The Present - Happy Birthday emeriin!
Nov. 12th, 2011 12:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aunt_zeldaTitle: The Present
Rating: R – NC-17, depending on how you squint
Word Count: 1,620
Pairings/Characters: ATG/Critic, allusions to emeriin
Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody. Find these guys at tgwtg.com, but don’t expect anything like this to go down.
Warnings: Edgeplay – specifically cutting with a knife, dubcon, incest, threatened castration, degrading talk, playing with the fourth-wall, unsafe autoerotic asphyxiation. Un-beta'd.
Summary: Guy knows it’s somebody’s birthday; the Critic isn’t happen about being “the present.”
A/N: Happy birthday, emeriin! You are, and continue to be, one of the best people I’ve met on the internet. One of these days I’m going to make it across the pond and meet you “for real.” For now, I hope you enjoy this strange, disturbing, strange fanfic I wrote for you.
“Buongiorno!” yelped a voice as Critic found himself being kicked out of bed and onto the cold floor. He glanced blearily up: the clock said it was 11:32 AM, which was way too early, especially for dealing with Guy.
“What now?” Critic asked, as if Guy needed a reason.
“I got a feeling that it’s somebody’s birthday today!” Guy trilled, grinning that grin of his that foretold depraved, painful things that would go on for hours.
“What?” Critic blinks. “Who …?”
“Never you mind! Someone! A special someone!” Guy leered at Critic and pulled him up onto his feet. “Someone who likes it when I have fun with you.”
Critic groaned. Guy’s definition of “fun” was seldom fun for him as well. “Can’t we just send them a nice card?”
“Nope! Not special enough!” Guy dragged Critic out of the room and into the bathroom. “We’re sending a card, and a video tape, and a digital download, and scrapbook, and some etchings, and whatever else I can come up with!”
Critic sat on the edge of the tub and sighed. There was no fighting Guy when it came to stuff like this, flights of fancy that started innocent enough and ended in a lot of blood and rug burns and not being able to sit down properly for three days. Best to just ride it out and hope he got to come at some point during the proceedings.
“But first, we have to make you look pretty!” Guy opened up a makeup kit of truly epic proportions and advanced on his brother, mascara in hand.
Critic rolled his eyes and dutifully took off his glasses.
~*~
“I look like a ten-dollar whore.” Critic whined, squinting at himself in the mirror. The mascara had been slathered on, along with eyeshadow and blush and lipstick and stuff he didn’t even know the names off. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Guy had then taken his clothes and forced him into a red and black corset, a tight black miniskirt, and red high-heeled thigh-high boots. He was still wearing his tie and his hat, for some strange reason.
“Perfect! That’s what I was going for!” Guy grinned and set up a tripod on the other side of the room. “Now, do we need to go over the plan again, or do you have it?”
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” Critic sat down on the edge of the desk, legs crossed, and shifted from side to side. “Let’s just get this over with, I wanted to do a review today.”
“You can’t always get what you want … well except for the special birthday girl, hopefully.” Guy said.
Critic sighed and straightened up, flexing his arms and stretching to test the boundaries of the corset. How did strippers make it look so easy?
“Three … two … one …” Guy pointed and silently mouthed “go.”
Critic smiled and turned to the camera. “Hellooooooo,” he purred, twisting his shoulders from side to side, as if showing off the cleavage he didn’t have. “I’m the Nostalgia Critic. And a little kinky bird told me that it’s your birthday!” He uncrossed his legs dramatically, splaying them out in an exaggerated manner, pointedly ignoring the fact that he was giving the camera a fantastic shot of his junk, or at least the lacy panties stretched over his junk. They were red, like the boots and the tie, with the little black designs like on the corset.
“Happy birthday to you …” Critic sang, gulping towards the end, nearly losing his nerve. “Happy birthday to you!” he pointed at the camera and winked. “Happy birthday, happy birthday … happy birthday to you!” he grinned hopefully at the end. Maybe that was all he had to do for this person’s birthday. If there was a person, maybe Guy was just messing with him, fabricating a birthday present situation for laughs.
“Time to unwrap the present!” Guy announced, striding in front of the camera and producing a knife from his robe.
Critic’s jaw dropped. They hadn’t gone over this in the bathroom. Then again, he should have expected this to keep going on after the slutty serenade.
“Unfortunately the birthday girl couldn’t be here, but I live to serve … at least, today I do.” Guy grinned and trailed the knife up Critic’s leg, stopping just at the lacy edge of the panties. “Let’s come back to that in a minute, shall we?” he sliced through some of the laces of the corset, smirking as Critic began to sweat. “You know, your throat is simply gorgeous,” he seized Critic by the hair with one hand, the other bringing the knife up to rest underneath his chin. “It would look so much prettier crisscrossed in dozens of scars, don’t you agree?”
The knife pressed, Critic tried to squirm away, but Guy pulled him closer and the knife broke Critic’s skin. Critic gasped, his white-knuckled hands gripping the edge of the table.
“Now, don’t be like that, don’t hold it in.” Guy chastised, tapping Critic on the nose with the bloody knife. “I want her to hear every little noise you make. It’s part of the present.”
Suddenly he tugged on Critic’s tie, the knot sliding up until it was pressing into the man’s pale skin. Critic spluttered and twitched and brought a hand up to his throat to loosen the tie, but Guy caught his hand and twisted it behind his back.
“There now, didn’t that feel better?” Guy asked, cutting a slit in the side of Critic’s skirt.
“N-no …” Critic whimpered.
“Don’t lie,” Guy warned, cutting another slit in the skirt. “Liars get punished.” He pulled the skirt up and dipped the knife down, parallel to Critic’s erection. “Looks like you were lying after all! Naughty, naughty,” he tsk-tsked and slipped the knife under the waistband of Critic’s panties. Critic froze, eyes wide and sweat glistening on his shoulders.
“What would you do, if I cut it off?” Guy wondered aloud. “I can just imagine your screams, writhing in pain on the floor and covered in blood … such a tempting idea …”
“Please! Please don’t!” Critic whispered. “I’ll do anything –”
“Anything?” Guy cackled, withdrawing the knife for the moment and tossing it from hand to hand.
Critic winced and nodded. Promising to do “anything” for Guy was never a good plan, but it was all he had.
“Good!” Guy set the knife down and pulled Critic in by his tie. “I’ll hold you to that. You’re going to make this her best birthday ever, understand?”
“Y-yes.” Critic squeaked.
“And you won’t hold back any screaming, and you’ll moan like the little whore you are at heart?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Good boy,” Guy pushed him down onto the desk, straddling his brother and picking up the knife again. He traced circles on the bits of Critic’s chest that weren’t covered by the corset. “Let’s play Artist! I’m the painter, you’re the canvas!”
Critic didn’t hold back his screams. He had promised, after all.
~*~
“Now, wasn’t that fun?” Guy asked when Critic was covered in “art.”
Critic groaned weakly and tried to remember how to breathe at a normal pace. He felt like he’d gotten a hundred papercuts and then had a lemon juice bath.
“Foreplay’s over,” Guy leapt off of the desk and dragged Critic up as well, before behind him over the desk, on his stomach this time, and pulling the camera around to get a better angle on the scene.
“Just need to make a few adjustments,” he pushed up the skirt and pried his brother’s legs apart, giving Critic’s ass a good smack before reaching up to seize both ends of the iconic tie. Guy undid it, then looped it around Critic’s neck, twisting it once, as if he were trying to garrote him with the fabric.
“What nice reins you’ve give me,” Guy laughed, jerking the tie experimentally. Critic spluttered and flailed, unable to escape the constricting material.
Guy let go of the “reins” and held a hand up to Critic’s mouth. “Suck.”
Critic did, making it as obscene as he possibly could.
“Such a good boy … such a good little whore …” Guy crooned as he began fingering Critic. “So wide … and open … I’m going to use you up … stretch you out … and you’re going to love every second of it … aren’t you, you little slut?”
Critic nodded, tears brimming in his eyes.
“Of course you are. Ready? Five, four, three –”
The bastard entered him on “two.”
Critic was used to it by now, but it still hurt regardless. He gasped and whimpered in pain and pounded the table as tears brimmed in his eyes. Critic tried to imagine what he looked like now, to whoever would be watching this footage: makeup running down his face, sweaty and covered in bleeding cuts, still wearing the remnants of the corset and miniskirt and those stupid high heeled boots, spluttering for air because of the tie choking him and his own stupid guilty arousal as he was fucked by his demonic brother.
Guy kept pulling on the tie, and he couldn’t breathe, his eyes were watering and his head was pounding and Guy was laughing and he couldn’t breathe. He grabbed uselessly at the tie but his fingers weren’t working properly and his body started to spasm desperately and Guy hauled him up and he felt more than saw himself come all over the table.
He woke up later on the floor with Guy editing the footage on his computer and eating birthday cake. Critic stared at the ceiling and hoped that it had been worth it.
Rating: R – NC-17, depending on how you squint
Word Count: 1,620
Pairings/Characters: ATG/Critic, allusions to emeriin
Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody. Find these guys at tgwtg.com, but don’t expect anything like this to go down.
Warnings: Edgeplay – specifically cutting with a knife, dubcon, incest, threatened castration, degrading talk, playing with the fourth-wall, unsafe autoerotic asphyxiation. Un-beta'd.
Summary: Guy knows it’s somebody’s birthday; the Critic isn’t happen about being “the present.”
A/N: Happy birthday, emeriin! You are, and continue to be, one of the best people I’ve met on the internet. One of these days I’m going to make it across the pond and meet you “for real.” For now, I hope you enjoy this strange, disturbing, strange fanfic I wrote for you.
“Buongiorno!” yelped a voice as Critic found himself being kicked out of bed and onto the cold floor. He glanced blearily up: the clock said it was 11:32 AM, which was way too early, especially for dealing with Guy.
“What now?” Critic asked, as if Guy needed a reason.
“I got a feeling that it’s somebody’s birthday today!” Guy trilled, grinning that grin of his that foretold depraved, painful things that would go on for hours.
“What?” Critic blinks. “Who …?”
“Never you mind! Someone! A special someone!” Guy leered at Critic and pulled him up onto his feet. “Someone who likes it when I have fun with you.”
Critic groaned. Guy’s definition of “fun” was seldom fun for him as well. “Can’t we just send them a nice card?”
“Nope! Not special enough!” Guy dragged Critic out of the room and into the bathroom. “We’re sending a card, and a video tape, and a digital download, and scrapbook, and some etchings, and whatever else I can come up with!”
Critic sat on the edge of the tub and sighed. There was no fighting Guy when it came to stuff like this, flights of fancy that started innocent enough and ended in a lot of blood and rug burns and not being able to sit down properly for three days. Best to just ride it out and hope he got to come at some point during the proceedings.
“But first, we have to make you look pretty!” Guy opened up a makeup kit of truly epic proportions and advanced on his brother, mascara in hand.
Critic rolled his eyes and dutifully took off his glasses.
~*~
“I look like a ten-dollar whore.” Critic whined, squinting at himself in the mirror. The mascara had been slathered on, along with eyeshadow and blush and lipstick and stuff he didn’t even know the names off. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Guy had then taken his clothes and forced him into a red and black corset, a tight black miniskirt, and red high-heeled thigh-high boots. He was still wearing his tie and his hat, for some strange reason.
“Perfect! That’s what I was going for!” Guy grinned and set up a tripod on the other side of the room. “Now, do we need to go over the plan again, or do you have it?”
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” Critic sat down on the edge of the desk, legs crossed, and shifted from side to side. “Let’s just get this over with, I wanted to do a review today.”
“You can’t always get what you want … well except for the special birthday girl, hopefully.” Guy said.
Critic sighed and straightened up, flexing his arms and stretching to test the boundaries of the corset. How did strippers make it look so easy?
“Three … two … one …” Guy pointed and silently mouthed “go.”
Critic smiled and turned to the camera. “Hellooooooo,” he purred, twisting his shoulders from side to side, as if showing off the cleavage he didn’t have. “I’m the Nostalgia Critic. And a little kinky bird told me that it’s your birthday!” He uncrossed his legs dramatically, splaying them out in an exaggerated manner, pointedly ignoring the fact that he was giving the camera a fantastic shot of his junk, or at least the lacy panties stretched over his junk. They were red, like the boots and the tie, with the little black designs like on the corset.
“Happy birthday to you …” Critic sang, gulping towards the end, nearly losing his nerve. “Happy birthday to you!” he pointed at the camera and winked. “Happy birthday, happy birthday … happy birthday to you!” he grinned hopefully at the end. Maybe that was all he had to do for this person’s birthday. If there was a person, maybe Guy was just messing with him, fabricating a birthday present situation for laughs.
“Time to unwrap the present!” Guy announced, striding in front of the camera and producing a knife from his robe.
Critic’s jaw dropped. They hadn’t gone over this in the bathroom. Then again, he should have expected this to keep going on after the slutty serenade.
“Unfortunately the birthday girl couldn’t be here, but I live to serve … at least, today I do.” Guy grinned and trailed the knife up Critic’s leg, stopping just at the lacy edge of the panties. “Let’s come back to that in a minute, shall we?” he sliced through some of the laces of the corset, smirking as Critic began to sweat. “You know, your throat is simply gorgeous,” he seized Critic by the hair with one hand, the other bringing the knife up to rest underneath his chin. “It would look so much prettier crisscrossed in dozens of scars, don’t you agree?”
The knife pressed, Critic tried to squirm away, but Guy pulled him closer and the knife broke Critic’s skin. Critic gasped, his white-knuckled hands gripping the edge of the table.
“Now, don’t be like that, don’t hold it in.” Guy chastised, tapping Critic on the nose with the bloody knife. “I want her to hear every little noise you make. It’s part of the present.”
Suddenly he tugged on Critic’s tie, the knot sliding up until it was pressing into the man’s pale skin. Critic spluttered and twitched and brought a hand up to his throat to loosen the tie, but Guy caught his hand and twisted it behind his back.
“There now, didn’t that feel better?” Guy asked, cutting a slit in the side of Critic’s skirt.
“N-no …” Critic whimpered.
“Don’t lie,” Guy warned, cutting another slit in the skirt. “Liars get punished.” He pulled the skirt up and dipped the knife down, parallel to Critic’s erection. “Looks like you were lying after all! Naughty, naughty,” he tsk-tsked and slipped the knife under the waistband of Critic’s panties. Critic froze, eyes wide and sweat glistening on his shoulders.
“What would you do, if I cut it off?” Guy wondered aloud. “I can just imagine your screams, writhing in pain on the floor and covered in blood … such a tempting idea …”
“Please! Please don’t!” Critic whispered. “I’ll do anything –”
“Anything?” Guy cackled, withdrawing the knife for the moment and tossing it from hand to hand.
Critic winced and nodded. Promising to do “anything” for Guy was never a good plan, but it was all he had.
“Good!” Guy set the knife down and pulled Critic in by his tie. “I’ll hold you to that. You’re going to make this her best birthday ever, understand?”
“Y-yes.” Critic squeaked.
“And you won’t hold back any screaming, and you’ll moan like the little whore you are at heart?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Good boy,” Guy pushed him down onto the desk, straddling his brother and picking up the knife again. He traced circles on the bits of Critic’s chest that weren’t covered by the corset. “Let’s play Artist! I’m the painter, you’re the canvas!”
Critic didn’t hold back his screams. He had promised, after all.
~*~
“Now, wasn’t that fun?” Guy asked when Critic was covered in “art.”
Critic groaned weakly and tried to remember how to breathe at a normal pace. He felt like he’d gotten a hundred papercuts and then had a lemon juice bath.
“Foreplay’s over,” Guy leapt off of the desk and dragged Critic up as well, before behind him over the desk, on his stomach this time, and pulling the camera around to get a better angle on the scene.
“Just need to make a few adjustments,” he pushed up the skirt and pried his brother’s legs apart, giving Critic’s ass a good smack before reaching up to seize both ends of the iconic tie. Guy undid it, then looped it around Critic’s neck, twisting it once, as if he were trying to garrote him with the fabric.
“What nice reins you’ve give me,” Guy laughed, jerking the tie experimentally. Critic spluttered and flailed, unable to escape the constricting material.
Guy let go of the “reins” and held a hand up to Critic’s mouth. “Suck.”
Critic did, making it as obscene as he possibly could.
“Such a good boy … such a good little whore …” Guy crooned as he began fingering Critic. “So wide … and open … I’m going to use you up … stretch you out … and you’re going to love every second of it … aren’t you, you little slut?”
Critic nodded, tears brimming in his eyes.
“Of course you are. Ready? Five, four, three –”
The bastard entered him on “two.”
Critic was used to it by now, but it still hurt regardless. He gasped and whimpered in pain and pounded the table as tears brimmed in his eyes. Critic tried to imagine what he looked like now, to whoever would be watching this footage: makeup running down his face, sweaty and covered in bleeding cuts, still wearing the remnants of the corset and miniskirt and those stupid high heeled boots, spluttering for air because of the tie choking him and his own stupid guilty arousal as he was fucked by his demonic brother.
Guy kept pulling on the tie, and he couldn’t breathe, his eyes were watering and his head was pounding and Guy was laughing and he couldn’t breathe. He grabbed uselessly at the tie but his fingers weren’t working properly and his body started to spasm desperately and Guy hauled him up and he felt more than saw himself come all over the table.
He woke up later on the floor with Guy editing the footage on his computer and eating birthday cake. Critic stared at the ceiling and hoped that it had been worth it.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-11-12 01:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-12 08:00 pm (UTC)I wasn't quite sure what to write, and then I had An Idea. An Awful Idea. A Wonderful, Awful Idea.
I love that this fandom allows for us to screw around with the fourth wall so much, because it makes for fic situations like this.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-12 06:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-12 08:26 pm (UTC)Well, I wrote it for her birthday present, but the hope was that other people would enjoy it as well! I'm glad that appears to be the case, thanks very much for commenting!
and I'm not really in the fandom
Whyever not? It's a lovely fandom, if I do say so myself. *proud founder is proud*
this hit every kink button I have.
Awesomesauce! Thanks for letting me know!
no subject
Date: 2011-11-12 08:51 pm (UTC)