#thought he would look at least somewhat like his smash appearance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sephirthoughts · 5 months ago

Text

Vincent's New Kid Just Dropped CH7: Back in the present, Nero, Sephiroth, and Cloud go to the grocery store.

rating: mature (for now) CW: implied/referenced incest

(right after Deepground Flashback Part 2. maybe i should start properly numbering these)

EDIT: I PROPERLY NUMBERED AND LINKED THEM YAYYY

🕷️🪽🥀 the Valentines 🥀🪽🕷️

Nero had never been to a grocery store, but he knew of them conceptually. Not that he had any burning desire to experience one firsthand, now, but Sephiroth made it clear he didn’t have a choice, and told him to go get ready.

With as bad a grace as possible, he went upstairs and came back down again, dressed in some of the clothing the obnoxious blonde man purchased for him. In the face of Nero’s utter indifference and flat refusal to choose anything for himself, Cid had evidently decided the young man’s theme color would be purple, and made his selections accordingly.

Thus, Nero now wore a dark-purple hoodie, black, acid-washed motocross jeans, purple converse high tops, and a black turtleneck, to hide the Shinra-made restrictive collar, which supposedly prevented him spitting out clouds of people-eating darkness miasma, or at least reduced the ability somewhat.

“Ah-guh!” the hyper-alert noise machine announced, over the shoulder of the little blonde (as Nero uncharitably thought of Cloud, despite the fact that they were the exact same height), alerting everyone to Nero’s entrance.

He shot the baby a glare, then his eyes fell on Sephiroth, and his lip curled. “Why do you look like that?”

“Keeping a low profile,” Sephiroth said tranquilly.

His boyfriend smirked. “Meaning, he’s the most famous war-criminal in the world. He can’t be seen in public looking exactly like his wanted posters.”

The hitherto silver-haired giant was dressed in his usual white v-neck t-shirt and black jeans, with the addition of a leather jacket, but his long hair had changed to jet black, and his eyes were now crimson, like those of the rest of the Valentines. With their coloring coordinated, Sephiroth’s resemblance to Vincent was downright unnerving. He looked even more like him than Nero did.

“Look at your brothers, Ollie. They're almost as pretty as you,” Cloud cooed to the baby, who gurgled and drooled about it.

Nero gave a ‘hmph’ and went to lean on the wall, with his arms crossed, unconscious of the fact that this was among his father’s most characteristic behaviors, and one highly recognizable to his associates.

Cloud and Cid looked at Nero, then at Vincent, then at each other, and had to cover their mouths to stifle laughs. Vincent appeared bewildered and asked what was so funny, which only made them laugh harder.

Before the young men could depart on their errand, there was the ordeal of transferring the baby from Cloud’s arms to Cid’s, which took a measure of sleight-of-hand and trickery, and to which she took great umbrage. She made her displeasure known by turning bright pink from head to toe and howling like a banshee, despite Cloud’s assurances that he’d be back soon.

“Nero,” Vincent said, as the three young men walked out the door.

Nero stopped and turned back sullenly, prepared for the highly unsurprising lecture about behaving himself and not harming civilians and blah blah blah.

Vincent, however, failed to produce the expected admonitions. He only pushed something into Nero’s hand. It was a pair of dark-lensed sunglasses. Nero looked down at them and back up at the man, in blank perplexity.

“It’s bright outside,” Vincent said simply. “The polarized lenses help.”

Then he turned around and went back in the house, without another word. Nero stared after the man, as the door swung shut, muting the baby’s raucous wailing inside.

His vision went red, teeth clenched tightly and hand shaking, around the black sunglasses, as a big, ugly knot of pain and rage and other unidentifiable emotions surged up in his chest, choking him and making his eyes sting with tears.

He wanted to smash the stupid things to fragments, hurl them at the door and scream curses at that man. Rip open his bleeding chest and force his so-called father to look at the mangled insides of the ruined creature he brought into this world, and then tore away from the only person in it that he’d ever loved.

Then the cold reason of his dark side rose up, black flowing into red, and cooled the rage. Calmed the storm. Reminded him of his objective and the tasks before him. He needed to gain these people’s trust, if he was to get back to Weiss. Childish outbursts would only hinder his purpose. Patience. Patience.

“Nero, are you coming?” Sephiroth called out, drawing him from his ruminations.

Nero shoved the sunglasses onto his face, to hide his pink-rimmed eyes, and stalked gloomily to the vehicle.

The little blonde had arrived on a motorcycle, but that was an impractical means of conveyance, for their errand, so the three of them were to drive to town in one of the many vehicles that belonged to the Valentine-Highwind household.

This one was a small work truck, with a pickup style bed and cab that technically seated three. Technicality butted heads with reality, however, when Sephiroth was one of the three involved.

Cloud was driving, since neither of the others had a license, and Sephiroth’s six-foot seven-inch frame was already pushing the limits of the truck's capacity, even in the passenger seat. As a result, Nero wound up packed like a sardine into the middle seat, between his ostensible elder brother, and his brother’s former-nemesis-slash-current-boyfriend.

He very quickly began to suspect this was some method of psychological demolition. Because, if the entirety of the prison system had coordinated its efforts, it could never have contrived a more devilish torture for him, than this exact situation.

Not only did Cloud drive like a lunatic, causing Nero to be constantly bumped and jostled about between the two, but Sephiroth kept reaching over him, to fiddle with the radio dial, simultaneously invading his personal space, and causing all kinds of disjointed snippets of songs to blare briefly from the vehicle’s speakers.

Finally, much to Nero’s relief, Cloud smacked Sephiroth’s hand away. “Cut that out. I’m driving, so I get to pick the station. Besides, you have the absolute worst taste in music.”

“I do not,” Sephiroth contended.

“He does,” Cloud intimated to Nero. “He was raised on nothing but classical music, for optimum cerebral development, and now he’s taking revenge by soaking his super-brain in the most atrocious, top-forty pop garbage imaginable.”

“The music you claim to prefer is full of screaming, and instruments that sound like rusty bandsaws,” Sephiroth put forth. “I simply do not enjoy music with such an aggressive sound and violent themes.”

“Said the most violent man on the planet.”

They went on like this for the remainder of the drive, with Nero seething silently between them, his eyes squeezed shut behind his sunglasses (for which he was very grateful, now), and darkness tendrils stuffed into his ears, against their affectionate banter.

At long last, they arrived at the grocery store. It was a massive, fluorescent-lit, commercial monstrosity, that a corporation had christened Mid-Mart without a hint of irony. They paused, just inside the entrance, and Sephiroth tore the grocery list into three parts, handing a piece each to Nero and Cloud.

“We can get this done more quickly and efficiently if we spread out,” he explained. “Everyone take a basket, gather your items, and we will rendezvous at the Mt. Nibel Dew display, in thirty minutes. Understood?”

Cloud returned a jaunty salute, and before Nero knew what was happening, he was handed a red plastic basket with black handles, and then left on his own, in a grocery store full of innocent, unarmed civilians. Him. The known terrorist, official enemy of society, and former de-facto leader of Deepground. Like his custodians were mentally deficient.

Luckily for them, now was not the time to make a move. He had his own plans, and no intention of playing his hand, just yet. Storing the sunglasses in his hoodie pocket, he studied the list of items, and began the daunting task of searching for them, in the glossy, chaotic fever-dream that was a modern grocery store.

Shopping was not as difficult an undertaking as had it seemed, at first blush. The aisles, though arranged according to no logic decipherable by man, were labeled with their general contents, and items tended to be grouped together with other, similar items.

Following this pattern, he quickly gathered the first several things. Next, his list had ‘maple syrup’ and ‘strawberry jam’ on it, which were in the same aisle as breakfast cereals and granolas, but not the peanut butter or honey.

As Nero turned into the aisle, he encountered the little blonde, choosing canisters of something called ‘rolled oats.’

“Hey,” he hailed, as Nero approached. “Finding everything ok?”

“Yes,” Nero answered, putting a jar of strawberry jam into his basket. “It isn’t a particularly challenging task.”

“So, um. Sephiroth told me a bit about you,” Cloud ventured. “What happened with your brother, and all that.”

Nero’s crimson eyes flickered to his face, then away. “And?”

“And…nothing. I’m just sorry you had to go through that. I know what it’s like to lose your only family member.”

Ugh. Concerned sympathy from a fellow griever. Nero was repulsed by this kind of thing. He knew how to shut it right back down, though. “Weiss is more than just a family member. He is my lover.”

“He’s…what?” Cloud asked, confused.

“Weiss is my biological half-brother. He is also my lover,” Nero said slowly, pronouncing every syllable clearly, as if defying Cloud to take issue with it.

Cloud balked, blindsided by his frank assertion. “Y—you mean…”

“Yes. I mean exactly that.” Nero narrowed his eyes and tilted his head questioningly. “Is me sleeping with my brother—the only person who has loved me and taken care of me, in my entire life—somehow stranger than you sleeping with the man who burned your hometown to the ground, and murdered your mother?”

Cloud’s golden brows lowered angrily, but he swallowed whatever sharp retort was on his tongue and took a deep breath, before he answered. “Look, I didn’t mean to come off like I was judging you. I don’t know about your relationship and it’s none of my business. I was just caught off-guard, is all.”

“I am not offended, I was merely illustrating a point,” Nero said serenely.

“Which is?”

“The heart can be neither ruled by law, nor governed by reason. Thus, reason and law have no place in the dominion of love, which will reign over a man’s heart, one way or another—whether it is as a ruthless tyrant to a captive slave, or as the benevolent sovereign of a willing subject.”

Cloud blinked. “Uh…”

“Pickles.”

“Huh?”

“Pickles are the next item on my list,” Nero clarified. “Do you know where they can be found?”

“Right. The ones Cid likes are pickled cucumbers, in the refrigerated section, with the cheese and cold snack foods. The ones Vincent likes are Chinese-style pickled vegetables, which are in the international foods section, on aisle thirteen.”

For the briefest moment, Nero’s curiosity got the better of him and he paused. “Is he—”

“Half Chinese. Grew up bilingual. That’s why everyone in the house speaks Mandarin. You didn’t wonder?”

“I don’t bother myself about what others are doing,” Nero replied, with a haughty toss of his head. “If learning languages amuses them, then so be it. It’s nothing to me.”

“Maybe you should try learning a little, too,” Cloud suggested. “It’s part of your family’s heritage.”

“Those people are not my family,” Nero said icily.

“Yeah, sure,” Cloud snorted. “Whatever you want to tell yourself.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean you don’t know them as well as I do. Once they’ve decided you’re one of their own, they won’t ever give up on you, no matter how much you kick and scream. Trust me, I speak from experience.”

Nero gave a mirthless laugh. “Yes, well, thank you for the sage advice. If you have nothing further to add, I am going to collect the rest of the items on my list.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off, leaving Cloud feeling flustered and annoyed, and rather glad to be rid of the intractable, unpleasant young man, who seemed so much older and wiser than himself, but was actually several years his junior.

In aisle thirteen, where all the Asian foods were grouped together in one section, Nero found the pickled vegetables, without much trouble. To his exasperation, however, there were spicy and regular varieties, and no one had specified which was wanted.

On the other side of the aisle, as he was deliberating, there was a woman near a partially filled cart, with a girl of around two years old, sitting in the child seat. The woman was talking on her cell phone, whilst perusing the products on the shelves, with her back to the child.

As such, she failed to notice that the little girl had got loose of the safety restraint, and was reaching for something on the shelf, stretching her little hands out further and further, till all of a sudden, she toppled out of the seat, headfirst.

Quicker than sight, Nero’s darkness tendrils shot out and caught the small girl, just before she cracked her skull on the tile floor. He was setting her gently back in the cart, when the mother turned around and let out a bloodcurdling scream, dropping her cell phone and snatching up the child. The child, startled by the scream and being yanked around so abruptly, immediately burst out sobbing.

“My baby!! Help! Help!!” the woman shrieked. “This monster is trying to take my baby!!!”

Nero sighed and placed the jar of pickled vegetables (spicy variety) in his basket, now deeply regretting that he hadn’t just let the child fall and break its stupid neck.

Meanwhile, footsteps came clattering from every direction, as the store employees, manager, security guard, and curious onlookers stampeded over to see what the commotion was. Fortunately for all of them, Sephiroth and Cloud arrived faster, and got between them and the extremely volatile bio-engineered weapon, in a purple hoodie.

“What’s—what’s going on, here?” the rather portly manager panted. “Ma’am, are you alright?”

“He’s a monster!” the mother intoned, clutching the bawling child to her bosom. “He tried to snatch my Sally, right in front of my face! He grabbed her with these horrible tentacle things, like some kind of demon!!”

The gathering crowd turned on Nero, muttering and glaring at him, with open hostility and disgust. There were cries of ‘damn freak!’ and ‘arrest him!’

“Everyone shut up!” Cloud bellowed, in his rather impressive command voice, giving the manager and security guard (who were already sweating, looking up at the towering Sephiroth) a jolt. “Did anyone here actually see what happened?”

There was general murmuring from the crowd, but it was apparent that no one had.

“I saw!” the mother said furiously. “I already told you what happened! Were you not listening?”

“Ah…ha. Let’s not be hasty, ma’am,” the security guard attempted, in a conciliatory tone. “Is it possible you saw wrong, or—”

“Why are you questioning me instead of arresting this man!” the woman interrupted. “Look at him! Look at his eyes! He’s clearly dangerous!!”

“Nero, what happened?” Cloud asked, while the manager and guard were attempting to soothe the woman.

“Didn’t you hear?” Nero sneered. “I’m a dangerous freak. I tried to snatch a baby with my monster tentacles.”

“That attitude isn’t helping,” Sephiroth told him, in an undertone. “If the police get involved and assault charges are filed, you’ll be in violation of your house arrest, whether you’re guilty or not.”

“Fine,” Nero sighed, as if he was being sorely put upon, and pointed to the mother. “That idiot was on her phone, not paying attention to the child. It fell out of the cart. I caught it, before it landed on its head, and put it back. Then she started screaming nonsense at me and making a scene. In hindsight, if she’s going to raise it to be another fool like herself, it would’ve been better to just let it crack its skull on the ground, and end its misery.”

“How dare you!” the woman scolded. “You’re calling me liar and victim blaming?! And wishing harm on an innocent baby?!”

“Sir, this store has security cameras, correct?” Cloud asked the manager. “Shouldn’t a review of the feed clear all of this up?”

“Ah…ah, yes! In my office. W—we can look at the footage in my office,” the shiny-faced, balding man stammered, nodding like a chicken pecking rice.

The woman tossed her head. “Hmph. I know what I saw, but fine. It’ll just prove I’m telling the truth.”

“Right this way, right this way,” the manager said, directing the involved individuals toward the back of the store. “Gerome, disperse the, uh…other guests, please? Thank you.”

The security guard waved people along, as the group followed the harried manager back to his office, which as turned out, was a rather tight squeeze, for five adults and a baby. Everyone wound up inelegantly clustered together, over the bank of monitors, while he scrolled back through the international foods aisle footage, to a few minutes ago.

The video showed the incident more or less as Nero described it, save for the fact that his darkness tendrils didn’t show up on cameras, so there was a bizarre moment when it looked as if the child stopped its fall and hovered in midair, then floated back into the cart, of its own accord.

“Ma’am, is that satisfactory?” Sephiroth asked, looking down at the woman, who was packed in between himself and the manager.

The woman’s lip trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes again. “I—I thought…I just saw tentacles grabbing my Sally, and this man with scary, red eyes. I can’t be blamed for thinking the worst, right?”

Sally, meanwhile, seemed to be enjoying all of the excitement, very much, and was busily yanking on Sephiroth’s long, inky-black hair, with both tiny fists.

“Sally, no—we don’t pull hair,” her mother chided, gently prying the baby’s hands open. “Sorry about that, she grabs everything these days.”

“It is quite alright,” Sephiroth replied mildly. “My little sister is about the same age. I have to wear my hair in a braid at home, unless I want it all to wind up in her mouth.”

“Oh, I can imagine, with long hair like yours. That’s why I’ve cut mine short. It’s just easier that way,” she smiled, softening at finding common ground with another (sort of) parent. Then she hesitated, glancing awkwardly at Nero. “Look, I apologize for overreacting. We keep hearing these horror stories about people coming back from the frontlines deranged and with all these horrible mutations, and attacking people right in the streets. I lost my husband to the war, and Sally’s all I’ve got now. If I lost her too, I just—I don’t know what I’d do.”

Nero, however, was looking the other direction, studiously ignoring the conversation.

“All’s well that ends well, so there’s no sense in dwelling on it,” Cloud answered for him. “I’m sure we’d all just like to finish our shopping and get home.”

After the woman and baby had gone away, the manager apologized and sweated profusely, at the three gentlemen, for a few more minutes, and even went so far as to offer them a twenty percent discount on all their purchases today, by way of compensation for the trouble, though it looked like it cost him a pang to do it.

“So. Your first foray out of the house, and you saved a baby from getting seriously injured,” Cloud remarked to Nero, as they drove homeward, a little while later.

“I didn’t mean to,” Nero scowled, behind the dark sunglasses that he’d put back on, the moment they exited the store. “I acted without thinking. Needless to say, I won’t be making such a foolish error again.”

“Our father will be very pleased to hear of your good deed,” Sephiroth put in, looking exceedingly smug. “It seems you’re already making progress toward becoming a productive member of society.”

Nero crossed his arms disconsolately, shrinking down in the cramped middle seat. “I hate this stupid family.”

“It’ll grow on you. You’ll see,” Cloud chuckled, as he swatted Sephiroth’s hand away from the radio, yet again.

NOTES:

Sephiroth picture: user screenshot by MrsPika with a mod for black-haired Sephiroth. No idea what they used for the eyes when ollie says "ah-guh" that's ollie for "er-ge" which is mandarin affectionate for "second elder brother", pronounced like "ahr-guh"

LINK TO CHAPTER 8

18 notes · View notes

vampirepersay · 2 months ago

Text

The afterlife of Pip Pirrip: old fic that I wrote back in 2022 it was finished but after I deleted the fic I lost the ending

CW: canon character death,religious imagery but it's the south park version of religion.

WC:1009

My name is Pip and I'd like it if you'd stop smashing our little town to bits".

That

was the last thing he said before he felt his body being crushed by mecha Streisand.

It felt like a

bad dream, like something that couldn't have happened.

But it wasn't a dream Pip was dead.

But if he had died why did he feel himself starting to wake up?

So it was just a bad dream Pip

thought to himself while rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes but when the young

British boy opened his eyes he was not greeted by the familiar walls of his bedroom, but

instead, by blinding white light and calling out from that light pip heard an unfamiliar voice

despite having never heard the voice before for some strange reason he found it comforting but

before he even had a chance to hear what the voice said he felt himself starting to fall, it felt like

he was falling for an eternity, time seemed to be going slower if this was a dream then why did it

feel so real he thought. After what felt like a lifetime Pip stopped falling. And what he saw

confirmed what Pip was so terrified of not only was he dead but he was in hell.

There were no

other explanations for this;

everything as far as Pip could see was on fire, but Pip wasn't afraid.

A voice he would have recognized from anywhere could be heard Damien Thorn the one person

who was at least somewhat kind to him was standing in the flames unfazed by it all Like this

was something he saw every day before pip could take everything in or even ask for some kind

explanation a red figure appeared from what seemed out of nowhere.

"Damien, are you scaring the newcomers again?" said what pip could only assume was satan

himself, "Father, I know this person, why is he here?" asked

the young demon, the larger and much More intimidating demon replied with

clear sarcasm in his voice "for a nice vacation, he's dead, why else would he be here!

"you don't have to yell, I know that already what I meant was why is he here? he never struck

me as the type to end up here". "Look, Damien, you know I'm not the one who

decides who ends up where. If your little friend is here then he's here for A Reason". Before the

father-son conversation could continue Pip decided he was going to get the answers he so

desperately needed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but where am I?, also hello

Damien I thought I'd never see you again.

"oh yeah I should probably explain,

thanks a lot Damien for getting me distracted so as you've probably already guessed your dead

crushed to death by a giant robot to be exact, and as for where you are if it wasn't obvious

you're in hell.

If you have any other questions feel

free to ask me. I'm not busy, also this whole hell thing is kinda my whole job".

Said satan who

was surprisingly nice. After his speech to pip, a loud buzz could be heard "ugh that better not be tom" after pulling his

phone out from who knows where the demon looked at his phone before saying "sorry pip I got

to take this Damien should be able to answer whatever questions you have".

"umm what just happened now I'm just more confused" said the British boy.

"don't worry he's always like that you'll get used to it". Said the raven-haired demon.

"thanks Damien there's something I must ask you if that's alright?"

"what is it?" replied Damien.

"when you asked why I was here you seemed surprised, why is that?"

"come on pip you know

why you're not a bad person". Said Damien with his usually fiery eyes with a hint of sorrow in

them.

"I'm sorry what, Damien do you actually think

I'm a good person, or are you just saying that to make me feel better".

said pip who was

shocked that someone would say something so kind to him

"Look pip I've come to realize that

you didn't deserve anything that happened to you, and I want to apologize because of me

wanting so desperately to be cool I hurt you, and that wasn't okay".

"You're apologizing, thanks no ones ever actually said sorry to me before," said pip.

"That's horrible but at the same time I'm not surprised",

Damien replied, who seemed to be the

first person to like pip.

"thank you Damien's That exactly what I needed to hear".

The British boy responded. "Damien, can I ask you a question?

it's a rather stupid one

but I just need to know" "sure I don't have anything else to do, and if I don't help you i'll definitely

get in trouble.

The demon replied. "I warned you it's dumb but you know how you went

to earth,

"yeah what about it"?.

"well that's the dumb part of the question is there any way for me

to do that". Said the blonde boy feeling like an idiot for even asking the question.

"No, I'm sorry

there is no way for a human, who has gone to hell to go back to earth.

Said the young demon

with sorrow in his voice.

Just as Damien finished his oddly sweet speech to pip a fall could be

heard and an oddly familiar muffled voice could be heard saying something pip couldn't make

out.

That was Until the source of the voice was in Pip's Vision, it was Pip's classmate Kenny

McCormick.

Pip was shocked to see one of his fellow classmates in hell, deciding to make

conversation with him Pip called out his name "KENNY!".

The young hooded boy looked Pips way

with disgust in his eyes before flipping him off, what happened next Pip could only describe as

some cruel joke from the Universe kenny's body began to glow with white light before he

teleported out of hell.

AN: I'm aware Damian is super ooc in this and I apologize, I wrote this fic back in 2022 so that's why so many things are out of character or just not accurate to canon Im not going to finish this because it had an ending originally and it's been so long since I wrote this I don't want to change the original ending.

#south park #south park fanfiction #sp pip pirrup #pip pirrup #sp pip #kenny mccormick #unfinished fanfic #sp damien #south park damien thorn #sp damien thorn

10 notes · View notes

shostakobitchh · 6 months ago

Text

chapter 60: sneak peek!

Remus had slowly come back to the world of conscious beings Sunday morning, when the sunlight had beamed behind his eyelids and woken him up.

He staggered to the toilet and managed to lift himself into the tub long enough to actually get a bath going. He fell asleep — again — to find the bath overflowing and became very annoyed that the castle didn’t have the sense to stop something like that from happening.

There was a note from Snape on his nightstand where he returned, along with a cloudy vial.

Drink this. Now.

There was something scratched out underneath it — Remus could almost make out an obscenity.

Do NOT take on an empty stomach unless you want to give yourself an ulcer.

There was an “I don’t care either way” somewhere in there, but Remus was too tired to feel annoyed by Snape’s callousness. Remus downed the potion and then rinsed his mouth out for the fifth time, iron between his molars, his tongue dry and heavy.

Maybe he was dying. Maybe this was his punishment — being eaten alive by what he could not say aloud.

"Or perhaps," Remus murmured aloud, breaking the silence. "I am already dead, and this is my purgatory."

The room gave no response, and Remus collapsed back onto the bed with a groan. He nearly dozed off again before he shook off the haze and stood up, put on his robes, and started making a pot of tea. Lily had given him a particular blend during her last trimester, when she’d finally been able to match his level of fatigue, a calming concoction meant to soothe the nerves. It wasn’t much, but he hoped it would stave off his constant exhaustion, at least momentarily.

With unsteady hands, he poured the hot water into his mug and watched as the steam curled up towards the ceiling.

And then, there came a soft knock from the door.

“Professor Lupin?” a muffled voice called hesitantly.

Remus went very still.

Ariel.

He hadn’t seen her since Halloween — well, he’d seen her, but he certainly hadn’t tried to have another conversation with her. Between Sirius and the full moon and Snape’s deadly suspicion, Remus had been forced to push Ariel to the back of his mind, a painful reoccurrence that he'd hoped would fade.

But hopes, Remus had learned long ago, were brittle and easily broken.

"Professor Lupin?" the knock repeated, a touch louder this time. Ariel's voice was perfectly composed, so unlike the last time they’d spoken, her thin face shining bright with betrayal she didn’t even know the true depths of.

But then Professor Snape said something —

You knew him, didn’t you? My dad —

My dad my dad my dad

I told you I heard him with the Dementors —

It took Remus a moment to summon himself back into the present, fingers tightening around the warm mug as if it could provide some form of fortitude. He thought of Sirius smashing mugs the night James had told them they’d need to go into hiding — for the baby.

Did you — know me?

Remus threw the door open.

Ariel looked momentarily startled before her eyes widened as she took in his appearance.

“Hello,” she said, very matter of factly. She folded her hands together tightly in front of her, cheeks rosy from the chill of the corridor outside, which seemed to seep down into Remus’ bones.

He raised an eyebrow at her, rallying his parched vocal cords to sound somewhat normal, but nothing came out.

She swallowed, as though she were steeling herself, and lifted her chin up at him. “Can I come in?”

Remus didn’t know what else to do, so he gave a nod and stepped aside.

She glanced around the small chamber, eyes taking in the cluttered desk, the rumpled sheets of his bed that had wound up on his office floor, the worn out rug beneath their feet. Remus could almost see her mind cataloging each detail.

“I came to talk,” Ariel finally said, crossing her arms up at him. Something shimmered in the back of her dark eyes, something hard and quick. “About Halloween — but you look dreadful.”

How very Lily-esque of her, being that blunt. Remus had to swallow his laugh.

He rubbed a hand over his face and smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’m serious,” Ariel scowled. “Hasn’t anyone been taking care of you?”

Something like a fist curled around his heart. “There isn’t much to be done, unfortunately.”

She didn’t look like she liked that answer very much. She did that strange movement with her jaw again, which gave Remus an even stranger sense of deja vu before her dark eyes flicked back up at him. “Is there anything I can do?”

The question hung in the air between them, hanging heavily like the truth that remained unsaid. Remus felt a chill run down his spine, an instinct telling him to move away from this dangerously innocent question.

Her face fell when he did not answer, before something like resolve twisted her lips and corners of her eyes.

“I’m still quite cross with you,” Ariel began.

“I figured.” Remus said automatically.

She scowled. “I’m being serious.”

"So am I.”

There was a quiet moment between them, punctuated by the distant ticking of the clock somewhere in his office. The silence made Ariel uncomfortable — he could see it in the way her eyes darted around the room, avoiding eye contact.

"But," she started again with some hesitation. "I don't want to be mad at you anymore. I — I want to understand."

Remus crossed the room, motioning for her to sit. He took the chair behind his desk as he Summoned a mug for her, floating it to her as she chewed at her lip and settled her rucksack at her feet. He tried to muster together every ounce of energy he had — and perhaps it was the adrenaline kicking in, the prospect of explaining, of clearing the air that made him feel suddenly alert.

“I owe you an explanation.” Remus’ voice was rough.

“If that’s what you think,” Ariel shrugged, but her voice was cold, colder than Remus would’ve liked.

His gaze burned into the worn desk between them, the murky brown of his tea reflecting back at him. For a moment, he wished he could lose himself in it, drowning out Ariel’s expectant stare.

“I could give you many reasons,” he began. “But I’m afraid none of them would suffice. Your parents would be — just as cross, I’d imagine — were they here. They wouldn’t really credit anything as good enough for why I’ve been so distant, why you’ve never heard from me. I — I owed your parents more than that. I owe you more than that. I made them many promises, and I’m afraid I have broken them. I know I can’t rectify it, not completely, but I can hope that I can start with — this.”

Ariel watched him with an intense stare, her features unreadable. Then, folding her arms across her chest, she tipped her head slightly, as if contemplating his words. “What does that mean — this?”

“Answering your questions. And explaining my absence.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Just how — how close were you? I didn’t recognize you in any of the photographs. I had a whole trunk full of them that Mum left.”

He shifted his gaze away guiltily. “That would be my doing. I took most of the pictures with me after — everything. I didn’t think I would ever see you again, if I’m being quite honest.”

"And why did you think that?" Ariel asked, her tone sharpening. "Did you not want to see me?”

"No, Ariel." Remus' voice was strained. "It's not that at all."

The intensity faded from Ariel's eyes as she watched him, replaced by a glimmer of something else. There was the same stubborn tilt to her chin that her mother used to have — a defiant little twist of her lips that James had never worn. It kept dawning on Remus, over and over, that he could not find James in her, and it hurt more than he would ever admit.

The silence that followed was a tangible thing, expanding until it filled every corner of the room. Ariel's gaze did not waver, fixed on Remus in a relentless demand for answers. He could not recall Lily or James’ own stares holding such power — even Lily, who had snarled and bit at every attempt to make her more comfortable, to everyone who had tried to tell her what to do, whether it was well-intentioned or not.

She would have snarled for him to stop with the bullshit already. James would have cut through it already, seen down to that unreachable, shiny thing he saw in everyone.

"I didn't want to see you because I didn't want you to see me," Remus admitted finally.

Slowly, Ariel set the mug of tea down on the surface of the desk, the sound shockingly loud.

"I don't understand." she confessed, her voice little more than a murmur.

"You're not supposed to." Remus replied, running a hand through his graying hair in frustration. "I didn't want you to know me as I am now. I wanted you to remember me as I was — when your parents were still alive and everything was — better."

"But I don’t remember you.”

“I know. And I — I would think it was for the best.”

She looked genuinely stunned.

“How could it be for the best?" her voice shook suddenly, betraying the fierce composure she had clenched onto thus far. "I grew up without any of you. I didn’t even know what they looked like until I found Mum’s trunk.”

Remus's gaze dropped to his hands, lost in the aged lines and scars. "Ariel, we were in a war. We were all soldiers, all risking our lives every day. I didn't want that to be your first memory of us. Or your last."

"You should have let me decide for myself," Ariel said, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. “That’s a pretty bad excuse, if you think the war that took them from me was the reason to keep them away forever.”

"I suppose it is," he conceded softly, his throat tight with regret.

Ariel watched him quietly, her eyes reflecting a strange mixture of anger, confusion and an inkling of understanding. It was that last emotion that startled Remus — how could such a young girl understand the complexities of his guilt? How could she understand the countless nights he had spent haunted by it, shrouded in loneliness? He knew what she was getting at — they could of had one another, could have had that much at least, but the full moon and the horror of that night, knowing they were all gone — all of them —

The memory cut through him with icy precision, slicing open old wounds. The grim despair through which Albus had told him — Remus, half-mad with grief and blaming himself for not being there. The way the world seemed to end and start anew in the same dreadful moment. And the baby — the baby had truly been collateral, but before he could even comprehend what had happened — last piece of a puzzle he wished he could forget — yet he wouldn't dare to, because forgetting meant losing them completely —

Ariel’s voice cut through the past, threatening to drag Remus somewhere he’d buried, somewhere thick with dirt and darkness.

"I guess it doesn't matter now," she said, her voice quiet but resolute. She stood up, the slight tremor in her hand the only sign of any inner turmoil. "But I would — like the chance now — now that I have a say. At least, I think I do.”

Remus blinked, the shadow of his grief lifting in the face of her words.

"Of course, you do," he agreed softly. He could not strip her of that right, not when she had been deprived so much already.

"Then I have a lot to catch up on," she said, lips curling into a half-smile that was more wistful than truly happy. She looked older at that moment, like a ghost of a future not yet arrived. “And — you owe me.”

Remus just stared. “I beg your pardon?”

Her smile turned into something — mischievous.

And for the first time, Remus could have sworn it was an echo of James.

#sam speaks #aim and ignite #sneak peek

13 notes · View notes

respondedinkind · 1 year ago

Text

@tangleweave plotted starter

It hurts. That's the first thought that pops up inside a mind that's blank otherwise. There's nothing happening; Vast darkness surrounding a point of existence that has neither legs nor arms, perhaps not even a mouth or a pair of eyes.

But by god, does it hurt.

Ka'anh - that's his name, right? - has gone through a lot during his life. He has experienced pain on a daily basis, he knows how to handle it, he knows how to endure the suffering that comes with each and every single wave of it.

And yet, he thinks that this pain he experiences is... more severe. It's different. It's perhaps the worst he's felt yet, and something inside the darkness he resides within tells him that this pain brings a fatal ending to a written story.

Maybe it does. Maybe that's how it will end, he thinks to himself.

How did it start, though?

He tries to remember. The darkness shifts a bit, but remains close, lingering on top of him like a heavy blanket. He remembers sounds, pictures; Kill him, they've said. End him, he's not worth it.

He'd been afraid, he remembers that as well. Had made a decision, had finally figured out how bad things truly were and that this moment, this second, would decide about his fate. Was Ka'anh supposed to die, or would he continue to life? It had been his decision to make; He didn't want to die without putting up a fight.

He was made to fight, so he did precisely that: He fought.

And, somehow, he'd managed to free himself. He remembers the pain shooting through his back, literally so, as bullets made of plasma cut through his tissue and sensitive nerve-endings; He remembers how he gasped for air as he broke a living being's sternum with the weight of his own body, the pressure of a heavy boot. He remembers how he ripped a weapon out of another one's grasp and smashed the butt of it against a face, teeth and bones shattering, sending blood flying through the air.

Ka'anh remembers that he's made it; In the end, he's stayed alive, despite his injuries. He's fled, and he's captured a shuttle to fly into space with.

But now he's here. Somehow, he's somewhere else, he assumes; The darkness around him wobbles and begins to fade, and he realizes he's still very much made of legs and arms, and all four hurt. One hurts the most - his left leg, and he isn't sure whether he can even move any of them to begin with.

Open your eyes, something tells him. Open your eyes and take a look, free yourself from the nothingness, assess the damage and go on!Fight, you have been made to do that, after all. Fight, continue to work your way up and out. Fight, because you won't die without putting up one.

Ka'anh fights and opens his eyes, which he still possesses, thank god. Colors start to appear, a brightness that's much too intense and makes him groan from between a set of clenched teeth; His sense of smell returns, at least somewhat, and the scent that floods his nostrils is made of copper, burned flesh and molten metal.

He's in so much pain - so, so much. Squeezing his eyes shut once again, he grunts, huffing out a breath before taking in another; His lungs rattle as he does. An internal injury, most likely one or two broken ribs that have stabbed his lungs and fill them with blood. He tries to focus but his head is swimming, and he wonders if he's suffering from a serious brain-injury.

It would make sense, he realizes: he's crash-landed his shuttle onto another planet.

Yes, he remembers. The... thing that had appeared in the vastness of space, like a tear forming in reality, sucking him in, causing his vessel to malfunction, to be thrown toward another planet he's never seen before---

Ka'anh moans out as his head keeps pounding in sync with his heartbeat; It feels like as if it gets stabbed, over and over again. Tears flow freely from the corners of his eyes - or is it blood? he doesn't know - and as much as he tries, he just can't get up. He turns his head, blinks his eyes open, but - once again - just spots blurry colors, a brightness surrounding him that's too much to take, so he closes them.

He lies on his stomach, on what must be dirt, and he can feel something brush along his form - wind, perhaps. Most sounds he can listen to are muffled, including his own pathetic groans and grunts, but he thinks he can hear a fire burning somewhere to his right.

Must be his shuttle, destroyed and in flames, he thinks.

He needs to get up. He needs to... somehow... he has to...

#tangleweave #Verse -> MCU #tw injury mention #(I know this is... kind of vague. I hope this is okay still? Feel free to let me know if you need anything changed please!)#(so his shuttle basically crash landed on earth. and yeah. that's all that happened and what people would have seen probably)#(if anyone has seen it)#(-clears throat- as said if you need anything more or anything else please tell me!)

4 notes · View notes

violent-optimism · 2 years ago

Text

Ranking every Ganon/Ganondorf based on Appearance

Hey folks!

Those who know me well know that Ganondorf is one of my all time favourite video game characters and I am SO excited to see him return in “Tears of the Kingdom”. In that spirit, I thought it would be fun to do a personal ranking of every major Ganon or Ganondorf appearance in a Zelda game.

Notice how I said “major”, because quite frankly there are a lot of smaller Zelda games out there and I don’t have time to look into every single one of them to see if the G man had a cameo or not. This won’t be a complete list, just complete in terms of my personal knowledge and the games I am most familiar with. Also, friendly reminder that this list is my opinion and I’m not trying to offend or change anyone’s mind.

Let’s go!

Ganon from the CD-I Zelda games - 1/10

I had to throw this one in here just for fun. It’s no secret that most of the characters in these games look absolutely god awful, not just Ganon himself. He looks like a weird, swamp monster that’s a cross between a dog and an ogre. Whenever I see this image all I can think of were those hilarious Youtube Poops from way back in the day. It is truly a silly design that fails to even remotely represent such an evil and intimidating character.

Calamity Ganon from Breath of the Wild - 3/10

Gosh, I just know I’m gonna piss people off with this one. I’m sorry, but I just don’t like this design at all. Like, what am I even looking at here? He looks like a Christmas tree crossed with a pirate skeleton or something. The only reason why I gave him a 3 is because at least he is somewhat intimidating, unlike the last entry on my list. I know I haven’t actually finished BOTW, but that doesn’t change the fact that I find his design to be pretty uninspired and confusing, at least from what I’ve seen.

Original Ganon from the Legend of Zelda - 5/10

Although I’ve always preferred Ganondorf to Ganon, I will say I actually dig this design quite a bit. It really gets the point across that he is a powerful baddie and will hurt you if he gets the chance. It’s a good look, it’s effective, and oddly cute in a weird way? Especially when you see him in the game as a bundle of sprites that resemble a bright blue pig. Ultimately it’s just not as threatening or aesthetically pleasing as some of his other reincarnations.

Ganondorf from The Wind Waker - 6/10

Now we’re getting somewhere! While this is far from my favourite design of his, you have to admit it goes in a pretty creative and unique art direction. This version of Ganondorf feels rather large and imposing, especially since he towers over the characters of Link and Zelda who are literal children. I love the small details like his brooch and sandals. When I look at this image, I’m left with only one burning question...why did they make him so god damn CHONKY?

Ganondorf from Ocarina of Time - 7/10

Honestly it’s really hard to find anything wrong with this design. This was the first time we ever saw a human version of Ganondorf, and it’s inspired all of the other versions since then to some degree. He’s imposing, he’s threatening, he’s powerful, and it shows. I love the brown tones mixed with the white/blue/red cloth that’s scattered over various points. I think the only problem I have with this is the weird cod-piece situation that’s going on. And why did they make his ears so big and goofy?

Ganondorf from Hyrule Warriors - 8/10

Now THIS is more like it! I never played Hyrule Warriors, but boy do I sure love this design of Ganondorf. The blue and gold tones, the giant boots, the luscious red mane that’s free to blow in the wind. This is a look that just screams power and strength, with a touch of grace added in for good measure. Ganondorf looks delightfully mean here, like he’s thinking about how much he’s going to enjoy smashing your face into the ground.

Ganondorf from Tears of the Kingdom - 8.5/10

This new look hasn’t even been out for a week and I’m already so in love with it. I’m really enjoying the Samurai inspired design, with the man bun, tattoos and more skin shown than any other version I can think of. I know it’s on trend to talk about the thirst factor, but it definitely is there. Ganondorf’s potential for sex appeal is long overdue, and judging by everyone’s reaction I think I’m correct in that. Similar to Link and Zelda’s designs, I feel like this look has taken a bold new turn without straying too far from the original design of the character. I can’t wait to see more of him!

Ganondorf from Twilight Princess - 10/10

Here he is; the man, the myth...the absolute GOAT. In my opinion, Ganondorf’s design PEAKED with Twilight Princess and no other design has even come close to this level of perfection. Part of this might be my nostalgia talking, or the fact that this is my favourite Zelda game. But according to some other folks online, it looks like I’m not the only one who is obsessed with this look. Just looking at this image you can feel the anger, the power, the dominance. I love the colour scheme, the hairstyle, the cape, the fingerless gloves. There was so much thought put into every detail and it really shows. Perhaps 11 year Sam was ahead of her time, but I thought this Ganondorf was sexy as fuck back in the day (and tbh I still kind of do). At the end of the day, this look has everything you’d want for the King of Evil.

Thanks for listening to my ramble, folks. I hope you got something out of it. What’s your favourite version of Ganon/Ganondorf? :)

#Ganondorf #Ganon #The Legend of Zelda #my ranking

13 notes · View notes

envihellbender · 13 days ago

Note

Rott and Eddie in dbd universe

Rott: The Hanged Man

Lore

Rott was hung at the neck until dead for ‘gross indecency’, it was assumed to have engaged in sodomy, which it may have done but it was not until after its death that it was discovered it had a vulva instead of a cock. Its body was reanimated several centuries later, by a mad scientist type as were popular in the early twentieth century. It was then the Entity finally found it and wrapped its tendrils around its heart. It did not have to do much to beckon it into the fog, because it was already desperate to escape the master who thought it just a puppet. In appearance he is a rotting corpse who’s body has reached a strange stasis. He has surgical scars all over his body from when he was reanimated. He only has one working eye - in life it had an eyepatch to cover the non-functioning one to protect it from the light. It still wears it but if you pulled it back you’d discover a gaping hole where an eye used to be.

Load-out

The Hanged Man’s weapons include a: a knife made of its own radius bone sharpened to a point, a garrotte made from its own nerve endings, and a rope a mixture of its own spine twisted with intestines.

The knife is for a basic attack, the garrotte is a behind attack that replaces a lunge attack. If the survivor is up to 1.5 metres away, the Hanged Man can use its garrotte to attack from behind. Various items can make the garrotte more effective.

The rope is for a distance attack. It takes a few moments to charge (swinging around not unlike a lasso) and if aimed correctly it would wrap around the survivor’s neck. It will tighten as the Hanged Man pulls them closer, if the survivor cannot escape before the rope tightens as far as it will go they will be go down a health state (various items can adjust this and add status affects.)

The Hanged Man has a mode called “The View from the Gallows”. When it is hanging from the gallows from which it was killed all survivors are revealed to it but every survivor in turn is blinded and oblivious. This lasts for 30 seconds but can be extended with items.

Powers

Scourge Hook: Algor Mortis

Four extra hooks are frozen in place and cannot be broken. Survivors are hindered when within 10/15/20 metres of the hook, rescuing someone from them results in the rescuer being oblivious and blinded for 30/45/60 seconds.

Livor Mortis

Bleeding survivors leave slightly/somewhat/significantly more blood, being within 10/15/20 metres of a bleeding survivor sharpens your killer instinct revealing their position to you.

Pallor Mortis

Your skin has paled so much it almost glows in the dark. Every time a survivor blinds or stuns you they are blinded and stunned in turn, and suffer with blindness and obliviousness for 30/45/60 seconds.

Eddie: The Envy Demon

Lore

Eddie was a human once, or at least half of them was. That was until they made a deal with a beast they didn’t quite understand. The demon offered freedom to a teenager who didn’t know what that meant, they were promised a body they could change at will and an escape from the town that vilified and tormented them. They didn’t realise they were sacrificing their humanity. At least half of it. The right side of their face is just as it used to be, more or less. Their eyes are inhumanly green now, they’re more skeletal and their limbs bend oddly, but essentially they look like a normal person. The left side of them however is a horned beast, one that curls back like a ram, and his skin is a dark, forest green with scales and veins that are a pulsating yellow and burst through his rough skin. The human side looks pained, their eye forced open and their teeth and hairline receding into their skull.

Load-out

The Envy Demon’s weapons include their long claws on their demon side which enables a basic attack, a lunge attack which involves a pointed shard of a smashed mirror from their right hand, and a special attack named Leviathan’s Cross. This results in green spikes rising from the ground damaging anyone who touches them.

Their ability ‘Copycat’ triggers when the meter is filled. It results in there being a mirror image of every survivor and generator, except the reflection doesn’t function. It isn’t clear which generator isn’t real until you go up to it and try to use it, and the doppelgängers are wandering around barely distinguishable from the real thing, except they hinder you instead of help.

Powers

Sixth Circle of Hell

When the first generator is complete all of the players randomly exchange one perk/one perk and one item/all perks and items until another generator is finished.

Identity theft

The killer manages to cloak themselves as a survivor, quietening their terror radius and appearing from a glance as a fellow survivor. The differences can only be seen from close up and they act somewhat like a survivor with some more inhuman differences. This effect lasts 20/40/60 seconds and triggers when half of the generators are complete.

Green-eyed Monster

Whenever the killer is stunned or blinded they enter a rage state for 30/45/60 seconds, they become 1.5x/2x/2.5x faster, the length of their lunge attack increases by 1.5/2/2.5 metres.

#envi writes #dbd oc #dbd oc killer

1 note · View note

prolaterian · 1 year ago

Text

7 - Abilities | Absurdist Phone Guy Stuffed in a Suit

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49318093

Fritz Smith

Fritz and Jeremy had spent the next few hours pondering on what some of the mysterious components could do. Despite pouring over the question, they made little headway – the best theory they could come up with was that the metal grid was somehow related to Fritz possessing the animatronic. It wasn’t very enlightening, but it did make sense: everything else in Fritz’s body seemed “normal”, more or less – or at least as normal as something connected to Freddy’s could be.

Left with some answers – and a lot more questions – Fritz resolved himself to figure out what his new body could do. Somehow, his “soul” could control the animatronic’s movements, and he knew that he was able to force himself asleep. He let out a laugh – a strange thought manifesting in his mind: maybe he could use his soul to “feel” what was inside his body.

Had he still been human, he would have rejected the thought, but extenuating circumstances turned logic and reason on their heads. Fritz closed his eyes, letting out a shallow breath in the process. He sat in silence for a while, acclimating himself to his mind. The experience reminded him of the warehouse, but he quickly vanquished those thoughts – he had to stay focused.

He tried to move his arm through thought alone. He started by envisioning the movement, picturing what the action would look like, but it wasn’t enough. He dove deeper, imagining electrical impulses feeding into wires, traveling into the servos lining his elbow joint and emitting motion, accompanied by the barely audible click of precise movement. It wasn’t enough! He could feel it now. Taste it. In front of him – no, everywhere around him, inside of him – was an intricate lattice. It was completely colorless. In fact, as he soon noticed, he couldn’t see the lattice so much as he could feel it, every imperfection in its design made obvious to him. He could feel waves of energy roaring through it, slowly warping the lattice but ultimately leaving it unchanged.

He followed the energy, tracing its path as it moved through the lattice. As he moved forward, he noticed the lattice slowly rotating, its structure looking something like a spiral. As the lattice twisted, he watched as waves of energy crashed into its sides, and, with nowhere left to go, were violently ejected from the lattice. He once more followed one of those waves, gazing in astonishment as the energy took on a corporeal form, appearing somewhat like some of the particles in the lattice.

He followed the energy for a time, venturing out into empty space, before another lattice came into view. Strangely, this one appeared to be rotating. He watched closely as the particles of energy smashed into the lattice, no doubt the reason it was spinning. He gazed outwards, noting an expanse of similar particles, all crashing into the lattice.

Twitch.

Fritz’s eyes bolted opening, his vision immediately focusing on an arm that was slowly rising of its own accord. He swiftly regained control, wrenching the arm back down. To his relief, it complied.

Blinking back shock, Fritz took a moment to fully comprehend the implications of this. He realized, with elation, that he had managed to manually control his body. Sure, he could already move his arm normally, but this was just the first step.

Hours passed as Fritz became more and more comfortable with the process, the idea of interacting with the animatronic body directly becoming more and more intuitive. It still wasn’t quite as natural as walking, but after a bit of practice, it was nearly effortless.

Having mastered basic control, Fritz decided to up the ante. He knew there were motors to open his chest cavity and move his face plates – and while he had had some success with the chest cavity, he was completely unable to move the face plates. Applying his new new technique, he was astonished – and slightly repulsed – as he felt parts of his face lift up. This would take some getting used to. Haha, as if it was the only thing.

Moving on, he wanted to figure out what that strange disk did. He tried interacting with it… and was completely lost as to what its purpose could possibly be. He wanted to solve the mystery, but he’d be able to get to it later. For now, there was one thing he was certain he could interact with: the animatronic’s control board.

Fritz wasn’t exactly sure what he would be able to do with the board – after all, he could already use the animatronic to its full capabilities (or at least, what he thought its full capabilities were) – but William gave him access to it for a reason. It must do something.

He once again peered into himself, feeling the bits and pieces of metal that made up the strange grid and control board. He dove into it, feeling his thoughts meld with the electrical impulses that-

“Hey, there you are, night guard! Finally figured it out?”

Huh?

Fritz spun in a circle, eyes frantically darting across the room. He knew he had heard a voice, but from where?

“Over here, silly!”

He heard the high-pitched voice once more, searching fruitlessly for its owner. Someone was here, watching him. He felt his face plates lift up – he scoffed, clearly some instinct granted to him by the suit.

“Inside.”

Inside. Inside the suit. The control board. Was this the animatronic that had previously inhabited the suit?

“Hey, are you Fu-Funtime Foxy?” He whispered.

“Oh my, you flatter me, night guard! Actually, my name’s Bon-Bon. I’m a hand puppet!”

Fritz stopped in his tracks. A hand puppet? Now that the thing mentioned it, he did recall seeing one during some of his performances. “You mean like what that Freddy animatronic had? I think he had a blue one on his left hand. Or maybe it was his right…”

The puppet interrupted his train of thought: “Yup! That’s me! Well, looks like I’m not much of a puppet anymore, but that’s no matter; I’m just glad to be away from Funtime Freddy.”

How was this thing inside him? It’d make a bit of sense if he was talking to the body’s original owner, but strangely, he wasn’t. Haha, it seems they were kindred spirits – neither inhabited a body they could call their own. Fritz shook his head. He’d ask Jeremy about this later; perhaps the mechanic could shed some light on this mystery. In the mean time, he needed to figure out who this puppet even was.“I take it you aren’t the biggest fan of Freddy?”

“I’m sour at Funtime Freddy because he made a habit of throwing me. But I’m not really the biggest fan of any of the Funtime gang. They’re always scheming, plotting new ways to escape. Of course, I’ll just be along for the ride regardless. Oh! Night guard, that reminds me: they’re planning on killing William and using his body as a disguise to make it into the outside world with. It’s a silly idea, but they’ll do it and I’m afraid they’ll succeed.”

Huh? They planned to- oh, he got it. Fritz had once suggested that a night guard should play dead if they were discovered by an animatronic, but quickly took it back after realizing that the animatronics would probably view them as an empty suit and try to shove an endoskeleton inside of them. This sounded vaguely similar, although he couldn’t imagine how the animatronics would pass off as a person. It’d be a hilarious sight to behold, that’s for sure – well, not William’s corpse being piloted by an endoskeleton, just the endoskeleton trying to act like a person. Fritz shook his head. It might be helpful to discuss this with Jeremy, barring endoskeleton jokes.

Fritz carefully rose to his feet and leisurely moved towards the door.

“Hey, where are you going?” The rabbit puppet inquired.

“I’d like to talk to Jeremy about this.”

He hadn’t ventured into the house yet, so it took a bit of time to find Jeremy. The garage lead into a kitchen, which itself lead into a hallway. After only a bit of backtracking, Fritz spotted Jeremy in the living room.

“Jeremy!” Fritz called out.

Jeremy’s head shot towards him, wide eyed. “HOLY- Fritz. Something up?” Jeremy asked, quickly shaking off the startle.

“Uh, yeah, there’s… an animatronic inside me.”

Hearing that, said animatronic spoke in Fritz’s head: “Let me talk!”

Seemingly, Bon-Bon was just silicon and electricity. The control board was in fact connected to his motors and voice box, but somehow Fritz’s “soul energy” seemed to override it, rendering the bunny completely unable to control Fritz’s body. He began to lift this restriction but hesitated, not completely willing to turn over his autonomy. But he reasoned he could simply place the restriction back if things turned hairy.

As soon as the animatronic could speak, its high-pitched voice startling Jeremy once more: “Hi! I’m Bon-Bon!”

“The HELL?”

Bon-Bon briefly recounted what he had said to Fritz. Jeremy seemed somewhat intrigued but not nearly as shocked as he was when Bon-Bon was introduced. Fritz figured he should add a bit of context, explaining the events leading up to him discovering Bon-Bon.

After his explanation was over, Jeremy took only a few seconds to formulate a response: “That’s insane, Fritz, but not nearly as crazy as this whole thing.” He said, while motioning towards Fritz. “I’m pretty sure I know why he’s in you though. When I was repairing th- you, I noticed a data device wedged inside your face. It was undamaged, and I assumed it came from your control board – somehow – so I put it back there.”

Fritz pondered this, his thoughts abruptly cut short when his mouth began to move of its own accord. “Oh! I remember now. Part of the plan needed all the animatronics to merge together, and I was still on board when that happened. I remember we fought you, night guard, and then I woke up here.”

Hearing this, Jeremy smirked. “And by some crazy chance of fate, you ended up on Fritz here. You’re one lucky motherfucker, Bon.”

Fritz too had his own revelation. “So that… thing that attacked me is made up of the other animatronics. That’s the endoskeleton that wants to walk around in William’s body. You know, uh, that happened at least two days ago. If that thing’s plan was to escape, I’m pretty sure it’s long gone by now.”

Into the outside world, wreaking who knows how much damage. “We-maybe we can track it down? No one else knows what it really is. Hell, neither do we, but if we don’t do something, it’ll just keep killing people.”

Bon-Bon swiftly agreed with the suggestion, eager to get rid of Funtime Freddy, while Jeremy pondered it, reluctantly agreeing but only after they made sure the thing was really out and in the wild.

“Also”, Jeremy added, “I’m a bit curious if that thing’s haunted like you, Fritz. Can’t hurt to learn more about how all this bullshit works. Probably.”

With that, they resolved themselves to tracking down the dangerous amalgamation that was probably piloting William’s body.

……

Notes

Michael still got scooped, but it seems everyone has mistaken him for his father. Oh well!

In this story’s timeline, William is still alive before Sister Location starts (so he can tell Michael to work there), and it is chronologically the fourth game (after #4, #2, and #1). William finds himself stuck in his own suit at around the same time Michael gets scooped.

Oh, and now that Bon-Bon can talk, I need some way to differentiate between him talking through Fritz’s mouth or sending thoughts directly to Fritz (which isn’t so much telepathy as it is Fritz’s “brain” interpreting electrical impulses from the control board as sound). So, Bon-Bon’s dialogue will look “Like this.” and things he says just to Fritz will look Like this. It’s similar to how stories sometimes format thoughts/inner monologues, but these messages are still things Bon-Bon is saying as opposed his thoughts. If we want to know those, we’ll have to read something from his PoV.

Next Chapter

#fnaf #fanfic #fanfiction #five nights at freddy's #absurdism #philosophy #ao3 #writing

0 notes

softyarnball · 1 year ago

Text

Things I did not expect

Recently, two of my HS friends just had a quick reunion in the States. My little bird told me that my ex from HS had not dated any one since then. Everyone was surprised because it was at least 10 years ago.

Dating life must have been hard for him. I just remember that he was hanging out with our other common friends and asked if I could come to hang out. It was during office hours, so my other friends were sensible enough to refuse the request. That was weird.

I think there could be a few reasons why dating life has been a disappointment for him.

Just like my single HS little bird, that ex may have so high standards that he can hardly find love. Looking back, most of the (practical) married couples are like “we were just fooling around” until they cannot leave one another. What high standards can that be?

I once explicitly told him that I want money, lots of money, which I am also currently tell my bf so. The thing is that I want my partner to make money so that we can have a comfortable life. I derive pleasure from squandering my money for extravaganzaaa, not spending my partner’s or my parents’ money. I wonder if this is the deal-breaker for him. He did leave me with a long email detailing how we would not work out. I couldn’t remember what was the exact reason but the vague idea was that he didn’t want me as a lifelong partner. Looking back, it could have been one of the reasons that I have a huge red flag waving on my forehead. I was a poor young girl, with little future prospect while his family can afford his tuition, room, and board in much more expensive country. Of course, I think that his family could have given some sort of disapproval. I mean I was wayy below his standards if you only judge on where I come from (not asset-wise, which I think I have an upper hand thanks to my parents’ frugality). Plus, the blatant gold-digger attitude is definitely a red flag.

Education can also be one. However, as far as I know, a college holder should not have higher standards than me, right? Or it could simply he is looking for is someone with whom he can exchange some intellectual conversations. I cannot say that I am intellectual, considering how I am compared to my bf, but somewhat engageable in those conversations.

Good-looking? Well, that is not a very high bar, considering my appearance. If he wants to have a gym partner, then well, it’s hard. Nutrition can either go to your brain or your muscle. Another point is that while I am slowly hitting the wall (at 30), the wall is smashing his appearance. Hard. It is hard to ask for a same-age good-looking partner without a fortune to rest on.

Anyway, I feel like standards are good to have, but it also restricts potentially good match. Like the long-term relationship couple I talked about earlier, things happen organically. People build relationship with trust, collaboration, and frustration every now and then. I can’t leave my partner alone in his darkest pit, neither should or does he.

I don’t think that anything from that time lingers so much that he couldn’t date anyone. It was more than 10 years ago, and we were a couple of clueless (late) teenagers. Or was it just me who was clueless? Was he too calculated in our relationship? I should have noticed that earlier.

I have no idea why he thought it was a good idea to ask my friends to call me. I think it was platonically driven. He met quite a few people over the years. I was someone who was close to him during that HS time. I can totally see that it is normal to want to greet and meet.

I still believe that he would have really good marriage prospect. Males don’t really need to get married at this age anyway. While women’s eggs are failing us, men may get younger girls as they age (with money).

0 notes

fandomwritingbit · 2 years ago

Note

So.. kinks, huh?

I’m kinda shy to request this, actually. However. Would you be able to write some predator/prey scenario for William Afton and female reader? Girl, the chase, the thrill… of course reader being the chased one and Will being the chaser.

Thankies

Hello! Thank you so much for your request, this was an absolute pleasure to write, please don’t feel nervous to request anything else Xxx.

I’ve had a predator William in my head for a while, title and all lol. May have gotten a tiny bit carried away as this is fairly long, but I hope that this is kinda what you were after.

We’re all goin’ on a summer holiday: Predator William x (fem)reader

Warnings: smut. creepy/predator William. vaginal sex. oral sex. age gap. corruption. inappropriate relationship. swearing.

The holiday in Menorca had sounded like a good idea when your mum and dad pitched it to you some months ago. You, your 9-year-old brother and your parents: great. Then the news of your dad’s old Uni friend wanting to tag along with his three kids: awkward?

They’d blown a lot of money on it, a six bedroomed villa with a pool, outside bar area, all the bells and whistles. Given the stress of your studies it sounded like pure heaven.

You met the Afton family for the first time at the airport. Except Michael, you knew of him from your secondary school days. The two of you hadn’t exactly been friends, you’d been too nerdy for your own good, focused on smashing your GCSEs and he was a loner, the kind of lad with one or two mates who occupied the space under the main stairs.

You met the other family at the airport, right before your flight. And were quickly introduced to the two young ones, who instantly took up with your little brother fairly well, and of course their father, Mr Afton. Far be it from you to deny that he was a bit of a silver fox. All unreasonably tall, broad shoulders; a kind of scruffy and sleazy attractiveness that led to you taking sneaky glances at him wherever possible.

You’d thought that you were in for a treat, having a good-looking older man to look at as you laid about around the pool, it wasn’t ‘til later that you’d realise that maybe you were sorely mistaken.

Once on the plane, you and Michael had decided that as the newly founded adults (still considered kids) you’d might as well form an amiable pact, at least that way you could have someone to roll your eyes at when the parents were getting up your nose. And so you’d sat together for your flight, trying to somewhat get to know each other - though it was hard to talk like normal humans when your parents were sat on the other row cooing about how sweet the two of you looked together. Not to mention the cooling presence of Mr Afton on the row behind you.

About halfway through the voyage, the young Elizabeth booted your seat with enough force to make you spill your water all over your shirt. And so, you turn around to ask her, as politely as you could muster, to pack-it-the-fuck-in. You didn’t have to though as her father did it for you.

“Ay, watch your bloody feet.” To which she’d giggled a high-pitched “Sorry, daddy.” followed by a heavily prompted “Sorry, y/n”.

“I’ll keep telling her to stop.” He turned his attention to you. “But you’ll be in for the full 4D experience.” He’d leaned forward as he spoke, the crooked smirk on his face making butterflies appear in your stomach. They increased ten-fold when his eyes traced down to your wet shirt, clinging not too modestly to your tits. Near making you pass out in embarrassment when he sat back in his seat, chuckling mean-spiritedly at your expense.

The feeling didn’t subside for the remainder of the flight and despite your growing comfort talking to Michael, the feeling of eyes watching you, studying you, was more than enough to keep you quiet.

And it only got worse from there. He’d liked the look of you from the offset, such a lovely lass and how you’d looked at him - or well, tried to, hardly able to shake his hand or meet his eye, your bottom lip pinched under your teeth. So sweet and nervous. Vulnerable. Truth be told it drove him wild.

If there’s one semi-redeemable quality to be found in William Afton, it’s that he’s a decisive man, tenacious at that and when he sees something he likes, he’ll do his damned best to get his hands on it.

The weather was overly hot there and it only got hotter and hotter further into summer, meaning you never got out of your summer dresses, little shorts and bikinis. You’d hoped maybe to get an eye-full of Mr Afton lounging similarly by the pool, but for the majority of the trip he kept to the shade, the sleeves of his button-up rolled halfway, being the only allowance he made for the weather. There he’d be in the shadows, with your parents or not, drink in hand and eyeing you up whatever move you made.

How could you not play up to it? Getting out of the water with your back to him. Taking a bit too long to put your cover-up on. Bending at the waist to pick up your drink. To be honest you’d though you were imagining it, it’s not like you’d had much luck with men before, being single and all.

But as the days went on, it became apparent that you’d bitten off more than you could chew. The childish fantasy of having your dad’s mate’s attention becoming a bit too real. Something about how he’d brush shoulders with you when you walked past each other. How when you sat down to eat, his eyes would be on you, talking pretty much solely to you, the usual questions of “You got yourself a lad back home?” framed more dangerously, especially when followed by “Such a gorgeous girl like you? Now I find that hard to believe.” All encompassed with that smirk. A joyfully malignant expression like that of a cat batting a mouse between its paws.

You’d think about it in your room at night. Heart pounding as you went over that day’s encounter an intoxicating mixture of fear and arousal. So sure your horny brain must be exaggerating everything.

Regardless of it being a holiday or not, your parents didn’t get off your back. Despite being nearly 19 you were ‘one of the kids’ and that meant no drinking. Not to mention any other irresponsible behaviour like leaving the villa on your own. You felt like a chicken stuck in a coup and your parents babying only giving the fox a way in.

Out for dinner one night, you’d decided fuck it, your mum and dad had both had a few which often made them easier to persuade, you were going order a drink. The young kids were busy watching fish in a nearby pond so you took your chance.

“Where are you off to?” Your dad asked you almost immediately, before your chair had been pushed out a pissing inch.

“To the bar.”

“Why?” This was when all the adult’s attention had been earned.

“I want a beer; they’ve got good stuff here.” You looked to your left as you spoke, catching the grin half-concealed by the glass of whiskey at William’s lips.

“We spoke about this, sweetheart.” Your mother chimed in. “The answer is no.”

“I’ll go and pay for it. I have my ID, it’s not a problem.” You offer, a hopeful look on your face.

“Except it is, because your mum’s said no.” Your dad firmly counters.

“Yous are all drinking. For God’s sake! I’m 18 I can drink what I want.”

“Not when we’re paying for your holiday, young lady.” He finishes. The mood at the table had shifted negatively, so you go quiet, scoffing to yourself in disbelief.

Sometime later, after shooting you a sympathetic look, Michael went to the toilet and your mum and dad had went off to check on the little kids. You’d hardly noticed them leave, too engrossed in bitching about them to mates on Instagram.

When you put your phone down to reach for your lemonade you shudder at the realisation of being all alone with William. Flashing him a look of acknowledgement and you’re about to resume, but he plucks the phone from your grasp, setting it down on the table. You brace yourself for some sort of dad speech about modern technology, but surprisingly he simply leans forward to make eye contact with you.

“It must be annoying to have your mam and dad baby you.” He almost purred as he spoke, his eyes bright with mischief. “Mine were a bit like that: it’s a sure way to turn the kid into a right cunt.” Your eyes widen at his language, you hadn’t expected it from a man who you’d so far categorised as a creepy stoic.

“Yeah. I’m at the end of my rope to be honest. Might just get one after they’ve gone to bed anyway.” You feel about 5 years younger just for saying that and look down accordingly.

“Why wait?” He glances over his shoulder, that now familiar smile across his lips, as he picks up his glass, offering it to you. Part of you wanted to tell him you didn’t feel like it, but you were pissed off at your parents and the prospect of rebelling somewhat was making your blood run hot. And besides what’s the worst that could happen?

You go to take the glass from him, but he doesn’t move his hand. Guiding it to your lips himself, your hand uselessly overlaying his but too startled to move. You let him bring it to you and the whisky burns your throat as you drink, making you wince. He sniggers as he pulls away, the effect of his touch leaving you dazed.

“Maybe that’s why they don’t let you drink.” You would have defended yourself but you were too busy trying to recover.

He continued, “I wonder what else they don’t let you do. No boys over?” Able to answer now, you shake your head, an embarrassed smile appearing due to his patronising tone.

“No, I uh just don’t want boys over.”

“You want a man instead then?” His words have you reeling, the meaning of them hardly veiled. You simply stare at him chuckling away into his drink, your legs pressed tightly together under the table in some vain attempt to quell the heat gathering there. It was a remark your nana would’ve called ‘lecherous’ and it was - he was - although it creeped you out, you still found yourself reliving it later that night.

From there it got worse. The illicit passing of contrabanded alcohol became a fairly regular thing, sneaky swigs of spirits you could hardly speak after when your parents weren’t looking becoming a new game for him.

His eyes were still on you all the time, but now if you found yourself sat near him, he’d rub his foot along your calf or put a large hand on your thigh, sneering at your stunned reaction. Hands would brush against your hips as he moved past you, each time knocking all sense from you. You began trying to avoid him, but he still found ways to grab you by the crook of your arm into a corner, where he’d make you try smoking his cigarettes, only laughing when you couldn’t stand them.

But then all this mocking, teasing, and laughing at your expense came to a head. It had been weeks in the making.

It was pissing it down raining like it only can in the Mediterranean, so hard it bounced off the walls, pinging loudly off the glass. You’d gone to bed early, tired from a long day of playing with the kids, missing the beginning of the rain completely. By midnight it was so bad the electrics were gone, the villa in total darkness; to William that was a chance he could hardly refuse.

He went towards your room with a torch in hand, the perfect excuse if asked what the fuck he was doing, but of course he was too careful to be caught.

The knocking woke you immediately, your room cast in grey but with enough natural light to find you way and answer the door. When you realised who it was, you pulled the door half shut, just your head visible. You hadn’t had a chance to put any trousers on in your rush and you were burning with shame.

He walked in regardless of your attempt at keeping it shut, placing the torch on your bedside table and noticing your bra on the floor. You were too busy keeping your shirt pulled down, preserving your modesty, to pay much attention to it.

“Uh what do you want?” You ask him somewhat panicked when he picked up the undergarment from the floor, toying with the fabric.

“Though I’d come check on you, what with this storm and all.” It could have been pitch black in the room and you still would have known he was smiling; it was written in every note of his voice. He continued, “And I’m glad I did. Were you expecting me, dressed like that?” He predatory eyes on your bare flesh made you tremble. Who the fuck did he think he was barging in here like that? Then making comments like he was?

“I don’t...” You half-say, unable to think of anything else.

He hums mock pityingly, “You’ve been teasing me since we got here. With all you short skirts... thongs.” He bent down to pick up a pair you wished you’d sorted, a false expression of shock on his face as he held them on the tip of his finger. “Well, you’re all on your own now, love. I thought I’d come to collect.”

You snatched the skimpy knickers from him flummoxed, your hands falling by your sides with the weight of embarrassment. “I have not.” You say, partially to yourself.

“No? Have I gone mental then?” He cocked his head to you, not wanting to leave his interrogation unanswered.

“Y-You’ve been all over me for ages,” Your voice was getting loud and he stepped forwards towards you, his finger to his lips in warning. “For fuck’s sake, you’re my dad’s age. I’m not... interested.” He just laughed.

“A lot of talk for a lass with no trousers. Not interested?” He paused to scoff. “You batt your eye lashes at everyone then?” To match your own, his voice had taken on a rather accusatory tone and he stepped even closer, your moving back amusing him.

“You... should go.” You state ignoring his goading, desperation threatening to seize hold of you.

He put a hand to his chest in feigned heartbreak before nastily saying, “You’ve not even asked me to leave.”

You roll your eyes, a nervous giggle caught in your throat. “Huh fine: please leave.”

“No.” He laughs shortly, shaking his head.

“Wha- why the Hell not?” You were panicking considerably now, the thought that your parents were down the hall and a middle-aged man was cornering you in your room becoming very apparent.

“It’s dark in here but I see you rubbing you fucking legs together, getting all hot and bothered.” He speaks slowly, clearly finding pleasure in your reaction. “Now I wonder if you taste as sweet as you look.”

You speak without thinking, suddenly all too eager to defend yourself, walking towards him with your arms raised. “I don’t know who you think you are. You think you’re so grea- so desirable? Y-y-you disgust me.”

Grabbing you by your arm he frog-marched you to the nearest wall, holding you there. Craning his head down, so close to your face you could feel his spit when he spoke.

“You’re full of shit. You can pretend you don’t want it if it helps your sleep, sweetheart. But you fucking do.” You closed your eyes as he spoke, not really sure of what you wanted yourself: you couldn’t decide if you wanted him closer or as far away as fucking possible.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” His voice was low now, dangerously so. And so you did - or tried to, struggling with how close to your face he was.

That seemed to be the trigger for him, your eyes wide and trying to look everywhere at once, not quite managing to stay on his for more than a millisecond. Like a wild rabbit caught, terrified.

He kissed you, if you could call it that, it felt harsh and dirty, his tongue pressing inside as you struggled to keep up with him. Your mind raced with how wrong this was but the thrumming of your whole body made you give in, letting him possess you.

The lack of clothes on your bottom half, made it easy for him to spread your legs and toy with the abundance of slick developing there. His fingers on your clit instantly rubbing deliberately inconsistent circles that made you whine for some kind of rhythm.

“Not enough?” He grunts before his teeth press hard into the side of your neck, sucking so brutally you had to cover your own mouth to stifle the sound burning in your throat. It was almost tortuous but your hands pulled at his head, silently begging for more: to which he obliged. Dropping to his knees to better watch your face as he inserted his long index finger into your soaking pussy. You close your eyes at the breach, you’d never felt so hot, fuck, you were practically bloody burning.

“So impolite. Fucking. Look at me.” He spoke so close to your core that you could feel the vibrations of every syllable, all the while introducing a second finger and slowly fucking them in and out of you. It was hard to be quiet and you kept catching yourself forgetting the situation; just as you’d become lost in the devastating curl of his digits, you’d be slammed back into the reality that the man, who’s tongue was now ravaging your clit, was more than twice your age.

You weren’t a virgin, but by God, his finger coaxed noises from you that you’d never heard before. And it didn’t take long of this mind-melting finger fucking to have you cumming. Hard. Your tight walls clenching like a vice around his fingers. The sight of you shuddering, your knees going weak with the waves of your orgasm, made him smirk against your heat. His cock was rubbing nastily against the fabric of his clothes, and he couldn’t help but rub over it as he watched you recover.

“You nasty little thing. Driving me crazy for pissing ages.” You didn’t have the agency to respond but you could see what he was doing and you gulped at the prospect of him fucking you. He didn’t seem like the sort of man who’d play nice.

Before you could register the actions, he had you laid back on your own bed, legs spread wide while he removed his aching cock from his confines. Your legs rose almost to your chest as he moved in between, completely knowing what was about to happen but still nervous and uncertain. The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance as his hand dragged it through your slick.

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” His words made you take your eyes off of his dick as you tried to focus on anything other than the tantalising anticipation. You nod, slowly almost in a daze.

“That’s not good enough.” He grins, his head pushing delightfully against your clit.

You’d pretty much forgotten how to form your words. “Yes, fuck. Fuck me...” Seeing the look on his face you hastily add, “...please.”

Your embarrassment was cut short as he pressed his cock inside, stretching your little cunt to accommodate him. Half-buried he grabbed your breast, pinching the nipple; perhaps to distract you while your walls got used to the shallow thrusting of his cock that wasn’t even fully sheathed. The moans drawn from your throat stayed in time with his movements, until you broke it. Interrupting yourself with a near-screech when he thrusted in fully, the sheer size of him making darkness appear in the corners of your vision.

His head was brought close to yours, his weight bearing down on you whilst he found a pace that allowed him to chase his pleasure. The sound of flesh on flesh loud in the stillness of your room, only drowned by his breathing and your pathetic mewling.

This holiday might end up better than you had thought.

#fnaf william afton #fnaf #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton x you #fnaf smut #william afton smut

807 notes · View notes

midnightsunnyday · 2 years ago

Text

Flufftober Prompt 4: Supporting Silly Quirks/Hobbies (Beelzebub x MC)

A/N: my entry for @flufftober 2022 day 4! The MC for all of my entries will be named "Jaden." Jaden is gender neutral. No warnings here. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

**************

Beelzebub was overjoyed.

Or at least Jaden assumed he was. Big guy wasn’t much of a smiler. He was, however, rocking from heel to toe in anticipation for the past 10 minutes in line.

As per the course on Saturdays, Jaden should be, would be in bed. However, their plans for a well-earned rest from a hellish week were dashed by the giant glutton that stood before them. Their circadian clock was already smashed to all hell due to living in a realm with no sun. Now they were being jolted awake by what appeared to be several elephants kickboxing outside their bedroom door. Before a ‘what the fuck’ was uttered, Beelzebub tumbled into Jaden’s room, shoving the screen of his D.D.D so close that it smooshed their nose.

“Devilcat! Pancakes! One time only! We’re going!”

“Wait, wha--,” Jaden was whooshed from the warmness of their sheets and tossed over Beelzebub’s sturdy shoulders. No coat. No shoes. Only the heavy shame that came with standing in public in nothing but their two-toned, moth-hole pajamas.

And so Jaden seethed in silence. Their only thought being that these fucking pancakes better be worth it.

“I’m sorry,” Beelzebub said, removing his jacket. “I was so excited about the new Devilcat promotional breakfast at Hell’s Kitchen that I forgot that…humans die if they get cold.” He then placed it over Jaden’s shoulders, which might as well have been a giant blanket. He chuckled. “Sorry. You look really cute.”

“I’m not dying. Honestly, how weak do you all think humans are, anyway?” Jaden mumbled. “And instead of waking me, why didn’t you bring Belphie?”

“He was sleeping.”

“I was sleeping.”

“Yeah but…” Beelzebub tucked his hands inside the pockets of his sweatpants, frowning. “I just wanted it to be us this time. No one else.”

“Not even your brother?”

Beelzebub’s lips tightened together, as if keeping himself from saying something horrible. “Yeah.”

Jaden sighed. Out of all his brothers, Beelzebub was the most honest regarding his feelings. Though that’s probably because he was the only one emotionally mature enough to admit them. “It’s ok to want some time alone with...someone you like. Just warn me next time, ok?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m…being really selfish right now, aren’t I?” Beelzebub looked towards Hell’s Kitchen, then back to Jaden with a sullen smile. “I'll take you back home. We can have Devilcat pancakes together some other time.”

“The hell we are,” Jaden yelled. “You did not wake me up at 7 AM just to go home all puppy eyed on an empty stomach, did you?”

“No, but you were sleeping and—“

“I can sleep when I’m dead.” Jaden grabbed Beelzebub’s hand and yanked him towards the front of the line. “We’re getting in there one way or the other.”

“Wait, Jaden!”

If one were to write a list of the things Beelzebub loved the most, they would end up with…a very short list. The man was incredibly uncomplicated, without an air of mystery or spectacle behind him. Yet if there’s anything Jaden knew, it’s that if you place either Devilcat or food in front of him, his entire face will light with the joy of a thousand suns. And they would not be the ones to take that away from him.

“Excuse me?” Jaden said to the doorman in their snobbiest of upper echelon voices. “Do you know who this is?” They pointed at Beelzebub, who looked on with a somewhat bemused expression. “Lord of the flies? The sixth most powerful ruler of hell and you have him standing in the freezing cold like, like, a lower demon?”

The doorman looked as if his blood emptied from the legs of his trousers. He bowed. “Please, forgive me. Had I known Lord Beelzebub would grace us with his presence—“

“Don’t you dare try to sugar coat this you whimpering sycophant! We demand a table this instant.”

“Right, but of course! Please, follow me Lord Beelzebub and…his lover, perhaps?”

Jaden coughed. “Yeah sure let’s go with that.” They didn’t dare look back at Beelzebub to see his reaction.

Finally. Warmth. Sweet, beautiful warmth. Beelzebub didn’t exactly care for Jaden’s hassling of the doorman, but it was "kind of cool." There was a commotion going on in the kitchen. The doorman had run towards the back as soon as they were seated, possibly to let the entire kitchen know that their “most loyal patron” was here. And as the waiters began to place stacks upon stacks of Devilcat-shaped pancakes at their table, Jaden couldn’t help but giggle at the look on Beelzebub’s face.

Now that was a smile worth a thousand pictures.

#flufftober2022 #day 4 #obey me shall we date #beelzebub x mc #obey me beelzebub #obey me mc #obey me #obey me swd #midnightsunnyday writes

25 notes · View notes

semischarmed · 4 years ago

Text

Truth

There he was. Lucas, in deep sleep. His snores fill the bedroom, barely lit by moonlight. The night was hot, and humid air envelops you both. Sweet, sweet Lucas- probably one of your nicest friends. Just a bit introspective, but you somewhat admired that in him. He was cute, sure, but he also exuded a beauty, a handsomeness that eclipsed many others. The way his eyes glistened intently whenever you held a conversation with him. They way his brows furrowed and gaze look into the distance whenever he was in deep thought. The way just the slightest folds on the corners of his eyes appeared whenever he smiled. The man was truly genuine, and whenever you two conversed he made sure you were the only thing that mattered in the world. Of course, who could forget that laugh. A quiet confidence and a mature self-acceptance brought to life with a bit of playful, youthful vibrancy. Truly everything that was this man, everything that was your Lucas was pinnacle, in your eyes. There would no other person in the world for you beyond him.

And in this most intimate of places, you see a side of him previously unseen. Damn those muscles. You knew he was relatively fit, but unhindered by his normal choice of clothing, they were massive. You note the delicate craftsmanship, the hills and valleys glistening, almost glowing in the moonlight. This man, who had trusted you enough to give you spare keys to his home, this man you had been yearning for years in secret was almost yours. A relationship, a friendship? No, one could not settle for just that. You would not be content until your every moment and his aligned. Pure, complete becoming. Lucas was your destiny.

With palms sweaty in anticipation, you chant the ancient words- spoken in long-dead tongues, invoking long-dead gods at your behest. These words did not come cheap. They were manifest from years of research and vast sums of wealth. Neither of which truly mattered anymore though, for what price could possibly ever match to perfection? The spell is near-complete, yet Lucas still slumbers.

Amidst the humid air and the warmth enveloping you both, there was on odd coldness. A coldness you could feel in your soul. Brisk, ancient, prickling sensations. Magic.The spell you were casting, despite being surely off-pronunciation was working. As you had found out magic, was 99% intent anyways, and you were single-track in this endeavor. You increase the speed of your speech in anticipation. ‘Oh Lucas… babe…just wait…almost there….’

“…sanguiniu- “ You cut yourself off by the sight before you. The spell was broken slightly but you can’t help but stare hungrily.

In the entrance to the moist cavern of his mouth, you catch sight of his tongue- fleshy, thick, enveloped in a film of his saliva. Damn. It was teasing you, just hanging out there in the night air. With every rise and fall of his chest, it slowly followed suit, gently bobbing, slowly pulling you forward.

You bite your lip when you notice a bit of drool pool on the corner of his mouth. He smiles a bit. Must have been a good dream. ‘Ugh. Even sleeping sloppy he was so cute.’

As you walk up to him, warm gusts of air gently caress your face, encircling and filling into your nostrils. This wasn’t just air. It was Lucas’ air- soon to be your air, beckoning it’s new owner in. And it smelled nice. There was a pleasant muskiness about it. The spell wasn’t complete, but what’s the harm in a brief pause? You wouldn’t ever get a chance to experience Lucas like this anyway, at least not after you complete the incantation.

You lean closer to his mouth. “Should I….?” You gently wrap your lips around his tongue, pulling it into a fleshy envelope and begin sucking on it gently. ‘Ugh… sweet, Sweet Lucas. God, he even tasted delicious. As you feel his fleshy pink mass in your mouth, you can’t help but smile siphon a bit of him, a bit of his taste.

When you draw some of Lucas’ saliva into yourself, you near-faint in bliss. Fuck. You shiver uncontrollably at the notion of having a piece of Lucas inside you. This was everything. The flavor was unreal, much like his scent, it had earthy if somewhat salty notes but the muskiness, the raw testosterone in it was far more pronounced. It was an injection of pure Lucas inside yourself. You couldn’t help but suck just a bit more him in.

The mouth surrounding that tongue was your entrance to the future, to your true self. Goddamn inviting. You even cum a little as you continue drawing more and more of Lucas and smash your head towards his open maw. “Mmmmm” you moan from your chest and throat, when he begins following suit, plump lips drawing over yours, bringing you closer as well. It purely instinctual on his end- didn’t fucking matter. All that rang true to you, all that mattered was that his reflexes, his body at that moment wanted you.

Lucas gags a little, breaking his unconscious silence as he inadvertently draws more and more of you into him. You relish in the moment, in the binding of your tongue to his, in the suction you feel emanating from his tongue. In your eyes, this was what his body wanted. what Lucas wanted. Of course it was. Your true place, your rightful place in this world was being a part of the Lucas experience, was being in him, was living as him. The corners of his lips turn into a more pronounced frown. His breathing hastens and in your intimate position, you steal each of these breaths into yourself. He awakes to the sight of his good friend uncomfortably close over his body. Impossibly close, in fact, and locked in orgasmic bliss. You sneer continue with your odd “kiss”. It was passionate, sloppy- at least from your end. Locked in ecstasy, you pay little mind to his attempts to pull you away. You’re not fucking letting go though, and maintain yourself lock on his tongue. This “kiss” was exactly how you’d always imagined it to be, only far more visceral, more raw. Imagination could only take you so far, after all. Heat exudes his chest and you greedily push your body stuck to his. A soft, slick sound is heard when both your chests stick together, sweat mixing. In his panicked breaths, you feel powerful lungs draw in and expand into you, squishing more of his skin over yours. Goddamn you can’t wait for it to be you using those lungs, flaunting those muscles, speaking through that mouth with that tongue. You can’t wait to make those vocal cords yours, to make them utter phrases they’ve never had to.

You smile as the magic begins to do its work. Tongues are drawn together, drawn to be one, and your face starts to squish into him. In his eyes he can only see yours sparkle in lust. You moan further. “Tho close. We’re almoth there Lucath….almoth uth…almoth one” you half mumble in slurred movements.

Then, you feel it. Lucas’ tongue. The persistent suction drawing you into him. The nerves of his tongue tasting and feeling yours. ‘This is it. One last push further.’ You muse. You start moaning louder as he tries in vain to push you out, but you’re already melded to him- your skin and meat and bones already liquefying and condensing into a mass onto his tongue. He can feel it too. Pure Treachery. You begin to finish out the words of the spell. Now intimately, physically connected, Lucas is forced to repeat the words with you. The spell is complete. Of course, intent had been muddled by the now-awake Lucas, and words slipped and slid around your conjoined tongue. Didn’t matter, apparently, as you still felt the air become heavy with ancient briskness and enclose around you two. In a slosh, your entire form pushes into his tongue enveloping it. The pressure in the air is now crushing, and you feel yourself crumple, congeal, and consolidate into his tongue. In that pressure, you felt yourself born anew, bound, a part of Lucas. Finally, to be one.

Lucas wakes in a cold sweat, shivering despite the warm night air. His tongue dangles off to the side of his open mouth. “Weird” he states, before pulling it back in. “What a fucking dream” he states before gently dozing back off to sleep.

So, that spell was a bit of letdown. In the afterglow of the event, you soon realize the mistake made in clouded judgement. Rites, ancient languages and their intricacies. You never quite gotten that intent correct. You realize your mistake in your new form. You try to move, only to realize that while you were indeed a part of Lucas, only his tongue dangles slightly.

Still being his tongue was not all bad. You are a now fully a part of him after all, so you feel yourself swell in pride at being a part of this handsome man. Besides, as a tongue, taste was all amplified. When Lucas had later awoken and eaten that first breakfast, it was near-orgasmic. What would have been a fairly simple breakfast was nothing short of divine. Even something as simple as toast- from his mouth that initial first crunch, the particles that first fell on you, the short, roasted crumbs with an almost decadent caramel tone- it was all too much to handle. Bread never tasted like this. The coffee he drank was even better. It was bitter, like all coffee, but it was a deep, rich bitterness, swirled through an undeniable nuttiness and the mild thick sweetness of the cream. Of course, as his tongue you could move slightly. You used this tiny bit of control you had to make sure every crunch, every slurp mattered. Lucas noticed his tongue move almost of its own volition, effortlessly gliding over each bite, rubbing over every ridge, showing its master the joy in the mundane. It would be his slowest and most delicious breakfast to date. Every bite and every lick its own coordinated effort. One hundred percent Lucas, one hundred percent you. Something as mundane as breakfast became a synchronized dance between you two. There would be no one closer to him than this. To top it all off, you got to be where you wanted afterward- in Lucas. It was like a warm, wet embrace in his body’s own little way.

Though frankly, his taste in food could use some work. Those fucking protein shakes. Goddamn you swear the man drinks one for every meal. Vile, chalky, tasteless liquids that he forces you to swallow. If you still had a throat, you’d gag every time. Of course you cannot and are forced to take it, forced to move however his nerves direct.

For now, this would be fine, because when he wasn’t eating that very same flavor, that very same essence of Lucas that you crave enveloped you perpetually. It’s like the “kiss” from that night, he’s unwittingly got you locked in one with him for eternity.

—

Living as his tongue for the past few weeks has been amazing, but you can’t help but wonder about what could have been. You’ve since been accustomed to eating the same meals he did, to working as his tongue and have even gotten a bit more autonomy. Still, this was his body and he was the boss and it readily pushed a command that you could not disobey.

You actually felt yourself a little larger of a presence in him, though you still couldn’t quite grasp why.

Today, Lucas was out walking with his friend. Mark. Lucas would always be first in your mind, but Mark was a close second. Your mind wanders, brewing lustful, sinful thoughts about Mark. As you squirm inside Lucas, something changes. There was something else beyond just his tongue. You firmly take it into yourself, before continuing in your Mark-filled stream. Without warning, Lucas goes up to his dear friend for a quick lick.

“Hey sexy”

It’s barely audible, but unquestionably there. No one dare say another word in tense air.

“Handsssomeee…”

The word slices through the tension clean. As a part of him, you feel warmth bloom inside Lucas. His face is bright red.

Mark calls Luke’s bluff. “Haha bro… you really into me like that?” You feel Lucas’ throat close up. “N-no dude, er-it’s not like that” he replies meekly.

Mark takes the compliment in stride though, jokingly giving Lucas a wink, and playfully punching his shoulder. “Whatever bro, if you’re gonna stand there oogling, at least pay for my dinner” he laughs. In that brief moment of vulnerability, you flash just the lightest bit of control over that very same shoulder he punched. Addicting. The second taste of Lucas’ body. Lucas reacts to the muscle spasm by shivering slightly and wiping the punch off. “Haha, Fuck you too Mark” he laughs before absentmindedly licking his lips. By this point, you can barely pay attention to the outside world.

Because inside Lucas, inside the future you, acquisition. Ecstasy. For at this moment, you now felt his lungs-those lungs-your. lungs. You now felt his throat, his voice. In every breath he draws, you loan him back control, but it’s truly yours. You feel yourself expand and contract in slow, rhythmic motions. You feel the muscles surrounding them, and his warm heart pumping inside you. You feel yourself vibrate as he contorts you to form his sentences. It was divine. You start to chuckle, which results in the Lucas of the outer world choking slightly mid-sentence. Unfinished spells and unfinished magic were quite unpredictable but slowly, surely, the spell did its work. ’So that’s how it is.’

A few days later, a few days of your presence and you have even better hold over his voice. You relish in your control. The way his voice feels reverberating and rolling off you. Like sweet honey leaking out of the man of your dreams. On some nights, in his deepest sleep, you whisper sweet nothings to yourself, making Lucas beg you to possess him fully. “Pleeeease… take me… all of me…”

His unconscious body winces, grabs at air, pull at sheets, and writhes in pleasure as you make him say this. You shared a body after all, excess lust, excess hormones- they had to be going somewhere.

—

On this particular day, Lucas had been pumping iron with another of his friends. Andre always looked fucking hot, so you figured this would be as good of an opportunity as any.

You bring yourself to Andre’s neck, dragging your tongue around the bump of his Adam’s apple, circling the pronounced veins running across the sides. Hmmm. Salty.

You focus your words, your feelings into one- a phrase to unlock your freedom. Words reverberate through Lucas’ very core. You are his tongue, so you feel his nerves yield, his receptors, his very body yours.

“R-r-ravage me, Andre- Ravage this body. Show me what those guns can do- let me feel them, let me feel you. Lukey’s feeling lonely… I have a you-shaped hole ripe for the-“ Andre tries to repeat the perverted words coming out of his friend’s mouth, tries to digest them, to process what the fuck just happened.

“H-Hey- Dude! What the fuck was that for!?” Andre asked in shock. Shaking Lucas’ shoulders. He looked genuinely hurt. But Lucas was lost in lust. He was different. He was moaning. “F-FUCK yeah. You taste delicious. Did I ever tell you that bro?” He spoke perversely. His words and thoughts tainted, clouded by your lust. You liked him better this way. He breaks from his spell.

“Oh God- I- Fuck! Sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! I don’t know what that was. A-Andre? You ok? A teary Lucas asked his friend.

“Yeah dude.. whatever. Just please..um.. never do it again” He grimaced.

Since you were a part of Lucas, you felt fear rush through his bones. He sucks his hanging tongue back in- a recently-acquired, disturbing habit he seems to have picked up from nowhere. He was terrified. Not just in his body, his voice moving on its own. He was terrified because he liked it. Terrified that he was becoming something else, something perverse. In truth, he really was. In your soul you could tell that Lucas was almost ready, because the endorphins, the testosterone, hormones you were pumping him chock-full with with had not dissipated. It was exhilarating. Fear. Lust. Ecstasy. These pervaded inside him, emotions mixing and swirling with yours. You could feel him try to fend off raw desire and a raging hard-on while he tried to sincerely comfort his friend. Fuck it feels amazing being a part of him. The man liked to keep his emotions in check but he was slipping. You were like a poison to him, slowly infecting his very self. Or perhaps, you were his antidote, the catalyst needed for both you to become your true selves. In this very moment though, you were simply content in just being a part of him. Content to just ride the invisible passenger. Content to feel the rush of his emotions as your own. The best part in all this? Lucas was continually shifting while he talked to Andre, trying to hide the intense desire to be used, experienced, felt. Because of you, he was getting off on all this.

Shame riddled Lucas while you continued to worm and entrench yourself in him. That didn’t stop you two from masturbating to the thought of dragging that hot tongue all over Andre’s bod.

———

It’s been a few weeks now, and the corruption of Lucas was near-complete. Your Lucas was near-complete.

Every morning, he catches himself checking his face out in the mirror, sticking his tongue out, making seductive motions. “-fffFuck yeahhh” you both say. Like clockwork he soon shakes himself lucid, disturbed and goes about his day. Increasingly, you’ve been moaning with him, flooding him with your endorphins in response, rewarding his body for its increasingly deviant nature. These sessions have only gotten longer and more frequent. In a sense, his body began to crave it- to crave you. The more he uses that tongue, the more you rile up in being used- the further and deeper he becomes yours.

Armed with this knowledge, you throw your lust into overdrive, driving him mad. His eyes are perpetually dilated, blood perpetually rushing, and he his lip quivers often in bursts of pleasure. His friends notice the slight change too, when your future body stiffens to their touch. Really, it’s just Lucas trying to stop himself, his impulses from guiding him from going all over them. Your soon-to-be friends probably noticed his propensity-your propensity to leave yourself hanging out of his mouth, displaying proudly to the world.

His body is now all but yours. It actively fights the man, resisting his every move slightly, pumping him with sinful impulses, edging the last vestige of Lucas-his brain- to relent. His body wants you in control. Alas, the brain was the forefront of control, and whenever focused you can do nothing but to comply. Despite this, you know you’re close- the man can barely focus, barely rest, as you continue pumping him with pleasure, taunting him to release himself to you.

Something inside told you this was it- this was the day. In this very morning, he wakes in a trance, walking over to his mirror, gazing at himself in clouded lust. He was drawn to himself and relinquishing to the desires both his body and you had been pumping him with. Of course, the lapse is momentary, the moan near-inaudible, but it was enough. Jackpot. In that briefest of moments, you wrestle primary control of this body from him, cementing you as his puppet-master. His body complies willingly, flaring in anticipation of its new owner. After all, you’ve been feeding it your pleasure whenever it follows your command. Locked in that pleasure, you begin to move around, relishing in the absolute control you now had.

Still, who knew how long this would last? You needed a way to have Lucas, to be like this permanently. As you eye his features in the mirror, you knew just what to do.

You start with his face. His eyes are wide with fear as his body continues moving on its own volition. His mouth purses into a pout- a cute little touch you wanted to add- by itself. A thick tongue begins to peek out of plump lips. Like a snake, you greedily taste the morning air, wiggling your pink flesh in delight before focusing on the “delight” you were attached to. You want to taste it all-to taste the man you would become once more. You start by delicately layering his own saliva over his lips. In the absence of breakfast, you deduce this essence to be 100% Lucas. The flavor was - nonintrusive. But you could tell the reeked of an undercurrent manliness, cause in that very saliva and essence of Lucas that you coat yourself with, you also felt the saturation of testosterone, the slight bitterness of power inherent in being him. It was a humble flavor that unquestionably read “Man”. Everything this body made, everything it was was addicting.

Prickly- Thats how the beard surrounding his lips were. Delicious, seductive hairs that Lucas liked to keep just the tiniest bit unkempt, that you just found all the more alluring. In this very forest of hairs were the concentrated sweat, grime, and natural scent baked and solidified from the previous day- for Lucas was a morning showerer.

You decide to give him shower his body deserved- “Shower” would be stretching the use of the word. You engorge yourself- sticking and smearing your wet, pink flesh all over that prickly skin, savoring in the salty, putrid essence, in the raw flavoring of the beard of the man you would become. Of course it was delicious. It was Lucas.

Yet there would be more Lucas to share. You survey the next area to “shower” in this bod- he watches in fear as his left hand raises straight up to the sky. Fingers fashion themselves into a claw and veins in that arm flare to life. Cutey little Lukey was trying to fight it. The hand shakes in internal struggle. You decide to revel in this moment. Since your libido was now Lucas’, his cock can’t help but harden. You make him look at it before calling it a “Joint effort” with a wink. He moans, body betraying mind. You catch a whiff of the stench emanating from your left. Delightful. His protestations and disgust are muddled in your raw elation, as you smash his mouth face first into his unwashed armpit.

“MMmmmpph” He tries to get a word out, tries to pull himself off his own skin to no avail. After all, you were still his tongue, and you were quite preoccupied. Sharp, pungent, sour, flavors line you as you smear more and more of yourself around. You briefly entangle and entwine yourself into his hairs, coating them with his own saliva while you poke and prod. His body is forced to experience wave after wave of the pleasure you felt in burying yourself here. You indulge in his scent further. Using his lungs, you make him inhale deeply. His own muskiness floods his senses and he briefly regains control, coughing in disgust. ‘Uh-oh, might not have much time left’. You pull some more strings inside him and his body is all too willing to follow. “T-This is our own scent bro…” he says. The words fall out his mouth in an attempt at the intonation, the phrasing he’d normally use. You continue, making those lips, those vocal cords yours. “Gotta learn to love it… to love us”. It sure sounded like Lucas’ voice, but it there was something off about it.

High off the aroma, you continue, rounding out his left bicep. Goddamn. Packed inside was pure muscle. Dense, hard musculature built through years of hard work. The thick firm skin gives way slightly, with a bit of bounce as you take his tongue further down his arm. Goddamn bliss. This skin was saltier than the others- different, like all the flavors of Lucas, you note. ‘But they are all undeniably, uniquely him’.

You swirl in fluid, curving motions as you go over every muscle running down his arm. A trail of slime leaves your wake, rubbing a mixture of of flavors throughout his arm. This only serves to rile you up further, as his muscles glisten in the morning light. When you get to his veiny hands, you take extra special care to run yourself through its every crevice, exploring as much of Lucas as you could. You make his lips pucker as you pull yourself off his index finger with an audible pop. A string of saliva follows, but you quickly gobble that back into yourself.

Bulging muscles stir as you command his biceps yours as well. They turn inwards, presenting their vascularity, their raw power to you. Beautiful.

This was it. You motion to bring his hand towards his crotch, curling them slightly in anticipation. As you eyed that cock. You both knew this to be the end.

“NO!” he shouts in added clarity. Body follows mind and he pulls back some of his own strings for himself. The fight is brief but you manage to grab some control back.

You use his very voice against him. “You’re right baby… this is it… o-our new life… our first time together needs to be special.” He’s now shouting profanities in your head. Funny, you’ve never heard him curse before.

Without warning, you rush yourself to his now-hard dick. He screams in searing pain as his spine concaves and you inch toward your prize. His tongue is not used to moving with such dexterity, but it’s been quite some time since it could even really be considered ‘his’ tongue anymore. You snake yourself around his dick, constricting around the dank, putrid skin, encasing it in globs of saliva and pink, oral flesh.

Even Lucas couldn’t help but moan at the divine sensation. Your bumpy texture running along his skin shot wave after wave of bliss. In every constriction, you feel it firm even harder, causing you to wrap your slimy hug around it further, construct more. Lucas’ moans quicken as you get to work. Push… You ebb and flow, there and back, as you work through his now-throbbing member. Pull. Each movement of the textured tongue runs sheer ecstasy as bump after bump moves back and forth and stimulates. Push. You hasten, wanting the both of you to fulfill the moment. Pull… Push… Pull… Push. Flashes of intense pleasure rush through you both as you aim for the finish line. PushPullPushPullPushPull- heaven. At that very moment of release, the two of you are brought to another plane of existence. Time stops and the world is still. You and Lucas though? Vibrating. In this plane you rush toward him, your vibrations synchronize with his, you overlay over him, and pleasure rumbles and bubbles from deep within. The universe, your world, your room comes back to focus. In a splash, a wave of pearl-white seed coats you.

In the afterglow of his masturbation, when his nerves and neural connections begin to provide clarity, to link themselves in trust, you instead feel them attach to you. Much like his body, like his tongue, they too have become corrupted, twisted by your constant presence and the raw eroticism. This was the key to permanence.

Like veins they worm and take root inside you, growing into you. In your perversion of his senses, you feel these roots alight, yield themselves to become yours. Down to the last synapse, you rush and pull these all to yourself, to acquire, appropriate them. Once Lucas’ brain had adequately sequestered itself in you, his memories soon followed. This too had its own flavor, albeit somewhat muted- like the sweetness of his first date-yours. Or the bitterness of a childhood experience-yours. Raw wonderment and passing thoughts- fucking. yours. You scream in shrill delight as the last, the tinniest, the deepest of his neural connections had become yours. There would be no going back for him, for you were now Lucas in body, Lucas in mind.

Tears well in his eyes. He tries to fight it, tries to kick you out, to push you away from him. His back arches, and he writhes in pain, trying in vain. Face scrunches in searing, unimaginable agony before it seizes and mouth shoots open, tongue dangling out. There would nothing to push out for you and him were already bonded. He clutches his head and in that single instance, his eyes shoot wide open. Finally, success.

Lucas’ shoulders sag as he collapses to the ground.

Moments later, Lucas’s body stirs. It wriggles awake before taking one assured, strong step forward. It pushes itself up and walks right back up to the mirror, emotionless. Then, a satisfied smile paints its face. Like someone finally resting after an arduous battle, he breathes a sigh of relief. Lucas’ body looks back at itself in the mirror, innocently-eyes glassy. The kind smile it wore grows just a bit wider. It chuckles softly. Success.

The smile continues growing. Chuckles becomes laughter. The voice resounds ill-fitting to the mound of muscle that was Lucas. It was Innocent smile soon becomes tainted with sinful glee. Lucas’ body starts full-on cackling. “YES” you growl. Hearing his resonant voice follow your words, your intent was amazing. Hearing your thoughts spoken in the same ton, same intonation he used took it next-level. “FUCK. YES… FINALLY”!

That last piece was it. Cum still warm on his body, you lap it up, swallowing it whole, jealously keeping even this part of Lucas to yourself. It was salty, musky, viscous essence. It was pure fucking Lucas. The voice, the dull resistance from him was gone. The sensation was both sobering clarity and drunk ecstasy. Like the world itself was realigning to put you and him together, as one living Lucas. His memories now flow freely into you as they are now yours. It tickles. With his memories comes his feelings, his wants, his wishes- all of which you have cemented as a part of Lucas’s new psyche-Your new psyche. Goddamn it feels good to be Lucas.

Finally, Lucas had reframed, recontextualized the entirety of himself, the entirety of his being to you. You talk like him. You frown like him. You smile like him. Hell, you even think like him. Hips sway as you start to dance in front of the mirror in your new body, your new soul. It was pure, jubilant expression. You wipe happy tears from your eyes.

You were drunk on power of controlling him. Of finally truly being him. You relish in hearing his voice as your own, in your very thoughts being thought through a filter of his life, your commands executed by his body. You allow his vocal cords to perform. You allow his hips to shake uncharacteristically, tantalizing. You allow the words to leave his mouth. They were juicy taunts made juicier with the knowledge that his lips shift and degrade the very body they were in at you beckoning, that was his very neurons were conforming to you thoughts and will. You now do everything in wholly Lucas-ey way.

Lucas’ body smacks its ass, while it continues shaking its hips uncharacteristically in slow, sensual movements. “Goddamn, you should have gotten inside me sooner.” You make him say. “My body, my mind, my soul we were lonely for you. We needed you in here. I love having you inside me. I love you wearing my skin, using my muscles as a suit. Don’t worry” You make him flex. “These are forever yours. My mind? Forever yours. Control me. Use Me. No- deeper. [moan] Become. Me. Be. Lucas.”

“I’m Lucas” you say to yourself in response. It rolls off your tongue naturally, fluidly, and in full truth. You truly were him. “But you can call me Luke, baby”.

You had done it. You were finally Lucas. One mind, one body, one soul.

“Mine forever, Lucas”

—

It’s been months and your friends have definitely caught on to the sheer oddness of it all. Near-instantaneously, their dear friend Lucas’ personality had flipped. Each of them could pinpoint a ‘special’ spot on their bodies where their boy Lukey liked to lick them. ‘It was just his thing’ they often said, embracing their new dynamic as well as the new Lucas. This you-enhanced Lucas, likewise, had also embraced his new self. Greedy, lustful self-obsession bordering on narcissism, and of course the penchant to show off his slimy tongue. Of course, the first few times you did this, they recoiled at the behavior. You had your preferences, you had the knowledge inherent in being Lucas- you knew exactly how wear his soul, how to embody his life because you were him. But you weren’t content leaving it like this, in just continuing as him. This was the new, improved Lucas. With you in command, you couldn’t help but introduce some changes, couldn’t help but show off your handiwork.

Mark had grown so accustomed to your constant licks, he looked visibly upset when you weren’t on him. One night, you decided to take it a step further, to take a leap the old Lucas never would have and stroke your vascular hands all over him. He complied, moaning all the while, guiding you around to explore him- guess it was actually Mark who was into you. He paid for dinner that night.

The old Lucas was sweet and reserved- The new you? Not a chance. As Lucas, you constantly wore a leering, lewd gaze. You wore thin, revealing clothing accentuating your new Lucas-bound muscles. Why not share it with the world? The very air you emanated was persistently thick with sexual energy, brimming with pheromones. New-Lucas was your deepest desires bound to living flesh. And at the forefront of it all-that thick tongue of yours. At every occasion, in every possible way, you flaunt it to the world.

Tattooed somewhere in this body is your old name. Ink representing the old you, and your absolute permanence this new form of yours, cementing yourself as forever a part of him, cementing the intersection of your history and his. You. Lucas. One. This was the new truth in the world.

- End -

Had tons of fun channeling @verus-veritas to write this one out. Hope I did you justice!

#male possession #male merge #male body control

602 notes · View notes

ahkaahshi · 4 years ago

Text

steadfast [miya osamu x reader]

pairing: miya osamu x fem reader + miya atsumu x reader x suna rintarou

genre: smut (18+)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, group sex (threesome), cuckolding, dirty talk, swearing, praise, daddy kink, deep throating, squirting, brief mentions of jealousy, and just a lil bit of that competitive spirit ya know?

word count: 4.3k

overview: after years of witnessing suna and atsumu shamelessly flirting with his girlfriend, he decides to give them one chance to change her mind knowing damn well she won’t.

By nature, Osamu is observant. Few things escape his attention, whether it’s trace amounts of ice cream disappearing from his tub in the freezer or the longing look you always give him moments before you press your lips against his in an affectionate kiss. Though he wants to pay full attention to the intense game of Super Smash Bros.a few of his former teammates are playing, he can’t help but let his eyes wander to your form as you shuffle into the kitchen to grab another beer. It’s not for you, but for his twin brother who places a lingering touch against the small of your back upon accepting it.

To the untrained eye, the action would appear as a gesture of appreciation and nothing more. But Osamu understood his brother well enough to know that he’d always had a habit--or intention, rather--of being handsy with you. His dark, stone-colored gaze quickly flicks back to the game on the television, however, when you saunter over to him to lean down and place a gentle kiss against his temple.

“Need anything, babe?” you ask, (e/c) eyes tracing over the handsome features of your boyfriend’s face.

He shakes his head and assures you, “Just ‘cause this is our place, don’t mean ya hafta play hostess, y’know.”

“I know,” is your cheerfully spoken response before you turn your attention to the chaos unfolding on-screen. “Damn, who knew Kita-san was good at video games?”

Aran, who overhears your comment, laments, “Not me. This guy acts like it’s his first time holdin’ a controller ‘nd then proceeds to give us an ass-beatin’!” That deceptively sweet smile you’d seen many times before soon spreads across Kita’s lips as he casts it in your direction. Moments later, you notice his chosen character catapult Aran’s off the side of the screen, making the man sigh and hand his controller over to a somewhat unsettled-looking Ren.

The exchange makes you laugh, and your amusement quickly spreads to Osamu, who smiles as he pecks your cheek. “Why don’tcha come sit down, honey?” he suggests, patting his knee and slowly pulling you closer by giving your hand a gentle tug.

“Later. I’m gonna go talk to Rin real quick.”

Giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, you back away and dart past the television to where Suna’s standing on the balcony outside. Osamu doesn’t miss the lazy grin that tugs at the corners of his friend’s mouth when you greet him and seat yourself on the chair beside him. Though he’s noticed how much of your attention Suna must’ve been aiming to steal away the entire evening, he doesn’t comment or intervene. Instead, he sends a sideways glance at Atsumu, who plops down on the couch beside him, pops another sliver of pickled plum into his mouth that Kita brought with him, and returns his attention to the game onscreen.

It’s not until later that he decides to speak on the issue, when everyone’s left the informal team reunion but Atsumu and Suna. As you’re scanning the apartment for any trash that may have been forgotten—though there’s not much to find since Kita and Aran scolded anyone who so much as left their drink unattended—you find yourself tripping over the rug sprawled across the wooden floor. Atsumu, who’s seated on the couch nearby, avoiding any tasks associated with cleaning up while tapping through his own Instagram story, quickly extends his arms towards you to steady you as you stumble towards him.

Feeling his hands on your hips and hearing him say, “Careful, there, girly,” brings a rush of heat to your neck and face.

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu!” you chirp quickly, pushing yourself away from the couch with haste.

“Anytime, hon,” is his nonchalant response. Normally, you wouldn’t think much of it because he’d developed a habit of giving you affectionate names over the years you’d known him, but, in this situation, his reply has you glancing over your shoulder at Osamu. Though he remains silent and focused on the task at hand, that quiet but dominating presence of his is intense. You know his brother’s actions are hardly going unnoticed, so you hustle into the kitchen to start cleaning the dishes Kita had neatly piled in your sink—which you’d had to practically beg him not to clean for you by insisting that he was your guest.

Osamu’s dark gaze narrows at his brother in a silent warning once you’re occupied again. Atsumu, being competitive and provocative as ever, simply raises an eyebrow at him as a challenge. However, both their attention soon snaps to you when they hear you and Suna snickering about something that must’ve been just hilarious while he helps take care of the dishes. Jealousy isn’t an emotion Osamu’s entirely used to, seeing as he’s always been secure in his relationship with you, but knowing the types of things his friend and his brother have said about you in confidence before the two of you started dating makes a flicker of it burn within him.

Finally, he speaks, not even attempting to hide the curtness to his tone when he questions, “Why don’t the two of ya just fuck ‘er already?”

The silence that befalls the house following his outburst is deafening, and you freeze in your act of handing Suna another plate to stick in the dishwasher. The three of you collectively turn your gazes to him, though theirs clearly portray an intrigue to learn more about what he means.

“What’re ya sayin’ that for, ‘Samu?” Atsumu asks rather coyly, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees.

However, your boyfriend isn’t having any of his twin’s attitude tonight, since he retorts, “Don’t fuckin’ act like ya don’t know what I’m talkin’ about. I know you’ve been wantin’ her for years now. I see the way you both fawn over her whenever I bring ‘er around.”

“Baby…” you coo softly and dry your hands so you can approach him.

The daggers he sends sticking into you with a sharp glance in your direction stops you in your tracks, though, as do his words. “What? It’s not like yer doin’ anythin’ to stop it.”

You swallow thickly, your eyes sinking to the floor as shame wells up inside of you at the truth his statement holds. You had never intentionally flirted with either of them, but you hadn’t done anything to put an end to their advances. Even though Atsumu and Suna were close friends of yours—and had been since high school, when you’d first met them along with Osamu—you knew they’d both harbored feelings for you at some point over the years. Part of you didn’t stop them because you hadn’t wanted to think the worst, which was that they still had any remnants of desire for you when you were clearly in a committed relationship with Osamu.

However, as you look around and find yourself the subject of not one but three hungry sets of eyes, you realize that they’ve still been hunting you regardless of the fact. “’Samu, I—”

“Do ya wanna let ‘em fuck you?” he interrupts. The fire you can sense burning behind his ash-colored eyes robs you of a response, so he adds, in a softer tone, “’S okay if ya do.”

Atsumu chuckles, “Might not wanna give ‘er the chance since she might rethink her decision about who she chose.”

Without thinking, you shake your head diligently and argue, “I would never leave him.”

“So, is that a yes, then?”

As you take a moment to ponder his inquiry, you notice Osamu moving closer to you before he takes your face in his hands. Tenderly, he kisses your cheek and leans towards your ear so he can murmur, “Why don’tcha let ‘em live out their li’l pipe dream for one night, (f/n)? You’ve got nothin’ ta lose, since I’m the one who suggested it in the first place.” A slow, shuddering breath escapes your lips when he adds, “In fact, I want you to do it. Show ‘em a good time; hell, enjoy yourself too.” He lets his finger run over the gentle curves of your neck, sending tingles down your spine. “I hope they make you feel good—or at least try to, since I know there’s no way they’ll be able ta make you squirt like I can, pretty baby.”

His words quickly fill your core with heat, and you’re consenting with an enthusiastic nod without so much as another thought. A small smile ghosts across his lips for a moment before he gives you a gentle nudge in the direction of the hallway leading to your bedroom, silently telling you to lead the way. Even though your body’s abuzz with excitement at what you’ve willingly gotten yourself into, you can’t help but feel somewhat sheepish at being the subject of three intense gazes. Having them follow you down the narrow hallway makes it somewhat hard for you to breathe, but it’s not long before they’re finding more physical ways of taking your breath away.

Upon entering your bedroom, Atsumu’s the first to paw at your shirt, taking the soft fabric in his grip so he can pull it over your head. Your bra is unclasped moments later and tossed aside haphazardly before you’re pushed onto the bed. The suddenness of your body hitting the mattress makes you squeal, eliciting a low chuckle from Atsumu as he leans over you and captures your lips in a surprisingly tender kiss. While your eyes are closed, you can feel one set of fingers trailing lightly along your sternum while another pair of hands tugs at your pants before removing them, along with your embarrassingly wet panties.

“Mm,” Suna hums gently, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh, “Soaked already?”

“Lemme feel.” The fingertips grazing the expanse of skin between your breasts soon travel down closer to your core, plunging inside and emerging coated in your essence. A soft whine escapes your mouth at the fleeting sensation of being somewhat filled, and you watch with half-lidded, (e/c) eyes as Atsumu slides his fingers into his mouth. “Just as sweet as I expected,” he comments before placing another passionate kiss against your lips so he can swipe his tongue along yours to give you a taste. “What did ‘Samu say that gotcha all worked up, honey?”

From where he’s sitting on a chair across from the bed, Osamu grunts, “None of yer damn business. And don’t call ‘er honey.”

Suna understands why Atsumu’s attempts at using this pet name for you are futile when he sees the way you clench around nothing at hearing it leave Osamu’s mouth. “’Samu,” you whimper softly and look in his direction. In spite of the way Suna and Atsumu’s hands feel against your skin, you’re still pining for the familiarity of your boyfriend’s touch. Eager to bring you back to the matter at hand, Atsumu turns your face back towards him and occupies your lips once more.

Meanwhile, Suna sets himself to running his fingers through your glistening folds and pleasuring your sensitive spot, making you moan into Atsumu’s mouth. When his digits venture inside of you, your hips instinctively buck against them, desperate for the thumb you know he’s intentionally keeping away from your clit. “Keep making those pretty sounds, baby,” Suna coaxes, using his free hand to palm his erection through his pants. Between him thrusting his long fingers into your core and Atsumu pinching your nipples with his, it’s not long before you feel the knot in your stomach threatening to come undone.

What pushes you closer to the edge is the smooth, wetness of Suna’s tongue dragging over your slit. “Rin!” you squeal, grinding your hips against his face to get as much contact with his mouth as you can. He squeezes your thighs gently, holding them in place over his shoulders where he kneels on the floor at the side of the bed. At hearing his name leave your mouth between kisses from Atsumu, he rewards your behavior by flattening his tongue against your clit and licking in broad stripes. Suddenly, a wave of ecstasy crashes over you, reducing you to a moaning mess as you cling onto Atsumu’s arms and squeeze Suna’s head between your thighs.

Your wanton cries have all three men in the room mesmerized. However, their awe quickly transforms into something more animalistic, and, in your ecstasy-induced haze, your body is nothing more than putty in their hands as they maneuver you into a different location and position on the bed. You’re vaguely aware of your own hands reaching for Atsumu’s shirt to remove it before unzipping his pants so his erection can spring free.

As you move closer to him to take his cock in your mouth, Atsumu grabs a fistful of your (h/l), (h/c) hair to keep you from doing so. “Oh, sweetheart, I love how eager you are to suck me off, but I’m dyin’ ta see whose cock you like better: mine or ‘Samu’s.” Osamu growls with irritation at this comment but feels his dick throb painfully at knowing what he’s about to witness. With that said, he relinquishes his grip on your strands of hair so that he can readjust your position, bringing you face to face with the tent in Suna’s pants.

This time, it’s him who’s threading his fingers amongst your locks, but with a much gentler and more affectionate grip than Atsumu’s, and his sandy-colored irises fasten on you as you work on unzipping his fly to give him some relief. If anything, knowing he’d just brought you to an orgasm with his mouth spurs you on to use yours so you can do the same for him. The way you eye his erection hungrily once you’ve freed it from the confines of his pants has him tugging your hair backwards to tilt your chin up towards him. He’s always wondered what it’s like to kiss those delicate lips of yours, and they look far too delectable—slightly swollen from Atsumu’s bruising kisses and glistening with the saliva he can see dripping off your tongue—for him to show any restraint now that he’s been given a free pass to do so.

“Are you gonna be good and take all of it?” he wonders, his mouth brushing against yours with each word. Your diligent nod earns you a deep kiss, and you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his tongue trailing along yours, carrying the taste of you. “Gonna drool all over my dick for me with that pretty, little mouth of yours?”

You’re barely able to let out a breathless, “Yes,” before his lips are over yours once more. But, just as quickly as his onslaught of kisses started, he’s pulling away and moving your head down south. Saliva collects in your mouth at the sheer size of him, and you cast him a demure glance up at him through your eyelashes as you lick a long trail from the base to the tip, causing a low groan to rumble in his throat.

At feeling the head of Atsumu’s cock teasing your sensitive clit, a whimper rolls off your tongue. “I’m gonna fuck this sweet, little pussy of yours so good, (f/n),” your boyfriend’s twin murmurs, his hands moving your hips so he can push the tip inside of you, “so you’d better take it like a good girl.”

“Don’t hurt ‘er, dumbass,” Osamu barks, the hand he has shoved down his sweatpants coming to a halt at the thought of your comfort being compromised by his brother’s greed and desire to show off. “She’s sensitive.”

“Oh?” Atsumu challenges as he inches more of his cock inside of you, making you remove your mouth from Suna’s dick to mewl loudly and drop your head towards the comforter. “It’s ‘cause yer not used to bein’ filled up are ya, sweetheart?” Another lascivious cry from you is stifled by the thick duvet when he snaps his hips against yours, sending himself deeper into your clenched core. “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of ya in all the ways ‘Samu can’t.”

Osamu’s face burns ever so slightly with humiliation and anger, but he finds he can’t tear his gaze away from the scene before him. He watches in silence as Atsumu’s fingers dig into the supple skin on your rear and snake around your hips, pulling you closer to him as he sheathes more of his cock in your greedy cunt. Then, his eyes are darting to where your pretty lips are wrapped around Suna’s dick, eyes gazing upwards at him in an affectionate manner that he thought was only reserved for himself.

He feels as if he should be enraged by the whole situation—by the way he’s being forced to sit and watch while his brother and his friend fuck your pussy and your mouth, respectively—but he isn’t. In spite of being excluded and having derogatory remarks thrown his way by Atsumu like daggers, he loves it. He loves every moan of their names that leaves your mouth because of how good they’re making you feel, as well as the hungry looks in their eyes at how good you’re making them feel. Because no matter what his twin says about how he’s “gonna make ya feel better than ‘Samu ever will,” he knows he’s wrong. In a scenario where Osamu should be the one feeling inferior, his ability not to lose sight of what he knows is the truth is what keeps the warmth burning in his stomach.

No matter how much you drool all over Suna’s cock while he thrusts deeply into your mouth, batting your eyelashes at him each time he sends a compliment your way, he knows whose pants you’re pulling down after he’s had a long day at work. Even as Atsumu’s hips snapping against yours reap a myriad of mewls or moans from your mouth that bring a self-satisfied smirk to his face, he’s confident that you’ll always be louder for him. Nobody knows how to treat you quite like Osamu does, and nobody knows how to fuck you like he does either.

So, as he slowly strokes himself off to the sight before him, he’s able to ignore the sting of every off-handed comment thrown his way and the sound of you begging Atsumu for more in the moments when Suna’s dick isn’t down your throat. He might as well let them have all the fun they want with you, seeing as it’ll be their last time doing so. He only intended to give them a taste of how good you are as a way of getting back at them for all of their shameless advances towards you in the first place. What’s better revenge than giving them something amazing that they can only remember, but never recreate? Nothing, he thinks.

“Lemme cum inside ya, pretty girl,” Atsumu coos, though his voice is raspy from his heavy breathing as he slams into you. Removing your mouth from Suna’s dick with a loud pop, you shake your head, making them both look at you with raised eyebrows. “Why not?” he asks.

Osamu nearly finishes on the spot when you whine, “Only ‘Samu can.”

Atsumu shoots his brother a withering look that he beats down with a smirk but obeys your wishes anyway. “Whatever ya want, princess,” he murmurs, placing a gentle kiss against your spine before continuing to thrust into you at a breakneck pace that has you crying out with ecstasy in no time.

Your breathy moans sending vibrations along Suna’s dick have him finishing inside of your mouth, and you swallow his seed as you sink into the bed once more. Atsumu’s hands keep your hips flush against his as he plunges into your spasming core until he can hardly take the sensations your body’s offering him anymore. Once it gets too much for him to handle, he obediently pulls out of you and cums on your back, spreading warmth along your skin and eliciting another whimper from you.

As you come down from your highs, you feel Suna’s long fingers stroke the side of your face affectionately, as if trying to communicate the praises he can’t find the words for. Meanwhile, Atsumu takes one last look at your back coated in his release before grabbing a tissue and cleaning you up. “So,” he mentions, interrupting himself to place a gentle kiss against the nape of your neck, “whaddya think? Did we change your mind?”

There’s not even a moment of hesitation before you shake your head and reiterate, “I’ll never leave him.” The soreness you feel settling into your body does nothing to quell the warmth in your belly, especially with the way Osamu’s gazing at you hungrily from his seat at the other end of the room. It’s almost as if your body moves by itself as you get up from the bed and shuffle over to him so you can seat yourself in his lap. “I want you, baby,” you breathe as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

A shit-eating grin appears on his lips as he places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. You moan softly at the bulge in his pants pressing against your sensitive entrance as he mentions, loudly enough for the other men in the room to hear, “How cute. Even after getting’ fucked by them two, ya still only wanna be stuffed full of my cum, huh?”

“Please.” Your plea escapes you in a soft whine when he bestows a fleeting kiss against your lips. He hums into the tender skin on your neck, eyeing Suna and Atsumu over your shoulder while he does so as if to clearly convey to them who’s won this challenge. However, his silent gloating is soon put to an end when you wriggle your hips against his, move your face closer to his ear and beg, “Please, daddy.”

In an instant, he’s barking at Suna and Atsumu to get off the bed so he can push you down onto it. “So good for me, honey.” Osamu’s loving words have you clenching around nothing as he shoves off his sweatpants and positions himself at your entrance. “Shoulda never doubted ya. I know how much you love me, don’tcha, baby girl?” he muses, flooding you with heat once more.

“Mm!” you chirp enthusiastically, “I love you so much, ‘Samu.”

His smooth voice becomes ever so slightly strained as he pulls your hips towards him, slides his cock into your warm, velvety core, and replies, “I love you too, (f/n).” Having him inside you once more brings you a pleasant sensation of comfort that you felt as if you’d been missing earlier, and you reach for one of his hands. Sensing your desire to be more connected with him, he wraps his fingers around yours and presses the back of your hand against the mattress beside your head.

You moan softly at being filled once more when he bottoms out inside of you. Glancing over at where Suna and Atsumu are sitting nearby, he comments, “Ya feel so good, honey,” and increases the volume of his voice before adding, “it’s like yer sweet, li’l pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

“Just for you, daddy,” you agree with a small smile, eliciting a low groan from him and spurring him to start thrusting into you with long, deep strokes. From where he’s standing at the edge of the bed, he’s able to lift your hips upwards to drive himself even deeper into you than he’s sure Atsumu could reach. Any overstimulation you felt initially has since been replaced by pleasure once more as he showers you with kisses accompanied by compliments that you confirm enthusiastically, earning you more of what you want.

“Why don’tcha tell ‘em whose cock ya love the most, baby girl?”

You cry out his name once.

“Who’s making ya feel so good right now?”

Twice.

“Who’s gonna make ya cum harder ‘nd faster?”

Thrice.

He leans down towards you to press those slow, passionate kisses against your lips that you’d missed so much, spreading your legs further and pounding into you with more speed. It’s clear he knows the map of your body that he’s made through experience like the back of his hand, since he’s able to hit that sweet spot within you time after time with more accuracy and precision than anyone else could. “Right there!” you cry, fingers dragging along the muscles rippling beneath the skin on his arms as your toes curl.

A few more thrusts send you over the edge again, and the strength of your orgasm is felt by every man in the room. Atsumu and Suna realize your cries are much louder than they were before, and Osamu smiles when he feels you squirt as your walls clench tightly around him. He doesn’t mind that you’re getting his clothes and the comforter covered in your essence—he only cares that he’s delivered the promise he’d made for you earlier. It’s not long before he reaches his high and fills you up with stuttering snaps of his hips and labored breaths. You moan breathlessly at the sensation of warmth inside your core, and let your head come to rest against the bed while he finishes inside of you.

As much as you want nothing more than to crawl under the sheets with him and rest, you’re reminded of your guests when Osamu casts his dark gaze in their direction. “Ya got whatcha wanted. Go home,” he announces, eyes narrowing at his twin brother who, along with Suna, are clearly still in awe at what they’ve witnessed.

Turning back to you and planting a tender kiss against your collarbone while they rise to their feet and head for the door, Osamu adds deviously, “So much for rethinkin’ her decision, huh? Now ya know why she won’t.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin

osamu: @pretty-setters, @misora-msby, @why-aminot-dead, @atsunakaashi, @heyhinata, @why-aminot-dead

#miya osamu x reader #ahkaahshi gets wild #ahkaahshi's mini kinktober 2020 #osamu x reader #osamu smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #tw cuckolding #tw daddy kink #miya atsumu x reader #suna rintarou x reader #x reader #reader insert #haikyuu fanfiction #fran writes hq!!#atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #suna x reader #suna smut

2K notes · View notes

sketching-shark · 3 years ago

Note

Monkie kid fandom: o well macaques a morally grey character he’s got a traumatic past and Sun Wukongs so mean and evil for leaving him

Reality: Macaque is literally ment to the representative of Sun Wukongs EVIL side and having a “traumatic past” doesn’t justify literally trying to kill people who had nothing to do with it he also traumatised Mk because he can and because he’s connected to Sun Wukong. Sun Wukong choose to change his ways macaque just decided “you no what am going to kill this monk because he’s connected to somebody who left me.” I don’t understand how people try so hard to Villainise Sun Wukong when’s he’s literally ment to be one of the first ever superheroes.

Haha oh geez that is how it often feels.

Like at this point there does seem to be something of an effort to make Sun Wukong look bad in order to absolve Macaque of a lot of wrong-doing...But as you mentioned, besides it being the case that the Six-Eared Macaque was originally made to function as a representative and/or living embodiment of Sun Wukong's anger and violent tendencies (hence why Sun Wukong's a lot less prone to sudden acts of violence after he kills the six-eared simian in JTTW), given all the murder attempts and manipulation and literal acts of kidnapping/brainwashing/mind control he's committed in the lego monkey show, personally I feel like the dude is pretty much as viciously jealous & as willing to throw people under the bus to achieve his aims as he is in Journey to the West.

Like I know that Monkie Kid diverges from JTTW in a number of ways (a big change being that Sun Wukong had beat up a lot of demons instead of smashing them into meat patties lol), but one of the things that does feel like it's being lost in translation, as it were, is that the Six Ear Macaque was a villain not just because he beat up the Tang Monk, but because he wanted to take over Sun Wukong's entire life and identity so he could have all that glory and prestige for himself. To quote the macaque himself from the Anthony C. Yu translation, "I struck the T'ang monk and I took the luggage...precisely because I want to go to the West all by myself to ask Buddha for the scriptures. When I deliver them to the Land of the East, it will be my success and no one else's. Those people of the South Jambudvipa Continent will honor me then as their patriarch and my fame will last for all posterity." And in order to do this, the Six Eared Macaque had apparently made Sun Wukong's "little ones," his monkey family, his captives through either trickery or force, and gotten a number of them to take on the appearance of Tang Sanzang and the other pilgrims. It's also made clear that in direct contrast to Sun Wukong he doesn't care about these monkeys beyond how they might serve him, given that after Sha Wujing kills the monkey posing as him the Six Eared Macaque not only all but immediately replaces him with another, but also "told his little ones to have the dead monkey skinned. Then his meat was taken to be fried and served as food along with coconut and grape wines." So this monkey is not only willing to risk the lives of a lot of other monkeys for his own benefit, but is also a literal cannibal.

In Monkie Kid (at least according to Macaque, who is an unreliable narrator at best), he had been best of friends with Sun Wukong before Sun Wukong presumably went off to live in Heaven & abandoned all of his friends on Earth. And it is true that in Journey to the West, Sun Wukong had spent over a century of earthly years in heaven just enjoying himself before he gets into trouble by ruining the Immortal Peach Banquet and heading back down to his yaoguai kingdom. So in that regard, Macaque does have justification to hate Sun Wukong for having brought heaven's army to their mountain (of course you could say that starting a war over one banquet is a bit of an overreaction but that's a conversation for another day). What this does omit, however, is that the main reason Sun Wukong went to heaven in the first place is to see if he could get all of his monkeys to live up there, that he had spent centuries fortifying Flower Fruit Mountain from any and all threats beforehand, and that he brings back a bounty of immortality-granting wine, which all the monkeys eagerly drink. And perhaps most importantly, in the following war with heaven itself all of the assembled yaoguai were behind Sun Wukong 100%. He had already done so much for them, and they had already heard about how their great king was made to serve as a stable hand in heaven, and so got some sense of how little the heavens thought of them. This isn't to say that the Six Eared Macaque doesn't have reason to be mad at Sun Wukong or that the Monkey King doesn't share a lot of the blame for the events that led to the burning of Flower Fruit Mountain, but rather to say that all the assembled yaoguai weren't dragged into this war kicking and screaming. They seem to have regarded it as much as a power struggle with great potential rewards and which they could win as much as Sun Wukong did.

But going back to this version of the Six Eared Macaque, I find him interesting because I read him not as morally grey but rather as this frightening, somewhat tragic figure who's jealously of and resentment against Sun Wukong seems to have festered and grown to the point where it's become the sole defining feature of his life; like he's just gone from wanting to literally be Sun Wukong to wanting revenge against the Monkey King, and in all his centuries of living he hasn't allowed anything else to shape his life. After 500 years of apparently not really doing anything, after Sun Wukong made a reappearance Macaque just seem to be targeting anyone and anything that he thinks will let him hurt Sun Wukong, no matter the cost to others or to himself. It's like he was put into the role of Sun Wukong's doppelganger/shadow/evil clone, and he's now hellbent on staying in that position, no matter how much it hurts him or holds him back from cultivating his own individuality or his own story because that's the only way he feels he gain back his past power and/or stay connected to the Monkey King. There is something really tragic about a character who feels so damaged by and/or is so obsessed with the past that they stay in this stagnant position where they never even attempt to try something different from their destructive and self-damaging behavior, but that's precisely what makes Macaque a good villain as well. Besides being a clever and calculating villain, he never developed a sense of morality like Sun Wukong, he still treats everyone around him like tools, and his self-righteousness gives him "permission" to be a relentless monster to MK, all of MK's loved ones, and Sun Wukong himself. I know it's pretty common in media these days to start a villain down the path of redemption & into the bosom of team good guy by having them be hurt by an even worse villain, but personally I would love to see a story arc where Macaque actually has a realization of how horrible his behavior has been and to feel genuine remorse for it (maybe brought about by the violence he's likely suffering at the hands of the Lady Bone Demon, in a kind of "hey being manipulated and hurt for the benefit of others actually sucks oh no I can't believe I thought it was okay when I did it"), but then also has to face the consequence of his former student and former best friend (actually likely the entire monkie crew given the whole kidnapping/brainwashing/mind-controlling thing) never wanting anything to do with him again & cutting him out of their lives completely. I think he could still change for the better under such a scenario, but the seriousness of his bad actions shouldn't be swept under the rug.

In conclusion, I think a "redemption without forgiveness" story line could work really well for Monkie Kid's version of the Six-Eared Macaque in a kind of "you can't just do horrible things and then cry about your past like that somehow makes it okay" way, and smh at the Monkie Kid fandom for all the work put into giving Sun Wukong and only Sun Wukong flak for his and Macaque's fight.

Like if you have to demonize the Monkey King, at least go after him for having been a warlord.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk sun wukong #lmk monkey king #lmk macaque #lmk mk #lmk six eared macaque #six eared macaque #anon submission #qi xiaotian

117 notes · View notes

bcdwhcre · 4 years ago

Text

“Cold Weather,” Pt 2 Levi x Reader

using this gif again bc oof and I’m also running out of Levi gifs to use

Summary: modern day Levi. After getting stuck in a blizzard and taking shelter in a cabin with no heat, skin to skin isn’t the only thing you two would be using to get warm

Warnings: fingering, dirty talk, choking, smut period. any who

PART ONE

“I know what else we can do to get warm.”

“Levi,” Your eyes were glued on his, the smirk on his face only growing the more your face started to get red.

You would admit that there is a lot of sexual tension there but you weren’t too sure if it was only because you two were forced to cuddle half naked for warmth or if Levi had caught on to your feelings that you had for him.

Either way you didn’t want to protest or act as if you didn’t want to do anything with him. The way his eyes had burned through your body made your skin hot and made you want more of his touch on your body.

Levi’s fingers had traced over your bare skin, sliding down to slip the strap of your bra off your shoulder and a lump started to form in your throat as his eyes stayed on yours, never once looking away and you didn’t dare break the eye contact no matter how nervous you started to get.

He was swift when reaching around your back and unclipping your bra with no issue, feeling it drop and he slipped it off your arms and tossed it behind him in a blink of an eye. He wanted to take his time, with you at least. The feelings he had for you were more than enough to give him the boost of confidence to do the things he’s been wanting to do.

In an instant, his lips were back on yours and his body had moved over to hover over yours as he forced his tongue inside of your mouth, exploring the new space and taking over the dominance quite quickly but only because you didn’t bother, the amount of butterflies you felt roaming inside your stomach as your body ached for him more as each second passes by- you let him do whatever he wanted to do.

His chest pressed down on yours, one hand flat on the floor to hold himself up above you while his free hand had wrapped around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze and suddenly his mouth was off of yours and peppering kisses along your jawline, his hair hanging down and tickling your skin.

The air around you was thick, between his kisses and the tension in the air- you were practically choking. You were frozen, your arms and legs numb and not just from the freezing cold weather that surrounded the cabin and outside of it- but Levi’s sudden actions, it had you complete stunned to the point where you couldn’t move.

The thought of this had ran through your head multiple times in the past but you were never brave enough to cross the line of ruining a friendship you admired so much. He’s your best friend, the only person you can truly count on and secretly- the both of you would dream of this moment and now that’s it’s happening, you’re stuck in place.

He had noticed your stale movements while kissing your neck and collarbone, his eyes flickering up towards you as he held his body up above yours, the worried look on his face like he had did something wrong, thinking this isn’t what you wanted.

“We don’t have to..” He started to say, not really knowing the right words to say. It grew awkward and you snapped out of your endless thoughts to meet his gaze.

Suddenly you felt stupid, you were too caught up in your own head and was too scared to embrace your feelings for him that you made him feel embarrassed for even thinking something like this would work.

“Levi, you’re the only person I’ve wanted to do this with.” You tried to assure him, leaning up and smashing your lips onto his.

Your small hands had trailed down his bare chest and suddenly he had gain somewhat of his confidence back, grabbing a hold of your hands and pinned them down against the floor, your fingers intertwining with his and his hips had firmly pressed against yours.

The swarm of butterflies and sparks that you felt made you want to freeze up again. You were never the type to be this bold, especially towards someone you’ve been in love with for years. You still had that mindset where you would be rejected by him even though his lips were molded into yours.

You tried to shove that anxiety out of your mind, feeling his hips roll into yours making a random moan fall from your lips and onto his. It was getting more than hot in this empty cabin, the feeling of his hard length pressed against you along with the only two fabrics of clothing you both wore- it was making your breath uneven and your kiss sloppy.

Levi had pulled back first, breathless and his eyes had stared down into yours, a small smile appearing on his lips and he had let go of one of your hands to cup your cheek, stroking it then grabbed onto your chin.

“You know how many times I’ve thought about this?” He mumbled, moving his fingers down your body and swiftly slipped your underwear down your legs, making your heart pound.

You shook your head, keeping your eyes on his while his fingertips tickled your inner thighs as he teasingly ran them up your leg, spreading them apart with his knee and unexpectedly rubbed just one finger through your folds, making you shudder under his touch.

“Every time I look at you, all I can think about is you underneath me...” He used two fingers to rub through your folds, a soft gasp leaving your lips.

“All the times I’ve thought about you late at night, taking all of me, moaning my name, making a mess all over my sheets..” His words had you already throbbing and he barely even touched you, his fingers teasing you.

“You drive me crazy without even trying.” His other hand grabbed onto your throat, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and a smirk appeared on his face.

Suddenly he had his fingers at your entrance, just barely hovering over it and he could tell how impatient you were just by the way your hips were trying to grind against his fingers, you were already a mess underneath him and he hasn’t even began to start pleasing you the way he wanted to.

Levi tilted his head, leaning down to pepper a kiss on your jawline and leaned down towards your ear as your hands made their way around his back, nails already clawing at his skin and he let out a soft breath.

“Tch, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already a mess.” He taunted, a chuckle falling from his lips and it made you want to roll the both of you over and slap that smirk off his face- he was being too cocky, knowing how badly you wanted him.

“You’re being too cocky.” You scoffed under your breath, almost rolling your eyes and he raised his eyebrows in amusement as he stared down at you.

“I think I’m allowed to be.”

You hummed, a smile coming across your lips until he abruptly slipped both of his fingers inside of you, your mouth instantly parting open and another gasp slipped out.

The smirk on his face was evident, enjoying himself a little too much as he moved his fingers at a even pace, twisting them and using his free hand to rest beside your head to hold himself up.

He wanted to watch your facial expressions, wanting it to feed his ego, wanting to see just how much he can pleasure you, how good he can pleasure you. He was one cocky asshole but you couldn’t deny the fact he knew how to make you feel good.

Your back almost arched off the floor, wanting to move your hips up into his hand but he was quick to press your hips down with his free hand, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he tilted his head up at you.

“Do that again and I’ll have no choice but to stop and leave you here soaking wet.” He teased, the tip of his tongue sticking out and licking over his dry lips.

You wanted to protest, fight back or shoot him a dirty look but the way he looked right now, the way he was being so dominant with you- it was really turning you on and you wanted it to continue for the rest of the night.

But you still wanted to slap that cocky smirk off his face but it was worth the feeling of his fingers knuckles deep inside of you, making you clench around them and throw your head back against the blankets.

“Good girl.” He purred, sitting himself up on his knees and looked down at his fingers, watching himself finger fuck you.

He couldn’t resist, he wanted to pull his fingers out and fuck you into oblivion but he had to restrain himself, he wanted to enjoy this, enjoy you and the way your beautiful body laid out in front of him like this- the only light making your skin glow was the fire from the fireplace.

He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, he was in awe of you and the position you were in. Your head back, your eyes closed and the effortless moans falling from yours lips was like music to his ears. He was so fascinated with you, so intrigued, so in love.

Levi’s mouth was practically drooling at the sight that he almost forgot he was thrusting his fingers inside of you until your moans had grown louder, knowing how close he was edging you to your orgasm.

He thought about it, should he let you cum around his fingers? He did want a good taste of you, he wanted to watch your face mix with pleasure as your legs tremble beneath him.

Gosh, he was thinking too much about you that he was close to almost cumming in his boxers. He shook his head at the thoughts, his eyes fully trained back onto you as he continued slamming his fingers inside your tight hole, using his other hand to rub circular motions on your clit.

“Levi.. I’m gonna,” You practically whined out, making his eyes shoot up to yours and he groaned under his breath.

“Cum on my fingers.” He praised you on, mumbling soft words like how you were beautiful to him.

He had watched your face scrunch up, the orgasm washing over you like a fresh shower, making your legs slightly tremble and your breathing started to get heavier. He licked his lips at the sight of you, he was hungry for you in ways he couldn’t even explain.

He was quick to take his fingers out once you were done and licked the cum off of them, humming at the taste of you. He was enjoying himself too much but he made sure you were enjoying the moment more.

Your cheeks were flushed as you tried to catch your breath, your eyes connecting with his hungry ones and he moved his fingers down to rub your sensitive core, making your legs close tightly but he forced them open.

“I’m not done with you yet, brat.” The nickname easily dripped off his tongue and it had made another throbbing sensation hit you.

He was quick to reach his hands down to his boxers, finally taking them off and freeing his length that was more than desperate to be let out. Your eyes couldn’t help but glance over his entire bare body as he was above you, your eyes trailing down and lump had formed in your throat.

The butterflies you felt was unexplainable. You couldn’t believe just how perfect he looked naked, it made you almost choke on the air around you.

His hand grabbing your chin made you snap out of your thoughts, your big eyes looking up at his and he softly pressed his lips on yours, the kiss was slow but your lips were still swollen from the rough makeout session you had moments ago before he had his fingers deep inside of you.

He was craving your touch so desperately, he was clingy and was more than horny but he wanted this kiss to be a lot more meaningful because he still loved you deeply.

He pulled back, his face hovering over yours while his nose brushed up against your own nose. He had given you a soft smile, his fingertips brushing over your soft skin and it made your heart swell.

Levi planted one more kiss on your lips, settling himself between your legs as he grabbed a firm hold of his length, teasingly rubbing his tip along your folds, his face still inches above yours before he slid himself in slowly but he didn’t hesitate to fill you up completely.

Your mouth parted open, another moan slipping off your tongue and he took the opportunity to spit inside of your mouth then molded your lips together in a heated kiss, mixing your tongues together.

All of this had sent you in a state of euphoria, almost seeing stars blur up your vision and your hips instantly moved up to meet his soft thrusts until he started to speed up his pace, pressing your body down into the floor.

He had kept his eyes on you, the sense of wanting to watch over your beautiful state and your expressions as he stimulated you. He was sure he would end up cumming just by the look of your face but he wanted this to be a lot more meaningful. He didn’t care about the sex, he wanted this to be about you.

He would do anything for you and he knew about the strong feelings you’ve had for him for well over a few years so that only pushed him to make you feel everything tonight. He could care less about orgasming, he could care less about pleasuring himself. He was so deeply in love with you that this, your first time with him, was something to remember.

“Fuck, go harder.” You barely managed to stumble out of your mouth, making his eyebrows furrow and stare down at you.

He had done what you said, his hips slamming into yours and the sounds of the fire cracking and both of your skins slapping together echoed through the empty cabin.

Your skin grew hot, your cheeks red and the intense pleasure you were feeling made your eyes water and your head ended up leaning back as your eyes fluttered shut, your nails clawing at his back, sure to leave scratches on his soft skin.

You could already feel yourself nearing your second orgasm, multiple profanities, whines and moans falling from your lips and when he felt your walls clench around him, he made sure to quicken his pace as much as he could, wanting to send you over the edge again.

“Are you going to cum for me a second time, brat?” He voice mumbled into your ear, his lips trailing sloppy kisses just below your ear and on your neck and you held onto his biceps tightly.

You slightly nodded your head, stuttering out a small ‘yes’ and he purposely sunk his teeth into your skin and it made you almost squeal, his large hand moving up to grab onto one of your breasts.

“Be a good girl and cum for daddy.” The dirty talking he was doing in your ear was working in his favor, it had made you wrap your legs around his torso, feeling him almost pull out of you completely just to thrust back into you roughly.

Your second orgasm had hit you like a train, your legs shaking uncontrollably and the way it had sent you in such a pleasured state, it made his orgasm hit him just about the same time.

Levi’s breathing was uneven, the sweat gathering up on his forehead made the small strands of hair to stick on his skin. He pulled out of you, sitting up on his knees as he looked over at your shaken state.

He had chuckled under his breath, placing a kiss on your forehead and stood up to go find a towel to clean you up. He wasn’t just going to leave you there sitting in a complete mess you both had made, he wasn’t that lazy.

When he returned, you had caught your breath and your eyes could barely stay open from how much he tired you out. You watched him clean you up with the towel, tossing it to the side when he was finished and got underneath the blankets, wrapping his arms around your naked body.

His lips peppered soft kisses on your face, pulling you into his chest and he sighed happily, brushing his fingers through your hair as you laid there almost half asleep, tangled up in his arms.

“I love you, you know.” You mumbled, tilting your head up to meet his gaze and he laughed a bit, nodding his head.

“Yes, I know.. I love you.”

Pls this is the longest Levi smut I’ve ever written. But I think it turned out so good wtffff

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

READ BIO BEFORE REQUESTING !!!!!

#levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #levi Ackerman smut #levi Ackerman #levi imagines #levi imagine #levi fanfic #levi x reader #levi smut #levi headcanons #aot imagines #aot headcanons

518 notes · View notes