#ASE PLEAS READ IT
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wi11owbird ¡ 5 months ago
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Please read this book oh my gd I love it so much. The art is lush and well-researched, the story and characters literally moved me to tears the first time I read it (and came pretty damn close even on a second read), which is an accomplishment for me. It’s just such a pleasure to read. Heartrending and heartwarming both.
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The Carpet Merchant of Konstantiniyya {about the webcomic}
Historical romantic graphic novel epic about an Ottoman Turkish carpet merchant's life and love, fatal encounter with a vampiric djinni, struggle to reconcile his transformation with his faith; and as he migrates to the West, his interaction with the emerging phenomenon of Orientalism, while the spectre of his sire haunts his every step.
The story is complete and free to read online (on the original website and ebook). The English print edition is also available, as well as the upcoming French edition.
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fairy-angel222 ¡ 1 year ago
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Dilf! Toji helping his college gf study.. with his cock
Leaning against his door frame as he pushes it open wider. A smirk on his face as you shyly squeeze in past his frame.
You’re holding tons of books in your hands, peering up at him through your lashes as you hand them over. “So.. where do we start?” It makes his cock strain when you tilt your head with your lip nudged between your teeth. Curious as to how he of all people could actually help you study.
“You’ll see, doll.”
He sits you down on his lap with a silent groan. Flipping through pages in front of you as he watched your eyes barely scan over the page.
You huffed, turning around with your arms over his shoulder and a pout. “Come onnn, this is so boring.”
“Study, now.” His voice held no trace of playfulness, the deep rumble making you sigh as you turned back around. “Fine.”
You were so restless, twisting and turning in his lap making his grip tighten on your hips. The man’s breath hitching as his cock hardens.
“You know what doll? Change of plans.” You find his fat cock buried inside you instead. Your thighs twitching as you held back the urge to move, to grind, anything. You were so full, and he was so deep. You needed it.
“Please can i move?” You whimpered, arousal leaking lewdly out his thigh at the feeling of him sat directly against your spot. “P-plea.. haah— please.”
Toji grinned, his breath against your ear as he chuckled meanly. “How about this? For every question you get right, one point gets added to me absolutely ruining that tight little pussy of yours.”
Another whimper, “A-and if i get it wrong?”
“Minus one point of course. Hmm.. and let’s just say when i do fuck you. You won’t be cumming for a while.”
Question after question. Wrong answer after wrong answer. You were probably in the negatives already.
“T-toji ple-ase,” you hiccuped, small drops of tears threatening to spill at simply your neediness. You were so desperate for him to fuck you. Your pussy aching each time he turned you down.
Toji watched as you frustratedly wiped away your tears, pulling the book to you for you to read. Actually read. He was impressed, all so you could get a little bit of cock.
You spend at least thirty minutes studying the pages. Confident when Toji started asking questions. And you had every right to be, answering questions correctly after correctly. Your sniffled voice now turned smug making Toji’s eyes widen. That was hot and he fucking loved you.
“Now. Please fuck me,” you breathe.
“As you wish, doll.” He has you flipped over in an instant. Skirt bunched at your hips as he begins fucking into you. Veiny cock dragging against your walls with each starting thrust.
“Ahh— faster.”
Toji swore he could cum right there, speeding up the pace of his hips until he was ramming into you. Your body being rocked roughly against the couch’s fabric as you moaned loudly. Lips parted in thankful cries each time his hips met yours meanly. “So good, so fucking good.” You mewled, stomach tightening as tears welled in your eyes. Good tears this time.
Your back arched, hands hooking around his torso when your body began to tremble. So close to falling apart. “Nngh— Toji, ‘m so close.” You were right there at the edge, letting out a short scream when he reached down to rub at your clit.
“Yeah? Gonna cum f’ me doll? That’s it.. look at that.” He grunted, watching your eyes roll back with the blissful chant of his name. “It’s too bad i said you wouldn’t cum.”
You whined loudly when he slipped out of you, your hips bucking up towards him as your orgasm died down, adjusting to the new found emptiness. “You’re so mean Toji.”
He swiped his finger along your puffy lips. “I know. Now let’s try this again shall we?”
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redinkscrawl ¡ 1 year ago
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I like your reviews and even though I have a bookshelf of TBR (literally have a bullet journal spread dedicated to them so I can be motivated to read them,) I WILL be reading books you review because the time and effort you put into them and they look so good even on tumblr mobile /gen ALSO I’ve like, always trusted your recommendations because you have good taste. THANK YOU for the content.
YOU ARE ENDLESSLY SWEET THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT. Also pleas e for the lo ve of t he go ds read The Masquerade p le ase. I need someone to scream with talk to about it.
My goal is to read 12 books off my TBR shelf this year (so, not for school like most of the poetry and nf books you're going to be seeing are) and so far I'm ahead! I had a big reading slump the last few years but I'm READY TO READ again!
I'm currently reading Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder and I can't wait to write out my thoughts on it.
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seongminiz ¡ 2 years ago
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POST THE SERIM TAEYOUNG THREESOME THOUGHT PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS EPLE ASE
- 🎧 anon
I WILL !!! but its very long (for me) , not finished yet , n needs to be proof read/some part straight up rewritten so it'll take a while 💔💔💔
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pastelpaperplanes ¡ 5 years ago
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YALL THERES MORE!!!!
c&m BLITZBEE FIC!!!!!! I’m CRYING IN THE CLUB
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shycoconutt ¡ 4 years ago
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I Found My Light: Chapter 3 (Kakashi x Reader)
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
A/n: Sorry for the delay! Wasn't sure where I wanted to go with this but it came to me in the shower (as all good ideas do). Hope you enjoy it! This story is far from over.
Summary: You attend the group training session where, to your dismay, Kakashi is in attendance.
Word Count: 1800
Warnings: fem!reader, SFW (but won't be in future chapters), violence, angst
Fanart!: Please check out this fanart inspired by this fic by the talented @szamasza <3
If this training session goes like any other typical training session, you are in for a long one. Training usually begins around mid-day and lasts several hours until everyone feels like they’re on the brink of death. Then, when face down in the dirt, Asuma tries to convince everyone to head to the bar on the main street that gives discounts to shinobi. After a few minutes of resounding I’m-too-tireds and maybe-next-times, everyone gives in and spends the remainder of the night into the next morning crammed in a booth getting absolutely sloshed.
This night was like any other night, except not because your anxiety was at an all-time high.
Kakashi showed up about an hour into training, aloof as ever. You were deep in your spar with Genma when you saw him out of the corner of your eye. Genma must have noticed your distraction, as he didn’t hesitate to spit his senbon at you with full force. Luckily you were refocused in less than a second and caught it between your fingers.
“Nice try, buddy,” you teased him, “It’s going to take more than that to throw me off.”
Genma raised his eyebrow at you. “I don’t know, (y/n), you seemed a little distracted,” he teased.
And just like that, you were back at each other’s throats.
Kakashi ended up finding a spot sparing Gai. Typical of him, as usually Gai is the only one who can keep up ability-wise. Although, Kakashi hasn’t seen how much you’ve grown and a part of you is hoping you’ll get a chance at him. You still have yet to use your chakra sword-whip, your most brutal weapon, in front of your fellow shinobi. It’s remained in its sheath strapped across your back, waiting to be used against the most brutal opponent.
“Alright, alright,” Genma pants, curled up on the ground holding his left side where you just landed a forceful kick, “Please show me some mercy, (y/n).”
“Only if you admit that I’m a better shinobi than you in every way,” you say smugly, crossing your arms across your chest.
“Yes, you are a better shinobi than me in every way. You're stealthy, quick, strong, intelligent, adaptable, beautiful, and, most of all, kind. Which is why you’ll give me my senbon back.” He pleas, still laying on the ground with his hand out to you.
“Mmm, fine,” you tease, pulling the senbon from your hair where you used it to hold it in a bun. “It does make a great hair accessory though. I think I might have to get one for myself.” You help Gemma back up to his feet and stick the metal needle back into his mouth.
He gives you a smirk, still grasping onto your hand. “You should see my collection. I have at least two hundred of these,” he boasts, taking the senbon out of his mouth to twirl it in his fingers. “I‘ll make sure to pick one out for you.”
“I would be honored.” You smile warmly, squeezing his hand.
At this moment you could sense a set of eyes staring at you from the other side of the training field. Well, one eye, you should say, as Kakashi is staring directly at you while he holds Gai in a headlock. His expression is unreadable as his eyes flicker from you to Genma and then back to you. You could swear that you saw his shoulders drop a bit before he brought his attention back to Gai who is currently struggling to breathe in his grasp.
“Ka-ka-shi-ple-ase-le-t-me-go-” Gai gasps, holding onto Kakashi’s arms currently wrapped around his neck. Kakashi’s eyes widen when his attention is brought back to his opponent and he immediately releases Gai from his grasp. With a thud, Gai drops to the floor and sucks in one big breath.
“Are you trying to kill him?!” Kurenai yells as she runs to tend to Gai who is sitting on the ground rubbing his neck. Everyone else on the field stops what they’re doing when they notice the commotion and circle around Gai wondering what happened.
“I’m sorry-” Kakashi starts, hands back in his pockets still staring at Gai wide-eyed.
“Apologies are unnecessary my rival!” Gai cuts in, still gasping for air. “Flashes of my youth came to me as I was falling out of consciousness. It reminded me how much there is to live for. I thank you for the near-death experience, Kakashi!” Gai quickly recovers and stands up, dusting the dirt from his green jumpsuit. “You win this round, but I wouldn’t get used to it!” Gai challenges, holding out a hand for Kakashi to shake.
“Yeah, sure Gai.” Kakashi agrees sheepishly, accepting Gai’s hand.
“Damn, Kakashi.” Genma starts, a smug smile pulling at his mouth. “The Anbu made you a pretty ruthless fighter, huh? I didn’t realize friend-killer Kakashi applied to us too.”
You could hear everyone in the circle try to hold in their gasps after registering Genma’s statement. Kakashi’s whole body stiffened and you could see the appearance of a grimace form under his mask. He is visibly uncomfortable. Yet, instead of looking at Genma who just addressed him, he is looking at you.
You suck in a breath, feeling terrible for Kakashi. Rumors spread, nicknames are formed, it’s all a part of being a shinobi. But “friend-killer Kakashi” is on a whole other level of petty.
That jerk.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Genma?” You turn to him and yell. “What makes you think you can say shit like that?”
“Oh c’mon!” Genma retorts. “We were all thinking it! This is the first time he’s been back training with us since the Anbu. You’ve heard what people have said about him. I’m surprised one of us isn’t already dead!”
This time no one was able to hold in their reactions as gasps escaped everyone in the circle.
You are fuming.
“Actually, Genma, the only one you should be worried about killing you is me because I am a second away from shoving that stupid senbon down your throat.” You take a step forward, challenging him.
“Hey, hey,” Genma retreats, taking a step back with his hands up in defense. “I was just trying to look out for us, for you especially. I mean out of all of us, you should be the most concerned. You know, with the whole situation that happened with Ri-”
You close the gap between you and Genma in seconds, grabbing the collar of his vest, you yank the senbon from his mouth and hold it against his throat.
“If you finish that sentence it will be the last words you ever speak.” You threaten. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You have no idea the details of what Kakashi has been through. What Rin went through. What I went through. It isn’t your place to speak about a situation you know nothing of. So do us all a favor and shut up.” You let go of his vest and shove him back a couple steps.
“Wow, damn, okay, sorry.” Genma apologizes, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I was just joking around. There’s no need to be so serious about it, (y/n).”
“My hand went through Rin’s heart,” Kakashi speaks up from his silence. “There’s nothing to joke about.”
Hearing Kakashi speak this hard truth sends a sharp pain through your heart, and you instinctively grasp onto the part of your shirt lying over your chest.
You turn and look back at Kakashi, who meets your eyes.
Pain.
So much pain.
You turn to step towards him, but he’s already retreating from the circle.
“I think that’s it for me today guys. I’ll catch you around another time.” Kakashi says as he turns away from the group giving you one last glance. Heading towards the forest, he reaches around to his pouch and pulls out his Icha Icha novel, bringing it in front of him to pick up where he left off.
After a few silent beats, Asuma claps his hands together to bring attention to him.
“So,” he starts, “drinks anyone?”
Everyone immediately becomes more relaxed now that the focus has shifted. You, on the other hand, are feeling so tense that you start to hear ringing in your ears. You get that Asuma is just trying to relieve the tension in the group, but you can’t help but be annoyed that he’s trying to move on from what just happened so quickly.
Kurenai meets your gaze and can read your annoyance. She gives you a pleading look that says drop it for now, (y/n).
Everyone in the circle, including Genma, give a resounding “yes” and head in the opposite direction of Kakashi back towards the village. You're left alone standing in the middle of the grounds as they make their way out.
“(Y/n), are you coming?” Kurenai calls out to you.
You contemplate for a second and begin to wave her off.
“I think I’m going to stay here for a minute. You guys go on ahead, I’ll meet up with you later,” you reply. Honestly, you have no intention of getting back together with them, as any place where Genma is hanging out is the last place you want to be.
“Okay,” Asuma shouts back at you, “we will be at that one bar on main.”
“As always.” you joke back, trying to sound light-hearted.
Once they are out of sight you turn to look back at the trees that Kakashi exited through. You have absolutely no idea where he could be headed to or how fast he could be traveling through the trees. It might be a waste of time to head out after him. After all, if Kakashi doesn’t want to be found, you have no chance of finding him.
Feeling slightly defeated, you plop down to the ground and sit criss-cross in the dirt. You sit up straight and put both of your hands palm-up on each knee. Taking a deep breath in, you feel the breeze rustle through your hair. Taking a deep breath out, you hear the sound of the trees flowing in the wind.
If he wants to talk, he will come to me. In the meantime, I will meditate.
The next time you open your eyes, it’s dark out.
Damn, how many hours have passed?
You close your eyes.
More time passes.
The next time you open your eyes, Kakashi is sitting a few feet across from you mirroring your position.
His eyes are open.
As if your thoughts are mirroring each other as well, you both speak in unison.
“I’m sorry.”
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jordanstrophe ¡ 4 years ago
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Hello! I love your writing and hope that I haven't been annoying with my requests, but could you do a prompt where whumpee gets electric shocked for torture, I would love to see how a hospital would treat that kind of injury :) Feel free to ignore and have an amazing Sunday! lots of love- anon
Hello! Not an annoyance in the slightest! Sorry it took me a few days to get to   (update: I now know how to treat shock wounds)
CW: Torture, shocked, medical/hospital trip, loss of conscious, temporarily paralyzed
There was a quiet hum flowing in the air, then a pulse spiking with energy. A broken scream pierced the silence, their back arched off the table, the restraints ruthlessly cutting into their wrists and ankles. 
The pulse then silenced, as did Whumpee.
"ple- g-ah! -ase...." They choked, seemingly not able to breath in enough oxygen. Through their teary eyes, they saw a smirk across whumper's face, cruel and amused at their pain.
The smirk that turned blank when they got tackled from behind.
Whumpee closed their eyes to choke on a sob, hearing a new sound they assumed was just another pulse powering up. "plea-se don't do tha-... -ah." They rasped. They were so exhausted they didn't recognize the new face now standing over them, their brow furrowed with concern, panting and out of breath. 
"Whumpee! -oh no..." Caretaker gasped, their hands were covered in Whumper's blood as they trembled, hovered just inches over the metal clips all over Whumpee's chest.
"Hang on, you're going to be okay, just hang on!" Caretaker cried, grabbing a messy handful of wires to pry it off. 
"cck-... Caret-aker?" Whumpee mumbled, they still lied helplessly on the table even after the restraints were tugged away. "I'm right here, can you move?' They asked, brushing the last of the wires away.
You would think they would be able to, after trying so desperately for this moment. The most they could do was ball one hand into a fist and twitch a toe.
"I-... can't. ... Caretaker I c-can't move...!" Whumpee rasped, panic brewing in their chest. "It's fine! Don't try anything else, just... Just stay calm." Caretaker placed a hand on their forehead to sooth them, but even Whumpee could feel Caretaker's hands shaking.
Caretaker scooped them right off the table into their arms, Whumpee's head falling slack against their shoulder as their eyes fell closed. "That's it.. I got you... You're safe now." were the last words Whumpee heard before falling unconscious.
-
Whumpee opened their eyes, finding they were no longer in a dark rusted cellar. The room was bright, a little too bright as they turned their head to the side with a groan. "Heey, take it easy." They heard a voice lull, a warm hand settling on their cheek. 
There was Caretaker, sitting by their bed holding their hand with an IV stuck in it. Their legs were underneath a pile of pillows keeping them elevated, Caretaker swooped an arm under their back as they leaned them up, bringing a cup of water to their lips. 
Whumpee could hardly process where they were or what was going on, but they instinctively inhaled the water until Caretaker had to take it from them. 
"Welcome back." They smiled, tenderly brushing their hair back as they laid them into bed. 
Tag list: @grizzlie70  @alien-octopus @lave-whump @amethysts-sideblog  @whump-it-like-its-hot  @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @yet-another-heathen @princessofonward @whatwhumpcomments  @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @mascmasochist @hamiltonwhumpdump  @shokuhoemisaki @as-a-matter-of-whump @whumpasaurus101
o(^∀^*)o Thank you for reading!
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thegreenmetblue ¡ 4 years ago
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STARKER FESTIVAL SUMMER BINGO : 1st square
Felching
read on ao3
Peter’s head was buried in Tony’s mattress, making choked sounds as his older boyfriend was pounding hard into him. His hands were strongly clenching around the sheets and due to his superstrenght, he was close to tearing them apart. But neither of Tony or Peter cared about it. It happened before. Tony’ll buy new ones anyway.
“P-Please.”, Peter tries to say, not even asking for anything. Just begging. But he’s so close. He has been so close since almost ten minutes now. But Tony didn’t say he could come yet. This is so good, Tony’s big cock is deep inside him and thrusting hard, hitting his prostate every time, making his whole body tremble with pleasure. Peter’s cock is stuck between him and the mattress but that’s his way of getting off at the moment. With each thrust Tony does, he fucks the bed at the same time. The boy hears Tony’s low moans above him and that brings him even closer to the edge.
“What was that ? I can’t hear you baby.”, Tony answers, clearly teasing since it’s him that keeps Peter’s head pinned down on the mattress with one of his hand, fingers tangled in the boy’s curly hair. Tony tugs once and is very pleased to hear the desperate whimper coming out of Peter’s lips. “Please, ple-ase, T-Tony please, let me… let- ah!”, is all what Peter is capable of letting out. His tight ass heavenly clenching around Tony’s cock, making the man moans and pull at his hair again.
“Who told you you could call me Tony right now, sweet thing ?”, Tony growls, feeling like he’s gonna burst soon too. They’ve been doing this for so long and the beautiful sight of Peter under him, being a desperate mess is not helping. At all. “‘m s-sorry, mr. Sta-aark, it just… feels so g-good, I need to cum, please, plea…”, Peter cries again, his broken voice getting higher. The boy is drooling all over Tony’s expensive sheets. This is not the only mess he’s making at the moment. His hard cock, still trapped between him and the bed is leaking all over the sheets too.
“Oh but you did already didn’t you ?”, the man murmurs, close to Peter’s ear. It makes the boy’s whole body shivers. Peter nods, unable to say more. “How many times, Peter ? Tell me.”, he asks, enjoying the situation way too much. Peter whines in response.
“Peter, I asked you how. many. times ?”, and this time, Tony’s voice is way too dry, dominant, for Peter to ignore the ask once again. “Tuh- two times, mr. Stark.”, he cries, too high on pleasure to even be ashamed of that fact. He just wants it to be three by now. He needs it to be three.
“Mmh that’s right, and how many times did I ?”, Tony asks, thrusting even harder in that tight ass. And that’s complete torture, Peter can feel the pool of warmth getting stronger in his stomach, he can feels his cock throbbing and leaking against the bed. His whole body trembling, he’s not sure he can do it. Peter is so close.
“No-ne yet.”, he answers, feeling like his vision is getting blurry and dark. “Exactly, Peter. So you- fuck, you’re just gonna patently wait for me to milk that pretty ass of yours… got it?”. Tears are now rolling down Peter’s cheeks, adding even more wetness to the sheets. “I can’t, mr- mr stark, im guh- gonna- I can’t I-”, he starts but gets cuts by a sudden moan because Tony’s pulls at his hair. “I know you can baby. Hold it just a little… just a little longer. Im close, im- christ, you’re so perfect for me sweetheart.”, Tony moans and it’s everywhere around him. Tony’s voice, Tony’s smell, the pleasure. Peter can’t do it. Tony’s pounding becomes harder and harder with every thrust, meaning he really is getting close. But also meaning that it hits Peter’s prostate even harder.
“Daddy..”, he moans again. The boy’s now ripping appart Tony’s bedsheets by clasping his hand too hard on it. His ass clenching around Tony’s warm cock on purpose because he knows he’s gonna come in the few seconds following, regardless of the fact Tony already came or not. “F-Fuck, smart boy.”, Tony growls above him and Peter’s whole body jerks at the praise, causing his cock to move against the bed and that’s the last thing he can feel before coming hard with a loud cry, the intense feelings making him tremble all over. He’s not even aware of the broken cried Mr Stark coming out of his mouth. Just aware of his own pleasure and Tony’s warm come finally fulfilling him.
Peter can’t hear his own moans but he can hear Tony’s and god-. The boy’s vision almost becomes entirely black as the pleasure fades. His whole body is completely relaxed on the mattress, half conscious of the strong body on him. Peter feels his head becoming dizzy, trying to breathe normally again.
“Christ… You’ve been so good, sweetheart.”, Tony whispers, kissing his neck. Peter’s body manage to shivers at that. He’s not even sure he can answers anything. But then, Tony pulls out and chuckles at the pathetic whine Peter’s lets out because of the empty feeling.
“I… Im- tired.”, Peter mumbles, slowly closing his eyes. Three orgamses. Tony made him come three times. “I know baby, but we have to shower first.”, Tony laughs, gently rubbing Peter’s naked back. “Can the shower wait ? Im.. I want to cuddle… please ?”. The fond smile Tony gives him almost makes him hope he’s gonna get away with it. “As much as I want to cuddle, those are gonna have to wait. Get up, Peter.”, Tony gently orders, getting off the bed. The boy pouts for a few seconds before giving up and getting up, his body still trembling from all the pleasure he felt.
“I think Im gonna have to buy new sheets. Again.”. And at that remarks, Peter’s eyes take a look at Tony’s bed and blushes a bright red when he sees the mess he made. He drooled, cried and came on it. And he tore it apart. “Im- shit, Im sorry Tony.”, he apologizes, feelings his cheeks burning with shame now that the pleasure is gone. “Baby, if I didn’t want you to make a mess, you wouldn’t have trust me. That’s hot.”, Tony teases, making Peter’s cheeks burn even more. And suddenly, he winces, feelings Tony’s still warm come leaking out of his ass and rolling down on his legs.
He knows Tony’s watching it. He feels Tony’s intense gaze on his legs. And suddenly, Tony puts his hand on Peter’s right hip. The boy startles and sees Tony getting on his knees behind him. “What are you doing ?”, Peter asks, turning his body to the man. But Tony stops him with both of his hands on his hips now.
“Stay still will you ? You’re a sin, Peter I hope you know that. It’s a good thing I was always a sinner.”, Tony growls, voice low. Peter’s heartbeat quickens at that. “Weren’t we suppose to shower ? What do you m- ah!”, he gets cut by Tony’s warm and wet tongue on his smooth leg. And Peter’s whole body jerks, his breath stopping and his heart ready to burst again when he realizes what Tony’s doing.
He’s licking his own cum on Peter’s leg.
Peter can’t help the small whines coming out of his lips at the feeling of Tony tongues on his thighs. “T…Tony, what are you doing ?”, the boy asks, like it wasn’t obvious. His left leg jerks as Tony slowly is going up, coming close to his ass. A pool of warm is already coming back in Peter’s belly. Tony doesn’t answers directly, instead, just when Peter thought Tony was gonna start to lick his sweet hole, he goes down again and lick it all, making sure not any drop of cum is left on Peter’s left leg.
Then he stops for a second and Peter knows Tony is starring at him again. “What does it look like ?”, the man finally answers and when Peter turns his head back to look at Tony, on his knees behind him, the tease just lets his tongue get a bit of cum he had still in the corner of his mouth. Peter bites back a moan seeing this, his cheeks and whole body heating up. Oh my god, what is happening ?
“But you- that’s… that’s your…”, Peter lets out, trying to sound like he didn’t just discovered a new kink he didn’t know he had. “Sweetheart, you’ve been whoring at me for the past hour and now you can’t say the word cum ?”, Tony mocks, gently slapping Peter’s right cheeks. The youngest one whimpers and Tony laughs, perfectly knowing every kink the boy is trying to hide from him.
“I can say that word. It’s just that you’re- it’s gross, Tony!”, he lies. More or so. It’s gross. But, oh god, it’s so hot. Tony hums and snorts. “What ?”, Peter says, trying to sound offended. “You know I don’t like hearing you telling lies, Peter. You came three times. And yet you’re hard again, Baby Boy. I made a mess there. I need to clean up now, don’t you think ?”, the man smiles, hearing Peter’s little shame squeaking sounds.
And then, Tony’s tongue is on Peter’s right leg. Licking it. Licking his cum leaking out of Peter’s ass. The slowness he seems to enjoy taking is killing Peter. The boy tries his best to not shamelessly moans out loud. Feeling Tony’s tongue on his leg, clearly oversensitive, fucking spidey senses, feels fucking good. But it’s the fact Tony came in his ass and is now eating it directly from his ass that’s turning him on so much.
Suddenly, Tony is tapping at his leg. “Spread those legs a bit, Pete.”, Tony orders and Peter obeys. And it’s only when he moves his legs that he realizes they’re trembling hard. Tony’s both hands are still on his hips, and Peter is glad they’re here because it anchors him. The next second, Tony is licking his inner thighs. This time, Peter doesn’t control the moan. “T-Tony…,” he pathetically begs, his voice getting high again and his whole body reacting. “Stay still, Peter.”.
Peter wants to obey, he really does, but it’s impossible not to spasme when Tony’s tongue is just between his balls and his ass, eating his own cum.
Then Tony stops again and to Peter’s biggest shame, he makes a small cry sounds at that. “What is it, Peter ?”, Tony clearly mocks. Peter stays silent for a few seconds before talking again. “Keep going. Please ?”, he practically begs again.
“Everything you need.”, the man says before putting both of his hands on Peter’s ass, spreading his cheeks. The sweet choked sound Peter makes when he understands what is gonna happen is music to Tony’s ears. But the second Tony’s warm tongue touches Peter’s hole, he gasps and moans loudly.
“Pl…please.”. Tony’s lapping at his hole, and Peter doesn’t even know how his legs are still supporting him. His whole body is burning and the sensation of Tony’s tongue there, it’s almost too much again. The fact that Tony’s letting quiet low moans out, like he was eating a fucking delicious meal, doesn’t help at all. But then, Tony goes from gently lapping his wet entry to literally sucking into it.
“F-Fuck, Tony, ah.. please, Im…”, Peter desperately tries to from a sentence but stops when he realizes he can’t, just leaving the whimpers coming out on their own. It doesn’t even last two minutes but Peter feels like Tony’s been having his mouth almost inside his ass for hours. Tears are already forming at the corner of his eyes and at some point, Tony has to take his hands off Peter’s asscheeks to maintain his hips again, preventing Peter to let himself fall on the ground.
When Tony finally steps back, still supporting Peter’s shaky legs, the boy is a complete mess again. His throbbing cock is leaking on his stomach again. He babbles non-senses things and Tony chuckles. “God, I love when you get horny stupid.”, he confesses and Peter pouts at that.
“Why… How is this even a thing ?”, Peter asks, when he got a bit of his mind back, finally turning back to Tony. “It’s a thing because I said it was.”. And this is so Tony. That whole thing was so Tony. Eating his own cum. And for stupid reasons, Peter’s will to tease comes back.
“Did… Did it taste good, mr. Stark ?”, his voice is high, but quiet, betraying his shyness despite everything. “Jesus fucking Christ, kid, you’re gonna kill me. Just come here.”, Tony swears before pulling Peter close to him and capturing his lips into a passionate kiss. A passionate kiss where Tony makes sure their tongues dance with each other, permitting Peter to taste Tony as well. Peter’s cock throbs against Tony as he moans loudly into his mouth. Tony smirks against the boy’s lips, being proud of how much this little play affected Peter. When they separate, Peter whines, wanting more. God why did Tony had to lick it all ?
“Now why don’t we take care of that in the shower, huh ?, the man says, starring at his younger boyfriend’s aching hard on. Peter’s breath hitches, only capable of nodding.
Four times.
Tony kisses his head and takes his hand to guide him to the bathroom, knowing how brainless Peter can be when he’s horny.
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Ayyy that was my first square for @starkerfestivals summer bingo and also my first time writing Tony fucking Peter 🥴🥴
I hope you guys are gonna enjoy! 💖
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themaribatpit ¡ 4 years ago
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Jasonette July Day 20: Then Perish
Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event​ Prompt: Then Perish (Part 1) Rating: M (violence, minor character deaths) A/N: We wanted to finish Jasonette July with a bang.  The second half will be posted tomorrow for the Saturday Challenge.  We’ve appreciated all your comments and kind words, we really do read every one. It genuinely means a lot to us and encourages us to continue writing together.  As a fandom you have been nothing but kind and supportive, and we enjoy bringing you fics great and small with a wide variety of genres, dynamics, and iterations.  Also blame DC fanboy for the memes in this fic. Marinette loved to travel, she had traveled all over the world from New York to Shanghai. Today, she traveled with her parents to Gotham City to visit her parents' friends, whom they had not seen in many years. Sabine was initially afraid to visit Gotham City, due to its crime rate and ever-growing list of criminals. Tom reassured his wife, saying that his big stature would scare any would-be criminal from harming them, that the trip would be short and they would visit Metropolis afterwards. Marinette wore the Ladybug Miraculous, just in case something were to happen. As the family got off the taxi at Park Row, everyone felt something was off. "Park Row really has...changed." Thomas muttered. Sabine held on to both her husband and her daughter, "I think we should leave." she said. Soon shadows began appearing around the corner, then came the yelling, and soon after came the gunshots. Thomas grabbed his wife and daughter and ran to find shelter from a hail of bullets. Marinette looked back to see many civilians, men, women and children caught in the middle of this gang war.  She needed to be a hero, her father could take care of her mother, she needed to save those in danger. She freed herself from her father's grasp and ran behind a corner, she whispered "spots on" and transformed into Ladybug. Diving and flipping across streaking bullets everywhere, she flung her yo-yo to drag any unfortunate bystanders into an abandoned building. While in a building with innocent civilians, she peeked her head out the window to see a monstrous man.  Wearing a blood red helmet and wielding two pistols, he systematically killed everyone before him. His flips and kicks were graceful yet brutal, the cries of pain and pleas for mercy made her shudder. She couldn't fight him, no, she was afraid to. It would be best to find her family, she did all she could and got bystanders to safety. She quietly transformed back into Marinette and went to look for her family. She ran back to where she last saw them, she scoured the streets shouting "Maman! Papa!" hoping that using her French would help her parents find and identify her. She soon ran into the Red Beast, as she began to turn and run back before she saw the two people at his feet. “<No, no no no, please god no.>” she whispered to herself, tears building in her eyes. There lay her parents, in a pool of their blood with bullet holes between their eyes. Marinette dropped to her knees, silently crying. The Red Hood either didn't see her, or chose to spare her and decided to walk away. Marinette ran to her parents, grabbing them both and shaking them. "<Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me>” she wept. Later, she was picked up by the GCPD. They escorted her on the flight back to Paris along with the remains of her parents. When she arrived, she was approached by the Aide Sociale à L'enfance (ASE).  They told her that she'll be staying at a nearby orphanage until after her parents' funeral. Then she would then be sent off to live with her only remaining relative, her Great-Uncle Wang in Shanghai. On the night before the funeral, Marinette was unable to sleep.  She curled her legs to her chest while she sat on the mattress.  She has spent the past few days researching the mysterious Red Hood, crime boss and self-proclaimed Prince of Gotham.  She read article after article of his meteoric rise to power, first conquering Black Mask, then The Penguin. Nightmares plagued her whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the Red Hood tower over her parent's lifeless bodies, covered in their blood. She was worried about being sent off to a foreign country tomorrow evening, while barely even speaking any Mandarin. All the while knowing that once she is on that flight to Shanghai, her parent's killer would without a doubt walk free. Morning comes, yet Marinette still thinks of what she should do. Could she really go to Shanghai to start her life anew, not knowing the language and allowing her parents’ killer to go on unpunished? At the funeral, while standing over her parents’ graves, she remained silent. The priest, ASE agents and her friends all came to pay their respects. Each of her friends approached her to give their sympathies, but she did not listen to a word they said. The Red Hood weighed heavily on her mind, and she made her fateful decision. To run, run and never look back. She had prepared a backpack containing the Miracle box with all the Miraculous, along with a few essential supplies and money. She turned into Multimouse to sneak on board a passenger aircraft to make her way to Gotham City.  Jason knew, better than Batman, that fighting crime sometimes meant getting your hands dirty.  What started as a petty squabble between two rival gangs grew into a bloodbath.  He missed Roy at times like these, Artemis and Bizarro were still missing, but he held out hope that they would one day return to this Earth. A teenage girl with an impressively sturdy yo-yo had burst onto the scene, trying to get civilians to safety.  He was a bit too preoccupied with the battle to get a good look at the girl.  Knowing Bruce, the next time he’d see her, she’d be under his wing.  Sadly, there were two civilians that neither of them could save, a large, burly looking man and a tiny woman.  The person who shot them with frightening accuracy had got away, moments later a teenage girl had arrived on the scene.  There was a brief flash of fear in her eyes when she saw him, and she would have just scurried away if only he hadn’t been at the very spot where her parents lay dead.  The girl was inconsolable as she fell to her knees and wept, pleading with them in French.  Red Hood walked away, thinking it would be best to leave her to grieve.  There wasn’t a whole lot he could say in English that would make her feel any better, never mind in French. He watched from a distance as the GCPD arrived to pick up the pieces, Red Hood watched from the shadows as police officers and an interpreter tried to get the girl’s side of the story.  From what he gathered, the girl’s name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her family owned a bakery in Paris.  Her next of kin was a relative in Shanghai, and it sounded like the best option for her would be to go and live there.   The plan was to ship her and her parents’ bodies back to Paris, and let child services take it from there.  He would have probably told her to get as far away from Gotham as possible, away from the clutches of a certain someone who was also orphaned in Crime Alley.  He saw her cradle what looked like a small pink doll to her face as she wept, before he turned and walked away. A week later, Jason had a break in the case.  This was all caused by some low-level members of the Falcone and Maroni families continuing their decades-old battle.  As far as everyone knew, the crime families swiftly executed the men responsible and went about their business.  Two crime families were unable to keep their lackeys in check, and now the people who weren’t lucky enough to be whisked away by Yo-Yo Girl, were now either dead or wishing they were.   He thought back to poor little Marinette, wondering where she was now. Bruce confronted him at the Iceberg lounge shortly after the incident, to which Jason explained that the perp had got away.   He had killed people before, and that wasn’t stopping anytime soon, after all it wasn’t that long ago that he tried to kill the Penguin.  “This may surprise you Bruce, but the Red Hood isn’t the only one who uses guns in Gotham '' he snapped.  There were some lines that even he did not cross, lines that he had drawn for himself. Judging by the accuracy of the gunshots, this was no accident.  Their daughter was probably starting a new life, probably on the other side of the world.  Still, he wished he could have said something to the girl, a simple “Hey, it’s gonna be all right” probably would have sufficed.  Little did he know that Marinette was making her return to Gotham City.  She would have her revenge on the Red Hood, and this time she had nothing to fear and nothing to lose. After her very uncomfortable 10 hour flight from Paris to Gotham City in the cargo hold, Multimouse quietly sneaked out of the crowded airport without alerting anyone. Marinette wandered around Chinatown, thinking of her next step. She was thinking about how she would have to go through the city with a fine tooth comb to search for a lead, likely starting small with his men in the streets.  Before she could put the earrings back in her backpack, Tikki begged her to reconsider what she was doing.  “Please Marinette, you need time to heal, to grieve,” she pleaded, but Marinette didn’t need the powers of healing, luck and creation. If and when she encountered the Red Hood, she wanted to bring him death, misfortune and destruction.  After all, that was exactly what he had brought her.  With a stroke of luck, she overheard someone getting a beatdown.  "You get your ass outta here, this is Red Hood's turf. If you wanna sell that shit, you gotta give the boss his cut."  Marinette whispered "Plagg, claws out" and transformed into Lady Noire, before sneaking up behind one of the Red Hood’s men. He released the person he was beating, and chased him out the alleyway.  She took this opportunity to swing her staff,  hitting the back of his neck and sending him face first into the ground. He immediately tried to stand up, as he stood on wobbly legs he took out his knife from his jacket. "Oh shit, Catwoman?!" he yelled. Lady Noire used her staff to sweep him off his feet and slammed her staff onto his face.  "Where is the Red Hood?" she growled.  "Screw you bitch!" the goon retorted. Lady Noire had a feeling that he wouldn’t tell her the location of the Red Hood, so she decided to try a different approach. "Fine then, why don't you give your boss this simple message…" Before she could finish her sentence, she heard the telltale click of a gun being loaded. She turned around and started spinning her staff, creating a grey shield to deflect the storm of bullets that were being fired at her.  She moved her hands at a rapid pace, and frantically pushed back against the hail of bullets.  As the bullet storm subsided she looked up and saw, up on the fire escape, was the Red Hood with an assault rifle. The Red Hood casually tossed his gun aside and asked "So, what's this message you have for me, Catwoman?" He gracefully did a forward flip and landed in a crouch.  "Wait a minute..." he said, the first thing he noticed was that this person was tiny, 4’11 or maybe 5’ on a good day. Her eyes were a bright acid green with dark slits like a real cat’s pupils.  "You're not Catwoman, you're too short to be her, for one thing.” he remarked “also she usually has a whip instead of a staff, who are you?" Lady Noire gritted her teeth, "You killed my family" she answered with a low growl. "Do you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down Kitten?" Red Hood's taunts made her snap.  She screamed "YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!" The Red Hood stared at her, as he crossed his arms.  "I don't even know who you are, what's your beef with me?" He asked, Lady Noire lunged at the Red Hood with her staff, she swung wildly to try and hit him.  He dodged most of her strikes with ease, “Is that the best you’ve got?  You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”  Where she might have lacked in skill, she made up for in determination.  She wasn’t pulling any punches, he had to give her that.  He caught the staff under his arm, and punched Lady Noire with his free arm.  As he went on the offensive, he slapped her staff aside, and came at her with a series of punches and kicks.   “So, what do you want Kitten? Money? Jewels? A very big ball of string?”  he joked.  “All I want is revenge,” she spluttered. “Get in line Kitten, you’re in the city that runs on vengeance” he retorted. Marinette was lucky that the suit gave her enhanced speed, strength and endurance. She always loved how the Lady Noire suit felt a lot lighter compared to the Ladybug suit. Though she shuddered to imagine what her opponent would do with this power.    He raised his leg to end his combination with a forceful downward kick, Lady Noire raised her staff up to a horizontal block to stop the kick. Upon contact with the kick, the staff split into two, and then Lady Noire launched into her counter attack. She was striking the Red Hood with a flurry of blows with both halves of her staff.  "Escrima sticks too? Looks like we have a Nightwing fan here” he smirked under the mask; this new girl was just full of surprises.  He brought his arms to the sides of his head in a defensive posture, blocking the onslaught of strikes from the escrima sticks.  Red Hood then grabbed Lady Noire by the back of her head, placing her in a Thai clinch. He launched a powerful knee to her face and sent her reeling back. He drew his pistols and fired a torrent of bullets at her. Lady Noire had to dodge, weave and use her staff to deflect incoming bullets. One bullet even grazed her cheek. She then pointed her staff at the Red Hood and extended it with so much force it slammed him against the wall of a nearby building. Without giving him any breathing room, she then retracted the staff. She launched herself towards him and then dropkicked his face straight into the wall. His helmet cracked against the tremendous pressure. "It's now or never” she thought, as she cast Cataclysm and swiped at one half of the Red Hood’s helmet. She saw the helmet dissolve and reveal the target beneath.  She noticed that underneath the helmet he wore a red domino mask, not unlike the one she usually wore.  She would have time to think about how overly dramatic that was later, as she used her other hand to pick up the knife on the ground that the other goon left behind.  She jumped on top of the Red Hood, “Now perish!” she cried out as she thrusted the blade towards the exposed part of his face. Red Hood recovered quickly and caught her hand holding the blade. As the two struggled for the knife, Lady Noire tried to swipe at him with Cataclysm again.  Suddenly, she felt the power of 50,000 volts coursing through her, as the Red Hood activated the taser hidden in his chest piece.  She powered through, running purely on anger, grief and adrenaline. She was only able to struggle for about a minute, before passing out from the pain.  Red Hood flipped Lady Noire’s unconscious body aside, before he took off his helmet to inspect the damage. "The hell?." he pondered, "So, indestructible staff that can do double duty as a shield, and the ability to disintegrate things with one touch. Let's find out who you really are."  He slowly stood up and looked down at her unconscious body. He tried to peel away her domino mask, yet it would not come off. He tugged on the mask, even to the point of lifting the unconscious girl off the ground. He released the mask, and let the body drop with a small thud.  The Red Hood began talking to himself "She either superglued the mask on or it’s something else. Considering all that she can do, I'd say 80% chance it's magic and 20% a lantern. Either way a 100% pain in my ass".  He heard a small beeping noise and gingerly lifted her hand up off the floor.  As it emitted black and green energy, he noticed that she had a ring on.  The beeping came from a small picture of a paw print, which was missing a few pads.  If she was a lantern, that ring was going to run out of charge any moment now.  He took out his phone and called the Iceberg Lounge. He requested that they send for a van to pick him up and his new guest.   He requested that the Su Sisters get her cleaned up and ready. He needed to find out who sent her and who she worked for. He took out the special handcuffs that Batman designed when dealing with metahumans. As he walked towards Lady Noire about to cuff her, he heard some more beeping, followed by a bright light surrounding her.  Her suit and mask disappeared, leaving behind a small girl in pastel pink clothes who was probably no older than 15 or 16.  Her long braid changed back into a couple of shoulder-length pigtails, and she had a pink backpack on her back.  Jason looked inside the bag, there were a few sets of clothes, a wallet and an antique Chinese jewelry box.  He wondered if that ring was just one of many tools in her arsenal.  Jason's eyes widened, he recognised her as the girl he saw a few weeks ago when the turf war in Crime Alley broke out.  "What’s she doing here?" he said to himself aloud, “ Idiot” he muttered. He remembered following the girl and her GCPD escort to make sure she boarded her flight back to Paris.  She was supposed to be with her remaining family. Yet she came back to, no, ran away to Gotham City.  All for revenge.  He checked her wallet and saw the name printed on it, he sighed, this just confirmed that she was the same girl. When she had her revenge, what would she do then?  He wasn’t the undisputed master of thinking things through, but even he thought she was a fool to come back here.  Gotham City didn’t have the best track record dealing with orphans.  He knew this from personal experience, but there was that time where many were rounded up and sent upstate to juvie, for the crime of trying to survive on the streets.  He would have been in the same position, had it not been for his own fateful encounter in Crime Alley. He shuddered to think what her other option would be in a place like Gotham City, becoming a Robin.  Part of the reason he wanted her out of Gotham was so that Bruce wouldn’t get any ideas about taking her in.  When the car arrived, he scooped up the girl in his arms and carried her towards it.  Marinette woke up with her heart beating frantically in her chest, the first thing she saw was a bright light.  She was dead, she had to be, the last thing she remembered was confronting the Red Hood and now he had killed her.  She slowly sat up, she looked down to find that someone had changed her clothes, she was wearing light blue pajamas.  She started to look around, to her left there was a large floor to ceiling window where she could see a city at night with bright twinkling lights.  On the table next to her was the Miracle box, she quickly grabbed the box and looked through it. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw that all the Miraculous she brought with her were still there.   Suddenly, Marinette heard someone clear their throat.  At the foot of the bed, stood a rather large woman who had a bundle of clothes in her hand.  Next to her was a blonde woman with pink highlights who had a tray of food. “Oh good, you’re finally awake” the large woman said gruffly, she set the clothes down on the edge of the bed.  The blonde girl set a tea tray down in front of her, along with a couple of pastries.  Marinette’s heart sank at the sight of the croissants, they reminded her of her parents and their bakery. “Eat up and get dressed, the boss wants to see you later” the blonde woman told her, before skipping to the larger woman’s side.  Just as the two were about to leave, Marinette piped up, “Um, where am I?” she asked, “Who is your boss?” “You’re in the Iceberg Lounge in Gotham City”, the large woman told her gruffly.  “The name’s Suzie, this is one of my sisters, Candy. Our boss is the owner.”  Marinette gave an awkward wave as they left, and Candy returned it with a more cheerful one.    She took a bite out of the croissant, it tasted cold and dry. However, if she was going to defeat the Red Hood, she’d need all her strength. She put Plagg’s ring back in the box and reached for Ladybug’s earrings; she needed a new tactic.  When Tikki appeared in front of her, she also quickly looked around the room before looking back at Marinette with a concerned look on her face. “I couldn’t do it,” Marinette explained “he managed to stop me and I ended up back here”. Tikki’s eyes were sympathetic as Marinette held her closer to her face, “Are you sure you still want to go through with this?” Tikki asked.  “For now, I have to get changed and go upstairs to meet the boss.  Maybe he’s the one who found me after the fight was over” Marinette theorized as she gave Tikki the cookie from the tray.  While Tikki quietly nibbled at it, Marinette stood up and walked over to the edge of the bed.  Inside the small bundle of clothes were a simple white blouse and black skirt. They were a little big, she would probably hem it if she had her sewing machine.    Moments later, a tall woman with dark hair led Marinette into the penthouse, a large room with a desk in the corner.   A tall man in a suit stood with his back towards the door, overlooking the sparkling city skyline.  She slowly stepped inside, looking around the room as she walked towards the man.  “Um hi, who are you?” Marinette asked as she apprehensively walked towards him.  She couldn’t help but feel small in that grand high-ceiling room. “I am the owner of the Iceberg Lounge,” he explained. “I guess the question I should be asking is…” he turned towards her and Marinette saw he had a domino mask over his eyes and a red half mask covering his nose and mouth, “who are you?” He threw something at her and she caught it.  She looked down and saw the Red Hood’s helmet, half of it looked as though someone tried to tear the metal open.  Then she remembered everything she had researched about the Red Hood, and the fight that took place not long after she arrived back in Gotham. “You…” she hissed. To be continued...
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angelguk ¡ 5 years ago
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→ i could be enough — a jeongguk scenario
member: jeon jeongguk
word count: 3.3k
genre: smut + stoner!jk + very in love jk + very in love oc + i like pining aus i think that’s clear now lmao + pwp honestly + sumbody needs to admit there damn feelings GOD + fwbs au
warnings: oral sex (f receiving and m receiving ) / unprotected sex / creampie / handjob / sub!gukkie for a bit / rawing it for the first time hehe / drug usage (a lil weed) / not edited bare with me
soundtrack: apocalypse, cigarettes after sex  
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It feels different tonight. Jeongguk can’t pinpoint it but he knows that something in his small universe has shifted. Even the weed that settles in his lungs feels different, burning low in the back of his throat every time he sneaks a drag from the joint that sits between his fingertips. The change doesn’t alarm him though, nothing can – not when he has this gentle buzz simmering in his blood. He doesn’t even realise his eyes have fluttered closed until you turn the handle on his bathroom door and step into his room, the white light that floods his dark room blinding. He blinks into it, cheeks unreasonably room and the heartbeat bruising his ribs dangerous. There’s something angelic about the way your flit into his room, the shirt you’d stolen from his closet gingerly billowing around your frame. But then you shut the door, halting the glow that illuminates your figure and Jeongguk is left wondering why his palms are clammy.
“Why are you half-naked?” You murmur, the slur in your words making his heart skip. And then you’re crawling on top of him, situating yourself neatly over the bulge in his pants that Jeongguk wasn’t fully aware of until your heat surrounds it, and he swears his heart stops. He takes another hit before he discards the joint on the edge of his ashtray, hoping the rush that flows through his body calms his nerves a little. It doesn’t.
“I was hot,” He eventually retorts, brain slow and his mouth dry. If it was pressed against yours it wouldn’t be. And when your boldly run your fingertips along the dark inking that lines his skin, Jeongguk nearly leans over and does it. But something holds him back, a funny weight sitting on his chest. You’re not close like that – not close enough to just want to kiss each other whenever you’re yearning too. Your relationship is strictly just smoking up together, which sometimes has led to fumbling in the sheets because you get horny when you’re high and Jeongguk finds you too pretty to say no. But never just kissing.
Jeongguk doesn’t know why he wants to just kiss you.
He blames it on the weed. (He knows it’s not because of the weed).
But to satiate the need that consumes his heart he settles his hands on your waist, choking back a low groan when you roll your hips into him, the friction almost sinful. He never gets hard this quick but something about you wearing his shirt, sitting so obediently on his lap and the remnants of your smoke session filling his room is doing something to him. And he’s not opposed to it at all. 
He spaces out again, brain fuzzy because you haven’t stopped slowly grinding against him. He can hear you faintly humming to the song drifting from his speakers, the print of your warm hands on his skin intoxicating. It’s easy to lose himself in this moment, his hands already wandering further down, gripping your hips tight. The tiny gasp that leaves his mouth when he bucks up and feels the dampness leaking from your core happens out of his control. It shuts down his brain for a moment, because you feel perfect like this, dripping all over him like you’re his.
He bits back that thought swiftly, though. Because you’re not his.
And yet when you lean into his space, his hands cupping your ass and your chest gingerly brushing against his own, Jeongguk really wishes you were his.
“I’m hungry.” You whisper it into the side of his neck, the smile on your lips pressing into his skin. 
“I – uh – I’ve got food in the fridge? Or we could order something? Whatever you want – I’ll pay.” He already gives you free weed but free food couldn’t hurt, right? He reasons it out with the sex even though he knows he shouldn’t. But that’s beside the point, he just wants to treat you a little bit if he’s being honest with himself.
“Not for that,” You softly reply, abruptly shifting away and Jeongguk has to physically stop himself from pulling you back into his space, sudden anxiety weighing over him. But that’s wiped away when your lips meet his and he feels himself melt, bones fusing together and his heart pounding frenetically in the cage of his chest. Your lips feel perfect on his, gentle and tasting faintly of the chap-stick you’d borrowed from him earlier. There’s also the faint aftertaste of weed on your tongue but he genuinely couldn’t care less because he knows he tastes the same. And also his dick is so hard that it’s making it impossible for him to thread together a simple coherent thought that doesn’t dissolve into nothing with every small moan that slips from your mouth into his.
He could die happy like this. High, with a pretty girl he thinks he just might be falling in love with kissing him. Yeah, he really could die happy like this.
You’re the one that pins him down and marks his skin. He prefers it like this – when you take control and use him how you want too. You’ve never really had that conversation but you’re too perceptive to not note down what turns Jeongguk into a blubbering mess whenever you end up in situations like this. And he’s unusually responsive when you take advantage of him like this. Like he needs you to want him. You can’t help but cup his bulge as you paint his neck purple and red, the weight of his cock in your palm turning your brain off. He’s already hard, dick twitching with every slight touch you give him. You decide then, that you want him in your mouth.
Jeongguk doesn’t question it, jolting when you press a kiss against his happy trail before tugging at the band of his grey sweats. His hips rise and he helps you shuck them off, sighing gently when his cock is finally freed, sitting heavy against the line of his abs. That sigh turns into a groan when you take him into your hands, stroking gently, your mouth inches away from length. You toy with him like that, the dry rub of your hands unpleasant but also irresistible. It’s only when he locks your gaze, that you give in, reading the want in his dark eyes.
 “Please.” It sounds breathless even to him, the plea tumbling from his mouth when you finally settle your lips around his length, cheeks hollow as you sink down on him. It’s the heat of your mouth that does him in, the firm press of your tongue trailing around his cock intoxicating. You take him in so well, the slightest gag around his tip driving his hips up and up, slipping deeper down your throat because you look so pretty with his dick in your mouth. He watches you swallow him with a heat burning through his system, gaze trained on the way his cock disappears down your throat.
The cave in his stomach happens quick, his balls already tight with the promise of his release as you work your mouth around him. It’s the tremor in his thighs that lets you know and when you pop off his length, mouth wet, Jeongguk whines. He whines, actually whines, a low needy sound that slips into the room. The sight makes your head spin. He looks incredible like this, cheeks flushed and his dark curls slipping around his head. You can’t help but take him in your hand again, the twitch of his cock against your palm setting off something in your core. There’s a pulse between your legs that’s demanding attention. But your eyes can’t leave Jeongguk, watching with strange contentment as he bucks up into your hand, the weight of his length making your grip tighten. 
“God – ngh!” He takes it so well, a slight arch in his back as he raises his hips in search of friction. The rising of his chest shifts you forward, eyes locked on his honey gaze. The press your press onto his lips is all heat and want and desire, and yet somehow, it’s gentle. Slow in the way he moulds himself against you, the groans that echo in his chest falling into your mouth. When you break away, Jeongguk chases it, pink petal lips not wanting to lose the taste of your tongue on his. “Please.” There it is again, that little word that drifts from his mouth. It makes your heart twist in your chest.
“Please what?” You return, hand still swiftly working around his length.
“Wanna cum,” Jeongguk murmurs, breath short. “Please – oh fuck! Wanna cum so bad.”
You kiss him again, not thinking about how your core tightened at his confession. The negligence to your own needs is doing your head in.
“Tell me you’ve got condoms,” You state when you finally separate your lips from his. Jeongguk barely functioning, blinking a few times before swiftly twists to reach for his bedside table. You give him the space to look for it, wiping away the slick coating your hand on his sheets. The shirt you stole from his closet gets yanked off next, and you don’t wait for Jeongguk to fumble around with your undergarments, stripping them off yourself too. It’s only after you’re tossed all your clothes off that you notice him still rummaging through his drawers, a frustrated huff floating through the air as he tosses an empty condom box onto the ground.
“Fuck.” He murmurs it into the quiet air, rolling round to face you. The look he gives you afterwards is sheepish, the tinge in his cheeks rouge and a hand running through his mussed curls. 
“Really?” You can’t help the incredulity that taints your tone.
“Yeah – fuck I’m sorry. I had no idea I was out. We could something else – if you want too.” You’re too wound up to respond, the heat pooling between your legs drawing your attention to his hard cock laying neatly on his abs. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it? But Jeongguk is already talking – reading your silence for something else. “I mean, only if you want to of course! We could just 69 or something or – or I could just get you off. If that’s what you want, I mean.”
“That’s not what I want,” You reply, picking up on the strange emotion that falls over his features. “I just – I don’t want that right now,” You attempt to amend, but there’s still something strange about the way he nods in agreement, hesitantly running his tongue across his lips. “Are you clean?” You try again. Jeongguk pauses, staring at you for a moment before he responds.
“Yes, why? Are you clean?”
“Yeah. And I’m on birth control.”
It dawns on him a second later, and there’s a tangible shift in the air around you.
“Wait, you s-sure? Like sure sure?” Jeongguk swallows hard, but you don’t miss the way his dick jumps at the idea. 
“Absolutely,” You say it firmly, hoping it’ll erase the apprehension that emits from him. “Now, please come here and fuck me before I explode from sexual frustration.”
Your back hits his mattress a second later, a small surprised giggle falling from your mouth as Jeongguk knocks your legs open, making space for himself there. The giggle evaporates into a choked out moan when his fingers fall onto your cunt, thumb toying with your clit in swift circular motions. He teases it, grinning when you squirm a little, before he drifts down, two fingers sinking into your heat without hesitation. It’s heavenly, the way he curls them up as he snaps them into you, sure movements that have you unknowingly balling the sheets that surround you into your fists. It doesn’t help that you’re wetter than you thought you were, slick immediately coating your inner thighs as Jeongguk fucks you open. It must surprise him too because he slows his moments, purposefully watching the way his fingers sink into you, the darkness in his gaze burning through you. 
“God,” He says it with wonder, dropping down to get a better view of your cunt. “How are you so wet?” 
His tongue meets your clit before you can spit out a remark, the words that once sat on your tongue reduced to helpless sounds that flood his room. He presses a palm flat against your thigh a second later, holding you down firmly, his wet tongue dipping into your floods with intent. Your fingers settle into the mess of his hair when his tongue replaces the fingers that were pounding into you, a broken cry of his name slipping from your lips. Jeongguk eats that up – literally, tongue fucking deep into your hole and the tip of his nose nudging against your clit. It has your toes curling, the way he licks up your slick like he needs it. You only push him away because it’s too much and not enough all at once. When he glances up, soft curls tumbling into his face, and his mouth glimmering with your wetness, you let the fire building in your core consume you.
“Need you,” You whisper, pawing at him until he’s resting over you, his hands gripping the back of your thighs. You let him fold you like this, the occasional brush of his cock against you setting your skin ablaze. Jeongguk sighs, pressing a brief kiss onto your cheek. It’s just a flash of his warm mouth printing on your skin but it leaves you breathless, pliant underneath him as he settles himself were you need him most. It makes you indulge, for a moment – that this is more than just hormones and convenience. But you don’t try to linger on it, ripping yourself from that gentle fantasy that yearns to reveal itself. You instead focus on the way Jeongguk lines himself up with your core, the tip nudging you open until he just gives in, sinking deep into your heat in one swift motion. Your brain gives up then, the stretch of him inside of you dangerously heady.
Jeongguk’s not thinking either. He’s trying to empty his mind of everything because if he focuses on the heat that surrounds him or how you’re dripping over his cock or even the tiny gasp that fell from your mouth when he slipped in or the tiny flutters of your walls around his bare length – he will cum. He’s not even joking. The tightness in his gut is a dead giveaway, abs clenching when you squirm underneath him, somehow shifting him deeper inside of you. Maybe it’s the weed but he’s buzzing, body a live-wire for your touch. He can’t do anything but drop his head into the crook of your shoulder, fingertips digging into your thighs as he holds himself still. You’re not helping his case though, whimpering softly into his ear and wiggling your hips around like you want him to blow his load right away. It’s sinful, how you wrap around him like you were made to take him like this. And it’s a sensory overload for his system too. He’s used to having that barrier between the two of you, but now that there’s nothing – now that he can feel every ridge in the walls of your wet cunt. He honestly might explode. Burst into a thousand little pieces, right here, like a star reaching supernova. 
“Fuck,” Jeongguk pants it into the heat of your skin, hips slowly picking up momentum as he drills you into the sheets. You can’t help but claw at his back, taking the hard thrusts helplessly, his name a mantra on your tongue. 
“Jeon-ah!” The curve of his cock hits a spot that has your vision blurring, the knot in your gut pulled tautly. He presses another kiss to your cheek, mumbling something underneath his breath that you don’t hear over the sound your lewd meeting. It verges on sounding like pretty, a strange fluttering erupting in your chest at the thought of Jeongguk finding you pretty as he splits you open on his cock. But you brush that thought aside, nerves sparking under the piston of his hips. It’s hard and rough, just like you prefer it to be. And yet you feel like Jeongguk is holding himself back, his thrusts tight with control. You don’t want him to hold himself back. You want all of him. All of it. And you let him know that from the hard kiss you plant on his mouth, dragging your fingertips down his back. The nails on his back dig deep, but from the groan he lets out, you know Jeongguk like that. And then his hips falter, a rough groan tumbling from his mouth as he fucks you deep. It’s desperate, the way your bodies mould together like you’re attempting to limit the concept of space between physical bodies completely, searching for a way to be one and the same. It sinks in then, with claws that lodge themselves into your heart, that fantasy you keep locked up. You want all of it. All of him.
You kiss him instead, forcing your attention on how well he fucks you. This can be enough. This has to be enough.
It doesn’t feel like enough though.
Unbeknown to you, Jeongguk is on the same wavelength. He’s trying not to let his mouth run but he wants to call you so many things. He wants to say your gorgeous like this, taking his cock like your meant for him. Him alone. He wants to call you his. He wants you to call him yours. He wants so much more than just this. He wants to hold your hand when you ride his dick. He wants to kiss you awake in the morning. He wants to fall asleep with you in his arms. He wants all of it. Not just this.
He burns the way you fall apart around his length into his memory, etching every sigh and moan you let out into his mind. You look beautiful. He aches to tell you that. But instead, he buries his head into your shoulder, hoping you don’t see how much his body trembles as his high descends onto him, the short hard thrusts he gives in to your heat almost too much for his system. But he does so anyway, even slow to peel his body away from yours because he loves the way your arms wrap around his body, even more than he loves the tight heat that his length is still buried it. Somehow, it gets worse when he watches you reach for your clothes, his cum still leaking from your hole. You head to the bathroom first, and your absence in his bed makes his heart hurt. He sits there, mulling it over, so afraid of something he’s not able to identify. And then you’re out of his bathroom again, looking like an angel once more. But before he can ask – just suggest – for you to stay the night, you’re shrugging your jacket around your shoulders, mumbling a goodbye that has his heart sinking right to his stomach. He murmurs one back too, reaching for his phone like he’s not hurt by the sudden rush for you to leave. He doesn’t see you standing there, paralyzed for a moment, when he does this – like you’re hoping he’ll say something – anything, that won’t have you walking out his door. But he doesn’t. Not that you should have expected that.
You leave in silence. Jeongguk can’t help but get up and roll another joint, his brain replaying how you looked underneath him, how you felt underneath him. The weed is good; the sex was amazing. He still finds you one of the best people he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing.
This can be enough. He forces this to be enough.
It doesn’t feel like enough though.
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septic-skele ¡ 4 years ago
Text
UF - Out of Reach
Summary: Classic and Blue have it good with their brothers. They make displays of love and affection look so easy. Red can’t help but feel bitter about it. He stands no chance of ever having anything like that with his boss.
Well, not with that attitude about it, Blue says.
Red couldn’t understand it. Logically he figured it was because Classic and Blue came from drastically different backgrounds. They weren’t living with eye sockets in the back of their heads or half-formed, sharpened bones under their pillows like he and Boss did. They were probably just as baffled about him and his behavior, but there was something Blue had said once that wouldn’t leave his mind.
Red had walked in on a private moment and for reasons beyond him, he hadn’t taken a hasty shortcut back out. He stopped and stared and couldn’t help being taken aback when he saw Blue cradling his Papyrus’ skull against his shoulder, murmuring comforts to him. Red had never seen that casual, laidback Papyrus so drunk, weak and vulnerable, much less Blue so solemn.
“I love you, Papy,” he soothed. “I’d love you no matter the ‘reset’, whatever that may be—no matter the world, no matter the universe. A good, proper Sans would never give up on his brother, and I am just that.”
Good, proper. Red had no illusions of propriety but the idea of it nagged and frustrated him. Any time he had tried to console Papyrus in recent memory, it had ended with all the wrong things being said and door hinges buckling under the strain of being slammed.
Red already knew what Blue would say if he heard of this. “You can always try again! I believe in you, pal! You simply need to persevere! You’ll get through to him, I know it!” Disgusting.
The worst part of it, however, was that even Classic did it better than he could. Classic—depressed, cynical, apathetic, a liar to Papyrus’ face more often than not—still loved his brother better.
Somehow the six of them had survived a night in together, though the argument over the TV remote had almost come to blows and the throw pillows may have sacrificed some of their stuffing. Now that they were all retiring, Red wandered down the hall to hear strains of Classic’s voice from one of the nearby bedrooms. He didn’t sound anything like the blasé character Red usually knew; he was lighter, actually putting effort into this.
“…Peekaboo had become a game of hide-and-seek! Where could her friends have gone? Fluffy Bunny wondered, bounding across the green, green field to look for them. She searched high! She searched low!”
“She searched near and far,” Papyrus chimed in.
“You bet she did. She searched east and west, under rocks and up in trees. But Fluffy Bunny couldn’t find her friends anywhere! Wherever could they be?”
Maybe they ditched her for wantin’ to play such stupid games, Red mused with a snort, although as Classic continued he was distracted by an old, old memory fluttering forth.
He had spent hours poring over the dump, fishing out as many old, damaged books as he could find. Drained and shivering, he’d lugged them back to the nook where he’d left Papyrus, safely out of sight. Before he could find sleep, Papyrus had thrown himself over Red’s back and pitched a fit about learning how to read.
“Show me, brother! I want to do it like you do, I want to try! It doesn’t have to be the long one! Just show me how, please! Please, please, please, plea-a-a-ase!”
Red had capitulated only because he didn’t want the tantrum to draw unwanted attention, but that wasn’t the part that stuck with him. Papyrus had curled up against him, half-tucked under his coat, watching him trace letters with intent focus. As he haltingly sounded out the words, every small success made him light up like a star, clutching eagerly at Red’s ribs for his approval.
“Did you see that, Sans?! Did you hear me?! I did it!”
“Yeah, yeah. Pipe down, kid, I saw. Nice one.”
Red’s opinion and praise had still meant something to Papyrus back then. Stars, he was still willing to cuddle with him, despite the filth and the damp clinging to his clothes from the river.
Had Boss ever really been that hopeful, clingy little baby bones or was Red trying to convince himself that was how it had happened? It was so long ago. Pap could have just fished those books out and taught himself while Sans was away, trying to find work. That sounded far more likely.
“G’night, bro,” Classic concluded, sliding the book onto the nightstand and giving his Papyrus an affectionate squeeze of the hand.
Balking, Red ducked back toward the stairs before he could be found snooping, all too well aware of what Boss might do if he ever dared reach out that way. He’d probably end up losing a few fingers.
It wasn’t fair, something small and spiteful in the back of his mind huffed. The idea nearly made him miss one of the steps, torn between shock and scornful amusement. Since when had fairness ever been part of the equation? If things were fair…
If things were fair, they would probably look a lot like the scene he had just left, as well as the scene he was walking into now. Blue perched prim and proper on the end of the couch, surfing idly through channels. His brother was stretched across the rest of the cushions, head propped against Blue’s lap, swaddled up in blankets, the whole nine yards.
Jerks. They were intent on showing off now; they knew exactly how good they had it. Sparks of irrational anger crackled along Red's jaw and spine. If he had something immediately on hand to hurl at them, he would have, but he had already shucked off his boots and summoning a bone would be a waste of magic.
“Edgy me?” Blue called in a faux whisper, making him tense. “I would have thought you’d be asleep already.”
“Yeah, well, it’s kinda hard to rest easy with Classic jabbering on about fluffy bunnies through the wall!” Red snarked, louder and sharper than necessary. He took little satisfaction in the way Blue winced, resting a hand on Papy’s skull as if to muffle the noise.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” So genteel, so polite, he still offered an inviting smile. “If you’d care to come and join us, any of the chairs from the dinner table are free! Mweheh, I honestly have no idea how Papy sleeps like this; the side I sit on is the only one without mangled, broken springs. It’s probably all of his tossing and turning that’s done it. I’ve been meaning to get them repaired, but he hardly ever leaves the couch to let me at it! He really ought to—”
“Shut up already, would’ja? I don’t care! Besides—Tch, wouldn’t want to interrupt your cute little ‘brother bonding’ time.”
“Oh, no, y-you’re not interrupting anything! Did I imply that somehow? I’m sorry! If you want part of the couch, I can wake him and ask him to scoot over—”
“How d’you make it look so easy?” It broke free before Red could fully comprehend how irrational it would be to ask. Jaw clenching so tightly that his teeth squeaked, he drew back from his own brash demand. Blue tilted his head.
“I’m sorry?” That counted three times in this conversation that he’d apologized for nothing. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
He should have retreated. He should have spat, “Never mind!” and transported to his room to seethe in privacy. Instead his foolish, fat mouth blundered on. “How d’you get him to do that?” He threw an irritated gesture at the sleeping lump on his lap. “How d’you make him…relax, with you there? It’s as if he likes having you around!”
Even that was saying too much and yet just enough. Realization dawned in Blue’s eyes, followed by—oh, stars, there was pity.
“Well, I…I’m not really sure. If there are no other comfortable surfaces around for him while he sleeps, I’m happy to help! The last thing he needs is a cramp in his neck. Heh, I’m not tall enough to fix that for him so why not try to prevent it entirely? We’ve huddled up ever since we were baby bones; it’s always been this way.”
Of course. Cheekbones flaming, Red ducked his head. They never had raging fights that lasted until dawn (or until they started losing their voices, whichever came first.) Blue and Stretch had it all sorted out from birth, cozy and coddled.
“…Papy always caught cold too easily. I’d make up some rather impressive beds for him with grass and water sausages so he wouldn’t have to sleep on the rock, but the dew would leave him shivering all night! I couldn’t let that stand! Those chattering teeth of his kept me awake too so I made the noble sacrifice and slept on the damp side while he nestled up to me.” Blue chuckled, an uncharacteristic note of something laced through it. “With our two shirts tucked together, we could almost imagine a full hoodie like he has now!”
“Wh—You? That’s rich.” That was decidedly not what Red had been picturing as a life that could spit out someone as sickeningly sweet as Blue. “You’re not tellin’ me you two were homeless.”
“I preferred to think of us as explorers!” Blue corrected. “I told Papy that we were on an adventure to find the perfect place for a new start. We experienced all that the Underground had to offer a couple of wandering baby bones: scavenging, hide-and-seek, games of chase with older monsters, who were rather poor sports when they couldn’t catch us. I grew strong and magnificent thanks to all of that exercise and my brother…well, he tried very hard!”
Red shuffled uncomfortably in place. Funny, how familiar all of those experiences sounded—but from someone else’s mouth?
“Then Papy fell terribly ill. He was poisoned, in fact. It was the first time I really wondered if I’d lose him.” Ignoring how Red startled, Blue glanced pensively down at his snoring brother, smoothing his fingers more gently over his skull. “It may have been an accident, but I was responsible for his safety; I should have been paying closer attention. In part it was my fault.”
“And he…forgave you for that?” An accident like that, caused by a slip in Sans’ attention, could probably get him disowned.
“On the contrary, he blamed himself! He blames himself for a great many things and he thinks most of them can’t be helped. I try, I always try to help. What’s infuriating is that he acts as if he doesn’t deserve it. Despite what you may think, there are plenty of times he doesn’t want me around. He shuts down, he pushes me away, he tells me I’m wasting my time.”
Red’s eyelights flicked off.
“Shut up, Sans. I don’t want to discuss it.”
“You idiot! Get away from me!”
“Useless. What a waste of time.”
“I think he’s scared of what might happen if he lets his guard down…Perhaps he thinks I’m not strong enough to face whatever is underneath,” Blue continued. “Perhaps he thinks that if he lets me too close, it will be the thing to drive me away for good. Nevertheless! With time and patience, I know I’ll convince him.”
“But how?! How am I supposed to—I mean, how do you keep trying when it never does any good?”
“It does do some good, I’m sure of it! I keep pushing to help him so he knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that I won’t be driven away so easily. Maybe Papy just isn’t ready to show me the good it’s done yet. He has to learn to trust himself before he can trust me, but he can never say that I don’t care about him. I’ll show love to every part of him, even the bad, and it will be an influence for the better. I will break down those barriers!” Blue concluded with a fiercer grin.
A good Sans would never give up on his brother.
“Doesn’t it…suck?” Red ground out, hoping it wouldn’t be interpreted as an admission of weakness. Doesn’t it hurt? “When he shuts you out all the time?”
“Of course. I never said it was an easy task but it’s not within me to accept defeat!” Blue stopped up short then, holding his breath as Papyrus shifted against him. Neither Red nor Blue had been particularly careful about their volume.
After a few moments of adjustment, Stretch settled deeper into his blankets with a sleepy hum of contentment. Blue softened, eyelights aglow with such fondness that Red could almost feel a ripple of it in the air between them. It made his soul turn.
“He’s my only brother. We only have each other in the end. Isn’t that worth the effort?”
_____________________________________
If Red hadn’t been passing his boss’s room at precisely the right moment, he never would have heard it: a string of low, ragged gasps, followed by a rumble that could have been a groan or a growl. Sans grimaced at the sound, already aware of what was happening. Boss never made noise in his sleep unless he was injured, pain slipping through the cracks of his subconscious, or he was fighting a nightmare. Seeing as the last few days had been highly uneventful, it would be the latter.
Welp, that’s his problem. I’m not about to get impaled ’cause he mistakes me for his sleep paralysis demon.
That was habit speaking. Better reasoning caught him a few steps later, slowing him to a halt.
It would be easy to swan off, mind his own business and let Papyrus suffer on his own. It would have been easy to do it years ago too, when Pap was nothing but a scrawny baby bones who couldn’t have done anything about it.
If he hadn’t then, why should he now? It was Boss’s shouts in the morning that often woke him from dark dreams…He could return the favor and feel less indebted to him for it.
It was only fair.
Cursing his newly planted seed of a conscience, Sans pivoted with great difficulty and kicked a foot at the door with a small thump. No answer. He kicked again. The gruff breaths from within quickened.
“…Boss?” he ventured, clearing his throat roughly. “Hey. Boss.” Belatedly he realized that he had no proper excuse ready if Papyrus awoke and asked what he wanted. That might not go over well, but the circumstances were making it hard to focus. Those strangled groans were slowly but surely chipping away his first instinct of self-preservation.
He was definitely going to get impaled. One shot, -9999 damage and his life would be over, all for an attempt to be considerate, but he could hear it now in Papyrus’ voice. There was a scared little brat trapped inside the intimidating commander and that brat clearly still needed a big brother to drag him out of trouble.
Steeled for his impending doom, Sans jostled open the door. “Boss,” he began again as he poked his head in. “You’re makin’ noise, alright? You gotta—Whoa, whoa, whoa, that’s not good—”
Papyrus was a writhing, tangled mess in his blankets, some already torn where his claws had caught. Sweat and magic bled down his face, eye sockets sputtering and smoking in a flurry of colors as he choked for traction to cry out.
“Ngnnh—No, no—stop!”
“Boss?!” Sans stammered, surging forward. Of their own volition his hands got busy, dragging at the blankets to rend them free of Papyrus’ kicking legs. “Bro, hey! It’s okay, it’s just a dream!”
From there it must have only been a few seconds but to Sans it felt like an eternity before Papyrus lurched upright, already scrambling. He didn’t lunge to attack as Sans had expected but recoiled; it was only when he smacked his skull against the wall behind him that he came to a lurching stop.
“I-It’s just me, Pap,” Sans stated cautiously. He wouldn’t have dared use the old nickname under any other circumstances, but it seemed to clear some of the wild haze in his brother’s eyes. It took a beat for him to formulate an appropriate response.
“Get out,” he rasped. It didn’t hold a candle to its usual bite. He was still panting, disoriented. “What are you doing here?”
Which d’you want, an answer or me getting out? “I heard you…Well, I didn’t know if somethin’ was up. Maybe someone…broke in or somethin’, trying to get to you.”
“Oh?” Shoulders shuddering in what could barely be masked as a laugh, Papyrus shook his head minutely. “And what could you do to save me? L-Look at you. You’re not even armed.”
“And look who didn’t even wake up when I barged in here! The big, bad boss could’ve gotten killed in his sleep because he was too busy cryin’ like a—” By the greatest restraint he cut himself off, foreseeing how that would be received, but he’d said enough already.
“Get. Out,” Papyrus snarled, rediscovering vitriol enough for Sans to cringe.
“Sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Get out, you fool, this instant, or I’ll—!”
“I’m sorry, okay? I was worried!” That word felt taboo aloud. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright and you weren’t so I stayed to help.”
“There’s nothing you can do here, Sans; as always, you—you prove to be utterly inadequate! Your best course of action will be to close the door behind you.” Judging by the way his chin jutted out, he was clearly expecting that to be the last word.
“…No.” Tossing the blanket’s edge back to the floor, Sans squared up. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” The incredulity that flashed in Pap’s eyes should have cowed him but he had resigned himself to that already at the door. “I’m not just gonna leave you here, all jittery and crunched up against the wall. I can’t leave you like this. You’re not fine and I know if I try to say somethin’ to make it better, I’ll screw it up. Like you said, I always do. So let’s just skip that part where I do it wrong and get to the bit where you tell me what you need. What d’you need to feel better and get back to sleep okay?”
The following silence caught him off guard. Papyrus was never at a loss for further scathing remarks so why was he just staring at him? Moreover, where had his anger gone? He looked smaller without it, less like the Great and Terrible Papyrus and more like…
Papyrus. Red’s only brother. Hunched down, hands fisted into the mattress, micro-tremors trailing down his ribs as he breathed, he looked exhausted.
A minute passed. Maybe it was two.
Sans fidgeted, his nerve failing. “Boss, listen, I—”
“Tea,” he muttered, hooded eyes darting away. “If you really want to make yourself useful.” Sans hadn’t expected his soul to fill his throat at that response; something must have shown in his face, as Papyrus’ next grumble was even quieter. “You’re acting uncharacteristically generous with your work ethic. Why would I pass up this opportunity to make you work in the kitchen for once?”
Sans felt oddly light at the words as he nodded, turning for the door. “Gotcha.” He had never thought this day would come. For once in his life, he saw doing more work as a victory.
If it did some small modicum of good, if it made one miniscule chip in those walls between them, it would be worth the effort.
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ua-monoma ¡ 6 years ago
Text
.11.15.
It's a villain's quirk.
That's what Shinsou had always told him.
Monoma had always thought it the greatest tragedy. One of the most incredible quirks he's ever seen, squandered and dashed to nothing after an unimaginative society's constant and tortuous goading. The potential it has, to use a certain mentor's favorite word. The sheer ability to do so, so much good. In his eyes, Shinsou has always held back, daring not to cross too far into that darker territory, despite all the power he could have gained doing so. He'd always hated that.
In fact, he's always wished he'd had a quirk exactly like that. It'd be perfect. It would suit him, even with all the baggage and pain attached. Perhaps especially so. Honestly, at some point in his life, he'd truly thought it worse to be called powerless than to be called a villain.
Maybe he still thinks the same way.
Kaitou has his quirk now. He holds it in his hands, in delicate tufts of lavender hair. Unlike Shinsou, he's long since forgotten the fear of losing himself, to the dark, to the power, to anything. He's already lost. Already broken. What's left for the world to take from him? Not much.
But what is left for the world to give? Everything.
A smile trembles its way onto his lips. He bites it hard, forcing his expression into submission as he waits for him to arrive.
@v-deku
That entire day, MIDORIYA IZUKU had felt... off. He wasn't sure why- one of those days where a dark cloud clung to his mind that he couldn't escape. Maybe it was the night he spent with Hawks the other night- a terrible night it was.
But, these days... when are they not terrible? Ha ha.
Deku always holds an air of calmness despite his circumstances- when he sees Monoma, standing there silently, his first reaction is what he always gives- a smile. He puts his hands behind his back, eyeing him up and down as he speaks, trying to read him.
"...Monoma neito.
You look like you've been waiting for me."
Kaitou hates him.
Just the sight of him lances through him, old panic and terror, rotting screams slamming gnawled fists against his ribcage. The air decays with Deku's aura, reaching for him with ruining claws. He feels sick. He's so tired of being scared. Of being the victim.
Of not fighting back.
He tilts his head to the side slowly, considering the words. He hates hearing his name. It doesn't belong to him anymore, it doesn't fit right, it - itches. Yes. Itches and electrocutes, all at the same time. Slowly, he mirrors Deku's stance, his own loaded hands placed gently behind his back.
"And if I was?" he asks softly, giving the purple strands a squeeze. "You wouldn't mind that, would you?"
Deku considers the boy in front of him something special. He always has. And laying his eyes on him now, nothing has changed. He could feel the sinister energy radiating off of the other- the malice, the hatred. Every instinct in his body tells him to run- that he's in over his head. For real this time.
And yet.
He steps forward, breathing out a sigh before smiling.
"Of course not... you know how much pleasure your presence brings me.. love."
Kaitou scoffs, chuckling to himself, feeling something distant splintering off and away.
"Love," he repeats quietly.
And then he pulls him under.
He can already feel the power of Hitoshi's quirk as it surges forward and takes control. Floodgates seem to slam open and into place, his own will floods forward, strong enough to sweep away any individual thought Deku could have possibly had. He seizes his mind carefully, curling around it, savoring every second of the sight of his eyes going dead.
It's so much stronger than he's used to. Kaitou bites away another smile.
"Show me your hands," he murmurs to him, a simple order, just to test.
Love is the last thing he hears before his mind goes numb. Any thoughts, wants, or needs, are instantly forgotten. His vision blurs and crackles, everything darkening except for him.
His god.
Mouth falls open softly and with a blank expression and no semblance of emotion, he holds out his hands.
"..."
A grin splits across his face. Monoma reels a little, a giggle slowly and suddenly bubbling up.
"Ah... haha."
He touches his head, fingers digging to where he could still feel the whirrling buzz of a drill at night. "Hah... oh wow..."
His breath is coming out fast, hitching like he's winded, excited. There's this ecstasy, just from watching him, mixed with relief and sickness and something else. Something he's never quite indulged in, something he's chosen to never name until now.
"Wow..." Kaitou whispers with a small nod of his head. "I could kill you."
He giggles again, closer and closer to a manic peak. "I could - I... I've thought about doing that every night since it happens. I'm sure you know that. That's what you've always wanted, right? Hehe... I could do anything to you and you'll love it, isn't that right?"
He's rambling. Stalling perhaps. Savoring it. He laughs again, just a little, quiet little snickers that he curls into himself for, holding himself together before they shake him apart.
And then he raises his eyes, focusing on him again. "Break all the fingers on one hand," he demands suddenly.
As he gives the order, his mind buzzes and pulsates like a beehive. All he sees are words- they pop up like a flashy billboard in vegas. BREAK ALL THE FINGERS ON ONE HAND. BREAK ALL THE FINGERS ON ONE HAND. BREAK ALL THE FINGERS ON ONE HAND. They're insanely annoying, and they just keep popping up, one after the other. The only way to get rid of them is to do it. And so silently he goes, one by one. He grabs his thumb with his other hand, and - SNAP. A noise comes out of his mouth, but it sounds muffled. He holds his index finger, bends it back until... SNAP. He yelps, louder this time, like a frightened animal- as if being caught off guard by the action. He bends his middle finger back until- SNAP. Tears start to run down his eyes, his face still devoid of emotion. Ring finger. SNAP. He is breathing heavily now, hunched over, as if he just went on a long run. And finally- the pinky finger is the easiest. He bends it back until- SNAP. His knees grow weak and buckle, but he is still standing. Tears pour down his face and his left hand hangs there- limp and useless. ...And he waits for his next order.
Kaitou gasps at the first snap. "Oh-"
And the next and the next and the next following it, Kaitou's arms wrapping around himself tighter and tighter, trying to keep the laughter in but he can't. As tears start to flow down Deku's face, he starts to giggle again, feeling near blinded by a rapturous light that overtakes his mind. It's nothing like the martyrous anguish he's been living in. It isn't complicated like the twisting and violent masochism that coiled and clutched to his past victimhood like thorny vines. It feels so good he can't take it, overwhelmed, not understanding why he's ever tried to stray from this- this perfect feeling. That something else.
It's sadism. Pure. Simple. Addicting.
"Oh... wow..." he sighs out as Deku finishes. "Wonderfully done... Hey, are you awake in there?" he suddenly and excitedly asks. "I hope you are~... 'I need you to feel all of this...' Do you remember telling me that?"
He rocks on his heels, too elated to stand still. "What else did you say? 'No matter how much you beg'... Why don't you do that for me, mm?" His eyes flash with a sudden glee. "It's horrific, isn't it? Watching yourself do all these things? I want you to feel that horror... Yes. Beg to be free while you make yourself bleed. Ahaha... Oh! Use this!"
He snatches a blade from a nearby table, something almost harmless, a small pair of scissors that he shoves right into his broken hand. "Don't make it fatal yet, I want this to last..."
He is awake in there, but he wishes with everything he has that he wasn't. He stares, wide-eyed, at the blond as he laughs.
It was like... Looking into a mirror.
Something rests at the corner of his consciousness, a little pocket where all his emotions are forced into with nowhere else to go while he's in this state. They read, not necessarily in order; Fear. Anger. Shame. Guilt. Despair.
But fear- that's the biggest. The loudest.
As he shoves the scissors into his broken hand, on instinct he tries to curl his fingers around them, only to let out a strangled gasp, whimpering and crumbling to his knees. Slowly, his hand shaking, as if trying- somewhere in there, to fight it so desperately, he takes the scissors with his nonbroken hand.
His mind crackles and fizzes, and like a cage being opened just a crack- one emotion is allowed freedom from that pocket in the back of his mind- fear.
"P...please...."
His hand trembling, he begins to swipe at his left arm, thin lines of red forming along them in a nice even pattern.
"Pleas..e... let .. me go."
His voice comes out strangled- like a robot with low battery. His head is bowed, entire frame trembling as he works his way up his arm until theres simply no more room left on his arm to cut. Tears are cascading from his face now, snot bubbling from his nose as he sniffs, gasps, and cries from the pain.
"Pl...please... please....please....."
Inside, the buzzing gets louder. More intense. His chained up consciousness bangs and rattles at the bars of his cage, trying desperately to escape.
"Please. Please.  Pl - e ase. Let me go. P. l . e a s ...e..."
"No."
Kaitou sneers with the rejection, and then suddenly he's surging forward, leg lifting up, heel suddenly coming down hard, right into his face. He kicks Deku's down from his knees, onto the ground, smashing his shoe down and grinding his head harder into the floor as he pins him there, and then he lifts his leg again and brings it down, again and again as he shouts.
"No. No, no, no! No, I won't! I won't! Hahaha!"
He suddenly places his foot right on his neck, delicately perching right against his throat as he just barely presses down, pausing as he hopes to continue to hear that same stream of strangled, rattling pleas. Humming in satisfaction, he tilts his head again, placing a hand to his chin as he suddenly thinks.
"My... Hitoshi-kun's quirk is impressive, isn't it?" he mutters with distant praise for his friend. "You must be in agony right now and this control over you hasn't broken for even a second! He mentioned cutting your tongue out once before, didn't he? What a tempting thought..."
He tilts his head over in the other direction, twirling a lock of his growing hair around his finger. The action seems to spark his next thought, as he pauses with a light gasp then opens his fingers, remembering the clump of hair he still holds.
"... Hmmm..."
His eyes drift over to his other hand, which he opens as well, revealing another clump, near identical to the first.
"... I wonder..."
He smiles dazedly. "There's so much value in utilizing different samples... Every alternate is different, aren't they, Midoriya-kun...? Some of them have worked so hard to become powerful..." The true Izuku flashes to mind, a bitter tinge in the memory of inky tendrils suddenly destroying everything they can reach.
"You know..." he murmurs, voice lowering. "Your quirk has always disappointed me." He lifts a hand, showing him what he holds. "Would you like to see what this other one is like? Tell me, what are you thinking right now... Should I?"
Deku's vision goes white as he's knocked back.  Mangled gasps try to free their way from his ribcage as he sputters blood- as he's SLAMMED by a foot. His consciousness rocks back and forth, comes to only to be slammed back again and again and again and again and again.
By the time it's over, his nose is broken, and he's missing his front tooth. He sobs and cries, and as Monoma brings his foot down over his throat, they bubble in and out pathetically, voice raspy and barely audible. "P...l...e ....a...se....."
Inside, a memory plays- like a tape recording; old, dusty, forgotten. Two voices- one is his own; much younger. And the other- his late mother. He can't see her face ; it's as if it was blurred out- censored.
"They're bad people, Izuku!" "They're not! They're just trying to fight for equality! Ever since I was little... I've been treated like g a a a a ar bage. Quirks are - st  upid." As the memory plays, it's harder and harder to hold onto, almost as if it's being ripped from him. It sounds like - a broken record. And it skips ahead. He still can't see her face, but he can tell she's on the floor, sobbing. "P _ lease don' --t d o.. this . Yo  u can... Y_ou c _a _n  .. s t i ll go bac-"
Back in the world, Deku chokes on blood, and sobs, his eyes blank, but still full of fear. When he opens his mouth to speak, his voice is broken and weak.
"I a m thin...king... abo...ut...  n..no... " He tries to swallow another sob, before he opens his mouth again.
" P _le.ase.. don't d..do ..th..is.. Y ou can- you c..c can still . go > bac > & k&.... pl ease . please. please. p le ase. p pl ease. p p pl p p    pl e ase.
PLEASE!"
It's a little too easy, which almost takes the fun out of it. He switches Hitoshi's quirk off, releasing its hold on Deku and freeing it from the trap of his own body, right as Deku's bloody lips part to speak. Then he grins with pleasure, pressing the second sample to his smile in a firm kiss, clutching onto this new and warped quirk that he drags into himself, holding onto it with unabashed greed.
He's so excited. The blue of his eyes dull rapidly into a ravenous gray as his control over him slips around Deku's brain anew, worming into every crevice. It's almost terrifyingly intimate, how much stronger this connection is. He wonders if Deku could feel him now, reaching in.
"Oh..." he says softly, voice coming out a shaky whisper. "What are you saying...? Go back...?" A dry laugh, barely audible now as he trembles. "To what? I haven't... changed... I'm still..."
A hero, that forbidden concept that tastes wrong, twists and curdles, pulled away with the hooks of an old promise.
"... a god, unless you claim me mortal now, I'm still as I've always meant to be. I'm still... giving you... a villain," he laughs, "what he deserves... Mm..."
He tightens the coil, wondering. It's strange, it feels so strange, he suddenly wants to... press down... and squeeze... His foot applies more pressure on his neck, his smile growing, his body shaking all the more as he tightens his grip on the sample.
"... You should thank me..." he whispers, power dripping from every word. "This may very well absolve you yet. You feel very ashamed of yourself, right? Thank me. Apologize. Repent. Feel it with every fucking cell of your body, Midoriya."
For a split second, he saw freedom. The buzzing ceased, color returned to his vision, he saw Monoma fully, in all his glory. Above him.
Where he belongs.
And then- just like that; it was gone. And the buzzing was back this time, but this time, it was different. When Monoma speaks, it's like he's speaking from inside his own mind, his voice bouncing off skull, surrounding him, enveloping him,  piercing him.
"I' m.... "
He chokes out pathetically, straining to speak with a foot over his windpipe.
"I'm s ssorry y ..  .. I'm s s s s  or ry... "
Another memory clouds his vision- this one is also broken, and painful; his first kill. There is a man on the ground. Middle aged, plain looking. Nothing special. His throat is slit, and there is blood pooling underneath him. He is dying, slowly. Except, he can't hear any voices this time, just the sound of his own thoughts- back then.
It has t o be done. It has to be done. He is bad. I am good. He was bad. He was bad. He did bad. He d i d bad. He is a v i l l a i n. I a m   a  h>ero . I AM A HERO.
The memory is gone, replaced by his own mangled sobs- the irony being that he's in the exact same position that man was.
"I .. d d..des s.ee  r ve.  T_ his. I d>] es erv , e this."
He struggles to breathe as his form begins to write underneath him, like a worm. He can't cry anymore- he swears he's out of tears. "T ->hank .. y&ou... "
"..."
The smile slowly starts to fall. Strangely, like he's almost forgotten to continue holding it in place. Kaitou grips the sample tighter, removes his show from his throat, stares at him, expression almost mystified.
"I wonder if you still love me," he whispers.
Love me, his thoughts repeat. It's a command, impaling itself into place within Deku without even needing to be said.
"I wonder... Have you ever felt so awful?"
Love me.
"I wonder why..." He pauses, contemplating the feeling as he allows the vicious pump of endorphins to ravage Deku's brain and body. Twisted, perfect masochism, the same as he's ever felt, better. He pours it all into him, his own face blank as his control tightens around him even more.
"You're so sure that we'll die together. Why is that? Tell me... Do you know something I don't?" He laughs without humor. "Can you even say it?"
He falls silent. What comes into his mind next is less of an idea, less of a conscious thought, almost a dream in a way, one of the last few technicolor images before one opens their eyes back to reality. He follows his ghost of an urge automatically, unquestioningly, swept up in his own trance of power.
Puppet strings seem to tug at Deku's hands in that instant, demanding.
...
Bring the blade to your throat.
His thoughts swirl with visions of Monoma, next. Image after image fills his brain. Monoma, above him, under him. Monoma happy- sad, nothing, everything.
"I do love you."
He squeezes out with no hesitation, as if it's something he was dying to say. I love you, I hate you. And everything in between.
When he demands Deku to tell him what he knows, his face breaks into a smile. Broken. agonized. And he feels the endorphins pumping through him; his body screaming for more. For more pain, more despair- this is what he wants. This is what he NEEDS!
Slowly, his hands come up to hug himself, laughing softly- though it's hard to tell them apart from sobs.
"Ever since I met you, I ... can't explain it. It's like I've seen you before, but I don't know where. .. A voice... in my head told me the steps necessary to make you into.. a god . I didn't know why I needed to do it. I just.. haha.."
He coughs up blood, it splattering disgustingly out of his mouth.
"I knew I had to. I've .. seen you before. Not here. In .... hh .. s .somewhere else. I never wanted to be .. connected to you like this. It doesn't .. even.. make sense. And . I've seen things .. in my dreams. Visions of you.. becoming .. this. And other things , all .. involving you.  And.. a ..and me . At different times , d...dd...d different ages. In different places. I don't c.. claim to understand it."
He breathes out a wheeze as he brings his blade up to his throat, his hand trembling. His smile falters, and falls.
"It's not that we die together . That can happen. I'd rather that.. happen. But usually..."
He presses the blade to his throat with a gasp as blood starts to trickle softly. And then he closes his eyes- as if accepting it.
"Y.. you....  kill me first."
"Huh..."
Kaitou crouches besides him as he listes, resting his chin against his hands as he props them on his knees. He doesn't react to the sudden spatter of red that splashes his face as Deku suddenly coughs up the blood he's been drowning in. As he finishes, he just looks - vaguely unimpressed.
"You ruined me for such a stupid reason as that..." He reaches out, touching a finger to the scissors he still holds. "Dreams," he drags his touch over the first loop, "visions," he moves over the second. "... Delusions..."
He wants to crush him. He wants, practically feels, practically tastes the leak of red as he keeps squeezing and coiling through his mind, wondering what would happen if he just...
"... I will kill you. It's your own fault..."
... keeps...
"...  Dying like this..."
... squeezing...
"... is a mercy."
As the other talks, Deku begins to tremble again. His visage shrinks, lower and lower. He suddenly has the urge to bow beneath him- bow so hard HE BREAKS IN HALF BREAKS IN HALF BREAKS IN HALF BREAKS IN HALF. He --wants-- to  needs to worship him. Love him, worship him. Worship him. Worship him. A strangled gasp gurgles from his throat as his eyes pop open in a last burst of sudden adrenaline that he can't do anything with- so tragic. TRAGIC.
"It'-s . My own fault  . ..  ."
He can feel the other's will crushing his own, choking it- suffocating it. "P l..e eas e... " Blood flows from his mouth like a waterfall. His body convulses and twists unnaturally, letting out a loud scream as he tries desperately to free himself- a bird thrashing around recklessly in a cage. "LET ME DIE."
The sudden shriek from him makes Kaitou jump, dull eyes widening, pupils shrinking to nothing as he shakes with the feeling, his own soul throttling Deku's from existence--
He------------
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
... flinches, watching the blade suddenly jerk in Deku's hands and gouge a shallow line right across the side of his throat.
And - and and and and and.
Deku chokes, and gurgles, as blood spouts from his throat in a sea of beautiful red.
He feels the hold on his mind suddenly release and his consciousness come through- and all he can do is scream, and cry. He falls to the ground, holding his throat, trying desperately to hold the blood inside his body. His pupils are flitting back and forth wildly before landing on the blond. "I - " He sputters out in between sobs, rocking on the ground softly, hands to his throat. His voice is filled with malice, pain, heartbreak. And again- fear.
"... I hope .. you're happy."
Kaitou is further soaked in hot crimson, then. It soaks into his hair, covers his face, paints every inch of his skin. Life sparks in his eyes again as the connection suddenly breaks. He watches Deku crumple and break and cry and break and break.
"Ah..."
It's awful.
"Ahaha...."
He fumbles, nearly stumbling back, then crawling closer, clutching at himself, suddenly searching-
"Aha... HAHA haha..."
A camera whips forward.
"Hehe... .heheh..." Kaitou starts a frantic recording of what's in front of him on his phone, biting down on his fingers with his free hand as he fights a delirious fit of laughter, making clip after clip. As he forces another few seconds of calm in him, he suddenly clutches at his hair as glee seems to burst from him wildly, a hideously loud cackle leaving him before he's finally able to shudder towards silence again.
He smiles, biting shakily onto his lip. "I am... I am! This-" His breath hitches as he giggles again, hysterical at the sight. "This is the happiest day of my entire life!! Hahaha!!!"
Monoma's voice fades in and out, in and out again. He looks at the phone pointed at him with dying hatred in his eyes, unbroken hand clawing at the ground, broken hand still over his throat as he tries, and fails, to keep the blood in his body.
... One last memory flashes through his mind. It's - a picture , clear as day, of him. As a child, no more than let's say... 6 years old. He sits in front of the TV screen. The smell of food being cooked wafts in from the kitchen. On the TV screen is the words INTERVIEW WITH A VILLAIN. A man, locked up in high security, speaks to the camera calmly as someone else asks questions.
"What made you lash out like this?" "What do you mean?" Well, everyone has a story, right? What turn of events led you to becoming a villain? Did something bad to you happen as a child?" "I had a rather excellent childhood." "So then... what was it?" " I think.. you misunderstand. This is the problem society faces today. The people you call 'villains'- they don't require a tragic upbringing to do the things they do. Morality like that will get you in trouble. See, what one might view as inherently a bad thing, someone else might view it as a good thing. And vice versa." "I.. I don't understand." "Of course you don't. Barely anybody does. Humans are fine tuned to view everything as either black or white- barely any room for gray areas. Gray areas like me. And, if there's anything I learned, it's that no man is created equal, despite what anybody might say. And that's why... I'm going to keep fighting."
The boy in front of the TV studies the face of the man on the screen- he swears he's seen him before.
"Izuku! T- turn that off! It's time for dinner..."
The memory fades. Slowly, Deku takes his hand off his throat, going limp, accepting defeat as the blood now flows freely from his neck onto the ground and his vision begins to fade. As it does, he gives Monoma one last look, before uttering, brokenly:
"I.... HATE you."
Monoma's face falls. He lets his phone drop, not even caring as the screen gets wet with the spilled blood covering the ground.
He watches Deku going limp. Life fades from him. The pool of red around him grows bigger and bigger.
He tilts his head, thinking.
"... You lied to me."
He frowns. "You told me you'd love me no matter what. I do one thing to you... One thing..." A hiccup of a laugh leaves him, another miserable burst of giggles interrupting his words. "And suddenly that's what you say to me...? You've wasted your last words on that...?"
A sulk reaches his lips as he winds a lock of his hair between his fingers. "How unfair...Ah, that's so unfair... That's not what I... wanted..."
He grits his teeth, expression hardening as he continues to twirl and twirl that lock of hair around. All the glee inside him is poisoned now, tainted, he hates this... hates....
Frustrated, he finally lets out a loud huff, searching his clothes. Eventually, he draws out a silvery hair, coiling it tight around his finger. "Fine," he snarls out, though his expression softens with his decision and he sighs as this soft new quirk settles inside him, loving and caring and kind. "Fine... Deku-kun..."
He leans in, a curl to his lips as he approaches the gaping wound in his throat. "I'll do my duty... and let you make it up to me instead..." He smiles. "Then I can just kill you and kill you again until you get it right... doesn't that sound nice? Aha..."
He brings his lips to his neck and lets his body figure out the nightmarish strain it takes to form a gnarled, scabbing scar right into place, sealing the rest of his reformed blood in. He pets his hair after, kissing it again without the power attached, and again and again, sighing with pride as he waits for Deku to awaken again.
He was so close. For a split second - for once, he felt ... at peace. A warmth engulfs his body, briefly.
Briefly. And then, jarringly, he's forced back into consciousness, in the arms of the boy who he thought- he swore killed him. And all he can manage to get out is a weak "No..."
He doesn't have the energy to cry. This wasn't supposed to happen.
Weakly, the boy lifts his arms, trying, pathetically, to push the other's face away from him.
"Let.. me... die."
Kaitou hums to himself, ignoring his struggles as he nuzzles back into place. His arms coil around him tight, clutching onto him like a monster seeking to drain every last bit out of him.
"I'll let you die when you earn it," he murmurs happily, lost in the rush of it all. "Until then, spend every second like this... in... my... debt... Haha..."
And he's so happy.
As Deku lies there, limp, he stares at the ceiling- eyes empty; devoid of any color- of anything.
Nothing runs through his mind- not a memory, a thought, some fucked-up, twisted defense mechanism his brain came up with to shield itself- comfort itself, soothe itself.
It's just... cold. And dark.
There's.
Nothing.
Left.
All he can feel is the pure malice radiating off of the one who saved his life- this...
...hero.
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blindkarakul ¡ 6 years ago
Note
Prying questions: 6. If your muse could erase a single event from their memory, would they take the opportunity? What would they erase?
“…I know not which is worrrrse; the day he rrresigned to let me die, orrr the day he trrruly killed me.”
“ONE MO-ORRRE DAY! It is a-all need– please Koyo!” M’yhe knows his voice is a childish shrill, something akin to a tantrum of a small toddler. Everything about it… The way his claws tore at the flooring beneath him, peeling back his nails as all breath seemed to fail the young miqo’te. Every word he tried was a failed attempt at inhalation, stopped by his own fearful stuttering; a race to find purchase in his own lungs that he might steady himself and place distance between the savage these people knew him to be. “I-I will be betterrr! My eyes ca-an heal, plea-ase Koyo, please, plea-ase.”
He was met with silence, and a rapid heartbeat from across the room.
“I-It is ju-ust…! Taking ti-ime! Eyes sensiti-ive, Koyo! Koyo!”
The better of his common skills were escaping him, he knew each word he spoke was closer and closer to nonsense, ravings of a man clinging to the shreds of his life; screeching pleas of one begging for forgiveness. The heartbeat across the room sighed, feet pacing just a bit closer. M’yhe scrambled a bit further out of the corner he’d pushed himself into, offering a bloodied hand forward that shook with desperate sobs.
“Yhe, I… don’t know.” The heartbeat spoke. There was a pause of thought, and that heartbeat bent down to meet the slave’s level on the floor. “We’ve given enough time for the burns on your arms, chest, and face to heal. If your eyes show no improvement…”“Imprrrovement! Therrre is! Please, please…” M’yhe coughed, rough through dry heaves as he breathed in deep, trying to steady and calm himself. “Therrre is…”
Hesitation. “How many fingers am I holding up, then?” Koyo murmured.
M’yhe’s answer was instantaneous. “Fourrr!”
“Yhe…”
Pushing himself back into the corner, the miqo’te’s cries only heightened in urgency. His tongue was dry, and each tremble of his shoulders cracked his voice and lungs. But it was all he could do, pulling his hands over his eyes and hoping the blanketing light of the office would find him when he lifted them. He never thought he could ever find something such a welcoming sight, all dreary walls and hopeless, lonely chairs and tables… but he yearned to see them again. He yearned to see anything.
“They take time grrrow back, Koyo, I– please, please… I just need morrre time, be betterrr with time, Koyo… please…”“No, Yhe.” Koyo’s heartbeat quickened, but said nothing more on the subject. “Cai will be soon. Be patient.”
The other’s call was like silencing an unruly animal. All the sheer force, the cold unforgiveness of that ‘No’… The frustration welled in M’yhe’s chest, but he shook and trembled with the thought of defiance. Instead clung to himself and whimpered, trying to calm…
“Do not let them hurrrt me, Koyo… Do not let them kill m–”
“–Cai will be soon. Be patient.”
All that remained was the sounds of footsteps shuffling as weary eyes and hearts made for the barracks to eat. For the ones who had seen something like this before, it was only a grim reminder to keep their heads down and do as they were told. But somehow, somewhere, M’yhe could still hear the creaking of bones and whimpering of fresh blood– the ones who’d only been here for a short term.
The Miqo’te wished there was room for sympathy in his heart between the blinding pain. 
All that rang was a hollow emptiness in his ribcage; the offset beating of the miqo’te’s wild heart unfortunately reminding him that he was alive, as the wounds on his back howled and bled. He kept his forehead pressed to the pole, ears flattened as the fresh memory of whirlwind air and splitting muscle laughed in his eardrums still. His wrists, too, stung with a steady and persistent throb, as cold droplets of blood ran their way down his palms. 
The pressure from unforgiving irons was lifted, freeing him from the pole to join the others at the hall. However, M’yhe just sat. It was all he could do… head pressed to chilled metal, as he sucked the air in through his teeth. The burning that overtook his body was a pain barely tolerable in of itself. 
Then, he spoke.
The tone, M’yhe couldn’t read between his panic– but how it taunted him. Like waving a rich meat in front of the nose of a starving animal, wild in its anger and unchained… but riddled with fear. Fear and sorrow so strong, that he dare not lift his head to tempt the consequences that might await. He only listened, felt the chill of the night run its hands down his back like needing claws, uninvited and greedy. At their voracious touch, he felt only a tense ail building in his stomach. Warm, sickly, constricting as his breathing heaved… and M’koyo offered a hand. Clad in blood; his blood. Garlean uniform.
“You’re free now, Yhe.”
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kayla1993-world ¡ 5 years ago
Text
As COVID-19 clusters hit elderly persons' homes and long-term care facilities across Canada, legislators and authorities are answering increasingly concerns what's being done to protect the elderly.
Police and the coroner were at Dorval, Q., a privately-owned house of seniors over the weekend since 31 people have died after mid-March.
In Quebec, authorities are inspecting all private long-term care facilities to see what measures they are taking in the middle of the coronavirus pandemic.
Seniors are at higher risk of severe illness and death if they acquire COVID-19, the disease caused by the novel coronavirus.
Dr. Theresa Tam, Chief Public Health Officer of Canada, lamented on Sunday the deaths caused from COVID-19 in long-term care facilities across the world, which she defined as a "tragic legacy of this pandemic" in a release.
Its guidance contains clear guidelines as to who can enter certain facilities and detailed guidance of how to minimize disease chances through good hygiene and screening.
By 10:35 a.m. There were 24,804 recorded cases for coronavirus in Canada on Monday, ET.
Authorities has stated that perhaps the actual figures of cases are likely to be higher, as documented numbers of cases may not capture individuals which have not been examined or are still under examination.
Multiple countries are at different levels, as the pandemic spread.
According to inadequate research, irregular accounting of the dead and desire of certain countries to play down the extent of outbreaks, the figures certainly misrepresent the true scale and impact of the pandemic.
On Monday, Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, director-general of the health organization, discussed the fact that other countries are still considering whether to adopt them, despite that some countries are considering whether to start e,asing restrictions.
The chief of WHO said Tuesday, the Geneva-based group should publish updated guidance on conditions to also be examined if considering limitations on ease, including initiatives on screening and tracing, helping the healthcare sector and educating the public.
Mike Ryan, WHO’s crisis program director, said now is the period to be very, very careful, even as continue to talk about contingency plans.
Maria Vab Kerkhoven, the technical director for coronavirus at WHO, said its essential not to lift all the restrictions at once, but instead to go there slowly and in a controlled fashion.
Read on for a glimpsed at what’s gone on Monday in Australia, and the US around the planet.
Mission Institution families in BC ask for clarification in the middle of an illness that has ended in at least 35 coronavirus cases.
Alberta is giving hard-hit provinces, including Alberta, Quebec, BC, much-needed personal protective devices.
In long-term care facilities, Saskatchewan has yet to disclose a coronavirus case, as other provinces are attempting to control growing outbreaks at senior residences.
Public health officials in Manitoba are reminding residents not to let down their guard, although no new cases have been reported on Sunday in the province.
Ontario, which has more than 7,000 cases recorded, aims to enhance its COVID-19 measures.
Quebec, which has 12.6K recorded cases, says it will check all long-term private care facilities during the coronavirus pandemic in the face of growing concern over care for seniors.
On Sunday, Nova Scotia recorded 17 new cases for coronavirus, including four at a Halifax seniors residence.
A college in Prince Edward Island is opening its Charlottetown residences to health care staff.
Newfoundland and Labrador announced on Sunday a new COVID-19 case, bringing the maximum recorded cases to 242 for the province.
Over the weekend, a Yukon brewery conducted an innovative fundraiser giving away the hand sanitizer it created and telling people who could donate money for food away.
The main epileptologist in the US predicts the economy could be able to bounce back in parts of the country as early as next month.
He said it would involve a moving re-entry based on the nature of the coronavirus pandemic in various parts of the country.
Fauci said such factors include the country’s area, the magnitude of the outbreak it has already experienced and the possible risk of an epidemic to come.
US-imposed guidelines of physical distance President Donald Trump are set to expire April 2020.
Trump is eager to boost the economy which has collapsed because most Americans are advised to keep home to help prevent the spread of a disease.
A U.S. navy sailor died after acquiring the coronavirus on Monday, marking the first death of a sailor assigned to Theodore Roosevelt, a coronavirus-stricken aircraft carrier.
Death Monday was the first of the approximately 4.9K crew, 585 of which had been tested positive for coronavirus as of Sunday.
A database kept by Johns Hopkins University lists the documented case numbers of coronavirus in the US at more than 558K, such as more than 22K casualties.
About half of the deaths in the US are in the New York metropolis, but in the state hospitalizations are slowing, and other indications imply  that lockdowns and physical distancing are flattening the disease curve.
People received face masks on a rainy Monday morning at Spain's main transport hubs as the government relaxed some of the stringent lockdown measures designed to reign in the coronavirus health crisis that claimed nearly 17K lives in that country.
Spain’s overnight coronavirus death toll fell to 517 on Monday from Sunday’s 619, bringing the cumulative death toll to 17.5K, the Department of Health said, noting it was the largest daily proportional increase since reporting began.
After his release from hospital British Prime Minister Boris Johnson, the first globalized world leader to test positive for the disease, paid an emotional compliment to the National Health Service of the country, saying his doctors and nurses had preserved his life no question.
A total of 18K coronavirus studies were conducted in 24 hours in the United Kingdom and the country was making good progress against aim of 100K daily studies, a Johnson spokesperson said on Monday.
A total of 11.3k children died in hospitals across the British after screening for coronavirus positive, up 717 in a day, the health ministry said Monday.
The Italian government also said weekend military operations also ended in punishment for further than 12.5K citizens and 150 face civil charges of infringing lockdown measures.
The overall death toll from the coronavirus in France has grown by almost 14.4k, but slightly fewer citizens were admitted into intensive care for the fourth day in a row -- 35 fewer.
Russian President Vladimir Putin said Monday that the coronavirus situation was increasing and that Russia can call on the assets of the Ministry of Defense to comply with the crisis if necessary.
The number of confirmed coronavirus infections in Germany decreased by 2.5k to 123k, data from the Robert Koch Institute for Infectious Diseases shown on Monday.
South Korea’s vice minister of health has pleaded with citizens to remain alert in the midst of an increasing spread of coronavirus, claiming a quick return to pre-coronavirus normalcy is virtually impossible amid a constant risk of new transmissions.
On Monday, China reported 108 new cases of coronavirus infection, from which 98 are imported.
Japan’s at home appeal, Prime Minister Shinzo Abe tweeted Sunday, has drawn angry comments on social networks from those who call him cruel to those who hopefully won’t rest at home because the government’s physical distancing initiatives shouldn’t come with compensation.
Singapore’s Department of Health confirmed 386 more infections of coronavirus on Monday in the biggest daily increase in the city state, increasing its sum to 2.9k.
Pakistan’s Dictator Imran Khan issued a global plea to the world’s wealthy countries and international financial agencies to give debt relief to developing nations devastated by the battle against coronavirus, where enforced lockdowns to stem its rapid spread are crippling already miserable economies and causing widespread hunger and deprivation for the poor.
The government introduced an ambitious program to help the millions of daily wage earners who are barely ascending to the level of homelessness.
New Zealand documented a fifth coronavirus death but only 19 new infections Monday as fresh infection numbers begin to exhibit symptoms of declining.
Mexican authorities reported 442 new cases of the novel coronavirus and 23 new deaths on Sunday, bringing the total to 4.7k cases and 296 deaths in the country.
Given the risk of a prolonged conflict, thousands of displaced Syrians have started moving back to their homes in war-torn Idlib province, some driven by fear that the coronavirus could wwreak havoc on crowded camps along Turkish border.
The number of cases recorded in hard-hit Iran has climbed to almost 73k, with 5k deaths.
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