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k-atsukibakugou · 1 month

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happy birthday to the man!! — katsuki sees your sex toys once and is haunted by what you look like using them

pairing: bakugou x f!reader w/c: 1.5k warning/s: nsfw 18+, m! & f!masturbation; sex toys, i think that's everything notes: this is a bit short BUT i had to get something out for the man, this took me like 2 weeks to write but hopefully now i'll be out of my slump a little bit! pls enjoy c:

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

fuck… he really doesn’t know when the lines started to blur between friend and fantasy, from wanting to hang out with you to wanting you, from talking to you about your day to being bricked up hearing your voice. yet, here he was, hot water streaming down his neck, plastering damp hair to his forehead; the water pouring over his head nowhere near enough to wash his mind of you.

he’d been plagued by you, morning to night, even in his damn dreams since he tried to find a phone charger at your place.

it’s not like he was snooping, he wasn’t trying to find that sort of thing, bakugou was only trying to find your spare charger, he’d seen you put it in one of these drawers before, how was he meant to know you left your spare chargers right below all of that?

he’d slammed the drawer shut the absolute second he realised exactly what he was staring at; the bedside drawer stuffed to the brim with bright, phallic toys, a collection of smaller, rounder vibrators, something that looked awfully similar to a gag, and he heard the telltale metal clinking of at least one pair of handcuffs against the wood when he slammed it closed. embarrassing heat crawled up his neck, burning his cheeks and setting the very tips of his ears alight. stuck in the same spot, mouth half opened dumbly, his eyebrows creased in the centre of his face, all blood rushing from his brain down to his half-hard cock already straining against his pants, the need making him ache.

every hour since that, he’d spent thinking of what your wet cunt looked like swallowing the toys; so pretty and drippy, how it looked tensing around nothing when you came from the buzzing of your vibrator, how you’d look writhing and moaning handcuffed with that gag in your mouth, how your drool would stain your shirt, sticking the fabric to your skin. god, it was just so lewd, even under the purifying water, he felt dizzy, sticky, hot, sweaty, the image of your toys burnt into his retinas, no matter what he tried to distract himself with, he always saw your toys at the forefront of his mind, the perverted imagery refusing to budge from its newfound home.

bakugou groans, a deep, rough sound drowned out by the even buzzing echoing in his ears, the sound slowly building, kicking to a new level when your whine drowns it out. you always start nearly silent in his dreams, just tiny gasps escaping your parted lips when you’d nestle the toy right against your clit. you only get louder from there, your eyebrows scrunching together like his own were, marking two little tallies in the middle, tilting upwards at the centre as you pulled your lip up between your teeth. the motion did absolutely nothing to muffle your sounds, your whimpers and moans only growing louder with every heave of your chest, every passing moment with the vibrator pressed to your pulsing clit making your hips jolt into it.

you reach between your thighs with a whine that sounds all too similar to his name torn from your lips, dipping your fingertips in your slick cunt, collecting all the cum gathering at your trembling hole without even taking a breather from humping your vibrator like your life depended on it. your movements grew jerkier and jerkier the longer the intense vibrations were held to your drooling pussy, your eyes fluttering closed with a breathless shout of his name, shaky, wet thighs squeezing around your hand, even as the vibrator slipped from your grip, falling forgotten onto the sheets beneath you, the constant stimulation growing too much for you—

“fuck.” he really couldn’t help it, his hand travelling lower down his abdomen, trailing behind droplets of water still running down his torso to his hard cock, the tip already leaking from the thought of you. wrapping his fist around the base of his cock, he squeezed once before twisting his wrist, slowly jerking his cock, wondering if you were in your shower doing the same, fucking yourself on one of your toys imagining him in its place just as he wished it was your warm cunt squeezing around his dick instead of his hand.

“katsukiii—” bakugou can feel you beside him, your figure displacing the dense steam surrounding him, a heavy, thick silicone dildo hanging from the glass wall of the shower, your figure slick and soapy from the shower, damp hair sticking to the soft skin of your neck and face when you bent at the waist, lining the tip of the plastic cock up with your drooling hole. the head of the cock would slide into your cunt all too easily in his fantasies, always greedy to watch you take more and more, inch by inch sinking onto it. your mouth falls further open the more you take of the toy, the pleasure too much for you to even hold your head up by the time your ass was pressed against the cool glass, your back arching with the tip of the dildo nestled deep inside your cunt. he wonders if the curve of it would rub on your g-spot at this angle, if it would drive you crazy grinding against the glass, whining when you can’t take it anymore.

bakugou’s head falls back thinking of you reaching for the shower head, his cock pulsing in his hand when he grips the base, his muscles tensing and relaxing while he tried desperately not to cum; the image of you playing behind his eyelids making that a near impossible task. even with his eyes squeezed shut, there you are at the forefront of his mind, switching the settings of the shower head to a concentrated stream, aimed directly at your aching clit, your broken moan jolting his hips forward into his hand, stroking the length languidly. your voice wavered, repeating his name again, the stimulation inside and outside your cunt just so overwhelming.

bracing against the tile with your spare hand, you lift yourself back off the toy, the base suctioned to the glass remaining stuck as you grew quicker in your movements, starting to bounce and roll your hips in a smooth tempo. he matches the pace of your hips with his fist, his breath coming out in nothing but deep huffs. his uneven groans were nothing compared to your sweet chorus of moans and whines, an endless symphony playing in his head of “ah-ah-ah”’s and “mmmng”’s the closer you got, your cum coating the toy just like his pre was smearing all over his fist.

he can’t help the guttural sound that escapes him next, a garbled, broken version of your name when your thighs tremble, your knees only moments away from buckling from the pure bliss; the water is still aimed at your clit, even when you can’t bounce on the dildo anymore, wave after wave of pleasure drowning you until your eyes rolled into your skull and your cum gathered in a creamy ring at the base of the toy, your ass flattening against the glass as you greedily took more of the toy, intensifying the euphoria wracking through your body. he knows your toy fills your cunt so perfectly, knows how you’d hump the air to get more and more of the water aimed at your clit, unrelenting in chasing your orgasm, jolting and jerking until your knuckles turned white against the tile wall, until your voice was so high and loud it didn’t even sound like you anymore.

he wonders if you’d ever screamed taking the fake cock, if you’d ever been so overwhelmed you squealed, your pretty cunt clenching around the toy, milking the poor plastic for everything it can’t give you, or if he’d be the first to make you cum so intensely.

“ka-aa-ki—” you can’t even spit his name out, your name the same mess on his plump lips, caught so hard between sharp teeth he worries he’ll split the thin skin. all his muscles tense, his abdomen clenching low on his stomach, the veins stretching along the underside of his cock throbbing with the need to join you in the throes of pleasure, to cover your cunt in milk white cum you desperately tried to squeeze from the silicone.

your name is a choked mantra tumbling from his lips, over and over again, dark crimson eyes rolling into the back of his skull the longer you bounced on the toy, pinching sensitive nipples between your slippery, soapy fingers, dragging your orgasm out as long as you could, as long as he would, until your knees were weak and your couldn't even manage to dumbly spit out his name anymore.

“fuck.” he damn near whines, a mess of cum covering his fingers, coating his knuckles as he kept fucking his fist through the waves of his own orgasm, shivering even with the hot water running down his body, cleaning his hand even as he continued to stroke his cock, relaxing his muscles as his toes still curled, his knuckles stark white against the tile.

his head fell forward onto the cooling tile, a temporary relief for the haziness swirling around in the steam.

shit, how was he meant to look you in the eyes after this?

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost or recommend my work on other platforms or translate my works, i do not give permission for my works to be bound and sold. 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut #「mercury writes」#「kat <3」

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mywayfabrication · 1 year

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#Sheet Metal Fabrication Services #Heavy Steel Fabrication Companies #Stainless Steel Sheet Metal Fabricators near Me

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rustedhearts · 4 months

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i hate you, baby (troubled!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve makes you pay for destroying his truck in an interesting way.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the sinner ✶ the library

tags: stalking (ish?); degradation; spitting; smut; toxic relationship/situation; they're so ultraviolence.

rural midwest. summer, 2008.

The morning sun blares through a pair of thin curtains left in the bedroom. You figured he needed them more than you. A soft orange hue melts over the bare, bronzed limbs of a slumbering Steve. They didn't do much to keep the heat out. Maybe that's why you left them. A gentle karma.

Mumbling his morning disagreement, Steve stirs under the sheets until they rumple into a ball near his feet. He stretches his arms, lips cracking into a noisy yawn, and finds his hand reaching for you. The side of your bed left cold and empty for three months now.

He had it coming. You stayed too long.

Steve’s eyes snap open when his fingers fall to a wrinkle in the sheets instead of your soft flesh. He jolts upright, the heel of his palm rubbing sleep away from his gaze. He had to get it together. He couldn’t stop waking up this way.

He had a cigarette for breakfast, smoked over a pile of unopened mail in the sink. Clutter covered every inch of the house. He hadn’t realized how frequently you cleaned. He hadn’t realized how much of the home was a credit to you. He never thought of how quiet it would be without you.

It hit him like a ton of bricks the moment you finally left. After years of threatening, ages of trudging back after a few sporadic days apart—you left. For good this time.

Steve cracks open a Budweiser and slings a mostly-clean shirt over his head, halfway through the can and reaching for his second by the time he flings the back door open and staggers toward his truck. Booted feet scuffing up gravel, he was far too concerned with locating the lighter in one of his jean pockets to inspect the details of his four wheeler.

Until he lifts his head to open the door.

"What the fuck?"

The left side mirror is hanging by a wire, tires drooped like deflated balloons. When he stomps to the other side, there’s a gnarly gash from the edge of a key slashed through the passenger door.

Steve's hands tremble into fists, and he chucks his unlit cigarette toward the grass with a tight jaw.

He knew just who was responsible for this—and you were fucking dead.

✶ ✶

"My fuckin' truck, are you fuckin' insane?"

A coffee pot clatters against the counter, the tassels of an apron swinging with the sharp spin of a body hurrying away from the door as Steve strides through it. The door smacks against the window from his violent push, and all heads turn to watch him make his way between the rows of metal tables.

"I thought maybe it'd get you to finally leave me alone," you grumble, taking a customer's empty plate and placing it on the dirty tray. "Clearly not."

Steve slides between customers, elbows pressing onto the counter. "Get a fuckin' restraining order if it's so bad, sweetheart."

"Already on it."

Steve scoffs, head shaking as he watches you feign nonchalance over a plate of sunny-side up and ham. You place it front of a middle-aged man, who leans back when Steve crowds over his chair to point an inked finger at you.

"You really know how to piss me off—"

"Jesus, Steve, would you get out of here—"

"Hey!"

Your head whips toward your manager, who came stomping behind the counter with her arms crossed. "Take it outside."

Tossing a glare Steve's way, you fiddle with the knotted bow of your apron strings at the small of your back and bundle up the fabric. It's thrown on the back counter on your march toward the front door. You don't bother to make sure Steve's following, hurrying under the dinging bell and into the stifling air.

The bell dings a few moments later with his hurried exit, and then his boots are clomping on the sidewalk.

"You're gonna pay for this," he spits at the back of your head, tracing your path toward the alleyway.

You roll your eyes, whipping wisps of hair out of your eyes when the wind picks up. The redbrick diner wall clings to the cotton of your t-shirt when you press up against it, foot kicked up to brace the sole of your sneaker. Steve's arms are folded when he appears in front of you, but you do your best to look anywhere but at him.

"You need to stop coming to my work, Steve. You need to stop calling me, and texting me, and showing up whenever you want—"

"I wouldn't be here right now if you weren't such a crazy bitch."

You scoff, flicking a strand of hair away again. The shade of the alleyway is a gentle break from the beating sun, but the heat still lingers. You hate being hot and sweaty, and you hate being around Steve.

Once you left, it took no time at all to realize how wonderful life was without him. How freeing it felt to make decisions for yourself. How at ease you were without the threat of another fight, or another crime, or more parole officers showing up.

But when he wouldn't stop knocking on your mother's screen door, or showing up at the grocery store, or tailing you on your way to work—you also realized how difficult it'd be to free yourself of him entirely. He didn't seem willing to let you leave quietly.

So lately, you despised the very sight of his stupid, handsome face.

"Yeah right," you snicker, mimicking his stance. "You can't seem to leave me alone, Steve. Don't you have other things to do? Like, I don't know, robbing some other piece of shit? Ruining someone else's life?"

Steve's jaw tightens, inked fingers cracking into fists. He lunges forward, pressing his palm against your throat. The pressure is familiar, but the sudden shift still pulls a gasp. You perk to the tops of your toes, pushed by his hold.

"You're still such a fuckin' cunt."

"Fuck you."

It's Steve's turn to gasp when a glob of spit smacks his cheek. It sizzles on his skin, dripping down his jaw and chin. He pauses, fingers still on either side of your neck. You swallow against his palm, hands clammy at your sides. There was no warmth quite like the kind that filled your body when you were frightened of Steve.

He fixes his head back into place, and you see it coming before it lands: his lips puckering, cheeks hollowing, his tongue touching the edge of his teeth before the sharp smack! The spit hits you just where it hit Steve, beading in a hot puddle across your cheek.

Your eyes pinch shut, breath hitched in your throat.

“Don’t like it, huh?” he grits out.

But when your eyes open again, they’re deliriously unfocused. Glossed with a cloudy daze, and steadied on his rosy lips. Steve’s thumb twitches under your jaw, chest heaving under a thin tank top. His arms were swollen with tensed muscles. You could see tufts of dark, coarse hair peeking over the collar of his shirt. He had his cross on, like he always did. Something about the way it shined in a streak of sun made you forget all about your spite and hateful ways.

Steve steps forward, taking you in over the slope of his nose. His chest touches yours, his sticky arms brush your skin.

“I hate you,” you whisper, but it’s so soft and breathy that it sounds like a love confession.

Steve swallows, head shaking. “I know.”

You tip your chin up and drop your shoulders, and it’s all Steve needs to smash your mouths together. A short squeak pips from your throat, and his teeth scrape your bottom lip hungrily. The fingers around your neck curl a little tighter, a little needier; you bring your hands to fist at the cotton thinned with sweat and suctioned to his sides.

His pelvis tips up, the sharp buckle of his belt and the hard outline of his cock pressed against your thigh. It sends a shockwave sparking down your spine—burrowing deep in your gut, lapping with desire. You claw at the hair near the nape of his neck, and his head tips with the desperate pull.

Steve detaches from your mouth with a grunt, pushing your head back by your neck. "Where's your car?"

You inhale shudderingly, resting your head back against the wall. "Back lot."

You stumble there together: his fingers plucking at the button of your jean shorts as you go along, your own freeing the buckle of his belt. He fishes your keys out of your back pocket and pulls the back door open, shoving you into the stifling heat caged inside.

Splattered flat against the seat, you whine into his mouth attacking yours through all his rough push-and-pull. He wiggles the jean shorts down your thighs, pulls the dampness of your panties aside to rub his thumb into the heat.

You scratch at the fabric of his tank top and push it to his chest, scraping through the slickness painting his torso. Popping the button of his jeans, guiding them over his hips and sinking your nails into the flesh of his ass. He grunts into your mouth again, hand balled at the top of your scalp to yank you away.

The look you give each other is frenzied and crazed. Your cheek is still wet with his spit, lips swollen with his attacks. Sweat gathers and collects along your throat, and he wants to lean down and lick it up.

"Fucking kiss me," you demand tightly, nails digging deeper into his skin.

Fingers still knotted in your hair, he gives your head a shake that stings—but his lips reattach themselves, anyway. Tongue swiping and swirling, teeth nipping and scraping, free hand cradling your hip to hold you down.

"God, you crazy fuckin' bitch...mm...fuckin' hate you."

You curl into him when his hot breath finds your neck, settling a suction on your pulse point that rattles your thighs. You let up on the claws, sliding your hands under the heat of his shirt.

"Oh," you moan, writhing on the vinyl of the seat. "I fuckin' hate you...ah....piece of shit."

He groans into your neck: guttural and animalistic, hips rocking involuntarily between your thighs. He fumbles to free his cock, swiping a sticky palm over the pulsing length of it before he feeds it through your legs. One deep push is all it takes, and the pair of you mewl together when it burrows fully.

His forehead clings to yours, nose brushing your cheek where he watches you falter and struggle to speak. You want to spew more insults, bite his head off a little more while you can. But you're rendered uselessly idiotic when he starts to grind his hips.

"Look at you," he breathes, and the air fanning your face smells like cigarettes. You feel nineteen and full of love again. "Hate me so much, but you're...fuck...lettin' me fuck you like old times."

"St-still hate...oh! Fuck, Steve—"

"Huh?" Steve rocks harder, skin slapping with force and perspiration gathering. The car creaks noisily under the weight of it. "What's that? You what? Tell me, sweetheart."

The lilt of mockery to his voice brings a new wave of pleasure to your veins, and your head slides back against the seat with a shrieking whine. You aren't quite sure that you do hate him anymore. Not when he's fucking you this hard, this good, this deep. Not when he's spitting words of anger full of so much love down at your beating face.

Steve snatches your jaw, pulling your head back into place. You can't quite see through the blurred haze, but you're sure his eyes are sharp with rage.

"Say it. Tell me you hate me."

His voice is steady but his leg are quaking where they're standing in the doorway, and his fingers are all but steady pressed into your cheeks. A vein along the side of his throat swells with exertion. He's just as effected by this. He's been driven just as mad.

Steve growls, picking up speed. "Say it!"

A strangled cry cracks through your throat, hands bracing his humming biceps. "I h-hate you, Steve. God, I hate you."

It sounds just like I love you, and maybe that's why Steve collapses into your chest and shudders. Maybe that's why you cling to him, wrap your legs around his hips and clutch onto all of him. Let him drain himself dry into you, pump all he has between your legs right there in the diner parking lot.

Maybe that's why neither of you say anything as you fumble for scraps of missing clothes. Silent even when Steve sits on the edge of the backseat, hanging halfway through the open doorway, and lights a cigarette. Wordless as he takes a long drag and glances at you sideways, still pink and swollen and catching his breath.

You pluck your keys from the car floor and slip them in your pocket. Use the rearview to fix the makeup smeared under your eyes and the frazzled knots at the back of your hair. Try to ignore the way Steve's eyes graze the sliver of flesh at your lower back when you lean forward.

Steve flicks his cigarette butt toward the asphalt. "Were you lying? About the restraining order?"

You settle back into the seat, sighing. "No."

He nods, thumb rubbing the cross on his knuckle. "Got it."

He pushes to his feet, and you pop the other door open to step out. The free air soothes the burning ache in your limbs.

Steve pulls another cigarette from his pocket and sticks it in his lip, crossing the hood of the car toward the street. He barely looks your way when he walks by.

"I'll bill you for the truck."

#rolly!#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington angst #dark!steve harrington #steve harrington au

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cleaverqueer · 10 months

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DIY How-To; Aluminum Can Spikes

Preface; This will work with any kind of can as long as its metal. (soda, monster, ect) You can make them in colors depending on which side you trace your stencil on but im gonna teach you how to make them silver

And i cannot stress this enough,

BE CAREFUL WITH THE RAW CUT EDGES OF THE CANS, THEY ARE SHARP ENOUGH TO CUT BADLY

Material needed;

Empty clean aluminum can(s)

Sharp scissors (maybe a stitch ripper for attaching them but scissors work too)

A sharpie or permanent marker

Superglue if you want them perfect

An abundance of patience and caution

1 Gather your aluminum

First step is to turn those cans into flat sheets of metal. Start by making a small cut near the rounded edge of the top or bottom, about this distance

Then cut around the top to connect back where you started and take the ends off.

Next you cut a line straight down the side to interrupt the loop of aluminum.

What I do next is kinda just flatten it the best I can? Press it against a flat surface, make tiny bends against the curve, just to make it easier to work with, always being careful of the sharp edges

2 Make a stencil

So the general shape youre gonna wanna make it is like this

The big point will be the tip of your spike, and the little nubby ones will hold it on

imo it helps to have an extra can to experiment with what works best for what youre going for, but once you figure it out, have one flat cut out piece to trace for the rest, to make sure they all come out the same!

3 Trace a bunch and cut them out!

Sounds easier than it is. if you work with it, you can get more spikes sometimes by drawing them close together, but then theyre harder to cut out. Again, be careful of edges. If you want silver, trace on the printed on sign so you dont get sharpie on your spike (or dont, mistakes are punk)

4 Roll them up

This takes a little practice, but what you wanna do is roll up the wider end of the triangle, one edge over the other, into a pyramid, forming a spike with the point of the big triangle at the end. (this ones harder to draw)

Sometimes theyll stay curled tight on their own, sometimes they need a little help (superglue) i havent figured out how to make em curl perfect every time yet. You can also fill them with hot glue to make them sturdier ( BEING CAREFUL OF THE SPIKES WHEN THEY HEAT UP FROM THE GLUE) But the good news is your spikes are done!

4 Affixing them to your shit

Once you figure out where you want them, hold the bottom triangles on the first spike up to the spot it goes like you mean to put it in, mark where they touch the fabric, and then take your scissors or stitch ripper and cut four little tears that DO NOT connect at those points.

It should look like this, with the center dot representing where the spike point is centered!

You should also give each spike enough room that the tears dont run into each other. I usually do them one at a time but i dont think it matters.

After the tears are cut, you carefully insert the bottom triangles into the rips

flip it over, and fold the triangles in over themselves like a staple

Repeat until youve added on all your spikes and your piece looks sick as fuck

5 Bonus; patching over the studs

So when you do this, like a staple, theres the little pointy bits sticking in, and if its a wearble item, it'll prick your skin. If youre autistic like me thats a big drawback, but you can remedy this by sewing a patch of a thicker material (i use denim) over the place where these spikes are holding on.

#diy punk #diy how to #diy can spikes #diy #punk

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pillowbo · 3 months

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Wrestling me to my sheets, you are about to win our playfighting, but I play dirty. My fingers stroke your sides, and you laugh, losing your balance and falling onto your back for me to pin you by one wrist.

You reach up and feel my nipple through my binder. I bow forward, melting into your touch, but still keeping my grip around your other wrist.

Our bare thighs caress when I straddle you, and I've won. I move my hips and we barely brush at the apex of our legs. You pretend to strain against my grasp, but by the look on your face, you like this turn of events.

With one swift motion, I grab your other wrist and find the cuffs on the nightstand. The metal glints with a warm hue cast from the tealights in a row.

They clamp cold around your wrists and you are secured to the headboard at my complete mercy. You're so sweet like this for me I can't help myself; I cup your jaw and kiss you so tenderly, lowering myself over you and pressing our bodies together as we make out.

Fuck. The feel of your bulge pressed against my cunt is threatening to make me lose my composure and just rip your panties off now. Soft whimpers draw from my mouth as I rut into you, the friction against my briefs intoxicating.

I stop myself and heave, shockingly already at the edge so fast. I look at you, your lashes sweeping over eyes that show such vulnerability. My hands roam down hungrily to your hips, and they raise off of the bed in response.

I raise slightly with a smug grin.

Silly girl, with a tent in your striped panties that bring forth the image of a big top. Think I'm going to pull them off and relieve the pressure? No, we're nowhere near that.

You squirm when I kiss down your neck. I look up at you and you're biting your lip, stifling your whines, holding back from me. We're not having that.

I find the place that I know is tender and chuckle against the warm divot when I get an enthusiastic response. My kisses are hot and wet right there, eliciting those sweet whines and moans that send flames through my veins.

I lift up suddenly and push down on your chest when you protest.

Your whimpering for more ceases when I roll my binder over top of me, freeing my nipples that are so hard they can no longer stand to be restrained.

A noise catches in the back of your throat as you are now throbbing against my cunt. We're panting, my head dizzy, but I once again resist the urge to tear the rest of our clothes off and fuck you.

You begin to beg for it and it's so delicious it fuels me forward, wanting more to prolong your torment than I am focused on chasing my own release.

Making us both wait for it, just swirling in that pool of arousal, is just as good if not better than the sex itself. Don't you agree? I know you do, it's why you let me do this with you, let me tease you until you're crying with need.

I lower myself back to you and kiss your shoulder then down, taking in your scent. You're rutting up toward my mouth when I kiss down your stomach, twisting fitfully in the sheets.

You are openly begging for me to go down faster.

It's torture fuck it is, I want you but I continue my trail down devastatingly slow.

This is so much harder for me than it is for you, I tell you.

Your skin glistens with the want to be touched all over and I can't help myself, I lick at the place where your panties press into your thigh. You jump at the wetness and warmth.

All at once I am on your clothed, rock-hard dick with my tongue, flat licks up the front of your panties from the base to the tip, and you are wheezing.

It twitches beneath the fabric as I kiss it on the underside of your tip, and then I slow to a stop when it pulses under my lips.

I grab your balls and squeeze them, telling you to breathe.

You beg through shallow breaths and I'm on your dick again, with lighter touches with my lips and tongue than before.

Your please-fuck-mes and my name mesh together as they flow unfiltered from your mouth, on tap for my delight.

Your voice fills me with so much pleasure, it just makes me want to keep you in this torment forever; I tell you this before I give your dick one more kiss and I lift back over you, pressing our bodies together.

You better not dare come, I say then, and I grind my cunt on the base of your shaft.

I repeat this whole process several more times until we are both panting frantically, flushed and slick with sweat as if I've already pounded you through several orgasms.

Finally, I have decided that we're ready. Without warning I grab your ass and lift your hips, pulling your panties down your thighs, so wet as they roll all the way down.

Your yeses blending with my name makes me laugh through my heavy breaths, even sweeter to my ears than your desperate begging.

My hands shake as I peel off my briefs, my cunt throbbing and hot. I press it down onto your shaft and grind into you, finally naked as we touch.

You cry out as you come almost immediately. I'm quick to join you, pummeling your twitching, pulsing dick that unloads onto our stomachs and screaming your name as I come hard and squirt violently on you.

I am not done.

My lovely girl, I tell you through ragged breaths, you were so good, I am going to reward you now by teaching you how to get a dick wet.

I reach for our nightstand again and pull out my strap. I stick the bulb end inside while I am still coming down from that first high and you are watching me in anticipation.

Maybe a little bit of anxiety in your eyes.

I ask you if you are okay and you say yes, and I remind you to use our word if you are not.

You say okay.

Such a good girl for me, I say.

I use your ejaculate to lube up my strap, scooping some off of your stomach and stroking up and down the base to the tip while you watch wide-eyed.

I grip your asscheeks and lift up your hips, then I scoop up more of your essence and finger your hole. You moan deep in your throat as I slowly stretch you out.

I line up my wet strap to your entrance, gasping at your high whine as I slowly enter you.

I check in once again if you're okay.

The last thing I want to do is hurt you.

You practically yell at me to fuck you.

I laugh in surprise, then groan low as I push down on your chest and I push in and out, clumsy at first. I gasp at the sensation, pulled into a rhythm as instinct takes over.

You throw your head back with a sensual moan. Fuck it. I pick up the pace, and soon I am pounding you hard, crying out into your shoulder as a second orgasm wracks my body.

I keep going through my spasms. I need you so bad. I need to touch and taste and smell you like the air that I breathe. I need to know and memorize every inch of you, my love.

I fuck your ass until ropes of your come splash on my stomach and chest. Your eyes roll back and you jump as I grab your dick and pump you for more and more.

You say it's too much, you're so sensitive, but you love being pushed past the point where the pleasure becomes torment. It's why you let me win, why you let me cuff you, why you haven't said our word as I pound in and out of you until I come shaking and yelling.

I can't get enough! I tell you as I bring us both to white hot pleasure again and again and again.

The candles slowly burn down and the room goes dark with puffs of smoke, burning us both down with eternal desire.

#t4t #transmasc4transfem #trans nsft #queer nsft #transmasc nsft #transfem nsft #overstim nsft #denial kink #edging nsft #strap #rutting #grinding #t4t nsft #st4t #straight t4t #transhet

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spidercookie18 · 8 months

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𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒆

The Lost Boys 1987 AU set in modern time. None of the boys died, and all the Emersons/Star/Laddie/Frog brothers are vampires. This is explained later…

Tags: Halfing vampire, swearing, talks of abuse/abuser/manipulation , mentions of loss of family, also scenting, use of y/n, afab, use of she/her. Warnings: This chapter discusses abuse/abusers Summary: Y/N, left to her own devices, goes through the boys belongings in the cave, David takes this as an invitation to do the same to her house. Word Count: 8.6k Previous chapter here: Next chapter here:

“No one should suffer what I suffered. I still dread those scenes when man killed man. I lost my parents, most of my family, by running away.” — Milkha Singh

Chapter Three

You woke up some time later, your hand immediately moving to your neck to make sure your vial was still there; it was. You sighed in relief, then looked to see the color of the blood inside. It was black, like obsidian, “that’s not good…”

Your eyes opened to an unfamiliar view; your body ached horribly as you tried to sit up. You saw a dim bit of light shine through near what you could only assume was a cave; it was probably midafternoon with how hard you slept. You looked down at your body and tried to remember what happened before you passed out. “Oh yeah… David,” your mind wandered to the night before. “That explains the bruises, and…” you looked down at the jackets wrapped around your naked form, “the lack of clothes.” You brought the collar of the jacket to your nose and inhaled. You smiled; it smelled like David…

Come to think of it, you smelled like David.

“Ugh,” you crinkled your nose at the smell, it was oppressive. You felt around for your bag, hoping David didn’t leave all your stuff up on the hill.

No luck. No phone, no gun, no clothes… you looked around the chamber and didn’t manage to see anyone. There was a wheelchair by the bed with a Chinese take-out container and a small metal bucket, “that better not be for me,” you hissed. Your mouth felt dry, and your stomach ached, you wondered just how much come David had made you swallow last night after you passed out.

You groaned as you moved to get out of the bed that was covered in miscellaneous blankets, “at least the sheets smell clean.” They had probably been washed recently, but you didn’t take the boys for avid housekeepers; someone else must have been making them wash their fabrics. You stepped your bare feet on the cool ground below you.

Above you, Marko was the first to hear you shambling around; he was a much lighter sleeper after the… incident, and he elbowed David who groggily woke up. Marko pointed down at the bed and the two of them watched as you poked your head out from the curtains to look around.

“You get back in that bed,” David said sternly. You looked around. His voice, no longer dark and distorted, echoed off the walls, but you couldn’t see him.

“David?”

“You are not to leave this cave; do you understand me?”

“David, I need to go home.” You called to him, stressing the urgency of your situation.

“Well, I obviously can’t take you right now, can’t I?”

You grumbled, annoyed at him, and continued to look around, “I’m hungry.”

The other boys began to wake up at the commotion, “you have rice, eat your rice.”

“I have to pee.”

“Well, that’s what the bucket is for isn’t it?”

The boys snickered.

You furrowed your brows in frustration, “where’s all my stuff? Can I have some clothes?”

“You’ll get it back later.”

You sniffed the jacket again, “David, I need a shower.”

The boys were laughing now.

“No. You don’t,” David replied. He’d worked so hard to scent you all night, he wasn’t going to let you undo all that so easily.

“David, I need water.”

“Just eat your rice! I’ll get you water later.”

“Fucking vampire asshole,” you grumbled under your breath.

“I can hear you.” David retorted.

“Yeah, I know! That’s why I fucking said it!”

The boys had all busted out laughing at David’s frustration with his new mate, and how unafraid you were to yell at him. “Bahahaha!” “Oooooh, she told you!” “Get er’, David!”

“Everybody shut the hell up and go back to sleep! And you stay in this damn cave!”

He growled, huffed, then went back to sleep.

Angrily, you turned back to pick up the rice, “what, no fork?”

You eyed the bucket meanly, no way in hell I’m going to be using a ‘bucket’, you thought.

You angrily shoved the bucket off the chair, and it clanked and rattled as it rolled away. You picked up the paper container and ate the rice with your fingers and walked around the cave.

There was little light, but you had just enough vampire blood in your vial to see the cave for what it was. For being an actual hole in the ground it wasn’t horribly filthy. Sure, it was dirty, and cluttered, it’s a cave; but there weren’t decomposing bodies and spoiled food all over the place. It was about as trashed as you’d expect four eternally immature a-holes to keep it though. Littered with beer cans, cigarette butts, miscellaneous trash, and dirty clothes. The cave smelled damp, like stale sea water, and when you walked near the dirty clothes it smelled a bit sour. You crinkled your nose and continued to look around.

Up in the ceiling you noticed some hair and you went to investigate.

“You can’t be serious…” how pretentious do you have to be to sleep like that?

“David,” you called to him, “psst!” He shut his eyes tighter, the fucker was ignoring you. “Ugh!” you groaned in frustration. They were obviously not going to wake up; if the bucket didn’t wake them, and you calling to them didn’t make them budge, then nothing would.

So, you walked around, turning the to-go container into your mouth and looked at all the boys’ things. There were electrical wires and roots coming out from the ceiling and walls.

Odd, you thought to yourself. You noticed stairs and pieces of concrete and structures that looked like they belonged to some building. Something must’ve fallen into the cave at some point you figured. You continued to walk around the space and noticed a very dark corner off behind where the boys were sleeping. You walked slowly up to it and there was an eerie whistling sound; the wind you hoped. The darkness of it that seeped into the main chamber of the cave made your hair stand on end, probably best to avoid that part for now…

You stepped away from it and looked back around the space. They had music and movie posters covered over the sharpest parts of the rocks and records hanging from the ceiling. It actually looked like the movie posters they keep outside of theatres. You wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where they got all their ‘art’ from.

There were, what looked like windchimes, or ‘art sculptures’ made of human bones and sticks. “Classy,” you chuckled. As you looked around you noticed there were several distinct areas of the cave that looked to be the boys ‘rooms’.

There was one that was all old pieces of fabric and thread, and lots of wine bottles. The fabric looked to be cut up jeans and probably stolen clothes, like silk, and lace, and fur. There was also a makeshift pigeon coop built into the side of the cave wall. Someone really loves these birds. You thought as you walked around the space, the pigeons cocked their heads at you and softly cooed. There was an old book, or maybe a bible sitting by a mess of pillows on the floor. The book title had been rubbed off over the years, but the edges of the paper look to be gold foil, so a bible was your best guess. The leather-bound book sat atop an old, rusted metal box. Moving the book, you opened the box and saw miscellaneous keepsakes. An old dirty coin with a man and a curly mustache on it, a red chili made of glass, a picture, and some notes and a dried white lily. One of the notes look like it said, “Siate buoni, siate gentili, siate giusti." The picture was of Marko, and about a dozen other curly haired blonds. They were all crowded in the picture, and he stood next to, what you thought to be his mother. You could barely tell it was him as he looked to be a young boy, but that devious grin… it was definitely Marko. You gently closed the lid of the box and put the book back on top.

The next space you walked into was filled with blankets and pillows and had children’s toys scattered about. Are they nannies? You picked up a small toy fireman and noticed the face all chewed off. “Yueh!” You threw it down in disgust. Little did you know, it wasn’t the ‘nanny’ or his kid that chewed on the toys, but Marko and Paul; the gremlins of the group. You threw yourself in the mess of fluff and stuff on the ground and admired the things this boy had hanging up. You sat back in the pillows and picked at the rice. He had shells, and feathers, and small bones, and sea glass hung up like a baby’s mobile. You watched the small objects circle lazily overhead; it was a very comforting feeling. As you wiggled around to get comfortable you felt something poke at you from the pillow beneath you. You sat up and moved the pillow from your back, there was a small wooden box. When you slid the lid off you had to keep yourself from crying. It was two silver rings, a picture, and baby socks. The picture was of Dwayne and a young woman, she was round as the Sun, and they both looked so happy. You could imagine how sad that tale ended but did your best not to think of it. You slid the lid back on the box and tucked it underneath the pillows. The comforting feeling quickly faded, and you left that alcove the second you got your bearings.

You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself and continued walking around the cave. You stumbled a bit in the dark and came upon the next room. This space, you noticed was full of very human nick-nacks. Surfboards, skateboards, hockey sticks, old glow sticks, CD’s, guitars, a heavily patched up bean bag chair, and a Rubik’s cube. You picked up the toy and turned it in your hand, it looked like someone had peeled the stickers off and stuck them back on to solve it. It made you chuckle. This ‘room’ looked smaller than the others, until you realized that half of it was up in the rafters. There was a second part of this space that was high above the ground, you put the rice on the floor and flew up there you saw some of the things this boy kept. There was an old tattered green and yellow winter scarf, some rocks that weren’t the same color as the cave rock, shoelace strings, broken and half broken sunglasses, rubber bands, acorns, and this one too had a box of keepsakes. You knew it wasn’t your place to go through their things, especially after what the last one held, but you couldn’t help yourself. You opened the lid of the shoebox and saw a picture, ticket stubs of concerts and movies, guitar picks, and scraps of newspaper. The paper scraps were of various things from a town in Wisconsin, nothing that made sense to you. The picture was of Paul and a young blond girl. He was in a hockey uniform, nose bleeding with a chipped tooth in his smile, and he held his arm around her shoulder. She looked like him, crazy, wild hair and big soulful blue eyes. It was probably his kid sister, you wondered what happened to her. You looked at the ticket stubs for movies from eighty some odd years ago, and concert tickets from the last few decades. It looks like the boys, or at least Paul, went to plenty of concerts.

With how little magic there was left in the vial you could feel yourself falling. You quickly put the box back in its place and you fell hard on the ground with an, “oomf.” You rubbed the plush of your ass where you landed and dusted off the jackets.

You continued to rub your bruised skin and picked the rice container off the ground. You looked over at the next space, it had an odd feeling as you stepped into it. It was full of boxes and old paper. There were dozens of boxes full of old VHS tapes, more boxes full of CD’s, cassettes, camcorder tapes, and newspapers. There was a small nest of blankets on an army cot between the boxes, a laptop and what looked like a picture album.

You smacked the bottom of the rice container to get the last bits of food into your mouth and picked up the album. You opened to the first page, which was a picture of David and the boys. It was in color, and there were a few faces in the picture that you didn’t recognize. Dwayne was holding a small boy on his shoulders, next to him, Paul and Marko were making faces at each other. There was an older man with glasses and a woman with short hair who were on either side of a teenage boy. Next to her, there was a couple of young gruff looking boys, and a young man and a young woman, both brunettes. Off on the far side there was David, he was in the picture, but he didn’t really look to be part of the group. You flipped the page, there was a picture of just David and the boys. They were all bouncing around and flipping off the camera. In the next picture it was the same line up, but all the boys looked serious; you guessed whoever was taking the picture had scared them into being good. You smiled down at the photos.

There was a picture of David and the brunet man from the first photo, and on the next page you saw David and the brunette girl; he was smiling, and she looked solemn. “Huh...” you kept flipping, and saw various pictures of places, that were marked with the location and date; they were from all over the country, and went all the way back to the 1840’s. In between the landscapes there was pictures of one or all the boys wearing different period clothes. There were even a few more pictures of David and young men and young ladies, but the pictures all looked the same. He was smiling, and they were not. You got sad, you set the picture album down and a photo slipped out; it was Marko in the front, and the boys all holding pigeons and laughing. “Okay, that’s pretty cute,” you slipped the photo back inside and set the book down.

You noticed the camcorder and picked it up, hoping it had battery. You turned it on, and it surprisingly had a little charge. Opening the camcorder, you noticed there was already a tape inside, you shut it and rewound the tape. After it was rewound, you pressed play. The pixilated footage came into frame and the date flashed August 21, 1987. Google what movie came out that day, you’ll get a kick out of it. It was the young boy and the brunet boy; they were cleaning in a house you didn’t recognize. They didn’t want to look at the camera, and rolled their eyes when the cameraman spoke, it was David. Surprise, surprise, you thought.

‘This is Sam, and Michael, cleaning their granddad’s crap, cause-‘

‘David, shut up,’

‘That’s Mike, he’s pissed cause we were supposed to go to the movies tonight, but he got grounded.’ You can see David point at the tall brunet, with his gloves on. Michael looked up from dusting to make a face and flip off the camera. ‘Hey, you better stop that, or I’m gonna tell your mom; you’ll get double grounded.’

‘David, are you gonna help us or not?’ Sam, the boy, asked. He was sweeping what looked like a kitchen.

‘Not,’ David scoffed, ‘I’m not helping no snitch.’ He walked closer to Michael, putting the camera in his face. ‘Mike, tell us why you got grounded.’

‘Knock it off David,’ Michael turned away from the camera, and David quickly followed him.

‘Come on Michael, tell uuuuusss,’ he said, sing-songy. The brunet was blushing fiercely, and he kept trying to keep his face out of frame.

‘David I’m serious,’

‘I’m serious too, Mike. So, say it.’ Michael stared at the vampire behind the camera, he was still blushing and stuttered at what he wanted to say.

‘It’s cause I caught you guys making out!’ Sam yelled, angry and annoyed.

‘Sam!’ The older brother shouted.

‘Oh, we were doing a lot more than making out, eh? Mike?’

‘DAVID!’ Michael yelled at the blond, who was laughing, clearly amused with himself.

‘Oh, I’m gonna barf!’ Sam yelled; his face was one of disgust. He made a spectacle of being grossed out, not because his brother was making out with David, but because he caught his brother making out.

‘You’re a boy kisser ain’tcha Mike?’ David was back in Michaels personal space.

‘Guys please, not here,’ Sam fake cried.

David held the camera low and pointed it up to capture the kiss between him and Michael. When they finished, the boys were giddy, and Michael dusted the camera lens as a joke. They smiled at each other-

‘EW! MOM!’

Off in the distance you heard someone shout at David. The next thing you knew, the video cut to capture David cleaning the kitchen, side by side with the Emerson brothers. David leaned back to give Michael a kiss on the cheek and the screen flashed black with a red depleted battery symbol.

You smiled at the thought of David being happy, but you wished you could have seen more of the video. Maybe you’ll ask the boys for the charger later.

You looked back around the space and opened a box that was written in a language that looked familiar. There were letters, and paintings, and documents; none of which you could read, but it looked like the paintings were of places they’d been. The letters looked like they were written in various languages, German, French, Italian, and maybe Russian? But you weren’t sure.

The dated paper looked like they went back to the mid 1800’s. You kept thumbing through the pages and there was a picture of a blond boy, standing between an older man and woman, “is that… David?” He looked so much younger than he did now. Still clad in leather, like a cowboy attire, but he looked different…he looked human. You felt melancholy looking at all of the things David and the boys had held onto throughout the centuries.

You walked back to the bed and looked all around the cave as you moved. You heard a soft vibrating, and you looked up, “oh, fuck me.” One of them- probably that asshole David- stuffed your bag up in a ceiling light. “Why is there even a light in here?”

Do they even get electricity?

No, stupid question, it’s a freaking cave.

You sighed at your things way up and out of your reach, “at least he didn’t leave all my stuff out there.”

David really didn’t want you leaving before he woke up; so, defeated, you crawled back into the bed. You looked back over at the sliver of light on the ground, it had begun to turn an orangey color and you’d hoped that the Sun would be setting soon.

You laid back in the bed and tasted your dry mouth. Well, maybe I’ll die before they wake up, you laughed at the morbidity of your situation. You were frustrated at how dehydrated you were getting, especially after a rough night like the one from yesterday. You turned on your side and tried not to think of the aching you felt in your flesh and bones.

Your body was still exhausted from the night before, and with little food, and no water, you were passed out again within an hour of waking up.

David was the last one to wake that night; he was always the first up, and usually way before the other boys. But tonight, he was the last one to stir. Marko and Dwayne loomed over your half naked form, they notice that the rice was all gone, and the bottoms of your feet were black. Paul woke a little after Marko and Dwayne had, being the ‘youngest’ he tended to sleep in.

“You just know she touched all of our stuff,” Dwayne said.

Paul yawned and walked over to where the other two were, “ew, she still smells like David,” he pinched his nose at you.

Dwayne shook the edge of the bed with his shoe, and you moaned weakly. “Oh good, she’s not dead.”

“So, she just smells like that now?” Paul sneered.

“Paul, go get her some water,” Marko instructed.

“Dude, why do I have to get it?”

“Because you know where to get it, stupid. Now hurry up.” Marko barked at him. Paul groaned and took off. Being the second in command, Marko was the boss when David was unavailable. While he didn’t care for you, he knew you were important to David, so he wouldn’t let you be hurt while he was in charge. Paul returned a short while later with a few water bottles and some candy, he handed Marko the bottles and threw himself against the ratty couch to eat his snacks. Dwayne went to sit by him and hit his shoulder, demanding sweets.

“No Dwayne!” The boys argued and Marko sat you up.

He gently nudged you trying to get you to wake up. He kept pushing the bottle against your hand, but you wouldn’t grab it. “Come on,” he was annoyed that he had to baby you, he hated dealing with humans, they were always so weak and couldn’t do anything they could. He tilted your head back and poured the water into your mouth, you gently swallowed. He did that a few more times and finally you woke up.

You groaned and took the bottle that was being pushed to your hand.

“Marko?” you groggily looked at the curly haired blond that sat by you.

“Good, you can take care of yourself now, right?” He said walking away, not waiting for an answer.

You sipped the water and looked over at the boys that were on the couch wrestling over a bag of gummy worms.

“Paul! Fucking share!”

“Get your own!”

What a bunch of scary vampires, you chuckled. Marko walked over to the alcove where the pigeons were, and you could hear the birds coo happily. So, I guess those really are his birds, you thought. You looked around the cave and still didn’t manage to see David. You zipped up the leather coat that was under the wool one and walked through the curtains to the den. Paul and Dwayne looked over at you, “uhm…” Paul didn’t know what to say to you as you walked over to them.

“David’s not up yet,” Dwayne said pulling the bag from Paul, who’d moved his hands to his nose.

“Oh…” you looked around the cave, they’d lit some candles, and some trash cans, so it made it easier to see and move around. “Can I go home yet?”

The boys looked at each other, then over to where Marko had gone. “David said no,” Marko called, as he walked back to where the other boys were sitting on the couch.

“Hey, stay over there,” Paul said to you. He was pointing to the bed, still covering his nose with one hand.

You sniffed the jacket, “oh, yeah. I guess it’s worse for you guys, huh?” They nodded unanimously, “so is there a place around here that I can wash off then?”

“Please don’t make us say no,” Paul begged.

You sat back on the bed with a huff, and the boys talked anxiously amongst themselves. “Can I have my stuff back yet?”

“Knock it off,” Marko shouted, “you know we can’t do that.”

“Okay, well then wake up David, so I can leave.” They didn’t even turn to look at you. “Hello?” No response. “Look, I really need to go!”

“I said knock it off!” Marko screamed at you.

Fine, I know how I can get them to listen to me…

You sat back on the bed, and covered your hands in your face, and sobbed meekly. Paul looked over at you, “dude…you made her cry.”

“She’s faking,” Marko retorted, and you sniffled louder.

Paul and Dwayne restlessly moved around in their seats, “dude, she’s really crying.”

“No, she isn’t,” Marko said, unyielding.

You sobbed louder, “dude, you’re gonna get us all in trouble!” Paul said shoving Marko by the shoulder.

“She’s fucking faking it Paul, look!” Marko stomped over to where you were in the bed and pulled your hands away. To his horror, you were actually crying. You looked up at him with huge tears running down your cheeks.

“Oh, you’re so fucked,” Dwayne laughed from his place on the couch.

You started bawling loudly.

“No! stop! shut up, shut up!” Marko tried shushing you.

You pulled away from him, “DAVI-”, you started to yell, and Marko put his hands over your mouth. You scream cried into his hands and he looked up worryingly.

“Just stop crying, ok? Why are you crying? Please stop crying!” Marko didn’t know what to do, but he knew if he didn’t get you to stop your screeching, David would kick his ass.

Dwayne and Paul looked at each other, “dude, bail?”

“Bail.”

And the two of them ran out of the cave. “Oh, thanks a lot guys!” Marko yelled, still covering your mouth. He looked back at the mess you had become, you kept sobbing violently into his hand, trying to break away. “If I take my hand off, will you please stop screaming?” You nodded, still crying. Marko slowly took his hand off your mouth, and you sniffled quietly. “Okay… now, why are you still crying?”

“B-b-because you haaate meeeeeeeee,” you sobbed.

“I don’t hate you, okay? Please just stop already,” Marko would’ve said anything to get you to stop before David woke up.

“Yes, you dooooooooo, you’re always so m-m-m-mean to meeee,” you whined.

“I’m mean to everyone okay!”

“You won’t even let me have cloooooothes!”

“Because David said you can’t have your stuff back!” He was screaming his whisper.

“I ju-ju-just want to gooo h-h-hooome,” you hid your face in your hands. The cuffs of David’s jackets swallowed your arms.

“Okay, okay! I’ll go get David so he can take you home.” Marko couldn’t get you to stop crying, so he would let David deal with you. You were his mate anyways, so he’d take whatever the consequences of waking him up were to get rid of your shrieking. He flew up into the roost and shook David awake.

“This better be an emergency,” David growled, not opening his eyes.

“You deal with her!”

David’s eyes shot open, and he noticed your whimpers and sobs below. “What the shit Marko!” David flew down to the bed, he threw open the curtains and rushed to your side.

“Daaaaviiid,” you held your arms open for him as you sobbed. You looked absolutely pathetic at this moment.

“Shh, shh I’m here sweet thing,” he said, holding you against his chest. David pulled you atop his lap and turned to look at Marko, “you have ONE job while I’m asleep. Look after the pack. Can’t you do that?!” David shouted at Marko.

“David…I-”

“Just, go!” David’s voice was booming in his chest, you actually felt bad for Marko.

“Fuck this shit!” you heard Marko huff as he left.

David pulled you off his chest so he could look at you as he wiped the tears from your face. “Sweet thing, what happened?”

“David…I’m sorry,” he looked so worried, your mind went to the picture album; your heart ached at the thought of him being alone all these years, but you felt horrible for how you got Marko in trouble.

“Y/N, what happened.”

“Don’t be mad at Marko… he tried to take care of me,” David looked at you, his ears twitching at your words. “I just… I needed to go home, and they wouldn’t let me.”

“Y/N what did you do?”

“…I needed them to get you.” You held up the necklace, “it’s my vial, I just… I couldn’t tell them, and Marko wouldn’t get you.”

David’s eyebrows lowered, “so you started crying…”

“I’m sorry, but I really do need to go home!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Don’t fucking scare me like that,” he sighed, “ever again. And you will apologize to the others. Especially Marko.” He held you by the shoulders and looked into your eyes, disapprovingly.

“Yes David,” you said meekly.

“What’s wrong with your vial?”

“I think last night really drained me, and since I’m connected to it…” you shrugged.

“And you still won’t take my blood?”

You looked up at him with doe eyes.

“Fine… I’ll take ya home.” David stood up from the bed. He rubbed the back of his neck, “where did Dwayne put…” he looked around.

“David?” You called to him as you peeked through the curtains.

“Well, you need your stuff don’t ya?” David said, looking around, “where the hell…”

“Oh, I thought you did that?”

“Huh?”

You pointed to the round ceiling light hanging high above you both. David chuckled, he flew up and grabbed the bag and brought it back down for you. “Thank you,” you pulled your wrinkled dress from the bag, turned, and pulled the jackets off yourself. David was putting on his boots when he looked up to notice you changing, he sucked air in through his teeth, and you rolled your eyes at him, “shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything, sweetness.”

“Mmhm.” You pulled the dress over your body. You smoothed the fabric over your form and put your hair up with a clip from your bag. David watched as you moved the clip from your mouth to your hair. From the corner of your eye, you watched him adjust, “oh, you’re just insatiable aren’t you,” you laughed.

He walked over to you and placed his hands on your hips, “can I have you again later?” He placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“We’ll see,” you kissed back. He groaned as you pulled away from him, and carefully led you up the entrance.

You looked around at the ocean as the waves crashed upon the rocks by the cave entrance. You noticed something off to the side, it was the lighthouse you’d passed last night, and you quickly oriented yourself. The horn in the tower sounded and you jumped, startled at the sound. David chuckled as you clutched your heart, “fuck, that scared me.”

He patted your head and scooped you up in his arms. David flew you up the stairs and placed you gently down next to the bikes. “I can walk, David,” you giggled.

“You really trust those stairs?”

You looked back at the warped and mangled old wood that led down the cliff, “fair enough,” you shrugged.

You followed David behind some rocks where his bike was and got on the bike behind him. He pulled your hand from his waist and kissed your fingers, he smiled against your skin and put your arm back down around him. “You’re really layin’ on the charm ain’tcha?” You rolled your eyes at his cutesy behavior.

“I told ya, I want ya.” He put his boot out on the ground and revved the bike, he made a quick turn and you both sped off down to town. The town bustled with bodies, and you looked to the sidewalks where people walked in tandem. It was still early in the night, you saw the orangey, reddish glow of the sun over the waves. David swerved through traffic, this time it was less frightening, especially now that you expected it. You trusted he wouldn’t let harm come to you, that his words weren’t just talk. He turned onto your street and slowed to a stop in the driveway next to your truck.

You let David get off first, then followed up the steps of the porch behind him.

You were starting to like him; he was firm, but fair, and he treated you with a kindness you had long since forgotten. You thought of him and the other boys, you enjoyed watching them all together; they were idiots, but they loved each other. The thought of them all together made you smile; you pulled your keys from your bag and unlocked the door; David held the screen door for you as you walked through the threshold. You turned to look at him and his puppy dog eyes as his boot scratched at the floor in front of the door.

You laughed heartily, “you can come in David,” he lit up and bounced through the entrance. You wiped a tear from your eye and turned on the light. David looked around at all your things, the whole house smelled like you, he took a deep breath and reveled in the smell.

You rolled your eyes at his behavior, “don’t break all my shit,” you walked off to the bedroom.

He picked up a throw pillow from the couch and pressed it to his face, inhaling you for a moment, then he sauntered off to find you. He found you kneeling on the floor with your closet doors open. You pulled a wooden box from the back of the closet and opened the lid. David subconsciously growled as the air from inside the box hit his nose, “I know, I’m sorry.”

You picked up a few herbs from inside and then held a nearly empty test tube up. The liquid inside was a falu red, it was beginning to grey with age, or maybe it was already grey, David thought. He eyed the blood inside, there was an old scotch tape label on the side of the glass that read, M. Ressequie.

You turned to David now, your voice grave as you spoke, “you might want to leave for this,” and waited for him to move.

“I can handle it,” he stood, looming over you.

You sighed, “okay…I’ll try to be fast,” and popped the lid off. David felt like he was going to be sick. He swayed and stumbled into the wall, his cheeks turned a greenish sick, and he felt his mouth go dry.

The stench was powerful, it was more than anything he’d ever come across. He’d smelt Max’s blood before, and that was so strong, in and of itself… but this. This was malicious, he felt a pang in his bones, down to his core he knew something was wrong with that blood.

You grabbed another vial from the case and moved quickly to fill the small glass before you. You filled half of the empty vial with the blood and threw in a concoction of herbs from another vial. You put the glass on the ground and capped the test tube, the air started to clear of the smell, and David grasped his chest. You pricked your finger with a needle and squeezed a few drops into the vial. You prayed over it, in a language David did not recognize, and the mixture in the vial turned black, then glowed a bright red, there was the sound of something sizzling and bubbling. Then, with a loud CRACK the blood stopped glowing. You capped the vial and took off the necklace around your neck and tied the new one on. You quickly put everything back in the box and shoved it deep into the corner of the closet.

You shut the doors, your hands pressing against the wood, as if you took your hands away something would push them open and bring the sickening smell back. Your chest heaved, you hated doing the ritual, and you felt terrible that David had to witness that.

David.

You turned to look at him. He had slumped down against the wall, still holding his hand over his heart.

“Are you okay?” You crawled over to him.

“No…” he looked off past your gaze, to the other side of the room, “why… why was it like that?”

“I told you to leave.”

“What the fuck…” he whispered out; he’d finally regained enough of himself to look back at you. He had a panicked look on his face as he threw his arms around you. He held you tightly against his body, and you felt the wind be knocked clean from your lungs.

“D-David,” you choked out, trying to wiggle free from him.

“My sweet thing,” he placed his hand to the back of your head as he held you, “I’m so sorry,” David whispered against your ear.

You felt your heart break.

You’d tried so hard, for so long, to try and not think of all the things that you lived through with that monster. But watching this vampire crumble at the mere scent of his blood was nauseating. You didn’t know if you felt comforted or anguished that someone else knew the horrors that you’d lived. The scent of his blood alone let David know how monstrous the vampire you ran away from was. You tried not to cry as he held you, but you felt your mask slip, and you sobbed; pathetically, quietly, begrudgingly against his shoulder.

He held you silently as you wept, squeezing you tighter, as if he were worried, that you’d slip away from him. After a moment he pulled back from you and pressed his forehead against yours. “Never… never again,” he whispered, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as your pained tears turned to ones of joy.

David decided in that moment, he would do everything he could to keep that monster from you. You were a part of their pack, even if you weren’t bound to him by blood, he would keep you safe; he would keep everyone safe. He slowly let you pull away from him, and he wiped the tears that ran down your face. You sighed, and took in the sight of David before you, he still looked at you in awe, and sadness. And you smiled kindly at him, holding his hand in yours, he smiled back.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

You and David turned to look at the front door. “Who the fuck?” Your moment was ended abruptly, and David wanted to tear through whoever was dragging you away from him.

You walked over to go see who it was, and David slowly stood, still eyeing the closet doors with agitation.

You opened the front door to see your neighbor, Nick, standing on your front porch with something behind his back.

“Nick?” You peeked through the front door and the screen door, “is everything alright,” you asked.

“Heey, Y/N, yeah, I got your mail again,” he tapped the newspaper against the door.

“Oh, it’s just the paper, you don’t have to drop that off every time,” you smiled politely.

“No no, I wanted to bring it to you personally, I tried to come by earlier, but… you weren’t home? Your truck is here so I thought…” he tapped the screen door with the paper again, and you opened it to grab the paper.

“Yeah, it’s just been one of those long, crazy days.”

“Oh, I hear that,” he stuck his head out, trying to peer into the house behind you, “say, who’s bike is that?”

“Oh, sorry about that, I know the noise is a lot for the hour,” you chuckled, closing the door a little, you didn’t really want to tell him David was inside. Nick was already so weird around you, as things were. You didn’t want him knowing he wasn’t the man walking around inside your house.

“That’s my bike,” David walked up behind you, placing one hand on the doorframe, and the other on the door, practically engulfing your body in his. He was in no mood to deal with some guy sniffing around his new mate, especially not after what just happened. He sized up Nick, giving him an unfriendly smile.

Nick stood on your porch, bathed in the light that came from behind you, he didn’t like the look of David, and he was even more upset at how he spoke to him. “Oh, Y/N, I didn’t know you had...company,” he stared back at David.

“I don’t, David is just my friend,”

“Wrong,” David said, placing his chin in the crook of your shoulder, “is there anything else I can help you with…” David smiled sickly at him. The word accentuated as David’s tongue pressed off his teeth, his lips up in a sneer. David narrowed his eyes, “Nick?” He said, using the man’s name as an insult.

Nick looked at how David hung off you and looked back to your face. You pulled your body in from the doorframe. Nick stopped smiling.

You tried to ease the tension, it was damn near palpable, “thanks again for the paper, Nick.”

“Anytime Y/N,” he looked back at David.

“Byeee, Nick.” David said singsongingly, he chuckled as he pulled you inside and slammed the door in Nick’s face.

You turned to look at David, “you don’t have to be such an asshole about it.”

He snatched the newspaper from you, “please, it’s not like you want him around,” the paper rustled as he moved it around in his hands. He meandered off towards the bedroom as you yelled at him.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point David.”

He flapped the paper open and held it in front of his face. “Oh, sharks are going to the playoffs this year,” David said casually as he flipped through the pages.

“David, you can’t force people out of my life.”

“But you don’t want him in your life.” He sat back down on your bed.

“He’s just a neighbor, people need neighbors.”

“You think he’s happy being just neighbors with you?” he flipped a page. “I could hear him getting hard from the bedroom.”

“Do you think I can’t handle myself?”

“Hm, looks like we’re getting rain on Thursday,” he said, ignoring you.

“David!” You pulled the paper from his hands.

“Well see, now who’s being rude?”

You frowned at him, “David…” you pouted.

“Sweet thing, I don’t want males sniffing around you.” He cupped your face in his hands, “don’t you have girl neighbors?”

You pulled away from him, “that’s not cute.”

“You don’t think I’m cute?” He walked to you.

“David! I don’t want to be caged!” You pushed him away.

“Sweetness…” he turned you to face him. His finger under your chin, trying to get you to look at him. You turned your head to avoid his gaze. “My job is to keep you safe. I’m not trying to ‘lock you away’,” David bent down to look in your eyes, crooning his neck. “I just want to keep you safe; I won’t lock you away, you know that right?” He placed a soft kiss against your nose, and you huffed, giving in.

“Knock it off,” you brushed off your nose.

“What? I can’t kiss you now?” He was trying to be playful to get out of being yelled at. He nuzzled against your cheek.

“You’re still in trouble,” you said to him, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Mmhm,” he said against your skin. He kissed down your neck and let his hands trail down to your ass.

You yelped, “David!”

He chuckled, “I like when you say my name.” His lips scraped against your skin. You whimpered for him; David was pleased with your reaction. From the corner of his eye, he saw something move, he stopped kissing your neck and looked over through the window. He saw Nick, in his house, peeking through his blinds, “mother fucker!” David threw the window open and shouted at the man,” you like to watch huh?!” David was fuming, “WATCH HOW I KICK YOUR FUCKING TEETH IN!” Nick scurried from his place at the window and yelled when the lightbulb in his house exploded. You stood, confused at what David was doing.

He slammed the window, locked it, shut the blinds and then the curtains. He turned around, he was pissed, “David? What happened?”

“Do you know that fucking asshole watches through the window!”

“Who?”

“Nick,” he hissed out the name.

You scoffed, “you can eat him later,” you turned to walk into the bathroom. “I’m going to shower before we leave,”

“No,” he grabbed your arm, “you’re gonna wash my scent off.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point,” you tried to pull your arm from him, and he pouted. “Daaaavid, I stink! I need to shower.”

He let you go, and crossed his arms in a huff, “fine, I’m just gonna have to put it back on you again later…”

You turned on the bathroom light and started to strip, “that’s fine by me.”

He perked up, he was watching your every move through the shower glass; how your hair fell down and clung against your wet skin. How your hands rubbed over the plush of your breasts, the curve of your ass when you bent down to wash your legs. He growled, he could feel his pants tightening and his mind wandered to how he was going to scent you again that night. He pushed his hands down his jeans to adjust and looked around the room.

David wanted to touch you, but he knew he very well couldn’t with the shower turned on; so, he rummaged through your things while he waited.

He opened your drawers and sorted through your jewelry, and socks, and... your panties. He of course, picked his favorite one and threw that on the bed, planning on making you wear it the second you got out of the shower. He looked through your kitchen cabinets, and your laundry room, your fridge and freezer, he touched all the nick-nacks on your shelves and books on your bookshelf.

David noticed you had little miniatures of different famous buildings, the Lurve, Big Ben, Taj Mahal, the Pyramids, the Colosseum, a Japanese shrine, the Statue of Liberty, even a few rocks that were labeled with different countries. He picked up a red one that read ‘Grand Canyon, 2004’. He looked at all the things you had and practically picked up and set down each and every one of them. He looked for a photo album, or letters, or paintings, like he kept. He wanted to learn your idiosyncrasies and the things you kept hidden.

No luck on the photos, or the letters…where would she keep them. A lightbulb went off in that sick little mind of his, and he made his way back into your bedroom and stood in front of your closet.

He grunted in annoyance. He didn’t want to go in there, not after the reaction he had to Montgomery’s blood, but if there was one place you’d kept something important, it was there. He slowly opened the closet doors, careful not to make a sound, and looked at all the things that were inside. He looked at all your clothes, and shoes, your hats, dresses, scarves, bottoms, and tops.

She’s got a lot of nice things, David thought to himself.

He quietly pushed aside the hangers and reached for a small box that was on the top shelf of the closet. He opened it, “bones?” He quickly put the box back where it was, simply because it wasn’t what he was looking for. I wonder what she does with them. David thought of how Paul, and one time Marko, thought it was funny to make art with bones.

There was a box of bullets next to the bone box, and he chuckled thinking about the big gun in your little hands. His eyes scoured the closet for something of interest, then stared down at the wooden box you had shoved to the back of the closet. He hated that he was afraid to touch it, he peered into the bathroom to make sure you were still busy. You were humming away, sudsing up your hair, enjoying the warm feeling of the water; blissfully unaware of how your vampire mate had just ransacked your home.

David knelt down on the floor and pulled the box towards himself. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for what was inside. To his surprise, it was much bigger on the inside than he had thought, “stupid magic.” He pushed around the vials and herbs to the side and saw some papers clipped to the lid, it was a picture of you and some people. The picture was an old dingey brown, and the date written on the back said 1972. The people in the photo all looked like you, David felt a pang in his heart, was this her family?

He set the photo back down and continued to sift around in the box, he pulled out another picture, it was you in a letterman with a few people laughing around. They all had letterman jackets, and he recognized your truck in the background, he smiled at how happy you looked. Rummaging through the rest of the pictures he noticed one had a cigarette burn though one of the faces. It was you, and a man, you had a black eye that was poorly covered up by makeup, and the man held you around the waist. David figured that it was a photo of you and Montgomery, he wished you hadn’t burned a hole in the photo so he could know what he looked like. But still, he hated the way you looked, so pained in the image. He looked at the test tube, it was nearly empty.

What was she planning on doing after the blood ran out?

…Would she just have died?

David felt angry looking at all the things.

He wanted to throw the vial away, he wanted to fill it with his blood, so you would not be bound to that monster anymore. But he knew better, he didn’t even dare touch the glass with his hands. He was used to blood magic, hell, that’s what feeding was for them. But something like this was beyond what he was used to. He heard the shower squeak off and scurried to shove all the things back in the box. He quickly shut the lid and shoved it back into the corner where he had found it.

“David,” you called to him.

“Yes darlin?” he was worried you’d caught him.

“David, I’m hungry,” you shouted.

He sighed in relief; he shut the closet doors and quickly made his way to your bed. He threw himself against it with a huff, “ahh, yeah? What do you want?” He looked over at you as you walked through the doorway, you had the towel wrapped around your body and the water beaded as it dripped down your hair. His head lifted off the bed, and he smiled at you.

“David?” You batted your eyes at him.

“Yes sweetness?” David smiled. Maybe he wouldn’t have to wait to get you back to the cave to taste you, he thought with that sweet look on your face.

“What’s that?” You pointed at something on the bed above David’s head. The sweet look on your face turning into a sour one. He whipped his head around to look at what you were pointing at and chuckled nervously. It was the lacey panties he had picked out for you.

“Oops.”

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raineandsky · 2 months

Note

Hi!

Would you write a story about a body guard and a prince?

The prince doesn't trust the body guard at first, because he thinks that the body guard is someone else's spy. But when the guard saves his life from a deadly assassination all by himself and gets severely injured, the prince apologizes and starts to trust him. Hope you have a great day/night!!

ANON. YOU KNOW ME SO WELL :O thank you for the request - enjoy!!

The prince is usually woken up by a maid, or his dog, or, god forbid, that goddamn bodyguard barging in for no explicable reason.

It’s not often he’s awoken by the feeling of cold metal against his neck.

Panic crashes through the confusion almost instantly. The prince flails, tangled in royally thick sheets, and his attacker hisses in annoyance. The blade stings against his skin and falls away.

The assassin fumbles after the prince as he scrambles across the bed; they clearly weren’t expecting to deal with him conscious. They grab him by the collar to yank him back into the covers. The force rocks the nightstand, and the flower vase on top of it rocks in tandem. There’s a blissful moment of still nothingness before the vase topples and crashes to the floor with the violence of a swinging hammer.

The door gets battered open with a similar amount of force. The assassin startles, their attention snapped to the giant figure blocking the doorway.

His bodyguard. The prince has seen the way this man’s eyes follow him, how he’s always in the most convenient of places to fall in line with the prince’s day. He’s been spying, he knew it, he’s been relaying information to some treasonous third party—

And now he’s come to join in on the murder, the prince thinks sourly. Amazing.

The guard moves and the prince scrambles to avoid him, but he doesn’t descend on the prince like he was expecting. He takes four assured steps into the room, draws his sword, and throws himself at the assassin.

The assassin lurches to the side, mostly. The guard’s blade catches on their wrist in a bright arc of shining metal and crimson.

The assassin seems to be getting more and more out of their depth with every passing second. They hold their wrist shakily, red leaking through their fingers, stumbling slightly. The prince’s guard moves in for another strike.

He gets too close; the assassin’s ready for him this time. They dart out of reach and breeze their dagger across the guard’s side.

The guard shoves them. It’s almost an instinct. The assassin staggers, making another haphazard swipe to the guard’s chest that he doesn’t even seem to notice. He traps them against the windowsill, his frame blocking their escape, and with one final push they tumble straight out the window.

The silence that follows is more unnerving than the prince expected. The guard leans over the sill slightly to glance at his handiwork, almost unbothered, before finally turning his gaze back inside and to the prince. “You okay?” he asks plainly.

The prince isn’t entirely sure if he’s meant to feel grateful or terrified. The guard steps towards him, a frown creasing his brow, and the prince flinches unintentionally.

His guard rummages in his pocket before offering him a handkerchief. “You’re bleeding,” he adds after a moment.

He hadn’t even noticed. Now he’s pointed it out, the prince can feel the faint line trailing down his throat. But, Jesus Christ, now he’s said it—

“I don’t think it’s me that needs it,” the prince says faintly.

Blood splatters across the front of the guard’s shirt, leaving unsightly red stains across the fabric like a stark reminder of who he is, of what he can do.

The prince hasn’t really seen blood at all, let alone so much of it. He feels a little weak looking at it but he just can’t seem to avert his gaze. It’s fascinating, in a horrific sort of way.

His guard follows his gaze to the new patterning on his clothes. “Ah,” he says shortly, “I didn’t even notice.”

He stumbles into the plush armchair near the bed, his sword tumbling to the floor. The prince watches with fear that he can’t quite place—the person the prince has always trusted the least—this supposed spy—has put his life on the line, and for what? What does he prove by almost dying?

He moves without thinking, clambering to free himself of covers much too hot and thick. He grabs the blanket from the end of the bed with shaky hands and mindlessly pushes it into the gash on the guard’s side.

The thanks he gets is a sharp hiss and a cringe from his touch. “I— I want to help,” the prince says a little more desperately than is royal.

“Your Majesty, please,” the guard says gently, “I’m okay.”

“It’s a lot of blood.”

“I’m not dead.”

“Not yet,” the prince snaps, and the guard barks a laugh.

He obediently stays put, though, forcing out a long breath as the prince tries valiantly to stem some of the blood leaking all over his lovely velvet chair. His hands tremble, his head light at the feeling of that sickly warmth on his skin, his mind already wandering.

He was so sure his guard was in on this. If he had been, surely, he wouldn’t have intervened. The prince has spent the last god knows how many months watching him back, waiting for a hint that he’s right, that this man is part of some gang out for his blood.

His waiting was in vain, clearly. The guard’s always been silent—looking back, maybe that was a respect thing—content to just watch from the shadows, unseen until needed—a common trait amongst the crown’s warriors—and Jesus Christ he was just completely normal and the prince misread everything.

“I’m sorry,” the prince blurts before he can stop it. The guard turns his gaze from the window and back to his prince.

“Not your fault people think you’re an easy target.”

The prince doesn’t think too hard about that comment. “You saved my life.”

A half-smile graces the guard’s face for a moment. “As is my duty, Your Majesty.”

Calling it duty is slightly underselling the weight of what he’s done. “No, you saved my life.” The prince keeps his eyes focused on the blanket slowly turning red in his hands, as much as he doesn’t want to, to avoid the way the guard’s gaze is burning into him. “I think a thank you is in order, at least.”

“Oh, uh, a’ight.” The guard clears his throat dramatically. “Thank you.”

“What? No.” The prince laughs, a genuine full-second’s laugh, before he remembers to rein it in. “No, I want to thank you. After I’ve been so… weird to you, you still put yourself at risk for me. I think it’s worth you knowing that I appreciate that.”

The guard flushes for a moment, thankfully turning his interest elsewhere. “Well, your father pays a hefty sum to keep you alive. I’d deal with you actively trying to kill me for the salary I get in this place.”

“And I’m sorry, again” — The guard’s barely finished talking before the words are falling out like they’re desperate to be said — “for being so… so—”

“Suspicious and rude?”

The prince is momentarily incensed enough that his eyes snap up to the guard’s, but he simply grins back. His eyes crinkle slightly, his face brightened. “Your staring wasn’t subtle,” he adds with a short laugh. “At first I thought it might be admiration, but after a while I realised it was only ever me you were looking at.”

It’s the prince’s turn to flush now—mostly out of embarrassment. “Yes, well, I inherited paranoia from my father as well as his crown.”

The guard’s smile turns soft, and the prince decides he’s best to avoid it once again. “You’ve no need to worry,” he says gently. “I’ll always be here to protect you.”

The prince makes some horrendously unchecked noise before clambering to his feet. “Okay,” he says quickly, “hold this against your side and your chest. I’m going to find a doctor that’s awake.”

“That’s usually my job.”

“You’re not usually the one bleeding all over my silk cushions.”

The guard nods like he’s admitting defeat. “Give my apologies to the maids for all the washing they’re about to do.”

“I will,” the prince says with complete earnest, then he’s out the door.

He reappears with the doctor a few minutes later, the latter of which is wearing a rather telling scowl for four in the morning. The guard lets the doctor prod and poke without complaint whilst the prince flutters about nervously.

He’s so focused on the work the doctor’s doing, making sure he’s careful—as if the palace doctor wouldn’t be—that he completely misses his guard’s gaze. Soft, knowing, relieved that the prince is finally watching him with hope instead of mistrust.

It’s a refreshing change to his usual expression. Maybe one day the guard can change it from hope to unwavering faith.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #fantasci writing #fantasy writing #request #anon did you read my mind. this shit is my JAM #this is like. 87% one of my stories im writing #'two people who seem too different to find commonground suddenly find they dont hate each other' is the overarching theme of it #anyways thank you for the request!!! this was hella fun even tho it took me a goddamn week to write (ive had burnout for like a month rip)

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gothic-thoughts · 6 months

Text

Lost and Found

(Happy Thanksgiving Yall)

Kyoujurou Rengoku x Black Fem Reader Angst (fluff)

RoyalAU, Princess!Reader, FriendstoLoversAU

CW: frostbite, implied parent death, Shinjurou is emperor, childhood friends

Word Count: 1057 (give or take)

My weak legs twitch, sending a spike of pain up my spine. I have to move, or I'll freeze to death. The faint sound of galloping draws near, now with the metal clanking to the rhythm of the horse's steps. Tears stream down my face as I try to scream for help only to have a small whimper rip from my tired and parched throat. The loud trotting slows to a stop no more than 10 feet away before something heavy drops to the gravel and quickly crunches toward me.

"My lady!" He crouches next to me and pulls my freezing body against his chest, "What's happened to you? Were you--?"

My tiara slips from my head and clangs against the pebbles of the road. Through my blurry vision, I watch as his worried gaze snaps to the headdress then back at my reddened face, horror consuming his eyes.

"A...a princess?" He whispered, "Who's done this to you?! Never mind; let's get you to safety. You'll be safe at the palace, you have my word."

Palace? He settles his grip behind my back and lifts my thighs, carrying me back to his horse. He sat on its back and had me in front and facing him to pull my face, body, and arms into his jacket. Feeling his body heat, I pass out against his chest.

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I jolt awake and sit up at the sound of crackling and shuffling in my room. I quickly sit up to see a young woman putting wood into the furnace across from the bed I was on. It was a massive red and dark brown canopy, the silky sheets sliding underneath me as my body settled to the mattress.

"Aw, I'm sorry, miss. The fire was dying down." She soothed, "Have to keep you warm, don't we?"

"Right...where am I?"

"You're in the Hashira Palace; I'm your chambermaid, Sumika. I got you all cleaned up and back to your old self. You had us all worried; you were asleep for a while."

"What? But I passed out no more than a few hours ago."

"That was yesterday, Miss. You've been asleep for around 13 hours; it's seven o'clock now."

"Thirteen!? And I'm just now waking up?!"

"Yes, Miss. Would you like to speak with Emperor Shinjuro?"

"Yes, yes, please! It's been a while, and I need a familiar face."

"Well, I'll be right back with your clothes."

She puts down the fire poker and dusts her hands off before she disappears into the closet. When the wooden door opened again, Sumika walked out cradling a blue lace-lined dress. I step out of the bed and happily slip on the silky azure fabric, the skinny straps hugging into my shoulders which put the dress in a position to show just a little bit of cleavage.

Sumika led me out of the room and down the candlelit corridor to another room and knocked loudly. Once the king allows me inside she bows and leaves.

"Come in!" The Emperor's voice yelled.

"Princess (Y/n)'s awake and dressed Your Highness," Sumika says, opening the door enough to let me in, "There you go."

"Thank you."

"Emperor Shinjuro." I bow, "Thank you so much for--"

"Nonsense."

"Excuse me?"

"You're the daughter of my best friend; ‘Shinjuro’ is just fine, (Y/n)."

"But we've only met a couple--"

"I owe your father my life; the very least I could do is take care of his daughter in his....absence."

"Absence?" I scoff, laughing nervously, "Thank you, Shinjuro for your concern, but I'm confused."

He sighs, "What do you remember?"

"Nothing much." I say, voice breaking, "I was upstairs in my room when I heard guards rushing past my door. I thought nothing of it until my chambermaid ran into my room and told me marauders were attacking the palace."

"Hmm..."

"I don't even know she escaped..." my voice breaks, my lungs heaving for breath, "She stayed back to barricade the door in case someone heard me escaping from the corridor."

"Well...while you were resting, I had my guards investigate the palace and it seems the fire was started in your throne room."

"No...no, I'm sure it had to be the sitting room." Tears roll down my face faster than I can wipe, "That's where our furnace is, Shinjuro. It couldn't be the throne room because how....h-how would the fire start?"

"My knights found evidence of a Molotov cocktail there, (Y/n). I...I don't know how else to...."

Before I can open my mouth to speak, two loud and heavy knocks thunder from the wooden door shortly before it swings open. A well-built man in a white and flame-patterned haori rushes past me and stands before the Emperor's desk. The man turns to me for a quick bow.

"My apologies, but I must..." He blinks and his jaw drops, "(Y/n)?"

My tears stopped flowing with confusion, allowing me to wipe the excess on my cheeks as he happily stepped closer.

“How do you know me?”

“It’s me, Kyojuro!”

"Kyojuro...?”

He nods happily, leaning in to show off his features a little better. I raise an eyebrow at him, examining his features from his fiery hair and the fiery gradient in his irises. I note his round jawline and wide eyes and my eyebrows finally raise in realization.

“Ren!”

"Yes!"

We pull each other into a strong embrace as flashbacks of the times we played hide-and-seek in my garden and caused mischief around his palace flooded my mind. I smile into his chest and squeeze harder, feeling his hands sink into me before we pull away, looking at each other lovingly.

“You got...bigger." He smiles longingly, "N-not like...I meant, like 'older'. Older-bigger.”

“Well, you certainly got bigger. I'm surprised you didn't hit your head on the doorframe when you walked in."

He chuckles, "I mean it has been 11 years. Last we saw each other, I believe I was convincing you to eat worms."

"Tried convincing me."

"Heh, yes of course."

"And maybe I would've fallen for it if they weren't covered in dirt."

"Perhaps that may have been a factor."

"So, after being my nutritionist, you became a knight?"

"During the war, Father was away and I was in charge so I trained as much as I could and now I'm the Head of the royal fleet."

“Impressive. All I did was learn how to ride a horse, play violin, and archery. My...mother taught me."

My smile fades, and he does the same before he suddenly knelt and bowed his head to me.

"Ren?"

"My apologies. In my haste, I never properly showed empathy for your loss. My deepest condolences, princess."

I smile sadly, lifting his chin, "If it's all the same to you, Ren, I prefer (Y/n)."

He stands up and adjusts his shirt when I suddenly hug him again, my heart pounding as I bury my face into his neck. I feel him sigh as he holds me close and rubs my back.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

I hum, melting into his touch. "I missed you." A happier tear slipped from my eye.

"I've missed you more."

"My apologies for breaking up your moment...

We quickly withdrew from our embrace and straightened up to give the emperor, who was sitting back down, our undivided attention. He chuckles lightly.

"Are you hungry, (Y/n)?"

"Oh yes, I haven't eaten since yesterday."

"I'm sure. Kyoujuro?"

"Right!" Ren smiles, "I'll show you to the kitchen, Shinobu can make you something while we catch up."

"I never thought you of all people would gain charm and maturity in adulthood."

"Oh please, I've always had charm." He laughs, "After you then."

#kny #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku fluff #rengoku kyōjurō #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku x reader #x black reader #black reader #black writers #x black fem reader #kny rengoku

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pink-strawberry-kissess · 4 months

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going absolutely insane thinking of ada pleasuring herself as leon just watches HRNNNGGGFF

you don't say (i didn't proofread this and i was tired and wrote this at like 3am, ooc probably, they're horny, smut)

leon heading home after a long day- just wants to take a shower and fall into bed. it's curious, the way when he walks through the threshold on his front door and can already feel like there's a presence in there.

he stands completely still, his eyes scanning his surroundings and seeing that nothing is out of place. his personal belongings are still scattered in the particular way that he leaves his things, doors in the hallway still ajar, the rug still a bit off centered on the floor from when he rushed out of his place in the morning.

but he knows that something is off- he just can't quite place it, even though it's a familiar feeling

he has the idea to search his home just in case and begins leaning his head into every room while being as quiet as possible

as he approaches his bedroom, the door isn't shut, not like how he usually has it closed before he leaves. it's slightly open, the handle not locked closed but not open either. leaning his ear to the wood of the door, it's clear someone is on the other side.

his home had security, enough to stop most people from breaking in but not from anyone who was skilled enough in lock picking or slipping through the cracks. for all he knew they could've slid in when he was leaving

he grows curiouser and curiouser at the sounds, trying to decipher what it was exactly he was hearing- his mind runs a mile a minute wondering if he was imaging things

nudging the door open, the hinges were quiet- thankfully he had fixed them so they didn't have a horrible squeak when it opens anymore.

the sounds are louder, perhaps more lewd, his assumptions are confirmed when he notices a pair of tall heels left on the floor near his bedroom door. then a thin pair of panties left not so innocently a few inches away. he shouldn't- but he plucks the pick of elastic and lace and feels the texture of the soft fabric in his fingers. they're slightly damp, and warm- he's annoyed at the feeling of blood rushing in between his legs

his presence has been detected by her, her audible hum letting him know of this. but she doesn't seem to stop, the sounds of her shifting on the bed and splaying out on his sheets already paints a picture of what she's doing. he has split seconds to imagine it before he's hit with the real thing

continuing further into his bedroom, he sees the edge of his bed, his eyes lazily trail upward- seeing her legs spread and her fingers buried between her legs. she's half dressed, her eyes half lidded as well and a sweet saccharine grin stuck on her face

"well what do we have here?"

"you were late- didn't want to wait anymore-"

his body relaxed, the tension in his shoulders released and his chest shuddering with a deep breath. he's fixated at the sight between her legs, the bits of fabrics twisted around her body and the disheveled look of her on his bed.

he doesn't pounce on her immediately, he takes his time, the loud metal of his belt buckle announcing his intentions since she'd clearly already started without him

"are you angry with me?" her fingers cease their movements, her head cocking to the side with her question.

"well what am i supposed to do with you hm?"

"what if i am?"

"are you going to do anything about it? agent kennedy?"

she shuffles herself towards his headboard, her legs timidly pressing together as if she wasn't soaked between her thighs.

the loud leather of his belt is whipped through the loops of his pants, the button and zip of his jeans following as his knees make contact with the edge of the bed.

"what do you want me to do about it?"

they're only inches apart, his lips hovering over hers, his eyes flickering between her eyes and catching her hand raising to pressed her soaked appendages against his bottom lip. she drags her fingers there, letting him taste her on his tongue.

"don't keep me waiting-" she purs against his lips, the soft scent of her cherry lip colour is pressed against his cheek. her hot breath fanning against his ear and sending shivers down his spine and stirring up the feeling of arousal between his legs.

the sides of her lips curl, satisfied with what she feels as her fingers slide against the elastic of his underwear and dips underneath to grasp at him.

"looks like I don't have to wait at all-"

#and then they fug #have segs #do the devil's tango #BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM I WANT YOU IN MY ROOM #WE'LL SPEND THE NIGHT TOGETHER #ada wong #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #aeon #leon x ada #ask heart #heart answers #anon #leon kennedy x ada wong

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space-blue · 1 year

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I saw your post about the Na'vi who live near volcanoes! (I loved it so much!) What examples do you have of their clothing? And what rites of passage do they have since making a bond with animals isn't a normal occurrence?

Anon, thank you so much!! I have the day off so I spent the afternoon doodling ideas for the Txepiva, half of them not even what you asked for lol

Here's the full sheet, which you can see in full size by opening in a new page.

Clothes :

Let's say they are mostly pastoralist nomads. They have an animal, an omnivorous creature that lives in small flocks of 20-30 members. They have a scaly/platted back and tail, but also tufts of heat resistant fibers close to a wool, just not nearly as compact. It's designed to keep them cool around the neck and chest.

Txepiva task young children with herding the flocks, making tsaheylu and often riding the flock's leading animal, leading them all by directing the one. They are used for meat, but also for their fibers, which are made into protective veils, as heat reflective as anything Na'vi can produce.

This made me think about masks (made of bone or worked leather) that would use glass lenses and veils made of that material to get extra close to lava. A Pandoran take on the protective suits we wear on earth.

I have had to honour of getting very close to a lava flow, and my experience is that when you're 20m away from it, it feels as hot and oppressive as when you're 1m away from a raging bonfire. If they need to get close, extra protection would help.

Masks could also have simple slits, though idk how much protection that would offer.

And since they can weave heat resistant fabric, but not everyone would get close to lava, you could also have more casual but still protective gear, mimicking Tuareg and other desert dwelling headgears and scarves. You could wrap the queue (tswin) inside of it and have it hidden from view. My adult Txepiva who aren't young herders or hunters have little use of their tswin outside of mating.

They would have access to a lot of precious stones. A lot of jewelry would be crafted there and be part of their main exports to other clans, alongside glass objects. Vials and glass rings would be particularly popular, as well as beads.

They'd import a lot of dyes and dried plant material in exchange. The one thing that is taboo for other clans though is metal.

That doesn't stop the Txepiva from using it for themselves, in earrings, worked plates, kuru clasps, brooches, etc. Copper is particularly easy to obtain around volcanic faults.

The other stone of choice is obsidian. I tried to give her white paint under her eyes instead of the black one I did on my original design.

But at the end of the day one of the most used materials in the clan is Bone. All warriors and scouts wear chains of vertebrae over their tswin. It's to prevent being easily killed by the queue being grasped and severed at the base.

The war chief, leader who takes charge of the clan whenever they face conflict or are readying an assault on another clan, tends to wear more flashy gear. This one collected vertebraes with a long neural spine :

The tswin and its bones are tied to his waist so they don't sway or get in his way. It's mostly ceremonial gear, I don't think he'd bedeck himself like this for war.

Didn't draw any shoes, but the Txepiva are occasional users of the stuff, especially on active volcanic plains.

Rites of Passage :

Not everyone is a warrior, so I assume they'd have different rites for different people.

Those who are warriors might be tasked to prepare their own kit to go on a quest of some sort. A raid to steal an animal, or to go deep into active lava flows to collect precious materials and prove themselves.

Or they might be cast out altogether for a whole year or more, young people forming roving bands from different clans who have to get along and conjoin their skills to survive. That feels a little extreme, though I've explored the idea of the ash people having a yearly meeting where most clans peacefully get together and trade, party, bang, and mate across clans to, you know, clean up that gene pool.

It being the moment roving bands return and have a ceremony accepting them as adults and able to join a mate and a new clan would be great. Another group of youth could be cast out at the end of that meeting, only to return in a year.

That has the advantage that it could include people whose main skill isn't hunting or killing, as they'd be just as valuable for a band's survival.

But otherwise I enjoy the idea of yuong people building a 'dowry' for themselves. It's not about mating at all, but to showcase their skills for the great meeting. Elders of all clans gather and inspect the ivory carvings, dyed weaved scarves, worked stones and jewels, or even the smithed blades and copper beads produced by this youth who claims to be an adult. They might prepare a single enormous project, or present a collection of wares.

If approved, then they would receive presents prepared for them by their friends and family ahead of time in a ceremony welcoming them as adults, and they'd be allowed to go trade all their hard work.

And that gathering place definitely has a fun-time tent for adults but also a massive complex of hot springs. It's a sacred place with a lot of growing soul trees where killing or fighting is completely forbidden.

You have to leave your clan's baggage at the metaphorical door.

They'd also have sport competitions and friendly matches, as well as conflict resolution.

OK going to shut up now because I think I could go on a little too long!!

#Thanks anon #anon ask #avatar meta #avatar lore #(the made up kind)#ash clan #txepiva #avatar #atwow #avatar 3 #fire na'vi #ash na'vi #nomadism #fanart #avatar fanart #na'vi oc #avatar oc #my art #headcanons

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persoulnal · 4 months

Text

ONE LAST HUG LHS

synopsis~

When someone passes away, they are sent to their happiest moment in life. The people who were with them there are also sent to spend their last moments with loved ones. You weren’t expecting yours to be with you boyfriend, Heeseung, more specifically in your old apartment.

genre~

ANGST man heavy angst, slight fluff but not really

warnings~

mentions of car accidents, main character death

unedited as usual

You were going to die.

Your fingers grazed the silk bedsheets, your delicate hands familiar to the touch. Your thumb wrapped around the extra fabric giving it a light tug. The muted blue sheets raise slightly, and the smell of fabric softener filled your senses as you closed your eyes.

You were going to die.

You could hear the rain tapping on the window near the bed and the sounds of bird chirping at the sight of worms. Cars were blazing through the main street and an occasional honk sounded. At the fourth honk you opened your eyes.

You were going to die.

Your eyes stayed on the ceiling, the white paint slowly chipping in the corner. You stayed like that for another moment before sitting up. You let out a bated breath confirming where you were.

You were going to die.

First thing you see when you sat up was a polariod. The photo was placed on the neat, organized white desk with a stack of papers in the middle. The photo was in a beautiful golden frame with accented details engraved in the metal. It was a photo of you and your boyfriend, Heeseung.

Today was the last day you would be seeing Heeseung because you were going to die.

You have lived this day before; waking up on the silk sheets, hearing the rain tap on the window, sitting up to look at the picture frame. You have lived this day before and that only means one thing. You were going to die.

You began to cry. Violent sobs fell from your mouth as you brought your knees up to your chest. Pained screams sounded from your mouth as you frantically sputtered out phrases such as "no" or "this can't be happening" because it just could not be happening.

You were healthy with no signs of fatal death or chronic illness. Last thing you remember was driving in a car with- oh no. A car crash, it had to have been a car crash. Last thing you remember was someone hitting the passenger side of Heeseung's car sending his into a spiral down the surrounding cliff.

Your ringtone disrupted your thoughts and you wiped away your tears with one hand while the other reached for the phone. "Hey."

It wasn't his usual chirp voice that always made you wake up a little more in the morning. His voice was calm, but you could tell there was fear hidden behind it.

"I-" You paused bringing your lip into your mouth as the tears began to form again. "I don't want to go."

Heeseung froze on the other end, halting himself from entering his car, the very car that was wrecked in the future. He rested his free hand against the top of it and then let his head drop to his forearm. He closed his eyes tightly not knowing what to do. Not knowing what to say. What do you say when the person you love is about to die, no is already dead, and there is no way to stop it? What do you say when you are about to lose the person you love?

"Y/N." His voice cracked as he tried to find the strength to speak. "It might not have been you. I'm coming over, like I did that day, or this day? I'm- I'm coming over."

"It was me. We go hit on the passenger side there's no way it wasn't me."

"Just- I'm coming."

He hung up, not the best thing to do, but what else should he have done? He couldn't sit there and dwell on what is to come, he can only ensure that this day goes according to plan.

Sitting in the driver seat he started his car giving it a hard punch on the dashboard, "That's for ruining my fucking life."

It took him 10 minutes to arrive at your apartment, and in those 10 minutes you have not been able to move from your spot on the bed. You just looked at the photo of you and Heeseung on your desk.

Today was the day he called you early in the morning to sing you a song. He claimed to have stayed up all night just to write the chorus and he was eager, a bit too eager to show it to you. This was an incredibly happy moment in your life, but was it your happiest? You were sure the happiest would be the day you two got an apartment together, or maybe when you two went to visit his family that one Christmas. But it turns out it was this day.

A few knocks on your door signaled that he was here. He had his own key to the place and allowed himself entry. His guitar was slug around his body as he stopped in front of your room. While everything was familiar to him, it was also foreign. This was your old apartment when you two first started dating. He remembers it like the back of his hand, but it had been so long since he's seen it.

"Y/N," He pushed the door open to reveal your crouched body, eyes not moving from the picture with tears tracing your face, "I have something to show you.

"He wanted to breakdown at the sight of you. This would be the last time he saw you; this would be the last time he would be with you.

"The living room." You croaked out. "We need to go to the living room. It happened on my sofa."

"Oh right." Heeseung must have forgot. His mind was clustered with other thoughts.

The two of you slowly shuffled to the living room and it seems like it's been so long since the two of you were here. It didn't take long to get to the worn-down leather sofa in the middle of the room. It was as comfortable as you remembered it and the feeling of it was too nostalgic now

"So," Heeseung took a deep breath and gave a shy smile, "I wrote you a song."

You remember the song vividly, how could you not? How could you not when it was a song professing his undying love for you? That must be why this was your last moment, you felt so much love after he sang it, and you must have wanted to hear it again like it was the first time.

"Did you now?" You let out a struggled chuckle that quickly turned into a quiet weep. You were trying to stay strong for him, but it was all too hard. It was too hard to be here and never want to leave.

"Yes. I stayed up all night perfecting it. Can you tell by my bags?" He too began tearing up, the crack in his voice exposed that. He wasn't even sure if he'd be able to sing.

"Well, I can't wait to-" your voice got caught in your throat and you couldn't continue the act. You couldn't continue to act like nothing was happening because something fucking was.

You were going to die.

"Hee," You continued to cry, "I can't. I can't do this."

Heeseung ditched his guitar and took you in his arms. He held you as the two of you sobbed to each other. "Shhh.”

He rubbed your head resting his chin on top of it after as he looked around the apartment. He was a bit shocked to see this was your last memory, but as he is back here it began to make sense. You loved this song when he first sang it and you forced him to sing it for you all the time. You were infatuated with it. "I don't know how long we have here, but I would like to sing." Heeseung spoke once the two of you calmed down a bit. He wanted to sing for you. His voice was always soothing to you.

"Yes." You sat up and rubbed your eyes. "Please sing."

He picked up his guitar from the side of the sofa and rested it on his lap. His hands rested on the strings but didn't play for a moment. The realization finally hit him.

"Heeseung?" You waited and he looked up to you. You tilted your head, and he licked his dry lips.

His shaky fingers grazed the strings and it let out a soft bellow. He then began to strum on the guitar. At first you thought that you forgot what his song Polaroid Love sounded like. Whatever he was playing was not what you remember hearing, but as he continued you realized it most definitely was not the first song you hear. This one was different, but his voice was still the same.

"The time we couldn't meet left me feeling uneasy

But I felt warmth in my heart

You're out of reach, not in front of me

But this feeling is like you're right by my side

Touching you."

Heeseung began to sing, his voice raw from just crying, and he grimaced at the rasp.

"No matter how far apart we are

This voice will never falter

Overflowing emotions

They won't stop."

His voice was better now, less raspy, but you could still tell he cried before this. Your mind was reeling with what was being sung. You didn't know how to react.

"This emotion can't be expressed in words

It's screaming in a raw voice

I'm falling, falling for you."

He teared up again.

"This is for you."

You sat for a moment just looking at him. He finished singing and he couldn't bring himself to look up at you just yet. You took a deep breath and then scooted over to him on the sofa. Your hand reached for his.

"Hee." There was a crack in your voice as you rubbed your thumb on his palm. "You wrote that for me?"

"Sure did." He chuckled. You said the same sentence exactly 5 years ago. "Was it good?"

"Just as good as the last one." You cupped his cheek bringing his gaze to meet yours. "Thank you Heeseung."

He stared into your eyes, the two of you basking in this moment. "Thank you for the song. Thank you for the song before. Thank you for being in my life. Thank you for giving my life meaning. And most importantly, thank you for loving me. You were the best thing to happen to me. I know that we will find each other again someway, somehow. You are my forever, Heeseung."

"Y/N," He free hand raised to grab your hand that was on his face. He rubbed it never wanting your touch to go away. "I love you. I will always love you. You made my life so, so much better. I will always be with you, okay?"

"There's a note. If you go in the closest in the purple box, there's a letter. I kept it there just in case if something were to happen and I couldn't talk to my friends or family. I didn't think it would happen this soon." Heeseung pursed his lips, and you tilted your head.

"What are you talking about?" Your eyes squinted slightly as you dropped your hand from his face.

"The notes have names on them. Can you give it to them?" He smiled at you, the smile that you fell in love with.

"Heeseung, stop. What are you talking about?" You sat up from your slouched position. You reached for his hand once more and held it tight. "What are you saying?"

"When I wrote you that song, I was so excited to show it to you that I rushed over right when I finished it."

"Yes. I know you called to make sure I was awake." You were trying to follow along, but it was becoming too confusing for you.

"When I sang it to you, your face when hearing it was nothing like ever before. You looked at me with such love, you looked at me as if you loved me. You looked at me with love." He squeezed your hand.

"This night we went to a party. You got so, so shit faced. You don't remember and I never pried or told you, but you told me you loved me." He looked away letting out a reminiscing laugh.

"I told you I love you?" You remembered the party, or at least the moments before. You blacked out before getting home and Heeseung brought you to your apartment and stayed the night. The morning after you officially said you loved him when you heard the song, but it seems like your drunk self was one step ahead.

"Yeah. You said after hearing my song you realized you were in love with me. You told me the song made you realize you loved me." Heeseung spoke and it all started to click.

"No. Hee, no." More tears came that you didn't know you had, and your hands gripped his tighter. "No, Heeseung stop."

"Y/N-"

"No! You didn't die I did. I died because my door was hit. I died." You couldn't believe. He couldn't be dying. This wasn't real.

"When the car tipped my side fell and then it rolled over and was upright." He was trying to calm you down and brought his hand to rub your arm.

"No, I was hit. I'm the one who died stop." Just when you were starting to accept your death you come to learn it is not you who died, it was your love who did.

"Listen to me, hey listen to me," He gripped your arms to have you look at him, "I love you. I have loved you and I will never stop loving you. Please don't dwell on my death for too long. Grieve but don't have it control your life."

His hand then traveled to your face, fingers brushing over your skin to wipe the tears.

"Heeseung," You whimpered with blurry eyes. The sensation of his hand was no longer on you, and you looked down to see what was going on. His arm was gone, and he was slowly fading.

"We don't have much time." He looked down at his invisible arm. "Come here.”

You closed your eyes and took three breaths and then let him hold you in his embrace. You rubbed your head against his chest trying to calm him down for his last moments. You wouldn't be so selfish as to ruin it.

He began humming into your ear, it was the song he sang this day five years ago, it was the song when you realized you loved him. You tried to hold back your tears, but small droplets were falling. Heeseung now sang and held you closer. You wrapped your arms around his one arm that rested on your waist. Your back was to him, and your head was in the crook of his neck.

You looked up to see his face one last time. His eyes were closed but the wet tears were present on his face. You looked at his lips. You looked at his perfect nose. You looked at him in all his beauty for the last time because he was going to die."

"Heeseung." He continued singing. "Can I see your eyes.”

He opened them, there was a slight redness and puffiness.

"I've always loved your eyes."

"By now his whole lower body had disappeared and half his upper body was going too. Heeseung kept his eyes open, but you closed yours to nestle in his neck again. You thought about how good it felt to be in his arms in that moment and how incredibly lucky you are to have this.

Sitting like that for a few more seconds and you felt your head loose it's support. You held it up though and your arms stayed in place.

You could still hear his voice and his final words," I love you."

"I love you." You whispered back, still holding yourself in place.

Your calloused hands stayed wrapped around your dainty figure. you sobbed into your arms letting out heavy breaths. "I love you" you held your body tighter.

The touch of your fingertips rubbed your barren shoulders sending waves of warmth to your skin. The touch bringing the comfort you so needed.

"Don't cry now." you whispered again. "Don't cry."

The tears kept falling as your knees were brought closer to your body. you pictured Heeseung was still hugging you, that he was still with you.

In your mind that's all you could see, but to anyone else all they saw was a broken girl trying so desperately to make herself feel better. All they saw was a girl struggling to stay with him.

With your eyes closed you didn't notice the room around you disappearing. Your old apartment becoming nothing but a memory once more. Still crying, you curled into a ball on the hospital bed, legs raising up to be held in your arms. People began to rush into the room you were in and ask questions, but it was all a blur.

You pictured you were still in your apartment, still with him.

#enhypen au #heeseung au #lee heeseung #heeseung #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader

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