#one of the friends jostled my needle and pushed it a bit deeper than it was supposed to go. which hurt.

[bladeofthestars]

.

[delimeful]

(dont) take this the wrong way (6)

warnings: misunderstandings, trauma responses, illness

-

Patton and Roman went in circles for a moment on who should carry Logan, eventually settling on Patton, since Roman was the quicker between the two of them and they were alarmingly unsure of what the small mer was planning— or how negatively that plan would affect the little guy.

Roman couldn’t help but be a little jealous anyways at the sight of the human pressing his tiny face against the palm of Patton’s hand, still mostly unconscious despite the jostling. It was unfairly adorable, and he never got to hang out with humans that weren’t terrified or fled at the sight of him.

Logan had started off scared too, sure, but after they’d cleared that little misunderstanding up, the human had shooed him away with an itty bitty stern look.

He’d listened, of course, he certainly owed these two that much, but internally he was gleeful at how bold Logan was when hanging out with them. Maybe he’d even come back and they’d learn more of his language and he could needle the nerd into telling him more about surface life—!

But of course, that required that he get better first.

It seemed obvious now, with the feverflush to his skin and the subtle tremor even as he slept, but the signs were so tiny on him, they might not have noticed for ages yet. He was inordinately grateful that the little mer had brought it to their attention, even if it also meant learning just how lowly the little guy thought of them.

When they returned from the air room, the tiny mer hadn’t twitched from his spot, though he looked as though he wanted to vibrate right out of his skin.

Agonizingly, he only seemed to get more stressed at the sight of Patton’s cupped hands, gaze darting between them for a moment before he flitted forwards and pressed an earfin to the makeshift airseal, staying in place only long enough to catch the sound of Logan’s little raspy breaths.

Roman opened his mouth, arms sliding up to gesture, and the tiny mer shot all the way back across the room like quicksilver. He had a moment to realize that with that speed, they’d never have ‘caught’ him in the first place if he hadn’t been trapped by that net, and then he felt immensely guilty for clearly spooking the little guy.

“How about you lead the way?” he asked, trying to distract their flighty little friend before he started tearing hair out. “The exit is one cave down, we’ll follow to wherever you think is the best place.”

He was shaking his head before Roman even finished. “No, I’ll follow, you— whoever stole him, you have to take him back to that beach. You remember... right?”

Roman turned to glance at Patton, who nodded firmly. “I’ll get us started then, kiddo.”

He cradled his cupped hands to his chest and swam deeper, easily twisting through the exit tunnel into the open ocean. Roman nodded at the little mer and followed, hoping that the little guy wouldn’t just vanish.

Only a moment later, he flitted out after them, and Roman caught the desperate longing that crossed his expression for a moment at the sight of wide open terrain. It vanished after a single glance at Patton’s cargo, replaced by a grim scowl.

If it weren’t for the human, Roman had the feeling that the mer would have turned and vanished, too quick and small for them to ever see again.

Instead, he hovered carefully out of lunging reach as they traveled, watching their every move with narrowed eyes. Every unconscious twitch of Patton’s hands seemed to make him flinch in response, as though he was expecting something horrible would happen to the human at any moment.

Normally, Roman would have been quite offended about this implied slight against Patton’s character, since his friend was just about the gentlest guy he knew. With circumstances what they were, however, he remained silent. He knew that this wasn’t really a reflection on Patton, but rather someone else entirely, a phantom presence that was still haunting the small mer.

Roman let out a breath of relief when they finally resurfaced, a human beach visible nearby. Patton unfolded his hands as soon as they were above water, and they both peered nervously down at the human.

“He doesn’t look like he’s gotten any worse,” Patton murmured, angling his hands so their small tagalong could see as well. “This is fairly close to the beach I found him at!”

“It seems the early hour has served us well,” Roman added, making sure not to gesture as he usually would. “There doesn’t appear to be anyone else around. Should we set him on the beach?”

The tiny mer jolted when he realized that they were both looking to him, flitting back and forth in nervous motions. “Uh, yeah— Yes. But be careful. And make sure you put him high enough that the tide can’t drag him back.” He continued in an undertone, “With his luck, it’ll be ages before another human appears.”

“I’ll do it!” Patton announced, already pushing forwards to shallower waters. “Roman’s likely to beach himself if he goes too far inland, and that’s shore to make things difficult!”

Roman groaned, flicking his fingertips at the siren. “That was one time! One-time incidents don’t qualify for pun-based bullying!”

Patton’s muffled laughter got quieter as he shifted to lay vertically, scooting forwards until his chest was scraping the sand and his arm could extend to set Logan gently against the beach incline. Logan’s head lolled to the side, but he seemed unlikely to go anywhere, and was in plain sight of anyone passing by.

Roman glanced down at the tiny mer, who was staring over the waves at the human, finally looking a little less stiff and stressed.

Patton wiggled back until he could tread water upright again, sharing a little cheer with Roman at a successful quest. Their guest’s tension returned immediately, that little shadowed gaze snapping back onto them.

Roman and Patton exchanged a glance, uncertain of how to proceed, but before anyone could speak, they heard a small, hacking cough.

Logan was awake, just a little too late for him or Patton to say goodbye. He probably wouldn’t have understood, but it would have been nice anyhow. Roman watched as he rolled to something resembling upright, his limbs trembling weakly. He was looking back and forth, not just noticing the new decor, but searching.

Roman glanced down to the small mer, who had set his shoulders and continued looking firmly away from the beach. He sunk a little lower in the water, trying to make eye contact. “Would you like to go and say goodbye before he leaves? Or, tell him what’s going on, perhaps?”

He shook his head once, sharply, and Roman felt a little pang of sympathy at the way his ear fins kept angling back at every noise the human made.

Logan was calling out now, the same word repeated at increasing levels of urgency. “Virgil?”

The mer still refused to glance back. “I’m not breaking the deal. You upheld your half, and you’re going to keep upholding it, and I’ll uphold mine. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’d drifted closer to Roman as he spoke, but it didn’t feel like any sort of progress. He’d tucked all those extra flares and frills away, smoothing himself down as though he was calm— or resigned.

Roman glanced up at the beach, where Logan still called. As he listened, that little voice cracked midword, desperation slowly turning to despair. He moved to cup his hand underneath the little mer, his heartstrings pulling at the way he let out a slow, shaky breath and closed his eyes, even as Roman lifted him up from the ocean entirely.

Patton opened his mouth as if to speak, but Roman met his eyes and shook his head, promising with his gaze alone that he knew what he was doing. His friend glanced down at the little guy worriedly, but held his tongue.

With one strong push, Roman slid up to the beach’s edge, grimacing slightly as the water became shallower and shallower. His arms were longer than Patton’s, though, and so he had little trouble reaching over and depositing his handful of seawater & tiny mermaid directly next to Logan.

“Virgil!” the human said, relieved, and he reached out to latch onto the mer, confirming Roman’s name suspicions.

‘Virgil’ had yelped like a baby seal upon being upended onto the beach, and he was now blinking between Roman and Logan with an air of extreme bewilderment.

“Virgil,” Logan said again, now in a very different tone. He wore a tiny, furious expression as he launched into what sounded like a somewhat-feverish lecture. He also reached over and pulled the mer into a hug, confirming Roman’s ‘he had no idea Virgil was going to pull this’ suspicions.

Roman was so right about so many things today. Everyone should listen to him all the time!

He wriggled back a little, intending to give them some privacy to talk, and made absolutely no progress. Uh oh. He glanced down at the others.

“I am just a little bit, slightly, somewhat, completely beached again,” he told them, his face growing hot. “I hope you two appreciate that I did this even though Patton is absolutely never going to let me live this down.”

“Need me to reel you back in, kiddo?” Patton called, right on cue. Roman sighed, planting his face in the crook of his elbow for a moment.

“Just a moment,” he called, and then met Virgil’s wide eyes from over Logan’s shoulder. “It seems like there’s still much for you both to discuss, my undersized acquaintances. We shouldn’t stay so close to land for long, but I imagine you’ll feel better if you keep him company until someone comes for him, right?”

Logan’s brief spark of energy seemed to be flagging, but every time Virgil attempted to disengage from the hug, he clung on tighter. After a brief moment of hesitation, Virgil conceded to the clinginess and simply nodded at Roman, still half-braced for something awful.

Roman gave him his most reassuring smile. “Then that’s what you’ll do. You know where to find me or Patton, if you need us!”

“Really?” Virgil asked, hands fisting in the back of Logan’s shirt. “You’ll let me-- you’ll leave us alone? Just like that?”

Roman nodded, lips twisted in sympathy. “Just like that.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, fins flattened against the sides of his head-- and then he took a deep breath, loosened his grip just slightly, and nodded back.

[minidigidestined]

Lost in Love 1/3

A three part digi//mon g/t vore series about my Digidestined OC/sona, Charissa, and her experiences and thoughts with being eaten by her three significant others--her primary partner and husband Jazz (another Digidestined), and her two secondary partners Beelstarrmon and Voltaboutamon. Lots of polyamorous fluff, soft safe vore and sweetness. Will likely do a little series of blurbs with her and Jazz’s digi///mon teammates vore shenanigans too, I just wanted to write up some romance~

Part one focuses on Charissa and Voltaboutamon--in this story, they have only very recently began their relationship, and are still navigating the awkwardness of a new love and the tangled web of the enemies to friends to lovers past they share. After Charissa struggles with sensory overload and the resulting shutdown, Voltaboutamon comforts her in a shrunken state, and considers what her two longer-term significant others have (obnoxiously) told him about her vore fixation.... He decides to try and comfort her in a new way, exploring her very strange form of intimacy. 

NSFW DNI. 

In his hands, I am small and pliable. The pad of his thumb, black and tough as onyx, presses softly against the plushness of my cheek. I melt into him and sigh, softly. 

I am home. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” Voltaboutamon looks down at me, the shy indigo blush on his cheeks radiating warmth. “Do I just.... Put you in?”

I smile, stimming nervously with the scrunchie on my wrist. “Ye--ah, I g--uess. You just, um, uh, um tre--at me like you wo--uld would any other f---ood. Except che--w--ing.” I am happy, but the words are forced and almost painful--after a shutdown, speaking always is. 

“You don’t need to make yourself talk.” His narrow eyes seem to edge into slits. “I… I want to make you feel better. You don’t need to force yourself for me, Charissa. I am always prepared to accommodate you. I love you.” 

I almost open my mouth to force out more, but stop. Jazz, Beelstarrmon and Voltaboutamon are the greatest partners I could’ve ever hoped to love--and I found myself frustrated with the disservice both to them and myself whenever I tried to shift myself to try and please them, like I had with so many others. With so many abusers. It was okay to be me. It was safe to be me. With the three of them, I could love freely.

No pretending. No masking. No suffering. Only truth. 

I smiled and nodded. Two taps for thanks, and a squeeze of his fingers for love. 

The wraith-like Digimon smiled, his eyes softening. “And you will be safe?” 

I nodded again, pointing to the small oxygen mask at my hip. I slumped against his needle like fingers, lightheaded from the butterflies fluttering about in my stomach. 

After my surrogate father, Grandracmon, shrunk me down for my own comfort, both Voltaboutamon and I retreated to his quarters for privacy and silence. For not one second did he (nor my father, the kindest beast in existence might I add) judge my desire to be small, and instead he looked down at me as if I was the greatest treasure his hands had ever held. 

For awhile, we lay in silence, my darling removing his chest plating so that I could curl up on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. A steady rhythm, safe and powerful, even through the leathery armor-like chitin that covered him from clavicles to toes, cool and textured against my own skin. Two of his arms tucked behind his head, relaxed, one over his stomach and the last’s palm cupping me gently.

 I was always small, a mere 5’5 to his 12’, but at 5 inches tall, he was now truly massive to me. Even after removing his intimidating armor and mask and the extra bulk of his hat and headscarf, his presence still felt absolutely massive. And yet, despite what a cruel figure the digimon struck, he felt as safe and secure as any home I could have ever imagined. Better than anything I could imagine, in fact.

So when my dear one looked down at me and whispered, with nothing but a soft red light from the lamp in the corner lighting the space around us, if I would like him to eat me, I felt my own heart skip a beat. Pretty sure I felt his do the same. 

Voltaboutamon had never really been interested in the whole vore thing, and after we began dating only a few weeks ago, it was one of the hardest discussions to have with him, perhaps even moreso than our rocky history of hate-filled enemies to reluctant friends to hopelessly yearning. Explaining the intricacies of affection, intimacy, trust, safety and closeness involved in vore for me was terrifying, and having to share that with someone who had been shut off from closeness and emotional intimacy for so long? I figured he would never be comfortable with it beyond some light teasing and letting me lay on his belly. 

And now here we were, both blushing, flustered and awkward. 

His stomach growled, a low rumble beneath me, and the butterflies surged with a vengeance. I loved him so much, so deeply, and just wanted to find myself in the world of his body, his physical self, the very essence of Voltaboutamon. After everything we had endured, the trauma of our pasts, the struggle of our present and the serenity of the new love we had found, all I ever wanted was to get lost in him. Right now, literally. 

“And you trust me? You feel safe?” He was nervous, maybe even more than I was. 

I smiled gently. One long, deep squeeze. Always. 

He nodded, clearing his throat. “Well. I am hungry. I was busy earlier today and forgot to eat so… Yes. Here we go then. Vore.” 

He picked me up with two long, claw tipped fingers, squeezing into the softness of my plump frame. He lifted me up and I felt myself go a bit dizzy with vertigo, until I looked down and saw his mouth yawn open. 

Poppy-red eyes gazed up at me, gauging my reaction. Voltaboutamon’s face was narrow and framed with long locks of wavy snow-white hair, his features all hard as flint. His full lips opened wide, lavender skin giving way to a bright pink mouth and pearly teeth. A set of long fangs, his teeth all just a little bit sharper than normal--likely the Myotismon data--and his tongue long and flat and waiting. 

I swallowed hard, goosebumps popping up along my arms as I fixated on the strands and bubbles of saliva framing his maw, leading all the way back into the beckoning tunnel of his throat. 

He lowered me in gently, and I almost laughed at the severe juxtaposition of how differently he placed me in comparison to my other dear ones. His soft, thoughtful handling a contrast to the greedy but assured stuffing-in that Jazz and Beelstarrmon would begin eating me with. I suppose it makes sense, gluttons as they are and gourmet as he is. I almost giggle thinking about the shenanigans and contrasts of our love-filled little quad, but I’m broken from my ruminations when he places me right atop his tongue. 

Instantly the butterflies surge, a swarm of nerves and exhilaration twisting up my insides. His tongue undulates beneath me, his sharp teeth framing the outside world. Before I know it the digimon’s mouth closes, the last shreds of light glinting off his fangs and threads of drool before I’m shrouded in darkness. 

I squish my fingers against the slick flesh of my darling’s tongue, gasping as it presses me against the roof of his mouth and then to the inside of his cheek. I’ve been eaten so many times before, by friends and lovers, and yet I still find myself growing pink and amazed and feeling so very very small, and I can’t help but just close my eyes and smile. 

His breath is hot and smells of tart undiluted cranberry juice, and I recall the mug he left on the kitchen counter. It rushes over me as he carefully shifts me around the slimy cavern, his teeth gently scraping at my skin and saliva coating me like a second skin. I press my hands against his flesh, tracing veins with my fingertips and slipping around at his mercy. A low hum builds in his throat and I blush, pleased that he seems to find me a tasty snack. 

I found myself pushed to the back of his mouth, going lightheaded with both happiness and an unbidden anxiety--like the top of a roller coaster drop--as the tips of my toes slipped past the entrance of his throat. His uvula tickled the top of my twin buns as he swallowed thickly, unaccustomed to such a large morself, not that my girth likely helped much. His gulp pulled me down instantaneously, and then peristalsis got to work. He swallowed and gulped again, clearly straining to get me down. 

The powerful muscles pulled me down eagerly, the soft flesh crushing and massaging against me as it effortlessly took me further into Voltaboutamon. I felt his fingertip press against the bulge I must’ve made in his slender neck, following me as I trailed deeper into him. I heard the rush of his breath from his lungs, his relief once I started falling down his throat smoothly, and he no longer had to swallow powerfully. 

I enjoyed the trip down, my oxygen mask providing me air during my smothering descent, the pressure providing me sensory stimulation and relaxation in the best possible way. Utter bliss. 

It wasn’t long before Voltaboutamon’s throat opened up into his stomach though, and I yelped as I was deposited into the much more roomy cavern. I slipped right in and slid down into a fetal position, shifting about to get comfortable. The sludgy chyme and the unmistakable tang of cranberry juice sloshed around me, his belly grumbling loudly upon my arrival. The muscular walls flexed and kneaded gently, like a hug. The darkness and heat was utterly smothering, and while the smell wasn’t delightful, it was reassuring in some strange way. 

His heart beat thunderously somewhere above me, and the hum of his digicore was a barely noticeable constant thrumming. His lungs translated in and out, in and out seamlessly, a low gurgle from lower in his guts sounding out every now and then. His stomach continued its kneading and soft growling, and I felt all my muscles loosen and relax. 

“Are you alright, Charissa?” I was jostled a bit as he must’ve leaned down, trying to get as close as he could. “I feel ridiculous talking to my stomach…” A pressure from outside pushed against me, kind and gentle as ever. Voltaboutamon rubbed his belly, and I eagerly pressed back and into the sweet touch, rubbing my hands tenderly along his stomach walls in thanks. 

“I love you, dear.” His voice blended in with the cacophony of sounds, the symphony of his body. “You were...a, ah, good meal. A nice little bite. Morsel. You melt in my mouth. ….Ah. Fuck. Yep.” He went quiet, and I could almost see the frustrated look on his face. I giggled sweetly as we both continued our rubbing. He had the spirit, and my heart swelled with pure adoration.

I let myself melt into him indeed, leaning back into the undulating stomach walls and letting the heat encompass me. Right now, Voltaboutamon was my entire world, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I relaxed into him, his body keeping me enshrouded and hidden like a treasure chest, and I felt my eyelids grow heavy.

I began to daydream about whenever he’d spit me back up, and we’d return to Jazz and Beelstarrmon--oh, how they’d tease him relentlessly, and how he’d pout and huff and give out halfhearted threats. We would all laugh,and they would all pull me close, and I would be even more surrounded by love than I was right now. Maybe I could slip into Jazz’s gut before bed, or Beelstarrmon could have me for breakfast. Maybe we’d all just lay together and play board games and talk until the suns came up and the Digital World came to life. 

The pain of today slipped away, melting away in Voltaboutamon’s belly as easily as any food. Just as my muscles relaxed my mind did too, the overwhelming sensation of sensory overload from earlier suffering giving way to peace. This was what vore was to me--each experience with each person I loved, each friend, each pred and even accompanying prey friends was always different--but at the core it was the inexplicable, even moreso unexplainable, sense of safety, closeness and belonging. 

My eyelids fluttered closed, breathing growing even. I felt so lucky to be loved like this, to be held like this. Down someone’s throat, below their heart, in the soothing darkness of their belly was my home. 

“I love you, Voltaboutamon.” I whispered softly to the world around me. I would tell him to his face, accompanied by a kiss on the nose, whenever I reemerged. For now, I sunk down with a sigh and let myself fade into sleep.

[burntpastel]

the damage has been done

(On AO3)

Summary: Yagi avenges his boy.

Notes: Late verse for context. part of a fic trade with a friend.

raping people is evil. there is no situation that justifies rape. dont do it, and and don't base any real life relationships or choices off the content of fanfics.

cw: noncon, rape as revenge for rape, implied/referenced underage rape and impregnation, multiple descriptions of gore that dont really happen, blood, injury, broken/dislocated limbs

18+ only, explicit, grapefruit, etc.

The skull under Yagi's hand hits the ground with a thwack! that would be quite concerning under any other circumstances. He has Present Mic pinned down, knowing that if he pressed his hand down just a little harder his head would crack open like an eggshell. Part of him is tempted to do it, to watch his gray matter splatter across U.A.’s floors–defiled, just like his protege.

But he can’t help Midoriya if he ends up in prison, so he doesn’t.

“He’s probably just spreading rumors because he’s too embarrassed to admit what a whore he’s been.”

That’s what Mic had said when confronted with the information Midoriya gave Yagi the night before, sobbing and nauseous in Yagi's arms as he seemed to confess the horrible things that had been done to him.

This is also the comment that earned Mic a fist sized hole in his office wall, the whirl of force so close to his head that it ripped out some long strands of blonde, shocking away that smug attitude of his.

”H-how dare you come into my office and threaten me like this!” he’d sputtered. ”If you even believed it yourself, you would have just gone to the police!”

Mic digs his fingernails into the arm holding him down while Yagi clutches at Mic’s pants with the other one, making him flinch and squeak something in that grating voice of his as Yagi pinches his balls in the process. Yagi peels away the leather like paper–much like he had done to Mic’s directional speaker a moment ago. He rips a convenient hole into his pants so roughly that Mic’s lower half is briefly yanked into the air with the force of it, leaving his ass and cock exposed.

Yagi just can't think of anything else to do, how else to make Mic see the pain that he’s caused, how else to make him care about it, how else to punish him for it–and apparently, this is the option that doesn’t land you in jail.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, man?!” Mic demands, but his wide, terrified gaze from between Yagi’s thick fingers undercuts his tone. He tries to draw his knees together to hide his soft cock between his thighs, but Yagi easily forces them back down. He can only speculate on the things he did to Midoriya, but surely cornering the poor boy in the locker room didn’t leave him with much modesty. Yagi intends to humiliate Mic similarly.

“You think you can just hurt my boy and get away with it?” Yagi growls through his teeth, shifting his grip around Mic’s thigh and pulling him closer. “Think you can shame and threaten a child you got pregnant into silence and face no consequences?!”

He’d almost walked away at first, having given up on squeezing a confession or at least an apology out of the man, but just as he started to take that first step back, Mic dared to make a cheeky comment about how Midoriya "is a squealer” and that it didn’t surprise him that he'd cried wolf.

Mic gasps as he’s pulled practically upside down, clawing at Yagi’s hands around his thighs.

“Get off me!” he shouts so loud it almost concerns Yagi, but he knows everyone at U.A. has learned to tune out Mic’s shrieking at this point.

Mic seems to realize he can’t pry Yagi’s hands off him and opts to cover his junk instead. It’s not what he’s interested in, anyways. Yagi spits on his hole and smears the saliva around with his thumb.

“Are you serious?!” Mic cries so frantically that his voice cracks as Yagi’s thumbnail scrapes against his ring of muscle, nudging the spit inside. It’s definitely not enough lubrication to keep it from hurting, but it’s just enough to make the fit possible.

Mic places his hands on the floor and pushes, unsuccessfully trying to drag himself backwards out of Yagi’s grasp.

“You come in here and accuse me of some bullshit just to go and do it yourself?!” Mic scoffs as Yagi lowers his legs into his lap and reaches down to undo his own trousers. He’s trying to kick out at him but Yagi’s grip is too firm and it just jostles Mic’s upper half instead.

Yagi has to wonder if this is what Midoriya had looked like when Mic raped him, all terrified and desperately helpless, wide eyed and shaking; the disbelieving and yet pleading edge to his gaze, and the anger on top of it all.

He has to wonder how Mic had the will to continue despite that, even as he proceeds to pull his cock out of his pants.

Compared to Yagi’s, Mic’s cock seems laughably small. He’s large to say the least, but of course, it certainly doesn't help things that Mic is flaccid, meanwhile–while there’s nothing arousing about this situation at all–Yagi's dick seems to know what he has in mind and is already half firm.

“You’re fucking crazy!” he spits, yet Mic’s clearly keeping his voice down. If anyone saw what was happening they’d ask “why” and if they knew why then it would be quickly followed up by a very successful investigation and arrest.

The first couple of attempts to shove his cock inside Mic’s ass are unsuccessful because it’s very much like trying to thread a pencil through a needle. His cock slips away from the pressure he’s forcing behind it and jabs up against Mic’s ballsack, making him jolt and groan.

“It’s not even gonna fit, you fuckin'–”

Mic is cut off by a choked groan and gasp when a well aligned thrust paired with strong hands tugging him downward manages to force the head inside his tight hole. His eyes snap shut as his back arches off the ground, gritting his teeth.

The sight of his pain stirs something ugly deep in Yagi’s heart–satisfaction, followed by a burning, angry desire for more. He clamps his hand over Mic’s mouth and presses forward while simultaneously pulling Mic further down on his cock by his leg. Mic screams under his palm as he’s filled up, free leg spasming and kicking out at him on instinct. His hand snaps outward to swat at Yagi’s face, even though it’s more than a meager distance away and he misses completely. His nails instead catch his upper arm and he digs them in, though they’re too dull to break the skin through the fabric of his shirt.

Yagi presses in as far as he can go, making Mic's flaccid cock squirt precome as his prostate is crushed up against his bladder, then forces another inch or two, watching Mic’s stomach bulge sharply just below his navel.

"Shit…" Yagi shudders at the feeling squeezing around his cock. Part of him wants to wait and adjust, as he’s never been inside someone before and the tightness–warm and alive, not a cock sleeve made for someone of his stature–is a bit overwhelming.

But he’s certain Mic didn’t let Izuku adjust.

Mic cries out sharply as Yagi pulls back then shoves forward, watching the bulge disappear before stretching back out. On the third thrust, Mic’s cries raise an octave and his entire body spasms underneath him as he comes all over himself, squeezing down almost painfully tight around Yagi's cock.

Yagi doesn’t wait for him to catch his breath. Mic trembles underneath him as he continues fucking into him, the glide becoming smoother and smoother due to what Yagi can only assume is blood. Mic scrapes his teeth along his calloused palm, trying and failing to catch the skin between them.

He hopes Mic feels humiliated, laying there with a cock he doesn’t want up his ass and covered in his own come, silenced by someone much larger, much more powerful than him. He hopes he leaves this office feeling just as hollow as Midoriya’s eyes look these days.

As Mic’s muffled screams die down and turn into complaints and overstimulated groans, Yagi removes his hand from around his face to grip him by the hips, holding him steady as he forces his thrusts deeper. Mic’s face is a deep red, though Yagi can’t say if it’s from embarrassment, exertion, or rage. He certainly looks a good deal of all of them as he bears his teeth at him. He then lunges to swipe at his face again, catching his cheek and narrowly missing his eye with his nails, but Mic winces at the motion and falls backwards onto his elbows, Yagi’s cock apparently making the curve of his guts too sharp to bear. He glares up at him from beneath furrowed brows as he eases himself back onto the ground, panting heavily.

The scratch didn’t even hurt, but the fact that Mic has the nerve to try to fight this like he didn’t earn it–that he has the nerve to be angry when he deserves it, just… sends Yagi off again, drawing a quick, hissing breath.

But he's already fucking him, and doing anything more physical would get him arrested–so instead, he wraps his fist around Mic’s cock. Mic’s body jolts at the touch and his eyes go wide like he’s terrified he’s going to rip it off–and he probably should, but instead he begins to pump Mic’s overly sensitive cock mercilessly. Mic sucks in a breath and his hands fly down to Yagi’s fist, fingers digging into his skin as he tries to force his fingers to uncurl from around him.

“You’re a fuh-fucking pervert, man!” he shrieks as though he didn’t do the same thing to Midoriya months ago, back arching sharply.

“You deserve this,” Yagi hisses. “Taking advantage of a poor child who trusted you…”

Mic half-whimpers, half-squeals as Yagi gives his cock a firm squeeze, forcing a clear liquid to spurt out of the tip, before he resumes his jerking in time with his thrusts. Some sinister part of Yagi wants to see that jabbing bulge in Mic's stomach split open around his cock, to watch his bloody tip disappear in and out of the wound with each thrust.

It’s not long before Mic's back is twitching off the floor, his hips bucking up into and half flinching away from Yagi’s fist–a clear sign of an orgasm, yet it’s dry. Yagi doesn’t stop his ministrations, and soon he can feel Mic’s leg tense under his other hand.

“Stop!” he shouts, shoving at his hand around him. Mic grits his teeth and jerks underneath him. He squints his eyes open, looking around the room for anything that could help him, but there’s not much to be found on the floor of a teacher’s office. He does, however, manage to hook his fingers underneath the rim of a nearby waste basket and hurls it at Yagi’s face with a surprising amount of force. Yagi easily slaps it away before it connects, but letting go gives Mic the space he needs to twist himself around onto his hands and knees, only stopped by Yagi’s other hand around his thigh. He kicks his free leg back against Yagi’s chest, trying to pry himself out of his clutches and crawl away.

“Get. Out!” Mic growls through his teeth as he pushes himself away just far enough that Yagi's cock slips out until only the head remains inside him. There’s a thick coat of blood covering his backside and thighs, the coppery scent hitting Yagi abruptly. He bares his teeth, grabbing Mic and flipping him back over to shove him back down onto his cock by his thighs. Mic lets out a choked whine as he’s filled back up, throwing his head back.

Yagi pulls and pushes his body up and down on his cock by his thighs like a sleeve, uncaring that they’re now close enough for Mic to rake his nails across his face and shoulders, digging into the skin through the fabric of his shirt in hopes of slowing his movements or forcing stillness.

It doesn't slow him down, but it does make him angrier, only fueling him to fuck him harder, quicker–not to mention he’s approaching an orgasm of his own. He ruts into him hard each time he pulls Mic downwards against him, trying to milk enough pleasure from something so small to get him all the way there.

He shoves and pulls him harder to compensate for his size, feeling that sensation build despite Mic’s attempts to halt him. He can hear Mic gasp and sputter below him, the breath knocked out of him with each rough thrust into his guts.

Then he feels a snap under his right hand. Mic goes rigid, head thrown back in a clear expression of pain, mouth wide open yet silent–a response he trained hard to develop to avoid deafening others in the line of duty. The injury was unintentional on Yagi’s part (not that he really cares)–but on top of this, Mic squeezes around him so damn tight that he can’t resist fucking into him harder. Mic convulses in pain as Yagi’s hips slam into his injured leg, his mouth open so wide Yagi's surprised that the corners don't split. He doesn’t have as much leverage as he wants without holding onto both of his legs, and as he slams himself back in a true cry begins to bubbles its way out of Mic’s throat–so Yagi clamps a hand around his neck, severing that sound and using it to hold his body steady as he delivers the last series of brutal thrusts he needs to finally come.

Yagi holds him still for several long seconds–maybe even minutes–as he empties himself into his ass, watching that deep bulge in his stomach pulse with each spurt from his cock and oblivious to the way Mic gets more and more frantic underneath him. He scrapes and beats his fists against the arm firmly squeezing his airway shut, and Yagi finally releases him only when his bliss fizzles out, abruptly remembering his mortality.

As he withdraws his cock from his abused hole it releases a pinkish flood, running down his shaking thighs and pooling on the floor, gradually becoming redder as it flows out. Yagi observes Mic’s form, breathing heavily between wheezing coughs on his side–and a small, rational part of his heart twists unpleasantly.

However, the rest of him is satisfied; thinking of Midoriya reminds him that it's exactly what Mic deserves.

“Remember this feeling, Yamada,” Yagi growls, getting his feet under him. “Remember the pain, the humiliation. Remember it for the rest of your life - and keep your filthy hands off my boy.”

Mic scowls at the floor, avoiding his gaze as he clutches his throat.

“Mic, do you have the–”

As Yagi is rising to his feet, Aizawa steps through the door without so much as knocking. He freezes upon looking up from whatever document he’s holding, wide eyed as he takes in the sight–Mic, laying in a pool of his own blood with his pants ripped in half, and Yagi’s blood soaked cock hanging from his pants.

“I–" Aizawa hesitates, apparently at a loss for words. Mic only ducks his head once his similarly shocked expression falls away.

"–I’ll come back later,” he finishes hurriedly, beginning to turn back.

“No need,” Yagi announces, making Aizawa freeze once more. He tucks himself away and readjusts his trousers.

“I was just leaving.”

Yagi's mind is still reeling from anger and ecstasy and pain, and he fails to notice how odd it is that Aizawa merely stiffens. How he doesn't rush to his colleague's aid. How he looks frightened, pointedly averting his gaze to the floor, instead of seething. How Mic doesn’t plead for his help.

Yagi fails to notice how ultimately unsurprised Aizawa is as he brushes past him to leave.

[valkyrieofthehighfae]

I Lose Myself In You chapter 1

GIF credit goes to anotherficwriter Juice Ortiz X Original Female Character

Description:  Danica Reid is the princess of the Fae Court of Stars. She has to flee her kingdom as the Blood Court attacks, fending off a werewolf and his Fae commander in a vicious attack, leaving her wounded and angry. Her soulmate rescues her in the nick of time and now Danica has to learn how to cope with the loss of her people, her newfound relationship, and band together with four other displaced Fae women to try and take her kingdom back from those who want her dead. Word Count: 1999 Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of death, (not so much a warning): soulmate AU, canon divergence A/N: This is definitely major canon divergence, so if you’re not into that or you don’t dig AU’s, please feel free to move along! :)  Join my taglist!

Blood wept down my face from deep gashes that burned and ached, the blood leaving thin golden trails over my left eye and down my cheek, dripping onto the remains of my shredded tank top. The werewolf that had been hunting me since the Witchwood of the Faelands and out into the mortal realm raised his malformed hand to his muzzle, licking the glittery gold blood from his twisted, gnarly claws, a low growl reverberating in the back of his throat. He was studying me, watching my every move to try and find an opening to jump back in and add to the damage he’d already caused. I was swaying in place, woozy from blood loss, but I couldn’t let my guard down, even for a moment.

“Heel boy, heel.” A silvery voice came from the shadows behind the wolf, another Fae stepping out onto the asphalt of the road we were on. He had a vicious smirk on his face as he called off his minion, his sharp, angular features displaying a sadistic glee that I only ever saw those of the Blood Court project. I’d never seen anyone like him before though; his left eye was sealed shut, old scars keeping it that way, while his other bright crimson eye gleamed with a malice that sent a quiver through me. His midnight black hair was neat, worn back in a ponytail with fine wisps of hair framing his pointed face and a pair of rotting wings that reminded me of mud flared out behind him, bones peaking out from between bits of flesh hanging off the frame of the wings. And he was tall, much taller than most Fae males, towering over me even from ten feet away. I shuddered again, wanting nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the princess of the Star Court. Oh, I’m sorry, I guess I mean Queen,” He mockingly bowed with a maniacal grin on his face. “Please excuse me, Your Majesty, I’m afraid you don’t have much of a court to rule over anymore. You’re welcome for that, by the way.” He was clearly pleased with his role in wiping out my family and our people. “There’s quite a handsome reward for bringing you in. My Queen and King will be pleased to see you back in their clutches.”

I watched as he stalked forward, a large dragon bone and obsidian dagger held loosely in his long, thin hand, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. Even from here I could tell that it was razor sharp and if I let him near me with that thing, he’d slice me into ribbons. I’d have to be smart about this; I was already bleeding pretty heavily from my face and torso, deep slashes in my chest, across my belly and dug into my ribs.

“Eat me.” I spat at him, the glob of spittle and blood hitting him in the face and sliding down his cheek onto the lapel of his bright red suit. His smile quickly went sour upon seeing my will to fight was still strong, even after being chased for who knows how long and got my ass kicked ten ways to next week. His anger was going to, hopefully, be his downfall. I just had to make sure I was quicker than he was.

“Tempting really, I’m sure your blood would be sweet and chock full of fear, but alas, I need you somewhat alive to bring back to the Blood Court.” He kept his voice light and breezy, throwing himself towards me, dagger poised to strike. I dove out of the way, hitting the ground and rolling away, gasping in pain as rocks and dirt lodged themselves in my gaping wounds. Moving quicker than I anticipated, he swung down again, the dagger slicing through the back of my shirt like a hot knife through butter, splitting the skin of my spine like it was nothing. More golden blood dripped into the road, the drops and small puddles glimmering in the light of the full moon and I found myself unable to get up, breathing hard against the pain.

“What a shame, I was expecting more of a fight with that attitude of yours.” He laughed loudly, coming closer so he could land a solid kick in my ribs, the force of the kick knocking the wind out of me. He kicked me again, and again, toying with me, taunting me, laughing at how helpless he thought I was. Letting out a pained grunt, I managed to catch his foot as he swung it for another kick, pulling him down to the ground with me.

“Fuck you and fuck the horse you rode in on.” I panted, pushing myself up and started punching down into his face repeatedly, his nose crunching under my fist, his thin lips splitting with each hit I got in. He growled, struggling under me, and managed to get his arm up, thrusting the dagger forward into my left shoulder, twisting it viciously. I shrieked loudly, white hot fire blazing through my entire arm as he continued to twist the dagger around maliciously.

“Fucking bitch!” He was screeching in my ear, fighting back hard to try and get out from under me. He reached up with sharp talons, digging into the gashes on my face left by his precious pet, making sure to dig deeper into my skin while fangs sank into the junction of my neck and right shoulder, digging in as hard as he could. I grabbed hold of his ear, yanking down as hard as possible, getting satisfaction of feeling the skin give way under the pressure of my pulling down. He let go of my shoulder, screaming loudly, his fingers digging in deeper to my face, black blood covering my fingers from his ear. I let go long enough to get the dagger out of my shoulder and attacked his wings with his own weapon, sawing through flesh, muscle, and bone, and tore the appendages from his back.

I couldn’t tell our screams apart anymore, my hearing quickly becoming just a constant ringing, our blood mingling as we scrapped, trying to one up the other person. He was on top of me, talons digging into my throat as he pressed them into my windpipe, effectively strangling me. Darkness began to pull at the edges of my vision, dizziness threatening to pull me down into its depths, when bright lights managed to catch our attention. While he was distracted, I was able to rip his hands off my throat and kick him off of me towards the oncoming lights. I gasped for air as I crawled away, my brain thankful for the sudden onslaught of oxygen I was able to get in.

By this point his pet had fled, abandoning him to whatever fate lay in store for him, which I found rather humorous. “So much for loyalty.” I half laughed, half wheezed, blood bubbling up in my mouth as I lay there on my back, threatening to choke me. As he lunged at me with a crazed look on his face, the car that had been heading our way slammed full force into him, sending him flying into the woods nearby.

“I win.” I managed to gurgle before darkness took me in its hungry grasp, pulling me down into its depths.

~*~*~

Pain was the first thing I felt when I started to regain consciousness, my entire body screaming in agony as I shifted a little so I could try to lift my head to look around and see where the hell I was.

“Shit! Hey, whoa, don’t move.”

I knew that voice; he was my mate’s friend, or one of them anyway. I managed to open my eyes, my left covered with bandages, and saw the blonde, Jax I believed his name was, sitting next to my bed in a chair.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re safe now. This is a safe place. I’ll be right back, just stay put and don’t try to move.” His voice was calm, soothing almost, and he got to his feet so he could go do something. I took a deep breath, making a slight face at the sterile smell surrounding me, and laid there quietly to wait and see what was happening. I could hear voices coming towards the room and I whimpered a little bit, hurting badly. “Ivar, Tara, she’s up and needs pain meds. She was crying out in her sleep. Can you hook her up with anything?”

I could see Jax speaking softly with a Fae male and a human woman, their faces grim as they were speaking. Another human male came over and sat on the bed with me, careful to not jostle me in anyway, his hand gently resting on mine. He had his hair styled in a mohawk with tribal tattoos flanking it and these beautifully rich, deep chocolatey eyes that were full of concern and relief.

“You’re finally awake,” His voice was soft, kind, and the sound of it immediately comforted me. “Ivar didn’t think you were gonna wake up anytime soon.” His other hand went up to tenderly smooth my hair back out of my face, the gesture a kind one.

“Can I have some water please?” My voice was just barely above a whisper, my throat raw and angry from screaming.

“Yeah, I’ll go get you a cup. Be right back.” He carefully got up and left while this Ivar and the woman came over with some medical equipment.

“Your Highness, I’m Ivar of the Court of Ashes. My mate, Tara, and I are going to get you hooked up to a few IVs so you can get pain medication and rest.” Ivars’ voice was mildly hoarse, a trait of Ashen Fae, and he got to work finding a vein to insert a needle into. I cried out again as they worked and Tara quietly apologized, not wanting to actually hurt me.

“Getting up is going to be next to impossible for a few days, so I’m going to have to insert a catheter, okay? I’ll wait until you’re a little more numb from the medication. Jax, can you keep Juice out of here while I do this please?” Tara kept her voice even and calm and Jax nodded, following Ivar out of the room while Tara got things together to give me this catheter thing. “This is going to be uncomfortable and I am so sorry, I know you’ve already been through enough tonight and I’m honestly not trying to add anymore discomfort to what you’re already experiencing.” She continued as she carefully moved my legs so she could get up in there. Tears ran down my cheeks as she worked and the moment she was done, she poked her head out the door to let them know it was good to come in. Juice was immediately by my side again, sitting carefully so he wouldn’t jostle my IV lines or any of my body parts, and tenderly wiped my tears away with a tissue, pain on his face as he took in my battered and bruised up appearance.

“I’m staying here tonight with her. I wasn’t there to protect her from that son of a bitch and I’m not letting that happen again.” Juice told Ivar and Tara, his voice firm and defiant. The pair looked at one another, neither of them willing to argue with my mate about whether or not he could stay.

“It’s cool man. I’ll let Clay know what’s going on, don’t worry about coming in tomorrow.” Jax clapped Juice on the shoulder and said his goodbyes. Ivar and Tara followed behind, quietly shutting the door behind them leaving Juice and I alone. I yawned, the pain medication slapping me square across the face, my eyelids growing heavy as sleep pulled me back beneath the waves all over again.