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hotwings0203 · 3 years

Note

Wat if katsuki actually had a s/o that loved Key word LOVED him but.....

Then when he started getting to aggressive and starts hitting her she suddenly stops all the love and affection. And that makes katsuki so confused and angry bc he like 'wtf why did they stop huggin and kissin me when I get home from my matches'. Then his darling becomes very depressed is and cooped up in her room all the time. So when katsuki friends come over they wonder where y/n is.

Tw:abuse, implied dubcon, depression

“Babe, you’re home!” You rush over to the door when you head it unlocking, arms outstretched already or embrace his wounds.

But when the door swings open you’re met with a scowling Bakugo who shoves you aside so hard you fall to the floor.

He grumbles and throws his bags down, kicking mud off his shoes onto the carpet as he glares at you.

“This place is a pigsty. Why the fuck didn’t you clean?”

You laugh nervously and raise an eyebrow. “Uhh, ‘cause I was out all day too? I just got home an hour ago and I was tired. What’s with you? Why’re you in such a bad mood?”

Katsuki’s eyes widen until they’re the size of dinner plates. His nostrils flare and his fists resume the same position as they do in the ring.

“You talkin’ back to me now?”

“What? No, you literally just asked-“

Crack.

The sound of him backhanding your cheek reverberates around the apartment, and you hold your face in shock.

It’s not so much the pain of him striking you that hurts, it’s the fact that this has been happening for a while now that aches the most. Nothing you do-no smiles, no amount of love you showed him in, no sobs or pleads-sways him.

You love him, it’s true.

But it’s hard to love him when he looks at you like that.

“Get the fuck up. And clean all this shit up, the next time I come home to this filth I’ll make the clean the floors with your tongue.”

He grabs you by your hair and throws you face-first onto the tile area, taking his own sweet time to turn around and walk to your shared room.

After you clean for hours until the place is spotless, you retreat to bed.

He’s on his phone typing away with a slight crease in his eyebrows, but he looks up at you as you walk in.

“Hey. You done?” He has the audacity to ask in a gentle voice.

“Mmhm.”

You don’t look at him as you begin changing your clothes in the restroom and close the door behind you.

His frown deepens at that. You’ve never shied away from being vulnerable and naked with him.

To test his doubt, when you walk back into the room with your head still down, he leans forward as you sit down on the mattress, your back turned to him.

You shut off the lights in silence as he reaches a hand out and curls it around your shoulders.

“C’mere, ‘wanna feel you.” He mumbles in his raspy sleepy voice.

But to his utter confusion, you gently brush his hand off and continue your journey to tuck yourself in bed.

With your back still facing him.

“I’m tired Katsuki. Not in the mood.”

His hand is still suspended in midair, his facial features still frozen in his initial shock as he’s left in a pitch black room which is suddenly overcome with a freezing cold creeping up his spine.

He’s too wounded, too shocked and shot from his ego to be irate.

You’ve never said no to cuddling at night. Never. So what was wrong now?

You were taking his anger so well for a while, what the hell was the matter with you?

But he doesn’t touch you again that night. He barely sleeps a wink to your usually comforting sound of soft snores and little mumbles in your sleep talk.

In the morning his lack of sleep gets the betterment of his temper, and he lashes out of you again in the shower.

You’re washing your hair when you feel a cool breeze against your bare body. You open your eyes and see Katsuki standing in front of you outside the glass door to your shower.

You feign an eye roll and merely grab the handle trying to close it shut.

He doesnt even let it budge. He just snarls down at your intruding hand and yanks the door back even further, pulling you along with the force.

You yelp and slip on the floor, falling unceremoniously at his feet.

The look on his face is frankly terrifying, much worse than yesterday’s. Bakugo slowly steps in along with your quickly reversing body and closes the door behind him, trapping you inside with him.

“Why’d you try to close it on me.”

It’s not a question, it’s a demand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Then get up and touch me.”

He’s towering over your cornered form, his fists dangerously swinging next to your head.

Your limbs don’t move though. Your heart thuds slowly, your love ebbing away from him with its slow rhythm.

You already know how this is going to turn out, but you try anyways.

“Please Bakugo, I’m really not in the mood right now.”

“Oh, so it’s Bakugo now, huh?”

Your body disassociates so you don’t feel it as much, but unfortunately your hands still flinch above your head in instinct.

“If you’re-thud-sorry, then you’ll fucking-crack-touch me you-smack-ungrateful bitch.”

Your cries are loud, but not loud enough to drown his roaring out, not enough to mute the sound of his hands cracking above your shaking body.

He leaves the shower unfulfilled in his heart and in his dick.

His mind is in shambles.

This is the longest you’ve wanted space from him, he could understand an hour but half a day?

He has a rude awakening when “half a day” becomes a couple more days, then a week, and then it’s half a month since you’ve willingly kissed his battle scars and loved him with your whole being.

He says willingly because otherwise you eat his hits up like you’re just another fighter in the ring when he gets angry at your apathy. The only restraining factor that differentiates you and the men he puts in coffins is his desperation for you to come back.

To no avail though. If you’re not keeling over on the ground or pinned underneath him and molding your anatomy to the shape of his fists, then you’re still as a corpse on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing you were anywhere else but here.

Bakugo doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know what to feel.

Rage is consumed by paranoia, paranoia is swallowed whole by depression, depression is swept away by panicked desperation.

His hair starts falling out, his punches grow weaker and he comes home with more and more bruises every day to match the ones littering across your body.

One might wonder whose the real fighter-him or you.

And so one day when he can’t stand it anymore, can’t stand the silence and tension that’s so palpable you could taste the iron in the air, he invited his friends over.

He need the distractions. He needs happiness, a word that doesn’t seem worthy of his pathetic being.

He’s more pathetic than your unmoving body.

“Heyyy man!” Sero and Denki exclaim in obnoxious unison and throw their arms around Bakugo’s shoulders. All three of them barrel through his half-opened doorway and practically topple him over.

The air of excitement is so foreign to him, but oh so welcoming.

“Hey,” he grunts back awkwardly.

“You’ve never really invited us over without Y/N dragging you by the ear for it. How is she by the way? Haven’t heard of her in a while.” Kirishima nudges his shoulder.

But before he can open his mouth Denki cuts in. “You knock her up yet? You sly bastard, no wonder you’re hiding her from us. The gigs over Y/N, show us that beautiful belly!” He cups his hands around his mouth and the quip slashes through the air and infests Katsuki’s heart. It’s a mockery, a cruel reminder of what he cannot have.

When their friend doesn’t answer and merely walks off, the boys behind him awkwardly look at each other.

Usually he’d explode at them or at least chase them around the room.

And usually you would come out to greet them.

Katsuki was wrong.

You weren’t different from him anymore.

Because when he accepts that not even his friends can release his stone cold heart from its catatonic confines, he’s never felt more in sync with you than he has now.

#mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha angst #bakugo angst #katsuki angst #bakugo x you #yandere bakugo x reader #tw:abuse #tw: implied noncon #bully bakugo #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugou

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hispipsqueak · 3 years

Text

Sweet Dreams

(Obey Me) Belphegor x F!Reader NSFW

Summary: Late night texts lead to a spicy adventure in the attic. Who said night time was for sleeping?

WC: 1.8K

TW: Hard Dom Belphie, humiliation, degradation, name-calling, pillow humping, facial, dacryphilia, spit, demon dick anatomy

A/N: Hello! Here’s some mean Belphie to flutter your hearts. I love dom Belphie and while I do think he can be a soft sweetie, I CLEARLY love me some mean boys. Hope you like it! As always, likes and reblogs are heckin’ appreciated!

3:42 A.M.

Your D.D.D buzzed, waking you up. Cracking an eye open, you opened the message, ready to curse Mammon out if he and Asmo were drunk texting you again.

“Hey.”

Typical Belphie. How do you even respond to that? You closed your eyes again. Maybe if he texted more than one word you would –

*BZZ*

“I know you’re awake, MC”

You rolled your eyes.

“What’s up Belphie? It’s 3 AM by the way. You of all people should be asleep right now.”

His response was immediate.

“Can’t sleep. Come to the attic.”

Your bed was so warm and comfortable. And he wanted you to walk all the way to the attic? He really was insane.

Another text came in.

“Please?”

You groaned, pulling yourself away from the soft comforter and pillows. Normally, you would have just ignored him until he fell asleep but you were a sucker for soft Belphie, the side he rarely showed anyone but Beel and you. With Beel being out for a tournament, you knew he was probably struggling with being alone.

You silently crept to the attic, knowing the brothers would throw a fit if they knew you were sneaking into Belphie’s room at night.

You knocked quietly on the heavy attic door and Belphie opened it with a sleepy smirk. His navy hair was tousled and he looked so smug for getting you to come to his room in the middle of the night. Stupid handsome bastard.

“I’m here Belph. What do you want?”, you yawned. He tugged you in the room, locking the door behind you.

You laid in his bed, pulling his cow print pillow to your chest as you tried to get comfortable, expecting him to curl up next to you to sleep. A few moments passed and you peeked over at him, still standing by the door staring at you.

You weren’t planning on seeing anyone in the middle of the night so you were just wearing a pair of tiny pink shorts and a tank top. You felt his eyes roaming over your skin, and you pulled the sheets around you.

“Don’t tell me you just brought me here because you’re horny.” You muttered, glaring at him. You weren’t opposed to hooking up but playing the soft, lonely demon card?

He grinned, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“What if I did? You gonna complain about it, little human?” He murmured, moving so he was standing in front of you. You had to crane your neck to look in his eyes and you had a feeling he relished looking down on you like this.

You couldn’t deny you were turned on. Belphie had a way of commanding the situation when you were alone and though he appeared to be the sarcastic sleepy brother, you knew behind closed doors he would have you on your knees, begging for him.

But, you were still kind of pissed at being woken up. So, you decided to tease him.

“Belphie, I’m sleeeeeepy. I came here to sleep.” You whined, making a show of turning around and cuddling his pillow. You knew your shorts were riding up on your thighs, hugging the curves of your ass and you wrapped your leg around the pillow.

“Better bite the pillow.” He said quickly before smacking your ass, HARD. You yelped, shoving the pillow over your mouth so as to not wake anyone.

“Belphie, what the fuck?!” You angrily whisper-shouted at him, as your body wiggled in an attempt to soothe the stinging pain. He laughed, and tugged you around so you were facing him.

“Keep acting like a brat. I can do this all night.” His amethyst eyes glinted sadistically. You pouted, but stayed quiet.

“You gonna behave?” He asked, tilting your chin so you looked up at him. Fuck, you looked so good like this. You were feisty and fiery, a general pain in the ass all the time, so knowing he could make you submit to him stroked his ego immensely.

You nodded, still pouting and he chuckled.

“Open.”

Immediately, your mouth opened and he let a glob of spit fall from his mouth on your tongue. You opened your mouth to show him your tongue for approval. He gave a short nod and you swallowed.

“Good little human.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't keep from pressing your thighs together. As much as you wanted to pretend you were in control, you were playing a game with a literal demon.

"I can smell your arousal. Fuck, I'm amazed my brothers haven't come up here since you're dripping like a whore. Just because I spit in your mouth?" Belphie taunted. Your eyes narrowed and you bit your lip, before looking away.

He gripped your hair, tugging it tightly. His eyes bore into your soul.

"You wanna act like a brat? I had plans to fuck you till you cried from pleasure. And yet, you seem to just want to be punished."

He looked at the pillow that you had left tangled in his bedsheets, the pillow you had stretched your body over, taunting him. A wicked idea formed in his mind.

"You know what happens to brats like you?" He asked, yanking you to the floor. You looked up at him questioningly, a little scared but very turned on.

"Answer me, slutty human."

"N-no...I don't know." You said tentatively. He chuckled darkly.

"Naughty little brats don't get to cum on my cock. Fuck, naughty little brats may not get to cum at all."

You let out a whine, frustrated at this turn of events.

"You wanna cum? Get on your knees. Maybe if you do a good job, I'll take pity on your pathetic slutty pussy."

He pulled his cock out, slapping it against your cheek as he laughed. His cock was long and ridged, with a flared tip. Demon cocks, unlike human's, were made to fuck and breed, and you were spoiled having spent so long in the Devildom.

You parted your lips, as he slapped his member on your drooling tongue, before taking it deep into your mouth. His hands tangled in your hair as he fucked your face.

"Fuck, that's it slut. Take me down your throat. Just like that."

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you forced more of him down. Your jaw already ached but you kept your mouth wide, struggling not to gag on his length as his heavy balls smacked your chin. You squeezed your legs together, hoping he would take pity on you.

"Poor little human, desperate to get off. You want to ride my cock?" He asked, pulling you off his cock harshly. Strings of saliva connected the two of you. You gasped, gulping air down as you nodded.

He grabbed the pillow from the bed and threw it at you.

"Too bad. Use this. Put on a good show, and maybe I’ll fuck you.”

Your face burned with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious.” You looked up at him. He moved his face right in front of yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he squeezed your face, so tightly it hurt.

“Wanna find out?”

He let go of your cheeks and shoved you back to the floor. Your eyes watered with embarrassment, shame, and yet you were so fucking turned on, you knew you would be leaving a wet patch on his pillow.

You straddled the body pillow and the slight friction of the pillow against your cunt made you whimper. You squeezed the pillow tightly between your thighs, slowly riding it, pathetic mewls falling from your mouth. You closed your eyes, trying to pretend you were in your room and not being scrutinized by the sadistic seventh-born.

“Eyes on me whore. And don’t you dare think about cumming without permission.” He smirked. You looked up at him as tears spilled down your cheeks. You wanted so badly to grind yourself on the pillow until you creamed all over it but you knew he would find more humiliating ways to torment you if you dared.

“Take off your shirt. Don’t know why the fuck you’re wearing it anyway. You’re just a fucktoy for me to use. Isn’t that right, little human?” He laughed as he sat back in a chair, watching you perform for him. He slowly palmed his cock as you pulled off your tank top, the cold air causing your nipples to harden.

“Pinch them, show me how much of a slut you are. Show me why I should even bother with you.” His hand tightened on his cock.

You wrapped your legs around the pillow tighter to hold it in just the right spot as you tugged and pinched at your breasts. Your soft moans filled the room and you knew you couldn’t last much longer like this.

“Please Belphie, c-can’t hold it in...please fuck me.” You sobbed out, your muscles tensing as you rubbed your clit against the black and white fabric. You could feel the wetness of the pillow against your thighs and knowing that your slick would be embedded in it turned you on even more.

“You can beg better than that, can’t you slut?” Belphie chuckled again, but you could see his grip tightened around the base of his cock and he was jerking himself off faster.

“Fuck...please, please let me cum. Want to cum for you, want to be your slutty fucktoy. Wanna be good for you.” You cried, biting your lip so hard you could taste blood.

“Cum.” he panted out.

Your eyes rolled back as you gushed around the soaking pillow. Your legs were squeezing it so tightly you knew you would be sore tomorrow, and you drooled out a mixture of curses and Belphie’s name as you came down from your high.

Suddenly Belphie let out a low groan and your face was hit with an explosion of warm, sticky cum. You slammed your eyes shut as he pumped load after load onto your skin. His seed spilled down your chin and dripped over your breasts.

‘Fuck, fuck MC. Fuck, I’m sorry!” Belphie breathed out, half laughing while attempting to catch his breath. You leaned back on the bed, trying to avoid getting it in your eye.

“You’re such an ass Belphie.” You whined, pouting as he cleaned you up with a towel.

After cleaning up, the two of you lay back in the bed, his head nuzzled into your chest. You ran your fingers through his dark hair humming softly.

“Hey MC.” He whispered.

“Hey yourself.” You whispered back.

The room was silent and you thought he fell asleep finally. You closed your eyes. Finally, his voice broke the calm silence.

“My pillow is gonna smell like you FOREVER.”

#belphie x reader #obey me belphie #belphegor x reader #Belphie smut #obey me smut #OBEY ME #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #omswd #belphegor

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language and mild medical drama Warnings: Brief depictions of medical treatments for blood loss and its symptoms Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Bela has always wondered who her soulmate was, the person she was connected to by red string. When she finally meets them, she's devastated to find them hanging in her basement, being drained of blood. But her soulmate won't die- not if she can do something about it. Notes: Soulmate AU in which people have a red thread tied to their left ring finger (or elsewhere if missing the finger/hand), which connects to their soulmate. By default the string is taut/tight, only getting loose when the pair is relatively close to each other.

1: Stem The Flow

How long had she waited for this day? How long had Bela monitored the red string tied to her hand, waiting for it to be anything other than taut? A decade, at the least, if not two or more. For so long she had dreamt of her soulmate, albeit discreetly, wondering about every facet of their being. Entire days had been spent imagining them, and how they would come into her life. Sometimes, on those days, she would gently tug her end of the thread. Every single time, without fail, her soulmate had returned the motion. It warmed her heart more than she’d ever admit, to know that her excitement was not one-sided.

At times, it did worry her, the feelings in her chest reminding her of her youngest sister. Daniela was obsessed with love, dangerously so, to the point of being downright delusional. More than once her “affections” had gotten their family into some sort of trouble. No matter how mature Bela considered herself to be, there was a part of her that worried about repeating her sister’s mistakes. What if her excitement about her partner led her to overlook something crucial? What if the person in question posed a threat to her family? How easy would it be, then, for her to cut them off?...

Today, perhaps, she would find out.

The sun had set over the Romanian landscape, and with the moon rose the Dimitrescu household. First out of bed, as always, Bela wasted no time in getting dressed. Hazy visions of her fading dreams clouded her mind, tugging on her thoughts as always. Most days they felt more like memories than anything else. Today, they are quieter than usual, easily fading into the background. When the last traces of her grogginess disperse, Bela finds herself glancing at her left hand. It’s a daily habit, although discreet, that always leaves her with bittersweet feelings.

“Wait…” Bela whispered, as her eyes took in the unexpected sight: The red string of fate, tied to her left ring finger, loose as can be. It trails to the ground, coiled a single time, before heading underneath her door. “Am I dreaming?” She does not bother to pinch herself to check. Instead she practically jumps into her shoes, dashing out of her room with unfamiliar glee. Maidens in the hallways have to leap aside to avoid her, but she does not care, for once ignoring the standards her mother had instilled in her. If her sisters could be chaotic, we couldn’t she?

So she follows the thread, eagerly, without even wondering why it was so loose. No, she didn’t think about the implications of the situation. In her mind, it did not matter why her soulmate was finally within her reach, it simply mattered that they were. Soon enough they would be in her arms, safe, with nothing else to bother them. And then she’d be happy, finally having someone she was on equal terms with. Finally having someone to confide in, to cherish, to whisper sweet nothings to in the dead of the night.

She doesn’t hesitate until she finds the string wrapped around the door to the basement. At last the signs click together in her mind, like a conspiracy board bound with crimson ties. Instantly panic replaces whatever excitement she had been feeling. Then she’s abandoning all sense of caution, throwing open the door and rushing forward, dispersing into a swarm to cover more ground. Even if she could no longer see the thread in this form, she was certain that she’d know exactly who her soulmate was when she saw them.

And, well, she does. Something calls her to the far corner of the main room, where a body was suspended from the ceiling by its hands. An all-too-familiar needle was sticking out of the person’s arm, leading down to a large glass container, which was slowly filling with blood. The scent made Bela’s nostrils flare, and her eyes go wide, but she did her best to fight against her instincts. Quickly she gets to her knees, examining the jar to see how full it was. Most of the measurement lines were faded, having been worn out over time, making it harder to estimate the volume. In the end, Bela guessed that the container could fit just over six liters inside. Which meant that the person had lost close to… two and a half. That was bad- behind bad, really. Horrible, actually. Immediately life threatening to the point of having been life threatening before Bela had even woken up.

“Don’t die on me, please,” she half cried half shouted, jumping into action as best as she knew how. Not even bothering to turn the nozzle on the device, she pulls the needle out of her soulmate’s arm, cursing when more blood rushes out of the hole. Then she’s applying pressure, hard as she can, beyond glad that they weren’t awake for this. One hand goes to tear a piece of fabric off of their shirt. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind, all things considered. Next, Bela ties the cloth around the collection point, making less of a tourniquet and more of a generic bandage. “Shit, you need a transfusion, don’t you?... Fuck, fuck, what’s your blood type?”

Knowing that she wouldn’t be getting a verbal answer any time soon, Bela settled for dipping a finger into the jar, bringing it to her lips, and licking. The difference in taste among blood types was subtle, but she was nothing if not a professional at this point. Still, the type is not immediately clear to her, and she knows that she might have to go around licking more blood from other prisoners. Unless… could someone receive a transfusion of their own blood? Such a thing had never happened at the castle before, but there was a first time for everything.

“Hold on, I’ll figure this out, somehow, I promise,” Bela said, gently taking her patient’s hand in her own. Taking your hand.

When you wake, you find yourself among the softest sheets you have ever felt, as if laying on clouds themselves. But your vision is blurred, and your head is besieged by waves of pain. A whimper makes its way past your lips. For a moment all you can do is tense up, unsure of any detail of your situation, unable to discern anything around you. Then you feel a hand on your own, squeezing gently. Something about it sends a rush of comfort throughout your entire body. Still, you are more confused than anything, and you find yourself trying to sit up out of instinct.

Without warning the hand lets you go, only for the owner to shift their weight, climbing on top of you in an instant. They’re holding you down, saying words that don’t quite reach your ears. For how light they are, they manage to put an impressive amount of pressure on you, easily rendering you immobile. Unfortunately, this position does little to ease your anxiety. The last thing you could remember was a very, very tall lady sticking a needle in your arm with a cruel laugh. Based on how you felt, there was still a needle in your arm. But you had been standing, or hanging, before, and now you were on your back.

“Whathe… wha the ‘ell… can’t 'hink,” you muttered, stumbling over your own tongue. Whoever sits on top of you tries to comfort you, running a hand through your hair. “Who are you?” You asked, even though you couldn’t understand a word this person said. Their voice might as well have been in another language, with the way your addled brain processed it. Had you lost too much blood? Or maybe you had a concussion? “I just. I just wanted to meet them. Please, I jus… I just wanna see my soulmate.”

Again, you cannot understand what the person says in response, but they finally seem to understand this. One of their hands reaches out and grabs your left one, slowly tapping your fingers, one by one. When they reach your ring finger, they pause, gently holding it. For a few moments you’re left even more confused. Then, with a surge of warmth in your chest, the dots are connected. Whoever is with you quietly grabs the thread attached to your finger, before tugging gently. In order for them to do that… well, there was only one explanation. They were your soulmate. They were the one you had gone to this accursed castle to meet. Somehow they had saved you, and everything was finally looking up.

Mind clearing slowly, you’re finally able to understand something they- or she, as far as you can tell- say.

“Rest now, my beloved. You are safe in my care, this I promise.”

#bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #brought to you by this enby and their criminal hands #this is shorter than most of my chapters but its also a bonus #so take what you can get my dudes #pls enjoy

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

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body shots [bucky barnes]

A/n: I word vomited this in 20 minutes and I fucking need this in my life. This is literally just a college AU with minimal plot + shy!innocent!bucky with a twist

Summary: you’re the popular girl and Bucky is the nerd no one talks to. What happens when you finally confess you have a crush on him? 2.1k

Warnings: ok, I always try to not describe the reader at all, but in order for the things in this fic to be able to happen, the reader has to have boobs that aren’t... you know... non-existent like mine lol. Language, alcohol and I think that’s it?

“Come on” you giggled, your tormenting gaze consuming the whole of Bucky’s being. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, eyes awkwardly avoiding yours, in a pathetic attempt to get himself out of his situation. You followed his gaze, looking over the sea of people, but nothing caught your eye. You turned to him, frustration curling your brows, “Please, Bucky”

“No” he whined, throwing his head to the side as the softest of smiles danced at the corner of his lips. Deep down, judging by his pink cheeks and glossy eyes, you knew he wanted to let loose. It was probably the surroundings that inhibited him, that kept him tied to the corner of the room, one red cup of beer in his hand. “I’m not-” he cringed, gesturing towards the tens of already inebriated young adults around the two of you, “I can’t. I’m not one of you guys”

“You can be” you giggled seductively, grabbing his hand into yours. He stiffened against your touch but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched you closely, his perfectly innocent blue eyes curiously watching yours, looking for confirmation. Were you really hitting on him? He was oblivious to the moon and back, but even so, your intentions were a bit too obvious.

He contemplated it for a second. You raised your eyebrows, sending him a wordless question and he actually thought about it for a minute, his mouth popping open before he regained himself. Bucky shook his head, chuckling with embarrassment, “Are you making fun of me?”

Your heart broke. “No” you squeezed his hand tighter into yours, “Of course I’m not” you added, Although your tone was somewhat stern, your voice almost cracked as you failed to hide just how much his question hurt. “Why would you think that? Bucky, if I ever did anything-”

“No” he cut you off. Your sudden change in attitude worried him, and now his words drowned in guilt. “You never did anything wrong. I’m sorry.”

“What is it?” you questioned, dragging him by his hand to a nearby table. You put your own glass down, and turned to him, “Tell me”

“It’s nothing” Bucky shook his head, silently laughing as he stared at your shoes.

“Why don’t you want to dance with us?”

“I don’t like dancing,” he shrugged.

“See?” you smiled, wrapping both your hands around his. “If you had told me that from the beginning I would have dropped it. But you told me you don’t think you’re one of us. What does that mean? And you asked me if I’m making fun of you. I would never, Bucky”

Despite the speakers blasting music loud enough to make the windows shake, silence settled between the two of you. You awaited his answer, softly rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

“I feel stupid” he shook his head, “I don’t even know what I’m doing at this party. No one wants me here anyway”

“I want you here”

“You’re just saying that because you’re a nice person”

“I’m not nice enough to go around and make sure everyone feels welcome”

“Then why are you here with me?” he scoffed.

“Because I like you?” you hesitated despite it being the truth, and felt your ears burst into flames. In some way, you felt a deep pain in the depths of your chest as you spoke the words, but as soon as they left your mouth, you actually felt relieved. “I liked you for some time, but I had no idea how to approach you, so I thought maybe you’d want to dance with me.”

There was nothing but confusion on his features. His eyes studied yours, looking for the lie. He gawked and all but gasped when you maintained the eye contact and sent him a sweet, reassuring smile. “You like me?” Bucky asked, “Why?”

“Don’t be like that” you frowned, “You’re amazing”

“You don’t know me”

“But I want to”

He bitterly chuckled, the disbelief in his tone sounding almost condescending. “No, you don’t”

“Listen” you said, “If it’s really dancing that you don’t like, we can do something else. We can, I don’t know, talk, do shots? Race down the street or sit down on the porch and roll the joints for these dumbasses. But if it’s me that you don’t like, tell me and I’ll go now and won’t bug you again”

“You’re not bugging me,” Bucky said, his voice barely audible.

“Really?” you beamed almost not able to believe your ears, “Do you wanna-”

“Let’s, um” he laughed, “Let’s dance.”

You weren’t going to object - it was what you came to this shitty party for anyway. Keeping your hand tightly secured around his, you dragged him through the room, searching for a darker corner of the dance floor. You knew he was already somewhat uncomfortable and didn’t want to make everything worse by having him end up in the middle of a mosh pit or something worse.

“Hey there!” Clint’s voice reached your ears. You stopped dead in your tracks and cursed under your breath before turning to face him.

Bucky looked confused and cornered while Clint was as smug as ever.

“This is a party, not a nerd fest, Y/n. The fuck’s he doing here?”

Nostrils flaring, you swallowed your anger and stared him down as you wrapped an arm around Bucky’s frame, “Why are you such an asshole?”

“It’s ok” Bucky tried to butt in.

“No, it’s not” you objected.

“How come the princess of this campus is the one with the balls in this relationship?”

Feeling Bucky tense, you took a deep breath, and decided to ignore the erroneous assumption. “He’s just too polite to sink to your level. But I’m not. So beat it, Clint.”

He pretended to turn around and leave, but stopped and faced you one more time, his expression hazardous. “I just wanna know. Were you his first kiss?”

You all but lunged at him to slap his cheek. And you would have done it had Bucky not stopped you at the last moment.

“Wow!” Clint exclaimed, and turned to Bucky. “How the fuck did you land that piece of ass?” he asked, nodding towards you, “You can even hold you ground”

Bucky scoffed, and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He looked around the room, slightly amused as you waited for his reaction. “I can very much hold my ground.”

“Prove it,” Clint taunted. “Prove you’re not a pussy”

“God” you rolled your eyes, but he continued.

“You two. Body shots” Clint commanded, eager to see Bucky chicken out.

“Oh, jesus christ!” you scoffed, “What are you, 14?”

Just when Clint was about to laugh and claim the win, Bucky nonchalantly accepted the challenge. “Sure”

“Bucky-” you turned to him, “We don’t have to do this, who cares what Clint has to-”

“You don’t wanna do it?” Bucky asked, looking down at you, his eyes cold and determined, nothing like they were before. He smiled lewdly, a smile that hid a lot. The hairs on your body stood up, yet you agreed through a simple nod.

Much to Clint’s surprise, Bucky led you to the bar, his grip strong around your waist as he guided you across the room. “Who goes first?”

“I don’t… I don’t care” you mumbled, amazed and still in shock following his sudden change of attitude.

“Come on” Bucky smiled, and fisted the back of his collar, elegantly pulling his sweater over his head. He handed it to you, and for a second you wondered why he was wearing both a sweater and a shirt, but this thought was wiped from your mind, literally obliterated, blown to pieces, fucking erased when your eyes landed on his naked top half.

The music had been turned down, everyone around you watching carefully. Girls who otherwise would have never looked in his direction gawked and giggled to one another, unable to look away from him. And frankly, neither could you. From his chiseled and defined abs, to his tan chest and the unearthly, bloodcurdling scars that littered his frame, you found yourself struggling to function properly. Who was this guy?

Bucky sat on the bar, a slice of lemon in between his fingers. “Where do you want it?” he asked, waving the salt around.

“Wherever you want it, Bucky!” you shook your head, enthusiastically smiling from ear to ear, “You got it”

“It’s your turn to choose” he urged you.

“Fine” you grinned, “Lean back”

With a side smirk, he laid down on the bar, his chest and abdomen on full display for you and everyone else in the room. You moved to stand by his side, your left hand on his massive thigh as you peppered salt in on the dips in his abdomen. His whole frame rose with every breath he took, and by the second, your need for him grew stronger.

Bucky placed his warm hand on your hip. “Whenever you’re ready”

“Oh, I’m ready all right” you giggled, grabbing your shot.

Before slipping the lemon slice between his teeth, Bucky sent you a wink, and you pussy didn’t fail to respond in an instant. All eyes were on you, whispers and gossip all over, but you drowned them out as you leaned down and licked your way up his body. His abdominal muscles clenched under your tongue, yet somehow off his skin, the salt tasted sweet. You downed the tequila and moved towards his face, your teeth gently grabbing onto the lemon slice as your heart beat out of your chest. And of course he didn’t let go too easily.

Close to bursting into nervous laughter, you opened your eyes, finding his blue ones menacingly staring at you. You were ready to pull away without that damned slice in order to just breathe, but then he unclenched his jaw. You exhaled with relief, his lips brushing against yours before you managed to stand up.

And when you did, you felt disheveled. The amount of tension that tortured your mind during these seconds compared to nothing you had ever experienced before. Every part of your body burned and you sucked on that poor lemon slice for too fucking long in order to pull yourself back together.

“Your turn” Bucky teased, sitting up. You met his eyes and chuckled. “You don’t have to take your shirt off if you don’t want to,” he announced but you rolled our eyes and scoffed.

“Yeah, right”

After ushering Bucky off the bar, you watched him dress himself back up. When he was ready, you took his spot and salaciously grinned at him as you pulled your top over your head, your breasts inches away from his hungry eyes.

“Lean on your elbows, doll” he said, and you almost burst into flames at the pet name.

You did as told and lowered yourself back.

Tens of people watched you, yet the only eyes you cared about were Bucky’s. He stared at you as if he was going to eat you alive, and frankly, at this point, you were willing to beg for it.

“Take this” he said, placing another slice of lemon between your teeth, before grabbing the salt and pouring a healthy amount across your breasts.

As he lowered himself over your body, you heaved in anticipation, your chest nearing his face with every tortured breath you took. And when it happened, it felt like pure electricity attacked your body. His devilish tongue brushed against your skin, around the curve of your tits, his breath hot and wet as a smile was visible at the corners of his mouth.

You continued to watch him as he straightened his back to take the shot, and almost choked on the slice between your teeth when he leaned down again. He didn’t hold back, his lips crashing against yours, the aggravation of his movement making the lemon juice drip down your chin. And this could’ve gone so much differently, but he had a task. Bucky ripped the slice away from your teeth, pulling away as he munched on it.

You were lost. Completely and utterly in pure awe with this man. In a matter of minutes he went from a cute nerd you were soft for, to a sculptured man who you were fucking weak for. And judging by his proud expression, he knew it.

“Ok, ok, fine, fuck it” Clint called, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “I fucking take everything back. Though you, Buck-” he added, “Could fucking ditch the dweb attire and maybe… I don’t know, stop being fucking weird., cause man-” he whistled, looking Buck up and down before turning around and leaving without another word.

“Oh my god” you laughed, and so did Bucky.

You wanted to stand up, but he was quicker, grabbing your waist and helping you to your feet. “Got some shit I need to tell you about me” he confessed, his voice low, right against your ear.

“No shit” you scoffed, slapping his chest.

“Your place or mine?”

“Whichever is closer”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

monster ii, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: Once again, mafia boss Min Yoongi and his bodyguard Jeon Jungkook have some fun with you. Nah, you didn’t do anything this time. They’re just horny.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, m/m masturbation, a cock ring is involved, threesome (kinda?), unprotected sex [get tested please], creampie); abuse; non-idol!AU - mafiaaboss!AgustD!Yoongi (black-haired Daechwita AU), longhaired!tattooed!Jungkook; mercenary!reader; Jungkook has a praise kink; you have a pain kink

I wasn’t actually going to post this, but it seemed like a lot of people enjoyed monster so this is my gift to you. :)

The first reason you woke up was sound.

The second reason was pain.

You didn't open your eyes yet, focused on the pins and needles of your legs from being in one position too long. Holy shit. Whatever tranquilizer they gave you fucked you up, hard. Your head throbbed, hazy and disoriented. You weren't even sure you were awake yet. There was a firmness against your ass. A chair. The wood dug into your back and shoulder blades. You were sitting and your arms were sore. You tried to move them but realized they were tied to the back of the chair with rope. Not the normal, lazy kind of tie, no. Intricate knots, beautiful handiwork. Shibari.

Park Jimin's work.

You were wearing a ridiculous black lace lingerie set and matching stockings, the kind that was completely see-through with select... openings in certain key places. What was even the point of these things? Surprisingly, the openings at the nipples and crotch weren't freezing you to death. There was a warmth around you and you cracked your eyes open to see a black velvet robe draped around the chair and your body, the lace accents matching the set.

Very pretty, if you gave a shit.

You could hear the sound of skin on skin. Even though the light in the room was low, it hurt to open your eyes. This is why you hated tranquilizers. You ended up squinting.

Again, you heard the familiar whimper.

Your neck was killing you. Part of you wanted to continue playing dead. The other part of you remembered the last words Kim Taehyung told you as he pinned you down for the injection.

“Hyung doesn’t treat his other women like he treats you.”

The anger that flared within made you raise your head.

A hotel room. It didn't matter which hotel or where. The only thing that mattered was that Min Yoongi was standing at the foot of the bed. He was wearing a loose white t-shirt that revealed his pale chest and silver chains. Black hair pushed back from his forehead, the red scar on his right eye out in the open. Black jeans and black underwear at his knees, because he was stroking his dick.

His pale hand moved up and down, slowly, as if he was relishing in the pleasure. The muscles of his arm flexed as he moved, his index finger leisurely spreading his pre-cum over the angry red head. Yoongi wasn't making a sound.

The one making noise was Jungkook.

He was on his knees in front of Yoongi, completely naked, feverishly stroking himself with his right hand as his eyes transfixed to Yoongi's hand getting himself off. The tattoos on his right arm seemed to dance with his movement. His other hand was on his thigh, nails digging into his skin as he whined.

"Hyung, let me suck you off," Jungkook pleaded, tearing his eyes away to look up at Yoongi and his teasing smirk.

"Take your hand off. Let hyung see what a good boy you are."

Jungkook whined again, removing his hand from his dark red, throbbing cock. Ah.

The fucking sadist had made Jungkook wear a cock ring. Poor thing couldn't even cum.

Yoongi seemed to sense your burning hatred because his eyes flickered towards you. You cracked your neck in attempt to relieve some of the kinks, not taking your eyes off him. His smirk grew wider. The entire time, your hands were searching for a way to get out of your restraints but Jimin was a fucking pro. How annoying.

"Look, Jungkook, your favorite cockslut is awake."

Jungkook turned his head to look at you. You weren't sure how long Yoongi had been teasing him, but it must have been a while. His long black hair was sweaty and sticking to his forehead, pupils blown wide with lust, pink tongue licking his lips as he panted. His jaw was tight, sharp with tension. He looked thoroughly fucked out and you could guess Yoongi hadn't even let him orgasm yet.

You didn't say anything, not because you didn't have anything prepared, but because you knew Yoongi was doing this on purpose. He was trying to get a reaction out of you. Yoongi barked Jungkook's name and the younger man faced him abruptly.

"You've been a good boy," Yoongi purred, low and deep. Jungkook bit his lip, looking up at him expectantly.

"Open your pretty mouth for me."

A strange feeling coursed through you. It was like your veins were on fire. You realized your mouth was open and you shut it immediately, breathing hard. You watched Jungkook open his mouth, tongue lolling out, hungry and desperate. Begging his hyung as Yoongi stepped up, stroking himself faster. You saw his jaw tighten with effort as Yoongi shut his eyes, softly moaning. Why were you so angry watching this? Every muscle in your body wanted to ram into Jungkook to push him out of the way. After a moment, Yoongi snapped his eyes open and stared directly at you. Directly at your hunched form, body half-shrouded in shadow from the robe, eyes fixed on his dick, breathless.

Yoongi came with a hiss, all over Jungkook's tongue, shooting thick white liquid down his throat, splattering on his chin and cheek. Jungkook groaned, swallowing greedily before opening his mouth again to receive Yoongi's last residual pumps of dripping cum. Yoongi was breathing hard, exhaling as he came down from his high. After a moment, Yoongi removed his hand and held it out. Jungkook licked it clean, palming himself despite knowing he couldn't get off.

You blinked slowly, finding your entire body tense. Your eyes drifted over Yoongi's form, his long legs, his defined waist, his large hands, his broad shoulders. You finally stopped at his face to see him smirking at you. You narrowed your eyes at him.

Yoongi chuckled and tucked himself away with one hand, pulling up his pants. The other was wet with Jungkook's saliva. He tilted his head as he walked towards you. You wanted to kick him in the nuts, but you must have been on some fucking horse tranquilizer or some shit. Your legs felt like lead.

Yoongi didn't say anything. He just slapped you across the face with his wet hand. Your head jerked to one side from the force, skin stinging sharply from his open palm. He wasn't wearing his rings because he had been masturbating, otherwise it would have been much worse.

Silence.

Centimeter by slow centimeter, you turned your head back to face him. Your face stung with pain but it was nothing compared to the daggers you were glaring at him with.

Yoongi grinned. “I love it when you’re angry.”

You bared your teeth and snarled.

His hand shot out and clamped around your throat, pushing your head back and forcing your spine to arch painfully. The velvet robe fell onto the floor, leaving you exposed to the cool air as Yoongi’s hand tightened around your throat, jamming your shoulder blades into the chair. You tried to fight him but he slapped you again, harder, making your see stars.

“Fuck you,” you choked out, strength draining with each passing second.

“Not tonight,” Yoongi said calmly, slapping your tits repeatedly. You flinched at the contact, trying to twist away. Jungkook was losing his mind. You couldn’t see him very well, but he was moaning, probably jacking off to Yoongi smacking you around. Bastard.

Yoongi pinched one of your nipples, hard, and you bucked, black spots dancing in your vision. He released you and kicked the chair. Your whole body toppled and you hit the ground hard on your knees, thankfully having enough strength to twist and skid across the carpet with your shoulder. Your shoulder burned painfully and all three points hurt from impact.

You were breathing hard, neck on fire, your entire body rattling as it struggled to breathe. Your eyes flickered upward as Yoongi looked down at you with a bored expression. Something must have pissed him off because Yoongi wasn’t usually the one who beat you. Usually it was Jungkook, Jimin, or literally anyone else. He also usually let you fight back because he enjoyed watching you fight. You cackled, tasting iron in your mouth.

“This is how you treat the other women, huh?” you taunted.

You saw him pause. His black hair was shrouding his dark eyes so you couldn’t read his expression. Your knees were fucking killing you. You exhaled sharply and leaned your face against the carpet. After a moment, Yoongi reached into his pocket and pulled out his switchblade. He moved around your body and cut the top of the rope, freeing you from the chair. You tried to pull your arms apart but, of course, they were still tied.

Fuck.

Yoongi yanked the chair out from under you, smacking you right in the shoulder blades. You hissed, twisting your body to get on your knees. Yoongi just calmly grabbed your arms by the rope and dragged you along the ground, throwing you onto the bed. It was unceremonious. He continued to shove you around until you were on your face, kneeling, ass up in the air. You tried to lift your upper body but he pushed you down roughly. You suddenly felt his lips next to your ear.

“Jealous?”

You froze.

What?

Before you could even fathom what he meant by that, you could hear Jungkook climbing onto the bed, and the next moment you were almost screaming into the bed as Jungkook plunged his thick, rock-hard cock right into you. A loud, wet squelch paired with Jungkook’s wail of satisfaction. Fuck. You were wet from Yoongi hitting you. You hadn’t even realized it. Jungkook’s rough hands grabbed your ass and began to thrust into your roughly, already hitting you so deep that you gasped in pain.

“Jungkookie,” Yoongi purred patiently, still holding you down with a hand on your upper back. “You forgot to take the cock ring off.”

Jungkook whimpered, slowing down a bit as he sank fully into you.

“But hyung…”

You could hardly register what the fuck was going on. You could barely breathe being face-first into the sheets, Jungkook was setting your hips on fire with how tight he was gripping you and you were sure the head of his cock was smacking your cervix with every thrust. His cock throbbed against your walls. Tears stung your eyes.

“Hyung, I thought you liked seeing me with it on…” Jungkook was saying. You could imagine the unsure look on his face, the hesitant lip bite. “I’ll do anything you want, hyung. I want to make you happy.”

This guy was fucking whipped for Yoongi. You couldn’t even begin to think what that was like.

You felt Yoongi shift his weight and lean forward, pressing your further into the sheets. You didn’t even bother making noise. They were in their own world. Maybe if you passed out you wouldn’t have to remember any of this.

“Take it out for me. Let hyung see your pretty cock.”

A soft, choked sob came out of you as Jungkook pulled out, cock glistening with your juices. You prayed Yoongi didn’t hear, but his nails digging into your back told you otherwise.

“Come.”

Jungkook groaned as Yoongi freed him. There was a thunk as the cock ring hit the wood of the chair before falling to the floor.

“Show me how much you can give her,” Yoongi murmured, leaning back. “Let hyung see how full you make your cockslut.”

Jungkook rammed himself into you once again. You winced, your entire body shuddering as he began to thrust into you mercilessly, strong hands holding you in place as he fucked you. You felt cool metal against your skin as Yoongi sliced your ropes free. Before even computing you could use your arms again, you were gasping in pain was pins and needles ravaged your arms, sputtering as Yoongi grabbed you by the hair to lift your head up. It took all of your power to claw for something, anything, to give you some hold. You found yourself clutching his shirt, gasping as you looked straight into those dark eyes, that familiar red scar. Your body was jerking forward from the force of Jungkook’s thrusts but you could only helplessly stare at Yoongi as he smirked at you, flashing his white teeth.

“This is the way I treat you,” he breathed.

You clenched your jaw, your hands clenching into fists on his shirt. “I hate you,” you grinded out.

Jungkook moaned so loudly that it was almost a scream. Your eyes widened as suddenly a torrent of cum was shot inside you and you pitched forward, scabbing at Yoongi’s shirt and holding onto him. Oh, fuck. So much. So fucking much that you couldn’t even think straight. It felt like your pussy was being stretched out and at the same time you could feel it oozing out of you, splattering onto the sheets. Oh, fuck, you could even smell it. Your hips felt numb as Jungkook began to rolling his hips into you again, groaning at the slick sensitivity. Your thighs were shaking, covered in Jungkook’s cum mixing with your juices.

Yoongi chuckled.

You looked up, face to face with him. Eyes wide, panting, clutching onto his shoulder and shirt for dear life as he grinned at you. Your pussy felt like it was going to explode with the amount Jungkook shot into you. In fact, it was actively dripping and making a puddle underneath you two. Something touched your face. You froze, feeling Yoongi’s hand against your cheek, thumb running over your lips. He sighed, dark eyes finding yours, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Want to fuck your mouth so fucking bad. Want to feel my cock being squeezed by your throat.”

Something inside you snapped. You heard a moan, a long, wanton, pleading moan – oh, fuck, that was you. Pleasure racked through every fiber of your being as your walls clamped around Jungkook, forcing another orgasm out of him as you came, Yoongi’s name leaving your lips like a fucking prayer. His eyes widened at your reaction, lips in a soft ‘o’ as you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to you, teeth sinking into his neck as you screamed in pleasure.

His skin, his taste – it filled your mouth and seared its memory into you. Was there ever anything that tasted so good? So erotic? You could feel the wave coming again and moaned against Yoongi’s neck as you came again, licking your bite, pressing your lips against his skin. Your hands snaked around him, splayed against his back and digging your nails into him as Jungkook pulled out, gasping, splattering cum on your back and ass. Who was mumbling Yoongi’s name like that, so soft and sweet as if you were lovers?

You.

And then the pain came crashing down and you couldn’t think anymore.

click here for part iii

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #jeon jungkook smut

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mythicamagic · 3 years

Text

Eve’s Inferno - Rukiyui oneshot

Dante's Inferno AU. Eve has searched almost every circle of Hell, leaving just one left. In order to find Adam, she must face the one responsible for their banishment from Eden. But the Devil is used to whispering sweet nothings, and Ruki has succeeded in getting under her skin once before. Rukiyui oneshot.

AN: Made for the Diabolik Lovers Zine @diabolikloverszine and published with permission since the sales have closed. I had this idea a long time ago, due to Ruki often being associated with Lucifer in the games. Hope you enjoy!

Rated T

3,000 words (also posted on Ao3)

Eve's Inferno

Disembarking from the small boat, a young woman kept her hand in the ferryman's as he assisted her down. He smiled gently with ashen lips and doleful eyes, nodding to a set of double doors awaiting her.

Thanking him, she offered coins for the ride but was met with a quiet decline. He soon pushed off the dead earth, slinking back up the dark, murky waters of the cavern's river.

The grey doors had vast, intricate carvings of desperate people rising out of it, frozen mid-air, arms outstretched and clawing as though trying to escape. She wondered if they were real human souls, trapped as such a mundane part of the underworld. Taking a breath, she set her shoulders and reached out. The doors opened easily under her hesitant touch.

The woman didn't know what to expect behind them. Perhaps fire and brimstone, the dead or dying, tortured continuously and screams ringing out. But the vast, open space looked empty. There were no cries of pain, blissfully silent. A large cave awaited her, walls dark and jagged with obsidian rock. At her feet lay a cool, frozen lake, solid enough for her to stand on as it took up the entirety of the floor, spreading wide. Curling, misty air didn't chill her bones or make breath visible, instead feeling a little heady.

She steeled herself, walking forwards. In all the domain only a single thing truly held her gaze, that of a lone white tree standing on a small island. The shock of white and green was impossible to ignore.

With careful steps, she crossed the lonely, silent space. Walking onto the island, fresh grass crunched beneath her feet- soon coming to a stop. Breath catching, wide eyes took in the sight of a man with familiar dark hair reclined against the tree. He held a book, pale fingers gripping its spine.

She could not place how she felt, standing there, watching him calmly read. Soft, blue-grey eyes looked as disarming as she remembered when they flicked up to her. But they could sharpen. That tempting mouth could praise and charm one moment and then damn her the next.

"Good to see you, Yui."

"Hello Ruki," she murmured, folding her hands before her skirts. Swallowing, she babbled; "I didn't pay the ferryman, I hope that's alright."

"Azusa can be overly generous, it hardly matters," he dismissed, shifting long legs. "What can I do for you?"

Yui's fingers twisted into her sleeve. The casualness of his question belied Ruki's penchant for manipulation. If she weren't careful, she'd make a mistake, just like their last meeting all those years ago in Eden.

So, raising her head, she set thin shoulders. "I'm here for Adam," her tone was firm and final.

No surprise flickered in his expression, attention returning to his book as though bored.

"I-if you can't give him to me, then I'd like to know where he is. I've been looking for him in the other eight circles for-"

"Centuries, I know."

Annoyance flared, "if you knew, why didn't you meet with me? The other princes weren't very..." she trailed off, curbing her tongue for the sake of diplomacy, "helpful."

A deceptively pleasant chuckle rang out. "Do you expect the ruler of a domain to heed every whim from their subjects? Especially subjects of hell?" Cruel lips curved as he shifted, setting the book down before standing. "Besides, most people when searching for someone will give a description."

Yui held her ground when he approached, heart thundering- drumming wildly in her ears. "You know what he looks like."

"But you don't."

The dark-haired young man, despite his handsome features, did not possess a presence that stood out or screamed malice. When compared with the other princes, his appearance wasn't as eye-catching, attitude not as loud or attention-grabbing. In a crowd, your gaze would likely pass over him. Despite this, when he stepped closer, Yui felt a pressure in the air. A type of sticky humidity that heralded storms. Those eyes, so calm and cold, implored her to confess her sins and sink to her knees. He'd treat her like a pet. A well-fed, maybe even cared for pet, but a pet nonetheless.

"P-please don't toy with me," she murmured. "You probably removed my memories of his face and voice, but I remember Eden. You won't keep us apart."

Ruki reached for her, brushing a shock of cold knuckles against her cheek. Yui congratulated herself for not flinching despite the rush of feeling that attacked her. Compared to the second circle of Lust, with prince Laito's thoughtless, grabby hands, this was nothing. And yet... such a small touch demanded her attention, skin pricking.

"Of course you'd assume I did that. Doesn't it occur to you that he put you here and dictated your punishment?" Hot breath fanned over her mouth, and something tightened in Yui's lower stomach. Lulled by the stroke of his fingers gliding from chin to ear, Yui rocked back on her heels to try to clear her head.

That touch changed- locking into blonde hair and grasping tight to prevent escape. Yui stilled with a gasp, gritting her teeth.

"You're afraid," he purred.

"N-no," she thought for a moment and admitted; "not of what you can do to me. Just of my memories fading."

She'd seen what that did to souls. Lost, wandering figures mourning their own condition. They couldn't even remember their own names.

That touch turned gentle and soothing again, but she didn't trust it not to turn into violence at a second's notice. "Why do you care so much about finding him?"

"B-because I love him?" Wasn't that a question with an obvious answer? She'd literally been created from a rib to be Adam's other half.

"You can't love someone you don't remember. Someone you don't know. You'd trust a stranger like that?" Devastatingly beautiful eyes shifted over her pale expression, his pupils slightly slit. Ruki leaned closer, lips ghosting over the delicate shell of her ear. This time she was unable to suppress a shiver. "You should give yourself over to your Master's hands instead... I wouldn't treat my Livestock poorly."

Something hot churned in her stomach. "You're not my Master and I'm not cattle."

A low chuckle resounded in her ear, firm fingers gliding down her spine. "I seem to remember us having a conversation similar to this a long time ago. Do you recall?"

Yui squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push back the memory. It flooded through the gaps between her fingers like water. She could suddenly smell thick, choking scents of roses, feel lush grass and flowers brushing at bare legs. Lashes reluctantly opened, and her breath hitched.

The lake and lone tree were nowhere in sight. Ruki had vanished. Instead, she found herself wandering through the achingly familiar gardens of Eden. Birds sang to each other in twisting trees, lions and other predators lazed around, heedless of her or other prey. Yui felt her skin prick from a faint chill in the air, glancing down to find herself naked.

It was all exactly as she remembered. She'd become Eve again, lost in those painful memories that had haunted her for centuries. Only... she still couldn't remember Adam.

---

Rounding a large flower bed, Eve lay eyes on a single tree, separated from all other greenery. It bore fruit, red apples catching the sun in such a way that salvia filled her mouth at the mere thought of tasting them.

"You can have one if you like."

Eve's gaze slid down the apple tree's truck to find a man leaning against it. No, not a man.

An angel.

She frowned, making no move to cover herself as she approached.

"But I was told not to."

The dark-haired angel smiled, and she felt no reason to be afraid. "Why do you obey blindly?"

"I don't know."

Some frustration marred his handsome face. He gestured to a small pond not too far away, "go look into the water."

The woman did so because she'd been told to, and it didn't cross her mind to resist. Kneeling at the water's edge, blonde hair slid forward and Eve's breath hitched at the sight of her own reflection. Her eyes struggled to take in the image, a stunned hand raising to touch her reddening cheek.

'That's me...'

Complicated thoughts blazed to life in her mind where none had been before. Wonder, perception, a briefly vain absorption in her own existence having palpable proof before her eyes. What a gentle and pretty face. She loved it simply because it was her own, something that only she owned. Eve was at once changed. No longer an extension of Adam, she felt like a person.

The angel knelt not too far away. "I'll ask again; why do you obey blindly?"

"Well because..." she trailed off, swallowing. "I suppose I was created after Adam so I should behave in order to show my gratitude?"

"You act like a Livestock that's been reared and bred in a shelter. That doesn't sound like honest loyalty to me."

"No, I- maybe it isn't, " her arms moved to hug herself, wondering why she felt a little cold. Maybe it was the strange, isolated feeling his question awakened in her. "What is... honest loyalty?"

His eyes sharpened, tone becoming firm. "It's when you can be certain the one you've put faith in can care for you. In turn, you support them, like they're a worthy Master."

Eve picked at soft green grass, mulling this over. "Sounds as though you have experience with it."

"Mn, though lately, I've been feeling dissatisfied."

She got the sense that he wouldn't be saying anything more. "I feel... different. Like I'm not the same Eve as a moment ago."

Her companion shifted to stand, some white feathers from exquisite wings falling to land on the water's surface. She watched them float and twirl slowly with fascination.

"If you're someone else, you could always give yourself a new name," he casually suggested.

"Give... myself?" Eve chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. A name came out of nowhere. No one suggested it, so at once, she felt slightly giddy and pleased with her hushed murmur of: "...Yui."

Blue-grey eyes shifted. A pale hand rested on his chest as he bowed slightly. "Yui. Well met."

"Well met," she blushed, glancing at the funny material wrapped around his body curiously. "What's your name?"

"I was given the name Lucifer."

Yui tilted her head, sending lush falls of blonde over one shoulder. "Oh, did you change yours too?"

"Yes. I chose the name Ruki instead."

Her hands curled in her hair, testing out the new name on her tongue. "Ru...ki."

Ruki stiffened slightly, attention weighed upon her like a heavy, palpable thing with substance and form. She felt her cheeks flush, remembering the reflection of herself in the water. For the first time, she wondered what he might be thinking. What an angel's own perception of her was like.

"Mn... there's no need to get caught up with trivial things," he cleared his throat, walking towards the tree again.

"I wanted to ask about those things draping over your body," Yui chirped, following.

"My clothes? More trivial talk," he sighed, not particularly annoyed, however. Ruki stopped by the truck and rested a hand upon it, "you can have clothes too if you desire."

"I can?" So many new things were being offered to her today! She felt as though discovery was perhaps the single most wonderful thing to experience. She hungered for more- like the reflection and her new name. "Yes. I'd like that!"

He made a gesture, twisting his wrist in the air- and at once those strange, wondrous threads were wrapped around her, covering her shoulders but clinging around her chest and then falling down to her feet like a waterfall. Yui touched the material, finding it soft. She giggled, looking at him. "Thank you," she said breathlessly.

Ruki nodded, face unreadable. He then gestured to the fruit hanging above them. "You can still take one of these if you wanted."

At this, she hesitated, stopping by his side. "I... I'm not sure..."

"Did we not establish that you don't have to give your loyalty to someone who hasn't earned it?" His pleasant voice remained patient. A cool hand, chilled to the touch, met the base of her spine. The woman stilled, feeling that palm drag up her back, before curling in her hair. He seemed at once too close and yet not near enough.

"Maybe if I... take a bite, I can explain that I was just discovering new things? I'll know what it's like and won't be tempted anymore," she murmured.

Strong fingers tightened, stroking the back of her neck. "What an interesting word to use. Yes, I suppose you won't be tempted. You'll have had experience, and no one should punish you for that."

She agreed and reached up of her own volition, grasping a red fruit and yanking to break it free. She then sank blunt teeth into the apple, making a noise as juices overflowed in her mouth. Ruki's slit gaze dilated.

"It tastes wonderful!" She smiled, offering him some. The angel refused, taking a few steps back.

"I'm happy for you, but I should really be going now."

"Oh," Yui wilted, not even noticing the darkening, angry clouds above. "A-alright, I'll see you later! I should go share this with Adam."

"Yes..."

---

Blinking, Yui shook herself. Like an after-image, Ruki and the gardens changed. They melted away, revealing the lonesome lake once more. Ruki stood without his wings, having lost them in the fall. She could remember hearing about his uprising, his sins. They were far worse and more numerous than her own, and yet there they stood, together in the last layer of Hell. Two traitors.

"You didn't need to show me that," Yui murmured. "I do still remember. Please, please just tell me where Adam is."

Ruki looked almost deceptively kind for a moment, features softening. "They forgave Adam. He has been accepted into Heaven and left you behind, Eve."

Her knees threatened to buckle, lungs constricting. No, no, she needed to calm down. Of course he'd lie. "The truth, please," she gritted out.

Strong hands caught her slim waist as she moved back, starting violently at his touch and proximity. "I am not lying, Livestock."

"How can you expect me to believe you?" tears pricked her eyes.

"I understand-" he hissed, gathering Yui's thin, shivering body closer and curling around her. "I'm the snake that tempted Eve. You don't trust me and see me as nothing but an unworthy Master- but there's a place for you, here Eve." The smoke of a smile lingered on his lips, unseen by her, but she could hear it, feel it in his voice. "Here, by my side. We're a lot alike, cast out for our sins. All we did was utilise our free will. I'm not like him..." Ruki quietly purrs. "I won't shut you out no matter how much you sin."

Tears leaked down her cheeks as Yui raised her head, finding his lips much closer than anticipated. "Just give me your loyalty."

Trembling, the sensation of his mouth pressing against hers stole her breath. Shame rose to mingle with the glow he elicited within her chest, feeling herself considering, wondering if perhaps- just maybe... he genuinely cared for her.

'What is...honest loyalty?'

Yui's fingers curled in his clothes.

'It's when you can be certain the one you've put faith in can care for you. In turn, you support them, like they're...a worthy Master.'

Two hands shot out, shoving against his chest.

Ruki grunted, eyes flashing. "Yui-"

"No! I-if it is true, then I-I'm happy for him!" Yui yelled. "Adam deserves to be free, but I won't ever give you my loyalty. I won't be your Livestock," she turned, hurrying away.

"Yui!" Ruki snarled, something hard leaking into his voice.

She stepped off the island, landing upon the lake a second before his hand met a barrier. Yui blinked, noting that he couldn't seem to set foot off the island, unable to leave the tree where he'd helped her commit the first sin of man. It seemed someone up in Heaven had a sense of humour.

Her blonde hair bounced as she jogged away, having no idea where to go. Anywhere was better than with him.

"You can't leave," came his quiet voice. "We'll keep going over this. We'll keep doing it, as many times as it takes for you to say yes."

Yui ignored him, reaching out to touch the large grey doors- only to hear a quiet snap of fingers behind her.

---

Sitting up, she stifled a yawn.

"We're here, miss."

Disembarking from the small boat, the woman kept her hand in the ferryman's as he assisted her down. She tried to give him coins, but he declined, continuing on his way. Approaching some large, imposing grey doors, she noted they had vast, intricate carvings of people rising out of them. Taking a breath, she pushed them open, stepping into the quiet space.

Awaiting her, marooned on a single island within the lake, the Devil watched as Eve approached.

#ruki mukami #Diabolik lovers #dialovers #rukiyui #yui komori #diahell

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frostsinth · 4 years

Photo

Her first adventure, and her last. She could kick herself for her stupidity. But she didn’t have much time to feel sorry for herself; the sound of heavy steps approaching echoed in one ear as her fleeing companions’ echoed in the other. Literally stabbed in the back by her comrades to feed the very monster they stole from.

Damn them! Fucking bastards! God damn pricks! She silently raged, but her eyes remained fixed on the dark doorway that led to the demon’s layer.

Her gargled breath caught in her throat when he emerged, ducking his great horned head to fit through the small doorway. Glowing red eyes quickly settled on her, sprawled in a puddle of her own blood in the center of the room. She quivered under his menacing gaze and tried to feebly drag herself away.

“My, what an appetizing smell...” The denizen breathed, his voice like thunder rumbling through her chest with each word.

“S-stay back!” She snarled, but her voice shook as much as she did. She coughed, tasting bitter bile, and struggled to breath through the blood building in her chest.

A sinister smile twisted his lips, and bared sharp, pointed teeth. He approached her slowly, his great form hunched. His tails writhed behind him like snakes, and his nostrils flared as he came to her side. She craned her neck back to look up at him, her hand clenched against the wound on her side. She had lost so much blood, her head felt like it was floating above her shoulders.

“Such rage,” Purred the demon, reaching out one huge hand. She flinched as he traced his fingers along her jaw. “Such fury. What fuels this fire in you, mortal?”

She pursed her lips stubbornly, straightening herself as best she could despite her prone position. “Do what you will with me, Demon. But don’t play with me! Get it over with!”

His laugh rumbled and echoed, having the strange quality of coming from everyone and nowhere all at once. She shivered again, but gritted her teeth resolutely.

“What do you desire, little mortal?” He purred, tracing his hand from her chin, down her neck, down her sternum. Pausing lightly by the deep puncture wound between her ribs. “Who would suffer your wrath?”

“Kalen.” She snapped, then found herself surprised at the sudden burning hot fury she felt bubbling in her chest, and the answer she didn’t hesitate to give. It overwhelmed her pain, and she narrowed her eyes at him “Mar’kil, Bestian. Harlorn” Her eyes glowered at him, molten hot. “They left me for dead, to slow you down. As a sacrifice. They planned it the whole time.”

His grin grew, and he drew bloody fingers to his lips. A long, twisting tongue lapped at the dripping blood. She couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away.

“Delicious...” His purring voice seemed to echo through her hazy thoughts like a voice in a dream. She blinked up at him, starting to feel her life ebb away. “I will make you a deal, mortal. Your revenge... for your soul...”

A few more confused blinks. But consciousness was beginning to escape her. She fought it. Fought it hard. Knowing if she succumbed, the darkness eating at the corners of her eyes would be eternal. His words swirled in her mind, and she shook herself back to the waking world. Rage burned in her chest, in her throat. In every molecule of her body.

“Deal!” She gasped.

Suddenly, she felt her grip on the world returning. Felt the numbness in her fingers receding. And felt the hot skin of the demon against her cheek. They moved out of the lit chamber now scavenged dry, and into the darkness beyond. He cradled her almost delicately in his huge arms, and she looked up at him. Half in fear, half in awe.

He grinned down at her, and his long tongue lapped out again. “First, you will feed me,” He told her, eyes growing hungry, “Then I will quench your own thirst for blood...”

I’ve been working on this picture for two days now, I think. And I’m still not happy with it, but I thought it might be worth it for the little blurb I had running in the back of my head while I made it. Hungry demon, angry girl. Could make a fun little story, if I get around to it...

Enjoy

#demon #demons #demon boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster #OC #dnd #adventure gone wrong #tw: blood #exophilia #terato #rage demon

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yodawgiherd · 3 years

Text

Guess Who's Calling

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Rating: M Prompt: Phone sex College Eren eating Gothkasa out. That's it.

Yup, just more cope from my side. More leaks are coming, making me even more anxious, so here I am writing smut to make me forget for a short while.

Mikasa should probably spend the evening studying. When Eren asked her to come to his dorm, saying that Armin was visiting his grandpa, she should have said no, said that she’s busy. But she didn’t.

So, instead of doing her best to cram the economics lessons inside her brain, she was procrastinating. Again. Eren was a bad influence on her. Sure, the sports scholarship she got thanks to the facts that Mikasa was literally unbeatable in kickbox was nice but studying was important.

Then again, lying on a couch and cradling her boyfriends head on her chest was important too. He was sprawled on top of her, so warm that it made her skin tingle. She was dragging her fingers through his hair, frowning when some of the strands got caught on the multitude of her rings. Being goth did bring some dangers into a relationship, but Mikasa was not about to change. Eren didn’t seem to mind, as having his hair violated was a small price to pay for resting on such a comfortable pillow that was Mikasa’s incredible body.

The phone rang, invading the nice moment she was sharing with her boyfriend. Boyfriend. Booooooyfriend. Boy. Friend. Boyfriend. Her boyfriend. Boyfriend, that belonged to her.

It still felt weird on the tongue, even after a year of them being together.

“I’ll get it.”, Eren said, pushing himself away from the nice pillow that her chest was and rolling from the couch.

He crashlanded with a faked scream, making Mikasa giggle and hide her face. Dork. He was a dork. Scrambling up from his terrible fall, Eren walked over to where her phone was, grabbing it and making his way back. Close to her, he attacked, once again tackling her form and sending Mikasa into another giggling fit while she did her feeble attempts at fighting him off.

“E-Eren! The call?”

With a flourish, he handed the phone over.

“Your lovely brother is calling. Please don’t tell him that I’m in this close physical vicinity to you, I don’t want him to kill me before my finals.”

The phone rang again. She took it, looking at the screen and confirming that it was indeed Levi calling. But before she could answer, the sound of a zipper entered her ears, making her look down.

Eren was busy with unzipping her skirt and stealing it away from her hips, leaving Mikasa’s lower half in nothing but her underwear. That done, he busied himself with pushing her black top up until her stomach was in full view, even going as far as exposing her small breasts. A year back, her mind would explode from seeing it and she would immediately put the guy who dared to do this to her in a hospital. But with Eren, who broke so many of her barriers already, this wasn’t the first time and probably very far from the last. Still, she was just about to speak with Levi, so his actions deserved to be called into question.

“What are you doing?”

“A game..”, his mouth ghosted over her abs, “Stay on the call, if you hang up, I’ll stop.”

And he dipped down, truly putting his tongue to work. He flattened it against her heated skin, licking Mikasa’s stomach, collecting the tiny beads of sweat. With the tip, he traced those incredible abdominal muscles. Her heart in the throat, yet excited nonetheless, Mikasa answered the call.

“Levi? H-hi.”

“What the hell took you so long?”, he fumed, “We need to talk.”

“Wha- Ow!”

Levi frowned at the other end.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…”, with a quick gesture she flipped off Eren, who was just tongue-soothing the savage bite he planted on her left thigh, “It’s nothing.”

Those thighs, that was something to die for. Eren loved how the muscles there shifted beneath his mouth, how firm and strong and so deliciously thick they were. So delicious that he, despite her staring, sank his teeth into the right one too.

Mikasa hissed in pain, her hand reaching down to tangle in Eren’s overlong hair. Her black nails scratched against his scalp as the goth took a possessive hold of the strands. With a firm grip, she shook his head like a bad dog’s before planting it, nose first, right between her legs in an obvious gesture of: “Get on with it”

For someone so easily flustered whenever they did as much as kissed in public, Mikasa could be very demanding once turned on.

“Okay then.”, she heard Levi over the phone.

At the same time, Eren finally obeyed, pulling her panties down her long legs. In full view, he met her eyes before sniffing the underwear, making her eyes widen.

“Oh god, you’re such a pervert!”

“What’s that?”, that was Levi, and Mikasa realized that she just said it out loud.

“N-Nothing! Th-That was the tv!.”

That did not sound like tv, but Levi was willing to drop the issue.

“Whatever. Listen….”

Mikasa wanted to pay attention to what her brother was saying, but she couldn’t. Eren was now kissing her inner thighs, so close to her slit yet so far, it was making her blood boil. He was teasing, the bastard, his tongue caressing her outer lips, unwilling to give her what she craved. Tilting her hips, Mikasa made the best pleading expression she could, nudging him gently. Eren must have been feeling generous tonight, because the tip of his tongue finally slipped inside her, probing.

As was her luck, Levi picked precisely that moment to ask her something. The thing is, Mikasa had no idea what he was talking about. To make matter worse, when she opened her mouth to answer, Eren increased the tempo of his actions, making her pleasure spike. His tongue was now writhing around in her heat, lapping at the wetness caused by his actions.

“Levi I… hng I’m not sure that… mmm”

Alternating, now he was licking her in long wide strokes, flattening his tongue against her sensitive skin.

“Brat, what the hell are you doing?”

“M-Me? N-nothing, nothing at all. I… Oh god!”

His tongue brushed against her clit.

Levi’s brows pulled into a flat line as he listened to these strange moans and groans his sister kept doing over the phone.

“Listen, I don’t know what is going on, but I don’t like it. I’m hanging up now, call me when you get your brain back.”

“No! No please, don’t hang up!”

She heard Eren’s evil laugh from between her legs. To punish him for being such a bastard, Mikasa squeezed his head between her thighs, hard enough that he saw stars before she finally released him. Pulling back, he cracked his aching neck, left and right, meeting her challenging stare.

“Touché.”

And he dived back down.

“As I was saying, I need to know when your exams are finished, so I can line up the training regime for you.”, Levi repeated his question slowly, hoping that she will understand this time, “You need it before the tourney.”

“R-Right. My… Ex… mmmmm Exammmmms.”

Eren went deep, angling his head and shoving all of his tongue inside while his mouth worked her. His jaw was beginning to ache, but he ignored it. If there was something Eren learned, it was that his usually cold and stoic girlfriend could be reduced to a quivering mess with the right approach, and some pain was totally worth it. Eager to taste her, he licked inside, rapidly darting his tongue left and right, everywhere that he could reach. He was moving his head too, shaking it, anything to stimulate that wonderful place between her legs. Mikasa’s hips arched from the bed and she slapped a hand over her mouth to keep the loud moan in. Still, some of it escaped.

“What did you say?”

“I said I’m… aaah I’mmmm..”, she couldn’t do it, so angling her head away from the phone, Mikasa panted for air.

Down below, Eren withdrew from her and immediately attacked her clit, sucking on the firm nub.

“Hey! Mikasa! Hey!”, Levi’s voice was loud enough for Eren to hear.

Knowing that if he hangs up the fun will be over, Mikasa forced herself to press the phone against her ear.

“I’m… I’m here.”

“Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“All’s fine! Great!”

“You don’t sound like it.”, Levi said, “Are you sick?”

With a pop, Eren released her abused clit, wetting two of his fingers in his mouth. He met her gaze, grey eyes with their pupils blown, gave her a wink and went back to work. Pressing his digits into her tight heat, he glided along the silky walls searching for that one place that made Mikasa go crazy. She could feel it inside her, feel his exploring hand, the fear that she won’t be able to keep quiet rising at the same rate as her pleasure.

“N-No not sick. I’m…”, a way out, she needed a way out, otherwise Levi might start suspecting something. With her mind basically blank, Mikasa blurted out the first thing that appeared there.

“I’m drunk!”

“You’re drunk?”

“Yes, I’m…oof,” Eren’s fingers moved, curving upwards, “Drunk and…”

He found it. With a gentle press of the fingertips, Mikasa’s vision went white as her body clenched and she moaned out loud, not fast enough to mute herself.

“Damn it brat. You’re underage.”

“I’m sorry!“, she squeaked out before quickly muting herself on the call properly and moaning again, so loud.

At home, Levi massaged his temples, staring at the phone. So Mikasa was drunk, probably not handling it very well judging from the sound she was making. Guess that’s college for you.

“Do you need help?”

There’s silence on the other side. What Levi doesn’t know is that Mikasa is muted again because she is moaning her heart out right now. Eren turned up the dial again. His tongue was deep inside her, licking the wet walls of her cavern, while his fingers were hard at work on her clit, pressing against the magic button in deliciously short intervals.

“Mikasa! Do you need help?”

“N-No! Eren will come and aaaaaah…”, unable to continue, she tilted her head away.

“Eren huh? That guy…”

That guy who was now at the finish line of teasing the orgasm out of his little sister. Not that Levi knew that. Mikasa’s chest was heaving, her thighs clenching around Eren head but he ignored the flares of pain it sent into his system. Mikasa could squeeze hard, and there were times when he was forced to stop in the past, otherwise his neck was at risk.

Not now. Now he was determined to make Mikasa come, and nothing would stop him. He practically abused her clit, rolling his thumb against it while he ate her out without holding back. The rougher treatment seemed to be just her thing, and the goth was losing her mind at an alarming rate. It was noisy and dirty, but he couldn’t care less. Sharp thrusts of his tongue, deep inside her and she was writhing around on the couch, phone forgotten in her hand. Until Levi spoke again.

“All right, I’ll trust Eren then. Call me when you get better, okay?”

“Yip!”

And then the phone was gone, Mikasa let it fall onto the carpet as the orgasm truly overtook her. She screamed, her face contorting in pure pleasure while all the impressive muscles in her body contracted before releasing. Outside, Eren had already positioned his hands tactically, doing his best to keep her thighs from crushing his skull. It helped a little, but not too much, as he had no chance of overpowering Mikasa’s legs. Inside, Eren’s tongue was being squeezed too, the feeling borderline painful. He groaned at that, making the wet muscle still deep in her vibrate and Mikasa was thrown headfirst into the stream of happy hormones. The electricity tickled her brain in the best of ways, her hips moving against his tongue, practically riding Eren’s face. She was contracting again, more waves and Eren felt her pulsate inside. At the moment when her muscles were relaxed, he quickly withdrew his tongue to save it but wouldn’t let her be yet. Changing it into wide licks against her trembling sex, he kept pleasuring her, drawing the already amazing orgasm out even longer.

When the wave of wetness hit his face, cushioned between her thighs, Eren didn’t really have a choice in what to do. Caged in as he was and unable to move, he drank her in, collecting all of her release inside his mouth. His tongue slid around, licking every piece of her sex, dipping in to tease out as much of her essence as he could. Eren wasn’t lying when he said that he enjoys how Mikasa tastes, no matter how much it made her blush. And when there was nothing more, when her orgasm was truly finished and her legs released him from their crushing embrace, he kissed his way up until he was looking down at her red face.

“Wanna taste yourself?”, he asked, a question that would make her slap him if she didn’t just come back from cloud nine.

Instead of answering, Mikasa pulled him in for the kiss, tasting herself everywhere. In Eren’s mouth, on his tongue and face, every nook and cranny was filled by her. Getting a proper taste of herself, of her release, she pulled back but didn’t let go, keeping their foreheads pressed together.

“I love you.”, she confessed, her feelings all jittery thanks to the overdose her brain was currently recovering from.

Eren chuckled, thumbing away the few tears that leaked from Mikasa’s eyes during this whole ordeal. They were smearing the goth’s dark eye shadow, but she was very far from minding having her makeup ruined.

“Hey, I love you too. Wanna know why?”

She smiled at him, all warm and fuzzy and happy. It went straight against her style, but Mikasa was too far gone to care.

“Why?”

There were a hundred and one reasons why, but Eren wasn’t about to list these. Instead, he had a new one in mind.

“First of all, you let me eat you out while calling Levi, and that was quite an experience.”

She slapped his shoulder, but it lacked the usual strength, and Eren continued uninterrupted.

“And second, because you keep me grounded.”

She was counting the hairs that fell over his wet face.

“What do you mean?”

“There are days when I wake up feeling like I want to destroy the whole world, but then I turn around, see you and…”, his hands slid low, groping her firm butt, “I’m like, nah, I’ll settle on destroying this ass instead.”

Eren ignored her half-hearted attempts at smacking his hands away, made so weak by the giggling fit Mikasa fell into.

“God, you’re….”, she pushed out, “you’re such a dirty perv!”

“Says the woman who just came all over my face.”

She gasped, hiding her blush beneath her hands. But Eren was relentless, moving and peeling her fingers, one by one, away with his teeth. They clicked against the cool metal of Mikasa’s rings, but he didn’t let her armor dissuade him from the task at hand.

“Don’t hide from me, raven beauty.”

“Cheesy too.”, she accused him, “How the hell did we end up dating?”

“I don’t rightly know, things sort of clicked together.”, with her fingers successfully removed by Eren’s actions, they were face to face, so he was free to caress her cheek, “It is weird when you think about it.”

It was weird. It was weird that Mikasa, who never even considered dating before, fell for him so quickly. It was weird that Eren, whose only goal in life was to become a good doctor, was now spending so much time doting over her, because seeing Mikasa happy brought him incredible joy. It was weird because they fell together so quickly, letting each other into parts of their lives that nobody ever visited before.

It was weird, but neither Eren nor Mikasa were willing to question it because, for whatever reason, the stars were aligned for them. He with her and she with him, they were home.

Tilting her head, Mikasa accepted the kiss Eren offered as an explanation, her midnight lips molding into his so naturally. It was hard to believe that they weren’t made for one another, carefully crafted so they would fit together perfectly.

But you know what? Maybe they were.

#eremika #fanfic #snk #this is how i cope

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dragonblobz · 4 years

Text

Part 2 of the request from @lilfriezatyrant for a fic of caring for the injured lizard. Thank you girlie for the amnesia idea. Fits pretty well!

Injuries Part 2

Everything within your body is utterly frozen. Your blood. Your marrow. Your fingers are leaden and tingly as the nails bloody your palms. You’ve never been this close to a bear. And it’s muzzle alone is nearly as long as your fore arm. It’d take several copies of you to fill the circumference of its mammoth neck. It’s so close, the gamey wild smell of it brings terrified bile up your throat.

It isn’t looking at you. It’s looking at him. And somehow you’re thankful for this. You summon some ghostly remnant of courage and turn to look at him as well.

He hasn’t moved one iota. But the rage in his eyes has dimmed to something akin to disgust. As if the bear were some particularly grotesque insect.

His leg!! He cant move because of his leg! Your mind flickers with the possibility of escape. After all. The bear appears to be focused on him. This is immediately followed by guilt. Shame burns in your tummy. You aren’t like his people. His life matters just as much as yours does. But everything is happening so fast. Maybe if you hit the bear and run……..

It would be suicide. And the bear could simply return to finish him off after it’s done with you. You feel the first insipid tickles of despair.

He moves. Slowly. Every action as smooth and calculated as you’d imagined it’d be. The leg nearest you, his left leg, his good leg, slides from your cot, knee bending, to rest his foot upon the floor of your tent. He rotates the upper half of his body to face the bear. His back straightens. His left arm straightens and rises, in a slow blatant display of liquid grace, as his hand balls into a fist. He extends his pointer finger. His mouth creases into an angelic and confident grin which is directly negated by the evil crease of his large eyes. His tail curls behind his body like that of a scorpion.

The entire atmosphere around you begins to change. The hair on your arms prickles with static electricity. Your vision hazes. Your ears pop. You smell a scent that reminds you of when you were a child and lightning had struck a tree near you. Acrid. A metallic bloody taste saturates your tongue. Something is happening. You can feel it. It’s as if the very earth around you is erupting with power.

The bear can feel it too, apparently. It gives a frightened grunt and pulls its maw from your tent. You can hear brush crackling as it thunders away.

The thing on your bed. The alien. He hasn’t moved. But something is different. The air doesn’t taste wrong anymore. Whatever you had been feeling is gone.

His pupils flick to you now and you startle. In a smooth movement, he rotates his body, without moving or bending his arm, to aim that same finger at you. It reminds you of someone aiming a gun.

That same prickling feeling returns. But ceases again just as fast.

He’s wavering. His muscle structure trembles as his arm finally drops. He raises a hand to the bandage upon the side of his head and his body sways as if he’s dizzy before he falls back onto an elbow. His good foot is still on the floor of your tent. Whatever he has just done, with that odd change of energy in the air, seems to have taxed him greatly.

His voice is a shock to your system. Male. Higher pitched. Bored. Each consonant enunciated in a careful and precise way.

“Who are you?”

Your voice trembles and cracks, but you manage to answer.

“(Y/N). My name is (Y/N).”

A look of pain ghosts over his face and his pupils dilate as an elbow leaves the bed to place this hand upon his face to touch the bandage on his head.

“Well, (Y/N), I’m afraid you have the advantage here. I cannot seem to remember my own name.”

Doesn’t remember? Amnesia? From the head wound?

He reaches up and begins to peel away the bandage from his head.

“Oh no! Don’t take that off! If you get dirt in that wound, you could get an infection!” You scramble to your feet and hurry over to him.

He huffs and finishes removing his bandage, then reaches down to start pulling the bandages from his chest, before tossing them all carelessly upon the floor of your tent. He then returns those unsettling eyes to yours. Vermillion pupils assess you as if you are an errant child.

You are still for some time. Then feel shock as you finally become brave and look him over.

The wounds on his chest are completely gone. You lean, trying to look at his head, but he rotates it to follow your movements.

“Your head, sir. I need to see that wound.” You try, and fail, to sound authoritative.

He flops his free arm back to lean upon it as he is the other and looks at you as if he’s the neighborhood watch and you are the fresh pile of dog shit which he’s just stepped in. But he complies.

You cant believe what you’re seeing. The wound, which had been a deep ugly gash yesterday, is now a large scab which is well along in healing. There’s only a little swelling.

“Impossible.” You breathe.

You look down upon his leg. It’s still quite swollen. You insert your finger into the splinting, checking to make sure it’s not too tight. He hisses at this.

“You’re a bold one. Touching me without my consent.”

You feel a slight flare of annoyance but quickly subdue it. “I’m just checking your splinting. Making sure it’s not too tight.”

“I’m perfectly aware of this. You are still alive, aren’t you?” He’s glaring at you.

“Look. I’m just trying to help you, okay?” You try as hard as you can to subdue your ire. “Are you hungry?”

He doesn’t answer. Just that same unsettling gaze.

“I don’t have a lot.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “But I do have some granola bars. And some peanut butter.”

“This place is filthy.” It’s like he hadn’t even heard what you’d said.

“Well, your people kind of fucked that to be honest.” You simply couldn’t quite maintain your bedside manner. “It’s just you. And me. This piece of shit tent. And some peanut butter. Now are you hungry, or not?”

“My people?” His face looks confused for a moment before looking irritated. “Am I your hostage? Is this truly how you house your hostages?” You don’t know why he’s being so hateful. You certainly don’t deserve it.

“Like I said, buster. You. Me. Tent. Peanut Butter.” You realize the heinous quality of your own statement and blush, stammering. “N-no. You’re not a hostage. You can leave any damn time.” He doesn’t seem to care.

“Very well, maggot. Feed me.”

You glare at him for a moment. But you comply.

He takes one bite of a granola bar and his eyes widen as he looks at it and chews slowly before glaring at you.

“Passable.”

Your own stomach growls and you figure you’d better go try to find something for yourself.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He’s not pleased.

“I’m hungry too. And since you get the easy food, I’ll just have to go find something else.” You truly don’t mean to sound so bitchy. Not even with his attitude. But you’re hungry.

He studies you as he munches his granola bar, still very much propped on one elbow. And, despite your need to find food, you can’t help but watch. He hasn’t blinked. Not once. And he eats very carefully, the bar pinched between his slender forefinger and thumb. After he’s finished, he continues eye contact as he primly brushes his fingers upon your blanket.

After several more minutes of looking at you, he relaxes into your cot as his eyes close, the foot upon the floor of your tent slowly sliding back under your blanket. His voice sounds tired.

“Very well. Run along.”

This raises fresh ire, but you do not answer.

Your hunt is more fruitful today. Literally. A tree sagging with apples. It had taken hours to find it.

You eat till you feel almost sick. Then gather as many apples as you can in a knapsack.

You stop at a stream to fill your canteen. You’ll have to boil the water. But luckily you have some already at the camp which has been treated. You know that apples are a diuretic. But you had just been too hungry to care.

The sun is very low when you get back to the camp. He appears to be asleep. You are almost surprised he’s still there.

The breeze feels a little cooler today, so you stoke up the fire and boil that water.

You offer him some of the water you had already treated because it’s not hot. He seems very tired. Almost contrite, as he props himself on an elbow again and drinks it. Just as slowly as he’d eaten. And staring at you just the same.

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

You hadn’t expected this. Not in a tone so much softer than his earlier voice.

“You’re welcome……. Whoever you are.”

He seems amused by this, chuckles lightly. Allows you to take his cup and once again settles into repose, his eyes falling closed.

It’s now, quite dark. And quite chilly. You sigh and adjust your pack on the floor again, prepared to curl up just as you had the previous evening.

You’re going to have to move. The camp and him. But you’ll worry about that tomorrow. He seems to be healing quite fast. Maybe you’ll be ABLE to move him.

“It’s cold, (Y/N).” You openly startle at his voice. You can see that same purple flickering upon the top of his head as the night before. And his pupils glow like rubies in the darkness. He laughs at your jerking movement.

“Ohohoho! You needn’t be afraid. There is no monster on this globe which is more dangerous than myself. And the safest place to hide from a monster is, of course, behind a bigger monster.” He’s laughing at you. And although the words seem to be intended to comfort, you can’t help but be unsettled by them.

“So……….. you remember who you are now? Your name?” Your voice is trembling.

He laughs again.

“Not at all! I just know that I’m a monster.” You can hear the smugness, thick as cotton, in the darkness.

“Oh…… well…….. ok……..” you feel a little scared.

He repeats himself.

“It’s cold.”

“I don’t have any more blankets. I’m sorry.” You feel badly. You’ll be colder. But he’s injured and cannot help himself. Even if he IS kind of an asshole.

His chuckle almost sounds more like a growl in the darkness.

“Oh I wasn’t concerned about myself.”

At first, you prepare to deny him, thinking that he’s about to offer you the only blanket. But this is not the case.

“There’s plenty of room under here, (Y/N). Unless…….. you are too frightened of me?” His amusement is palpable.

You blush madly. The offer is innocent enough, but the TONE of his voice…. The sinister predatory quality…… is enough to make your thoughts shift to frightening things.

“No….. no thank you. I mean….. thank you but…… n-n-no thank you.” You flop down on your pack. Curling away from him.

He sounds almost annoyed. And bored.

“Very well. Suit yourself. Squander my generosity. I’ll not make this offer again.” And he finally falls silent.

And the ground is already cold and uncomfortable under the floor of the tent. You’re already shivering. You hug your knees. Try to adjust yourself.

“If you’re going to shuffle and move all night, please take it outside. I can’t rest with all your racket.”

You nearly snap. Sitting bolt upright, you turn to him, doing your best to keep a scathing reply from issuing forth. But your retort dies as you realize that you can see his perfect glimmering teeth in the darkness. The bastard is laughing silently at you.

“That does it!” You fumble at your boots, untying them and kicking them off your feet. You stand, hugging yourself with your arms, still shivering. And as you march towards your cot, your bravado goes cold.

He isn’t laughing at you anymore. His tail is protruding from the blanket, the tip flicking and undulating. His hands are behind his head. And he’s staring at you intently, his eyes a pair of hot coals. You can just barely see his dark lips in the firelight. They’re sneering.

“What do you think you’re doing, simian?”

“You said I could share…..” You are simply too nervous to continue.

“I did, indeed. And you refused me. If you are wanting under here now, you must ask me quite nicely.” His voice is icy.

This doesn’t make you as angry as it should. Anger isn’t nearly as easy to conjure now that you are standing here, looking down into those flaming eyes, seeing that assessing intelligent gaze. You briefly consider sleeping outside.

“Well?” He snaps. “I have dreams to attend to, (Y/N). Have you anything to ask me?” His tone is patronizing now.

“Can I…….” You are now glad of the darkness. Maybe he can’t see how badly you’re blushing. “Can I share?”

“Share what?” he’s being deliberately dense.

You can hardly talk and your face burns as you splutter.

“Can I sleep with you please? You’re right. Its cold.”

“I suppose. But you’ll be removing those garments first. They’re filthy.”

You feel a little part of yourself die from embarrassment. But you kick off your thick jeans to stand before him in your shirt and underwear.

“That’s better.” His voice sounds smug as his tail raises, effectively pulling the blanket back, then pats the cot 3 times. Slowly.

You walk towards him. And you’re trembling as you crawl onto the cot with him.

#frieza #freeza #frieza x reader #long post #my writing

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kookiebunnii · 4 years

Text

🌒 one. trouble

pairing: jinyoung x vampire!reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: mentions of blood, death

Absentmindedly running your tongue across your retracted incisors, you briefly brush your hand against your lips before pulling back to examine the blood smeared across your fingertips. Swallowing thickly, you let out a brief sigh before facing the horrified nurse in front of you.

“Really, you don’t have to look that frightened,” you say, unable to help the small smirk that tugs at the corner of your mouth.

The woman opens her mouth, seemingly ready to scream until you quickly grip her forehead with a practiced but gentle motion. Her widened pupils slowly glaze over, as you take a second to examine the way she’s helpless in your grasp. Her pulse thumps insistently under your fingertips, and it takes everything within you to control your fangs from making an appearance again.

“Forget everything,” you command, the words slipping off your tongue with ease.

Nodding robotically, the nurse is motionless—awaiting further instructions. You remove your hand from her form to look away momentarily with annoyance. It was tiring to continue doing this every week. Having to find a new hospital every few months just to avoid suspicion and blood deficits, ensure every witness’s memory was erased, endure the pains in your jaw that grew fiercer with each passing day…it was enough to drive you crazy.

“Dispose of the bag,” you press the empty blood bag into her outstretched hands.

Her eyes are still covered with a grey mist as the woman grips the material tightly before marching down the corridor on your left. You stay and watch her until she turns the corner before making your own exit.

Outside, rain was sprinkling. Watching as a single lonely car leisurely glides across the wet pavement, you wonder if you should move to a different location this weekend. This city had already offered everything it could, as you left no stone unturned to identify evidence of vampires. The coven you found here had burst into erratic laughter at the mere thought of a vampire trying to find a way to die. Realizing that none of them knew any more than you did and quickly tiring over the insults thrown your way, you spent the rest of your days doing your best to identify any outsiders. Most vampires gathered into covens to ensure that their movements could be effectively hidden while also guaranteeing a steady blood supply. However, you have encountered a few individuals like yourself who operated solo—preferring to freely wander without the politics of coven life.

The rain barely registers against your cool skin, and the scent of fresh rain feels like a much needed wake up call. You wouldn’t be able to find the answer you sought here. Brushing a wet strand of your obsidian locks behind your ear, you considered where you would go from here. It felt like you had investigated every nook and cranny since you were bitten 200 years ago. The thought of giving up is tempting, but you knew you would just remain tormented for another 200 years. At least through searching, you had a hopeful possibility to look forward to.

When you reach the sullen one-bedroom apartment you had been occupying for the past few weeks, you quickly shake out your windbreaker and hang it up on a coat stand near the entrance. Bounding up the stairs, you find the bathroom with ease and automatically turn the silver handle of the faucet to watch the clear water gush over the sink.

Running your blood-stained fingertips under the flow of water, the red that swirls down the drain is mesmerizing. When you finish washing your hands, the pale and gaunt face that stares back at you in the mirror explains why the nurse had seemed so terrified. Even though everything about you looked human, the dark black locks and pupils you developed after turning were anything but. You still remembered the way your hair had looked before it turned a deep raven. This color that didn’t expose any shine or highlight even when you were in the sun reminded you that you couldn’t ever be human again.

Sick of seeing your tired-looking features, you do some quick stretches to relax your tense muscles from the escapade earlier. It was difficult to find a lone wandering nurse since hospitals nowadays seemed to be bustling with doctors even at midnight. However, the process was a lot less stressful given this particular establishment had quite a few blind spots in their security system.

The blood type you enjoyed tonight was O it seemed, as the copper taste lingered on the roof of your mouth. You still remember when it disgusted you, when you cried bitterly over the corpse of a stranger because you couldn’t control your thirst when you first turned. You remembered being taken in by your mentor shortly after, all the while avoiding any news reports possible. Seeing the face of your victim across every newspaper in town reminded you of the unbearable evil you were.

English Breakfast tea was your favorite choice on rainy days. Stirring the cup you just finished brewing, you watched as the rain outside began pouring down harder than before. The loud droplets landed unceremoniously across the windowpane before streaming down in dozens of unpredictable tiny rivers.

You hadn’t seen your mentor since you arrived at this town. Perhaps you lost him after the chase back in Venice, but you knew that he was an experienced enough tracker to find you soon.

“I wish he understood.”

The words echo throughout the room, feeling useless with no target audience and no response returned. Smiling sadly, you set the half-empty teacup back on the table. He couldn’t understand because he didn’t realize how painful your existence was. Watching your family, your friends, and your future dying without you was an excruciating torment you wouldn’t even wish on your worst enemy. The agony was worse than anything you felt before, worse even than the night you were bitten. Back then, it felt like your body was literally on fire as it was being completely transformed into the one you knew now. But after all of that, you couldn’t contact anyone you knew. It was better for everyone you loved to believe that their Y/N was dead instead of meeting the monster you were.

You sense him before you see him, so when you turn around to see Mark standing in your living room, you aren’t surprised. Pulling out a chair next to the dining table, you sit down with a sigh before gesturing to another chair across from you.

“Have a seat,” you give your mentor a halfhearted smile before intertwining your hands across your lap.

He doesn’t budge. The past few times he’s caught you, you were already dashing away from him to your next location. It’s been years since the two of you have properly spoken, and you don’t fault him for being taken off-guard by your eerily calm disposition.

“Mark, you can sit down. I’m not going anywhere.”

Still refusing to talk, he strides forward in broad strokes before resting in the seat across the table from you. Even though vampires don’t age from the moment they’re turned, Mark looks weary. He looked younger when he was smiling and teaching you new things. After you left him without notice, it seems that the ordeal has taken a toll on him in more ways than one. It seemed that everything about you now was primed to continually hurt others.

“Stop running, Y/N,” the first words he speaks to you in this encounter are ones you’ve heard hundreds of times from him already.

A tired groan emits from somewhere within your chest, as you close your eyes slowly. He still doesn’t understand you.

“You will not find what you’re looking for.”

The teacup flies off the edge of the table before shattering into several pieces on the ground below. To his credit, Mark doesn’t even flinch at your outburst. Pitch black eyes meeting his own, you look at him with your jaw clenched tightly.

“If you have nothing else to say, leave,” doing your best to inject as much steel into your words, you hope that he would actually listen to you for once.

Why couldn’t he just leave you to hurt alone? You couldn’t afford any more collateral damage.

Mark refuses to break even when his eyes met yours. All vampires had their features change after being bitten, and for a moment it almost feels as if you’re looking at a reflection of yourself. The two of you were more than just physically similar. Being people of few words, but having hearts filled to the brim with wanting to protect others, the two of you didn’t quite fit into the image of a dangerous vampire. He must think that chasing after you all these years, begging you to reconsider annihilation, was his way of protecting you. But he was far from your savior, he was the only person you had left. He didn’t deserve to spend his time, however infinite, running after a lost cause like you.

Regaining your composure, you straighten and tug on the cuffs of your casual black blouse. Being emotional was a weakness, so you refuse to let your voice crack under the growing sadness you felt. You would never give up on the promise you made to yourself after realizing how lonely being a vampire was.

“I’m leaving the city tomorrow morning. Don’t follow me this time. I respect you as my mentor, the one person that took care of me when I was at my weakest. But I need to do this for myself, the longer I live, the more I hate this pitiful eternity,” you lean your head back in your chair to examine the ceiling.

In an instant, Mark’s at your side and breaking into your view of the same ceiling. Within his eyes, you see something you can’t place your finger on. You give him an amused chuckle when defiance finally flares into those midnight eyes of his, realizing that he was once again too stubborn to see reason. How many more decades would pass until he let you go?

“You’re being selfish, Y/N.”

His words hurt you more than they should. But you’ve dealt with far worse trauma, so the tears easily remain within your waterline. Instead, you begin laughing and it’s such a horribly empty sound that it frightens even you.

“I’ll be selfish then,” you spit bitterly, standing up from your chair to glare at Mark with your full height. You’re still plenty shorter than the man, but at least it gives you a sense of power. Unconsciously, your fangs begin elongating and the action catches you off guard slightly with embarrassment.

Chuckling, he softly places his fingers against the curve of your jaw, “You still have a long way to go, if you can’t control little things like this.”

Giving him a glint of your fangs with a snarl, you pull away from his grasp before stomping over to the coat stand to grab your jacket that’s still moist from the evening shower. Although it is still pouring outside, perhaps it would provide enough of an escape for you so that Mark would have a hard time pinpointing where you were heading.

You think you have a head start, but your mentor is skilled enough to sense your emotions before you knew them yourself. Knowing he’s right on your heels, you keep running through the bitter cold. Vampires don’t easily get tired, and with the renewed anger fueling your every step you easily lose sight of him as dawn’s first light peaks through the clouds.

Sunlight doesn’t turn vampires to dust like some movies portray, so it was relatively easy for you reach the inner portions of your new conquest without drawing attention. Daylight rendered vampires relatively weaker, but otherwise failed to differentiate a vampire from a normal human. You observe the stirrings of the city in the early morning—an elderly businessman sipping a coffee on his way to work, a gaggle of schoolchildren skipping and chattering excitedly, and the occasional homeless person lying on a bench. Even if all this life was happening in front of you, it felt like it was happening behind a screen that you could not penetrate. Detached, you merely stick your hands into your pockets and start looking for somewhere to take shelter. For you to do any investigating, you needed somewhere to head back to at the end of the day.

It seems that this new location is a bustling metropolis with very little abandoned housing that you can find. You didn’t have any money either, meaning that you couldn’t even rent a place if you wanted. The whole ordeal was making you a bit frustrated, but you were determined to stay. If there were so many humans here, it had to mean a good number of vampires resided within as well. They always followed the blood.

The day quickly passed as you spent hours simply circling various streets in search of some semblance of a residence, however poorly maintained, if only to avoid resting out in the open. Doing so was dangerous even if most people wouldn’t mess with a vampire. Besides, Mark would be able to find you a lot easier without a roof over your head. It seemed that you would also have to vary your times spent wandering outside, to avoid being tracked.

It seems that your luck has finally run out as you crumple against the side of a building for the night. The alley was the only empty one you could find. It was prime real estate in your book, given that there were very little trash bags tossed carelessly in this particular alley and no one else was sleeping nearby. Pulling together some flattened cardboard leaning against the wall, you lay down while looking up at the stars. This certainly wasn’t the best accommodation you’ve had, but it also wasn’t the worst. It would suffice for a few nights, but it definitely wasn’t a long-term solution.

Vampires didn’t need sleep daily per se, but you found that the act still made you feel more refreshed in the mornings. You found that you could fall within a very light sleep, since your senses were tuned to be constantly aware of potential threats. Sleep was one of the few acts you could attempt to enjoy, to fool yourself into believing that you were someone normal.

Just as the desire for normalcy passes through your thoughts, the familiar ache returns to your throat to remind you of your real identity. The slight discomfort is still bearable, given that it is only the first day since you’ve fed. Before, a blood bag held you over for at least a week. Nowadays, it barely satisfies your cravings. You weren’t sure what exactly was happening to you, and you definitely weren’t going to try to find out. Only bad answers awaited.

You bring your hand up to your chin, tracing the pain that blossoms slowly from your throat to the beginnings of your jaw. The motion reminds you of Mark, the way he had briefly looked at you earlier the way he used to…back when he looked at you like a troublesome sibling he was trying to discipline instead of a dangerous runaway. You can’t help but smile when thinking of him. He was the closest thing you had to a friend, but that also meant he was someone you cared for too much to hurt.

When you’re finally free, you hope he won’t feel guilty. There is nothing he can do to stop you.

You turn on your side, curling up into the fetal position in habit. As a human, you used to sleep in this position most often. It was oddly comforting, and even as a vampire, the position soothes your worries greatly. Your hand stretches outwards towards the dark alleyway, as if reaching for something you’re unsure of. When your fingers curl inwards, the crescent-shaped marks your nails leave into your palm have an unusual beauty about them.

The rest of the week passes with little success to celebrate over. At this point, the dull ache had grew into a ferocious burning, to the point where you were practically wincing into every step you made. Without blood, vampires became seriously weak to the point where injuries would lose their ability to regenerate instantly. The thirst also grew hard to ignore, as entering crowded areas became a liability. You wouldn’t be able to control yourself in a crowd and biting a human in front of hundreds of witnesses would be a difficult clean-up operation.

Forget finding a lead. Forget finding a place to stay. You needed to locate a hospital, stat.

Unfortunately for you, the hospital here seems to be swarming with people today. Even as you hide in the shadows, observing the ins and outs of the building, you feel your incisors begging to be exposed. Your pupils alternate between brief flashes of scarlet and the shade of obsidian you’re accustomed to. You were too crazed to enter that hospital right now to wait for a passing physician to help you out without accidentally harming a passerby.

Cursing under your breath, you force yourself to walk towards the quieter outskirts of the city. Here, there are a few scattered apartment complexes and only lone individuals walking on the streets. Keeping your hood up to hide your changing features, you hurry along the corners of the buildings, hoping for someone to walk by the secluded areas you were prowling.

You hated biting humans, and it was your personal decision to never feed on a live person if you could help it. Even if the bite left no visible mark and memories were easily wiped, the act felt like it was also slowly sucking the humanity out of you. Perhaps it was a futile and stupid attempt on your part, but you had been relatively good at following this rule of yours.

Growing impatient, you almost black out with the pain that’s beginning to course throughout your entire body. If you go unconscious here, you wouldn’t be able to control the frenzy you may enter after awakening. It would easily expose your whereabouts to Mark if the human televisions and mobile devices were buzzing about corpses devoid of blood.

Scanning the four sides of the apartment complex you have your eyes on, you see a small opening in one of the windows on what appears to be the second floor. Without hesitation, you scale the side of the building, gripping whatever protruding ledges you could to reach the windowsill. The sun was slowly dipping under the horizon, so you hoped that it would be dark enough that no one would report you for your suspicious behavior.

Pushing the window up with the remainder of your strength, you tumble inside and fall abruptly onto the wooden floor of the apartment. Clumsily, you stand up while balancing most of your weight on the dresser next to you. You try your best to adjust your eyes to the faint lighting within this bedroom, as your vision grows bleary with your need to feed.

Immediately, the scent hits you. It smells absolutely delicious, very similar to how one’s favorite comfort food would smell when you’re desperately craving for sustenance. Your frame is shaking at the sudden attack of having everything you desired so close, and you whip around to acknowledge the still frame of your victim.

Even through your delirious state, you note that he is quite handsome. Eyes closed in a deep sleep, his features are so relaxed and unaware that guilt still manages to resonate within your chest despite your state of hunger. Brown hair slightly mussed, he makes a soft groan in his sleep and his hand moves slightly to rest on his chest, which rose and lowered rhythmically.

You don’t realize how close you are to him until you see your fingers brushing against the side of his face. His skin is soft, you note belatedly. Relishing the warm that radiated under your fingertips, you gently tilt his chin to the right so that his neck is exposed to your fangs which are now fully extended.

Swallowing nervously, you brush your nose against his neck to feel his slow and steady pulse against you. The scent is so prominent now that even without tasting him you were in euphoria. Resting your fingers behind his ear to better position his inviting skin to you, you press your lips against the artery you find so excruciatingly easily.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, the whisper fading into his skin.

Sinking down, you’re acutely aware of the small noise that escapes from your prey. The taste that spills across your tongue allows your precautions to fade away as you greedily take him in. God, the hot and live sensation of his blood was something else. This man was like the Michelin star meal of your dreams after you've spent your entire life eating microwaved versions of a meal. With each gulp, the pain you felt was dissipating into a feeling of satisfaction. When you do finally pull away, it’s a reluctant and half-hearted end. Licking the wound to quickly seal the marks, you pull your hand away in preparation to wipe his memories.

When you reach your fingers forward automatically, the poignant stare of the man within the bed stops you in your tracks. Awake and fully regarding you at your weakest state, you couldn’t help but once again note how good-looking he is. There is no fear in his eyes, and that alone is more than enough to make you waver. Even though you had just dined on his blood, he seems unwavering in his attention towards you.

“What are you?” he asks, and if the ordeal left him in any sort of discomfort, he does not show it.

All of a sudden, you scramble to your feet as if he had caught you doing some sort of sinful act. Taking one more hurried look at him, you toss yourself out the window nearest you. Running with the wind rushing past your ears, the noise grew so deafening that you could not think.

It is only when you stumble into the alleyway you’ve been calling home for the past few days do you remember: you never got to wipe his memories.

______________________

masterlist || next >>

#got7 #got7 fanfic #got7 imagines #got7 series #got7 scenarios #got7 reactions #got7 jinyoung #jinyoung x you #jinyoung x reader #jinyoung x y/n #jinyoung angst #vampire au #park jinyoung #got7 preferences #mark tuan #chasing eternity

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Embers - Male dragon shifter x reader, Chapter Eight (v. light nsfw)

Friday means it’s dragon shifter romance day!

Last time we learned that Mikaeïl's late partner was also an artist, and that made us feel a bit wobbly and insecure... This time we finish our dinner date with him and make one or two steps forwards...

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

“So you see why I was reluctant to talk to you about him…” Mikaeïl murmured softly after he’d risked a glance up at your face. “I would have told you, I’m sure. My past would have come up sooner or later, but…” he murmured, his nostrils flaring with frustration. “Ah, that’s just the face I didn’t want to see,” he said as he glanced up and caught sight of your stricken expression.

You tried to hide it behind a smile, pretending to brush it off. Whoever this long-lived creature had been, he had clearly been unfathomably dear to Mikaeïl. How could you even begin to compare with that? With a hundred years of love? What could you offer him after all that time in each other’s company? “You’re right,” you said with an overly bright smile. “It’s not first date talk. I’m sorry I pushed it…” you said, fighting the way your throat closed up around the words.

His shoulders relaxed just a little, but he still had his jaw clenched tight as a goblin’s metalwork vice. He swallowed thickly and said, “Alright, but let me just say that my attraction to you isn’t some vain attempt to rekindle something that was lost a long time ago. You are an artist, and so was he, but there the similarity ends.” The light that glowed in his eyes was like a fire burning low, the coals smoldering red after the bright heat of flames had exhausted itself. In truth, he looked suddenly very tired, and every bit his two hundred and sixty odd years old.

While you could still taste that bitterness on your tongue from the self-doubt that had swirled through you like a rip tide and stripped you of your confidence, you tried to be brave. Mikaeïl suddenly looked thoroughly miserable, though he was hiding it behind his usual chilly facade. On impulse, you reached your hand out to his where it now lay quiet as a corpse’s on the wooden tabletop. The chill of his pale fingers always surprised you, but you squeezed his strangely delicate hand and smiled at him.

“Come on,” you said. “We were doing so well. Tell me about how you know the goblin who owns this place… I didn’t catch his name…”

“Kiriavin?” he said, his throat working again as he swallowed and sighed, trying to push his pain aside. A wariness still lingered in the corners of his reptilian eyes, but he clearly appreciated your efforts at moving things along. He chuckled then. “I taught his wife at university, if you can believe it.”

“I keep forgetting how old you are,” you snorted, which made him roll his lovely eyes. “I wondered if you knew him through your music? Lidaë back at Stickybeak’s cafe mentioned that there was a goblin in your group…”

He opened his mouth, but before he had the chance to go on, Kiriavin returned with menus and two glasses of sparkling wine in elegant flutes. “You drink, I presume?” the goblin asked you before setting your glass down on the table, and you nodded. “Very well. This is a sparkling wine made from grapes grown just outside Starfall Springs. And in a moment I’ll bring some nibbles out for you as well,” he added with a sharp, hungry grin that briefly made you wonder exactly what a goblin might consider ‘a nibble’…

“Thank you, friend,” Mikaeïl said and something wordless passed between them in the space of a heartbeat.

Kiriavin nodded once, and then left with a distinctly softer smile.

Attempting the same kind of silent eloquence, you tilted your head curiously at Mikaeïl and he smiled the first true smile since his late partner had been brought up. His lips curled slowly and then drew back to reveal his white teeth, the canines more pronounced than on a human. You wondered fleetingly what else about him might differ, but reined your imagination back in as he spoke, shaking his head slightly. “That sly old goblin knows exactly what just happened between us, and he’s sorry for it. I think we might be expecting even finer wine with the meal…”

“He doesn't have to,” you said guiltily, but Mikaeïl waved his hand.

“Trust me, you can’t make a goblin do anything else once they’ve got their mind set on something. It’s quite literally impossible.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said. “Cheers,” and you held up the delicate flute of sparkling wine.

The expression on his face was a strange one as he regarded you in the candlelight of the restaurant. It reminded you of the way someone looks at a painting in an art gallery that they’ve only seen in books and reproductions before. He stared at you as if trying to fix the lines and shapes of your face in his mind, as though he would sculpt you later from memory. It only lasted perhaps three seconds, but it was so powerful that you nearly didn’t react as he gently chinked his glass against yours. “Cheers,” he said, the word very softly enunciated.

Even the way he drank was elegant and he held you transfixed as he sipped, the very tip of his tongue just sampling the little tide-mark that was left behind on his upper lip after he’d swallowed. When his eyes met yours again, his gaze clouded and he frowned quizzically at you. “What?”

Taking a deep breath, you grinned and said, “Are you honestly telling me that after two and a half hundred years, you have no idea how good looking you are?”

The flush began at his collarbones and crept up his cheeks to his slightly tapered ears, obscuring the golden dusting of very faint freckles on his cheekbones.

“Come on,” you pressed playfully.

He licked his lips. “I… I have been told as much, yes, but… it’s… it’s always embarrassing to me.”

“To be attractive? Mikaeïl, people would pay millions to look like you!”

The red in his cheeks darkened and he took another sip, looking away.

“I’m sorry,” you said, still laughing that somehow you of all people had managed to make a powerful creature like a dragon shifter blush furiously.

The meal was incredible, the wine heady and rich, but perfectly matched to the food. Mikaeïl and you soon moved past your initial awkwardness and settled into an evening of playful banter. As you shared a gorgeous dessert, you asked him about his family, and he said that his sister Caerelia was the only family he had left now. “She’s very… protective of me,” he murmured, going pink in the cheeks again. “She’s been asking me a lot about you.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm. I told her to mind her own business though. I’m not a hatchling anymore… But she’s never going to change.”

“As long as she’s not… you know…” you shrugged, “Overbearing…”

“Oh, she’s overbearing,” he laughed. “But I know what you mean. She means well, and nearly always backs off if I ask her to.” Inhaling deeply, he leaned back in his seat and said, “I can’t eat any more.”

“Me neither,” you groaned. “That was so good.”

Twenty minutes later, he was walking you along the road towards the taxi stand in the centre of Old Trollbridge. You held his hand and murmured, “Thank you for tonight. I… I had a lot of fun.”

“So did I,” he said, his feet falling still as he turned to look down at you. In a barely-audible whisper, he asked, “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Letting go of your hand, he placed his left hand on your hip, drawing you close with his right, the fingers of which he placed just below your chin, tilting your face up. His eyes glowed in the dim light, and your heart rate soared as he brushed the backs of his fingers across your cheek before cupping the back of your head and coaxing you further into the gesture. His lips touched yours in the briefest ghost of a kiss before he returned and began to kiss you more confidently, as though he now believed that you did want this after all.

You let him set the pace of the kiss, his grip tightening suddenly on your hip, but after what felt like only a moment or two, he drew back, his breathing a little ragged.

“Mikaeïl?”

His eyes really were glowing golden, and he ground his jaw again, stepping back and closing his eyes before laughing. “Apologies,” he murmured. “I got a little carried away there…”

It hadn’t been that fervent a kiss… “I didn’t think you did - oh,” you breathed as he raised his lip up on one side in a little playful snarl and showed you that his canine was significantly longer than it had been, almost like a vampire’s. A deep, low-frequency rumble rolled off him too before he turned it into a laugh.

“You do remember that it’s been a while for me…”

“Yeah, but, oh… When you said you hadn’t been with anyone in that time, you meant… at all…?”

The blush was back in his cheeks and he shook his head, his red hair dancing in the lamp light. “It… I didn’t… It wasn’t something that I…” He took a sharp, shaky inhale and smiled awkwardly. “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all,” you said gently, pressing your palm to his cheek and watching as his eyelids fluttered closed and he leaned gratefully into the touch like an affectionate cat.

“Thank you…” he said without opening his eyes. “Come, let me take you home.”

You ached all over to stay with him that night, but you sensed he needed more time, to move at a slower pace, and it was probably for the best anyway. With a nod, you and he continued to walk side by side down the cobbled street, and in another grateful gesture, he briefly squeezed your fingers in his without looking at you.

Part Nine

—

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#exophilia #dragon #dragon x reader #dragon shifter x reader #male dragon x reader #monster x reader #male dragon #male dragon shifter #male dragon shifter x reader #weekly story #embers #weekly chapters

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beyondtheciouds · 3 years

Text

.29.

Part 1 of 3

Heavy rain descended from the sky swallowing up the last ounce of hope. The black clouds were staggered; swollen red from the heat of the day. The world outside is flipped upside down; black is white; white is black and all is red.

Her head aches with the shift in color; the logic of her accommodations rather painful. She gasps, her throat hoarse and still raw from screaming for hours on end. Tears slide down off the bridge of her nose and she can't close her mouth fast enough. A salt lick of a tear hazardly grazes her tongue; the clear liquid tasting like bottled anguish.

In her mind, she remains back at the Institute with her family. She braces and steadies herself for the worst.

The cold, steel manacle around her neck chokes her and makes it difficult to breathe. Chains, wrapped around her lithe body curl around and over her; tucking her away between their links.

The rusted chains rattle as she moves from left to right in a rhythmic sway; an attempt to crash through the door.

Velocity. Volume. Vantage.

Her nostrils flare with determination then deflate with defeat when her body doesn't pick up immediate speed.

Her long brown hair is loose from it's tight chignon; the ribbon torn in half. Dirty and tangled; the snarls of her hair half drag across the dusty floor of the tin can coffin.

Hanging upside down from the ceiling in her undergarments is Tessa. Her hands are behind her back held together with simple, normal rope. The rope is knotted in several places with sailors knots and elegantly tied to the rope around her feet. Both ropes are linked by a chain that is attached to the manacle around her neck.

Tatiana smiles vicious and hateful watching Tessa struggle. She enjoys the fact she can literally see the blood rushing to her enemy's head in the whites of her eyes. "Moving only makes the blood run quicker."

Tessa grimaces, a wave of dizziness and nausea washing over her. "Now you tell me."

Tatiana smiles that heinous smirk and shrugs. It lasts only a second, but something about the casual confident roll of her bony shoulder reminds Tessa of Gabriel. In the shift of a second, Tessa sees a glimmer of the person Tatiana used to be; a Lightwood-- confident and capable. This was the person Tatiana had been long before Rupert was murdered and her world broken.

Tessa allows the moment to pass; her regret left unsaid to the woman who perhaps could have been if not a friend an ally in another life. The moment clears the way for another idea. Tessa is willing to take a risk. Watching Tatiana closely, she feels she might be able to manipulate Tatiana into releasing her.

The door of the metal shack creaks open, a squeak of a mouse echoes as the bright red light becomes a beacon in the darkness. Ghostly fingers begin their smoky dance; the ghosts beckoning Tessa to join them in the afterlife.

Belial's silhouette becomes visible as the smoke dissapates. He is slouched precariously against the wall. He reminds Tessa of a criminal with his arms crossed over his chest. The red cherry of a cigar is a pulse beating in the dark. Tessa can't take her eyes off it.

"Are you ready to behave, my dear? Or should we continue with the torture?"

Tessa struggles, her fear turning into fury; refocusing. "You will never have James and Lucie at your side no matter what you do to me. You may be their grandfather, Belial but you are not family."

"Oh, love how foolish you are." Nate says and steps out of a dark corner. " I thought after living like one of them," He hisses the word as he crosses the room. "you would start acting like one." Nate flashes an unlimited amount of teeth at Tessa before briefly stepping into the beacon of light.

Tessa's heart breaks. She wanted Nate to look like the boy she'd grown up with. The brother she loved. The shock reverberates in her veins that Nate is now only a decaying mass of flesh and teeth; silhouetted and hollow like long dead bones. He should be burnt and buried.

Tessa had turned her eyes to the sound of his voice. She tries to turn her head but her neck is stiff; shackled in place. "Nate, please." She begs, her body rocking then swinging.

Nate stands in front of Tatiana and even she recoils, pushing herself away from him. His face is clawed; red streaks spiraling disease sporadically and oozing with infection. One clear blue eye pulses like a noncompliance heart; beating rapidly and out of rhythm. The next minute the eye is springing out of its socket; the other drooped and distorted what was left of his face.

The wooden chair creaks and scrapes the floor as Tatiana is dragged backwards into the darkness.

Belial smiles, his teeth twisted twinkling stars. The smoke from the cigar curls around his silhouette; mysterious and inviting in his hand. "Oh, my darling Theresa. How foolish you are indeed. I am not after your precious gifted children. I am after your only grandchild." Belial laughs quietly and whispers, "Quod sanctum puerum. De Trinitate."

Tessa gasps, her anger surfacing like a forgotten shipwreck. "NO. NO. NO."

Belial laughs again, louder as the soles of his boots step into the cold darkness. "Quod aurea puer. Et trifecta spiritualis vitae pertinent."

Tessa's eyes are wide as she whispers, following Belial's cruel smile. "The trifecta. Angel. Demon. Fairy."

Belial grins.

Tessa's face is burning.

The color of Belial's eyes changes, glowing red in the shadows as he inhales and exhales the smoke into the shadow of a child. "My ticket to freedom."

****

The ride to Fairchild Manor had been far from interesting, at least from James's point of view. The carriage was not his own, but a hansom cab for starters. The quarters were musty smelling and too cramped to get comfortable. Cordelia was seated closely beside him and he could smell the scent of rosewater on her skin. The weather was cold and the elbows of their heavy coats touched and their hips grazed one another when the road turned bumpy.

Cordelia had been quiet for some time with her nose stuck in a book. Her dark eyes swept across the page; darting under her long lashes along every romantic line of Pride and Prejudice. James had to smile to himself as his gold eyes finally settled on Cordelia as she drifted away in her story. Sometimes he forgot how much alike they actually were; how compatible compared to others.

For weeks he had tried not think of her as his sister's best friend but as his bride-to-be.

The boys were right and James was hesitant to admit the situation was serious. The specific runes; the sealing vows were sacred and similar to that of a parabatai. A bond between two people that was not easily broken.

He glanced down at the silver circlet around his wrist; Grace's bracelet. The metal burned the inside of his wrist. He imagined the bracelet imprinting the Blackthorn moto on his flesh tying him to them.

James frowned. He felt this tremendous impact on his chest that he thought meant that he owed Grace.

Was he making the right choice? Only time would tell. James couldn't think straight and despite his lack of sleep, it wasn't the girl he was looking at who was in his thoughts.

Another girl was on his mind. Thomas had warned him that morning Grace was up to something devious and devoted to destroying Lucie.

Cordelia had told him as much the night before. Still, James couldn't help but think that Thomas's caution might be mistaken for paranoia. He also detected that Cordelia was overly jealous.

James didn't disagree outloud, but he didn't believe Lucie was in danger. Not for a second.

The only person who he believed was in danger was his mother. Will was vigorously and vigilantly working to save her and James wanted to be there when his father did.

The only thing James could do to help right now was be at Lucie's side and get her through. All either could do was wait.

Wait for life; wait for death.

Christopher and Thomas sat across from them, each preoccupied in their own space.

The former had spent most of the ride untangling a scientific equation that James decreed was the equivalent to opening a glass jar.

When Christopher speaks, there are crickets--dead silence in the carriage and even Cordelia glances up from her book. "What are the odds that we could send Matthew a message by launching a bottle into the sky?"

The latter is a wanderer. He is daydreaming and James can tell that Thomas is filled with anxiousness; categorizing his own neurotic suspicions under the guise of appearing somber. "Like a cannon?"

James blinks, his inky eyebrows furrowed. "A cannon?"

"No. More like a message in a bottle attached to a...a...something. Then we launch the something into the air by striking a match to a series of ropes soaked in kerosene."

James's interest peaks, "Kerosene?"

Thomas turns away from the sublime serenity of the Idris countryside long enough to crook an eyebrow at Christopher. "Are you proposing another exploration of explosions?"

"Gunpowder. We're going to need a lot of gunpowder." Christopher says excitedly, his lavender eyes wide. The gears in his head start turning.

"No gunpowder," James says, shaking his head. He has to be the voice of reason with this crazy idea because it is obvious that Thomas is not listening. "and no explosive devices."

"I know...no. No, well I..." Christopher trails off, his thoughts unraveling like the blueprints to his inventions. Henry would have understood, he reminds himself.

Thomas huffs, unhappy with Christopher's idea. He turns back towards the landscape, silent. He doesn't glance over at Christopher or James. None of them say a word.

James finally sighs, placing his hand on the seat close enough to graze Cordelia's gloved fingers.

The carriage would be at Matthew's front door by nightfall and James was not ready for the confrontation. For the first time in their friendship, James had no idea how to approach his parabatai on a subject as sensitive as fatherhood.

As they passed a lone cemetery, he closed his eyes and prayed to Raziel that they were not too late.

***

The clouds gathered overhead, the sky a darkening gray. A stray dog barked in the distance and Lucie pulled the wool coat tighter around her docile frame. "Why are we here Grace?"

The two girls are in the snowy cemetery; sitting upon a cobblestone hill facing a vast expanse of headstones. A cardinal flutters in the tree branches above; red in a world of white.

Grace is understanding in the quiet; almost complacent and comfortable among the dead. "Shhh. The sun is going down."

On the horizon, placed before them like a slice of golden fruit was the sun slipping into the snow capped hills.

Lucie is the opposite of Grace. Her powers hum inside, keeping her on edge with her instinct wavering. She glances nervously around and feels the priceless prickle of despair crawl into her heart. "Can we go now Grace?"

Grace shakes her head. "Not yet."

A carriage rolls by and Lucie catches the shape of a dark haired boy in the window.

She hopes it is James.

#cassandra clare #the last hours #lucie herondale #the shadowhunter chronicles #james herondale #tessa herondale

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years

Text

Snake Bite

Chat log: Alastor learns to dab, Sir Pentious bites Alastor, and a couple of lonely old villains reluctantly talk about feelings and friendship.

If the read more doesn't work for you and you've gotta see this WHOLE LONG CHAT LOG on your dash, 1) you're probably on mobile, and 2) I am very very sorry, it's tumblr's fault and I did what I could.

Sir Pentious

Pentious is waiting outside the Hotel in HIS realm, he's out back in the garden and pacing... well. As well as a snake can pace. He's occasionally slithering in a circle.

Alastor

Alastor's practically scrubbed his skin raw in the shower; he's brushed his teeth until he's numb to the taste of artificial mint; he's picked a bow tie out of the ones Angel gave him—one of the red-and-gold ones designated for "sparkly douchebags" with the matching rose-shaped pin; and he's left something like a will with Rosie, along with a note to put it into effect if she hasn't heard from him by Monday.

He doesn't know what to expect.

He knows biting is going to be involved. He knows Sir Pentious wanted him to clear his schedule, with no indication of how long he was supposed to clear it for. Everything else is a mystery. Interpreting Sir Pentious's words literally, he's going to get bitten, writhe around for a while in excruciating pain, and then go home.

But knowing Sir Pentious—knowing his own—it might be a plot to disable Alastor so Sir Pentious can gloat over him for an hour before taking off his head with an exterminator's blade. And knowing the population of Hell in general, it might all be a euphemism for something far more salacious that he was simply expected to assume. All he knows for sure is that Sir Pentious is going to be very close, and aside from that it's going to be very unpleasant.

He could have asked for clarification. But asking for clarification would imply that his answer would change depending on Sir Pentious's.

It won't.

So here he is. Painfully clean, absolutely clueless, braced for anything, looking around the lobby, and realizing he's actually braced himself for anything EXCEPT the possibility that he might be stood up completely.

A few minutes after one, he sends out a few shadows as espionage—to Sir Pentious's room, to the boiler room, to the hotel's public areas—and finally, relieved, heads to the garden. He wasn't expecting outside. Maybe Sir Pentious wants to show off his big victory over the great Radio Demon.

When Alastor finally sees him, by way of greeting he calls out, "So how DOES one perform a 'dab'?"

Sir Pentious

Pentious awaited him in the garden, merely to avoid the eyes of that Weird Cat and the others who hung around the Hotel. The outside was brighter, and provided much more ominous lighting. Upon seeing Alastor and hearing his voice, he perked up quite suddenly, hood raising.

The question gets a scoff out of him.

"THE DAB? YOU DON'T KNOW??? IT'SSS LIKE THISS!" Stretching one arm out to the right, he bends his left at the elbow, and dunks his head towards the bend in his arm, holding the pose for at least three seconds.

Alastor

"Like this?" He copies the gesture, a mirror image of Sir Pentious's. A new weapon in his arsenal. "Ha. Like Dracula trying to hide from the sun." He plays a sizzling bacon-in-a-frying-pan sound, like vampire skin burning in the day.

Sir Pentious

Pentious claps his hands together, clearly amused.

"YESSS, JUSSST LIKE THAT! THEY HATE THAT ONE THE MOSSSST."

Alastor

The applause sends a jolt through his chest that he studiously ignores. "I'll add it to my catalogue of torture techniques."

He'd stopped walking far enough away from Sir Pentious that they're out of arm's reach of each other but close enough that they can talk at a normal volume—he wants to get so much closer and stay so much farther away, and this is the point where the impulses barely balanced out. Doing his best not to sound as awkward as he feels, he says, "So, speaking of Dracula..." He spreads his arms: here I am, ready and willing. "Were you planning on having this bite out here? Fine weather for it."

Sir Pentious

Pentious eyes him--he's happy with this distance, too. Satisfied, though, he wants to get closer too... his fangs ache a little, watch the other spread his arms. Yes, they had agreed upon that... At the time, he really didn't think that Alastor would agree. And now here they were! His head darts around some, the cobra looking him over.

"YOU AREN'T GOING TO TRY TO SSSLITHER OUT OF THISSS, ARE YOU, DEEREST ALASTOR?"

Alastor

The jolt is replaced by something more like a knife at the punny term of endeerment. He thinks he kept his wince off his face, but he's not totally sure. He lets his arms drop. "If I was going to be a coward, I would have gotten it over with before agreeing to meet and wasting both our time. I even dressed up for the occasion." He tilts his head, calling attention to his new bow tie.

The trophy Sir Pentious is showing off in his own attire hasn't escaped his notice.

Sir Pentious

"AH, I NOTICED. SSO HAVE I."

He pulls on the bow-tie gift from Alastor, truly VERY smug about it.

"THEN HOLD SSSSTILL..." He moved closer, quite suddenly--the rapid and threatening striking of a snake, his tongue flicking as he was mere inches away from the other.

Alastor

Alastor's eyes widen, he leans back, and his hand flies halfway up to his throat; and then he freezes. Damn. So much for acting completely unflappable.

Sir Pentious would enjoy seeing him flinch, at least.

So. Outside it is. Sir Pentious is probably hoping half of Hell will hear him make the Radio Demon scream.

Alastor completes the motion of his hand up to his throat, but only to undo his tie and fold down his high collar. When was the last time he'd been this close to Sir Pentious? Alastor can see individual scales on his face. He forces himself to make eye contact, offers a wan smile, and says, "Ready when you are."

Sir Pentious

He certainly does enjoy it.

His tongue flicks again, the appendage briefly touching the other's cheek. He didn't MEAN anything weird by it, but he certainly got a scent of him.

Pink hellish slitted eyes focused on the other, and he opened his mouth, baring those enormous fangs. Not yet dripping with venom, but oh the threat was there... Not allowing for anymore hesitation, he lunged--SINKING his fangs into Alastor's neck, deep and piercing.

Alastor

Alastor's eyes automatically squeeze shut as Sir Pentious licks him, his breath freezing. Before he has a chance to process the what the hell that means—

He gasps in sharply, a noisy crackling sound, as Sir Pentious's fangs sink in; but the gasp itself is buried under the sound of his voice stuttering across several stations, bursts of overlapping songs—a few incoherent notes of "Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life" and " Snake Eyes" and "Black Snake Moan." The pain from the bite alone is excruciating. Focusing. Focusing him primarily on the fact that Sir Pentious's face is pressed between Alastor's shoulder and his throat.

Sir Pentious

Pentious didn't really know what to expect upon sinking his fangs in, but the radio sounds should have been first on his guess list. It was definitely jarring to hear them so close to his head. Pentious places his hands on both of Alastor's shoulders, now digging his claws into his suit. Just claw him up! Why not!!!

At this closeness, it was all too easy to hear that raspy, human like breathing that cobras made. Like he was going to devour the Radio Demon whole.

Alastor

If Sir Pentious wants to take a strip of Alastor's throat with him when he pulled back—hell, if he wants to take Alastor's whole shoulder—Alastor isn't going to complain. He has to bite his lower lip hard enough to make it bleed to fight the urge to bite Sir Pent back—he's RIGHT THERE, it would be SO EASY to taste his blood—but that would be the end of this trust exercise.

At times it's struck Alastor that Sir Pentious's hissing sounds more than passingly close to a radio's static—and that's even more evident now, hearing his breathing like a rush of wind over a microphone, blowing over his neck. Alastor tries to steady his stuttery station-jumping breath. He leans into the pain cutting up his shoulders and curls his claws into the fabric at the waist of Sir Pent's jacket.

Sir Pentious

He can taste Alastor's blood, and it fills him with madness.

Pentious draws back, blood coating his fangs, as he holds the other up.

"HHMMM.... YOU REALLY DIDN'T MOVE. HAD YOU TRIED, I WOULD HAVE INJECTED YOU WITH MY VENOM!!!"

... But also, the lack of trying to escape, of trying to turn this into some sick broadcast... It resonated with the inventor. Pentious looked over his former ally, and frustration filled his gaze. Frustration and longing.

"... Why couldn't you have ssstayed?"

Of course, this wasn't the same Alastor. Not his own, but... whatever. A moment of vulnerability, just one.

Alastor

Alastor leans longingly after the retreating fangs before catching himself and straightening back up.

At the question, for a moment, his smile almost cracks. His brows draw closer, the corner of his bloody mouth twitches. When he replies, the constant distortion overlaying his voice dies. He almost sounds like a person. "Because I'm a coward."

He didn't mean to say it. He would never have said it under any other circumstances, but he's dizzy and lightheaded and euphoric from the pain and the close contact, and sick guilt he's spent over half a century trying to suppress is buzzing in his chest—and he's said it now.

Sir Pentious

The admission causes Pentious' hood to flare out--whatever he was expecting to hear then, well, just as before, it completely caught him off guard. He couldn't take it at face value, he couldn't trust him. His hand immediate shoots to Alastor's neck, grabbing him and pulling him closer.

"ARE YOU MOCKING ME, ALASSTOR? TELLING ME WHAT YOU THINK I'D WANT TO HEAR??? YOU??? A COWARD??? YOU MUSSST THINK ME A FOOL!!!"

Not that it sounded any which way! But... Pentious was angry to hear it, all the same. It's like he wanted the other to deny it, he wanted him to make up some sort of joke and play him for a fool. He wanted an excuse to tear him apart--but hearing this vulnerability in return put a sense of mortality in him he hadn't known in so, so long.

He'd been betrayed by his only friend, after all, and the serpent struggled so much in trying to make any.

It had been years since then, but still... It hurt him in a way he hadn't thought possible for his old black heart.

Alastor

His hands immediately fly up to the hand around his neck, claws digging into the wrist, prepared to wrench it off—and then, just as abruptly, he forces himself to let go. No, damn it, he's not here to fight.

"You don't want to hear this! I don't think there's a single answer you'd trust out of me but whatever's the cruelest thing I could think of to say—no matter what the truth is." Wasn't that the point of this exercise? To get around the limitation of words, the fact that Sir Pentious couldn't trust and Alastor couldn't be trusted?

So much for that. Hadn't Alastor already known there were no such thing as second chances? Let him be torn apart, it would heal in a few days and he'd learn an important lesson.

Sir Pentious

"CAN YOU BLAME ME!?"

Pentious' voice cracks as he speaks, and he eyes where he'd bit him. He had to think of Valera's words... He seems lonely. She'd compared the two, made them sound so similar... Could trusting him really be a good idea?

... He really did enjoy that visit they had together, eating pasta bolognese and drinking brandy. It had been so... familiar. Pentious frowned, frustration and... distress pulling at every part of himself. His claws flexed, but he pulled them away from Alastor's neck... and he looked down, pulling at his hood like he were considering covering his face with them.

Alastor

"No! I can't!" His voice is thick, a feedback echo whining under his words. "You have EVERY REASON not to trust me! I'd sooner ask Saint Peter for a second chance than ask you." He flings a hand carelessly in the vague direction of Heaven.

And yet, for a moment he'd been stupid and let himself hope. He had to remind himself who he was here to help. "I'm not ASKING for a second chance. Just—don't fight me. And I won't have to fight you."

He feels colder without Sir Pentious within touching distance. He crosses his arms tightly, biting one corner of his mouth to make sure his smile is still up.

Sir Pentious

It stings.

Pentious knows how he's being difficult. His hands open and close, and he grits his teeth, eyes closed tightly. He wishes he could just... move past this and immediately either be fully friends or fully enemies. This was purgatory like no other.

Agreeing to anything felt like giving up and the snake wasn't good at that either.

He glares at Alastor, "DON'T GO ANYWHERE. LET ME THINK."

Alastor

What is there to think about? How hard is it to decide whether or not to keep starting one-sided fights with someone?

But he collects himself. He takes a deep breath, uncrosses his arms, smooths out his bangs, clasps his hands behind his back, corrects his posture, fixes his smile properly back in place, and tries to look past Sir Pentious's visible turmoil and at the garden. Lightly, he says, "I'm not leaving," and immediately regrets as he realizes how easily he could have followed it up with this time.

Sir Pentious

Sometimes he wants to just... grab him by the face and force that smile OFF. But he'll calm himself...

He can't have him as a rival, or as a nemesis. Their paths were too different, and not only that, they were from entirely different Hells!

So close, yet.... Pentious took a deep breath. You're not losing anything, man. You're not. Why was this so hard?

His gaze travels back to the bite, and he flicks his tongue.

"... WHEN WASS THE LASST TIME YOU ALLOWED YOURSSSELF TO BE ATTACKED LIKE THAT?"

Alastor

He blinks, taken aback by the question—and then has to stop and think.

He's always had an unusually casual relationship with pain—and that only increased after he died and no longer had to worry about any damage being permanent. Hell, he's voluntarily been skinned alive so that he could get his own hide tanned—but that wasn't being attacked, that was more like an extreme cosmetic surgery. He's let people who would otherwise never leave a scratch on him get in a stab wound—but that was so he could lure them in close enough to rip them apart. As a child he'd sometimes been too afraid to fight back—but that's very different from consenting to being attacked, isn't it?

"Never."

Will Sir Pentious even believe that? Probably not. Of course not. Alastor wonders why he bothered to ask.

Sir Pentious

He looks at him a long time... studying his expression. Looking for something to pick apart... but it was always that same damn face.

The hum of radio feedback if he stared too long.

Alastor

There isn't much to pick apart. He meets Sir Pentious's gaze when he feels that sharp stare on him, then almost immediately looks away.

He wants to ask whether he ought to be contributing something to the proceedings or if this thinking Sir Pentious is doing is still a solo endeavor, but he forces himself to swallow his nervous chatter and quietly start playing "Snake Eyes" again to fill the silence.

Sir Pentious

The tune is so jaunty, and Pentious twitches... but this was exactly like Alastor, too. You couldn't have a moment's silence with him... The snake groaned, covering his face. Alright. Alright.

".... ALASTOR."

Alastor

The music snaps off. "Sir Pentious?"

Sir Pentious

... You know, it was. Definitely surprising not to hear "Sir Harold". It takes him a moment.

He takes out a GUN, and aims it at Alastor.

"TELL ME AGAIN WHAT YOU WANT OUT OF THISS, AND I WILL NOT QUESSTION IT AGAIN. YOU HAVE MY WORD ON THE MATTER. DO YOU WANT TO BE MY ... FRIEND? OR DO YOU JUST WANT ME OUT OF YOUR HAIR?"

Alastor

Oh—oh, good god, he hadn't planned on being asked directly. (Or with a gun. But the gun was meaningless, the gun was for emphasis. The gun was an exclamation point.)

Being honest had been the biggest mistake of this conversation so far. The closer Alastor got to telling the truth, the less trustworthy he sounded, the less Sir Pentious was going to take what he said into account. The safe answer was "out of my hair." It was the answer that would make sure Sir Pentious was...

... gone, again. Gone and safe.

But, unless Alastor was completely wrong about everything he thought he knew about this Sir Pentious—

—it sounded like he was, impossibly, offering Alastor a second chance.

He croaked, "Friend."

And then, with the dam broken, more tumbled out: "I give you my word that's not what I came to ask for. I'm only here to try to get myself out of YOUR h—hood. But if— What I want— That's what I WANT."

Sir Pentious

Well, he was damned. Valera was right.

This Alastor, much like himself, was a lonely old man. He wanted to be his friend. The snake could only stare, his arm lowering, and with it the pistol too.

"... Really?" This wasn't a voice of accusation or vitriol, or demanding anything. Just, outright, innocent confusion.

Alastor

Alastor had been half expecting a bullet through his pretty new rose-shaped pin. He HADN'T been expecting that look. Perplexingly, it looked like a sort of expression that suggested that Sir Pentious might actually believe him.

A wild panicked voice in the back of his head tried to tell him to yell JUST KIDDING, drop Sir Pentious through a particularly painful portal, and bolt from the scene like a buck out of Hell.

It was the same panicked voice that had gotten him into this mess fifty-fucking-four years ago. He wasn't going to listen to it again.

He looked for something snappy to say, couldn't find anything, and said, "Yes. Really."

Sir Pentious

VALERA WAS RIGHT AAAAAHe put the weapon away, straightening his Alastor's bowtie, and gave a smile... although it was strained. Struggling. "... YOU REALLY ARE FROM ANOTHER DIMENSION, YOU KNOW. THISS COULD NEVER BE MY REALITY."

Alastor

Bow tie. Right, he should—Alastor straightened his collar back into place and retied his now slightly bloodstained bow. "Nor mine," he muttered, his smile sinking toward a grimace. He could have said the exact same words to his own Sir Pentious—but those words NEVER would have been trusted by someone who knew exactly what he'd done when he left. The only reason he'd gotten this far was because that not-knowing meant he could get the benefit of the doubt.

What could he do, then, but milk it for all it was worth as long as he could?

"I can't do anything about my duplicate in your universe. But any time you care to come to mine... well." Well. Friends.

Sir Pentious

Oh, damn. There was that warm feeling in his chest--it felt like he had internal bleeding. It ached and stung, and Pentious clutched his suit some to try to soothe the pain.

He was too expressive for his own food, clearing his throat.

"DON'T SSOUND LIKE YOU'RE ABOUT TO TAKE YOUR LEAVE, ALASTOR. I TOLD YOU TO TAKE THE DAY OFF, AND YOU'RE GOING TO!"

Alastor

"Am I!" His face lit up. "Why? Are we finally going to get to thar part you promised where I'm crying like a baby from pain?"

Sir Pentious

"WHY DO YOU SSOUND SSO EXCITED?"

"YOU WANT THAT?"

Alastor

"Well, you were so graphic about it, you got my hopes up! I set aside the rest of the week to recover and everything." He paused just long enough to get Sir Pentious time to process that. "KIDDING! No, what did you have planned?"

Sir Pentious

.......... NOW HE'S ADVANCING ON ALASTOR, hood raised and eyes glowing red. That menacing long grin.

"OH, NO, ALASTOR, YOU WERE SSSSO EXCITED. I INSSSISSST!"

Alastor

For a moment, he stares at Sir Pentious, eyes wide. Somewhere beneath his usual static, S.O.S. beeps in Morse.

Then he flatly asks, "Do we have to?" But he's reaching for his bow tie again. One final test would be fair, wouldn't it? Alastor deserves at least that much.

Sir Pentious

Oh no. He looks conflicted!!! This man just told him he wanted to be friends!

",,, ALASTOR! YOU CAME HERE WANTING TO BE BITTEN AND POISONED AND NOW YOU DON'T WANT IT BUT ALSO DO?? BE CLEAR, BE CONSISE!!

Alastor

"I was joking about the poison part!" No more masochistic humor in THIS universe. "It sounds a little bit extreme for my idea of a fun afternoon. I was willing to do it to prove my, ah... sentiments—but if we're PAST that, I'd just as happily move on to something less excruciating."

Sir Pentious

He HUFFS. His fangs ache, wanting to bite into something again, but also... He looks strained.

".... SS... SSSSINCE YOU'RE HERE.... DO YOU WANT TO... COME INSIDE???"

Alastor

Is Sir Pentious disappointed? Alastor eyes him carefully a moment, then says, "Sure." After another pause, even more carefully, he asks, "Are you opposed to letting me see what you've been up to in that boiler room of yours?"

Sir Pentious

Little does Alastor know, Penny is suffering from a dizziness spell. It was a side effect of using his fangs like that, even if he didn't use his venom. He had a lot of physicality issues.

Pentious slithered towards the front entrance, "AH, MY RAIL GUN? SURE, AS LONG AS YOU DON'T THINK YOU CAN TAKE IT FROM ME."

Alastor

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Rail gun! Alastor followed after Sir Pentious, just short of skipping in delight. "What would I do with it, anyway—try to carry it around on my shoulder like a bazooka? Ha! No, no—I just want to see what kind of damage it can do."

Then they went inside to play with dangerous toys, the end.

#hissandvinegar #chat log #((anybody who followed my RP blog randomly rather than through my main fic blog is prrrobably gonna be surprised lmfao))#((SURPRISE guess what we ship around here))#((for those of y'all who DID follow me from my main fic blog: look it's like it's an AU post CDIH redemption arc speedrun))

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blackenedwhite97 · 3 years

Text

Trials ( An Erasermic x Reader Medieval AU Ch.13-14)

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

https://blackenedwhite97.tumblr.com/post/643722830321696769/trials-an-erasermic-x-reader-medieval-au

CHAPTER 13

"I grew up in the south, far, far away from here." Shouta sat down on the edge of the bed and beckoned for you to do the same. "In fact, I grew up just beyond the southern border, a little ways north of the Southern capital. My parents were wealthy and we lived in a country estate for most of my childhood. We found out about my ability very early on, I reacted instinctively to another child's flare up and quite literally doused a fire straight from their hands. I didn't know then but now that I'm older, I believe my father had an ability of his own, he and my mother used to whisper cryptically about it when they thought I was asleep."

Shouta looked ahead, his eyes watching for something far off, his hand absentmindedly snaking it's fingers through yours. You wrapped your hand around his and listened intently. He'd never spoken much about his life before Kaer Yuuei, only sparing comments here or there about how his mother would or wouldn't like something Hizashi or you were doing, or about the wild nature of his hair was his father's fault.

"We stayed away from the city as much as possible, especially as a family. My father, I remember, would travel back and forth quite a bit. I now realize it was to keep me out of as many compromising situations as possible." Shouta scratched his chin, "I remember how excited I was to get to go to a big event one summer when I was sixteen, I didn't get a whole lot of socialization outside of my family, afterall. The formalwear was itchy and hot, I remember that, the wine tasted terrible and everyone was trying to get married and engaged. It was horrendous if I'm being totally honest."

"I snuck out." Shouta sighed, as if he were confessing. "I snuck out into the gardens of the estate, a fair few of the older men had gone out to drink and smoke away from the general event. They were beyond drunk, and one of them, beyond being able to control himself. It happened quickly, I'm not entirely sure what sparked it, but words were said and offenses made and then there was lighting. A kid, maybe my age, maybe a little bit older, was lit up like a cloud in a storm." Shouta paused, grinding his teeth and taking a deep breath. "I stopped him. I stopped him, but at the cost of outing myself."

Shouta took a minute to himself, whether it was intentionally to gather himself or whether he had fallen into a deep memory, you weren't sure. You let him stay silent, you weren't sure where this was going but you could tell that every word was almost painful for him to speak. It was as if every word was hot to the touch, scalding his tongue for daring to tell the story. When he spoke again he was quieter, scared, possibly mournful.

"The event was being hosted at a very rich family's estate, House Noro." Shouta's eye twitched and his lips pursed.

Your heart sank as the realization that Shouta was about to tell you about what had brought him to Kaer Yuuei. You'd managed to grab parts of the story between Hizashi and Toshinori but they were both reluctant to speak about it fully. From what you were able to piece together, Shouta had some sort of contact with House Noro that ended violently and Hizashi happened across him on his way to Kaer Yuuie. You wrapped your free arm around Shouta's waist and pulled him close, putting your chin on his shoulder and placing a soft kiss to his temple. He leaned into you with a sigh.

"They arrested- abducted both of us that night. I was left in a cell for a few days, starved so I would be more agreeable when they eventually got around to dealing with me. As for the other kid, I heard that he was lashed to death." Shouta's hand began to tremble in yours. "They beat me, at first without any reason. I think they just wanted to ensure that I was broken in before they enslaved me. My ability, it was of interest to them. There was a man, Kozan was his name, who wanted me weaponized."

"Kozan," Shouta's nostrils flared at the name and you already had a bad taste in your mouth about him, " was the newly appointed leader of the extermination effort, as they called it. He saw what I could do and wanted to seize my ability for himself. I was the first gifted person they'd ever abducted for work, I saw a test subject for them. They used me, both for my ability and to learn how to keep other gifted people they found useful in check.

"I was toured around with them like a show horse they'd beat for jest at the end of the day. I'd learned quickly that if I did as I saw told and asked no questions that the beating would be minimal, that fighting back prolonged things. I-"

Shouta's voice cracked and he slouched forward, pulling away from you, and dropped his head into his hands.

"I would erase their abilities and let them get arrested, or beaten or-" Shouta let out a shaky breath, dripping with pain. "killed."

"Sho," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You were transported back to that night in the barn, you trembling under the realization of what you'd done. He was like you, haunted by something he had to do to survive. "they took away your choice. What you did wasn't you, it was them."

Shouta choked back a sob. You'd never seen him openly cry before and it was crushing you, like seeing your father cry. It felt world ending. He leaned back into you and let you swaddle him with your arms, breathing heavily into your chest.

"I told myself that I was only being used when the target was being violent and belligerent, that I was stopping more casualties in the long run. But then there was a kid," he breathed, eventually, "really young, maybe five or six. He was- fuck- he was so scared and I couldln't do it anymore. I lost it."

Shouta sat up and rubbed his red, swollen eyes. Looking down, he continued.

"He was like you, he could conjure things. Well, one thing, a protective bubble around himself." Shouta sniffed. "I told them that I couldn't do it, that the bubble stopped me but I knew I could. Kozan- he knew I was lying- he started to bet me right then and there. I fought back, took out four men with my bare hands before they beat me to unconsciousness. I- I still don't know what happened to that kid."

You were fighting back your own tears, the image of Shouta lying face down in the mud beaten bloody made your stomach twist up in violent knots. You looked up at his scar, remembering him running his fingers over it when Hizashi had mentioned him getting hurt very badly when you'd first met. Kozan. That name burned into your mind, a looming figure to match, a bright red target between his eyes.

'When I woke I was in the stocks," Shouta had calmed now, his voice even but a whisper, "I couldn't hold myself up."

Shouta looked behind you at Hizashi, a sudden air of relief slowly appeasing a fraction of his pain. Hizashi, you realized before Shouta even said it, had saved you both.

"That when he found me." Shouta mumbled tiredly. "Zash broke me out of those stocks in his typical clumsy fashion and whisked me away off towards salvation. He deafened a good handful of Noro footmen on the way, the first time I'd smiled in years."

"Years?" you squeaked.

"Two and half." Shouta nodded sadly.

Your lip quivered. You pressed him closer to you, you didn't know what else to do. All you had was letting him know you were there, that he wasn't there, with them, anymore. He pressed back into you, his arms snaking around your waist.

"I'm sorry." you muttered.

He didn't say anything, instead he took a deep breath and nuzzled into your hair. You stayed like that for a while, until he grew heavy on top of you and you could tell he was fighting off sleep. His eyes were drooping, heavy with tears and exhaustion. You shushed him like a mother to a child and told to rest. You promised him safety and that you'd be right next to him. He frowned, his mind already half taken by dream.

"I'm scared to lose-" he muttered, his lips barely able to part. He faded away, and you let him.

CHAPTER 14

The snow was cold against your skin, a welcomed change to the suffocating heat of Shouta's arms. You'd tried to stay in bed, tired to find sleep but your heart was beating so ferociously you could feel it in every part of your body. Even now, your ears were still red hot. The wintery chill had once against offered you reprieve of searing panic, as it seeped into you the panic left. As you crunched through the snow, following your sporadic tracks from earlier, you tried to reign in your thoughts.

You saw Shouta covered in blood, bruised face and broken will. You saw the embers that glowed on the ashened remains of the annihilated village like Kaer Yuuie to the south. You saw the man at your door, the knife in his hand, the sickening grin he'd had as he threatened you. You saw a child, scared and crying, surrounded by the only protection he could muster. You saw Kirishima, the kid who always smiled at you when you walked in the gates and the rows of gifted art from students that Hizashi hung up in the apartment. You saw a looming figure clad in black armour, no face, no soul, a glowing read target between his eyes.

You stumbled against a solid surface that had risen in front of your feet, and tumbled forward hard. You landed at the steps of the hall, your palms bruising on the stone. You looked up frustrated and ready to accost the building for getting in your way when you saw that the door still cracked open and a dull light flickering inside. Now that you weren't being consumed entirely by your thought you realized that you were shivering, the heat of anxiety had worn thin and you had vernuted out into the snow without your coat and your body was beginning to notice. You pushed yourself up and laboured up the stairs, your knees sore from your tumble.

You slipped in the doorway and looked around the dully lit chamber to see who'd left the door ajar. The hall stretched out before you, far emptier than it had been earlier that night. A lone figure, broad and inhumanly large sat on what used to be a throne, hunched forward head in his hands. You recognized that stressed position immediately, he often sat like that when vital councils were called. Toshinori would sit like that quietly, listening carefully to what everyone had to say with his eyes closed, massaging circles into his eyes soken with his palms. You thought about turning around, going back into the cold but the door had different plans and a powerful gust of wind shook it in it's frame and started Toshinori. He looked up, bleary eyed.

"Ah," he cleared his throat. "Y/n. Come in, it's freezing out."

"Thanks." you smiled politely and scutteled farther into the hall, away from the howling wind and blowing snow.

"Why are you up and walking around at this hour?" He asked, sitting up in his seat. Genuine concern marked his features, he'd be thinking about you when you walked in. You could feel it.

"Couldn't sleep." you said, hoping he'd leave it at that. But of course, he was a good man.

"Are you scared?' He asked grimly. "You're safe here."

Embers and ash filled your minds in a hot white flash and suddenly you felt anger. Anger or fear. You couldn't tell.

"For how long? Until they find us and burn this place down like they did in the south?" You snapped.

"This place is different, Y/n. We're better prepared, we're already better defended." Toshinori's voice remained calm, soothing almost. You felt more frustrated by it.

"What if they find it? What if my necklace- if I led them close enough that they sniff us out?" You felt angry tears pricking at the edges of your vision.

"Like I said, we're prepared-"

"What if we aren't!" You interrupted. Your voice was louder than you'd meant it to be, emotion taking control.

"We are." Toshinori stood, his voice stern but no louder than before. He walked down the single step down towards you. The closer he got the more imposing he felt, it was a side effect of his size. You were reminded, looking up at him that he was in fact a Lord and you needed to control yourself. You wiped your tears away and took a breath before speaking again, this thought had been ever creeping forward from the back of your mind you saw the necklace.

"I need to leave." you sniffed, calmer now. "I could make some noise and lead them away."

"No." Toshiori didn't hesitate. His hands clasped down on your shoulders gently. "I'm not sending you out there to get hurt."

"You have to do what's right from you people, Toshinori." you tried to sound reasonable even though you weren't sure you really wanted this either. "They can't hunt or travel outside the walls and they'll begin to suffer for it! You can't expect people to stay-"

"You're my people." Toshinori interrupted you, his calm demeanor shaken. "I will not sacrifice one of my own."

"It's my choice!" You snapped, pulling away from him. It scared the hell out of you but the fact that Toshinori wouldn't even consider your plan- accept your help, enraged you.

"Everyone knows what it means to be out there, Y/n. No one here wants to feed you to the hounds even if it means a quick fix!" Toshinori was gritting his teeth and balling his fists at his side.

"It's not about want, it's about need." Toshinori was a good man and he was kind but that would be the death of him and, if he continued to think like this, his people. "You have to make this decision for you people, not your own sterling morality!"

"You are my people!" He bellowed, stepping forward and reaching out for you. He stopped short, pulling away and sighing. He was already feeling guilty for his outburst. When he spoke again it was in a quieter, stern voice, an air of finality to it you'd never heard him speak with before. "I will not send one of my own to die because the rest of us have to deal with some restlessness for a while. Your life is worth more than that, every life is worth more than that. I'm not trying to save you, Y/n L/n, I'm trying to save one of my people. Letting you be a pawn is as good as telling everyone else they are pawns, and I am not and will not be that kind of Lord."

You were stunned. Stunned at his honesty, stunned at his calm, stunned at your own insolence, and stunned at his refusal to make the strategic decision. He was both the best and the worst Lord you ever lived under. He was kind and just to his people but he wasn't willing to make the hard decisions his position forced him into. If he waited any longer for a council to make a plan then House Noro was going to be sieging the fortress in the blink of an eye and this haven he'd built would be reduced to ashes. If Toshinori couldn't make this decision then Shouta would have to face the Noros again and it would break him.

You were silent, the duality of resenting Toshinori's words and guilting over your unearned resentment tearing into you. He was doing the best he could, the best he knew how to. It just wasn't good enough. Not now.

"Go home." Toshinori broke the tense silence. "Go home to your family. Let me worry about this, this isn't all on you. It was your necklace, yes, but it could have been anyone else's personal belonging. This isn't on you."

You nodded. He was wrong, or course. He was trying to be kind, hell, he could actually believe what he was telling you. You had killed the young Lord Bennett, sicked the Noro hounds on yourself, led them to your necklace that they were now using to track you and therefore the fortress. Sure, it'd been retrieved but they were already here, coming to the valleys and soon to be hiking up the mountain sides. The best course of action was the one you'd been trying to convince yourself of this whole time.

You hugged yourself close and strode out into the snowy night, your footprints slowly filling in behind you. You could feel Toshinori watching you walk down the road, the image of his tired, worried eyes nagging your resolution. You wanted to believe him, you really did. It wasn't his fault that this was happening, it wasn't his fault that you were a carrier of misfortune. You had to do this for him, make this decision.

You were sure. You were absolutely sure, your resolve had never been stronger. Then you opened the door to your home, Hizashi and Shouta draped over each other. Their faces were angelic in the low like, soft and serene. Hizashi's hair made a flaxen halo that encased them both, you picture wings sprouting from their backs. You hadn't been a religious woman in the traditional sense for many years, not since your parents had died really, but you still firmly believed in the idea of guardian angels. How could you not when you were looking at yours now. Fear welled up in you. You were going to lose them either way, at least this way they wouldn't be lost to House's Noro's blade. At least this way they could tell themselves that you left them, that you picked up and moved on. At least this way they wouldn't be looking their final moments in the eyes knowing that you'd brought death upon them. No, this was better, you reassured yourself.

You had to tear your eyes away from them, every fiber of your being begging to crawl into the bed with them and let their arms envelop you like they did every night. You wanted to at least touch them, give them farewell kisses on their foreheads and tell them you loved them and watched as their sleeping faces grew grins. But you knew that if you did that you would melt into them and stay the night and in the morning all of your will power would be gone. So instead you turned to the writing desk and scribbled 'I'm sorry' and ' I love you', you knew it wouldn't help them in the slightest when they woke up to find you gone but it wasn't for them. It was your last selfish act, you had to let them know that you loved them more deeply than you'd ever loved before. That was for you. They would still have each other.

It was as if you'd faded into your body and let instinct take over from there on out, you packed a bag with rations and winter clothes and dressed in the bare minimum you thought you'd need to stay light on your feet. It was surreal to see what your body knew how to do on instinct, it knew how quiet to be, where to find supplies and how softly to shut the door. It knew what shadows to keep to and what areas of wall were sometimes looked over in patrol, it knew when to flatten against walls to hide and when to dart across open spaces as quickly as possible. It even knew how long of a rope to conjure to scale down the side of the outer fortress wall and how little time you would have to dart into the heavy tree line before someone saw you.

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motleymoose · 4 years

Text

Homecoming Pt 4: Nevvarro Ch 5

Chapter 5 The Peace Within

Fandom: The Mandalorian, Star Wars Characters: Paz Viszla (Paz Vizla), Gender-Neutral Reader Words: 1.8k+ Warnings: Blood, Fluff!!!

Summary:

A little calm in the calamity.

Notes:

See? See?!? I TOLD you there was gonna be some happiness… sorta!!!

Thanks for reading! Look out for Part 5!!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Homecoming Masterlist

Sprinting down the lonely hallway, I ignored the blood dripping down my face, allowing my instincts rather than sight to guide me out of the Clan’s maze of tunnels. I didn’t know where I was, or where exactly I was going, but I knew I had to be out of the covert, away from Din Djarin and everything he believed in.

Vaguely aware of the shadowy forms darting out of the way as I passed, I kept my head down and ran. I didn’t need to breathe, didn’t need to think. All I needed to do was run. Run and forget and never feel again.

The whispering shadows thinned. The air grew cooler. But I let it all go, the only sensations I wanted were my heart beating in my chest and the soft soles of my boots slapping the smooth concrete. I didn’t stop to catch my breath, didn’t slow down to find my bearings. I ran as if it were the only thing keeping me alive.

I was so caught up in the thrill of flight that I didn’t notice the floor gradually slanting upwards. The toes of my boots caught on the treads carved into the concrete, a change from the smoothness of the hallways. But I didn’t stop to look. I just kept on running.

Until I reached a dead end. Well, not exactly a dead end, but a door. A door, guarded by two Mandalorians casually lounging against a scattering of crates. Blocking my way to freedom.

I skidded to a stop, blowing like a bellows. Sweat plastered my jumpsuit to my body, blood trickling down the back of my throat. I tried to swallow, but choked instead.

“Udesii! Me’bana? Me’viinii gar teh, vaar’ika?” the same gigantic blue-gray warrior from before asked calmly, a large gloved hand extended to show he didn’t mean any harm. He approached me slowly, a wounded and frightened creature ready to bolt. Wild and feral, my eyes were surely rolling white and my nostrils flaring in distress.

“I need… to-to get out… Now,” I panted, licking at a split in my bottom lip. My tongue came away metallic and salty, bile rising in response. The adrenaline began to ebb, and I doubled over, the pain from my injuries unfurling themselves in thorny red waves. I couldn’t help but groan.

“Easy, vod’ika. Breathe.” The blue-gray warrior angled his helmet towards his partner, speaking a clipped version of Mando’a I couldn’t understand. With a nod, the other Mandalorian took off at a light jog down the tunnel, disappearing around a corner.

The echoing bootsteps faded to nothing. His attention back on me, the large warrior squatted in front of me, tilting his visor until he knew I could see him. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his warm voice a soothing balm to my jangled nerves.

I didn’t know this warrior, and he sure as hell didn’t know me. What gave him the fragging right to ask me this?

“Naas,” I replied dryly. Mandalorians asked to find out things in a literal sense. I didn’t feel like telling him anything.

But he could sense that. “Ibac’jehaat, ad’ika. You don’t have to tell me,” he said. Unfolding himself to his imposing height, he stood straight once more and motioned me over to the crates. “Come, atinad’ika. Let me take a look at that naas on your face.”

Spent from fighting and running and ignoring the confusion of emotions, I dragged myself to the crates and hoisted onto one. I sullenly stared into space as the blue-gray Mando dug through one of the other crates, shifting the contents this way and that in his search. Soon, he held a medkit proudly aloft and plopped it beside me.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” I asked, only half-joking. I turned my attention to his hands, unable to trust anything about him, even after the kindness he’d shown me.

“Not in the least; I never could pass my basic med training,” he deadpanned as he peeled off his gloves. His hands, I was surprised to note, were a deep golden russet bordering on bronze, strong and well-defined and peppered with thin white scars. Long fingers, the pinkie and ring finger on his left hand crooked at the first and second knuckles as if they had been broken and then healed improperly, looked warm and inviting, and I had to stop myself from reaching over to trace my fingers over the backs of his hands. He angled his visor at me. I furrowed my brow and coughed, hoping he hadn’t noticed my staring.

I was rewarded with a glob of phlegm from the depths of my guts. It was unpleasant, and I gagged a little at the taste.

He must have taken it as doubt, for he tried again to assuage my imagined fears. “Really, you don’t have to worry. I can take care of a few scrapes.” The smile in his voice sent a tingle down my spine, building on the off-centering feeling of wanting to be taken care of. By him.

I swallowed the blood and the bile and the need for comfort, choosing instead to tentatively meet his gaze. “You don’t have to…” I stopped, weakly gesturing at my face with a bloodied hand.

The warrior shrugged, busying himself with the medkit latch. “We take care of our own. Now hold still, this is gonna sting.”

“But-”

“K’uur, atinad’ika. Let me do my work in peace.”

Several quick jabs with a syringe and a liberal application of bacta gel later, and I was physically feeling a little less bruised.

Packing the unused med supplies back into the kit, he pushed the trash aside and joined me on the crate, legs splayed out in front of him, boots windshield-wipering back and forth to a beat only he could hear. The quiet between us settled around our bodies in thick, feathery layers.

I could say it was a relief to sit in companionable silence. After everything I had fought against, after all the fear and the anger and the frustration that had built up over the last week, it should have been nice to just sit and not be asked of anything. But as all things with my mind, I wouldn’t cooperate.

Tense and ready to spring at the slightest provocation, I gripped the square edge of the crate, my knuckles turning white and my nails bending against the hard plastic. The silence was nerve-wracking. It got under my skin, made me itchy and restless. With no distractions and little ambient sound, the words began to fall out of my mouth, fuzzy and coarse and prickly.

“I only wanted to get off that doshing moon,” I began, voice low and grainy. “I thought… I hoped that I could. With… him.” I couldn’t bring myself to utter Din’s name. Even though we may have shared the same adoptive buir, I didn’t have to like the guy, refused to show him much respect. Not after Bosph. Not after all of our fights. “Seeing him, I thought… I thought all Mandalorians were like my buir.”

Humming softly, the blue-gray Mando cocked his helmet in understanding. “Munit tome’tayl, skotah iisa,” he replied.

I laughed feebly. “Yeah. That he is.” Slowly, I unclamped my fingers from the side of the crate and laid them, palms up, in my lap. I stared blankly at them as I continued. “Sometimes I get so… so angry, that I can’t hold it in. The more I shove it back, the sharper it gets, until, well.” I pointed to my face again. “Can’t say what he did was unwarranted. I’ve been a bit of a fragging ass, despite his best efforts at keeping me alive.”

It was the giant’s turn to laugh, the gravelly chuckle buzzing pleasantly through the modulator.

Sighing heavily, I curled my fingers into my palms, briefly digging my nails into the oil-stained flesh. “But he-he had no right. In bringing me here. I didn’t choose to be cared for by a war criminal.” I turned my hands over, rolling the knuckles into the tops of my thighs, palms slicking with sweat as I remembered. “This isn’t my cause, you… you aren’t my people.” Biting my lip, I screwed my eyes shut, the tell-tale pricklings of tears welling behind the lids frightening me more than getting caught in a blaster fight. I was not going to cry. Not now, not in front of this warrior. Not ever.

“Let me out… please. I can’t be here. I-I don’t belong.”

The words caught him off guard as much as they did me. Shifting his body to face me, the Mandalorian brought a bare hand up to gingerly cup my chin, tipping my head back until I was forced to open my eyes and look at him. “Don’t belong? Atinad’ika,” he said quietly, dropping the hand to my shoulder with a squeeze. “Gar tal’din naas jaon’yc.”

“Don’t give me that line of kovedee’osik,” I said cooly, shrugging off his comforting hand, twisting away from his warmth. There was that biting anger again, rearing its ugly head at any sign of pity or sympathy. “I don’t want to belong. I’m just fine by myself,” I lied, mostly to myself. “I’m going.”

The blue-gray Mandalorian sat staring at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then, slapping his beskared thighs with his beautiful hands, he stood up and strode purposefully to the door. “We can’t hold you against your will, atinad’ika,” he sighed, sliding back bolts with practiced ease. “Even if you don’t believe you are part of this Clan, we will always accept you back. No matter what happens out there.” Finished with the bolts, he turned to the control panel to punch in the code. “But one thing, atinad’ika.” His dark tan fingers hovered over the release button, helmet tilted towards me. “We aren’t the only ones who know about your buir. There are… other forces out there that also search for him. And if they find out that you are his…”

I froze. Frag. I hadn’t even thought about someone else out there to get me. “What would you have me do?” I asked, swallowing the cracks in my voice.

Lowering his hand, the Mandalorian turned to me, tensed as if ready for a struggle. “Are you sure you want to know?” he murmured, his vocoder barely registering the rich depths of his voice.

“Elek,” I replied nervously, knowing all too well what he was going to ask of me.

“Stay.”

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Notes:

Udesii! Me’bana? Me’viinii gar teh, vaar’ika? - Take it easy (Calm down!)! What’s happening (what’s happened?)? What are you running from, pipsqueak? [lit. What running you from, runt? - mashed the Mando’a] vod’ika. - little sibling ad’ika - little one, son, daughter, of any age - also used informally to adults much like *lads* or *guys* Naas - Nothing Ibac’jehaat, ad’ika - That is a lie, little one [what even is sentence structure] atinad’ika - [not not a word] little stubborn one (atin - stubborn; ad’ika - little one) K’uur, atinad’ika. - Hush, little stubborn one. Munit tome’tayl, skotah iisa, - long memory, short fuse - said to be the typical Mando mindset Gar tal’din naas jaon’yc.. - Your past is unimportant. (lit. Your bloodline is nothing important) [butchers the Mando’a] kovedee’osik - bullshit (kovedee - cow-like creature the size of a bison; osik - shit {or dung, but insulting-like}) [just gonna keep on making up words until someone corrects me] Elek - Yes

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