#second. the nails. the long creepy claws‚ i. i‚ .... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raysrays · 2 months

Text

I’ve Got you

Kyojuro Rengoku X GN! Reader

CW: injury,blood, angst-ish to fluff

Scenario: Just because you are a Tsuguko doesn’t mean you get out of going on missions yourself. But what If you don’t return on time? What if you are injured?

Completing missions was never difficult for you, a perk of being a Tsuguko. Personal training by a Hashira has honed your skills. Your technique appears flawless, ensuring success on most tasks. As long as you didn’t run into any upper moons you’d be perfectly fine. Right?

That was your assumption until you reached your destination: a clearing tucked in the heart of a forest. Surrounded by miles of wilderness in every direction. You’d already spent too long traveling a different route due to the weather so you were technically a few days behind.

Upon your arrival, you immediately spotted the clearing, but to your surprise, a demon stood at its center—your target, it has to be.

You drew your sword slowly, cautious not to draw immediate attention to yourself as you approached. Upon getting a clearer view, you studied the demon's appearance intently.

It stood tall, with long white hair and a bluish tint to its skin.

But it must have noticed you staring, as it whipped its head around in seconds.

Its bright red eyes looked terrifying, and its long, claw like nails only added to its unsettling appearance.

You assumed your stance and charged at the demon, employing the breathing technique Kyojuro had tirelessly trained you to master.

However, as you closed the distance, an odd sensation crept over your body, causing everything to seem to move in slow motion.

Looking up, you noticed the demon sporting a creepy grin on its face. With a deliberate motion, it slowly raised its hand, dragging its disgusting claws down your left side.

The sudden surge of pain was intense.

Suddenly, time seemed to unfreeze as you plummeted to the ground in an instant. Looking around, you realized the demon had vanished without a trace.

Not a single hit landed, and it had slipped away.

Despite the searing pain, you attempted to stand, but the agony was overwhelming. Glancing down at your blood-soaked uniform and the wound beneath it, the fight wasn't over.

You couldn't stop now, not with the demon's still alive. That's what you tried to convince yourself.

You attempted to push yourself off the ground, but the pain held you back, causing your vision to blur and your eyelids to grow heavy.

"Am I bleeding out?" The thought flashed through your mind as your head connected with the ground.

It felt like mere seconds had passed when you were abruptly pulled out of unconsciousness by the sounds of yelling and talking.

"Y/N? Y/N?" The voice sounded oddly familiar.

"If you bleed out like this, you'll die in literally the most un-flashy way possible," the voice continued.

Ah, Tengen.

Through the small slit of your eyes, you saw him crouched down in front of you.

"There you are. Glad you're finally awake. I was worried you'd be dead for sure," he chuckled.

As you fully opened your eyes, I noticed that your side had been somewhat bandaged up, though it wasn't exactly top-tier first aid.

He frowned. "Look, I'm aware I'm not Shinobu, but it'll do until we get back."

You nod slowly and manage to push yourself back to your feet.

"How... how long was I out for?" You ask him nervously.

"Well, considering Rengoku paced around HQ to the point where the master sent him off on some pointless mission, I'd say quite a while," he rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious. How long has it been?" You ask again.

He stops and thinks for a second. "You've probably only been out for a day and a half, but technically, you should have been back two days ago."

Your heart begins to race. You've been out far too long, undoubtedly causing Kyo worry. What if he's angry? Did the master really have to send him off on a mission to calm down?

Your mind races a mile a minute before you finally acknowledge Tengen again.

"Let's head back now. When will Kyojuro return?" Your voice sounds desperate. You want to see him. You need to see him.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Rengoku is probably almost back by now. Like I said, it was just a lame mission to get him to mellow out for a second."

Suddenly, his hard, sarcastic gaze softens with a hint of concern. "Hey, come on, I'll help you back. I know you're probably in a lot of pain right now."

As he extended his hand to you, you finally accepted it. You liked Tengen; he was a good friend to Kyojuro, and really, that's all you cared about. He could be a complete asshole or a genuinely kind person, but you just got lucky today.

It took a while, but he was fast. Together, you both made it back to headquarters in half the time it would have taken alone.

When you finally arrived, he guided you straight to the Butterfly Mansion to get your injury taken care of.

Shinobu took you in and started to properly disinfect and re-bandage your wound.

You stare at her silently as she patches you up. Shinobu always wears that lifeless smile, yet she still looks remarkably beautiful. You know her story and admire her persistence and her invaluable contributions to the demon slayer corps.

"Y/N, you need to rest. I'll have Tengen inform the master about the demon that got away," her voice maintains its usual tone, neither angry nor particularly happy.

"I wasn't able to kill it. I'm sorry," you confess, feeling the weight of failure on your shoulders. That demon may not have been an upper moon, but it was undeniably strong. You almost feel embarrassed. Did you underestimate the demon, or were you too overconfident in your abilities?

Your thoughts are interrupted when Shinobu tilts your chin to look at her. "I assume you aren't used to failure, are you?" Her expression changes; instead of her usual painted smile, this time it seems genuinely sympathetic.

You feel embarrassment wash over you; she read you like a book.

"Y/N, not every mission will end in victory. It's enough that you didn't bleed out on the ground. I think that alone will make Rengoku very happy," Shinobu reassures you.

Shinobu could be extremely harsh, maybe even downright mean sometimes, but right now, she's comforting you. It feels good.

"Thank you, I really needed to hear that—"

You are interrupted by the sound of a crow flying around the mansion.

"Master Rengoku has returned from his mission!" it caws loudly.

Suddenly, the stress floods back over you. You've never been injured like this before. How will he react?

Shinobu notices your reaction and steps back from you.

"I'll be going now. Try to rest up while your injuries heal. I'll check back on you in a few hours."

You watch her leave, wondering if she's going to tell Kyojuro you're here. Does she already know how he'll react to the situation? Is it really even that big of a deal?

Maybe you're just overthinking this. As a Tsuguko, it's understandable that you'd sustain injuries every now and then. As a partner though…it's different.

What was only minutes felt like hours, but eventually, you heard the sounds of the doors to the mansion open.

You recognized those footsteps; you had heard them every day of your life.

Once the doors finally opened, you saw Kyojuro. His eyes scanned you up and down, taking you in before he officially entered the room.

He looked so relieved but also worried as he walked over next to you, sitting in a chair beside the bed.

Before you could say anything, he took both your hands in his and rested his head on top of them.

"Thank goodness you're safe. I was so worried," his voice was quiet and gentle.

You didn't know what reaction to expect, but it wasn't this one.

A couple of moments of silence passed, and he finally lifted his head to look at you again. This time, his face seemed more serious.

"What happened out there? What demon did this to you?" His serious tone wasn't one you ever got used to.

"I'm not sure," you admit.

"If I'm being completely honest with you, I didn't get the chance to learn much about it at all. All I know is that it has the ability to slow down its surroundings, allowing it to attack at a normal rate, and that's how I got here." It felt embarrassing to admit your failure, but his face showed understanding.

Kyojuro knew how hard you had worked and trained, and every solo mission you went on had been a complete success up until this point. So honestly, he seemed just as shocked as you were.

Once he noticed your bandaged wound his serious face changed into a worried and sympathetic one.

"I'm so sorry, sunflower. I should've looked into the mission more before agreeing to let you go. I would never want you to be put in such a position," he said, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and staring into your eyes.

The embarrassment you tried to shut out just came rushing back in that moment.

"Please don't pity me. I failed my mission. It's all my fault. I understand if you are disappointed, but once I heal, I will make sure to find that demon and take it down."

He looked surprised for a moment, then a small smile appeared on his face.

"Little flame, there is no doubt in my mind that you are a skilled swordsman. I'm grateful not only to have you as my Tsuguko but also as my partner," he said, reaching up and planting a small kiss on your forehead.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, my love. You did your best! As long as you return home to me at the end of the day, I will never be disappointed in you."

Your heart melted at his words. Kyo would never be angry with you. He loved you. All he ever wanted was for you to be safe and happy.

His bright, happy smile made everything in the world seem good again. You wanted to just wrap your arms around him and hold on tight.

Then he stood up, wrapping his arms around your shoulders gently.

You finally felt the weight of the situation being lifted off your shoulders. The demon, the fear of bleeding out on the ground, the idea of disappointing Kyojuro, all of it gone.

Tears escaped the corners of your eyes. You hadn't let yourself cry this entire time, but his arms felt safe. As long as Kyojuro was there to support you, you finally felt vulnerable.

Kyojuro's arms felt so protective around you as you cried into him. He knew the stress you had been put through was probably overwhelming.

And even though he'd never show it, his anger made him vow to find this demon and ensure it would never hurt you again.

300 notes · View notes

heavenlyeden · 1 year

Text

♱Heavenly Feast♱

𓆩Chapter 1 - Cursed man's lottery𓆪

𓆩 Masterlist 𓆪 ♱ 𓆩 Next𓆪

CW: Murder, cannibalism, strangulation, creepy whumper's pov, immortal whumpee.

This series will contain explicit non-con in the future.

Kieran stared down at his helpless prey, who struggled under his grip, his long hair getting tousled and dirty from the floor. He held the man’s wrists above his head with one hand; the other he used to rip the elaborate dagger from his hands.

“Let go of me right now,” the man hissed with a glare.

Kieran ignored him, focused on the dagger. It was a fine piece of work—blade cast of silver, with a golden serpent engraved on the handle.

“Hey!” The man yelled, snapping Kieran out of his trance. “I told you to let me go!”

“Do you really think I will let you go just because you told me to?”

As he turned his eyes back to the man, he saw him swallow and squirm under his grip, with pleading eyes filling with tears. Kieran didn’t want to see them. He couldn’t listen to the begging and crying to tug at his heart. He needed to end it.

With a swift movement, he stabbed at his neck, and the blood poured down. Kieran’s nose filled with the delightful metallic scent. He lowered himself and drank from him; his victim choked, fighting against him, but Kieran held him tighter. His teeth grew sharp, his nails turned to claws. The taste of blood transformed him into the monster he knew he was. He drained him, trying his hardest not to devour his flesh right there on the floor of the dim back alley.

To Kieran’s relief, he could hold his impulses and retreat to his human form. He looked down at the dead man before him. What a waste, he thought as he gently wiped the dark tears off his peaceful dead face. It was always a waste people like him had to be killed to feed Kieran, but he knew no other way to survive.

He picked up the body with ease and took him—and the fancy dagger—to the car. When he got there, he took a deep breath and started his routine. He opened the trunk and stuffed the man inside a large case he had prepared for that purpose. He was small, so, fortunately, Kieran didn’t need to break him or dismember him to fit. The latter could be done later, in the comfort of his home. He hid the case far back, in case someone looked into the trunk—a police officer, perhaps. Those were always a hassle. Then, he looked at himself in the small mirror he had brought. The blood had dirtied his face, teeth, and neck, but his clothes were untouched. He rinsed his mouth with hydrogen peroxide, spit it on a jar to take home, and scrubbed the blood off himself and the dagger with wipes. With that, he was good to go.

After he got into the car and put eye drops on his eyes, he drove home. The trip, monotonous and a tad long, was only filled with Kieran’s playlist. He whispered along to the song as he got to his isolated house and parked in the garage.

Kieran got the case out for the next part of his routine: dismembering the body, eating it, and storing the rest for later. He dragged the case behind him to his bedroom. Then, he kicked the mat off the trapdoor that led to his second workshop and went down the stairs after turning on the lights. The weight of a human body in the case didn’t affect him at all.

He sat the case down beside the metal table in the centre of the room, turning to his tools on the wall. After putting on a raincoat, he opened the case and gently picked the man’s body in his arms. But something was off. It was warm to the touch after the long trip. Kieran frowned and put the man on the table.

The supposed corpse’s chest puffed in and out. Slowly and steadily.

To make sure it wasn’t a trick his starvation was pulling on him, Kieran put his fingers under the man’s nose. The hot air coming out confirmed he was indeed alive. Impossible. With his large hand, he held the man’s cheeks and tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck.

The wound was nowhere to be seen.

Before Kieran could process the discovery, the man’s eyelids twitched. He opened his eyes with a groan, dazed and confused. Kieran held him down with a firm hand around his neck.

“What are you?”

“What? Where am I…?” He asked softly.

“In my house. Now answer my question. What are you? How are you still alive?”

“I’m… I’m human, of course.”

He tried to pry Kieran’s hands off, who held tighter in response.

“Bullshit. If you were human, you would be dead by now.”

“I don’t understand, I- I’m human.” He whimpered.

Kieran huffed. He wasn’t sure if he believed that, but considering how his own existence defied nature, it seemed possible. Regardless, he needed to eat. And he would have to deal with a meal that was still alive. What a hassle.

“Hey… Why are you doing this to me?” He asked pitifully. “Did I- Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry…” He began to cry.

Kieran couldn’t say anything, stuck looking at him. The look of fear and despair in those dark eyes… It allured him. The thought Kieran pushed away when he chose him as his new victim returned: he was beautiful. He leaned close to the man’s face, and gently wiped his tears, taking every inch of that beautiful expression.

“It isn’t personal. I don’t even know your name… Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault,” he whispered with a sympathetic voice.

The man looked him in the eyes with an indecipherable expression. Kieran looked down at the hand on his neck. If I squeeze just a bit more… His eyes widened at the thought, and he looked away. He couldn’t let those sorts of desires take a hold of him. He had to keep at least a bit of morality in the fucked up situation he found himself in.

Before he could react, the man shoved his fingers in his eyes. He yelped and pulled away.

“Fuck!”

The man jumped off the table, trying to escape, but Kieran grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back, wrapping a strong arm around his waist.

“Don’t you dare. You’re not escaping me.”

Kieran’s right eye stung, filling with tears. The contact lens tore. The man squirmed under his grip and clawed at his arm. Kieran dragged him back to the table—he fought harder, to no avail. He pushed him into it and chained his hands above his head as he kicked. He pulled away and took the contact lenses off, setting them next to his tools. With an annoyed sigh, he returned to the table.

The man’s eyes widened when he saw Kieran’s eyes. He squirmed, more tears falling from his eyes.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” He begged.

Kieran wiped his tears once more. He couldn’t get mad at him for the torn contact lenses, for multiple reasons. Because he knew he didn’t deserve it. And because his gorgeous tears made butterflies flutter in Kieran’s stomach.

“It’s okay. It won’t hurt for long.”

His hands moved to his neck, where he strangled him. His face contorted more as he tried to gasp for air. The tears ran black with his eyeliner. Kieran’s heart raced, the beautiful man tried to beg. Kieran closed his eyes and strangled him tighter, trying to get it over with before he did something he would later regret. Fortunately, his victim passed quickly. Kieran pulled away, running his hand through his hair, before continuing his routine on auto-pilot. He cut off his tank top with scissors, opened his chest with a bone saw, and located the heart. It wasn’t beating. The smell of blood made his mouth water, and before he knew it, he had turned into the starving flesh-eating monster again. He gripped the heart with his clawed hands and ripped it out with ease. Hunger took over his mind, and so, he devoured the heart. He didn’t think about how awful it was. The only thing in his mind was how heavenly it tasted, more so than usual.

But that euphoria vanished as soon as the heart in his stomach calmed the beast. He had to continue. He held the man’s dead hand and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I will make sure not to let you go to waste.”

...𓆩♱𓆪...

Kieran finished his meal upstairs and took a deep breath. Part of him wished the man wouldn’t wake up again. Although, while making dinner, he realized the opportunity he had in his hands if, and only if, the man healed everything. He washed the dishes and went to his room.

Kieran ran his fingers through his curls, and after a moment of hesitation, he opened the trapdoor and turned on the lights. With slow steps, he went downstairs and approached the table.

There was light. Faint, yellow light on the borders of his growing heart, organs, limbs, and skin. As if that holy light was reconstructing his body from nothing. Kieran stared at it, mesmerized.

He didn’t know what that man was, but he was sure he wasn’t human. And he was convinced he would wake up again, soon. Although the thought of dealing with a living, breathing person made him nervous, he wasn’t dumb to the point of not realizing how lucky he was.

To someone in his situation, having an endless source of food in his grasp was like winning the lottery.

Taglist: @hidden-dreamland @whump-me-baby-one-more-time @thatonefoxyplush

#heavenly feast #benjamin valentini #benjamin da silva valentini #kieran edwards #whump #immortal whumpee #whumper #whumpee #cannibalism #intimate whumper #cannibal whumper #cw: cannibalism

42 notes · View notes

koala-fluff · 7 months

Text

Tickletober Day 1: Anticipation

Ocs: Gods and Ghosts

Warning: swearing

-Enjoy!

---------------------

Gail sighed, rubbing her eyes. She chugged some more coffee before she continued sifting through the absurd amount of files her team had stolen during the raid.

The information she needed was somewhere in all of these pages. She would not rest, not eat, not leave this fucking room until she found it. There was nothing that could possibly distract her from this task.

The lights turned off with a click. Then a creepy giggle echoed around the room.

Gail rolled her eyes.

"Sandra, sweety," she said through gritted teeth. "I do not have time for your antics tonight! So, go back to b- AHD!"

She yelped as nails skittered up her side. She twisted away, grabbing for the hand, before promptly falling to the floor.

"Hey, what did I say?" She growled into the darkness, sitting up. "Go to b-!"

She squealed and curled backwards as nails fluttered against her neck. She whipped her head in that direction, but obviously couldn't see anything.

"Sandra!" She tried to put authority into her voice as her nerves started buzzing. "I swear if you do that again, I'll-"

She jumped as a few swift pokes were delivered to her back. She grabbed behind her, and snorted as a similar attack came from the side.

"Hey-!" She withheld a giggle and stumbled as those damned nails curled into her hip. "Stop cheating with your night visio-IEN!"

Thank goodness the rest of the team was asleep. It would've been embarrassing if they saw their leader flail around a dark room, slowly breaking down into giggles.

The longer time went, the more the light touches drove her crazy. Every poke and scratch sent electricity up her spine.

"Sahandra, you lihittle shiHIAH" She crumpled as the claws dug into her ribs for only a second. She growled, an evil grin on her lips as she stood back up.

"Soho thahat's how your playing?" She snickered, closing her eyes and reaching into the dark.

Her hands closed around a wrist and she yanked Sandra towards her. The younger girl yelped as she was enveloped in a hug.

"Gotcha." Gail purred, looking down at the girl's wide, glowing red eyes. "I thought we agreed that ribs were off limits."

"We did?" Sandra smiled, her long fangs on full display. "I don't remember that."

"Ohoho, you little shit!"

Sandra shrieked and her legs buckled as Gail clawed at her ribs. Her laughter was immediate and she writhed in the larger woman's grip.

"In that case," Gail smirked, easily holding her up. "Then it's fair game for me to tickle yours!"

#augtickletober2023 #tickletober 2023 #tickletober #ticklish!gail #ticklish!sandra #oc tickles #Gods and Ghosts stuff #ko writes oc tickles #ko's fics

4 notes · View notes

stitchandani · 1 year

Note

So what would you guys say are your favorite episodes of The Series?

ArtistIssues

My favorites are:

Spooky - Probably some of the best animation in the show is in this episode, plus they nail the Halloween-spooky-fun vibe, it’s fun to see the nervous-scared side of Stitch’s personality, and Spooky’s whole function is so genius! And almost everything Pleakley says in this episode makes me laugh.

Splodyhead - I’ve always loved this episode. I love Splodyhead, too. I particularly like episodes where characters who hate each other are forced to work together on a desert island. That’s a trope I’m here for!

Poxy - I love Poxy. When I was a kid I used to ride around the neighborhood on a scooter pretending to be him and his slick little germ self.

627 - This episode was so so cool when I was a kid. I love 627’s black claws and how all-out they went designing him. Plus, again, an episode where we’re shown how unstoppable Stitch always is, until he isn’t anymore, is such a cool break from the norm.

Bonnie & Clyde - I adore the different musical score in this episode, and I love Bonnie & Clyde’s dynamic together and the fact that they can speak English, but they’re rotten little alien life form stinkers. And I love Pleakley in this episode, too. I could just rate every episode based on Pleakley moments. But then I’d have to add Holio to this list which is already too long!

Doverstar will chime in, too! Doverstar:

Angel - It's my #1 favorite episode of the show, for sure. It hits all the nostalgic notes for me. Angel is my favorite experiment, and though the animation in this episode is terrible, I'm a huge fan of Angel's color palette in it and the idea behind the episode. The fact that love is what turns Angel from bad to good - and that it's Stitch who names Angel and changes her, instead of Lilo, which was the norm - love that. Plus it's cool there's an experiment in the 600's series that exists whose primary function is literally the opposite of the goal of the series.

Remmy - I like this one because of the emotional plot, and the fact that it focuses on Lilo and her mind and the lasting affects of her parents' death on the family. Any particularly deep Lilo-centric episode is a standout in my book! As a kid, the heavily-decorated "door" in Lilo's dream, which she says always has "bad things" on the other side of it, was super creepy and interesting to me. I remember thinking even at that age that the scene of her parents' actual crash would be behind that door, or maybe their gravestones, or maybe just a flashback of the night they didn't come home. I both did and did not want to see that. But no, instead it was Lilo's hula school and disarmingly-kind classmates, which is also interesting! All in all, it's my second favorite because of the slightly-deeper-than-usual subject matter. 627 - This one is purely nostalgia-based for me. The 627 episode was one of the all-time coolest to us growing up, like Arti said! Lots of her reasons for listing this one are the same as mine. Always cool to see Stitch come to terms with the fact that though he's pretty cool, he's not always the best at everything. And extra wonderful to hear Lilo say something like "So what if you're not king of the block anymore? You're still king of my block." So. Good. So sweet. Love that. Shoe - Shoe is one of my top 5 favorite experiments. I like the plot in this episode and the animation in it too! I like Pleakley's comedy beats, and the idea of turning the old ship into a B&B was genius for a show about aliens living on Kauai. Perfect. But Shoe's lil emotional journey makes me very happy. His sole purpose is for the gain of other people, and he's at least intelligent enough to understand that people only seem to value him for what he can do for them, and then finding out Lilo specifically likes him even when he's bad luck? 10/10. One of those times where part of the episode isn't just catching the cousin or showcasing the shenanigans its abilities get the cast into, but showing how the experiment goes from bad to good and why. Dupe - Because Dupe's design delights me, because the writing in this episode is fantastic, because the idea of a slumber party at Lilo's house with the experiments instead of four bratty human girls who'd ruin all the fun anyway is awesome, and because in the end, Lilo gets another reminder that even if she wants lots of friends, having one like Stitch at her side is more than good enough. Retro - I always wanted this one to air often on TV growing up, specifically because it was later in the show and therefore rarer to see rerunning. I thought Retro's ability was so cool, and I was especially interested in the little glimpses of Nani's life before becoming sole caretaker of Lilo. Plus the setting of a cruise ship is always fun! Swapper - Lilo gets a human friend Lilo gets a human friend Lilo gets a human friend LILO GETS A HUMAN FRIEND- Snooty - Victoria gets an experiment of her own, Snooty is precious and Halloween-y, more looks at Victoria/Lilo's friendship, Pleakley driving is hilarious, and the ending gets me every time. Amnesio - Gantu? An excellent friend for Lilo? Latent protective affection for the cute little Earthling? It's more likely than you think- Bad Stitch - I like this one because it has some of my favorite Lilo/Stitch moments. It also seems to have unused material from the original movie? Maybe? I don't know, but Chris Sanders seems like the kind of guy who would suggest more of Lilo training Stitch like a "puppy" and squirting him with the stupid water bottle. I especially love the ending, where Lilo tells Stitch she knows he's good, even if he breaks things. And how Stitch wants to behave because Lilo asks him to, and she loves him, and that's why he wants to behave. Love that. The Asteroid - Jumba recognizing that Earth is his home and that the Pelekais are his family waters my crops and clears my skin. And I love watching the whole Ohana work together on a planet-saving space trip.

10 notes · View notes

novus-ordo-seclorem · 2 years

Text

blahdeblaglkjadf writing again

(Putting this here for later. I am exhausted. Trying to unravel this shit and make it make sense in my head.)

Chapter III "Ad infinitum" ----- The world ground to a stuttering halt. The floor felt like it was about to drop out beneath her - as if she were still on that elevator. And it was plummeting her into an early grave. Albert "bastard" Wesker was here, right here, in the midst of this creepy Clockwork Orange nightmare hospital. Lurking in the basement like- Her eyes narrowed, her mind grasping at logic before she jerked forward. One foot in front of the other. "What the fuck are you doing here?" It had taken Claire months to even begin to approach the idea that she was, in fact, "over" Albert Wesker. Maybe she wasn't yet. Seeing him again in that moment, when the world seemed to shudder to a halt all around them, in the timeless, lightless place underground, she realized she was not. Even though only a handful of years had passed, he was still as stunning and austure and sharp-edged as she remembered. Her fingers twitched into fists, conflicting desires for a gun or his hand battling it out. "I could ask of you the very same thing, Miss Redfield," he replied. It took him too long to speak, as if he was deciding whether she was worthy of words. "Of all places, this was the last place I expected to find you." "Answer the damn question." Claire felt so much more brave, in spite of the very fact that she was unarmed and probably very close to being dead. "You're the last person who knows about Chris." "In time," Wesker said, as the alarm silenced then: another voice pitched into the darkness. Echoing in robotic, female tones: Alert. All Level One through Four access staff evacuate calmly and quickly to-- "What's going on?" "Something unanticipated," came the curt reply. He stepped toward her and, without preamble seized her arm in a grip like hot iron. "We have to go." He pulled her. Claire planted her heels. "No! Wha--" "We don't have the time!" Wesker's voice boomed in the chasm of the large space. She was petrified for a second. Claire stumbled after him, her ears still ringing as he pulled her along, her arm wrenched so hard she felt he might break it off at the shoulder. "Unless you wish to die, you need to trust me. This place is about to be overrun." "With what?" "You'll see." Breathless minutes passed, during which Wesker guided her along wide barren concrete hallways, flickering for the halogen emergency bulbs blinking in and out of power around them. Massive automated doors, like something of a science-fiction movie, blocked their path, only to gasp open at the brush of a cardkey. The repeating female voice grew faint and then silent, only to be replaced by the eerie thrum that she could feel even through the walls. Without warning, Wesker halted. He pushed her into the wall with his elbow. A door on the lefthand side of the hall suddenly burst - slamming open against the wall while two figures stumbled out. A man, a woman - one of them was screaming. It was the woman. The man was embracing her; she continued to scream. Blood drenched the front of her white, crisp blouse. Her nails broke on his hair and scalp, trying to pull and claw him away. Her runners slipped on the floor, and the pair toppled to the ground, the unrelenting assault quieting down to the grotesque, wet chomping of teeth and flesh. "Come." She felt naked without a sidearm. Her lips quivered, soundlessly forming no sensible words. "Claire." There was a touch less impatience. Then they were off - skirting past the horror unfolding and deeper into the facility. "What was that?" she hissed softly. Her eyes adjusted to the lower light levels as the hard bright strobe lights gave way to old, yellowed bulbs hanging on exposed chain and wire. It felt as if the hallways were becoming less developed. Or perhaps the earlier sections were built on. Stepping through time. "An outbreak. No more questions. Get in here." Halting to turn, he dragged her by hand through a set of sturdy steel doors, no windows, and shoved her inside. The room was largely empty, save for folding chairs and tables lined up against the walls on one side, a kitchen set aside like a cafeteria. The dark red glow of a distant Exit sign illuminated the concrete flooring. It was halfway across the wide open space she dug her heels in once again. "What do you mean? Where are we even going?" Her knuckles burned from slugging the guard, and now in his grasp she felt her blood spilling again. "Where's my brother?" In the stifled darkness, where not even a whisper of circulating air could be heard, she heard his breath. It was sharp and tight, nearly a wheeze. "I don't know. But you can thank him for the situation unfolding around us." "What happened?" Standing there, alone with that moment to breathe, the pair seemed unlikely. Didn't fit. Nothing about Wesker seemed like the same man from before. She didn't know how to describe it even to herself. He was merely... different. He felt strange. He towered, not as an older man beside young impressionable girl, but as something changed. Something uncanny. She shivered. "Your brother happened." ---- Chris happened. He happened upon the hospital with government papers saying he and his cohorts had every right to investigate the hospital and its basement levels on the basis of public safety. "Biohazards being improperly disposed of." It was a laughable crock of shit. And yet, the staff was ill-equipped to turn them away. Redfield had matured through the awkward stage called his twenties and somehow the few years had become ten. His square jaw had tensed, and lines had appeared where there had been none before. He had bulked with muscle, and yet his presence had become leaner. Meaner. Chris Redfield had come through like a hurricane, weapons bristling. Shoot first, ask questions later, had never been his M.O. before - but that was before Wesker happened... before Albert Wesker had taken his sister and destroyed her. Now he did not hesitate on a gut feeling - which was how the gunfire between a trigger-happy armed security detail set off a fight. A fight which resulted in an asset being lost, erupting in a highly volatile outbreak. The situation was barely under control even after all this time. A single asset was still missing, and while Wesker had evaded Chris's rader, they were still in the bowels of the facility. Somewhere, Wesker knew not exactly. Had Wesker planned for another outbreak just as little Redfield had arrived? No. But it gave him the perfect opportunity to intercept her. All hail Wesker, the savior of Redfield's sister. Again. He sneered at the thought while he lead Claire through the labyrinth of laboratory levels. Nothing pleased him more than the idea of driving another splinter under Chris's fingernails.

#Weskerxclaire #fanfic

2 notes · View notes

running-with-kn1ves · 3 years

Note

Have you watched the movie coraline, could you do yandere male beldam with the reader? Please...

A/N: Wow I didn’t know there was a demand for a male version of the beldam :0. Honestly I get it but… whenever I see her all my brain screams is “MILF MILF MILF” lmao. But I def get wanting to fuck a creepy other-dimension creature :0.

Male! Beldam X GN! Reader

Belsire: The male equivalent of the title beldam

TW: unhealthy relationship dynamics, violence, fear, abusive behaviors, yandere themes

“Ready or not, here I come.”

His voice wasn’t loud; he didn’t shout when searching for you with long spindly white fingers. No, it was like his voice rang out throughout the house without him even trying. His black dress shoes clicked and cluttered with each sounding step, the noise gaining closer to your hiding spot.

As the room around you morphed and changed, you sat with squinting eyes, mouth covered. The grip of your fingers began to bruise your lips, but you wouldn’t dare remove them. Bruises caused by your own will were better than what he’d give you.

It was a normal day; sure things seemed off in the house and you weren’t sure why he was being snappy, but otherwise normal. Until you decided to test his patience. It was an accident really-- you never meant to cause him harm or to upset him, but the belsire took personal offense.

“Okay.. Why don’t we play a game?”

His temperamental voice was shallow, instructing the rules of hide and seek to you. If he couldn’t find you, you would be given freedom from his wrath this time. If he did find you… Well, there would be hell to pay. This wouldn’t be a mere slap on the wrist; whenever he decided to play a “game,” your life was unquestionably on the line. His long claws would rake themselves down your back without remorse.

You shook against the wall, praying that the rack above you wouldn’t fall. You mentally cursed at yourself for not picking a better hiding spot; such a tiny closet with uneven doors left little room for comfortability or security. The shining black leather of his Oxford’s became visible through the doors’ tiny crack.

You shoved your hands harder against your mouth, trying to steady your heartbeat. It wouldn’t surprise you if he could smell your fear. A few seconds passed by, his body still blocking the closet. He didn’t move. You couldn’t even hear him breathe or see him twitch. He stood as still as a statue.

A loud crash came from the kitchen-- the sound of a glass shattering against the floor. Immediately the belsire bolted to the dining area, his shoes clacking against the floor much louder than before. Through the crack within the doors’ you saw his nimble and thin body inhumanly scrape across the ground, hungrily running towards the commotion.

You released the hold on your mouth and nose lightly, allowing yourself to breathe. It was hard not to hyperventilate, especially because you knew how close he was to finding you. You thanked whatever being was on your side to create that loud disruption.

Your breathing was getting louder, and as much as you tried to hush yourself, the sound of his feet traveling away from the kitchen made your heart beat faster. The shelf above you rumbled, it’s unsteady nails looking like they were about to give out.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

The belsire’s voice was nearly monotone, no sound of glee or even sadism ringing in the words. His absence of enjoyment or anger caused your fear to double; not knowing his motives was terrifying.

Carefully, your shaking legs crouched, allowing you to push and hold the rack of boxes and clothes that were about to fall atop of you. The belsire’s low chuckle from within the other side of the house gave you some semblance of peace, knowing you might have a chance of getting away, or at least out of this terrible hiding spot-- that was, if you could figure out how to handle this unsteady shelf.

One screw tumbled to the floor, its clinking metal hitting the floorboards. The belsire’s loud footsteps stopped, and you held your breath without the use of your hands.

Your arms were growing weak; the shelves’ weight pressing against you from above. Though your limbs shook from fear, you bit your lip and held back the urge to fall to the ground.

That was until the second screw came loose, falling to hit your shoe. All together the shelf came crashing down sideways, boxes, coats, and other miscellaneous items banging against the wall, floor, and your head. You protected your head from the falling objects, not even having enough time to register the closet doors being ripped open.

Your shaking hands were pulled out with forceful tugs, a pen hitting you harshly on the head before you were thrown against the wall. A dark mass grew in front of you, its height unimaginable.

Long, pointy fingers wrapped around your neck, tightening every millisecond. Your legs kicked and struggled to reach the ground. The belsire stood above you, his sunken in cheeks making his face look like a dagger.

“I caught you.” The belsire said with a sharp voice. You coughed in his grasp, his singular hand causing air to escape you.

“I can’t..” You tried your best to choke out words, but the belsire knew what he was doing; he knew your struggle from the bright color your face was changing to.

Letting you go, he dropped you to the floor, your back sliding against the wall. wheezing, you gripped lightly at your neck, the spot turning red and purple.

You could only manage to look at his Oxford’s and the ground-- not having enough courage to make eye contact.

“Get up.” He commanded, his hands resting awkwardly on his nimble body. You did as you were told, slowly moving and still recovering from the previous assault.

Your mind raced with thoughts, the adrenaline kicking in; as well as the complete desire to run. Instead, you shrunk in height, keeping your hands tucked near your chest. Swallowing harshly, you awaited anxiously to see what he’d make you do.

Pulling your hand, the belsire, forced you to follow his lead to the next room over. You tripped and tangled over carpets, barely able to keep up with his long strides. His cold hand ran a shiver up your spine. Looking beside him, you saw the place he began to drag you to: the basement.

Struggling and yelling you pushed away from him, not keen on going back to that dark and damp hole where he’d hold you against his freezing body, bones jabbing into your flesh. His knuckles would press firmly against your back as he forced you to sit in his grasp down there. Singing dark lullabies he'd rip you from your sanity. You'd been through that punishment before and didn’t want to go through it again.

The belsire didn’t make a sound as he dug his nails into your ribs-- throwing you over his shoulder. This man--creature-- didn’t care for your displeasure. You kicked and beat his back over and over, but he didn’t release you. Instead, unlocking the door with a key as boney as himself, the belsire pushed open the door, leading you both down into the dark hole.

598 notes · View notes

sugako · 3 years

Text

backseat care

kyotani x f!reader sum: getting elbowed in the face at a concert isn’t new for you, but at least this time it’s by a hot guy cw: 18+ minors dni, nsfw, minor accidental violence (reader gets a bloody nose/split lip from kyo), mentions of blood, mentions of alcohol (but no one is drunk), slight public sex/car sex, oral (f!receiving), slight overstim, creampie, strangers to lovers wc: 2.4k a/n: i have had such bad writers block lately, but i’ve been wanting to write more kyo content for so long and i miss going to loud basement shows so why not combine both also there’s a longish intro just an fyi

the amount of pain from the limb crashing into your face isn’t all that different from what you’ve felt before. things get messy in the pit, you know that, but when you reach up to wipe the sweat from your upper lip you realize it smells a lot more like copper. just as your nose starts to leak the assailant spins around, looking as if he’s about to tell you off for getting in the way of his arm before his expression drops.

kyotani can’t believe he just gave the prettiest girl he’s ever seen a bloody nose and split lip. your head is tilted down, desperately trying to catch the blood in your palms as you cover up the bottom part of your face. the lights are flashing and it’s dark, but he feels like he can see all of you.

“i’m sorry.” he huffs over the music.

“it’s fine, i’m just gonna, uhh...” you choke out, lightly pinching your nose with a little wince.

“c’mon,” he sighed, “let’s go see if there’s a first aid kit around.” he was already grabbing your arm and dragging you out of the mess of people before you could respond. his firm grip made your mind wander, momentarily distracted from the mess that was your face.

after scrounging the dingy, cramped space for close to five minutes, he gives a defeated huff.

“nothing?” you asked nasally, the blood finally slowing to a crawl. he shakes his head, eyebrows tightening together even more.

“i have a kit in my car if you’re okay with that.”

“tell me your name and promise you won’t murder me?” you breathe out, already texting the friend you came with about your little injury and that you were stepping out with a stranger. “you don’t really look creepy, but you never know.”

“kentarō kyōtani and no.” he quips back, still guiding you with his hand clamped around your arm out of the building.

the cool night air runs right through your body, quelling the hotness that’s built up in your face. thankfully, his car is only two spots away from the exit. it’s tiny and black with two thin silver stripes that remind you of the ones that run through his hair, giving him a pseudo-mohawk.

he opens up the rear door, grabbing a box from the floor and motioning for you to sit, of which you happily oblige. under the dim light the car gives off you can clearly see his honey brown eyes and the way his eyeliner is smudged around.

“does it feel broken?” he asks about your nose, cautiously grabbing your chin to inspect the injuries.

“no, i don’t think so. my mouth really hurts though.” you mumble out, heart racing under his calloused touch.

“good, it doesn’t look broken. and your lip is a little split.” he rummages through the kit, pulling out a wipe that he carefully rubs along your face where the blood has caked and dried.

“you’re pretty good at this, go to lots of rough shows?” you awkwardly break the tense quiet, trying to not move your lips much as you talk.

“no, i play volleyball.” he says simply. it’s impossible for you to really tell whether it’s a joke or not, but out of gut reaction you laugh. “i’m not kidding,” he sighs, tossing the dirty wipe in a small trash carrier inside the car and pulling a tiny pad from the kit to press to your open lip.

“oh, sorry, really? that’s pretty cool. didn’t realize volleyball was really a big contact sport. though i guess you could get hit in the face with the ball a lot.”

“don’t get hit a ton in the face in Division 2 volleyball, but you can fall hard.”

another moment of silence passes when he takes the padding away from your lip and inspects your face once again. although your heart hasn’t slowed, it seems he’s just realized how close you’re faces are and how he’s kneeling between your thighs that keep twitching every time he leans in a little closer.

“i wouldn’t expect a, uh, a professional volleyball player at a place like this.” voice all spluttery like you can’t control it.

“you shouldn’t assume things about people.” he says simply, not moving a muscle. “your lips look better now,” he’s whispering now, the smooth vibrations of his voice echoing around in your head like a bouncy ball, “wanna try them out?”

part of you wants to laugh at how cheesy his words are, but more of you is interested in how his lips would feel against yours. he doesn’t move a muscle, the needy feeling that’s burning inside of him can’t be seen through his eyes, but you catch it in the way his jaw tenses while he patiently waits for your answer.

“that’s a great idea,” you whisper back as his face closes in on yours.

his motions are gentle and measured, it’s easy to tell he’s holding back by the way his hands twitch against your waist. carefully, he’s avoiding the edge of your lip where it’s still bruised and open, but as he presses harder and harder into you, the pain grows. nothing about the kiss is nice - everything tastes of cheap beer, blood, sweat, and disinfectant, but it feels good.

it feels as though his clawing fingers are burning into your sides, forcing you further into the backseat of the car. letting yourself willingly move back, he clumsily reaches up to snap the automatic light off in the roof, not quite closing the door all the way behind him.

when his teeth scrape against your wound, you let out a small yelp against your own will. before the noise is even done coming out of your mouth, he pulls away, adjusting so he isn’t crushing you so hard into the seats, and cradling your face.

“sorry,” you pant out, “just hurts a little.”

at this angle he can see how little tears have pricked in the edge of your eyes, purely from the gentle stinging pain. it hurts his heart a little that he’s caused you some pain, but you look so pretty like this with your teary eyes and pink tongue sticking out as you quietly gasp for air.

“let’s give you a little break, huh.” he chuckles, sitting back on his heels and grabbing your knees to hook over his shoulders. it takes a minute for your foggy brain to realize what’s happening, but as he lowers himself between your thighs, the sight makes you clench around nothing and everything clicks into place.

suddenly you’re glad you wore a skirt. he nips up your already shaking thighs, eyes locked between your legs groaning at the pretty panties that were clinging to the slickness of your folds. he flips your skirt up, pressing your knees tighter to your body when his broad shoulders lift your legs higher.

“please...?” you whimper when you feel his breath against you.

“need to cum?” he questions, teasingly, mouthing over your clothed cunt.

“yes, please, wanna cum.” hips barely jerking under him, desperate for anything.

“pfft, i can tell. so wet already.” kyōtani mumbles into you just before he reaches his arms around your legs and rests them just above your pelvis, using one hand to pull aside the thin fabric. before the cool air could even hit your exposed flesh, his mouth came down on you, messily lapping up your slit, tasting you completely before he began to circle your clit.

when he finally arrives at your sensitive, little bud your hips involuntarily twitch against him, begging for release. hot breaths and moans filled up the space of the car, barely escaping through the tiny crack where the backdoor wasn’t completely closed, just resting against the hinge.

the small fear of being caught or seen urged you on, encouraging you to cum as fast as you could. not that you really needed to do much when he had such great control of his tongue and two of his fingers easily slipped past your entrance, curling against your spongey walls.

“k-kentarō!” you squeaked out, waves of relief edging up on you, “gonna cum, please, gonna cum.” the words came out like a broken record, separated by little hiccupped moans.

“asking permission?” his low laugh vibrated across you skin. “that’s cute.” as soon as the words were out, he went back lapping and sucking your swollen clit.

it only took moments for you to fall into your high, body squirming under him, limbs twitching in time with the way your cunt clamped around his fingers that just kept pumping into you. all the while his mouth didn’t stop, he didn’t even hesitate.

he just kept lapping up your clit until your nails were digging into his wrist that was resting on your tummy, sobbing out moans. you didn’t want him to stop but the feeling was overwhelming, like you couldn’t stop cumming. briefly, you wondered if it was always supposed to be like this, body and brain turning fuzzy as he finally slowed enough for you to rest.

the little whine you let out when he took his fingers from your pulsing hole made him grind his hips into the seat. you let out a low groan as you watched him stick his fingers into his mouth and suck them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

“feel good?” he grumbles out, languidly flattening his tongue against you to take another slow lap.

it’s nearly impossible to focus with the way he’s touching you, but you manage out the words you want to say. “uh-huh, want...want more.” you shyly make out.

“more?” one of his angled brows shoots up before he shrugs and roughly laps against your clit. body betraying you, it crumbles under him, hips already bucking up into his nose again before you can reach down and drag him off of you by his short curls.

“no...no,” you gasp, “want your cock.”

his eyes soften for a second before the expression is replaced with something a little more feral. “why not just say so.” he hums, pants already unbuttoned, pulling them down just enough so his cock can slip out.

you can’t help the gasp that breaks past your lips. it’s embarrassing, but he’s beautiful and you’re sure that his pretty cock could fill you up two times over. before you bask too much in the pleasantness of the moment, he reaches down to tear at your panties.

“hey!” you yelp, unable to do much with your ankles still propped up on his shoulders.

“eh, there was a pull in the seam anyway.” he says back lamely, leaning back in so he can loom over you, smirking when his cock slaps against your folds and you squirm under him.

“i...i liked them.” you pout, trying to ignore the burn between your legs. he presses a hot kiss against your jaw and licks up the shell of your ear. admittedly, he liked them quite a bit too.

“go on a real date with me sometime and i’ll get you a new pair.” his hips rut against yours, rubbing the tip of his cock against your still sensitive folds.

“oh, uhh- okay, yeah.” surprised by his proposition, but already hoping you’d meet him again, you quickly agree.

“good.” he says while he lines himself, pushing in and trying to ignore how tightly you were clenching around him. his thumb comes down on your clit, rubbing tight circles to get you to settle as he bottomed out.

your eyes didn’t deceive you, he certainly filled you to the brim and he knew how to use his entire body. still so close from his prior ministrations you found yourself already shuddering under his touch, the coil in your belly snapping even more harshly this time as you came undone around his cock.

he shallowly pumped into you, getting you used to the size while you squeezed and sucked him in.

“feel so good,” he grunts, “want me to fuck this pretty pussy?”

it’s not a real question, not when you’re arching into him, whimpering and moaning incoherencies, but you quickly nod to answer anyway. his grin makes your heart race, and he hurries to pull out nearly all the way before slamming back into you, setting a quick pace from the start.

you have the brace the back of your head to stop it from crashing into the car door as he rams you into the seats, body at the will of his harsh thrusts. mouth open in a silent scream, only choked whines crack out from your throat that he quickly swallows up with a messy kiss.

pent up from the entire day and the ghost of the taste of your cunt still on his lips, he feels himself getting close, encouraged on by the way you keep fluttering around him. as if sensing, by the way his kiss tightens up and his arms tense, you pull away and nod up at him.

“want you to cum in me.” you quickly assure him.

he lets out a sharp gasp, hips already stuttering against yours as he nods back in silent agreement. swallowing hard, he rests his head against your shoulder, letting his hips fall against yours, cock twitching against your aching, gummy walls, filling you with cum.

after his labored breathing slows and you relax under him, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek and steadily sits up and pulls out. the gasp you let out when you’re empty is nearly enough to make his cock twitch again, but he holds back. he watches as your poor cunt quivers around nothing, eyeing the way his cum slowly dribbles out of you.

achingly, you sit up when he lets your legs slide off his arms, leaning against the car door closest to you to get a good look at him while he tucks himself back into his pants, ignoring the messy, stickiness between his legs for now. you feel the mix of cum between your legs start to seep out, tightly closing your thighs to keep from making a mess on his car seats.

grabbing your phone from where it had fallen onto the floor, you toss it at him before grabbing your destroyed panties off the spot in the bench between the two of you.

“put your number in. we can go shopping this weekend.” you sigh with a soft smile. for once, getting a dumb injury at a shitty show was worth your while.

#kyotani x reader #kyotani smut #hq smut #kyotani kentaro x reader #kentarou x reader #maddog x reader #maddog smut

594 notes · View notes

captain039 · 3 years

Text

A lioness

Logan x reader (wolverine)

Warnings: Gore, sweating, placed in Logan, character deaths, intimacy, angst, age gap, anxiety, anxiety attacks, mentions of needles

18+

You aren't related to Wolverine.

Your mutant thing:

The Lioness

Genetically made in a lab. A test subject. You were originally human and made mutant. They made your bones into metal like Wolverine and Laura.

You have enhanced everything really xD, cat like. Your finger nails grow into metal claws along with your toe nails, your quick and self healing.

You stared at the TV, you hadn't seen one in a very long time. You flicked through the channels admiring the moving picture. Your leg bounced though and your heart was too quick. You kept looking out the window every minute hoping no strange men would show up again. Your mind always flashed back when you looked outside. Flashed back to the moment you were stolen from your home.

“Y/n!” you heard a hushed cry. You jolted away seeing your mother crawling in. You shot up and went to her, her stomach area full of blood.

“Mum!” you said but she covered your mouth.

“Run” she whispered as her eyes closed. Lights blared in through the windows and the doors. Men shouted and footsteps echoed up the stairs as something hit you. Your body swayed your world blurry as the men continued shouting and rummaging.

You awoke with agonising pain throughout your body. You cursed and tensed trying to move. You heard panicked shouts around you as your world blurred again and went dark.

The second time you awoke was too soft beeping and less agonising pain. You felt a numb throb all over but that was it. Your eyes wouldn't focus and you kept rolling your head side to side.

“She’s awake sir” you heard a woman speak.

“Good” a man this time answered. Your eyes finally focused, it looked like a hospital room only- more creepy. You looked around saw needles in your arms as your heard sped up.

“What’s going on?” Your anxiety was kicking in, you hated doctors, hated needles.

“What’s happening?!” You shouted pain glaring through your knuckles.

“Sedate her now!” You heard as you began to thrash and cry. It was too late though the woman had injected something into your drip bag, the clear liquid going to a more creamy colour. You stopped thrashing, your words were slurred as you fell asleep once more.

You snapped out of your day dream as a car pulled up, you frowned seeing a man step out confused. He was in a large limo car, the hell is he doing here? You watched a woman come out and froze. The man didn’t want any part of her apparently as they fought, you saw a young girl also. You went outside your senses on edge.

“Sorry ma’am” the man spoke to you making you flinch.

“Y/n Y/l/n” you turned to the woman who spoke your name.

“You’re alive” she whispered.

“Do I- do I know you?” You asked as glass shattered.

“Hey! I told you to put that ball away!” The receptionist woman came out. The other woman gushed at her begged her to leave the girl alone before she sighed and went inside.

“My name is Gabriella” she said to you.

“I don’t know you” you said.

“I know you were under medication while I was with you” you froze, she was a nurse? Maybe a doctor?

“The hell you do to me?!” You snarled rushing forward.

“Hey!” The man stopped you a strong hand on your upper chest. You hissed at him and he raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t do anything! I was just a nurse, I was told to write notes, I worked at two facilities” she said making you frown. You were breathing heavily that uncontrolled rage boiling. You backed away from the mans hand glancing to him.

“What were they doing to me in there?” You asked.

“I know you have many questions, please come with us to North Dakota, Eden” she said making you frown.

“What’s Eden?” You asked.

“A safe place for your kind” she said and you flinched.

“My kind? I was a normal human before this fucking thing!” You snarled again.

“Calm down!” You glared at the man who shouted at you.

“All right let’s all calm the fuck down” he said as you paced.

“We need to leave now” the Spanish woman begged.

“Now please, 20 grand now and 30 when we get there” she said directed towards the man.

“Please Logan!” She begged.

“I’ll be back” he grumbled snatching her phone and putting something in it, a phone number probably.

“Thank you” she whispered as you stood there.

“Y/n” she called and you looked to her.

“Please come sit” she said beckoning you over to her room.

You sat with her trying to remember her face out of your brief moments of consciousness.

“I helped you get out, I dosed your medicine made you go into a frenzy in a sense and you escaped” she said making you sigh.

“What- what am I?” You asked.

“A mutant” she said.

“No I’m not mutants are born not made- this is a fuck up” you huffed leg bouncing again.

“Mutants are gone, almost all of them Laura here and other children were genetically made” she said softly pointing to the sleeping child.

“What’s she then?” You asked.

“She has Logan’s DNA” She said.

“The man with the big car?” You asked and she nodded.

“He’s a mutant?” You asked again and she nodded again.

“The wolverine” she said and you froze.

“The-“ you stuttered and she nodded.

“Your DNA is like his but they changed it somehow” you blinked at her words.

“Laura is his daughter” she said and you looked to the child.

“What does that make me?” You gulped.

“No, no your aren’t related, different genes different DNA” you let out a small sigh though it didn’t make you feel better.

“But I have- I have claws” you muttered.

“But you also have heightened senses, much more than Logan and Laura” she said.

“I do yeah” you mumbled running a hand down your face. You twitched slightly hearing a car down the road, a familiar type of engine.

“They’re here” you said as her eyes went wide. She grabbed her phone typing away as she woke Laura also.

You went outside waited for the two cars to come. Two big black trucks armoured, with armed men in side.

“I’ll be damned” you heard someone muttered.

“You’re alive!” The same man said as he walked up front. You stared at him, you didn’t know who he was.

“Our little mistake” he said and you glared.

“Y/n? Isn’t it? Yeah I was there when they were making you” he chuckled as your heart pounded and rage boiled.

“The lioness they called you!” He chuckled and you frowned.

“Though I really-“ you stopped his talking quick as you sliced through most of his men. Till they injected you with something.

You heard commotion and your world blurred again.

You awoke groggily, you groaned and shifted expecting to be tied up.

“Logan” you heard someone say and you jolted.

“Easy” you flinched as you sat up. You were in a moving car on some highway by the looks. The Wolverine driving beside you and old man in the back and the young girl Laura.

“What?” You began to shake and cursed.

“Logan pull over” you heard commotion but you were gone. You shook and cried as you curled into the door. Your mind flashed through everything and you couldn’t focus. The car had stopped you felt it, you felt being pulled out the car and onto the ground.

“Hey!” You flinched at Logan’s voice and turned away from him. You could make out speech between him and the old man but couldn’t focus on the words. You were whimpering, tears rolling down your face. When they injected you with this mistake it enhanced everything, your anxiety attacks included.

You felt arms go around you and you were pulled to a warmish body. You stopped shaking so violently and gripped the persons arm. You felt your heart slow down eventually, your body trembling every couple of seconds. You were exhausted as you went like jelly.

“They enhanced everything in her human body, her need to eat so much, drink, her emotions, her mental state also” the old man said.

“Get out my head” you whispered feeling him in your head.

“I’m just trying to calm you down” he said weakly. You gripped the arm the was around you and leant against their chest.

“I’m sorry” you said quietly and heard a soft grunt in response.

“We need to keep moving” Logan said and you nodded. He helped you back in the car and you leant against the door with your full weight, not bothered by the rattling and bumpiness. You were in and out of sleep, to exhausted from the attack you just had.

“We need a place to rest, Logan” Charles spoke.

“Damn it Charles” Logan said and you looked to him. He was gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white.

“We need food and a good nights rest no matter how risky, we won’t get far like this” the old man fought. Logan smacked the wheel and gave in with a sigh.

You pulled into the closest motel, Logan went to grab takeaway and you went with him. You didn’t talk during your trip, you ordered a lot of food, gave Logan all your money, took your food and stumbled back to the car without a word. You began to eat stomach so empty.

“You gonna eat all that?” He raised an eyebrow at your three burgers, two chips, two hash browns and coke.

“Yes” you said with your mouth full. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he drove back to the motel.

You all ate in silence before Logan helped Charles into bed.

Laura came up to you, held your hand in inspected it. You were confused by the action and stared at her.

“She wants to see your claws” Charles said a small smile on his face.

“Oh- no you don’t see them” you faked a chuckled as she showed hers with a grunt.

“Oh” you said staring at the two knives coming out of her knuckles.

“Mine aren’t like that” you gulped.

“Also very painful-“ she gave you begging eyes and you sighed.

“Ok” you grumbled. You held your hand up and winced as your nails fell off and metal claws came through.

“That’s disgusting” Logan said looking to your nails on the ground.

“I know” you muttered as the girl looked at them in awe.

“I can do it with my toes too” you said and she perked up.

“Not today” you said chuckling softly and she huffed.

“Watch this” you said forcing your eyes to go into night mode. It made them dark and reflective before going back to normal.

“Cat senses” you shrugged putting your claws back. Your nails grew back, you didn’t watch trying to keep those three burgers, two cups of chips and two hash browns down.

“You’ve got three that come out?” You asked Logan and he grunted nodding. He was old looking, worn down, he sounded like a raspy wolf, grunting and growing all the time. Though probably a Wolverine seeing as his name is Wolverine also.

“Not as disgusting as my nails though” you tried to joke but sighed. Charles chuckled softly half asleep though.

“Get some rest we leave in the morning” Logan said sternly and you sighed.

You took Laura to the other double bed and tucked her in. You laid down, your back to them and stared at the wall. You had found others, but it wasn’t like you were expecting.

Next Chapter

#x reader #fanfic #Wolverine x reader #Logan #Wolverine #xmen #marvel #Charles Xavier #Laura #james howlett #old man logan

120 notes · View notes

sasaparilla · 2 years

Text

Salecrow headcannons.

(These are too long, sorry. Probably have a few mistakes)

-His fingers are constantly snapped. It's a small habit he has, slowly pressing them with his thumb whenever he has the chance. The snap sound is loud, almost as if he really had broken his fingers, although for him the sensation is satisfying.

-No regret or mercy for his nails. He uses them to scratch any surface, even harsh ones just to drive his victims' anxiety higher than it already might be. The gutural repulsiveness it sends them in just seeing him leaving claw marks in the walls so effortlessly is similar to when someone scratches the school's green board.

-Still talking about the one above: No, that doesn't hurt him.

-Besides his bones, his hands are the second toughest thing he has. It's hard for something to actually make him flinch in pain when it comes to his palms (heat, cold, cuts, etc). His touch is roughly resistant.

-A big fan of natural lighting from candles, he likes to see the shadows of the items dancing on the wall when the fire slightly trembles after a breeze.

-His psychopathic behaviour doesn't extend to animals. His objectives are strictly towards humans only and so is his cruelty. Animal fears are instinctive, yes, just like mankind's primitive ones. However the second bears numeral meanings, sources, philosophy and so much charm with their screams. Animals on the other hand, just don't seem interesting at all and their irrational innocence appears to hold an admirable take for him. Where's the fun in hurting them? None.

-The fabric of his costume is thick with a texture similar to veludo at the exposed side, plus it's waterproof too, mainly because that helps him keep his body temperature decent since cold weathers are his worst enemy - third to Batman and fire, but that's the wonder of being so skinny, barely any meat in those bones to keep him warm.

-His sleep position depends a lot on the environment he is in. When on Arkham Asylum, he slept like a freaking corpse, facing the ceiling and not moving an inch, always leaving an arm resting on his chest, ready to attack anything that could snap him from his sleep (his sleep was short during these times). When he is in a more "private" environment, he allows himself to sleep more comfortably, curling in a ball like a cat. Being all stretched like a tree kinda tires his joints.

-He slightly bends to make an entrance - similar to Lady Dimitrescu for example - except he doesn't tip and touch his hat. Man is so freaking tall.

-Extremely silent, like a killer in a slasher movie. He is dead quiet 99% of the time.

-Likes to gently pull Poison Ivy's plant hair and see how it forms a weird shape in her head (of course, when she allows him.) This habit of him when both of them are close has led her to give him a little sprout from her hair. The sprout is now a healthy plant resting in his hideout as he waters it a lot.

-Amazed by gifts. The Ivy event left him so speechless when she did that. Turns out, below that creepy mask lies a man that is easily impressed when it comes to gifts of any sort. He has never got anything from anyone besides screams and even threats, so a gift for him is extremely special. He will literally treasure it. Dare I even say that's the very first step someone can do in order to approach him.

-He doesn't wear glasses. This Crane has an excellent vision both for reading tiny letters and stalking someone from a long distance without being caught.

-His calligraphy is absurdly cursive and a mess because he writes fast so that it leaves his words in an unintelligible doctor's writing, although he will feel offended if an ally doesn't understand what it says in the paper.

-I feel like the Long Halloween animation gave us a fair idea of how he is beneath the mask so I stick to that a lot except I don't think he would ever care to take the hair away from his face. The tangled long hair could often let strandes hide Crane's face.

-He has a deadpan face when not wearing the mask. No smiles. No frowns. Just his eyes staring at anyone's souls dared to get close to him.

-Not only cite nursery rhymes but will also hum them when working.

-During his childhood, he used to bury dolls somewhere in his path back from school to home, so he could always return to them for a moment without having the danger of it being taken away from him.

#jonathan crane #salecrow #my hcs

81 notes · View notes

galaxia-art · 3 years

Photo

[image description: a digital drawing of two teenage mermaids hanging out on a rock. the characters are rami and lewis from my webcomic someone always cares. rami is styled more as a deep sea mermaid, with glowing dots down his side, and glowing eyes. his tail is very long and thin, with teal scales, and lighter scales underneath, his scales also cover his back and shoulders. he has a couple necklaces, one with a pendant that has the same symbol as his hero outfit. his eyes have no iris or pupils, and his nails are dark claws. rami is a thin black boy with dark brown skin, and a short afro.

lewis has a much shorter light blue tail but has a much larger tail fin, as well as additional large fins on the side of his tail. bright blue scales also appear in patches on this upper half, on his elbows, back of hands, shoulders, neck, and cheeks, as well as gills on the sides of his body and neck. he also has fangs, and is wearing a black binder. lewis is a white trans boy with curly blonde hair that reaches his shoulders.

both of them have their arms resting on a rock in the middle of the sea, their lower halves in the water with the ends of their tails sticking out. rami has his face resting in one hand while he looks at lewis, smiling happily over at lewis, who is singing with his eyes closed. glowing music notes float above. the first image is at night, while the stars and full moon are in the sky, reflecting in the water. the second is the same image but in daytime. the 3rd and 4th are the same images as the first two but with close ups of their faces. end id]

the deep sea merman and the siren

i think i drew this in may for an art challenge but i just havent posted it until now! these two are the protaganists of my webcomic Someone Always Cares, although theyre not mermaids in there. they are superheros however! if thats your thing and you happen to like queer superheros investigating creepy and/or sparkly serial killers then feel free to read it! just started chapter 5

#mermaids #mermaid #webcomic #queer #mermay #yes i know its septermber i just drew this in may #someone always cares #did i link it twice in the same paragraph? yes. webbed comic

67 notes · View notes

paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

The Late Shift - Part 3

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 3.9k

Warnings/Tags: Explicit (18+), PRAISE KINK, sex in a public place (voyeurism if you squint?), Oral sex (Female receiving), PIV sex, gratuitous use of the pet name ‘good girl’

Authors Note: Yeah, we sped right on into smut town in this one. This smutty addition should conclude our little story, and now this ADCU character will forever be known to me as Praise Kink Paul.

Part 1 + Part 2

It was eerily quiet as you stared at Paul in bewildered shock, not fully knowing if the word he just spoke actually left his mouth. It didn’t seem real. A man you’d met barely hours ago returning for you. Needing you. But what exactly did that mean?

Paul’s expression had kept its hesitation long into the silence, his body unmoving. He had never been so bold before. Making a move like this, so soon after a first meeting, was absolutely unheard of in his past. And yet here he was now, watching over your face, trying to gauge the thoughts hidden behind your eyes. There was an essence of shock clearly shining in your irises, and Paul could only come to the conclusion he’d scared the hell out of you.

“I- I, uh, I’m sorry-”

“What do you mean by that?” you asked suddenly, interrupting his bid at cooling your fear. “What do you mean by… needing me?”

Paul nervously pulled at his blazer collar, realising now how vague and outright creepy the statement must have sounded. Somehow he needed to explain himself without coming off more strange than he already did. “Oh, I just… I wanted to see if you were free for a late dinner. There’s are great dumpling house around the corner and-”

Your lids had narrowed as Paul continued to stumble his way through his words, stopping him again mid-sentence. “You said… you needed me.”

Fuck. He’d definitely freaked you out. He could tell you it was a lie, a colourful way of offering a date, but suddenly the prospect seemed rather difficult. Because in truth, he’d meant exactly what he’d said. He needed you, in a way he hadn’t needed someone for a long time. He needed to know what your lips tasted like, the softness of your skin, the sound of your quickened breaths-

“Ask me again,” you shot out, your demeanour having morphed into one of resolve. Paul could feel his heart rate pick up.

“What?”

“Ask me out. To dinner. Ask me on a date.”

The rhythm of beats turned erratic - a smile already desperate to spread across his face. Maybe he hadn’t completely ruined his chances. With a steadying breath, Paul kept his tone light, hoping to hide the excitement rattling inside his chest. “Would you like to get some dinner with me?”

“No.”

The word pierced the air with such a stinging jolt it made Paul want to recoil. “Uh… oh, but I thought… Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You took a step from around the service counter, a single finger sliding over the cheap marble, keeping your eyes locked with Paul as you moved. The only answer you supplied was a shake of your head, treading closer to the flustered man, his face creased into a positively adorable look of uncertainty.

It was your time to be bold now. You weren’t sure how it happened, when the rush of confidence flashed through your limbs, pushing you into a determination you’d not been allowed to embrace very often. Maybe it was because you’d already endured a horrifying dose of embarrassment today. Maybe it was because you found this stranger so attractive it physically burned your insides. Maybe it was because you had been fantasising about the things he might do to you for the last several hours and your logical brain was currently suffocated by lust. No matter the reason, you treaded towards Paul with a measured composure, until finally you were standing at his front, a thickened air of tension sifting around the two of you, the dimmed lights softly bouncing off the frames of his glasses. You saw him swallow hard, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, evidently nervous at the proximity. But he wasn’t retreating, he wasn’t edging himself away. When his stare flickered down to your lips, pupils swelling at the sight, you knew this was your opening.

“I don’t want a date. I want what I sent in that message,” you breathed. “In fact, I think I need it.”

To your surprise, Paul didn’t waver like you assumed he would. Large palms were quick to scoop under your jaw, pulling you forward into an impassioned kiss. Two sets of lips colliding in a hungered clash, bodies melting into one another, your own hands clutching at the scratchy tweed jacket he wore. The entanglement was frenzied, rough, much more forceful and impatient than either of you would normally act in your separate lives. In these moments those pasts selves seemed like distant memories, both of you shedding the bondage of your doubts in mere seconds, succumbing to the impulses sparked to life by what should have been an inconsequential meeting.

Each kiss never wavered in its intensity, only thriving with heat and fervour, feeling Paul beginning to suck and bite at your lower lip while his hands wandered over your clothes. The irritation that arrived at the barrier between his touch and your flesh was enough to make another decision resolute.

This man was gasoline to your waiting fire, and you wanted him to pour himself all over you, not caring if the world around you burst into flames.

Before you could get the words out, what was going to be an eager plea, he stole them from you.

“M-More?” he gasped, trailing delicate pecks down your neck. “Would… Would you want more?” The question was followed by the slow push of his hips into you, providing another show of evidence that was too persuading to refuse. Into his collar you grabbed two fists of fabric, pulling him backwards with you. He followed your lead gladly, a tangle of legs treading somewhat haphazardly over the shop floor, avoiding the circular displays of dress shirts until your back finally knocked into the dressing room door.

Even if you’d had second thoughts at the risk this was to your job if you were caught ravaging a newly obtained client on the security cameras, they would have been erased at the way Paul clutched at your hips and ushered you inside the small cubicle, refusing to let his mouth stray from yours as a single hand moved to fiddle the lock closed behind him.

The second after it clicked into your confinement, there was a pause, with a rushed whisper into your ear. “I don’t… I don’t usually do this…”

“Me either,” you rasped back, nails clawing into his hair as he set another deepened kiss on you. “This… I’ve never been… so hasty.”

There was a low groan that rumbled from Paul’s throat as you pulled lightly to tilt his head back, skating your lips under his jawline. He took the opportunity of your parted mouths to catch his breath. “Are you sure?” he asked, unable to hide the worry in his voice. “I’m not… rushing you… am I? We can stop… If you want to stop-”

You smile, warmed by his gallantry, before nibbling at the rise of his collarbone. “I want to keep going. Please… Don’t stop.”

“Say that again.”

“What?”

“Say please. Again.”

“Please,” you whined back, delving into a begging tone.

The fingers clutching at your waist tensed at the proclamation, moving down to the curve of your ass as another gradual thrust was pressed into the apex of your thighs. You could feel it, feel him, the physical indication of just how sincere his desire truly was. It made you ache, made you suddenly feel too empty, too incomplete. Instinct made you about to reach for the buckle of Paul’s belt so you would know the full scale of what would hopefully be yours to take, but he was too quick.

With impressive dexterity, Paul unfastened the button of your slacks, slipping one hand inside while the other became curled around your neck, anchoring you into place. He hesitated at the hem of your cotton panties, his tempered breath warm over your face while your stares held one another’s.

“I want to touch you… Would that be okay?”

You immediately nodded, rolling your hips upward to meet his stilled hand. “Touch me Paul. Please.”

It was a magic word, dashing any of his reservations in an instant. Fingertips swiftly slipped underneath the thin fabric, skimming over the trail of pubic hair that the feel of made Paul’s cock throb even harsher than before. While never explicitly voiced out loud, he loved the natural state of a woman, knowing it set off something primal in him he couldn’t quite explain. The recognition made a hurried groan escape before even dipping into the line of your folds, only for another one to follow at the sensation of slick essence waiting there.

A gasp leapt from your throat, the sound settling into a delighted whimper as Paul explored you, letting two of his fingers trace up and down, teasing the edge of your entrance.

“You’re so wet,” he panted, capturing your lips in another fevered convergence. “Have you… Have you been like this since…?”

“The whole time,” you finished. “Since I first saw you, heard your voice…”

Paul’s subsequent groan echoed in the small space. The people in his life were never this forthcoming with their information, and here you were being so unrestricted and honest. He wanted to reward you for it. His movements shifted to centre on the swollen nub of your clit, placing sweetened kisses just below the lobe of your ear. “Do you want to come?”

You mewled as increasingly more intense pulsations of ecstasy began to billow out from your core. Every motion this man made with his fingers was unlike anything you’d encountered before. There was finesse, an elegance in every subtle action, smooth and severe at the same time. “Oh god, yes. I want to come, I want you to make me come.”

“Will you be a good girl for me?”

The question had arrived without Paul being able to prevent it, and he immediately felt a wash of dread simmer through him. What if you weren’t into that? What if he’d fucked this all up with one slip of the tongue?

He needn’t have worried.

“Do good girls get to come?” you asked, nails clawing into the hair at the nape of Paul’s neck.

He couldn’t have been more relieved, increasing his pace on you, a positively beaming smile being pressed into your throat in between the small licks and open-mouthed kisses he began to coat under your jawline. “They do. And you’ve already been such a good girl. So good for me. So wet… So willing...”

“A-anything for you,” you puffed out, breathless at the rising pleasure Paul was igniting, mind blurred from the combination of his exhale skating over your skin and the expert flourishes he traced over your bundle of nerves. “I’ll be anything. Your good girl, bad girl, anything you want.”

“You’re already everything I want,” Paul cooed. While true he’d only seen glimpses of your full self so far, he was already convinced of the words he’d spoken. It made him feel even more courageous, more ravenous to please you. “And I want to show you how much. Does my good girl trust me?”

A delirious hum filled the air as your agreement. How could you not say yes to such a question? You were already putty in Paul’s hand the moment he’d finally kissed you, and with his hardness pressing against your thigh as a promise of what might be to come, there was no way in hell you would have refused. It wouldn’t have been a lie either. You did trust him. Not that you could explain why right now.

With your consent given, Paul retreated from you, only to snatch at your wrist at the same time he unlocked the changeroom door. You gasped softly as he pulled you out into the now darkened space, thankfully having the shop lights set on a timer to switch off before you were meant to leave. Although, it now appeared your night was long from over.

The subtle glow of the computer screensaver guided Paul to exactly where he’d planned, steering you to the edge of the counter and immediately propping you onto it. You would have squealed in surprise if not for the way he led another assault on your lips, standing between your spread legs, also beginning to tear apart the buttons of your blouse and wrench the covering away. The dull, beige bra you wore underneath was the next item to be taken from your body, Paul having the latch unclasped with a single flick of his fingers. As the straps were dragged down your arms, he moved his mouth downwards to a perked nipple, tongue toying with the bud as you rocked your head back with a decadent sigh.

“So beautiful,” he rumbled against your chest. “Absolutely perfect.”

Your fingers snaked into Paul’s hair again, relishing the praise you’d rarely been afforded as he set himself onto your other breast, darting the tip of tongue around the sensitive centre. You could have let him linger there, but you became acutely aware of the shifted balance of your exposure, your torso bared while Paul’s remained irritatingly layered. That needed to be corrected.

You pulled on the inky strands to force Paul’s head back before starting work moving the jacket from over his shoulders. He allows it to slide off easily, hearing a small thud below as the heavy article fell in a crumpled heap. The sweater was next to be peeled off, finding yourself smirking at how Paul’s glasses became crooked from the woollen material slipping over his face. He caught your amused expression, eyebrows furrowing.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you giggled softly, fixing the frames to properly sit on the bridge of his nose. “You’re just… so cute.”

A gawky smile spread across Paul’s face. He wasn’t sure he’d been called cute before. He liked it more than he would have thought. The warmth it set off in his chest made him capture you in a kiss once more, although this one was significantly less urgent and more… affectionate. Slower, delicate, mouths moving in a hypnotic synchronicity, so much so Paul didn’t notice you’d unlocked the buttons of his shirt until you were pulling the tucked in portion out of his trousers.

As the dreadful, yellowed fabric was finally abandoned to reveal the torso beneath, you heard Paul release a rumble of satisfaction when your hands began to roam over the uncovered skin. You, yourself had to stifle a moan just from the feel of him alone. You’d imagined in your idle daydreaming a toned form hidden underneath those god-awful clothes, but it hadn’t prepared you for this. Every muscle was defined, tightened, firm underneath your touch, his chest so broad even your two splayed out hands didn’t cover the full expanse. You couldn’t stop yourself from withdrawing backwards just to view it with your own eyes, biting hard on your lower lip as you took in the sight.

It made Paul suddenly self-conscious, casting his eyes down. “I don’t- My job keeps me so busy… Getting to the gym is a little hard-”

“What? No!” you stopped him, realising where his train of thought had gone. You tilted his chin upwards to force your stares to meet. “I was actually just thinking how much more I hate that terrible outfit for hiding all of this-” You let your hands skim down his front, leaning in close, “-from me.”

Paul’s lips curved upwards. “You were?”

“I really was.” You set your lips under his jaw, reaching around Paul’s flanks to scratch your nails lightly over the middle of his back. “By far the sexiest customer I’ve ever had walk in here.”

Paul wanted to scoff. Being called sexy was even rarer for him than being called cute. And yet, with the way you pressed your naked breasts against him, clutching him closer to you while your hot breath at his shoulder made his hairs stand up, it was the first time in his life he believed it might be true. So, instead of dismissing the sentiment, he allowed it to take over, embracing the swell of fearlessness it brought.

Suddenly your pants, along with the panties underneath, were being excitedly wrenched down the curve of your ass, Paul having them stripped from your legs within seconds. If anyone walking past peered into the shopfront, they might have seen you draped over the register now completely devoid of clothing. But, you didn’t care. Not when Paul had proceeded to lower himself between your opened thighs, holding them apart with his large hands, his eyes wide and wandering over your cunt.

“Fuck,” he marvelled. With one long stripe, his tongue travelled up the divide, groaning into your centre. “Tastes even better than it looks.”

Leaning on your elbows, you whined as Paul began to gently lap at you, dipping further inside each time, occasionally holding his focus on swirling over your aching clit. It made you whimper and writhe against him, overwhelmed with an incessant need of the release he’d been sparking for what seemed like hours.

“You want to come huh?” Paul spoke out loud. “Grinding your pussy on my face like that?”

“Please! I need it! So, so, badly.”

Ah, that magic word again. “I know,” Paul soothed, having to palm himself over his trousers just to calm some of the impulse to fuck you right then. “You’ve been so good, doing so well. And you’ll get to come real soon. Just promise me one thing okay?”

“Whatever you want,” you heaved, watching while Paul’s fingertips drifted over the slippery flesh, teasing in and out of the folds.

“Be a good girl and ask my permission when you’re about to come. Can you do that?”

Again, it was only a pitiful moan you could supply as your answer, which this time wasn’t quite enough to satiate the man gliding his touch over you infuriatingly slowly.

“I need to hear you say it. I need you to tell me what you’re going to do.”

Another cry left you as Paul slipped two fingers inside your heat, your mind blurred from the feel of knuckles moving past the edge of your entrance, stretching you open. “Be… Be a good girl… I’ll be your good girl and ask permission.”

Hearing you say the words, Paul was sure he’d never been so hard in his whole existence. It was almost painful, his cock straining against the zipper he was trapped by, but it was a pain he savoured more than ignored. Even if this was as far as he got, if this scene ended with your cum smeared over his lips and nothing more, he would be grateful for the throbbing down below and gladly thank you for it. So, he dove in.

As the duel sensation of Paul’s tongue and fingers rose in their intensity, your back became flush with the marble countertop, only to have it arched as the rippling currents of ecstasy started shooting through your whole body. Muscles twitching, thighs trembling, you were astounded at how proficient he was at drawing your climax to the surface, somehow knowing the motions and spots that brought it ever closer to the point of breaking. Usually, in those uncommon occurrences a man would want to put forth the effort, many minutes would float on while you chased the seemingly unreachable high. Paul needed only a few of them before your breaths turned staggered and toes began to curl, scrambling to find your voice.

“I… I’m… oh god, Paul, you’re going to make me… Please… please let me…”

He didn’t dare to pull away to speak his encouragement out loud, instead silently spurring you along while keeping his pace steady.

Get the words out, you can do it. Just ask the question. I want to see you come. I want to see how pretty you look when you come.

You bolted up, stomach tensing, snatching both sets of fingers into Paul’s hair. With him captured in your stare as more waves of pleasure crested from your core, you turned begging. “Oh please. I’m so… So close… Can I please come? Will you let me come?”

Paul groaned, the vibrations ricocheting outwards, being quick with his reply. “It’s okay, you can come. Come for me baby, come nice and hard for me.”

Back slumping down onto the cold countertop, you did as you were told. Walls clenched around Paul’s fingers in quickened spasms as your coarse sighs filled the balmy atmosphere. He’d never watched something so enthralling, the way your chest rose and fell with sweat clinging to your skin as you rode out the heavenly bliss you’d fallen into. Only when he was positive you’d slipped into the beginning of your afterglow did Paul retreat, resting over your body to place adoring kisses at your forehead and cheek.

“You did so good,” he murmured.

The connection rattled you back into the current reality, moving to rub your palm over his hidden erection. “We’re not done yet.”

“We’re not?”

You were far beyond the point of playing coy. “Can you please fuck me now? I need you to fuck me. Right now.”

Your pleading tone set something alight inside him, dragging you down until your feet made it to the floor and spinning you around in one swift action. Bent at the edge of the desk, a jingle of a belt buckle rung out, finally feeling Paul’s hardness press against your rear. And he felt huge. Thankfully still seeping from your climax, it was with ease he was able to eagerly sink into your waiting cunt, a rousing groan escaping from each of you.

“Oh fuck. You… feel so fucking good.” An arm slinked around your waist to wrench you flush against Paul’s torso, having his panting breath directly in your ear as he continued to drive himself further inside, gradually building his momentum. “Such a tight, wet pussy for me to make mine.”

“It’s yours,” you mewled. “It’s all yours.”

Paul lost his ability to speak, merely producing a growling moan into your neck as the pace and strength of his thrusts amplified, having little restraint left to hold himself back any longer. Repeated lewd, slapping sounds mingled with the coupled moans and whimpers of your collective satisfaction, passion radiating off your bodies in the form of feverish heat. It wasn’t long until you noted the stuttered exhales rushing out of Paul’s chest, a clear sign you didn’t miss.

“Want you to fill me. If… If you want to… You can… Fill me all the way up.”

Sure, it was reckless as all hell, but Paul trusted you like you’d trusted him, and the sound of your begging hit him like a lightning bolt. He lost complete control, plunging harder and faster into you, feeling your ass bounce against him, the pulsing below growing harsher and harsher until finally… release.

His embrace around you was suffocatingly strong as he spilled himself within your walls, sure the grip of his fingers would leave marks to find in the morning. Not that you minded. As the last of his energy dwindled into slackening thrusts, you again felt the dotting of small, sweetened kisses touch your skin, lining the curve of your shoulder.

“You’re amazing,” Paul awed, still tracing his palm over your bare flesh. “That was… amazing.”

About to chuckle at his lack of originality, a worrying thought sparked. “Oh my god!” You spun on your heels to encounter a bewildered expression. “The security cameras! They would have filmed everything! Oh god, I’m so fired.”

To your confusion, Paul had a toothy grin spread across his face. “I’ve got some experience in surveillance. I can handle it.”

“Huh? You do?”

He kissed the wrinkled portion of your brow. “I work for the NSA. And I could have sworn there was some suspicious activity occurring in these premises in the last… 30 minutes or so.”

Tagging those who might be interested! Sorry if it’s not your jam

@tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @fathersonandhouseofgucci @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynz-andtonic @paterson-blue @miraclesabound @prismaticpizza @millenialcatlady

#paul sevier #paul sevier x reader #paul sevier x female reader #midnight special #adcu #adcu fanfiction

89 notes · View notes

julemmaes · 3 years

Text

singer of my heart - nightmares

prompt: Az singing to Gwyn when she has a nightmare and it is the only thing that calms her down

warnings: mentions of SA, death

A/N: hoping these won't be the usual warnings, here it comes the first one shot of Singer Of My Heart, my new collection of Gwynriel stories. Many of the people in my taglist might not be really fond of this ship, so if you only comment to say just how much you hate anything that's not Elriel, I ask you not to:D

Word count: 3,263

Gwyn instantly awoke to the dim light of the ever-burning candles in the kitchens of the Sangravah temple. The din hit her immediately afterwards. She could hear the screams of her priestess friends, felt the sharp metal of her enemies cutting through flesh and blocking out those heartbreaking cries. She could distinguish the voices of the people who had lived with her all her life. She knew what was happening. She had been in that place before, that same night, so few years before. They were coming.

She looked down, fixing her eyes on the bright, wide-open eyes of the little girl whose hand she was clutching. Her heart clenched even tighter in her chest and she tried to clear her thoughts before Hybern's soldiers reached them. If she hurried, maybe this time she would be able to get in with them. Maybe she could get to safety, escape the carnage.

She looked at the passage in the wall, where the last of the children had now entered, and let go of little Sankora's hand. The child wailed, shaking her head, but Gwyn had no time for such things, she had to make sure she was safe. They were coming, they were coming.

The footsteps and screams were getting closer by the second, louder and louder behind the large wooden door that separated them from what she knew was certain death. She pushed the little one through the trap door, ordering one of the older children to run as fast as they could down into the catacombs, hiding as best they knew until someone came for them.

Sankora had just disappeared behind the wall when Gwyn heard Hybern running towards her. They were coming.

Knowing what was about to happen, she let go of a throaty noise. She wanted to escape with the children, she knew she could, but her body didn't move until it was too late and she had only time to throw a rug over the trap door and place the table right in front of it so it was no longer visible.

She had just turned to face the opening when the door swung open, slamming into the wall with such force that the pots and pans hanging from the nails shook. Gwyn held her breath, her legs ready to finally run, following what her brain was begging her to do, but the commander saw her and his nostrils flared as he caught her scent.

A creepy smile appeared on the man's face and Gwyn felt the hairs on her arms rise.

She knew what was coming.

And from the looks the guards were giving her, it was as if they, too, had been there before. It was as if they were all actors, doomed to relive that night every time she closed her eyes.

Gwyn shifted her gaze to her sister, to the other priestesses, to return her eyes to the commander. She tried to stand straighter, not to let on.

When the man spoke, she felt her stomach churn so hard she was afraid she would vomit.

"Where are the little girls?" he asked, taking a step towards her. Gwyn took one back, her breath caught in her throat still. "Where are the girls?" he repeated, reaching a hand up to her face, smiling as he took a strand of her hair and curled it around one finger.

When rough fingertips brushed the skin of her cheek, Gwyn closed her eyes.

"They took the mountain road to go get help," she murmured, trying to sound more confident than she actually was.

The guards laughed behind the commander. He grinned, leaning towards her so far that she could smell his breath, felt the air penetrate her soul. She would never forget the alcohol-heavy scent of that beast. "You're lying." he whispered, cupping her face completely and tightening his grip on her head, crushing her ear. Gwyn whimpered, a sound between a sob and a cry of pain, and he laughed. "I can feel your fear," he continued in a louder voice, "you're lying and if you don't tell me the truth soon-" he clicked his tongue, violently pulling his hand away from her delicate face and jerking her forward as her hair got caught in his armour. Gwyn let out a scream of pain, but the sound was choked off when she heard someone else wailing. Catrin looked into her eyes, only pure anger and determination on her face.

Gwyn felt the wave of shock hit her in one breath and felt her knees giving way beneath her.

She knew what was coming.

She knew, as did her body.

She felt the commander ordering her to tell him the truth again. Threaten her. She heard him promise he would kill her sister if she did not speak. She heard the sound of the sword being drawn from its sheath. She heard the final warning and heard the screams as her sister's head rolled before her eyes.

But she did nothing.

It was useless.

She had tried so many times to change the outcome. She had tried so hard to save everyone.

She didn't move from her spot on the floor, her face wet with silent tears, when the commander moved Catrin's decapitated corpse with one foot and bent down to her level and without taking his stare from hers, said to his guards, "Go to work on them."

She heard the cries of her companions, but did not react. It was meaningless.

The smile the commander gave her made her brain scream to run, but it made no sense.

"That one is mine," he spat.

She felt something caress her neck, call her name. She turned her head slowly as the commander took her by force and two other guards pinned her against the table. She felt the same gentle caress on the exposed skin of her face and then all black as the shadows took over.

***

Gwyn woke up screaming, clawing at her chest so that air could flow directly into her lungs.

The figure of the commander she had come to appreciate and trust was too similar to that of her nightmare. The title both men bore was all too equal for Gwyn to realise that Cassian posed no real threat.

When Nesta tried to approach as well, she only screamed louder and the broken sound that came from her throat made her friends curse.

Gwyn tried to gasp for air, failing miserably between sobs and spasms, and it only got worse when Cassian knelt in front of her on the bed, placing one leg on the mattress and shifting the weight of his body towards her.

His outstretched hands to help her up, to see if she needed him, was just another trap in the eyes of the girl who still believed she was trapped in the nightmare.

Gwyn closed her eyes, clutching the blanket in her hands so tightly that the bones rattled in her fingers.

Get out. Get out. Get out-

And a moment later the mattress shifted beneath her once more and a low growl filled the room.

She let out a sigh of relief, of freedom, as she let herself fall back onto the pillows, opening her eyes now tired of struggling, knowing full well what the sound meant.

The Shadowsinger stood beside her bed breathing heavily as he held a sword and kept his gaze fixed on the pair before him as if he had never seen them before. As if they personified his worst nightmare.

Cassian remained lying on his back on the floor as he looked at his brother with wide, confused eyes. Nesta, crouched beside her mate, was shouting at Azriel.

What, Gwyn could not have known, for to her ears all sounds came muffled.

The only voice she heard clearly was that of the dark shadows dancing around her, asking her what had happened, if she was hurt.

Gwyn found the strength to turn her body towards the other wall, whimpering softly as the cold of the room hit her bare back. At that faint cry, another menacing growl made its way into the room, threatening anyone who would even touch Gwyn again that things would not end well for them.

She heard Nesta retort that if she heard her scream again, she would bring Ataraxia too and that he needed to calm the fuck down and stop growling at them.

And Gwyn wanted to tell them to stop. She wanted to shout at them that it wasn't necessary, that they were only scaring her more, that they should leave her alone.

Azriel's shadows danced around her and then shifted, and Gwyn only then realised how clear and sharp they were to her. She reached out a hand towards one of them and-

"Go away," said the Shadowsinger, "If she needs one of you, I will come for you. But now you must go."

It was Cassian who replied, "Az-"

"Please."

Gwyn hadn't even realized she'd spoken, but Nesta's gasp made her realize it.

"I'm fine. Go." she continued in a weak, husky voice.

No one said anything more, and the sound of the door closing behind her friends was the only sign that they had actually left.

But Gwyn knew he remained there.

She could hear his panting breath, could sense his uneasiness. She could feel his heartbeat through the shadow twirling around her fingers. As if they were trying to steady her with that continuos drumming.

Do you want him to leave too?

She held her breath for a second, before realising that the shadows had spoken to her.

"No." she whispered back, not knowing if they would hear her if she just thought the word.

Azriel turned to her, and Gwyn knew that he was just waiting for her to command him, that whatever she would order him to do, he would do.

"Azriel..." she didn't need to say anything else as he shifted and moments later he had crossed the room and was before her, crouched beside the bed with pleading eyes. Gwyn looked up at him and it was like the first time, when he had walked into that kitchen so long ago and saved her.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly.

And the raw emotion, the bitter sorrow that bound each letter made her stomach clench. His eyes had never been so clear and he had certainly never looked at her like that. It was as if he was allowing her to see a small portion of what he actually felt every minute of his eternal days.

Before she could even answer him, he had gotten up and was heading for the door. Only then did she notice that he was wearing only a pair of light black silk trousers.

She spoke before she could repent, "Stay."

Azriel froze in his tracks and the shadows that had so far only looked calm and composed went mad, crawling everywhere on the walls and around his shoulders, over his head. The ones that had remained on her moved with more fierceness and Gwyn felt as if she could touch them, as if they were solid objects around her.

A second later, they were still again, swaying with that deadly calm that belonged only to darkness waiting for something, anything.

He turned slowly towards her, his lips pressed into a thin line, "Why?"

Gwyn blinked, "Stay."

And Az watched her for a few seconds, before placing his sword against the wall and making his way to the bed. He was about to lay down, touch her, but he stopped, holding his breath.

"May I?" he asked in that low tone of his, pointing to the bed.

Gwyn only nodded.

Her room wasn't really meant to house an Illyrian warrior, much less her bed to hold both her and him at the same time, but when Nesta had offered her a room in the House of Wind, neither of them had thought Azriel would be entering her private chambers.

Certainly not so soon.

He was looking at her like she was going to break down at any moment, but she'd stopped crying the second he'd appeared and had resumed breathing normally when Cassian and Nesta had finally left. Her heart was still beating wildly, but her brain couldn't tell if it was because of what she'd seen in her sleep or the presence of the male beside her.

She ran her gaze over his chest, over the intricate weave of ink that marked his skin. Nothing she hadn't seen yet during their training sessions, but this was different. She saw him shiver as her eyes traveled further down, over his sculpted abs, and when she saw the hair on his arms stand up, she went back to look at his face.

"Are you cold?" she heard herself ask.

He gave no sign that he had heard her and for a moment Gwyn thought she had only thought it, but then he looked away, sighing and leaning his head against the headboard. "I haven't felt cold in ages now."

She frowned, ready to ask questions, wondering why then his body was covered in what was obviously goosebumps, but he beat her to it.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Gwyn shook her head, turning on her back and looking up at the ceiling.

"Do you need me to do something for you?"

She repeated the gesture and sighed. Even just his presence would be enough for her until dawn came.

He made a nod of assent, crossing his arms over his chest, and she had to force herself not to look at the way she knew his muscles were pulling on his perfect, solid forearms.

She thought she owed him something though, for coming to her rescue again, for staying.

"Thank you."

Azriel was silent again, and Gwyn thought she should teach him how to have a proper conversation one of these days, because she knew he'd respond in a matter of seconds, but those melodramatic pauses he made every time he had to say something gave her far too much time to admire him, distracting her from the topic.

Besides, how much willpower did you need to say a simple you're welcome-

"I felt you," he murmured. Gwyn's head snapped in his direction. He continued to keep his gaze fixed on the wall. He drew in a deep breath that made his chest heave and his arms move, but she didn't have time to admire the sight, too curious to know what he meant by those words. "I felt you, as you slept. The shadows, they..." he swallowed, "they warned me that you were suffering. That you were in pain."

He finally looked at her and Gwyn's breath caught.

"You were in pain."

She curled up on her side, facing him, "I'm sorry." she said, "I didn't mean to wake you."

Azriel shook his head, almost as if to say that she didn't understand, but Gwyn saw the way he gave up even voicing his doubts, and she had absolutely no mental strength to be able to go so far as to ask him what was flashing through his mind.

There was only one thing she could think of.

"Azriel?" she called to him, despite knowing she had his fullest attention, "A few weeks ago, you told me you sing."

He nodded, now even more on alert.

She managed to crack a small, weak smile and the surprise on his face was like lightning striking her in the chest. A second later it had vanished.

"Would you sing for me?"

He watched her a few moments and hope had already planted its seed in her stomach when he said, "I'm not in the right spirit right now, sorry."

Gwyn huffed softly, getting closer, just a few inches. Nothing that could escape the Shadowsinger, of course, but she noted with no small amount of satisfaction that he didn't move or pull away from her.

He might not have felt the cold for the last five hundred years, but Gwyn was freezing now that the adrenaline was completely gone and the blankets were blocked by his mighty legs.

An idea formed in her head.

"You asked if you could do something for me," she reminded him. Azriel seemed ready to retort that he would not sing right then and she raised a hand just enough to keep him silent. "I won't ask you to sing again. Not tonight, but..." she trailed off, eyeing him suspiciously, "could you hold me?"

He opened his eyes wide and Gwyn thought she had never seen so much emotion on the male's face in the span of so few minutes.

He began to shake his head, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please," she begged him, closing her eyes. "Just until I get back to sleep," she lied.

She wasn't going to tell him that she needed to feel his arms around her to know she was safe. To remember the way he'd held her when he'd rescued her that day.

She felt him shift on the mattress, looking for a more convenient position for his wings, and when his hand brushed against her shoulder, he gasped. Gwyn opened her eyes, meeting his, now closer than ever.

His breathing became ragged as he shifted his gaze to his hand and withdrew it.

Gwyn realised she had been wrong to ask him when she recognised the look in his eyes, the pure hatred for those hands she revered and considered her greatest salvation.

She sat up, pulling the sheets from under their legs and, covering herself up to her neck, turned to him, "Is that better? You think you can hold me, if you don't touch me directly?" she asked softly, trying to wipe that look of self-hatred off his face.

Azriel looked at her, blinking once, twice, and then gave a small nod.

She sighed, getting even closer, until one of his arms slipped under her head and she was careful not to touch his hand as the other wrapped around her from behind and pushed her against his chest.

Feeling brave, she put a hand on his pec, resting her head against his chest.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked once they were settled. She merely nodded. "Good."

Minutes passed, hours perhaps, and Azriel didn't move an inch as Gwyn sought sleep more than anything else in the world, mentally exhausted from everything that had happened.

It was only when light began to seep in behind the curtains that the hand over the blanket between them began to trace a path down her back. She smiled in her sleepy state and couldn't hold back her gasp of surprise when he began to hum a tune and it rumbled in his chest.

Gwyn moved her head slightly, pressing her ear against his chest and the arm around her tightened only imperceptibly, but the faint low singing did not stop until she closed her eyes again, finally finding the peace of sleep.

When she awoke hours later, the bed was empty and there was no sign of the male who had kept her company that night.

It wasn't until she pulled herself upright that she saw a shadow hovering in the opposite corner of the room. It seemed to watch her intently for a few seconds and then the uppermost end rolled in on itself, almost as if it were bowing, before sliding under the door and out of her room.

acotar tag list (if you wanna be added or removed send me an ask or dm me)

@sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien-of-nargothrond @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @hellasblessed @nahthanks @archeron-queen @sleeping-and-books @bri-loves-sunflowers @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @queenestarcheron @oop-theregoesgravity @perseusannabeth @firebirdofscythia @anne-reads @fantastypenguins @laylaameer01 @thalia-2-rose @darkshadowqueensrule @bookstantrash @lanyjoy-13 @the-regal-warrior @lordof-bloodshed @swankii-art-teacher @rowaelinismyotp

#gwyn berdara #azriel #az x gwyn #gwyn #acosf #gwynriel #acotar fic #angst #SOMH #SingerOfMyHeart #nightmares #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian

139 notes · View notes

outofangband · 3 years

Text

So I mentioned here both Maedhros and Húrin have similar scars on their shoulders!

blanket Angband content warnings for captivity, restraints plus Morgoth being creepy and enforced nudity

themes of sexual assault in the first part, it’s not graphic but it’s a present theme nonetheless in the second there’s nothing explicitly sexual but still like, heavy violation of boundaries and personal space...

This is the first part I’ve posted something with Húrin experiencing this aspect of Morgoth’s personality and moods so that’s fun!

masterlist

I bolded where Húrin’s part starts!

(Maedhros’s snippet touches on some of the themes most explored in “Scar Touching”, and Another Darkness” and other pieces in the hidden hours tag, you definitely don’t have to have read those though)

Morgoth’s hands traveled lazily over his chest as Maitimo snarled in frustration, pulling on the restraints as though there is a chance they will give way. They do not. His attempt is performative.

His hands gripped his thighs, forcing them apart, nails digging into what little flesh remained there. No sounds did He manage to elicit at the moment, the elf was tense with the effort to remain neutral, to deny his Enemy the reactions He wanted. Clearly the effort was wasted as he both felt and saw the smirk on the Vala’s face as He bit into Maitimo’s shoulder. It hurt naturally but the pain he had become used to. It was odd to him, what he could and could not become used to.

The crooning voice sought to lull him into the most treacherously vulnerable state. “Foolish, ruined king, now you know you are mine forever.”

Pain, hunger, the viscera and gore he saw sometimes upon his own form and sometimes in other poor thralls…they were hardly pleasant but they seemed to be reaching an almost mundanity. They no longer constantly tore at him though this itself was hardly a comforting idea for him.

“Now, now, Fëanorian…” teasing, smooth as silk, the voice utterly at odds with the being who spoke it

There were other things though, including many that seemed less severe by comparison that Maitimo still could not become used to. The sense of vulnerability that came with frequently being disrobed in front of his Enemy was one of them. Not merely the simple humiliation of nudity but something deeper that Morgoth could inflict by gaze alone.

He was naked now, splayed on his back with arms and legs apart. The Valar did not have the same views of the elven form as they were originally formless beings but at some point Melkor had learned enough of them not merely to manipulate their physical flesh but to know far too much of how they themselves saw them. And naturally the ways He could utilize this for His own advantage or amusement were many and horrifying.

“Thou shalt not escape me as thy father did, Nelyafinwë.”

Maitimo very much wished he could say that his form was not his own anymore or that at least it was as simple as that. His form was not his own but he could not detach from it, remove all the aspects he could recognize even as the Vala manipulated them. He could see them clearly. It was at these times he most believed his captor’s claim that he was owned just as the Silmarils were.

…(Many years later)…

This is a scene I’ve had in my brain for way too long.

The Vala dragged his claws over his shoulder, tearing through the skin, joining previously made cuts together and letting blood drip so steadily down his back, Húrin felt it down to his knees before it slowed. There was a silence where his ragged breathing was all that could be heard in the cold chambers. It was only ever his breathing that sounded. Maintained silence was of course his objective yet the dread that Morgoth could so effortlessly exude made it almost unbearably tense.

To his horror, Morgoth leaned forward to actually lick the blood away. Húrin lost his battle with himself to keep his reactions hidden. A sound of alarm and disgust escaped his dried lips as he felt a twitch run down his spine. Morgoth laughed softly.

“You did not like that,” The dark god commented almost dryly, “I admit to some interest. Stubborn as you are, you so rarely show me what you think of our little meetings.” There is a note of familiarity, of intimacy in the Dark Lord’s voice that makes Húrin’s skin crawl. He knows it is being done for precisely this reason. And as though his enemy hopes by using the hushed tones of treasured secrets he will receive them in return.

“Perhaps I should allow one of the vampires to join us,” Morgoth speaks in his deep voice of stones and ice even as he whispers so closely in Húrin‘s ear. He remained ever silent. This was not the worst he had been threatened with. The Dark Lord’s hand moved to grip his throat. Húrin waited for the sudden deprivation of air but it never came.

Instead, Morgoth leaned closer to him, other hand resting on his leg, nails digging lightly into the already bruised skin there.It was almost a kiss that was placed on his back just under his shoulder. No, it was a kiss, foreign and repulsive though the thought was to him. The Vala’s fingers at his throat must have felt the shudder that ran through him as he swallowed, body tensing even as he willed any response to remain hidden. In this Húrin failed and the laughter echoed softly in his ears for some time after Morgoth left.

(If a line in the last paragraph sounds familiar it’s a reference to “Blurring”!)

I couldn’t find anything where Húrin got to experience Morgoth’s creepy faux intimacy that he exhibits even in canon (and for example in the Lay of the Children of Húrin) but I’ve been thinking about it a lot

If anyone else writes some, please tell me I will be in your debt

#the silmarillion #maedhros #Húrin #the children of húrin #melkor #morgoth #the hidden hours #short writings #In the Iron Hell

38 notes · View notes

shealolz · 3 years

Text

“I wanna be your favorite boy” - Zenitsu Agatsuma - PART ONE

Summary: moments with you and zenitsu <33 also him realizing he doesn’t love nezuko but he loves you

Warnings & Notes: some blood bc demon-slaying,

Genre: fluff, some bits of angst

Zenitsu Agatsuma x Tanjiro’s Agender Twin Reader

PART ONE!!

word count: 4,565

——

when Zenitsu first got a glance at you he was drawn to your eyes. those curious eyes with smile lines next to them. but he could tell by the furrow in your brow that you were just as angry as the boy next to you.

“you know this counts as harassment right?” you said, glancing at the other boy who was apologizing to the beautiful girl he’d been weakened in the knees by.

“harassment?!” Zenitsu stammered. “no, no, no! I’m just trying to find someone beautiful to marry before I die to demons!” he wailed, wiping at his running nose.

you knelt down to sit next to him and he caught sight of the sword tucked against your hip. were you and the other boy demon slayers too?

“Have I met you before?” you asked, tilting your head. Zenitsu shrugged. “I think I saw you at the final selection. it was hard not to miss, there weren’t very many left.”

Zenitsu shuddered. he survived purely out of luck. sure he had gruesome dreams about defeating the demons but it never actually happened, he was weak!

you stuck out your hand. “I’m (name) Kamado. a pleasure to meet you...uh...” you trailed off.

“Zenitsu Agatsuma.” he supplied, feeling a tiny smile creep at his lips. “a pleasure to meet you Zenitsu.”

he shook your hand. it was warm.

the boy you were with walked over, Zenitsu’s messenger buried in the mess of auburn locks. “(name),” he said. “I see you’ve made a new friend. Tanjiro Kamado.” the boy—Tanjiro—introduced himself, giving Zenitsu a strained smile.

so he was your brother. and he was also still upset over Zenitsu’s wailing. “let's get off the dirty ground shall we?” you prompted, pulling yourself up with ease. Zenitsu followed.

before you and your brother could leave, Tanjiro turned around. “would you like to join us Zenitsu? I see you a slayer after all.”

Zenitsu nodded frantically and walked into sync with you guys. he bets you guys are strong, he’s unlikely to die with you guys around.

digging around in his uniform he found a riceball. he split it into three pieces with his hands, handing you and Tanjiro a piece each. “a gesture of my gratitude.” he mumbled, holding the riceball to his mouth.

you gave him a smile and Tanjiro voiced his thank you as he nibbled on the rice.

silence quickly fell in between the three of you and Zenitsu tuned into your sounds to see if either of you had bad intentions. he didn’t want to hang out with the wrong crowd y’know!

but as soon as he did all he could hear was the soft matching melody of your twin-like hearts, beating with sincerity and kindness. you both had a sound so soft and gentle it made Zenitsu want to cry.

he was in good hands, he knew it.

——

“I dont like creepy houses!” Zenitsu wailed, his hand gripping your hoari. you didn’t tell him off for it but you did raise a teasing eyebrow at it.

“Please! you’ve got to save our big brother!” the tiny children pleaded, pointing wildly at the house.

before Tanjiro could speak to calm them down a body is thrown out the window and it’s very bloodied up. Zenitsu let out a shriek.

you and Tanjiro were obviously idiots because you ran towards the body! still, he tip-toed over in time to see the man let out his final breath.

you glanced over your shoulder to look at the terrified child. “is...is this your brother?”

they shook their head. “our brother has short hair. that can't possibly be him.”

Tanjiro nodded. “then we can still save him!” he smiled. you nodded, smiling equally as wide.

“c’mon let’s go.” you hummed, making your way for the door. “ARE YOU CRAZY?! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE IN THERE!” Zenitsu screamed, almost turning white with fear.

“it’ll be fine. we can protect you.” Tanjiro said, slipping off the box on his back to lay it under a tree. “yeah, and here, you can hold my haori if you're so scared.” you stuck out the end of your haori for Zenitsu to grab onto.

slowly he grabbed it, bundling right up into your side, only a couple inches from your back as he peered over your shoulder.

the five of you only made it a couple of feet before the house began to rearrange itself. Zenitsu's knuckles turned white from gripping your haori so the two of you would stay together. just one kamado sibling! please!

once it stops you quickly depart, your haori ripping, a tiny piece of fabric in Zenitsu's palms as you bang your fists against the walls, screaming for your brother. "TANJIRO!"

"c-calm down! the demon will hear you!" he whimpered, biting his nails nervously.

you turned your angry gaze to him. "No! I will not calm down! my brother could die because I'm not with him!"

"do you really have such little faith in your brother?" the little boy, Shoichi, spoke up.

you sighed, the tenseness in your shoulders loosening. "no, that's not it. it's just he's one of the few family members I have left. I don't want to risk losing him."

Shoichi bit his lip. "then let's find your brother and my siblings!"

you gave the kid a smile and patted his head softly, Zenitsu kinda wished you'd do that to him too. just to ease his worries a bit.

"i- um. I ripped your haori." he stammered out, wanting your attention back on him. you clicked your tongue. "it's fine, I can just stitch it back later. or you can keep it, I don't mind."

he nodded, holding his hand to his chest.

"now let's search for an exit and then re-enter the building," you said, clapping your hands.

"aha! I found one!" he chirps pulling open the door he had found.

you sent him a warm smile. "good job, Zenitsu!"

he fumbled with his hands, his cheeks heating up greatly and he was about to stutter out a thank you when he saw a boar in the corner of his eye.

snapping his head to the side it turned out it wasn't a boar but a man with a boar's head. "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" he screeched, running over to you to hide behind you.

but the boar-man hybrid paid them no attention and just ran down the hall, dual swords in its grip.

"I don't know," you muttered, hand resting atop your own sword.

the three of you walk in silence, suspense high as you crept through the house.

"Why are you being so cowardly. stop attaching yourself to (name), you got a sword for a reason don't you?" Shoichi insults and Zenitsu lets out a shriek, frightened by the sudden noise.

there's a deep rumbling laugh and loud footsteps before a large demon with a long tongue steps out, licking its sharp teeth that gleam under the yellow lights.

"fuck." you mutter under your breathing, pushing out your arm in front of Zenitsu and Shoichi.

"you're not gonna fight it are you?!" Zenitsu whisper-screams, trembling fingers gripping at his hair. you take in a breath. "as a demon slayer my job is to slay every threatening demon I come across, so yes, I will fight it."

"Zenitsu, bring Shoichi to the back wall, make sure nothing happens to him," you order and Zenitsu practically drags the boy to the back wall.

The demon chuckled. "this is going to be an easy fight." he muttered, cracking his knuckles.

you unsheathed your sword, holding it out to the side as the demon runs forward. Zenitsu's fingers stop shaking and both he and Shoichi wait in bated breath to see what you would do.

you don't move other than a slight shift in your feet and when the demon is about three feet away you gripped your sword harder.

"Water Breathing Seventh Form: Piercing Rain Drop."

before the demon could wrap his claws around you you step forward and stab your sword into its stomach before pulling out and doing it again while the demon stood in shock that you landed a hit on him.

your stab had stopped the demon from moving and before it could try again you pulled out your sword and jumped up, using the tall roof to your advantage.

"Water Breathing Second Form: Water Wheel."

your sword crashed down on the demon's arms that he had held up to shield himself and barely scraped his head. "Wow..." Shoichi breathed from next to Zenitsu and he couldn't help but think that it was an understatement.

but your minor victory was short-lived as the demon wrapped its huge hand around your calf and foot and squeezed.

Zenitsu could hear the loud crack over your scream.

you tumbled for the floor but still managed to tuck and roll before you hit your head, your sword plunging into the floorboard as you gripped at your ankle. it was probably broken.

the demon turned around but gave a quick glance to Zenitsu and Shoichi first. "you two look weak, I can have a quick snack first." the demon decided before picking you up.

the demon's tongue slithered out and licked against your cheek and Zenitsu promptly passed out.

a shocked gasp.

"zen---wake---you---save---(name)!"

a slicing sound along with the squirting of blood.

"Thunder Breathing First Form: Thunderclap And Flash."

a thud.

Zenitsu's eyes flutter open and stare into your own giddy ones. he sits up, rubbing at his head before his eyes snap open at the sight of the decapitated and decaying demon.

"did you and Shoichi do that?" he asks, tilting his head. you furrow your eyebrows and Zenitsu's even more confused.

"What no- never mind, sure, whatever. but I need you to carry me because of my leg," you babbled, laying a hand on his shoulder.

oh yeah, you had broken your leg. does that mean Shoichi killed the demon? his eyes flick down to your leg which was covered but he didn't doubt it looked horrendous underneath.

he stands up and kneels down for you to jump on his back and he rests his hands under your thigh. "Shoichi, could you grab my sword for me?" you ask the dark-haired boy and he nods, plucking your sword from the ground and helping you sheath it.

he hopes Tanjiro won't yell at him for not saving you before your leg broke but he was scared and passed out! besides Shoichi ended up killing the demon anyways.

the three of you walk around again, calling out for Tanjiro and Shoichi's siblings every once in a while and praying you don't run into a demon because one, Shoichi was just a kid. two, Zenitsu was a coward and ran away when he got scared. and three, you, the only skilled one here, had broken your leg protecting them.

suddenly the house shifts again and the three of you scream as your thrown out a window, freefalling for the ground.

in a moment of quick-thinking Zenitsu turned mid-air and wrapped himself around you and Shoichi so he would take most of the damage. he could at least do this one thing to try and keep his saviors safe.

all he remembers is a sharp pain in his head before he conked out again.

----

when he comes to it the boar-man hybrid is back and is storming for the box that you sit in front of, glaring at the half-naked hybrid.

"touch it and you’ll be asking for a fight," you say lowly, the threat was empty of course but the hybrid man didn't have to know that!

Zenitsu recalls back to Tanjiro's words when they had been walking.

"This box is more important to me and (name) than our lives, we'd give anything to keep it safe."

Zenitsu knew there was a demon in the box, it wasn't hard to tell with its irregular heartbeat but if you and Tanjiro cared for it that much he had to keep it safe.

"Shoichi! get (name) away from the box!" he yelled before curling around the box's entrance.

"huh," you mumbled as Shoichi began to drag you away. you couldn't put up much of a fight other than scratch at the boy's hands as you shouted profanities.

he took kicks and punches to the side but he had to keep the demon in the box safe, for you. ahh--um for you and Tanjiro he means.

the boar-man hybrid raised its sword, the metal glistening in the light, and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain.

except it never came.

"WAIT!" was that Tanjiro?

slowly he peels his eyes open to see the boar-headed man's attention on Tanjiro who had his sword at the ready.

before Zenitsu can process what's happening Tanjiro punches the boar-man (which now that he thinks about it he swears he's seen him before, maybe at final selection) in the ribs and Zenitsu can hear the crack.

"so we're gonna fight bare-handed? fine with me!" the shirtless dude shouts, throwing his swords to the floor. "what? no!" Tanjiro stammers.

the man charges Tanjiro and in a moment of quick reflexes Tanjiro smacks his head against the guy's and he sways a bit.

slowly, almost painfully slow, the mask slips off and a very girlish and beautiful face is revealed as blood drips down the guy's forehead and nose.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" he groaned. "PRETTY YET SO BRUTAL!”

the guy chuckled. "what did ya say 'bout my face? I'll punch your lights out for that!"

but before he could go through with it (Zenitsu is sure the boy would) he collapses, probably due to a head injury.

"wow. I knew you were hard-headed but not that hard-headed," you comment dryly from a couple of feet away, still limp in Shoichi's arms. "my arms are starting to feel numb." Shoichi complains.

Tanjiro walks over to you. "what happened? why can't you stand?"

"broke my ankle trying to defeat a demon. I did some damage though, so good for me." you cheer weakly as Tanjiro helps you stand without putting pressure on your foot.

"Shoichi your siblings are over there," Tanjiro says softly with a jerk of his chin. Shoichi grins and runs over to his sibling's waiting arms, crying with joy. damn, Kaigaku never greeted him with tears or hugs.

then again Kaigaku would probably skin Zenitsu alive if given the choice.

"Zenitsu I know your hurt but could you use your haori as a pillow for the guy on the ground?" Tanjiro wonders. "I need to find something to splint (name's) leg."

Zenitsu nods and shrugs off his haori, shoving it beneath the shirtless guy's head. he really needs to figure out this guy's name.

he takes a moment to listen to the guy's sound and instantly want's to tune out. it's loud and annoying and wild like the guy was always hyped up with energy. it was surely something.

he much rathered you and Tanjiro's shared sound.

Tanjiro managed to find a stick to split your leg and had you watch the box that held the demon.

"c'mon. let's bury this guy's body then find some ice for your bruises, eh?" Tanjiro suggested, hoisting up the long-haired dead guy from earlier. Zenitsu nodded and began to dig a hole for the boy.

----

it's night and honestly, Zenitsu was tired but the crow said they'd bring them somewhere to rest up and who was he to deny that?

Inosuke, the shirtless guy (they figured out his name), kept trying to coax Tanjiro into fighting him but the auburn-haired slayer just wasn't having it. he was too busy fussing over your ankle.

the group ends up at a mansion with a wisteria crest on it and Zenitsu relishes in the calming and safe vibe it gives off.

the crickets chirp in his ears and he lets a smile coat his lips. a warm hand wraps around his own and he turns his head to face yours.

your smile isn’t wide and cheerful but instead fond and small. Zenitsu couldn’t help but think you looked stunning even with the grime coating your arms and cheeks.

his tongue felt dry and his heart seemed to pause and in the corner of his eye, he focused on the confused look of Tanjiro as the red-haired boy’s nose twitched.

“I just wanted to say…thank you for saving me back there. you barely know me yet you still helped and I couldn’t thank you enough,” you said softly, averting your eyes to the cracked ground.

Zenitsu rubbed at the back of his neck. “I didn’t even save you… I just passed out. I’m too cowardly to save someone as cool as you.” he didn’t understand your praise, Shoichi killed the demon, hadn’t he?

you shook your head. “you need to learn to take credit for your feats Zenitsu, even if you don’t remember them.” you clicked your tongue before gesturing for Tanjiro to continue walking.

Zenitsu was thoroughly confused, what had you meant by that?

brushing it off he walked after you, listening to your and Tanjiro’s heartbeats. the beautiful melodies you had seemed to overpower Inosuke’s wild and crazed one but he couldn’t help but think that Inosuke’s sound fit right in with the rest of them.

something creeps out of the house and it was obviously a smiling old lady but he couldn’t help his yell of, “MONSTER!” that really did a strain on his probably broken ribs.

you lightly slapped the back of his head. “be polite!” you scolded, not unlike how his Gramps would whenever they went to town.

he muttered an apology to the lady who just laughed wholeheartedly and beckoned them inside.

“Not that I don’t like your kindness ma’am but why are you doing this?” Tanjiro asked as the woman clattered around to prepare food.

“a while back a couple of demon slayers like you four saved my family from some demons and now we tend to injured slayers to thank them, even if they are long gone.” the woman explained, serving them bowls of steaming udon noodles.

“once you finish your dinner I have some clothes for you to change into and then I’m going to have to wrap your ribs and leg.” the woman said, pulling out clothing for them to wear.

“thank you!” you and Tanjiro say simultaneously, picking up your chopsticks. Inosuke, like the menace he is, eats with his hands, shoving the noodles in his mouth messily.

you grimace but pat his back lightly when he almost chokes. Inosuke squints at you. “you tryna fight or something?”

“no, I just don’t want you to die due to noodles.”

Inosuke huffs and continues to devour the noodles, not caring about the mess he made.

after food and changing a family doctor came to wrap their ribs and your leg along with giving you a crutch to use till your leg is healed.

the four of you head to the bedroom you were gifted, Inosuke plopping down on a futon and claiming it as his.

you sat down on your own, fiddling with the sheets. you were probably bored.

“hey Inosuke, why’d you become a demon slayer?” you asked, kicking your good leg back and forth.

“well, I joined after I beat up a member who came to my mountain! then I heard about demons and final selection from the guy and decided to join to beat up demons!” Inosuke grinned, resting his head in his arm as he stared at you.

you snickered behind your hand. “amazing story, bravo.”

“I know.” Inosuke shot back. Zenitsu almost face-palmed.

“uh.” Zenitsu started, not really knowing if now was a good time. “Tanjiro, (name), w-why do you have a demon in the box you carry around?”

and with stupidly good timing the demon scratched at the box’s door, the thing swinging open.

a clawed palm sticks out and Zenitsu backs into the closet, trying to climb into it.

but when it crawls out his eyes widen. long black longs of hair that lighten at the tips, bright pink eyes, and smooth skin.

the demon was a beauty, that’s for sure.

but comparing it to you its eyes seemed dull, its hair didn’t shine, and no matter how cute it looked it couldn’t compare to the flush on your cheeks when you thanked him earlier.

though the demon was still pretty, and Zenitsu tended to gravitate to pretty people.

wait…was Tanjiro carrying her around to have a cute demon girlfriend?! Zenitsu refused to allow this! even if you were in on it!

“TANJIRO I WILL SET YOUR EXECUTION DATE! YOU CANNOT CARRY AROUND SUCH A BEAUTY AND NOT TELL ME!” he screeched, beginning to chase the boy around as he tried to stutter out a response.

sighing, you crawled over to the demon and let it hug you, thin arms wrapping around your shoulders before tiny hands patted your head.

“did you have a good sleep, Nezuko?” you asked kindly. the demon, Nezuko, let out a happy hum and began to incoherently babble around the bamboo gag.

adorable, his mind supplied, yet his eyes were on you.

“you all talk too much. it takes up thinking capacity.” Inosuke says dryly before promptly passing out.

“Zenitsu!” Tanjiro squeaks, trying to be quiet. “Nezuko’s my sister! not my girlfriend! calm down!”

Zenitsu blinks once. twice. before shrugging and responding with a simple “okay.”

after that fiasco, Tanjiro ‘talks’ with his younger sister before stating he was heading to bed, leaving just you, him, and the demon who perched herself on the end of your futon.

silently he climbed from his futon and crawls to yours, trying to ignore the eyes of the demon.

the grime was still on your cheeks from earlier and absentmindedly Zenitsu reaches out and scrubs at your cheek with his sleeve.

you flush again and look down at your lap. “what was that for?” you mumble.

“there was dirt on you, didn’t want you to go to be coated in dirt y’know?” he laughs but it’s obviously a nervous one.

“Oh. well uh, goodnight Zenitsu, have good dreams,” you say, patting his arm before lifting your blanket over yourself.

Zenitsu retreats to his own futon calmly but his mind was going a hundred miles a minute.

oh god- why did he do that? he was so stupid. what if you think he has a crush on you? no, no, no, he has a crush on your beautiful sister Nezuko, doesn’t he? he has to! he loves pretty people! but he also finds you pretty…does that me he likes you too? no that can’t be possible your just a friend!

and he falls asleep like that, internally anxious.

——

the next day the group is eating breakfast when a kasugai crow appears, annoyingly screaming in their ears.

“TANJIRO MAKE IT SHUT UP!” he yells, resisting the urge to smack the boy with the bowl of food in front of him.

“Zenitsu calm down! I can’t talk to it if you keep screaming!” Tanjiro yells back.

you are glaring at both of them from the rim of your bowl as Inosuke runs around having successfully stolen as much food as he could.

“could you both shut up?” you groan, putting down your chopsticks.

the crow lands on your arm when you stick it out and tweets into your ear, telling you about whatever mission they had to do now.

you nod and pat the crow's head before it flies off. “Inosuke sits down,” you order, pointing at the seat next to you.

He hesitantly does and Zenitsu silently thanks whatever god that’s out there that he does. he really doesn’t want to face your wrath.

“were supposed to go to Mt. Natagumo. apparently, there are multiple demons, seemingly in a group, roaming around and killing whoever comes to the mountain,” you explain.

Zenitsu pales. that sounds scary. he really doesn’t want to die, especially alone.

"We'll do it!" Tanjiro hums. Inosuke gives a boyish grin. "let's kick some demon ass!"

the kind lady walks up to them, taking their bowls of food. "the doctor says your injuries are healed so you're free to go." she smiles. "come back if needed."

"thank you for the kindness ma'am!" Tanjiro bows his head. she waves it off with a laugh. "no need to thank me, deary."

"well," you announced. "let's get changed and head to Mt. Natagumo!"

----

"we've been walking for hours. how tall is the mountain?" Zenitsu whined, dragging a hand down his sweaty face.

"hold on- I smell something!" Tanjiro shouted, holding a hand out. "it smells like blood."

and of course, Tanjiro runs towards the danger. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" he bellowed after Tanjiro who had been followed by not only you but Inosuke as well.

"To fight some demons!" you chirped, hands cupping your mouth. "you can stay here if you want. we'll be back in no time."

"what (bad take on your name) said!" Inosuke grinned.

Zenitsu huffed and brought his knees to his chest. "HAVE FUN DYING!" he snarled.

----

how stupid could they be? who the hell runs towards the danger? what in the...

he will not go, he refuses to go into that hell hole.

they're all gonna die.

wait... they're all gonna die!

he scrambled up. you and the idiots took Nezuko!

when he looked at the sky he realized the sun had been begging to set and he'd sat there mumbling to himself like a mad man.

he has to keep you safe! and Nezuko of course.

Zenitsu runs for the mountain, calling out you and Nezuko's names, hoping one of you would hear him. and for the second time, he wished there was at least one kamado sibling with him.

as he's pushing his way through the forest on the mountain he hears little clapping of spikes hitting the ground and a shiver goes down his spine.

"oh god, I'm an idiot. why did I come here?" he mumbled to himself, turning his head in all directions.

though he froze when he saw it.

a tiny spider with a bald human head.

what the actual fuck.

screaming, he scrambles to get away, getting slapped and scraped by multiple tree branches whilst doing so.

but then he comes across an even bigger spider with a human head. Zenitsu wants to cry. he wishes you were here, you'd be able to slay the demon and protect him.

"I see you've met my creation." the spider demon laughed, a cruel grin growing on its lips. "as the eldest son, I have a powerful ability. I can turn humans into little spiders that must obey my orders. and I want you to be next."

Zenitsu babbles nonsense as he fearfully climbed up a tree, hugging its trunk.

"I'm sorry!" he cries. "I'm sorry I couldn't become the demon slayer gramps wanted me to be! I'm sorry I'm a pathetic and sniveling coward, I don't want to be one! I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, (name)!"

his hands come to cover his head and Zenitsu realizes chunks of hair are starting to fall out as his eyes focus on the bite in his palm.

he bangs his head against the tree lightly.

why couldn't he do anything?

----

it was getting too long so ima have to split this into parts but here's part one!!

@ilyimagines @mychemicalangel @songbird-writer

#zenitsu agatsuma x reader #zenitsu x reader #zenitsu agatsuma #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu zenitsu #agatsuma zenitsu #nezuko kamado #tanjiro kamado

96 notes · View notes

trashyswitch · 3 years

Text

Distractions On The Job

Michael Afton had been hired to work at the Circus Baby's Pizza World. It's only day 3, and he's already feeling uneasy about continuing the work. Things get stranger as he's distracted for a long while during his shift.

There are a couple swear words, but that's about it.

Though this fanfic idea was mostly my idea, I'm dedicating it to @planet--venus, and @youngdrawingweirdo (both on Tumblr) because Venus helped me, and they've both been awaiting this fanfic. And lastly: Shoutout to @agarus-fallen-lershal because...I love them! <3

[There is no need to check on Baby tonight. Please refrain from entering unauthorized areas. Proceed directly to Funtime auditorium.]

Michael looked to his right and watched the three floor vents open. He bit his lip nervously, but proceeded to spite his gut feeling. As his legs passed the entrance of the vent, the sliding door closed.

[FUNTIME AUDITORIUM MAINTENANCE VENT OPENED]

Michael stood back up in the pitch black room and was given a light of some sort. As Handunit started talking again, Michael clicked the button and to his horror: the light only flashed and turned back off.

[...Funtime Foxy is motion-activated. For this reason, it’s important to keep the room dark, as to not accidentally activate her-]

Michael scoffed. Of course he- SHE...is.

[You have been provided with a flash beacon. Use it if you need to get your bearings and to ensure you don’t bump into anything. However, use it as sparingly as possible.]

Michael flashed the beacon again and widened his eyes at the brighter-looking Foxy that was shaking her head rapidly and menacingly at him.

[Proceed forward to reach the parts and service room.]

Michael flashed it again and stopped to let the creepy, shiny version of Foxy go by. Michael let out a quiet sigh as he realized Handunit was now done talking. He waited a few moments and flashed the beacon, smiling slightly as he saw Funtime Foxy shaking her head farther away from him. Michael proceeded through Funtime Auditorium.

He kept an eye on how much he was using it, and made sure to flash it only when he desperately needed to. He waited a bit longer before flashing it again. Michael widened his eyes but continued to walk, despite the creepy Funtime Foxy’s shaking body getting closer. He flashed it again and smiled. The fox was no longer in sight.

He continued to take slow steps towards the far door across the auditorium. He was trying his hardest to be very careful and precise. It was a long process, but he was hoping it would be worth the paycheck...

Oh what the hell...Why would any place like this be worth anything?! Look at this place! It’s partially abandoned! Baby isn’t even a singer because she caused a death! And Foxy-

OH NO!

Michael quickly stopped and covered the beacon. Foxy had gotten so close to him! Very slowly, Michael uncovered the beacon and gave it a quick flash.

She was still there, but not as close. So, Michael slowly started to walk again. He took a couple more steps more before flashing the beacon. Closer, but still safe.

As Michael made his way through, he began to wonder: would Michael be able to just take a run for it without the beacon flashes? Or would that be too risky?

Michael flashed the beacon again, and revealed that Foxy was getting farther away. The door wasn’t very far from him. Theoretically, he would be able to get to the Parts and Service room quicker if he ran. And if he desperately wanted to get there faster, now would be the chance to do it.

Very well. Michael flashed the beacon at the door one more time…

Target acquired.

Michael dropped the beacon right where it was and started sprinting towards the door. He ran with no fear, yet no sight of where he was now. How far was he to the door? It shouldn’t be-

“OW!”

Michael flopped onto the ground and groaned in pain. His nose, head, chest and knees all hurt simultaneously. He wasn’t even sure if he could get himself up. Michael tried to reach up for some sort of leverage, but he couldn’t feel anything. Not even a doorknob.

Out of nowhere, a flash sound went off...A dim light reflected off the door for only a second before disappearing. Michael had looked up at the door just in time to see the fading light, and gasped in horror. Either he wasn’t the only human being in the room...or Funtime Foxy had just found the dropped beacon…

Shit.

Suddenly, a pair of hands had grabbed his ankles. Michael shouted loudly for help as he was pulled away from the door into the dark abyss that was the Funtime Auditorium.

“HELP! HEEELP! HELLO?!” he shouted.

But no one responded.

Michael started breathing heavily and started trying to fight and get himself away from the animatronic. “LET GO! RIGHT NOW!” He wiggled his body and kicked his feet as hard as he could to cause some sort of damage to the fox. But it only sounded like metal clanging with no damage being caused. His damned father made these animatronics way too overpowering…

Michael soon started to punch the animatronic. Half the time he was punching the air and hoping he’d hit something eventually. But other times, he was actually hitting something and making a clanging sound with his fist. The punches hurt a lot, and were probably making his fists all bloody. But why would he care about some cuts and scars if his life is on the line?!

Suddenly, one of his punches seemed to cause his arm to slide against something sharp. He tried to pull his arm out but to Michael’s horror: the sharp thing clamped down more on his arm.

“NO!” He started pulling on his arm desperately. “COME! ON! PLEASE!” He yelled with each pull.

His arm was completely stuck. The worst part was that he was able to predict what he’d gotten his arm stuck in. It felt like multiple sharp points being clamped onto his arm all at once. Only one thought came to his mind:

Metal teeth.

Michael grunted and growled with every pull. Yes, it hurt his arm to pull like this. Yes, it felt like pulling was creating more damage than the actual clamping. But he’s either getting out alive, or losing an arm trying.

But quickly, all his pulling paused as a thick, long nail started scratching at his armpit. Michael bit his lip and continued to try pulling again. But the scratching on his armpit was distracting him a little bit. “Foxy, p-please let me go. I’m sorry for disturbing you a-andyourpeacebut- aaAAAAGH!” Michael stopped pulling and covered up his mouth with his free hand. His eyes were squeezed closed as two more nails started scratching at his armpit.

Were they even nails? They sure felt like nails. They didn’t feel like the pointy nails you’d see girls wear to make it look like claws. They felt thick and rounded. But of course, he couldn’t confirm anything due to how pitch black the auditorium was. The man’s lips had started stretching out the sides of his face, giving him an uncontrollable, wide smile. His smile probably would’ve been noticeable outside of his hand. But again: the pitch black darkness hid that.

Despite that one tiny upside, the darkness was also working completely against him. This was further shown by how surprised and adrenaline-stucken he felt when the nails started digging deeper into his armpit. Michael let out a whimper of both surprise and restraint to hold his instincts back. It tickled so badly but he didn’t wanna break. He knew what Foxy wanted and he was NOT giving it to her.

But Michael could already tell this was not gonna end well for him. Funtime Foxy had chosen to scratch her long nails in the pit of the arm that was stuck, meaning he couldn’t put it down to cover it up. Even if he could, it’s likely that Foxy would just lift his arm up and tickle him more, making it even WORSE for the technician.

Michael started to let out small muffled titters. It was getting harder and harder for him to hold his laughter in. And Funtime Foxy wasn’t helping him one bit. In fact, Funtime Foxy decided to intensify things by digging a nail into his other armpit. Michael let out a muffled yelp and quickly removed his hand from his mouth to cover up his armpit with his arm.

Normally when someone tickles you, covering up the armpit with your arm leads to their thumb or finger getting crushed and as a result: either stops the tickling altogether, or leaves you being trapped in deep, endless tickles till you let their finger go. But when Michael covered up his one armpit...his arm COULDN’T crush her finger! Like, at all! The finger was still standing up, and digging into his armpit despite the arm pushing against it. There was just no stopping this fox from tickling him.

Michael’s smile started showing teeth and he finally started tittering and hissing. His laughter was finally breaking through the cracks, and he was NOT liking it. If he had proper control of his instincts, he would’ve stopped himself from reacting altogether! But nope! His body was yelling for him to breathe. But breathing would involve letting out the bubbles of giggles that were trapped in his lungs. So it was a win-lose situation.

But then...Foxy removed all of his fingers.

Michael let out a breath of relief. Thank goodness it was all over. He was so close to cracking too. If he had continued for a few more seconds of so, then he probably would’ve been a goner. But, he didn’t and now, he can rest in peace-

“NnaaaAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Michael screamed and bursted out laughing immediately!

Funtime Foxy’s fingers had touched back down on Michael’s body. But this time, on his sides. And on top of that, Funtime Foxy’s fingers had started scratching so rapidly, it felt like lightyear speed! That was what finally broke the man.

“OHOHOHO NOOOHOHOHOHOHO! FOHOHOHOXYYYYHYHYHYHYHY!” Michael shouted loudly and desperately.

All of a sudden, Michael’s arm was let go. “WELCOME, WELCOME TO THE FUNTIME AUDITORIUM!” the animatronic declared.

Michael squealed from being jumpscared, and instinctively covered his face with both his hands.

“MY NAME IS FUNTIME FOXY AND I HOPE, FOR YOUR SAKE AND MINE, THAT YOU’RE HAVING A WONDERFUL TIME.” Foxy declared next.

Michael shook his head as he laughed, not able to handle the intensely ticklish nails AND the deafening voice of Foxy all at once.

“I SEE HERE, WE HAVE A VERY TICKLISH BOY AMONGST US.” She added.

Michael whined in between his laughter at the ‘shoutout’ he got. “HEHEHEHEY! SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHUP!”

“I WONDER: DOES THIS MAN HAAAAVE TICKLISH HIPS?” Funtime Foxy asked, looking at him with the white light in her eyes.

Michael gasped in absolute terror as he uncovered his red face. “No!” he whispered.

Foxy brought her nails up to Michael’s right hip and gave it a push. Despite his attempts to cover it up, Michael still instinctively jumped and let out a small yelp.

Foxy leaned her head closer. “I THINK THAT’S A YES.”

Michael quickly tried kicking Foxy and doing all he could to get the heck out of there!

“I SEE WE HAVE A TOUGH COOKIE! PERHAPS A LARGE WIGGLE WORM!” Foxy reacted. “IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I’VE COME ACROSS SUCH A FIGHTING SPIRIT!” She declared.

Michael gulped and widened his eyes at the white small lights in her eyes. There was NO WAY he was getting out of this alive.

“PERHAPS A FIGHTING SPIRIT LIKE YOU SHOULD LEARN WHEN TO PICK YOUR BATTLES?” Foxy suggested.

Before Michael could properly reply, Foxy had started digging both her thumbs into his hips.

Michael SCREAMED and arched his back as he grabbed the metal thumbs. “NOHOHOHOHO STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLEHEHEHES SOHOHOHOHO MUHUHUHUHUHUCH!” Michael shouted at him.

“WOULD’YA LISTEN TO THAT?! A WORTHY OPPONENT TO BEAT MY RECORD FOR ‘MOST LOUDEST VOICE’!” Foxy teased.

“YOHOHOHOU FUHUHUCKIHIHING AHAHAHASSHOHOHOLE!” Michael spat back at her.

“OH MY GOODNESS! EVERY BOY KNOWS YOU SHOULD NEVER SWEAR AT A WOMAN.” Foxy warned.

Michael wasn’t entirely listening due to his super ticklish hips being exploited.

“BESIDES:” Foxy stopped her tickle attack and gave Michael’s body a somewhat firm squeeze...then she brought him closer to her head and changed her eyes from a white pure color, to a deep red. “YOU SHOULD NEVER SWEAR IN FRONT OF CHILDREN.”

Michael widened his eyes and squeezed the animatronic’s cold fingers in pure fear.

[Eggs Benedict: It seems that you’re not yet at the Parts and Service room. I’m afraid you’re running out of time to perform your maintenance duties. We understand this is your first week, so we will let it slide. However, we still require you to fix Funtime Freddy. As a result: we will need you to work a couple hours of unpaid overtime, to get your duties done before 8:30 the next morning.] The handunit suddenly told him.

Michael was barely able to focus and listen for what the Handunit was saying, due to his predicament. Thankfully though, Foxy’s eyes went back to white and her fingers had loosened off again. But unfortunately, the fingers had also gone back to tickling.

“HEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHEHEHE!” He begged.

[I’m afraid I cannot understand you properly. Apologies for the error.] Handunit told him.

Michael growled in frustration and started kicking harder and harder to get the animatronic to let him go.

Wait, did he just say unpaid overtime?!

“FOHOHOXYYYYY! LEHEHEHET MEHEHEHE GOHOHOHOHOHO!” He begged.

“IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE I’VE HEARD SUCH BIG BOY LAUGHTER LIKE YOURS. I’M USED TO HEARING LITTLE KIDS LAUGHTER.” Foxy told him.

“IHIHIHI KNOHOHOHOHOW!” Michael yelled back.

“I WONDER: WHERE ELSE ARE YOU TICKLISH?” Foxy asked as she stopped tickling.

Michael went limp in her arms and started panting heavily. Foxy held onto Michael with both her arms, and shown a light onto the limp man. Michael slowly brought his head up a little, only for his eyes to squeeze shut from the bright light illuminating from her eyes. Michael lifted his hand up and covered up his eyes with the back of his hand.

“OH! WHAT A WONDERFUL TICKLE SPOT SUGGESTION!” Foxy suddenly declared. Michael lowered his hand a little in confusion, before being overcome with laughter again. Foxy started scratching in his right armpit yet again, and even added scratching into his ribs.

“EEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE! COHOHOHOME OHOHOHOHOHOHON!” he begged.

“OOOHOHOOO! I THINK SOMEONE’S A BIT TOO TOO TICKLISH!” Foxy reacted. “COULD IT BE THAT THIS BOY HERE IS TOO TICKLISH TO HANDLE MY PRETTY PINK FOX NAILS?” she teased.

“IHIHIHIT’S TOHOHOHOHOO MUHUHUHUCH! IHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIT!” Michael yelled at her.

“HE CAN’T TAKE IT, HE SAYS! OH NO! WHATEVER WILL HE DO TO GET OUT OF THIS TICKLISH DISASTER?” Foxy teased further, not taking his plea’s seriously at all.

“PLEHEHEHEAHASE LEHEHET MEHEHE GOOOOHOHOHO!” He pleaded.

“OOOOOH! NOW HE’S STARTING TO BE POLITE! RUNNING OUT OF BREATH, PERHAPS?” Foxy teased.

Michael nodded his head as he started to fall into fits of cackles from all the tickling.

“PERHAPS A LONG BREAK IS NEEDED?” She suggested.

“YEHEHEHES PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” He replied hopefully.

Funtime Foxy finally agreed and stopped tickling Michael completely. Michael went limp in her arms and panted heavily in her arms.

“SUCH A POOR, TIRED SOUL. PERHAPS A NAP WOULD MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER?” Foxy asked.

Gosh...a nap sounded amazing right about then. But he still had work to finish up! He was thankful to be alive and breathing though. He wasn’t ignoring that small appreciation.

[Funtime Foxy. Please put Eggs Benedict down. You had your fun, and now Mr. Benedict needs to finish his nightly duties.] Handunit told her.

“OKAY, SWEETY.” Foxy replied, putting him down. Foxy gave him the beacon back and walked away. “HAVE FUN! AND COME HERE ANYTIME YOU WANT ANOTHER TICKLE OR TWO!” Foxy told him before bidding him farewell.

Michael rolled onto his back and scoffed at her last words. There was no way he was getting into that mess again.

Michael slowly got himself up again and used the beacon to get to the door. When he got there, he listened to every instruction and followed them to a tee. But when it came to grabbing the power modules, Michael noticed that Bonnie was bouncing around and not letting him grab it.

“Come on, little guy…” He told him softly. “Come on out…” He whispered.

Swiftly, a blue figure had jumped at his face and flopped onto his chest. “HEY! WHAT IS UP WITH ALL YOU CRAZY-” Michael yelped and widened his eyes as he stared at the blue puppet with part of his shirt in his mouth. “Bon Bon...let go.” He ordered. But Bon was feeling childish and mischievous.

The blue bunny refused to let go and instead, started burrowing himself inside Michael’s shirt. Michael jumped and tried to reach in and grab him, but it was too late! The evil puppet had already started crawling his half-body around inside and was tickling his belly and sides.

“HEHEHEHEY! HAHAhahahaha! Whahahahat ihihihis uhuhuhup wihihihith yohohou guhuhuhuys ahahand tihihihicklihihihing?!” Michael asked. “Thehehe ohohold ahahanimahatrohohonihics dihihihidn’t dohohoho thihihihis! Thehehey juhuhust sahahahang!” Michael reacted.

The little blue pupper let out a little giggle in reply to that.

“OH BIRTHDAY BOOOOY!” Funtime Freddy suddenly declared, leaning in with his eyes opened widely.

Bon Bon crawled out from Michael’s shirt collar. “Calm down, and go back to sleep!” he told him.

Freddy straightened his back again and closed his eyes. Then, Bon Bon popped out of his shirt and showed him the module. Michael smiled and took it from him.

[Great job. You’ve acquired both power modules. This completes your tasks for the night. Please exit the building through Funtime Auditorium, and we’ll see you back here again tomorrow.]

#eggs benedict is michael afton #ticklefic #ler!funtimefoxy #ler!bon-bon #lee!michael #background handunit #fluff #some humor

89 notes · View notes