrong. That makes you scream and fall.

You twist your ankle in a direction it’s definitely not supposed to be in and cry from pain.

A second later, you force yourself to get up and keep running with tears flooding your eyes and dripping down your cheeks. But it’s more like limping than running, akin to hobbling on one leg and every movement has pain shooting from your swelling ankle.

The effort becomes futile. They surround you within minutes.

“All finished?” The tax-collector’s head cocks with a spreading grin. “You’re not going to keep running?”

Why couldn’t you just fucking die the first time?! Even if it was an awful death where you didn’t have time to prepare yourself or say goodbye to anyone, at least it would’ve been the end. At least you wouldn’t have to suffer.

But there’s no time to grieve. Or hate the new life you’ve been given. This is it. You have to keep going. You have to survive. By any means. You’re about to pick up a branch and uselessly wave it around at them, shout at them to stand back. Anything that you could do to save yourself—

“Who dares come onto my mountain?!”

There’s a deep timbre behind you. A husky voice that quivers the very core of the forest.

As if the wind has swept through, the trees and thicket rustle and it goes silent.

The men fall back onto their asses, some torches clattering to the ground. Their eyes have grown double in size, nearly falling from their sockets and their jaws have dropped to the dirt.

“I-It’s the nine-tailed fox!”

The man scrambles back.

“Demon!”

Another barely manages to get onto his feet. He turns around and lurches away while shrieking.

They all run. Scattering away as frantically as cockroaches when the light is flickered on.

From your spot on the ground, you turn around with wide eyes.

Amber irises meet your gawking and they practically glow in the darkness of the forest. He is dressed in a loose, white robe that’s draped over his frame, open to the middle of his chest. And over his honey hair, on the top of his head, his pointed golden ears twitch. By the torch fire still yet to die out, he is illuminated and his shadow is casted on the ground. The blazing flame warms his cold, sharp features.

He is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. In both worlds you’ve lived in.

And you know who he is.

Taehyung. One of the love interests of the hero. A seductive, sly creature that eventually coaxes the hero into selling him his soul to grant one of his wishes. But Taehyung grows to become an obsessed character that wants to do nothing but monopolize and possess the hero for himself.

That same Taehyung approaches you with his lip curled as you teeter to your feet.

“Run away, girl.” He leans close. “Before I eat you.”

“Stop!”

On sheer instinct and adrenaline, you push him back. Your palm shoves against his firm chest.

Taehyung stumbles back with his eyes becoming rounded. He looks down to where you had made contact against his body. “Did...you just touch me?”

“What?”

Taehyung’s head darts upwards and he captures your wrist in his hand, squeezing tightly. He tugs you in and on your swollen ankle, you stumble into him. Bodies flush against one another. Your face pressed to his warm chest. His arm coming around your waist to break your fall.

He is aghast.

“You’re not from this world.” Taehyung’s yellow eyes swirl as they gaze into you. “Where did you come from?”

…

It’s been three days.

“Wed me,” he begs for the seventy sixth time.

You don’t know why you’re keeping a count.

“No.”

You’re hugging your knees for warmth. The rice paper-paneled doors are slid open and letting in the chilly air. He doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold, but you don’t look at him for long.

You turn into the corner of his home while sitting on the tatami floors as if you’re putting yourself into time out. But you’d like to say it’s your privacy corner. It’s as private as this abode, which was basically one room, could get.

Taehyung sighs in frustration, placing his hand on his forehead. His teeth grit. “You’re only making this harder for yourself.” Your silence angers him more. “You can never leave.”

You turn over your shoulder to glare. “Even if I married you, you’d never let me leave anyway.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes on you and then smirks. “You’re right. Wed or unwed, I won’t let you out of my sight. You should feel grateful, girl. You’re the best human I’ve ever treated.”

You quietly scoff.

Maybe you should feel scared. Maybe you should tread more lightly. After all, he’s not a character to be trifled with.

But you know he needs you. That alone gives you power.

As a beast, Taehyung’s been trapped on this mountain by priests for centuries. The only way he can be free is by feeding off of sexual energy and breaking the barrier. But of course, they also cursed him to be unable to touch any woman in this universe.

You aren’t from this universe.

You jolt when you realize that while you were lost in thought, Taehyung’s crawled closer. He has a foxy smile, amber eyes searching your expression. “Maybe….maybe I’ll grant you a bit of freedom if you would just give into the temptation and let me have a taste of you.”

As cold as he looks, he is beautiful. He is mischievous when he smirks and sly when he speaks. You are utterly spellbound as you look into his irises. And the temptation he speaks of flickers in the warmth of your belly.

But you turn away.

“I already said we only do that kind of thing after marriage. And I will only marry someone I love.”

Taehyung draws back with an unamused scoff. “What a prudish world you’re from.”

He wanted you the moment you were brought to this house. With the intensity of his stare and your captivated state, you had let him pin you to his floor and you liked it. But then clarity came and you blurted that such an act only happens after marriage. A lie just to buy time.

You didn’t expect for the hero to arrive at Taehyung’s house the next day. With his red hair and bronze armour, he had gotten lost in the forest and knocked on the door. Before you could limp over and answer it, Taehyung jumped off the roof and confronted him.

The guy was thrown off the mountain within five minutes.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to have a steamy rendezvous. Taehyung was supposed to get the sexual energy from him!

The story was going off the rails. And you’re not sure what you’re even buying time for anymore.

The both of you know it’s only a matter of time before you break and succumb to his mesmerizing seduction.

Taehyung is cruel, ruthless, obsessive.

But what’s the most bewitching thing about him is the jarring contrast of when he’s clumsy and nurturing. It’s what he regards as his own weakness. What he hides from others. But you felt your heart waver two nights ago when you were shaken awake in the middle of twilight. When you peeked open your eye to see him gingerly wrapping your swollen ankle with bandages.

He looked beautiful in the pale moonlight, ears, tails, sharp features softened—

“Ow!” You wince as he squeezes your ankle, right on your injury.

“You think too much in your head,” he says and looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts.”

A sadistic smile tugs on Taehyung’s lips. He lets go, but only to lift your chin with his fingers. His plush lips are inches away, his breath warm on your skin and he gazes deep into you. “I won’t let you return to your world. I won’t let you run away. I won’t let anyone harm you.”

“You’re mine now.” Taehyung swears, “You’ll fall in love with me eventually.”

You gulp and he smirks.

The two of you know it’s only a matter of time.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #taehyung reader insert #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfiction #LET'S GOOOO

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aching-tummies · 3 years

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(Not exactly sure if I'm really doing this right but here we go.) If I was your partner... I'd take you someplace nice and encourage you to eat whatever you want. After a large meal I'd be the one to drive home, as your complaining of an upset stomach. Wanting a reaction, I'd take you down the secluded, bumpy road to see what happens.

A/N: Thanks for the lovely ask! I kind of deviated a little, incorporating some of what's been going on in my life lately (new job, stresses causing me to skip meals, the craving for pasta, etc.) The beginnings of this do delve into spiraling about weight(loss) and body image stuff a little...so if that's a trigger for people then this is your warning.

It’s been more than two years since we indulged in dine-in service at a place with non-disposable cutlery. I’ve been craving pasta for even longer than that. Creamy, garlic-y, non-reheated pasta served on a plate and twirled around a metal fork.

We haven’t taken any opportunities to celebrate for the last two years. Birthdays, holidays, promotions at work or major advancements in our career adventures—we’ve barely done anything more than acknowledge them as we both go to pick up extra shifts wherever it is that we have been working. Honestly, we’ve seen so little of each other that it wouldn’t surprise either of us if the other snuck in a job-change in the last two years. That all changes tonight.

A nearby pasta place is offering dine-in service. We booked a reservation for tonight—all you have to do is pick me up from work and we can head on over.

I’m the one that managed to sneak in a job-change in the craziness. Fast-food to office intern. I’m barely handling things. I’ve been beyond exhausted because the change happened suddenly. The office place demanded that I start with them on a whim (despite my only condition on hiring being the time to give my fast-food job the proper two week notice). Due to their abrupt “start now or we will move ahead with other candidates” ultimatum, I’ve been pulling 44+ hour weeks juggling two jobs located on opposite ends of the city.

Tonight is a celebration. Dine-in service by itself is already something to celebrate in my books, but you’re insisting that tonight is for me because I finally finished my dues to the fast-food place. The hellish four weeks of juggling is over. No more calls at midnight from me begging you to pick me up from some random quadrant of the city because I nodded off on the last bus home. No more days where I make it home from my office job only to get an urgent call from the fast-food place begging/demanding that I show up because someone cut work. No more packed weeks with no days off or time to even pack myself lunch. Hopefully no more nights where you have to peel me off of the floor because making it home was all I managed before passing out from exhaustion.

I’ve got an hour before you’re set to come pick me up from my office job. I can’t help but smile as I count down the minutes while working on editing some funding proposal that was shoved at me a couple of minutes ago.

My stomach grumbles at me and I clam up. I blush as I look around to ensure nobody heard it. The office is basically empty. All the other staff seem to have gone off to lunch. That’s something I’m going to have to get used to: the fact that there doesn’t seem to be a set schedule here…people head out to lunch whenever. As a petrified newbie, I haven’t had the guts to just take off whenever. The number of shifts where I’ve stayed here for a full eight hours and then navigated an hour and a half of transit transfers only to come home ravenous is pretty high.

Welp, if a stomach growls and nobody is here to hear it then I guess it doesn’t make a sound. I’ve got an hour left before you come to pick me up and we’re basically just two hours away from satisfying my years long pasta craving. Going out to hunt for food now would only spoil my appetite.

“I AM HERE!”

I giggle at the reference and accompanying gif you’ve sent to announce your arrival. I pack up my area and get up, saying ‘bye’ to Jerry on my way out. The second I walk out that door will mark the start of my days off for the week, something I haven’t had in over a month.

“Hi, sweetie!” I chirp as I open the passenger door and bend over to set down my bag.

As I settle in, folding myself into the car, the movements dislodge a deep rumble from my tummy. I freeze, arm still reaching out to close the door. You snicker at me with your left arm perched on your open window, fingers close to your face and highlighting that charming grin of yours that I love so much.

“Oi, close the door and we can get going.”

I do just that. With the door closed, you carefully back out of the parking space and off we go. We don’t get very far. Ah, the joys of rush hour. No use honking, Karen, you’re not ‘stuck in traffic’—you are traffic and there’s no manager for you to speak to here, moron!

I adjust my seat a little, leaning back and allowing myself to relax. I’ve done it. Tomorrow is a day off. And so is the next day. My first true weekend in over three years and my first days off in over three weeks. I can feel the tension ebbing out of me. My shoulders untense, leaving behind a distinct soreness.

My shoulders aren’t the only thing to stop tensing. Apparently, my abdominals decided to join in as well.

Grrr…RRRR…blr.br…rrr.

I blush and sit up, arms wrapping around my stomach as it continues to snarl at me. The growls come with the sharp pains of hunger pangs and I wince, hugging my tummy and pressing my arms against the pain. The grumbles are quickly drowned out by your laughter.

“Man, no wonder you say your coworkers don’t talk to you here. If I heard that coming from a newbie I’d be scared of ‘em too.”

“S-Shut up!” I don’t want to admit that my tummy has been growling very loudly at the office. I’ve skipped more lunches than I’ve eaten in my time here. I lean back in the seat again, arms crossed over my chest as I look away from you, pouting. I’m hungry enough that my stomach really hurts, I’m a panicking newbie at work that doesn’t know the ropes or what’s expected of them, and here you are teasing me.

Your right hand reaches over but instead of stopping on the shift stick it continues further until your palm finds my stomach. The gentle pressure and the warmth of your palm nudging right over where my stomach joins my intestines aids in the relaxation of my tensed muscles and brings forth another loud grumble from my guts. You move your hand slightly, patting and rubbing my flat tummy absentmindedly as you keep the rest of you focused on traffic.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Y-Yeah…” I don’t want to admit that I’m happy about it. My waistband was loose enough to fall to my thighs before I put my belt on this morning. I love it but you and I both know weight and eating are sore subjects for me. I bite my tongue to keep from asking whether or not you think the weight loss is a good thing or not. Your tone was flat—it was an observation. The fact that I’ve been too busy and stressed out to have time to eat (or digest properly when I do) has led to the rapid shedding of pounds. Not just in the last three or four weeks, but for a long time yet. The reasons for the weight loss aren’t good…but I really do like the results, so I don’t want to hear it from you…good or bad…I don’t want to hear it. Thankfully, you don’t push the issue. Traffic picks up and you remove your hand from my stomach and put it back on the wheel.

My stomach continues to gripe and snarl as we make our way through the city at a crawl. I no longer have work to distract me and your impromptu massage has definitely woken the beast in my guts. ‘Starving’ doesn’t even begin to cover how my stomach feels. I’m starting to feel the other effects of the lack of food too. Light-headedness, feeling cold, and a limpness in my limbs. I want to press my arms into my stomach to quell some of the ache and the noises but I just can’t seem to summon the strength to put enough pressure on it. I wish you had kept your hand on my tummy. As much as your touch intensified the hunger, the pressure of your hand on my stomach was kind of comforting. Ugh…this is all wrong. We’ve been together long enough to know that both of us are into tummy stuff. Any other opportunity we’d be all over each other right now. Your mention of the weight I’ve lost and the silence that has followed since is filling me with anxiety. Under normal circumstances you’d have parked the car somewhere to tease my hungry tummy into oblivion. The fact that we’re currently driving in silence when there’s a golden kink opportunity in the palm of our hands is worrisome to me. Suddenly I don’t feel so good about the weight I’ve lost. I like it. It made me look totally bomb in my new office clothes. Buttons don’t strain even when I bend over or stretch. I spend the rest of the car ride lost in my anxieties. I’m not at an unhealthy weight. Sure, losing it is a testament of the stress I’ve been under lately…but it’s not like I’ve been intentionally skipping meals or fixating on some unachievable body image or something. This isn’t about the weight or anything, it was just a happy consequence of the hectic times I’ve gone through.

We arrive at the restaurant and you get out, expecting me to follow. I’ve managed to work myself into a ball of anxiety in the passenger seat and I don’t move. You pause on the sidewalk when you see me still strapped inside the car. You walk over and open the passenger door.

“Babe?” You see me petrified and chewing on my lip—a tell-tale sign I’m fighting some internal battle. “What’s wrong?” You cup my cheek with your hand, thumb going to pull my lower lip away from my teeth.

“Huh? Wha?” My gaze sharpens as I’m brought back to reality. I didn’t even realize we’ve arrived.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Uhm…w-well…y-you said…n-nevermind.” I unbuckle the seatbelt and step out of the car. You frown as you think back on what I meant about you having said something.

“Oh, about the weight loss?” I freeze. Bingo. “Babe—I didn’t mean anything by it, honest. Just an observation.” You scratch at the back of your head. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately and gosh knows neither of us has had time to cook or pack lunches. I was just thinking that maybe we should work on that together. Going hungry so often sounds like a dream, kink-wise…but neither of us has had time for that lately. I was going to suggest creating a mealplan or something together, maybe bringing out the slow cooker and freezing some stuff so that we can just grab and go for work going forward.” I stumble over and rest my head on your shoulder, giving a slight nod.

I’m overwhelmed. One thing you said sent me spiraling and you just pulled me out of it.

“Ugh…don’t do that again.”

You smirk. “I won’t. Rather than think yourself into a hole over that, you should really think about what it is you want to eat. We’re ordering off the full menu tonight.”

My eyes widen. The full menu has more selection but it’s way more expensive. Every time we’ve come here in the past, we have always ordered off the specials menu—the discounted, half-size portions that they offer. You smile seeing my stunned reaction.

“Birthdays, holidays—and Sweets, you got a job! You got a job where you don’t have to deal with the dreaded ‘customer’. I’m proud of you, Sweets. This…this is supposed to be a celebration…right? For all the celebrating we haven’t been able to do in…damn, how long has it been—” Your rambling is cut off when I seal your lips with mine. I step back with a grin, watching the dumbfounded, wide-eyed expression pass over to you ‘cuz I’m usually the no-kissy-touchy type.

“Chicken parm with garlic, angel-hair pasta in cream sauce.” I know exactly what I want to order. I’ve known it for over two years. That dish has been taunting me in my dreams for over two years. When I chew on my pillow in my sleep ‘cuz I skipped dinner in lieu of sleep I’m dreaming about that dish. The last time I had it from here was with my parents—long before I met you—for a birthday when I was still in grade school. My stomach growls, punctuating my declaration. The sound shocks you out of your reverie and you slide an arm around my waist, resting your palm against my stomach as you feel all the empty rumbles reverberating beneath your palm.

“Alright. Guess we better walk in before they give away our table…or before you decide it’s quicker just to eat me here in the parking lot.”

Ugh…how am I already full? There’s still so much food on the plate. So, so much. Urrgh…

My stomach silently gripes at me. A sickly, sticky feeling is blooming in my guts. I’m sated but there is still far too much food on my plate. The full menu is more expensive, but they fill the plate up more and often use bigger plates. I’ve forgotten just how big, and my tummy is suffering. Two years is a long time to go without something and I’ve gone without fulfilling my craving for pasta in cream sauce for over two years, maybe even three. That’s a long time…long enough for my stomach to forget how to handle cream sauce, apparently.

I’ve only swallowed about a fifth of my plate and my stomach already feels heavy. The warm bread to start and the bites of chicken parmesan cutlet went down alright. They lined my stomach comfortably and my digestive tract knew exactly how to handle them. The first couple of bites of pasta were cushioned by the bread and chicken. When that lining dissolved away and more of the pasta came into contact with my gastric juices, I realized there was a problem.

My stomach pounced on the bites of bread and the water and cola I chased it down with. I could practically feel my duodenum yawning wide to suck in the masticated bread, my intestines just as hungry for it as I have been all day. When it had to contend with the cream sauce things started to slow down. I can feel a backlog of stuff sitting in my stomach, refusing to be broken down further into a form that will comfortably move onto my intestines. I’m chewing a lot more, my mouth creating more saliva. I feel sick. My stomach doesn’t hurt, yet, but it’s definitely going to as it fights with the creamy, oily pasta.

“Ooh…they’ve got tiramisu here.” You’re eyeing the dessert menu. “It’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah…but it’s expensive and this is a lotta food.”

“We’re supposed to be celebrating, Sweets. We’ll take whatever you don’t finish to-go. Leftovers are a Godsend, remember? C’mon, let’s live a little.”

I feel a weight settle in my stomach as you flag down a passing wait-staff and order a tiramisu. To share, thank God. My stomach churns in vain, serving only to churn up the mess of creamy pasta and chicken without moving it along further in the digestive process. The sphincter to my duodenum is squeezed tight, refusing passage to the foreign cream and oil mix that it doesn’t seem to recognize.

I managed to finish just under half of my plate before the dessert arrived. I decided to throw in the towel and asked for the rest to be packed up to-go. I put on a smile as we share the dessert and hope it’s not as shaky as my guts feel. The dessert is delicious. Rich, flavorful, and perfect. If only I didn’t have to feel it sickeningly sliding down my esophagus, plopping down heavily into a stomach crammed much too full with indigestible pasta. As my stomach clenches and churns things around the creamy tiramisu is going to get incorporated with the rest of the mess. It’s going to make it thicker and creamier…as if it wasn’t already too thick and too creamy for my duodenum to open up and allow it to wreak havoc in my intestines. As sick as my overstuffed stomach feels, I am a little grateful that my duodenum is being a stubborn prick.

If the creamy mess had passed into my intestines, I’d be doubled over in the bathroom right now, rubbing futilely at my revolting intestines. I know what dairy does to my guts. It doesn’t usually happen, just when I’m stressed or it’s close to that time of the month. It’s nasty and it hurts bad enough that I honestly think hell is enduring those cramping intestines for eternity.

We finish the tiramisu. You offer me the lion’s share, but I refuse and push it back to you with a mention on my stomach being really full. I bring my hands to my stomach and I catch the way your eyes smolder at the sight. Good. Yes. Get us home quickly, darling.

You pay for the meal, and we are off. I clutch my tummy behind my bag as we walk out to the car. Every step sends aftershocks into my guts and it’s really upsetting things in my stomach.

As I settle in the passenger seat, I notice the buttons on my blouse are a little bit strained around my stomach. Horror sets in and I quickly fumble to get the buttons undone. I don’t want to ruin my shirt and the sight of the straining buttons triggers something nasty in my mind. I calm down a little once the buttons are undone and I rub my tummy under the cover of my bag, palms running up and down the dark undershirt that is draped snugly over my full belly.

“It’s still early. Want to really paint the town red and see if we can catch a movie somewhere?”

I swallow back a sickly belch to answer your question, my questing hands churning up the mess in my guts and dislodging air pockets.

“Umph…n-no…let’s go home.”

“Sweets, you okay?” Your voice is laced with concern. Surely you can hear the sickly squelching from my guts. Do I have to spell it out for you?

“Hmm? No,” I blush as I fidget and grapple with whether or not to come clean. I’m shy about this kind of stuff—you’re my partner though and have been for a long time—we’re both into tummy stuff—we haven’t done anything on this front in a very long time. Making my decision, I move my back over to the floor, resting it against my shins and I lean back, allowing you full view of my distended tummy with my blouse undone. “I just…uhm…m-my tummy’s kinda…upset…I just really want to get home.” My stomach burbles sickly throughout our conversation. I have both my hands on the rounded curve of it, rubbing at tender spots with my thumbs.

Your eyes widen at the sight of my belly rounding out my undershirt. You start the car and pull out of our stall. Instead of righting the car onto the road you keep backing into a more secluded spot on the far end of the lot. This one is obscured by an overgrown bush or tree on the passenger side.

I haven’t even bothered with getting my seatbelt on. I was too caught up in my indigestion to think of it despite it normally being a habit. To be fair, I don’t think the seatbelt is a good idea with my tummy so bloated and sore.

“What are you—”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn in your seat, giving me your full attention. My seat is still reclined a little further than normal from the drive over. Gently, you put a hand on my shoulder, indicating for me not to sit up. Your eyes briefly meet mine and convey your plan before they go back to fixating on my belly.

I relax my arms, letting them rest at my sides as you slide a hand over the crest of my bloated gut. I bite back a groan as the slight pressure of your hand increases the pressure in my intestines. My stomach is packed full with an indigestible mass of creamy pasta. My duodenum is not allowing any of that entry into my intestines so they sit, bloated with air. The ingredients for a very upset tummy are inside of me…they just need a bit of a push to act as a catalyst.

The push comes in the form of a literal push as you place both hands, one on each side of my tummy, and squeeze. I bite back a mewl of pain until the pressure relents and you are sliding your hands all over my taut tummy.

“Oh my…you really are full.”

“Ugh…haven’t…haven’t eaten so much in a long time.” I groan as your hands churn up the mess in my guts. You know what you’re doing. You felt the firmness in my upper left and you know that everything is sitting heavy in my stomach. You focus your massage on my left, on the area where my duodenum is. You rub and nudge and coax at the area, intent on getting the sphincters to unclench and allow my meal to continue to digest.

“Oh…ah!” I can’t help but cry out a little as I feel my duodenum flood with the lumpy mess. A rumbling, wet burble indicates when the sphincter finally gives up and allows the mess in my stomach passage. My stomach acid wasn’t enough to break down the creamy, oily pasta so it’s entering my intestines relatively undigested.

After ten minutes of you massaging my belly, (in)digestion is in full swing. My intestines are filling up with the ache-inducing mass and the straining pressure that started in my stomach has now spread all over my abdomen. You reach over and pull down my seat belt, buckling it before reaching over to get my seat back into an upright position. My stomach cramps sharply with the change in orientation and my mewl of pain is cut off by a harsh belch. You pat my tummy almost teasingly as you right yourself in your seat and start the car.

I don’t bother to keep track of where we are heading. You could be taking me to the movies, intent on letting my indigestion stew for a couple of hours, or you could be driving us home. I don’t care. I can’t care because every ounce of me is focused on the sharp pains exploding all over my guts as the car hits every bump in the road. Damned city not bothering to spend money to fix the thousands of pot-holes in our roads. My stomach is just as vocal as I am about the indigestion.

You brake sharply, causing the seatbelt to dig into my tummy and tear a sharp gasp of pain from me. I see the road ahead of us…it’s not a road at all but literally the worst road in our city. This stretch of road is famous even outside of our city for just how bumpy and nasty it is. People scrape the undercarriage of their cars if they aren’t careful in avoiding the potholes that litter this thing like craters on the moon. People have lost pieces of their cars and done massive damage to their vehicles by driving down this road. People around here know to avoid this road. The alternative is a ten minute detour to take the safer, newer road and everyone agrees that ten minutes more is better than damaging their car on this road so it is always empty.

“Darling, no—”

You floor it, going down the secluded road at a high speed. We hit every bump and hole in the thing (that won’t damage the car)…you used to come down this thing often and you’re a master at navigating it to avoid damage to the vehicle. Damage to my tummy, on the other hand.

My stomach gives off aborted grumbles and gripes, each one interrupted as we hit another bump in the road. My tummy sloshes and churns. Digestion had stalled without your hands pushing everything along, but this new form of “massage” in the form of a very bumpy ride is kick starting things all over again…in the wrong direction. Stuff swirls inside of my stomach and I swear that it’s filling up rather than emptying. The pressure is building in my stomach. I’d like to believe it’s the air from my intestines, but I’m sure we managed to get most of that out with your massage in the parking lot.

"Ugh…ouch…ah—ow! Ungh…my tummy…urp…my tummy…ulp…” I can’t help it. Belches and protests roll through my throat, unchecked. It’s better than the alternative of something solid, I guess. The road has increased the upset tenfold as I clutch my stomach in both hands. The road has dialed the cramping pains up to eleven and many more aches and tender spots have erupted thanks to the bumpy ride. We’re about halfway through the road when I feel something solid tickling at my esophagus.

“Ugh—Babe—STOP!” I reach up and slap a hand over my mouth, fearing that we’re about to see my dinner come back out.

You slam on the brakes and the pressure from the seatbelt is what does it. My mouth fills with the sour mess of barely-digested pasta.

“Ugh…urk…” I swallow back the bile. It’s nasty, but there’s no receptacle and I don’t want to stink up the car. Luckily, this wasn’t a true vomiting session triggered internally—it was basically regurgitation brought on by external factors—like the seatbelt putting too much pressure on my over-packed tummy. My stomach snarls violently at the return of the sickly concoction.

You watch my struggle, fascinated. Reaching over, you put a hand on my palm, a hand that is quickly slapped away as I give you the fiercest glare I can muster.

“None of that until you get me home, darling.”

You grin, exaggerating taking your foot off of the brake pedal. I realize my poor phrasing a moment too late.

“As you command, Sweets.”

“Darling, no—”

#AT Asks #indigestion #tummy kink #tummy ache

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sparkbeast20 · 3 years

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You're my Treasure (Mammon X MC) Pt3

The Blue Lotus petals (series)

As a fan of Beauty X Beast pairing, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I’ll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them.

(spoiler for lesson 1-55)

Pt1 Pt2

Warning: Swearing, Demonic nature, Harassment, mention of Violence, Sexually Suggestive, Tension, and Implies, before sex

but no actually sex/smut/NSFW. (I can't write smut/NSFW I'm not good at it and I like more teasing and suggestive/tension before sex)

Previously

While you two are showing affection, Simeon covered Luke’s eyes and Solomon laughs at the two of you. As the lunch continue on.

“G-good evening, Lord Diavolo” Mammon pokes his head through the opened door of the student council room.

“Ah! Mammon, please coming in” Diavolo gesture him to come inside, Mammon nodded came in an shut the door behind him. He took a deep breath and start walking over to Diavolo, who is sitting at his desk looking over some paper work, and Barbatos who is standing beside the young prince.

Mammon stops right before reaching the desk, and stiffly bow to Diavolo.

“I came to say I’m sorry for putting y/n endanger last night” He held his bow, waiting for Diavolo to speak, but every passing second, he could hear his heart beat fast, then he hears someone walking away. Barbatos, because he didn’t hear the chair move. Then Diavolo finally broke the silent with not too stern voice

“Mammon, I am disappointed at you, both Lucifer and I place y/n under your protection because we trust you. What if y/n gets hurt again~”

“I will never let that happen again!” Diavolo eyes widen at Mammon’s serious statement. He a stood up straight and looks up to Diavolo. With both seriousness, determination, and something feral in his eyes.

Still have his composure, Diavolo is taken a back with Mammon changed in demeanor, he doesn’t why but he’ll let Mammon action speak itself.

Diavolo let out a sigh and look at Mammon with his signature cheerful smile. “Very well Mammon, but this is your last chances. Do not let this happen again”

Mammon thanks Diavolo, and start heading out when Barbatos walk up to him.

“Mammon before you go, I want you to take this” Barbatos hands over a jar filled with blue lotus petals.

“Huh? I still have plenty at home, I don’t need more petals Barbatos” he said it while shoving his hand in his pocket.

“You can be too careful now, beside I want to give it~” Mammon eyes widen causing Barbatos push himself.

Mammon turns to the door, rushing over and push open the door hastily. He snarls at what he sees.

You sitting on the bench across the Hall, look at you D.D.D not trying to look at the Demon towering over, who seem to try annoy you. Suddenly Mammon can hear what the demon is saying.

“Come on, you have to admit that you, humans break so easily. Then why not you your pact with the brothers and call them for help~”

“I have Mammon with me, why would I call one of his brothers for help?”

“He didn’t do anything to Basto, all he did was a couple of scratches. So much for being second of the lords”

“If your just here to provoke me, then just leave I don’t have time for this I’m just wait for- HEY!” the demon swipe your D.D.D out of your hand and start dangling it above up.

“Oh, now you’re looking at me, I’m flattered”

“Give it back!” you try to reach it, but he was too quick and start toying with you.

“Or what! You can’t do anything with a broken arm~” someone grab the back of his neck and pulling him away, causing the D.D.D to fall out of his hand, you manage to catch it.

Mammon is dragging the demon like a misbehaving child, then he throws the demon to the nearby lockers.

The demon tries to get up, but stopped by Mammon stomp his foot close to the demon’s face. He looks up to Mammon who is looking at the demon with a threating look on his face and his iris is glowing.

“Pretty cocky of ya to threating my mate like that, why? ya thought that I would be too weak and a puss to do anything! Well guess what” he grabs the demon by the jacket with one hand, pull him up and slam he back at the lockers making the metal bended. Then move closer to the demon’s ear. “The next time I see you anywhere near my mate again…. I’ll kill ya” in a deeper voice and chilling happy tone.

With one last slam to the locker, Mammon let go and let the demon slide down on the floor shaken with a terrified look on his face.

Mammon turns around walk back to you.

“Mammon are you~”

“I’m fine come on, lets get to purgatory hall we don’t Luke waiting” he places one arm over your shoulder, and you two starts walking out of RAD and heading to Purgatory Hall.

“It’s so sweet for Luke to make us cupcakes” you said it with a cheerful smile on your face, you have your arm wrapped around Mammon's, who’s carry two boxes of cupcakes. As you two head back home.

“Maybe my lucky is coming around, that little pup made cakes on right time” Mammon back to his usual self.

“Mmm…. Nah, I think he made them for you specifically since you were having a bad day, he does see you like an older brother” you said calmly. Causing him to blush.

“Of course, The Great Mammon is his Mentor after all” and there it is, the old Mammon resurfaces. All you can do is chuckle and shake your head at his full of his self-attituded. “Hey what so funny?”

“Oh nothing….” You look at him with a playful grin plastered on your face.

“Hmm…. laugh all ya want now, once we get back home~” but someone screaming something cuts him off, grabbing both of your attention.

“Oh, maybe is a weird sales man, try to sell something fake…. Like a certain demon” you said it in your teasing voice.

“yer, pushing your luck babe. Alright let see what that nut job is blabbing about.” You two start heading to the screaming.

Once you got there, a demon is ranting, scream, or warning about the creatures depicted in an old tapestry.

“The original sins are coming back, and they will bring back the true Absolut hell”

“Oh great, is those kind of demon” Mammon groans in annoyance.

“I could see what you mean, but I like what’s on the tapestry, their kinda cute”

“Ha? You find them Cute?” you exaltedly nodded at him, and look that the tapestry.

He followed your sight and took a longer look at the things you’re talking about. his eyes widen to the realization on what are on the old dust cloth.

It’s him and his brothers in their demonic form within each section of the tapestry. Most are unrecognizable due to how damaged the cloth was, the only ones that he can clearly see was Lucifer, Levi, Asmo, Belphie and himself. The latter which he can’t take his eyes off.

Seeing his demonic form again, made him to remember his time being that form. How he can fly so fast a thunderous sound can be heard, or how he can easily maneuver through cramp spaces like in the woods, or how his more limbered than his brothers he is, and how so much of that thing can be threatening.

“Mammon?” your voice snaps him out of his trances, he looks back to you with melancholy look on his face. “Are you okay?” with a worry tone in your voice.

He blinks a couple, shook his head and smile with his eyes close. “Yeah, I’m good it’s just I remember something, come on let back before Lucifer thinks we when somewhere we shouldn’t” you nod in respond, and you two starts walking.

As you walk, Mammon kisses the top of your head, causing you to hum in complete bliss, as farther you two walks. Mammon glaze over his shoulder, and look back at the tapestry wondering if that thing can ever come back.

“Yo! Were back” Mammon said it while walking in the common room, with the boxes of cupcakes in his hands.

“Oh…is that for us” Asmo perk up when he saw the box. Levi turns to see Mammon and take off his headset, and Beel is already drooling in the mouth knowing what’s inside the boxes. The three are the only ones there.

“One box is for Beel, and the other one is for us to share. So, be nice” Mammon sat down on the couch and place the box of cupcakes on the table, and slide one box to Beel, who grab it and start eating a cupcake.

“Where’s y/n are they supposed to be~”

“Before you say anymore, yes y/n was with me, they just head up to our room to changes so, no worry, Levi” Mammon interrupts Levi’s questioning.

Levi just pouts and go grab a cupcake, and went back on watching an anime on his D.D.D.

Asmo with a cheeky look on his face, flattering his eye leashes at Mammon. Cleary have something to share.

“Alright Asmo, spill it”

“Wow… bold today aren’t we, well I couldn’t blame you”

“What are you talking about?” Mammon raises a brow at Asmo. He grabs his D.D.D and show it to Mammon.

“Someone took this photo of you” On the screen is a picture of Mammon dragging the demon by the scruff of his neck. “I do say, I never thought you have it in you, Mammon. Is this compensation for what happen last night” Asmo taunt Mammon, who lean forward, grab hold of the device and turning it off? And lean back on the couch now with one leg place at top his lap.

A stun Asmo looks at Mammon, he blinks and set the D.D.D on the table, then fixes himself with his legs cross, his elbow resting on his lap with the back of his hands supporting his chin. And with a smug look on his face. “Oh Mammon, acting like that never happen won’t stop me from teasing you about it. But never imagine that was the one that actually made you more of a badass, I like what you turning into”

“I didn’t do it because of the of the casino thing. I did because that piece of shit was harassing y/n while I was at the student council room, I sense y/n was in distress so, I walk out saw the dip shit and deal with him. And making sure he never came near me or my mate” the last part sounded different from the rest. Drawing the attention of Levi and Beel.

“Ah…. Mammon are you okay?” Beel voice his concern to his older brother, who just give him a widen smile. “I am, after lunch I never felt this great in years. Like something just woke up inside me after I told Solomon off, for being a dick…... and don’t worry Asmo were all cool now.” Asmo soft his face after hearing that, Mammon smile and reach out to grab a cupcake.

He was about to eat it, when something pops up in his mind. He stares at the cupcake and glaze over to his brothers.

“So, me and y/n pass by a crazy old demon on are way back home. He was yelling about something about us”

“Oh! What was it about? Was they talking about how handsome I am?” but Mammon shook his head at Asmo.

“Nah…. You wouldn’t like it. He was talking about us in are demonic form and calling us the original sins” Asmo groan at Mammon’s remark. “Ugh…just hearing demonic makes my skin crawl and also the “original sins” makes us seem old”

“I don’t know I kinda like it, it kinda makes us more epic and cooler like were some sort of legendary beings. It’s like “My classmate was the god of beast and man” Now I want to hear what that old man said” Levi chime in.

“I hear “original sins” before are you sure he was talking about us?” Beel asks Mammon.

“Yeah! He has an old ass cloth thing that had me, Lucifer, Levi, Asmo and Belphie on it. While you and Satan are torn out of it”

“Huh? Now I want to see it” Levi perks up when he hears his name and that there’s something other than word vomit.

“Eh! Why is my form in tack? It should be removed immediately; my fan can see me like that.” Asmo is being dramatic as usual.

“Don’t even bother, I was standing right Infront of the old coot didn’t know I was the thing that his yelling at people about, it’s kinda funny……... so, if you’re worry that your fans see that side of you, you’re wasting your time worry. If the old coot didn’t know, then so are your fans.” Mammon laughs, and Asmo pouts and grabs his D.D.D and start typing at it.

However, Mammon can shake this feeling, and want to know something.

“Hey, do you guys wonder what’s is like if we stayed like that?” only met with both Levi and Asmo shake their head no, not even looking at Mammon and looking at their devices. Only Beel look over to Mammon with a cornered look.

“Why asks that?”

“Seeing those drawing, made me think and look back~” Mammon was cut off, by Asmo groaning.

“Ugh! You sound like Satan right now; you know when he when into a “I want to changes back” phase. I’m so glad that he drops that and move on to annoying Lucifer”

“Yeah” Levi interjects “If I was still in my demonic form, I couldn’t enjoy the things I like right now. Not watching anime because you can’t watch it underwater and I need a really big body of water, and I can’t read manga because it’ll get wet and I have no arms or hands to hold, and I can’t……….”

Eventually the other three tune him out, and Beel asks.

“And beside aren’t we dangerous when we are in those forms. I couldn’t remember anything when I was that!”

Before Mammon could asks again, he heard your foot step getting louder.

“Oi no demonic talk Infront of y/n got it” Mammon aggressively whispers to his brothers.

“But you’re the one…... Ah forget it” Levi just gave up.

“What you guys talking about?” you came in the room, and walk over to the couch and sat next to Mammon, who immediately place his arm on your shoulders.

“Oh nothing, just give my little bros some life advice” Mammon smile at you, then Asmo let out a fake cough.

“Really what kind of life advice?” Mammon bites his mouth to your unexpected question, while Levi and Asmo sneaker in the background.

“Uh…… well” he looks away and rubs the back of his neck with the arm on you, trying to an answer. While you look at him with such innocent look on you face.

he glazes over to you and ha an idea, look back and smile to you and gave you the cupcake that he was supposed to eat and took a bite. “Advice on pleasing their significant other” both Levi and Asmo stop laughing and straight their back after hearing that.

After swallowing, you look back at Mammon “Oh and those are?”

“Making sure their well feed” Beel nodded to that. “Grooming them” he fixes you hair and shirt and “accentually” unbutton one. Then he cups you face and lean towards you, and playfully lick the frosting on the corner of your mouth. “And always make them flustered” he pulled away. Leaving you stunned and your face turns red.

Levi drops his D.D.D., Asmo quickly covered his mouth, and Beel almost choke to what they just witness right Infront of them.

Your heart beating fast and you don’t why. For what ever reason you started to feel warm and fuzzy inside. Asmo can sense it, your started be lustful right now. Your eyes show it and Mammon notices it, he took the cupcake out of you hands and place it on the table.

Then he slowly looks over to you with a smirk, he’s teasing you and you can’t take it anymore. You pounce and wrap your arms around his neck and start kissing him relentlessly. And he didn’t pull away in fact he places one hand on your waist and the other vigorously rub against your back.

All the while the other three demon in the room with you two are shock, stunned and/or mortified.

“I want you to destroy me right now Mammon” you said it seductively, causing Mammon to growl.

“Good thing we don’t have classes tomorrow otherwise I have to carry ya all around campus”

“Why what will you gonna do to me?” you teasing by playing innocent.

“you’ll see” he quickly bites you on the neck causing you to yelp, and you felt him laughing. He quickly hooks your legs and stood up and leap over the couch and run out the room with you holding on to him tightly.

As Mammon foot steps start to faint, Belphie peaking his head through the doorway of the common room and look over to frozen demons inside. Then a door slam shut snaping them out of it.

“W-what was that!” Levi screams

“Asmo what did you do to them?” Belphie asks in a shock manner

“You think I want to see Mammon like that. As if” Asmo hugging himself “that was my worst nightmare”

Levi straight out faint in his chair and Asmo start rubbing his hands all over his body, like his taking a shower, and Belphie stare at his pillow. However, Beel is more corner about his older brother sudden changed and that was the one that planting the seed of worried and fear in his mind.

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me reader x mammon #obey me monster love #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me blue lotus petals

91 notes · View notes

fairydxll · 3 years

Text

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐨𝐲

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

↳ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 | uh fighting? Lmk if anything.

↳ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2124

𝐚/𝐧 ~ sorry I haven't updated this story in a while. But I'm back now!

masterlist | series masterlist | taglist

<- previous chapter

After a couple of days, Rory kinda got used to her new "home." Since Tony didn't know how long it would be before they went back to California, and with Pepper gone, they decided it was best if Rory just took a break from school.

Rory did eventually grow to like her new room. She was not allowed to leave the current floor, so she basically just spent all of her time there. Tony was gone all day and didn't get home until very late at night, meaning Rory had to have food delivered. She didn't mind, though. She figured that if they end up staying, she'll be able to tell Tony what all the good restaurants are.

Tony never told her anything about why they were here with the exception of, "Daddy has business."

So in order to pass the time, Rory would read or watch movies. She even took up drawing which turned out to be something she isn't too bad at.

This morning, Tony was already gone by the time Rory got up, so she got dressed and migrated to the living area. She sat on one of the couches near the large window and began sketching the tall buildings surrounding her.

As she finished the shading on one of the skyscrapers, she peered back up to see a tall man with long, black hair dressed in what looked like a Halloween costume standing on the terrace. Rory put down her sketchbook and looked closer. He was very tall and had large, golden horns that decorated the top of his head. She had no clue as to why this man was standing outside of her window on her father's building.

Rory looked to her right and noticed her father, in the Iron Man suit, land on the landing pad. The man just stood there, watching as machines swiftly removed the armor from Tony's body.

The strange man made his way into the room from the balcony. The room she was in. Rory didn't know what to do. She was frozen, scared. Instead of running away as any sane person would, Rory remained in her chair.

The large man entered the room. He studied his surroundings, his eyes eventually landing on Rory. "Who might you be?" He asked with disdain.

Rory could do nothing but blink at him, too afraid to speak. He opened his mouth to say more, only to be interrupted by the presence of Tony. "Rory, come here," Tony said blankly.

Rory immediately dropped her things and ran to her father's side. Tony wrapped his arm around her protectively, hoping to shield her with his body.

The man watched this all happen before finally speaking, "Please tell me you're going to appeal to my humanity." He spoke as if she weren't there.

"Actually I'm planning to threaten you," Tony responded. Rory couldn't sense any different emotions other than his natural sarcastic tone.

"You should have left your armor on for that," the man bantered, walking closer to Tony and Rory.

"Yeah," Tony pushed Rory behind the bar. "It's seen a bit of mileage, and you've got the glow stick of destiny." Rory crouched down below the bar and pulled her knees into her chest. She couldn't help but let tears stain her cheeks, afraid of what was happening. "Would you like a drink?" Tony asked the man as he walked behind the bar, actively trying to ignore you in hopes you wouldn't become a target.

Rory heard the other man laugh. "Stalling me won't change anything," he said. If Rory knew what it meant, she would describe their conversation as passive-aggressive.

"No, no. threatening." Tony began making himself a drink. "No drink? You sure? I'm having one.

"The Chitauri are coming. Nothing will change that." His words sounded like gibberish to Rory. "What have I to fear?"

Rory watched her father casually make a drink as if nothing was wrong. "The Avengers. That's what we call ourselves. We're sort of like a team." Rory had no idea what he was going on about. ""Earth's mightiest heroes"-type thing."

"Yes, I've met them."

"Yea," Tony's smile helped calm Rory down. He had to have the situation under control, right? "It takes us a while to get any traction, I'll give you that one. But let's do a headcount, here. Your brother, the demi-god," demi-god? "A super-soldier, a living legend who kind of lives up to the legend." He secretly slipped a metal-looking band on each wrist.

"A man with breathtaking anger-management issues, a couple of master assassins, and you, big fella," none of his words were making any sense. "You've managed to piss off every single one of them."

"That was the plan."

"Not a great plan," Tony walked past you and out from the bar. "When they come, and they will, they'll come for you."

"I have an army."

"We have a hulk."

Rory finally gathered enough courage and stood up carefully. She peeked her head over the bar to watch the men while also trying to stay out of the way. Tony was approaching the man as they spoke; the man keeping his ground.

"I thought the beast had wandered off," the man said.

"You're missing the point. There's no throne," Tony's voice rose slightly. "There is no version of this where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes and maybe it's too much for us, but it's all on you. Because if we can't protect the Earth, you can be damn well sure we'll avenge it."

Tony took a sip of his drink while the man took a few steps closer, a scowl spreading across his features. "How will your friends have time for me when they're so busy fighting you?"

For the first time since this scene began, Tony looked scared. The man brought his scepter-looking thing up and tapped it against Tony's chest with a clang noise. The man's face dropped for a second before he tried a second time, and then a third. "This usually works."

Tony didn't look scared anymore. "Well, performance issues, it's not uncommon. One out of five--" his sentence was cut short when the man forcefully grabbed Tony's throat and threw him onto the floor. Rory squealed and then immediately covered her mouth.

The man turned his head in Rory's direction with a puzzled look. He turned away from her as soon as Tony stood up and went for his neck again. "You will all fall before me," he said.

"Deploy!" Tony called before the man threw him out the window, shattering the glass. Rory screamed with all her might. Did she just watch her Dad be murdered? What was he going to do to her?

Rory hid behind the bar once more, watching and listening closely to her surroundings. A loud sound rippled through the room causing Rory to throw her hands over her ears to block out the noise. She peeked over the bar and saw nothing but more shards of glass and broken furniture.

The man stared Rory down. "Who are you?"

Rory gulped, "who are you?"

He chuckled. "I am Loki, of Asgard. I'm surprised you have not yet heard of me." His tone was a lot softer with her than it was with her father. "What is your name, little one?"

"Rory," she nervously answered his question. "My name is Rory."

"Let me guess; Stark's child?" She didn't say anything. Rory simply nodded. "Ah I see," he gave you an almost heartwarming smile. "Come here, Rory."

Fearing she had no other choice, Rory walked over to Loki and he crouched down to meet her gaze. He smiled at her. Rory watched her father fly up behind him. She was more than thrilled to see her father alive and more tears fell from her eyes.

"And one more thing," Loki's face dropped and he spun around to face Tony. "Get away from my daughter!" Tony shot at Loki, sending him flying backward. Rory jumped out of the way, too stunned to do anything else. With Loki knocked out, Tony looked towards his daughter, "Rory go hide, now!" He flew away into the sky, and Rory wasted no time in running to her bedroom.

She slammed the door shut and locked it. She looked around her room for anything that she could put in front of the door to make it harder to reach her. Rory tried to move the couch, but it was no use. It was too heavy for a ten-year-old to manage. She tugged on her roots as she spotted her desk chair. Once it was securely tucked under the knob, Rory ran over to her window to watch what was unfolding.

Rory couldn't help herself as she began to sob. She was afraid and she was alone. There was nothing she could do to help. Tons of thousands of aliens flooded the skies and streets of New York as Rory sat up in her bedroom, watching. She was sobbing uncontrollably as she pressed her face and hands into the large window.

More loud noises were flowing from the living area into Rory's bedroom and Rory could do nothing to stop them. She hoped that the man who called himself Loki was gone and that her Dad was alright.

At this moment, Rory really felt like a child. She felt small and helpless. Lonely and afraid. There was nothing else she could do except watch. She had no clue as to what she was watching either, which was not making her feel any better.

At long last, the aliens seemed to dissipate and things seemed to calm down. It looked to Rory like the fight was over. But who won?

Rory was drawn away from her thoughts by the sound of her father's voice calling her name. She nearly sprinted out. She ran up to Tony and engulfed him in the tightest bear hug she could manage. He was still in his suit and covered in dirt, but neither seemed to mind.

"I was afraid," Rory murmured into his neck.

"I know, bubs." They pulled away from the hug and Rory got the chance to really see the other people in the room.

There was a giant-sized man with green skin, a man with a shield, a man with a bow and arrow, a man with a red cape and long hair, and what looked like Natalie, only with shorter hair. They looked odd. As if they were straight out of a movie. She noticed Loki in handcuffs. He looked angry and sad at the same time. Rory didn't really know what he did, but she knew he lost and her dad won.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tony held a silver case in one hand and Rory's in the other as he walked alongside the other Avengers waiting to send Loki away. Tony had made it very clear that from now on, Rory would not be leaving his side.

Rory let go of her Dad's hand to let him deal with the case. Thor, as he had told Rory to call him, led Loki a few feet away from everyone else. He waited for Loki to grab hold of the glass container for the Tesseract. Before she knew it, the pair had disappeared in a storm of blue.

Once everything else was settled, Tony reached for Rory's hand again and walked her over to the rest of the Avengers. "Rory there's some people I'd like you to meet," he motioned to the team. "That's Capsicle, Legolas, Jolly Green, and the Triple Imposter. This is Rory." The others shook their heads at Tony's nicknames.

"Steve," the tall, blonde man smiled and Rory shook his hand.

"Bruce," the shorter man with grey hair politely smiled and waved.

"Yea," Nat showed you a friendly smile to which you returned. "Nice to finally meet you, officially."

"And I'm Clint," the last man with spiky hair and sunglasses introduced himself.

"Hi," you said, shyly and waved at them all.

"Bubs, you go wait in the car I'll be there in a sec," said Tony.

"Okay. It was nice meeting you all!" You said as you walked to the car.

"You ready to go, kiddo?" Tony asked as he got in the car and fastened his seatbelt.

"Are we going home? Like, back to Malibu?" you asked as he started the car and pulled out.

"Yea," he smiled. "I think we deserve a break."

"What about the tower?"

"We're working on it. It'll be fixed in no time."

"Good," you sighed

"Good?"

"I don't mind it anymore. I don't think it would be so bad if we moved here."

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Really."

Next chapter ->

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

🏷 ↴

Marvel:

↪︎ @sunday-kindoflove @1-800-simpforluke @tomhollandslilslut @elizabethrosecresswell @lestersglitterglue @devilswaldorf @whitechapelpsychobabble @hoodpankow @summerillyxx @mycosmicparadise @captian-kenobiwan @msmimimerton

Peter Parker:

↪︎ @bxtchboy69 @doll-skin-n-teeth @victoriaholland @grecala @rorybutnotgilmore @hallecarey1 @poguesvixen @chipot-lol @myguiltypleasures21 @dylanstilinskiposts @boba-king-iroh @pantherhappy @whoschantel @imawhoreforu @dracomalfoys-wh0re

Tony Stark:

↪︎ @hermayone @secretsthathauntus

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jamesbuchananbarnesslut · 3 years

Text

Monster Hunter Ch. 1

Pairing: Will Ransome x Female Reader

Words: 1,516

Summary: The year was 1893 in Aldwinter Essex and William Ransome, vicar, has been battling with his towns people and the myth of monsters. Especially, after strange things keep happening in town, most recently an earthquake and even children and locals reporting the sighting of a blackwater beast. Although Will, himself doesn't believe in monsters he's been struggling to convince the town people otherwise. The problem further escalates when men of the town all begin having similar dreams and describe the same woman appearing in them. After each person has these dreams, they seem to be weaker either physically or mentally and, in most cases, have been found dead. The dreams also only started occurring after a new spinster named Y/N moved in on the outskirts of town. With all the increasing rumors, Will is forced to step in and begin to decipher what's happening especially whether he believes these things are real.

Warnings: yes there is smut in the first piece, but it’s just with Will’s wife. Fingering and P in the V

Tiny Tag List: @venusofthehardsells @spooky1980

Notes: This story first of all wouldn’t be happening without @venusofthehardsells she was the on who first introduced me to these Tom Hiddleston photos. Which in thus created a thirst and need for a fic. But the fic is now a series! I also have not actually read The Essex Serpent and have no idea how the show is going to go, so this is my OWN interpretation and telling of his character. Please enjoy, like, reblog, and leave lots of comments!

Master List

Series Master List

--------------------------------------------------------------

Will's P.O.V

I had spent another long grueling day arguing with the members of my communion about whether the myths and monsters circulating our small town were real. The rumors began last summer and only thus worsened. I'm at my wits end with it all, and just need a way to qualm what the town is currently feeling. As I worked my way back into my office, I couldn't help but think that the new spinster, Y/N, on the outskirts of town had to have something to do with this all. Considering she had moved in around last summer when the blackwater beast stories first presented themselves. But now that she, herself, was appearing in men's dreams, and then a lot of those men found dead. It was suspicious and she surely has something to do with it all, maybe if not monsters and myths than some type of black magic or witchery.

By the time I made it back to my office I couldn't help but pull out my hidden bottle of gin and pour myself a drink before I sat down. I manage to swallow the drink all in one swig and end up pouring myself another. Sitting down at my desk with the bottle, I press my fingers to my temples and hunch over the desk. Pondering what's been happening to my small town and why everything's suddenly topsy-turvy. I also can't help but think about how this is going to further affect the towns faith in God, especially thier view him. While my thoughts are still swirling, I throw back my second drink and decide to pour another.

As if I have a chance to relax though, there's an overflowing pile of paperwork on my desk I still need to sort out. As well as a stack of mail that's been neglected for far too long. That's when I decide it's time to down my third drink and start sorting through the paperwork and at least categorizing it. By the time I finish organizing I have a stack of marriage certificates, christenings, new memberships, and even a decent amount of death certificates. The mail will have to wait until the morning I haven't been home all week; I keep falling asleep in my office or waking up somewhere in the pews. But I know my wife is beginning to worry and I should probably make my way home before I get stuck here.

I pour myself one final drink for the road, throw it back and begin to push myself to my feet. I tuck the gin back in its hiding place within the bookshelf and begin to shut down the building while heading out. Specifically, blowing out all the candles, turning off oil lamps and locking the doors. Even in a buzzed stupor those are things I never forget.

I stumble down the steps of the church and make it to the cobblestone street heading towards home. Even though there aren't many streetlamps providing light, there's a clear sky and a full moon making everything gleam and glisten in the dark. As I continue my march home, I pass one of the local pubs and see none other than Y/N, herself outside it. Conversing with John Smith, one of the older blacksmiths. It seems to be a deep intimate moment, that I interrupt by holding my gaze towards them too long. Catching their attention and weird glares back. I tip my head to them and continue walking, hoping I haven't soured their mood.

By the time I make it home, I can see all the oil lamps are off and two candles going, one in my bedroom meaning the Mrs.'s is up reading or waiting for me. And one in the kitchen, she must have put leftovers out for me. How many times has that this happened this week? I don't want to disturb anybody, so I enter the house through the rear door that leads directly into the kitchen. There's a plate of cold food on the table for me, that I scarf down ravenously. With how little I've been home; I really haven't been eating either. Once I'm done, I rinse off the dishes, setting them aside to be washed in the morning and blow out the candle.

I slowly make my way upstairs and begin to plot ways to get myself out of this argument with my wife. Maybe because the kids were still sleeping, she'd put off the spat and wait till she sent them off too school or her parents. Either way I wasn't prepared to walk in and find her sitting naked in the candlelight. It's almost like she knew I'd finally make my way home tonight. That or she's been truly waiting each night like this for my return home. Either way I didn't deserve a woman as good as her.

Her sultry voice broke my shocked stupor, "I was beginning to wonder when I'd ever see you again."

I run my hands through my hair, a nervous habit, and work up a response, "you know, I can't rest easy until I convince everyone that this blackwater serpent isn't real. And now I have reports of Y/N appearing in men's dreams and a lot of those men begin found dead within a couple days or weeks shortly thereafter."

I must have been running my mouth because by the time I look to my wife again she is already up from the bed and stripping me of my clothing.

"I understand that this is a huge deal honey, but you can't keep burning the candle at both ends and pushing yourself like this," she states while finishing pulling the reaming clothes from my body. "Come, join me in bed maybe if I provide my wifely duties, I can help break you out of this stump." Which is followed by her hands caressing my chest and moving up towards my neck, face and into my hair. Where she pulls my gaze to hers to get a clear look in my eyes. I know she can see how tired and stressed out I am.

I let her pull me into bed, she makes it so I land on top of her, and I can't help but agree that now would be a good time to have sex. It also means she isn't mad or at least she's trying to amend things this way instead. I begin to kiss her and settle myself in between her legs where my member begins to harden against her. Our kissing becomes passionate, and I feel her entrance slicken. I slide my fingers along her slit and begin to spread her wetness around causing mewls to spill from her mouth into mine. Once she's decently wet, I slip a finger and then two into her, working them at a steady pace. While I move my lips to her chest and tell her she must quiet herself or else she'll wake the children in a hushed mummer.

After I feel her cum around my finger, I work that same hand over my member, making sure to get it nice and wet. Then I line myself up with her entrance and push in slowly, while putting my hand over her mouth.

"You just can't help yourself tonight my dear," I mumble into her ear while giving her a chance to adjust to my member in her. She bites my hand, a clear sign I need to get a move on, and I begin to push myself in and out of her tight channel. The pace isn't slow for long though and I begin pounding into her. Her whines spilling out but muffled behind my hand.

"I know your close again, cum with me yeah?" She nods and with that I drop my hips lower changing the angle. Which immediately triggers her orgasm, causing her tight channel to milk me and pushing me into my orgasm. I pump my seed into her and then roll of to the side. Pulling her tightly into my arms I drift off into sleep thinking about Y/N, John Smith, and the rumors circulating our small town.

#will ransome #will ransome x y/n #will ransome x you #will ransome x female reader #will ransome x reader #the essex serpent #will ransome imagine #fanfiction #will ransome fanfiction #jamesbuchananbarnesslutwrites #jamesbuchananbarnesslut writes #tom hiddelson

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bamfdaddio · 3 years

Text

X-Men Abridged: 1978

The X-Men, those take-me-to-the-ballgame mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 109 - 116) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne, Tony Dezuniga

Yes, the plan here is to toss Kurt at Magneto and yes, it’s objectively the best panel of 1978. (X-Men 113)

If the X-Men were a tv-show, the Phoenix mending the M’Kraan Crystal would probably have been the finale of season 1 of X-Men: the New Generation. Now that we’ve had this big finish, Claremont takes his time to sow new plot seeds and navigate his team of merry mutants in new directions. Compared to 1977, 1978 is a lot more laid back, with smaller arcs and more character moments.

Take the first two issues of the year, for example. The victorious X-Men come home from their space capers and for a moment, all is well. Ororo is a plant mommy, Kurt is a grade-A cutey and Jean comes out to her parents as the Phoenix. (Intrigued? Read more here.) And, because Moira going back home to Scotland, the X-Men say goodbye to her through… a baseball game! (Which, I guess if you’re comic book character bound by the comic book code, is the next best thing to just getting drunk together.)

It’s all very straight-edge wholesome.

Lilandra is very absent: I’m assuming she is sleeping off the space jetlag somewhere. idk

Sure, there’s still a few action-packed B-plots: a fight scene is mandatory in a comic book, after all. Weapon Alpha tries to claim Wolverine in the name of the Canadian government and some nobody named Warhawk sneaks into the mansion as a phone repairman to rig the Danger Room into a Death Trap.

(Look, you have a danger room. Why are you calling phone repairmen? During breakfast, did Charles go around the table, asking anyone if they wanted to fix the phone and everyone was like “nnnnnno, I am le tired”.)

Anyway, how would you unwind after a baseball game? Scott has an awesome idea! (I'm betting Scott would have embraced the Comics Code.)

This is the one issue not drawn by John Byrne this year. Dezuniga does a fine enough job, but Jean using her powers looks like she’s barfing psy-energy all over the place. (X-Men 110)

Warhawk traps the rest of the X-Men in the Danger Room. Wolverine gets a moment to shine as the team’s rogue, finally getting a win after getting knocked on his ass lately. Also, Kurt calls Warhawk Krieghabicht. (Hee.) Jean, meanwhile, is startled because despite her phenomenal powers, she was taken out so easily. She makes the formal choice to rejoin the X-Men.

And the next time we see them… THE X-MEN HAVE VANISHED? (yes, i know this sentence contradicts itself, shut up)

We find Beast at a circus in Texas, investigating their disappearance while on a sabbatical from the Avengers. See, Lorna called him because Havok was kidnapped in Scotland and the X-Men did not pick up, so she called good ole Hank McCoy. We know Charles is honeymooning with Lilandra, so where are the X-Men?

Cerebro leads Hank to a circus and, dude, for someone who’s supposed to be a genius, you draw the conclusion that these are the brainwashed X-Men way too slowly.

I by no means wish to belittle Storm’s situation, but Wolverine is in equally skimpy clothing while chained the fuck up, Beast. Can’t spare a little sympathy for him? (X-Men 111)

Beast continues being the worst detective mutantkind has ever known: even Jean, who’s currently a cigarette smoking trapeze artist named Miz Destiny, barely convinces him that these are the X-Men. When Beast finally confronts the Ring Leader, it turns out to be… Mesmero!

This pose: appropriate for a super villain or suitable for a Harlequin novel cover? Especially with all this talk about enthralling? (X-Men 112)

Apparently Mesmero doesn’t give a fuck that half these X-Men aren’t the same X-Men that fought him before. Revenge is a dish best served cold and to the wrong table, apparently. Beast fighting ole Messy causes Wolverine to spring free from his hypnotic influence. Wolvie proceeds to slap Jean out of it (literally) and they free the rest of the X-Men. But when they come and confront Mesmero in his little circus wagon, their villain is knocked out…

By Magneto.

dun dun DUN

Magneto proceeds to kidnap them, like this:

Magneto, who has no patience for narrative baggage, also yeets out Mesmero over the Andes, no big deal (X-Men 112)

Just like Mesmero, Magneto wants misplaced revenge. Instead of exacting vengeance on Charles, Moira and the Defenders involved in (literally) infantilizing him - no, seriously, he was a baby - Magneto comes for these All-New X-Men. (Look, logic has never been one of Magneto’s super powers.)

He takes the X-Men to his secret base below the South Pole, tucked away under a literal volcano. (He really should be on the tourist board for Amazing Antarctica, this is his third base there.) The X-Men, after they have safely landed, attack him, but they are tossed around like rag dolls, falling one by one - even the Phoenix.

Jean does have the right idea, though: it’s my theory that the key to defeating Magneto is being equally dramatic and hammy. (X-Men 112)

Somewhere on a cruise ship, Charles loses contact with the X-Men and proceeds to do absolutely nothing about it. Damn, but Elizabeth Taylor Lilandra must have some pretty choice moves in bed.

YOU COULD TRY FINDING OUT, CHARLES. (X-Men 113)

When the X-Men wake up, they're bound by Nanny, a robotic… uh, nanny! And Magneto unveils his revenge: he has scrambled the X-Men’s brains: they are fully conscious, but are trapped, powerlessly in their bodies, which won’t follow the instructions of their brains. It’s as if they’re the minds of adults, trapped in the bodies of infants - just like Magneto was. (He does not succumb to an evil laughter, but he’s definitely drifting into Evil Overlord territory.)

Look, a lot of this is very silly. Magneto hasn’t really been codified by Claremont yet: he’s still very much the sixties super villain and he doesn’t have his Holocaust-past yet. His motivations don’t make much sense: it’s never made clear why he needs the base, for example, or why he doesn’t just kill the X-Men. And yet, he seems more menacing than he used to be. Might be because these X-Men actually have a hard time beating him.

A lot of this era works like that. There’s the occasionally very silly trappings of a superhero comic, but there’s also glimmers of exceptional writing. Take the following scene, for example, which I’ll just include in its entirety, because fuck it. Storm is trying to break free, on the flimsy premise that she was a highly advanced baby who had the motor skills of a toddler. (I’ve met babies. They basically eat, sleep and poop. They can’t really do this.) And yet? This scene kind of works.

Like, the fact that this scene works despite the fact that Magneto thought to give his Nanny-robot a sixties copper bob-cut and a aluminium French maid headpiece is a testament to effective writing. (Also to Magneto’s attention to detail.) (X-Men 113)

No worries, Storm succeeds the second time she attempts this.

Together, the now free team manages to almost defeat Magneto, but Phoenix grows a little too zealous, destroying precious machinery. It proves to be their undoing: the roof to the base cracks open, letting lava in. Things grow dire and Magneto gets the nope out of there.

The lava turns on the heat and the team gets split up. Phoenix escapes together with Beast, and they both collapse into the freezing snow in the Arctic. A helicopter saves them, but what about the rest of the team? Are they dead?!

They’re dead enough for Professor X, and I really have questions about the effectiveness of Cerebro. After a brief mourning period, Beast rejoins the Avengers. But what really happened to the X-Men? Well, they fled into the Savage Land!

So, are we getting a sexy costume change with every new locale and/or story arc? What is this, Charmed? (X-Men 114)

The Savage Land plot is… kind of messy and confusing? First, Storm is attacked by Sauron (yay!) and he even hypnotizes Wolverine and uses his love for Jean against him (ew!), but as soon as Karl Lykos gains control again (boo!), he explains how he

Did not fall to his death;

Is suppressing his pterodactyl side (ain’t we all);

allied himself with the Savage Landers.

Then Ka-Zar, Marvel´s discount!Tarzan, explains how someone named Zaladane transformed a hapless innocent into Garruk, the Petrified Man, who is some sort of… living god? Who stopped some sort of interdimensional invasion by mending some sort of… portal rift? And then he set up shop in the swamp and built some sort of futuristic city? And he wants to enslave all of the natives of the Savage Land? And he built his city on the geothermal fissure that heats the Savage Land, so now the jungle is being choked out by snowy tundra?

Such a mess. And I know Zaladane gets important later, but, ugh, the socio-political tensions in the Savage Land is generally not what I’m here for.

One of the few Savage Land scenes I do like is also messy, but the emotional kind of messy. See, the X-Men on their part believe Jean and Hank are dead, and Scott takes it rather… lightly? When Storm confronts him about it, he confesses he does not mourn Jean as much as he thought he would, as if she were a different woman ever since they crash-landed the shuttle. Storm rejects this confession, always solidly in Jean’s camp, and basically tells Scott to man up. Scott has a point: Jean has changed and it’s not like people have fallen out of love for less, but there’s something to be said for Storm’s firm “for better or for worse”-argument. The scene ends unresolved, and I like that.

Anyway, there’s some X-Men fighting dinos and flying lizards, so there’s at least that. Oh, and Colossus develops a suddenly intense bond with a Savage Lander with a mohawk, which is a detail that becomes important later. Another significant detail?

There’s a lot of weight to that snikt, bub. (X-Men 116)

The implication is that Wolverine simply kills the guy in cold-blood. It’s a little weird that both Storm and Kurt are so okay with this, especially because Storm tries to save Garruk later. This, however, also marks an important direction in which they’re taking Wolverine, becoming the most ruthless of the X-Men.

In the end, Cyclops blasts the foundations of the citadel to smithereens, solving everyone’s problems and putting a neat bow on this tangled plotline. Also, all of a sudden? The X-Men are monthly again! (yay!) And they’ve upgraded from All-New, All-Different to Uncanny on the cover, though the name of the comic won’t officially change until issue 142.

Best new character: Like Hell I’m giving this to Weapon Alpha! So instead, it’s going to the two stylish, mohawked ladies who “show the island” to Piotr. (Again. They’ll be relevant later. Sort of.)

What to read: X-Men 109, for the denouement of the Phoenix Saga (or the first part thereof). The rest is rather inconsequential.

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theemptyskies · 3 years

Text

Ok I'm posting this first chapter a little late haha. It was for @azulaweek for Day 2 Rare Pairs and Day 4 AU.

It's going to be a Buffy the Vampire Slayer and AtLA crossover.

Hope y'all enjoy! Shout out to @juniperhillpatient for motivating me to give this a shot. You're awesome 🙂

Any feedback is appreciated ❤

Displacement - A New Beginning

Content Warning: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood and Gore

Summary

The rise of Vaatu leads to unprecedented darkness falling upon the world. Unexpected events lead to Azula learning to live in an unknown world, preparing for an uncertain future.

-------------------------------------------------------

A spell to close the Hellmouth in "The Zeppo" has unexpected consequences. With no way of sending the newcomer home, Buffy, Faith and the Scoobies do their best to help the young girl adapt to her new home.

While facing the possible end of the world, Azula finds herself transported through the newly created hellmouth, ending up in Sunnydale. Watch as she grows and adapts in this new world, learning to overcome the pain of losing loved ones, finding a family, and starting to see this as a new opportunity at life.

Anyone who thought the Fire Nation was evil was a fool. At least they should feel they are, given the darkness that has enveloped the world in the four years since the war has ended. It all began last year when Avatar Roku warned Avatar Aang that there was a risk of a dark spirit breaking free. He called it Vatu. It was the spirit of chaos and darkness, the antithesis to the Avatar spirit.

The spirit had a sort of cult worshipping it. Avatar Aang tried to stop them himself, not wanting to involve their friends and risk our safety. That was his first mistake. It left Katara and myself woefully unprepared for the cult's ambush. We fought them off as best as we could, but there were far too many. In the end, our cottage was left in ruins, dead waterless foliage caked in our enemy's blood, I was nearly beaten unconscious, and Katara was taken.

They times the kidnapping perfectly, just a day before their planned ritual to free Vaatu from his imprisonment. Avatar Aang, the foolish child that he is, refused to leave Katara's rescue to Sokka, Toph, and myself. His inability to let go of the infatuation he holds for Katara gave the cult enough time to break Vaatu's bindings. It was then the darkest days came.

Upon its release, Vaatu, with the help of its cult, performed a ritual. Black tendrils erupted from its body, tearing across the skies and burrowing into the earth, its physical dorm dissolving in the process. Agni's light was blocked by shadows stripping bending from Firebenders across the glow. From the five largest points, great beasts emerged. Enormous, otherworldly, monstrosities that the worst of nightmares couldn't compare to. Following their emergence, a diverse horde of smaller, equally horrid, creatures poured from the openings.

There was no time to prepare. Within hours the largest cities were reduced to unrecognizable ruins. Formerly bustling streets were transformed into rivers of red. Body parts left strewn across the rubble. Images of beast feasting on children still haunt my mind. Even our own friends weren't able to escape the carnage. We managed to find Ty Lee the last of the living Kyoshi Warriors, just as she was impaled on the claws of a bald, gaunt humanoid-looking monster. It managed to rip an arm from her body by the time we closed the distance enough for Katara to decapitate it with a disk of ice. Her last words will forever be seared in my mind.

"I'm happy you're ok 'Zula."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Over the two weeks, since The Emergence began, Aang was almost non-stop searching for and rescuing survivors. We established a temporary refugee camp at the unoccupied Southern Air Temple. Like an endlessly erupting volcano, the creature continued rising from the pits Vatu created. Isolated locations like the Air Temples and Water Tribes were the only places still safe, for now at least.

Knowing that allowing events to continue unimpeded, Aang turned to the spirits for guidance. The Air Temple's sacred grounds made the transition from the mortal world to the spiritual plane much easier. Sitting in the temple powerless as Katara held me, waiting for Aang to return from the spirit world, listening to the distant roars of monsters below the clouds, I don't think I ever felt so terrified.

Almost like she could sense my fear, Katara held me tighter, softly kissed the top of my head while gently running her fingers through my now unkempt hair. It's strange how the moment I felt the most fear was followed by one where I felt incredibly safe. As her gentle caresses lulled me to sleep, I heard a whisper from my lover. A hope a clung to until the very end.

"Everything will be ok Zula. We'll make it through this."

Two days later, Aang returned from the spirit world. With the help of Avatar Roku, he had managed to make contact with Rava, the spirit of light and the source of the Avatar's power. With the information she gave us, we were able to come up with a plan. Vaatu's ritual tore open portals that were connected to another dimension. They were directly connected to the five largest beasts that first erupted from them. While the portals themselves couldn't be closed, the pits that housed them would be sealed, finally stopping the endless stream of monsters from pouring into our world. All they had to do was kill the five great beasts.

Admittedly, it wasn't much of a plan. As Sokka had put it "So all we have to do is take out monsters the size of small palaces? Great! You know, for once, why couldn't the world-saving plan be easy." I rolled my eyes at his remark at the time but didn't make a retort. The small smiles that our friends held were worth dealing with his rather poor sense of humor. Besides, he was family after all, and if he said something too stupid I'm sure Katara would've happily frozen him to the ceiling.

Rava's power, being the opposite of Vaatu's, would lure the massive beasts to Aang, acting as a sort of beacon. The general plan was that Aang would activate the Avatar State, he would kill the beasts near the pits, we would keep the army of smaller monsters away from Aang while he fights the bigger ones, don't die. Said like that, the plan sounded risky but simple. Unfortunately, it was anything but simple.

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There were a few Earthbenders among the rescued survivors that volunteered to help. We knew we couldn't hold back a never-ending army. After talking with Sokka, rapidly formulating and dismissing plans, the best we came up with was having the Earthbenders create a dome over the pit. This would grab the attention of the surrounding creatures. While they focused on not letting the army break through the barrier, the rest of us would protect the Earthbenders until the beast was slain.

Naturally, it wasn't that simple. Rava failed to mention that as each beast died, only some of Vaatu's energy returned to the pit, sealing it. The rest dispersed to the remaining beasts, making them stronger. The first there battles went relatively smoothly, the growing strength of the beasts was more and more apparent with each successive fight. We experienced a handful of losses but nothing unexpected. Merely some inexperienced volunteers. It was the fourth battle that hit our group the hardest.

The battle started just like every other, sealing the pit and fighting the surrounding beasts. However, due to the strength of this beast, this fight lasted far longer than the last. With our growing exhaustion, it was only a matter of time before someone made a mistake. As Sokka slew one of them, another managed to catch him off guard from behind. Faster than anyone could react, the hairless humanoid snatched his wolf-tail, yanking him back, and sunk its fangs into the side of his neck. Within seconds his skin lost all color and he was left hanging limp in the thing's arms, his sword slipping from his hands and his vacant eyes forever left wide in horror.

That fight ended soon after, with the Avatar finally defeating the creature. I had to nearly rip Katara away from her fallen brother, the last of her biological family. I held her as she cried during the entire flight back to the Southern Air Temple. Upon our arrival, Aang approached us after climbing off of Appa.

"I'm sorry for what happened to Sokka, Katara." He began. At the sound of his voice, I felt Katara stiffen in my arms.

"You're sorry..." It was a whisper I barely heard as she pulled away, her face displaying a hatred I didn't know she was capable of. He began to speak again but she cut him off.

"How dare you come to me and say that!" She growled at him. "Like I'm sorry will make it all better! You could've stopped all of this! You could have prevented Vaatu from breaking free and none of this would've happened! Now SOKKA IS DEAD!" A loud slap echoed across the now silent temple as she struck Aang across the face.

Her voice lowered to a whisper as she continued, tears freely falling from her eyes. "S-s-sokka is d-dead and it's all your fault... Just stay away from me..." Finishing her quiet statement, Katara ran inside the temple, away from the sympathetic stares of the gathered survivors.

Aang watched her go, holding his own tears back before turning to me. He unfastened the strap holding Sokka's blade across his back. With both hands, he held it out to me. "Will you please give this to her. He would want her to have it."

I accepted the blade and he turned, beginning to walk away. "She didn't mean that you know. Katara's hurt and angry."

I don't know why I felt the need to offer him that small comfort. Maybe it was because Aang had taken the time, despite his exhaustion, to do this for her fiance. Regardless of the reason, he paused, shaking his head.

"Doesn't matter Azula. Even if she apologizes, we both know she's right." With that statement, he walked away. Turning, I walked in the direction Katara had run. I knew I wasn't the best at providing comfort, but that's all I could do for her now. I don't remember ever seeing her so broken, and I don't think there's anything I could've said to help.

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Katara squeezing my hand pulled me from my memories. "Are you ok?"

I turned to look at her, seeing the concern reflected in her eyes. I looked over the edge of the Bison's saddle, noting that the sea was replaced by land below us, before responding "Ya, I'm fine. Was just thinking about everything that happened. What brought us here."

Katara stilled, appearing to look at something that wasn't there. She was probably lost within the same memories I was moments ago. I squeezed her hand softly, wondering for a moment how her hands remained so soft after the countless battles they've been through. She jerked slightly, her eyes regaining focus before giving me a small smile. It was a rare sight in recent months but still as beautiful as the day she proposed.

"Despite everything that's happened, I'm glad you've been here with me Zula." Katara said softly before leaning in and giving me a soft kiss that left my heart stuttering. It's amazing that, after all this time, she still has the same effect on me. It faintly reminds me of how nervous I was when I admitted out loud to Ty Lee and Zuko that I wanted to marry her. Though the nervousness I felt that day grew to be far greater when she walked around the corner in the palace hallway, clearly having heard what I said.

I couldn't stop the small smile from forming on my face as the memory washed over me. Leaning my forehead against hers, I recalled her walking up to me, her wide-eyed, surprised, expression shifting to one of pure happiness.

"Ya know, I've been nervous all week about giving this to you, but suddenly I feel a lot more confident." She had said jokingly, a smirk plastered on her face as she pulled a small rectangle box from her robe. She opened the box, standing barely a foot away, revealing a blue necklace, simple in design. The pendant had the symbol of the Fire Nation in the center. Only, instead of black over a red background, it was ivory over a pale blue. It was simple but perfect.

"In the Watertribes, we use necklaces to propose. I wasn't so sure before, but something tells me I can guess your answer. Will you marry me?" Her eyes twinkled in amusement as I nodded dumbly, too shocked over what had just happened. It certainly wasn't my most elegant moment. It had taken me a few moments to process what had happened before I launched myself at her, pulling her into a searing kiss which she smiled into. Pulling away from me, with eyes full of joy and a smile lighting up her face, Katara asked "Can I put it on you?"

I nodded again, not trusting my voice. Katara pulled the necklace from its case and walked around me as it looked over at Zuko and Ty Lee both wearing equally large smiles. As soon as it was fastened, Zuko pulled us both into a large hug, quickly followed by Ty Lee, who couldn't contain her excitement. "Oh my gosh Azula! Congratulations! You're getting married! There is so much planning we have to do! The decorations, oh you know there has to be music..."

I looked into Katara's eyes, not pulling away from her, returning the smile. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be." I said softly so only she could hear, before closing the distance for another kiss.

We were pulled from our moment by Appa beginning his descent, and Aang jumping off, unfurling his glider and flying away, creating distance for his battle. Looking back towards the rapidly approaching ground of the western Earth Kingdom, I could see the sea of black dots below us start to become more defined, revealing the mass of creatures we'll soon be fighting. Appa landed with a massive gust of wind sending monsters flying, giving us a few moments to disembark and fall into formation.

As soon as Toph landed, she quickly entombed the pit in a think earthen dome, soon backed by two other Earthbenders, preventing the swarm of monsters from continuing to grow. Katara, myself and the other volunteer survivors formed a protective perimeter around them. I quickly unsheathed Sokka's black blade instead of using my dual tanto. Katara handed me the sword before we left the temple, saying Sokka would want to be here fighting with us. Looking at the gleaming dark metal, I knew she was right.

The luminous light of the Avatar state in the distance, shortly followed by a deafening roar and rumbling earth signified the start of the battle. The monstrosities surrounding us, the same kind that butchered Ty lee, righted themselves before charging. There was a vindictive pleasure in cutting them down, watching their bodies crumble into dust as their heads rolled. The creatures were stronger and faster than normal people, that was unquestionable. However, for a veteran of the 100-year war, their attacks were laughably easy to read and counter.

As the battle drew on, the quakes from Aang's battle with the giant, snake-like beast continued, and exhaustion slowly began to seep in. There was a yell to my left followed by a sickening snap that drew my attention. The limp body of a survivor was held by one of our enemies, head twisted to an unnatural degree. It carelessly threw the body into another ally that was attempting to flank it before running towards the earthbenders.

"Katara!" I yelled, directing her to the monster. She quickly launched a disk of ice, decapitating the beast.

"Fall in!" I yelled, causing our allies to move closer to the earthbenders, closing the gap in our defense.

I risked a glance towards Aang's fight to see the serpent falling from a newly formed mountain, who's shadow covered our battlefield. The end of its tail was coiled around the light of the Avatar State. Not a moment later, a massive quake tore across the Earth, the impact echoing in its wake. Chaotic black and red energy tore through the air, washing over us, blasting through the cover of the pit, and, for the first time in ages, I felt my Firebending return as Agni's light shined once again.

Unlike before, when the energy entered the hole it pulsed. Before I could react, some of the energy solidified, wrapping around my waist, before it began to drag me with it.

"Azula!" I heard Katara yelled as she raced towards me, skating across her ice. Using it, Katara launched herself off the ramp, rapidly closing the distance between us. Her left hand gripped mine as she used the last of her water to freeze her feet to the ground, stopping the energy from pulling me further.

I smirked at the display. "Very impressive Master Katara." I said causing her to roll her eyes.

"Only you could brush off nearly dying so easily." She said, her light tone trying to hide the strain of fighting the pulling tendril of energy. Her expression softened before she looked me in the eyes and said "I told you we would make it through this remember. I'm not gonna let you make a list out of..." Her words abruptly stopped as warm blood splattered across my face. "Zula... Your face..." Her voice was weak, words barely audible. My mind shut down, a sinking emptiness filled me as I started at the now crimson fist sticking through my fiance's chest. I couldn't help but look into her wide, horrified, blue eyes as the first extracted itself. Her grip on my hand didn't lessen as the bloodied hand gripped her hair, pulling her head to the side.

Gaunt, bald, fanged monsters peered at me from over her shoulder, giving me a sickening, malicious, grin before sinking its teeth into the side of Katara's neck. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, the grip on my hand weakening. The slick blood coating her front caused my hand to slide out of hers within a moment, my grip causing her ring to slide off with it. I watched, unable to speak, as the tendril of energy pulled me into to pit. The last thing I saw being the light leaving Katara's beautiful eyes as it tore its fangs from her throat.

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"For untold eons, demons walked the Earth. They made it their home, their, uh... their hell. But in time, they lost their purchase on this reality, and the way was made for mortal animals, for-for man. All that remains of the old ones are vestiges, certain magicks, certain creatures." -- Rupert Giles

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