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broken-clover · 1 year

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*poke poke* okay your turn lets hear some music takes! (no need for a long list like i did you can just tell me your top and bottom picks if you wanna)

Iiiiiii spent way too much time trying to analyze these. It felt like a good excuse to look at them all, your analyses were really fun to read! And I like making lists! Unfortunately I am way less knowledgeable about rock genres and music in general so this'll be less smartly analytical as opposed to me just screaming. Also I found out that I was way more opinionated on some songs than on others. Not surprising I guess but man looking between my thoughts on Chipp's vs Faust's was a little embarrassing.

Find Your One Way- Likewise I absolutely got the title confused. Tbh I think it'd make more sense if it was 'own.' I feel like this song sums up Sol well in terms of being edgy and rocking but mechanically pretty straightforward. Not bad, just kind of basic. It's serviceable. Just…not much else

Roar of the Spark- I fully maintain that Ky has not had a single clunker or flop theme, not even in the original vocal tracks. Tonally and lyrically it's an absolute gem. I adore how the sparkly keyboard gives it a bit of a 'holy' vibe. Not a second of it doesn't absolutely go hard. This is one that I regularly relisten to not even as a video game theme but just a song I love banging my head to

The Disaster of Passion- A little basic? Sure. Absolute bop? OH BOY IS IT. Utterly bursting with energy, but it never comes off as exhausting or cloying. For the most part I really love AISHA's themes, and it's another one I listen to for fun a lot

Out of the Box- I appreciate that even if I'm not a huge fan of the theme it still very clearly reflects who it belongs to. A very offbeat and leisurely feel, fits Axl perfectly. I love the drum kicks, but the high pitched parts are a little silly. At least it knows how to a decent chant, unlike some themes.

Play the Hero- ….man, it really is an anime theme, huh. The sudden sweep of energy going into the first chorus does do a great job of pumping you up. I wish I had more to say. It's good, it does its job.

Armor-Clad Faith- I don't know about 'underrated,' but I feel like the low, grinding, industrial vibe really fits Potemkin and creates a really powerful atmosphere that gets a bit overlooked. You can feel Potemkin, but you can feel the mechanical nature of Zepp surrounding him too. As much as I love Engage I'm tied between them, they both create really good atmosphere

Alone Infection- (Prepare for a long-winded mess)

It's been a hot second since I listened to this one, at least before Another Story, and not to read too into stuff, but I feel like the whole thing is an abridged version of Faust's entire plot arc. The first portion is growling and harsh and whispering with fretful undertones, which fits really well with his original snap as Baldhead, psychologically he was all over the place, unable to process the grief and self-loathing, and even after stopping with the killing and trying to atone, he had nobody to connect with or to talk to in order to help him understand and process his psychological damage. It constantly hangs over him, but nobody else can see it's there aside from him.

The sort of goofy vaudeville/circus-esque section could be a lot of the 'Faust' persona, but I'd lean towards Xrd and maybe the tail end of the XX-series. He's happy! He's fun! Don't focus on the undertones! He's the happy silly doctor man, everything is fine! Everything is fine!! But it's temporary, because it's just a band-aid on a stab wound, making everything look good on the outside. As soon as you prod it, it's obvious that barely anything has changed, and we're back to the chorus

And just as quickly, it all cuts out into a gentle guitar piece. I think this could be Another Story. It's finally quiet, no distractions for him to use to ignore what he hasn't been able to address. He recognizes that he's been running from his past and the trauma that comes with it, and is able to see 'eye to eye' with himself. It's difficult, and it's something he hasn't wanted to look at, but it's what he had to do in order to accept what happened and finally let it go.

While the final section is basically the same lyrics at first, it's much more grand and sweeping, soulful and dare I say it, hopeful. Positive things are mixed into the line about grief, and the final round of the chorus gives off the impression that he's come to terms with the fact that his trauma is something that he still is the only one that can see the full depths of it, but it's something he's accepted as a part of himself and can allow to coexist with the rest of him rather than overshadowing everything like it has for years.

Love the Subhuman Self- Ough Millia sweetie I'm so sorry I overlooked your theme it's fabulous. Tbh in general I love whenever they go for a more electronic sound, and the opener does give off a slightly lopsided vibe, like Millia herself isn't psychologically solid. But the low, grinding sound it veers into not long afterwards also works really well for her tonally, it remids me of a Metal Gear track, and offers up a mental image of her masking her uneasiness and discomforts with the rigid assassin duties she's given. The growl in the chorus also feels like a pretty obvious nod to Zato, and how even in a song that's supposed to be about Millia and who she is, he still seeps in. Even if she tries to move on, he's still there.

One thing I hadn't noticed the first couple of times that there's a sense of…almost childishness in some of the lyrics. The repeated mention of lullabies, throwing rocks into a lake like children would do, specifically the mention of looking 'cute' rather than something like pretty or beautiful that an adult would use. Could be overanalyzing but I like the suggestion it gives off that her upbringing left Millia psychologically stunted in some ways, and part of the reason leaving the assassin lifestyle is so difficult

Let Me Carve Your Way- Okay. Yes. The opening and the ending do worm into my skull and do indeed slap monumentally. However, I think the middle of the sandwich is just…decent. Basic in the same way that Sol's is, and I don't think it flows into the ending well, it just kinda stops and starts as a new song. Front half is a solid C tier, back is an A

Necessary Discrepancy- MORE ELECTRONIC SOUNDS YIPPIE. It plus the usage of Esperanto fits really well for an artificial girl. I know this one is a little divisive, but I love the chorus. The turn into standard guitar and vocals after the first chorus could make sense from a narrative POV, but it feels a little like playing it safe after getting experimental with the beginning. Did I mention I like the chorus? I like the chorus.

Hellfire- Cool opening! Can we please send Leo to therapy now. It's a good song but genuinely I don't think any of the themes are so transparently about self-hatred and intentionally suicidal recklessness born from it and it's legitimately hard to get into it like the others because I just keep side-eyeing the lyrics uncomfortably. Small aside but the sitar-esque twangs are a fun addition even if I'm not sure if it fits him well.

What do you Fight For- Still amazed they went for a Beatles homage in the intro. Like with Zato's though, the different parts don't so much flow into each other as they are stapled together. I like the radio segment but I still don't get what relevance it has to Nago. Thankfully he wasn't stuck with just the one

Trigger- She gets a really good and distinct sound, shame they don't do much with it. Nothing wrong with a song that just sounds fun, and while I know it's sort of the point of the lyrics, but given how much they were used for telling a story or going deeper on a character, hers is so surface level and uncomplicated that I wonder what the point is of having lyrics at all for her theme.

Rock Parade- Still eternally mad about the 'it's about wanting to have sex with Baiken' interpretation that is still so prevalent despite it not making a shred of sense. Nonetheless, terrific song. The shifts between parts actually feel natural. The usage of an intentionally more 'Japanese' sound in the later parts is both a fun way of tying into Anji's background and gives the emotions more of a sense of earnestness, which is especially punchy for someone who's known for their dishonesty

Requiem- It really stands out that so far, this is the first song that opens with lyrics. While I can't say this theme is my favorite for a couple of reasons, maybe in part due to listening again after Strive's release this one did bring my mood down. The post-chorus is getting stuck in my head though.

Crawl- BANGS BANGS BANGS BANGS THE THEME NAGO DESERVES. Perfect followup to I-no's theme honestly because the contrast of 'I'm not going to give up in the face of this suffering and I will literally crawl out of it if I have to' is all the more impactful. I adore the last round of the chorus and the concept of the 'freedom of calm' is so good that I can gladly overlook it being a touch cheesy

The Kiss of Death- Like with Axl's, I love how a theme can so resemble a character just in terms of its sound. Mechanical thrumming like heavy machinery and a slow, rocking beat? That's our peepaw! I wish the title had a bit more explanation behind it but that's a minor nitpick

Perfection Can't Please Me- Huh. It's just like Jack-O. Cute and boring. I get what they were going for, but this is the cloying energy that May's theme skirted. The 'this is it' refrain was fun and them playing around with piano was a nice touch, but like with Giovanna's the lyrics are so surface level comparable to others and the themes it's trying to go over feel like they were done better and more creatively in other themes

Drift- Playing with the piano again! Like with Ram's, opening with something cool and unique before shifting into the standard guitar feels like you're playing it safe. Hokey or not the Disney segment almost got me feeling something earnest before they gave up again. Dammit Happy you almost had something.

Mirror of the World- Like with Anji's I appreciate deliberately including more clearly Japanese elements, in this case the actual language. So much of this becomes more heartwarming since we got Another Story, relistening was worth it just for that

Like a Weed- I am ashamed to admit I had yet to hear this one in full. I say with shame because wow I sure have been missing out. Some of the lyrics feel a little forced, including the title drop, but I appreciate Naoki doing something different with his voice. The theme of 'life is simple and unremarkable yet beautiful and full of the meaning I choose to give it' is similar to Jack-O's except good and well done. The string outtro was unexpected but gleefully welcomed

The Town Inside Me- Similarly to May, a little basic? A little poppier? Yes, but if you're going in that direction, go whole hog, and this one totally does. Own it! In that way, it ties into Bridget even more. Use that energy to be joyful and confident. There's no shame to be had in being so bright

The Hourglass- Another song I hadn't gotten around to. Unlike Testament's though, I don't think I missed too much. It ties nicely into Sol's theme by being relatively basic. Not bad, just not anything stunningly original. The piano gave it some energy, but I don't think there was anything to make it have a clear identity of its own. Like you said, fun but simple in the way that Sin himself is. The fact that I've only heard it twice now probably doesn't help but I couldn't tell you any of the lyrics, it's that dry. Interested by the return of the radio/vaudeville voice, I hope it isn't meant to have the same implications as Faust's use of it.

The Circle- I'm starting to believe the crack theories that Happy and the bed siblings have something to do with each other because they both have themes with a lot of slapdash elements that don't mesh together. And, again, it's possible that was intentional, but by this point not even the mishmash is original. I still don't get why the chant is there, it adds nothing and feels like they're trying to fill space. Talk-singing is a staple with a lot of these, but this one feels the most egregious. I've warmed to it a tiny bit, I like a couple parts of it, but I think this feels less like a proper song and more like slam poetry. I want to like it. I really do. But when it came around to listening to this one again it felt more like a task to endure rather than be a song I genuinely enjoyed looking up and listening to for fun. I'm just confused how at how Does the Sheep Count the Sheep manages to do so much better at indicating who Bedman is as a character without having any words whatsoever and still having a good melody that flows well. I'm sorry for both of them, it's just such a nothing song to me.

#wooooo this got long damn #ask #guilty gear #everyone #Bedman and Sin go together again because they both have mediocre themes #is it obvious I'm writing this close to midnight

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all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth · 3 months

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All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Terma (4x09)

There were aspects of his work as a United States Senator that Albert Sorenson preferred less than others. Proposing legislation, representing the people of his state, defending the tenets of his political party– these were all things that drove him into his line of work. Ever since he was a young man, he knew he wanted to make a difference in the world, and there were times in DC when he thought that was exactly what he was doing.

But then there were other times, other things, times when he supported a filibuster, played the game, intentionally asked the wrong questions to get the answers he wanted. Those moments were when his job started to lose its meaning.

This congressional hearing was no different.

Sorenson had very little interest in these agents, Mulder and Scully, and was unclear on the significance of the contents of the diplomatic pouch. He had been asked to be a part of the hearing, was told it was important to find the missing Agent Mulder, so he did what was expected. He was doing his job, keeping the wheels of government turning, regardless of his lack of personal understanding or involvement.

What he was unable to tolerate, however, was a federal agent pussyfooting around the questions the committee asked while refusing to give an appropriate answer. They were sitting in one of the highest courts in the country. These hearings were a serious matter, an important part of the foundation of this nation. He had no time– none of them had the time– to watch a young woman drag them through sanctimonious statements in an attempt to protect the apparent wrongdoings of her partner.

Agent Mulder’s whereabouts weren’t even the primary focus of this hearing, as far as Sorenson understood, but he would not sit idly by as their questions were ignored. He was a staunch proponent of holding insubordinate witnesses in contempt when the court was not being respected, and no one, not even a government employee, was immune to that. Had Agent Scully’s partner not walked into the room during their second session, Sorenson had no doubt they would have had to use it again.

He would have been impressed with Agent Scully’s conviction and loyalty to her partner had he not been so completely exhausted by the seemingly pointless nature of the entire hearing. Thankfully, Romine’s call for recess had cleared Sorenson’s schedule. He needed the time to focus on what mattered, to remind himself of the importance of his place as a senator.

He opened the door to his office, planning to start by catching up on the paperwork that was piled on his desk, only to find an unfamiliar man standing near it. Smoke curled around the top of his head as he turned to face him.

“Senator Sorenson,” the man said, before taking another drag of his cigarette. “It’s so nice to make your acquaintance.”

“How did you—”

The man held up his hand, looking more comfortable in the space than Sorenson ever felt himself. “Please, come in. I didn’t mean to impose. I wanted to speak to you about Agents Mulder and Scully.”

Sorenson walked through the office and around the desk and sat in his chair, his eyes never leaving the other man. “What about Agents Mulder and Scully?”

“Their work,” the man started before pausing to gather his thoughts, though Sorenson got the distinct feeling that it was all for show and he knew exactly what he was there to to say. “Their work is of great interest to me. This diplomatic pouch… its contents are not of their concern.”

“What are its contents?” Sorenson asked. He was curious, considering, despite himself, since such pouches usually contained nothing more interesting than confidential documents.

He watched as the man took a seat in the chair on the other side of his desk and took another pull from his cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs, his dead eyes never looking away, before letting it out.

“I need you to dismiss Agent Scully’s testimony and bring this hearing to an end.”

His pointed disregard for the question made Sorenson’s heart rate pick up. He was an elected official. He had taken an oath to serve his country, protect its people and its foreign interests, and he couldn’t do so by keeping issues of international affairs in secrecy.

“Agent Scully mentioned a toxin,” Sorenson said, attempting to get information about the pouch in another way. “There have been deaths. A doctor. Two actually. It is my understanding that the death of Dr. Bonita Charne-Sayre, a virologist with the World Health Organization, may have something to do with all this.”

There wasn’t a flinch, not a single sign of recognition as the man across his desk took another drag. “Your daughter is a very beautiful young woman.”

Sorenson held his breath at the sudden shift in conversation. He could hear his pulse in his ears as he turned to look over his shoulder at the framed picture of his smiling daughter placed on the shelf under the window.

“Brenda is an accomplished equestrian, is she not?” the man asked with a calmness that made Sorenson’s blood freeze in his veins. “Dr. Charne-Sayre was involved in a horse accident recently, it seems. Pity. I hope Brenda will fare better with her horses.”

Sorenson was an honorable man. He may be a politician, but he didn’t lie. Typically. And if he did, it was for good reason. He worked towards the truth. He did what was right.

But his daughter was his world.

He took a deep breath, smoke burning the inside of his nose. “What do you need?”

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@fridaysat9

#all eyes lead to the truth #terma #season four #s4 #4x09 #senator albert sorenson #x files #fanfic #x files fanfic #mulder #scully #msr

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logicalbookthief · 3 years

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Christmas Movies Ranked by How Anti-Capitalist They Are

It’s a Wonderful Life

Movies that make you want to pick a fight with the 1% and also weep with joy. Absolutely a classic and anti-capitalist at its very core. Will convince you we need to start oppressing landlords again.

“Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you're talking about... they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath? Anyway, my father didn't think so. People were human beings to him. But to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they're cattle.”

SAY THAT!!! George Bailey said fuck landlords, all my homies hate landlords, they have NO rights. Local man believes poor people are human, dedicates his life to helping them, and in his time of the need literally the whole town comes together to support him and his family. Class solidarity ftw!

“Remember no man is a failure who has friends.” Bitch I CRY EVERY GODDAMN TIME.

10/10

Home Alone

Soundtrack goes hard, the wacky hijinks even harder.

Loses points because the bandits had a prime opportunity to seize and redistribute some of the wealth from this ritzy Chicago neighborhood and instead they focus their energy on trying to kill an 8-year-old who outsmarts them at every turn.

2/10

Elf

A family favorite in our house. Touches on the overworking and mistreatment of employees through Greenway Press – Walter forced to choose between being with his family on Christmas Eve or losing his job, it’s implied Deb has a pet grooming business on the side to makes ends meet despite being a receptionist at a NY publishing company, etc.

Honestly most of the points come from Jonie’s underrated yet highly relatable storyline. She works in retail, exhausted and cynical towards the high-paced Christmas season which gives her little to no relief or reward, since she’s surviving on ramen noodles and using the employee showers because her water was cut off. Not expanded on enough to be considered a true Marxist piece but the effort is appreciated.

5/10

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Although the meme is correct in that Rudolph’s red nose becomes desirable only once it proves to be useful, it does get points for exposing the harmful nature of forced conformity and those alienated by these capitalist ideals -- Rudolph, Hermie, the island of misfit toys -- are given a place to belong despite the perceived “flaws” that before made them undesirable.

Also the elves definitely have a free dental-plan now thanks to Hermie and are hopefully on their way to unionizing. Fucking superb you funky little misfit.

6/10

Klaus (2019)

Turns a member of the bourgeoisie into a man I’d trust to carry my mail. Respect for postal workers this movie contains was ahead of its time.

No direct takedown of the establishment but a heartwarming message -- “A true selfless act always sparks another” bITCH I may be crying -- that emphasizes the importance of giving to others even when there is no selfish motivation to do so, which is inherently anti-capitalist.

8/10

The Santa Clause

Scott Calvin starts as a toy executive who takes part in the commercialization of Christmas. He was probably a business major so automatically loses points.

The Santa dynasty itself seems to operate under the cutthroat rules of the business world where you must overthrow (or in this case, throw him off the roof) the former CEO in order to seize power.

Elves have not unionized or seized the means of production by the end.

0/10

A Christmas Carol

THE ORIGINAL. Charles Dickens was not even in the neighborhood of fucking around with this one. CREATED the anti-capitalist Christmas genre!!

Rich man treats his employees like shit and gets terrorized by three ghosts on Christmas Eve. Force him to redistribute his wealth by dragging him through a montage of his most epic fails -- oh, hey, remember when your fiancé left you? -- and make him listen as all his employees and relatives complain about his stingy ass.

They end this slideshow by throwing this dude into his own grave. DIRECT ACTION.

Like damn, the ghosts really said, “If you hoard your resources and ignore those in need when you could directly improve/save lives with no cost to yourself, you will die ALONE and you WILL pay for your crimes in hell.” Literally watching this movie is a catharsis for anyone who is or has been poor and working class.

I’m including all versions of this movie but a special shout out to the Muppet version because it fucks the hardest.

100/10

How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000)

Listen I’m not even in realms of joking with this one. This movie is THE anti-capitalist film of the holiday season.

WhoVille commercializing Christmas and a fixation on consumer culture to the point where anything and anyONE who cannot be commodified -- aka the GRINCH -- is alienated? The Whos rediscovering that people should be cherished over material items once it all is stolen and they must confront how empty the holiday has become??

Cindy Lou becoming disillusioned in Christmas -- at an age that coincides when many children (those who celebrate Christmas at least) lost belief in Santa and had to wrestle with what the holiday means with the magic gone and they’re more aware of the rampant consumerism that taints the season?? Her resolve to find a meaning that goes beyond material consumption because if a holiday founded on goodwill doesn’t extend that goodwill to everyone, even those society deems undesirable, then what’s the point???

The Grinch despising Christmas because he is unable to participate and isolated from the Whos and also the better qualities within himself? His alienation serving to demonize him further as it allows the public to narrow his valid criticisms of the holiday down to him being different and thus inherently predisposed to evil?? And hmm isn’t it interesting that a LOT of this demonization comes via Mayor Augustus “generously paid for by the tax-payers of Whoville” Maywho, Mr. 1% himself.

The upper vs working class divide evident in the light show competition between Martha May and Betty Lou Who?? The opening scene of the shopping frenzy that mirrors our own consumerist culture and overworking of retail/poster workers??? This entire monologue:

“That's what it's all about, isn't it? That's what it's always been about. Gifts, gifts... gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts! You wanna know what happens to your gifts? They all come to me. In your garbage. You see what I'm saying? In your garbage. I could hang myself with all the bad Christmas neckties I found at the dump. And the avarice... the avarice never ends! ‘I want golf clubs. I want diamonds. I want a pony so I can ride it twice, get bored and sell it to make glue.’"

MARXIST KING. MENTION IT ALL.

1000/10

#christmas #christmas movies #how the grinch stole christmas #a christmas carol #elf #klaus #rudolph the red nosed reindeer #home alone #it's a wonderful life #the santa clause #this was a labor of love please clap

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some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 2 years

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Warning: past character death, character rebirth/transformation, blood.

Here is part 2 of Short Prompt 258! (one of the vampire ones)

I just really liked that one and decided to continue it.

Also, ignore the fact that I should be doing the requests in my inbox.

Part 1

~~~~

The twitch of a hand caught its attention, making it rise from its chair and slowly walk over. Deep red eyes watched with interest as more and more of the cold corpse began to move, muscles lightly spasming, before a shudder coursed through the body, and a loud gasp filled the silence of the room.

It stood by their side, observing as their spine arched with the now needless breath of air, and then slumped back down. They breathed shakily out of an old instinct, one that would become forgotten with time, and slowly strained their eyelids apart. Their gaze was filled with confusion and terror, with questions. Many of which became answered as they locked eyes with the dark monster awaiting their notice.

The Ancient.

They flinched out of reflex and tried to move away as the powerful vampire's hand glided towards them. However, they found themself unable to escape, body unnaturally exhausted and heavy, as if made of metal. A whimper slipped from their lips as it cradled their cheek, leftover human tears falling down their face.

"Hello, my fledgling~." - their Sire purred, gently stroking their skin with its thumb in a soothing manner. "Welcome to the colony~."

The moment its sentence finished, hundreds of other crimson eyes shined brightly into view, glowing in the darkness surrounding them both, watching, staring at the newest addition to their group. The youngling's fear only grew beneath the unfamiliar gazes, fresh claws weakly scraping at the soft material they were lying atop as more terrified whines hummed in their throat.

"Shhh, shhh." - the Ancient whispered, its free hand coming to pet their head. "Look at me."

Shaking, they reluctantly tore their gaze away from the shadows, relocking eyes with the other once more. "Good," it praised, rising a different kind of shiver from them.

The fledgling only then noticed how close it was to them and how high up they were, as if on a table. Perhaps they were on one, with a soft blanket beneath their back. They would've loved to check and distract themself with something so plain but had no time to look, as the other's gaze slowly drew all of their focus.

It didn't take long for them to get lost in those dark, sharp orbs, calming down, forgetting what had troubled them so much in the first place. Their stiff muscles loosened up, eyelids drooping down halfway in a relaxed manner. There was only them and Sire, nobody else, nothing else to worry about at that moment.

"Hungry?" - it asked with a quirked lip, that one word being all it took for the youngling to suddenly become painfully aware of an odd need clawing at their chest, a craving that crawled its way up their throat, through their jaw, and dug deep, deep into their teeth, into their new fangs.

But they couldn't utter a single word, couldn't voice how starved their stomach felt, only managing a desperate sob, their desire to bite down on something etching a pleading frown onto their face.

The other smiled. "I'll take that as a yes."

The hand cupping their cheek retreated to the front of their face, joined by the other one tangled in their hair. The Ancient promptly slit its own wrist, the smell of what they could only describe as ambrosia hitting their senses like a punch, making their pupils blow wide, nearly overtaking their irises.

Their jaws practically snapped open of their own accord as dark but shimmering blood dripped from the wound. A drop of it hit their tongue, and their fangs popped into view-

"Ah, ah." - the Ancient lightly scolded, using its uninjured hand to press a single finger down onto their forehead, keeping them from potentially lifting their head. "No biting."

The fledgling choked out another sob, looking at their Sire pleadingly, but it only hummed a final "Mh hm." in denial and lightly shook its head. "My hide will break your fangs, little one."

They whimpered but considered the explanation through the unrelenting haze of hunger, thoughts jumping back to the broken knife sitting in their trembling hands. They cringed at the memory. If a metal blade broke that easily, their teeth definitely didn't stand a chance. So, taking in a stuttering breath, they made the conscious decision to retract them, the only problem being that their fangs didn't feel like cooperating.

They struggled against their own teeth as the godly-tasting blood continued to drip onto their tongue, making it all the more challenging. They flexed different muscles of their face, searching for the correct one. But even when finding success there, their body still refused to obey.

Their fangs did not wish to hide, staying out on display against their owner's will. The fledgling's brow's furrowed in difficulty as they strained their flesh to retreat. It admittedly hurt, the pain slowly spreading through their jaw, bringing a few last tears to their desperate eyes.

At some point, they managed to hide their fangs three courters of the way, a flash of hope shining across their features, but as a particularly big drop of lively crimson hit their tastebuds, their sharp teeth snapped right back out.

The youngling let out some discouraged noise but tried a few more times, unfortunately only earning themself more pain in their already aching muscles.

Ultimately, their eyes fell shut in defeat as another desperate whine echoed through the room. They couldn't do it. They were just so hungry and couldn't help it.

But luckily, their attention was drawn away from their moment of failure as the finger on their forehead was quickly joined by four more, which then began carding through their hair comfortingly, getting them to look up again.

Their Sire seemed... proud? W-Why? The fledgling wasn't sure they understood.

"I'm impressed, little one~." - the Ancient murmured, chuckling at the puzzling look they received from their thrall. "Most who taste my blood cannot as much as think straight."

It leaned down, bringing the two closer to one another as its voice turned into an admiring whisper. "And some even go feral at the bearest drop of it."

Backing away again, it grinned. "I knew you would be the right choice~."

They shivered at the praise again, having not expected it. They weren't sure if they would ever get used to it. The youngling went to whimper out another wordless plea, but as their Sire spoke again, they found that there was no need for it.

"Retract your fangs."

Their teeth snapped into hiding within an instant, surprising them. A new fear bubbled up in their mind at how easily the other controlled them, but as their lips met with the warm bleeding wrist, all thoughts besides food quickly became abandoned.

They vigorously began to mouth, lick and suck at the other's coarse skin, desperate for every bit of blood. A pleased whine that smoothly turned into a moan was muffled by their Sire's forearm, its free hand petting their head.

The youngling was blissfully unaware of just how embarrassing their situation was, having forgotten about the colony eyes observing them. There was only them and Sire. Them, Sire, and Sire's blood.

Blood. Blood. Such divine-tasting blood.

As they rapidly gained strength, they managed to lift their arms, shakily bringing them to the wrist between their jaws, weakly grasping the Ancient's limb. As they fed and their hold on it grew in force, it was only a few minutes before their fun was deemed over.

"That's enough." - it calmly declared, getting their attention. "Now, let go."

They whimpered and refused, grip tightening by the tiniest amount as their eyebrows furrowed pleadingly, not the brightest of their ideas.

"Fledgling." - its voice was still patient, but the sternness and warning made them flinch and release immediately. They didn't like that tone of voice.

...

The slight tinge of fear that entered their scent alongside the stiffness in their shoulders did not go unnoticed, but the Ancient chose not to mention it.

Not yet.

It calmly licked its wound shut and offered them its hand to help them rise. "Come along, little one."

The youngling hesitated for only a moment, accepting the assistance and standing on wobbly legs. The fog filling their mind had yet to leave, and so, they paid no attention to the eyes following them as they trailed after their Sire like a lost puppy, disappearing into a dark hallway.

Their own eyes adjusted to the shadows quickly, allowing them to scan their surroundings, taking in the intricate architecture and decoration. Finely carved furniture and paintings of years long gone passed them. The place was old but clearly well taken care of, not a spot of rot, dust, or ripped wallpaper to see anywhere.

Momentarily, they glanced behind their shoulder and noted the colony still stalking close behind but returned their gaze to the Ancient soon after, unfazed. It was perfect timing, as their Sire stopped in front of a pair of doors and led them into another room.

As the doors closed behind them and they became separated from the other vampires, the haze on their mind suddenly lifted, bringing their fears back to the forefront of their thoughts. A shudder crawled down their spine, their focus snapping to the powerful vampire before them.

It stopped in the middle of the room and beckoned them closer. The fledgling obliged with shaky steps, gaze falling to the floor as they neared their Sire.

"Kneel." - it ordered calmly, and they obeyed without question, fearful of what might happen otherwise.

A hand came to rest atop their bowed head, sending more tremors through their body. And they gulped, trying to steel their nerves.

"Tell me your name, little one."

"H-Hunter."

A small chuckle sounded above them at the answer, tinting their cheeks a faint pink, barely visible due to the low amount of blood in their system.

Their Sire began to softly card its fingers through their hair, a confusingly pleasant feeling. "I see The Guild isn't very creative these days."

Out of curiosity, it asked, "Do you have a surname?"

A somber shadow fell over their heart as they answered.

"137."

...

A short silence filled the room before the Ancient spoke again, almost carefully this time. "That is a number."

The shadow darkened.

"I... I am Hunter 137." - they said in a voice that grew increasingly monotone, falling back into old habits.

...

Quiet again, their Sire's clawed hand no longer petting their head. Hunter almost whimpered as it stilled, suddenly realizing how much they craved to feel more of that gentle touch.

The hand left their scalp, completely breaking contact, and they squeezed their eyes shut, preparing for... well, they didn't quite know what. But clearly, they had messed up somehow, displeased their new mentor-

"Look at me." - its words were barely a whisper, but they reached the youngling's ears just like any furious shout would.

Hunter pried their eyelids open and tilted their head up, their terror evident by their dilated pupils and shaking body. The Ancient's face held a frown. They fucked up. They must have. Their breathing went haywire despite being unneeded, lungs no longer requiring oxygen.

They flinched as its hands reentered their vision. Another mistake. Gods, why couldn't they do anything right? Why? Why? Why-

The fledgling jumped again as the hands came into contact with their skin, cupping their face with care they didn't understand, didn't think they deserved. Their Sire's expression morphed into one of mild concern, confusing them further as it wiped away red-tinted tears Hunter didn't even realize had streamed down their cheeks.

"Were... all the hunters named this way?" - it asked quietly, soothingly caressing their skin with its thumbs in small arches. They leaned into the touch without realizing it, their Sire taking note of it.

"N-No." - Hunter croaked out, failing to hold in their whimpers as the other's brows pinched together even tighter. "T-The e-eld-ers had n-nor-mal na-mes."

...

"...Hunter 137... is not your name."

Their breathing caught in their throat at their Sire's words. Did- Did they not even deser-

"We shall give you a real name." - it declared, making its thrall's eyes blow wide open in shock. It smiled down at them lightly, carefully bringing one hand back to the top of their head, petting them once more. Their bottom lip quivered at the sensation.

"Have you ever thought of a name, little one? Of something you'd like to be called by?" - it asked, cocking its head to the side.

...

There was a word on the tip of their tongue, but...

...

It must've shown on their face as their Sire pressed, "Tell me."

Their eyebrows furrowed in worry, but they gave in, eyes flitting across the Ancient's face, unable to meet their gaze as they whispered. "...M-Mezereon..."

Its features lit in recognition, brows raising slightly. "Like the flower?"

Their face burned even more. Of course, it was a stupid idea... "...Y-Yes..."

The Ancient hummed thoughtfully, seeing how the word tasted on their tongue. "Mezereon..."

Eventually, after a moment of nothing but dread in its thrall's heart, it decided. "It suits you."

They seemed to perk up at that, the tiniest quirk in the corner of their mouth. "T-Thank you..."

It patted their cheek gently before releasing them and taking on a more serious air and expression. "Now then, Mezereon."

They shivered at how natural it sounded as the other continued talking and crossed its arms behind its back.

"There are rules here that you will be expected to follow."

The fledgling gave a small nod, showing that they were paying attention.

"First, you will address me as Sire. Other vampires, who are above you in authority, as either Sir, M'am, or whatever they tell you to. Fellow fledglings and thralls, meanwhile, you may simply call by name. Understand?"

"Y-Yes, Sire."

"Good." - it said. "Second, when it comes to the colony hierarchy, you are penultimate, just barely above the children."

"Well..., at least I'm not the bare bottom of the barrel..." - Mezereon thought, catching the quick but amused lift in their Sire's lips.

"Third, you will follow orders. Refusing to do so will result in punishment."

The youngling tensed up and gulped at its words before giving a stern nod, their nerves not escaping its notice.

The Ancient pondered their reaction, suspicion lacing its thoughts as dots slowly connected in its mind, but chose not to mention it yet once more, opting to wait longer. Instead, it cleared its throat.

"Tomorrow, once the sun has set, we shall begin your training." - it explained, receiving another nod. "Now, you've had a long day, so I shall leave you to rest."

Its thrall bowed their head and gave a short "Understood, Sire." in reply. Satisfied, for now, the colony leader headed out the door, exiting the room and leaving the fledgling to heave out an uneven breath and slump their body.

They got back to their feet, standing straight, which didn't last very long, as their exhausted body immediately steered them towards the bed, ignoring everything else. As Mezereon's head hit the soft pillows, they were out like a light.

#human x vampire #vampire x human #vampire x vampire hunter #at least the hunter used to be human #writing #writeblr #monster x human #human x monster #monster/human #story #short story #writing community

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

overtime

You let your boyfriend release stress from working overtime.

REQUEST. med! student au / doctor! au + forbidden relationship + praising kink + dacryphilia

CONTENT/WARNINGS. praising kink, dacryphilia, face fucking, huge age gap (Nanami is like 20 years older), mentions of gloomy atmospheres expected of medical centres, gagging, mentions of previous lovemaking sessions

NOTES. ah thank you for this request anon, i’m really in love with the whole med student / doctor au ingredient cuz well...it’s sorta self-indulgent. i hope you liked this as much as i did!

The familiar stingy aroma of disinfectant looms at every corner of the wall, pressing down beneath your scrubs and deep into your scrubs. You find it ironic that the walls are always so white, barely any colour to surround the entire building. Growing up, you believe that white represents tranquillity, silence, and serenity – which is the exact opposite of what university hospitals really are.

You’re no stranger to the pained moans echoing at the ends of the hall, the sight of children with sunken cheeks playing with a cannula almost too painful to look at.

The clock above the front desks reads that it’s a little past four in the morning, and you’re beyond weary. You’ve grown used to just being high off caffeine and being satisfied with quick ten minute naps before you’re summoned again. People always ask you, why choose this profession? You could make as much money without having to be this tired, to which you always respond with a frown, claiming that it’s never about the money and actual working professionals are a lot more exhausted than you are, yet not once have they complained.

They do have their days though, and it just so happens that it’s one of your superior’s days as he tugs at your wrist, dragging you inside the nearest empty room before soft lips dive down to capture yours.

You don’t have to open your eyes to know it’s him.

You’ve fooled around long enough with your superior to know it’s his scent washing over yours, that all too familiar tent growing in his pants pressing between your legs and bumping your core as a silent promise of what’s to come next. A stuttered, breathy moan immediately greets his ears when he pins your arms overhead, his lips falling into the sweet column of your neck.

It’s clear that this is wrong – both of you know this – but the pleasure and need to relieve stress in such an overwhelming environment clouds both your consciousness that neither parties pull away.

Your relationship with him started off with just curiosity.

Doctor Nanami is a well accomplished man, earning beyond money and titles in his twenty years of service in the field. He knows he looks good, knows he’s irresistible every time he comes in front of the class, looking equally dashing in either a nude suit or in white coats. Someone of his age and experience definitely is no fool to the way his bright eyed student’s gaze lingers over his lips as she stays behind in class to ask about something she doesn’t get far longer than should be necessary.

He’s an expert at the human body more than anything else – Nanami knows lust when he sees one.

And he’s always been such a kind, concerned doctor who only wants everyone to feel better that how could he say no to you, especially when you’re only so eager to suck him off under the table, getting off to the fact your pretty lips are wrapped around his thick and veiny cock?

What once starts off as a mutual agreement to use each other for pleasure while still keeping the faux professionalism to not lose face, something shifts during the stolen kisses during break times and heated touches as promises of I’ll see you later after overtimes. Private tutoring sessions turns into moments of reminiscing childhoods, hands splayed all over his chest while he tucks you in his arms, mumbling something about always have wanting to be his own version of a hero.

Things move faster than both of you realize, the titles dropped and replaced with sweethearts and good morning sir topped with a sweet, intimate smile that only he could ever know the meaning of.

It’s simple, longing, and definitely unprofessional, even more so when Nanami pushes you down on the floor, eager hands unbuckling his belt to spring his cock free. Your mouth salivates at the red pulsing tip already leaking with pre-cum, your tiny hands on its way to wrap itself around his base when Nanami takes matters into his own hands and slips his cock through your lips in one thrust.

Your back hits the wall and your eyes spring with tears, gurgled sounds of Nanami fucking down your throat lewd and dirty in the empty room. He sighs, chest panting and hands cradling your head. “You feel so good, sweetheart,” he praises, bucking his hips further inside. “Don’t know what I’d do without you here, always so ready to make me feel good.”

The moan you let out vibrates around his cock, fuelling his desire intensely.

Nanami has always been gentle with you; as a man who values time over anything else, he likes to savour each second he has with you, slow, rough hands running up and down the curve of your spine before he flicks his tongue deep within your pussy, wanting to make you cum countless times before he makes love to you. Had you both been home, he’d cradle your face and stare deep into your eyes as he fucks you, sweat tinged from the slight burrow of his brows as he commands, “Look at me. Look at me when I’m fucking you, angel.”

And you being you, you’ll remain submissive to the pleasure he’s more than glad to give you, leg wrapping around his waist all to feel the way he’s hitting deep inside your sopping cunt.

He’s impatient this time around, and you can’t blame him. You’ve barely seen each other from hours of working overtime, with you staying up late to study for finals and him barely leaving the operating rooms. You gladly let him use you like this just as he’s allowed you to cum multiple times before despite his clear order to hold back, but Nanami is a soft man at heart, unable to resist his precious lover when you’re trembling around him like that.

Nanami places a palm at the back of your head to prevent you getting fucked into the wall, his pace not slowing down a bit. He gazes at you under his lashes, cheeks hollowed and drool dribbling from the edges of your lips.

He finds you utterly filthy, a complete contrast to the well-put med-student who’s always admired and looked up to by their peers. Nanami groans as his tip hits the back of your throat, your nose pressing down on the neatly trimmed blond hairs brushed on his base. You gag around him, the tears crystallizing your cheeks. Filthy, yet still so pretty his little angel is, and for a moment, Nanami pauses, captivated by your beauty.

His cock is still pulsing inside your mouth, a thumb running across your tears to wipe them away. Nanami grabs your chin to tilt your head up, and he swears he could cum right then and there. You’re kneeling on the bleached floors, eyes wide with a tinge of innocence, tears collected in your lashes and cheeks sucked to take him in deep.

“Always so pretty for me, angel,” he coos, sliding his drenched cock out your mouth gruesomely slow, stopping only with the tip in. “Is my cock making you cry? You’ve taken me before, angel, this isn’t difficult for you now, is it?”

You hum around his cock as a response, and Nanami bucks into your mouth by accident, causing his length to slip past your walls until he’s right at your throat.

He’s big and long, his dick always having been a blessing to the both of you, but at this time, it feels more like a curse. Drips of cum paints the back of your mouth but you only grip your thigh harder, ignoring the painful throbbing of your cunt that’s so needy for him already. You remind yourself not to be selfish and focus on him instead, to your precious superior who needs you to help get his mind off things.

Eager to be of service as always, you swipe your tongue all over the ridges of his cock, making sure to press the wet muscle harder on the prominent veins. Nanami throws his head back to moan, his nails gently scraping your scalp with each thrust.

It’s hard to tell who’s setting the pace, but it becomes clear as you kneel there motionlessly, squeezing his ass instead while he relentlessly fucks your mouth. His groans are growing louder, breaths falling out of rhythm with each passing seconds. Your eyes are shut tight as you let him abuse your throat, hitting deep inside you with each precise thrust in addition to his balls slapping your chin.

Your face is sopping wet, both from drool, tears, and his cum. You stay there like a good girl, doing your best to breathe through your nose as he throbs inside you. Nanami’s words are garbled and incomprehensible, enticed to only snap his harder when he sees your tears streaming down your face and wetting your scrubs.

His length slips past inside your mouth into an impossibly deeper angle as he tugs your hair up, his knees bent just to continuously pummel against your tonsils as if it was his own winning goal. Your cries increase in volume at the way he’s losing himself in you, forgetting to watch the back of your head before he thrusts all the way, keeping you flat and frozen gagging on his cock, nose nudged against his hairs.

Nanami’s groan is accompanied by the twitching of his cock, and he cums, thick spurts of white shooting down your throat. You try to pull yourself away from him after that, thinking that he’s satisfied, but he only grips your hair harder as a warning.

Still struggling to breathe, you swallow around his thick saliva-drenched length, the mere motion of you gulping making your walls close down on him.

Nanami grunts at the oversensitivity and he pulls out, his dick growing boneless and soft.

He’s utterly spent, your drool and his cum dripping down to the floors in audible plaps. Nanami sighs as he takes sanitary wipes from the unused desk to wipe his dick clean, while you stay on the ground, palms flat beneath you as you pant for air.

You can tell you’ll have a sore throat by tomorrow because you utterly fucked, voice growing hoarse with each failed cough. Falling back onto the wall, you close your eyes, only to snap them open again when you feel something wet and warm rubbing your skin.

Nanami is in front of you, his touch gentle and eyes soft as he cleans your face, thumb absentmindedly cradling your bottom lip.

You don’t fight back the smile that matches his. Even after everything, Nanami is still your boyfriend, someone who isn’t just a good fuck to you anymore. This is only one of the reasons you’ve fallen so madly in love with him; his effortless ability to take care of others truly meritorious of him.

He dunks them into nearest bin and kisses you flat on the lips, his large hand cupping your cheeks. You sigh into the slow kiss, enjoying what little – and fleeting – time you have with him.

Nanami pulls away with a popping sound, a lovesick smile on his usually stoic expression. It makes you feel giddy and even a little shy, forgetting the fact he just fucked your skull seconds ago, but it’s rare that he lets his guard down anywhere that isn’t the comfort and safety of his home. You’re his home though, and he kisses you one last time, the gesture telling a thousand more words than he’s ever able to.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “I promise I’ll make it up to you when we’re both home.”

You don’t stop him once he finally leaves the room, his rushed footsteps to make it back to the operating room a signal for you to get back to work too. It’s already five am when you’ve made it back to your post, but instead of feeling tired, you’re a lot more energized compared to when you first got here.

Perhaps working overtime isn’t so bad after all, not when there’s always a promise you and Nanami are never leaving the bed for the free weekend.

You’ll just have to be patient.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #nanami imagines #nanami kento imagines #suki: 500 milestone event

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demonsandco · 3 years

Note

I just saw you don't have anything with Barbatos, this is a crime /j /lh

So could I please request A, C, D, F, K, M, P, V and W from the smut alphabet with him? I know it's a lot, so please feel free to just pick the ones you want to do if it's too much!! I love your writing by the way, thank you for sharing it with us and I hope you have a wonderful day💖

Aaa thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my stuff!! I’m still a little unsure on how I want to portray Barb (considering he has such little screen time smh), but you cannot tell me this man isn’t secretly a slut (affectionate)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

As with everything, Barbatos’ first instinct after sex is to take care of his partner in any way he can. He’ll want to run them a bath, get them something to drink, and if it’s not too late he may even offer to make them a light snack, all the while completely ignoring his own needs. He wants to feel useful and productive, unused to properly relaxing or taking a break. Even if his muscles feel like jelly and his legs tremble with every step, he’ll still focus all his energy on serving them. Luckily, with how exhausted he tends to feel right after sex, it’s not too hard for them to convince him to just cuddle up and rest for once, their encouragement being more than enough to convince him to indulge for once.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As much as Barb isn’t a fan of messiness, there's something about cumming on his partner that he finds immensely pleasing, being able to claim them in a primal way, without having to worry about lasting marks. He especially loves cumming all over their hands, watching it drip down to their wrists. He has no shame in cleaning it up for them, either, bringing their dirtied hands to his mouth and running his tongue over their palms, diligently sucking each finger clean individually, all while making direct eye contact with a lewd look on his face.

(cont under the cut)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

With how intensely private Barbatos is, the fact that he has an active sex life, or experience in general, could be a dirty secret on it’s own. Many believe that he’s married to his job, and even those that are close to him, rarely hear about the more private partners of his life. It’s not that he purposefully keeps his relationship a secret, but rather he just tends to blend into the background and he hardly ever feels the need to talk about himself. The amount of passion he has in the bedroom is surprising to say the least, considering how he carries himself in public.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Barbatos greatly enjoys stress positions, especially ones that involve restraints. His favorite would have to be kneeling, legs spread with his ankles tied to his thighs and his hands tied behind his back, forcing his spine to arch and leaving him exposed and helpless to his partner’s every whim. He knows that it’s rather out of the ordinary, and he definitely doesn’t expect every night with his partner to involve something like that, but he can’t help but crave the thrill that comes with that position, unable to move and not having to think, only having to hold still and letting them use his body as they wish.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Unsurprisingly, one of Barb's favorite kinks is bondage, either with ropes or delicate ribbons. It’s cathartic in a way, both tying up his partner and being restrained himself. He finds himself drawn to intricate knot patterns especially, enjoying the artistry and skill that comes with it. He could spend hours restraining them in an artful manner without getting tired of it. He’s even more fond of having them do the same to him, knowing that they put time and effort into learning different patterns for him, not being able to do anything but hold still as their hands slide over his body in such an intimate way. Every shift of his muscles or hitch of his breath causes the bonds to bite into his skin, pressing tightly in his most sensitive areas.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Despite having a fairly high libido, it’s actually incredibly difficult to turn Barbatos on without being outright sexual. He has an impressive amount of control, especially when he’s working, and no amount of flirtatious touches or whispered promises are enough to shatter his composure. If his partner really wants to have an effect on him, they need to be bold and direct.

The easiest way to do so is to follow him somewhere private, like an empty hallway or the kitchen, and be physical. Grab his hips and press up against his back, pin him against a wall or counter with their thigh between his legs, or pull him down for a kiss while tugging on his hair. They need to be quick, taking too much time will make him rush back to work and ruin their element of surprise, but the sudden affection is enough to steal his breath and leave him aching for more. Once they’ve managed to break his control, though, they’d better be prepared to not get much sleep that night, because he’ll be eager to follow through with their advances the moment he finishes his work for the day.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Barbatos tends to prefer a slower, passionate pace, every movement calculated and controlled to bring a specific amount of pleasure to his partner. It isn’t often that he has time to spare, so when he does, he wants to savor every moment he gets to spend with them, taking his time with their body and indulging his greedy side. He loves how desperate it makes them, his movements so slow that it’s practically torture, highly pleasurable, but just barely not enough to cum. He’ll drag on the moment for as long as he can, because he knows it’ll be a while before he can do it again.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Barbatos is naturally very quiet, his voice soft and soothing. He doesn’t speak much during sex, and when he does, his words are barely more than a whisper. At first, he’s completely silent, purposefully stifling his noises out of embarrassment, but even when he lets go, he never really gets loud. Most of his noises sound like gasps, and even his rarely heard moans are extremely breathy and desperate, much higher in tone than his regular voice. He has a habit of trying to muffle himself if he feels he’s getting too noisy, hiding his face in bed sheets or pillows and biting into the material, or bringing his hands up to his face to bite his knuckles, attempting to regain control of his voice.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Unlike most demons, Barbatos’ horns are actually very sensitive, to the point where the slightest touch is enough to send shivers down his spine. The little skeletal appendages function more like feelers or antennae, rather than weapons. While he’s distracted, they often move without him realising, shifting with his emotions and acting as an easy way for his partner to tell when he’s really enjoying something.

His tail isn’t anywhere near as sensitive, but it��s certainly a fun addition to the bedroom. He has very precise control of it, being able to move both tips independently with precision. It basically self lubricates, too, having a strange wet, almost gloopy and slippery texture, without ever leaving behind any residue to clean up. He’d be more than happy to use it on his partner, or himself, and show them exactly how skilled he is in controlling its movements.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me barbatos #obey me smut #smut alphabet #lime time

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mara-xx217 · 3 years

Note

Pokes head

May I request Michael being a possessive daddy and fighting a killer who hurt his girlfriend ? It can be anyway you like 💙

Why of course you can~ This isn’t based in Dbd, but the normal world. Hope you don’t mind!

Possessive, Protective Mikey

You were like some sort of disease to Michael. Or, perhaps, a parasite was a better descriptor of how you affected him. You wormed your way into him, deep into his chest, right beside his cold, soulless heart. You made him… feel, regardless of what that actually meant, it was beyond unacceptable in his eyes. That warm, painful throbbing in his chest was more than distracting, it was nauseating, disturbing. Terrifying… In a sick, twisted, wrong way, you terrified the Shape of Haddonfield. Michael fucking Myers was absolutely terrified of a small, defenseless creature that was completely helpless against the evil and cruelty he wielded against the world. He should kill you a hundred thousand times over for this transgression! But… it wouldn’t make him feel any better. He only… feels more empty every time your cheeks are stained with tears. Cold. Dead. Michael would feel dead without you…

This isn’t the first time he’s caught someone hurting you. It’s happened many, many times over, and his reaction has ranged from blinded rage to searing hatred. Not just for the one harming you, but towards you, yourself. It was that lack of control that drove Michael insane. He couldn’t watch you 24/7, couldn’t always follow you around or know where you were at any given moment… It drove him fucking crazy, and he took that frustration out on not just the asshole unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with you, but onto you, as well.

But, even that was quickly losing its luster to him. Michael had thought that hurting you would bring him some sort of fulfillment, like it has always done in the past when he had hurt others. It never has, though. Sure, he’s lied to himself, trying desperately to convince himself that seeing you all small, all scared and teary-eyed brought him a measure of enjoyment, to have your blood on his hands, to have you groveling in terror before him- but it didn’t. It- He- Michael felt… not good, when that happened. You made him… stop to consider how his actions would affect you, and he hated that.

Michael despises that you’re a magnet for trouble. That you just can’t seem to stay the hell away from people that want to do you harm. Sure, he doesn’t mind killing them. Quite the opposite, in fact, he rather enjoys seeing them covered in their own blood, begging for their pathetic lives before he mercilessly snuffs them out. No, Michael hates that you get hurt in the first place. The only one that should ever have the right to put their hands on you was him! Him, and him alone. Anyone else would be destroyed.

Some wannabe serial killer punk had set his eyes on you. Luckily for you, Michael knew better than to leave you to your own devices, anymore. He caught the little bastard scoping out your home before you had any idea of the danger you were in. He’d make sure that, this time, he’d be in complete control of the situation. You won’t be hurt, but that idiot thinking that he can do as he pleases? He’s going to regret the day he was born…

Sitting in your kitchen, you drank what must be your fifth coffee of the night. Strange things were happening, and it left you unable and unwilling to sleep at night. Rustling outside your windows, the sound of someone possibly jimmying your doors and windows, looking for a possible way in… Muddy footprints on your porch and small, dead animals left on your door mat… It was becoming too much. You’re… pretty sure it wasn’t Michael. He did love to torment you, but this wasn't really his thing. He was much more… direct, with his approach to you. This… this was someone else…

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you rub your eyes, feeling them water involuntarily from how dry they were. Anxiously, you tap your fingers on the top of the counter, before sighing heavily and grabbing your coffee mug. You decided to make your way to the living room, thinking that some TV would help calm your nerves and get your mind off of things. Fuck, I’m exhausted… You thought bitterly as you crashed onto the couch, nearly spilling lukewarm coffee all over yourself.

Picking up the remote, you absentmindedly flipped through channels, not really wanting to watch anything. It was just something else to focus on, rather than the impending sense of dread that was washing over you. This feeling was one that you were well acquainted with: the feeling of being watched. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your palms were slick with sweat. Slowly, you sit up, clumsily placing your mug on the table in front of you. The hairs on your entire body stood on end. Something’s not right here…

As you begin to rise off the couch, a firm hand pushes you back down into a sitting position. Your heart jumped up into your throat. You’re very familiar with Michael’s hands, and the one still gripping your shoulder was much, much smaller than his… Short, shaky breaths escaped through your clenched teeth. Fuck..! Oh shit- Oh my God no no no-! You don’t dare to move, only stare straight ahead at nothing as your mind runs wild with possibilities. Who the hell is it?! How did they get in?! Why me?! Where the fuck is Michael when I fucking need him?!?

The intruder sucks in a deep breath, as though he’s about to say something, but instead yelps in surprise as he’s ripped away from you suddenly and violently. You gasp, shooting up and scrambling across the room, back peddling into an opposing corner. Curling in on yourself, you crumple onto the floor, watching the brutality unfolding before you through the cracks of your fingers.

Michael had thrown the intruder back, sending him crashing into a mostly bare bookshelf, breaking most of the shelves along with it. You cringe and jump, feeling your insides twist and revolt against you. Michael drops to the floor, straddling the winded, smaller man as he desperately tries to fight back. Vainly. It was laughable, really. The idiot didn’t stand a chance against the human incarnation of evil, itself.

Michael briefly debated on playing with his food. There was something about seeing them crawl and beg that really set him off, but when he glanced at you over his shoulder, in the fetal position and hyperventilating, he actually decided against it. It was getting under his skin seeing you like this, and the quicker this is… inconvenience is dealt with, the quicker things will be back to normal. Well, to Michael’s fucked up definition of the word “normal”, that is.

With a quick stab to the back of his neck, the intruder was killed. Normally, Michael would have painted the walls with this creep’s blood, but he decided that it would be too much of a pain in the ass to clean up. With a flick of his wrist, Michael twists and pulls out the blade, wiping the excess blood onto the back of his victim’s shirt. He looks back over to you, and sees you stiffen. His… Huh. His chest actually hurts…

With a heavy sigh, he stands, stepping over the dead body as he makes his way over to you. A major part of you was beyond terrified. Is he gonna hurt me..? Oh- Oh God..! I’m gonna- I’m- I’m gonna..! You were trembling, shaking so hard that your teeth were actually chattering audibly. Michael’s eye twitched. He was conflicted: one part of him loved that you were this scared of him, as you should be, but the other… the other hated it. He- Well, he wanted… something, but he just didn’t know what. Fingers twitching, he reached out to you, struggling to ignore how you froze as he slowly approached you.

You really thought that he was going to grab you by the hair and drag you off to the bedroom, so when his fingertips just barely brushed the top of your head, moving the hair from your face, you were, well… at a bit of a loss. Michael has never, ever been that gentle while touching you. Ever. You raise your head slightly, just enough so that you could see him. He still had that damn mask on, of course, and his body language hardly betrayed what he was thinking or feeling, but- You couldn’t deny that his fingers were trembling ever so slightly.

He slowly crouches in front of you, treating you as though you're some kind of animal that will either bolt at the slightest movement or go for his jugular, or something like that. You don’t move or speak, unsure of what he was doing. When he placed his hand where that stalker touched you, gently- carefully squeezing your shoulder as though you were made of glass, you… you relaxed.

You could tell that he was struggling to be gentle, with how his fingers twitched uncontrollably and the pressure of his fingertips varied. You looked up to him, then down at his chest as an odd warmth spread through your cheeks. Michael was extremely possessive over you. He hated it when you interacted with anyone else, especially other men. But, right now, even though another man had touched you, he wasn’t flying off the handle like he usually did. He was still extraordinarily pissed off that he had given the bastard just enough time to physically touch you, but it was remedied.

He was fucking dead, and you were still here. You were his and his alone. That wasn’t called into question. There was no dispute. Michael Myers is the only person that is ever allowed to touch you. You’ve come to accept this, and slowly but surely, you’re even beginning to enjoy his touch. As sick and messed up as it was, you’ve started to develop feelings for him, despite the fact that he made your life a living hell. If anything, you knew that no one would hurt you ever again. No one, except for him.

#Halloween #Michael Myers #Michael Myers x reader #og michael myers

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amistytown · 3 years

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Power Over Me (Leviathan x GN!MC)

Leviathan x GN!MC as Lord of Shadow and Henry; MC is referred to as Henry but remains gender-neutral. I enjoy the TSL lore in Obey Me and wanted to write a bit for it. I initially had an alternate ending in mind, but I decided to save it for another idea I might write at some point. Tried to keep Levi in character while giving him and the story a slightly different feel since it takes place in a fantasy world. Also listened to Power Over Me by Dermot Kennedy on repeat while I wrote this so chose to title it accordingly. Hopefully, it turned out all right. Trigger warning for mentions of blood and self-deprecating thoughts. Mostly some angst with fluff. As always, sorry for the typos that I may have missed, and thank you to everyone who takes the time to read. I appreciate it!

Lightning illuminates the throne room, the Lord of Shadow watching the rain batter the windows, gaze sullen. A storm rages outside, mirroring the flood of emotion bursting forth to drown him in misery. Though he can only hold himself accountable, allowing his envy to fester and take possession of his heart in a moment of weakness. He regrets the letters he frantically wrote in his jealously, the heated words exchanged between you, and your pain forever engrained into the parchment, the ink smudged by your tears, which now lay in pieces at his feet. He considered to make the journey to you, begging for your forgiveness, but he knows he’s undeserving. Instead, he mourns the loss of your friendship, the loneliness left in its wake burning him from the inside out as he cries into his hands, his tortured sobs lost to the thunder roaring above.

The doors swing open, light spilling in from the hall. He recoils at the intrusion, anger welling and threatening to spill over, his patience worn thin. A growl dies in his throat, eyes widening at the vision before him, so beautiful and precious his entire being aches with longing. Slowly, he takes in the sight of you, engraving every detail into his memory. Your windswept hair and the raindrops trickling down your face, clinging to your lashes and following the curve of your lips as you smile sweetly at him, staggering into his arms.

“Henry,” he whispers into the nape of your neck, daring to embrace you and revel in the feel of your body against his; your skin cool and soft, and your scent rich, intoxicating him. He’s certain he’s not worthy of your compassion, yet he can’t bear to turn you away, selfishly clinging to you and delighting in the fact you lean into him, your arms winding around his waist to pull him closer. My Henry, he thinks, tightening his grip, afraid he’ll lose you again if he’s not careful. “I’m sorry. I’m so so—”

You grow limp, legs buckling under your weight.

Fear engulfs him, heart lurching as he supports you, catching your hand in his. “Henry?” he whimpers, noticing how your chest heaves with each breath, and the way your brows knit in discomfort, a low groan slipping past clenched teeth. “Henry! What’s wrong? Tell me, please.”

“I ran into a bit of trouble on the way here,” you manage, laughing pitifully. “I didn’t realize . . .” Your fingers fumble to unclasp your cloak, and he swallows thickly at way lay beneath. Blood soaks your blouse—a sickening shade of red—the fabric sticking to your back.

“You didn’t realize?” he cries, incredulous. “Henry—”

“I just wanted to see you.” Your voice wavers, head lolling to the side. He calls to you, shaking you by the shoulders, desperate to keep you beside him. However, your eyes close, grief overtaking him when they don’t reopen.

“You’ll be okay,” he reassures, robes billowing around his ankles as he rushes down the corridor, gently cradling you to him. Guilt plagues him, reminding him how pathetic he is, especially for hurting you and putting your life at risk; how could he act so recklessly. You’re the light to his darkness, breathing life into his world, and he can’t accept losing you—his happiness—your love dispelling the shadows that once consumed him. He never knew a truer friend, and he’s positive there’s no one else who could play such an important role—you’re irreplaceable. There’s plenty of time to atone for his sins, tonight he needs to make sure you live to see the morning.

“I’ll take care of you, Henry. I promise.”

Time comes to an agonizing standstill.

The Lord of Shadow remains at your side, hoping and praying you don’t succumb to your wounds. He watches you closely, frequently checking your pulse and finding comfort in the steady beat of your heart while you sleep, looking deceivingly peaceful in his bed. His focus is on you, never straying from his true friend’s wellbeing despite his inner turmoil, which threatens to tear him apart at the seams. You keep him together, and again he’s at your mercy, owing you his life for all you’ve given him—his hero—his Henry. He hurt you, but you came to him and offered him forgiveness, willing to sacrifice yourself to save your friendship. How can you care about him with such ferocity, a brooding reclusive lord who’s unworthy of his title? No matter the days spent apart, you return to him, accepting him into your life without hesitance, and he can’t help welcoming you back with open arms.

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters. “I’m terrible. A worthless—”

“You’re not.”

For an excruciating second, he wonders if he imagined the glorious sound of your voice, and an anguished sob escapes him, tears clouding his vision. You stare up at him, eyes heavy with sleep, and a lazy smile on your lips. He’s dreaming, he reasons, shaking his head in disbelief. Then your hand is in his, familiar and warm; he shivers at your touch.

Gasping, he pulls away. “Y-you . . .”

“Forgive me,” you say, so understanding—so sweet—your kindness unfathomable. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“N-no,” he stammers, head spinning. “I’m sorry.” Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, fingers quivering as he entwines them with yours. “I’m sorry.” His tears come faster and harder, shamefully hot on his cheeks. He’s unable to articulate how sorry he is or how his very soul painfully throbs at the thought of hurting you—losing you—wishing he could turn back the clock. “For everything.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” you soothe. “I’m sorry, too.” Sitting upright, the blanket bunches at your waist, and he can see where the bandages peek out from beneath your shirt, the skin bruised, making him wince. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I’m the reason you’re hurt,” he chokes out, averting his gaze. “It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s not your fault.”

You’re wrong, he wants to say; however, he refrains.

“I don’t blame you,” you continue. “Look at me, please?”

He shouldn’t. Surely, he looks foolish, a mere hostage to his emotions. Nevertheless, he spares you a glance, wondering why you regard him so kindly—lovingly even—causing his heart to flutter.

“It’s not your fault.”

Not his fault? His mind tells him differently; it’s a sea of dread and uncertainty that washes over him in waves, dragging him under. The sincerity of your words is difficult to ignore, and, in that instance, he decides to trust you, finally breaking the surface. “Henry,” he murmurs, hugging you to him, arms wrapping around you protectively as if to shield you from the world. His tears wet your hair, body trembling, and you hold him, letting him come undone in your embrace.

“I wanted to see you,” you say, setting him alight. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering on your own.”

“Henry—”

“I know you’re struggling. It’s okay. I’m here.” You rub his back, resting your head on his chest. “I’ll always come when you call.”

“You’re the truest of friends, Henry. I fear I’m not worthy . . .”

“Of course, you are. I’ve never known a truer friend than you, my lord.”

“I can’t help worrying someone will steal you away. It’s selfish of me, I know. Though I feel so inferior in comparison. Sometimes I think you’re better off without me.” When he learned you met with the Lord of Corruption, his insecurities grew, fanning the flames of his envy. Why choose him over his brother? The Lord of Corruption could provide you with more than he can give. The rest of his brothers, too; they could care for you—protect you—unlike him. You’re here with him though, leaving his brother behind at a moment’s notice, and you did come when he called, eager to please. He wants to return the sentiment. “I can’t articulate how important you are to me. I . . . you’re so special, Henry.”

“No. No one compares to you.” Your praise captivates him. “All I ask is for you to trust me. Talk to me so I can help you. I accept you, all of you, and that’s not going to change. I love you as you are.”

“Love me?” he breathes.

“Yes, I love you.”

A simple but genuine vow of love. He stills, terrified he’ll faint in your arms as he hides his face, heart racing. The cynical part of him says it’s too good to be true, but he knows better—he knows you. He’s envisioned this moment, and it’s far sweeter than his fantasies, your love a beautiful feeling that sweeps him off his feet.

“Have you slept?”

He sighs, mouth unbearably dry. “No.”

“Come to bed. You should rest.”

“Henry! W-with you?”

“You say that as if it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed,” you tease.

“You’ll be the death of me.” Although he complains, the bed dips beneath his weight as he settles beside you, reaching for your hand. “Is this, okay?”

“It is.” Shifting onto your side, your hand tightens around his, a flicker of pain twisting your features.

He tenses, frowning. “Are you okay?”

“I’m all right. Better, thanks to you.”

He can see the exhaustion in your eyes, the dark circles beneath them, and the stiffness of your movements, betraying the smile you wear for him.

“Who hurt you?” he asks.

“No one you need to worry about. Not now.”

Unsurprising. You’re his Henry, besting him and his brothers on multiple occasions; anyone who chose to challenge you is a fool. Yet, your blood flowing freely, covering his hands—the ungodly stench—stayed with him. He clearly recalls your lifeless body, and how the color drained from your face, the heaviness of his heart breaking when he believed he lost you twice in one day. You looked so fragile then and do now, trusting him at your most vulnerable. Hatred for the one who dared to harm you runs deep and for himself for not protecting the one he loves.

“I thought I lost you,” he admits, inhaling sharply. “I-I . . .”

“You didn’t. You won’t.” You catch his tears as they fall. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you, too.” His declaration is quick and clumsy but true; he’s loved you for so long.

Caging you in his arms, he hovers over you, peering down at you shyly. His body shakes with every beat of his heart, ears ringing, but he admires you, gaze affectionate and a light blush dusting your cheeks. He’s scared. He’s scared of losing you most of all, trying to muster half the courage he knows you possess. “I love you, Henry,” he says softly, clutching your hand, his lifeline. Closing the distance between you, he catches your lips in a tender kiss, the magnificence of it sending a rush of blood to his head. He forgets how to breathe, dizzy on the taste of your love, and collapses next to you, questioning if he died and ascended to the heavens. With you by his side the future is much brighter, and, for once, he looks forward to what it brings.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me leviathan #obey me mc #obey me reader #leviathan x mc #leviathan x reader #my writing

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vrishchikawrites · 3 years

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Its a prompt! (And dont worry about it, absolutely love reading your writing XD) Okay so dimension travel, so we all agree in a world where WWX was raised in another sect (like Lan/Nie) That he would be absolutely adored by them and everyone, healthy relationships( even Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian wouldn't be on a bad term much because no WWX JYL interaction) so! Canon!WWX from post ssc timeline gets transmigrated/summoned to one of these worlds where hes raised by either Lan or Nie so 1/2

They're a bit confused seeing WWX in black clothes, and seeing his gaunt/tired appearance and him being so on guard around them (since he's usually open and loved) that they ask him why is it so? Does he not know Lan Xichen/Nie Mingjue back from whicher place he came from, and Wei Wuxian goes 'Ive met them/we're not close' they ask 'sorry if its a bit personal but who were you raised by?' and WWX replies the Jiangs and cue everyone horrified cuz Jiangs areopen in their heavy dislike of WWX2/2

'It's my fault.' Nie Huaisang thinks as he frantically collects all the materials needed, 'It is my fault, I need to fix this.'

His er-ge was gone. His brother, Da-ge's pride and joy, the shining star of the Nie Clan.

Gone. Just like that.

One minute they're on an easy nighthunt and the next, Wei Wuxian is pushing him away to take an attack straight to his chest.

He knows his brother is gone. His body may be alive, but just barely. He's drowning in his own blood and there's nothing Nie Huaisang can do. There's no cognition in his eyes, that bright silver gaze is dull and blank.

He has to do something.

The ritual may not work. It came with so many warnings that Nie Huaisang lost the patience to read them all the way through. If something goes wrong, it goes wrong.

"Huaisang! What are you doing?!" Da-ge's voice is loud but Nie Huaisang doesn't pay any attention to it. The room is sealed and it would take da-ge some time to break through it.

"Nie Huaisang!"

Good, Lan Xichen is here. He'll take care of da-ge if something goes wrong.

"Huaisang!" There's a loud crash but he doesn't pay any attention to it, "Stop! Don't do something stupid."

"I need to save him. It is my fault, I need to save him!"

"Huaisang!"

There's a bright red flash and it drowns out everything.

---

Miraculously, he survives.

His fledgling Golden Core has shattered and melted into nothing, but he has survived.

And he has done it.

"Does your stupidity known no bounds?" Da-ge demands as Lan Wangji kneels by er-ge's bed and feeds him potent spiritual energy.

Wei Wuxian is alive. His cognition is intact and his Golden Core is stable but he's soaked in Resentful Energy.

"You destroyed your Golden Core, Huaisang! There's no recovering from it!"

"Wouldn't you do the same?" He demands, turning around to look at his oldest brother. He ignores Lan Xichen's alarmed voice and focuses on Nie Mingjue, "Is his life worth less than my Golden Core?"

Da-ge locks his jaw but doesn't reply. Of course, Wei Wuxian's life is worth more than a Golden Core.

"Huaisang," Lan Xichen sighs, "a-Xian wouldn't have wanted this."

"Look at Wangji-xiong and tell me that again." He says bluntly. He is tired and drained but no one can convince him that reviving er-ge wasn't the right choice.

Xichen-ge doesn't reply because no one can look at the devastated expression on Lan Wangji's face and say it wasn't worth it.

Huaisang doesn't feel the absence of the core as keenly as someone else might. He had only developed it during the Sunshot Campaign, after all.

He isn't like er-ge or Wangji-xiong, with their powerful cores and potent spiritual energy. The loss would've been devastating to them but is only an afterthought to him.

---

They realize something is off when Wei Wuxian opens his eyes and looks at them with distant wariness instead of familiar affection. He looks around and is instantly on guard, "Where... Why am I here?"

He looks directly at Wangji-xiong, "Lan Zhan? What are you... Have you brought me here?" He demanded, his expression shifting to something hostile, "Are we in Gusu?"

"Wei-gongzi," Xichen-ge calls for his attention, "I know you're very confused but please don't be alarmed. We're in your home at the Unclean Realm, not in Gusu."

Er-ge narrows his eyes and Huaisang recognizes that expression, even though it has never been directed towards them. A look of cool calculation as er-ge tries to decipher their motives. "My home?" He asks.

Wangji-xiong knows er-ge almost as well as they do. He reaches forward, "Wei Ying, let us explain, please."

It appears that this Wei Wuxian is just as vulnerable to Wangji-xiong as his brother had been because he softens immediately. His body is still tense but he seems to be willing to listen.

"You died in this world, saving Huaisang's life." Da-ge begins gruffly. Huaisang winces at the bluntness but er-ge seems to appreciate it, his sharp gaze focusing on their elder brother, "Yes, this world," Da-ge confirms, "Our didi decided he wouldn't tolerate it and decided to use one of our forbidden rituals to revive you. He didn't read things clearly. The ritual dragged your soul from another world and placed you in his body."

Er-ge's expression is skeptical, "Our didi..."

Wangji-xiong sucks in a sharp breath, "Wei Ying," His brother's gaze moves to his 'best friend', "You are Wei Wuxian, 23 years old, the Head Disciple of QingheNie Sect, the adopted younger brother of Nie Mingjue and older brother to Nie Huaisang. You were adopted by the former Nie-zongzhu when you were six years old."

Er-ge stares at Wangji-xiong in stunned disbelief but there's no denial in his expression.

No wonder, Wangji-xiong never lies. That must be true in his world as well.

"a-Xian," Er-ge winces and looks at Xichen-ge, "You need to rest and recover. Your Golden Core is stab-"

Er-ge gasps and immediately sits up, placing his hand on his chest. He closes his eyes and almost violently summons his spiritual energy.

"Wei Ying!" Wangji-xiong calls out in alarm but his brother doesn't pay any attention, his focus entirely inward.

"I have my Golden Core back..." Er-ge breathes, astonished but his skin goes white and he loses consciousness.

They exchange stunned glances before scrambling forward to check on him.

---

No one can deny Wei Wuxian has changed. It takes a month for his body to recover but his heart is still unsteady. He puts on every appearance of being alright, but Huaisang has grown up with this man. He knows something is off.

It is only when er-ge decides he needs to start training again that things start to become clear. Er-ge has trained all of his life to fight with a Dao. His movements are powerful and aggressive, designed to overwhelm the enemy.

Er-ge's mind, however, is accustomed to the traditional Jian. He seems to expect his movements to be lighter, faster. More agile and less powerful.

The dissonance makes him clumsy and he loses his first fight against Lan Wangji in a long time.

"Wei Ying?" Wangji-xiong frowns, "Your movements."

Da-ge has his concerned scowl on and he grabs Baxia, stepping into the training field, "With me, Wuxian."

This fight is faster and more brutal. Huaisang almost wants to protest but he can see er-ge adjust and adapt quickly.

His eyes gain a razor-sharp focus and his battle instincts come to the fore. "Good," Xichen-ge observes, "He's accepting his body."

Indeed, he is. Against da-ge's overwhelming force, there's nothing er-ge can do but react instinctively. They engage in several bouts and keep at it for over a shichen.

By the end of it, er-ge is exhausted but faintly triumphant.

"Lan Zhan, again!"

"Wei Ying, you need rest." Wangji-xiong says with a shake of his head, "Don't strain yourself."

"Why were you fighting like you wanted to wield a Jian, didi?" Da-ge asks sternly, "You were hesitant and weak in some strikes."

Er-ge grimaces and Xichen-ge steps forward. It has been over a month and though er-ge has seen how much they all care for him, he remains wary.

"a-Xian," Xichen-ge begins gently, "You weren't a part of the Nie Clan in the past, were you?"

Da-ge's scowl deepens at the thought of er-ge belonging to anyone else but them. They had suspected something like this, of course. But they had hoped that er-ge would've still been a part of the Nie Sect if not the Clan.

Er-ge remains wary but sighs, "No."

"Not the Lans," Xichen-ge observes astutely, "Not the Jins either. Were you a rogue cultivator? Or from a smaller sect?"

Er-ge studies him before shaking his head, "I was the Head Disciple of the Jiangs."

"What?" Wangji-xiong asks, his voice uncharacteristically sharp, "Jiangs?"

Da-ge looks furious and Xichen-ge seems pained. No wonder, given how... problematic the Jiang situation is. That family is entirely unsuitable for someone as loving and giving as his er-ge!

Jiang Wanyin is a complex mix of pride and insecurity. He lags behind all sect heirs, though Huaisang is fairly certain their batch of cultivators is particularly skilled. Er-ge and Wangji-xiong are exceptional in every way and Jin Zixuan is barely a few steps behind.

In the face of such competition, skilled but ordinary cultivators can't help but be overshadowed.

Jiang Fengmian, according to da-ge, is a meek little imitation of his former self. The man that pursued er-ge's mother had been strong and wise. He had the skill, political acumen, and grace to be an admirable Sect Leader.

His marriage to Yu Ziyuan ruined him.

And Yu Ziyuan is a nightmare. The one time she met Wei Wuxian, she had left such an impression that da-ge had cut all ties with the Jiang Sect until its Madam apologized to the Nie Sect Head Disciple.

That hadn't gone down well and the relationship between them is still sour.

"Do you want to return to them?" He blurts out, unable to help himself. If Jiangs are this Wei Wuxian's family then maybe-

"No."

They still because that's a very firm no. It is a complete and utter rejection of the very thought of it.

"No."

---

Getting the whole story out of er-ge is like pulling teeth but between Wangji-xiong's pleas, Xichen-ge's gentle questions, da-ge impassioned demands, and his own begging, they manage.

This Wei Wuxian doesn't love them yet but he sees their love for him clearly. That softens his heart and they get to hear every painful, excruciating aspect of his past life.

Wangji-xiong looks furious, da-ge paces, Xichen-ge is pale, but all of that doesn't matter.

He recognizes the look on er-ge's face. He has never seen it on him before, but he recognizes it.

Er-ge expects them to reject him. To abandon him for his 'sins'.

"Well, I don't have a Golden Core. Can you teach me Demonic Cultivation?"

"Huaisang!" Is yelled from almost every direction but he only has eyes for his older brother.

He sees those tired silver eyes study him for a moment before they soften completely, turning into the color of liquid moonlight. "You brat," Er-ge murmurs affectionately, "The thought of you wielding that power is nothing short of terrifying."

"But er-ge! Can you leave me defenseless, just like that? Don't you feel sorry for me-"

"Huaisang!" Da-ge snaps, "Stop trying to manipulate your brother!"

"Really, a-Sang, it isn't right for you to-"

Er-ge laughs. It's familiar, loud, and openly joyous. Silver eyes sparkle as he looks at them, "Don't worry, da-ge, he's a hundred years too early to manipulate me."

Wangji-xiong huffs, "Wei Ying."

"Lan Zhan," Er-ge teases, "How is that you manage to reprimand me by only saying my name? Shall I try it too? Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!"

"And they're flirting again." He murmurs under his breath, drawing an amused look from Xichen-ge.

"Perhaps we really need to start betrothal negotiations," Xichen-ge says and da-ge scoffs.

"Not going to happen unless you're willing to part with your brother. Mine is my heir. He's not marrying into the Lans."

"Da-ge, be reasonable-"

Huaisang tunes them out and waves his fan in front of his face, his mind whirling.

He doesn't care about er-ge's marriage negotiations. He has bigger fish to fry.

Really, those Jins and Jiangs are getting too bold.

#short prompts #nie!wwx #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #lan wangji #lan xichen #nie mingjue #anti jiang cheng #anti jiang sect

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦 𝐺𝑙𝑎𝑧𝑒𝑑 (𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛) 𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚒 𝚂𝚊𝚗 (𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣)× 𝚂𝚝𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎)

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙸𝚍𝚘𝚕 𝙰𝚄

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 4.3K

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚃𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚂𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚞𝚙𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝚈/𝙽 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚛.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚖𝚒-𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚒𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚓𝚘𝚋, 𝚊𝚋𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?) 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗), 𝚂𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜 '𝙽𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚊' 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 × 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚢! 𝚂𝚞𝚋 𝚂𝚊𝚗

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @seacottons @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @yunhoiseyecandy @yunhofingers @little-precious-baby

~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • • • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • • • • • •~ ʚĭɞ ~

Y/N took a deep breath as her hand held tightly onto the doorknob of the dressing room. She tried to calm herself, or more specifically, her body. Then again, no amount of preparation could help her when it came to Choi San, the man was unpredictable and absolutely cunning. And the worst part was he knew he was charming, using it to his advantage and then playing coy about it whenever she called him out on it. Not wasting anymore time, she turned the knob and swiftly walked in, tossing her bag on the couch by the wall before beginning to take off her coat to hang on the rack.

"Hello Noona."

She was greeted by the innocent looking dimple smile of the idol she had been assigned to, hands folded across his lap, giving him the aura of a perfect and obedient angel......

When he was everything but that.

"Don't start San, we don't have time for your jokes. The sooner we get you ready, the sooner I can leave."

San poked his bottom lip out, a soft, muffled whiny hum vibrating against his throat.

"You seem to be in a bad mood Noona....aren't you at least happy to see me?"

She rolled her eyes at his question as she began laying out all the stuff she was going to need to prepare him for the photoshoot. Missing a few palettes, she bent over to open the last drawer on the vanity display and began rummaging through its contents. She was completely unaware of the eyes that were now checking out her ass as she was hunched over, the position slightly rising her skirt up.

"Did I mention you're looking especially lovely tonight...Noona?"

Tilting her head over, she caught him as he bit his lip as he shamelessly looked up and down her legs. When he saw she noticed, he didn't shy away or apologized, he merely sent her a wink and went back to gazing at her glorious backside.

"You're a pervert." She accused him as slammed the drawer closed after finally finding what she was looking for.

"I'm simply admiring a beautiful piece of art. Is that such a crime?" He grinned at her.

She hadn't even started yet she already felt exhausted and aroused by the man sitting in front of her. Squirting some of the foundation onto the mixing tray, she picked up a beauty sponge and began dabbing it onto San's already flawless face. He might liked to tease her every now and then, but if there was one thing she appreciated was the fact he stayed still whenever she was working, never moving and always following instructions when she asked him to lift his head or close his eyes when she needed him to. It almost made her think that he was actually a good little boy, so poised and obedient....

And then he'd pull out some stupid shit that made her remember his true bratty nature. Stupid shit like what he was doing now: his hand was gently gliding across her leg, dangerously coming up towards the hem of her skirt. She swallowed a non-existent lump in her throat, clearing it out as she was determined not to loose focus and continued to blend out his contour and shading before moving onto his eyebrows. She could tell him to stop or move away, if she did, she knew he'd at least have the decency to stop and not do anything for the rest of the day. But she didn't want to do that this time. She was tempted to find out just how far he'd go, just how much could she actually let him get away with.

San was also amazed she hadn't slapped his hand away, which he took as an invitation to continue. Sliding his hand up, he cupped one of her ass cheeks and squeezed it softly. His fingers tugged at her panties and pulled on them slightly before releasing them and letting it hit against her skin. When he saw her momentarily pause, he smirked at finally getting her to react. But he was soon disappointed when she chose to ignore him once more and instead move to work on his eye makeup. Not willing to stand and be ignored, he cupped her ass with both of his hands, pulling her closer that she nearly toppled over and fell on top of him, but luckily regained her balance before that happened.

"Have you been working out Noona? Your ass feels a lot firmer and rounder since the last time I touched it."

He couldn't keep the satisfied smile off his face as he began dragging down her panties past her thighs until they were pooling at her ankles, a clear wet stain visible in the center of them.

"Noona are you perhaps needy?" He chuckled.

Stepping out of her panties, she kicked them out of the way before resuming her previous task.

"The only thing I need at the moment is for you to keep still or else your eyeshadow is going to be a mess." She told him.

"Speaking of making a mess, do you know what I wanna see?"

With a shit eating grin on his face, he swiped his index and middle finger along her folds, collecting some of the slick she had already accumulated.

"Wanna see you make a mess all over my hand."

Although she would love nothing more than for him to fist her if he wanted, she couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow up at him, a slight scoff coming out her lips.

"Can you even do that? It wouldn't surprise me if in the end, Choi San was nothing more than an all bark no bite kind of boy."

From out of the corner of her eye she saw him frown angrily. He always did hated having her refer to him as a 'boy.' She didn't care, deep down she knew he was nothing more than a brat that she would love to tame if given the opportunity. And besides he was doing her a favor as he began swirling his fingers around her hole. Pushing them in, he couldn't believe how unbelievable warm she was nor how her walls were practically sucking him in.

"God Noona, I can barely get my fingers out."

He began to thrust his fingers in and out of her, making sure to curl them up so they could graze along the roof. When he felt her shudder as he hit a particular spot, he knew he had found what he was looking for.

"Right here Noona?" He teased as a kept his fingers buried in her, flicking the tips across where he assumed was her g-spot.

"Oh my god yes!" She didn't care if her words boosted his already high ego, all she cared about right then was getting him to continue until she was spasming under him.

San released a light humming tune as his fingers continued their assault on her wet cavern. Wanting to boost her pleasure even further, his thumb began to rub her clit, drawing circles across it. When Y/N's legs nearly gave out, he used his other hand to steady her.

"Cum for me Noona. Make a mess all over me, I want it. Can't you give it to me?"

She melted at the way he was pleading at her, his eyes getting slightly large as he waited in anticipation for her to tip over the edge just for him. Unable to resist his cute plea, she squeezed her thighs shut as she began cumming all over his fingers, a choked out gasp escaping her lips as she held onto his shoulders for support to keep her from falling.

"That's right, such a nice and sweet Noona, giving me what I want."

San didn't pull his fingers away until he made sure to help Y/N ride out her high until she was finished. As his hand emerged from under her skirt, a trail of her cum was dropping all the way up to his wrist. Looking at how wet his hand was, he admired it before holding it out towards her face.

"Told you I'd have you making a mess." He giggled before proceeding to lick off every last bit of secretion he made her produce.

Y/N straightened out her ruffled skirt.

"I should really finish your makeup San."

Thankfully, she was able to finish his eye makeup without any further interruptions. His lip makeup also ran by smoothly, except for when she stared at them a little too long and unconsciously began leaning in, tempted to just bite them.

"Noona....." He tapped her shoulder to point out what she was doing.

She flushed a pink tint across her cheeks, embarrased by her actions. But that was nothing compared to the embarrassment she was going to feel next.

"Ok your makeup is done. You can go wait for the photographer to get here?"

As she began picking the brushes up to go clean them, she turned back around when San was still seated in his chair.

"San...go?" She asked in puzzlement.

San also seemed confused as he tilted his head at her.

"Didn't they tell you?"

By the way she just stood there blinking as she processed what he could mean, San sighed as he began unbuttoning his jacket.

"I.....was going to give Atiny a surprise for this comeback. I'm going to be wearing a crop top, and the photographer suggested it'd be a good idea if maybe my makeup artist could make them... shine a little?"

Y/N was about to ask what he meant by 'them', but when he tossed his jacket to the floor and his torso was fully exposed, she understood what he meant. Although she guessed he had a fit body due to how much he worked out, she was more than surprised to see such a firm and toned 6 pack adorning his lower abdomen. She didn't even realize how long she was staring or had her mouth open until San cupped her chin.

"Close your mouth Noona....."

Leaning in, he whispered in her ear.

"The sight makes me wanna fuck your face."

He couldn't help but laugh softly as he stared at her flustered state. Throwing all inappropriate thoughts out her head and going back to being professional, Y/N began looking around for any oil to douse his abs in.

"San do me a favor and lie on the couch."

The poor boy shot his eyes wide open when she ordered him that.

"Wait- you want me to what?"

She smacked his arm.

"Don't get any ideas. If we do this standing up, it'll roll off your body and I can't spread it evenly if you're sitting down. So unless you're able to levitate, go lay down on the couch."

Now he flushed a red tint for thinking so wrong. He walked over to the couch and obediently layed down. He stiffened considerably when Y/N came over with a bottle of oil, and it was then he realized that although he had grown used to having her touching his face, she had never once touched him anywhere else in his body. This was about to be the first time. He recalled all the times he'd teased her by smacking her ass or letting his hands graze across her chest. It made him fear that she'd probably want to take revenge and tease him back. When she popped open the bottle, he gulped very obviously that even she noticed.

"Relax you baby. It's not going to sting you or anything. It'll just leave you smelling like vanilla."

His ab muscles contracted when he felt the trail of oil splatter across his stomach. Making sure not to pour too much, Y/N closed back the bottle and set it down next to her.

"Just breathe and try to enjoy it."

Deciding it would be best to heed her advice, San closed his eyes and focused on each movement of her hands. It felt absolutely relaxing and blissful having her run her hands along his abs, staying shy away from his nipples. Each caress of her hands had him wondering why he'd never allowed her to touch him like this before. With each swipe of her hand across his body, the more he was becoming addicted to her touch. He began wishing she would travel farther down, reach inside his pants and give it the same care and attention she was giving his abs. He was already letting out soft moans and murmurs before he even became aware of it, or of the growing tent in his pants that was quite obvious now.

Y/N noticed it and it made her proud to know such a simple touch could get him so riled up. Wanting to test something out, she began to dig her nails into his skin. Although she expected some sort of reaction, she didn't think it would result in him flexing his hips up, giving them a slight roll as if micking a sex movement.

"Please do that again."

He stared at her through hooded lids which then closed once again when she raked her nails down his torso, an even louder moan coming out from his lips as he began to buck his hips up.

"M-more please..." He begged her.

Stopping her movements, she feigned ignorance at his request.

"Hmm? What was that Sannie?" She wanted him to repeat himself.

Tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth, he began fussing around.

"Noona please it hurts." He whined.

Cupping his face, she squished his cheeks.

"What hurts Sannie?"

With a frustrated grunt, San took one of her hands off his face as he began unzipping his pants, fumbling with it until he managed to pull them down enough to allow his thick and long cock to spring free from its confinement. He hissed out loud as he made Y/N wrap her hand around the base.

"It hurts Noona. Please do something. Anything." He began moving her hand, hoping she'd get the hint.

Y/N couldn't believe he was actually begging her. He looked so pitiful and desperate under her as he was left at her complete mercy. Wanting to indulge him for a moment, she began pumping at his dick a little bit faster, the leftover oil on her palm serving as lubricant so it was easier for her to smoothly stroke him. San gasped and held his mouth agape when she began running her thumb across his slit, toying around with it as she continued to jerk off the rest of his length.

"Yes! Just like that! Oh my god! It's even better than what I imagined." He was very vocal for sure, but she kinda already suspected that.

"Oh yeah? You imagined my hand wrapped around your cock?"

San grunted harshly when she squeezed him a little too hard.

"Fuck yeah- I got off on fantasizing about you jerking me off." He admitted.

Y/N did not hide the smile of satisfaction spreading across her lips as she heard him say that. It boosted her confidence knowing the sexy man in front of her often pictured her in such an intimate position.

"Tell me Sannie, what else have you imagined me doing to you?"

San bit his lip, unsure of whether it was ok to spill out his dirty secrets. But then he realized that maybe if he said them, Y/N would be nice enough to fulfill some of them.

"I thought about having you ride my face, smother it with your soaked pussy. I wanna taste it. Bet it tastes so good."

He began bucking his hips into her hand, feeling his orgasm fast approaching. Y/N could sense he was close too.

"Keep talking Sannie. What else have you thought about?"

San's cock twitched when he saw Y/N lean down, her face hovering close to his leaking tip.

"Suck-sucking me off. I've always wanted you to suck me off."

He didn't keep his eyes off her mouth as she ran her tongue across her lips, her gaze looking intently at his length.

"Won't you please suck me off?" He raised his hips, the top of his head touching the corner of her lip.

Y/N thought about it for a moment. His cock did look delicious, and she couldn't deny the thought of stuffing it til it reached the back of her throat made her insides start pooling once more. But he was still the same brat he'd been since she met him. It wouldn't hurt to teach him a little lesson for a few minutes. Bending her head down, she opened her mouth as if she was going to wrap her lips around his tip. San was looking at her in eager anticipation, nearly busting a nut right then and there. He began whining erratically when she not only pulled her face away but also let his still erect cock dropped against his stomach.

"Why did you-?"

When he tried sitting up, Y/N roughly pinned him back down which shut him up immediately.

"Stop being a little brat and take what I gave you or else you're going to be going through an entire photoshoot with a denied orgasm."

San blinked slowly at her words.

"God you're so fucking sexy putting me back in my place like that." He confessed.

Y/N giggled softly before pecking his lips. Looking back at his abs, she ran a finger down along them.

"I'm not going to deny it, your abs look mesmerizing." She complimented him, which had San beaming with joy.

"I'm glad you liked them. I worked hard on them especially for you." He looked up at her rather shyly at his confession.

"Oh really? All this is for me?"

San nodded in an affirmative motion. Smirking at him, Y/N bent her body and began pressing feather light kisses along his abs.

"Well if they're meant for me guess I should make sure everyone knows it too."

San couldn't contain his giggles when Y/N began suckling on a small patch of skin. Her hands gripped his waist tightly in an effort to hold him still.

"Sannie, stop moving." She said against his tanned skin before moving down to suck on another spot.

"I'm sorry- I'm just really ticklish." He covered his mouth in an effort to stifle his laughter.

Y/N slapped his stomach rather lightly, finding him to be absolutely cute and adorable as she began leaving a trail of hickeys down his abs, starting from the end of his sternum and ending right on top of his bellybutton. She didn't stop until making sure they were all a bright purple color that was adorning his beautiful skin, admiring her own work. San also sat up slightly to look at what she had left, a fond smile on his lips.

"Does this mean I'm yours?"

The way he was looking up at her in earnest made Y/N realize he was being serious and not being the teasing little shit he liked being. He patiently waited for her answer, his own heartbeat pounding so hard against his chest as he feared getting rejected. Reaching up to cup his face, Y/N nuzzled her nose against his.

"Are you going to stop being a little brat and actually behave?"

San laughed heartily at that before swiping his tongue across her upper lip.

"Where's the fun in that? Don't you like me being a brat?" He counteracted at her.

Y/N pretended to think about it.

"It would be nice to spank you every once in awhile.......but can't you be a good boy every now and then so I can spoil you?" She purred softly as she began kissing along the side of his neck, making him melt instantly.

"I'm being good now N-Noona-" He sucked in a breath when she dragged her tongue along his collarbone.

"Yes you are my Sannie."

Thinking it was time to put an end to his frustration, Y/N stripped him off his pants and underwear before taking off her own skirt and pulling her shirt over her head, discarding them on the floor. San stared in amazement as she stood in front of him completely nude.

"Where have you been all my life?"

Y/N let out a subtle snort as she straddled San's lap. Lining him up to her entrance, she didn't keep him or herself waiting as she sunk down on his length, eye shut tight as he stretched her out in a delicious burn. She felt him twitch inside her, no doubt eager to finally be allowed to cum after having waited for so long. After getting adjusted to his size, she lifted herself off him before sinking back down on him.

"Oh god- it feels so good."

San propped himself up on his elbows, watching with great attention as his dick disappeared and appeared inside Y/N's warm and velvety pussy. When she began picking up the pace, he began releasing soft pants and grunts as his previously denied orgasm came spiking up once more. He could feel it about to burst out of him. Through clenched teeth, he tried to desperately hold back a little longer, just so Y/N could cum before him. But the feeling of her walls squeezing him tightly and rubbing him was too much to bear. No longer able to contain himself, he flopped back into the couch, hips shaking as his nails scratched the leather material under him.

"Y/N! G-gonna cum-!" He tried warning her.

Pulling him out of her, she helped him by pumping him up and down as he began releasing spurts of white, sticky cum all over his stomach. Y/N made sure to milk him until he could no longer squirt out anymore.

"You cum a lot." She giggled as she spread some of his cum around.

Covering his reddened face, San let out a tiny groan.

"I'm so sorry. I wanted to hold out a little longer for you but I couldn't. I promise it won't happen again."

Climbing back on top of him, Y/N surprised him when she straddled his abs.

"Well then....guess I'm going to have to get myself off on some other part of you. Right?"

Smiling down at him in a mischievous way, she began grinding herself against his abdomen, the muscles protruding out of them feeling heavenly as they rubbed against her clit. His skin began to get coated even more as his semen was being spread all over his body the more she rutted herself against his bare skin.

"You like this baby boy? Like watching me fuck myself on your abs?"

"Oh my- please call me that again." Hearing that nickname roll off his tongue send him into a frenzy.

"What? Baby boy? Like it when I call you that?" She teased as she began grinding harder against him.

"I love it. Is Noona gonna cum all over my abs?" He asked as he snaked his hands to grip at her thighs.

"Does my baby boy want that? Want me to make a mess all over his abs?" She questioned him.

"Yes! Want Noona's cum all over my stomach. Mark me as hers and hers only." He released small whimpers as he felt her pick up her pace.

When he felt her shaking on top of him, he moved his hands to wrap around her hips, holding her in place as she began spilling her juices all over his body, mixing with his own as they coated his abs even further. San helped her ride out her orgasm. When her breathing finally calmed down, he sat up to kiss her tenderly, his buff arms wrapping around her to pull her against his body.

"Mine." He smiled against her lips.

"You're so needy." She told him but he merely laughed it off.

Getting off him, they both gazed down at the mess that was covering his entire lower torso.

"They look like honey glazed cinnamon buns." She joked.

"I know. It's so cool." He looked at them in awe, running over to the mirror to get a better look at not just the shiny slick all over him but to marvel at the purple bruises running in a straight line through his stomach.

"Ok we should get you cleaned up before the photographer gets here."

Before she could start wiping off the residues of their sinful acts, San stopped her.

"Or......you were supposed to make my abs shine...well... they are shining." He squealed.

"San you are not about to take concept photos for your next album with your body covered in cum." She stated firmly.

Pouting furiously and stomping his foot, he crossed his arms.

"You're no fun."

Raising an eyebrow at him, she took a step forward and gripped his hips to press him against her.

"Trust me baby boy, I can be very fun if I put my mind to it......"

Ghosting her lips over his own, her hand began caressing her face.

"And I'll let you join in on the fun later tonight if you behave like a good little boy and let me clean you up and cover up those hickeys because they're only mine to see. Got it?"

He let out a soft squeak when she cupped his cock once more and gripped it harshly.

"Otherwise you're going to go out there with blue balls." She continued.

San quickly nodded, quickly succumbing to the charms and domination of the woman in front of him.

"Yes Noona. I'll be your good little boy."

~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • • • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • • • • • •~ ʚĭɞ ~

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dracowars · 3 years

Text

sacrifice | anakin skywalker

pairing: anakin x jedi!reader

word count: 4,1k

summary: where y/n has to sacrifice everything in order to save anakin

a/n: i'm so proud of this, i hope you enjoy reading it <3 also i really want to write more for anakin (& other male sw characters), so feel free to send in requests!! ♡

warnings: angst, torture, violence, mentions of severe injuries

universe: star wars

Exhausted and plagued by a painful sting pulling through your whole body, you slowly flutter your eyes open which turns out to be difficult at first due to the bright light. Your limbs feel sore and incredibly weak, you can hardly feel your arms anymore and an uncomfortable tingling sensation runs through your legs. Your head is extremely heavy and the world around you rotates, getting faster in each second that passes and thus disenables your ability to think clearly.

Still blinded by the light, you narrow your eyes to at least be able to see something and as you do, your breath gets stuck in your lungs right away. Your gaze is directed at a black steel door with red and white switches and lights flashing on the right and on the left. A steel door which most likely allows no escape.

"Sir. The Jedi is conscious again", you hear the mechanical voice of a droid and you turn your head in its direction to your right. You see two Battle Droids next to you, one of them now aiming his weapon at you alarmed, the other standing at a control field.

Only now do you notice that you are much taller than these droids and you quickly discover why. Surround by a bluish light, you float in the air, your wrists and ankles chained in stuncuffs, making you unable to move even a tiny bit. You helplessly hang in the air, the tight handcuffs already painfully straining your skin.

"Do not let her out of your sight until I get there", you suddenly hear another voice through the comlink one of the droids is holding. A voice that unmistakably belongs to none other than the Supreme Commander of the Separatist Droid Army General Grievous himself.

However, there was something else in the background. Something that made your breath get stuck in your throat again.

Screams. Full of pain and suffer that can only be produced by incredible agony.

"Where should she even go?", one of the droids asks annoyed and gets hit on the back of his head by the other after his statement immediately.

"Don't ask, work."

Not saying a word, you try to shake your hands to maybe loosen the handcuffs a little, but to no avail.

"No chance, lady. You will not get out of here that easily", the Battle Droid laughs while the other joins in. Throwing them an angry look, they quickly stop and get back to their work, ignoring you.

Using the moment of silence to your advantage, you close your eyes and try to feel the Force that surrounds you so that it can guide you the way. Because of your severe headache you do not succeed, but you also do not give up instantly and at least try to concentrate enough to remember what exactly happened.

The terrifying image of a battlefield on Ryloth appears in your head, droids and clones brutally fighting each other. With your ignited lightsaber you run between them, giving the clones cover while taking down several Battle Droids and Droidekas with one slash of your elegant weapon.

"General Y/L/N! General Skywalker has just informed us that he has advanced further at the front and has almost reached Grievous", you hear Fives tell you in your blurred memories when you hide behind a tree to seek protection for the split of a second.

"Anakin", you softly breathe, not noticing that you said his name out loud, and your eyes shoot open when your memory cuts off all of a sudden.

All you remember is that you followed him after Fives' words, but you do not remember what happened after that and you do not know where Anakin is now or if he was even captured as well.

In any case, you are not allowed to think about it any further when the door in front of you opens and you are greeted with the shadow of a large robotic figure, two Magna Guards on either side of him.

"Grievous", you hiss disapprovingly when he comes up to you with slow, heavy steps, his face - if you can even call it that - at eye level with you. "I sould have guessed that only you would be able to carry out such primitive captures."

His smoky laugh sounds at your words, which is quickly interrupted by a subsequent cough. In the next second, however, he tightly grabs your neck with his mechanical hand all of a sudden and forces you to look into his fleshy eyes. The pressure on your throat causes tears to well up in your eyes.

"You have a very important piece of information that Count Dooku would love to have, General Y/L/N", he mentions and you try to hide that he is currently blocking your windpipe. "All methods are fine with me as long as I get what I want."

"And I suppose you will only let me go if I tell you this very important piece of information?", you state ironically and take a quick breath in as he releases his strong grip from you.

"That would make things much easier for both of us", Grievous agrees and looks at you intensely, almost expectantly. "Where do the Jedi keep the holocrons?"

"What do you want to do with it? Even if I told you, which I will definitely not do by the way, you could not open it anyway", you mockingly point out and raise an eyebrow.

A second later, you have to fight for air again.

"That is something you should not worry about", he aggressively snaps at you and squeezes his hand harder, making you gasp for air even more. "Tell me where they are kept."

"You could kill me and I would not tell you", you choke out and his creepy-looking eyes sparkle with anger.

"I will let it depend on that", Grievous states and lets go of you again, but with a subtle gesture he gives his Magna Guards a sign and they suddenly approach you, their dangerous electrostaffs now activated.

Shortly afterwards you already feel an incredibly terrible pain that makes you cry out loud. A painful electricity shoots through your entire body that would force you onto your knees if you were not currently chained to stuncuffs in the air. It only takes a few seconds, but it feels much longer until they stop their torture, staying in their position.

"Where. Are. The. Holocrons?", Grievous asks you again, this time more angry and somehow stressed, putting strong emphasis on each word.

"You would like to know, huh", you slightly grin and although you know that such a cheeky answer will cause you to suffer again, it rolls of your tongue anyway.

Again, several electric shocks run through you at the same time and an increasingly unbearable pain forms in your body, but your head remains unwavering when they stop again.

"Tell me where they are, Jedi scum! Now!", the merciless General shouts at you and you can sense how he is getting more and more impatient by each second. He will not stop torturing you until you tell him what he wants to know and until you stop holding it back, but you have sworn a vow to the Jedi Order that you can't and will not break, no matter how much pain you have to endure.

"I guess you have to kill me then, because I will never tell you, Grievous", you respond breathless and you can already smell how your skin, your flesh, has slightly charred because of the burns.

Giving his Magna Guards another command with a simple hand gesture, they continue to torture you, but this time they only shock you briefly with their bright purple electrostaffs before stopping abruptly. Your muscles still tremble from the impact and the unbearable ache persists.

"Uhm, Sir. I hate to interrupt you, but the other Jedi just managed to take down one of the droids", one of the droids next to you reports and you, although you only understood half of what he just said, too weak to focus, you immediately know who he must be talking about.

General Grievous must have already tried to squeeze something out of him, that is why you heard screams earlier.

"Anakin", you groan in pain as the Magna Guards go back to their task of torturing you out of nowhere and put you into a state of absolute pain.

"Interesting", you hear Grievous utter through your own screams as your body writhes in pain in the air, the handcuffs pressing deep into your skin. Until the pain suddenly fades and you fall to the hard ground in front of his feet the next moment when the droid freed you with the push of a button.

"Sir, is that not too risky?", one of the droids ask, but you can't even get up from the floor by yourself because you have been weakened so much by the electric shocks. You are not even sure anymore whether you might even have passed out at this point.

However, you quickly realize that you, in fact, are still conscious when you are roughly pulled to your feet, a firm grip on both your upper arms as the Magna Guards pull you up.

"She is so weak, she can hardly walk. And without her lightsaber she can't do much anyway. It was a fine addition to my collection", Grievous laughs in your ear devilishly, and a lateral push in your ribs makes you realize that you should move forward. Having no other choice, you obey and stumble forward on shaky legs, losing your balance with almost every step due to the fact that your hands are still tied together with stuncuffs.

Losing any sense of orientation, you get pushed forward right behind General Grievous, your vision blurred and your head continuing to spin until you finally come to a stop in a corridor that is no different from the previous one.

The door to another cell opens, at least you recognize the same sound as your cell door did before, and you are suddenly rudely pushed inside after Grievous has entered, meeting the hard and cold surface of the floor.

Trying your best to get up again, you notice that their dangerous weapons are no longer close to your body. Yet, you are prevented from doing anything at the sight in front of you after you managed to lift yourself up from the ground a little bit with your hands and looked up.

"Anakin!", you exhale in shock when you see your almost lifeless husband floating in front of you, the same handcuffs on him as on you, stunning him.

He immediately stirs when he hears your voice and lifts his head up, only to discover your trembling figure lying on the ground in front of him.

"What did you do to him?", you shout at Grievous with all your might and manage to fully get up due to the sudden adrenaline rush, but soon are shoved back onto the ground by Grievous and the Magna Guards pull you into a kneeling position by your arms.

"The same I did to you", General Grievous explains with a laugh and trudges back and forth between you and Anakin. "Verily, the will of a Jedi is strong, but I have already cracked the toughest will."

Admiring himself, his gaze slides on you and you immediately avoid the contact, looking at the ground.

"If you touch her even once, I swear you are already dead", Anakin angrily snaps at him, but Grievous does not even react to it, not even when Anakin manages to throw one of the Battle Droids against the wall in his anger with the tiniest movement. Grievous just stops in front of you and roughly lifts your chin up, indeed touching you.

"How many more electric shocks will she endure before her will breaks, what do you think?", Grievous asks into the room and you remove your chin from his grasp with all your leftover strength.

"J-Just leave her alone", Anakin mutters weakly and briefly looks at Grievous with a hateful expression before his muscles give up again and his head sinks down again in exhaustion.

"Tell me where the holocrons are and I will let her go", Grievous declares and turns to your husband, who is about to pass out.

"No! Don't listen to him, Anakin!", you interrupt him right away and try to, although you know that it will not be possible, to loosen your bonds, but the Magna Guards are quick to hold their electrostaffs threathingly close to your body again. "N-No matter what he does to me, you must not tell him- ouch!"

Feeling the burning imprint of the metal back of Grievous hand on your now throbbing cheek, the impact throws you to the ground and tears shoot into your eyes because of the sting, but you suppress them quickly.

"Well, if you do not want to talk, I know who will", Grievous threatens and you press your eyes shut in defeat to mentally prepare yourself for the torturing pain.

A pain that does not come.

At least not in the way you expected, because all of a sudden you hear something that is probably much worse for you than thousands of electrical particles shooting through your body.

They are shooting through Anakin right now.

Excruciating screams escape his throat and you have to watch how he is tortured, how his body winds in pain, how he slowly breaks apart.

You both expected that he would attack you.

"NO! Stop!", you yell at them and desperately shake at your bonds, tears flowing down your cheeks at the sight of the love of your life being hurt in front of your own eyes.

"Y/N-"

"Please stop! You will kill him!", you screech over his screams, but Grievous does not let his Magna Guards stop, rather he induces them to continue.

"Don't, Y/N. Do not tell- argh!", Anakin tries to tell you, but is interrupted by his pain and you can clearly feel how he is getting weaker by every second and how his strength and will are leaving him more and more.

With every further shock that electrifies his body and puts his muscles out of action, he groans in unbearable pain while thin billows of smoke are already emanating from his upper body. The skin on his neck and hands is reddish, a sign of an already severe burn. Yet the worst are still his inevitable screams that are fully soaked in suffer.

"The Jedi Archives!", you shout out loud while your tears keep streaming down your face, a feeling of guilt building up inside of you for just having betrayed the whole Jedi Order.

But you have no other choice.

"T-They are in the Jedi Archives!", you stutter out and General Grievous finally brings the torture to an end, but Anakin's body is now just lifelessly floating in the air.

"Well, that was not that hard, was it?", Grievous says, amused, and turns around to step out of the cell, his Magna Guards close behind him, leaving you alone. Before the door closes, however, one of the droids presses a button on the outside of the door, causing Anakin to fall to the ground with a loud thud.

"Anakin!", you cry out and quickly crawl over to him, his body still trembling as a result of the numerous shocks when you turn him on his back to get a better view of him and as soon as you touched him, you shortly get electrocuted as well.

"Do you hear me, Anakin? Please, please don't do this to me. Open your eyes!", you basically yell at him in his passed out condition and very carefully place your hands on each of his cheekbones, caressing them tenderly.

Lowering your head after he shows no reaction, your heavy sobs rock through your body and you whimper quietly, gasping for breath over and over again.

"I am so sorry", you sniff sadly and wipe your tears away with your hands, which are still tied together, before gently placing them back on his burning hot upper body.

"Y-You should not have- Should not have t-told him", Anakin utters all of a sudden and his eyes flutter open a tiny bit, weakness and pain covering his handsome face.

"W-What should I have done instead?", you desperately ask and can't help but feel a little bit relieved that he is able to talk to you despite his bad condition and despite the terrible torture method he just went through.

Seeking support and security, you grab his hands and he gently squeezes yours, trying to reassure you that he will be fine.

"That is- That is w-why it is forbidden- ugh forbidden for us to love and- and-", he groans as he tries to sit up, but he is too weak and even with your help, you do not manage to get him up so you gently lay him down again, his head in your lap.

"A-And to make us dependent on some- argh, damn! Someone", Anakin finishes his sentence anyway and if you did not know better, you could have sworn to see a small smirk scurry over his chapped lips.

"Ani, I betrayed the Council", you supress your crying and brush his brown locks out of his face while looking down at him with affection. "They are going to exclude me from the Jedi Order.."

"What are y-you even talking about? You s-saved me, babe. I will not let that happen", he hisses in pain, the last words nearly inaudible as his eyes slowly close again, his body becoming limp.

"We will not let that happen either", another voice suddenly speaks up and you look up startled, only to see Ahsoka standing in the hallway in front of your now opened cell.

"Ahsoka?", you mutter under your breath in disbelief and widen your eyes as she steps into the cell, not sure how much of your conversation she was able to hear. After all, nobody knows that you and Anakin are a thing, let alone married.

"Master!", Ahsoka breathes in shock and falls onto her knees next to you as she speechlessly takes in Anakin's fragile figure.

"I- They have-"

"It's okay, Y/N. Take it easy, slow breaths, in and out. We will get you out of here in no time", she affirms and gives you a gentle, encouraging smile before she quickly severes your and Anakin's cuffs with her green lightsaber. "Obi-Wan is chasing after Grievous and Captain Rex-"

"Master Tano, I found the lightsabers and am now on my way to the prison wing", Rex's voice interrupts Ahsoka through the comlink.

"Can you walk on your own?", she asks you concerned and helps you on your shaky legs, even though you nodded.

"I knew- I knew you would come, Snips", Anakin coughs out of nowhere, and you are not sure whether he is conscious or if the Force just allows him to feel what is happening around him right now.

"You always have to be bailed out, Skyguy", Ahsoka chuckles and at this moment Rex enters the cell with more clones, immediately handing you back your lightsaber, which you attach to your belt.

"Rex, please help me out over here", Ahsoka asks him and together they lift Anakin up from the ground and carry him out. Following them into the corridor in front of the cell, Fives quickly meets you and puts your arm around his shoulder to help you walk until you arrive in the hangar and get onto the Twilight.

They place Anakin in one of the small cabins and you let Fives guide you there as well. You sit down in front of your husband and do not let him out of your sight.

Holding back the sad and re-emerging tears that come up while looking at his distorted, unconsicous body, you bite down on your lower lip to prevent you from crying and take his rough flesh hand in your own. You gently stroke over the back of his hand with your thumb while the clone trooper medic puts an oxygen mask over his face.

It does not take long for Obi-Wan to join you in boarding the ship and as he does, he straightly goes to you when they start the Twilight and fly out of the hangar and into the vastness of space. When you feel his hand on your shoulder, you flinch.

"Sorry. How is he?", Obi-Wan asks you with great concern in his voice and face. After all, Anakin is like a son to him.

"The clone trooper medic said that he suffered severe burns and bruises, but apparently no permanent serious or consequential damage. Nevertheless, he urgently needs professional treatment when we arrive on the Negotiator", you sob and inconspicuously remove your hand from Anakin's to not let Obi-Wan see. "I have to- uhm I have to tell you something, Obi-Wan."

"I know. But better keep it to yourself a little bit longer for now until we report to the Council together, alright? Then you only have to tell it once", Obi-Wan calms you down and gives you warm smile.

"Thank you, master", you lower your head and turn your gaze back to Anakin, whose chest moves up and down regularly and whose breath is sounding through the room.

"Don't worry, Y/N. You did what everyone would have done and I am very grateful that you did so. We all have to make sacrifices at some point", he assures you before carefully patting your shoulder one more time and leaving the room, leaving you alone with Anakin again.

After you have finally arrived on the Negotiator, you do not leave Anakin's side when a few clones bring him to the medical bay, where the meddroids take professional care of him right away. While they are treating him, you wait outside, your body full of tension while nervously tapping the floor with your foot and playing with your fingers. They checked up on you as well, but because you were only briefly subjected to torture it only took them a few minutes to treat your wounds.

When the door finally opens automatically, you look up with hope in your eyes and stare at the medical droid expectantly.

"He is stable. You can see him now", the droid announces and guides you inside. At the sight that greets you, your heart stops beating for a moment.

There your husband lies, with cables connected to all the beeping machines, his eyes closed and his breathing light and regular. You unconsciously quicken your pace in order to get to his side faster. As soon as you stand next to him and neither say anything nor touch him, Anakin immediately opens his eyes as he senses you through the Force.

"Hi, beautiful", he weakly smiles at you and grabs your hand, causing you to directly surround his with your own, looking at him with worry, the load suddenly falling off your shoulders all at once.

"I was so worried about you. How are you?", you openly admit and gently run one of your hands through his messy but soft hair.

"You should not have done that, you know?", he clears his throat, ignoring your question as he feels the conflict within you, a serious expression while staring in your eyes. "I mean saving me. You have put yourself in danger. If something had happened to you.."

Tears well up in your eyes as you unintentionally review the recent events in your head, taking Anakin's words to heart, but you quickly catch yourself again.

"Anak-", you want to answer, but abruptly get interrupted when he pulls you into his strong arms out of nowhere, hugging you tightly like his life depends on it.

"Thank you for saving me, love", he softly whispers into your ear and you smile into the crook of his neck before he guides your face with his hand on your jaw right in front of his own. His blue eyes scan your face and then switch between your eyes and lips until he gently places his hand on the back of your head and leads you into a tender kiss.

Feeling his lips against yours suddenly feels so surreal to you. After everything that happened, you almost did not believe that it could still end, well, like this.

Leaning more into the kiss, he eventually breaks the kiss, just to place one gently between your eyebrows. His thumb softly runs over your cheek as he gives you a warm smile.

"I love you."

"I love you more. And I would always sacrifice everything for you", you return his smile and connect your lips again, feeling like nobody can harm you anymore.

604 notes · View notes

cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

Text

Anything

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal), Rough Oral Sex (blow job, face fucking), Spanking / Whipping (with a drumstick), Obsessive Reader, Toxic / Power Imbalanced Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Suggested Dubcon / Reluctant / Compliant Reader

Words: 10,418

Pairing: Drummer!Bakugou Katsuki x Superfan!Fem!Reader

Quirkless, Punk rock band AU

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Tags: @lady-bakuhoe, @gallickingun, @mirakumiruku, @wakaoujisenhime, @sunnieskies02, @hisoknen

Art in banner by me.

This was incredibly frustrating. Finally, after years of admiring and being an incredibly dedicated fan, you were standing in front of your favorite punk rock band. They were just a few feet from you, so close that you could reach out and touch them. How badly you wanted their full and undivided attention was near suffocating, and yet, it was so difficult for you to find the courage to speak at all. You had given them your name after you had been brought backstage for the meet up, which was a perk of the insanely expensive VIP tickets you and your friends had purchased.

That’s all that you had been able to say. Your friend, however, was absolutely bursting with questions. You were very close to her, but damn, you wished that she would just stop talking long enough for someone else to get a word in. All day you had been brooding over what you wanted to ask, what you wanted to say to these men that had been such a huge part of your life for the last few years. Their music had inspired you, made you cry, pumped you up so much that you’d jump around your room and just jam out. But, more than that, they had saved you. You didn’t know how to explain it, or even how it happened in the first place, but you had truly begun to feel like their existence is what you lived for.

Was that unhealthy? Probably. But who could blame you? You loved every single one of them. All five men were like your best friends, and you felt so close to them from your time following them on social media and attending their concerts. You knew them like the back of your hand, from birthdays, to favorite food, drinks, hobbies, past or current girlfriends, and you had even found out their personal telephone numbers. Had you ever called them? No, of course not. That would be creepy.

Midoriya Izuku, the band leader and lead singer, was being the most engaging as far as answering questions. Unlike their punkish attire and aesthetic, he was like sunshine, incredibly friendly and soft with his curly green hair and freckled cheeks. He was adorable, able to make all the little fangirls scream and squeal with his grin and a cheeky wink.

Todoroki Shouto, lead guitar and backup singer, was the quiet pretty boy of the group, breaking hearts with his intense and piercing stare. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have a soft side to him, but more than anything, he was extremely dense, and his genuine confusion was what made him so desirable.

Kirishima Eijirou, second guitar, was another ray of sunshine amongst the black clothes and punk piercings. He loved to get the crowd riled up, his endless energy and cheery personality infectious. Out of everyone, he was the most openly friendly without a hint of shyness and treated everyone like he had known them forever.

Kaminari Denki, bass guitar, was the group idiot. He was nice, but often did and said things that could get the group into trouble or make a fool of himself in the public eye. Funny and playful, he could make anyone laugh, either from a joke or from just being a silly fool.

Although you adored them all, one of them had you in his grip, like your heart had been locked in a vice that grew tighter every time you saw him. The fifth member, Bakugou Katsuki, was your absolute dream man. Rough, arrogant, mean, and foul mouthed, he was the bands second in command, drummer, and backup singer for moments that required his deep and gruff voice. God, he was everything you ever wanted in a partner. Boyfriend. Husband. Whatever! You wanted him so badly that you dreamed about it constantly, picturing yourself in those strong arms or having those calloused hands on your body. Much to your misfortune, he was the most private on social media, so there was still a lot about him that you didn’t know.

That was one of his most attractive qualities to you. His mystery and his silence. What was he really like? Was he this grumpy and off putting with those close to him? Did he have a gentle side of any kind?

You wanted to know everything about him! But, standing here in front of the entire band, you were frozen, not able to make a squeak. Even your eyes were locked on the floor, unable to look up at them in fear that you would gawk a little too intensely. Or start crying. One of the two would happen, probably.

Your chance to interact with your heroes was slipping by with each moment, however, and you didn’t know if you’d ever get to have this chance again. What did you want to say? What questions had you thought about? You had a million of them, all you had to do was just say one. Something. Anything!

“Bakugou-!”

The name slipped from your lips in a sharp snap, which tapered off at the end with a tremble. Just as the sweet name left your lips, your eyes darted up, catching the confused and irritated crimson glare of the blonde drummer. At first, you were taken aback by his current appearance, still flushed and sweaty from the concert performance. His blonde spiked locks were wild and unruly, bangs stuck to the sweaty skin of his forehead and cheeks. He was so handsome, all messy and hot--

“U-uhm…” Your friend that stood beside you gave you a nudge in the side, though she was unable to pull your gaze away from Bakugou, who’s annoyed snarl made your heart begin to race. “[Name], I was about to ask something else…”

“What’d you want to say, you damn shitty extra.” Bakugou barked at you, ignoring your friends' whine at being interrupted. “Don’t just bark out my name and then stand there like a fucking moron.” That gruff and demanding voice was intoxicating, making you involuntarily clench your thighs together and clutch at the fabric of your skirt.

“I… I was wanting to know. Uhm,” Your eyes darted across his face and his chest as you tried to think of what you had been wanting to ask him. You couldn’t remember for the life of you, but as your gaze landed on the piercing he had on the bridge of his nose, a thought popped into your head and curiosity flourished instantly. “How many piercings do… do you have?”

Bakugou’s eyebrow cocked in initial confusion at the question, before returning to its usual furrowed position. “The fuck? That’s kind of personal, ain’t it?”

“I’ll tell you how many I have.” You weren’t sure if the teasing, flirtatious sound of your voice was purposeful or not, but just hearing yourself made the tips of your ears flush. “Five types… Nine piercings total. I bet you beat me on that, hm?”

“Tch, that’s fucking nothing, you little punk poser. I have nine types, thirteen total.” Bakugou shoved his hands into the pockets of his loose shorts, pulling the fabric down just enough to show the skin of his left hip and a peak of his boxers. One of the stated piercings gleamed in the light once exposed, and it took all your willpower to not hyper focus on it. “Not like you’ll ever know them all or see them.”

“I bet I could guess.” “You’d fucking fail, moron-”

“A-ah, let’s not!” Midoriya interrupted, giving a nervous laugh and a wave of his hand to pull your attention off Bakugou. “We’re not here to talk about such personal things, you know! Right, Kacchan?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Bakugou shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, giving an annoyed click of his tongue. “I’m not in the mood for this bullshit.”

“Why?” You once again spoke without thinking. “Because you missed your cue during Collide?” The accusation immediately had Bakugou’s eyes widening in surprise before he scoffed, glaring crimson daggers at you.

“Well aren’t you just a fucking super fan.”

“I try to be.” Although you knew that he wasn’t kind to you, the fact that he noticed your extreme interest in the band made your cheeks flush, looking down at the ground between your black combat boots. The t-shirt you had paired with your skirt was your favorite that you owned of the bands merchandise, and just seeing it as you gaze down over your chest made your stomach bubble nervously. Was it really that obvious? Was it weird to him? Did he like it?

“Ah, well, anyway!” Your friend piped in again, taking a step closer to Midoriya with a sparkle in her eyes. “Deku! Please, tell us about your girlfriend!”

Midoriya instantly went into his flustered state of rubbing the back of his head, his stuttering and embarrassed gibberish cracking with his exhausted voice, leaving you once again off to the sidelines. With a small, quiet sigh, you fiddled with the hem of your skirt, more questions burning on the tip of your tongue. In your down casted vision, you saw Bakugou’s feet shift, and there wasn’t a second thought in your mind about looking up at him. Your gaze immediately locked with his, which was still a dark and threatening glare.

Your heart instantly skipped a beat, the heat in your cheeks growing hotter. Had he already been looking at you? Why was he glaring so intensely? You didn’t think that he would get upset with the mention of his mistake that you had pointed out, but perhaps he had gotten embarrassed? In truth, you hadn’t meant your statement to be argumentative in any way. You were more concerned about him. Messing up during a performance was a big deal, and though most people might not have noticed, you were curious if it was eating at him or if he just doesn’t care.

Then, he made a move that you didn’t expect. With a quiet click of his tongue, he began to make his way out of the room, only stopping at the door when Kirishima spoke up.

“Woah, man, where are you going?” The redhead interrupted Midoriya, who also looked at Bakugou curiously.

“I work a lot harder than all of you assholes during a show! I’m sick of fucking standing around, and these losers aren’t even interesting. I’ll be in my room.” Before anyone could stop him, the door slammed shut with his exit, and you turned your attention to Midoriya as he sighed.

“A-aha, I’m sorry about Kacchan! He’s uh… he doesn’t like meetups much.”

“That’s a shame…” You mumbled under your breath, already missing his presence. You could still feel that glare on you, so threatening and dangerous. This had been your chance to really make yourself stand out from the crowd and show him how genuinely interested you were in him, and you wasted it. You cared about him more than these other women that fawned over him like brainless zombies. You were perfect for him. You knew you were, without a doubt, and you wanted him.

It was true that the rest of the band members were close to your heart, that you admired all of them as your heroes. But Bakugou… You had just ruined your chance to talk with him and get to know him.

There wasn’t anything else you could do.

“Is there a bathroom I can use?” Your question once again popped out of your mouth during the middle of a conversation, though instead of stopping it, Kirishima smiled at you sweetly. His kind face and gentle touch to your arm to lead you away from the group so he could talk to you had your heart racing, almost too scared to take a step in fear that you’d trip with how distracted you were by his face.

“Yeah, babe. Go left down the hall, you’ll see it marked. Don’t get yourself into trouble, m’kay?”

B-babe? Aahh, why would he call me that? He’s too sweet for his own good. Cheeks flushing, you gave a small nod, thanking him quietly before heading out of the room, taking a final quick glance at the group behind you to catch Kirishima giving you a playful wave. Of course, by the time you stepped outside into the hallway, Bakugou had already vanished. Using what you had remembered of the route to get to this room from backstage, you hadn’t seen anything that was labeled as a changing room for any of the men. So, you went left down the hall as you had originally been instructed, glancing at each door you passed to see if there were any names scribbled on the dry erase board many of them sported.

Your heart nearly stopped when you finally saw it. Bakugou Katsuki, written in red marker with a shitty doodle of what looked to be a hand holding up the middle finger, along with the words “fuck off”. Before going in, you took a moment to press your ear up against the door, listening closely to see if there were any signs of life. There wasn’t a single sound or hint of movement, so gathering your courage and glancing up and down the hall for danger, you took hold of the doorknob, your heart beginning to race as it moved without resistance.

With a quiet click, the door opened, not making another sound as you cracked it just enough to look inside. The lights were on, and your suspicions that he hadn’t been inside were confirmed. Feeling a bit discouraged, you considered just going back to the room to finish off your time with the rest of the band. That would probably be enough to satisfy your longing for them, right? The others could be great company, and maybe Bakugou would come back before you left.

But, deep in your chest, you could feel the need to be with Bakugou alone to talk to him one on one. You wanted his attention more than anything, and you knew that there wasn’t going to be another chance for you to see him this close again any time soon. No, you couldn’t run away. You had already come too far to back out now. What’s the worst he could do? Kick you out? Call security to have you removed? Call you names? Press you up against the wall and threaten you?

Ah, well, maybe that wasn’t all that bad. You’d probably melt in his hands and collapse on the floor in a blushing puddle of tears if he so much as touched you.

Gathering your resolve, you pushed yourself on into the room, walking lightly and glancing this way and that to make sure he wasn’t just laying on some furniture or something to take a nap. Feeling confident that he wasn’t in the room, you shut the door behind you with a light click, taking a few timid steps into the room. Almost instantly, you were completely engulfed by the scent of his body spray, which you had only been faintly able to pick up while in the group. It was such a powerful scent, bold and intense, just like him. How quickly just the simple scent of him made your core burning hot was a bit staggering, feeling your knees already growing weak and your chest growing tight.

This is harder than I thought… Just from smelling him like this I feel like I’m going crazy. And he’s not even in here! I should leave before I get too distracted… But… This is his stuff!

Beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed being in the presence of Bakugou’s possessions, your teary gaze scanned the room methodically, surprised to see that the room was actually very well kept. With his brash personality, you more expected Bakugou’s personal space to be a wreck, but the only thing that was really out of place was a small pile of clothes tossed aside next to a suitcase. A desire to be close to Bakugou driving you, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation as you made your way towards it, squatting down. Right on top was the tank top he had just been wearing, still soaked with his sweat. It was the most recent thing that had touched his body. It still had his essence all over it. How could you just leave it there?

Picking it up, you brought the shirt up to your nose, inhaling deeply. It was absolutely delicious, your body quivering from the excitement and adrenaline beginning to pump through your veins. You were actually holding one of Bakugou’s sweaty shirts in your hands, one that he had just performed in! This was absolutely real. It wasn’t a dream!

Becoming overwhelmed with your feelings for him, you flopped back to sit on your butt, spreading your legs open. Since you were wearing fishnet hose with decently large holes, you had direct access to your already soaked pussy, the little lace thong easily moved aside. Now, all that existed to you was the scent wafting off his shirt and your fingers eagerly stroking your sex, alternating between stroking your clit and digging two of your fingers inside you. The cloth of the t-shirt pressed up against your lips and nose, you panted and moaned softly against it, imagining that you were right up against his chest, his fingers teasing your cunt.

You were so engrossed in your fantasy that you could even hear him taunting you, that deep growl of his voice in your ear.

“That’s right, babygirl. You like when I finger that slutty pussy, don’t you?”

“You’re so fucking wet, you little whore. Dripping all for me.”

“Getting horny just from the smell on my clothes? You dirty fuck.”

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The sudden rattling boom of a familiar yell startled you out of your pleasant daydream, turning your moan into a squeal as you nearly jumped out of your skin. Spinning around, you were met with the wide-eyed shocked crimson glare of your dream man, who was standing halfway in the room, as if he had stopped in his tracks upon seeing you. All you could do was sit there in shock, still holding his shirt up to your face as your other hand tried to pull your skirt down between your legs, as if to hide your sin.

“I,” Stuttering, you tried to gather yourself, clenching your thighs together tightly. “I, uhm, Bakugou, it’s not- How’d you… get in?”

His shocked expression contorted into one of confusion, then into annoyance, his brows furrowed deeply as he startled at you. “Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t lock the door, ya dumb cunt.” Walking the rest of the way inside, he slammed the door shut loudly behind him, startling you again enough to scurry back against the wall, your knees pulled up to your chest protectively. “What the fuck are you even questioning me for? You’re the horny bitch sitting on my floor sniffing my fucking clothes and touching yourself.” Without having to look back at the doorknob, Bakugou gave the little lock a twist, setting the latch firmly in place.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you could only stare at him, your eyes captivated by that fierce glare. How hot he made you only intensified now that he was back in your presence, and more than that, the asshole was even shirtless. His flawless muscular figure made your mouth feel dry, as if any and all liquid your body could produce was pooling between your legs. It was everything you could do not to start touching yourself again, clutching onto his shirt with both hands tightly. “I… I’m sorry. I just… I-”

“You’re just a damn psycho fan, aren’t ya?” Reaching up to give his hair a quick ruffle, Bakugou started making his way towards you, his ruined and ragged skater shoes squeaking against the smooth wooden floor. “I’m surprised you didn’t rip your shirt off during the fucking concert and throw your bra on stage.”

“I’m not stupid like those girls… I have dignity. And I don’t want a bunch of other people seeing my tits anyway.” Your voice lowered down to a meek whisper by the time he stood in front of you, both of his hands on his hips, as if he were about to scold you like an angry parent. With him so close, your eyes glanced over every inch of his bare torso, drinking in how absolutely flawless he was. What was even more enticing was the piercings he had so proudly boasted about not long ago, a pair of them placed on his collarbones, nipples, and hips.

“Tch, dignity?” Bakugou scoffed, a sly smirk crossing his lips. “‘Dignity’, the little slut says, as she sits on the floor in my dressing room fucking herself to the stench on my shirt. Pathetic.”

“What are… Are you going to kick me out?”

“There’s a lot that I could do to you,” Bakugou’s smirk turned wicked, his lips curling up to show his gums. “But how about you tell me what the fuck you were doing in here?”

“I just… I really wanted to get an autograph or picture with you. You’re my,” Your breath caught in your throat, not wanting to let it slip that he was your absolute dream man. “You’re my favorite band member.”

“Then what are you doing with my clothes?”

An intense burning suddenly rushed to your cheeks with a new round of embarrassment, and with it came the stinging sensation of tears building up in your eyes. What had you been doing? You had just wanted to talk to him more, to get to know him better, and just spend time with your hero. And yet, you had let yourself get completely overwhelmed by a burning desire for him, one that was just too strong to ignore in the moment of solitude with his possessions. You knew that you had a very intense crush on him, but that bad and that… gross? You had told yourself over and over that you weren’t like the desperate women who would do anything filthy to get his attention, yet here you were, sniffing his clothes and touching yourself.

“I… I don’t know what I was doing.” Your voice quivered as you avoided looking at him, trying to blink the tears away. “That was really gross of me. I had just… wanted to see you in private. I wasn’t getting a chance to talk to you, to any of you, and… I just wanted my chance.”

“You wanted your chance, eh?” Bakugou brought a hand up to his chin, rubbing it as if he were in thought, contemplating his options. “So much that you’d sneak into my room, to wait for me or try to corner me?”

Swallowing the lump that had grown in your throat, you coward down back against the wall, wishing that you could just shrink away in shame. Your impulses had completely ruined your chances. He had to think you were a total freak by now, he’d never want to even give you the time of day.

“Ya know,” Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, taking a half step closer to you. His posture and presence over you was so aggressive and domineering that you couldn’t find it in yourself to move, only pulling your legs up tighter to your chest to try and get further away from him. “You talk all big, saying that you’re not like those other extras out there that’ll drop their pants in seconds for me. That you have ‘dignity’. But I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re just like those other sluts out there, a stupid whore that is driven by nothing but her cunt.”

You gave a small shake of your head, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs and the swirling in your stomach from how he was treating you. You couldn’t believe it was turning you on so much. “No, I… That isn’t what I wanted.”

“I think it is. You’re disgusting. Nothing but a filthy super fan and a stalker. Why don’t you just admit it?”

“Because… It’s not true. I love you, but not… It’s not all like that.”

“If you loved me, you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” The change in tone caught you off guard, his voice no longer accusatory and vicious. Instead, his growl was almost soothing, as if he were trying to calm your frantic thoughts of failure. “You’d do anything to stay in the same room as me. To just be able to fucking look at me or get a shitty autograph, hm?”

“I would… yes.” Your heart racing, you tried to blink away the tears still prickling in your eyes, but they were persistent. “But if you want me to leave, I’ll… do that, too. I shouldn’t have come here like this in the first place…”

“You regret it?” Bakugou moved his hands back to his hips, his fingers resting against the pristine shape of his hips with such rugged and confident posture. You were so conflicted on your feelings, and that question only made your throat grow tight. Did you regret it? All your actions up to this point had gotten you here, alone in his room with him, and no matter what the interaction was or may end up being, just getting to be here was a dream come true.

But what would you do? Would you really do anything he asked of you? Anything? In truth, you didn’t think that you had the courage and you would just annoy him until he kicked you out. What would he even want from you in the first place? You weren’t innocent enough to not have noticed the bulge beneath the zipper of his shorts, pressing up into the fabric. Was this entire situation, having you cowering on the floor in front of him like this, actually turning him on? Did he… like you, then? Was he attracted to you?

“I asked you a question.” Bakugou snapped when you didn’t answer him, leaning forward a bit to glower down at you with that typical snarl.

“I don’t… I don’t regret it. I just don’t want to upset you.”

“Aw, don’t want to upset me, eh?” With a click of his tongue, Bakugou’s snarl stretched into a smirk. “Poor little stalker, scared to upset me. Don’t worry, babygirl. Just do what I ask, and you won’t upset me.”

“Really? You’re not upset?”

“Not at all, babe. But you have to do what I say. You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” The condescending growl of his voice was lost to you, only able to latch on to the pet names and hope of getting back on his good side.

“Yes.”

“Because you’re not like those other girls. You're my number one fan. Aren’t you?”

A new burning of heat and tears flared up, unable to stop the happy smile on your lips. “Yes. Yes! I am! I love you so much-”

“Get on your knees.”

Smile faltering, you were confused by the demand, looking up at Bakugou through your gathered tears. “What?”

“Get on your fucking knees.” Bakugou snapped again, the gleam in his glare almost… sinister. Still, there was something in you that begged for you to comply, and just like your impulses earlier, you couldn’t ignore it. Squeezing the fabric of his shirt tightly in your hands, you slowly shifted yourself up onto your knees as demanded, though the space between him and the wall was limited. Worried about your face being too close to his crotch, you sat back mostly on your legs, but he was quick to correct you.

“All the way up on your knees.”

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you pushed yourself up to be kneeling, your eyes glancing and looking everywhere but at the crotch of his baggy blank punk shorts, which reached his knees and ended in tattered fabric. The chains on both hips rattled lightly as he shifted his weight to his other foot, and that slight sound pulled your eyes to look at them, and thus at his crotch. At this angle, you could truly see how strained he was, the form of his cock clearly visible. The heat in your cheeks grew fiercer just thinking about what was just a few inches from your nose, and what was worse, the smell of him was overwhelming all your senses. He must have just recently reapplied his spray after sweating like mad for hours on end, but even his natural scent was enticing.

“What are you looking at, babe?”

Bakugou’s voice broke you out of your stupor, bringing you to look up at his face. “Nothing… Just, well…” Your voice tapered off, unable to find it within you to ask him. He obviously had a boner, but what the hell did that mean?

“Open your mouth. Keep those pretty eyes on my face.” His commands had grown softer, as if he were purring at you to keep you compliant. Opening your mouth as told, you peered up at him through your lashes, tilting your head back a little. The way his smirk grew had your skin tingling, but that isn’t what had all your attention. Your focus was on his hips, listening to the rustling of fabric and watching the movement of his arms through your peripheral vision. “Good girl. Now stick out your tongue. And don’t move.”

Slowly, your tongue lolled out, and the low groan he gave in satisfaction of your obedience had you opening your mouth wider. As you sat there waiting for him, you could feel the saliva beginning to dribble down your chin and along the length of your tongue, gathering in a slick pool before dripping off the tip of your tongue to the floor.

Suddenly, you felt a hard and hot presence slap against your tongue, making you squeak and recoil back. Though, before you could get far, your hair was in Bakugou’s fist, yanking you back up into position and peering up at him in shocked fear. He was visibly agitated, but his smirk was still wide, teeth bared.

“What do you think you’re doing, slut? I said don’t move. You told me you’d do anything I say.”

Trembling now, you pulled your gaze from his to look at his hips, pressing your lips together tightly as you gazed upon his erect cock. As he held it steady with his free hand, you couldn’t help but take in every detail, from the girth and length, the prominent veins and ridges, and the frenum barbell piercing nestled just under the blushing head. It was truly the most attractive cock you had ever seen in your life, and a fire began to rage in your core as you realized that was what had just hit your tongue.

Bakugou’s cock… He… He wants me to suck him off? What if I’m not good enough… I shouldn’t!

You could feel the heat of your essence beginning to dribble down your thighs, your poor excuse for underwear and hose completely soaked through. You could feel the throbbing all the way into your stomach, and it was impossible to deny that you were the horniest you had ever been. But this isn’t what you had expected or wanted to do. Was it?

“That’s what you said, isn’t it?” Bakugou pulled your head a bit closer, giving you a few rough smacks to the cheek with his impressive cock. “You would do anything for me.” With your lips still tightly closed, he ran the tip of his cock across them, smearing his precum along your skin. “So be a good girl and give my cock a little kiss. Be sweet, now.”

Although the demand was embarrassing, the pressure of his grip on your hair and his cock literally at your lips made you feel like you truly didn’t have a choice. He was in control of all of this. He could do anything he wanted. He could get you arrested, even. You had to do what he said, not only for your own benefit, but because you adored him. So, you placed a tender kiss right beneath the head, your eyes fluttering closed. Abandoning the t-shirt in your hands, you reached up to softly caress his cock, using your grip to move it up to give you more access to the underside. Your kisses were quite timid at first, but as one lingered against the underside of his shaft, the pulsing you could feel against your lips made your body ache.

Eventually, your kisses became more passionate, even giving light suckles and little kitten licks, teasing the piercing and the sensitive head. Hearing him groan with the attention pulled your eyes up to look at him, a bit surprised to see that his cheeks were quite flushed, and his smirk had faded. Was he really enjoying this?

Bracing himself against the wall with his free hand, Bakugou only further crushed you with his overwhelming presence and dominance, making you pause in worry. “Good girl. Now open your fucking mouth.”

The instant your lips parted wide enough, Bakugou simultaneously pulled your head and pressed his hips forward, shoving his cock into your mouth, the tip stopping at the back of your tongue. Squeaking and groaning in surprise of the forced entry, you clutched on tightly to his thighs, only just having noticed that his shorts had fallen around his feet. His boxers had simply been pushed down out of the way, but the elastic kept them up on his hips for now. You were unable to move, his grip on your hair too tight to pull back. He didn’t want you to do the work?

“That’s it, baby. Keep that mouth nice and open for my cock. You don’t gag easily do you?” You could hear the feigned concern in the question, and the only answer you could give is a furrow of your brow, new tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “Oh well. Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

It was then that Bakugou began to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth slow and shallow. You were actually surprised that he started out so cautious, but you could tell that the pleasure was beginning to grow quickly. “Fuck babe, you’re such a good little slut for me.” Ever so slightly, he began to thrust faster and deeper, until the tip of his cock was hitting against the back of your throat. You were lucky that you didn’t have a strong gag reflex, as you knew that anyone who did would have already puked all over him. But you could take it. You could take it for him, to let him have his way with you just to stay with him a little longer.

Though, you were finding that it was difficult, breathing in through your nose and trying to distract yourself from the burning in your jaw. Each thrust had your nose touching his pelvis and his balls slapping against your chin, which was coated in drool that dripped freely. It was so difficult to handle him, in fact, that you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks, only further displacing your already ruined makeup from crying earlier. You were a mess already, but the fire within you didn’t falter. If not for needing to grip onto his thighs to keep you balanced, you would be touching yourself again, the craving for your own pleasure just as suffocating as the dick in your throat.

Still, your struggles were worth it. You got to watch Bakugou’s expression, his brow no longer furrowed in anger but in pleasure, his eyes glazed over with the undying need for release. His face was flushed and sweat was already beginning to drip down along his skin, his body still affected by the intense performance he hadn’t finished not even an hour ago. The way his body moved, muscles tensing and rolling beneath your grip on his thighs. He was so gorgeous.

You had expected him to finish in your mouth, but after some time of fucking your throat raw, he stopped, holding the back of your head as he dug his cock as deep in as he could. You groaned and whined from the pressure, wishing desperately for relief while pushing on his thighs. With his own groan and hiss of pleasure, Bakugou pulled out of your mouth slowly, his smirk returning as he took in the sight of you. “You should see yourself. Filthy. Keep your tongue out.” When he finally removed himself completely, you took in a deep breath, gasping and panting to try and recover from the brutality you had to endure. Your tongue, however, stayed out as he demanded, allowing him to rub the underside of his tip against it.

“You’re fuckin’ hot, you know that? So fucking sexy. I bet you have a nice tight little pussy, too.” After a few rough slaps of his cock against your tongue, he took a step back, stepping out of his shorts as he did so as well as his shoes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. “Stand the fuck up.”

Swallowing hard, you took the moment of getting to your feet to wipe your chin of the mess of liquids, but you didn’t get much time to steady yourself. Snatched by the arm, Bakugou dragged you over a few feet towards the couch, grabbing you once again by the hair and forcing you down over the armrest. The couch was quite tall, so with your upper body pressed into the cushions and your hips snuggly in place against the armrest, you could barely touch the floor with your tiptoes. It was another uncomfortable position, but you ignored the pressure on your belly as your ass was suddenly exposed to the cold air of the room, your skirt flipped up out of the way.

“Fuck you have a nice ass.” Gripping your backside with both hands firmly, Bakugou squeezed and spread you open, taking in the pleasant view. “What a fucking punk poser you are with these shitty fishnets. They don’t even do shit.” Digging his fingers into the holes along your crotch, he gave a rough yank, ripping the fabric open to give him easy access. “Holy fucking shit, you should see how wet you are, babygirl.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his thumb stroking along your sex, the slick that coated your skin giving him no resistance. You could feel it, all over your inner thighs and aching cunt, but now your favorite person in the entire world could see it, too. He could see how wet he made you, how getting tossed around by him made you feel.

I… I didn’t agree to all of this. I know it isn’t right. I didn’t want it to go this far, but… How can I stop him? Why would I stop him? He’s… I love him so much! I want him to touch me, even though I know I shouldn’t--

Your thoughts were cut off by your own gasp, your body tensing and legs bending at the knee involuntarily at the sudden pleasure that rocked through your body. You knew what it was, his tongue hot and eager against your clit as he ate you out. The sounds of him lapping at your cunt and grunting in delight at the taste of you had your mind spinning, the pleasure devouring your body. Not wanting to be heard by anyone outside, you moaned and gasped into the fabric of the couch cushion, digging your nails into it as you did everything you could to not writhe out of his grip.

You were so sensitive to his touch that you could feel everything, from his nails digging into your hips to the way his tongue piercing slid across your clit. It was as if he knew exactly how to use it to be able to drive you completely insane, the hard metal sending shocks of lightning through your body with each stroke and flick.

“Ba-Bakugou, ahh-!” You tugged and pulled at the couch cushion in your grip, digging the toes of your boots into the floor. “It’s too much! Wait--!”

“Too much? Don’t be such a fucking wimp. You’re my little slut, aren’t you? You can take anything I give you.” As he stood back up, you looked up at him over your shoulder, having to peek through your messy hair to see him. That wicked and excited smirk was back, and you were only able to watch as he gripped your ass in his hands, sliding his cock between your cheeks to coat himself in your essence. “And I know what you want me to give to you. You want my dick inside you, babygirl?”

Immediately, you stomach rolled nervously, eyes on the tip of his cock and the precum dribbling from it. You were on birth control, there wasn’t necessarily anything risky about that, but there was something else that pricked at the back of your mind. If you did this with him, then you knew that you could never settle for another man. You would want him forever, as you always had, but would you ever get a chance like this again? Would you ever even see him again after today?

It doesn’t matter… I’ll do it!

“Yes! Yes, Bakugou, I want you.” You were surprised as he leaned away from you for a moment, though what he was doing was quickly made clear as he came back into full view with a drumstick. The way that it was beaten and chipped told you that it was one he had used that performance, and the other was probably close by, set to be discarded or handed out to fans.

“And why do you want me?” Bakugou dug the stick into your hose, giving a sharp yank to further rip the delicate fabric and expose more of your ass to him fully. “Just because I’m your favorite of the band?”

“No!” You couldn’t help but become defensive. “I… I care about you more than that!” You bit down onto your bottom lip as he began to run the tip of the stick across your skin towards your cunt, mind racing with thoughts of what he was going to do with it. You could still feel and see his cock between your cheeks, hot and pulsing, and you were honestly surprised that he could hold out to tease you this long. Just seeing you like this, bent over and so submissive, was enough to keep him going long enough to torture you a bit.

“You love me? Even though I’ve slapped you, pulled your hair, and fucked your throat until you went hoarse? Even though I have your ass bent over the couch and haven’t given you any more than a few minutes of pleasure?” Suddenly, he brought the stick down hard onto your ass, making you yelp out and tremble beneath him. The pain was so good! You wanted that again, and you received it without having to ask, a moan slipping from your lips.

“Yes! I’ll love you no matter what you do to me! Always! I love it when you throw me around and use me like this! Please, use me more! I’m your little slut, Bakugou--” You were silenced as he leaned over you, his palm pressing into the side of your face and pushing the hair roughly away from obscuring your flushed and teary features. Now with your full attention, Bakugou smirked, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, no, my pet. Call me by my name.”

The heat that rushed to your face made even his burning palms feel cool, trying to blink the tears away as they rushed down the side of your nose to soak into the couch. Was he being serious? He wanted you to call him by name… by his first name. Something that he never allowed anyone but those close to him to do, and you had seen him on more than one occasion snap at people when they did it. He was huge on respect and feeling dominant over others, so to him, his given name was sacred.

“Ka… Katsuki…” You couldn’t speak any louder than an airy whisper, though his reaction was enough to tell you that he enjoyed it. Smirk growing, Bakugou sat up from over your back, his fingers curling into your ruined hair as he began to rut his hips against you. His cock stroked slowly against your ass, his tip teasingly pressing into your cunt before slipping up back between your cheeks.

“Again.” The drumstick still in his free hand, he brought it down hard onto the already abused and welted cheek, right as your voice had begun to leave your lips.

“Ka-ah! Katsuki!” With another whack, your body instinctively tried to shift away from him, though all it did was off set his cock. His tip slipped into you, making you pause, both from the feeling and from the irritated growl that left his chest.

“What a naughty little bitch, trying to get me to fuck you before I say so.”

“N-no, it was just--”

“-- Well if you want it so fucking bad, I’ll give it to you!” Abandoning your hair and the drumstick, he gripped your hips tightly in both hands, sinking his cock into you with one quick snap of his hips. “I’ll show you who fucking owns you!”

You didn’t have time to think or respond as he began to fuck you, fast and hard. Already, the pleasure was overwhelming, rolling through your body like electricity. It was perfect, everything you had ever imagined and more. The way he filled you up to the absolute brim, not leaving a single inch of you untouched, had the coil in your core tightening so quickly that you couldn’t even think about how to restrain it. You were going to cum very quickly, and you had never wanted to so badly in your life.

“How does my cock feel inside you, slut?”

“G-good,” You struggled to choke out a response behind your moans, which squeaked with surprise as he picked up the pace. “It feels good!”

“You want to cum all over it, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Beg for it.”

At first, you couldn’t even comprehend what he was asking you, your mind growing hazy to everything but the pleasure. “I… please!” You reached back, clutching onto his hand tightly, digging your nails into his skin in hopes that it would keep him latched to you. “Please! Please let me cum, Katsuki! I want to cum all over your cock! I love it!”

When the pleasure stopped, all you could do was sit there in shock, the emptiness you felt as he pulled out of you making your stomach sink. Had you said the wrong thing? Before you could really ask him, you were grabbed by the elbows and lifted up off the couch, your body flipped so you were sitting on the armrest with your legs now loosely hooked around his hips. In the next moment, his strong arms were around your body, one hooked around your hips to pull them snug against his own while the other supported your upper body. What shocked you more than that was the fierceness of his lips against yours, kissing you with intense passion and aggressiveness that you couldn’t help but to give in.

Wrapping your arms around his torso, you moaned and gasped softly into the kiss, his hips once again rutting against yours to stroke his length against your clit. For a moment, things seemed to feel different than they had during this entire experience. It wasn’t as if he were using you anymore, doing everything entirely for his own benefit. Instead, his touch was attentive, caressing you and moving your body into position without force. Even the way he kissed you was quick to change, from dominating your mouth to a more tender sweetness. You didn’t ever want it to end, but you allowed it when he pulled away, gazing up into his piercing crimson gaze as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I want to see that pretty face when you cum.” The growl against your lips was teetering on threatening, as if he were warning you to not even think about turning away or hiding your face in his shoulder. “I want to see how good my cock makes you feel, baby. So cum all over it like a good girl.” As he began to sink his cock into you slowly, you couldn’t control your reactions to it, Your eyes rolling back and fluttering closed as he bottomed out inside you, even biting down onto your bottom lip as you whined.

“Yes, Katsuki--” Your voice hitched as he began to thrust into you again, his cock reaching even deeper inside you that it had been before. “--Please watch my face… See how happy you make me!”

“That’s right, you slut. That’s because you belong to me, don’t you? You’d do anything for me.” As he fucked you, he relied on your grip on him to keep you up, both of his hands moving to grip your hips again. As the pleasure began to boil, you dug your nails into his back, your voice spiking as he became rougher with the added pain.

“Yes! Yes, anything! I’ll be your little slut forever, Katsuki! Just please don’t stop!” It was impossible to tear your eyes away from his even if you wanted to, but it was more than just the fact that they were intoxicating. He may have wanted to watch your face for the visual expressions of pleasure, but he didn’t realize that his demand to keep your eyes on him gave away more than he probably had expected to. There was no anger or frustration that you had seen before. Instead, he seemed absolutely overwhelmed with the pleasure himself, just as you were, and the flushing of his cheeks paired with his upwards furrowed brow gave him almost a… desperate look. Like he was pushing himself to make sure he was fucking you as well as he possibly could.

Was he feeling some self-consciousness about all of this, too? Or regret for pushing you to this, unwillingly at first? You didn’t know, and you knew in the end he wouldn’t tell you if you asked.

“Fucking hell, babygirl, your pussy is so fucking tight,” Bakugou pressed his forehead against yours again, wrapping his arms back around your waist to hold you closer, both to the edge of the armrest and his body. “You’re the best fuck I’ve had in months. I hope you’re ready for my cum all over that pretty face--”

“No!” You moved your arms to wrap around his neck instead, one hand pressing against the back of his head with fingers tangled in his hair. “Come inside me! Please, Katsuki, I want you to fill me up! It’s okay--” Your voice cracked with a cry of pleasure, your encouragement pushing him to fuck you harder and deeper.

“Then cum for me, bitch. Cum all over my cock.”

With that command, you couldn’t hold the coil still any longer. It shattered with his movements inside you, each rough hit of his tip against your cervix only prolonging your orgasm and sending wave after wave of harsh pleasure through your body. Trembling, you squeezed onto him tightly, clutching a fist full of his hair and kissing him roughly, moaning and sighing softly into the kiss as he didn’t give you a moment to breathe. Within moments after your climax, his thrusts became slower and erratic, before he was finally able to release.

Groaning and cursing against your lips, Bakugou kept his gaze locked with yours, not giving you any room to move or pull back as he came inside you. How hot it was coating your walls made you shiver, squeezing his hips with your thighs and pulling yourself in closer. It was an incredible high, and as you both came down from it together, you both loosened your grip on each other.

For a moment, you stayed connected, your head on his shoulder with your forehead pressed against his neck, able to feel his pulse against your skin and his chest heaving against yours. Had all of this really just happened? You were pressed up against your crush, his arms wrapped around you with one large hand stroking up and down your back softly. It was so strange compared to his aggressive demeanor just moments before. You knew that it should have made you happy, but instead, all it did was confuse you, and you felt a new wave of tears rush down your flushed cheeks.

Able to feel your tears run down his chest, Bakugou gave a click of his tongue, prying you off him with little pressure. In the same moment, he slipped his semi flaccid dick from within your still aching cunt, pulling his boxers back into place to cover himself. “Fucking crying again? Seriously?”

Steadying yourself on the armrest with your hands, you kept your gaze downcast, squeezing your legs together as you could feel his cum beginning to leak out. “I’m sorry, Bakugou, I just--”

“--Katsuki!”

His loud correction made you jump, looking up at his face in shock as he glowered down at you. His cheeks were still flushed red, but you were unsure if it was from the exertion of what you had just done or from something else. Reaching over, Bakugou wiped your cheeks roughly with his thumbs, before giving you a bump to the bottom of your chin, as if telling you to cheer up. “I already fucking told you, psycho fan. Katsuki.”

“Right. I… should I leave now?”

Unsure of what to do with yourself, you stared up at Bakugou expectantly, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. With another click of his tongue, Bakugou bent over and snatched the forgotten drum stick up off the floor, taking a few steps away towards the vanity that was neatly organized with what you assumed he wore during a performance. Picking up what looked like a marker, Bakugou wrote something on the thick end of the drumstick, before presenting it to you. “Here.”

Feeling your throat begin to close up as nerves began to take hold of you, it took you a moment to even find the courage to look at the stick, scared of what he might have written on it. Of course, it was probably just his autograph, which he had promised you at the beginning of all this. There wasn’t much time to look at it, though, before Bakugou huffed, shoving it against your chest and forcing you to grab it. “Take the damn thing!”

Body still feeling quite weak, you squeaked as you fell backwards onto the couch from his push, clutching the drumstick tightly. You could see the tips of Bakugou’s ears flush as he scoffed, pointing towards the door that led out into the hallway. It was… cute.

“Will you get out! Fuck, you’ve wasted enough of my time for now, go back to your friends!”

For now…?

Sitting up, you took a moment to fix your hair and wipe your face again, using the edge of your shirt to help you. “Do I look clean enough?”

“You look just as fucking hot as you did when I first walked in. Now you better fucking leave, and I expect you to do what I say.” Walking over towards his pile of laundry, Bakugou picked up the shirt he had caught you with, tossing it at you and hitting you in the face. “And take that shit with you! You like it so much; you can have it.”

Clutching both of your new prized possessions close to your chest, you hopped up like an excited child, smiling wide and squealing as you hopped towards the door. “Aahh, thank you, Katsuki! Thank you! I’m… sorry again for intruding…”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry for the welts on your ass. Now fuck off!” Bakugou barked again, trying to rush you out for whatever reason. Stepping outside, you couldn’t help but take a moment to lean back against the wall when the door shut, breathing heavily and blushing fiercely. In truth, you weren’t sure what to make of that entire endeavor, thrown into a confusing mix of shame, embarrassment, arousal, and longing. You shouldn’t have done that, and yet, you just didn’t want to leave his side.

“Got a little lost, didn’t ya, babe?”

The squeal that left your lips was quickly doused by the t-shirt in your hand, jumping and nearly slamming yourself back against the wall in shock of the unexpected voice. Standing across the hall was Kirishima, whose presence you were surprised you didn’t notice immediately. The mischievous smirk on his lips quickly widened into a pleasant grin, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself off the wall to stand up straight. Had he been waiting for you to come out?

“You skipped the bathroom, you know! It’s down that way. I decided to come look for you before we were forced to call security guards, but I guess Bakugou found you first.”

“A-ah, sorry! I… saw him go in his room and I just wanted an autograph.” Holding your treasures close to your chest, your stomach rolled nervously as Kirishima leaned in closer, his eyes locked on the visible part of the drumstick.

“Aahh, I get it! Bakugou can be kind of a jerk, I’m surprised! But uh… if you want to convince anyone else that you were just getting an autograph, you should really go to the bathroom. I’m sure Bakugou didn’t give you a mirror, but you look like you had a real good time.” You could hear the tone in his voice lower from friendly to flirtatious, and you quickly tried to fix your hair.

“H-he told me I looked fine!”

“To him you probably do. May I?” Still grinning with a friendly disposition, you glanced at both of Kirishima’s hands as he held them up in an offering of help, before nodding timidly. He began to run his rough fingers through your hair, fixing it back into a state of normalcy with a tender touch that was so opposite to what you had just experienced with Bakugou. “You’re cute. I can see why he was so into you right away.”

“That isn’t… normal for him?” Your eyes glanced over Kirishima’s exposed muscular arms and sides, the deep cut in the arms of his tank showing all the way to his hips. You thought you saw his smile turn sly out of the corner of your eye, but you couldn’t be sure.

“Nah sweetheart. Bakugou might be a lot of things, but he doesn’t go for random chicks.” Seemingly satisfied, Kirishima also used his thumbs to wipe your cheeks and under your eyes. “Such a messy thing.”

“Thank you, Kirishima… I’m… I’m really sorry for causing you trouble.” Your heartbeat grew heavier as the redhead in front of you didn’t step back, towering over you just as the blonde had. “I’ll go to the restroom and then... Back to the group.”

With a chuckle, Kirishima nodded, tapping the end of the drumstick a few times. “You do that! I’ll meet you back there, just going to have a few words with our drummer. Careful with this stuff, yeah? Someone might just try to take it.”

“I will…”

“Go on, then, scoot.” With a nudge, you were pushed forward down the hall gently, only taking a moment to look back at the pleasant smiling man behind you. He was so different from Bakugou and yet they were the closest friends in the band. You knew that Bakugou was going to tell him everything, and you could only hope that it was going to end up a positive conversation. You hated the thought of Kirishima spending the rest of the VIP visit looking at you in disgust, or even the possibility of him putting you down in front of everyone.

Flustered, you scurried down the hall into the bathroom, slipping into a stall. After pushing down what was left of your hoes and your drenched thong, you plopped to sit, relieving yourself as you held the t-shirt and drumstick close to your chest. Though, it dawned on you that you hadn’t even looked at what Bakugou had written on the stick, so growing curious, you held it with both hands and spun it slowly to look over every inch. The ridges, dents, and splints in the wood were marks of every beat Bakugou had played, a solid crack down the middle representing just how powerful he was.

In truth, you felt like that drumstick. You were always a splintered person, emotionally broken and splintered off from the world. And yet, Bakugou had touched you with his passion. But did that mean that you were truly broken now? Could you ever be used again by any other person, or would you snap into pieces the instant your heart tried to find its beat again?

Eyes tearing up, you tried to blink them away, carefully running your finger along the crack until it met with a smudge of black writing. Unlike what you expected, there was no autograph. Instead, the words “Call Me” were scribbled in the black ink, along with a series of numbers.

Is that… his cell phone number?! It’s different from what I had found… Those must have been fakes.

Reaching down into your boot, you pulled out your phone, having placed it there for safe keeping, though you were surprised it stayed in place the entire time in Bakugou’s room. Without an ounce of hesitation, you created his contact and started a message, sending it so quickly you didn’t even consider the consequences, though his words did ring in your ear loud enough to make you think he was right beside you.

“Now you better fucking leave, and I expect you to do what I say.”

He said to call him, but… texting is the same, right?

Me 10:45 pm: Katsuki?

Bakugou 10:47 pm: hey babygirl. ever been to an after party?

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marvelyhp · 3 years

Text

Still you

Chapter one: Lion's den

Sypnosis: Y/n decides to help the avengers despite their betrayal two years prior and her life makes a big shift once again.

pairing: Y/n x Bucky Barnes and some Y/n x Sam Wilson

word count: 3,452

warning: slight mention of sex, cursing.

note: I have this idea for a mini-series but I'm not sure if it will be liked so I guess I'll see where it goes. constructive criticism welcomed :)

Side note: if anyone wants to be tagged, you can leave a comment or message me :)

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My knife pierced the air. A hand grabbed my wrist before I could strike the skin with the blade. The attacker threw me aside, spiraling me around. With my hand still in his grip, my left hand shot out to hit him on the temple. A grunt was heard from what I knew to be a man.

A hand collided with my ribs as they released my right hand. The air in my lungs was momentarily thin when there was pressure behind my knees, causing them to buckle. I refused to go down alone. My hand shot out to grab his neck in the dark, a small smile of triumph emerged on my face as I grabbed it. A mess of grunting and shortness of breath mixed with the sound of our bodies landing heavily on the ground. Rolling over while holding him tightly, I managed to get on top of his heavy build. My legs were spread beside his hips, sighing against the floor as my left hand pressed against his chest to prop myself up. I quickly pressed the kitchen knife in my right hand against his throat. I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus on my attacker's face despite the lack of light in the living room.

I was panting when I could place the color on his eyes. Steely blue orbs stared back at me, an emotion I couldn't decipher was shining deep. Sweat ran down his eyebrows and perspiration glistened on his forehead. There I was, staring at the man I'd thought of for two years. I held his gaze, unable to look away and so did he. However, I was the first to break eye contact as my eyes roamed over his face, finally pausing on the lush curve of his lips. They were slightly open, breathing heavily. I hoped to hide how my breath caught, looking away when the images of his mouth doing more than breathing interrupted my mind. I tried to think about everything that had happened to recapture the initial hatred and disdain I felt for the man in front of me two years ago.

I noticed the way his hand was bent in front of our bodies, a clear sign of defeat as he breathed rapidly from the struggle, just like me. I looked into his eyes once more as I thought about the precarious position we were both in. However, I did not move. The trust between him and I had been broken a long time ago, something my body would have to understand. I couldn’t trust him and I would never do so again. Just when I thought we were alone, another voice came from the apartment's voice.

"That's why I told you to go first, Manchurian Candidate. She always had a soft spot for you. See, Romanoff?" Tony Stark's irritating voice invaded my living room. The sound of his voice interrupting the fantasies I was engaging in my head. Annoyance coated my mood knowing who was in the house and the fact that someone else was on the line, listening and probably seeing everything. I so didn't miss this. I flatly ignored any kind of indication that he was standing near me while still staring at Bucky's face. Taking him in for the first time in two years.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, confusion and irritation filling my tone. It was mostly irritation since they broke into my apartment, in the middle of the night during the best sleep I've had in a while. Yes, I was definitely annoyed. I looked at James, who was still pinned under the weight of my body. A weight I was sure he could flip at any time if he wanted. I resisted the urge to snarl.

"We came because we need your help." Of course, they did. Why else would they come? I fought the unpleasant feelings that threatened to resurface and just stared at him. His breathing had slowed down from the strain earlier. So did mine. I noticed that our chests were moving at the same rhythm and part of me asked if it had anything to do with us, with how well our bodies knew each other. If they remembered what I thought had happened. I tried to focus on his responses rather than the way his warmth felt against my core, the skin of my thighs, and my hand pressing against his chest. Instead of the way the curve of his body felt against mine. Instead of his lips and the way they felt on my skin, tracing every inch of me. My right hand pressed against his stomach, the feel of his hard muscles and the heat seeping through my skin made me hyper-aware of our position. I mentally slapped myself before letting a humorless laugh escape my lips. I noticed the way his eyes focused on me.

"Why didn't you knock?" I cussed myself. After all this time they come looking for me, just for help and the first thing I tell them is to knock on the door. It was a ridiculous remark because even if they had, I wouldn't have opened the door. I had to give them credit. They remembered quite well how angry I left the compound. On top of that, they remembered enough about me to know that I didn't trust anyone enough to open any damn doors. Well, if I was giving away credits, some could be given to Stark. It was a smart move to put Bucky in the lead because as much as he hurt me, I could never hurt him. Oh, and how I tried that day. I had two years to think about what occurred, to think about everything. I tried to hate him and I failed miserably. I tried to forget it and it never worked. I could never forget that he had been the only one who had not treated me as a threat or maybe he only thought so. He knew what I had been getting off from. Either way, it didn’t matter. Stark would’ve been stabbed for sure.

"Would you have opened it?" The question came in a mocking tone. I became alert when his right hand took mine, pulling the dagger away from his neck. I forbid myself to feel any kind of sympathy when I saw a thin red cut where my dagger had been, a single drop draping at the end. I was ripped out of my thoughts when my breathing hitched. His left hand brushed the bottom of my thigh, hidden out of Tony's sight. My breath caught in my throat as his hand settled on my smooth skin, his fingertips digging into my thigh.

"No, probably not." My voice came calmer than I thought. Even then, I realized that he was out of breath and I hated myself for it. how conscious I was of him. The skin under his palm was burning, a blazing trail following his every move, every touch. The hotness was beginning to spread the more he gripped my skin. My breathing became more and more erratic once his hand started rubbing the outer part.

"Well, that's enough lovebirds." Tony's voice shifted me back to where I was and the situation surrounding us. So, I did what I should have done a while ago. I sprung up from his body, welcoming the cold rush of air I felt cooling the hotness of my skin. The hand he used to rub me was now rubbing the cut on his neck gently. I turned to flick the light, the brightness stinging my eyes for a second before I turned my head towards Bucky.

In a swift movement, he was standing beside me. The ocean of his eyes looking straight into me. Memories of us invaded my brain before a deep disdain grew in my chest. I ignored every emotion that I didn’t understand —neither cared to— swimming in his eyes. I cursed myself as my body still felt flushed with the way he looked at me. A warm sensation pooling in my lower abdomen. I looked away, a scowl creeping onto my face as I laid eyes on Stark´s form. Everything I felt and desired to forget was whisked away by it, my hate for Stark coming in full bloom.

I couldn't help but distort my face in a frown. He had undervalued and underestimated me so many times before I had no more sympathy for the mortal. I never pondered why I had faith he would ever consider me part of his team, of his family. I clearly tried giving too much compassion to the human race.

“You want my help? You?” my finger pointed towards the red and gold suit standing in the corner of my dining space. A snort flew past my lips as a humorless laugh came deep from within my chest. This definitely had to be an emergency. That, or the man was a masochist and he finally discovered what makes him tick after two years.

“Believe me, failed human, I’m not happy about this. However, I do accept you’re the only one, besides Wanda, able to kill enemies with a wider range.” He looked physically hurt to be saying the last part. He had never been good at admitting things about people he never liked.

I kept my face impassive but the truth of how I felt when I heard those words was different. I was suddenly taken back to the times where this was a daily occurrence. Where I was shunned, verbally abused, and not wanted every day. Not only by Tony but by Hydra and just about everyone. I thought about my so-called family back home. About all those times I- I couldn’t even continue. My resentment and hatred for Stark erupted in me, bringing back years of unsaid words and silent tears in the corners. I tried to calm my rapid breathing and the itching in my hands to stab him.

“You can go to hell, Stark.” I stalked off towards the kitchen, knowing if I stood there any longer this would result in a bloodbath. something to create space between us was needed. I let the knife drop with a clank on the sink. I allowed my body to rest against the counter, my hands gripping the edges. Exhaustion made its way quickly through my body though not as heavily as before these days. The alertness and adrenaline in my body numbing the feeling.

“Unfortunately, that’s where we’ll all go if you don’t help us. We need your powers to save the world, falsie. Your time to shine,” his smile was forced and the trust he wanted me to feel was nonexistent. “Oh, and has anyone hinted you look like shit over here? What have you been doing these past two years? Not a glow-up I presume.” The last words were muttered but he knew I would hear because of my god-like abilities.

I was hurt at every word he said but I was mad at myself for letting him affect me. Both feelings moved lively inside me, both wanting attention right this moment. I couldn’t let him see how hurt I was by his words because I knew that was what he wanted. I wondered how his life with Pepper Potts was. But a part of me thought that was irrelevant since he hadn’t liked me since the moment he saw me. His distaste and distrust had been clear since the beginning. He thought he was better, more morally right. Even then, I had never put cared ones in danger, but he had.

As mad as I was, he was right. The bags under my eyes were dark and prominent and they were sign enough of my lack of sleep. Exhaustion had taken a toll on my body. Getting two or four hours of sleep was becoming more and more difficult to withstand. I was aware of how much weight I had lost since I saw them but paranoia wasn't exactly your friend if you were hiding from killers and triggers for your mind. Having to run every few months and hide was becoming tiring. I was mentally and physically exhausted. The desire to tamper with my memories and make me forget became increasingly stronger as days went by but I knew I couldn't. I needed to remember every deed I had done and I needed to remember how I felt while I did it. I felt obliged to suffer for them.

“Fuck you.”

“So touchy,” he sat in the gray chair of the black dining table beside the door. His fingertips stroke the tip of the snake plant in the center of it. I just stared. Hostility irradiated from my person and expanded across the room. The tension in the air strong as a chokehold. “I have deprecating nicknames for everyone. Don’t feel special.” I wanted to punch that fucking denigrating smile right out of his face. He knew what bothered me the most. He knew my insecurities and I felt an instant disdain flare-up in my body towards James. I wanted to punch them but I opted to be more civilized and not act like exactly what he thought I was.

“I didn’t escape Hydra after 60 years so some asshole with an overinflated sense of self-worth could treat me like the scum of the earth. Sorry, metal can but you’ll have to shove your world-saving mission up your ass.” I snapped. So much for acting civilized.

“The kitty’s got claws. Was wondering when they would say hello.” He puckered his lips, a mocking gesture soon followed by the rise of his eyebrows. He looked towards Bucky, wiggling his brows. A whistle interrupted the sudden silence filling the room. Before I could even register, the desire to climb across the counter and smash his face against it flourished in me like poisoned vines. Before I could complete the action, Bucky’s voice reached my ears.

"Y/n, please. Thousands we’ll die if we don’t fight this war. If you don’t help us, we will die.” Bucky stepped closer to the counter, hands resting against the edge.

“What makes you think I will prevent that?”

“Even if we don’t win it, it will lessen the casualties,” his eyes bored straight into mine. “We need you.”

I need you.

The sincerity in his voice and the pleas of help smudged all over his voice softened the raging anger inside my heart. Unsaid words hanged around us like leaves falling from trees, already softening the walls I had built around my heart. Doubts surfaced.

My wish to leave Tony fend for himself battled with the faces of those who defended me at some point in my stay in the Avenger’s tower and while I was on the run with both Steve and Bucky. Steve and Natasha had been weary of me, as I expected they would but they warmed up to me. We were not exactly brothers and sisters but they tried to help. I had thought of them to be friends or something close before I found everything out. Wanda had tried to understand me and be there. She had not been involved in anything. And Vision, he had always been an ally and never doubted my loyalty. He never knew of the plan either. Banner didn’t talk much and T’challa was a friend. Tony was the person that made my life a living hell and turned everyone against me.

I tried to understand him, at first. I thought he was trying to protect his team, his people. I was a potential threat and I understood that but I never implied or acted as though I wanted to hurt them like he made everyone think. Every time he had a chance, he would mention disloyalty or my so-called shady behavior. Yes, I had problems trusting my own mind after Hydra, but I never wanted to hurt the people my brother trusted and the people who gave me a home. I knew what triggered the memories and the episodes of countless tortures, experiments, and missions made for and by Hydra. I was also aware of who I killed and T’challa helped with the rest. He thought my actions to protect myself -and them indirectly- made me a menace.

After some time, I knew I would never win his favor and change what he thought about me. How he saw me. So, I stopped trying too.

A war raged inside me. I felt conflicted. For one, I didn’t know how everyone would react to seeing me after two years, especially when I didn’t leave on the best terms. Two years in which they knew nothing about me and never tried to. It had stung that none of them tried to find me or followed me after I left devastated that night. But Bucky, Bucky hurt the most. I thought he felt towards me or at least cared for me but I was mistaken. I had left hope brew inside me when I shouldn’t have. We all know hope is a dangerous and deadly thing to feel.

I still got over it or concealed it with everything else to forget. I was used to being treated as means to an end since I was born and survived it all. I was not about to let my world crash and burn for a man and some people I lived with. Even then, I didn’t want to return. But if what Bucky said was true, millions of people would die. The Avengers could die and the world needed them. This was bigger than me and everything that had happened with us.

“I have one condition.” My jaw was set and my tone firm, regret already pulsating through me.

“Absolutely not!” Tony’s reply came fast and clashed with a serious “You name it.” coming from Bucky. I looked between them, trying to decide who I wanted to pay attention to first but decide Tony wasn't worth a damn minute of my time. My eyes settled on Bucky’s blue ones, my voice dead serious.

“I don’t ask for trust because I know I will not give any of you the same but I ask to not be doubted,” My voice took a cutting edge but we all ignored it. “I want to be informed of every detail regarding the situation and the mission, just like everyone else. The moment you all know something I don’t. I’m out.” They both knew how serious I was about this. I promised myself I would never subject myself again to what happened two years prior. The feelings of emptiness and low self-esteem I felt were not something I wanted to deal with. Not from people, I swore would never affect me once again. I could very well torture myself but I was not going to let a team led by a buffoon that thought he had me pegged since he saw me make me think I was nothing.

Bucky knew exactly why I asked for this. He knew how I felt and what led to this as he was just as much in the spotlight as I was. I didn’t trust him, not after everything but I knew he wanted to help and right his wrongs so he would keep his word.

“Now wait a minu-“

“You’re right. If you are going to risk your life for us, you have the right to know.” He lowered his gaze. His words felt heavy with something a feeling I didn’t recognize nor wanted to.

“You can’t be serious about this, Cyborg.”

“She’s right, Stark. I’m sure the team will agree.” He looked at Tony sideways, irritation stretched across his face. Bucky’s voice was definitive. The sharp edge in his voice shut Tony up, who rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. I ignored him as I muttered a quick ‘one minute’ and walked to my room. After changing into a black t-shirt and some jeans, I slid on my leather jacket and put on some boots. A bag of clothes and essentials was made quickly before I stepped out of the room.

When I emerged, Tony was sulking like a five-year-old boy beside Bucky while the man shook his head repeatedly towards him. A sigh escaped Bucky as he pressed his finger to the bridge of his nose. I repressed my urge to laugh at the scene in front of me. Once they saw me, both their face recovered and their postures composed.

“Let’s go.” I said nonchalantly, grabbing my keys.

And just like that, I was walking into the lion’s den once more.

#bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel fic #james barnes #marvel fanfiction #bucky x oc #romance fanfiction #angst fanfic

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juleswolverton-hyde · 3 years

Text

Not by the Moon | 08

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing, eating disorder (personal experience, don’t be a bloody twat), heavy(?) angst, Werewolf!Jaebeom trying to be a normal boyfriend

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV.

I am seeing a trend starting to develop where every chapter turns into a behemoth that makes me not want to edit it at all. Nevertheless, I pulled through on this one despite being in the middle of a 32-hour work week and being absolutely exhausted.

Summer holidays, you said? I only see extra shifts and little me-time nor writing time and inspiration. That said, though, be prepared for some heavy worldbuilding because the plot thickens.

Also, and this has been edited in the previous chapter, a new special someone makes his debut in this chapter. Is this also a hint about whose story is next?

Who knows?

I don’t know.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

“Jaebeom? Jay!” I nudge the big man’s shoulder to signal for him to step aside so I can turn the stove off before the burned pancake catches fire. “That’s the third one in a row.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly. “I- I have a... I can’t focus.”

“Is it because of this morning?” If so, then that makes two of us. However, I tried to forget as best I could by working with timed productivity sprints instead of writing the article on Bruges in one go. It worked fairly well until lunch time came around.

That’s when I, too, couldn’t escape the claw mark.

The image of it flashes before my eyes once more, joining my thoughts with his if his blank look is anything to go by.

How did it get there? What did you do?

“Yeah. Morning. I... I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, this should be a nice evening. A cozy night in. You deserve my attention, for me to,” his breath tapers as he finishes the sentence, “be here.”

The quiver in his lips makes the roof of my mouth dry up and my mind empty save for gut-stirring concern, unable to think of a proper response. Nevertheless, I look for words to say what seems best. Like I did this morning when I went to get his medication. “How about I take it from here and bake the pancakes? You already made the batter and I can’t let you do all the work.”

“I like cooking for you.”

“I know you do, but it’s fine. Really,” I gesture at the couch by the living room window, which provides a glimpse of the small balcony, “sit down. I’ll call you once dinner’s ready.”

“Y/N,” he reaches out for my hand yet only dares to hold my fingertips, “I’m sorry I can’t be more.”

The crack in his voice breaks my heart. But its the vulnerability written across his normally stoic face which tears me apart at the seams. Whatever he means, it’s nothing to do with this morning. Rather, it’s about him as a person, the wonderful man he is.

Throat blocked by something I can’t swallow, I scan his attitude for any hint about what he truly means. “What’re you on about?”

Let’s just forget about it for a little while and be a normal couple. I promise I won’t run away despite what happened.

Unfortunately, Jaebeom dismisses the question to make a point I wish he didn’t. “We both know what’s ahead. But, sometimes it’s as if you’re avoiding the inevitable.”

I let out a deep sigh, caught red-handed. “I’m not, because I know or, rather, can guess where this is going. I just don’t know how to respond at times. And I don’t want you to feel bad so I try to keep the mood high as best I can. To, well, keep us both happy.”

“Is your avoidance of food also part of that?” he asks, carefully formulating the question while keeping a close eye on any change in my demeanour.

“Yes.”

“I hate it when you don’t eat.”

“I know, but if you knew the reasons behind it, you’d understand why it’s difficult for me. Although, I want you to know that I’m trying to keep my promise to you and eat when you tell me to.” I cup his cheek, lovingly swiping my thumb to and fro over the tanned skin. “It’s really hard to escape your determination. You’re very insistent on things.”

“Too much?” Eyes dim and glistening with withheld tears, he nuzzles my palm.

“Sometimes.” I kiss the tip of his nose and smile, a sign of happiness that’s only half a lie. “It doesn’t make me love you any less. Now, let me be a proper girlfriend and cook for you.”

Regardless of the wonderful sight of Jaebeom wearing an apron and being absorbed in his element in the kitchen, it’s equally as wonderful to have something to eat tonight. Secretly, I would rather have made a healthier and less calorie-rich dish, but we both need a bit of a reprieve from last night. Thus, for the sake of us both, I’ve decided to let go of my rules for a little while.

To enjoy something sweet.

As wholesome as the sight of the wolf man seated on the couch, knees pulled up with round gold-rimmed glasses balancing on the bridge of his nose as he reads the novel he apparently borrowed from my bookshelves. I should write a little note on the title page and give it to him as a present so he’ll have one of my books like I have his.

They’ll be on his shelves for as long as we’re here.

Be there even after he’s gone.

Then they will return to me yet still be his.

He will still be with me.

The pages filled with his love.

It’s everything that will be left of him.

His legacy.

His remains.

The thought leaving me filled with bittersweet affection, I cut the fruit to put on top of the pancakes while gradually using up all the batter. Were it not for the move to the cottage at the end of the month, I could easily be content here if he’d ask me to move in. Wherever we are, evenings like these might become a common occurrence, a splendid reward at the end of a long day at the office.

They could turn any place into our home.

The long road of the lone wolf would finally come to an end.

Because as long as he’s there, I’m home.

“Mind your head.” Despite the warning, Jaebeom nevertheless puts a hand on my head while he opens the cupboard above to grab two plates.

“I was just about to say dinner’s ready.” I let out a breathless laugh, hardly hiding the sobs at the thought of one day having to live without his touch. “Talk about timing.”

For a second, a curious expression treks across his face. It passes by too fast to properly describe it, but it seemed to be triggered by the meaningless remark about his return to the kitchen.

When a dangerously short and sharp breath escapes me, he swallows it with a kiss. Perhaps it’s the sorrow of knowing a storm lies on the horizon that makes me delusional, but a soft whine rises in his throat each time he kisses a stray tear away as he peppers my face in small pecks.

Satisfied he has taken the sadness more or less away, the corners of his mouth curl into a lop-sided smile as if nothing happened. Notwithstanding, it isn’t hard to figure the blissful ignorance is merely feigned. “Right. Timing.”

Our gazes lock and neither of us says a word until he perks up and motions for me to step back. “Fork and knife.”

Discombobulated by the shared confusion, I indeed set a step backwards so he can open the drawer. In the meanwhile, as Jay sets the dinnerware down, I put the final pancake on the stack and set it down in the middle of the table.

Chest puffed out, I clap my hands. “Dig in.”

Like yesterday, Jaebeom insists on doing the dishes while I settle down for the night. However, whereas I gladly did before, I now do with an uneasy mind. Arms wrapped around my knees, my thoughts run down a familiar dark path.

I ate too much. Maybe I should go home and do a workout. Then again, I really don’t want to even though I have to.

“Y/N?” The faint though surprising mention of my name breaks the imaginary stones weighing down my shoulders. I snap my head to the side, almost headbutting the wolf man who has appeared at my side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Lips pulled into a wistful smile, I scratch him under the chin in hopes of distracting him to the degree he won’t be able to ask further questions. “I’m tired, that's all.”

Unfortunately, Jaebeom is like a guardian who somehow notices a lot despite his absent-minded demeanour. Henceforth, the topic is all but abandoned.

Without warning, and as effortless as if he were picking up a book, he lifts me up from the couch to hold me in his arms. Instinctively, I clutch his loose black shirt to have a grip of something in case I fall. It’s an ungrounded fear since his arms are sturdy, but it’s comforting nonetheless to have something to hold on to.

My haphazard action elicits a low chuckle that makes my heart skip a beat, although it almost thumps out of my chest again as he rests his forehead against mine. “Let’s go to bed.”

“It’s only eight o’clock,” I sputter, chest tight and no breath sufficient enough to lift the sensation. “Besides, I- I don’t have any fresh change of clothes or toiletries or a pyjama.”

Did he turn the central heating up?

“Doesn’t matter. Can borrow. You. No, that’s not right. You… you can. You can borrow clothes from me. Also, I think I have a spare toothbrush somewhere around here.”

“Jay,’’ As best I can, I try to keep my tone steady though the words come out too fast and uneven regardless, ‘’I think I should go home.”

If I don’t and I won’t get in some more exercise, I’ll gain weight and slowly go back to how I was.

And I’ll lose him.

Back to square one.

Loveless.

Despite the effort, I can’t prevent the crack in my voice as I weakly tug at his shirt. ‘’Let me go.’’

“No.’’ The gentle kindness has malformed into rough sternness, translated in a sound similar to a growl. ‘’You need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” I retort, more ferocious and sharper than intended though the equal harshness might help to drive the point home.

For a split second, he snarls and bares his teeth. Simultaneously, a flicker of a second personality passes across his mismatched eyes.

The calm ocean warps into a watery grave with high waves on a stormy night.

The hazelnut cracks to set that which it contains free.

His lashes abruptly flutter shut, as he lets out a pained gasp. Beneath my fingertips, his chest caves as if an imaginary fist has dealt him a blow in the guts.

And in mine as well.

Rippling flesh.

There’s… there’s no… Jay, what is happening to you?

I hold on tighter to the fabric, hyperventilating while trying to refrain from bursting out in tears.

There has to be something I can do! But what? What do I do? How can I make this stop?

How do I get you back?

Withal, shivering lips parted to beg for guidance, are interrupted by a shake of the head hanging low. Slowly, Jaebeom looks up, a light layer of sweat on his skin. Our gazes lock, but whereas the wolf man’s was filled with savage chaos, it’s now returned to the stern tranquility it held before the attack. Nonetheless, an uncomprehending whimper betrays the fact that whatever happened wasn’t experienced consciously.

The rage was beyond him.

Outside him.

Another’s.

Still breathless, he scoffs, the sound gruff and overtly disagreeing. “Let’s watch the moon and stars.”

There is no chance to ask any questions about the swift changes in demeanour since he promptly moves to the hallway and up the stairs towards his bedroom. The bedframe of the two-person bed also functions as a bookshelf which takes up the entire right wall, the shelves stacked with second-hand paperbacks in various conditions. An empty picture frame is placed on his side of the bed, a pair of glasses next to it.

Jaebeom puts me down on the navy wool blanket on the edge of the bed and leans in to steal a kiss, which is easy to do considering I’m too shaken to offer any protest. Nor do I feel the comfort of his lips. “Take your clothes off. I’ll go find you pyjamas.”

A tad reluctant, mind occupied by guilt and terror, I start to undress as he rummages through the wardrobe on the other end of the room.

Left only in my underwear, I sit down on the edge of the bed. Although he’s seen me naked once, I still wrap my arms around myself to hide my body. A shield to protect a fragile ego housed in equally as vulnerable body flesh.

Afraid of what might happen when those ripples grow out of control.

Terrified of who he will become.

Of who he is.

“Don’t.” Jaebeom turns around with a black hoodie and grey sweatpants in his hands, eyebrows drawn together. He closes the drawer, throws the clothes on the bed, kneels, and firmly yet gently grabs my wrists to break the walls I put up. And I let him. “Don’t hide from me.”

Not understanding where the shame originates from, he grows still as he scrutinizes my face for clues. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Instead of giving an answer, I change into the makeshift pyjamas. The hoodie is oversized yet comfortably baggy while the sweatpants hang disconcertingly low on my hips. Fortunately, any skin it reveals is covered up by the top.

Continuing to avoid his gaze without saying a word, I crawl under the sheets. Face turned to the window, I pull up the blanket he drapes over me and bury my nose in it.

A wild forest and cologne with a musty hint of pages.

It’s undeniably him.

I don’t know what else to do or say. So, I let the silence speak for itself.

A language he is fluent in too despite his oftentimes loud demeanour.

The mattress dips under his weight when he lies down and rearranges the sheets to cover us both. An arm wrapped around my waist and legs tangled, Jaebeom pulls me flush against him, his chest warm against my back.

A sob rises in my throat when I feel his lips place a kiss on my crown with a sigh of contentment.

I don’t deserve this.

Us.

Him.

The fear of losing him to whatever is happening inside.

Then again, Life isn’t fair. It deals everyone the same awful hand and leaves it up to the player to make the best of it.

I guess we’re both dealt a crappier hand than others. That, or we play them wrong.

Can we win at all?

“Talk to me.” As loving and happy as the casual intimacy of the embrace is, as forgetful it could make me if only I’d manage to fall asleep, Jaebeom’s oddly sweet cooing keeps me awake.

Staring at the moon.

A woman as fickle as me.

And infinitely more beautiful.

Funny how I, too, am jealous of a celestial body.

In love with the heavens.

He continues when he notices I won’t be the one to break the silence, his intonation laced by a whiny undertone like a dog wanting something yet being denied what it wants. “You know what I’m dealing with. But...” he digs his fingers deeper into my hips, the grip iron-like without being painful, “I hope this is okay to ask, but what is it with you and food?”

The encouraging squeeze in my side almost has me bursting out in tears again. There has to be a price to pay somewhere in the shadows, the overwhelming sensation of being genuinely loved and protected must turn out to be as two-sided as the silver goddess in the sky. After all, Life is bittersweet.

“It’s only fair I tell you.” Especially after how open he’s been. Besides, there’s no opportunity to avoid the topic since we’d arrive at it sooner or later. And he deserves to know. In fact, I don’t want him to forget my brokenness the moment I tell him about it.

We both want each other to remember our own missing pieces.

So I sigh, turn over and bald my hands into fists to rest against the warm skin of his bare chest. As I speak up, I try to keep my voice as steady as possible. “I used to be quite a fat kid, to the degree the GP advised my parents to put me on a diet. Queue high school and social pressure which led me to perhaps work out more than is healthy and left me bordering on the edge of anorexia. There are still foods I won’t eat and days I’ll worry about my calorie intake, especially on the days I don’t work out.”

I can’t help the mirthless chuckle which turns into a rueful smile. “It’s the good old cliché. Just another soul broken for the shallow enjoyment and acceptance of others.”

Lips pulled into a stern line, the wolf man remains silent. Notwithstanding, his eyes speak volumes when I dare to look up at him, the ocean and hazelwood alight with a watery sheen. Perhaps it’s the comfort of his nearness or the familiarity of those one of a kind eyes, but he inspires a confession which I never thought I’d make. “Nevertheless, I’m getting better and it’s partially thanks to you.”

Morgan spamming me with ‘Have you eaten?’ texts and Bam making sure I finish my plate whenever we go out for food either here or abroad help a lot too. Nonetheless, it’s mostly the bookish wolf who makes me want to try.

And be a little better than before.

“What do they feel like, those days?”

“The bad ones?” Jaebeom nods. “They’re ridden with guilt and self-loathing.”

He leans in, leaving only a few centimetres of distance between our faces. His breath is warm on my skin as he bumps his nose against mine. “You’re feeling that way now.”

“I am.”

“Don’t.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re still you. Beautiful as always. And I’ll love you regardless of how you look. I like your mind, which is as weird as mine. The way you hold my hand, as if you’re afraid I’ll walk away. How you unconsciously squeeze it when you need my protection more. How you feel in my arms, soft and warm as a bunny.” He hooks his finger under my chin and tilts it upward to run his tongue over my lips and nose. “Love you. A lot.”

“I love you too.” I turn my head to nuzzle his palm, my face perfectly fitting into it.

Please, no ripples. Let us have this moment. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. Let me have him, just him as he is. At least tonight.

The secure affection of the touch transforms into something else when he glides the back of his hand over my cheek and folds his fingers over my throat. Testing the waters, eyes boring into mine to stop at the slightest sign of discomfort, he slowly closes off my access to air.

It’s funny how the body and mind react to certain situations. Whereas I normally would flinch and run in the direction of safety, there is no urge to run. In fact, the tingling in my chest travels down to rekindle a familiar heat between my thighs while my adrenaline-infused system aches for the wolfish lover. Henceforth, instead of jumping up from the bed, I spread my legs so Jaebeom can comfortably nestle between them.

“Let me prove it. Let me mate you.” The calloused fingertip journeying across the collarbone to the crook of the neck sends a pleasant shiver down the spine. Another electric shock follows at the coarse prickly sensation of his moustache rubbing against my skin as his soft lips kisses and nips at it. “It will only sting a bit, I promise. Please, the mark will look pretty.”

“No biting, Jay.” Reminded of our agreement this morning and the movement beneath his skin when his emotions seem to get the better of him, I pull him against my chest. Before he can protest I scratch his jaw exactly in the way he likes it, thus subduing his great ability to argue. “Not today.”

“It’s not... hm, k- keep go- What do- Bit higher. There. Like, hm, mhm, there. But... what normal-’’ Arms wrapped around my waist again and letting out a content hum, dark lashes flutter shut. For a moment, it seems he’s fallen asleep. However, his drowsy murmurs, while growing incomprehensible, still haven’t finished. “It’s not what couples do.”

“You’re learning,” I giggle, amused by the remark which sounds like a student recalling a piece of knowledge during a test and repeating it for himself.

Without understanding the knowledge completely. “What do they do?”

Staring at the ceiling, I run my fingers through his long dark manes as I try to come up with ideas about what we can do next. “Well, you’ve already given me your clothes. We could try jewelry next, maybe a promise ring. It’s an old-fashioned idea, but people who are promised to each other wear matching rings.

‘’What mean? Promised?’’

I say nothing of the faulty grammar of his question. After all, speaking becomes harder once exhaustion overtakes the body and mind. I have yet to find a sleeper being able to form comprehensible sentences. ‘’They’re sort of similar to engagement rings, but without the immediate implication of getting married soon.”

“Let’s get en- enga- enge-’’ Jaebeom lets out a groan, frustrated by his lack of speech. Nevertheless, it doesn’t perturb him enough to completely give up on the effort to properly pronounce the word he’s struggling with. “En. Gage. Ment. Engagement rings instead.”

I let out a breathless chuckle, amused both by his determination and the absurd proposal. “It’s definitely too early for that.”

“It’s not!” He barks, shooting up with a pinched expression on his face.

Scratching him like before, I manage to calm him down enough to make him lie down on my chest again. Nonetheless, his discontent shines through in the gruff scoff he lets out. “It is.”

“What if...” Prompted by the idea in his mind, Jay scrambles upright to face me once more. Lips parted, the feral sharpness in his mismatched eyes is replaced by a twinkle of barely contained excitement. However, the enthusiasm dims with a shake of the head and a low self-deprecating chuckle that ignites my curiosity. At the same time, it also tugs at the strings of my heart. “No, it’s wrong of me to ask.”

“What is?”

What were you about to say? Don’t keep it to yourself. Tell me!

“Never mind.” He lies down again, nuzzling my breasts as he snuggles up into me.

Then, he slips his hand under mine to lift and compare it to his. “Cute paw.”

Fine. Keep your secrets, you big burly bastard.

“Go to sleep.” I push him off of me, earning myself a disappointed noise which resembles a yelp. “On the other side of the bed, please and thank you.”

In the days that follow, the movement like water set astir under his skin continues to haunt my mind. In fact, it does to the extent that even the keys beneath my fingers seem to flow rather than be pushed down, causing me to flinch for the third time in a row.

For the past hour I’ve been trying to type out the notes on an interview with a chocolatier in Bruges and compose them into a coherent article. An otherwise simple task my mind won’t allow me to complete despite the attempts to remember the good moments we had recently. The video calls right before bed, the cuddle session a few days ago when we gazed at the moon, his enthusiastic texts about and photos of new recipes Jaebeom tried. None of it prevents the likely imagined terrible from destroying our happiness.

I’m going insane. He’s a normal person. Somewhat. I was jet-lagged and therefore not thinking clearly.

That’s why I thought I felt his skin move. I was delusional.

Drunk on him.

A buzz pulls me out of my reverie, the screen of my phone lighting up with a message.

Morgan: Starving! Found a new café thanks to a friend.

Y/N: Let me guess. I have no choice but to come along.

Morgan: There wasn’t a choice to begin with :)

Y/N: Of course not. What am I talking about, eh? See you in five.

Chuckling at the woman’s classic brashness, I shake my head, pack my belongings and head to the elevators.

Outside, regardless of the November chill, it’s pleasant. The sun shines brightly and the wind blows the little bundles of fallen leaves at the roots of the birch trees lining the street into motion, scattering them over the neatly swept pavement.

Winter is around the corner. God, I hate the cold. Hopefully, there won’t be snow any time soon.

I sit down on the bench under one of the birch trees, its branches already bare.

Autumn is truly ending now. Shame. I haven’t even had a pumpkin spice latte and cinnamon roll yet. Maybe I should ask Jay out and find a nice coffee shop where we can get them. After all, if he’s there, we can share the pastry. He’ll be happy and I won’t have to eat the whole thing. A win-win situation.

Enjoying watching the people pass by, each stranger essentially a book with a unique story that is yet not entirely different from someone else’s. Withal, the world feels colder without him, the missing part embodied in the unoccupied spot next to mine.

A delighted sigh on the right makes me snap my head around, alarmed at the notion someone has appeared out of the blue on the empty seat.

A woman clad in a white suit and matching fur-lined coat with pale skin and brown hair glowing copper in direct light stares contentedly up at the clouds. She’s in her very early twenties, although the freckles dusting her cheekbones and rosy cheeks might simply make her look younger than she is.

For a moment, taken aback and speechless, I cannot help but blatantly gape at the otherworldly stranger.

Wow, she’s like a goddess.

A stone sinks to the bottom of my stomach as a dark thought intrudes my mind. My throat dried up, I twist my wrists, the muscles stiff beneath my fingers.

Would Jaebeom like her? If he saw her on the street, would he... would he stop and stare? Prefer her over me or even try and give it a shot by introducing himself?

“It’s a bit chillier than I’d like, but at least it’s better than rain or snow.” The woman turns to face me, her features soft. “I hope spring will come again soon, though.”

I don’t get the chance to respond because a familiar voice calls out. Not that I would be able to form a proper reply otherwise. “You’re here already?”

“I happened to be nearby,” the stranger turns away to answer as Morgan comes to a halt in front of us, a puzzled expression on her face.

“I texted you fifteen minutes ago and you said you had to clean up. I thought you’d join us later.”

“The birth and after birth went faster than I thought so here I am.”

“I’m sorry, but what is going on?” More than a little lost, I look from one to the other in hopes of being given an explanation. “I didn’t know we’d head out with the three of us.”

“Right, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Brigid.” The dark-haired woman holds out her pale hand in greeting. “I work at the hospital as an obstetrician.”

“I’m Y/N,’’ I reply, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Lass,” wonder turned to a darker version of itself yet not saying anything, Morgan shifts her attention to me, “you look famished. Come on, let’s go.”

Offering a few muttered words of agreement, I get up and sheepishly tag along with the other women. As we walk out the street and round a corner, following the signs leading to the artist district nearby the university, I’m occasionally tempted to join the conversation. However, as soon as a short silence falls, I don’t chip in, unsure how to contribute to the small talk they seem to deliberately keep up in order to avoid a topic neither is keen to discuss. Thus I walk in urban loneliness, my train of thought displaced on my face as I let the ghosts of Jaebeom’s skin freely haunt my mind.

Right before the descent into the darkness of the rabbit hole, strong long fingers wrap around my wrist and hold it in an iron grip. The slightly painful squeeze interrupts my reverie.

Jaebeom?

I snap my head to the side to find Morgan standing there, leaning in a bit and her voice low. “We’re here.”

I don’t know how I’ve managed to ignore the bustle of students looking for a free spot on one of the terraces and loud conversations accompanied by the rustle of the paper bags hailing from the shops owned by self-employed artists. It’s also miraculous that I haven’t bumped into anyone by accident.

“Oh,” is all I say, looking at the café we’ve stopped in front of.

Wolf’s is spelled out in a modern font on the sign outside and above the door. A big window provides visitors with a view of the plaza. The interior is simple yet cosy, the white furniture warmed up by oak accents and the bare walls decorated with various art pieces, centered around wolves and various flowers. By the looks of it, they were all made by a single artist who likes to experiment with style every now and then. A few plants are dotted around the place as well to add a hint of free nature to the underlying strangely forest-like aesthetic.

A tall broad-shouldered man with short curly chocolate brown hair partially covering up the scar running over his left eye, strong dark eyebrows and a big koala-like nose stands behind the counter. Both of his arms and hands are decorated with various intricately designed tattoos. Whereas Jay is muscled yet lean, the tanned barista looks like a man who knows how to fight yet is a warrior in a society without combat.

As soon as we walk in, his lifts his head and turns to us. Playful lights illuminate the milky white of his left and raven dark of his right eye. A meadow of snow, its glimmer reflecting off of the smooth feathers of a wise bird. “Hi, welcome. Brigid, long time no see.”

Nobody seems to notice it, but his female colleague, a short woman with long flowy caramel brown hair tied into a ponytail who has her back turned to us and is busy extracting a shot, cringes at the merry mention of the woman’s name. Slowly, she steals a glance at us, hazel eyes sharpening when they fall on the woman in white. Nevertheless, she remains silent and quickly returns her attention to preparing someone’s coffee.

Looks like I’m not the only one envying her.

It is wrong to hate a woman for her beauty. Nonetheless, although it’s shameful, part of me refuses to associate with Morgan’s acquaintance out of a toxic mixture of spite and jealousy.

Such is the female nightmare.

“So this is what you’ve been up to,” Brigid muses, nodding appreciatively while inspecting the coffee shop. “You’ve got a nice thing going on here, Rome.”

“Please don’t call me that anymore. It’s Christian now. Chris or Ian for short.’’ Muscled arms crossed, he grimaces and shakes his head while looking down. Notwithstanding, the stern attitude melts into casual friendliness as a bright smile forms on his lips. ‘’But I do, don’t I? However, it’s not just me running the place. I’ve had some help.”

He turns around and motions for his colleague to come over. For a second she doesn’t move, darting glances to each of us like an alarmed cat checking for danger. Notwithstanding, though clearly tense, she warily approaches and halts at the man’s side.

Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when Christian places a hand on her shoulder. “In fact, Gráinne here still helps me out every day. She’s basically the second owner.”

“I- I’m not,” she sputters in a soft Ulster accent, fumbling with her fingers and her cheeks flushed, “I just work here some days.”

“You’re a bit more than a colleague,” her co-worker remarks, shoulders lowered and his tone holding more affection than would be the case when talking to a friend. A warm glow seems to form around him, ignited by the fondness he harbours for her.

Funny, Jaebeom wears that same expression when he’s with me.

“I’m not.” Gráinne stiffens, each word dripping with venom as she steps away, grabs a serving tray and puts the order she was preparing before being called over on it. “Get back to work.”

Lips parted, Ian watches her as she moves past us as fast and agile like a hunting cat without any further acknowledgement of our presence. I hadn’t noticed before, but beneath her apron, she is dressed in clothes reminiscent of the Victorian era. “I know she can be harsh and isn’t easy to get along with, but I’ve never seen her act like this.”

“Och, let it pass. She has every right to be pissed with you since you put her on the spot like that,” Morgan jokes though nobody goes along with it.

She likes him yet doesn’t see it’s mutual. Should I say something? Then again, this is their business, not mine. Furthermore, why would they believe me, a stranger?

So I remain silent.

And leave this to blossom however it is meant to in Fate’s hands.

The icy glare Gráinne gives Brigid behind her back sends a chill down my spine. Evidently, she is a woman not cross paths with once angered. Withal, as the fair beauty looks over her shoulder, the other woman restores her professional composure.

“You okay?” Christian asks as he watches her retreat into the kitchen, done serving for now.

“I’m fine,” she says thickly, the next breath hitching in her throat. Her focus shifts to the moon-shaped amethyst pendant around his neck. The ghost of a rueful smile forms on her lips, but it fades as fast as it appeared. “It’s not like I’m having a vision or something. Help them.”

She waves her hand dismissively when he doesn’t move, lips parted to say something yet at a loss for words. Notwithstanding, although I can’t see his expression clearly, it’s evident her feigned nonchalance is hurting him. “Go on.”

He clears his throat and forces himself into a rigid posture, frowning as he shifts his attention back to us. Finger hovering over the tablet functioning as a till, he stares at the display with an empty and distant gaze, which is as dull as the tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. “What can I get you?”

We place our order and settle down at the table by the window, neither of us offering a word of solace or dedicated to his colleague’s behaviour.

After a while, Christian comes up to us to serve the food and beverages. As he puts the plates with our sandwiches down, he and Brigid exchange looks like siblings telepathically conversing. Whatever it is they mentally discussed, it only leaves the barista a slight bit less worried though the grave expression plaguing him remains as he returns to the counter.

An expression which must be similar to mine since it prompts Morgan to speak up regardless of having her teeth sunk into sourdough bread, looking equally as somber. “What’s on your mind, lass?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head and stir my cappuccino with the vintage silver spoon next to the porcelain cup, smiling at my own silly assumptions of what happened now four days ago. “Everything’s fine.”

“Except it’s not.” The raven-haired woman cocks an eyebrow, far from willing to dismiss my worries. “Now tell me. Or, well, us.”

“It’s something to do with your lover, isn’t it?” Brigid remarks, head tilted to the side as she assesses me while sipping at her Irish Breakfast Tea. Her features soften when she notices she has hit a sensitive snare, evidently meaning no harm.

I pull back in my seat as I take a sip of my coffee, flustered and cursing myself for being an open book. There is no way out of this conversation since the current company is like-minded in their refusal to simply let the topic pass before it has been discussed.

I swallow, put the cup on the dish again and clear my throat. Fumbling with the spoon and eyes cast on the cappuccino’s silky milk foam, I tell them of what I think happened. The story sounds strange to my own ears, like a terrible fairy tale told by a chaotic storyteller who can’t tell it in a manner that makes sense regardless of how he manipulates the plot.

Afraid of their reaction, unable to fathom the slightest bit of sympathy and empathy, I look from one to the other. Fortunately, my silence can be excused by drinking the remainder of the coffee although it’s futile since the thirst has nothing to do with bodily needs.

“Sounds familiar.” The woman in white scrunches her nose in disgust as she glares at Morgan.

“He was different,” Morgan sneers through gritted teeth, jaw clenched.

“In essence, he was similar to her lover.’’ Brigid points at me though she remains focused on my best friend, her voice dripping with venom. ‘’Or should I say, is similar?”

“Since when does it matter what he is?” Thin lips painted plum purple curl into a mirthless smile, onyx locks shaking in discontent. “How hypocritical you’ve become. Forgetful of the past.”

“A past worth forgetting. It’s never too late to change your political opinions, Morgan.”

Great, now I’m the one to open Pandora’s box. I should have kept my mouth shut, changed the topic.

Desperate for help yet knowing he cannot do anything, I look for Christian among the other customers. Expression stern and standing as rigid as a statue, he watches our table from behind the counter. It appears he, too, feels the sense of danger increasing as the conversation carries on. Notwithstanding, as becomes clear from the apologetic shake of the head when our eyes meet, he also knows his hands are tied at the moment.

We are on the same boat, waiting to see how the situation will develop.

Playthings of Chance and Fate.

“We’re not here to talk politics,’’ the woman in question answers, covering her mouth with her hands while chewing on a bite of goat cheese and pomegranate seeds, ‘’but to have lunch like civilized and amiable women. To help our friend.”

“You’re right,” Brigid concludes. Nonchalantly, she pierces a piece of egg in her salmon salad and puts its on the bread provided with it, a bread called St Michael’s Bannock according to the menu. Then, she points her fork at me. “But the best thing you can do is leave him while you still can.”

“L- Leave?” Utterly confused, I look at the woman calmly eating her lunch. “Why would I do that?”

Who is she? What’s more, who is she to tell me to leave Jaebeom after what I told her? He needs help and support, regardless of what may or may not be there beneath his skin.

Unless she is on to something I am not and judging by the current circumstances, I won’t get an answer even if I dare to ask. Henceforth, if only not to snap, I clear my throat and swallow the vile words dancing on the tip of my tongue.

“Morgan can tell you why. All I can say is that it’s better to avoid men like your lover in the first place.” She coughs and takes a sip of tea to wash down the salad leaf stuck in her throat while the woman with hair as black as night chuckles darkly. Luckily, it is only loud enough for me to hear and Brigid is too busy preventing herself from choking.

“Sétan-, I- I mean Seán was the one to leave me, not the other way around. And we mutually agreed to part ways in favour of our own well-being.”

“Sure you did. Totally didn’t resort to throwing plates and other pieces of furniture because he rejected you.”

Morgan growls something under her breath, glaring at the woman seated next to me. However, Brigid doesn’t seem to notice the reaction she has provoked or is indifferent to it. “Or washed clothes at the ford where he so ‘happened’ to pass by. Funny how he died soon after.”

Ford? There are quite a few in Ireland, so where and most importantly, when was this? Then again, what are these two on about? Washing clothes in a ford, people dying, politics, lovers to leave. They’re like arguing voices from ancient times.

Moreover, there is the question of Seán’s life. Is he alive or dead? One moment she speaks of him as if he’s still here, but then why would Brigid remark he’s dead?

“You shut your whoremouth, traitor!” With a loud bang, Morgan slams her fists on the table. She stands up with an expression that makes me cower in fear despite not being the target of her wrath.

Behind the counter, Christian slowly comes into motion, carefully moving with the likely intent to inconspicuously circle our table and jump in if necessary. He flinches as Gráinne places a hand on his arm, holding him hard enough for her knuckles to turn white when he tries to escape from her grip in order to prevent the worst from happening. Notwithstanding, whatever the plan was, it goes to waste since he decides to listen to what his colleague tells him. Sighing deeply, he stands down although he continues to observe us.

Gráinne follows his gaze, which seems to be directed at the brown-haired woman in white, her personal target of envy. Her wolfishly fierce expression falters, growing as bleak as the ash of a great bonfire.

This time he doesn’t see how she comes apart at the seams.

Brigid calmly finishes her tea, daps her mouth on the napkin and stands up too. “Get over your crush. There’s no future for you with him. As for you, Y/N,” eyes oddly alight with motherly affection, she turns her attention to me, “and as a piece of advice from a friend, end this relationship while you still can. There’s only heartbreak ahead.”

“Thank you, but,” a wistful smile forms on my lips regardless of the urge to give into the savage nagging inside, “I can’t leave him because I made a promise to stay.”

“I see. Perhaps you’ll prove me wrong and the flowers will bloom in spring.”

And with those final cryptic words, she leaves the café after waving at the tattooed barista.

Or so Brigid intends, but her way is cut off by his colleague.

While clumsily taking off her apron she storms outside, clenching it hard and shivering as if she’s on the brink of tears.

“Gráinne? Gráinne!” Christian runs after his colleague, pale and eyes wide with worry as he comes to a halt in the doorway. “Where are you going? Gráinne!”

Brigid places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a consoling squeeze. After giving him an encouraging slap on the back she sets off, leaving the man standing there like a defeated soldier.

“Poor lass,” Morgan whispers as she watches the female barista pass the window. Something in her tone hints at a level of familiarity between the two.

“You know her?” I ask, frowning.

“I don’t think she remembers me.” She glances at Chris, who has retreated behind the counter. He has his head bowed, smooth black locks hiding his face from the customers. Trembling fingers entwined to conceal his distress as best as possible, he resembles a man of religion fervently praying for forgiveness. “And neither does he. I saw him and his close friend, Finn, once in the woods. No, it was his brother, Jor… was it? When he came to the island. Was that… who was that?’’

A mist clouds her ocean blue eyes, lost in thoughts far removed from this world and time. ‘’He was there. As for Gráinne, we met… somewhere. There was smoke, a burning body. It was- It was at… where? Fuck, I can’t recall. I think it was at his fu-’’ she abruptly cuts herself short to correct herself with a strange undertone in her voice, “not long after I... saw them.”

‘’Morgan, are you alright? You’re looking awfully pale.’’

Instead of breaking free from the spell that has taken hold of her, the reverie only seems to deepen. Rocking side to side, she clutches her arms to her chest. Her skin, although naturally pale, grows sickly like a walking corpse.

‘’I- I’m supposed to remember. I’m one of the few that do. No, he and I are the only ones left that do. I can’t forget. If I do, everyone will. I can’t… I can’t!’’

‘’Morgan!’’ I stand up from my seat to rush to her side. Rubbing her arms, I try with all my might to bring her back to reality from the depths of deliria. ‘’It’s all right, Morgan, nobody is going to forget. Please listen to me and follow my voice, use it as a guide back to me from wherever it is you are. Please, come back to me.’’

‘’May I?’’ Christian has appeared with a glass of water, which he sets on the table before crouching down at the woman’s side as well.

Gently he grabs one of her hands and holds it, talking in a voice that is surprisingly steady and soothing in spite of what happened mere moments ago. It’s rougher and more gruff, making it hard to distinguish one word from another if you are not well-acquainted with the speaker.

In fact, it belongs to a completely different person. ‘’Morgan, as long as there are people who remember, there is nothing to fear. The past has taught us that what might seem like the end isn’t necessarily truly the end. We are still here. We remember because you do and you remember because we do. You’re safe and sound. Instead, return and help me make her remember.’’

‘’Why, of everyone, did you have to fall for her?’’ Gaze blinded by her mind, Morgan reaches out to tenderly run her fingers through the barista’s hair. ‘’What makes her special?’’

‘’She understands.’’ A similar fog veils the misty white and dark eyes, Chris or, rather, the stranger pulled into the same realm of consciousness as my friend. ‘’She broke the chains that bound me and doesn’t allow me to slip into the shadows of what I once was.’’

‘’You’re all the same, aren’t you?’’

‘’It’s rare to find understanding and acceptance in a world naturally turned against you. So, please help me. Help me find her.’’ His voice breaks, the begging words coming out high-pitched like a whining wolf. ‘’Help me find my reason to stay in this world and not forget nor be forgotten.’’

The veil lifts, the spell broken with the whimpered plea.

Christian falls back, but manages to catch himself before his head hits the tiles. Refusing every helping hand from the customers hurrying over, he scrambles to his feet. Fortunately, he accepts the chair I offer him when his dangerous swaying almost causes him to hit his head against the wall.

‘’Are you okay?’’

‘’Yeah, I’m only dizzy.’’ The hiss he lets out flows over into a sound akin to a growl. ‘’And a splitting headache.’’

Morgan has a better return to reality, completely fine aside from a dazed mind. ‘’What happened?’’

‘’You tell me.’’ I search her face for clues, a sliver of the knowledge she is lying. However, I find none.

She is telling the truth.

‘’I… I don’t know. It’s the first time.’’ She clears her throat, brow furrowed. As if having heard a noise, she snaps her head to the side. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Drink your tea, eat a sandwich and go home early from work.”

She hands the glass of water to Christian. ‘’And you, you drink this and stay seated for at least five more minutes until the dizziness has faded. Are you nauseous?’’

‘’No. Although,’’ he dry heaves, ‘’never mind.’’

‘’Make it ten. You look as pale as a banshee.’’

‘’Speak for yourself.’’

‘’You’d make a pretty one, though,’’ Morgan muses when she returns her attention to me. ‘’Beauty makes suffering leading to death easier.’’

Apparently, her return to reality has left her as mad as a hatter so perhaps it wasn’t as good as I initially thought.

“Why on earth would you say that? Besides, what kind of comparison is that, us and a banshee?”

“One based on truth. Now,” she shoves the remainder of her goat cheese and pomegranate sandwich to me, “eat, rest up and get cracking again. We’ll be in touch and visit the new café I found yesterday later, alright?”

“Hey, not so fast. Where are you headed off to?’’

She can’t be serious. There is no way she is unaffected by what happened.

“Attagirl,’’ Morgan says as if I promised to heed her words, ignoring what I actually said. ‘’By the way, ignore what Brigid said and stay with your man. It’s plain to see how he makes you feel.”

“It is?”

“You’re glowing and you come alive when you speak of him. It reminds me of how I was with Seán.” She starts as if awakened from a dream, but tries to hide her awkwardness behind a sheepish smile. “Well, then, take care.”

“You too.’’ The two simple words, otherwise casual, are now carefully chosen in order to not to trigger another ‘attack’.

My gut tight and skin prickling thanks to her inhuman behaviour, I watch the raven-haired woman leave. I hold my wrist, my pulse too rapid to be healthy beneath my thumb.

Like I am at death’s door.

The next morning, there’s an article in the newspaper. A man’s been found dead at the edge of the bogs near town. The cause of his demise is unknown, but there are witness accounts who said they heard a high screech late the night before. In the days that follow, their names show up one by one in funerary advertisements.

A week later, none of the witnesses are alive. Moreover, nobody has heard the screeching since, though everyone remembers the description of the sound.

It was like the howl of a banshee.

#JB #Jaebeom #Im Jaebeom #GOT7 #GOT7 smut #Jaebeom fanfiction #GOT7 Werewolf AU #GOT7 x Reader #Jaebeom x Reader #Jaebeom smut #Werewolf!Jaebeom #Werewolf AU #Werewolf!JB #Not by the Moon

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