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yanderenightmare · 4 years

Note

How would the yanderes react if their darling was the one to initiate intimacy/sex for the first time, and how do you think their darling would come to that point? (stockholm syndrome? being touch starved/deprived as punishment? etc.)

thirsty ! BNHA imagines

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon/dubcon, abuse, profanity, anxiety, guilt, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mind control

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

-ADDICTION

She was riding for dear life, chasing that light at the end of the tunnel.

Eyes tightly squeezed shut as she hopped up and down, sliding upon Bakugo’s impressive girth, moaning each time his tip poked into her cervix as she clapped down onto his lap again and again and again and again, harder and harder, deeper and deeper, hitting knew spots upon new spots, messaging uncharted territory, rearranging her organs, poking and prodding and fitting so snuggly and perfectly inside her she could all but start crying from the bliss of it all.

She was crying. Hot tears streaming down her cheeks, numb with how warm she was, feverish and febrile and growing madder with pleasure, drunk and drowning in euphoria.

“Fuck.” He stuttered out his gruff moan, barely holding onto her hips anymore.

He'd been inspired and insured that it would be fine to let her move on her own now, knowing he’d made it clear enough she wouldn’t be going anywhere without him being satisfied first, thinking she was showing so much enthusiasm simply to make him come quicker.

He hadn't yet sensed how desperately she was chasing the same release he was, especially since he’d already made sure she came twice before they even started. Once on fingers, once on his tongue. He wasn’t at all thinking she was preparing herself for a third time, especially not on his cock.

Having left her to do all the work for a while now, having been rendered completely blissed-out and awestruck with feeling her eager movements on top of him, he couldn’t really care much for how pathetic a mess he must have looked beneath her.

His eyes scrunched together to hold onto every sharp movement of her hips, lips pursed out and puckered with his grit-teeth, his cock standing proudly, pushing into her again and again at such a fast pace he was barely able to feel his climax coming dangerously close, too numb with pleasure to part it from his release, but as his balls were emptying inside her he shot up into a sitting position in favor of lying down, needing to hold her still so he could pump his load without it spilling, arms reaching around her to keep her pushed down and impaled on him.

She tried humping for more friction even in the tight secured lock, rocking into him, kept snug against his chest, trying so desperately to reach with his cock what was screaming inside her.

He made some indication he was done. His thick arms losing their grip around her torso, head resting on her shoulder as he panted, not yet understanding what hell or heaven he was in for, taken by surprise, by overwhelming panicked surprise.

“No!” She roared out her little whine. Her smaller hands protruding nails digging into his chest to push him back down on the bed, then continuing to ride despite feeling him tense beneath her.

He tried moving again, fearing, panicking because of his overstimulated cock being continuously pleased almost enough for it to be painful. The hunger already quenched being kept fed, drowning the thirst, so much he felt as though something might burst.

Her hands moved to yank his hair, pulling him back to rest on the pillow, her other hand pushing, seizing around his throat, violating his Adam’s apple, forcing him to gasp as he choked both on the action itself but also at the sheer controversy of it all.

Her mouth hovering above his own as he groaned from the pain of having his hairs ripped from his scalp and his vocal cords abused, whereas she only moaned in return, too concerned with feeling every inch of her being on fire to care.

“Oh fuck, please, Katsuki, please, more.”

Something tight tugged in his pelvis at the same time awe blossomed in his chest at the sight of her and those pretty eyes looking at him with tears and that sweet crinkle of plead between her brows.

His name dripping from her tongue like honey as she continued going up and down the length of his oversensitive cock, slipping even easier in now when coated in his cum. Her thighs sticking to his in juices as her head dipped to lay against his chest while she continued slapping, jumping on his cock with an unrelenting, unsatisfied determination.

His cock throbbed inside her, nearly crying, screaming with something playfully akin to aching, a pressure building again even as he thought it impossible.

She was stabbing herself with his cock, squeezing and seizing and fluttering around the blade, driving him mad.

But as soon as he got over the feeling of bursting, could he pull himself back.

Grabbing her waist and hoisting her off him, she nearly sobbed at the loss of contact.

He pouted in mimic, condescendingly. “Is the little slut begging for more?”

He grinned maniacally as he mounted her, surprised to see and feel her desperately trying to get closer as he pushed her down into the sheets beneath him, lining himself up with her sopping greedy cute little cunt.

He only teased for about a moment more before impaling her on his length once again, pushing all the way into her in a mere swift second, dragging a real pornstar-beautiful moan from her, gleeful to see her squeal with pleasure as he began thrusting into her sharply, angled to hit that sweet blissful spot inside her.

“Be a good girl and cum for me again.” He growled and she swore she felt it like thunder in her stomach, like explosions, like lightning striking. “That’s what you want isn’t it?” The frenzy in his voice, once only terrifying, now made her toes curl and her head feel like cotton. “You want me to make you cum? You want to cum on my cock like a good slut? My slut? Come on, cum for me.”

She was being fucked completely silly.

Tongue falling from her mouth along with a string of wet moans and drool and his name. Her eyes swimming with tears as she tried focusing on his and the gut-churning look of feral dominant lust in the heat of them that had her pussy clenching around him, yet was barely able to hold his gaze as she was being fucked into a cross-eyed mess, feeling the pressure build and build and build and getting so close to bursting she was crying with how she was being kept from her climax by some unknown cruelty.

She just needed him to go harder, go faster.

She just needed more, she just needed him, needed him and his glorious cock to help her.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

-APOLOGY

“I hate you!”

It slipped before she was able to stop it, before she could reconsider, before she could save herself.

She watched with terror-wide eyes locked on his, awaiting whatever awful murderous intent he chose fit for her punishment, and was at once trembling.

Knees growing weak, apologies falling broken on her tongue as her fear’s need to cry outweighed her wish for recovery, resulting in simply blubbering on her sobs. Small frail hands reached out in protection, in a timid means of making him give her a second to gather herself as she fell apart with the painful fear that clenched around her heart, making it hard to breath, making it hard to see, hard to stand, hard to think, hard to do anything except for gasp for air, air that seemed to not want to enter her lungs quick enough.

“Hey, hey… breathe.”

She hadn’t even realised she’d collapsed, nor that Izuku had come to catch her fall, rocking her back and forth in his arms, head resting in his palm. Her eyes wide and frantic as she looked up at him for help, helpless in her crippling anxiety, anxiety he was the trigger of and seemingly the only source of comfort as well.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I take it back, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, please, forgive me, forgive me!” She gulped on shuddering breaths, sobbing, hysterical in her scrambling, so completely panicked, so utterly destroyed by her fear of him, knowing how those hands of his could hold the world just as easy as her head and her heart, where despite knowing that through and through she still sought out the comfort in how his fingers stroked through her locks, petting her calm.

Her hands, retrieving more and more mobility, reached up to fold across his back.

“I don’t hate you, I’m sorry, I’m just stupid, forgive me, I’m just ungrateful and spoiled and stupid.”

Tears rolled down her face as she propped herself up in his lap, hands desperate as she intertwined them in his locks, fervently trying to make up for her mistake, trying to prove she was able to correct herself, that she didn’t need another lesson, another one of his mind-shattering bone-crushing lessons.

The fact that he’d forced her into a perverted set of lingerie had fallen to waste, the fact that he’d been lecturing her about how she belonged to him, how she had no right to disobey him, how she was just a dumb little girl in a world too big for her to ever possibly understand, how she was good for nothing but being stress-relief for him. None of that mattered anymore.

What mattered was persuading him into taking enough pity on her to let her indiscretion slide.

She just needed to beg enough, she just needed to grovel and plead and cry enough.

“Sweetie…” He hummed, no anger present in his voice, but then again, there never was. Tone always laced or dripping with honey, giving no hint as to where his mindset was or what he was about to do.

And all it managed to do was make her cry harder, hold onto him tighter, fear climbing higher.

“It’s okay, Sweetie… I know you didn’t mean it.”

His words were all but reassuring, as she was waiting for the other side of the coin to show its face, waiting to hear his but’s and if’s and punishments and corrections, waiting for those hands of his to show her, to prove to her what she already knew yet let herself forget, that she was a small helpless stupid girl and he was nothing short of god.

“But…”

And there it was, her worst fear, her worst nightmare, all sounded in one word.

She couldn’t let him continue, and by god she couldn’t let him finish.

Wet soft bloated lips met, or rather pushed, forced themselves upon his stiff ones, suffocating all reprimanding comments, all and everything he was about to say.

She shuffled into a cradling position on his lap, body and chest glued tightly in his embrace, hands running, tangling, gripping desperately onto the emerald locks at the nape of his neck, lips whimpering upon his ones, as though begging them to kiss back.

That desperation tasted delicious on his tongue. How she sat on his lap like some wounded animal, begging for the kind and nurturing hand of their master to help soothe the pain away.

He wasn’t about to discourage that type of behavior, that form of apology.

She wasn’t ready to take his cock, but then again, she never was with how gifted he was and how cursed she were. His cock being so threateningly huge, just like the rest of him.

But given the rest of him was just as threatening, she could manage, she could survive taking but one of his limbs rather than having all his brutal strength take care of her.

So she buttoned up his pants, trembling fingers working hurriedly, spiked by fear of both what was to come and what would come were she to stop. Her mouth still laying sloppy tearful kisses onto his lips, as he didn’t seem to mind just how much she was sobbing to please him.

She was at once stroking him when he was out, her other hand rushing to save her own life as it messaged her clit, trying to warn her of what was to come, what needed to come.

Still he hadn’t said anything, still let her slave for him. Though that might be for the best in this case.

His large hands placed palms down on the floor, simply supporting him as he leaned on them.

When she broke off the kiss, he was about to correct her, yet she ducked quicker, wrapping her warm and wet lips around his cock and giving th head a swirl with her tongue before pushing down as far as she could, glucking on him so eagerly and desperately, rendering what reprimanding movement was to come of his hand to an encouraging petting of her head instead.

She only sucked for a brief moment, leaving the proudly bobbing spit-slicked pole cold once she parted with only strings of drool connecting them. She shuffling back up to align him with her entrance hurriedly.

Her lip quivered as she looked at him to search his stoic features, her body frozen, left to simply hover and sway above his impatient member, as she tried her best to quickly brace herself for the pain she was about to feel.

But then his patience wavered, and strong hands griped her hips and forced her down to take the cock, impaling her as he sheathed himself fully, earning a high-pitched screaming whimper from her.

She fell to his chest, hands tugging his shirt to steady herself as she winced at the feel of him tearing her apart.

“Silly me…” He chuckled, the sound cold and gut-wrenching. “Rewarding you when I should be punishing you.”

She breathed sporadically, hitched and hiccupping.

“I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve it-”

Agreeing was the only course of action for her, the only thing she could afford.

“That’s right, you don’t deserve it.”

But the world is far from fair.

TODOROKI SHOTO

-DISTRACTION

He was coming.

He was coming and nothing could stop him, nothing could change his mind, nothing could help and nothing could save her, except maybe the next worst thing.

Bargaining pain with unwanted pleasure, the price being her pride, her dignity, her strength.

It would happen anyway after he was done making pretty artwork of her flesh, after he’d tampered with her limits long enough.

She had the chance to skip to the end. But the price remained her spirit, steep like her fear and heavy like her mind, heart and soul scaled together.

And yet, she made the gamble.

It was either she let him bite, chew and swallow her heart and spirit and soul on repeat or she bit back.

This was her biting back.

This was survival of the fittest.

This was her surviving.

She needed to take her aim now or never, before he did it first. So, she barreled the arrow, struck the bow, leveled her hawkeye and took the shot.

“I love you, Shoto.” She proclaimed.

Arrow flying, hands smooth in receiving his chest before he could tug her towards him. Meeting his hungry approach with a focused desperation of her own, dedicated as she pushed him back so that he was the one sitting and she was the one on top for once.

Hands gentle, without much pressure, drumming up the bruises and scars of his chiseled stomach, one side cold, the other hot.

“Will you let me show you how much I love you?” She questioned.

Time to see if the arrow had hit, lips pressed firmly to his forehead a short second later, before pressing one against his temple, careful to not hurt him where the skin was scarred and sensitive around his eye, then one against his jaw, and neck, and shoulder, and chest, trailing down further and further.

He stirred once she kissed on a particular cut, his hands coming to hold her back as he began sitting up.

Yet she was firm in her resolution, her own hands pushing his shoulders down.

“No, no...” She tutted, tone still soft. Not at all as though she was giving him a demand. Not at all like how he thought a command should sound, what he’d learned his mistakes would grant him from those people he trusted.

Not at all like his father’s voice of tyranny and terror.

“Let me take care of you.” She whispered it, and his heart clenched with memories of how his mother would patch him up after training.

The arrow well planted in his chest now.

“You just lie back...”

She kissed his cheek then, adamant she’d make him cry, make him become soft, help him, to save herself.

“Relax....”

She kissed his lips then and she swore she heard him whimper like a kicked pup, all fragile beneath her, broken and just a boy rather than the cruel man she knew him to be.

And then he was crying. Softly and quietly, but crying nonetheless. Thin streams of saltwater running down the corners of his pretty eyes.

He looked so vulnerable then. Vulnerable like glass, no… like ice melting.

And when the ice had finally melted she could either swim or drown in what ocean was left behind, all depended on how softly she handled him, where one wrong word would make him sharp like bladed icicles again, and the right words would keep him like this. Small, weak, needy, tame. You can only kiss storms when you’re right in the eye of them, where one misstep will send you flying, falling, to your despair, to your death.

She could make no mistakes.

She aligned her naked sex up with his. The steam in the room layered thick with dew on their naked bodies, alongside nervous sweat.

“You and I are the only ones that matter in this entire world, Shoto…”

She sat down, hungrily ripping a groan from his chest at her almost brutal pace, and she moaned as she dipped down to lay herself on his chest, feeling him sink and twitch inside her, fill her up so perfectly, like two things falling into sync, like yin and yang, like balance.

“It’s only you and me between heaven and hell.”

She whispered the words like a chant, like witchcraft, the breath of them tickling his skin as she kissed down his pelvis, still firmly planted on top of him, hand trailing after, running over him smoothly and precisely, careful in their venture, before dropping down from the loft of his hips to entangle her small breakable finger in his destructive hands

“And everything else is just falling snow…”

She rocked her hips, like a smooth wave rolling into shore, thighs cradling his torso snugly, keeping him safe and trapped beneath her as she continued lolling forward on repeat, tentatively feeling after the pressure his hands gave hers, how tightly he squeezed, if it were a form of encouragement or discomfort, their wrists laid on the warmth of her thighs.

“I love you, Snow-Angel.” He cried, voice jagged and so far away from anything she’d ever heard.

And though this was what she’d been aiming for, having it enrol before her was a frightening type of uncharted waters she hadn’t at all any knowledge of how to tackle.

And that fear, the fear of drowning, increased so spectacularly when he sat up.

His fingers slipping from hers, leaving her control and wrapping around her torso instead, tightly, so tightly she feared he’d break her spine.

And then the heat followed, the blistering heat.

And then the cold, the promise of frostbite.

But then… he was still crying...

Crying like a toddler into her shoulder, nuzzling in her neck and all those terrifying and painful promises seemed to mellow, leaving her unscathed yet panicked, as without the pain she had no way of knowing when or where to go, resulting to her simply sitting there, comforting her captor, speared on his cock of her own choosing, with his tears running down her back.

Her heart beating painfully rapid in her chest as she slowly and unsurely raising her freed fingers to wrap into his dual-coloured locks, petting his head and hoping, praying she wasn’t falling prey to any false sense of safety.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

-HABIT

They were doing what they always did.

Simply lounging.

Slugged on the bed, in each-other’s arms. Sickly sweet fumes in the dank room. Air thick like a cloud, dark and grey and matt.

The walls having been erased or rather blurred out into nothing, leaving them there, floating in and about nothing, each-other’s warmth the only constant.

Where in the complete lack of scheduling it had become like schedule, like ritual to simply lay and do nothing, then do something that threw them back into exhaustion which in turn resulted in yet again doing nothing, except maybe sleep.

The day lacked much, and in its lacking there were certain expectations, certain instincts and impulses that had arisen inside her.

She knew something was coming, anticipation, she knew something was supposed to come, and yet they still laid there and did nothing, when they were supposed to be doing… well… something, so that they yet again could go back to doing nothing.

It was safe to say her head had become rather empty at this point.

“Are we forgetting something?” She felt the need to ask, felt the need to hear Dabi tell her, give orders in where she should go and what she should say, something not allowing her to feel the terror of why those necessasties had become second nature or why she found refuge in them.

He mumbled in return, tone dark and scratchy like gravel or coal, evoking something to twist in her lower abdomen and purr with pleasure. “And what would that be?”

Dabi’s hand still fingered a rolled blunt, perfect with his expertise and nimble lanky fingers. Hand dragged to his mouth to take the final blow, smoke puffed out into the small space of the bedroom, layered thickly in the air.

Her eyes puffy and watery and red yet remaining open out of habit. Her lips burned, or rather stung, prickled from the after affects, her mouth dry as though full of ash, and as she breathed she felt the scratchy raw feeling of her throat by how much she’d been coughing earlier.

Dabi was always certain she didn’t take proper drags, therefore resulting in taking the drag for her, locking his lips painfully tight around hers, blowing until her face turned red and he could be sure the smoke reached her lungs. He was never satisfied before her eyes glossed over, blank and stupid, blinking at him so softly, as all off her became softer and softer, both her gaze, her voice, her words, her actions, her thoughts, her resistance.

“I don’t know…” She honestly didn’t, all she felt was that something was missing, that she required something, or that something was required of her, the feeling that she was supposed to be doing something or have something done to her.

Dabi turned his head to look at her, inspecting her features, the cute confusion warping her face into a feeble timid expression, brows softly scrunched together, eyes focusing on nothing yet something as she raked through her empty head, her foggy ditzy subdued head.

A look of near endearment present on his face as he watched on for a second for the sake of amusement.

He cupped her cheek, her eyes quickly skittering to meet his, as though on command, knowing by instinct that was what she was supposed to do.

“Are you waiting for something, doll?”

Her lips quivered, and he could already spot the brimming of bubbling tears that came flooding to the surface. Soon to be spluttering out hopeless mumbles if he didn’t save her from the fall first. He was almost tempted not to, if only to scoop up what was left afterwards, put the pieces back together in whatever order he so wished, but he was feeling benevolent tonight.

His smile was soft as it neared her, deceptively so, kind and well-wishing, as his lips met with hers.

It felt like salvation, it felt like peace, it felt like all was falling into place, the way they should be, and she felt safe, no… she felt saved. From what? She did not know, as she had not the mind to care. All she had the mind for was to kiss back.

She moved more on her own now, with the reminder of his tongue in her mouth, the taste making her feel like she was being welcomed home.

Leg sweeping over his to plant herself in his lap, in her rightful place, feeling the all too familiar poking of his hard cock kept bulged beneath the comfort or discomfort of his briefs and jeans, brushing into and past the thin fabric of her cotton laced panties, soon to be drenched, as on cue, as though she’d been taught that would be best.

Her eyes were wide, wide with falling, with being lost, with wanting him to catch her, to save her, wide with waiting, hanging onto his every movement, as though incapable of doing anything on her own, as though only capable of taking orders. Just as he’d shaped her.

His finger drummed alongside her thighs where she knelt on his cock. His other hand doing the same, meeting where his jeans were kept on, unbuttoning, then zipping down, all so slowly, all to watch her features turn even more lost, into something that looked so adorably like hope.

“Is this what you wanted?”

He pulled his stiff dick out of his boxers, having it spring and stand proudly in the air, curved and pierced with all sorts of fun.

She licked her lips mindlessly, eyeing the pole, wanting, no, needing, no… compelled to pull her underwear aside, revealing what dripping drooling well-trained mess had pooled from her.

Feeling so utterly fulfilled, it feeling so positively right, as though what she’d lost was now returned, was she’d been missing she’d found, and what more, what she’d been missing had been missing her as well, hungrily so, painfully so. It was all she could think of when she eased down onto the towering pole until she was filled up to the brim, only to push down some more to envelope him entirely, feel him stretch and curve inside her.

More after that, she didn’t know what she needed to do, but she was sure she’d know once she got there, she was sure Dabi would be a saint and tell.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

-BOREDOM

She was losing her mind.

It was a horrendous type of silence. Silence that wasn’t really silence at all as it was cut and sliced and murdered and bled out into the tactless endless mocking clicking of Tomura’s consoler.

Sharp aggressive smacks where he thumbed the joysticks, quick slaps with his long veiny bony fingers slamming with unneeded force into fragile buttons.

She felt the sting in her temple, eyes squeezed so impossibly tight to a close as her ears sung with irritation.

“I’m done.”

She only barely recognised her own voice. Though she knew she mouthed the words and she knew she added timber and tone to sound them, but that whine, that sickly sweet defeat that laced the syllables, as though she were crying, as though she were begging, that wasn’t her, but that was who she’d become.

“You win.”

And she wasn’t at all sure if she cared anymore about her defeat.

“No… I’m about to.” He mumbled, eyes glancing to her briefly, split-secondly, before they swiftly, with lightning speed, stuck back to watch the bright screen a foot in front of him, the clicking made by his ruthless fingers never once stopping.

She wondered how such force was even possible, given he had to lift one digit on each hand in order not to destroy what he held so preciously. How he had the grip, the agility, the mobility and speed and precision was something that spurred through her mind each time she watched him go on, winning more so than losing. She guessed it was practice. Sometimes it would amaze her, somedays she would watch mindlessly as he sped through all levels, all ranks, all challenges, all side quests, win after win, wondering if it even posed any challenge, any stimulation when he seemed to complete them all with such ease and finesse, effortlessly.

Sometimes it would amaze her, but this was not one of those times.

She swore her ears were bleeding, they were screaming and crying and strangling all wishes she had of sleep. The bed was too soft and everything was too soft, too quiet, yet not quiet at all and she was so fucking bored, so fucking drained of everything and anything except irritation and the need for something and anything, something loud, something sharp to wake her up, something terrifying or something anything everything that could make her feel something anything everything.

She needed it, and she needed it desperately, all things aside, fuck who she was, and especially fuck that shitty fucking game he was playing.

“Fuck! Your stupid! Game! Tomura!”

She hadn’t even realized she’d slid off the bed and was standing on her numb feet, game controller snatched from him in one second and smashed to smithereens on the wall in the next.

She looked more shook than him, if he was being honest.

Nonetheless.

“What the fuck?!”

He was mad, no, he was fuming.

And she lived for it.

“I swear, you’re gonna pay-”

He hadn’t even reached her before her lips split into a grin, eyes like lightning awaiting the thunder.

“Gladly, punish me, do something, do anything!”

She wasn’t proud with her playful hinting, but you aren’t supposed to live your life without doing things you regret. And though she was playing spoiled brat for a notorious villain, the most dangerous individual she’d ever met, he also had a cock crafted by monsters that seemed to hit every spot it needed to, finding and creating new ones as it filled her up to the brim and she was salivating just by the thought of being split open on it, especially by seeing what mood she’d conjured from him.

But, even though her pride dripped from between her thighs, she was not too eager to plainly say that she desired his dick balls-deep within her needy cunt.

“What?”

He’d stopped in his tracks, eyeing her. And though some part of him wanted to believe what disgusting depraved thoughts he had regarding why she was seeking his attention, he knew better, rendering her annoyance to simply picking a fight with her captor, quite like a how child throws tantrums at their parents or prisoners riot.

Turns out her playful words did little to sway his thoughts regarding the situation.

“You’ve been playing your dumb videogames all week!” She whined, almost screeching. Eyes angry and lips pouty.

He wanted nothing more but to show her what bad behaviour would give her, but seeing how punishment would be giving her what she had requested, he wasn’t too quick to fold to his desires.

“It feels like I’m dying, make me feel something, anything…”

She was pleading he realized, and stopped in wonder at the revelation.

She was pleading with him, begging for him, for anything of him, anything meaning anything…

Yet… surely not what he wanted it to mean.

“No.” He forced on a nonchalant tone. “You smashed my controller, I’m not rewarding you for that, there are nicer ways of asking…” He drawled and turned casually to get back in his chair, pondering his need to purchase another custom-made console, thinking he had a couple things he wanted to fix anyway.

Was she really going to have to be so literal? Was she really going to have to bend over and beg for him to take her? Was she really going to have to serve him her heart, her spirit, her mind, and soul and body on a silver platter for him to take it?

She thought he was greedy. She thought he was depraved enough to hear what she was asking of him.

No way he was ignoring the invitation, right?

If that were the case, he could at least mock her for her begging, but he barely seemed to even recognise her change in attitude at all. Granted, she couldn’t really see much of his expression beneath that mop of hair.

She wanted to scream, pull her hair out of her head, yet as her knees hit the floor and Tomura sat back down in his chair, she realized she had but one thing to do.

Crawl.

She was silent, shuffling under the table, taking one gluttonous drag through her nose, mouth watering at the reek of male musk, his musk, Tomura’s musk, a smell so undeniably him.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to let him know she was there yet, but decided to be a tease and better prepare him for what she was about to do.

Experienced and confident fingers pressed a woman’s touch to his ankles, running skilled tender touches over the flexing of his calves’ muscles, despite feeling him tense beneath her. Undiscouraged as they went smoothly over his thighs to reach the hem of his boxers, reaching inside them to pull out what she was proud to feel thick and stiff and just as needy as her, warm and pulsating in her tiny palm.

Handling him delicately. First she licked her lips wet and gave the head a pretty popping kiss, before producing her tongue like a pillow for the cap and flicking the pink muscle from side to side under the sensitive skin that was already oozing with precum onto her tastebuds.

She her his breath stifle, but allowed him no rest as she closed her warm wet mouth around him.

He broke instantly.

Now knowing it wasn’t his mind playing tricks.

“Fuck! You win, you win!” He hissed, hand wrapping around her throat to pull her up from her conquering. “If I’d known what a needy little slut you were I'd have given you cock earlier. You should’ve just said so...”

They both giggled ludically as he threw her down on the bed, Thrill already bubbling up a storm on her insides with such lust to be fucked out of her bloody mind she was quaking from head to toe and screaming out her moan when he pushed perfectly into her wetness in one fell swoop.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

-NECESSITY

He heard the padding of her approach. Soft footed and gentle. Not at all like how she would usually stomp around in rage of being trapped.

He didn’t look up at first, thinking she didn’t want anything to do with him, as per usual, yet in his blurry unfocused vision he could spot she’d stopped in front of him, waiting for his acknowledgement, where he sat on the coach, undisturbed and undisturbing until now, scrolling through his phone.

He decided to ignore her, testing to see if she’d speak up and announce her demands, yet was surprised to see she stood there patiently, no words, no screams.

Curiosity getting the better of him he looked up, finding her standing there bare-footed, skin wet, towel wrapped around her, hair dripping, eyes leaking, though not from shower-water, but from brimming with tears.

His instincts kicked in then at the sight of her.

“Are you okay?”

He sprung from the coach, expecting her to push him away once he reached for her, yet was surprised to feel her attach to him, latch around him, welcome his warmth and his offered condolence instead of her usual rejection and snarling.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry, why are you crying?”

He realized then that her body was quaking, seemingly febrile, so much plead knotted between her brows he’d never seen anything like it.

It made him concerned to say the least, eyes searching her body for any possible explanation in the form of bruises, thinking maybe she’d hurt herself, already scolding himself for having left her alone.

“Baby? What's going-”

He didn’t smell it at first, what with the scent being washed off and all at the hands of her shower, but the aroma was soon layered thick in the room, growing alongside her desperation.

A scent so heavenly, so lavish and sweet and ambrosial, already making water pool in his mouth.

Her shaking made sense then, so did the tears, and the desperation and the potent adorable look of despair written all over her pitiful little cute face.

“Oh… I see.”

He was going to take advantage of this.

He was going to ring it for every drop it was worth.

“Does my little angel need me?” His voice shed its concern swiftly, curling into something sweetly sadistic and salacious.

His fingers hung onto her chin, or rather, her chin hung off his fingers.

“If you ask nicely perhaps I’ll-”

“You’re being cruel.” She stated, voice so sweet, so vulnerable, breaking as she sniffled, bottom lip trembling so preciously, as he wasn’t sure the shower-water was instead not indeed sweat. Knees weak, arms heavy, head pounding, stomach hurting, eating her from the inside in desperate need to feed the bottomless hunger that was growing and weeping in her lower abdomen.

Her hand held loosely over her stomach, visibly shaking.

He ignored her statement. “That was a long shower…” It was an insinuating observation, cocky in its nature. “Were you trying to help yourself on the showerhead?”

He quirked a brow at him, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth.

“Trying to get out of grovelling for me, hm? Despite knowing how my cock is the only thing that can save you.”

He was gleeful, sadistic bliss tickling through his body, sending pleasure through every nerve, because he knew, he knew he was right and he knew what was coming. He knew she would fold, surrender, succumb, and he knew how grateful she’d be afterwards, dripping with his cum, eyes opium-blown, euphoric and fluttering, and looking at him with such wholehearted, such won-over love.

Though, know all that filled her eyes were glistening tears and swirling suffering.

“It hurts…”

His heart clenched at that.

She looked like a toddler, small and weak and helpless and innocent, as though if it weren’t for her predicament she wouldn’t be abusing every ounce of energy in her being to make him miserable.

How ironic, she being the miserable one now, all dependent on him.

“It hurts, please, please help me, help me, Keigo.”

She was aching. Her small needy hands coming to grab at him, to pull him closer as she sobbed, whining so beautifully for him.

“I need you, Keigo.”

He was getting wrapped up in it, hanging onto every perfect needy jerking she did to try and get closer, to try and help herself against him, licking it up as though he was parched

And he was, he truly was, she’d drained him dry, rejecting each and every proclamation of his love. She’d laughed at it, waged war against it, and here she was, finally, embracing it, begging for it.

He realized, he needed this just as much as she did.

He didn’t need anything weightless like a stupid apology, he just needed to hear her say those pretty words.

“I need Hawks.”

Her eyes grew dark, pupils blown wide with lust as her words were laced with such feral carnality.

His hands grabbed ahold of her ample hips, grinding her into himself, where she met his attack by effortlessly maneuvering her legs to wrap around his torso, hands cupping his face as she peered into his eyes, wanting to drown herself in the gold.

“I need you deep inside me, filling me up, wreaking me…”

Her lips hovered above his own as she clutched tightly onto him, begging with every inch of her body, clinging to him as though it were for her very life.

“I need your cum, I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk or talk or think or feel, until I’m numb and all I can see is you, all I can think is you, all I am is you and yours.”

He was left awestruck by the way she looked at him, as though he were the world, or her god, with so much love and so much desperate desire and fear.

A fear he’d come to know all too much chasing her. A fear of rejection, a fear of having her heart broken, a feeling that’s all too much like dying.

“I need your love, please, please love me, Keigo.”

He couldn’t refuse, despite wanting to have used this opportunity as a lesson, he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave her suffering and he most definitely couldn’t leave himself suffering now that his cock was hungry for the attention she was all too eager to give him.

SHINSO HITOSHI

-SUBMITANCE

She knew she should be disgusted, she knew she should be angry, she should be fighting it.

If she were the feral creature quite alike the lioness or tigress or any other wild cat, she should by law be scratching and clawing and snarling. She should revolt, reject, uproar at the feel of a collar around her throat.

But here she was, big wide glossy opium-soaked eyes staring up at her Master and his compelling lilac orbs, feeling her stomach curl at the feel of his big fist tugging her leash as he hovers above her, purring like a little kitten, like the little kitten she was, at the feel of his swollen thick cock filling her up so snuggly, breeding her good, while she drools at the collar put, not just on her throat, but on her mind, panting over the thought of having his commands lick every nerve of her body, making her twist and bend and bow all to his wishes.

Fluffy tail wrapped around his leg, holding onto him in the softest form of embrace as her hands are otherwise occupied with being tied to the bed-post.

She whimpered, aching fingers wanting to touch, to run smooth soft fingertips over his skin, his scars, tangle in his wild lavish purple locks.

She bit her lip and clenched around the member inside her, making him groan as he bottomed-out and pulled back again.

“Could- could Master… untie me?” She needed to ask, voice timid and hopeful, again feeling him slowly inch into her core, messaging her insides, her walls kissing alongside his girth, sucking on him gratefully.

He quirked an eyebrow, as if to ask why, or to tell her why he couldn’t do that.

“I want to touch you…” She pleaded, a confession so sweet and voice anything but brazen or wanton, blinking shamefully, guilty of her lust, even though in the light of what he’d done to her and made her do to him, it sounded like mere child’s play, something she shouldn’t even be allowed to be embarrassed about.

His eyes scanned her, curious, doubting her, yet having felt how her legs wrapped around his torso, and the ever-playful cuddling tail that had slithered between his thighs and latched itself around his ankle, tugging on him like such a clingy little devoted kitty.

His lips curled up into a smile, looking down at his little bashful housebroken pet, thrilled to see her look up at him too, eyes full of awe on both sides, lustful, loving.

He pushed himself fully into her, cockhead kissing her cervix, and she gave a mew, moaning while he bowed down to meet her lips with his.

His hands danced up her arms, drumming alongside her limbs before they met with the knots around her wrists, tugging them loose.

Once she was free she hesitated. Eyes still so wide, as though asking for permission, as though asking for guidance, or… as though she were waiting for him to tell her what to do, and then, as though a question was burning at her lips.

“Master… ask me a question?” She requested, slowly bringing her hands down from their position, placing them around the back of his neck, fingers playing with his soft wild hair.

He needed to take a second or two to really fathom what she’d just said, where his mind seemed to leap once he did.

“Something you don’t want the answer to.”

He swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling a rush of blood pool in his cheeks. His breathe grew heavy and eyes intense.

“Do you know what you’re asking?”

He needed to be sure, he needed to hear her say it, admit to it

His doubts were answered as she blinked, biting her lips, looking away shyly, clearly knowing how wrong it was of her to request him entering and playing with her mind like that.

“Yes…”

He couldn’t help but smile at her timidity, how she blushed under his gaze. But still, he needed her to give him the entirety of her desire.

“Tell me…”

He rested his forehead on her hers, happy with butterflies in his stomach at the feel of her affectionate hands running through his locks.

“What do you want from me, Kitten?”

Her breath shuddered, legs climbing higher up his back, pulling him closer. Their eyes so adamant on looking, drowning in the other. His storm of lilac so dominant and dangerous, making her mouth water and toes curl and head flutter with knowing how she was completely trapped, completely where he wanted her, loving it all the same, finding refuge in the fact, finding safety and belonging and peace.

“I want…”

Her eyes where only wide, wide with hope and searching for if he’d catch her when she now jumped, leaped into his arms.

“I want you. I want your- your teeth in my mind, marking me, making me yours, making me… feel…”

All of her was clinging to him now, her tail so neatly and snuggly slithered around his ankle, as though chaining him to her, her hands as well entangled with the unruly hair at the nape of his neck, her legs wrapped around him so tightly and desperately, pussy clenching around his cock like a vice, and her eyes hanging off of all and everything of what was giving her.

“Making you feel what?” He pushed, giving another thrust where he barely pulled out only to rock into her again.

“Safe.”

That was such an innocent word, such a sweet wish it made his heart hurt with something he couldn’t quite place, whether it was guilt or satisfaction he couldn’t tell.

“Will you do that? For me?”

He could get lost in those eyes of hers forever, those moon-big round eyes, opium-black and blown pupils so wide he thought he was falling through space with how much they reflected the limited light inside their room.

“Do you love me?” He asked then, fearing the answer.

“Yes.”

A word can be so many things, a vow, a promise, an echo, a welcome.

Her eyes went blank then, but not before she gave the softest hum as though to say thank you as she felt his presence seep into her mind. Her limbs losing all types of stress, becoming numb and soft. All her worries blanketed, where all she dreamt of was velvet lilac-tinted oceans, getting drunk on grapes and the smell of lavender and all things purple like those great godlike eyes staring down at her, the ones keeping her spellbound and tethered in a deadlock, the ones she belonged to.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

-COMFORT

The slamming shut of the apartment door, followed by the digital clicking of the lock being closed is how she knew he was home.

He hadn’t said anything.

Where usually he would at least greet her as she quickly sprung across the marble floors to welcome him home, take his jacket, kiss his cheek, all so perfectly like he’d taught her.

He hadn’t said anything.

No ‘I missed you’ or ‘thank you, princess’.

He hadn’t said anything at all.

But most things with Kai weren’t verbal anyway.

She’d learned to pick up cues, analyze a raised brow, or a slight shift in posture, or the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes.

He hadn’t said anything, but the scowl that accompanied his aura spoke volumes to the girl. Finding his state of mind, concerned with what she found, as it was not his usual nonchalance nor his occasional contempt, but bitter.

He groaned then, once she’d helped him out of his jacket, green and tacky, purple faux fluff, something so out-of-place on Kai, yet also serving as one of his key recognizable traits.

He kicked off his shoes, also something so very out of character it brought her concern, followed by him shuffling, feet dragging on the floors in complete opposition to how he would usually walk, with his head held high, regarding the floor as though it should be grateful to be gifted by him walking on it.

Now though, he slumped, still without a word, up the stairs, sauntering without haste, without enthusiasm, all in goal of reaching the bed, which he laid out flat on once he got to it.

“Are you okay?” She asked timidly, having followed him and standing unsurely on the threshold of the door, not knowing whether she was welcome or not.

He simply pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, giving her the answer she’d guessed already.

“Can I do anything to help?” Again, she kept her voice soft and tender, hopeful; cheerful in hopes of cheering him up.

“I doubt it.” His answer was curt and bitter as he sat up on the bed, tugging loose his tie with an exhausted growl of irritation.

She padded around the bed then, not exactly having been given an invitation to stay, but not exactly having been given any indication to leave either.

Careful as she climbed up behind him, like a cat easing in on its prey, gracious and soft and focused on not alarming or disturbing the goal.

“Surely there must be something I can do?”

His ears picked up on the play in her voice, the thin hairs at the back of his neck rising, yet his curiosity was stifled as her hands, once so small and insignificant, became the hands of God.

Fingers kneading into his back, thorough and forceful yet welcomed by him through a breathy guttural groan, closing his eyes with much needed rest as he let himself fall completely to the feeling of her messaging all his tense stress right out of his shoulders, seemingly sucking all the bad out of him.

He gave yet another throaty groan as her fingers rubbed and dug into his back, her hand stopping his head from slugging forward, cupping him tenderly and guided him to rest against the softness of her chest instead.

“Do you feel better now?”

She spoke like how a mother should, sweet like summer breeze, just above a whisper, eager to please, affectionate, without ill-will, without anything to gain, selfless and beautiful, and something he was in desperate need of.

He moaned, a long dragged out breathy moan, one filled with such potent gratitude it made her smile.

“Getting there...”

She hummed, her hands like absolution handling his back like dough, thumbs rubbing the stiffness into tender soft flesh once again, working through the knots, before climbing, mounting his shoulders and ensnaring his neck, gentle fingers running smoothly to unbutton his shirt, her face nuzzling in his neck as it was exposed to her, soft plump lips kissing the sensitive skin found there, knowing exactly where to focus, hearing him moan in relief as she zeroed in on his soft-spot.

Her hands running, dancing down his chest, unbuttoning the last of his buttons, helping him slide out of it.

Quick to take her bra off, still while kissing his neck, before pushing her warm soft mounds into his back, hugging herself against him.

“How about now?” Her voice like honey as her words tickled on his neck.

“Almost…”

She slithered around to seat herself in his lap, hands cupping his cheeks as she leaned in to kiss him, naked chest rubbing up against naked chest, warm and soft, homey and safe.

Her hand drummed playfully down his stomach, reaching his pants, moving skillfully on its own to undo the belt-buckle, then the button, then pulling down the zipper.

He shuffled them down his thighs on his own, still keeping his chin lifted to receive her kisses. His clothed erection bumping up into the thin protection of her panties.

Her hand, still so smoothly, reached under the band of his boxers to pull him out. Though his rough way of ripping her lacy underwear off managed to break through her calm demeanor as she yelped a bit and flinched.

However the surprise was quickly followed by giggles as she continued to kiss him, feeling his smirk against her lips and soon his hand cupping her ass before running hungry pressured fingertips around her thigh to play with her slit, thumb roughly pushing into her clit as other reckless digits ran though her folds to test the waters, quite parallel to how carefully she handled his cock with her own elegant hand, rubbing him up and down ever so gently, with the tenderness he carved.

He hissed once her thumb rubbed over his sensitive head, biting into her lip, and though his beastly impulses used to alarm her, now she could only think of them as an invitation.

Holding his cock up to her entrance, giving him time to remove his fingers from her now soaking folds.

She sunk down on him slowly, moaning softly against his lips as he groaned upon hers.

“Better now?” She asked, without giving way to the cockiness her question carried, but he deciphered it with ease nonetheless, giving her ass a playful squeeze before guiding her to lay down on her back, nibbling on her neck as he chuckled at how she disguised her devilish naughty humour as being innocent, wanting to make her choke on that haughtiness as he gave a quick sharp thrust up into her.

Her moan rung throughout the massive penthouse where no doors were kept closed, as he licked the sin right off her expression with one needy hungry kiss and a promise as well as a threat.

“I will be once I hear you scream my name, princess.”

TIP-JAR

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sourholland · 3 years

Note

Ooooh angst “what about us?” “there is no us, there never was.” with tom plssss! Really love ur work 🌸

Last Kiss || Tom Holland

Summary → After a fling you and Tom had started while filming a movie together, he tells you that you two can’t be together anymore. Once you get home, Tom let’s you know that he made a mistake.

AN → This was supposed to come out yesterday, I just got lazy and waited to edit it. I can’t tell if I like how this came out or hate it, either way, I hope you guys like this. Also in honor of the Fearless re-record!!

Pairing(s) → Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Warnings → Strong Language, Suggestive, Alcohol Use

Prompt(s) → 38

Word Count → 1.9k

The ringing of your phone sounded through your apartment loudly, the sound of the rain pattering loudly against the windows out-looking New York City. You set down the remote, feet padding against the cold hardwood while you looked for your buzzing cellphone.

You didn’t bother glancing at the caller ID, picking it up bringing it to your ear all in one quick motion.

“Hello?” You said, pulling a wine glass down from the cabinet.

“Y/N?” Tom’s voice came through the phone.

Your heart dropped, a breath catching in your throat while you stood in your kitchen. He was across the country, wanting nothing to do with you. He repeated your name through the phone, asking if you were there.

“Yeah, I’m here,” you answered, pouring more wine than you’d originally intended into the glass.

“Isn’t it like one in the morning in England?” You asked, listening to the muffles coming through the speaker.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s late here. I just couldn’t sleep, and I started to think of you. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have called.”

You sat at one of the barstools, swirling the red contents of the glass around. You wanted to yell at him, or maybe you wanted to tell him how much you loved him. You sat silently for a few moments, bare legs cold from the draft.

“Tom,” you started. “I just don’t get why we have to rehash the past, you know? I came back to New York, just like you told me I should. You’re working on whatever new movie, I’m doing the same. I don’t know—I just think we should leave whatever happened between us alone. You made it very clear that it was me that you didn’t want,” you mumbled, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater.

He audibly sighed, the ruffling of sheets coming through the phone. He was probably in bed, if he wasn’t so far away you’d have asked him if this was a sad attempt at getting you to sleep with him.

“I was fucking stupid, and I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry, I’ve said that a million times,” his voice was hoarse and tired.

“I’ve already forgiven you, Tom. I just can’t keep doing this—this thing with you.”

You both went quiet for a minute, the only sound being the noise from outside in the bustling streets of the city and the rain. You knew you should hang up, block his number and forget about anything you two ever had. You’d tried a few times, unable to bring yourself to doing it.

“What about us?” He asked lowly, a twinge of hurt in his tired voice.

“There is no us, Tom,” you replied. “I’m not even sure there ever was.”

He didn’t say anything, you wanted to let out the repressed cry and tell him you didn’t mean it. That you were sorry and that you thought about him more than you’d like to admit. Something in you knew if you didn’t do your best to cut it off, you two would continue down the same everlasting cycle.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay.”

The line went silent for a moment, and then your home screen lit up. The call had been ended. You downed the remainder of your wine, ditching the cup and just going for the bottle. You thought about calling him back, about apologizing and booking a plane ticket like some lovesick teenager.

You opened Instagram and began scrolling through your feed of posts, liking and commenting occasionally. You weren’t anywhere near drunk, merely tipsy and heartbroken. Your finger lingered on the button to go live, wondering if you really wanted thousands of people to see you in this state.

You left the kitchen and instead propped your phone against the couch, taking a seat on the white rug of your living room. You wearily pressed the go live button, raising the bottle to your chapped lips once more. You are pathetic, you thought.

“Hey guys!” You smiled at the camera and outpouring of greetings in the comments. Within a few minutes you’d racked in a few thousand viewers. You grabbed the guitar sitting against your wall and strummed the cords lightly while it sat in your lap.

userone: you are so adorable

usertwo: can you please say hi?!!!??

userthree: it’s my birthday y/n!

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very active on social media, guys. It’s been super crazy traveling back and forth from London to New York and then having to leave again in a few weeks. And now I’m sitting on my living room floor with a bottle of wine,” you laughed. A few familiar people popped into the comments of the live, some you’ve worked with and some you’ve yet to meet in person.

florencepugh: y/n!!!

gracieabrams: might just bust out the wine just for u

“Florence, I can’t wait to see you soon!” You smiled, “Gracie, I swear it’s making everything like a hundred times better.”

userfour: i’m in love with her

userfive: y/n saving 2021???!!!

“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be singing,” you flushed. You did sing, before getting into acting you’d post a lot on Instagram and TikTok. It’d always been more of a hobby, something you loved to do, but weren’t good enough to pursue.

“I’ve had a little too much to drink,” you added. “So don’t get upset if I’m a little pitchy, guys.”

usersix: if she’s pitchy i’m not sure what i am

userseven: sing taylor swift!!!

“Okay, okay!” You chuckled, scrolling through the hundreds of comments saying to play Taylor Swift. You’d only just been crying to like three of her albums a few hours before.

“How about the chorus—and maybe the bridge too, yeah, that’ll work,” you mumbled to yourself, fiddling with the strings. “Alright, guys, Last Kiss it is. I won’t bore you all with the whole thing, though. I could never do Taylor justice.”

“And I’ll go sit on the floor, wearing your clothes”

Getting involved with him was singlehandedly the most stupid decision you’ve ever made, you thought. Late nights in his flat after long nights on set, ordering in and just talking, you two would talk as if you’d known each other your whole lives. It was something about the way he’d let you wear his clothes, or the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear while you told him about whatever insignificant thing that had happened that day.

“All that I know,

I don’t know how to be something you miss”

The car ride to the airport was the worst, it was grey and cold outside. There was makeup running down your face, mascara covering your eyes generously. You’d wrapped filming a week earlier, unable to bring yourself to walk away from him.

You couldn’t tell the driver to turn you around, or could you? Tom had already made it clear that you were both in different places in your career. This wasn’t what he wanted. You weren’t what he wanted.

“I never thought we’d have our last kiss”

He had held you just a little tighter, you ran your fingers through his hair for just a second longer. The taste of each other lingering on the both of your lips. Like you knew it would be the last time he’d hold you without knowing.

His stupid smiled, the way he pulled away and ran his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. You were almost wrapped around his finger, absolutely sickened with desire and infatuation for him.

“I never imagined we’d end like this,

Your name, forever the name on my lips”

The day you’d left to come home to New York started with a huge argument between the two of you. He’d basically just told you that you’d both known from the beginning you wouldn’t last together. It wasn’t a matter of how much you cared for one another, but that it was impossible, as he put it.

His eyes glossed over and bloodshot, you a complete and utter mess. Slamming the door behind you as you left was one of the most painful things you’d ever endured. Even more painful, the fact that he never came after you.

“So I’ll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep”

“I can feel you staring at me, love,” he murmured against the pillow.

Your face heated, eyes averting to the stream of light through the sheerness of the curtains. He leaned into you a moment later, his lips soft on your own. He was warm, he was always so warm. You cupped the side of his face gently, pulling him in a bit harder.

“And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe”

You dropped your bags, stepping into your apartment after months of being away. It felt quieter than usual, desolate and empty from your being away. It was dark out, the illumination of the bright city lights from your windows.

You glanced down at your phone for a moment, not a missed call, not a text, not even a fucking notification. He’d simply told you to go home, nothing more nothing less.

“I keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are,

Hope it’s nice where you are”

You’d texted Harrison a few times, regretting it almost immediately after. He was sweet, telling you that Tom would come around eventually and to just be patient. You’d relied on those kind words for some time, eventually deleting them all together.

After Tom’s first text, you’d realized he wasn’t coming around or regretting what he’d said to you. He was lonely, maybe even a bit desperate. For months you had been there to listen to him and hold him, and now you were gone.

You’d fed into it the first few times, sitting on the phone with him for hours at a time. Then you started to feel worse hearing his voice, silent sobs escaping as you’d listen to him ramble. Then your finger would linger over the decline button a little longer than usual when he’d call, until eventually you started to use it.

“And I hope the sun shines and it’s a beautiful day,

And something reminds you,

You wish you had stayed”

Once you started to go out with other guys, Tom’s ‘I miss you’ texts became more infrequent. Paparazzi would snap pictures, and the next morning they’d be plastered all over the internet.

There was no doubt he was seeing you going out with other people, watching article after article about who you were dating surface. Would he be jealous? No, you thought. Tom was probably doing the same thing as you. Hopeless hookups, meaningless blind dates.

“You can plan for a change in the weather and time”

One early morning, you found yourself in a sweatshirt you’d stolen from one of his drawers and forgotten to return. Listening to the morning rush of traffic and hugging yourself, noticing the lingering smell of his cologne.

You wondered if he knew you’d taken it, if he would think you were pathetic wearing it months after you two had broken things off. This only made you clutch yourself a little tighter, closing your eyes and trying to remember.

“But I never planned on you changing your mind”

#tom holland imagines #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

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wattpadscapcons · 3 years

Text

1 year later (Pregame! Detective! Shuichi x Reader)

tw: prolonged separations, emotional breakdowns, starts out kinda sad but turns to fluff fluff fluff fluffy fluff

Word Count: 1355

"I hate to turn out of the blue uninvited, but I couldn't stay away. I couldn't fight it."

It's been a full year since you seen the bluenette detective standing in front of you. He'd said he wanted some space and suddenly disappeared altogether. It had broke your heart, but you waited patiently for him to come back. You knew he'd come back to you no matter what happened, because of all of the times he swore up and down that you were the one for him. Sadly every day he was gone, the less faith you had in that opinion, you spent many nights by the phone just waiting for that call. All you got was a cold and bitter silence.

You felt a mix of different emotions all at once. On one hand, you wanted to slap him, and you had to fight yourself from doing so. On the other, you wanted to tackle him to the floor in a hug. An awkward silence sat between you two as you started to tear up.

"Where have you been? I've been waiting all this time for you to come back..."

"I was sent undercover, I didn't want to say anything and make you worry about me."

"That's all I did for the last year....Do you have any idea just how many nights I slept with the phone next to me hoping you'd call me back? Did you not get any of my messages? The missed phone calls? For god's sake Shuichi...."

The crack in your voice made him wince, he hated being the reason you were in pain.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to keep you safe Y/N. I was sent to work with Japan's Drug Task force in a co-op with the FBI overseas. When going after drug dealers, no one is safe, even thousands of miles away. If anything were to have happened to you I would've never forgive myself..."

"Is it over with? Are you home for good now?"

"Thankfully yes. I was reassigned back to my unit as of yesterday, and just got back today. You have no idea just how much I wanted to see you...To hear your voice...."

He tried to approach you for a hug, but sensed too much tension for that. For a few minutes he tried to find his voice again, he found it hard to get anything out. There was so much he wanted to tell you, he just couldn't say a thing.

"Can I come in?"

With a sad laugh, you let him in. "Shuichi it's your apartment..."

That's right, he'd been gone for so long he practically forgot he had rented this apartment out even before you moved in with him. While he wasn't entirely sure you would have stayed, and had constantly thought of all the "what if's" everyday he was gone. It was complete torture being away from you for so long.

He had reached out for you once again to see if you'd slap his hand away or move in some way to avoid being touched. Thankfully you didn't. Upon that, he pulled you into a desperate hug, burring his head into you neck. He didn't even notice that he was shaking, he had kept months worth of emotions bottled up, and seeing you made them flow to the top. You had no real idea how to deal with the explosive reaction that followed suit.

One minute he was fine, smiling at you after being gone for so long, and now? Now he's full on sobbing into your neck, followed by a string of pitiful "I'm sorry" 's being ripped from his vocal cords. The pure guilt and effects of prolonged separation anxiety had finally kicked in it seemed, leaving your boyfriend an utter mess. You had to move him to the couch to keep him from knocking the two of you over onto the floor.

He was beginning to sound like a broken record, and you did your best to console him. Anything to get him to calm down, or to at least get him to stop crying. You ended up rocking him back and forth as he stayed clutched against you like a child. You peppered his face with kisses and gently smoothed back his hair to aid in you attempts to soothe him. After a while, he felt like he could breathe freely again, despite the heavy pain in his chest still being there.

"Shuichi it's ok...You're ok..."

"I'm sorry...."

He was hoarse, painfully so. Your shirt was soaked with tears. He was still gripping onto the back of your shirt. like you'd disappear if he budged even a little bit. It was a very uncomfortable position to say the least.

"It's ok, you're home now. That's all that matters right now. Ok? Just try to breathe..."

You'd never seen him so upset before, and it was terrifying to see him break down so quickly like this. Kagehara was usually so calm, it's like he became a whole other person in the matter of minutes. Just how long had he been beating himself up over all of this?

You let him stay in that position for a while, until you had to pry him off of you, much to his protests.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up a little..."

He had let out a few whines as you guided him to the bathroom and had him splash some warm water into his face.

"Doesn't that feel a little better?"

"Mmm...."

It was very clear that he'd be a little moody for the rest of the night. There was no real way of helping it other than giving him the affection he'd been missing out on over the past year.

"I think it's about time we went to bed yeah?"

"It's only 10pm...."

You cupped his face in your hands and wiped away what remained of his tears, causing another whine out of the detective. He became touch starved all over again due to that damn trip didn't he?

"Shuichi, half the city is asleep by now, but you wouldn't know that would you? No....You stay up all night on cases! I'm going to have to hide the coffee maker from you to get you to sleep huh?"

He lets out a fit of giggles at the comment, it's nice to see him smiling again.

"You just might have to."

It was very obvious that he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon, but he followed you to bed anyways. He wasn't all to hesitant to curling up around you, to which you happily clung to him. His fingers playing with your hair was a rather relaxing feeling.

"I missed you so much..."

"I missed you too."

He's never going to make the same mistake again, the sheer amount of separation he created was way too much for him to bare. He should've denied the request to work overseas, but of course, he wouldn't have got enough money for the ring. He wanted the custom setting to be a surprise for when he came back. It definitely wasn't the right time to ask you, it'll be a while until things return normal. He can wait, it can wait. You waited long enough for him to come back, the least he can do is make sure to make you as happy as he could before he was to be shipped off back to work in the coming weeks. He has some vacation time built up that he hasn't used yet....

'Maybe the police commissioner wouldn't mind if I took a little time off for once?'

Anything that would allow him to stay in bed with you a little longer would be good enough for him. He couldn't just leave you alone after all the time after all, not after you waited so patiently for him. He'll make it up to you one way or another, he just prays that this isn't a dream. He couldn't handle waking up halfway across the ocean and not having you in his arms, it would utterly destroy him.

@legendarytreasurerhighway get yo damn man he's crying

#pregame shuichi imagine #pregame shuichi x reader #pregame #pregame shuichi #pregame drv3 #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #danganronpa killing harmony #danganronpav3 #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa #shuichi saihara x reader smut #shuichi x reader #shuichi saihara #kagehara x reader #kagehara

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kpopmalereader · 3 years

Text

duality ; lee jeno

• summary: jeno normally has a very soft and nonthreatening aura, but when it comes to someone hurting you, he becomes intimidating and protective • pairing: lee jeno x male reader • word count: 2106 • to do

“You look very nice today.” Jeno kisses your temple as he passes.

You look down. You’re wearing an old shirt of Jeno’s that most likely originated as someone else’s and a pair of sweatpants that have definitely seen better days. Jeno glances over as you examine yourself.

“Thank you?” You question.

He grabs his things from your kitchen table. He slides his phone into his pocket and walks back over to you. His hands snake around your waist. He kisses the side of your neck gently. You stand up straighter, no longer leaning against the counter and helplessly waiting for your coffee to finish brewing.

“It’s not about your clothes, it’s you.”

He definitely needs to leave in the next few minutes to be on time but part of you, a tiny non-thinking part, wants him to be late so you can stay this way for a while. Both of you go quiet. The sound of coffee dripping into your cup is the only thing you can heart until Jeno checks his watch. You lean your head back. One of Jeno’s hands moves up. It inches up to your chest and he taps an unknown rhythm on your skin. He kisses your jaw, then your shoulder, before pulling away.

He rubs your arm and takes a second to watch you. “I love you.”

You smile. It’s wonderful.

Jeno is sure he’s never seen anything better.

“I love you too.”

As he opens your front door and you pour your first cup of coffee, he smiles at you. There’s something in his eyes you can’t quite decipher. The only word that comes to mind is fondness. “And you do look exceptionally good today.”

You hop on a bar stool. You lean over, trying to flag down the bartender. You attempt to call for the man but the blaring music in the background drowns out your words. Just as the bartender begins to turn towards you, someone to your left pushes you to the side. You stumble off the stool. You don’t fall fully to the ground but stumble for a second before you can recover. He saddles up on the stool you were sitting on and waves his card around.

Before you’re fully recovered from the half-fall, Jeno appears by your side. His face is pulled into contorted concern. He’s holding your arm gently and glancing around for the cause.

“Did he push you?” He asks.

You’re sure he already knows the answer. Especially when, after he makes sure you’re okay, he taps on the man’s shoulder. The man blows him off. Jeno grabs his shoulder and the man tries to shrug it off, continuing to wave his hand at the bartender. You can see Jeno roll his shoulders back. He tilts his head slightly. Even behind him, you’re growing worried for the sitting man.

He grabs the man’s shoulder much harder and pulls the man to face him.

“What?” The man snaps. He comes face-to-face with Jeno. “What do you want?”

“Apologize to my husband.” Jeno states.

The word at the end makes your eyes go wide. It knocks the wind out of you much worse than the fall did.

The man looks over Jeno’s shoulder. He rolls his eyes and turns back around. “He was in my way.”

You can hear Jeno scoff. He grabs the man once more. He lifts the man off the seat. “Apologize. Now.”

“Or what?” The man stands around the same height as Jeno. Maybe an inch or so taller.

He glares at Jeno but Jeno’s posture doesn’t change. Jeno turns slightly, keeping his face directed towards the man but directing him in your direction.

“You don’t want to know how much I would do for him. Apologize, or I drag you outside.”

Something in Jeno’s face must convince the man he doesn’t want to pursue that argument. He rolls his eyes again.

“You’re not even worth it.” He holds his hands up, still pretending to be strong in this scenario, despite him backing away from you and Jeno. “Sorry.”

He over pronounces the two-syllable word and finally walks away. You look to Jeno, slightly concerned for him but more confused about the situation. Jeno rolls his eyes. He looks towards you and smiles, a complete opposite impression of the person he was before.

“What was that?” You ask.

“He pushed you.” Jeno answers. It seems simple to him when is anything but simple to you. He pulls the stool closer to him and points to it. “come on, you wanted to order?”

You look at him. You still have semi-wide eyes. You repeat. “What was that?” He was being rude.” He pats the stool and leans over the bar. “I knew you weren’t going to say anything, so I did.”

You jump unto the stool. His hand rests on your thigh. He raises his other hand slightly, holding two fingers up. The bartender walks towards you immediately. You put your order in and Jeno orders another drink. He looks at you with something between a smirk and a smile.

The bartender begins to walk away. You feel weirdly nervous in Jeno’s stare. He can tell you’re thinking of something. You don’t want to share but both of you are aware that with just a few more seconds of Jeno looking at you, every thought you’ve ever had will be spilled to the floor. Sure enough, you’re opening your mouth to repeat the wondering statement bouncing and repeating in your head.

“You called me your husband.”

Jeno doesn’t act like it’s as big of a deal as you feel it is. He shrugs his shoulders. “It feels stronger to say when I stick up for you. I want you to be, anyway. Maybe I wanted to start getting used to saying it.”

You sit in the chair with a tight expression. Thousands of thoughts are running through your head. Jeno smiles to himself as the bartender returns with your beverages. Jeno notices you’re still frozen in place.

“You know, a lesser person would be offended you’ve been frozen by me wanting to be your husband, but I’m going to choose that you’re in shock.”

He bumps your shoulder and waits for you to join him walking back to the other boys. You sit back down at your seat and Jeno places your drink in front of you. The others are recounting different stories to each other, laughing and talking louder than the music playing. Jeno stands beside you and gently picks up your hand. He looks at you with a soft expression, one completely devoid of the anger he had seconds ago, and joins in adding details to the winding stories being told.

Jeno comes home to a lit house. The ceiling lights are off but every other light in your shared house is on. LED lights by the TV, changed lamp bulbs, fairy lights stringing through the hallway and spread as far as possible through the house all emit a light-blue light. Confusion overwhelms him as he kicks his shoes off. He’s walking closer to the couch when a noise is heard. It’s a thumping noise. Similar to something hitting the wall. The noise makes him slightly more worried about the house he came home to. That is, until he sees you down the hallway. He can see cords hanging form your ears. Headphones shake and move along with you as you dance-walk down the hallway. He begins to wonder why you wouldn’t play the music through a speaker but given how scared you are of your next-door neighbor, the thought dissipates quickly. You’re using your phone as a microphone. He doesn’t make himself known. You move backwards down the hallway, accidently bumping into the wall one more time. You turn around dramatically, lip-synching your heart out. You jump when you see Jeno, eyes widening for a split second before calming yourself down. You giggle and his heart swells two times the size. You hesitate for a second before continuing to move closer to him. You jump on the coffee table, carefully stepping around the clutter collecting on top of it.

You point to him and begin to sing out loud. Jeno is tired. His shoulders were drooping down just moments earlier, but seeing his long-time boyfriend and love of his life dancing around their shared apartment makes him wake up. Your smile is bright and effortless as you dance around the coffee table/stage. You jump onto the couch, almost falling onto the cushions. You reach up and caress his face gently. You serenade him with a song that is definitely not a love song. He leans up, brushing your noses together. You kiss his lips quickly before pulling away. You point towards the sky and jump around. He can’t help but join you, moving around the couch. He stands on the couch next to you, dancing along with a song he can’t hear.

You very clumsily place one of your earbuds in his ears. It takes him a second to recognize the song but he joins in on singing soon. You dance around a bit more carefully not that you’re attached to someone but your big smile is just as clear. He pulls your phone out of your hand. He scrolls through to find a song. He seems to find one he likes and steps off the couch. He turns to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and lifting you off the couch. He walks you backwards. You hold his shoulders as the song begins.

A very soft, slow song begins to play through your headphones. Jeno’s looking at you with so much adoration. His eyes twinkle like he’s looking at the most beautiful sight on the planet. You’re reveling in the look, though you’re not sure you deserve the honor. Jeno’s hands slip down to hold your waist. He pulls you to his chest. He dips his head to lean next to yours, humming along with the song. The low noise rattles against your heart. You press one of your hands against his chest, the other traveling under his shirt. He rocks you back and forth along with the tune. You dance for a while. The song shifts into another slow-dance song. That fades into another. You stay close together, swaying to the beat, for a long, long time. Soon Jeno is pressing light kisses to your neck. Your eyes drift closed, the beautiful image of your future husband looking at you with wonderful eyes permanently ingrained in your mind.

Feather-light kisses are placed across your throat and face. You lean your head up further and further, wanting him to kiss you more. He smiles against your skin. You can feel your face heat up against his lips. Finally, he begins to kiss your face. You subconsciously move closer to him. He barely pulls away from between each kiss but even that small break to look at your angelic face is more than welcome. He kisses your lips last. He’s sure the noise that passes through your lips, something near a content human, wasn’t intentional by you, but he enjoys it.

You savor the moment for a while before opening your eyes. The same appreciative look in his eyes.

“I wish I could spend every day like this.” He mumbles.

He almost has yearning in his eyes. Though, you aren’t sure why he would long for you when you are in front of him and will never leave or want to. You smile is peaceful. Tender and genuine. Jeno can truly see you want to be here with him. He’s always known you feel as strongly towards him as he does to you but something about the moment and the gentleness in your face makes him appreciate it more than he would on a regular day. He holds your face and leans down. Your foreheads are pressed together for a moment before he finally begins to speak.

“This isn’t me asking you to marry me, I have a plan for that,” He hums. Your eyes begin to widen as he speaks. “But, this is me putting it out into the universe that I am going to marry you in the future.”

You smile and lean up looking him deep into his eyes. “You’re not even going to ask my opinion about it?”

“Don’t play with my feelings.” He smiles and pushes past the space, kissing you softly. “You don’t want to wake up to my face every day?”

You tsk and nod. “That is a really good incentive to marry you, not going to lie.”

#nct #kpop #kpop scenario #nct x reader #male reader #nct imagine #nct scenario #jeno #lee jeno #kpop male reader #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #nct male reader #jeno x reader #jeno x male reader #jeno x male!reader #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno x male reader #lee jeno x male!reader

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buildmeafairytale · 4 years

Text

Orc Boyfriend - Bash

Oh my gosh guys I just hit 160 followers! I honestly didn’t think I would have nearly this many when I made this blog, and I’m so thankful for all those who read and like my stories! Here’s another one featuring a gifted woman and her orc babe. If you like my work, please consider donating to my kofi, it helps me out a lot <3 Also, sorry if you’re seeing this twice, I had to fix the ‘keep reading’ thing so it wouldn’t be so long. NSFW

I was a little girl when I heard the siren’s call. My parents were busy doing anything but watching me, and slipping away was never hard. I followed the voice through the forest near my home, the song notes pulling at me like strings tied around my bones. I saw a woman laid out near a creek, sick and dying. She was singing a mourning song for herself, so I sat with her and tried to offer her any comfort I could. She was scared of dying alone; that much I could tell from her pained wails. So I sat there and held her hand for as long as it took, and she thanked me with a gift. I felt the power come over me, blue lights whirled up my arm and through my body from where my hand was grasping hers. I didn't understand what had happened for a while, but it became impossible to ignore. I would whistle a tune and birds would start to follow me, or I would sing and my parents would suddenly want to spend time with me. I didn’t understand the strength of the power until I started school, though. A boy tried to grab at me and lift up my skirt, and the shrill sound that left me was anything but human. He was on the ground with blood pooling in his ears by the time my mouth sprung shut.

I was more careful after that. Being different in my town is often a death sentence, so I learned to control it and keep this power to myself. I always figured my parents had a hunch, but as they didn’t spend time with me much I was unsure. That was until my parents sold me off, though. Then it was confirmed.

The men came in the middle of the night. They were dirty and unkempt but dressed in good, although mismatched, armor. They probably had a single set of teeth between them all. I heard the commotion and came downstairs.

“Ah good, she’s awake. Go ahead and take her, I have no need for her here.” I heard my father say, his nose upturned and his awful fake accent exaggerated.

I watched my father be paid by them while my mother stood to the side. Her lips were pinched tight but she did not speak up in my defense. I looked back and forth in confusion, still half asleep and not understanding what was happening to me. They stood there by the large french doors, draped in their finery while I was sold like a broodmare.

“She is a monster,” I heard my mother say, “do not be afraid to treat her like one.”

The men went to grab me, but I tried to fight. I squirmed and clawed, and they led me away as I struggled in their grasp. I opened my mouth to scream but I was hit over the back of the head before I could get a sound out.

When I woke up, all I could feel was pain blossoming at the base of my skull. As I got used to the pain, I felt a tender hand brushing the sweat soaked hair off of my forehead. I peeled my eyes open, and as they went into focus I found I was inside of a wooden box, the only sunlight coming in from little gaps between panels. We must have been moving, as I was only slightly aware of the jostling of my head when we hit bumps. The hand was attached to a small orcish girl, still a child. She couldn’t be very old, her tusks were still just nubs peeking out of her lips. It was then I saw her lips moving, the actual words taking longer to get to me.

“Shh are you alright lady? It’s gonna be okay, my papa and uncle are gonna come, I promise. I’m Sheely, and -” her words faded slowly, and I felt myself go unconscious again, her voice luling me out again.

The next time I wake up is to the screams of the girl being held prisoner with me. I awake abruptly, and while I’m still in pain I move quickly. I see a man is trying to drag her out of the box we are in. She is clawing and fighting him with tears rushing down her face. I do not hesitate, and when I hear men comment about ‘breaking her in’ I let out a cry that has them all on their knees. Blood is running out of all the orifices in their head, like tears coming from their eyes, and a few of them have collapsed. Sheely is unharmed by me and my power does not touch her, which I am thankful for. I grab her and start to run. Everything is blurry for me but I know this is my chance to get us out of this. I don’t want to dwell on the intentions of those men, but I know enough to know we would be better off lost in the wilderness.

The orc - Sheely is just a child, though, no matter that orcish children are almost as large as a human teenager. She is panicked from the men trying to hurt her, sobs still leaving her despite the running and she catches her ankle on a root. She falls to the ground, but I waste no time in trying to pick her up. I have not known hard labor in my life and orcish children are not easy to carry, though. I feel the panic rising in my chest, and I hold her to me tightly.

I hear them, then. Some of the men have come after us, and I try to find somewhere to hide the girl. My feet scrape the ground as I try to haul her behind a fallen tree. It is no use, and soon the largest of the men is appearing in front of us. Before I can blink a long whip is wrapped around my arm, bringing us both to the ground. I sing and wail once again but while I can tell he is in pain, it does not stop him. I curse myself now, for ignoring the power I have. If only I had honed it, or practiced more, we could be okay. He backhands me, and I hear a crack.

The pain doesn't knock me out this time, although I wish it had. I am grabbed by the jaw, and I forget all about the pain in my head. Noise leaves me but not enough. and my voice is rendered useless. He glares at me with dark eyes, and all I see is hate in them.

“Are you going to try that again or should I crush your vocal cords too, siren bitch?” Spit flies in my face and I shake my head no to the best of my abilities. He increases his grip on my jaw harder, and if it wasn’t broken before I’m sure it is now. My vision swims with darkness, but I hold on. I won’t leave her alone with them. He lets go and pushes my face away and into the ground.

“Get the fuck up then,” he tells me, and I obey.

We are dragged back to their camp, and I hold onto Sheely. I see several of the men still on the ground before we are thrown back into the wagon. My head hits the wall and I feel the wood splinter into my skin. I manage to position Sheely behind me. I am hopeful that the men are in enough pain to be deterred from their plans with her, but I don’t want to risk not being able to help her if they come back.

I don’t know how long it has been but I have not had food nor water since I was captured. I had never known this kind of pain, this uncomfortable existence, but I refused to let myself succumb to sleep. Instead I spend my time trying to listen to the men and make sure no one was coming to get us

The words I hear from the men outside all melt together and paint an eerie picture of the life waiting for me. I feel as if I am living in a nightmare and just couldn’t make my screams heard or run fast enough to escape. Scenes play out before my eyes of the ways evil people mean to torture me and throw me away once I am used up. I hear screams and anguished cries, but it all fades into the horror playing behind my eyelids. The screaming dies down into a dark silence, and I can hear Sheely yelling from behind me, apparently awake.

The last of my strength I spend covering her body with mine, pushing her further into the corner of our dank wooden prison. The door is ripped apart, and the sun has risen. The light blinds me for a moment, but then a large figure blocks it out. I turn my back to the figure and pull Sheely further underneath me. I don’t feel as though I am long for this world in my current condition, and she is so young. I want to give her a chance.

“Uncle!” I hear Sheely yell this in the back of my mind, and the man yells out for Sheely too. I let go, then. I let go of her, and my will to stay conscious as well. I feel her relief and happy noises all around. I try to soak in her joy as I let go.

I know enough to know I am not dead. I drift in and out, feeling bumps in the roads and rumbling voices around me. Everything hurts enough that I wish I was dead, though. A wish that refuses to come true, as I am suspended in pain for what feels like an eternity.

The fog eventually clears and the heavy scent of medicinal steam hangs in the air. The smell is of a healers den, and if I am right then I am relieved. My vision is blurry but I see a shape run into the den, and Sheely’s voice. It’s the sweet voice of a happy and safe child, and I think I manage a smile. I see another shape duck into the tent behind her, as well as a deep voice coming from beside me. A gnarled and old hand comes into vision as well, holding a cloth to my face. The throbbing of my jaw and head is not gone, but muted. I feel bandages wrapped around my arm and feet as well. A small hand takes hold of mine, and when I fall asleep again I feel calm for the first time in days.

The medicine is strong and leaves me in a daze for a long while, but as I heal they give me less and less, until I am able to understand and remember when people are speaking to me. Ungral, the healer, is a constant companion to me. He explains that Sheely is the much loved daughter of their chief, and I am being honored among the clan.

“Sheely has painted quite the picture of you to us all, calls you a ‘screeching warrior’” Ungral informs me, his lips upturned in amusement.

“Oh goodness, everyone will be so disappointed when they actually see me. I am no warrior, although I did screech quite a bit.” I jest with him.

“Hush child, no one will be disappointed to see the women who took care of our Sheely,” He sets out food in front of me. It is a thick and meaty stew, and I am in heaven from the smell alone.

Sheely visits me everyday before her schooling and often before her bedtime, bringing me snacks and things to do. Her mother and father visited me early in my recovery, but I don’t remember very much. Sheely tells me they are planning a celebration for her return, and that they are waiting until I am recovered since I am an ‘honored guest’. I am grateful for their hospitality, but I feel I have not earned it. All I did was cower with Sheely in a corner while her family saved us both, but I would hate to insult them this way.

The first day Ungral has me leave the tent to walk is more eventful than I like. The moment I leave the hut, orcs are thanking me and introducing themselves left and right. I am friendly and speak to everyone, but it quickly becomes too much for me. Right before I am going to tell Ungral I need a break, Sheely comes running up to me followed by three other orcs. One of which was a woman, in decorative armor and beads woven into her hair. She grabs my hand with tear filled eyes as Sheely hugs my legs.

“Thank you for keeping my daughter safe when I couldn’t,” she tells me. My eyes start to fill as well, just looking at her.

“Of course,” I nod to her, my hands grasping hers back. I am starting to feel dizzy but I dare not disrespect her. One of the orcs with her, the smaller of the two men, comes up to me as well. This is without a doubt the chief. I know little of orcs and their customs, but the beads and armor he wears, as well as the tattoos covering him, seems to indicate this.

“I am Sheelga’s father, and Chief of this clan,” He tells me, his voice loud and clear. “We are all so thankful for you and that you were able to protect her. You will want for nothing here, nor ever again. Be assured that the men who took you are no longer in this world and as soon as you are fully healed, I will have my best warriors escort you home to your family. If there is anything you need, please, just let us know.” He tells me this, and I am reminded that my family is the one who did this to me. I stutter out a thank you and feel my legs shake. Ungral is by my side quickly, the old man more nimble than I assumed.

“Leave the girl alone, just because she is stretching her legs doesn’t mean you can all bombard her,” he waves off the chief and his wife, who just chuckle at him.

“Yes, we will leave you be then. Please, rest and know that you are safe here,” The chief and his wife say goodbye and turn to leave, but Sheely runs into the healing den. Ungral and I follow after her, partially to see what is wrong and partially because my stamina is running too low to do much else. Her parents and the other large orc come into the hut too, and I see Sheely in her usual spot next to the bed with tears running down her cheeks.

Everyone goes over her and when I settle on the bed she hurriedly plasters herself against me. I hold and shush her, and I can make out some words between her broken sobs.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she bawls out, and I immediately start to hold her tighter.

Her father has crouched next to her, and his large hand is splayed on her back. “She has a family too, my heart, and we cannot keep her from them,” he tells her, but I speak up.

“I don’t actually. Well, I suppose I do but they’re the ones who sold me to those men,” my voice wavers as all the eyes turn to me, mixed looks of anger and pity look back at me.

“Then you have to stay here,” Sheely says, her voice firm. I smile at her, but I do not wish to impose on these kind people.

“Now little one, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” I try to sound cheery, but it really just comes out sad.

“I think I speak for everyone here when I say you should stay,” the other orc speaks up, and I no longer argue. He is the largest being I have ever seen, with dark green skin and long black hair in a single shining braid down his back. He has black swirling tattoos covering a great deal of his arms, and his deep brown eyes lock onto mine. His beauty stops the words from leaving my mouth.

“Yes, brother,” the chief nods at him and turns to me. “You will stay then, it is settled.”

His wife comes to sit by me and I open my mouth but no sounds come out, I just nod and squeeze her hand.

Not soon after this I start to heal more quickly. I am sure this has something to do with the lack of stress I currently have. I am surrounded by kind people who want to help me, and I get to stay. A large feast is held to not only celebrate that Sheely is back, but also to welcome me to the clan. It is loud and boisterous, and copious amounts of ale are consumed. Balo, the Chief, drinks so much in celebration that his wife Lorka is rolling her eyes at him. He is telling old war stories and spinning his daughter around, taking intermediate breaks to remind Lorka how in love with her he is. When he hears me laugh, though, he sends a large grin my way and starts a toast for me. I am embarrassed, but flattered as they raise their glasses to me. I drink some too, but Ungral warns me not to do much since it could interfere with some of the medicine he has given me.

Sure enough, I feel the effects of the alcohol much more strongly than I would have thought, so I go outside to get some space from the crowd. I find a pretty tree nearby and stumble my way over to it. I see Sheely’s uncle leave the great feast hall not long after I do. He looks around until he finds me, then struts toward me.

“Oh, hi! I’m sorry but I don’t think I ever got your name,” I squeak out the words as best I can, hoping I’m not sounding over eager or over drunk. He is large and powerful, and I cannot look away. He makes me feel so small, and it excites something deep within me. My head spins, and I am unsure if it is due to his presence or simply the mead.

“My given name is Rhugro’bash, but Bash is just fine little songbird,” he nods at me and settles onto a stump next to me. He offers me a smile and hands me a plate stacked high with food. “I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you would still eat.”

“Thank you, everyone is so friendly but I’m just not used to such big crowds,” I take the food eagerly, moaning at the flavors. I feel spoiled here, with a beautiful orcish man bringing me delicious food. I open my eyes to see Bash staring at me as I eat, and I almost choke at the look on his face. “Sorry, it’s just so good.”

He throws his head back and lets out a guwaffing laugh. “Well then I am happy to have pleased one as lovely as you.”

He reaches over and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, and I’m sure he can feel the heat coming off of my face. He stands and leaves quickly after, wishing me a goodnight in his deep rumbling voice. Oh gods, I think to myself, I am going to get myself in trouble with him.

The next morning I wake up to a large breakfast and a flower set out for me. I ask Ungral about it and he laughs, shaking his head at me.

“It seems you’ve caught a certain someone’s attention,” the old man gives me a wry smile, apparently amused by my confusion. He sits across from me with his herbal tea, and passes me a note. It says nothing on it but ‘From Bash’, so it does little to clear things up.

“But...why?”

“The man wants to cook for you,” he shrugs, “wants to see to it you’re fed, and brings a flower? I think you can figure it out,” he chuckles at me then, and leaves me with a meal that was composed of more food than I would be able to eat in days.

Bash comes to visit with Sheely later in the day, who hugs me then promptly goes to hang out with Ungral instead. I thank Bash for breakfast and he goes from a warrior to a puppy in an instant. He lights up and breaks out in a breathtaking smile, the gold bands on his tusks shining brightly. The two of us sit down, and he sees the flower sitting next to my bed. I clear my throat, feeling much more nervous in his presence than the night before when I was emboldened by alcohol.

“I hope it wasn’t too forward of me, songbird. I wasn’t sure how things like this are done where you are from.” He speaks so casually and directly, I am not used to that.

“What kind of things do you mean?”

He reaches over and folds my hand in his, his calloused palms brushing against my skin in the sweetest way. “Romantic type things. I want to court you.”

“Can I ask why?”

He laughs a bit and schooches his chair closer to me, a playful look on his face. He leans closer to me as he speaks, and his proximity makes my head spin. “You are strong, and brave. I like the way you look when I bring you food, and how beautiful you are. You love Sheely, and were ready to lay down your life for her. I cannot think of better traits for a mate.”

My mouth is in an “o” shape, and he leans back with a satisfied look on his face. Sheely comes barreling back in and I am grateful for the distraction.

Bash continues to send food to me, along with little gifts or trinkets. He gives me clothing too, as well as a homemade chest to put everything in. I appreciate it and everything he does makes me feel so special, but I hardly feel as if I deserve it.

One day he comes to take me for a walk, and I voice this to him.

“I really do enjoy everything you do for me, I just feel like I am undeserving of all of it. You spoil me.” He finds a log to sit on, and pulls me to sit on one of his thighs. My arms wind themselves around his neck with his behind my back. The closeness is so effortless for him, it seems, while I feel my heart is going to pump out of my chest.

“Now don’t go feeling guilty, pretty bird. I like doing things for you.” He frowns at me, and makes everything sound so simple.

“I just feel bad I can’t give you anything in return.”

“You give me plenty,” he scoffs, “you gift me your time.”

You huff and adjust yourself on his knee, turning to face him more.

“You give me that too though. I want to give you something and yet all I have are things you have gifted me.” I frown at this realization. They have welcomed me in but I’ve really just free-loaded.

Bash taps a finger to my forehead, startling me out of my thoughts. “I don’t know what’s going on in here, but cut it out. You wanna give me something?” I nod, of course I do. He smiles, almost wicked. “Sing to me, bird. I want to hear it.”

My eyes grow big. Of all things, I was not expecting this.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, playing with my hair with an exaggerated pout on his lips.

“I’ll do it for you, I’m just not used to singing nice things. It’s always been a bit of a defense mechanism.” I try to think back to when I was young and would sing to the birds and the flowers. I think about the feelings I have for Bash, the look in his eye when he sees me and the happiness he brings me. I concentrate and let my abilities take over. It’s natural for me, like taking a breath of fresh air after being underwater too long.

My voice sings of a new life, of a gallant rescue. I sing of new feelings and new family, how much more beautiful life is for me now. I sing of new beginnings, of spring. I let my emotions well up then pour out, and I am unsure how long I sing but when I stop he has tears in his eyes.

I reach up to wipe them away, noticing how out of it he looks. He has pulled me much closer to him while I was singing and I am thoroughly pressed against him.

He whispers “thank you.” Bash presses his lips to my brow and we stay like this for quite some time. Once we hear crickets chirping he takes me back to Ungral’s.

The courting gifts start to increase and get larger after this encounter. He insists on cooking almost every meal for me, and I try to squash my feelings of being unworthy. I sing to him occasionally too, since he says it’s one of his favorite things. We often have the healers den to ourselves, since Ungral lives in a separate building behind it. I haven’t been to his house yet, as he said he is in the middle of building onto it.

The first time he kisses me, it is while he is cooking for me. I move to the kitchen to peek at what he is making, and he just leans down and pecks me on the lips. He pulls back and looks shocked at his own actions, and I get to see my great warrior flustered. I give him no chance to apologize. I lift up onto my tippy toes and pull him down, slanting my mouth over his. He holds his arms out awkwardly to the side at first, but soon drops the wooden spoon and kisses me back.

He’s vocal and does not bother to hold in his groans. I pull at him until we are on the cot together, kissing and petting at one another. He moves to my neck, placing wet open mouthed kisses under my ear. The feeling of his tusks brushing against my neck sends chills up my spine. All too suddenly he rips himself off of me, running to the kitchen. The sound of soup boiling over registers and I hop up to help clean up the mess. Bash’s cursing turns into laughter when we look at one another, and I peck his lips again but the heated moment has passed.

I am adamant about giving Bash an actual tangible courting gift, and I ask Ungral about it.

“It’s not frowned upon, if that’s what you mean,” he tells me, showing me how to blend certain medicines. “Not required either, but after one courts you a while giving a gift back is a way to accept the courting or encourage them that you want it to advance.”

Winter is around the corner and Bash told me he has a lot to prepare for with his home, so I try to think of something good to get for him today. I talk to Ungral about this too, but it feels odd talking to him about my romantic life. He is more of a father than mine ever was, and I sense it’s a bit awkward for him as well.

“Take this,” Ungral says, trying to shove a bag of coin in my hand. I push it back at him.

“What, no! What for?” I ask him, “I already live here for free!”

He gives me a flat look in return “You help me with my work and Bash feeds the both of us with his excessive courting meals. I should still pay you for all the work you help me with. Go buy a courting gift and stop fawning, girl.” He turns around and leaves no room for me to argue.

I do want to give something nice to Bash so I take it, but I vow to help Ungral even more to feel as though I earned it. I walk along the shops in the center of the village, and one tent catches my eye. Inside are glittering beads, hair ties, and bottles of oils and soaps resting on shelves. Bash’s hair is beautiful, and he knows it, so this would be perfect. I look along the beads and one instantly catches my eye. It’s a pretty blue bead and dangling on it is a bird. It’s absolutely perfect. I go to pay for the bead and the shop owner wraps it up in a nice box for me. I can’t wait to give it to him, and I hate that I have to wait.

The hours could not go by any slower, but eventually Bash comes by to tell me goodnight. He walks in and kisses me, but I can tell he is tired.

“How was your day songbird?”

I cannot help to smile in excitement, I probably look crazy to him.

“It was good,” I tell him, “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh really? And what may that be?”

“Sit here and close your eyes! I’ll be right back.” I sit him on the bed and get a sleepy smile in return. I go to get the bead and a snack for him as well. I’m only gone a moment, but when I return he is snoring. My disappointment is fleeting, he looks so sweet like this. I set the box on the table and get to work. I gently peel his shoes off and his more uncomfortable looking clothing as well before tucking him in. The bed is small so I decide to snuggle in, hoping he doesn’t mind the liberty taken.

Bash is warm, and I find it was one of the best night's sleep I’ve had in awhile. We are tangled together in the morning and he is awake before me. A hand is petting my hair, and I just sigh and shove my face more into his chest.

“Sorry I fell asleep,” he whispers to me, and I have never thought him more attractive than now, with his groggy voice in my ear.

“Shh, m’still sleepin,” I mumble into his chest, and get a laugh in return. We bask in the moment before I remember how excited I am, so I just roll over and hand him the box, jolting up to give it to him.

“Open it,” I encourage, and he purposefully goes slowly.

When he sees it he gasps, and I feel like I’ve done well. I realize why he enjoys doing things for me so much now. His excitement and happiness when he holds it up is my new favorite look for him. He has me braid the bead into his hair, and the blue is a stark contrast to his dark hair.

“I have something for you as well, my songbird,” Bash gestures to his satchel, and I hand it to him. He digs around, and then presses a key into my hand. It takes a moment for my brain to catch up. I look at the key then back at Bash for a minute before it sinks in.

“You want me to...live with you?”

“Yes, I can’t think of anything I would want more,” he admits to me.

“I don’t need an answer right away,” he continues, one of his large hands caressing the side of my face. “Just...come by tonight if you decide to, otherwise I will see you in the morning and we can take things as slowly as you wish.” He kisses my stunned face and goes to walk away, apparently nervous for your reaction.

I grab him before he makes his way out.

“Bash!” I stop him, and pull him down near me. “I’ll see you tonight,” I whisper in his ear, planting a kiss underneath. I can practically feel the chill that runs through him, but I usher him out anyway. I’ve never been to his house before, and wasn’t even sure where to go. I talk to Ungral a bit before I pack up my things. I leave most everything there for now, as my chest and other things are too heavy for me alone. I then go to visit his sister-in-law’s house for a bit of help.

Later that night I walk up the cobble pathway in nothing but the silk nightdress Lorka has given me. My hair is down, and I feel every bit the siren I have been accused of being. The home is beautiful under the moonlight and the colors seem vibrant bathed in the blue of the night. Fireflies dance over the pond and the stone house is reflected in its depths. I open the heavy door and all the breath leaves my body.

Bash is waiting for me in the home he has built for us in nothing but his loincloth. He stands proud and tall in front of me. Deep rumbles of desire come from his chest and mix with the sounds of the crackling fire; it is the most beautiful melody I have ever been lucky enough to hear. The fire gives his skin an otherworldly gleam and he looks every part the formidable warrior he is known to be. My formidable warrior, now. I walk toward him as if I am a newborn deer and I fear he can hear my knees knocking together, but one of his hands reaches out to steady me.

His hand moves up my arm while his other goes around my waist, pulling me against him. His warm skin quells a shaking chill I didn’t know I had, and I let myself melt into him. He has barely touched me and I feel as though I’ve run miles.

“Let me take you to our bed, my songbird,” he says, and I nod my head. My eyes are wide gazing up at him and Bash smiles down at me. He bends down and lifts me up a bit to close the gap to place a soft kiss on my lips. His tusks brush against my cheeks and I gasp. He suddenly places his hands on my bottom and pulls me up with my legs around him. I squeal out a laugh and the nervousness is broken.

He gives kisses and raspberries all over my neck and chest as he walks me to the bedroom. I squirm and laugh, and my hand ends up in Bash’s hair. I give it a tug and am rewarded with a playful growl as he tosses me onto the bed. The bed he has crafted is beautiful, and I am once again lost in his duality. He is a powerful warrior who can wield his warhammer like no other, and yet he created and carved the delicate wooden features adorning our headboard. He seems hard on the outside, so intimidating and yet he kisses me so softly.

He climbs up with me and pulls my legs on either side of his hips, perched up on his knees. My hand splays across his stomach and I feel the muscle there, covered in a layer of softness that makes me find him all the more appealing. I gawk at him, tracing the tattoos and scared planes of his body.

“See something you like?” His large hands run over my thighs, the fingertips dipping under my nightdress on each pass.

“I see a lot I like,” I quietly admit, finally lifting my gaze to meet his. A pleased sound leaves him. He kisses me and pulls me even closer, so much so that the heat between my thighs settles on his manhood. I can’t help but grind myself into him.

“I want to make you sing for me,” He tells me, and he slinks down the bed. I push myself up onto my elbows and watch his broad shoulders push apart my thighs. I can feel a deep throbbing in my core, and I gasp when his fingers trace the lines of my underclothes. His other hand moves upward and settles on my stomach before he pulls my underwear aside.

His warm breath washes over me, and he places the gentlest of kisses around the apex of my thighs before licking a broad stripe along my folds. I fall back onto the bed writhing , my hands digging into the sheets. He starts to lick and kiss at my clit, and a strong finger finds its way to my entrance. My back arches and a moan leaves me at the pleasure he is giving. His other hand wanders up the bed to meet one of mine, untangling my fingers that were clutching the sheets. As his finger pumps into me in time with his mouth moving on my clit I cannot hold in my noises.

“Bash, please,” I moan out to him, unsure what I am asking him for. His answering rumble vibrates through me and his tusks start to dig into my soft flesh. He adds another finger and I feel myself quickly tighten around them. The crooking of his fingers and the pressure on my clit increases and a knot builds in my stomach. The noises leaving me increase as well, but everything quiets the moment that I find my release. Fireworks go off behind my eyes, my legs tighten around his head and my hips jerk. He sounds like a man feasting, grunts and groans leaving his mouth. He does not relent until I am jerking away from the stimulation with a whimper, the ecstasy too much.

“Bash, c’mere,” I pull at his shoulders, my request coming out a breathless whine. When he looks up at me he is debauched. His eyes are full of desire and my wetness covers his mouth and chin. As he moves up my body, he pulls my underclothes off of me as well.

“Did you enjoy me, my songbird?” He inquires, laying kisses up my arm as sparks continue to dance on my skin. I give a breathy yes in response to him. I reach my hands out to pull him down over me, and his arousal is evident as it presses into my stomach. I arch into it and my desire is reborn. I reach down and run my fingers along his shaft over the loincloth still covering him. I pull at the edges of the cloth and it falls down, releasing his heavy cock.

I feel my mouth water at the sight of it. It hangs beneath its own weight, and I bring my hand up to hold it. The hot flesh pulses in my hand, and I feel my entrance pulse in answer. It’s an even darker green than the rest of him, and more tattoos swirl near the base of it. Fluid leaks out of the tip, and I run my fingers over it, coating the head. When I look back at Bash’s face, I am not disappointed. His eyebrows are knitted together and his eyes are dark with want. I hold his gaze and give a tentative stroke, letting his hips jerk into my hand. My other hand comes up to caress his heavy sack, gently massaging him in time with the strokes.

“Fuck, I’m going to come from your hands alone if you don’t stop that, woman,” he snarls out, but I only slow down my efforts.

“Don’t you want to?” I ask him sweetly, leaning up to kiss his neck.

“Minx,” he scolds me in good nature, then leans down to snarl darkly in my ear. “I want to feel you come around my cock when I release. I want to fill you up so much you leak my seed for days, and any Orc who comes near you will smell my claim on you.”

His words alone cause a whimper to leave my mouth. “Please,” I breath out, wanting nothing more than for that to come true. He strips me of my nightdress, and I take his hands in mine and pull him back with me on the bed, curling one of my legs over his hip. His cock runs through my folds, my wetness coating him, before he notches the head at my entrance. He sucks and licks at my tits before smoothly thrusting into me, my nails coming up to dig into his back. My cunt is tightly wrapped around him, every vein of his cock pulsing inside me. He is so much bigger than me in every way, and I’m surprised he fits inside of me without pain. The stretch is uncomfortable at first, but soon fades as my pleasure crests.

“Look how well you take me, songbird. Will you sing to me again?” He punctuates this with a hard thrust, and I let out a long moan. I feel my power imbed itself into my voice, but I cannot help it. Tendrils of my magic reach out and touch him, caressing his skin and coaxing out more desire with my noises. His movements speed up, and I hear grunts leave him. Bash brings his face to my chest, growling into it. Pleasure builds in me again, and as I wail out my climax Bash follows me. He buries himself deep within me and pumps me full of his seed as he promised, his hands holding tight to my sides.

Fucked out mewls escape my lips and Bash coos down at me, praises passing through his lips. He gently rolls off of me and lays beside me.

“You’ve conquered me, my songbird. I don’t think I can feel my legs,” he teases, petting me sweetly as I come down from my high. He manages to clean us up before he throws blankets over us both. As I’m drifting off, I feel a kiss to my forehead and Bash mumbles to me.

“I can’t wait to cook for you in the morning, my love.”

#orc #orc boyfriend #orc x reader #orc x human #monster #monster boyfriend #female reader x male monster #female reader #monster lover #exophilia #orcs #i love orcs #my writing #bash x reader #bash

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sp00kworm · 3 years

Text

Clove Cigarettes (Part 2)

Pairing: Male Vampire (Clarence Marston) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Violence and Gore, Blood Drinking, Adult Content

Part 1

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Cal’s wings spread wide from his back, shadowing his form as his coat slid away. His shirt was torn from the clawed tips and he slid the tip down his torso, tearing the shirt open as you stood by your bed. The shirt slid onto the floor in two halves and revealed the dark ink over his chest. Now his pale skin was tinted a sickly grey, and his ribs were angular and sharp, cutting a monstrous figure at his comparatively small waist. He still loomed over you as you met him across the floor. Carefully you reached to touch at the black, inked wings on his chest, tracing the feathered tips of the seraph’s wings before you met with the main section of the cross and traced the drawn metal details to a single dark red ruby in the centre of his chest. It was the only colour on the tattoo, and you circled the gem as Cal shuddered above you, the clawed tips of his wings drooping as he relaxed into the touch. You walked your hands up over his shoulders, following a pair of the wings of the tattoo before you cupped his cool, sharp jaw and tucked a piece of his long, wavy black hair over his shoulder. Cal let out a low noise as he caught your hand against his cheek and pressed himself against you, nuzzling the soft skin of your palm before his teeth nipped at it.

Caught of guard, you let out a small squeak. The vampire was quick to jolt and pull away, licking his lips with guilt.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t do that. I’m getting ahead of myself…” he moaned to himself, his hands dropping hold of you in favour of tugging at his hair. On reflex, he reached for his back pocket, and pulled free the cigarette packet. This time, he peered inside, and found one clove cigarette inside with his gum and lighter.

You reached up for his hand and clasped your own over his, stopping his shaking fingers from grabbing the cigarette, “No. I just didn’t expect it. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I shouldn’t…” Cal cringed at himself and you watched the pain lace his features as his skin rippled from grey to pale, deathly white, “I shouldn’t be…”

“You listen to me.” You insisted as you cupped his face with a palm, stroking over his angular cheek bone, “None of this is wrong. You’re doing fine but I think we need to take this slow. You’re freaking out about simple things.” You cooed softly at him and leaned up to kiss him.

As you pulled away, you smiled, seeing his natural, deathly grey skin tone return. His nose opened wide as he scented the air around you both and smiled, the awkward tilt of his lips letting one fang hang out.

“Okay?” You asked as you kissed his cheek.

“Okay.” Cal whispered back as you took his cigarettes and placed them on your bedside table, “You’re so amazing.” he breathed as you continued where you left off, stroking his skin reverently before you massaged as his shoulder blades, enjoying the twitches of his wings.

“I try to be.” You hummed as you turned his back to the bed and eased him back against the mattress. Cal went willingly, his eyes burning red as he watched you straddle his large thighs.

“I adore you.” he whispered against your lips as you leaned over him, your arms either side of his head, “You complete me.”

You leaned forwards to kiss him properly, enjoying the cool sensation of his lips against your own before you parted them. Cal was slow to take advantage and happily let you lead the way, letting you plunder his mouth happily before he grumbled and nipped at your skin, the pressure threatening to puncture. You gasped as his tongue pushed into your mouth, long and pointed, touching far deeper than you expected.

Cal pulled away, his tongue dipping out of his mouth to swipe at your pulse before he grumbled and showed you the thick strings of spit, “This…”

You pressed your finger to his mouth, chuckling as his tongue licked over the length and he took the flesh into his mouth. He lathered the lengths before pressing it between his teeth, the familiar nip of fangs making you shudder above him. The vampire’s thighs shifted, parting slightly as his hips thrust gently, grazing his bulge against your thighs.

“Everything about you is intoxicating.” Cal moaned as he licked and tasted your skin, enjoying your attention to his sensitive nipples. You circled the bud for a moment before drawing away from his mouth to kiss his chest. You licked the skin before gently biting him, enjoying the feral groan that bubbled from his chest as you licked along his skin and over his nipple. With a hum you took his nipple into your mouth and watched his wings spread wide and stutter in the air, half flapping over his head as your other hand occupied his other pec, stroking and pinching the sensitive skin.

A sudden rush of air gusted over your face as Cal’s wing knocked open the window, letting in the cool evening air. His eyes squinted at the glancing sunset light, and he flinched on reflex as the light flickered over his eyes and nose. The upturned point of his nose wiggled before his gaze was drawn back to you. You shifted and pressed a little harder against his thigh, enjoying the friction against your own groin of his corded dark jeans. Cal hissed as you left his chest alone and rested your fingertips over his hips, stroking back and forth along the dip of his hip bones before you reached for the button of his jeans. His stomach jumped at the implication and he reached for your hands, clutching your fingers with his own clawed ones. He thumbed at the lengths of your fingers as his wings reached and hooked over the back of your bed posts.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked gently as you kissed the backs of his hands and traced the scars around his waist, to his back.

Cal shuddered against your sheets as he shifted his hips back and forth, “I am.” he reached for the rosary around his neck and touched the dark wood for a moment as his mouth formed silent words. He pressed a claw to the beads again before he settled back quietly, his head reclined against the cushions.

You mistook his relaxation for subjugation. As you leaned back forwards and undid his heavy belt and the button of his jeans, Cal’s clawed hands grabbed at your backside, curling into the hot skin, biting into the muscle before he kneaded the skin in his hands. As you opened your eyes you were face to face with his open mouth. Fangs parted before you as he sat up, and dipped his face into your neck, his teeth grazing over the skin, leaving cool lines of spit in their wake.

“Cal?” You whispered against his pointed ear, his dark curls tickling your face.

“You smell divine.” he moaned, “Like I could just…” his mouth opened, and his fangs grazed your pulse point, “Eat you.”

“Don’t.” You jolted against the fangs that pressed to your pulse point, tugging his dark hair tightly. Cal groaned against the skin, licking at your neck as he pulled away, his eyes half lidded. His eyes drooped, as though he was drunk on something, and you cupped his face gently, looking into his burning red eyes as he came back to himself.

“I…” he dipped his head in embarrassment, “I’m glad I didn’t give into myself.”

“Look at me.” You tipped his head back up and laid another hot, wet kiss on his lips, licking against his fangs with a soft sigh through your nose before you pulled away, “I trust you. You’re not a monster. You’re a man like any other.”

Cal’s nose crinkled as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, his shoulders shaking before you heard his chest wheeze and creak. You pulled away as red tears dripped down his cheeks and onto your bedding and his thighs.

“I’m sorry.” he wept, his teeth clenched tightly before he looked you in the eyes and tenderly cupped your neck, “I’m not worth any of this.” His wings unhooked from the bed posts as he leaned away from you, like he might burn you if he touched you again.

“You don’t get to decide that!” Anger burned in your gut as you face him, sat firmly in his lap, pinning him in place, “You don’t get to run away from me because of this. You’re stronger than that. You’re no coward, Cal. You’re hurt and misunderstood, I know that, but you’re not this monster you paint yourself to be constantly!”

Cal’s claws paused mid-air before he touched along your thighs, “You don’t even know me.”

Pain clawed at your heart, “Then what is this to you?”

Cal’s face streaked with another red tear, “Everything. It’s everything to me.” he whispered, “But I won’t be able to live with myself if I hurt you.”

It settled into place in your gut, sitting like a heavy boulder on your organs. He could kill you. He was a vampire, a recovering vampire who used to kill fans for a taste of blood.

“Do you think you’re the same as you were back then?” You asked as you stroked your hands over his shoulder, tracing the scars down his right side carefully.

“No.” he said, short and curt, “I’m not the same. I was unhinged. Drunk on fame with nothing to live for other than music anymore. I’ve lost all of that now and gained a hell of a lot more. I’m not that low life monster anymore.”

You tilted his head back up and took a tissue from your bedside to wipe the bloody tears from his face, “Then what makes you think that you’ll hurt me?”

“I…I’m still a creature of instinct. I could snap and go too far or…” Cal gave a semblance of a sigh, “I think too much of you to do anything to you.”

His fingers stroked along your legs again before they slipped under your top and stroked your stomach, chasing the heat of your skin.

“I think the world of you, Cal. You won’t hurt me.” You leaned over and kissed him again, tasting iron as you pulled away.

Cal’s face was thoughtful as you pulled away, as though he was processing your words before he opened his mouth of monstrous teeth, “You promise me you’ll stop me if I…”

“You won’t.” You soothed him as you pressed up against his cold chest and kissed him again, grinding in his lap softly before you played with the lengths of his hair, tugging softly on his scalp.

The vampire melted into your touch, shuddering again as his wings stuttered and hooked back up around the bed posts. The black keratinous claw made the wood creak as it shaved small pieces of dust from the circular surface, a sure sign that Cal was holding himself at bay.

“I wish I could be consumed by you. You’re like a fire in my soul. A burning rose in a field of grass. A single flower by a gravestone.” Cal whispered against your ear, humming as though he was singing a quiet song for you, and you alone. You peered down to see his interest rekindled, his cock pressing to the front of his underwear.

“Can I undress you?” Cal asked, catching you staring at what was between his legs. His eyes fluttered open again, long eyelashes grazing his cheeks as he blinked, looking up into your eyes as his own gaze turned steel, red and then back again.

With a nod, you slid back from his lap and hummed as Cal laid you back against the cushions, his cold fingers wandering over your chest before they tucked themselves back under the hem of your top. Slowly, he undid the buttons, watching your chest heave and skin ripple as it was revealed to him, button by button. He pushed the material away with a sigh, and leaned down to kiss your stomach, his cold lips making your muscles jump. He smiled and chuckled softly. His cold breath made you jump again and carefully, you reached to weave your hands into his soft hair, playing with the strands as he opened his mouth, taking the fastener of your bottoms into his mouth. Cal tugged the material open easily, as though he was thoroughly practiced at the little trick, and you craned your neck to watch what he was doing as his fingers looped under the waist band and tugged, sliding you free of the confines. Cal’s cold lips followed the material down, kissing your skin reverently as though you might never see him again. His hands mapped the contours of your body as he moved back up towards your underwear. His eyes looked up your body, meeting your own as his cool tongue dipped from his mouth and laved at the front of your underwear.

It was like someone sent an electric shock up your spine, and you arched, crying softly at the unexpected sensation. Cal smirked from between your legs as he tapped your hips and eased the underwear away, tossing it over by the bottom of the bed as he reached to scoop his hair out of his way. You remedied that for him, reaching to scoop it into your hands, holding it from his face as he licked at your sex, his cold tongue laving at the sensitive skin. It was a shock of sensations. The icy cold tongue against you and the pleasure zinging up your spine were two contradicting forces, but they soon melted together, and you moaned, thrusting up into his mouth as his claws nipped at your hips, pinning you down to the bed. It was a lot at once, and you looked down at his face as you cried out softly, tugging his hair to pull his head away for some reprieve from the burning sensations coiling together in your gut.

Cal pulled away and stuck his pointed tongue out between his lips, panting softly, as though his body needed the oxygen. You reached for his face and moaned again as he took your fingers into his mouth, licking along the lengths with a grumble. You looked at his hips and moaned again.

“Please. Can I get those jeans off you?” You asked as you caught your breath against the pillows, your hips grinding upwards towards his face despite your will to pause and relax for a moment.

Cal nodded and slid back on the bed to undo his fly the rest of the way, hissing at the relief of pressure against his dick. He slid away to slid the bottoms off but you stopped him, leaning up to kiss his mouth, huffing at the taste of yourself on his lips as you gently eased the material down his legs. Cal paused kissing you to kick away the jeans and then let you kneel in front of him, his eyes blowing wide, his pupils pinpoints as he watched you tug down his black boxer briefs. His cock bounced free, angled upwards, the same grey as the rest of his skin with a dark, black tip. It was already leaking.

“You got off on having me in your mouth huh?” You asked as you leaned in to lick at the head of his cock, your fingers sliding between your own legs to stroke at your sensitive sex. Cal moaned at the touch, his claws reaching for your head, holding you tightly as you took the head of his cock into your hot mouth briefly. His legs shook and you looked upon the tattoos on his legs. His right thigh was tattooed with a great thorny bush, green stems intertangled with the ends bright red roses, weeping with blood. Some of the thorns were stained with blood. You stroked the tattoo before reaching for his dick, pulling the foreskin back with several, gentle pumps. Cal moaned before he groaned above you, his wings spread wide, clawing at the floor and sheets as you took him into your mouth again and laved spit over several inches. His cock was large, long and veiny, cool like the rest of his body as your hot skin wrapped around it tighter. Cal shuddered and swore under his breath as you sucked harshly, the taste of precum salty and tart in your mouth.

The vampire gasped softly as you pulled him free of your mouth, his legs shaking as he tugged your hair and stroked your neck. You got off your knees and Cal was quick to catch your mouth for another kiss, cupping your jaw as he deepened the kiss and danced your tongues together in long strokes, mixing the taste of each other together.

“How do you want this?” You asked as you took hold of his dick again.

Cal tried not to moan as you stroked the wet skin, “W-we…Could sixty-nine?” His face grew embarrassed, “Unless you…”

You silenced him with a finger to his lips and grinned as you pushed him back onto the mattress, your fingers stroking over the skin, lifting a thigh to catch sight of the long, tattooed line of runes down his left leg, “You’re gorgeous.” You told him as you kissed again, and Cal tugged at your hips.

“Not as gorgeous as you when you’re in my mouth.” Cal rumbled as you turned on his chest and eased yourself backwards towards his mouth. The vampire’s wings flared as he looked between your legs, licking his lips as your hot flesh edged towards him.

Cal’s claws grazed over the skin of your backside, groping the soft flesh before he leaned up and licked a long stripe over you. The cold shock of his spit made you shudder as you laid over his stone-coloured torso and kissed the tip of his cock. Cal moaned into the skin of your thigh before he kissed either one and nipped a bite mark into the flesh, biting at the muscle hard enough to leave a welt of his teeth and a bruise. You flinched at the grip of his teeth but relaxed as his icy tongue soothed the heat of the pain. You relaxed with another lick along your sex before his mouth was on you, cool wetness enveloping you into a bolt of pleasure. You ran your fingers under Cal’s cock, enjoying the soft grumble against your skin before you took him into your mouth, enjoying the feel of him for a moment before you got to work, moving your hands against the part you could not fit into your mouth. It was a strange experience, feeling something so cool inside of your mouth, but you enjoyed the feel as Cal’s tongue laved against you and he sucked expertly before he blew an icy breath over your wet sex, enjoying the shudder you gave against his torso.

It continued for a while, before Cal’s claws scratched at your thighs, pinning your hips down against his mouth as he moaned, his hips bucking against your face, his balls pulling tight against him as he shuddered. He moaned against your skin again before his wings slammed at the wall and bed posts wildly and his toes curled. As his muscles clenched you pulled back to the tip, sucking gently before he came across your tongue. It was as cool as his body and you held the load in your mouth before you pulled away from his face, and on shaky legs, turned around to show him his own cum, letting it sit on your tongue before you swallowed, with a small grimace. Cal’s eyes flew wide at the sight, and his wings snatched your arms, pulling them upwards before his fingers flew between your legs and his mouth met your own. His cold tongue intertwined with your own as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please. I want to see you come undone.” he begged quietly against your cheek, his eyes red and glowing in the sunset’s purple and pink light. You ground your hips into his hand and moaned before you came, pressed to the cross and wing tattoo on his chest, leaving sticky streaks of cum over his skin.

With a sigh you collapsed against Cal’s chest, stroking his hair away from his shoulders as his wings arched and stretched, easing themselves back up and out of the way, hooked to the bedposts. Softly, he whispered the words to a song as you came down together, wrapped in each other’s arms. Cal eased his head back enough to look down at your face. He hesitated. You were clutching his shoulders. Your face tucked under his chin as you hummed and cuddled in closer. He used to leave at this point, before the urge took over, but he found his thirst in the back of his mind. Carefully, he stroked over your cheek bone, smiling as you nuzzled into his hand and kissed the bottom of his thumb. You opened your eyes and reached for his face, stroking along his strong nose and angular jaw and cheeks before you kissed his chin.

“Was that good, for you I mean?” Cal asked softly, scared to raise his voice, and break the peace over you both.

“It was perfect.” You hummed as you traced a pattern over his shoulder, following the feathers of his tattoo as you shifted. A sticky reminder of the events went cool as you pulled away from his chest and you cringed before chuckling and kissing him softly, “I’m going to go clean up… Join me?” You tugged Cal’s hand and the vampire nodded softly, following you, naked, through to the bathroom.

“You looking so happy is giving me cavities, sweat pea.” Flix joked as he mixed a cocktail. He bumped his hip into your own with a bright smile, “So tell me all about how you got a piece of Cal and all about him in bed.”

With a snort you pointed a spoon at Flix threateningly, “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Oh, but please!” Flix begged by your side, “He was such a hunk back in the day. I’m dying to know!”

“Be that as it may,” You smacked Flix away with your own hip bump, “I have a job to do, and it’s also none of your business!”

“You’re absolutely no fun!” Flix teased as he poured the two drinks for two girls, giving them both a wink and a wave as they left, giggling.

“This is why I don’t tell you anything.” You insisted as you went past his flirtatious stance, “You’re such a man whore!”

“We fae are just potent.” Flix gestured to his dick and you rolled your eyes at him as you served a nice orc woman her vodka and cola.

As Flix continued to pester you, and the customers went back to chatting and dancing, a shadow sidled along side the bar. Cal loomed over the end of the bar, bare chested apart from his leather jacket and clad in the chain heavy bottoms he adored so much. Flix caught sight of him before you and grinned as he strode over towards the vampire.

“A birdy told me you’ve captivated our little newbie.” Flix purred, “Is that true?”

Cal tossed his hair over his shoulder, “Flix do you know who employs you?”

“Low blow, boss, low blow.” Flix whimpered softly as he slid past you and gave your bottom a swipe, “Best go talk to your little Pitbull.”

You gave Flix the middle finger as you headed over to Cal, making sure the fae saw you stick out your tongue.

Cal smiled at your childish behaviour and reached for your hand as you came over to the far side of the bar. His cold hand was welcome in your own. You smiled up at him as he squeezed your hand. It had been a few weeks since your and Cal’s date and you had been seeing each other regularly between work shifts. Cal was growing warmer towards you every day, enjoying your company whenever

“Hey. Did you sleep well?” You asked as Cal dipped to place a kiss on your cheek, “It’s been cold today for a change.”

“I slept well, dove.” Cal replied before he stooped to properly kiss you, “I missed you.” he confessed quietly over the top of the industrial dance music in the background.

“I missed you too.” You went warm remembering what you both had gotten up to on your night off, leaned over Cal’s desk as his wings pinned you back against the old wood. You didn’t have long with him before he was needed downstairs, but you managed to kiss him into making you promises for a song the next day you had together.

“Have you thought of a song?” he asked as you reached to the cold store of blood, grabbing his favourite as he pushed his sunglasses into his hair.

You watched the blood turn in the microwave for a moment before you smiled, “Eclipse.”

Cal’s eyes softened, “Eclipse. A serenade with piano.” he rumbled, “A vampiric night, by another title.”

“I love your voice in it. It’s such a beautiful song and it’s one of the only songs in which you told a story. I…I watched some live videos.” You confessed as you span around, juggling the blood bag before you cut the end and poured it into a blacked-out glass.

“I used to sing it at the grand piano.” Cal smiled as his steel blue eyes wandered to the covered piano by the back of the stage, “It’s just…So hard to sing if you’re not totally in the melody. I sing it with my eyes closed.”

“I know, that’s why I decided that one would be the one.” You smiled as Cal quickly chugged the meal in his glass, his eyes flashing before he handed you the glass back and smiled with the faintest tinting of blood on the inside of his lips.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Cal whispered mysteriously, “Maybe if you could hang around after your shift, I could show you?” he leaned over the bar, his elbows resting on the black marble top. There was the lingering tone of temptation as he eyed you, for once ignoring the looks from others.

“I’ll see what Weldrick decides I have to do at closing.” You teased him with a flick of his hair behind his ear. Cal chuckled softly and leaned to steal a small kiss before he looked back at the stage and sighed. It was just a dance night, and so there was no live music, just a set of industrial dance music on the giant sound system. You could tell he hated it, it was easy to tell by the curl to his nose and the wrinkle in his forehead.

“Real music doesn’t sound like this.” he grumbled before turning and giving you a small wave of his hand. Cal rapped his knuckles on the counter before he merged back into the crowd and weaved his way back to the stairs to head to his office. He no doubt had plenty of financing to do with Weldrick’s new keg purchases, and you didn’t envy the vampire.

As he reached the bottom of the balcony stairs, you watched him freeze, his eyes darting around the crowd, as though he was looking for someone. It was then that Weldrick burst from the back, Flix in tow, and snorted, the bull ring in his nose jumping with his inhales. His hooves clicked before he gave one, vicious, thunderous stomp.

“Fuckin’ Slithár clan.” Weldrick growled as he headed to the bar door and threw it open. The music squealed suddenly, as static roared over the sound system. Numerous patrons cried out in pain, those monsters of more sensitive hearing pressing their hands and tentacles to their ears to try and block the noise. The noise persisted before stopping suddenly, letting a confused silence fall over the entire place. The Black Dahlia was silent for the first time in many years. It was then that the crowd parted on the dance floor, and a few vampires lingered in the centre of a wide circle. You recognised the blond vampire Cal had thrown out of the bar a few weeks before but this time he had a small group with him. His hair wasn’t styled but his eyes burned with hunger. Each of the group bore the red eyes of starving vampires.

Cal turned on the stairs, his teeth already clenched as Weldrick met him at the bottom of the stairs and looked over the crowd. He caught Cal by the arm and held him firmly as he shouted.

“What does the Slithár clan want with us? You blood sucking little leeches aren’t welcome here. Your little blond bitch saw to that!” Weldrick shouted with a long huff of hot air, his hoof slamming at the floor as his head dipped, exposing the gold capped tips of his tall horns.

“We don’t take kindly to people mistreating our own.” A tall vampire woman stepped out from the group her eyes dark but not red. She held herself with a lithe grace, despite the muscles of her thighs and arms. She was a killer in a former life, you could tell by her posture.

“He knew the rules. You don’t try to make meals of humans!” Weldrick countered, “We had every right to do what we did!”

“Clarence had no right. You see, his clan and ours has bad blood. His actions are an act of war between our…”

Cal tore free of Weldrick’s grip and held his clawed hand up and he took the steps down to the dance floor. His chains jangled as he descended and walked towards the woman. She was tall but Cal was taller. His face shifted in a ripple, exposing sharp teeth in a snarl as his eyes burned red.

“An act of war?” he asked her again mockingly, “I’ve not been part of my own clan for years. You can take this up with Bohai. He’s my maker and leader, his audience is what you need.”

You watched him let his jacket fall free as his wings snapped free and spread high, exposing his scarred back and burned membranes to the club. You dashed from the bar but Weldrick caught you quickly, holding you against his furry chest before Flix came to grab hold of you.

“Not now, sweet thing, not now.” Flix hissed as he dragged you behind Weldrick again.

The female vampire let her face twist into something like joy as she watched his form shift and his body shake over her.

“We can settle this now, if you would like?” His powerful voice shook the glasses behind the bar, and you recognised the enchanting tones which would usually weave into his singing and music. The vampires behind the female looked upon his face in disgust, their small fangs exposed.

“So, the stories are true then? Bohai is alive? I did not think his animalistic line would survive long. Look at how foul you are. Monstrous. You’re all unfit to be vampire blood!” She cackled as she tapped her black painted lips. Her purple hair was tight on her head, out of the way for a fight.

“Bohai is older than your pathetic master. He is master of the dark and the creatures in it. Your own line is what is left of a new, weak bloodline. Too human to live by the old teachings.” Cal spat back at her, claws bared, but his face snapped to the side.

The woman grinned as drew her hand back, licking the blood from her nails before spitting it onto the dance floor, “Disgusting.” she spat again before looking at the crowd, her eyes dancing over the humans and monsters before she looked back at Weldrick. Her eyes widened with glee seeing you and the fae behind him.

“I will open your guts for the rats.” Cal growled, “Get out of my bar. This is neutral ground and no place for the filthy likes of you.”

She only laughed again and clicked. Her group moved like lines of light before each had their fangs in the throat of a human. You screamed with the rest of the patrons and clutched Flix as the Fae’s fingers danced with purple light.

“Weldrick?!” Flix screeched over the chaos, “What…”

Weldrick’s eyes clouded as he howled over the chaos, steam pouring from his mouth and nose.

“Fuck!” Flix hissed as he grabbed your hand and ran for the bar among the crushing rush of bodies, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he cursed violently.

Weldrick howled and charged into the fray of bodies, his horns lowered as he grabbed the blond vampire by the neck and dipped his head in a thunder of hooves, charging the creature at the wall. His horns smashed into the wall, with the blond male impaled on the ends. The vampire spewed blood over Weldrick’s white fur and hissed violently before Weldrick dragged him free and smashed a hoof into his chest, crushing the bones under his massive weight.

A great chorus of howling hisses sounded as Cal grappled the female in the centre of the dance floor. He tossed her towards the wall before he charged at the rest of the group, tearing them from their meals as he gouged at their limbs and tore at their necks, spraying blood and flesh over the floor. The humans dropped to the floor and you reached for the stakes under the counter as Flix’s hands shook and his black eyes burned with purple light. He weaved his fingers in the air as he muttered, and the bodies were surrounded with purple light before they floated from the floor and danced above the floor, drifting towards the exit. Taking the initiative, you ran for the door and pushed them open, screaming for the remaining creatures to get help here and take the people to the hospital. Flix’s hair drenched with sweat as he worked to guide the injured over the chaos, his hair floating around his head with the effort. You rushed to help him stand, pressing your back against the fae as he soaked himself with sweat and swayed.

“I’ve got you, Flix.” You whispered to him as you held your stake tight in your hand, peering back over at the fight as Weldrick grabbed hold of another vampire.

The gold cap of his horn pierced through the vampire’s guts as he threw them over his head, and you tried not to look as gut spilled out over the vampire’s stomach and splashed blood over Weldrick’s fur. Cal grappled the female by her throat, his teeth tearing at her chest before he hissed and threw her again, smashing a table through. She stood again, swaying, and hissing as other vampires healed and crawled to help. Blood smeared the flooring and Cal slipped as one tugged on the chains of his jeans, tangling her hands in the silver before she gurgled. Cal’s clawed wing tip pierced her chest and tore upwards as he flung her across the room. She landed in a pile by the stage, and he turned on the ringleader once again, howling as they met with fists, teeth, and claws, gouging at one another. It reminded you of Blade. A stupid gory mess of screeching vampires. You tried to battle the bile that burned at your throat as Cal’s shoulder was torn open by fangs. The two interlocked again before Cal shoved his claws under her chin and pushed, leaning his weight into his arm as he threw her head back with a sickening crunch. She collapsed, dead for the moment, but not for long, and Cal heaved as he wiped blood from his mouth and turned to see Weldrick tear another vampire open by his guts. They were immortal, they could scoop their own innards back inside and heal limbs back to flesh.

His eyes flashed with panic as he leaped from the dance floor and rushed to the bar, his eyes wild and hair matted. You heaved as Flix grinned and collapsed back against you, his hair falling into a sweaty mess around him.

“Jesus!” You caught him and leaned him against the bar as Cal rushed to grab something for the fae.

“Fuck…. Fuck vampires.” he hissed against the wood as he shook and grabbed for a bottle of tequila, “Fucking blood sucking, animal fucking leeches.”

Cal pulled Flix’s head back to look at his black eyes, and he waved his hand to check the fae was all there, “Thank you, Flix. Those people would be dead if it weren’t for you.” He gripped the fae’s shoulder tight.

“Yeah. I know.” Flix heaved before he took three long sips of tequila, “Get them outside into the sun…You need…”

“Fuck.” Cal cursed as Flix’s eyes rolled and he slumped over the bar, “Sweetheart. Grab the black box from the back, please. It will have crystals and mushrooms and…”

Weldrick’s hulking, steaming form appeared behind the vampire. Blood and guts hung from his head and he tossed his horns and fur, splattering skin and blood over the bar. Cal turned quietly, tucking his wings away as the minotaur rasped over him.

“Weldrick, Flix needs help. I need you to calm down. This isn’t you…” Cal soothed gently as the minotaur grumbled and shook his head.

“Fuck you, Cal. I’m not a fuckin’ cow!” he shouted as he stormed behind the bar and grabbed the fae from you before he rushed for his kits in the back, “GET THOSE VAMPIRES OUT OF HERE!”

Cal realised suddenly, that they were not done. The vampires hissed and spat on the floor, scooping pieces of themselves back together as they spat blood and spit over the floor. With a great beat of his wings, Cal soared past you and snatched the ringleader by her throat again, dragging her out into the street where a small crowd had formed.

The patrons who were bold enough blocked her exit, wings, fangs and claws extended to coop her against the vampire before her. Cal watched her before he flapped back and forth, dragging pieces of her friends out onto the tarmac before he stood over her and hissed lowly, growling as she darted to his right.

“Take your friends back to your little hole in the ground. The authorities are on their way.” Cal watched her eyes go wide, “You know what they do to blood addicts.” he threatened softly, “The jackets and the sunlight therapy until you forget why it tasted so good.”

“You wouldn’t.” she spat at him as the vampires groaned and gurgled in a pile in front of her, “It is treachery.”

“Watch me.” Cal threatened, “I know your master is against the law. You can crawl back to him and let them rot in those little sunlit rooms. The young one won’t survive it, but you can tell him he fought in his honour when you explain why his children are suffering in agony.” he tossed her a phone from one of the torn vampire’s limbs, “Looks like they already phoned him.”

She looked around the crowd, her red eyes wild before she howled and split into a blur, disappearing between the patrons as the authorities arrived. Humans and monsters alike stepped out of vans; guns pointed at the scene. You dashed out of the bar and covered Cal’s body with your own. They were silver and UV serum rounds. He wouldn’t die maybe, but he would be in agony if any of them pierced his skin.

“Step away from the scene, sir!” They shouted over the tannoy. Cal touched your shoulder and raised his hands as he slipped into his glamour and cringed. They pointed their bright flashlights at his face and pinned his arms back as they looked at his eyes. They were steel blue.

“Sorry. We have to be sure.” They young Centaur officer apologised, his hooves clicking as he turned to face the mass of limbs which was rearranging itself.

“Those are your offenders. They attacked my bar. Part of the Slithár clan.” Cal tossed his hair over his shoulder and wiped at the blood over his torso, flicking it away as the officers entered the bar.

Weldrick stepped out with Flix in his arms. Flix was pale and gaunt, sweating profusely, but much better off than he had been originally. He patted Weldrick’s arm, and the minotaur let him stand.

“You sure?” he asked Flix as he wobbled against him.

“Yes.” Flix croaked, “I’m fine. I promise.”

You felt your eyes burn as you dragged Cal and Flix into a hug, crying into their shoulders before Weldrick huffed softly and grappled you all as well in a giant hug.

“Thank fuck.” Weldrick cursed as you all squeezed tight. Cal let a faint smile paint his lips as you nuzzled into his neck and stroked Flix and Weldrick’s backs.

“This is going to cost a fortune.” Cal lamented as you all held each other.

“Seriously?” Flix scoffed, “I hate you, boss.”

You chuckled as you all broke away and leaned into Cal’s side, blood and grime pressing to each other’s skins as he turned your face upwards.

“You are unharmed?” Cal asked in a whisper against your ear.

“I’m fine.” You whispered back, “But I’m…That was a lot to take in. And this is…”

“I know. I’m so sorry.” he lamented quietly, “This is not what I wanted for you or…or anyone. I didn’t think that they would do something like this.”

“I don’t know what to think Cal. This was an attempted slaughter!” It was like you couldn’t quite believe it yet.

Cal pulled you against him tight, “I promise we’ll sort this.”

You believed him, “I know. I just want to cry and punch things and…” You felt tears drip down your nose, “I was so scared!” You cried as you clutched at Cal’s shoulders.

“I know, sweet dove, I know.” Cal stroked the back of your neck as he simply held you close and wiped away your tears.

The brawl stayed as a quiet topic. No one spoke about the night, but a few regulars asked what had happened when the bar finally reopened a month later. Weldrick and Cal had paid you and Flix for your time off as they got the workers in to replace the floors and sound systems. It was a long time, and between your days speaking to a therapist, you went to see Cal in his flat above the bar. He was quiet the first week, stiff and sore almost from the exhaustion. He slept for three days and nights after and drank blood bag after blood bag until ringing you on the fourth day. It was hard for all of you. Weldrick didn’t speak about what had happened but Flix told you over the phone he was from a line of berserker minotaur related to the original creature within the labyrinth. Fury took over them and made them something unkillable. You looked at the doors of the bar as Cal pressed his hand to the bottom of your back. It was like coming home, and you let him open the door for you to enter.

You stepped onto the new mahogany flooring and grinned at the same dim lighting and LEDs around the bar which led down into the concrete dance floor and the new stage. You gasped at the centre. The grand piano was freshly polished and littered with black burning candles and roses. You rushed to the steps and looked at it. Cal joined you a moment later.

“I thought I would play you that song now?” he whispered, caging you against the railing of the dance floor. The vampire pressed a soft kiss to your ear, “I wanted to welcome you back properly.” He pulled away and took hold of your hand before kissing the back of that too.

“Its beautiful.” You replied before smiling and squeezing his hands, “Do I have to close my eyes?”

Cal shook his head, “No. Just listen and watch.” He took you by the hand and led you towards one seat in front of the piano on the stage. He sat you down before taking his own seat at the piano, flicking his hair out of his way before he played with the ruffles of his shirt and pressed his hands to the keys, once, twice, thrice and paused to listen to the sound. Satisfied, he pressed his hands to the keys again and leaned into the noise, closing his eyes as the soft sounds of the beginnings of a melody built within the wood.

A melody wove over powerful chords and you leaned back to listen to the full sound, smiling softly as Cal opened his mouth. As usual, the gravelly voice turned into a pleasing tone, like chocolate which you just wanted to eat. It was temptation. The story started about a maiden of the moon, dancing across the night meadows until fate had her meet the sun’s light. A man of promise and hope who lived and worked in the fields of the day. They looked on each other before dancing under a great old oak and kissing once before she danced away at the break of dawn. You swayed as Cal then spoke of the roses that followed her feet the next night, breaking her skin as she danced and danced. The sun’s light tended the wounds before temptation had him lick her blood. Bound to the night then he fell into despair. It was sad then, Cal’s voice dripping with agony as the woman cried bloody tears for him under the tree. He only returned with the sun’s light, burning as he sheltered beneath the tree and protected her from the light, evaporating into ash, before she too followed him and danced into the sky. Cal’s face was a picture of bliss as he dang without a concern for an audience, enjoying the flow of the notes before they slowly died and faded back into the wood.

When he opened his eyes, you stood from the stool and met him. Cal loomed over you, stoic and unsure. Nervously, he grabbed for your hand and you grappled him down for a kiss before letting him stand again.

“I love you.” You uttered.

Cal’s ears twitched before he returned your smile, hiding behind a small curtain of his hair, “I love you too, dove.”

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angerstagram · 4 years

Text

monster among men // calum (SMUT)

boxer!calum

Pairing: Calum + Y/N

Words: 4.6k

Rating: X. For, you know, sex.

Description: Calum is your long time boyfriend but he’s also a boxer. When his trainer says the two of you can’t have sex before the big match, you find that much easier said than done.

Warning: Oral sex, mentions of violence (for sport).

Author’s Note: I wrote this in one go and haven’t edited it!! Please forgive the typos. Stay tuned for a part two!

——————————————

Calum threw one last punch at the now well-abused punching bag, watching it swing slowly back and forth—toward him, then away, then toward him again—and wiped the sweat off his forehead. The air in the gym was thick with sweat and dirt as men all around him trained against sparring partners, trainers, or a giant bag of sand, like him.

His trainer, Sal, came up behind him and squirted some gatorade in his mouth before helping him remove his gloves. “That was great, Cal. Your form is better than 97% of the guys in here.”

Calum smirked. “My form is better than 100% of the guys in here and you know it, Sal.”

Sal smiled at Calum but refused to boost his ego. “Well your form isn’t gonna win you a belt, Cal. Not on its own. I need you to keep up your power all the way to the last punch.” Sal was talking excitedly with his hands now, throwing fake punches at the air as though it were 1987 and he was back in the ring.

“Don’t worry about my power, Sal. Just get me in the ring and I’ll take it from there.” Calum wiped the towel Sal handed him against the back of his neck and then over the planes of his chest where little beads of sweat had gathered.

“Alright, big shot.” Sal gestured his head toward the ring and Calum climbed in, letting Sal strap the gloves back on once he was inside.

Sal slid on a pair of punching mitts and held them in front of Calum’s face. “Focus on me, Cal. Right here.”

Calum started throwing punches and Sal met them every time. Every time Calum dropped his guard, Sal would take advantage and hit Calum in the face with a mitt until Calum’s cheek was red and starting to swell.

They went on like that for the better part of an hour, before Sal finally let Calum take a break at the edge of the ring.

“It’s that girl, Calum. She’s inside your head. It’s all well and good to get laid when you don’t have a belt on the line. But if you’re spending all your time thinking about what little date you’re gonna go on and picking up a nice bouquet of pansies or some shit, you’re head ain’t gonna be where it needs to be.”

Calum knew that Sal was trying to rip him up and make fun of him by playing on age-old stereotypes, but Calum could’t even hear him.

As soon as Sal mentioned flowers Cal could smell your perfume. He could feel your skin under his fingertips, the soft give of your hips as he squeezed them. It was as though you were standing right in front of him, his mouth pressing soft kisses to the nape of your neck as you worked in the kitchen. He was pulling your back to be flush with his chest, the shape of your ass pushing deliciously into his —

“You’re not even listening to me, are ya?” Sal’s voice cut into Calum’s reverie and suddenly he was whipped back into the gym.

“I get it, no girls before the match. I hear you, Sal.” If the guys wanted to believe that Calum was a womanizer who was bedding a different woman every night, he would let them. But he wouldn’t jeopardize this match for anything.

————————————————

Calum was really, truly planning on staying strong until his match. But then he got home and you were standing there wearing one of his cotton t-shirts, barefoot and swaying your hips in time to the music playing through the stereo. Everything smelled amazing, the food you had simmering on the stovetop, the candle lit on the coffee table, the summer breeze drifting in through the open windows.

He slipped off his shoes and padded into the kitchen while you faced away from him. He knew you didn’t hear him come in over the sound from the stereo, so he had the advantage as he walked up behind you and gave you a playful slap on the ass.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, dropping the spoon into the sauce you had been stirring and letting out a yelp. “Calum Thomas!” you explained, licking the sauce off your thumb where it had splashed when you dropped the spoon.

“Hmmm,” Calum let out a low hum as he nuzzled his face into your neck, just as he had imagined earlier. He let out a soft sigh, the sound of a man who was exactly where he wanted to be after a long day. “Hey, let me have a taste, too,” he murmured, turning your chin between his fingers and kissing you deeply.

You twisted yourself in his arms so that your back was to the stove and your chest pressed against his. You loved when he came home like this; worked up from a day of hard exercise, hair still wet from his shower at the gym, the muscles in his arm thick and corded under his t-shirt where you traced your fingers.

His mouth wandered down your neck, his open mouth warm against your pulse points. You were breathing heavier now and he knew it, pressing his palm against the small of your back and drawing you impossibly closer to him.

“So, um,” you tried to string a sentence together as the feeling of his lips on your skin scrambled your thoughts. “How was work?”

Your little joke passed over him without laughter, his focus unyielding. He was always so focused on whatever task was at hand that he often couldn’t see or hear the world around him. Times like this, that trait came in handy.

You laced your fingers through his wet hair and scratched softly at the back of his head, bringing his focus briefly back to reality. Calum raised his face to yours again and smirked against your lips. “Work was great, sweetie. And how was your day?”

Calum loved playing pretend like that. Pretend like you two were a normal couple; that he had a normal 9-5 job pushing papers behind a desk in a suit and tie and you drove a mini-van or some shit. A joke that made it seem in moments like this that he wasn’t in physical danger 95% of his day and you didn’t spend thousands of hours of your life scared that one wrong punch would be the end of him.

But you couldn’t think about that now, not when he was hooking his hands around the backs of your thighs and hoisting you over onto a clear spot of the counter. Not when he was standing between your open knees and pulling you closer to his chest again, his arms circling your back and his mouth hot and needy against yours.

His kisses were urgent and all-consuming, pulling the breath of you and energizing you all at the same time. You didn’t realize he had pulled your hair out of it’s ponytail until you felt it cascade down your back. He pressed a kiss behind your ear and bit it lightly, causing you to laugh at the aggression.

“What’s gotten into you, Hood?” you asked breathlessly, teasing him for his ability to go zero to ninety in 3.5 seconds. Something in the tightness of his back and the set of his jaw told you something was up, though. “At least let me turn off the sauce so it doesn’t burn.”

Now he was laughing at you, his chest rumbling against yours. “I’m doing some of my best work here, babe, and you’re thinking about the sauce?”

“I just don’t want it to burn! I’ve been building these flavors for an hour, Cal.”

He didn’t stop laughing, but humored you by reaching over and switching off the burners. “Happy now?”

“I’ll be happier when you tell me what’s going on,” you said softly as you rubbed circles against his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the muscles there.

He dropped his forehead against yours and pressed a light kiss to your lips. He knew he would have to bring it up sooner or later, but he didn’t think he would have to say it so soon. “I, um, well.” He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he searched for the words. “Basically, Sal thinks that we shouldn’t, um.”

You dipped your head, searching for his eyes. Trying to follow along with his train of thoughts going nowhere. “Sal thinks we shouldn’t what, Cal?”

“Sal thinks we shouldn’t be, um, romantic before the championship match.” Cal almost looked like he was blushing. For someone that was so confident and uninhibited while you were actually being romantic, he often had a hard time talking about it when you weren’t.

Your face was deadpan as you looked at him. “Sal says we can’t fuck before the match,” you paraphrased in an unenthusiastic voice.

Now he was definitely blushing, the color rising in his cheeks and spreading to his ears. “Um, well, yeah.”

“The match that’s in three weeks.”

“Uh huh.”

“Your trainer, a man who hasn’t had a wild night of passion in over a century, says that you and I cannot fuck for 21 days.”

“Yeah.”

“And that will do…what exactly? It will help your form?”

“No, my form is great, actually. It’s my power on the last punch that needs work,” Calum replied, genuinely not realizing that you were being sarcastic.

“Then why the fuck did you come in here and start kissing me like that, jackass?” You swatted at his shoulder and dropped your head to his shoulder, huffing at the injustice of it all.

Calum laughed at your frustration, rubbing calming circles into the small of your back again but you pushed against his shoulders.

“You really can’t touch me if you don’t want me to jump you right now, Calum.”

The look in your eyes made him see you weren’t really joking. Calum felt a sudden rush of conflicting emotions; half feeling guilty that he had done this to you, and half feeling proud that he had a girl who wanted him as badly as he wanted her all the goddamn time.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, love, I shouldn’t have done that. Maybe I wanted a little something to tide me over.” He was smirking now, leaning in to give you another kiss but you turned your head to the side in defiance.

He tossed his head back in defeat, taking a step back and throwing his hands up to signal that he wouldn’t pressure you.

But that’s not what you wanted, either. It was very confusing, really. He had worked you up and then left you high and dry, so you were just as much want and need and greed as you were angry and annoyed.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back against you, shifting forward on the counter. “If you want to tide me over, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” you said against his lips, sliding your hand down the front of his shorts and palming him over his underwear.

Calum groaned and bucked involuntarily against your hand before grabbing your wrist. “Baaabe, we can’t,” his voice almost a whine.

You slipped your hand back out of his shirt obediently and placed it back on his shoulders. “Fine,” you conceded. “I guess I’ll just have to go take care of myself. You can finish up dinner, right?”

Giving his shoulders a light push, Calum stepped back, surprised. You slid off the counter and began walking out of the kitchen toward your bedroom before feeling his hand grab your wrist. “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that.”

He pulled your wrist to turn you around, holding your hand to his cheek and pressing his mouth where it met your wrist. He held it there for what felt like forever, the worlds slowing down and your heart speeding up as you concentrated on the feeling of his lips against your palm. He was looking at you from under his criminally long lashes, all dark lines and tan skin with a single wet curl hanging over his forehead.

“We can do this, together, I’m sure,” he murmured into your skin. “Now can we please eat this beautiful dinner you’ve worked so hard on?”

Breathing in through your nose and blowing out through your mouth, you focused on both calming down and cooling down. You really wished this place came with a goddamn air conditioner.

“Fine. You make the salad.”

————————————————————

A week went by like that. The tension growing thicker each day. Waking up next to Calum and feeling the shape of his body against your back, your front, your legs twisted between each other’s or splayed like snow angels. No matter the position, you woke up hot, every inch of your scorching where it touched his.

It really shouldn’t be this hard. You had been celibate voluntarily or involuntarily, for months at a time not that long ago. You were an adult who could survive a simple 21-day stretch without sex.

But that was all before you met Calum. Before you had been with Calum; known the way his body could make yours feel. Before you knew the way he could play your body like a fine-tuned instrument, his every touch lighting a fire inside of you that threatened to melt you from the inside out.

And it was in moments like this, when the early morning sun was streaming in through the curtains and causing a cold yellow light to dance over his golden skin that you felt so acutely what he could do to you. You lay awake just staring at him. At his long, black eyelashes curling so beautifully over his closed eyes. His messy morning hair curling haphazardly over his forehead. His strong jaw line creating a line that led down his neck to the shape of his collarbone where it stood out over the swell of his bare chest.

His breathing was slow, the rise and fall almost lulling you back to sleep. But then he spoke. “You’re being creepy,” he murmurs without opening his eyes.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” you replied innocently, swiping his hair off his forehead and running your finger down his cheek to his jaw.

“Staring at me looking all sexy and asleep isn’t going to help your predicament, see cheeks,” he joked as he slowly came into consciousness.

“How do you do that without opening your eyes?”

He turned his face to press his mouth to the pulse in your wrist, one eye peeking open to stare at you in the morning light. “I’ll tell you one day.”

You curled into his side, setting your chin into his shoulder to stare at him up close. “I think I’ve been rather good, actually. I haven’t pressured you even once, even when I really wanted to jump your bones.”

He laughed, curling to face you on his arm, your bodies forming two parentheses barely overlapping each other under the mustard yellow sheets. “You’ve wanted to jump my bones, hmm?” He ran his hand down your back to your underwear, teasing the skin just under the hem of his cotton t-shirt that you had worn to bed.

“Of course,” you said, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers with his. “When you come home all sweaty from the gym in those short ‘80s shorts. How could I resist?” Your voice was joking but you really weren’t. Those were the times you really felt like no championship would be worth dying a slow, horny death.

“Well you’ve been very patient.” Calum pressed a kiss to your forehead. “How long has it been, anyway?”

“Eight days,” you replied too quickly.

Calum noticed your eagerness and laughed. “Eight days. Hm. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

Your heart skipped a beat but you didn’t let yourself get your hopes up. Not after yesterday, when he had texted you I have a surprise for you when you get home ;) and you arrived home prepared to see a naked Calum covered in whipped cream or something….only to find him with an extra-large pizza from your favorite restaurant. Granted, that had been a pretty good surprise. But it didn’t change the fact that you only thought of him a tease with no action to back up his big talk.

“Oh I’m certain I deserve a reward,” you replied, giving him a playful slap on the ass.

“Whatever shall we do about that?” he whispered into your ear. Goosebumps rose everywhere his breath ghosted over you.

Calum rolled you onto your back, throwing his leg over your waist to rest his full chest against yours. Maybe you could get excited, after all.

He pressed small kisses against your neck, nipping at your skin to make you gasp. When you moved your hands to twist them through his hair he grabbed them and pressed them to the pillows above your head, twining your fingers together and making your breath come out unsteadily.

He kissed you deeply, the air leaving your lungs. Suddenly your entire body was nothing but a pile of unmitigated need, a live wire that sparked everywhere his mouth touched. And his mouth on yours made you feel like he was breathing your life into your lungs and pulling it back out all at the same time.

It was an effect no man had ever had on you before. The ability to turn you inside out like this. Was it because you were in love with him? So completely in love with him that it made the want and the need and lust and sex and love all mix up with each other in your mind until they were a single force driving you toward peak after peak.

And he had barely even gotten started. He had you pinned between his strong arms, the muscles in his bicep flexing as he held himself over you. He ground his pelvis into yours, your back arching to meet each delicious thrust. God, he hadn’t even really touched you yet.

Calum held himself above you to watch the effect his actions had on you. The way your eyebrows furrowed together as he rubbed against you. The way you shivered when he traced one finger up your arm and over the swell of your chest to cup your breast over your shirt.

“I feel like I’m in high school,” you murmured. “Dry humping my boyfriend while his mom watches TV in the living room.”

“My mom is here?” Calum looked over his shoulder as though he would find her standing right behind him.

You laughed and used his distraction to push him onto his back. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right.” You peeled his t-shirt off of you and threw it on the floor, immediately forgotten.

Calum drank you in above him, pupils blown out with lust, watching you closely to see what you would try to do next. His body looked relaxed but you knew that in reality he was like a predatory cat preparing to strike. That his lazy exterior could spring into action before you could realize what had happened.

Not wanting him to steal your pleasure from you, you acted before he could. First you slid your fingers down your panties and gathered some of the wetness that had grown there before rubbing your fingertips slowly over your clit. Your mouth pouted open into a gasp, reveling in the sensation, grinding harder as you chased that pleasure.

You slapped your other hand to his chest, your fingertips digging crescent moons into his bronze skin as you rolled your hips over your hand, and by extension, his growing erection.

Calum sat up suddenly. His face was still relaxed, but the speed with which he moved gave away how much your action had affected him. He pressed his chest flush with yours and kissed you hotly.

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he pulled your hand out from your panties and pressed your fingers into his mouth. His tongue laved slowly over your fingertips, drawing a long moan from you, the air between the two of you growing thick and electric.

“God, you’re killing me, Cal,” you moaned. He ran his fingers down to your hips again, digging into the flesh and rolling you against him. Back and forth, back and forth, rolling you quickly toward an orgasm thanks largely to how long it had been since your last one.

“Do you,” Cal pressed a kiss to the base of your throat, “do you touch yourself when I’m away?” Calum’s voice sounded genuinely quizzical, as though he were discussing the weather or asking you for directions.

“I, um.” Your brain was short circuiting as he pressed you harder and faster against him, your wet panties rubbing against your clit like a tongue. He pressed another kiss to your bare chest, nipping you just under your collarbone before taking a nipple into his mouth.

“Well? Do you?” He repeated, his hot breath causing you to shiver where it met your pebbled nipple.

“No. Um.” The screws were coming loose in your brain. Everything you wanted to do with him, do to him, were flashing over the inside of your eyelids as he drew you to your peak. “Not since, um, not since you said we couldn’t, oh god.”

Calum pulled away and you whined at the loss. He was looking at you intently, as though trying to judge if you were being serious. “You mean that?” He slid his hand down the back of your panties and slid one finger inside you easily. You gasped at how unexpected it was and moaned as he used that hand to pull you back and forth into the grinding motion he had you in before. “You really haven’t had an orgasm for over a week?”

“Yeah, I mean it,” your voice was increasing in pitch and your eyes were shut tight. “Fuck, Calum, don’t stop.”

But Calum did stop. At least, he stopped long enough to throw you onto your back and slide comfortably to rest his head just above your mound. “You’ve been an even better girl than I thought,” Calum praised, his voice still gravelly this early in the morning. “Now let’s see about that reward.”

Calum pulled your underwear off quickly and pressed his tongue flat against you, licking a thick stripe from your opening to your clit. You keened loudly, your back arching when he finally gave you what you needed.

He didn’t intend to tease you. He really did want to reward you for your patience. But it was just so much fun to watch you writhe and moan under him as he teased one finger around your opening and licked figure eights just below your clit.

You were panting as the air of the room pressed heavily against your skin. If fucking Calum was a religious experience, having him eat you out was like leaving earth and going straight to heaven.

“Fuck, Calum. I can’t.” You had been so close to your climax before you felt your mouth on you that your brain was disconnecting.

Finally, he took mercy on you. Diving in to eat you like his last meal. He slid one finger into you, just up to the second knuckle, pressing up against your front wall as he flicked his tongue against your clit.

You bucked up into his face and he didn’t even bother holding you down, just tucked one arm under your thigh to steady himself before shoving two fingers into you up to their base.

He pumped his fingers into you steadily, pressing his tongue flat against you. He alternated his pace, pumping faster when he slowed his tongue and flicking his tongue quickly when he slowed his pumps.

“Oh my god, Calum. Fuck, I—,” you blubbered as your soul left your body. You curled your legs over his shoulders, your thighs shaking as you sprinted towards the high you were both chasing. All the want you had built up for a week had created an ache stronger than you even realized, and the beginning of your orgasm was like stretching an atrophied muscle. “Goddamn it that feels so fucking good.”

When he knew you were going to fall over the edge, Calum slowed his tongue and hooked his fingers to press firmly against your g-spot. He tapped them rapidly against that spot as he sucked your clit into his mouth.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you reached your peak. You clamped your knees against his ears, locking him in place as you finally fell over the edge. Your entire body shook as the orgasm rolled from where his fingers still tapped inside you out to your fingers and down to your toes.

Even as you reached your peak he didn’t stop, pumping his fingers and scissoring them to rub against every wall, running his tongue over you until there wasn’t a nerve left below your waist that he hadn’t annihilated.

It was like his fingers were fucking the air right out of your lungs. Connecting the two of you and unraveling you all at the same time.

“C’mon, baby. I know you’ve got another in you.”

And he was right, really. Except it wasn’t exactly a second orgasm as it was a second wave of the first that had never stopped. He stayed like that for a long time, never letting you come down, pulling one after another from you until you had to shove his face away.

He kissed his way back up your body, holding his hand still against your mound as you came down, its warmth soothing as your body shook.

Finally he pressed his mouth against yours and you could taste yourself. You didn’t have the energy to kiss him back. Your lips just hung open as your breath came out in small pants. He rolled over onto his side and pulled the sheet over both of you.

“You are really fucking good at that,” you said finally, flinging the back of your hand against his chest.

Calum nuzzled his nose against your ear, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Only the best for my girl,” he laughed, taking the compliment in stride.

You glanced down at the tent in the sheet where it lay over his waist. “Just, uh, just give me a minute. I’ll get right on that.” You gestured lazily toward his obvious erection.

“No, no. Today was about you.” Calum rolled you so that he was spooning you and ran his hand over the back of yours, twisting your fingers together. “I still need to wait until after the match.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck and breathed slowly through his nose to try and bring his own body temperature down. Your thoughts were becoming coherent again.

You turned your head to look at him, really look at him. You kissed him deeply, trying to convey to him the feeling that had overwhelmed you. “I love you, Calum. So goddamn much.”

He smiled but he didn’t laugh. The light danced in his eyes where they crinkled at the corners. He kissed you again and brushed his nose against yours. “I love you, too. Now go back to sleep.”

#calum #calum hood #calum hood fic #calum hood smut #5sos #5sos fic #5sos smut #angerstagram

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lovestrucked-again · 3 years

Text

Beneath the daylight moon

Chapter 4

Masterlist - Round the Robin Collab Prev

“Why do we sometimes see the moon, even during daytime?” Jaehyun doesn’t know, nor did he care to notice that such a thing existed; it was a mystery to him, but you were a bigger enigma.

“I can help you. And her.” Jaehyun’s eyes shifted towards the door that he had just left behind, then back to the boy gripping his arm. “But I need your help first.”

“You want me to do what?” Jaehyun questioned, the shock evident in his voice.

“You can see it right?” the boy asked in anticipation, the glint of excitement sparkling in his eye as he continued, “the string.”

“Uh,” Jaehyun hesitated, nervous how to respond, “no I can’t.”

“Did you use the flash?” the guy bounced back, moving uncomfortably close to Jaehyun, pushing his way to see the screen of his phone.

“No I didn't bu-” Jaehyun frowned in frustration, “can I have my phone back?” he asked, struggling to hide his impatience and annoyance stirring up. The boy didn't respond, quickly flicking the camera app onto screen and switching it to the back camera, focusing the dot on his physical still body connected to the monitors on the hospital bed. Jaehyun stood leaning on one foot, arms crossed around his body and huffed in exasperation. Why did I even bother? He thought to himself.

“Look.”

Jaehyun grabbed the phone back without a second thought and lazily looked at the screen, not expecting anything until his jaw drops in awe, “W-What is that?” he stuttered out.

“It’s my connection to her.” The boy explained, taking a seat beside his own laid out body. Jaehyun has to rub his eyes again, afraid that he’s dreaming, seeing the two identical faces beside each other. There’s almost no difference in the complexion of their faces, if the boy lied still against his body with his eyes closed, Jaehyun was almost certain he would be unable to tell the difference. It scared him.

“To her?” Jaehyun asked, unable to comprehend everything.

“That string is connected to my soulmate.”

“Wait what?”

The boy gets up from the bed, beginning to pace back and forth between the doorway and his coma body, “I know it sounds crazy and stupid but I’ve researched this already, I’ve spent almost 4 years now, like this.” He glanced at Jaehyun for a sign of his following, “The string you just saw is connected to her.”

Jaehyun looked down at the phone in his hand, staring at the silver cord that seemed to emerge from the boy’s unconscious covered heart. He could see the string flow past out the photo frame and disappear behind the corner edge of his screen. “Where is she?” he asked, trying to interpret everything.

The boy stopped moving, clenching his fist tightly before unclasping it and turning to face the closed door, “She’s in the room next door.”

“Have you heard of the daytime moon?” The boy asked, leaning against the wooden bench chair and staring up into the sky.

Jaehyun’s interest perked up at the mention of the familiar term, “Yeah I have.” He takes a seat beside the boy, waiting for him to continue. The slow urgency in the boy’s movement pushes Jaehyun to carry on, “do you know what it means?”

The boy smiles to himself as he reaches his arms above his shoulder, stretching his body before sinking back into the chair, “It’s based on an old story actually.” Jaehyun has to gesture at him to keep going as the boy turns to make eye contact with him. “At the beginning the sun and moon were equal in greatness and luminance but then the moon was made to be smaller. Obviously, the moon became jealous of the sun and so she asked the universe, “Why can’t two kings wear the same crown?” The universe then replied to her “You’re not diminished, you may rule both in the day and night, you can signify the dates and years which people live by – and the sun will be given the part of seasons.”

Jaehyun thinks back to the day on the rooftop. What was the season back then? He pictured the memory of you sitting alone at the rooftop, spacing out at the sky. The wind had shaken the last few leaves on the floor of the roof around and the usual thoughts from his head had disappeared. It felt like so long ago since he had seen you and the thought just made him feel lonely.

The boy remained oblivious to the change in Jaehyun’s emotions as he carried on with his story, “So the moon was reduced to a fraction of her original size, deprived of her ability to generate her own light and reduced her luminance in the daytime – a punishment for her selfish inability to share with the sun. But, she was offered a new cycle of rebirth once a month, allowing her growth and a time for her own sparkle, but she wasn’t allowed to be restored to her original state.”

Snapping back into reality, Jaehyun leaned back up, straightened his posture and crossed a leg over, “And how does this relate to the daytime moon?” Jaehyun asked, confused how this story was related to his question.

“It’s the importance of a metaphoric belief - a give and take relationship. The sun gives its light to the moon and the moon receives and reflects the sun’s light.” Jaehyun pondered on the thought as the boy spoke, “The sun and moon were created to differentiate between night and day, between givers and takers.”

“Why would the moon feel inferior? It’s of equal importance is it not?” Jaehyun questioned after much contemplation on the belief, the difference between the moon and sun was so obvious to the universe, yet the moon just couldn't appreciate herself.

The boy nodded, giving a knowing look that left Jaehyun feeling quite exposed, as though he could see right through his simple logic. “It is, perhaps even more. The sun illuminates by illuminating, but the moon illuminates by the dark of nothingness, using the reception of another’s light. So when the sun isn’t seen, it isn’t there, but even when the moon is nothing, she is still something.”

It takes a few seconds for the information to click and sink in. Jaehyun can feel his lips form the question before he can even follow through his own thoughts, “And that makes a daytime moon?”

“Yes.”

“The daytime moon signifies a give and take relationship requiring selflessness and… well you know?” the boy chuckled, nudging his new friend beside him, “something like of a couple.”

As Jaehyun turned the next corner, his next step faltered. Just moments ago, the boy had taken him to see his unconscious girlfriend whose string could be seen with the same technique of a camera flash. Her lifeless body attached to multiple machinery cords. Tears came to his eyes as he recalled your body in the same hospital bed, will Y/N become as pale as her? I have to help her before it’s too late.

Technically all the boy wanted him to do was pick up a pair of scissors and cut an invisible string that only happened to be seen using through a camera flash. Jaehyun brushed the tears away hastily and entered the boy’s hospital room – his spirit already sitting beside his own body.

“There’s a pair of scissors in the bedside draw,” said the boy listlessly, “you can use those.”

Jaehyun felt that the time had really come now for making his choice. Or had his choice already been made long before? He knew he would save you no matter what. A feeling of pain crept over him as he thought of the desecration that was in store for the fair face boy.

“I-I’m sorry but I don't think I can do this.” Jaehyun stammers, backing away to the entrance of the door.

The boy visibly frowned, “Why not?” he asked, bunching the thin bed sheets in his fist, attempting to simmer his combined emotions of anger and confusion.

“This…” the words are barely heard in the empty room “it’ll be bad for you, wont it?”

The boy chuckled effortlessly, “what do you mean by bad?”

“I just feel like there’s another way to deal with this.” Jaehyun mumbled, “something better.”

“There isn’t!” exclaimed the boy, who was beginning to tense now. “I said I’ll help you if you help me.”

“I know…” he trails, desperately trying to drag the time. Jaehyun made eye contact with the boy once more, wavering. He takes a step towards the bed, finding it almost physically impossible to drag his feet across the floor. His hand finds the draw handle, pulling it towards him with much effort, and reveals a pair of simple red scissors.

His fingers glided around the cutters with much ease, but his hand, his body, shakes with an anxious unknowing feeling. Jaehyun was beginning to plead in his mind for a sign, for something to stop him. The scissors shook in his hands as he lifted the heavy weight up, hovering above the open draw, seeking for something.

Suddenly, as if someone had heard his wishes, his phone went off, vibrating in his pocket. Jaehyun drops the scissors down, patting himself down searching for the source of his saviour.

[11:34am] Johnny: Where are you?

[11:36am] Johnny: Did you bail on me?

[11:45am] Johnny: I swear if you’re with some girl right now

“I have to go.” Jaehyun said, reaching into his jacket pocket and fumbling around for his keys.

“Where are you goi-?” As Jaehyun tried to turn around the boy held him back, making him feel like he had robbed the boy of his freedom, disloyalty immediately filling in the pit of his stomach, “You said you’d help me?”

Jaehyun could only nod weakly, half-truth and half-lie to his next words, “I-I I’ll come back tomorrow.” __

Jaehyun drove off alone and watched the flashing lights of the little car in front of him. A strange sense of loss came over him. He felt the world had all of a sudden cornered him, pushed him into a hole that he had dug for himself. His eyes darkened, and the crowded flaring streets became blurred to his eyes. When he finally pulls into the apartment underground parking he sees Y/S/N walk out.

It doesn't take any effort for him to figure out the situation, having noticed the tear streaked and puffy face features as he pulled into a parking slot. A few seconds passed and Johnny ran out, following Y/S/N desperately.

“Y/S/N Wait!” Johnny cried.

Jaehyun reached for the ignition key, switched it off and slumped his forehead onto the wheel.

“No Johnny, not again.” Y/S/N repeated. Their voices bounced off the walls, echoing in the basement space.

“Just explain it to me! I just want an explanation and I’ll get out!”

Jaehyun exhaled a heavy breath which seemed to have been pent up the entire day, and as he did so, it seemed to him that he had grown years older.

Hearing a car door slam shut and his best friend’s voice die down, Jaehyun looked up and out his window. Johnny stood still, staring at a car drive out and further away. Jaehyun sighs in disbelief, why can’t there just be a day of peace?

“Johnny.” Jaehyun calls out, opening his car door to get out.

Johnny whips his head around, searching for his best friend’s voice, “Oh.” There’s a look of defeat, “Hey.”

Jaehyun doesn’t really know what to say, debating whether he should pretend nothing happened or whether he should address the poor guy’s feelings. “Are you- okay?”

“I- Yeah – I’m okay.”

Johnny takes his time walking back, dragging himself to the elevator, eyes glued to the floor as his mind shuts down in defeat. Jaehyun walked beside him, silent, mind also switched off as he pushes out the thought of tomorrow.

The silence in the elevator isn’t awkward, but the atmosphere is evidently filled with a heavy sigh. No one speaks. The bell of the lift rings, signalling them to leave and Jaehyun turns beside to look at his friend.

“Let’s go.” He murmurs

Johnny breaks out of his daze, giving a nod as he walks out and lets his feet walk to the front door of the apartment. He takes a seat on the stool bench, leaning against the island bench as he plays absentmindedly with the ring on his finger.

Jaehyun spares a glance behind his shoulder, looking at his friend slumping his shoulders, no words, face drained from the usual energy he had. He sighed as he closed the fridge door, placing a bottle of water in front of his friend.

“About Y/S/N…”

Johnny instantly looks up, surprised that Jaehyun has mentioned the name.

The look of desperation in his eyes pains Jaehyun as he continues, “sorry to break it to you but Y/S/N has a lot on her plate.” He rubs his temples as if this were giving him another headache, and Johnny looks at him with a harsh irritation.

Flashes of emotion crossed Johnny’s face, a mixture of jealousy and confusion, “What?”

“Y/S/N –” how to tell him? “She- She has a child.”

The shock is evident in Johnny’s voice, “D-Did you say a child?” he looked around in disbelief, avoided making eye contact with Jaehyun, “How do you know this?” Johnny’s eyes narrowed on his friend, and he crossed an arm over his chest.

“We’re neighbours, she lives across from me,” Jaehyun continued to list, playing with the bottle cap of his own water, “we talk.”

“…oh,”

Jaehyun has never pushed Johnny to do anything. While they have always been good friends, he was always conscious of the fact that Johnny is older. He had always respected his friend. “I don't think now’s a good time to be trying again.”

“No,” Johnny stumbled through his sentence, “I-I can’t just leave her like that,” his heart broke as he continued, “not with that asshole of a guy.”

It crossed Jaehyun’s mind that perhaps the relationship of his older friend would be something incomprehensible to him, but he ignores it. “You weren’t in her life for the past few years Johnny, you can’t just waltz back in now.” he mumbled. Johnny had stopped fuming, and when he looked at his friend, he just sounded tired. He lowered his eyes in shame, and Jaehyun shook his head, “Y/S/N doesn't deserve that.”

As Jaehyun left the room, Johnny stared at the bottle of water placed in front of him, thinking back to what he did wrong so long ago. And why it would forever be left unrepairable. ____

You took the long route home that day, wondered if Jaehyun had actually come to see you in hospital. At the corner of the local flower shop, a man passed you in the mist, walking very fast and with the collar of his black jacket turned up. He had a bag in his hand. You recognised the man. It was Johnny. A strange sense of fear came over you. You made no sign of recognition (not that he’d see you anyway) and went on quickly in the direction of your house, walking faster than before, thinking about your sister and her ex.

Your mind flashed back to that day.

It seemed Y/S/N and Johnny would’ve lasted till marriage, till old. Johnny would constantly roam around your shared apartment with your sister. You’d hear her voice and her heavy laughter in the room beside yours. You’d see the two of them walking hand in hand around the small space, standing beside each other as they cooked. They were inseparable.

That day was different. You hadn’t seen Johnny for weeks now and you would only see glimpses of your sister around the place. She’d stay in her room and it would be completely silent. However, she went out that night, only making it known to you when you heard the sound of a male’s voice late at night.

At first you thought it was Johnny and you became excited, ready to barge into their room to say hi after so long. But the moment you reach the bedroom door you halt. You can hear your sister whispering and the deeper male voice. It wasn’t Johnny’s though, and it wasn't anyone else’s that you recognised. You took a step back, running into your own room as you realised what was happening.

Jaehyun notices you from afar, almost running towards him. However, you don't see him, determination and concern for your sister clouding your vision. It’s not until Jaehyun realises you’re about to completely past him that he calls out for you.

His hand feels cold against your skin as he stops you by the arm, “Johnny,” you huffed, telling him the crucial points, unable to connect the words into a sentence, “I-I… Y/S/N.”

Jaehyun lets his hand fall, having guessed Johnny would’ve left the apartment not long after himself. “Yeah, I know.”

You looked up at him, having caught your breath “What?”

He helps you steady yourself, “Y/S/N’s not home at the moment, I saw her drive off before.”

“Not home? Where is she going?” You followed, anxiety building up again.

“I don't know, maybe visiting you.” He lies, trying to lead you back to the apartments.

However, this only panicked you more, “Really? But she came yesterday.” You turned around, already speed walking back the direction you came from, “somethings wrong.” You mumbled, mind working already thinking what must have gone wrong.

“Wait Y/N!” Jaehyun calls out, following after you, “Where are you going?”

“Back to the hospital.” You stated, “If she’s coming to visit me today something must be wrong, she only comes on weekends.” Your minds working in a frenzy and you can barely concentrate on anything else. Could it be something related to her boyfriend? To your nephew?

“Y/N!” Jaehyun called again.

You didn't hear him though, determined to get back and see your sister. Jaehyun doesn’t have the strength left to chase after you, dreading the thought of visiting the hospital yet again. Instead he watched you leave. ___

It was almost midnight by the time Jaehyun finally had the chance to lay down in his bed. He hadn’t texted Johnny about earlier, hadn’t seen you since you had run off, hadn’t even had a chance to eat dinner with his Grandma. The past 24 hours seemed to have felt like weeks and he thought how nice it finally was, to be able to hear his own breath. He decided to think of the day as just a hurdle to pass, a necessity to be able to wish for something better.

With that thought, he eventually fell asleep.

The boy laughed, and when he did his head twitched strangely a couple of times, “Get out of here. I don't want to see you.”

“Just come with me,” Jaehyun begged, “I’ll help you figure something else out.”

The boy’s face suddenly hardened into anger and his words shot out in a rage. “Just shut up! You lied to me! We made a deal, it was so fucking simple. If you wanted to act like a goddamn hero then you should’ve done something about it!”

Jaehyun could only stand there speechless. The boy was just a mere stranger to him, not even in flesh, yet the words felt so harshly true, “I-Sorry…”

“It’s all your fault she’s dead! You could’ve stopped it. You could’ve saved her. But no! You had to run away and become a coward. You only care about yourself!” The boy’s face had coloured to a deep red, and spit flew from his mouth as he yelled. He started taking lumbering steps forward, his hands balled into fists as he stepped closer to Jaehyun.

“L-Look I,” He was only a few feet away, Jaehyun took a step backwards, his guilt now turning into fear.

“I only asked for one fucking thing!”

Jaehyun took two more steps back, “I-”

“And now you killed Y/N too!” The boy screamed and rushed forward.

He stirred in his sleep, waking in an instant as the dream disappeared. A glance outside let him know the moon was still out. He sat up, leaning against the bedframe before reaching for his phone. 4:38am.

After about ten minutes he got up, and throwing on a pair of simple shorts passed into the tile paved bathroom. The cool water refreshed him after his dreadful sleep. He shivered under the water and sighed heavily. Another nightmare about you. A dim sense of having taken part in some strange tragedy came to him once or twice, but there was the unreality of a dream about it.

As soon as he was dressed, Jaehyun went to the rooftop and sat down to the brightness of the starry dark morning. The warm air seemed laden with fresh scents. The silence that surrounded his home added to the beauty of a new day.

The dream was just a spook he reasoned, yet he struggled to accept the reality part of it. Deep down, Jaehyun was already contemplating the possibilities if he chose not to return and help the boy in hospital. He promised to go back today and his nightmare was a glimpse of the consequences he’d encounter if he broke that promise. ___

You awake that same morning to find yourself not in the same room as you usually would be in. The light shade of pastel blue walls which once surrounded your hospital bed now changed into stained dulls of white walls.

The numbness of sleep slowly fades and the first thing that surprises you is the tiny needles poking into your arms. You gasp in a breath only to find nothing coming in and the obstacle of your own dry tongue. The lack of oxygen descending on your mind caused you to panic and in desperation you sucked in another breath. Your body feels heavy as you sit up quickly, your fingers immediately searching for the bed sheets to help you up from your physical laid body.

“What’s going on?” You mumbled, noticing the unusual amount of nurses flooding your surroundings. You look around for anyone familiar, searching for your usual doctor and nurse. There’s a heavy atmosphere looming in the hospital room and you ignore it, exiting the commotion.

“Y/N?”

The voice stopped you from walking further, turning around to face the only person who could see your roaming spirit.

“Jaehyun? What’s going on?” you asked, assuming he knew.

“You- Your body.” He stuttered not sure how to start his sentence “it’s shutting down.”

You paused, falling against the side of the doorway and holding onto the wall for support, “Am I dying?”

#nct fanfics #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct imagines #nct #btdm #round the robin #collab #beneath the daytime moon #jaehyun fic

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kbstories · 3 years

Text

time (a Baku & Kami drabble)

After an hour, Kaminari decides to go looking for Bakugou.

It's fine, right? An hour on the phone with Kirishima should be enough time. To find out how he's doing, how the others are doing, if the raid truly was as disastrous as it looked on the news.

One hour, sixty minutes, three thousand six hundred seconds. A lot of time when spent in anxious suspense with the rest of the class; Kaminari just can't sit still and wait anymore. One possible casualty among the Heroes, the anchor on TV had said, and Kaminari goes looking for Bakugou.

There's only one place he could be, actually, so it's not looking as much as it's following Bakugou's invisible footsteps, up to the fourth floor and three doors down.

And it feels weird, to walk towards Kirishima's room and past it knowing he's not there. Knowing Kirishima is somewhere out there in some hospital, finally conscious enough to pick up the phone Bakugou has been ringing over, and over, and over again.

He's never been quiet, Bakugou. He can be calm but he's never quiet. From the moment that report came on he hadn't said a fucking word, pacing back and forth, pulling at already-messed up hair, rubbing his chest like there's an ache there, like he's suffocating. Kaminari will never forget the expression on Bakugou's face when the call finally went through. When he stopped in his tracks, and slumped against the wall like all his strings had been cut and he'd be free-falling otherwise.

So Kaminari goes looking for Bakugou.

The hallway seems to stretch endlessly past Kirishima's door even though it's just a short few steps. It's only standing right in front of Bakugou's room — that sacred space barely anybody has had the privilege to see — that Kaminari hears it. Muffled to indistinctness, and yet: Soft sniffling, halting breaths.

With his heart sinking to the soles of his feet, Kaminari gets even closer, the hand he'd raised to knock coming to rest palm-down on smooth, cold wood. "Fuck", comes from the inside, incredibly shaky, "Fuck fuck fuck", less and less comprehensible.

Because Bakugou is crying all alone in his room, and an hour was definitely too long to wait.

Kaminari swallows, blinking away tears of his own because God. God, this isn't... Bakugou isn't supposed to sound like that. He's never supposed to give up, never supposed to break. Stuff like this is only supposed to happen when Kirishima is around to cheer him back up.

But Kirishima isn't around, and Bakugou is hurting, and Kaminari can't stand letting him carry this weight by himself for a second, a minute, a fucking hour longer.

A careful knock. "Hey, Blasty?" Kaminari asks just as cautiously. "It's Denki."

The noises immediately stop. Closing his eyes, Kaminari nudges his forehead against the frame.

"Sorry, dude, I didn't mean to— You've been up here a while. Got me kinda worried so... Yeah."

A long bout of silence. Kaminari expects that to be the extent of it, but—

Quiet steps. Bakugou's presence announces itself with a subtle shift of shadows under his door. "Kiri's on some stuff", croaks a voice from the other side, so much more gruff for it. Then, after a beat:

"Hurt pretty bad but recovering. Went back t'sleep b'fore I... Sorry."

Okay. Kaminari tries to breathe deeply, in and out. That's... there's a lot there that he doesn't know how to touch without breaking things even more. Don't lose it now, Denki.

"S'okay, Baku. Thanks for telling me. Hey, can you maybe come out here for a sec? Just a sec, promise."

An even longer silence follows and yeah, it was a high, fragile hope from the very start.

Kaminari's hands clench to fists, the helplessness from these past few hours, this entire day that started so carefree and turned into their worst nightmare, compounding in his chest. There's nothing he can do for Kirishima and now, with a little more than an inch of wood between them, there's nothing he can do for Bakugou either. They're his friends and here Kaminari is, useless in every way.

Damn it, though, Bakugou is right there.

Softly, Kaminari repeats, "Promise, Katsuki", unsure it's even his voice with how faint and desperate it is. "Just... please."

He's looking at his feet, tears dripping freely to the carpet between his toes; he doesn't watch the door swing open as much as he witnesses a second pair of socked feet show up in front of him.

Kaminari's gaze snaps up and catches liquid red, mostly hidden in the half-dark. Any other day, Bakugou would be doing that to seem more intimidating, growling What?! or any of his many nicknames for Kaminari before giving him ten seconds to state what he wants, or get lost. There's none of that in a gesture that's so defensive, so clearly hesitant.

And it's pointless, to try to explain any of the thoughts wreaking havoc in Kaminari's mind, the emotions welling up so strong and sudden they're a chokehold on his vocal cords. Sniffling, Kaminari instead gives Bakugou a wobbly smile — and holds open his arms.

Bakugou just stares. At the wet trails down Kaminari's cheeks, at his arms like they're a trap about to tear him down and drag him into the abyss.

Then he sniffs sharply, rubs at his eyes. The door creaks open the slightest bit more to let Bakugou through, and Kaminari is getting strong-armed into the roughest hug he's ever experienced. Bakugou practically crushes him close, muttering something about "Only doin' this once, Jolteon."

Despite everything, Kaminari laughs and hugs him back just as hard.

"Kiri's gonna be okay", he tells Bakugou, a hopeful whisper that started as a question but feels better, more right, stated with confidence. "Yeah? He's gonna come home again. The others too." Bakugou's shoulders start to shake, Kaminari's shirt growing damp where his face is tucked against it. Gently, oh so gently, Kaminari sways them back and forth.

"He's gonna come back, and you're gonna yell at him so much."

Bakugou huffs wetly. "No. M'gonna yell at h-him. At the hospital."

"Yeah, exactly, and— Wait, what? I thought the hospital's off limits, or something?"

Surprisingly, Bakugou doesn't push out of their embrace. He merely turns his head to glare up at Kaminari. "Yeah, and?"

Again Kaminari is speechless, only for a little while. Then he wipes his arm across his face until it's dry and grins.

"Cool. When do we leave?"

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #BNHA #MHA #bakugou katsuki #kaminari denki #BNHA fanfiction #my stuff #i missed writing kami and baku so here we are ;^;

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boldycrazygirl · 3 years

Text

Most People Think You Go To Either Heaven Or Hell, What I Experienced Was Much, Much Worse

By Elias WitherowUpdated June 26, 2021

Forest Simon

I slowly opened my eyes. My head was swimming and a dull pain surrounded my throat. I was thirsty. That was the first thing I noticed. I licked my dry lips as my surroundings faded into focus. My body ached and I realized it was because I was tightly bound to a metal chair in the middle of an empty room. The barren concrete walls were stained and dirty, the floor beneath my bare feet was cold and slightly wet.

A single bulb lit the room, dangling from the ceiling by a string. It cast moving shadows and I blinked back darkness. An open door stood before me, but I couldn’t see anything but the wall of a hallway.

I tried to clear my head, tried to remember how I got here. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself not to panic. I slowed my breathing and focused my thoughts, desperately trying to summon some recollection of why I was here.

I couldn’t remember anything.

I opened my eyes and exhaled, my parched throat throbbing. I could hear sound echoing off the hallway walls outside the door. Screaming, clanging, howling, all very distant but that did nothing to help calm my nerves.

“Hello?!” I cried, the word tearing at my vocal cords. I felt my chest hitch in pain but I cleared my throat and yelled again.

“Is anyone there!? Hello!?”

The dark hallway remained silent except for the constant echoes. I shut my mouth and tried to wriggle free of my bindings, but the rope was knotted impossibly tight. I fought back against my imagination as it flooded my mind with horrific scenarios of what awaited me. If I could only remember!

Suddenly, footsteps erupted from outside the door, a rapid patter of small feet. My hopes rose and I trained my attention on the door, praying it was help.

A young boy ran into the room, dressed in a red onezie, complete with padded feet. Stretched over his face was a plastic Devil mask. The eye holes revealed massive blue eyes that greeted me curiously. Taken back, I opened my mouth to speak but that’s when I noticed something was off. His eyes were huge, impossibly round and bulging from their sockets. It sent a shiver of unease down my spine, but I shook it off. This child might be able to free me.

“Hey!” I hissed, urgently, “Hey kid, can you get me out of here?!”

The boy took a step closer, cocking his head, but remaining silent.

I rattled my bound arms against the chair, “Cut me free, please, I shouldn’t be here, this is some kind of mistake!”

The boy eyed me behind his strange mask and stopped directly in front of me. He leaned in close and whispered, his voice like wet silk, “You did a bad thing…”

Confused, I shook my head, “No! No this is a mistake! I didn’t do anything!”

The boy’s enormous blue eyes suddenly filled with sadness, “Oh, you did a really, really bad thing…”

I shook my head again, violently, “No! I’m sorry! I don’t remember, just please get me out of this chair!”

Suddenly, before either of us could speak again, a man came charging into the room. He was overweight and dressed in overalls, his grizzled face twisted in seething anger. He was holding a sawed off shotgun in his arms.

“I didn’t do anything!” I cried as he advanced on us, my voice cracking, “I’m not supposed to be here!”

The big man ignored me and instead grabbed the kid and shoved him hard against the wall. The boy grunted as his back struck the concrete and his eyes rose to meet the grizzled man’s.

Wordlessly, the man raised his shotgun, placed it against the boy’s forehead, and blew his head off. Chunks of gore splattered the wall as shock slugged me in the stomach like an iron fist. My ears rang and time seemed to slow as I watched in horror as the headless body crumpled to the ground.

My breath rushed back into my lungs and time seemed to readjust.

“Jesus fucking CHRIST!” I screamed, straining against the ropes, my eyes bulging in horrific shock, “WHAT THE FUCK!?”

The man ignored my screams as he bent down and picked up the boy. He slung the ruined corpse over his shoulder and walked out the doorway.

Suddenly, the hallway erupted with malicious laughter, a chorus of voices all howling in glee. I shut my eyes, the noise deafening, as absolute terror filled my every pore.

After a few moments, the laughter faded and I cautiously opened my eyes, unable to believe what I had just witnessed.

“Hello.”

I jumped as I realized there was another man standing before me. He was dressed in a simple, white button down shirt and jeans. His brown hair was cut short and he appeared to be in his early thirties. His green eyes were dull and lifeless, his full lips pulled down at the corners.

“What is going on!? Where am I!?” I cried, new fear pooling in my stomach like hot blood.

The man crossed his arms, “So you’re the new one huh?” He shook his head, “You people disgust me.”

Questions bubbled on my lips but he waved them off with a sharp chop of his hand, slicing the air and demanding my silence.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, sneering, “You look like you’ve already seen some of the horrors this place holds huh? Yes, I can tell by the look in your eyes. You’re terrified. You’ve seen something haven’t you? It doesn’t seem all that bad now does it, looking back? You’ve been here five minutes and already you’re shitting your pants.”

“Where am I?” I gasped, unable to hold back any longer, “What do you people want?”

The man crossed his arms behind his back, “I bet you want to get out of here don’t you? I bet you’d like to go back to your home, your family, everything.”

“Please,” I interrupted, “Whatever I did to you…I’m sorry, I really am, but I don’t remember!”

The man rolled his eyes, “You didn’t do anything to me. You did it to yourself. You really don’t remember anything?”

I shook my head and felt tears brimming in my eyes, liquid fear.

The man looked at me with contempt, “You waited until your wife left for work and then you went out to the woodshed and hung yourself. You’re dead.”

The recent memory rose in my mind like a monster from a bog. My eyes went wide. As much as I wanted to deny it…he was right. I had killed myself. The incident tore through my brain like a bullet train and left me reeling.

“I’m Danny, by the way,” the man said, ignoring the shocked look on my face, “And I’m number two here. I run the orientation process. I want to make this quick because I’m tired of repeating this fucking thing to you pathetic Suicidals. You get one question before I begin.”

He stared down at me and I scrambled to organize my thoughts into something cohesive. This was all horrifying. Why had I killed myself? I fought against the fog and panic and the mists of confusion slowly began to lift. I had just lost my job. Yes…that was the start. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced more of the memory to emerge. I had lost my job and I was about to lose the house. My wife…Tess…she found out and was going to leave me. I didn’t have any way out, didn’t have any options. Getting fired had come out of the blue and I didn’t have much in savings. I was broke, soon to be homeless, and my wife hated me for it. There was something else…yes…that’s right. She had been cheating on me. I had seen texts on her phone while she slept one night and confirmed my suspicions. My life had degraded to shit and I had run out of options. Humiliated and ashamed, I had decided death was my only option.

“Hey, fucker, do you have a question or not?” Danny said, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

I was sucked back into reality and I asked the only question that mattered.

“Is this Hell?”

Danny snorted, “That’s always what you people ask.” He began to pace back and forth in front of me, “No. This is not Hell. It’s not Heaven either. This is the Black Farm. And no, I didn’t name it that. This is where God sends the souls who have ended their own life. Suicidals. You see, he doesn’t really know what to do with you…and neither does the Devil. There are genuinely good people who kill themselves. Seems cruel to banish them to Hell for all eternity for a moment of weakness right? Personally, I think God and the Devil were just tired of arguing about it. And so, they send them here, to the Black Farm.”

“Did…did God create this place?” I asked, growing more and more confused.

Danny spit on the floor, chuckling, “Sure, at some point. But he lost control of it when he put The Pig in charge.”

“What’s The Pig?” I asked, unsure I wanted to know the answer.

Danny held up a hand, annoyed, “Can I fucking finish? God created this place, eons ago, put The Pig in charge, and then forgot about it for a while. Well, when his back was turned, The Pig decided to use his new powers to try and create his own little world. This mess you see around you is the fractured remains of that experiment. The Black Farm use to be a lot nicer, but The Pig wanted things to be different. He wanted to create his own vision. These people you see, these monsters? They are The Pig’s attempts at creating functioning life. Instead of mirroring God’s Earth, these mutated horrible creations are full of sin and hatred. They run rampant here, unabashed. This place is chaos. The Black Farm is a circus of freaks and monsters. And it’s your eternity.”

Fear boiled in my gut like thick oil. No. No this couldn’t be my end. I didn’t believe in stuff like this. This wasn’t real! I would wake up soon and realize I was just having a nightmare! That had to be it!

Danny stood before me and lightly slapped my face, “Hey, hey! Don’t go into hysterics on me. I haven’t finished yet.”

I raised my teary eyes to meet his.

Danny smiled, “You can always Feed the Pig.”

My breath pushed from my lungs like burning steam, “W-what does that mean?”

Danny spread his hands, still smiling, “It’s as simple as that. Feed the Pig. If you do so, there’s a chance he’ll send you back to your life.”

“A-and w-what happens if it doesn’t?” I bumbled.

“You get sent to Hell. So flip a coin if you have one. Stay here with us or Feed the Pig. If you choose to stay, I’ll let you go…I’ll let you go out there,” he said, pointing towards the door, “But let me assure you…what awaits you at the end of the hallway…well…let’s just say Hell isn’t that much worse.”

I swallowed hard, trying my best to digest everything. Why wouldn’t I try Feeding the Pig? Whatever that meant. If there was even a sliver of hope, I would take it. An eternity in this place, the Black Farm, be sent to Hell, or…or Feed the Pig? I would do anything for a chance to go back. This nightmare made my problems seem nothing in comparison.

Danny raised a hand before I could speak, “I’ll let you think on it a while. I’ll be back later.”

“I want to Feed the Pig!” I cried, not wanting to spend another second in this awful room. I could hear a woman screaming down the hallway, her cries rising as something meaty pounded into her. My breath came in sharp pulls and my throat burned. Danny noticed the noise and grinned.

“Sounds pretty bad huh?” He said softly as the woman’s voice creaked with agony. Something was still slamming into her, the sound of beaten flesh igniting my imagination with horrors.

“Please,” I gasped, breathless, “Just…just let me Feed the Pig. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

Danny turned away from me, “I’ll be back later. Enjoy your time alone. Really think about your situation. Weigh your options. And remember…you put yourself here.”

And with that he was gone, leaving me in the dim room.

Tears streamed down my face.

The woman didn’t stop screaming for hours.

At some point, I fell into a semi-sleep. The darkness in the room seemed to press in on me and my eyes fluttered shut. My body ached and my throat was a halo of fire. Thirst raked at my windpipe like sharp glass. My lips felt like crumpled paper. My head thundered like a drum. The room swam in and out of focus and my mind drifted towards the horrific sounds that never ended.

I was lost in a haze, unaware that something was sliding into the room until I felt a sharp prick on my big toe. I jolted out of my daze as my bare foot ignited with pain. I screamed and tried to move, but my bindings held me tight.

The room rushed back into focus and I blinked in agony as I felt blood trickle between my toes. I looked down for the source of pain and I felt a scream claw up my throat.

Staring up at me was an armless man. He slithered on the floor like a worm, his bald head scabbed and filthy. His legs were wrapped together in barbed wire, forcing him to wriggle his body to move. His eye were lidless and wide, two bloodshot white orbs that stared up at me with hungry intensity. His teeth had been removed and replaced with long screws which jutted from his bleeding gums like a broken rock formation.

Around his neck was a chain leash, which I followed across the floor to the open door. The end of the leash was held by a tall, naked man. His body was hairless and flabby, covered in similar scabs like his pet. A dirty bag was pulled over his head that hid his features except for a single red eye that peeked out at me from a crude cut in the cloth.

He stared at me and groped his engorged penis, his breath heavy and labored. As the armless man wriggled towards me again, his master started to masturbate. I screamed as the screw filled mouth bit at me again and my cries seemed to stimulate the naked man even more.

“Get off of me! Stop it!” I screamed, horrified. I tried to kick at the man, doing my best to avoid his sharp metal teeth. I brought my heel down on his head and he screamed as his face bounced off the floor.

A moan of pleasure escaped the bagged man’s mouth and I turned away as a mist of black sprayed out onto the floor. There was a rattle of chains and I turned back to see the two of them leaving, the armless man dragged by his neck out the door. I looked at where the bagged man had ejaculated and saw a puddle of dead ants. I vomited onto myself, thick chunky curtains of bile and slime.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE!” I screamed, strands of puke running down my chin, “I DON’T BELONG HERE!”

I listened to the two men retreat down the hallway, the clank of chains accompanied by the sound of flesh being dragged across the concrete. I screamed again, but I knew no one was going to help me. I spit a wad of phlegm and bile onto the floor, ridding my mouth of its sourness. I forced myself to calm down. It wasn’t easy.

After some time, I heard someone else approaching. I had been in a miserable lull, my mind a blank canvas of dark despair, but the noise roused me from my trance like state. The muscles in my arms burned from being restrained for so long and I shifted them desperately, trying my best to prepare myself for whatever horror was about to walk through the door.

Footsteps drew closer and then a woman walked into the room. She stopped at the doorway and looked at me. One of her eyes was missing, a dark cavernous hole in her skull. Her hair was ratty and wild, a brown tangle like a forgotten nest. Her skin was pale and filthy and she was dressed in rags. I couldn’t tell how old she was, but there was maturity in her one good eye.

“Still thinking?” She asked, her voice course and brittle.

“What?”

She took a step closer, “Are you still deciding whether you’re going to Feed the Pig or not?”

I looked at her cautiously, “Yeah…I am. Who are you? What do you want?”

“I was once where you are now,” She said, “trying to decide my fate. I couldn’t believe that this was what happened…what happened after we die. It wasn’t what I was taught…religion didn’t warn me about this place.”

I tested my bindings again before asking, “You killed yourself too? You’re a person like me? You’re not one of those…those creations?”

She snorted, “Breaks my heart you have to ask, though,” she touched the hole where her eye should have been, “Though I can understand your caution. Yeah, I’m a Suicidal. I’ve been here a long, long time. But that was my choice. I decided to chance it here.”

I motioned with my head towards the door, “What’s out there? What is all this?”

She exhaled heavily and leaned against the wall, “I can’t even begin to describe this place. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen. You walk down that hallway and go out…into it…and…” she swallowed, “You’d have to see it to understand.”

“How bad is it? Why are all these mutated people hurting and killing each other?” I asked.

She let her head loll back against the wall, “It would take years for you to fully understand this place. Years you don’t have. Right now you have to make a decision. Stay or Feed the Pig. They tell me Hell is worse than here, but it can’t be by much. Monsters and Suicidals roam the Black Farm…killing, raping, brutalizing…and then you wake up and wonder how long you can survive before something else kills you. It’s an endless cycle.”

“So why did you stay?” I pressed, “Why didn’t you Feed the Pig? I don’t even know what that means, but I would do anything for a chance to go back. I can’t stay here, I…I just can’t!”

She smiled sadly at me, “Why? Why did I choose this? It’s simple really. I’m a coward. I was a coward when I was alive and I’m a coward in death. When it came down to it, when the moment presented itself, I chose to stay here. I didn’t know what awaited me outside. It boiled down to a simple choice fueled by my own fear.”

“What is The Pig? What does it do to you?” I pressed.

She suddenly turned to go, “I’m afraid that’s for you to find out. But let me warn you. Think hard before you make a decision. Sometimes suffering through your fear is better than suffering for eternity. Be brave.”

“What do I do!?” I yelled, shaking in my chair as she walked out the door.

She paused and took one last look over her shoulder. Her eyes darted around and she dropped her voice to a whisper, “Feed the Pig.”

And with that she was gone.

I sat in silence once again. My mind was spinning, desperately turning over my options. I still couldn’t fully understand the situation I was in. It was too much, too overwhelming. The other side of death wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t this nightmare. Questions crashed over my mind like cold waves onto a sinking ship. How was I supposed to make a choice when I didn’t even know what my actions entailed?

This place, the Black Farm…I couldn’t stay here. But what if I went to Hell? What if I didn’t get sent back? I would be out of the fire and into the frying pan. My existence would forever be damned to unending misery. Here though…here there were people like me. Suicidals. It wasn’t all monsters and mutilated murderers. Maybe I could hole up somewhere with them, try to scrape together a passable existence. Surely that would be better than getting sent to Hell!

No. No this wasn’t going to be how I spent my eternity. I refused to let it be. If there was even the slightest sliver of hope, I would take it. I didn’t want to wonder what could have been. I didn’t want to be tormented by doubt. I would Feed the Pig and accept whatever fate chose for me. When I boiled it down, that was the only option left.

I would Feed the Pig.

“Hey! Hello!? Danny!” I yelled, rattling in my chair. “I’ve made my decision! Danny!”

After a couple seconds, I heard footsteps echo down the hall towards me.

Danny walked through the doorway, an annoyed look on his face.

“I’ve made my choice,” I said, “I’m going to Feed the Pig.”

“Sounds like you’ve really thought a lot about it since I left you,” Danny said sarcastically.

I licked my lips, “You’d do the same thing if you were in my place.”

Danny walked behind me, “I was in your place once. And I chose differently.” My eyes widened and then Danny wrapped my entire head with a strip of thin cloth, blinding me. I sucked in as much air as I could, but each lungful felt empty.

I felt Danny cut me free from the chair and my body sighed as my stiff muscles were released. I rolled my shoulders as my hands were released and I moaned with relief. I dug my fingers into my back and I stretched, my bones creaking.

“Keep your blindfold on and follow me,” Danny said, pulling me up.

My legs shook as I put weight on them, my thighs trembling after their long cemented position. I groped blindly in front of me and found Danny’s shoulder. I rested my hand on it as he walked us out of the room.

As were entered the hallway, I could suddenly hear sound I hadn’t before. The clank of metal, a long fleshy tearing noise, something vomiting…these sounds sprang to life in my ears, painting the darkness before my eyes with imaginary scenes of horror. I gripped Danny’s shoulder tighter, stumbling behind him, my heart thundering.

I heard something trailing behind us, but Danny didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care. Flesh slapped the concrete mere inches behind me and I suddenly felt hot breath on my neck and the click of a wet tongue against gums. My breathing became even more labored as fear choked me.

“Go’in ta feed da piggy are ya?” Something whispered in my ear. I felt something press against the back of my head and I tried not to think about what it might be. It was wet and slimy and I heard the thing chuckle.

“Ee’s a ‘ungry piggy, you make shor’ ee gets iz meal now,” the thing whispered again, its voice low and unlike anything I had ever heard before. It was like a series of grunts and moans jumbled together to form broken words.

To my relief, I heard the thing retreat back to wherever it had come from and I continued to follow Danny. He remained silent as we walked and I could feel shifts in the air. The thick heat gave way to a cooler, almost pleasant temperature, but then it kept decreasing and soon I was shivering violently against the cold. I couldn’t see anything but I felt a breeze on my face, like we were outside. I didn’t hear Danny open any doors, but nothing about this place was natural. It was like reality blurred and bled into itself, like reels of film melting together.

Teeth chattering, I was suddenly blasted with intense heat and I gasped. My feet tripped over themselves as the terrain changed and I was suddenly walking on what felt like warm iron. My ears were filled with the sound of blazing furnaces and the clash of working machinery. I couldn’t see it, but I felt like there was a vast open expanse overhead. I smelled ash and tasted dirt on my tongue, sweat already forming along my spine.

Suddenly, I crashed into Danny as he came to a halt. I backed up a few paces, quickly, and muttered my apologies. I could hear movement in front of us, a rustle of chains and an odd clicking sound on the metal floor. Something else too…something…snorting.

And then the room filled with a deafening sound of an immense pig squealing. I covered my ears, head splitting at the high pitched wail. I grit my teeth as the noise echoed off the metal and faded into a series of snorts and grunts.

It sounded absolutely enormous.

“I’ve brought another one,” Danny announced, a slight tinge of respect lining his voice. “He wants to Feed the Pig.”

I waited, expecting to hear some answer, the cloth around my eyes sealing my sight to darkness. I realized my knees were shaking and my back was coated in sweat. I was terrified.

“If that is what you wish,” Danny said and I felt him bow under my hand. Apparently some unseen conversation had just happened and Danny took my wrist and pushed me forward.

“Approach The Pig,” he instructed.

My whole body trembled and my knees locked into place. Robbed from sight, I raised my hands, trying to get my bearings, the heat and ash filling my head with nausea. I felt like I was going to throw up, my stomach rolling like a dead sea. I didn’t know where I was or what horror lay before me. I felt lost and tiny, a fresh splash of tears dripping from my eyes and soaking into the cloth around my face.

“P-please,” I begged, “Let me see what’s happening.”

Danny was suddenly behind me, pushing me forward. He guided my hands towards something as we stepped together in unison. Even with the cloth around my face, I could see a giant mass of towering darkness before me. It was a spot of black on an already darkened canvas.

As we walked forward, I was suddenly assaulted by a horrendous smell and I gagged, turning away. Danny’s grip tightened and forced me to continue. I could sense something just in front of me, a living shifting mass of flesh. The smell increased to a wretched level and I gagged again. Then hot air was being blown on my face, a blast of heat that came in repeated short bursts.

I vomited into my cloth, the source of the smell stemming from the hot air. I choked as the bile gushed over the fabric, soaking it and momentarily cutting off my oxygen. Danny slapped my hands away and I took a few seconds to steady my breathing again. I was opening crying now, fear and misery collapsing my willpower.

The wet cloth stunk as I sucked in soggy breaths. My own stomach acid coated my skin and I begged for all of this to be over.

And then something squealed directly in front of me.

I felt my bladder go. I was standing before The Pig.

It was the source of darkness in my obscured vision; a fat, titanic creature that filled my senses with every breath it blew into my face.

Danny raised my hands and suddenly I was touching The Pig’s snout. I recoiled immediately, but Danny forced my hands back. Its fur was stiff and brittle and as my shaking hands explored up its nose, the size of the animal became clear to me.

It was gigantic and had weight over a ton. Its flesh wiggled under my sweating hands and it opened its mouth slightly. My fingers curled around teeth the size of kitchen knives and I realized its mouth was absolutely cavernous.

The Pig squealed again and I heard its hooves clack against the ground. It sounded like thunder rolling across an open field in the middle of summer.

“Take this blindfold off, please,” I begged, my legs turning to jelly.

Danny had taken a few steps back and I heard reverence in his voice, “You don’t want to do that.”

I jumped as The Pig nudged me with its nose, the wet circle of flesh squishing against the length of my face. I shuddered away, raising my hands and omitting a cry of fear.

“Feed the Pig,” Danny instructed, his voice like cold steel now. “You made your choice. Now live with it. It’s the only chance you have of going back. Or maybe The Pig won’t like how you taste and send you to Hell. Only one way to find out.”

My eyes widened behind the vomit soaked cloth, “Won’t…like…how I taste?!”

“Climb into its mouth.”

My bladder let go again and I felt warm piss run down my leg, “N-no…no you can’t mean…”

Danny’s voice hardened, “Climb into its mouth and don’t stop crawling forward until its done with you.”

“P-please,” I begged, turning towards Danny’s voice, reaching out blindly, “Please there has to be some other way…don’t make me do this!” I was a mess of snot and tears, my words bumbling from my mouth like a toddler.

Danny stepped forward and spun me back to face The Pig, “DO IT! You made your choice! It will all be over soon! This is your only CHANCE!”

I could feel The Pig breathing onto my face, its snout mere inches from mine. The smell and heat it omitted made me want to vomit again but I held it back. This was insane, this wasn’t happening. My mind spun and twisted in chaos and fear. There had to be some other way. I couldn’t do this, I COULD NOT do this!

Suddenly I remembered the words of the woman: Sometimes suffering through your fear is better than suffering for eternity. Be brave.

This was my only chance to get back to the world of the living. I had made such a terrible mistake in killing myself. If I could go back and change my life, I wouldn’t have to spend eternity here. I could change my ways, ensure a spot somewhere else. Somewhere away from The Pig. But what if it decided to send me to Hell? How much more suffering could I endure?

I had to take the chance.

“Please, God,” I whispered, taking a step forward, “If you can hear me…please…have mercy on me.”

My shaking hands reached out for The Pig and I grasped its thick fur. I felt it slowly lower its head and open its mouth. It was waiting for me, its thick, hot breath stinking in my nostrils. This was it. No turning back now.

I slowly gripped its teeth and pulled myself forward into its jaws. Its head was at a downward angle and so I immediately fell onto my stomach at a forty-five degree angle. Its wet tongue squished under me and I was shaking so hard I could barely breath. Tears soaked my blindfold and my heart crunched against my ribs.

I slowly reached forward and found another tooth to grab onto. Gritting my teeth, I pulled my body inward past my knees. The Pig raised its head and I was suddenly completely horizontal on its tongue.

Saliva and mucus dripped around me and the heat was so intense I almost blacked out. My knees clacked against its front teeth as I pulled myself even deeper. Its inner cheeks pressed in around me, squeezing my body like a soaking fleshy coffin.

Crying, terrified, I reached ahead of me and found more teeth. I pulled myself deeper into its mouth and I felt my feet slide past its lips. My whole body was coated in slime and I openly wept, grasping in the darkness for another tooth.

And that’s when The Pig started to chew on me.

I screamed in crushing agony as my body was compressed between its massive teeth. I heard my legs snap instantly and felt wet bone pop from my skin. I shook violently as my body spasmed in shock, a mangled twist of blood and pain.

Its tongue shifted me in its mouth and I felt it bite down on my shoulder. My eyes bulged in their sockets as I howled, a hot pillar crunching down on my collar bone. I threw up violently, unable to control myself, the pain overwhelming.

Keep crawling.

Screaming, bloodshot eyes rolling wildly, I reached forward with my good arm, wetly searching for another tooth. I grit my teeth, blood squirting between them, as my fingers wrapped around something solid.

The Pig bit down again, its tongue twisting my body so its molars could snap down on my knees. The pain brought darkness, but my howling screams forced my eyes to remain open.

“JESUS MAKE IT STOP!” I bellowed, my trembling hand still gripping the tooth ahead of me, “PLEASE MAKE IT FUCKING STOP!”

I ground my teeth together so hard they cracked, screaming as I slowly pulled my body deeper into the mouth.

Something was changing, the tights walls of its throat squeezed my head and I realized I was almost through.

“COME ON YOU MOTHERFUCKER! COME ON!” I begged, vocal cords cracking. I reached ahead of me and grabbed onto a thick wad of flesh. My head felt like it was splitting and The Pig bit down on me again.

I gasped, blood exploding from my mouth in a great gush of red.

It had pierced through my stomach, obliterating my insides like bloated noodles. Darkness rushed in on me and I was in too much shock to even scream.

With the last of my strength, right as the blackness took me, I pulled myself forward one last time and felt myself slide down its throat.

Darkness. Falling…screaming. I was screaming. Heat. Heat so intense I thought I would melt.

Clanging. Something was hammering on a metal. Colors and images flew past me so quickly I could only make out their shape. Blood poured into my eyes.

I felt like I would keep falling forever.

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open and I was falling, my breath rushing back into my lungs in a great wave of purity. My face bounced off wood floor and I cried out as I felt my nose break. I tasted blood and saw stars.

I had stopped falling.

There was a ring of burning fire around my throat and I felt impossibly thirsty.

I was lying on the floor.

I slowly opened my eyes again and the darkness began to fade like morning mist under a hot sun. Colors blended together and shapes came into focus.

I was in my woodshed.

I reached up around my throat and grasped at the source of heat. It was the rope I had hung myself with, but now it was severed, releasing me from the grip of death.

Relief rolled over me in overwhelming waves of thanks. I curled up on the floor and sobbed, tears dripping from my eyes onto the dirty floor. My body shook, unbroken, as I wept, wet horse cries rising from my quivering lips.

I had been spared. I was alive again.

From my spot on the floor, I turned my eyes upward, my voice cracking, “Thank you God. Oh thank you.” I fell into another fit of uncontrollable sobbing, “I promise I won’t waste my life again. I promise I’ll make things right, I’ll fix everything.”

I don’t know how long it was before I got up. Time seemed to stretch for eternity. My mind refused to rebuild, the horrors of what I had just witnessed crushing me.

But I knew I would do everything I could to make the most out of my life. I was going to live every day to the fullest. I would devote myself to helping others in dark times. I would reach out to as many Suicidals as I could and try to save them from awaited on the other side.

I didn’t want anyone else to have to witness the horrors of suicide.

I didn’t want anyone else to have to Feed the Pig.

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AFTERLIFE FICTION HORROR HORROR FICTION NO SLEEP SCARY STORIES

2.5m

Thought Catalog

My Arm Was Amputated, And Something Really Weird Is Happening With My Phantom Limb

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the-stoked-flame · 4 years

Text

Prompt #2 - Sway

Dappled light danced along the forest floor as a blue-haired Highlander man found respite beneath the bough of a tree. Snoozing beside him was a chocobo with plumage equally azure, if not a couple shades darker.The pair had been in the Twelveswood for a couple moons now and it was as he rested that he began to contemplate his time there and the string of events that drove him from his home. However, before his thoughts could turn to him, his eyes snapped up suddenly and focused on something unseen northwest of him, as if compelled by an unnatural force. There was something in the wind, yet it remained imperceptible even to his keen ears.

Leaves, nothing more.

After a couple minutes, he settled back against the mottled bark and sought rumination once more. He wouldn’t be allowed to return, however, for the sound came again.

More leaves rustled in the wind, right in his ear and as clear as the day itself, yet all around him, the wood was unshaken. Still, it tugged at him and bade him look to the northwest once more. With the flare of his nostrils and a single grunt, he made his decision.

Adhamh roused his slumbering companion with a gentle pat and rose from the ground, collecting his sword and shield from his chocobo’s saddle. He didn’t know why, but felt he might need them. Made of titanium, they appeared worn from age and poor upkeep. The shield was coated in a myriad of scratches that covered up an insignia beneath, while the sword hilt was notably Ishgardian. Without delay, he set a foot in a stirrup and hauled himself onto the bird.

It didn’t take him long to make it back onto the forest path, a sign he was growing accustomed to the winding ways of the wood. He rode at a lightly casual pace until he arrived at a fork, eyes that reflected the colors of the forest itself turned to each direction, attempting to discern whither he was meant to wander. As he jerked the reins in one direction, he heard the sound of crumbling rock, despite naught being amiss with the earth itself. It was accompanied by a warmth in his gut; an instinctive urge to ride in the other direction.

And so, Adhamh obeyed; in the sway of whatever called to him, he rode forth. Birds fluttered betwixt the canopies as the sensation that overtook him led him off the forest path and into the base of a roaring waterfall. Yet, beneath its thunder, he could discern something further: an ethereal, tinny voice. Faint words were woven amidst the sound and only in closing his eyes, could he make something out:

“Please.” The voice pleaded urgently.

Adhamh’s attention was drawn to a small strip of land in front of him, barely wide enough for one chocobo. It seemed to stretch into a cavern hidden behind the cascade. With little deliberation, they ventured behind the fall and found themselves in not a cavern, but a short tunnel. He didn’t stop to investigate, though, for he could feel that they were running out of time. For what, he did not know. He just felt it in every thick cord of muscle that formed his broad build.

The tunnel opened out to a verdant glade where the wood roamed unburdened. Across from where they stood, he could make out a large stump where a once-mighty tree might have grown. Something about it sought out to him, but before he could heed, a high-pitched howl rang through the meadow, followed by the raucous voices of man. In one corner of the field were a group of poachers, five in total, who had something surrounded.

“Begone, hunters!” He thundered from across the glade, sliding right off of his chocobo and brandishing his sword. Adhamh knew not what he was risking life and limb for, but something within him demanded he did. Deep within, he knew it was what he had to do.

The hunters turned from their quarry at the bellow and eyed the Highlander, weapons raised.

“Turn back, friend, and we won’t gut ya.” One threatened. Their shifting revealed their quarry, though: a small pack of dire wolves—all but the smallest slaughtered.

Adhamh’s lips settled into a firm, unbendable line beneath eyes as wild as the wood itself. “No.” The word was resounding and struck doubt into his foes. Pulling the aged shield off his back and flourishing his sword, the ex-knight charged in.

The poachers met him half-way, eager to overwhelm him with their number alone, but Adhamh wove through them with the dexterity and skill of a trained swordsman, raising his shield to fend off one’s arrows and slicing at another with his blade. In short work, he’d managed to disable and disarm two of them, leaving them still, yet breathing, on the forest floor. In that time, though, the remaining three had found their edge, keeping Adhamh on his toes as he attempted to fend the three off at the same time. Two of them wielded blades, while the third bore a heavy axe that was giving him particular trouble. Moreover, he was growing tired from this continued clash of steel on titanium. They’d succeeded in driving Adhamh further and further back until his back was to the tree stump he’d seen before. A lucky sword-blow from a Wildwood left him disarmed, but the same man was suddenly charged into by a flurry of feathers. Adhamh’s trusted steed had decided it was now that his partner needed assistance and succeeded in turning the fight into two on two.

“Airleas, back!” He called, not wanting to see the hunters harm his oldest friend. In his distraction, though, a murderous glint of steel hung over him before descending like a guillotine. With quick reflexes, his shield was between him and the horrendous weapon. The steel carved through the aegis, but it just barely saved him. The force behind the swing, however, was enough to bring Adhamh to a knee, where he would surely meet his demise.

He deserved it, anyway—A grisly death.

Just like his.

Yet, no blade stung his throat.

“What in the seven hells?” One of them muttered. “Did you see that?” Another responded. In looking up, Adhamh saw all three of them transfixed on something behind him.

Daring a look as well, he saw a ravel of moss-ridden vines had crawled onto the stump and spiraled inwards. From its center, a wooden hilt now rested, and he felt the call once again.

“Take it.” The rustling of leaves returned with deafening fervor.

The former knight climbed up onto the stump and gripped the offered hilt. With a magnificent heave, the hilt became unbound by the tangle and from it came a stupendous sword unlike any other. Its hilt was made of gnarled roots, woven tightly round and round a viridescent blade that looked as if forged from leaves themselves, yet as resilient as metal. It gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight as he held it aloft, the warmth of day coursing through it and into him, renewing him.

I know what I must do.

He turned to the group who’d remained stupefied of what they’d just witnessed. With Adhamh’s movements, though, the trance upon them was broken. Raising their weapons once more,they charged at the knight. Flipping the sword in a hand so that the blade pointed downward, the Highlander leapt from the tree stump and drove the weapon into the loam. The earth rumbled and split below all the hunters, conscious and otherwise, and suddenly, thick vines sprouted from beneath that wound around each of them, suspending them fulms above the ground.

The hunters struggled and swore, weapons clattering to the ground, and tried to wrest themselves free of their binds. Finding they could not, they called down to Adhamh,

“Please! Mercy! Let us go!”

Adhamh kneeled eerily still, verdant eyes unmoving as they remained trained on the grass and dirt.

“The wood wills no mercy today.” The voice that came from Adhamh’s mouth was not the same that called to them before. This voice was preternaturally deep; a primordial rumble that echoed through the boughs and into the hearts of the hunters. Adhamh straightened and rose, drawing his blade from the earth. In doing so, the vines retreated into the ground, taking their victims with them, never to be seen again.

The battle was over and Adhamh staggered as whatever had taken him no longer held his body up. Airleas was by his side in an instant, propping his weary companion up and keeping him upright.

“Thank you, old friend.” He smiled warmly and pet the bird’s side. The knight lifted his new blade up and inspected it, furrowed eyes scanning it warily. Before he could inspect it any deeper, though, a small yowl nearby reminded him of why he’d been summoned here. Adhamh walked over to the remains of the slaughter, with Airleas’ assistance, and eyed the scene sorrowfully.

“I’m so sorry I was not swifter, little one.” He kneeled down by the pup that remained, extending a tentative hand before it. Perhaps it was his defeat of those who’d sought its pelt or perhaps it was the monster buried deep within him, but the small creature leaned into him without hesitation. Carefully, Adhamh lifted the thing into his arms and eyed Airleas, who seemed to eye him in return.

“...Come, champion.” The leaves were gentle once more and the wispy voice was as audible as ever.

Adhamh turned his head and saw that the stump that had produced the sword was now bathed in glittering sunlight. Slowly, he approached, keeping the wolf cub in the crook of his arm while his other hand remained on his chocobo. He approached until the light engulfed him as well and he felt the soreness in his body ebb and fade away like warm water on a wintery day.

“Who...who are you?” Adhamh wondered aloud with reverence.

“We are the boughs above you and the roots underneath; the stone, the rivers, and the wind on your cheek. Time has taken our strength and our form, yet everlong we remain. We are the Will of the Wood, the elementals of the olden day.” There were multiple voices that spoke out at him in unison and all around him, then.

“Will of the Wood...I remember saying that, although not with my own voice. Was that you, then?”

“Yes. We can no longer intercede upon the injustices of the forest as directly as we once would. Yet, the dark of men’s hearts remains. Avarice and gluttony for that which is not theirs runs rampant. To hunt is to survive, but balance must be kept. Those which you fought did not respect this and so we called for a champion—a guardian of the wood.”

“A champion…? But...why me? I’m no guardian. I’m a monster. A beast best cast aside.” Adhamh turned from the light as grief dampened his cheeks.

“We’ve seen your deeds since stepping foot in our wood. The kindness spared to man and creature alike; your strength for those without strength of their own, despite what weighs deep within you now. There is good within you, in spite of what has befallen you. This is the light we seek. The light we enkindle in you. The light you must kindle in others. We cannot act on our own any longer, but through you the will of the wood will be done, o’ Knight of the Green.” The ethereal sunlight soon faded away and the glade returned to its solemn state once more.

Adhamh was rendered speechless as he stood there and for the first time in moons, he felt a shred of peace within him alongside the powerful tug that burnt through him as it did before. It was a familiar energy he’d long but forgotten. Only now he recognized what it was:

A Paladin’s duty not yet finished.

#ffxivwrite2020 #[Drabbles | Adhamh]

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esamastation · 4 years

Text

Because i am writing it and wanna see what people think

Sneak preview of hithertho unnamed sequel to “True” Reality

Nothing is True.

Nothing is there.

Desmond doesn't so much float in the nothingness as he… just… is. He doesn't know how long it's been, he's kind of lost the sense of why of it, too. He thinks he minded it, way back when, an eternity ago, he wanted to leave, maybe? It doesn't really matter. Nothing matters. There's nothing.

Well, that's not exactly true. Not True true, just true. There's something – just enough of a something for him to still be sticking around. It's like a string inside him, a cord frayed to its last sliver, gently waving in the nonexistent wind, just enough to remind him that, that he's still there. He's not gone yet. He's here, here is nothing, and he's in the nothing.

No one would ever see him here. No one would find him. And no one would care.

The Lonely savours him slowly, digesting his slowly ebbing, flowing misery like a tasty morsel. He's a candy on it's tongue, and it's wearing him out slowly, so slowly, tasting every aspect of his Aloneness and humming with the drawn out enjoyment.

The knowledge that he was always alone. Surrounded by what amounted to paper cutouts of people, rather than real individuals. They stand up in his memories now like stand-ins, all hollow and two-dimensional, repeating the same hollow, meaningless words.

Get up, Desmond, the words echo, sharp enough to cut, to bring forth a reaction, to make him twitch. Dad, calling him across the training ring. Get up, Desmond, he says, and never holds out his hand, never helps him up, never does anything. Get up, Desmond, he snaps, impatient enough for Desmond to hear it in his voice, but also distracted, like he's looking elsewhere, his attention on something else, like whether Desmond actually gets up or not doesn't actually matter. Get up, Desmond.

And the Loneliness whispers, No one ever asked if you needed help. No one offered a hand to pull you up. Did anyone ever give you their arm, their shoulder to lean on? Did anyone ever lift you to your feet? Did they hold you?

His mother's hands, cool and perfunctory on his cheek as she dabs stinging antiseptic on a cut. Her fingernails feel like paper cuts, and her disapproving tutting sounds like distant static. "It's just a cut, and you're a big boy, Desmond, you don't need my help."

Desmond knows, theoretically, that his mother helped him. He remembers it. But he also remembers the holes in those memories, the parts where they don't exist. Dad is easier, Bill Miles actually made an appearance in his life, such as it was, but his Mother is only a voice. Voice, and vast holes of absence, where the game creators hadn't bothered to fill up his background. Seventeen years worth of memories.

The Lonely has filled them, bit by bit, with cold shoulders from her, with dismissal, with distracted disregard as she turns away. Just enough care to make him feel it, a hand on his shoulder, a band aid on his lip, just enough to make him long for more – and then the Lonely takes the image and turns her away from him, leaves him at the mercies of a father, who turns more and more callous and cold as the memories twist and turn and...

You were a thing they raised, a fruit of labour, the culmination of a bloodline. They married for lineage, not love, they didn't love each other, they didn't love you – you were just a thing they made, an Assassin of Assassins, the Assassin, their Chosen One, alone and strange and…

Desmond drifts. He thinks he might be floating. He has enough will left to know that this is kind of – not wrong, exactly, though it's that too. The Lonely wants his suffering, his slow anguish, his Loneliness, his Aloneness, his Solitude – and his knowledge of it, too. Wants to make him feel it.

But it doesn't come naturally for him. He can feel it, but it's artificial, in the end. Those people never existed, and those experiences never happened, and he knows it. He knows what he is. The Lonely can't take that away from him – it's the main thing it's feeding on.

He's a Solitary Existence, artificial, hollow, fake, empty, the Lonely can digest him forever. So it won't make him think he's human, not all the way. Whenever he threatens to tip over the edge of that knowledge and into delusion of humanity, it reminds him – he's just code, code, code, nothing but symbols on a screen, unloved and unreal, a thing no one knew, a thing that shouldn't be – and that breaks the illusion of suffering.

Desmond sighs, and the Lonely drinks it up all the while breathing in on it, like blowing on a hot coal, making it blaze in his chest. Alone, alone, alone, and unknown.

Desmond has no idea how long it's been going on. Doesn't know if there's time in this place. There probably isn't. The Lonely can and will feed off on him forever, and he's more or less… fine with that. Would be nice if it wouldn't try and fake it, though – it doesn't feel right. He knows loneliness and isolation, and it can be so nice. So much nicer than fake social isolation. He's never minded social isolation, it's never done that much for him. Sure, he was sad, at times, but true isolation, the feeling of being properly removed from everyone and everything…

That's sweet.

Desmond jerks in the Nothing and in the Emptiness, and around him the Lonely shifts and breathes. There's – something. Like a tug in Desmond's chest, in his soul – in his code screen, or whatever it is he has. The empty space that's his body is feeling a drag, though. It kind of feels like he's -

Gasping, Desmond convulses and grabs at his chest, as the Lonely disperses like so much mist around him, and the faked illusions of social isolation and dismissal fade. There's a tether – Desmond can almost see it, and he can definitely feel it. Someone's got a hand around his story and is tugging at his words, at the strings of his code, and he's -

Out there, someone Knows him.

He's Known.

He's Seen.

The string is tugged – and then released. Desmond stares in dismay as it goes taut and then snaps, withering away like smoke in the wind – the mist of the Lonely eats it up, wears it out, until Desmond is left holding just a – a bit of it, hanging from his chest. It's – thin, and black, plastic.

A… tape? It's thin and flimsy and takes Desmond a bit to actually remember what it is, but… yeah, it's tape. Cassette tape. "Huh," he says out loud, as the thin flimsy string of it loops loosely over his fingers, almost too light to be felt. Been – never, since he's seen this stuff, actually.

"Statement of Desmond Miles," the cassette tape announces into his fingers in a firm, brisk male voice. "Regarding his… existence…"

Desmond's skin crawls and he knows, instinctively, that it's Another. Another what, he's not sure, but it's Another. It feels like – like sandpaper against his senses, like anathema, but also like kin. It's a weird mixture of sensations, not entirely pleasant nor unpleasant. Kind of… tingly, like an itch that's satisfying to scratch.

It has to be the story, the one he made to the Eye, just like that old guy said – that has to be – someone out there, someone with power, just did something with his story. Recorded it on tape maybe? He isn't sure, but…

He has his hands again. And legs. So that's kind of nice.

Slowly, shakily, Desmond finds his feet enough to stand on them, peering around curiously. The Nothingness hasn't changed, the Lonely is still there, looming upon him, wishing to smother him, but – he's Known now, and that changes things.

"You're hungry," he says, which – is probably a weird thing to say, but it's what he feels. "I'm sorry, I'm not that kind of meal. I don't fear being lonely – it's all I've ever been. Can't fear the only thing you've ever known."

The Lonely doesn't answer, of course not, but it leans in, hungry and withering, whimpering and savouring. No one loves you. it whispers in his own voice, which is right enough. No one wants you. You're safe here. No one can hurt you here.

They're not really things it's saying, though, more like stuff his mind is saying at himself, as a placeholder for the things it craves. It kind of – it has the feel of a petulant, lonely child, mumbling into its knees, bitter and unintelligible.

The weird thing is, though it's been slowly digesting Desmond for eons, now, Desmond kind of feels bad for the thing. It's pitiful. Lonely things usually are… at least until they learn to live with it. And Desmond did, a long time ago… given the value of living, maybe, but… still.

"Here," Desmond murmurs, and gives the Lonely not his sadness, because he doesn't really have any to give, but his… serenity, the masochistic, drawn out edge of it – the moments spent alone in his flat, feeling self-righteously bitter about having to turn down an invitation to a party because someone was filming there. He feeds the Lonely the moments in abandoned gas stations when he was at his most desperate, his most alone, and with no one to turn to he turned inward instead, and felt worse for it. The moments of dissociation just after using the Animus, when he felt disconnected from everything, body and soul…

The Lonely flexes around him, and Desmond draws a shuddering, shocked breath. "Yeah," he croaks, shaky. "Now you get it." His mouth feels like dry parchment and tastes like mothballs at the end of a cabinet that hasn't been opened in decades – like an empty tomb in an abandoned castle, where Altaïr sat alone for centuries. "Isn't that better?"

The Lonely lets him go, and Desmond grips the shredded cassette tape in hand, and turns to follow it out.

So, Desmond the avatar of the Lonely? Taking place somewhere early on season 4 of the Magnus Archives. Yeah.

#fanfiction #crossover #the Magnus Archives #assassin's creed #tma #ac #desmond miles #the lonely

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slafkovskys · 5 years

Text

yeah, we’ll be alright / p. moynihan

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from you and me by niall horan

mentions of vomiting and rude names

you heard your bedroom door open and shut before a knock sounded against the bathroom door, “y/n?”

“i took it already, p,” you said, letting your head thump against the door. you hear him sigh before you hear another thud against the door and him sliding down. “i’m scared.”

“me too,” he mumbled.

your eyes don’t leave the white stick with the pink cap that rested on your sink. your heart pounds against your chest as you pull on the strings of the hoodie you were wearing, “you don’t have to stay, you know, if it comes out positive.”

he scoffs, “i’m not leaving you, y/n. whether it’s positive or negative, you’re stuck with me.”

your phone starts ringing, signaling the end of the timer. your entire body stiffens as you hear patrick breathe deeply on the other side of the door. your shaky hand reaches for the plastic and you close your eyes as it wraps around it.

you count to three four separate times before actually opening them. your eyes read the single word multiple times before a sob rakes through your body. you hear patrick stand and start jiggling the doorknob, pleading for entry. your hand raises and twists the lock, moving so he could open it.

he doesn’t say anything. he just squats down and picks you up, carrying you over to your bed. you were still clutching the positive test in your hand as he tucked you into his chest, assuring things would be fine. you don’t know how long you lay there sobbing, but when you finally stopped, the sun had already set.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, voice scratchy from all of the crying you had done.

he wrapped his arms around you impossibly tighter as he pressed his lips to the top of your head, “please don’t be. if anyone’s at fault, it’s me.”

“we’re gonna have a baby,” you look up at him and he cracks the smallest grin and nods.

“yeah, we’re gonna have a baby.”

at this point, you couldn’t tell if it was your hand that was sweaty or his. you watched his knee bounce through the corner of your eye, biting your lip between your teeth. “can you stop doing that? please?”

“sorry,” he mumbled, squeezing your hand. you crossed your legs before uncrossing them and then crossed them again.

you were the only two people sitting in the waiting room. apparently, people had better things to do at eight a.m. on a monday than be at ob/gyn’s office. both of you should be in first period by now, but this was a priority.

when the door opened and your name was called, you both stood. he followed behind you, waiting as they took your height and weight. the nurse, named kara, shut the door behind her and looked at you with a smile, “this is your first visit, right?”

“yes ma’am,” you said, biting your lip and kicking your feet back and forth where they dangled off the bed.

she explained what would go on, how they were just going to check and verify the pregnancy and let you hear the heartbeat if you wanted. she did her thing, drew some blood and asked about both of your histories and before telling you to lift your shirt over your stomach, “oh! you’ve already got a little bump.”

you’d noticed it yesterday after you’d stepped out of the shower. your stomach had started to jut out at the bottom. you sent patrick a picture and he said ‘i love you. and bean.’

she turned out the lights before putting the gel on your stomach. she pointed towards the screen and you watched as a little blob came into view. “there’s your baby, mom,” she said and tears well up in your eyes, “and there’s the heartbeat.”

she presses a button and the most amazing noise you’d ever heard fills the room. you choke out a laugh as you process the ‘thump thump thump’ that was inside of you. you hear kara say, “are you okay, dad?”

you turn to look at patrick. the usually stoic, cocky attitude boy was replaced by someone who was crying. in the nearly two years you’d known him, you’d never seen him cry. you reach out your hand and he stands, walking over beside you. he brings your hand to his lips.

kara cleans off your stomach and excuses herself, but leaves the picture up for you to see. “hi bean,” you mumble out, watching as the blob shifts slightly, “we’re your parents.”

you didn’t ‘pop’ until four months in. leggings became your best friend along with big hoodies and sweaters.

you’d been able to keep the whole thing on a need to know basis. there had been rumors spreading about you and you heard them, but just chose to ignore them. your parents, though disappointed, supported you and wanted you happy. patrick’s parents and siblings all flew in the weekend after you broke the news and had pretty much the same reaction as your parents. the boys, though utterly shocked, were excited and already calling godfather. “if i die,” patrick had stated, “i don’t want any of you responsible for my child.”

one day in the middle of the week, you had decided you actually wanted to look half decent. you slipped on your maternity jeans and a sweater that didn’t hug the bump, but made it obvious that you were pregnant. you arrived that day and walked straight to first period, not immune to the whispers that followed you. you made it to second before your hand shot up and you asked to be excused.

you ran to the girls bathroom and hurled your breakfast into the toilet before leaning back against the stall wall. the tears start to fall as you replay the things that you’d heard that day:

‘she just wanted to trap him, i bet.’

‘she’s ruining a career that hasn’t even started yet.’

‘skank.’

you hear the door open and the hurried footsteps of someone. you watch as the door flies open and patrick’s looking at you worriedly. he squats down in front of you, hands framing your face as his thumbs wipe your tears. “what happened, gorgeous?”

and you tell him. you tell him everything and he holds on to you as you do so, just like he’s done almost everyday for the past few months. he pulls you up and walks you over to the sink, drying your face for you. he presses a kiss to your hair, “i’ve got a sweatshirt in my car with your name on it if you want it?”

“please.”

during the prime of your pregnancy was also the last few months of patrick’s time in the ntdp. so that meant he was gone, a lot, and he missed a lot, too.

when you first felt the baby kick, for example, you were in the middle of science class while patrick was in the middle of a a game in sochi. your body stiffened as you felt the nudge against your midsection, before a grin took over your face. you place your hand where it kicked and pushed, receiving another.

all day, you’d been pushing that spot and always received a nudge in return. when you got home, you dropped down on your bed and lifted up your shirt, watching as your stomach jutted out with another kick.

you called patrick a short time later and told him the news. he was visibly upset, but had a very serious conversation with the bump that they had to do it when he got home. a week later, patrick barged into your room and dropped onto your bed, “do the thing.”

you giggled before sliding up your sweatshirt and poking your tummy. you didn’t get a reaction so you poke it again before sighing, “they might be sleeping, p.”

“they’ve got four more months to sleep, y/n. daddy’s home and wants to see them kick.” he grumbles moving so that his mouth is beside your rounded stomach. he clears his throat, “hi baby, it’s me, patrick, your dad. now, i know that i was gone for a little bit and you had to hear me through a phone, but i’m back now and i was hoping you could do that thing you did for your mom? please?”

you giggle at the way patrick is staring at your stomach, not blinking. he sighed before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the skin. as soon as he moved back, a lump forms in the side and you grunt. patrick looks elated as he kisses the spot again, you getting another particularly hard kick to the side.

“that’s enough,” you pout, shoving his head away. he laughed before placing his big, warm hand over your stomach. you place yours on top of his, “i love you.”

another kick.

everything wasn’t always perfect, though.

one night when you were in your last trimester, you woke up from a nap to sharp pains in your stomach. you screamed for you mom and she darted in. they felt to strong to be braxton hicks, you insisted, and she drove you to the emergency room.

it was the one night patrick had gone out in months and he wasn’t answering his phone. you called alex, who thankfully answered on the second ring. “what’s u-”

“put patrick one the phone. now!” you shout squeezing your mother’s hand. you hear him mumble a panicked ‘ok’ before there’s distilling and patrick’s voice comes through the phone. you cut him off too, “you need to get to the hospital. like, right now.”

“is- is it time?” he stutters a sudden haste in his tone as he starts swearing. “where’s my fucking- i need someone to drive me!”

he gets there twenty minutes after you do and runs into your room. your mom explains that they have to run some tests and that you’ll be here for a while. they did turn out to false contractions and you were sent home a few days later with an order to stay on strict bedrest.

patrick swore he wasn’t leaving your side again.

at first, you insisted on patrick going to the draft. it was such an important day in his life, but with you already a week past your due date, it just wasn’t gonna happen. and you were glad he didn’t go.

your water broke just past two o’clock in the morning on june twenty second. you rushed to the hospital for the second time and not two hours later, just before five, loud cries reverberated around the hospital room.

they laid all eight pounds and seven ounces of her on your chest and that’s when you started crying. patrick kisses your head repeatedly while they wipe her off. the doctor hands him the scissors to cut the cord before they take her away.

that day, you received an endless amount of calls from the boys. they were already booking your daughter’s time and asking what kind of presents she would like to receive. “trevor, dude, she’s six hours old.”

that night, you sat your laptop up on the table and streamed the draft. patrick held onto your daughter as his name was called. you look up at him with the biggest smile before glancing down to the baby in his arms.

“hear that? daddy’s gonna be a devil,” you smirk tiredly, “but we already knew that, didn’t we amelia joy?”

#patrick moynihan #patrick moynihan imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #college hockey imagine #new jersey devils #my work

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peachyteabuck · 5 years

Text

explosion uncontained

summary: Bad news is Bucky fucked up big time and now you’re seriously injured. Good news is Natasha knows the perfect way to apologize.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x Reader

words: 3,349

trigger warnings: Sub Bucky, dom Natasha, orgasm denial, mommy kink, canon-level violence, cock rings.

notes/other: This was done for @lesbian-deadpool ‘s pride parade challenge. My prompt was “Please don’t threaten me with a knife. I’ll get horny” and has been bolded within the fic!!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Bucky Barnes has fucked up. Bucky Barnes has not only fucked up, but he has also been the root cause of a sizable gash in your right shoulder and an entire patch of skin being burned off that starts at your left calf and curls around you until it reaches your belly button.

He knows this. He knew this before the bomb blew up, and he certainly knows this now, as Natasha paces around their shared room and chews off chunks of skin from her bottom lip.

“You fucking dumbass!” She yells. “You knew you were defying orders, but no! Of course, you had to be the fucking hero.” She pauses to sigh before going back to her incessant movements. “And now you’ve injured the best fucking hacker we have. Do you know how much political capital I had to burn to get her out there with us?”

Natasha’s teeth are barred, eyes firey and skin red from lack of oxygen. Bucky’s never seen her this pissed, and he’s terrified. And a little hard. But mostly terrified.

“I’m so sorry,” He tries to reconcile. “I didn’t-”

It doesn’t work, and before he can finish his thought Natasha’s got the sharpened dagger she keeps strapped to her thigh and points at the center of his chest with her free hand pressed into the back of his head.

Bucky smirks despite how much he knows he’s about to get his ass beat. “Please don’t threaten me with a knife. I’ll get horny.”

Despite herself, Natasha openly laughs. “As if you’re not hard already.”

There’s a beat of silence before she goes back to scowling at the love of your life. Bucky gulps as he notices her face changing from amused to enraged.

“You’re a fucking dumbass if you think I’m dumb ass enough to believe that bullshit,” she sighs with the knife pointed to Bucky’s chest. She doesn’t know whether she’s exhausted herself after, what, more than five hours of screaming post-five day non-stop mission? or just needs a break. “I’m going to check up on her.” Bucky stands, but sits back down once he sees Natasha’s glare. “You stay here, and don’t move a fucking muscle.”

Natasha finds you easily in the large hospital wing- you’re the only patient without a single attendant. Her heart almost stops, thinking that between when they had arrived and that very moment your heart had stopped beating and your skin had gone cold. As she gets closer, though, she sees you’re awake and doing something on your laptop. She watches you for a second as you silently and furiously pluck strings of code together, trying to figure out exactly what you’re typing and how your eyes move back and forth so fast.

A crash from a room far away breaks the spell. You both look over to see what’s wrong (turns out, nothing), and you spot her as she goes closer to the curtain. Still, you don’t speak until she’s seated next to you and taking a bite out of your uneaten grilled cheese.

“So, what brings you down to these parts of town?”

She shrugs, ignoring your bad joke in favor of another bite. “Just wanted to check up on you.”

You laugh a little, just a sharp exhale through your nostril. Still, you wince in pain. Natasha notices but doesn’t comment. “Ya know, exactly as well as one can hope after having a bomb explode in your face.”

She takes a look at your vital signs, all good, before answering. “Yeah, I mean…” a pause. The quiet air seems heavy as she rubs her eyebrows. “I still don’t know how to apologize. Barnes made the wrong call, and he was totally in the wrong, but-”

“Then why isn’t he apologizing to me?”

Natasha hasn’t spent much time with you, and has a hard time knowing when you’re joking or not. Your sense of humor is even drier than hers, but she can sense a hint of mischief behind your eyes as you stare her down.

“I made him stay in our room.”

“Like a child? Is he in time out or something?”

“If he’s gonna act like one, I’m gonna treat him like one.”

“Except when it comes to holding him accountable for his actions…”

She laughs outwardly now. “Oh, trust me. He’s going to apologize.”

You close your laptop and push the tray attached to the uncomfortable hospital bed. Carefully you fold your body and lean to the side. At a few points the burn rubs into the sheets the wrong way or “And how is he going to do that?”

Natasha’s caught on now. She relaxes into the plastic chair, failing to hide her displeasure at the high-pitched noise it makes as she places both feet on top of the blanket obviously taken from your own apartment. It’s thick with fringe, a desert scene woven onto it. The mix of warm colors seems to reflect your wit, sparks running across your skin with every sarcastic comeback and cheap dig. It stands out against the drab, gray-blue of the room, almost as bold as you.

“I don’t know, we’ll figure something out,” she smirks. “Trust me, I can handle him.”

“Can,” you ask, firmly meeting her piercing gaze with your own. “Or will?”

Natasha smiles wider than Tennessee. “Will.”

You’re discharged about a month later, the burn being more serious than initially guessed and the lung damage causing you to wake up in the middle of the night not being able to breathe multiple times. You still have trouble going up stairs and standing up for long periods of time, and the burns still hurts like hell, and the gash in your shoulder won’t allow you to carry a backpack or sit up without pain, but at least you were cleared to be out on your own again. It’s nice, to say the least. Being in a place without privacy isn’t something you particularly like, and being at the whim of nurses and doctors doesn’t please you all that much either.

Still, it’s almost nice to see someone right as you’re about to leave with your heavy duffel bag and your equally heavy backpack. It’s less nice when you realize it’s the reason you were in the hospital in the first place.

Before you can tell him to fuck off, though, he immediately starts spewing any apology can think of.

“I understand what I did was wrong and I’m so so so so sorry and I haven’t stopped thinking about how I literally put you out of work for a month and yes Tony did yell at me about his best hacker not being able to work and I’m still so sorry and Natasha yelled at me in four different languages and I’m pretty sure one of them was Latin and please I just want to help you bring up your stuff because it’s the least I can do and-” he pauses to inhale, lungs starved of oxygen - similar to you being starved of the sweet, sweet silence of being alone. You feel it’s easier to just let him help you, let him take up your heavy crap and then tell him to fuck off until you have to explain something tech-y to him in a meeting.

You shrug, dropping your duffel bag on the ground and handing him the backpack. He carefully grabs both of them and silently follows you into the elevator, leaning against the back wall as you push the button corresponding to your floor and lean against the wall. The jagged wound doesn’t feel as bad as when you got it, but you still let out a small groan when it hits the cold material.

Bucky, desperate to relieve you of all the pain you’ve ever felt and will ever feel, tries to start a conversation. “So, the high thirties. That’s what, the section for the computer nerds?”

You almost make a joke about being able to turn on a laptop not making you a computer nerd, but you laughing too much would hurt and might cause you to have a coughing fit, which Bucky would have to save you from and then you’d be in debt to him.

“Yeah, computer science-related stuff,” you sigh, wincing a little. “Heads of computer science-stuff actually. Statistics, data-analysis, computer science.”

The rest of the ride to your apartment is quiet, almost painfully so. Each time you try to start a conversation Bucky seems to avoid answering with more than a few words, his eyes never meeting your own.

Still, he follows dutifully into your bedroom where you fall short of instructing him to place your things across from your messy bed – your vocal cords unable to move as you spy the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met in front of you.

You don’t know what to say when you see Natasha leaning on your desk, staring at your knick-knacks and loose papers. For some reason you almost offer her a cup of tea.

“Now, James here,” she gestures to the man behind you, who has since placed your bag gingerly on your bed and is now standing awkwardly in the middle of your bedroom. “Has to find some way to make up for his horrendous mistake back during the mission.”

You gulp and fidget with your hands as you speak. “It’s fine, really, I’m o-“

Natasha removes one hand from her dress pants and holds it up to stop you. “No, it is not okay. I don’t like to leave the mistakes I’m responsible for,” she glares at Bucky, who you do not see but still know is cowering like a puppy whose peed on the carpet. “Left uncleaned. I request that you meet Bucky and I in our apartment tonight after my meeting with the Secretary of State. Say, about eight?”

You nod, mouth too dry to form speech.

Natasha smiles, walking behind you and wrapping a possessive arm around Bucky’s middle. “Perfect, see you then.”

And not with a shout, but with a whisper, they are both gone.

At 7:58:36 you find yourself dressed in the easiest thing to slip on without too much pain – a large t-shirt and some athletic shorts you’ve had since you played volleyball in college – standing in front of the door to Natasha and Bucky’s shared apartment.

Right before you can knock your phone buzzes with a text, one from Natasha that tells you the door is unlocked and that she and Bucky are just in the bedroom.

With that, you take a deep breath, and step inside.

Bucky’s kneeling with his upper half hunched forward and his hands tied behind his back. The only thing keeping him in such an uncomfortable position being Natasha’s heel pressed into the small of his spine.

“Now,” she begins to tell them. You’re sitting on the edge of their large bed, hands already twisting in the sheets. Maybe it’s nervousness, maybe it’s anticipation, maybe it’s fear. Something flutters in your chest at the curve of Natasha’s lips around her words, of her bare face vulnerable and her messy bun falling with every movements of her jaw. “Bucky here needs to apologize,” she looks down at him with a playful smile. “Don’t you baby.”

“Yes, Mommy,” he says immediately.

Natasha pushes down harder onto him, a painful position as his body as nearly folded in half by the woman he loves the most. “Now,” she moves her foot so that it’s pushing on his ass. “Go tell our friend here that you’re sorry.”

She undoes the binds on Bucky’s hands with the heel of her red-bottoms, the cherry-red ropes falling to the ground in total silence.

You suck in a breath as Bucky shifts to begin crawling the what feels like mile-long clearance between where you’ve sat down on the edge of the king-sized bed and the throne-like seat where Natasha has chosen to seat herself. His head is hung and he avoids eye contact, staring at the floor instead. It’s than that you notice he’s wearing a collar – a thick, matte leather one, BABY embroidered in thick, grey lettering just above an o-ring.

For the moments between when Bucky stops in front of you and when he spreads your bruised knees, some part of your brain tries to convince the rest of it that you have no idea what is going on. You have no idea what to think, what to do. That the pair of them have all of this messed up, that they misread any body language you’d contorted yourself into. It pleads like a petulant child for you to call the whole thing off, to tender your resignation and run off to some Eastern European country where no one would bother trying to find you.

But every temper tantrum has its end, and this particular one seems to be when Bucky’s lips kiss at the bottom hem of your shorts. The room falls into silence as Natasha watches him with eyes wide with lust and your neurotransmitters catch up to your hands running through his thick hair.

“Go ahead, baby,” Natasha says – still in her position on her large chair. “Start your apology.”

Bucky spreads your legs that with a touch that contrasts the rough callouses of his right hand and the tough vibranium of his left. He pushes your panties to the side and sinks a single, metal finger into your tight pussy.

You moan and fall back onto the thick bedding as Bucky wraps his plush lips around your clit.

He’s good at this, much better than you’ve ever had before, and it surprises you. Each nerve in your body feels like a livewire as he slips one finger, and then one more, into your dripping pussy. As he finds that special spot in you your eyes shoot open (when did you close them?) and see Natasha, still sitting across from you, with one hand holding her dress up and the other lazily circling her clit.

You collapse onto the bed with your third orgasm of the night, barely able to catch your breath before Natasha’s instructing Bucky to get up on the bed with you. For a moment you have no idea what you’re supposed to do, not understanding until Bucky’s flat on his back and Natasha’s gingerly running her fingers up and down his length. It’s then that the glint of metal around the base of his cock catches your eye, shining in the low lights of the bedroom. Wow, Natasha really is into this punishment stuff, isn’t she.

“I’m going to have you ride this little slut, now. Are you okay with that?”

Natasha asks this as if it isn’t what you’ve wanted since you were hired at Stark Industries, as if somehow she doesn’t know exactly what you want.

You sink onto Bucky’s cock, moaning as his thickness fills you in a way you’ve never felt before. Deep guttural moans you think may have come from you fill the room as you chase your own pleasure, slamming up and down on the fattest dick you’ve ever taken.

Bucky whimpers as you ride him, face beet-red with eyes scrunched and jaw slack. Each breath comes out in pants, and bits of his dark brown hair stick to his sweaty forehead. Frankly he looks adorable, hands flexing as he aches to touch you.

As you chase your own release Bucky’s fingers ghost over where your legs bend for purchase on the large bed, but soon are slapped away with a tsk from Natasha.

“If you want to touch, slut,” she hisses as she pinches at Bucky’s sensitive nipples. He cries out in pain, curling towards her as the sharp pain spreads through his body. “You need to ask.”

Bucky seems too far gone for that now, though, any noises slipping past his lips far from meeting the standard of spoken language. Still, Natasha seems to take pity on him, and gives him permission to grab at your hips and cup your breasts.

Since you’ve been hired by Stark you’ve spent a substantial part of your down time thinking about Bucky’s metal arm. At first it was purely scientific, wondering how heavy it was and how the internal mechanism operated. After you saw Bucky shirtless for the first time, though, your thoughts went a tad towards the gutter. You wondered if the plates would cut at your skin and more…tender…places, if it made noises when Bucky was working it especially hard.

In particular, you dedicated a considerable part of your brain to pondering whether the arm overheated, or if it had some way to keep itself from burning the flesh of whomever is blessed enough to be on the receiving end of its touch.

Now you know the metal remains whatever temperature Bucky wishes for it to be – or whatever Natasha tells him to change it to. The setting for the night seems to be a few degrees below room temperature, not so freezing as to hurt you but cold enough to leave a trail of goosebumps wherever the metal appendage makes contact with your skin.

With your entire body on fire, Bucky moves to rub at your neglected clit with a cool thumb, such an expected sensation forcing an unexpected but not unwelcome incredibly powerful climax. The man under you moans nearly as loud as you, but his sound much more desperate.

You nearly fall over as you finish for…you don’t even know the number. Climbing off of Bucky seems to be the hardest feat of the night, with your injuries and sore limbs and aching core.

As soon as your back hits the bed and you’ve officially tapped out, Bucky moves closer to Natasha - kissing at her inner thighs before slipping three of his vibranium fingers into her own wet heat. She mms happily, dopey grin spreading across her face as she fucks herself on her boyfriend’s hand.

“So good for Mommy,” she coos. “So, so good for me.”

She cums easily once, then twice, each time a low, steady heat flows through your veins. Though neither one of them touches you, somehow you feel yourself on the brink of another sweet release.

It’s not until you look to Bucky that you feel anything other than complete euphoria. Bucky’s cock is hard as a diamond, and redder than his ass. It looks…painful, and twangs of pity tug at your rapidly beating heart.

“Oh,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry about him dear. This is exactly what he deserves.”

With that she leads Bucky to the floor by the collar you’d forgotten he’d had on, placing on a small throw that had fallen from the bed. She crawls down on the floor with him, balancing on her knees with her back straightened while Bucky hunches over. She may be taller than her standing up, but there’s no way he’d allow himself to be above her here, now, in this place, in private.

“Take it like a big boy, baby,” Natasha tells him, leaving small kisses on the sides of his mouth and along his eyebrows. “Make Mommy proud, show me how much pain you’re willing to take for me.”

He mumbles something low to her, something you assume is Russian by the accented whispers. When she releases him, he sinks to the ground, body curling up into itself as he shuts his eyes.

Bucky falls asleep on the ground, rock hard and aching with the cock ring on his dick and the collar around his neck. The lights turn off with a snap of Natasha’s perfectly painted nails like you’re in some perfectly-paced action movie, the darkness enveloping you as suddenly as you realize Bucky still hasn’t come that night.

Natasha seems to read your mind, tsking as she pulls you closer. “Don’t worry about him, libchen. This is his punishment, and he will go through with it.”

You nod silently, noting Bucky’s already fallen asleep with his face pressed against the soft carpet. With that, you allow the fatigue from your injury and the night’s activities to lull you into sleep.

#ppchallenge #prideparadechallenge #bucky barnes x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #buckynat x reader #bucky barnes x natasha romanoff x reader #marvel imagine #marvel smut #lukis writes stuff #cool fact this is BARELY edited #it's a good day to be an editor who doesn't FUCKING edit

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