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a-painful-ordeal · 9 months

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1. I Was a Boy and I Was Good.

CW: Some Fluff. Scene Setting. Manipulation/Grooming. Underage Drinking. Non-consensual drugging/drink spiking. The after-effects of drink spiking. Mentions of extreme poverty. Slapping. Slavery and References to Branding.

Evan’s gaze skims the festival as he walks through the district gates. On a normal day, he wouldn’t have been able to get past the guards stationed in this part of town. But today isn’t normal. Thanks to M’s light-fingered handiwork in that damned tailor’s, he’s dressed smartly. A red, probably pricey, doublet covers his small bony frame. And a fancy hat masks the lack of shampoo in his long hair.

Evan puffs out his chest as he walks, mimicking nobles that he has seen in the past. Meanwhile, his eyes scan the crowd for an easy mark. He can feel his heart racing as he moves, the fear of being caught begins to tangle in his throat. The guards had been a real bitch recently, Evan can still feel the bruise on his ribs from his last encounter with them.

But fear isn’t useful right now. He needs to focus. He needs to relax. If he doesn’t, he’s fucked.

He takes a couple of deep breaths and swallows the anxiety down. Replacing it with a charming smile and as much confidence as he weaves his way through the crowd.

The marketplace bustles with an air of excitement for the spring festival. Travelers from faraway cities are gathered to enjoy the spring festivities. The usually bland streets are decked out with green and yellow ribbons that fly in the warm breeze. The air is filled with the scents of delectable foods from across the continent, foods that Evan couldn’t afford in a million years.

A small band plays on stage. They sound like they were good maybe two hours ago before the ale set in. Now each note is held for just a beat too long, the timing is out, and the fiddle player’s harmonies seem to slur slightly. But that doesn’t matter because at least for this festival, perfection is irrelevant. For this weekend certain imperfections add to the charm. Imperfections that are elegant, clean, and adhere to the rules. Perfect imperfections.

Evan’s eyes stop for a moment as he catches a glimpse of a familiar yellow dress, contrasted by dark curly hair. Good. M is here. That means he has backup if anything goes wrong.

He drops his gaze to prevent any association between the two of them from being formed. Evan doesn’t need to see her, if she has eyes on him, everything will run smoothly.

Since his most recent growth spurt, moving through crowds had become easier. Though it had constricted the number of scams they could run. It was easier to take pity on a whimpering child than a 5’6 young man with the beginnings of a beard. Nobody gives a shit that he’s only 14. Though, no one gave that much of a shit when he was 8 either. But out here, age means fuck all compared to experience. And right now, he knows he has all the experience he needed.

As the music finishes, Evan moves into the crowd, waiting for a moment when the sounds around him lull. He shifts his accent away from his normal voice, covering up any trace of the sing-song Skelesian accent and replacing them with a posh-sounding Vikryan one instead.

“Gods above! I’ve been robbed!” Evan pats himself down frantically. “My gold! They’ve taken my pocket watch and my gold!!”

Like magic, the crowd begins to panic. As the rich take a moment to make sure their own coin pouches are secure, they momentarily reveal the location of the gold. Evan continues to act panicked as his eyes flicker across the people before landing on a tall, spindly, well-dressed man whose coin pouch is at the most accessible part of his jacket. Perfect.

Evan’s hand reaches for a small, reflective bit of metal in his pocket and flickers it twice to signal the mark for M. His eyes then catch a nearby approaching guard. Fuck that’s too close. Time to manage them. Keeping the panicked mask on, Evan approaches the guards, beginning to describe a non-existent, watch, coin purse, and potential perpetrator. The boy slowly shifts how he’s standing until the guard’s back is to M and the mark.

He keeps his eyes trained on the guard as M ‘brushes’ against the mark in the crowd and vanishes off again without them noticing. Gods. She’s good. It's only when he’s sure she’s a safe distance away that he lets that guard go, slipping into the crowd himself, to find the next target.

***

It's been a few hours since entering, and M has already vanished back to their part of town. Evan finds himself lingering just a little longer than he thought he would at the festival. Taking a moment to genuinely feel the atmosphere, the music, and the smells. He should get going. Of course, he knows that. But knowing that and wanting that are two separate things. And right now, what Evan wants is just a few more moments.

His eyes slowly drift to the central fountain, which bubbles as it always does. There’s a pang of nostalgia mixed with anger. He rips his gaze away and turns on the ball of his foot. That was likely what he needed to leave. He makes his way back to the gates that separate the upper and lower districts of the town.

As he moves through the lower district’s streets, the décor fades and is replaced with a thick layer of grim. No one bothered to make this area look good. There’s no point, no one of import comes this far out of the main stretch of town.

Once he’s a decent distance away from the festival, Evan quickly pulls off the hat and doublet, to avoid inviting any mistaken muggers or cutthroats. He takes a moment to brush his hair down and make it look more like himself.

However, as he pauses the check his hair and half-elven ears, in the reflection of a broken window, he notices two figures heading straight toward him. A tall, looking tabaxi gentleman, with a large top hat, accompanied by a handsome man with slicked-back blond hair.

Evan spins. His hand goes to his belt where a small dagger is concealed, but he keeps it sheathed. “The fuck do you want?” He huffs, trying to seem relatively casual despite the bubbles of adrenaline.

The tabaxi puts his hands in the air “Hey hey hey.” His voice is calm and soft “We aren’t a threat. I just wanted to congratulate you for your fine work!” he smiles softly.

“What are you talking about?” Evan bristles slightly as his mind races on how to get out of the alleyway. If the guards catch him, they will kick the shit out of him before arresting and… gods know what else.

“You can stop the pretence,” The human says softly “No one ‘ere is gonna report ya. In any case. You did a fine job. You clearly ‘ave a lot of talent.”

The tabaxi nods “My partner and I noticed whilst working the other side. And you are impressive.”

Evan slowly relaxes “Thanks… I guess.” He can’t help but allow a small smile of pride to flicker onto his face. “Did you have good pickings yourselves?”

The tabaxi’s face lights up “It was fantastic. Well for us at least. I’m sure a few of those people are going to find that they are a… little lighter by the time they get back to their inns.”

Evan snorts with a grin “Doubt it’ll hurt them that badly!”

“We.” The tabaxi starts, “were actually looking for an additional member for our…” he pauses to think for a moment “Party. And you certainly have the skill and know how to help us.”

Evan’s heart bounds. That could be the financial boost that he needs- that they need to get off the streets. He finds himself standing a little taller. “I’ll have to think about it. And consult with my… associates.” Evan responds as clearly and concisely as possible.

“Of course! A smart young man like you wouldn’t want to get into a situation he can’t handle.” The tabaxi says.

“I’m glad you understand,” Evan responds quickly, nodding in what he imagines to be a business-like manner.

“ ‘ow bout this. We could take you out for a drink tonight. Get ya final say?” The human asks.

Evan shrugs, adjusting his posture so he looks more mature and attempting to look natural. “Sure. That sounds…” He coughs “Good.” He pauses, racking his brain for a tavern “How about the Cat and Owl?"

The tabaxi smiles softly "That sounds like the perfect place.”

The human turns to go, however the tabaxi pauses “What, may I ask is your name?”

Evan pauses, as his gut jumps in hesitation.

The tabaxi clearly notices the pause and cuts in with “My name is Cloak, and my friend here is Albert.”

Evan opens his mouth. What’s the worst that can happen?

“If ya gonna work with us, mate. We at least gotta know a name” Albert cuts in.

Evan takes a breath, “Evan. Evan Tyrnearth.”

The tabaxi, Cloak, takes off his hat, “A pleasure. We’ll see you tonight. At 8, in the Cat and Owl tavern.”

***

Evan is buzzing as he walks back to the house. There’s a small bounce in his step as he goes.

The ‘house’ is an old, ruined stone building on the outskirts of the town. It’s surrounded by some crates as a half-hearted attempt to block it off before its scheduled demolition that never came.

Evan tucks the hat and doublet into his belt, so his hands are free. He clambers onto two of the crates and scrambles up to the first floor ‘window’. It recently became the only accessible entrance since the weathering brought the doorway down.

He pulls himself up to the brick that sticks out slightly more than the rest and perches there as he removes a board from that window. It reveals a gap, large enough for him, M, or Meg to wiggle through. Once in, he replaces the board before moving his way down the stairs, ducking under the protective sheet, as he makes his way into the living quarters.

It's warmer than expected down there and relatively cozy. The large room is divided into 3 sections by sets of cloth. The ‘kitchen’ is directly at the bottom of the stairs, consisting of a couple of battered pans, and a fire pit, with some dry logs and tinder neatly piled in the driest part of the room. Next is the ‘bedroom’ consisting of piles of blankets and sleeping mats in one big heap, to make the stone floor more comfortable whilst also preserving heat. There are small colourful drawings on the brick, where the dribbles of rain haven’t washed off the pastels. And finally sits the washing pile, moved away from the rest of the stuff to try and keep the smell out and any small bugs. Meg hasn’t ever really cared about hygiene, but between M and Evan insisting, especially after the flea-bitten cat incident, she complies.

As Evan reaches the bottom of the stairs and the kitchen, he lets out an “I’m back!”

There’s a shuffling from behind the bedroom curtain before he is slammed into by a flash of green and a whirl of horns and tail. “You were gone aaagges!! M and I were worried something had happened!”

Evan leans down to give the small orc girl a squeeze “Actually… Meg. Something did happen…”

The ten-year-old looks up and backs away “Is.. everything alright?” Her hand creeps over to a smelly, grey, falling-apart toy unicorn, lovingly named Crystal after its ‘white’ colour.

Evan grins “Guess who just got offered a job opportunity!” He announces with

pride in his voice, puffing his chest out in a dramatic manner. He then pauses to look at her “So is M back?”

Meg wobbles her hand in a so-so gesture “She went to get some food for us. It sounds like you got a great haul!”

Evan nods as he goes about trying to neaten himself up, without looking too posh. An intermediate between normal and how he had looked earlier. “That’s sweet, though I don’t think I’m going to be eating here… I’ll see if I can get the offererers...?” there’s a pause before he brushes off the fact he can’t think of the right word “The people, to buy me some grub.”

Meg snorts “You’ll have to threaten ‘em for that!”

“Fuck you!” Evan flips her off before pulling on a more comfortable shirt. “I’m very fucking charming when I want to be.”

Meg sticks her tongue out at him “Aaaahh… you’re fine. Not anything compared to Sir Benadeve. He’s meant to be dashing and charming! A real gentleman”

“And also. Very. Very fictional.” Evan smirks

Meg huffs and folds her arms “Why are all the best men not real.”

Evan narrows his eyes, mumbling to himself “I… don’t know if I should resent that…”

Meg sits there for a little while before happily squirming.

“And ye’re fine? Right?” he cocks an eyebrow in her direction, his normally very neutral accent slipping slightly into the much stronger Skelesian one.

She nods “Between you and M and Me!!! We can maybe move out soon! Oh!!!” She wiggles in excitement fiddling with one of her tusks. “I got the old veteran down the road to agree to teach me ‘ow to use a sword!”

Evan lets out a whistle “So he’s not a prick after all?”

Meg shakes her head “No! ‘e’s kinda nice. You’re more of a prick!”

Evan takes the opportunity to chuck a cloth in her general direction, making sure to avoid hitting her “Oi!” though there’s a dumb grin on his face. As he makes his way back to the stairs leading out

Meg sticks her tongue out, launching the cloth back “Definitely a biiiig old grumpy prick!” She manages to hit him square in the chest.

Evan flips her off before grabbing the cloth and making a half-hearted attempt at folding it, before dumping his mediocre attempt over a slightly rotten banister. “I’m going to dash but tell M not to wait up for me, I’ll probably be back late.”

Meg nods “But you gotta bring me back something good!?”

Evan leans on the rotten banister, about halfway up with a shit-eating grin “A rock?”

“No!”

“Two rocks!”

“I hate you!”

He cackles slightly as he vanishes out of view.

***

Evan takes a moment and stands outside the tavern, excitement and nerves beginning to get to him. Taverns have never really been something he had experience with, being very clearly too young up until now. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, before moulding his expression into one of faux experience as he steps in.

The tavern is busy despite being a lower-end place. Some drunkards roar with laughter as a handful of cards are slapped down. Elsewhere there seems to be a fully blown argument raging, but no one really takes much notice.

Evan’s eyes flicker at the large amounts of coins left unattended. It would be so easy. A faked slip and then you could pocket it. But one wrong move would probably get his lights knocked out. Anyway, it doesn’t matter because he’s here for something bigger and more rewarding than that.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Cloak and Albert, who flag him down. He turns and begins to make his way over.

Cloak smiles at seeing him, “Evan! Well, don’t you look like a fine young man? You’ll fit perfectly with us.”

Evan finds himself smiling along too at the compliment.

Albert stands and offers his seat, “Can I get ya a drink?”

Evan takes the seat next to Cloak and shrugs “Never say no to free things! Yes please, an…” his brain jumps at the first drink he can think of “ale. Please.”

Albert laughs “A man after my own heart.” He slaps Evan’s shoulder before vanishing. It doesn’t take long before he returns with an ale “ ‘ere you are.” Albert passes him the drink, before sitting down, on Evan’s other side.

“Cheers.” Evan sips the drink, wincing a little bit at the bitter taste of the alcohol, but he attempts to hide his reaction and continues to drink, as they begin to talk business.

Evan finishes the ale and is quickly offered another. Which he takes gratefully. The two men are both sweet, as they talk. Both are soft in tone with friendly gestures and smiles, that puts Evan at ease. But after the first drink, Evan begins to struggle to follow exactly what’s been said. Just smiling politely along, accepting drink after drink.

His focus is instead pulled to the noise around him. The cheers and whoops from neighbouring tables. The bartender’s tone of voice. The chatter.

Evan blinks rapidly as he’s addressed but can’t work out what was just asked. Instead, he nods, praying that he answered the question right. The effort of just nodding his head feels exhausting.

The noise around him becomes one loud cacophony. As the world seems to slur and colours blend into each other when he moves his head. Keeping his eyes open suddenly becomes far more effort than normal. That's when the panic sets in.

He makes to stand up but finds that once he's on his feet his balance is gone. He finds himself stumbling into one of the men but can't remember who's who and can't see properly. Hands tightened around his arm and his waist helping him to stand but not in the way that he wants them to. There's a deepened mumbling as if someone's talking to him but he can't make out for the life of him what's being said as he fights to retain consciousness.

And then he's moving out, into the dark night. He puts his feet down as if to slow the movement or try and break free of the grip, but he can't muster the energy to do more than drag his feet.

Evan manages to take a few steps before darkness takes over.

***

Evan’s head hurts.

The first thing he’s aware of when he regains consciousness is the pounding in his fucking head.

He groans and curls up at the chill on his chest before freezing as he notices the smell of bile and a sticky sensation around his cheek.

He slowly opens his eyes, squinting at the light, and pushes himself up into a sitting position. His eyes glance over a pile of vomit that he was just lying in, and a sensation of nausea spreads across his body. This isn't helped by the foul taste of vomit in his mouth, and the parched thirst, that has dry out his throat. A clump of stinking damp hair falls into his face. Evan brushes back with a grimace.

A shiver runs through him as a breeze enters through the bars of the stone room, he's in. It slowly dawns on him that whoever did this also took his shirt. He brings his thin arms around himself, hugging his torso. His brain fights to try and work out: where the fuck he is and what the fuck happened.

The room is almost entirely dark, which Evan is thankful for. Certain that bright light would only make his headache worse. His night vision is good enough to make out his surroundings.

The wall in front of him is entirely made up of bars. As Evan looks around, it becomes increasingly clear that he is in some kind of cage or cell. His heart begins to race, as he runs through the last events he can remember. He wasn’t arrested? Right? And where the fuck were Cloak and Albert? The fuck had they done? Evan brings an arm around himself just that little bit tighter as he looks around his surroundings, in a desperate attempt to make sense of everything.

There is a sound of a key unlocking a door. Painful white light blares into the corridor. Evan blinks and squints as the light encourages the headache.

There are footsteps. And voices. Evan can just about make out the strong Spuc Wa accent laced into the voices of both speakers. The accents are like some of the travellers who passed through the town. Evan finds himself straining to hear what they are saying, as they walk closer to where he is.

“As promised, Sir, we have a new specimen, brought in last night. I hope you’ll find him fitting for His Lordship.” The footsteps come closer before stopping outside of the cage.

Evan looks up at two men. One, a weasely-looking elf dressed in fine robes, who Evan is sure was just talking. And the other, a large hulking human man wearing high-quality plate armour with a seal of a roaring lion on the front of his chest. The armour goes right down to shining steel gauntlets covering his fists. He has green eyes and brown hair, which looks carefully styled. The man is adorned with a general look of distaste on his face.

The Weasel looks nervously at the hulking man, as if assessing his thoughts. The Hulk either doesn't notice or doesn't care as instead, his cold stare is on Evan. His gaze is clinical, seemingly focused on scanning and assessing.

Evan finds his skin beginning to crawl, he quickly chooses to get his feet rather than sit whilst this fucker looks at him like an animal at a zoo. Two can play that fucking game. Evan musters the dirtiest look that he can. Drawn from years of staring down grubby kids who thought the best thing they could do with their day is sling shitty insults at Meg.

The Hulk gestures at the cage, “Open it.”

The Weasel quickly jumps to it, “Yes Sir!” Unlocking the cage door, and holding it open for the Hulk, who walks in.

Evan backs up, trying to maintain the glare, his heart pounding, and nausea slipping into his throat. “The fuck do ye want? Ye giant can of Dogshite!-”

The Hulk looks at him for a moment, before wrinkling his nose and raising a gauntleted hand. It crashes into the boy’s cheek, cutting off the potential chain of slurs and insults. Evan sees stars as the fist collides with him. The force throws him to the ground. The stone cut into his palms and as he lands, and his headache increases tenfold.

The man takes two steps over to Evan and grabs a handful of his hair, wrenching the boy’s head up to look at him. “You speak. When you’re spoken to.” The hulking man growls. The tight, painful grip on his hair forces a small squeak from Evan. The Hulk releases him and turns the seller.

Evan drops to the ground. Hand clutching his cheek.

“So, what do you think? Is this what Lord Maynard is after?”

“Apart from looking like he’s a scruffy dog covered in his own filth? I suppose so. He could be good for kitchen staff or cleaning. Though that attitude is something that is going to take some beating out of him. And he needs a wash.”

Evan’s heart moves into his throat.

“So, your verdict Sir?”

“I’ll take him. I do like a good challenge. And breaking him in should be relatively interesting.”

“Very good Sir.”

“Whilst we sort payments. Have him marked. I had one of my staff bring Lord Maynard’s seal.” The man gestures to a quiet half-orc, who seems to avoid eye contact with everyone. The half-orc seems to be holding what looks like a brand with the lion symbol and the initials ‘CVM’ on it.

“Oh, course Sir, come with me.” The two exit, as there are more footsteps and three guards head towards the cage.

Evan scrambles back as far back as he can until he’s pressed into the furthest corner of the cell. “Don’t ye fucking touch me ye shits!”

There’s no answer as they approach him. Evan begins to throw punches, as he attempts to lodge himself in the corner. They roughly grab him by the shoulders, nails digging into his skin, drawing blood.

“GET OFF OF ME YE CUNTS!”

Evan tries to take a bite out of one for the hands, only to receive a blow to the nose.

Evan is dragged out, kicking, and trying to wrestle free. The third guard indicates to the half-orc carrying the brand to follow, “This way.” They begin to march Evan past rows and rows of cages to a room with a blazing fire, and a large table.

_______

AN: Mostly just setting the scene and circumstances, but there we go!! Do shout if there are any typos! And ask if you want adding to the taglist!!

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#whump writing #whumpblr #whump blog #whump stuff #kidnapped whumpee #tw kidnapping #tw drugging #tw drinking #drinking #tw drink spiking #defiant whumpee #fantasy whump #dnd whump #These Woods

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addicted2escapism · 2 years

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saw people saying that billy hargrove would spike your drink and that just proves to me that you guys have no concept of his character

#billy hargrove #seriously like i don’t understand how some people Want him to be every type of bad #how people talk about billy sometimes really irks me #tw drink spiking

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justadeadreaper · 2 months

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okay so I'm curious- puptrapping you say? That you'd need another post to go into? I'd like to encourage this please

Puptrapping?

You want to hear about puptrapping, you say?

Anon, your wish is my command.

Just so you know, this is like you encouraging a crack addict by finding them a new dealer. I am not joking because this is my obsession at this point, but I do encourage you to send in more asks about Omega!Makarov or ideas you want me to write about because I will. I never originally thought of puptrapping; instead, it was my dear friend @frogchiro who said that she thought he would based on a comment I made about him tying you down to make sure you cum in him. Also, do thank @frogchiro because she helped me form these ideas in our late-night rants, and she is my biggest encourager.

Now that I have written this, I am tempted to write about Omega!Makarov with pups or a fic based on this idea if anyone wants it.

Obvious warnings for puptrapping (omegaverse version of babytrapping) and all the shit that goes with it, Omega!Makarov spiking your drink with an omegaverse version of Viagra (that sounds so fucking weird), but also a big misunderstanding between Omega!Makarov and reader.

This whole idea is based on it being a misunderstanding. Omega!Makarov is a feared man; no one even knows he is an omega; you were only allowed that grace of knowledge due to being his alpha -specifically chosen for being the most desired for your size and strength-. Knowing how secretive he was about his second gender, you presumed that he would never want pups as it would reveal his identity to the world, and he could not have that, could he? Hell, you did not even think he loved you; he only used you to satisfy his natural instincts that come with being an omega so that he would not be on a constant edge from having his subconscious desires not be fulfilled. You enforced the rule around using some form of protection as you did not want to force or pressure him into having pups that he would never want in a million years.

But oh, you poor, dumb alpha. How wrong could you be?

Omega!Makarov is infatuated with you. As soon as he saw you, he knew that you had to be his; no one else would be able to satisfy him after he saw you. Yes, he may be a cruel, heartless man but he loves you in his own special way and let me tell you he loves you with all his heart! He genuinely does! Now, being that he loves you so much, it is only natural that he wants your pups; it is only made worse by him being an omega and having the natural instincts to breed and have pups that poor omegas like him have. He knew he wanted pups from a young age, even if he knew that he did not love like a normal person does. Another part of him wanting to have pups is his own relationship with his father. A narcissistic, bullheaded alpha that abused Makarov and his poor brother for being omegas, Makarov had to watch as his poor mother was abused for not giving that asshole the alpha sons he desperately wanted. His father was never nice to him; he was a horrid father who chickened out at the last minute instead of suffering the consequences of his actions. Makarov does not want to be like that; he instead wants to be the best father he can be and have as many pups as he can to shove it to the old man who damaged him so much, to embrace the one thing his father abused him for and always forced him to hide.

So, for you to say that you need to use birth control? That is the biggest insult to him! Do you not love him? Do you not think he is a good enough omega to have your pups? Are you just using him to get yourself off? Are you planning on just dropping him off one day? Why do you not feel like him? He wants your pups so badly, why do you not want to give them to him?

He damn near hissed at you for suggesting such a thing, but he decided to hold his tongue as he knows he will get his way, he always has.

Now it just. depends on what type of birth control you force him to use for what he does to still be able to have your pups.

Condoms? Expect every single one to have multiple puncture holes from the set of pins that used to belong to his mother. Small enough for you not to notice but just big enough to allow enough cum to come through to give him a nice litter of pups. But that is only if you are stupid enough to allow him to be the only one to supply the condoms or allow him to be around the box by himself for longer than two minutes. If you buy them and never let him near them, you can be sure that those things will rip because, for some reason, your knot was a lot bigger than it normally is causing the condom to rip.

Birth control? He is lying about being on it. The prescription he showed you was a fake he forced a poor pharmacist to make as the pills inside that he showed you were nothing more than sugar pills mixed with the omegaverse version of Viagra known as an Amplifa that helps people knot while also increasing their fertility that he forced the drug dealers he hires to make. Each day, he will take them in front of you, knowing that they do not work. But if you are the one to supply the pills, then he is finding any pill or herb known to man to counteract it so that the birth control fails.

The Amplifa he uses to spike your drink and his own have a few side effects. I imagine omegas to have a reverse knot to match an alpha’s knot, which means they are doubly bonded. How it works is by inflating the sides of the passage like how, for an alpha, the base inflates to lock inside; it is to make sure that the alpha is being milked of all their cum and that the omega is too tight for the alpha to pull out. Since both he and you have been spiked with it, it causes your knot to inflate beyond the point of it being pulled out while he is too tight that it hurts to try and pull out. It also makes the knots last for hours upon hours instead of the normal half an hour to an hour, as it makes you cum so much. Not to mention it makes you incredibly more horny so you could fuck for longer.

With everything prepared, he has sex with you.

Once you are close to cumming he leg locks you making sure you can not push him off as you cum. Your knot inflating inside him as he milks you dry, all while he is still moving his hips in a specific motion to cause more friction that stimulates you and makes you hard yet again. Wiggling his hips and whining as you have yet another orgasm while the two of you are stuck together as his reverse knot will just not let go. Watching as his tummy begins to form a bump already as it grows from how much cum you have stuffed inside of it with every orgasm. He puts on the “I’m innocent, I swear!” act; he uses all the manipulation tactics he knows, the fake tears, the lies, the everything. He is just a simple omega who was trying to enjoy sex with his alpha; he has no idea what is going on. Whining over how worried he is since with this much cum he is most definitely already pregnant, even if you were being safe. All of this while he continues to move his hips as you cum once more.

And as soon as you are asleep from exhaustion and overstimulation he is gently caressing his stomach as he purrs. He can already imagine the litter of pups he will be having in a few months and how much of a happy family you all will be...

#tw: babytrapping #tw: puptrappping #omegaverse cod #omega!makarov #omegaverse #alpha!reader #makarov x reader #call of duty #cod #vladimir makarov #cod makarov #call of duty makarov #tw: tampered protection #tw: tampered birth control #tw: drink spiking #tw: drugging

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neonbitemarks · 2 months

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@ofviolentdeath

Dominic couldn't take it any longer. He thought being home would help, but it didn't, having not only his own trauma to contend with but being able to physically feel how everyone around him felt on top of that, and he just couldn't bear it, so he took off, leaving a note saying he needed space to clear his head.

Even that hadn't been enough, and he'd ended up back at a club he used to visit frequently with Tassos, unsure what he was even looking for there, but whatever it was, he just didn't want to feel anymore.

He hadn't realized someone was stalking him. That someone, once they had discovered that Tass was out of the picture, thought they'd swoop in and take advantage of the situation.

Before Dominic knew what was going on, he was feeling woozy and disoriented, and a dark-haired man with sharp blue eyes was introducing himself as Vander and talking like he knew him while coaxing him out of the club, an arm thrown around Dom to keep him from stumbling until he'd gotten him outside and guided him down an alleyway into the shadows, saying something about having waited far too long to get a taste of the pet Tassos had kept so selfishly to himself.

#dominic:thread #dominic:gabriel:001 #drink spiking tw

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pockets-full-of-roses-writing · 6 days

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Love-Spiked Drink

brief summary: someone spiked the famous draco malfoy’s drink with a love potion, making him go absolutely feral for his internal crush on the boy who lived.

(i might make this a two part microfic but idk)

[drarry (draco malfoy x harry potter); mentions of spiking drinks, and flustered harry from draco’s suggestive flirting]

divider credits!!

stick around for the note at the bottom?

If anything, Harry James Potter shouldn’t be there at a party with a bunch of drunk seventh years. He should be in his dorm, laughing with his best friends.

But Ronald Weasley just had to go down there with Hermione Granger, something Harry couldn’t leave alone. So? There he was alone in the corner, swaying to the music with a half empty cup in his hands.

Everyone was invited to this Gryffindor party, including the Slytherins. The Slytherins were well-hated by the Gryffindors. That didn’t stop them from being there.

Draco Lucius Malfoy and his gang were there, to Harry’s surprise. They were only seen at the other houses’ parties, which (in Harry’s honest opinion) were a bit lame in comparison to Gryffindor’s.

It wasn’t fair that the beaming red lights hit his face so perfectly, outlining his already stunning features. He seemed to walk with such grace and poise, as if he were always balancing books on his head.

The red plastic cup in his hands contrasted with the silver rings that shimmered in the lights. All Harry wanted to do was see what those fingers really could...

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw someone lurking beside Draco. He squinted his eyes, realizing that the same person was pouring some pink liquid in the drink. Then, they fled the scene. Oh.. shit.

The bold (and slightly drunk) Gryffindor pushed through the crowd to warn his sworn enemy.

"Malfoy! Don't drink that!"

But it was far too late. The pale boy had already taken a sip, and promptly held his head in his hands. His friends glanced at him, patting his back soothingly. He waved them off, claiming to be okay.

By the time Harry had gotten there, Draco was bopping along to the music again. He pretended to be okay, but Harry could see through his deception. He nudged Draco, swaying to the beat of the song.

"Psst. Malfoy.."

Draco raised a brow, glancing over at Harry. "Potter? Go away, I don't need to speak to you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Someone spiked your drink with some pink liquid. I just saw."

"You're lying, aren't you? Is this some ploy to-"

"Just shut up and listen to me for once."

Malfoy stayed silent for a moment, looking down into his cup. He swirled it around, taking notice of the change in color and mass.

"Shit," the boy cursed under his breath, bringing the cup to his lips again to see what it was.

"Never thought I'd see the day where Malfoy curses in front of me."

Harry smirked, looking down at Draco with a hidden concerned expression. Draco took another sip, really tasting it this time.

His gaze met Harry's, and for a moment, he could've sworn it softened. Draco was all over him in an instant, almost kissing him.

Harry immediately pulled away, his ears burning in embarrassment. He hissed in protest, "What are you playing at, Malfoy? Did they drug you or something? Are you drunk?"

Malfoy smiled at him, shaking his head. "Oh, I'd never be like this if I was drunk. Let's go somewhere private, Harry."

Potter's eyes widened. He glanced around, taking the drugged boy by his hands to the top of the steps. Music faintly played while Draco looked at Harry like he was the best thing he'd ever laid his eyes on.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" Draco asked, a dreamy look in his eyes.

His gaze swept over Harry, taking in every feature. Malfoy leaned in again, trying to steal a kiss. Harry Potter quickly dodged it, laughing sheepishly.

"Hey.. woah there buddy.."

Draco smiled again, something Harry didn't know could be so beautiful. "You're handsome. Can I kiss you?"

Harry's face flushed, and he went entirely flustered. "E-excuse me?!"

"Is that a yes? Or do you want a date first?"

Draco Malfoy seemed so willing, for someone who acted painfully straight a couple moments before. He wrapped his arms around the tall boy in front of him, smirking up at him. The look in his eyes was purely love, staring right into Harry's.

"N..no.. No.. Listen, Malfoy, you're drunk. Let's get you back to your dorm, alright?" Harry tried to reason, even if he wanted that kiss and date so badly.

He put Draco's arm over his shoulders, taking the simpering boy to his dorm. It was a long walk, especially with Draco constantly complimenting Harry or trying to sneak a kiss. Harry's face only got hotter and hotter by each word that came out of the pale boy's mouth. Harry simply couldn't get over it.

What was wrong with him?

Finally, they reached the Slytherin painting. "Hey, Malfoy. What's the password?"

"Pureblooded wizardry."

The painting slid open, allowing the Gryffindor to carry Draco in.

"Has anyone told you how hot you are?"

Harry stopped in his tracks, knees buckling. "I'm afraid not, Malfoy."

"Why do you even call me that?"

"What?"

"Malfoy," Draco answered, pulling Harry to his dorm.

"I.. I don't know. Do you want me to call you-"

"I want you to call me yours. But Draco is a good start too."

Harry was baffled. Now he was standing in the middle of this boy's room, jaw dropped all the way to the floor. Draco Malfoy smirked up at him, leaning close like he had done before.

"I never thought I'd see you here in my room. Though I prefer you.. without less items we'll say."

His face got even more flustered now. Harry pushed Draco into his bed, pulling the covers over him, and closing the bed curtains.

"Just go to sleep, idiot."

He heard Draco laugh from the curtains, then some soft snoring. He sighed tiredly. His feelings were even worse than before. Now he was falling harder than ever.

One question didn't leave his mind for the rest of the night; What was put in Draco Lucius Malfoy's drink?

Harry James Potter didn’t leave Draco Lucius Malfoy’s dorm until his dorm mates got back, which wasn’t till the next morning. They seemed shocked that he had stayed there for so long, sending him away with a screech.

Everyone that went to the party was facing a horrible hangover. Meanwhile, Harry was peacefully dozing in his bed. Ron was throwing up his guts, coughing and hacking up.

The sleeping boy’s thoughts shifted to Draco, wondering how he was doing. Waking up to the sound of pounding and screaming of his name, Harry pulled his bed curtains.

What the bloody hell was going on? It sounded like.. Draco..

Why was Draco there?

roses’ author note: hello lovelies!! i’m so sorry this was so late n long. as i said in another post, i was very busy these couple weeks. i will start queuing my posts, ensuring at least three more this month. thanks for giving my other works btw<33 i love y’all so much

(btw, if you see @betterblegulusrack following you back, it’s my main blog)

#drarry #draco malfoy x harry potter #draco x harry #draco and harry #love potion #harry potter fandom #harry potter microfic #tw spiking drinks #drink spiking

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