#but the glow and drip is something you only get in the darker form cause thats the 'dead zone' for colors. theres a lot of weird biology | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marcnutz · 3 years

Text

Pillow Prince

Since hearts1ck is dedicating his sapnap thigh kink bits to me it's only right for me to dedicate this fic to him <3

18+ MINORS DNI

Tags: Sapnap x M!Reader, 3.5k words, SoftDom!Sap, Dom!Reader for like 2 seconds, fluff, thigh kink, thigh riding, thigh fucking, soft sex, slight choking, long and horny build-up to the actual smut, chubby Sap cause he's always been pretty yall are just fatphobic

Sapnap was a chubby boy, and you loved him for that.

You loved Sapnap's body. Every inch of it. When your relationship first bloomed you would spend hours mapping every inch with your hands. Memorizing the feel of every bump and curve to your mind.

He was perfect. You loved your boyfriend's body, and you loved him.

He was soft and warm. His nose was that of a Greek god's, and his hair that curled ever so slightly at the ends matched the look.

You would be more than content to spend the rest of your life resting your head on his chest or stomach. Feeling his arms around you, safe and warm and comfy.

However, if you were to say you loved every part of him equally, you would be lying.

His thighs were immaculate. Every time he changed in front of you your eyes were drawn to that oh so special place on his body. Anytime you lay down together your head is drawn to their promise of a soft resting place.

No matter what he wore they were accented perfectly. They would press against the seams of his jeans and sweats. They would be so free yet still so hidden when he wore shorts. They would ever so slightly spill over the edges of his thighs boxers that he knew you loved.

His thighs were beautiful. They were perfect. He was perfect.

It was not uncommon for you to find yourself staring at them at any given point of the day. Watching as they moved when he walked. As they spread out as he sat. Staring at the hair that got darker the farther up you looked. The way the water would drip down them after he exited the shower.

You thought you were slick, eyeballing him all the time. However, Sapnap wasn’t dumb. He saw every glance at his lower body. Noticed the way you squeeze his thighs ever so slightly when you got the chance.

Sapnap loved to please you, and knowing your love for his thighs, he decided to do some research. (Often times his "research" included watching porn, but who were you to judge.) When Sapnap read about a 'thigh kink' he figured that's something you probably had. He was never one to say no to trying something new in the bedroom. When he read about all the fun things you two could do in the bedroom together that involved his thighs, he knew he had to get you involved.

The plan was easy, he was going to spend a few days working you up, but not directly saying he had anything planned for you. Then, he would spring himself upon you at just the right time.

Hopefully, if all went well, he would end up with your cocks pushed together and inside one another.

In all honesty, all he had to do was ask. But he liked to play around with you. The wait made the pleasure oh so much better.

"Hey, baby? Do you like these new shorts I got?" You heard your boyfriend call from the bedroom. Shorts? Of course you were going to like them.

You got up and walked into your shared bedroom and stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him. The shorts he was wearing were definitely... short.

"So? What do you think? They're those new five-inch inseam shorts that are popular now. They're a little tight, but I think I like them."

While saying this, Sapnap turned around to examine himself better in the mirror, and you got a perfect view of his ass in the light blue shorts. If they were any smaller then you would be able to see it stick out the bottom.

"Baby?"

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Sapnap calling you. You looked up at him, a blush forming across your face.

"I- uh, I think they're really great! They look really good on you, I like the, uh, color."

Sapnap beamed at you, "I'm glad! I know you like lighter colors on me, that's why I chose these."

You soon found out that these were not the only pair of short-shorts your boyfriend purchased, as he spent the next few days flaunting about in different pairs. Every time he'd come out of the shower after breakfast and get dressed for the day he would plop down next to you on the couch in another pair of thigh shorts that left very little to the imagination.

Today he had chosen a black pair that made his fair skin seem to glow beautifully.

"Darling, I want to do something today," He said, snapping you out of your staring.

"Oh, ok. Did you have anything in mind?"

Sapnap thought for a moment. "Let's go to the beach! I got a new bathing suit I want to show you."

Oh dear lord, were these going to be as revealing as his new day shorts? You have no idea if you should allow him to be walking around in something like that when it's wet and sticking to his skin even more than they already do.

Despite your slight pang of jealousy of the thought of strangers ogling at your boyfriend, your want to see him half-naked and wet took over your brain, and the next thing you knew you were lounging on a towel as your lovely boyfriend cooled off in the water.

Your assumptions about the bathing suit were correct, they were just as short as the others, however looser.

This changed, however, when Sapnap stepped out of the water to come cool off. The suit stuck to his skin and even showed off the slight print of his dick in the front. It was taking every ounce of your focus to not get a boner right then and there. It became even harder when he sat down on the towel next to you, thighs spreading out and resting against your own. His soft, wet skin cooling your own legs and sending shivers down your spine.

"You ok?" He asked, offering you his shirt. "Put this on, looks like your shoulders are getting a little burnt, let me dry off and then we can head home, looks like it's about to rain soon anyways."

You took his shirt and put it on, his smell enveloping you in the best way.

Before long, you were headed home. Sapnap wanted to hop in the shower again to get all the sand and salt off his body, and you decided to rest in bed for a bit.

You had begun to doze off when you barely registered the shower turn off. After a few minutes, you noticed your boyfriend still hadn't come out of the bathroom. What was he doing? Oh no matter, you're getting sleepy from the sun...

"Sweetheart!" Sapnap called from the bathroom door, his call rousing you from your half-asleep state.

The image in front of you woke you up even more, in more ways than one.

Your lovely boyfriend stood in front of you, top half bare, legs covered in long socks that went up to just above his knees and were much too tight, causing the plush fat on his thighs to spill over the sides.

On top of this, he had on garter belts that were also very snug, a belt connecting them to the socks.

"I got these for you... And those shorts and bathing suits... I had noticed you always staring at my thighs and touching them and- well, I wanted to do something special for you so I got this."

You tried to say something, but all the blood from your brain rushed down to your dick, so you just sat there with your mouth slightly open.

"Baby? Do- Do you like it?" Sapnap asked quietly, he was nervous, and you could tell.

"I- YES! You look, really, really, good."

Sapnap smiled and walked over to you, sitting down on the edge of the bed, you had just now noticed his own cock was out, and he was about as hard as you were.

He reached out for you, and pulled you onto his lap, latching his lips onto your own. It started gentle, but quickly morphed into a deep kiss, tounges tangling together in each other's mouths. He tasted sweet, and it was divine. You would be happy to just sit here and make out on his lap for hours, but Sapnap had other plans.

His hands began to go up his shirt that you were still wearing, going up your chest and over your nipples before pulling it over your head, only breaking the kiss for a moment. He then moved his hands down to take off your trunks, leaving you in just your boxers that were growing much too tight for your liking.

Sapnap moved his hands to your chest, thumbs rubbing over your nipples, which began to harden under his fingers. He pulled on one, causing you to moan into his mouth and grind down into his thigh a bit. He smiled in your mouth, pulling away, causing you to moan at the loss of contact.

"Aw baby, do you like it when I play with your nipples?" He asked. He already knew the answer, this was something he did to you quite often. You were so sensitive here, and he knew it. "What about if I did this..."

Before you could even register that he has said something, Sapnap had reached his head down and began to suck on one of your pink nipples. You arched your back into him, hips once again rutting against his thighs.

Sapnap reached the hand that was not abusing your other nipple down to your waist, and he repositioned you so that one of his thighs was in between your legs.

He pulled off your nipple for a moment, resting his cheek on your chest before gazing up into your eyes. "I'm going to have so much fun with you tonight..." He moved his hand from your chest and began to rub circles on your back.

You looked down at your boyfriend, his green eyes staring into your own. "Are you gonna fuck me?" You asked nicely.

Sapnap giggled a little bit, "No dear, you're going to fuck me, but not in the way you're thinking. But first, I get to have some fun. Just be a good boy and do what I say, ok?"

You nodded as Sapnap's words, nervous, curious, and excited at what was to come.

Sapnap lifted his head up and placed a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, then a small one directly on your lips.

He had both hands on your hips now, and he hooked one of his thumbs into the band of your boxers before snapping them into your waist. You jumped at the slight sting of them, cock rubbing against his thigh at the action. You moaned at the sensation of feeling your clothed cock push against his soft skin and began to rock your hips onto his thigh slightly.

Sapnap laughed before stilling your hips. "You're a fast learner. These boxers aren't coming off until you cum just like this, riding my thigh. Got it?"

You nodded quickly as Sapnap placed another soft kiss on your shoulder. He released the tight grip he had on your hips, but his hands remain in their place, ready to move you down onto himself as he pleased.

You began to rock your hips back and forth on Sapnap's mostly bare thigh. Every few thrusts of your hips, your own leg would bump into Sapnap's cock, and his leg would jump, thigh pressing into your cock even more.

It didn't take long for you to begin to pant, the inevitable soon approaching.

Sapnap reached his hands around, and dipped his hands into your boxers, grabbing fist fulls of your ass before using them as leverage to grind you even more onto his thigh.

In doing so, he managed to pull you even closer to his body. You were now chest to chest, and your leg rubbed up against his dick with every thrust. Sapnap began to moan quietly in your ear, but you could barely hear him over your own whines and pants.

"I know you're close baby, you're doing so good, you don't have to ask."

You hadn't realized it, but you had been begging your boyfriend for release. He moved his head to press his tongue into your mouth once more, beginning to bounce his leg up and down.

All it took was for Sapnap to moan into your mouth once more before you were spilling into your boxers. Your eyes rolled back into your head as your hands reached down to grab at Sapnap's soft love handles for dear life.

You quite literally rode out your orgasm, hips continuing to roll into Sapnap's thighs. You eventually parted your mouth from his, your hips stilling, but his hands continued to push you down onto his thigh. You shook and bit his shoulder at the overstimulation, moaning as small tears began to roll down your cheeks. You weren't sure if you wanted to stop or have Sapnap continue to manhandle your hips into his thigh.

Eventually, Sapnap took pity on you and allowed your hips to still. He removed your hands from your ass, one coming to rub gentle circles on your back. The other came up to your cheek, pulling your face towards his to gently kiss your tears away.

"You did so well for me baby, such a good boy." Sapnap praised as he gave small pecks to your cheeks. "Take deep breathes, you still have your prize for doing so well."

Oh yeah, you were going to fuck him. That was always nice, but he said not in the way you were thinking. What did he mean by that? You didn't care, honestly, as your cock was starting to harden once more and all you wanted was some part of him wrapped around it.

You heard Sapnap laugh, "Wow, ready again already? Good boy, you deserve it. Let's get these off of you."

Your cum had left a large wet spot on the front of your boxers, sticking to Sapnap's legs slightly. You lifted yourself off of him slightly so he could pull the soiled boxers off of you. Your hard cock springing out of them, glistening with your cum.

"Wow, you that was a lot, makes sense, I've been keeping myself from you so you'd be all worked up for me today."

Oh, so he was planning this. For whatever reason, this nudged the small part of your brain that wanted to dominate him oh so badly, and you let out a small growl before wrapping your hand around his throat and thrusting your tongue in and out of his throat.

Sapnap let his back fall down onto the bed and allowed you to have this moment of control over him. He knew it was hard for you to be patient and obedient when you were as built up as you were, and he was feeling nice enough to let you let it out for a moment.

Your hand tightened around his throat as you continued to fuck his face with your tongue, wishing it was your cock instead. However, you knew your boyfriend had plans, and you didn't want to ruin those.

You pulled off of him, Sapnap moving his head up slightly to try and chase your mouth. He gasped when you removed your hand from his throat, blood rushing back to his head and back down to his cock.

"So, what's my prize?" You asked, hand running up and down his side before coming to rest on his chest that formed into soft breasts that you squeezed gently.

Sapnap moaned softly at your touch, "I-I'm going to lay down, and you're going to fuck my thighs."

All of your movements stopped as your eyes snapped up to his, wide in excitement.

You had thought about this moment so often. Taking his thighs in your hands and fucking into the soft pillow-like flesh, and now the time had finally come. You felt your cock jump slightly at the thought that was a soon-to-be reality, and you pushed Sapnap over so that his legs were no longer dangling over the edge of the bed. You manhandled his legs so that his calves were on either side of your shoulders, and his knees were pushed as to create a perfect place for your dick.

Your hands rested just above his knees, where his socks ended. You felt the skin fall over the sides, and you were never more horny than you were at that moment.

You couldn't wait another second before you took your cock in one hand, rubbing your tip between Sapnap's two thighs. You gently rubbed the length of your cock on them, not yet pushing in between.

"Come on now, don't be shy. Fuck me already." Sapnap said, his hands thrown above his head, clutching the pillow above him.

You were quick to follow directions, throwing your head back as you pressed your tip in between his thighs. You threw your head back and let out a loud moan as you felt his large, soft thighs take every inch of your cock. You sat there for a moment, savoring the soft warmth that surrounded you, staring down at your lovely boyfriend who was happily staring back at you, a small lopsided smile on his face.

It didn't take long for your needs to overwhelm your mind, and you started to softly thrust your cock into Sapnap's thighs. He was so soft and so warm, and your cum that had coated your cock from your previous orgasm was leaving delicious wet spots on his thighs, allowing for easier movement between them.

You were in pure bliss. Mouth open as you watched your cock slowly disappear and reappear between Sap's thighs.

Sapnap didn't have a bad view himself, he got to stare at your lust-clouded face, the tip of your cock poking out at him whenever you would bottom out.

"Go on, baby, fuck me for real. Be rough. I know you want to. You deserve it."

Sapnap's soft encouragement was all it took for something to snap in your head. You began to smack your hips against Sapnap, your balls hitting against him with every thrust. A small amount of precum began to leak from you as you began to grow close again. Every so often it would come out as your tip was out the front of Sapnap's thighs, leading to a small amount that only he could see to drip down his thigh.

Of course, Sapnap was not getting nothing out of this arrangement, his thighs were sensitive to the point that just your thrusting felt so good to him. Slowly, he moved one of his hands down to gently grasp his own cock that had been steadily leaking precum onto his stomach the entire time.

It took you a moment to notice that your boyfriend was touching himself, and you quickly swatted your hand away and replaced it with your own, hand moving with the force of your own thrusts.

"Oh fuuuuck, baby. Just like that, fuck yes." Sapnap was babbling his praises at you as his hips began to gently move with your thrusts. "I'm so close, baby. Can we cum together? Please..."

He didn't have to ask twice, and you quickly nodded to let him know you had heard him and were close yourself.

Your back began to arch just as Sapnap's moans turned into the high-pitched whines he let out whenever he was about to cum. It took only two more hard thrusts before you were both spilling all over Sapnap.

You watched as some of your cum mixed with his on his tummy, however, most of yours painted the insides of his thighs and dirtied his socks and garters.

After your highs, you sat there for a moment, still nestled between his thighs. You only moved when you realized you wanted to see how your cum had painted his thighs.

You gently moved his calves from off his shoulder and spread them on the bed gently, knowing he would be slightly sore from the stretch.

Your view was amazing. Seeing your perfect prince spread out all for you, covered in sweat and cum, was beautiful. You were so grateful to be able to see him like this, and you fell back onto your heels to stare at your amazing boyfriend.

You were broken out of your trance by Sapnap's whine and outstretched hands. You took him into a hug, not caring that you were getting cum all over you.

"I guess you liked my surprise, huh?"

You giggled and pressed a gentle kiss to Sapnaps forehead. "Yeah, I liked it a lot. Come on, let's go get cleaned up."

With that, you both showered together, before falling asleep in each other's arms, Sapnap's perfect, nude body pressed against your own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist and Info

1K notes · View notes

iloveicedcoffees · 3 years

Text

SMUT | Snape x reader|

The chatters and smell of dinner lingered in the air as you sat peacefully with Severus who was trying to hold back his jealousy by gritting his teeth, his hand was gripping the fork tightly that his knuckles turned snow white. You were talking to Lockhart who seemed to be enjoying your oblivious behaviour to his advances.

He was flirting with you and it takes everything for Severus not to take you here, right now in the middle of Great Hall where everyone could literally watch both of you fuck each other. The possessiveness inside him was trying to surface on his face, the rage was visible in his eyes but you were too busy entertaining Lockhart to take notice.

As the dinner ended, Severus did not even look at you once, nor did he utter a word. You were planning on spending a night with him in a tub filled with rose petals and a glass of wine but your hopes went down to the drain as he left you alone on your own. There was no hope left, not even a thin sheet of hope that was lying in your heart seemed to be gone with the wind.

As you walked your way down to the dungeons, you were certain to ask Severus about his problems that he seemed to be keeping to himself, you were furious but his actions seemed to stand up in your mind like a sore thumb.

As you opened the door to his classroom, you were harshly slammed against it that it caused a yell to escaped your lips, your mouth hung open as you stared at Severus with fear in your eyes. He was angry, furious and jealous.

"S-Severus,"

You managed to croak as he stared at you with the same amount of hunger and lust in his eyes, his eyes travelled to your slightly parted lips before he roughly pressed his lips against yours, catching you off guard.

His kisses were rough as if he wanted to make your lips bleed with how harsh he was kissing you. He pressed his knees on your clothed cunt, making you gasped from the pleasure, leaving your mouth wide open and it was enough for his tongue to have an access to your mouth.

You did not dare fight for dominance like you usually do. His mouth sucked your tongue like a hungry toddler would do, eliciting a moan from you and you could not help but snake your arms around his neck, pulling him more closely.

"Do you like flirting with that fraud?"

He whispered between open mouth kisses, his lips travelled down to your neck, sucking and biting it as he shamelessly left purple marks on your skin. You could not register every word he said, and the silence that you gave Severus made him only more furious.

"I intend not to repeat myself, Y/N."

He said as he swiftly turned you around, your palms were against the wooden door. You still don't know what he was talking about and you don't really want to push him to his edge so you answered a small 'no,' to him.

"No?"

He asked as he tugged your skirt down, leaving you on your knickers and your knickers soon vanished too, leaving you bare, except for the turtle neck that you were wearing. A harsh slap was met by your ass cheeks, making you jolt in pain.

"Severus, are you jealous?"

You asked as you remembered the last person you talked to. Severus only give you a spank, causing another yelp to escape your mouth. The feeling was excruciating, yet it turned you on like a fire blazing in the dark.

"What if I'm jealous, what are you going to do about it?"

He asked, he bit your earlobe, causing a moan to escape your lips from the feeling of his hot breath and lips on it.

"You know that I am all yours,"

You managed to say, your cheeks were pressed on the door. Severus only chuckled at your pathetic state.

"But it doesn't mean I will not fuck you hard tonight."

He rasped, he roughly removed your top and kneaded your breast from behind, his hands were large, cold and rough against your skin but the mixture of it was pleasurable and you could only wish for Severus to be rougher on you in bed.

He turned you around again just to attack your hardened nipples, his mouth was hot, making you melt more upon the incandescent glow he gave your body. His other hand massaged your other breast, giving your body more stimulation.

"Fucking hell,"

You moaned between heavy breaths the moment Severus bit your nipples, your eyelids were blown with lust and his eyes were darker than ever. He kissed you again, and this time, you wrapped your legs around his waist, making his hardened erection pressed on your unclothed sex.

Severus let out a deep guttural groan, as you unwrapped your legs from his waist only to palm him beneath his trousers.

"He will never get to see you like this, only me."

He said as he got down on his knees, facing your glistening cunt with your sweet arousal dripping from it. Your eyes rolled in the back of your skull as Severus became passionate with your pussy.

"You're going to take my tongue like a good girl and I don't care if your legs give up."

He said, his voice was enough to send you to the brink of your orgasm. Severus sucked your clit and the satisfaction he got was remarkable the moment a broken moan escaped your lips. Your mouth hung open, your fingers tangled themselves in his dark hair, pressing his face more on your cunt.

He poked his tongue on your entrance before replacing it with his two large fingers, making you buck your hips in pure pleasure. He was scissoring his two fingers inside you before curling them inside, hitting your G-spot that made your legs quiver from the unexplainable feelings.

"Severus, Severus,"

You chanted his name like you were worshipping him. Severus liked it and it only gave him a reason not to be jealous of Lockhart. He added another finger inside you, stretching you more and you were now close to your orgasm. His nose was nuzzled into your clit, inhaling your feminine scent.

"He can't even see you in this state."

He murmured, sending vibrations on your body, your mind was too clouded with lust that you can't even form a word inside your mind as if your vocabulary was betraying you, your walls clenched around his fingers, indicating that you were close and Severus did not waste any time as he fastened his pace, drawing you more close to your orgasm. Tears brimmed in the corner of your eyes and his name echoed around the room as you screamed it when you came, covering his fingers with your juices.

Your sweet release had had you quivering, your breathing became ragged and Severus turned you around again as he unbuckled his belt. The metallic clink on the floor made you aware that the potions master was now naked with you. Without an ounce of warning, he slid his shaft inside your hole, making a curse left your mouth from the way he stretched you out.

Severus closed his eyes as the warmth of your walls welcomed his throbbing cock, he let your walls adjust from his size before snapping his hips, making your back arched from the perpetual bliss he was giving you.

His hands were gripping your hips painfully, as he mercilessly pounded you with all his might, all of his pent up frustration, jealousy and anger vanished the moment he had you crumbling under his touch. Your moans grew louder and that was music to his ears. You tried keeping yourself standing but the ultimate pleasure that was once again building inside was making you fail each time you tried.

"Who do you belong to?"

He asked, he continued snapping his hips, your nipples were brushing against the door of his classroom.

"To you Sev. Oh my God."

Severus massaged your breast, his fingers pinching your nipples while his thrust became more erratic, his tip was hitting your cervix, sending a mixture of pain and pleasure in your body. It was good, the feeling was addicting as if he had poisoned your veins. His cock was buried to the hilt.

"Severus, I'm close."

You mewled out, Severus only bit your shoulders painfully that his teeth drew blood from it. He licked it as if he was a vampire who hasn't had blood for weeks, and it only turned you on more. The whole feeling was new, it was something you wanted to happen again, him biting your shoulders until you bleed and beg for him to stop.

"Cum, cum all over my cock like a good whore you are."

He whispered, his thumb circled your bundle of nerves, making you cry out, your walls painfully clenched around his cock, also drawing him close to his orgasm and before the two of you could know it, you were squirting all over his cock.

The intense orgasm made your legs gave out but Severus was there to catch you as he did not stop pounding into you, and not for long, he came shooting his load inside, each spurt of his cum, a groan would escape his lips.

But Severus did not stop, he continued thrusting his cock inside you, the overstimulation was making your brain hazy, you tried standing but failed and that's when Severus decided to bend you over his desk.

Your ass was in the air, his hand gripped your hair painfully tight, making you bend more over on his desk. Sweat was starting to cascade down to your forehead.

"You're a slut for my cock, aren't you Y/N?"

He asked as he pulled your hair, your cheeks were roughly pressed against the wooden surface of his desk. You tried answering but you were too weak to do so.

"Answer me, slut." He said, his movements slowed down, making you moan from disapproval.

"Yes, Severus I'm your slut, your whore and your fucktoy."

You almost screamed as the building orgasm was starting to vanish, your words made a smirk crept on his face and he continued rocking his hips back and forth, drawing you now close to your orgasm.

And for the second time tonight, your walls clenched around his cock, drawing out a grunt from his lips. You were too tired and used to even open your mouth and without any warning, you came all over his cock and Severus followed not for long.

He watched as the mixture of your cum dripped down to your thighs before he brought his finger to your cunt again, not letting any of his cum to come out as he was certain that you belong to him and him only.

______________________________________

#snape snape severus snape #fanfic #snape community #snape smut #snape x reader #snape x y/n #snape x you #snape fanfiction #snape fandom

308 notes · View notes

jomamaofficial · 3 years

Text

You should have said something: Finale (Bakugou x fem!Reader)

A/N: HELLO BESTIES, IT'S YOUR *lmao I just realised I wrote sentimental here instead of CRUSTY here* CRUSTY TOE HERE. Now please, for the love of whoever's up there, PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. I'm not going to dawdle along because this was the finale you all were waiting for, so enjoy. Social Media & LinkTree & Discord Server TW: Very gruesome descriptions of: Death, Burning, Heavy cursing, Blood, Abuse. Masterlist Taglist: @spicy-therapist-mom @speedmetalqueen @silentw-lkr @loki-an-idiot @clickbait-official @captainchrisstan @kamalymaly @idk-sam @runrabbitrun3 @power-house-fan12 @mrslawliet @memeingcheetah27 @lonleyweeb77 @midnight-storm Word Count: 1743

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

Sirens flooded the scene, police cars blinding passerbys. Ambulances rushed to the location, paramedics pushing their way through the crowd of people, the heat travelling the smell of iron across the streets of Musutafu. Firefighters reached the estate, dragging people away from the hazard, eyes gawking at the uproar of fire. The house was engulfed in flames, crying voices piercing through the ears of those who looked on. Ashes here and ashes there, belongings erupting into soot and red embers.

A body was heaved onto the stretcher, blood staining the white cotton.

“The heart rate is lowering, I repeat the heart rate is lowering.”

The static noise from the walkie talkie was merely another addition to the tumultuous screams and orders.

Wind ran through his hair, panic stricken over the nurse's face who ran as fast as her environment could let her, the heavy but precious, bleeding body straining her arms and staining her hands.

The door was held open, commands being barked at her.

The reporters bombarded her, obstructing the nurse’s view. She shoved past them; her heart hammered in her chest inspecting the monitor, her movements speeding up as she reached her destination. The body was rushed into the ambulance, attached to pipes and machines.

It was the last thing the public saw before the door was shut and the sirens fled away.

Trending headlines and hashtags spread like wildfire.

Masaru switched on the TV, his wife finishing up her dinner in the other room.

“I am now live at the Bakugou-L/N estate. Word from our information team has come out and the fire has been going on for twenty minutes, however these twenty minutes were enough for Prohero Ground Zero to be sent to the emergency room after a local found him covered in burn marks and injuries inside his already smoking house. Prohero Y/HN is nowhere to be found and all forms of contacts have been shut off. I am now handing over to Tanaka-san who is live at the-”

Switched off. Masaru sat there glued to his seat with his fingers pressing on the power button.

Hope came crashing down and you could only stare at the broken screen of your phone, tiny glass particles spewed on the floor.

Your skin was boiling up but your blood ran cold. Your throat dried up but your tears were wet. You couldn’t feel anything but his nails, digging in through the layers of clothing you comforted yourself in.

If you could go back in time, you would have. If you could stop yourself from dialing Izuku’s number, you would have. Anything, anything would have been better than this.

Silence. And you still had the urge to cover your ears. There was nothing to look at apart from your only form of communication. Everything else was black. And the traitorous phone that gave you away was dissipating as well. It faded away from your sight, leaving you a wide smile on your face. Too wide. Stretching from one cheek to the other, your lips were quivering, forcing it to stop. But it didn’t stop. It was getting wider and wider and it was hurting but could you stop it? No.

You couldn’t stop anything. Not this marriage, not this moment, not your own body.

He pulled on your hair and you couldn’t even stop the pain. He crushed your face between his hands, searing pressure building up in your skull and you still couldn’t stop him. He shouted and he screamed and it was slowly seeping into your skull how loud he really was. Nothing would stop. You couldn’t stop it.

You were useless. Your shrieks were useless because he drowned them out with his own voice.

His words were barely comprehensible. You could either focus on the warm blood trickling down your hairline, or him.

But that took energy. And right now, trying to stay alive was sucking all of the energy out of you.

“YOU FUCKING BROKE RULE NUMBER THREE, YOU FUCKING WHORE.”

Rule number three spiked your interest. Not because you remembered what it was. It only drew your attention to him amidst all the repeated curses and the names and the agony, ‘rule number three’ was something new.

Why would you understand rule number three though, you couldn’t even understand why you were smiling, giggling underneath your breath.

“And out of all the people you could have gone to”, he sucked in a breath, squeezing your cheeks. He could feel your clenched teeth fighting against the strength of his hold.

“You fucking went to that useless cunt Deku”, Bakugou spat out, a crazed glint in his eyes as he felt your face shake and crumble under his grip.

“Where is he now huh?” he scoffed, a breathy laugh escaping from the depths of his body.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT PATHETIC BITCH NOW?” Screaming once again, he activated his quirk, missing you by a hair. The flames mocked you, free to move, free to grow.

“Is he gonna come and get you now? See your precious ‘Izu-kun’ anywhere?” he derided, smiling at the blackened area his palms left on your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’M SORRY.”

Your tears said it enough, tears that were mixed in with the sweat and blood that dripped from your forehead. All you wanted was someone, someone who would hold you and stroke your head and clean you up. Someone who would take him away from you and let you live in a fantasy where you weren’t wrong anymore.

You apologized in the false anticipation that he would stop, and caress your face and pepper it in small kisses. You apologized in the false anticipation of thinking that’s what he needed all along. Just an apology.

So when he pushed you off of the sofa, your knees igniting in irritantance and bruises, you could only look at him. And when he crouched down in front of you, tilting your chin upwards, your heart almost fluttered at the thought that he would pull you into a kiss. A warm kiss where you would feel at home and feel loved.

The sad part was that you knew that you would forgive him if he kissed you once.

But the worst part was that you knew this would never happen. And it didn’t. But you were happy to live in your delusion. Because your delusion masked the sheer force at which he defiled your body.

The lethal blaze mirrored the lethal blaze that ignited his eyes. And this was the last time you’d ever see such hate, and animosity in them.

With your hands shielding you too late, all you saw was a blinding light shining through you, filling every crevice in your body with a scorching glow. But then it was extinguished by the darkness.

Alarms were going off in your head, telling you to breathe quickly and panic and scream and reach out and find something to see. And you did. And it entertained him.

So small and so vulnerable, scrambling around beneath him to try and escape. But he had you under his grip. And he wasn’t going to let you go until you remained lifeless under him.

Smoke infiltrated your lungs, forcing you to flail and writhe on all fours. You were heaving, trying oh so very hard to breathe in the oxygen that limitlessly surrounded you.

But you were useless. And you couldn’t breathe to save your life.

Coughing and slobbering, kneeling in front of him, you begged.

“Please, forgive me.”

“Please, I’m sorry.”

“Please, I didn’t mean to.”

“PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP. PLEASE JUST MAKE IT STOP.”

The fumes were stabbing at your throat, filling your head with fog.

And your world was running slowly. The noise was slowed, darker and deeper, slurred beyond understanding. The agony was slow; equally as painful, but slow. It gave you little breaks in between to piece everything together, bit by bit.

Growing up, your world was black and white: heroes were benevolent, there to serve the society and protect them whereas villains were malevolent, there to wreck the balance of society and harm them as they pleased.

Growing up, the first people you relied on were heroes. Even as the Number 3 Hero, Y/HN, you relied on your colleagues who worked day and night to ensure the safety of the country you served.

Maybe that was your downfall. Blindly trusting heroes as if they were some sort of untouchable deities who could never harm. Because here you were, taking the last few breaths with your world spinning around you and being snatched away from you.

And it wasn’t at the hands of a villain that you were dying. It was at the hands of your so-called superior, the Number 2 Hero: Ground Zero.

Ground Zero; the hero who everyone respected but feared. His snarl, his anger, his drive. The very hero who was found in every treacherous battlefield. He was the same hero who took on anything he found that threatened the life of the citizens he made his duty to protect from harm's way.

But who would take him on when he caused harm to you?

No one.

It wasn’t the smoke, or the burns, or the bleeding that caused you to take your last breath. It was the realization that no one would save you.

The pulse under Katsuki’s fingers diminished until it was nothing. And he cried. Veins standing out in livid ridges, his eyes seared in rage as they watered and dripped down his face, cooling his body in the circle of fire he put himself in.

If he wasn’t trained to suck his guilt up every time his hands were responsible for someone’s downfall, he would have been consumed in his own self loath…

But what was the point of feeling guilty when you deserved it?

It was because of you Eijiro broke up with him. And he internally promised himself he would always stand by this.

Blinking away his tears, he channeled all the remaining energy he had, letting his anger flow through out of his body.

His wrists were giving in but he swore it was the final time. Just one more blow. One more big blow.

Silencing his cries underneath the deafening roar of his explosions, he clenched his jaw, pressuring his body on and on.

No one would find you now. No one would know.

194 notes · View notes

diaco1968 · 4 years

Text

Thrill

Shigaraki Tomura x f!Reader

WARNINGS! +18, lemon/smut, heavy NONCON!, Forced! , implied cheating, dirty talk and degradation, unprotected, yandere-ish

The sound of the sharp knock resonating off the walls of the otherwise completely silent apartment had you almost jump out of your own skin, a cold sweat immediately beeaking out all over your back despite the heavy warm blanket you were under. You muted the video even though you assumed it was already too late for the unwelcome guest not to have heard it. Another sharp knock and you knew your assumption was right. Either way you quietly slipped out from under your blanket, feet meeting the cold floor and worsening the already cold shivers rolling down your spine, no one had business visiting you at 3 in the morning. Reaching up you looked through the peep hole. The silhouette of a familiar person with light hair was visible but mostly blocked by a smear of something dark across the glassy cover making it extremely difficult to make out the face.

This time instead of the sharp knock, fingers almost gently rapped over the wooden door as if the person knew you were standing right on the other side, the rapping playing a familiar and serie rhythm. Eerie because you only knew one more person who knew this rhythm.

Your hand rose and your fingers wrapped around the doorknob all on their own accord. The rude knocking was his way of respecting you actually, cause you knew as well as he did that this flimsy door could not stand in his way if he had decided to come in already. Chills from your cold feet on the floor made the whole experience worse than it needed to be. With a quiet shaky intake of breath and a shake of your head to regain your stoic composure you pulled the door open slowly, enough space so that your whole frame was in the doorway and not more, one hand still on the door for emotional support.

And surely you needed that.

He was way more terrifying than you remembered him from last time. His white hair glowing and almost reflecting the moonlight that seeped inside the corridor from the window at the end, the white light engulfing and giving his form a ghostly appearance, with bright crimson eyes staring at you expectantly. And that was not the only crimson in the mix. A big splash of red was covering one whole side of his face as it had either dripped down from his own head, which was likely cause strands of his hair was also still dripping with crimson, or had sprayed onto him from some other poor soul, down his neck, disappearing in the black of his shirt, making it look even darker, all the way down to his left hip. He was leaning his bloodied hand on the doorway, looming over you with his nonchalant yet completely insane face, lips slowly parting into a smirk, knowing by the pale look of your face that he absolutely had not given you a choice for this surprise meeting.

"May I use your shower."

Your jaw went slack staring at him with an open mouth as you clutched the door unable to answer what wasn't really a request.

"Of course, what a dumb question."

He pushed off the wall and gestured for you to get out of his way as he pushed the door wide open, stomping right past you. Feeling way out of your comfort zone you glanced left and right in the corridor before succumbing to your fate and closing the door behind you, staring at the muddy bloody shoe prints going to your living room. You followed them and watched him kick his shoes off in the middle of the living room on the creme carpet, lean in to look at the pictures over the chimney, scoff then make his way over to the kitchen.

"That's not the bathroom-..."

He totally ignored you as he went to the fridge grabbing a cold beer, all the while making sure he smeared everything with the blood on his hands.

His eyes glanced sideways towards you as he chugged the bear in one go, putting the bottle on the very edge of the counter.

"Ahhh."

His eyes locked onto yours, beginning to show a slight bit of annoyance. And as his mouth split open into a wide grin he tipped the bottle over the edge. It hit the floor with a noise that sounded way louder to you than it should've before it shattered on the kitchen tiles.

"Oops. My bad."

Your eyes snapped onto him from where they previously were glaring at the broken bottle on the floor, grinding your teeth together in annoyance.

"The bathroom is the other way."

"I know."

You hissed out from your clenched teeth and he waved his hand dismissively, stepping over the glass and walking towards your bedroom. Of course he was going to use the master bathroom. What else. He stopped in the doorway to the bathroom and looked at you.

"Join me."

You crossed your arms over your chest this time glaring at him directly.

"I see no need for that. You're a big boy."

He faked a pout before shrugging his shoulders and stepping into the bathroom.

"Well I thought you wanted me gone as soon as possible. Apparently not, so I'm gonna take my time then."

You shook your head and sat on the edge of the bed, every single muscle in your body rigid from stress. How long could he take anyway?

Apparently too long.

An hour of chewing your lower lip and tapping your foot nervously later, you decided to check up on him. You knocked on the door but got no reply. Three times. So you opened the door slowly and carefully to peak inside. Unlike what you had imagined the bathroom wasn't filled with steam from the shower. But sure enough he was standing under the running water. You stopped yourself before you could rake your eyes down his body you went to close the door.

"Come on now, it's nothing you haven't seen before."

"Shigaraki."

You whispered in a scolding tone but didn't close the door, instead staring at his eyes.

"Eh? What happened to Tomura? Or the one I like more, Tomuooo~"

He attempted to mimick your voice with a whiny needy tone and remembering exactly what he was talking about you flushed bright red stammering.

"Oh my gosh... fuck off..."

He laughed, the sound taking you aback not recalling ever having heard him laugh.

"Fine, but seriously. I need your help."

He turned around to show you the half ass cleaned wounds on his back.

And of course you had to inspect so you stepped inside to take a closer look at the gashes. Two long angry stripes across his middle back, not bleeding anymore but spots of dried blood still sticking around them.

"No way I'm gonna blindly scrub at those. They hurt like a motherfucker."

You heaved a sigh finding the reasoning legit. After all you were used to seeing such wounds yourself. You grabbed a towel for the lack of a better option, finding out that he was too far inside the shower for you to reach. Not wanting to hear his retort on telling him to get closer you decided to step in and that's when the cold water ran over your hands and slid all the way down your arm inside your sleeve.

"Shit! Why so cold?!"

"Why not. Not how he likes it?"

You clicked your tongue annoyed and pressed the towel to his back a little too harshly making him hiss and glare at you from the corner of his eye. If you were completely honest it was a terrifying glare but you didn't budge and instead started to scrub away at the skin lightly enjoying the silent tease-less mood. Not for long though.

"Speaking of him. Where even is he?"

'As if you don't already know.'

You bit back your retort and settled for somthing else.

"We were and are not going to be speaking of him."

As if to emphasize, you scraped the towel a little harder over his skin and watched as his shoulderblades rolled and rippled right under the skin but he ignored it.

"We're not? Having a naked man in his shower makes you feel guilty?"

Your nails dug into the towel and you paused.

"Shut it."

"No. He is away working, not even dreaming of his little fiance being unfaithful to him. Trusts you a little too much, huh?"

"I said shut it!"

You growled and slammed the towel onto his back, right into the gashes. His shoulders twitched angrily and he reached back and grabbed you right before you could storm off angrily. A loud surprised gasp left you as your back got slammed into the wall, cold water from the shower pouring over you and soaked you to the bone in a matter of seconds.

"And I said no."

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp or wiggle away from under the onslaught of cold water to no avail.

"Fuck! Let me go!"

His hands grabbed at your wet heavy hoodie ripping it enough to make space to slip it off your shoulders and expose your chest then let it hang around your waist. With your hands still inside the sleeves you felt bounded by the tight heavy cloth unable to do anything but struggle in vain.

"He has no idea his fiance, the love of his life, is secretly a villain fucker, does he?"

"I am not!"

"The love of his life? Cause we both know you ARE a villain fucker."

"Stop!"

"Stop? But you don't really want me to, do you?"

His fingers wrapped around your neck tightly, pressing you harder into the wall forcing a squeak out of you before he shut you up by pressing his lips onto yours and his tongue shoving into your mouth, making you turn your head to the side with a cough.

"You don't want me to stop cause he doesn't screw you like I do,"

His fingers tangled in your wet locks like snakes slithering through the grass, tightening on your scalp with a fist full of hair and forcing your face back towards himself and running his lips over the side of your mouth.

"He doesn't grab you and force you down in your place like the little whore you are-"

"We were on a break! It was one time!"

"It was not one time."

He pressed you into the wall harder with his body, freeing his hand and grabbing your panties. The flimsy fabric turned to muddy dust and washed away down the drain. His hand immediately replaced it and cupped your heat roughly. And for once you were glad for the running water, you could not stand his comments on the moisture gathered between your legs otherwise.

"To your credit, you did try to be a good girl. You just couldn't stay away from me. It must be thrilling, huh?"

You pursed your lips staring at the ceiling trying not to focus on his fingers running all over you, as if he couldn't decide what to touch first. They ran from your sex to your hips, back to your ass then over your breast, pausing to enjoy the erect nipple rolling it harshly between his fingers, making you bite your lower lip.

"Tell me. Which one is your derive? Is it the thrill of being used like a fucktoy by a villain and not knowing if I would dispose of you afterwards?"

He slipped his hard cock between your thighs, tugging your hair down to expose the length of your neck to him, leisurely kissing sucking and nipping on the soft skin as you shut your eyes and opened your mouth to breath cause the water was now angled right in your face.

"Or are you thrilled by cheating on the poor fucker with his enemy and not getting caught?"

You started thrashing your arms and managed to free one before he pulled you over and slammed you back into wall by your neck again making you Yelp and cling to his wrist tightly.

"Is this really how you want to go? Half decayed and well fucked in his shower? And imagine he is the one who will find your body too... tragic."

He was bluffing... he was definitely bluffing... right?

"Is it?!"

He roared in your face, his voice echoing off the walls and you found yourself trembling in his hands, shaking your head no.

"Then be a good bitch like the horny little slut you are and cooperate."

You felt as if his words smeared over you and make your skin tingle with filth. He was right, you were not used to this kind of treatment. And your quivering legs and throbbing pussy was evidence enough that you did in fact find this thrilling.

Sensing your submission he freed your other arm from the hoodie, throwing it away before leaning down to hook his arms under your legs, picking you up and positioning you over his cock, the tip proding between your folds and poking at your hole. And unceremoniously thrusted himself all the way in, by letting you drop down onto his lenght. You gasped at the sudden stretch, arms flying from the wall to wrap around his neck to hold yourself steady as he stepped away from the wall, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

"Mmm your tight cunt never ceases to impress me. Does he fuck you at all?"

"... please stop..."

He chuckled and grabbed your ass with your legs draped over his arms and he started moving you over his cock, the position had you unable to do anything except cling to him tighter and clenching constantly around his dick from the hard angle, moaning into his neck. You could see the goosebumps on his skin and it oddly managed to give you a satisfying feeling.

Untill all sense was drawn out of your head as he started thrusting into you while he moved you up and down, drilling into you deeper and deeper each time. You screamed as your whole body went rigid and hard shivers ran down your spine, your toes curling as you came hard with his cock still screwing into you roughly, your scream drowning out into a quiet gaping mouth.

"Fuck... you used to be way harder to please. Missed me a lot, yeah?"

His nails dug threateningly into your hips but you refused to reply.

He pressed your back on the wall again, moving your legs all the way up over his shoulders, not bothering to pull out while changing the position.

"Still stubborn I see. No problem. I know how to deal with you."

"You're a one night stand gone wrong!"

You spat as you glared at him. Should not have said that. Should. Not. Have.

His fist found its way back into your hair and he pulled it up to expose your neck again.

"Is that right?"

He leaned all the way over you as his hips picked up a bruising pace, slapping against your ass with each thrust with a loud sound. His lips latched onto your neck and he started sucking on the skin. Shocked you went to push against his shoulder and he tightened his fist in your hair, forcing you to grab his arm instead from the pain burning on your scalp.

"What are you doing?! Stop!"

He changed the spot and started sucking another deep purple mark on the other side, before moving lower and sinking his teeth into your chest.

You yelped loudly digging your nails into his shoudlers and in return he move his mouth again biting your other breast.

"Fuck! Fuck! Stop! He will see those!"

"That's the point you dumb cunt. And that's not all either."

Feeling your distress had you clenching around his cock again he moved his hand and started rubbing your clit roughly as you squirmed and struggled.

"I'm going to cum soon with your dirty pussy milking me like that..."

Your breathing was ragged and you were moaning on each thrust and he absolutely loved the way your face scrunched up im horror from the realisation. He leaned in to whisper into your ear.

"That's right. Now tell me, are you a dirty little whore?"

"Please! Please don't!"

You were now half sobbing as you pleaded and gripped onto his shoulders.

"Answer me then. Are you a cheating filthy fucking whore?"

"I am! I'm a cheating whore! Please!"

"Oh but you're not any whore. You are mine. Your thirsty little cunt is all soaked for me alone. Right?"

"Yes! Only for you!"

"Do you think of me when he fucks you?"

You hesitated and he did not like that, delivering a harsh wet spank on your ass.

"Ah! Y-yes!"

"Yes what?"

You were now definitely crying, tears streaming down your face as guilt and pleasure mixed into your system, clinging to him desperate for some little comfort.

"Y-yes I think of you.. when he... when he fucks me..."

"So you missed me a lot, didn't you?"

"I missed you a lot..."

"Address me properly."

"I missed you a lot Tomuooo~"

And with that he rammed himself into you one more time, warmth exploding in your lower belly as to your horror he spilled his load inside you. Your whole body went limp, dread and fear gripping your chest and your throat. He turned off the tab and it was all silent except the sound of the last few droplets hitting the tiled floor before the silence was broken by his evil chuckle.

"Good, cause I'm far from done with you."

#tomura shigaraki x reader #Shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x reader lemon #shigaraki x reader smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha lemon #bnha #mha

297 notes · View notes

carelesscreativity · 4 years

Text

Creammare Sickness for SarahAfterDark: Commission for Ko-Fi

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(SFW, Fluff)

Dream wasn’t expecting to sense him here. He wasn’t expecting the knocking at his castle doors, the sound echoing and reverberating through every wall. Despite knowing who it was, Dream almost didn’t believe it. He glanced over at his window, the rain pouring down the panes of the glass. His brother HATED water. That led him to believe that this was something important.

He set down his book immediately, making his way down to the greeting hall. He moved down the hallway, the entire corridor painted in flashing shades of grey and completely quiet, except for his brisk footsteps and the loud patter of the rain. He quickly made his way down the stairs, continuing to the first floor. He was walking as fast as he could, not wanting to alarm anyone who may have been watching.

He quickened his pace to open the large entrance doors as there was loud banging again. He quickly unlocked them with a wave of his hand, his brother coming in. He was holding something large close to him and he was soaking wet, the corruption dripping down. Dream stopped, able to see the black-stained white bone beneath it for just a few moments.

He knew that water was like acid to Nightmare, so this must’ve been important for him to come all the way there in the rain. He shut the doors and quickly summoned some towels, wrapping one over Nightmare. The darker was panting. Dream realized with a jolt that he could sense another familiar presence under the blanket Nightmare was holding.

He reached out with wide eyes and gently pulled the top of the blanket back to reveal Cross’ sweaty, flushed face. He covered his mouth with the other hand, looking up at Nightmare. “He won’t get better... didn’t know where else to go or what to do.” For once, he could hear a tremor in his brother’s voice. Dream quickly guided them over to some couches.

Nightmare set Cross down, seeming too worried about the soldier to bother with drying himself off. Dream slipped off one set of his gloves and pressed his hand to Cross’ forehead. The other was unusually warm. Dream furrowed his brow and summoned a thermometer, apologizing quietly before hooking his fingers into Cross’ mouth to open it.

Cross weakly stirred, opening his hazy eyes a little. “I-I’m sorry, Cross...” Dream sputtered a quick apology. He gulped. “C-Can you summon your tongue for me? Please?” He stretched out his fingers, rubbing the insides of Cross’ jaw. Cross made a weak noise and his magic began to bubble up quietly. “There you go.”

Once the purple tongue was formed, Dream could already feel a bit of heat coming off of it. His shoulders sank. He pressed the thermometer underneath it, watching in dismay as the temperature continued to climb. It stopped on 102.1° Fahrenheit/38.8° Celsius. A high fever. Dream dissipated the thermometer and pulled his fingers out, allowing Cross to shut his mouth.

He began to quickly unwrap him from the blankets. He was probably burning up. Nightmare’s hands soon appeared next to his own, helping to unravel Cross. He’d wrapped him up, anticipating that the first blanket would get wet. Dream could sense Nightmare’s worry, able to see his tentacles flicking around agitatedly. He pressed himself against Nightmare’s side.

“Why didn’t you bring him to Sci?” Dream asked quietly. Nightmare blinked before looking away, muttering that Sci was still taking care of the survivors from the last timeline they’d caused chaos in. Dream’s shoulders sank and he turned to look down at Cross. None of the others knew about their close relationship, as they still fought each other on the battlefield.

Both of them had quickly taken an interest in Cross, with Nightmare suggesting the idea of a poly, while Dream was the one to pop the question to Cross. They both had been so relieved when he’d said yes, though he’d been understandably thrown off at first. Now, both the brothers stared down at him, Cross looking back with hazy, feverish eyes. “Cross... Are you okay? Do you want anything?” Dream asked softly, kneeling next to the couch,

He’d reached out and taken Cross’ hand, holding it against his chest, where Cross would surely be able to feel his soul pounding in worry. Cross blinked before mumbling weakly that it was hot and Dream nodded, reaching out. “Night, can you get a cool, wet rag?” He asked, looking back at the darker, who nodded and disappeared towards the kitchen. He turned back to Cross, his hands on his shoulders.

“Cross, I’m going to sit you up, okay?” Dream asked gently. Cross gave a weak nod, his body going limp. Dream pulled him up into a sitting position, Cross still completely slumped against the couch. “I’m going to take off your jacket.” He pressed his teeth to Cross’ warm forehead, the soldier pressing into him as some way to reciprocate. He nodded, apologizing softly. Dream murmured that he had nothing to be sorry for, as being sick was not his fault.

He carefully stripped Cross of his jacket, leaving him in his turtleneck. He puffed out his cheeks in thought. He frowned, knowing that the thick sweater would be no good for Cross. He could hear Nightmare coming back. “Brother, I’m going to get a T-Shirt for him! That sweater won’t do him any good like this!” Nightmare nodded, gently nudging Dream before moving over to Cross. He smiled to himself as he heard Dream stumble, knowing he’d caught the other by surprise.

He sighed, stopping in front of Cross. He placed the cool rag to the side for a moment as his tentacles began to slip the sweater off of the slumped soldier. Usually, Cross would have given some kind of protest or embarrassment. It seemed like he didn’t have it in him. Cross only made a weak noise of confusion and Nightmare shushed him quietly, assuring Cross that he didn’t have any ulterior motives. He exposed his ribcage, dismayed at the purple sweat running down his bones.

His soul was glowing feverishly bright, painting the inside of his ribcage purple. It pulsed with every ragged breath he took. Nightmare reached out and gently cupped Cross’ cheek, the sick soldier tipping his head into his palm. Nightmare softened a bit, sighing as he rubbed his thumb over his cheekbone.

He suspected being drenched in an aura of negativity had made Cross’ condition worse, so he’d brought him to Dream, hoping the positivity would soothe him. He heard Dream coming back, turning to see his brother running up with a loose, white T-Shirt. Dream’s expression was pinched in disdain and anxiety. He handed the T-Shirt to Nightmare, who told Cross to hold still.

The soldier did as he was told, allowing Nightmare to pull the loose fabric over his body. He already felt a little cooler, the change in clothes having helped soothed his burning bones. Nightmare pulled back, picking up the cool rag and pushing Cross to lay back down. He set the rag on his head as his skull rested against the arm of the couch. “There we go...” He murmured. He jumped as he felt a gentle squeeze on one of his tentacles. He looked down, expecting Dream.

Instead, it was Cross who’d snagged one of his appendages, holding it. Nightmare relaxed and knelt down, lifting it and winding the tentacle up Cross’ arm. It seemed to comfort the other. He reached up, taking Cross’ hand and pressing his forehead to it to send a few soothing pulses through the soldier’s body. He felt Dream kneel next to him and do the same, though his head was pressed against Cross’ shoulder. Both of them were trying to guide him to sleep.

Cross blinked and made a soft noise of protest, his body fighting their pulses weakly. Nightmare was momentarily stumped on what was wrong. Then, it struck him that Cross was trying to stay awake for them. Dream seemed to have sensed it too, smiling kindly and reaching out, gently stroking Cross’ cheek. “Cross, you can sleep. It’s okay... we’ll take care of you.” He said soothingly. The other stared at them and seemed to look at Nightmare with his hazy eyelights.

Cross inhaled softly as Nightmare leaned forward, pressing his own teeth to Cross’ head as well. He leaned into it, like he’d done with Dream. He wanted desperately to reciprocate their affections, but his exhausted, burning body wouldn’t listen to him. He wanted Nightmare to understand what he was asking without being able to verbalize it. He only stared at him hazily, hoping that his message would somehow get through.

Nightmare stared back at him before his brows pricked, it seeming to click. Cross wanted permission. He wanted to know if was okay to fall asleep and that they didn’t need him to do anything else. Nightmare gave a quiet nod, his tentacle gently squeezing Cross’ arm. “You can sleep.” He rumbled quietly. That seemed to relax the soldier and he turned his head back up, his eyesockets finally fluttering all the way shut. His grip on Nightmare’s tentacle finally loosened all the way. Nightmare watched him fondly before slowly pulling the appendage away.

Cross seemed to be sleeping peacefully now, something that Nightmare hadn’t seen him do for a few days. He wasn’t aware he was smiling in relief until he realized Dream’s hand was on his shoulder. He quickly wiped the look off of his face, instinctively dubbing it as a sign of weakness. He looked over at his brother, only to blinked as he felt teeth against his own. “You did a good job caring for him.” Dream sounded proud and Nightmare couldn’t help the soft heat that spread across his face as he nodded.

“And thank you for bringing him here.” Dream quickly added. Nightmare nodded again, mumbling that Cross just simply hadn’t been getting better under his care alone. His tentacles sank. He just knew his negative, heavy aura had to have something to do with it and he was somewhat disappointed knowing that he couldn’t control it. “Night...” Dream could always read him like a book. He could tell when Nightmare was having bad thoughts.

“Brother, please look at me.” Dream requested softly. Nightmare refused to and blinked as he felt a gloved hand cup his cheek. He grudgingly pressed into it and allowed Dream to turn his head to face him. “This isn’t your fault, okay?” Nightmare stared at him, clearly not believing him. His aura had made things worse for Cross. He could feel it in his bones. His eyelight dropped and Dream puffed out his cheeks in a pout. “Night.”

Nightmare slowly looked back up at him. “Cross is going to be okay. Say it.” He ordered quietly. Nightmare stared at him for a moment and Dream could tell Nightmare was trying to figure out if he was being serious. Dream, very much, was. “Come on. Say it. Cross is going to be fine. He’s going to be okay.” Nightmare’s tentacles had began to curling around the both of them, most of them having sought out some place to wrap around on Dream.

Cross shifted on the couch next to them, catching both of their attention. The moment their gazes turned to him, they were filled with fondness and Cross shifted again in his sleep, as of he could sense them and was trying to squirm away. Nightmare wanted to keep his eye on Cross so he could continue avoiding the question, but Dream didn’t seem to be allowing it. He gently, but firmly, pushed Nightmare’s head back to face him. Nightmare scrunched up a little.

Dream remained unbothered, staring at him eagerly. Nightmare couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward and pressed their teeth together, Dream lovingly pressing back. He pulled away and whispered for Nightmare to say it and the darker nodded quietly. “Cross is going to be okay...” He said softly. Dream smiled and Nightmare could never get tired of that beaming grin. He sighed softly. “Cross will be okay.”

175 notes · View notes

acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

Dar - Rogue, Chapter 16| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: Din frantically searches to find you, but will all be well when he reaches you?

Warnings: Swearing, angst, injury/blood, drowning, mentions of dead bodies, Ltt me know if i forgot anything!

Word Count: 3.8k+

AN: Oh, dear.

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew @queenofthefaceless @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @greeneyedblondie44 @itsnottilly @welcometothepedroverse

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44

Gif by: @jesuiscalmedammit

Mando’a translation: Dar - No longer

Din couldn’t feel his feet.

Or his hands.

There was a thick layer of frost over his armour that crackled every time he moved, giving him the feeling of being encased in a walking, icy tomb.

Of course, if he couldn’t find you and the kids, that’s what his life would come to.

A yawning, bleak nothingness that was darker than his life had ever been. For now, he knew what he had to lose.

He had turned the whole of the Razor Crest apart, pausing to put out the fires now and then before continuing his manic search.

Every single inch, every nook and hidey hole and compartment – even the crates.

Nothing.

You had vanished like the ghost that people had dubbed you when trying to hunt you.

But he had still found you. Why couldn’t he do it again?

He’d managed to get out of the Crest, by climbing out through the doors which were stuck shut. The engines in the ship had died and all the power went out in the crash.

Which had only made him more confused about how the hell you had gotten out – and why.

Din knew you wouldn’t have abandoned them, but he had a horrible feeling that you didn’t leave the ship by choice.

Something had taken you. He knew it by instinct.

And his instinct was rarely wrong.

~~~

He had been walking for days – at least that’s what it felt like.

Din didn’t stop, only briefly when his body begged him to.

He couldn’t afford to stop really, not even for a second.

As soon as it became dark, he used the light on his helmet, but after one incident of nearly tumbling headfirst into an icy crevasse, he knew he would have to wait out the night.

How could he save you if he was lying in the bottom of a ditch with a broken neck?

The second the first streaks of sunlight peered weakly through the clouds; he was moving.

As he walked, he couldn’t help but reminisce of moments you had shared together, from the first time you’d met, all the way until now. Not always significant things, they could sometimes be just flashes, small details that his mind and heart had clung onto.

The way he had instantly thought you looked beautiful when you fought, even if you had been striking out to kill him on Sorgan.

The sharp bite of your words, or the crooning silk of them when you teased him.

The musical twinkle of your laughter filling the quiet atmosphere of this ship, beautiful and infectious.

The scent of you floating through the cockpit, sneaking up under his helmet and making his head spin and his heart flip over.

The ‘fresher always smelt of your soap after you’d been in there, some natural, flowery bar you’d bought from a market and now stayed firmly lodged in his senses.

The way your lips held a natural pout when you slept, as if taunting him. More than once he had to physically remove himself from your presence, before he yanked off his helmet and felt for himself if your lips were as soft as they looked.

The gentle tone you took with Grogu, even when you were scolding him for eating something he shouldn’t, like your fruit or your hair.

Your hair… the feel of it slipping through his fingers like water. Even if it were tangled, or thwapping in your eyes, it was still gorgeous, and he ached to brush it back and braid it out of the way for you.

He didn’t even know how to braid.

Din swallowed, feeling tears threaten the backs of his eyes.

He just couldn’t lose you.

You meant more to him that he could ever admit.

And he never even got to tell you how he really felt. Never got to tell you the things that kept him awake at night, the words that threatened to spill from his lips every time you smiled or laughed with him – but usually at him.

Never got to reveal his true face.

You had shot into his life and exploded like the fierce brilliance of a star, bathing him in light and something extraordinary that he had never realised he’d been missing.

You drove him insane, made him terrified with your reckless abandon, to the point where he thought he might have an aneurysm.

But more than that… you were a constant that he needed.

Sure, he had the kid, but this was different.

With you, he didn’t have to pretend. He didn’t need to keep up the acts of Mandalorian, hunter, fugitive, protector, father.

He could just be… Din.

And telling you his name… Yes, he’d felt nervous, thought his heart might escape out of his throat but… he wanted to. It felt right, to give you something.

And now he might lose you without ever being able to tell you that he lo-

He was broken from his thoughts rather suddenly as his boot caught something and he went tumbling face first into the snow.

Which was hard, and felt… human?

Easing his numb limbs up, Din moved to a crouch to examine what he had ungracefully stumbled over.

His gloves were already soaked, so he made no haste in clearing away the thick, white powder until he revealed something shiny and hard, as white as the landscape.

Armour, layered over soaked black fabric…

Stormtrooper.

A very, very dead Stormtrooper.

Quickly, Din cleared the rest of the snow, and he sobbed out loud when he saw the cause of his death.

An arrow to the throat, which was unmistakably yours with the matte black and gold filigree design

You’d been here.

And you’d fought well, naturally.

He didn’t need to search the rest of the snow to know that there would be more bodies here, that was a waste of time.

Now he just had to find you.

There was a chance you may have been hurt, but the ever-falling precipitation and frigid air would have long since covered any tracks.

Din quickly scanned the trees, but there were no signs of the codes you had both established one night, should you ever be separated and need to find each other without drawing attention.

He was this close to you, literally holding a piece of you in his hands, and yet… he had no idea where to look.

When it came to you, everything he knew how to do often turned upside down.

Frantic anxiety crept along his spine as he rose to his feet, clutching the arrow and he ran a hand over the top of his head, an anxious gesture that would normally involve him running his fingers through his hair and tugging at it to try and make his brain kick into gear.

He was a hunter. A Mandalorian.

So why couldn’t he just hunt?

Doubt and frustration were just beginning to pull him into the depths of a breakdown, when he felt it.

A lick of power along the back of his neck, caressing gently and then disappearing again.

Din went rigid, his heart giving one thud and then seeming to go still as well, like it would help him concentrate better.

He hadn’t imagined it, had he?

Even the snow seemed to stop, everything pausing in anticipation.

The power crept along his shoulders, down his back and roamed over his chest. It slid down his arms and circled his hands, and for a single moment, he swore he could feel fingers laced through his own, tugging his hand gently the same way you did when you saw something pretty or you were in a market.

“I’m here. This way.” It seemed to whisper, “Come and find me…”

Din ran, not even hesitating as he felt the pull.

It was similar to the other night, when he first felt your power. It had that same tug, the same urgency.

Admittedly, there was something wrong with it, it felt… darker. It didn’t carry the same irresistible light that glowed from your very soul and chased away his shadows.

But it had to be you.

He didn’t know anyone else who could do that, apart from the kid and he didn’t know where Grogu was.

Besides, he wasn’t strong enough to do that.

It was you. He knew it was.

As he ran, he put it down to the trauma of being trapped out here, and maybe the fact you were grievously injured.

Maybe even dying.

That unwelcome thought had him moving even faster, following the call and caress of power as it led him across the icy plain, along a slushy river to the base of the largest glacier on the horizon.

The river opened up into a huge, solid lake, glittering with frost and hiding all manners of dark creatures in the murky, frigid depths.

Din bolted around a boulder, and what he saw nearly made his knees buckle in relief.

There you were.

You were alive.

Standing in the centre of the lake, feet planted firmly on the ground, crying as you saw him. You were whispering his name; he could see the way your lips moved and formed the one syllable.

Din had tears of relief on his own cheeks, and he ran a few steps onto the ice when his brain finally caught up and processed the scene.

Something wasn’t right.

You were crying, yes… But you were shaking your head, desperately, as if begging him... not to approach?

Why would you be begging him?

He looked at you properly for the first time.

You were standing oddly, arms behind you and the tension in your body looked like you were being held against your will.

But there was nothing there.

Which only one thing.

“Mando! Finally decided to join the show, did you?”

That fucking voice.

Rich and smooth, dripping like honey with none of the sweetness to match. It only left a bitter taste of copper and blood.

Din turned his head, hand already yanking his pulse rifle from his back and aiming it at Haran before his head even finished turning. “Let her fucking go.”

Haran was leaning against a boulder, one leg crossed over the other with his hands in his pockets. He chuckled, infuriatingly casual, “I’ve just been explaining to your princess here, that this is my game. My rules, my decisions. You are the pawns in my game, and I will move you as I see fit. It’s only just begun, and it is far from over.”

Din snarled softly, raising his hand more, “I don’t care whether you’re playing a game, or having a fucking tea party. Let her go. Now.” He walked further forward, his rifle unwavering and locked onto Haran.

Haran lifted a hand from his pocket, waggling his finger, “Nu-uh. Make one more move and...” He looked over at you, smiling sweetly and his finger just lightly twitched.

A sudden cry, your cry echoed across the air.

The sound of your pain wrenched through Din’s chest, as his head snapped to you and he made a soft noise of horror as he saw the wound that Haran had clearly just probed.

There was a circle of fabric singed and burned away, revealing angry, shining flesh beneath. By the edges of it, it looked almost cauterised... but still awful and blistered; a wound made by a weapon Din had never seen before.

His arm wavered, hearing you stifle your cries of pain, but you looked so pale, seemingly exhausted from the past few days.

And yet, despite the injuries, despite the terrible situation, that fire in your eyes still blazed. It was the untamed fire of a wolf, someone used to being on the edge again and again, and still fighting their way out.

A survivor.

You gazed back at him and your eyes roved over him, taking in every single inch of him, checking for wounds and anything obvious that would show hurt.

You couldn’t see his face, so you wouldn’t be able to see the tears that had frozen on his cheeks. You wouldn’t see the way he was panting, or the way his heart pounded against his ribs.

Normally, this situation would have been nothing to him, something he’d experienced multiple times. A stand off by a bounty who had nothing to lose.

But this was different.

Everything with you was different.

Even though you gave him a strength he never knew he had, you also scared the absolute life out of him. He had nightmares about this kind of situation, nightmares where he wasn’t fast enough to save you and you died in his arms.

He couldn’t let that happen again.

Haran’s voice flowed out again, purring, “You feel it don’t you? The fear… the terror of being faced with a choice. Knowing that in minutes, maybe even seconds, it’ll no longer be me holding her life. It’ll be you. You will be responsible for how your day ends. Embracing each other, alive and safe. Or clutching her dead body to you as you try to figure out just how you failed her.”

A wave of anger rolled through Din, edged with fear and revulsion at the joy in Haran’s voice. “You’re sick, you know that?”

Haran laughed again, rising to stand straight and he walked to the edge of the frozen lake, his black garb standing out starkly against the snowy white surroundings. “I’m not sick, Mandalorian. I just see the world clearly.”

He motioned toward you, “As I also explained to your darling princess - Everyone preaches that they will always sacrifice themselves for the one they love. That it would never be a choice to choose between a stranger, or their amour. But… they lie. When it comes down to it… They always choose wrong.”

He began to walk up and down the edge of the lake, with fluid movements that highlighted the fact that… he just wasn’t human. He couldn’t be.

“Now, of course, I know that if I presented you with saving your own life, or hers, you would choose hers. And she would beg me to save yours, and on and on it would go and be terribly boring.” He paused, stopping and looking between Din and you with a blissful grin, “So, I’ve decided to make it a little more fun.”

You moaned low, a noise of horror and you shook you head, tears forming in your eyes, “Please… Please don’t.”

Din’s blood began to turn even colder, “What are you talking about?” He spoke with fierce demand that didn’t match the turmoil inside.

Haran just smiled a pretty smile, “I’m going to make it harder for you.” He extended an elegant, gloved hand toward you, “Your beloved… or…” He turned his head toward Din, waving his hand again and suddenly, a small bundle flew through the air and he caught it.

Grogu.

He held up the Child, gripping him by the back of his tunic that Din had painstakingly made for him out of fabrics he salvaged from the ship. “Your sweet little child.”

Grogu whined, trying to move but it seemed that Haran had him gripped with the same power that was trapping you.

Din couldn’t breathe, couldn’t comprehend what was happening. There was no choice here. How could he possibly choose?

He swallowed, looking between his Child that he risked his life for, defected, became a fugitive… or the girl that he had been harbouring such love and deep affection for since the night he had nearly lost his life in the alley way.

There was no choice here.

He would save the pair of you, even if he had to die.

The wheels in his brain started turning, spinning over and calculating multiple strategies, how to best save you both with the least amount of harm.

He ran a mental check of his weapons. He had a few Whistling Birds left, his beskar spear, pulse rifle and a knife.

Sure, Haran had those Force powers, but Din was fast… and he had no mercy when those he loved were in danger.

A delicate snort of laughter broke his reverie, and he shifted his attention back to the terrifying legend come to life, “Oh, Mando, please don’t embarrass yourself. I know you think you have the upper hand, but maybe you’ve forgotten that I simply will tear them both apart without blinking. I need your beau, yes, but I’m not afraid to break her first. It’ll only make my job easier.” He grinned, as he were discussing how cold it was, not the fates of his family. “You have to choose, Mandalorian. I don’t have all day. Even monsters like me get cold.” He winked, his scar pulling tight his eyelid for a second.

Din rolled his shoulders, adjusting his grip on his blaster, “You truly think you can do this do us? You are nothing. A monster who delights in hurting people. I’m not listening to you-“

Haran sighed, an over the top, dramatic sigh, “Stars above, I’m bored of this now.” He hauled Grogu up higher, yanking the tube free from his belt and he activated his lightsaber, holding it close to Grogu’s little throat. “For every minute you keep me waiting, I will burn your little baby here. He’s only small, so I’d say you don’t have long. And then, if you’re still keeping me waiting, I’ll do the same to your princess over there, looking all pretty on the ice.”

The gold light bounced off Gorgu’s skin, dangerously close and the little creature whimpered.

For a moment, Din struggled to keep his cool.

There was a sudden flash in his mind, of himself crying over both yours and Grogu’s dead bodies. Because he was too slow, too late and too cocky.

He swallowed back the rising panic clawing up his throat and shook his head a little.

Tears were rolling down your cheeks now, and you turned your head to look at Haran, body still restricted tightly against your will, “Please, please don’t do this. I take it back. I’ll stay with you, or you can kill me. Just don’t hurt him.” You struggled pointlessly against the bonds, trying to send your own power out but Haran had suffocated you.

Din shook his head harder, fiercely, and he was just about to tell you exactly why that would not be happening, when he caught movement above Haran.

His helmet was already turned toward Haran, so he wouldn’t notice the way Din was now searching the boulder above his shoulder.

He could have sworn he saw something, just a flicker-

There.

He did.

A pair of small, glossy black eyes. The very tips of big pointy ears attached to a round head that was barely poking above the top of the boulder.

Suddenly, Din knew exactly how this was going to play out, and what he had to do.

Be the distraction, until he could run and save you.

“Why? Why do I need to choose? What could you possibly gain out of making me decide?” He didn’t risk moving, wanting to keep Haran’s attention focused on himself without letting Grogu be hurt.

Haran rolled his eyes, “You tell me I’m a heartless monster, and then you ask me why I’m doing this?” He looked over at you, “I thought he was supposed to be smart? Tell me there’s something else good going for him besides hunting people.”

You snarled at him, eyes practically spitting fire even though they were glossy with tears, “You should see what he can do with his hands.”

That’s my girl.

Din could have cried at the fact you were still snarking despite the rapidly spiralling situation.

Haran blinked at you for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes before his lips curled up into a wicked smirk, “Oh, I have. Your mind is a lovely little place.” He dropped you another wink and then looked at Grogu, bringing his saber dangerously close agin, “You two have been the centre of my games for far longer than you realise. And this won’t be the last time we meet, believe me. I have much, much bigger plans to set in motion, that will make you wish – Aaah!”

His words were cut off with an uncharacteristic cry of pain as Duru sprang from the top of the boulder, sinking her wickedly sharp claws straight into Haran’s head. She hissed at him, swiping her paws over his forehead and eyes, opening deep cuts that immediately pooled blood.

“Get the fuck off me!” Haran clawed at her, and his effort to dislodge her, he dropped Grogu, becoming more preoccupied with saving his eyes than holding the little baby hostage.

As soon as he landed in the snow, Duru leapt down next to him, biting the back of his tunic and streaking across the snow toward Din. Her head was nearly the same size as Grogu’s entire body, so she had no trouble hauling him to safety.

A frantic laugh bubbled into Din’s throat, but he quelled it fast, because Haran had stopped spinning and wiping the blood from his eyes.

He looked up, his hair sticking out wildly, and with the streaks of blood running down his face, his bared teeth and furious eyes, he truly looked every bit the madman he was believed to be, “You think you can beat me? That I will be taken down by a pest?” He laughed, but this laugh wasn’t silken, or seductive. It was off-kilter, manic and oh-so twisted.

Din turned to you, quickly whilst Haran was laughing, “Sweetheart, run-“

Haran stopped laughing, “Oh, Mando. It’s you that needs to run.” His hand emerged from behind his cloak, and then he suddenly shot at the ice surrounding your feet, multiple blows in rapid succession.

The entire lake rumbled, fissures snaking across the surface like lightning bolts.

With each new appearance, the ice cracked, a deep, echoing noise that Din felt in his bones.

Thousands of splinters appeared around the holes at your feet, exploding across the surface of the lake quicker than taking a breath.

For a few moments, everything seemed suspended as time grew limitless.

Din could count every single squeeze of his heart, could feel every ragged breath dragging in and out of his lungs.

He could see each snowflake that danced in the air, their unique beauty a stark contrast to what was happening.

He saw Haran’s grinning, bloodied face disappearing behind the boulder, making his escape.

Din heard Grogu’s piercing cry of fear, and the noise shattered the haze of time and everything seemed to snap into fast-forward.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening, even though he screamed at his feet to move, to run, to save you-

You barely had time to hold out your hand, for your lips to just form The Mandalorian’s name…

And then the ice gave way into the fathomless depths.

And you were gone.

Previous| Next

#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #rogue #the mandalorian #din djarin #Pedro Pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal

127 notes · View notes

crazymangaluv · 4 years

Text

Bakagou!

@hellomgann1296 my beautiful muse along with the talented fanfic authors I read helped to inspire me to write my 1st Bakugou fic. I’m not much of a writer so I’m sorry for any mistakes and any ooc-ness of the character.

Warning: (slightly lemony: cursing, slight nudity, some steaminess). This is a Bakugou x female reader: I sincerely apologize to those who are left out when using female pronouns.

Description: You and Katsuki are childhood friends and you have fallen for this hothead. Unfortunately, you overhear him say something hurtful and you did the first thing that came into mind: run. Not a smart idea in hindsight but run you did. Buuuut of course you run blindly during a thunderstorm (accident waiting to happen) and have a loose canon chasing after you aka Bakagou. Will your relationship mend?

You attempt to focus on the sound of water falling heavily onto the ground as you took deep breaths in and out. You shiver and clutch yourself tighter. Your ankle is throbbing but you try to ignore it. The sound of the rain and the burning fire provides some comfort to your misery--

“Tch!”

Your eyebrow twitches at the sound. You turn your attention back to the source. He’s sitting there in his boxers, arms crossed and a scowl adorning his handsome face. You disregard his naked state, your face contorting into a similar scowl as well. You try to find your inner zen -cute puppy…..no wait...a handful of cute puppies-. It was beginning to work but--

“Achoo!” you sniffle.

“Tch…”

There goes your patience. “Would you knock it off Bakagou??”

His scowl deepens to a snarl at your remark and the emphasis on the former portion of his name. “Eh?? Knock it off? It’s your fault we’re in this mess in the first place!”

You scoff in disbelief. “My fault?? I didn't ask you to come after me, Mr. I’m-so-cool- with-my-bad-attitude!”

He glances at your swollen, bruised ankle and your drenched clothes before reverting his glaring eyes to yours. You meet his eyes with a glare of your own, however, your vision begins to blur from the tears forming. He opens his mouth to retort but you continue: “I was trying to get away from you! You’re just a big fucking jerk! You don’t care about anyone other than yourself and you treat everyone like shit!”

Your tears flow freely down your cheeks. You don’t bother hiding them from him, even if it makes you look weak. His scowl reduces to a frown, eyebrows furrowing. He feels a pang in his chest; he hates it when you cry. His face bears an expression of shame but something else you couldn’t pinpoint.

You’ve been his friend since childhood, you would even say you’re one of his best friends. He does treat you differently than the rest: more mellow and less explosive, no verbal berating, etc. You couldn’t help but develop deeper feelings for him over the years. The two of you are older now and you have noticed an increase of intimate moments between you both when alone. The subtle soft touches, the caresses, the long hugs, the way his hardened eyes would soften with you, the movie night cuddles, falling asleep in each other’s arms...gestures where you felt that there was a possibility of reciprocated feelings. Guess it was all in your head, nothing but misinterpretation from a desperate fool. You feel like such an idiot.

[Flashback]

You’re on your way to see him, smiling to yourself as you carry his share of the spicy dish you cooked. He seemed stressed the previous day so you wanted to cheer him up. He always looked forward to your dishes. You could hear their voices around the corner, and you smile to yourself, it seems that they were up to the usual shenanigans based on the volume of their voices. It appears they were teasing him about something, you shake your head at their antics.

“Yeah Ochako is super cute! Haha why are you blushing Midoriya??”

“N-n-n-nothing!!”

“What about y/n??”

“Yeah! Y/n is pretty cute, you think she’s got a boyfriend?”

“Oh yeah y/n sure is a looker. She’s pretty badass too.”

“Wait she’s got Bakugou here.” *laughs*

“Yeaah you two are awfully close...are you guys….ya know….,” *whispers* “doing it??”

Katsuki growls, “Shut up!”

“NO! THEY’RE NOOOOT! WHY WOULD Y/N WANT STUPID BAKUGOU ANYWAYS??!” Mineta cries out pathetically.

You roll your eyes at the sound of his stupid whining voice. You shake your head and sighed. You’re ready with your retort and to kick Mineta’s ass just as you turned the corner.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! STOP BEING ALL GAH GAH OVER HER! Y/N AIN’T SHIT!” Katstuki shouts as he shoves Mineta aside.

His gift slips from your hands onto the ground. It feels as though you’re punched in the gut. You stand frozen like a deer in headlights. He’s never said anything like that to you or about you before in all the years you’ve known him. The boys flinch at his booming voice before flinching again at your presence. They look at you in awkward silence equally as surprised. He turns at the sound, his eyes meeting yours and widening in shock. Thunder rolls in the background...tears form in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, your lips quiver. You turn and just run. You ran as fast as you could with no set destination in mind. You hear him shout your name but you didn’t care. You needed to get away from everyone, you’re so embarrassed and ashamed.

It begins to pour, the water drenches you as you keep moving. Lightning flashes above you with the loud boom of thunder. The rain makes the floor increasingly slippery causing you to lose your footing. You careen down, curling into a ball as you tumble down a steep slope. You land with a *crash* and a *thump*. You turn over onto your back and let out a sob. You’re such an idiot...you angrily wipe your cheek. You have no idea where you are and it’s getting dark. You move to stand but fall over from the sharp pain at your ankle. Oh just great, a sprained ankle to make things even better.

He immediately had run after you following his brief state of shock. He loses you momentarily but he hears the crash in the distance. He quickened his pace in desperation and anger. “Y/n!”

You hear your name and you look up to see him gracefully sliding down the slope towards you. No no no no, not you. You stand and limp away ignoring the pain but he easily catches up to you. His hand gently and firmly wraps around your arm but you rip it out of his grip. The movement aggravates your ankle further causing you to yelp out in pain as you lose your balance. He reaches for you, swiftly catching and pulling you close. You squirm in his arms.

“Quit squirming y/n!”

You refuse to look at him,“No. Let go of me.”

He scowls and instead picks you up. “Your fucking ankle is shit and you know for damn sure you can’t walk right now.”

You cross your arms and huff in annoyance. No word is said between the two of you as he treks the terrain. The rain only falls harder with frequent flashes of lightning and rumbling of thunder. You’re both drenched and you tremble from the cold. His grip tightens, he needs to get you out of the rain fast. Your teeth are chattering; he tch’s to himself and quickens his pace. The sky grows darker, making it more difficult to see where he’s going. The flash of lightning provides him the light he needed, illuminating a cave ahead. He sets you down gently before stalking off to get supplies for a fire. He’s gone for no more than 2 minutes. He drops the branches and wood and starts a fire. You welcome the heat but refuse to move.

“Your clothes need to dry. Take them off y/n, you’re going to get sick.”

You ignore him and opt to hug yourself in all your wetness. You hear the squelching of tossed wet clothes and your face flushes.

[Present]

Your trembling worsens, not just from the coldness of your still wet attire, but from your outburst as well. You look away and bury your face into your arms. You let out a quiet sob you couldn’t hold in. You’re cold, wet, in pain, angry, tired, embarrassed, ashamed, etc. All these feelings and emotions storming inside you. You didn’t hear him approach you but instead feel his warm arms pulling you close. Before you could pull away, his solemn voice stops you.

“I’m sorry.”

You sit there in shock, he’s never said sorry before...in all the years you’ve known him not one sorry.

He hugs you tighter, his head rests on your shoulder. “I’m a fucking idiot. I didn’t mean what I said. Please y/n...forgive me.”

You sniffle. “You’re a jerk,” you voice out weakly. It didn’t hold the angry bite you wanted, but you couldn’t stay angry, you were just hurt.

“I am a jerk…I’m sorry.”

You sneeze again causing him to slightly flinch. He tchs once more and immediately picks you up and plops down by the fire. “You’re going to get sick y/n…”

You don’t respond.

*Sigh* “...y/n please…”

You sigh in response. You move to shuffle away and his arms release you. The places where he was touching you are now cold. You miss his touch but you shake your head and take in a deep breath before removing your clothing. Katsuki turns away, refraining from turning around. You neatly place your drenched clothes on the rocks beside you. You shiver, it's still a tad chilly but the fire is helping. You glance over to him, the flickering glow of the fire dancing on his muscular back. He’s close enough to touch but you stop yourself by gripping your hands together. Your eyes travel up to the back of his head, his dripping blond hair glistening softly. You follow a droplet that falls from a strand of hair and slowly rolls down his spine. As if he felt your gaze, he turns his head slightly to peer at you from the corner of his eye.

You twiddle your thumbs nervously at the silence. You furrow your brow and clear your throat. “Why did you say it if you didn’t mean it?”

He looks away from you. “Because...because I’m an idiot.” His eyes return to yours.

You frown. “Yeah you are an idiot.”

He doesn’t flinch. “I am an idiot...I just...I didn’t want them to know…” he trails off, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort.

You look at him expectantly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his arm down and turns fully to face you, sighing. His eyes return to yours. “I didn’t want them to know how crazy I am for you. And--” he pauses. “I got...jealous. I didn’t want them looking at you the way I do.”

You look at him quizzically, heart pounding in your chest. His eyes are burning with an intensity you haven't quite seen before.

You blush but hold firm. “That still doesn’t make it okay to react like that. To be so quick to bring me down. It was still hurtful to hear...even if you weren’t talking directly to me.”

His eyebrows furrow and he reaches a hand out to you. His rough hand lightly covers yours. “I know. I’m sorry y/n. I am, truly. I’m a stupid immature jerk. It won’t happen again....You’re not...you’re not something to possess, but someone to cherish...to love.”

You hear and feel the sincerity in his words. You look down at his hand, registering the words he just said...You can’t get your hopes up, interpreting a moment for more than what it was. You gather your courage to ask the one question you’ve wanted the answer to for years:

“Do you...love me?”

His breath hitches and he freezes. He’s not used to expressing his feelings, the ones that leave him vulnerable. He uses a wall of anger to prevent anyone from seeing him weak. Opening his heart to someone, he hasn’t, not even to his own parents. But you...you make him want to. You’ve gradually chiseled down those walls of his. He yearns to just hold you in his arms and never let you go. Loving you isn’t a weakness. He has realized over the years, his love for you has made him stronger. It was what fanned the flames within him, motivating him to be the best. Seeing these other men around you, ones who weren’t so rough around the edges, it made him feel jealous. You deserved better than him, one who’s not as explosively hot headed. It wasn’t right for him to try to possess you, to keep you to himself and chase others away from you.

He removes his hand from yours. You swallow painfully, the lump of your throat aching more so than your ankle. You close your eyes and steel yourself, preparing for the incoming rejection. But instead he inches closer to you, you can feel the heat radiating from his body yet you remain still. He tentatively raises his hand to your face to gently wipe a stray tear that fell from your cheek unbeknownst to you and rests his hand on the side of your face, thumb caressing your cheek in a comforting manner.

“I love you y/n. With every fiber of my being, even if you don’t feel the same way.”

You close your eyes and lean into his touch, letting out the breath you’ve been holding. The tears flow down your cheeks and his warm thumbs wipe them away tenderly. He gently pulls you closer and kisses your forehead. You suck in a breath at the intimate action. You feel his lips on your right cheek, then your left...by the corner of your lips, on the right side, then the left side. It lingers there a bit, your lips tremble. Then, you can feel his lips, ever so softly, brush against yours.

Your rapid thumping of your heart is ringing in your ears. You move your lips against his, unsure at first but soon with more confidence. His lips move against yours in a sense of desperation. His hands drop to your waist to pull you down with him. You’re pulled flush against him as he holds you on top of him. You gasp and blush further at how his half naked body feels against yours. He places his hand behind your head and tenderly brings you down to which you allow with no resistance. His lips envelop yours with gentle aggression you didn’t think was possible. The kiss is quickly deepened. His rough hands roam over your body, without venturing too far, and you let out a moan.

He rolls you over beneath him without breaking the kiss and with a hand supporting your head. He’s nestled between your legs as the two of you kiss fervently. It's your turn to let your hands wander. Your hands gliding over his smooth skin, your fingers studying his hard muscles in detail. He detaches his lips from yours to suck and nip at your neck down to just above your breasts. You moan and wrap your legs around his hips to pull him further against you, paying no heed to the twinge of pain from your ankle. He moans into your neck from the contact and slightly grinds against you. You pull him back up to your lips and his tongue slides into your mouth, teasing yours. You grip his back tightly, moaning as you feel yourself growing hotter. His hand slips up your torso, fingertips brushing over your breast. You lean into his touch which causes his hand to grasp your breast. You gasp into his mouth and moan out his name. He withdraws his hand from your breast and pulls away from you. Leaning on his forearms, he hovers over you whilst panting and eyes burning with desire.

“Katsuki?”

He leans down to kiss you, lips lingering before pulling away. His hand brushes the strands of hair from your face and he caresses your cheek lightly with the back of his fingers.

“As much as I want you y/n...and believe me, y/n, I want to ravish you, to kiss, suck, touch every inch of your body...I can’t...not here, not like this.”

You blink up at him in realization. Cheeks reddening at his words, suddenly feeling shy.

“I want you, sprawled on my bed.” He growls out.

Your face flushes at the thought.

“I want to wake up to you in my arms...I want you there beside me, as my partner. I want to take you out on a real date, hand in hand, treat you the way you deserve.”

Your lips quiver.

“You’re the only woman I want, if you’ll have me.”

You nod, speechless. You relish in the tender kiss he gives you before he sits up and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, enjoying the intimacy as you both sit there basking in the warmth of crackling fire and listen to the soothing sound of the pitter pattering of the rain.

[Later]

Friends remain dumbfounded as they stumble upon the both of you emerging from the forest. He struts through, carrying you in his arms as he makes his way to the infirmary. Your friends follow, teeming with questions.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay y/n?”

“Y/n! Kaachan! Are you guys are okay?”

“Y/n, what happened? Did you guys make up?”

“What did you do to her Bakugou?”

“Y/n! Thank goodness you’re okay! Bakugou! You apologized huh? You’re truly embracing the manly spirit!”

“We were worried sick! We were about to go looking for you guys!”

“You can’t just run off like that during a storm!! That was irresponsible of you both!”

You smile awkwardly and apologetically. You’re attempting to answer the swarm of questions and apologize, but find no room to interject. Katsuki’s scowls, eyebrow twitching in annoyance.

“Piss off! Get the fuck outta our way extras!”

They scramble out of the way, momentarily ceasing their questioning. He holds you tightly as he kicks the door shut on their curious faces. They deemed it wiser to leave the two of you alone, opting to pester the two of you later. He places a chaste kiss your cheek before placing you down on one of the beds. He walks away tch-ing at the lack of staff. “Oy! My girlfriend is injured here! Move your asses!”

You smile and shake your head. You love this hothead.

#bnha #boku no hero fanfic #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #bakugo x you #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #fanfic #bakugou x y/n #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x female reader #katsuki x female reader #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x y/n

339 notes · View notes

welllpthisishappening · 4 years

Text

But Once a Year (1/5)

This is a trick.

It has to be. Something Pan planned, or some nonsense only possible in Neverland, because one second Emma’s sitting outside the Echo Caves and wondering how exactly things could possibly get worse, and then the world decides to take her up on the challenge. She’s not where she was. Or when she was, either.

And the future isn’t entirely what Emma expects it to be, but that might not be entirely horrible and Christmas with a husband and a family that quite clearly loves her is only kind of messing with her head. God bless us, every one.

————

Rating: T Word Count: 8.3K and just a lot more than originally planned AN: It’s me. Incapable of writing a multi-chapter until starting a new job, and having other prompts to fill, and I really will fill those other prompts, so prepare yourselves for an onslaught of Christmas fic. Of which this is only kind of that. It takes place at Christmas. But also involves time travel, and way more canon divergence than I’ve ever written, and kissing. Because of who I am as a person. Blame @klynn-stormz if you must. Or don’t, because she sent a very good prompt and is very nice and I hope she enjoys this mess of words.

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam

————

She’s so goddamn hot. It’s absurd. And disgusting. But mostly absurd.

Sweat pools at the base of Emma’s spine, drips down the sides of her cheeks and falls from the edge of her jaw. Makes her skin crawl, the kind of heat that’s far too oppressive and she’s already having enough trouble breathing, so all of this seems like overkill. Which is Neverland’s schtick, she imagines.

Licking her lips doesn’t help. Moving is a lost cause before she’s even considered clamoring to her feet, and she’s genuinely not sure if she’d be able to unbend her knees anyway, crouched as she is in whatever foliage surrounds the mouth of the Echo Caves.

It smells.

The foliage — and Emma, she supposes. Most of her thoughts drift away from body odor rather quickly though, right back into that cave and she can’t figure out who made the cell Neal was in, but she also told Neal she wished he was actually dead while he was in that cell and she figures that makes her something of an asshole.

Feeling clenches in her chest, quite possibly the physical manifestation of her anxiety and growing fear and every single second that passes is another second they haven’t used to find Henry and—

“Ah, shit,” Emma hisses, not able to get her sword out of its makeshift scabbard in time. Maybe she shouldn’t keep it on her back.

Hook lifts his eyebrows.

“Are you alright, love?” “Shut up. What are you doing out here? It’s not your turn to watch.” Scoffing, he lets his tongue trace across the front of his teeth, which is only vaguely obscene, and Emma’s far too warm to deal with this. In both the literal and metaphorical sense of the word. It’s ridiculous that he’s still wearing his jacket. “Aren’t you hot?” she asks, words tumbling out of her before she’s really considered them and she wishes that trend would stop.

Quickly. Immediately, even.

Not crying after her mother’s Echo Cave admission might be one of Emma’s great accomplishments to date.

“Should all of your statements sound so much like insults?” Hook quips, his tongue continuing to torment Emma. Staring at his tongue is becoming something of a very real issue for her.

Presumably because she’s now all too aware of what that tongue is capable of, and they’d been very good at kissing. Each other, specifically. Better than she thought, honestly. And she refuses to acknowledge how often she thought about it.

She still hasn’t been able to get her sword out of its scabbard entirely. “I’m going to take your rather pointed silence as confirmation of the insults,” Hook continues. Rocking forward, the edges of his jacket threaten to brush Emma’s bent legs and she honestly has no idea what she’ll do if that happens, so leaning back seems like a reasonable response and not one that’s going to make his eyes do that thing. Where they dim ever so slightly, teasing disappearing and evolving into understanding she both hates and wants on some sort of fundamental level and—

“I’m sorry.”

On the nonexistent list of things Emma doesn’t expect, that might be numbers one through seven. Maybe even up to eight.

“You don’t—” she shakes her head, hair sticking to her skin in the process, “Well, no that’s not actually true, because you probably shouldn’t have said anything about the making out—” “—I don’t believe I used that particular phrase.”

He actually has the gall to smirk when Emma glares at him, eyebrows twisted in the kind of unspoken challenge that regularly makes her stomach flip. Emma doesn’t have time for stomach flipping. She’s got to find her kid. Possibly get, like, twenty-four minutes of uninterrupted sleep. “Even so,” Hook adds, “it was…” There’s enough fabric on that monstrosity of a jacket that Emma can only imagine he’s got plenty of pocket options to stuff his hands into, but his thumb just finds his belt loop and the exhale he lets out is rife with emotion. The same kind she’s trying to avoid, in tandem with the stomach flipping. “Your father keeps glaring at me.”

Laughing is a patently absurd reaction to that.

Her father is dying, apparently. Or tethered to this island, and that’s not much better, but it absolutely does not surprise Emma that he’s falling directly back into overprotective and if she’s going to be the asshole she absolutely is, then she should also probably admit how nice it was

to be hugged with that kind of determination before.

That might not be the right word.

Whatever, it’s the thought that counts. She thinks she might be able to fall asleep if her dad were here.

“It’s not a big deal,” Emma lies, barely opening her mouth. Like even that can’t believe what she’s trying to claim. “Although I am sorry about my dad, I can—I mean I can say something if you want.” “No, no, that wasn’t what I was suggesting, at all. I’m sure the prince has better things to worry about than—” “You and me?”

Hook hums. Keeps his thumb where it is, and his eyebrows halfway up his forehead.

Her stomach noticeably sinks.

“Of course, not—no, I just…” Stammering Captain Hook catches Emma off guard, eyeing the toe of his boot as it digs a fairly impressive divot into the ground that is no doubt staining her jeans. And she’s about to do something, really she is. Say something almost positive, or reassuring, or maybe simply jump back to her feet, bent knees be damned, so she can grab the lapels of that nearly-offensive jacket and kiss the ever-loving daylights out of him. Again. But something snaps behind her, and every single inch of Kill—no, no, Hook, still Captain Hook.

That’s more unimportant syntax.

Because all of him tenses as immediately as Emma had been hoping for before, a soft noise on the wind that’s strong enough to ruffle those sweat-drenched strands of her hair. Her mouth goes dry, the laughter making her pulse sputter traitorously and Hook’s sword all but flies out of its scabbard.

“Emma, you need to move,” he says, calm as anything. It’s an act. She knows — can tell even when it appears the jungle is getting darker, and the stars above them are going out, but then again, she’s always been able to tell with him, and it’s very disappointing that her rather dramatic swallow doesn’t do anything to help the state of her mouth.

He used her name.

Eventually that will feel very important.

“What? Why, it’s—”

“Please, love,” Hook presses, “I need you to come with me. Right now. How long have you been out here?” Shrugging is harder than Emma expects it to be. As if the heat is actually a weight, pressing directly into her shoulders and rooting her exactly where she is. “We need to move, Swan. You shouldn’t be here.” “Well, that’s kind of rude.”

Widening his eyes makes it even more obvious how blue they are, and they are so ridiculously blue sometimes Emma wonders if she could simply drown in them. Sometimes that doesn’t seem like all that unappealing a prospect.

God, he was good at kissing.

“You told me to shut up earlier. Turnabout is fair play, darling.” “Running the gamut of nicknames, aren’t we? Is that a power move?” “Endearments, really. And no, it’s not. Disappointing that wasn’t clearer what with my intention to apologize and make sure you were alright.”

“Sounds suspiciously like playing knight in pirate armor.” “Can’t imagine armor would be very comfortable. Not much freedom of movement, you see.”

She laughs. Without thinking too much about the sound, mostly because the sound seems to bubble out of Emma and that’s not right. She doesn’t bubble. She stews, and sits and—

Something springs from the ground. Spring is generous, honestly. Cracks form under Emma’s splayed out fingers, tiny green vines that file up with a smell that make her vision swim and her senses fog, and she’s dimly aware of a hand on her shoulder. Tugging her forward, but Emma’s legs simply are not interested in functioning, and she’s so comfortable here. Standing seems even more unreasonable than before, especially when all of her inhales come with that scent. Reminding her of something she can’t quite understand, and it’s suspiciously similar to the tide coming in, and he’s still yelling.

And swinging his sword. Light gleams off the blade, probably because whatever is pushing out of the ground is also glowing, and Emma’s mind can’t really cope with glowing plants right now.

She squeezes her eyes closed. Burrows her face into the very solid chest she’s somehow level with, and Emma’s not entirely sure when that happened, but she also can’t bring herself to complain about it. Especially when it feels like his lips graze her temple. More than once.

“Swan, c’mon love we’ve got to go.”

Groaning, Emma’s head doesn’t ache. Nothing does, actually. She’s oddly comfortably and her internal-body temperature appears to be biologically accurate, but she’s admittedly not totally confident about her knowledge of that second thing, and whatever is underneath her left cheek is also quite obviously not the very solid, slightly uncovered chest of a pirate captain she’d like to make out with again.

Her stomach flies into her throat that time. So, there’s something to be said for a change of pace.

Emma blinks. Swallows. More than once. Licks her lips, to absolutely no avail — but she can’t be bothered with that when it’s clear her heart is doing its damndest to beat its way out of her chest, and she’s not in Neverland anymore.

For one thing, there’s a distinct lack of smells. Bad ones, at least. Wherever she is smells suspiciously liked baked goods and the forest, which makes sense as soon as Emma blinks open her eyes. There’s a rather large tree across from her.

Covered in garland and lights that blink back at her, ornaments hang from nearly every branch, and there are enough presents underneath that she briefly wonders which bank they had to rob to buy all of that. Snow flurries dance outside windows that are frosted over, and there are a lot of windows in this room.

Some of them look out towards an expansive backyard, while others make it clear just how close they are to the water, and Emma thinks she can almost smell the water, but that might be wishful thinking and—

“Holy shit,” she breathes, gaze finally landing on the voice in front of her and she knew the voice, even when she didn’t want to admit it. That’s something of a theme for her now. “What—what are you wearing?” Tilting his head in confusion, strands of hair threaten to fall into Hook’s eyes. The same blue as always, if not a little sharper because it’s obvious he doesn’t understand what’s going on, and Emma’s going to cling to that. So it feels like they’re on slightly more even footing.

“Clothes,” he drawls, and that's the same too. Emma can’t move. Is having quite a lot of trouble breathing, and clothes is a vast understatement.

Pants that are somehow tighter than any of the leather he’d previously sported make his legs look ridiculous, especially when there’s a noticeable lack of sword and Emma was kind of getting used to the sword. He’s rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, nothing covering the brace at the end of his arm, but she’s also admittedly preoccupied with the number of buttons he’s undone and the vest that’s hanging loosely from his shoulders, and this might actually be the first time she’s seen him without a jacket on.

Her stomach will probably just stay in her throat, then.

“You’ll do dangerous things to my ego, if you keep staring like that,” Hook warns, but any passably snarky response gets caught behind Emma’s increasingly problematic tongue and her brain still hasn’t caught up yet.

To the glint of light reflecting from his hand.

And one very specific finger.

Mouth dropping and breath practically flying out of her, Emma nearly steps on both of his feet when she jumps to hers, trying without much success to stay upright. Her hands fly towards him of their own accord, or so she will argue forever, and that can’t possibly be her first mistake.

Putting her goddamn scabbard on her back was, probably.

As it is, whatever number she’s at is suddenly the only number that matters, because her flat palms make it undeniably clear that she’s got her own bit of jewelry on her own specific finger, and Killian’s hand keeps moving. Up and down her spine, like that’s something it’s allowed to do. There is not enough oxygen in the world to sigh as loudly as she’d like to.

“Steady on, love,” Hook murmurs, and that about does it. Neck giving up and knees threatening to buckle underneath her, Emma’s fingers curl into this absolutely ridiculous shirt at the same time her forehead collides with his collarbone, and he doesn’t really flinch.

Tenses, slightly — although she figures that’s because of the worry she can practically fele radiating off him, and his hand stills. So as to ensure that his arm can also tighten around her middle, while his lips brush across her temple and the top of her hair.

Anywhere he can reach, it seems.

“Nightmare?” he asks, pulling her closer. They fit very well together, Emma realizes. Like pieces of a puzzle, and that’s admittedly sentimental, but she’s also ninety-six percent certain she’s still dreaming. That’s the only reasonable explanation.

She can’t be dead. Not from a plant attack in Neverland. And Kill—Hook, goddamnit, Hook, wouldn’t have let that happen. She’s sure of that, at least.

“Um, yeah, yeah,” she stammers. “I—sorry, I don’t think I meant to fall asleep.” “Nothing to apologize for. You’ve been baking for a small army the last couple of days, only serves that’d be exhausting.”

“Have I?” Leaning back, he narrows his eyes, and that’s fair. None of this makes sense. Rings, and trees, and baking. She’s never baked in her life. If she had, it wouldn’t smell nearly this good.

“Who, um—” Emma continues, eyes widening when the realization hits her. “Henry! Where’s Henry?” Running is not easy with the arm still around seemingly getting tighter by the second, but her fear has already evolved into the kind of maternal-based adrenaline they do scientific studies on. “Let go of me,” she sneers, and he does. Immediately. The sound of his hands hitting his jeans is far too loud. “Where’s my kid? Why isn’t he here?” The tongue thing.

Swiping across the front of Hook’s teeth, the tip of his tongue finds the corner of his mouth and the inside of his cheek, jutting out with questions and the almost audible cranking of metaphorical gears in his head. “It’s not Christmas yet,” Hook explains, voice oddly similar to a few minutes before, but Emma’s starting to realize that was not a few minutes before and she’s starting to feel a little nauseous.

“Yuh huh.” “Are you alright, love?” He says it soft enough that something flutters in the back of Emma’s brain, some long-forgotten hint of emotion that she refuses to acknowledge. She doesn’t have time for it. There’s baking to do, supposedly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m, uh—I’m fine,” Emma promises, only one side of Hook’s mouth tilting up. “Just...tired, I guess.” “Because of the nightmare.” “Say that again when it doesn’t sound quite so much like an accusation.” “No accusation,” he objects, but it rings as sincere as her promise and the light’s got to be messing with her now. Bouncing off his ring the way it is. “Haven’t had a nightmare in some time, but that’s neither here nor there.” “Wow, you suck at that.”

There goes the other side of his mouth. Emma might be staring at his mouth. “Occasionally,” Hook agrees. “What’d you dream about, then?” Lying is very appealing. Coming up with a story Emma knows he’ll only half believe, but she assumes she’s got plausible deniability too, and she can’t think of a single thing to say. That’s disappointing.

“I was in Neverland.”

If nothing else, staring at his mouth — and the rest of his admittedly attractive face — makes it easy to tell the moment Hook’s jaw clenches. Nerves color his gaze, almost as if he’s trying to remember something he’s already forgotten, but Emma appears to be the only one having some sort of existential crisis and the hint of grey at his temples suggests its been some time since Neverland. Figuring out how much time exactly, will probably be a bit of a challenge. “And?” “And what?” “And there’s plenty of terrors to warrant nightmares in Neverland,” Hook says, stepping out of Emma’s space. Also disappointing. “What exactly was it?” Shaking her head slowly, Emma’s hair doesn’t move. She’s not nearly as sweaty as she was either, the blanket at her feet proof positive of that, although her skin feels almost clammy and the magic in her veins has started to buzz. If Killian doesn’t stop moving his tongue in his mouth, she’s going to scream.

Ah, goddamn.

“I don’t know,” she says, not the lie she still wants it to be, “just some weird plant thing and you wanted me to come with you, but that was probably now, right?” There’s no way he’s comfortable with his neck at that angle. “Maybe. Do you still want to go?” “To, uh—” “—Doc called this morning, said the paint was ready to pick up.” “Paint,” Emma echoes, another confusing string of words that threatens to knock her back on the couch. It was a comfortable couch though, so maybe that’s not the worst thing that could happen to her. Neither is waking up in a reality where Hook wears jeans like that and stares at her like she’s his—she drops back. Onto the comfortable couch.

“Mmhm, the color we picked out last week? He claimed he had to order it, but your father claims he’s just nervous because he doesn’t want to offend me and—” “—Why would you get offended by a dwarf?” Dots of pink appear on his cheeks. The bits not covered with stubble, and there’s some grey in that as well. It works, honestly. “He mercilessly overcharges for her services,” Hook says, clearly not the first time this particular rant has been voiced, “and it’s because he’s the only hardware store in town. Which is why you wanted to go. Help small businesses and the economy of the realm, even when Regina claimed we could order it just as easily off Amazon. But that only led to your denouncement of Jeff Bezos, and I do love it when you openly flout capitalism, so—” He shrugs. Emma might be going into shock. “Here we are, with slightly delayed, if not well-mixed paint, enough baked goods to mask the smell, and your parents guarantee that there’s more than enough room for all of us on Christmas Eve.”

“We’re painting on Christmas Eve?” Concern continues to ripple around him, made all the more clear by the pinch between his eyebrows and how often he rocks forward before shaking his head. It’s four times. “No, we’re painting—well, whenever we have time really, but you did mention Friday evening, and that way Hope could stay at the farm. Naturally she’s thrilled at the prospect.” “Right, right, right, that’s....yeah, that’s right.” She’s so bad at lying. To Hook, specifically. Open book practically broadcasts itself from every twitch of his mouth, and Emma is still doing a God awful job of not staring at his mouth, but her head is spinning and she can’t understand any of this and she’s kind of curious about what paint color they picked.

And who Hope is.

She refuses to acknowledge the flicker of familiarity in the back corner of her brain.

She’s got to get out of here. Away from the couch, and whatever color the paint might be, back to Neverland, which is not something she ever thought she’d want, but they haven’t found Henry yet and who knows what Pan is planning next and— “Where’s Henry?” Emma whispers, far too aware of the desperation in those two words. Hook’s lips thin. When he presses them together. “I know he’s not going to be here until Christmas, but is—he’s ok, right?” “Swan, are you—” “—Just tell me where my kid is, Hook!” Those words fly out of her, voice rising on every letter until it feels as if they’re cutting their way out of Emma’s soul, leaving lacerations behind and the blood that’s appeared on the tip of her tongue makes her recoil. She fully expects him to take another step back, not sure when she stood up again, only that her knees are knocking together now, so naturally that’s not what happens at all.

Hook moves back into her space, made all the easier by the lack of weapons between them, hand finding her cheek as easily as it traced her spine, and Emma doesn’t want to lean into the touch, but he’s so ridiculously warm and she’s teetering on the edge of undeniable insanity, so she’s going to give herself this. For at least six seconds.

“Visiting Ella’s stepsister, so while he’s probably not having the best time, Lu’s always been a rather large fan of that particular realm, and Drizella is a bit of a pushover. I’d imagine the little lass is going gangbusters on the present front.”

Emma’s breathing out of her mouth.

That seems fair as well. Trying to piece together any of that information with the life she’s currently living is all but impossible, and it’s only a matter of time until her knees give up again. Honestly, not crying continues to be her greatest talent.

“Maybe I should just go to the store,” Hook says, “and let you try and get some more rest.”

Even the thought of being left here alone makes Emma’s magic boil in the pit of her stomach — wherever it might be sitting now, and she’s already shaking her head. “No, no, I want to make sure it’s the right color.” “Yuh huh.” “Sounding less than agreeable, Captain.” It’s a mean trick. One she knows will work, and it does. Hook’s eyes flash, and his brows jump, the hand that returned to her hip at some point tightening ever so slightly. “Tell me that you’re alright, and I’ll consider it.” “I’m fine.” “You’re a woefully bad liar is what you are, Your Highness.” Scrunching her nose, Emma tries very hard to temper the fluttering between her ribs. Magic mixes with nerves and flirting that’s not necessarily easier than it’s been, but certainly more fine-tuned. As if it’s a dance both of them are used to. “You can’t pull your sword on Doc, you know that, right?” “That hasn’t happened in years.” “Hook either, that might honestly be worse.” “He’s got a stranglehold on the hardware economy in this town. It’s not right. Gives him leave to charge an arm and a leg.” “If I tell you I’m fine again, will that distract you from your questionable obsession with hardware-based economies?” “Probably not,” Hook grins, more teasing and fluttering and his eyebrows jump again. As soon as Emma licks her lips.

“No challenging the dwarfs to a duel.” Saluting is only passably overwhelming, but that appears to be the way this is going, and Emma cannot come up with an appropriate adjective to describe whatever sound she makes. As soon as he kisses her cheek. Giggling is out of the realm of possibility. “Noted,” Hook says, “c’mon, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can pick up the little sea monster.”

At this point, Emma would almost welcome a battle with a sea monster. Get her blood flowing, provide an outlet for all her adrenaline and, she hopes at least, if she dies in this dream, she’ll wake up back in Neverland.

This has to be a dream.

So, it seems they live in a mansion.

Stepping outside, Emma’s breath catches loudly as she stares at the wraparound porch and there are somehow more windows than she’d originally noticed, and a turret-type thing involved that’s only vaguely absurd. Almost as much as the way people greet them on Main Street, familiar faces mixing in with strangers, all of whom nod and smile and some who even reach a hand out to Hook like he’s not a pirate or only recently returned to Storybrooke with the one thing they needed to get to Neverland, but Emma also supposes that was years ago, even if the math is still admittedly kind of messing with her.

That was never her strongest subject in school.

And there’s no sword strapped to his hip when the bell over the hardware store door rings, but Hook’s called “Doc” still sounds appropriately threatening, the scuffle of shoes and slightly panted breaths making Emma almost smile in spite of herself and her mathematical failings. “Captain,” Doc exhales, shuffling behind the counter that spans the far wall of the store. Tools and cans of paint line the shelves above his head, a name tag pinned to his shirt that seems unnecessary, but Emma’s nearly charmed by that as well and wholly unprepared for Doc to glance her way, adding—“Your Highness, it’s so nice to see you. I’ve got your order all ready, if you’d like to…”

Whatever else he says disappears in a haze of buzzing magic and malfunctioning joints, Emma’s fingers fluttering at her side while it sounds like Killian does his best to argue the price. For the paint. That they’re going to use. In their mansion.

She didn’t ask which room they were going to paint.

That felt like a flashing-neon sign, announcing how little she belongs in this place and Emma’s fairly certain Hook can tell, but that’s also another sign she’s not entirely ready to deal with at the moment and Doc flinches when the literal hook drops onto the counter.

Emma presses her lips together.

So as not to laugh. Like a person nearing their psychotic breaking point.

“But Captain,” Doc argues, “we did agree on that mark, and—” “—Aye, but that was before it took an extra three days to receive the color, and I think there should be some sort of fee reduction for that.” “There aren’t any fees, just—” “—The overall cost, then.”

Pain flutters at the back of her consciousness when her teeth continue to dig into her lips, but the feeling twits with amusement and that looming sense of insanity, and Hook hardly even moves when Emma does. So she can rest her hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe it’s not that big of a deal,” she ventures.

Hook gapes at her. “Traitor.” “Pirate,’ she counters. “But I think we can afford it. Y’know, just to help the—” “—Locals,” he finishes, “aye, it’s something I’ve heard several thousand times before, love. But it is the principle of the thing.” “The thing being what, exactly?” “Efficiency,” Hook replies, as cool as any vegetable Emma could come up with, and Doc’s eyes go comically wide behind his glasses. The whole thing is actually pretty impressive. Attractive, maybe. She doesn’t have time for that. She has to—

Get back home is not the right string of words at all. Home is some abstract concept that certainly does not exist in the reality Emma came from, and even less so in a place like Neverland, but she doesn’t belong here, with the jewelry and the house, and she can’t quite get over the way his face twisted. When she called him Hook.

“Naturally,” Emma mutters. “Can we just get the paint, Doc? Then we’ll be out of your hair.” Doc hums, but he doesn’t move and Emma can’t believe he doesn’t move. She’s given him an out. A reason to scamper back to wherever he’s keeping their paint, away from Hook’s appraising stare and the hand that’s already inching back towards hers, and he’s somehow even more tactile than usual.

It makes her mouth go dry again.

“Of course, Your Highness. If your husband could just agree to the terms of price, then—” Hook rolls his whole head, hair shifting in the process, and that’s minimally distracting when Emma’s heart constricts in her chest. Because she knew. Has eyes, after all. And the notable ability to stare. But there’s something about hearing the word that makes it all the more real, and Hook’s argument doesn’t have anything to do with relationship monikers.

She’s starting to have several assumptions as to who Hope is. One assumption, really.

Pulling her hand away from Hook’s is easier when he’s so preoccupied, twisting the ring around her finger and staring at the stone and it’s—well, it’s gorgeous, honestly. Exactly what Emma would imagine if she’d ever let herself imagine such a thing, and that’s got to be another sign or something at least in the realm of positive, and it turns out they’re painting the dining room. Blue, and that’s something of a cliche, but anything Emma has to say about that gets stuck halfway out of her undeniably chapped lips when Killian ushers her out of the store, a smile tugging at the ends of his mouth because— “Color reminds me a bit of that gown of yours.”

She’s atrocious at this. Schooling her features, or acting like every word out of his mouth isn’t a punch to her literal gut. It’s a miracle she hasn’t just keeled over. In the middle of goddamn Main Street, where the guy who is very clearly her husband has stopped them.

So as to stare at her incredulously.

“You’ve got no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” “Presumptuous.” “Not an answer, m’dear.” Maybe Emma will start keeping track of endearments. Just to give her mind something to latch onto. There appear to be more than she’s used to. “You wore a very blue gown to Elsa’s wedding, made some rather wonderful comments about how it matched my eyes that also made you blush rather severely, all of which I will admit to still thinking about with almost startling regularity.” She’s got no idea who the fuck Elsa is, or why they’d go to her wedding. Wearing a gown. And making sweepingly sentimental statements.

Her smile is weak at best. “Sorry, just—that paint smell got to me, I think.” “Sure it did,” Hook says, clearly not convinced, “maybe we should go see Regina.” “Why would we do that?” Leveling her with a slightly different expression, Hook’s tongue shifts behind his closed mouth. Emma juts her chin out. In misplaced defiance, and inherent stubbornness. She’ll find Regina later. When she’s not at least partially thinking about kissing this version of Kill—

Hook, Hook, Hook, Ho—she wonders how he proposed. If he proposed. Maybe she did, what does Emma know? Nothing, apparently. “Do you remember what those plants looked like?” “What?” Emma asks. “Maybe you’re the one who got messed up by paint fumes.” “Absolutely scathing, Swan. Answer the question, please.” There’s an undercurrent of command in his voice — like she’s a member of his crew, and she doesn’t know if he has a crew anymore, but Emma bristles at the thought of being part of it all the same and the muscles in her neck do not appreciate being angled like this. “I told you, it was just a dream.” “Aye, you did. And as you would so lovingly put it, that particular lie sucked quite a bit. So once more, what were you dreaming about and where were you in the dream?” Opening her mouth, Emma’s sarcastic and inevitably snark-filled response evaporates as soon as she hears the clack of heels on the sidewalk next to them and the woman walking towards them has shockingly red hair. And a kid clinging to her side. Who immediately tries to launch herself at Hook.

“Codfish heads,” the woman mumbles, Killian not able to hold back his chuckle or keep his arms at his side. The same ones that catch the kid and pull her close to his chest, peppering either one of her cheeks with kisses.

Emma seriously considers dying right there.

Dying will absolutely wake her up, she’s convinced.

“Articulate as always,” Hook grins. The woman sticks her tongue out. “What are you doing here? I thought—ah,” he grunts, a knee slamming into his side, “control the limbs Mel, or I’m going to drop you and then your mom will be even more angry than she is.” The dexterity of this woman’s face is astounding. As is the width of Hook’s smile. “I’m not angry,” she objects, “and I’m here because you didn’t answer your phone. There’s some kind of disaster happening at the realm line.” “What kind of disaster?” “Something to do with magic, and it looks like some of Lancelot’s knights are exploring the forest here, looking for some kind of something because you know they have to have a quest.” “David can’t do anything about that?” “Was more than willing to if you actually decided to acknowledge him today. Hence the frustration over your phone issues.” “An insult roll,” Killian laughs, the sound almost more surprising than anything else Emma’s encountered today. She’s heard him laugh before. Of course she has. But it’s usually cynical, or occasionally even a little evil, and this guy can’t be evil. Not standing there, acting as a human jungle gym to a kid, and a woman Emma’s mind has also started to make assumptions about. The hair was a pretty good clue. No, this isn’t the first time she’s heard him laugh, but it’s certainly her favorite and if she plays the sound on loop in her head for at least several hours, then she hopes no one will ever be the wiser.

Emma hardly notices that she’s referred to him as Killian.

That’s probably for the best.

“And,” he adds, “we finally finished with Doc, so we can go relieve the prince of his duties, even though he offered. Multiple times.” Ariel, Emma assumes this is the goddam Little Mermaid, throws her head back. “Oh Gods, did you terrify him? Is that why you’re being like this? Y’know the paint was back ordered, that’s why it took so long.” “There was no terrifying involved, and if that was the case, he should have made it known. All I heard was that he didn’t have it in stock, and it was going to take a few more days and—”

He cuts himself off when Ariel waves an impatient hand in his face, turning towards Emma expectantly. “Did he terrify Doc?” Emma nods out of instinct, some dark and distant part of her wanting to be involved in this banter and this place, and this place isn’t real, so that’s a dangerous line of thinking, but she can’t seem to stop herself. In the same way Killian can’t seem to do anything except tug her against his side. And kiss the top of her hair.

He really likes to do that.

Especially impressive with the kid still hanging from him.

“She’s a bloody traitor,” he announces, “but one of the other dwarfs is bringing the paint home, and, like I said, we were on our way to pick up the sea monster, so David can deal with the knights. They only listen to one of their own, anyway.” “No honor amongst thieves, huh?” Ariel asks knowingly.

Killian scowls. It’s frustratingly adorable.

“Fine, fine,” she shakes her head, “I retract any annoyance about your refusal to turn the sound on your phone on, if only because you gave my arms a break, and your dining room will look very good in that color.” “It’s a good color.” The arm around her shoulders is the only thing that keeps Emma from melting into the pavement beneath her boots. She had at least six pairs of boots in their hallway closet. Also absurd. And she hears the lilt in Killian’s voice, even if Ariel doesn’t — the soft intensity that sounds eerily similar to the way he promised he understood what it felt to lose hope, how quickly he agreed to her plan, demands, after the kiss and she imagines they kiss quite a lot in this reality.

If her other assumptions are right.

Ariel stares at them for a beat longer, one that Emma worries will end in a longer conversation and inevitable discussion of the awkward way she’s standing, but then the mermaid with legs is pulling her kid back and quieting the riot that causes, and Killian’s arm stays exactly where it is. “Send some pictures when you paint the first wall, ok?”

Killian nods. Stiffer than it should be, but Emma’s only barely managing to stay conscious at this point, and she doesn’t object when he directs her past Granny’s and down a road she’s never noticed before.

His arm doesn’t move.

In the days that will follow, Emma will never be entirely sure how she manages it. Tears sting her eyes almost as soon as the screen door slams behind her, more than one voice drifting down the hall, and there are pictures everywhere. Her own face smiles back at her from multiple times, eyes jumping from frame to frame and back again, a life that isn’t hers playing out despite her own misgivings, and if she’d thought the overall width of Killian’s smile was something ten minutes earlier, it’s got nothing on the several here.

Wearing a tuxedo that does something unfamiliar to her heart, and gazing back from an ornate frame that also holds a grown-up face that’s still able to remind her of the boy she left in Neverland, and another with his arm around Emma’s shoulders again, exhaustion clear even from here, but there’s something cradled in her arms and a tiny hat that makes her whole soul ache and—

“Swan,” Hook breathes, and at least they’re back to that. In her head, where she's clearly going insane. “Emma love, I really need you to tell me what’s going on.”

That’s impossible. Not for any other reason than Emma’s vocal chords appear to have stopped working, and she never actually cries.

It’s a Christmas miracle.

Of the shittiest variety, because Hook’s hovering far too close to her and Emma wonders if he notices the magic coursing through her, or if this is just how he normally stands and none of it matters when two sets of feet sprint down the hallway.

Frames rattle in their wake, both of them shouting and jumping before Emma’s even remotely prepared. She can’t imagine she ever would be. Maybe in a different lifetime. This one, possibly.

Not hers.

Not as is.

And as it is, Hook ducks down before the blur rushing towards Emma’s shin can knock her over, hauling the giggling and smiling bundle over his shoulder. More kisses are dispensed, laughter ringing out around them and only slightly muted by the mess of dark curls that threatens to cover Hook’s face.

He tries to blow it away, several times.

“Emma,” another voice says, tugging at the end of her jacket and it’s a little overwhelming to see her father’s eyes staring up at her. From a kid. Who isn’t very old, but feels like a memory she can’t place, and if her mind doesn’t stop piecing things together Emma is going to scream.

She doesn’t want to know.

Absolutely cannot cope, honestly.

“Emma,” he repeats, “if you and Killian are going to stay here for Christmas, can we make snowmen again? Because Henry said we could and Aunt Gina said she’d magic them so they wouldn’t melt and you’re way better at rolling than Mom is.” Someone huffs, Mary Margaret’s arms crossing over her chest and there’s an apron tied around her waist. Just to drive the domestic point home. “I resent that, and Dad is totally going to be better at rolling snowballs this year. He’s promised we’re going to win.” Emma’s mouth drops. In confusion, and several other adjectives. All of which Hook quite clearly recognizes, and that’s messing with her too.

Reading her as well as he does should leave her feeling off-kilter. Reeling, even. It doesn’t. It’s like some sort of metaphorical anchor, and Emma finds herself constantly glancing over her shoulder, hoping for that one specific tilt of his lips and— “Let’s wait to go over rules until Henry gets here, alright mate? Don’t want to get into specifics when he’s going to have his own demands.”

Opening his mouth, the kid’s argument disappears once Mary Margaret makes another noise, adding a soft “Neal,” and only one of Emma’s knees bends. That’s lame. Very un-Savior like.

And she doesn’t know how Killian manages it, either. She also does not care. Leaning into the hand that’s suddenly cemented to her back, Emma nods like someone has asked her a question, and there are more footsteps and smiles and she bites her tongue. David doesn’t disappear. He’s here. In this place he shouldn’t be, some sort of farm that had an almost kitschy mat outside that screen door and chickens lingering along the side of the front yard, and Killian’s voice is in her ear. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.” “I’ll kick you,” Emma warns.

“I’d drop the sea monster that way.” She’s just about to ask the wholly unnecessary question of who the fuck is the sea monster when the beast in question tries very hard to stand on Hook's shoulders. All limbs and hair in desperate need of a cut, both Mary Margaret and David look overjoyed by her mere presence, warmth blooming of its own volition in Emma’s chest. “Mama,” she yells, resting her chin on top of Killian’s head, “are you going to magic the snowmen too?”

More than one pair of eyes flash towards Emma, suddenly frozen with a maelstrom of fear and words echoing between her ears and she’s got to talk. She can’t talk. Her tongue is growing in her mouth, no doubt a byproduct of that now occurring insanity, and her own eyes keep moving. Tracing over the lines of her daughter’s face, and the questionably cute clothes she’s wearing and her eyes are almost alarmingly blue.

Tears fall on Emma’s cheeks.

“Emma,” David mutters, but she barely hears him. Reaching out a hand that’s shaking much more than she’d like, her fingers graze Hope’s cheek and the skin there is soft and warm and obviously loved, like that’s something that’s possible. This new reality doesn’t have any rules, though. So maybe that works here.

She must nod. Emma’s hair moves, so that’s got to mean something and she’s clinging to every victory she can get at this point. “I’ll try,” Emma says, not quite the promise she'd like it to be. Hook's fingers twist under the hem of her shirt, grazing across her actual spine and it’s disappointing when she tenses.

Noticeably.

David’s eyes turn appraising — but he doesn’t immediately look at Mary Margaret like Emma expects. He glances at Hook, a quick jerk of his shoulders that she only notices when they bump hers. “Did you hear about the knights, then?” “Ariel accosted us on our way here. What do they want, exactly?” “As far as I can tell, they’re just scouting, but who knows with those Camelot idiots.” Mary Margaret scoffs. David might actually blush. “I’m going to go out and talk to them now, and Snow sent a bird.” The hand at Emma’s back flattens. So as to keep her upright.

“Lance usually responds quickly,” Mary Margaret says, “but you know the cross-realm travel, it’s always hit or miss. Especially with the weather. Hopefully we’ll know what they’re doing sooner rather than later.” Humming in what sounds like agreement, Hook shifts Hope and keeps Emma pulled against his side. His eyes dart back towards David, an unspoken conversation Emma doesn’t entirely want to hear. When it’s obviously about her.

And her father doesn’t respond either, just crosses the space between them and kisses her cheek. “Everything’s going to be ok, kid.”

“Yuh huh,” she mumbles, but it sounds like a lie and Hope falls asleep with her head on Hook's shoulder while they walk home.

It takes her about three seconds to realize she used that word as well.

And then another fifteen to totally freak out about it.

As silently as possible.

To his credit, he doesn’t press the issue. He stares, without much subtlety — but Hook never comes out and accuses Emma of anything, or questions how little she knows about this life they’ve got, and she’s not entirely surprised when he doesn’t ask when she’s coming to bed. He just takes a deep breath, and kisses the top of her hair again, which is somewhere like the ninth time that’s happened, walking up the stairs and presumably waiting for Emma.

In their bed.

They share. Together. As people. Married people, with a very cute kid and Henry’s in some other version of the Enchanted Forest with his wife, which is only marginally screwing with Emma. That’s positive, she thinks. Marginally is better than totally.

But it’s also not her life, and around twelve forty-seven she starts to wonder if she’s fucked with the Emma that’s supposed to be here by waking up on that couch, and she can’t get over how comfortable that couch was, and she starts walking.

Aimlessly, really.

Down halls and from room to room, opening doors that regularly make breathing a legitimate challenge. Henry’s old room clearly hasn’t been changed, and Hope’s hair covers her entire pillow, much like Emma’s regularly does, and they’ve got an actual sitting room and family room, a nautical theme that feels a little to on the nose, but is also somehow perfect and she knows he’s there before he says anything.

“You’re lurking,” Emma accuses, jumping onto the edge of the kitchen counter now that she’s finished her patrol.

“And you’re admittedly freaking me out just a bit.” Her laugh does that bubble thing again, something that Killian could probably claim ownership over if he wanted. She knows he won’t, though. Not this version. Not this guy, staring at her like he’s torn between terrified and terrorizing, like he’d challenge the timeline to a duel if needs be.

“Where’s your sword?” “In the basement. Where it’s been for years.” “You don’t use your sword much?” Taking a step forward, the floor creaks under his sock-covered feet and the realization that he must have put socks back on at some point does what Emma can only imagine is irreparable damage to more than half a dozen internal organs. “Asking that adds to my growing pile of suspicions and worries.” “The freaked out ones?” “Aye,” he nods, hand and hook resting on her hips. Maybe there are magnets there. Maybe he’s just hardwired to touch her. Emma fists her hands. “Why are you surprised by that?” “If I ask you a question will you totally freak out more?” That time he shakes his head. Hair shifts in the process, and there have to be magnets involved. That’s the only reasonable explanation for how quickly Emma’s fingers find the strands, brushing them away and relishing the exact way Killian’s eyes flutter shut and—damn, she did it again. His hand tightens.

Like he’s nervous she’s going to disappear otherwise.

“Question for a question is breaking conversational rules,” he starts, “But—” “—You’re a pirate?” “Something that’s been well-documented. What do you want to know?” Everything seems unacceptably vast, and Emma’s not sure which question to pick when they’re all weighing down on her still too-large tongue, but Killian’s eyes don’t pull away from her and he turns his head into her palm. The one cupping his cheek.

She’s an absolute disaster. Which is, she’ll argue the exact reason, she asks: “Are you in love with me?” He doesn’t laugh. More credit to him, although this credit comes with an asterisk for the exact way his expression shatters. In slow motion. For maxim effect. Muscles in his throat shift when he swallows, the tip of his tongue darting between barely-parted lips, and his next inhale has a distinct shuddering quality to it.

“More than I knew I could be,” he whispers. “You want to tell me the truth now?” “About?

Bending his neck, Killian’s exhale brushes Emma’s cheek and for one absolutely insane moment, that would make sense if they were actually married, she thinks he’s going to kiss her. He doesn’t. Figures. Lips graze the edge of hers, sending shockwaves that ripple up her spine and threaten to make magic explode from the tips of her fingers and she has to close her eyes. At the force of his voice, steady despite the emotion behind it.

“Who are you, really?” The shockwaves disappear. Turn into fear, and something ice-cold and Emma has to blink.

“What?” He clicks his tongue. More than once, in obvious reproach, and she wonders if she’ll have to walk to the plank at some point, the tip of his hook threatening to dig into her skin. “I’ll ask you once more, darling. It’s very good magic, whatever you’re doing. I can feel it, but—” “—You can feel my magic?” “Stop talking,” he sneers, and the symmetry of it all feels like a slap. Several times over. “Now either you tell me the truth, or I’ll have to do something drastic. Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?”

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #but once a year #festive fic a thon 2k20 #i really will fill those other prompts now i promise #sorry i'm such a constant and consistent flake internet #also! this is apparently the 40th captain swan work of mine on ao3 #which is slightly skewed since there are so many collections but still #that's a heck of a lotta words #thanks for reading em

90 notes · View notes

brooklynislandgirl · 2 years

Note

Balsam and Cedar- Is there something you do or once did that you never would have considered in the past? {Francois' co-parent}

Candles Burn a Hole in the Floor || Accepting

The first drips are fast and heavy and red. Slightly coagulated as they get forced down the drain. She stands at the sink and scrubs. Scrubs until there is nothing but a pink tinge, then pauses and scrubs some more. The soap foam becomes clear just like the water but she doesn’t stop. Not until Anakin’s hand braves the scalding heat and insinuates itself between her thumb and the spot on the back of her other hand that should have been rubbed raw by now. It's only her extraordinary innate grace that prevents such a thing. The lowest kind of magick.

His voice is low at her ear. Spoken slowly that she might catch every word of his question, with the intention of causing a disconnect between her hotly running circuits. The personal cost to him is infinite degrees beyond anything she can calculate and mathematics is her strong suit. She's all but quivering there in his hold, a subtle shake of adrenaline spiking through her system. The emotional equivalent of casino carpets, the colour of which is interpreted a hundred different ways and never once accurately confirmed one way or the other beyond it being an off-putting eyesore.

Her spine is stiff, and her neck protests when she straightens it to adopt her full and wholly unimpressive height, especially when he’s got a full foot and still more on her. Tall as Andy, about half his bulk, which makes Anakin somehow seem even larger in his looming. He always tries to seem smaller. To be unobtrusive. To apologise for taking up space. To not draw attention until he wants to and at that point he glows. Were it not for his penchant toward a darker, less robust draw toward the Great Wheel, his shockingly wild disregard for most forms of human life ~particularly the ones who move in the circles he’d like her to forget~ she thinks that the Cult of Ecstasy might have found a stalwart champion for their paradigm in him.

She closes her eyes a moment and lets the question flow up, over, and around her. Rolls her neck along the backs of her shoulders and listens to the popping and creaking that follows with a wince.

Normally she has no problem talking to Anakin at length on whatever thought has caught his fancy. Regardless of how personal the information, regardless of where it might lead. She doesn’t believe in withholding knowledge honestly sought and there are few things she would discourage him from. This is perhaps one of them. She also knows that were she to insist on it, she could send him away. Up to bed to finally get some well-deserved rest, feeding the Tree is always gruelling even when the sacrifice made is a willing one. But more likely he would take it as a reason to shoulder even more guilt, presume that he’d angered or annoyed her with too many questions too much of the time. He’d rake himself over his own coals and Beth worries that maybe if he did so because of some imaginary slight done to her, that he would backslide into his more dangerous addictions of self-harm or mind altering substances. He wouldn’t have to go far, she’s sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he was sorely tempted, he could easily break into her meds cabinet and abscond with them before she was any the wiser. And maybe if she didn’t love Anakin as she does, if she hadn’t grown to depend on him with all his quirks and peculiarities, she might not care so much. The most likely scenario though is that he would slink off to the attic and continue to lay claim to it as he’s been doing for months now. She isn’t sure what it is he does up there, she’s only dropped by once since he’d chosen it as his space, and that had been by invitation. Anakin needs to feel that the house has a place for him, and he needs his own space to work with either ritually or as some kind of human nest that he cannot be rousted from. Somewhere he feels safe when even the shelter of her arms, or the kindness of her smile can not offer it to him.

Neither of the two options ~sending him off or answering the question~ are easy ones. And it all comes down to just which one she wants to do the least. He’s only trying to help. And he’s also picking at a scar yet to be completely healed as long as it's been since she’d earned it. Reluctantly though Beth pulls away from him, letting his gaze fall onto her back as she moves towards the refrigerator and its gleaming chrome surface. She pops the freezer door open and scans the shelves before reaching in. Anakin is used to watching Beth drink. Wine to pacify the ache in her heart, to wind down the endless spinning thoughts she usually tackles in the evening when everything is quiet and she can’t find sleep. He’s seen her have it at affairs she’d rather chew her own arm off to get away from, where his presence and the rich blood-red are the only two things that seem to offer her any solace. There’s the fruity drink from her first time seeing him in public that had fascinated him so, but those she doesn’t make at home. This is different. This is a fifth of Titos, so cold that the glass bottle immediately frosts over when it comes into contact with open air. Her fingers spin with slow grace as she unscrews the top and puts the bottle to her lips, eyes closed and face open with pain. For such a small woman, she can take a very large gulp. She breathes out. She closes her eyes and sucks her lower lip, full and lush as any of her roses in bloom, and pins it there with those sharp teeth. There is a sound that accompanies it that can be heard even from where he is standing, and it is both heartbreak and a wistfulness that has no equal in all the time he’s known her. She takes another drink as full as the first, blind by choice. Then she holds it out toward him in silent invitation as she dives inwardly.

She sees herself throughout the stages of her life thus far, three decades that have never been so radiant as she might have hoped they would have been. So much smaller than she is now, cowering in a corner of her closet, arms gripped around the hideously patched turtle that lays in her bed in its dotage, beloved more than any of the thousand things he could point to in the house with price tags larger than a year’s salary. The shouting and the screaming between adults drowning out every other sound that has always been too much and too loud in a way she could never shut off. Years on, watching as all the other children splintered off together in pairs and groups and finding herself on the outside of it all, so much younger than them. Not understanding the whispers and laughs when they hold hands and she wants to make bracelets from the clover, crowns from the dandelions. She’s every right to be here intellectually but her mode of speech and her inability to get on make her an outcast. She wants friends, too. Older still and yet aeons younger than she feels in the moment, drawn to a particular place and a particular figure that shares some passing resemblances to Anakin; lofty height. Piercing blue eyes, pale gold hair. Hands that are unspeakable in their beauty. A spark of life so bright it is blinding. And for all that, he is the enemy. The metal and circuitry beneath his skin proclaims that twice as loudly as the rhetoric that spills from the perfect shape of his mouth. Which becomes the moment Andy sits them both down, and the three of them discuss… bloodlines. Laid out things that were neither what they wanted to hear but had somehow already expected. Billy’s fingers and her own searching each other out beneath the table. Three pieces of a single soul and belief makes them have to choose whether to remain so close or take their roles on either side of a war that began a thousand years before. Standing there helplessly watching Andy and Billy shouting, all threatening gestures. A bit like watching King Kong have a go at Godzilla and you are trapped between them, only human, incapable of making one side listen to the other. Another swig from the bottle, and another following that. The assault of poison in her system and she does nothing to filter it out of her blood. Beth cannot drown. She will grow gills and she’s a strong swimmer but she can wallow and that is what she is doing now. Seeking some kind of senseless absolution. She is as brittle as frost and doesn’t bother to hide it. Maybe she won’t even try until morning after she’s made herself sick in penance for what she couldn’t ever fix.

Even still, it cannot compare to the loss. Not of body or even of mind, but an open wound of the soul. Billy had told him there was going to be an attack. Had urged him to let the others be a sacrifice, to save himself by not going. Andy stared him in the eye as he strapped on his armour ~physical and metaphor all at once~ and said he couldn’t do that. His tradition and his honour dictated he save as many as he could. Frustration. Anger. Eldest against youngest. The actual order that she stay home, as far away from the gathering as possible and she acquiesced. As she’s always done. If she’d gone? She could have prevented it. She could, she knows. Maybe not all of it but certainly Andy would have lived. After all, it’s her purpose and her calling, to weave the thread of life, give it full measure just as Anakin’s is to sever the corrupt and the stagnant. Instead, Beth did as she was told. And now…. Now there’s nothing. And it still feels like it only happened minutes ago. Her eyes well with unshed tears and the pain etches delicate features into an ugly mask of grief and inconsolable senselessness. Her free hand that doesn’t have a death grip on the bottle rises to press itself to her chest. She exhales a skittering breath in a maladaptive hope of restraining her emotions, something she’s never been good at. A humourless laugh, so faint it might have been a sigh comes next before she cuts her gaze back at him, shadowed by her lashes, her lips pulled tight showing her teeth, the primal markings that say not all of her is human. Anakin gets his answer in a whisper. “I’ve finally learned….to say no.”

2 notes · View notes

jamaisjoons · 5 years

Text

bitten & knotted | jhs + knj

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: as different as night and day, your two lovers have many differences, after all, one is a vampire and the other is a werewolf. they have their similarities too, namely their supernaturally long life. something you don’t share. something they’re going to rectify tonight. supernatural au.

⟶ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: vampire!namjoon x princess!reader x werewolf!hoseok

⟶ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: fluff • smut • pwp (with more plot than was intended)

⟶ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 10k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: dom!namjoon, dom!hoseok, sub!reader, joon and hobi both have big cocks xxx, this is somehow tender and hard at the same time, threesome: mfm, dirty talk, slight body worship, light spanking, nipple play, pussy eating, fingering, face riding, cock sucking, deep throating, gagging/choking (on cock), cum eating, degradation, praise, unprotected, sloppy seconds, rough sex, manhandling, hoseok goes feral, slight mentions of blood, cum play, spitting, knotting, breeding, creampie eating, slight mxm, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies, biting/marking,

⟶ 𝑎/𝑛: hello! welcome to the first fic of SPOOKY MONTH! y’all know i can’t disrespect my 94 kings and not have THIS au be the first spooky themed fic i posted hehehe anyway this was supposed to be pwp but i guESS IT HAS PLOT ??? very lITTLE but definitely more than it needed ahahaHAHAHAHA

⇥ special thanks to my beta @slashgashbridesmaid for reading and editing this for me ♡

Darkness fills the night, cloaking the sky in its cascading blanket of pitch black. Not a single star glimmers. Instead, thick grey clouds aimlessly float through the nighttime, obscuring the cold, distant light of the moon intermittently. You find yourself humming along the darkened corridors of your castle. Dense streams of moonlight filter through the long arched windows that line the fading brick walls - the heavy dark velvet curtains pulled to the side. Usually, mostly during day time, they were drawn shut in order to prevent rays of sunlight from penetrating the window.

Your castle was always dark and dreary during the day, lit up only by the weak flickering of candlelight. The walls of the castle haven’t seen sunlight for over two decades. Of course, they couldn’t. Not with the vampire love of your life who makes his home within these very walls. No, sunlight was deadly to him - and considering he tended to wander the castle during the day doing his usual duties of playing advisor to the kingdoms, the curtains have to remain drawn. You don’t mind so much - whenever you needed to bask in the sunlight, you would find yourself out in the palace gardens or roaming the forest with your werewolf lover keeping you company.

You can’t complain. No, not at all. You have the best of both worlds. During the days, you travel the forests that surround your home, Hoseok in his giant wolf form as he carries you on his back - and when he gets tired, you usually stop and let him rest in your lap as you bask in the sun, mindlessly playing with his hair - or fur if he stays in his shifted form. Then, during the nights, you find yourself walking hand in hand as you and Namjoon traverse the nearby meadows, enjoying the way the night blooms glistening flowers of white as moonbeams drip over them. Indeed, there’s not a single thing you could complain about.

When you get to your chamber doors, you stop abruptly at the unexpected sight. Namjoon nervously paces the length of the doorway while he chews on his fingers, muttering every now and then. Though, unlike your lovers, you are human - a facet of yourself they have yet to rectify so you can be with them for as long as they live - and cannot hear what he’s mumbling about. Hearing the pattering of your footsteps against the cold stone ground, Namjoon’s head snaps up.

“Fuck. You’re here,” Namjoon breathes out. Your brows knit together as you look at him in worry. You may not have their superhuman senses, but you still notice the way his hands tremble with anticipation - or maybe trepidation.

“Joonie? What’s going on?” you ask as you approach him. Namjoon lets out a heavy exhale before taking your hands within his and placing a soft kiss on each of the knuckles.

“You know I love you? That we love you?” Namjoon whispers, his voice hushed. His hands drop yours, instead, moving to rest on your hips. Tenderly, his thumb brushes against the silk of your dress, and you lowly hum.

“Of course, I love you too. You and Hoseok. Both. Equally. Forever,” you reply without hesitation. Then you pause before continuing, “what’s going on? You’re scaring me,” you say, looking up into his dark eyes. They glow in the moonlight, the bright crimson flecks mellowed by soft umber tones. They’re so completely different from the way his eyes looked when he had been human.

“Nothing’s wrong, love. We- we just decided tonight is the night,” Namjoon finally says. You freeze in his hold, your heart speeding up. It thunders in your chest, Namjoon swallowing thickly as he smells the blood rush through your veins. Immediately, you’re searching his eyes, looking for any inkling of dishonesty. You find none. They’re filled with nervousness, worry but more importantly, anticipation and certainty. He’s being serious. Your heart soars within your chest, and despite shaky hands, you throw yourself into his arms. Instantly, your lips find purchase on his.

Automatically, Namjoon’s arms circle your waist, and then he’s drawing you into his chest. You fall into his kiss, letting him guide your lips in a sensual dance filled with nothing but tender love. His lips are cold against yours. He’s always so cold - completely different from the practical furnace that is your werewolf. You sigh into his kiss before pulling away. You’re breathless, warm air fans his lips, yet he’s completely composed. You suppose it has more to do with the fact that he’s undead than unaffected. He smiles gently and brushes his nose against yours. Then, grabbing your hand, he slowly leads you inside.

The heavy wooden doors creak open, a sliver of soft amber light leaking through the crack before you’re flooded by its warmth. You let out a soft gasp at the sight that greets you. Hoseok is sitting on the edge of the large canopy bed that occupies the middle of the room. The soft amber glow of the low candlelight reflects off of his silken russet, wavy locks as he twiddles his thumbs nervously. The minute he hears the squeak of the door, however, his head instantly snaps up, and he lets out a heavy exhale. Abruptly, he stands to his feet. Darkened pools of golden brown stay transfixed onto your figure, Hoseok’s pupil’s dilating as Namjoon pulls you closer to him.

“Did… did Joon tell you?” Hoseok asks, unable to prevent the slight stutter of his words. His voice drips with a mix of anticipation and insecurity - completely unlike his usual confident tone. Biting your lip, you nod at him. Namjoon’s hand slips from yours as Hoseok reaches out to you. Large palms circle your waist before Hoseok pulls you into him. You gasp at the warm sensation of his heated palms - a juxtaposition to Namjoon’s chilled skin.

“What do you think?” Hoseok asks, his gaze momentarily flicking towards the vampire standing behind you. Their eyes lock, a silent conversation exchanging just through their eyes before you feel their gazes on you once again.

“Please. I want to be with you,” you plead. Hoseok sucks in a sharp breath at your words as he caresses your hips under his delicate touch. Namjoon steps closer to you until you’re sandwiched between their chests. The hairs on the back of your neck stand straight when you feel Namjoon move your hair to the side before cold lips brush against your warm skin. The tender attention they lavish on your body causes your eyes to slip shut under their ministrations, your chest warming with affection.

You’ve been dreaming of this day for as long as you can remember. The mortality of humanity wasn’t lost on you - you’d witnessed lots of death through the years. Your mother died when she’d given birth to you, her only child. Your father followed when you were merely eighteen, leaving you the last remaining heir to the throne. However, you weren’t left unprotected.

You’d met Namjoon and Hoseok when you were all children - the two boys chosen as guardians to you, the crown princess. Hoseok had been a bright-eyed pup back then, with darker, almost black, eyes and deep brown hair - completely different to the deep russet hair and golden brown eyes he possesses now: signs of his maturity into adulthood. Even Namjoon has changed over the years, you can’t help but muse to yourself. Born a vampire, not turned, Namjoon has aged with you and Hoseok. Though, when he reached twenty-one, he’d fully come into his vampiric powers and stopped ageing. You can still remember how frightened you’d been, the day after his 21st birthday, when you’d reached out to brush your lover’s hair out of his eyes, only to feel his cold skin.

The three of you have been lovers since you’d all turned eighteen. They’d helped you get over the death of your father, comforted you, and looked after you in the weeks you’d spent completely catatonic, mourning the loss of the only parent you’d ever known. If it weren’t for Hoseok and Namjoon, you were sure the kingdom would have fallen apart. They’d saved you - showed you there were still people who loved you - that they loved you. You loved them too. Still do - until your final days. Throughout your life, it was as if you gravitated to one another - how could you not? You spent all your time with them when you were growing up. They are all you know, all you had ever known, and all you would ever need to know.

Thus, the thought of leaving this world without them terrifies you. Hoseok’s wolf blood will keep him alive for hundreds of years to come, and Namjoon… well, Namjoon will live for roughly the same amount of time. Contrary to popular belief, vampires don’t live forever. While not dead, they aren’t alive either, instead encompassing the state of limbo between. However, the energy that keeps them living, the essence that grants them power eventually runs out too, and with that comes their death. Nothing is infinite after all.

You’re still only human. Your life isn’t as long or drawn out as theirs - your life essence will fade much quicker than theirs. That thought terrifies you. You want to be with them - for as long as you possibly can. So, you had urged Namjoon to turn you. Namjoon had completely refused at first. So, you’d asked Hoseok to bite you. Like Namjoon, however, he’d refused too. There was too much risk. The poison of a vampire’s kiss and the essence of a wolf’s bite were deadly. Most people didn’t make it through: the chances of someone turning were incredibly slim, and they’d both agreed they couldn’t bear to lose you - especially through their own actions.

So, you’d decided to take matters into your own end. At the very edge of your kingdom, nestled in the woods, lived a witch. A witch who, if rumours were to be believed, had lived millennia. A witch who knew things most wouldn’t - who had knowledge of even the most obscure of things. The kingdom trusted Min Yoongi - he’d supposedly lived a long time, looking after the royal bloodline - even if he did it from afar. You couldn’t exactly blame him for being a recluse; if you’d lived as long as he did, you too would probably live far from civilisation. However, the fact of the matter stood, Yoongi could be trusted, and if he had the information you were seeking, then you owed it to yourself and your lovers to find it.

So, one day, you’d snuck past the palace guards and Hoseok’s ever watchful eyes and found yourself wandering the woods and towards Yoongi’s little cottage. It had been a long arduous journey, the forest paths narrow and winding, and you’d feared getting lost without Hoseok’s expert nose and senses to guide you through the forest - but you had done it - and come out triumphant. There was a way. A way to be bonded to both Hoseok and Namjoon until the end of your time. A way to tie their life force to yours and ensure you live for as long as they do. It was rare, almost lost to the ages. A ritual forgotten by everyone. Except for Yoongi.

While not common, it wasn’t unusual for a vampire to choose a human mate or for a werewolf to imprint on one. What was rare, however, was for them to choose the same human. Rare - but not impossible. Lost to time was an ancient bonding ceremony that allowed both a vampire and a werewolf to claim the same mate. Armed with the knowledge, a vial of potion, and Yoongi’s promise that it would be fine, you’d approached them both. They’d been hesitant at first, even with Yoongi’s assurance, because despite its increased chance, the ritual wasn’t perfect. Things could still go wrong. They could still hurt you, and you could still die. Though, the chances were slim if they completed it properly. Finally, though, it seems that they are ready to go through with it.

“Please, I’m ready,” you affirm as you wrap your arms around Hoseok’s neck. Your fingers entangle in his long auburn locks, mindlessly playing with the sleek strands before you draw him closer to you. Heart-shaped lips are only a hair’s breadth apart from yours, and you shudder as his warm breath wafts over your skin. “Make me yours,” you continue, staring up into his honey brown eyes earnestly. A low growl resounds from Hoseok’s chest before he sinks his head lower.

You groan into his kiss, the soft pink flesh of his lips moulding into yours as he kisses you slowly. Namjoon, not one to be left out, wanders his hands up and down the sides of your torso while he feathers kisses along the back of your bare shoulder. Hoseok’s hand moves to hold your chin, lifting it up for easier access as he cups your jaw. Your lips move sensuously, Hoseok’s tongue jutting out to lick at the seam of them. Readily, you part them, allowing his tongue to push in between your teeth before it begins gliding across your own tongue in soft but firm twists.

Namjoon’s cold fingers dance along the nape of your neck before running down your back as he slowly unknots the silken straps that keep your dress tied to your body. With each inch of skin that he exposes to the air, he places a cold kiss against your skin - almost as if he’s revering your body. Once undone, his hands tenderly wander up your back and across your shoulders as he slips the dress off of your body. It falls to the floor in one motion, bunching around your feet in a pool of silk and leaving you completely bare.

“Ah-” you gasp, breaking away from Hoseok’s lips and throwing your head back when Namjoon’s cold palms meander around your ribcage so he can cup your breasts. Gently, he brushes the pads of his thumbs over your nipples, causing them to harden under his icy touch. Unbothered by you breaking the kiss, Hoseok begins peppering kisses along the outline of your jaw and towards your neck. When you let out another gasp, your fingers tightening into his hair, Hoseok smirks, lightly sucking the spot.

“By the moon, you’re so beautiful,” Hoseok reveres as he pulls away, his eyes shifting down your body. He lightly runs his palm along the middle of your stomach and down your hips before pushing his hand between your thighs. Tugging his hair harder, you cry out when he begins softly rolling your clit with his thumb.

“Oh God,” you whimper as Hoseok continues his torturously slow teasing. He smirks over you, flashing his pearly whites before his fingers move, one dipping into you easily. You let out another whine, and your head lolls back automatically, resting on Namjoon’s shoulder as your walls flitter around Hoseok’s finger.

“Fuck- she’s already wet,” Hoseok curses as he pushes a second finger into you. Letting out a soft mew, you buck into his hand, wanting to feel him deeper.

“Hmm. Of course, she is, our Princess is always ready for us. Aren’t you, my love?” Namjoon asks as he playfully nips your shoulder. Your breath hitches when his sharp incisor scrapes against your skin.

“Always! Love feeling you inside me,” you lowly groan as you twist your hand around to rub at Namjoon cloth-covered cock. He hisses against your ear, bucking into your hand.

“Get her on the bed, Namjoon,” Hoseok says as he steps away from you. You whimper when he pulls his fingers out, Hoseok lightly spanks your thigh, causing you to mewl as your pussy clenches around nothing.

“Patience, sweetheart,” Hoseok says before brushing a kiss against your forehead. Namjoon easily picks you up - forcing a squeal out of you as you’re suddenly lifted off the ground - before he deposits you onto the bed. They both stand on the side of the bed, eyes darkening with lust as their gaze roves over your body before stopping at the dewy folds between your thighs. Breaking their stare, Namjoon and Hoseok exchange a nervous glance.

“Before we continue, there’s something you need to know,” Hoseok breathes out. You look at him curiously, your head cocking to the side. You say nothing, waiting for them to continue.

“Hoseok… It’s not going to be like usual,” Namjoon tries to explain. Your eyebrows furrow slightly. Of course it wasn’t. You’d read through the ritual - you know that it’s going to be different.

“I kno-” you begin before Hoseok shakes his head, cutting you off.

“No, sweetheart. I’m not… In order to mark you as the ritual requires, I’ll need to give in to the animal instinct. My wolf will take over. I can’t promise he’ll be gentle either,” Hoseok finally breathes out, “he’s wanted you for so long,” he mutters under his breath. His words are almost inaudible, but you hear them anyway. Your eyes soften at the conflict written on his face. Shifting to your knees, you shuffle to the edge and pull him into you. Once again, your fingers thread through his locks as you gently play with the hair on the nape of his neck - just the way he likes it. Hoseok’s chest rumbles in a low purr at your actions, his nose nuzzling into your hair as he breathes in its scent.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I love you,” Hoseok whispers lowly against the crown of your head. Lips curling into a gentle smile, you lean forward and place a kiss against his chest, just over his heart.

“You won’t hurt me. You could never hurt me. I love you. All of you,” you reassure before tilting your head and pressing a kiss to his lower jaw. Soothed by your words, Hoseok allows you to pull him onto the bed. You smile gently at him, feeling the bed dip behind you as Namjoon crawls onto the mattress.

Lazily, your hands move to Hoseok’s shirt, pulling the strings that bind it together loose. With each undone tie, more and more of his smooth caramel skin is revealed to your eyes. Leaning forward, you push his shirt off of his shoulders before running your hands across his defined, sinewy muscles. You place an open-mouthed kiss on his skin, suckling and licking the flesh as your lips wander over his chest. When your mouth brushes over the bump that signifies his nipple, your smirk against his skin before you wrap your mouth around the small bud, lightly nipping it.

“Fuck. You’re such a tease. Lay down sweetheart, wanna eat your sweet little pussy,” Hoseok says as he pushes you to lie back. With Namjoon behind you, however, you find yourself draped against his chest, his arms automatically encircling your waist. You shudder at the frigid chill of his skin against yours. When had he taken off his shirt? You don’t have much time to ponder the thought, however, because immediately Hoseok begins kissing his way down your body. Arriving at your legs, Hoseok’s hands wrap around the flesh of your thighs before spreading them.

“Gonna make you scream for me tonight, sweetheart. Make you scream for us,” Hoseok says before warm lips brush against your folds. You whimper, Namjoon moving his hands to once again cup your breasts as he teases the erect peaks between his thumbs and forefingers while running his lips along the length of your neck. You moan at his actions, your back arching as you push your chest further into his palms. The walls of your cunt clench, fluttering around nothing. From the low growl of appreciation that resounds from Hoseok’s chest, you know he sees the movement. Immediately, he wraps his lips around your pussy before sucking - hard.

“Oh god,” you mewl, your hands shooting out and entangling into his hair at the sudden stimulation.

“You like the way I play with your tits while Hoseokie eats you, Princess?” Namjoon asks.

“Mhm,” you moan. Your thoughts completely fly out the window when Namjoon pinches your nipple lightly, tugging the bud.

“Don’t forget about me, my love,” Namjoon says before moving your neck to the side and pulling your lips in for a spellbinding kiss. Hoseok’s eyes stay transfixed to the way your mouth moves with Namjoon, his cock twitching at the sight. Lowering his head, but keeping his gaze locked onto you both, he licks a swipe up your folds, gathering your wetness onto his tongue until it’s doused in your heavy, heady taste. You groan against Namjoon’s lips, your hips reflexively bucking into Hoseok.

“So sweet. The prettiest pussy I’ve ever tasted,” Hoseok breathes out, lightly running his fingers through the folds, soaking his digits in your messy wetness. His eyes follow the thin filmy strings of your arousal that cling to his fingers, stretching as he pulls them away from your cunt. When they snap, his fixation is broken, and immediately he plunges his fingers into his mouth, suckling at them as he drinks your arousal.

“Mine’s the only pussy you’ve tasted,” you reply, breaking off your kiss with Namjoon. Your eyes sparkle mischievously, and Hoseok growls out, spanking your thigh immediately. You hiss at the stinging sensation that flares along your flesh - even if he knew how to control his supernatural strength, Hoseok was still incredibly strong.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Princess,” Hoseok warns before plunging two of his fingers inside you. You cry out at the sudden penetration. Hoseok begins thrusting his fingers in and out out of you, pushing them into your depths as his arm muscles flex. You let out a low moan, groaning out his name. His fingers are long - and he knows your body well enough to easily locate the sweet spot nestled inside you that drives you wild with relative ease.

Namjoon bends his neck down, pushing your breast up so he can draw your nipple into his mouth. Sharp incisors scrape against the soft skin, his silken tongue laving and swirling the bud as he wettens it with his saliva. Releasing it with a pop, Namjoon blows cool air over it, causing you to whimper his name. He smirks, his white teeth glinting in the low light before he presses a kiss to your temple and pushes you off of his chest.

“Hoseok, get her on your face… wanna fuck her throat,” Namjoon says as he slides off the bed. Hoseok pulls away from your thighs, his fingers retreating as he chuckles.

“Feeling left out Joonie?” Hoseok asks. Namjoon gives him a pointed look before pushing his trousers down and freeing his cock. The instant you see it, your mouth begins watering. He must definitely be feeling left out, you muse. The head of his cock is an angry shade of purple, weeping with translucent beads of precum that has his cockhead glistening in the low lighting of the room.

Namjoon doesn’t retaliate and instead begins pumping his cock. Hoseok wraps his arms around your thighs firmly, and before you know what’s happening, he uses his strength to completely flip you over. You gasp at the sudden movement, his muscles flexing as he braces the entirety of your weight while he holds you up. Getting comfortable, and with his head resting on the edge of the mattress, Hoseok grabs your thighs and draws you over his face before he lowers your hips. You suck in a sharp breath when his lips wrap around your clit, gently suckling the bud as he runs his fingers along your folds. Namjoon patters over to you, smiling gently before tenderly petting your hair. You coo at the tender touch, returning your own lazy smile.

“Come on love, be good and open up for me,” Namjoon says as he taps his cock against your lips. Already practically drooling at the thought of tasting him, your jaw instantly falls open. Namjoon lets out a pleased hum before gradually inching his cock inside you. You’re not a stranger to sucking off your vampire lover, and yet, every time he pushes into your mouth, your jaw aches from his girth.

“Be good and take my cock, Princess, and Hoseok will reward you, won’t he?” Namjoon says as he gently caresses your head. You keen under him, your lips wrapping tighter around his shaft while your jaw goes slack. Hoseok lets out a low moan of agreement, the vibrations reverberating through your folds as he laves your clit under his tongue.

“Mhm. Be good for Joonie, and I’ll let you cum on my mouth, sweetheart,” Hoseok assures as he lets your clit go. He pushes your hips up slightly so he can stare unabashedly at your cunt, licking his lips and tasting you on his mouth while he takes in the sight of your dewy folds and dripping cunt.

“Fuck, that’s hot. Could watch you drip for us forever, you know,” Hoseok says as he ghosts his fingers across your nether lips. With featherlight touches, his middle and pointer fingers circle the throbbing bud nestled in the hood of your cunt before he runs them along your slit. Long, slender fingers part your folds, gathering as much of your wetness as he can on them until they’re completely slick with your arousal. The dim lighting reflects off the thin film that coats his digits.

Imperceptibly, your thighs shake on either side of Hoseok’s head, the incredibly light, almost non-existent touch slowly driving you wild. You forget about Namjoon’s cock in your mouth, your lips loosening around the shaft as you lose yourself in the sensation of Hoseok’s fingers. Namjoon hisses slightly and grabs your hair roughly before forcing his cock into your mouth, suddenly hitting the back of your head. Instantly, you choke and splutter around his cock, your eyes tearing up. Namjoon holds your hair tightly, keeping his shaft buried against the back of your throat, even as you gag around him.

“Didn’t Hobi tell you to be good for me? Yet, here you are, forgetting about my cock. Is Hoseok a distraction? Does he need to stop so we can use your pretty throat the way it’s supposed to be used?” Namjoon asks, his voice heavy with dominance. Despite your teary eyes and the ache in both your jaw and your throat, you find yourself shaking your head, your cunt clenching.

“Do I need to stop, sweetheart?” Hoseok asks, drawing his fingers away. Again, you frantically shake your head, your words of protest muffled around Namjoon’s cock.

“So, you’ll be good?” Namjoon asks, and you nod your head quickly. Namjoon grunts at the way his cock shifts inside your mouth as you move your head.

“Hmm. We’ll see. Now hold still while I fuck your pretty throat,” Namjoon says. Your muscles instantly tense, twitching intermittently as you stare up at Namjoon through the thick of your lashes. He growls lowly, keeping his eyes fixed onto yours as he begins thrusting hard, but slowly, into your mouth. Every thrust of his hips has him hitting the back of your throat - you have no doubt that it’ll be completely raw and hoarse tomorrow - as you’re jerked on top of Hoseok.

“That’s a good Princess,” Hoseok praises. Then, suddenly, he plunges two fingers into you. You cry out around Namjoon’s cock, the vampire’s thrusts becoming stuttered at the sudden vibration of your mouth against his cock.

“Fuck.” Namjoon hisses through clenched teeth as he forces his cock further into your mouth. The muscles at the back of your throat flutter around his head, and you find yourself inadvertently swallowing. Namjoon let outs another hiss, his head falling back as you slowly swallow his cock down your pharynx.

“Did she take you down her throat, Joonie?” Hoseok asks, his ears twitching at the fucked out sigh that escapes Namjoon’s lips.

“Fuck. Yes-” Namjoon groans out, barely able to string together a rational sentence as he loses himself in the feel of your tight, hot throat pulsing around his shaft.

“Should I reward our princess?” Hoseok asks, lightly thrusting his fingers into you.

“Hmm. I think so. We promised we would if she was good for us - and she’s being really good right now,” Namjoon praises. One of his large hands moves to wrap around your throat, groaning as his thumb affectionately brushes against the outline of his cock in your oesophagus.

Hoseok doesn’t say anything. Instead, he slowly spreads the two fingers he has buried into you, opening you out for his viewing pleasure. He groans as you’re gradually opened out for him. Thick strings of your arousal coat your inner walls, leaking out of your cunt and running down his fingers. Lifting his head up, he plunges his tongue inside of you, swirling the wet appendage around your walls and drenching it in the thick of your taste.

Uncontrollably, your thighs begin shaking around his head as the ecstasy of your impending orgasm draws near. Your eyes shut, tears leaking down your cheeks - both from the sheer pleasure Hoseok wrought on your body and Namjoon’s deep thrusts down your throat as he uses your oesophagus as his own personal cocksleeve. When Hoseok’s thumb moves to press against your clit, rolling it in tight circles, you feel the knot inside your stomach unravel. Violently, you begin shaking as your orgasm sears through your nerves.

Namjoon abruptly pulls out your throat, and you let out a small shriek as you begin cumming around Hoseok’s tongue. Your throat strains, your moans coming out raspy from Namjoon’s thrusts. Hoseok groans as your walls begin clenching rhythmically around his tongue. The honey of your orgasm trickles out of you in thick streams, running along his tongue and straight into his mouth. Tauntingly slow, he continues circling your clit as he draws out your orgasm, wanting nothing more than to drown in your cum.

“Fuck, Hoseok,” you mewl. Your limbs turn into jelly, and you find yourself falling forward, unable to keep yourself upright. Instantly, Namjoon catches you, bracing you against his taut chest. You bury your face into his abdomen, eyes screwed shut as you cry out your pleasure into Namjoon’s flesh.

“Shh. It’s okay, we’ve got you,” Namjoon says tenderly as he lightly runs his fingers through your hair. Soothingly, he massages your scalp as you come down from the elation of your orgasmic high. Once you stop trembling around his face, Hoseok pulls away from your cunt. Licking his lips, he drinks down the remnants of your cum that soaks his mouth and chin. He strains his head and places a soft kiss against your clit before gently rolling you off of him.

Bonelessly, you fall onto the bed. Your chest heaves as you stare up at the ceiling, gaze completely unfocused from the strength of your orgasm. Vaguely, you hear your lovers shuffle around the room, but you’re too far into your orgasmic haze to really care.

Moments later, when you have more of your bearings, you feel the bed dip on either side of your body. Sluggishly, you roll your head towards them, smiling lazily. They’ve stripped completely naked, leaving them in all their glory. Your eyes brazenly rove over their figures, basking in how utterly beautiful your lovers are.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Hoseok asks. You nod languidly, and Hoseok lets out a soft chuckle from how completely fucked out you are, your eyes glassy. His arms wrap around your waist and pull you up. Your muscles protest the movement, but you let him manoeuvre you so that your back is rested against his hot chest, your hips between his thighs as his hard cock rests against the top of your ass.

“I know I usually fuck you first - but because of… because of the wolf - we thought it’d be easier if Namjoonie has you first,” Hoseok says softly as he presses a kiss against your neck. Your heart soars at his concern, and you let out a small nod.

“It’ll be fine. I trust you both,” you reply, turning your head and pressing a chaste kiss against Hoseok’s lips. Then, turning back, you lift your arms up and beckon Namjoon towards you. He smiles gently at you. Hoseok’s hands wrap around your thighs before spreading them, letting Namjoon crawl between. Your vampire presses a kiss to your forehead. Then, he uncorks the vial in his hand - the vial you hadn’t even noticed.

“Joonie?” you ask, staring curiously at the glass bottle.

“Did you forget about the bonding ceremony, my love?” Namjoon asks, a playful smile teasing his lips. You blink at him, your mind working sluggishly slow at it navigates the fog of euphoria that clouds it. Suddenly, it clicks. Oh yes, the vial of potion. The vial that would temporarily temper down the poison of his kiss and lower the chances of any fatalities.

“Oh. I forgot about that,” you whisper. Once again, the two of them exchange a nervous glance. Tenderly, Hoseok smooths his hands over the flesh of your thighs, massaging them as Namjoon looks at you warily.

“Are you sure about this? If you don’t want to, we can-” Namjoon begins.

“No. I want this. Please. I want to be yours and Hoseok’s forever,” you cut him off, your eyes staring earnestly into his. Namjoon nibbles his lower lip before nodding. Then, he uncorks the vial, the potion glimmering in a metallic pool of silver before he gulps it down. Namjoon’s nose scrunches up at the taste before he sputters.

“Damn, that’s awful,” he says as he swallows thickly before he turns his attention back to you. He takes in the sight of you, body sprawled across Hoseok’s chest and thighs spread wide for him.

“Fuck. Okay,” Namjoon says lowly. Taking his cock in his hand, he pumps it twice, spreading his precum over it before pressing the head against your entrance. You let out a low moan of appreciation as he runs his cockhead through your folds, wetting it in your arousal before he slowly begins pushing it inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you groan as your eyes screw shut. The girth of Namjoon’s cock slowly spreads you open, inch by inch, as he fills your walls.

“Fucking- how are you always so tight?” Namjoon hisses as he bottoms out. Your hands shoot out to rest against his hips, your fingers digging into his bones. When the walls of your cervix kiss the tip of his cock, Namjoon stills, waiting for you to slowly adjust. You take a couple of deep breaths, more than delirious over the way his cock feels inside you. The slight burn of the stretch soon fades away, and you experimentally clench your walls around him. The sensation of your silken walls clamping down around his shaft has him whining softly.

“Joon, hnn- Joonie, you can move,” you croak. Namjoon steadily eases himself out of you before thrusting back in one fluid motion. You cry out when he once again bottoms out, your head lolling onto Hoseok’s shoulder.

“Fuck her good Joonie. You’ll need to fuck that pretty pussy open so it’s easier for her to take my knot,” Hoseok breathes out. His words ring through your ears, and you involuntarily clench around Namjoon again. God, you’d almost forgotten about that. Hoseok had never knotted you before - he’d never let his wolf take control in the bedroom - but tonight, in order to complete your turning, he’d have to.

“Shit, she likes that. She just got so tight,” Namjoon gasps as he thrusts harder.

“Hmm. Is Joonie right, sweetheart? Do you want me to knot you? Does the Princess want to take my knot like a good little bitch?” Hoseok asks. Your eyes snap open at his words. His voice is considerably deeper and just slightly more gravelly. He sounds like your Hoseok, but different. More animalistic.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Namjoon groans. The speed of his thrusts increases as his hips ram into yours. With each and every one of his movements, you’re jerked back into Hoseok’s chest. The wolf holds down your thighs, keeping you locked in place as Namjoon begins a brutal pace. Each surge of his cock hits slightly deeper - and with Hoseok holding you down, you have no choice but to take it.

“S-So good,” you whimper out. With each plunge, you can slowly feel yourself approaching the brink of your orgasm. Your thighs begin shaking around him, your hands digging harder into his hips. You clutch his narrow waist hard, holding onto it as if it's your last lifeline.

“Are you going to cum, Princess? I can feel your cunt tightening,” Namjoon asks, and you frantically nod. Flashes of heat run along your skin, your flesh prickling with your nearing peak.

Suddenly, Namjoon grips your hips and yanks them further into his cock. The abrupt movement causes your body to jerk down Hoseok’s chest before Namjoon bends over you, laying both you and Hoseok onto the bed. His chest pressed against yours, your back flush against Hoseok’s abdomen as your head rests on his chest. You cry out when Namjoon wraps your thighs around his hips, digging his knees into the bed and using them as leverage to fuck into your cunt harder and deeper. Imperceptibly, your thighs begin quivering, though Hoseok’s eyes catch the movement.

“She’s cumming Joonie,” Hoseok warns. Namjoon lets out a little grunt and tilts his hips. You let out a low shriek, the change of angle causing his cockhead to brush against the spongy tissue of your g-spot with every thrust.

“Make her cum. I’m not- fuck- gonna last long. She’s- hnng- so fucking tight,” Namjoon croaks, his voice coming out choked. One hand moving from your thigh, Hoseok pushes his fingers against your clit.

Instantly, your back arches, twisting almost painfully as you feel your orgasm ricochet through your body. Your walls rhythmically begin pulsing around the vampire’s cock, tightening around his shaft in almost a vice-like grip. The feel of your cunt milking around him pushes Namjoon over the edge. Thrusting inside of you one final time, Namjoon buries his cock as deep as it can go before cumming and spilling inside of you. Rope after rope of his semen shoots into you, coating your walls white in his thick essence.

Namjoon lets out a little roar, his incisors growing and sharpening until they’re like small daggers. Then, bending over, he latches onto your breast and immediately bites down. The sharpened teeth pierce your breast, the skin tearing as he fills you with a dulled version of his poison while blood rushes into his mouth. You let out a sharp cry as pain flares around your nipple before a cool heat floods through your veins. As soon as he’s done injecting you with his vampiric toxin, Namjoon unlatches his teeth. He begins running his tongue around the wound, inadvertently swirling the appendage around your nipple. The stinging pain of his bite soon begins to fade away as his saliva heals your wound, dulling the ache.

“One down, two more to go,” Namjoon mutters as he unlatches his mouth from your breast. He stares at dark mauve bruises already forming around the puncture marks, almost enraptured by them.

The bonding ritual seemed complicated. There was too much to do - too much that could go wrong, and at first, both he and Hoseok had been hesitant to go through with it - Yoongi’s assurance or not. They didn’t want to hurt you - or lose you because of their own actions. Some of it seemed easy enough - you had to be filled with their cum - or their ‘life essence’ as the instructions had called it - before they could even think about marking you. Then, they had to mark and bite you - at the exact same time, so that they could tie you to them, and that’s where it turned complicated. Due to the potion diluting the strength of his venom, he has to bite you three times, making sure the third time coincides with Hoseok’s bite. If they were off by even the slightest, it would result in your death.

Though, now, as he stares at the purple bruises blooming against your breast, he can’t help but hum in appreciation. Possession flares in his chest, knowing that you’d soon be marked as his and Hoseok’s forever. Soon, you’d be theirs forever: marked and bonded to them for the rest of your lives. Softly, he brushes his plush lips against your sternum in a sweet kiss, your chest heaving under him as you gasp for breath. Easing out of you gently, Namjoon pulls his cock out. The moment his cock leaves you, you let out a soft whine, his cum beginning to drip out.

Before you can catch your breath, you’re suddenly flipped over. Both you and Namjoon let out a gasp of surprise as Hoseok forces you onto your hands and knees, his strength even pushing Namjoon over. Hoseok bends your back, causing it to arch as he pulls your ass into the air. Your head falls between Namjoon’s thighs, his cum covered cock resting against your cheek as Hoseok palms your ass. A low growl emanates from Hoseok’s chest behind you, and instantly your knees go weak. It’s not like his usual growls, no, it’s far too carnal. Too animalistic.

“Look at my bitch’s pretty little ass,” Hoseok grunts, his large palms splaying over the fleshy cheeks. You let out a little whimper at the deep inclination of his voice, your cunt pulsing at the dominance dripping from his words. The wolf spreads the cheeks of your ass, letting out a soft purr of appreciation as he watches Namjoon’s cum drip along your folds.

“Your cunt looks so good filled with the vampire’s seed,” comes the appreciative rumble of Hoseok’s voice. You feel him run his fingers through the folds of your cunt, gathering the spilt cum onto his fingers before pushing them into you. You whimper slightly, your walls slightly raw and still sensitive from Namjoon’s hard thrusts. Hoseok pumps his fingers inside you, watching the way they displace Namjoon’s cum from your pussy. Pulling his fingers out, he smirks at the way Namjoon’s cum coats his fingers before placing them back against your cunt. Once again, he gathers Namjoon’s cum before plunging his fingers back into you, pushing Namjoon’s cum deep into your cunt.

“Such a messy little slut- you’re dripping like a good little bitch in heat. Hmm, I don’t know why he never let me play with you before,” the wolf muses, no doubt referring to Hoseok’s human personality. You feel him spread his fingers inside you, attempting to splay your walls, “tight too - but don’t worry, I’m sure you can take my knot,” Hoseok purrs. Then he pulls his fingers out, only for them to be replaced with the head of his cock.

Your eyes widen, hands shooting out to grip Namjoon’s thighs as Hoseok begins pushing into your entrance. He’s big - much bigger than he’s ever been. Your eyes screw shut at the sheer girth - somehow, he’s thicker than Namjoon. Despite your vampire lover fucking you not even minutes ago and the mix of both your cum, the bulbous head of Hoseok’s cock still struggles to push into the tightness of your cunt.

“Fuck. Be a good little bitch and relax,” Hoseok gnarls, but despite his harsh words, he soothingly rubs your back. Feeling the warmth of Hoseok’s touch, as well as the usual gentleness of your wolf lover, you find yourself relaxing enough for him to gently ease his head in. You let out a deep, low groan as he slowly fills you beyond anything you’ve ever felt before, your walls stretching around his cock. You’re unbelievably full.

Hoseok lets out a low growl, his chest rumbling behind you, “that’s a good bitch. You’re taking my cock so good. Gonna knot you, fill you with my cum, and breed you like my good bitch,” Hoseok snarls as he continues forcing his length inside you. Nails digging into Namjoon’s flesh, you let out a soft whimper, your head resting on the vampire’s thick thighs.

Inch by inch, Hoseok spreads your walls open. The girth is the same almost all the way down, and long, excruciating moments later, he finally bottoms out. Hoseok stills behind you, one hand tenderly rubbing the small of your back. He’s buried so deep in you, it’s almost like you can feel him at the back of your throat. Once you adjust to his girth, you let out a laboured breath and push your ass against him.

“Please,” you whimper, voice low and practically inaudible. Hoseok, however, hears you. You feel his hands move from your back to grip at your hips, sharp talons scraping against your skin.

“Ready for me?” Hoseok asks, and your chest flutters at the slightly higher-pitched tone. It’s Hoseok, your Hoseok - the human counterpart to the wolf.

“Mhm. Want you. All of you,” you reply. This time, when he growls, it’s back to the lower, more carnal sound, and you know the wolf is back.

“Then you’ll get all of me,” he snarls. You feel his grip on your hips tighten before he pulls out of you in one motion until only the tip of his cock in buried into you. Suddenly, he thrusts in deeply, burying his cock into your depths in one slick motion. You scream out his name, your body jerking forward from the abrupt thrust. Namjoon hisses when your nails curl into his legs once again before looking at you in worry.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asks. Concern laces his voice as his gaze momentarily flicks towards Hoseok. The russet haired male’s eyes are completely gold, not a hint of brown present in them. His irises glow unnaturally in the low lighting of the room, and Namjoon curses as he realises Hoseok’s too far deep into his own baser, carnal need.

“F-Fine,” you stutter, barely able to get the words out as Hoseok begins impaling you with his cock. He’s so big, it feels like you’re being split open, and yet, with every thrust, his head brushes against your g-spot, causing your toes to curl in pleasure.

Hoseok moves his hands to your ass cheeks, spreading them open and groaning at the sight. The tight ring of your walls grips his shaft in a vice-like grip, the muscles stretching and pulling with each violent thrust of his cock. He finds himself mesmerised by the sight, gaze enthralled by the way his thick girth fucks your cunt open. His cock is slick, streaks of Namjoon’s cum running down the length as it glistens with the thin filmy wetness of your own cum.

The mixture of both your cum and Namjoon’s acts as a makeshift lubricant, allowing Hoseok to slide into you easier. You groan with each and every one of his thrusts, little whimpers and sighs of both pain and pleasure escaping your mouth. Hoseok’s hands grip your hips, yanking them back onto his cock over and over again as he brutally impales you on his cock. His ministrations only drive you wilder, the pain of his sheer girth stretching you out mixing with the pleasure he forces on your body.

“Fuck-” Hoseok snarls, his pace becoming stuttered. You let out a sharp gasp, practically choking on air as you feel his cock throb inside you. The rhythmic pulsing mirrors the clenching of your own walls, “gonna breed you. Gonna knot your tight little pussy and fuck it full of my cum- gonna make sure I fill your belly full of my pups” Hoseok hisses.

He yanks your hips towards him, his hips slamming against your ass as the sound of skin slapping fills the air. Holding you still, Hoseok leans over your back, plunging his cock into your depths even harder. Your eyes widen just a fraction, and you let out a little cry as you feel the base of his cock begin to swell. A whimper of pain escapes you, your eyes tearing up as you feel the walls of your cunt begin to stretch to their limit.

“Ah- Hoseok,” you gasp out, your hand twisting behind to get him to slow down. Hoseok barely acknowledges you, however, and instead, he continues jackhammering into you. The brute force of his thrusts causes his knot to brush against your walls, the thick knotted flesh threatening to penetrate you with each plunge of his hips. When a fraction of it slips into you, you cry out: this time in pain.

“Fuck! Hoseok, slow down,” Namjoon hisses, his brows scrunching in worry. Hoseok simply snarls at him. Namjoon curses as he realises just how lost into his animalistic urges the wolf is.

“Gotta breed her to complete the bonding,” Hoseok manages to growl out. Conflicted by Hoseok’s words, Namjoon freezes. On one hand, he knows that in order to bond and mate with you, you need to take Hoseok’s knot; however, on the other hand, he can’t stand to see you in pain. Contemplating whether he should stop Hoseok, Namjoon runs his tongue across the front of his teeth. Instantly, his eyes widen as an idea pops into his head.

Namjoon pushes Hoseok backwards, his supernatural strength forcing the wolf onto his ass. As he falls back, Hoseok keeps his grip firmly onto your hips, and you’re dragged back with him. The movement causes you to jerk onto his lap, Hoseok’s knot slipping further into you and causing you to cry out at the sudden intrusion, your walls being stretched open. Namjoon winces and places an apologetic kiss on your forehead. Hoseok ignores you both, instead, using your hips as leverage to slam you harder onto his cock. Your entire body bounces on top of his as he fucks into you, his hips thrusting upwards.

“Ahah- please,” you whimper, your breathing becoming laboured as your eyes screw shut from pain.

“Spread your thighs, love,” Namjoon softly orders. You whimper but do as asked, your legs falling open. The movement only causes Hoseok to growl as your cunt loosens up slightly.

The wolf grips your hips tighter, grinding you onto his cock and causing you to hiss when he sinks in deeper. Crawling between them, Namjoon winces at how swollen you are, your walls stretched immensely as Hoseok continues pushing the flared base of his cock into you. Gathering saliva into his mouth, Namjoon lets it pool onto his tongue before dribbling it onto your cunt. You hiss as the cool spit drips down your heated cunt and around Hoseok’s knot. Namjoon leans forward, lightly kissing and suckling your clit.

As Namjoon’s spit begins running over your entrance, you slowly feel the pain begin to ebb away. Your muscles relax slightly, twitching from the sudden loss of tension. Your eyelids flutter open as you let out a low moan - of pleasure this time - when Namjoon laves your clit. Swallowing thickly, you stare at the top of Namjoon’s head as he eats you out, the healing properties of his spit slowly working their magic and alleviating the ache of Hoseok’s knot.

“Better?” Namjoon asks, his words vibrating across the sensitive bundle of nerves. You throw your head back in pleasure before nodding. Namjoon smirks, keeping his eyes glued onto you as he continues lapping and suckling at your clit. You whine at the feeling of Hoseok’s knot slowly entering you. Now, with the aid of Namjoon’s spit, you can focus more on the pleasure, your skin flushing with heat as your toes curl.

Namjoon’s thick lips wrap around your clit before he draws the bud between his teeth. Gently rolling it, he lightly nibbles on it - teasing your clit until you find yourself tearing up from pleasure. You’re impossibly full, Hoseok still using your hips to pull you onto his cock over and over again - using your cunt as his own personal cocksleeve. With every slam of your hips onto his cock, his knot invades your cunt further. It continues swelling, enlarging under you as your eyes roll from how utterly filled you are. Your hips writhe on top of Hoseok’s, following his rhythm and causing him to let out a low growl of appreciation.

Suddenly, Namjoon unwraps his mouth from your clit, and instead, licks the seam of your stretched out cunt as it clings to Hoseok’s cock. He stares at the beads of his cum, your cum, and Hoseok’s precum that gathers around your entrance. It leaks out in little rivulets, down Hoseok’s shaft and along his knot. Unable to resist, Namjoon finds himself tentatively lapping it, before swallowing. He groans at the taste - the three of you heavy on his tongue.

Growing bolder, Namjoon furiously begins licking along your pussy and Hoseok’s knot, gathering as much of the mixture of cum as he can before swallowing it down thickly. You shiver, your thighs beginning to quake as his tongue darts across your pussy. Pulling away from your cunt, Namjoon replaces his mouth with his fingers. Expert fingers begin rolling your clit, pushing and prodding the little bud and drawing out small mews of pleasure from your lips. Namjoon’s lips ghost across the inside of your thighs, gently nipping the skin as he readies it for his second mark. You can feel your end nearing, your abdomen tightening with heat as your skin prickles with ecstasy.

Namjoon bites down on your thigh abruptly, forcing a grunt of pain from your lips when his incisors once again break your skin. You feel him inject his venom into you, and this time, it’s more potent. It mingles with the toxin already in you, cold heat searing every single one of your veins as your blood is pumped around your body. Namjoon quickly unlatches his mouth from you, running his tongue over the puncture wounds as he alleviates the pain. Plush lips brush against the bruising mark, ghosting soft kisses along the flesh in praise.

“You’re doing so good, love. Just a bit more,” Namjoon says. His gaze is fixed onto your cunt, watching the lewd way in which Hoseok’s knot stretches your cunt as he continues mindlessly playing with your clit. His thumb moves to your entrance, softly brushing the pad against where you and Hoseok are connected. You cry out, your walls clenching tightly around Hoseok.

“Hoseok, she’s not gonna last much longer,” Namjoon warns as he feels your blood rush around your body, your heart beating to the speed of hummingbird wings.

Namjoon kisses his way up your body, stopping briefly to lick and nip one of your nipples, all while continuously working your clit under his fingers. His head falls to the juncture of your neck, his mouth watering as he feels the pulse of your jugular. Lazily, he kisses the skin, gently suckling the tender flesh as he prepares it for his final mark. Hoseok moves his lips to the opposite side, his lips pushed against the crook as he lightly nibbles the skin causing you to gasp as his sharp canines scrape against the skin.

With one final thrust, Hoseok slams you onto his cock, pushing the final remaining inch of his knot inside you. The sudden stretch, paired with Namjoon’s fingers endlessly teasing your clit causes you to hurtle off the edge. You sob out both their names, your head thrown back and back arched into the air as you scream towards the heavens. Hoseok lets out a deep guttural howl before jets of his cum shoot out and into your cunt. You softly cry as the heat of his cum fills you from the inside. You find yourself drowning in its warmth. Your walls clench around his shaft, milking it for all it’s worth as his knot keeps both his and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum plugged up inside you.

Then, with one glance towards each other, Hoseok and Namjoon bite down onto your neck. You feel their sharpened teeth tear into your skin before power surges through your body. Eyes widening from the sheer energy that ricochets within your nerve fibres, you let out a curdling, ear-piercing scream. Their essence sears every single blood vessel as the pure ecstasy of your orgasm courses along your nerves. The two men wince as your howl thunders through their eardrums, your entire being intensely shaking as their power overwhelms you.

Namjoon keeps his eyes trained onto you, watching the way your eyes flash between white and their usual colour. When they finally stop flickering and return to normal, he lets out a sigh of relief. Both he and Hoseok unhook their fangs from your skin, Namjoon quickly running his tongue over the puncture wounds to allay the blood that begins forming around them. Humming against your skin, he licks up the sweet, metallic tasting droplets. Somehow, despite how completely exhausted you are, you feel every single one of your cells thrum with energy as they pulse with life.

Once the overpowering ecstasy ebbs away, leaving you drunk on the euphoria of your orgasmic high, you fall limply onto Hoseok. The wolf catches you easily, wrapping his arm around your waist as he presses his palm across your soft belly. Breath laboured, you gasp for air as your muscles erratically twitch and spasm between them. Hoseok whines as he comes back to his senses, nuzzling your neck as he presses apologetic kisses into your skin.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Hoseok whimpers, repeating his words over and over again as he punctuates them with soft kisses. Vaguely, through your blissed-out state, you manage to process his words. You shake your head, letting it lazily loll onto Hoseok’s shoulder.

Sluggishly, your hand moves to sit on top of his large palm before you lace your fingers between his. Under both your palms, your belly feels warm, filled with Hoseok’s cock and a mixture of both your lovers’ warmth. The wolf gently caresses your abdomen and you bask in his tender touch. Briefly, you wonder if you’d be giving either of them children anytime soon. It sure felt like you would, just from how full of cum you are. With each caress of your abdomen, Hoseok whispers his apologies over and over again, his voice filled with remorse. You hum contentedly.

“You don’t need to apologise,” you finally rasp out, your throat straining.

“I shouldn’t have lost control like that. I hurt you,” Hoseok says and you hum once again.

“Only slightly - nothing I couldn’t handle. Besides, Joonie made it better. I can’t even remember the pain anymore,” your soft voice echoes through your bedchambers. Hoseok presses another kiss against the column of your throat before sending a grateful smile to the vampire, causing him to grin in return.

“I love you,” you soft whisper, words filled with nothing but adoration as you bring his hands to your lips. Then, flicking your gaze to your vampire, your lips curl into a lazy, content smile.

“And I love you too,” you affirm, one arm sluggishly reaching out for him. Namjoon’s grin deepens, his teeth on display and dimples indenting. Bending over you, he brushes his lips against the corner of your mouth.

“I love you too... so much,” Namjoon whispers. He’s so close to you that with every movement of his lips, you feel them ghost over yours.

“Mmm. Don’t forget about me- I love you too. We both do,” Hoseok says. Namjoon rolls his eyes before pushing both you and Hoseok down and onto the bed. You whimper when Hoseok’s cock refuses to dislodge from within you, Hoseok letting out a heavy exhale.

“Sorry, we’re gonna be like this a while,” Hoseok informs and you let out a deep sigh as Hoseok moves you into a more comfortable position on the bed.

Hoseok spoons you from behind, his arm tightly wrapped around your waist and his chest flush against your back. Your hips squirm over him, Hoseok hissing as you shuffle to find a cosier spot. Once finding it, you grin and sleepily beckon for Namjoon. The vampire moves to lie next to you, his head slightly lowered so he can press languid kisses against the tops of your breasts. Instinctively, your hands curl into Namjoon’s hair, mindlessly playing with the locks as both of them lavish your skin with tender kisses.

“I assume it worked? The bonding I mean,” you ask. Both your boys laugh at you, Hoseok’s warm breath fanning against the skin of your neck.

“If it didn’t, you’d be dead sweetheart,” Hoseok chuckles. You pout but don’t have the energy to move, your muscles smarting from the remnants of your orgasms.

“I definitely feel dead,” you mutter petulantly under your breath. Though, they still manage to hear your words; supernatural hearing and all, causing them to laugh once again.

You ignore them this time, instead, basking in Hoseok’s soothing warmth and Namjoon’s death-like chill. A smile teases your lips as you think about the years you have ahead. You can’t think of a better way to spend the rest of your life than with your two mates.

a/n: hENLO!! I hope you enjoyed hnnnn this as much as I did writing it 🥴 please don’t forget to leave some feedback and tell me what you think 🥺

#bts smut #smutcentralnet #hyunglinenetwork #jhopenetwork #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #dimplenet #thekimlinenet #btsbookclub #moonchildnetwork #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #namseok smut #namjoon fluff #hoseok fluff #bts namjoon x reader #bts hoseok x reader

5K notes · View notes

celestialraes · 4 years

Text

~Young Blood Broken Souls~ (The Owl House Angst Fanfic)

Contains spoilers

Cursing

And mental deterioration

It wasn’t supposed to end up this way.

It was never supposed to end up this way.

The amount of pure trust and admiration Lilith had for the emperor had disintegrated in mere seconds.

He lied to her.

He lied to everyone.

And now here she was, stuck in a cage watching as her sister was about to get petrified.

Watching as her sister was about to die.

Lilith gripped her dress and gritted her teeth staring up at her frantic sister, trying, begging to find some way out of that cage.

Her eyes fell to the floor as her erratic breathing began to come to a halt. Before she looked up again, gasping as she watched the petrification machine start up.

Her eyes widened as she watched her little sister only begin to realize what was about to happen.

The 3 headed statue’s eyes glowed a bright green before a bright blast of light and magic was formed, heading straight for Eda.

She watched in terror.

King screamed Eda’s name, Eda froze, becoming completely still.

Lilith’s top teeth grinded against her bottom ones, she squeezed her eyes shut and practically ripped into her dress with her nails.

This wasn’t happening. It was all a bad dream, a nightmare that she wasn’t waking up from. She was sound asleep in her bed at the coven, this wasn’t happening.

It was all a bad dream.

All a bad dream.

* * *

She remembered the first time she met The Emperor.

She had only been in the Emperor’s Coven for a few weeks when he had summoned her.

He had wanted to meet ‘the powerful witch that braved off the monstrous owl demon.’

Lilith felt good about herself.

More than good about herself.

But she couldn’t fight off all the other feelings combating her joy.

As she vigorously brushed her curly red hair that morning, most people would’ve thunk that as she did she wouldn’t be able to stop smiling.

She wasn’t able to stop frowning.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror as she tried to make her lips curl upward in a grin. It didn’t work, and as she finished brushing her hair, adding hairspray to hold the poof in place, the minutes slipped away from her and she was soon standing in front of the Emperor’s throne room door.

She fiddled with her hands, (a nervous action she had since she was a child), and raised one hand to knock when a booming voice quickly spoke.

“You could just open the door, please, we’re all equals here.”

Emperor Belos.

Her hand shot back from the door, and her mind began to race in several different directions. ‘How did he do that? Could he see the future? Could he hear her thoughts? Did he know of her regret?’ But she pushed it all away, and gripped both door handles, swinging them open and walking in, hearing them click shut behind her.

Except it wasn’t a click, it was a loud boom the sounded through the entire room.

She walked towards the throne, staring at the floor and practically dragging her feet the whole way.

She kneeled down and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, refusing to look up at him until she knew for a fact she was breathing in a steady pattern.

When she saw him for the first time she couldn’t stop her mouth from gaping open, and a small gasp form escaping her now painfully chapped lips.

There he was, Emperor Belos himself, sitting on a throne, looking more intimidating and powerful in person than he ever had been when he made his short appearances on the crystal ball.

She quickly shut her mouth and regained her composure when he began to speak yet again.

“Lilith Clawthorne, please stand.”

She did as instructed, her arms glued to her sides like a nutcrackers’ as she stared up at him, glaring down at her through his mask as he sat high above her on his throne.

“I must say I am impressed with your bravery Miss Clawthorne. That Owl Beast was ferocious but you stood your ground. You truly do belong to this Coven.”

She should have felt honored. But all she she felt was bitter. Bitter to this man, to this, Emperor.

She practically spat his name out.

“Thank you Emperor Belos, but I wasn’t all that brave..”

She wasn’t brave at all! In fact, right after she transformed her first instinct was to run, run after her sister into the woods. But she was stopped. She had already sealed her fate.

But him calling her brave wasn’t the problem. It was ‘The Owl Beast,’ he was talking about Edalyn. Her little sister. All she wanted to do was punch him square in the jaw, that sounded like something Edalyn would do though.

And she wasn’t like her sister.

The sister that she cursed.

She practically tasted the guilt in her mouth before she was snapped out of yet another trance, by the Emperor himself. But this time, he sounded, impatient...?

“Don’t be nonsensical Lilith.” He waved a hand in the air, literally waving her previous statement off. “Your bravery should be, rewarded.”

Lilith didn’t like the condescending way he had said it. But she brushed it off as just her nervousness.

She gulped, swallowing whatever pride she had left as she became worryingly nervous.

“R-Rewarded?” She mentally cursed herself out for stuttering infront of the Emperor, but she was most definitely not the first to do it.

“Yes.”

The Emperor snapped his fingers and another Emperor’s Coven member, fully clad in the uniform stepped forward and stopped in front of Lilith, holding out a red velvet pillow, with an object on it.

Emperor Belos spoke as Lilith picked the object off of the pillow and held it inbetween two of her fingers.

“A gift from me, to you.”

She immediately recognized what the gift was.

It was a gem.

Gem’s were common in Boiling Isles fashion but this one was, special.

It was a light blue, even kinda tealish color that matched her eyes. Her mother had one of those that she wore everyday. But hers was only worth about 50 snails.

This one looked to be worth 500 at minimum.

There had to be some kind of catch.

“Y’know Lilith-”

There it was.

“Friends, give each other gifts. How would you like more of those?” He pointed down from his throne to the gem in Lilith’s hands.

“Gems?”

“Gifts Lilith, gifts.”

Lilith stared down in embarrassment before looking back up, realizing that the person with the velvet pillow had gone and was nowhere to be seen.

She skeptically spoke again this time question herself as she spoke. “...Yes???”

The Emperor’s tone turned even darker if that was possible.

“Was that a question or an answer?”

Her head shot down to the floor once again. He was treating her like her father always would. But he was The Emperor, and she couldn’t wouldn’t talk back to him.

She looked back up, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath before reopening them and speaking yet again. “Yes.”

The Emperor chuckled darkly, a chuckle that sent shivers down her spine, causing her to stand up tall as sweat dripped down her forehead.

“How would you like to... Ascend our ranks?”

Lilith froze in place, staring up at the intimidating Emperor, this time she didn’t skip a beat in her response.

“Yes.”

“Then bring me your sister. I’ll heal your mistake and she will join the coven, just as was originally intended.”

Originally intended?

Before Lilith could question what that had meant her mind became clouded with guilt.

She looked down at the floor, clenching her fists as she squeezed the gem in her right hand.

He was right.

It was her mistake.

No one else’s.

And he would fix it.

For her.

She looked up at the Emperor, her confidence flowing back to her in a rush of waves. She pinned the gem to her uniform/outfit, a place where it would permanently stay. And stood tall, taller than she ever had before in her short life.

“I will.”

* * *

That was the second worst decision of her life.

The first being, well, the curse.

And now, her she was, thrown out and cast aside, her status gone, having lost everything, watching as her sister was about to die.

No.

This was not how it was going to end.

Not for Eda anyway.

The blast of light and magic practically blinded Lilith as she jumped up, ignoring her lungs gasping for breath as she ran.

She didn’t need to run, the cage wasn’t very big, but she felt like she needed to. She felt like she needed to be heroic.

Everything went in slow motion as she practically threw herself in front of Eda, taking the hit from the beam.

She felt her body cease up, she heard King gasp in shock, and she heard Edalyn scream.

Scream her name.

* * *

The rush of air to her lungs caused Lilith to let out a gasp, before she was overcome by dizziness and fell to the floor. Well, if it could even be called that.

It was pitch black, and when Lilith finally went to look at her surroundings she realized, everything was black. She was in a sort of void.

She slowly stood up, her dizziness subsiding as she looked at her surroundings. Or, well, lack thereof.

There was nothing.

Nothing but a door at far end of the void.

Eda’s bedroom door.

Lilith held her breath for a few moments as she practically felt the wind get knocked out of her. She couldn’t breath.

She let out yet another death-defying gasp, panting heavily as if she’d been just running a marathon.

What was happening to her?

All of a sudden she couldn’t breath, she couldn’t speak, all she could do was stare, stare at the door.

But then, she started walking. It was as if Lilith herself wasn’t in control of anything she did, all she could do was stare as she walked closer and closer to the door. Until she grabbed the doorknob and opened the door.

And she was back where she started with the door farther away than it originally was. Or was she farther than she was before? She didn’t really know.

Lilith’s eyes went wide as she stared ahead at the magically moving door. She ran this time, her legs pumping, trying not to trip and fall on hem of her dress. She reached an arm out, going to touch the door, going to hold onto it for dear life, when it vanished into thin air.

She stumbled, barely catching herself in the end as she glared down at the ground before her head shot up.

The door was at the farthest part of the abyss she could see. She yelled out in anger and ran to it again, and again, and again.

She kept running to it, grabbing the doorknob, and twisting until she was back at square one yet again.

The more she did it the farther the door went, the farther Lilith had to run to get to it. Mere seconds turned to minutes of nonstop running.

It wasn’t like the first time, when she couldn’t even divert her path from the door. She had full control of herself. She could run away from the door if she really wanted to.

Then why did she keep running to it?

Maybe it was a sense of security. Knowing that her little sister was behind that door. Or maybe it was because it could have been a way out. Lilith still didn’t know.

But she wanted to leave. She wanted to see her little sister.

But the door kept teasing her until her legs gave out beneath her, and she was taken over by another force.

A force that wrapped around her body until it suffocated her, making her gasp for air as tears came down her face by the gallon, even though she didn’t want them to.

It let go and the air returned to her lungs in a painful jab, as if she had swallowed a knife whole.

She breathed erratically as she slammed her fists onto the groundless void, a splash of wet, pitch black liquid splashing onto her dress.

The ground had morphed into some kind of shallow tide pool, the rest of the void’s color turning a deep gray, contrasting the black in a way a raging storm would be to a ravaging ocean.

Her mouth tasted salty from her continuously falling tears, but as she bent over to look at her reflection in the black inky abyss her vision became clouded by shards of black.

Her tears.

Her tears were black.

Her hands shot from the inky water to her eyes in seconds flat, wiping them clean before her black tears clouded her vision yet again.

Her entire body shook as she managed out a painful sob, another jab at her raw lungs that wracked her body and made her sob even more.

Running.

She was just running.

How did it come to this in just a few measly minutes?

Lilith didn’t know why or how it had, but she didn’t have any time to think before all the guilt she’d been experiencing for the past 20 years flooded her thoughts, filling her with immense guilt and sadness.

So there she was, sobs painfully wracking her body, black tears bleeding from her eyes, as she was collapsed in a shallow pool of the inky abyss’ water.

Until she wasn’t.

The water wrapped around and middle and tugged her down backwards, practically giving the witch whiplash in the process.

She was deep under the previously shallow water now, the air in her cheeks being the only thing keeping her from drowning under there.

Through her pain Lilith used whatever energy she had left and swam up to the surface, but just as her hand was about to pierce the top the force wind around her middle and tugged her down again.

This time refusing to let go.

It dragged her down, and down, and no matter how much she wriggled and squirmed she couldn’t escape its grasp.

The force pressed on her stomach, pushing the remaining air out of her mouth and lungs. She gasped, her hands quickly grasping around her mouth before the force forced them down to her sides.

She was choking, drowning on the black inky abyss’ water, with nothing she could do about it.

The water quickly filled her lungs to the brink as she began coughing up a storm, only making her breathing situation worse.

But she wasn’t drowning, she was only choking on the ink as the force dragged her deeper, and deeper, and deeper.

She could no longer see the abyss’ gray sky. It was only the black inky water, that was choking her, and choking her, and choking her.

Lilith’s vision was still blurry with tears as she finally gave up on her squirming, now fully realizing she was being dragged to her own grave.

Lilith Clawthorne was hurting.

Physically, emotionally,

mentally.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

Except endure her own suffering.

***

Luz didn’t know what to expect when they unpetrified Lilith, but she knew for a fact she didn’t expect the witch to let out a blood curdling scream and fall.

Amity rushed forward and caught Lilith in her arms, the witch was breathing erratically as she dug her fingernails into Amity’s wrists and hid her face in the younger witch’s chest.

Gus spoke breathlessly.

“We didn’t kill anyone this time.”

Willow slapped him hard on the arm before looking to Luz with an apologetic look.

The 24 year old latina looked at the ground solemnly before taking a deep breath and walking forward to where Amity held Lilith tightly in her arms, awkwardly massaging the older witch’s back.

Luz placed a reassuring hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder before looking back at the sobbing, shaking mess that was Lilith Clawthorne.

She inspected Lilith of any signs of hostility, and she felt like a dick in doing so, but she didn’t want to risk her lover and best friends’ safety. But seeing the way Lilith, Lilith Clawthorne, the stonefaced leader of the Emperor’s Coven throw her walls down and collapse in tears...

Luz knew she wouldn’t hurt a fly.

***

Lilith didn’t speak for the first 3 weeks.

She just... Was there?

She ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner with them. Sat on the couch and stared off into the crystal ball. And went to sleep.

She slept in Eda’s untouched, dust filled room, in the old rotting nest that hadn’t been used since 10 years earlier.

She stared a lot too, inspecting every little thing around her. She stared at conversations between Luz and Amity, between Willow and Gus, at a plant etc.

She even stared at the quiet shell that was Hooty. Hooty didn’t talk much anymore, that was what they had in common.

She also didn’t stay around anyone for to long. Amity had offered Lilith clothes once but she just shook her head and went on her not-so-merry way.

She wasn’t surprised. For titans sake she had been stuck in a statue for 10 years! And she never liked Luz, Willow, Gus, and maybe even Amity that much anyway.

But there was something different about this avoidance and routine.

Something was very different about Lilith herself.

Her turquoise eyes didn’t have the same determination as they did before, in fact they were the dullest Luz had ever seen them. Almost gray, even.

Her stature was different too, Luz and co. often found Lilith hugging herself and staring down at the floor, always wearing a frown. She also slouched more often than not, much different from how she held herself before.

She looked like a kicked puppy, in short. Or like King when he didn’t get his way-

King.

Luz felt her heart ache in her chest as her fingers painfully curled around the fabric of her shirt.

It still hurt, and she knew that it always would.

Owlbert flew to her shoulder and let out a reassuring hoot, nuzzling the humans neck. She smiled and gave her boo boo buddy a scratch on the head.

Luz’s thoughts and actions came to an abrupt halt when she heard the screeching of one of the dining room chairs against the floor.

Lilith ran into the living room and stared at Luz for a good few seconds before her eyes shot to the owl on her shoulder. Even Owlbert couldn’t hate her, not now.

She walked up to Luz, staring at her feet and fiddling with her hands the entire time. She stood like that for a good few minutes, staring at her feet and playing with her hands. It was awkward, and for a second Luz thought she was petrified again.

She was about to walk away and leave Lilith to her own devices, and her own sadness when the witch finally looked up and stared at Luz dead in the eyes. And with her own void of life and emotionless voice, she asked one question.

“Where’s Eda?”

A sob wracked through Luz’s entire body before she could say anything, and she fell to the floor in a ball of tears, her entire body shaking from the force of her own sobs.

Owlbert started hooting alarmingly and Amity ran from the kitchen and was at Luz’s side in a flash, consoling her girlfriend with hushes as she held her to her chest like she did for Lilith 3 weeks earlier.

And Lilith just stood there, staring.

***

Lilith wasn’t stupid. She knew the answer to her question the moment Luz fell to floor. She knew it, but she didn’t want to believe it. She never wanted to believe it.

Her little sister was dead.

And so was her housepet but Lilith was more torn apart that she lost her little sister.

Her little sister.

The one she was supposed to protect until the end. The one that was supposed to outlive her. Was dead, and it was all Lilith’s fault. She knew that.

But now, as she stared up at the ceiling of the bedroom, her sister’s bedroom, tears coming down her face in a silent flood she thought about life.

About why it had to take her bestfriend from her, her sister from her. She thought about if Eda had taken fit for granted just as she had.

She gripped the blanket tighter, her nails almost piercing through it.

And she thought of why she was still even there.

***

They visited the graveyard the next morning.

Willow had led Lilith in through the gate by her elbow, without it it seemed as if the witch would collapse to the ground.

To say the air around the 4 witches and human was tense and depressing would be an understatement.

They never liked visiting Eda and King’s graves, of course they missed the two of them but it just made them-

Hurt more.

But they would pull through it, for Lilith.

The group made their way past a plethora of differently shaped graves, each with their own engravement with their name, death date, and cause of death.

They walked up a small hill where under a tree sat two graves side by side. As they got closer Lilith was able to make out the names on the two graves.

But her eyes hyperfocused on the bigger grave.

Edalyn Clawthorne.

1976-2020

Petrification/Spell Accident

She felt her heart clench as they reached the two graves and Willow finally let go of Lilith’s elbow. She practically dived towards the grave and wrapped her arms tightly around it, sobbing into it as if it was her sisters own chest.

Luz’s eyes watered as she watched the scene unfold in front of her. Willow sitting next to Lilith, rubbing her back in a comforting manner. Gus, about a foot behind the two witches, sitting down in prayer... Weird for an atheist but go Gus-

And then there was Luz and Amity, who had stayed the farthest away in their own solitude.

Luz felt her eyes water and tears slowly begin to crawl down her face. Amity, noticing this, leaned her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder, Luz reciprocating the comfort with an arm around Amity’s waist.

And Lilith sobbed.

And all they did was stare.

***

It was two weeks later when Amity had gone up to Eda’s Lilith’s room to check on her. She hadn’t come down to breakfast that morning, or lunch. Another thing that was different about Lilith, she never missed meals before...

Amity found her fast asleep in the nest, but when she tried to wake the elder witch up..-

She couldn’t.

***

Lilith was dead.

The doctors had pronounced Lilith had died of a deteriorated mental state. Weird, because days earlier they said with therapy she could live a happy life.

But as Luz stood there, in front of Lilith’s grave, who had been placed on the other side of Eda’s she knew-

Lilith had died of a broken heart.

()()()

After months of procrastinating woohoo I decided to finish this angsty piece of pain! I think I’m going to make 5 mini stories about the 5 weeks Lilith had left to live, and add some stuff that didn’t really fit in here! Well, thanks for reading, I really hope you guys liked it!

And that your hearts were ripped out-

Also this idea was actually by @fallenflowersfromgrace but I made it 10 times worse!!! :333 <333 :)))

I hope I killed you sister :333

~Zarie

39 notes · View notes

come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

//caution: contents are hot and dangerous. kuroo tetsurou//

Request: Could I request a Vampire!Kuroo x Reader?

Warnings: one (1) swear. Mentions of blood, but no actual blood-spillage.

Word Count: 2.6K (i’m so sorry. i got carried away ;-;)

Notes: Leave it to my dumbass to turn a vamp au into a coffee shop au smh

(Vampire!Kuroo x Human!reader)

It seemed like something straight out of a coffee shop fanfiction AU. The dorky barista who now knew your coffee order by heart, always asking about your day as he brewed your latte. He would write you little notes on your cup, usually some lame science joke that would bring you back up to the counter, asking him to explain it to you. You would watch his face fill with a smile, eyes shining as you take interest in what he’s saying, the setting sun casting long shadows throughout the quiet cafe.

Wednesday evenings had become Kuroo’s favorite shifts as it was the one time a week when you would indulge him with your presence. Once 6:30 would hit, every jingle of the bell above the door would cause his heart to thump a little harder, in hopes to see your bright smile. Your school bag always sat heavily on your shoulders, tired eyes from a long day at university, but the happiness that spread over your face when you saw him leaning his long form over the counter, that lazy smile plastered on his lips, it made the whole atmosphere feel ten times lighter.

Today was no different. You pushed open the door, clutching your wallet, looking over the menu as if you were going to try something new, just like you always did. Standing in line behind the other customers, Kuroo couldn’t help but try to rush through taking orders and making beverages, just wanting to get you to the front of the line, just wanting to see you smile up at him.

“Vanilla latte with soy milk and an extra half shot of espresso,” Kuroo said, already punching the drink order he knew better than the periodic table into the cash register as you stepped up to the counter.

“$4.26,” you answer, handing him your card to swipe, but rather he pushed it back towards you, that staple lazy smile dancing across his face.

“It’s on the house today. Consider it a thank you for being such a loyal customer.”

“I can pay, really. It’s no problem.” You try to hand him your debit card once more, but he just shakes his head, laughing lightly as he pushes it back once again.

“No, seriously. Don’t worry about it,” he says, scribbling your name and a little joke onto your cup. “So, how was class? It was psych and- hang on, don’t tell me,” he pauses, tapping the pen against his chin in thought. “French!”

You tilt your head in confusion, but yet a small laugh still escapes you. “How’d you know?”

“Easy. You always sit at the table by the window and copy notes from your psychology book and your French book.”

“Very observant of you, but I’m just going to work on French today. I have a test tomorrow,” you explain, watching him attempt to make a cool design on the top of your drink, but inevitably failing and just creating a blob in the foam.

“I’m going to figure out how to do latte art one of these days, just you wait.” He smiles teasingly as he places the lid on your cup, handing it to you. A small pink tinge dusts over his cheeks as his fingers brush over yours in the exchange. “Careful, it’s- it’s still hot,” Kuroo mutters, moving his eyes down towards the counter, letting his bangs fall into his face in a desperate attempt to hide the heat that had risen to his cheeks.

But, if you did notice, you didn’t say anything, instead you examine the cup, just like always. This week, under your name was a circle, a few ‘Fe’s scattered around the perimeter. It appeared to be standing on some stilts, but you could’ve stared at it for hours and still not know what the hell you were looking at. “Kuroo, these are just getting harder, you know?” There’s a small hint of laughter in your words, the playfulness evident in every syllable.

“It’s a ferrous wheel! Get it?” The look on your face was all the answer he needed. No. “Okay, so, Fe is the atomic symbol for iron, right? But, like, why?” Any ounce of embarrassment or awkwardness that had once clouded the barista’s brain had since flown out the window. You had him talking chemistry, the one area in which he was completely comfortable. His thoughts were now so jumbled with the thoughts of atoms that your hypnotizing scent escaped him, even if for only a moment.

You watched him blabber on about science, explaining the joke, taking a million and seven detours to explain something else that was barely related, but you couldn’t just stop him. He looked so excited, hands flying in every direction as he spoke, practically buzzing as he broke down the history of iron and why it was displayed on the table the way it was. The dorky barista who had stolen your heart with science jokes and his lazy smile only stopped talking long enough to make orders as they came in, but he would jump back in immediately the minute he was done. This was always your favorite part about coming here, seeing him get so passionate about this field that he loved so dearly.

“I’ve probably bored you, haven’t I?” He interrupts your thoughts with an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just took up some of your precious study time, I’m sorry,” Kuroo apologizes.

“No, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind, really.”

“Hey! I could help you, I mean, only if you want, of course. It’s gotten pretty slow, so I’m sure no one would notice if I stepped away for a little while.”

You smile warmly at him and nod. “I’d like that, Kuroo. Thank you.”

It all seemed so innocent. The awkward barista nestled into a booth with his favorite customer as she tried to teach him the correct pronunciations of the words on the page. The orange glow had settled into a much deeper purple as the hours ticked by, quiet laughter being exchanged as the foreign words stumbled clumsily off his tongue. His arm had settled on the back of the booth seat, letting it hang around your shoulders, but at the same time, not overstepping any boundaries. But, the way that your body was slowly inching closer to his led him to believe that most of the lines had been erased. To anyone with an outside view, it was a beautiful image of a newly blossoming romance.

But, Kuroo’s head was fogging at the close proximity. It was one thing when he had a counter separating you from him, but now, with your head leaning on his shoulder and his arm that had just naturally sank down to rest against your form, it was hard to shake. You smelled so good. Your body absolutely dripped that delectable scent that made his skin prickle. Every time that you entered the shop, he could feel his fangs trying to push through, trying to just get some sort of taste of your blood. With that counter between the two of you, it was easy for him to shake the desire, but now? Your neck was so exposed. It would be so easy. He found himself absently tracing patterns up your shoulder towards your collarbone, fingers seeking out that soft spot that would feel so nice to simply sink his fangs into.

“I should probably be getting home.”

His eyes snapped away from the soft curve of your neck to look at the time on your phone. It was nearly nine, nearly time for him to close. Kuroo let out a small sigh, pulling his arm away. “You know, it’s really not smart for you to walk home by yourself at this hour,” he says, sliding out of his seat.

You just shrugged, putting your books back into your bag. “I’ll be okay.”

“If you want, I could walk you home. I just have to do some cleaning, but it shouldn’t take too long.”

“I’d like that, Kuroo. Thank you.” There’s a smile behind your words as you sit back in your seat.

It should’ve been as sweet and simple as that. But, you weren’t living in a fanfiction, were you? Everything would have been too easy and too beautiful if this was just your typical coffee shop love story. You should’ve gathered that something wasn’t quite right about the situation from his shift in demeanor. That lazy smile that always seemed to be evident on his features melted away, settling into a thoughtful expression. He wasn’t talking as much, preferring to simply hum and nod in agreement with what you were saying. If he was forced to talk? Well, his answers were short, nothing like the extensive rambling that you had become used to from the barista.

It’s not like he wanted to be passive with you, it’s just that the soft poking on the inside of his lip told him that he better keep his mouth shut. Kuroo was usually so good about keeping his fangs hidden, but for some reason, you ruined his resolve and before the two of you even left the shop, those two sharp teeth had emerged and he just couldn’t seem to will them away. Especially when you were holding onto his hand, pushing your body up against his side. You were so tantalizingly close and so naive to what dangers this situation really held.

It wasn’t safe for young ladies to walk home by themselves at this hour, but it wasn’t exactly safe for them to be escorted by one of his kind either. God, to drain you right then and there- The thought of your mouth falling open in the mixture of shock and discomfort, hands pawing defenselessly at his chest as that sweet red liquid dripped from your neck, the mental image of you being so vulnerable had his amber eyes shifting a few shades darker.

You were still smiling, so caught up in whatever you were telling him that you didn’t even notice how heavy the mood had become. You were so caught up in this little fantasy that everything was perfectly normal and that you were just getting to spend a little extra quality time with the man that had caught your eye all those months ago. But, he couldn’t help himself, really. This wasn’t how he expected his first long evening with you to go, but it had been awhile since he had had anything to fill his stomach and there was just something about the way your blood smelled that made his resolve collapse and his mouth water.

Imagine your surprise when the usually sweet barista pushed your back against a wall, standing over you, eyes glazed over in hunger, hooded by desire. Kuroo’s fingers gripped your chin, tilting it so that your eyes would meet his. And he smiled.

Except it wasn’t that cool grin that made him seem so laid-back, this one had an air of menace to it, those white fangs catching the rays of the moonlight. The little squeak that had left you as your back had hit that hard surface only made a low chuckle rise in his chest.

“What’s the problem, kitten?” The pet name dripped teasingly from his tongue, the tone only making you sink further into yourself, but his breath fanned so nicely over your skin, that part of you didn’t even care that he was potentially going to kill you. He tilted your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. The sharp points of his fangs graced teasingly over the skin as if trying to decide the best place to finally make their mark. “I bet you never thought that I could be dangerous. You were always so sweet and innocent, never once thinking that I should be the one that you needed to be afraid of.”

There’s a soft whimper and a shake in your bottom lip. Kuroo can feel your slight shake and it almost makes him pull away from you, apologizing for saying such things, but this- this was an opportunity that he couldn’t just pass up. After this night, there would be no guarantees that you would come to see him again and then he would never have the opportunity to just get that little taste that he so desperately craved. But, even so, the grip on your chin softened and the malice in his smile seemed to disappear.

“If you’re going to kill me, please- please just do it already,” you whimper, the tremble in your voice echoing through his ears as you closed your eyes tightly.

That was all it took for him to fully pull away from you, that fear that had crept up within you brought him back to his senses. The ominous creature that had loomed over you only moments before, fangs threatening to pierce your skin, had been replaced by the boy from the coffee shop who got overly excited about chemistry and talked feverishly with his hands. He could feel his fangs shrinking away and Kuroo leaned away from you, sadness being the only emotion on his features.

This wasn’t what he wanted. He never wanted to scare you, to make you shake beneath his touch, but that’s exactly what he had done. To be frank, he hated it. He hated that after months of getting to know you and building a meaningful friendship with you, he let it all waste away as he was driven by an urge of hunger. Kuroo hadn’t offered to walk you home just so he could get a little late night snack. He had genuinely been concerned for your safety and yet, here he was, being more of a danger to you than anyone else.

His mouth stuttered absently for anything that could be an explanation or even an apology, but there was nothing. But when your eyes opened cautiously, surprised that you were still alive, Kuroo could see the soft glisten of tears on your cheeks. Someone could’ve hit him over the head with a brick and it still wouldn’t have hurt anywhere near as much as the knowledge that those tears had fallen because of him, because he had made you fear for your life and for your well-being.

So, when you flung yourself into his chest, clutching at the fabric of his t-shirt, letting your quiet sniffles dampen the material? Kuroo was shocked to say the least, but nonetheless, he wrapped his arms tenderly around your form, mumbling soft words of remorse against your scalp, planting sweet kisses on your temple.

“Please,” you whisper, your words getting caught in your throat in a choked sob. You tighten your grip, pulling him closer to you as if you were trying to completely disappear from the world. “I don’t care what you are, just please- please don't do that to me again, Kuroo. I like you a lot, but I-” You looked up at him, fresh tears shimmering down your cheeks. “But, you scared me and I-”

He shushed you, petting your hair softly before running his thumb over your face, ridding your skin of any remaining tears. “I know, and I’m sorry, Y/N. I guess I just like you too much to pose any real danger to you, huh?”

#i am absolutely not sorry about the title #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #kuroo #tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #vampire au #but also??#coffee shop au #x reader #imagines #dorky rooster boy could never scare you ;-;

161 notes · View notes

akiraidraws · 3 years

Text

Imperfection AU: Beginnings Chapter 2

Summary: With the help of the ink machine and a little magic, new life is created. A new little toon in the shape of a little devil darling. But when he turns out to be riddled with imperfections can Henry save him from Joey's wrath?

Trigger Warning:Violence, light swearing

Walking into the room that housed the machine, Joey made his way over to a strange man that Henry didn't recognize. The man was taller than Joey and himself with broad shoulders and short darker blonde hair styled in a military cut. Except it was longer towards the front and curled slightly with only the back in the usual buzz cut. Inspecting the man, Henry noticed that the patch on the strange man's chest read 'Gent'.

Ah, he was one of the engineers Joey had hired to build the machine.

From what Henry could hear of the conversation, the man, Thomas Connor it seems his name was, and Joey were going over some final details of the machine.

So, this man was the head engineer from Gent that Wally had told him about. Well, more like he complained to Henry about.

Tom, correcting Joey on what to refer to himself as confirmed that everything was in place and that the machine was ready to use for whatever it is that Joey had planned.

The conversation coming to an end, Joey dismissed Tom.

Tom glanced Henry's way as he walked past him, a neutral expression plastered across his features. Henry noticed a small scar that cut across Tom's left eye, and continued up past his brow. Probably from a past work injury. Maybe military? Tom on the other hand was looking Henry up and down as if studying him before he turned away from Henry with a small exhale and walked out of the room.

Henry's brief encounter with the man left him feeling just a little intimidated and with a slight sense of unease, don't get on Tom's bad side. Duly noted.

Usually Henry wouldn't judge a book by it's cover, but something about Thomas Connor just felt... off. It's no wonder Wally had such a distaste for the man.

Turning his attention back to Joey who was now facing the large machine with his back turned to Henry, his eyes wondering to the floor at Joey's feet. It looked like there was some sort of large circle messily painted on the floor with black ink. A pentagram? Some sort of binding circle maybe? Henry wasn't sure, he didn't really know too much about Joey's... hobbies.

"Joey, what is this?"

"Oh, this? It's nothing to worry about. Just a little something to strengthen the incantation."

"After all, we don't want any mistakes now, do we?"

"I guess not..?"

Henry watched as Joey walked over to a mid sized wooden table that was along the wall to their left. He grabbed an armful of well used black candles and placed them at each point of the star within the circle. After making sure each candle was properly lit, Joey walked back to the table and grabbed a thick purple book with a black binding along the spine and a similar looking symbol to the one on the floor.

To say that Henry felt uneasy about this was an understatement, but any second thoughts he may have been having were interrupted by the sound of Joey's voice.

"Henry, if you could just stand right over there." Joey gestured across the room to the far right wall.

"And be careful not to step in the ink, please."

Henry strolled to the other end of the room and crossed his arms giving Joey a quizzical look.

"Watch the machine. You'll want to see this, trust me."

"... Okay." Henry said as he looked the machines way.

He didn't believe a word of what Joey had said but he was willing to entertain his notions. After all, Joey had plenty of experience in this type of thing so Henry trusted him enough to stop if things got dicey.

Joey flipped through the pages of his book with ease and began to chant when he landed on the desired spell.

The ink used to form the circle began to glow a harsh gold and the candles flames swelled. Henry rushed to cover his eyes, momentarily blinded by the unexpected flash of light. In his moment of blindness he failed to notice a small pastel blue orb that radiated from his chest and made its way within the pentagram. A piece of his very soul. As soon as the blue soul piece touched the ink, the harsh gold immediately faded away to a soft pastel blue.

A blue that spread upwards forming an almost invisible wall around the symbol painted on the wooden floor.

A sudden gurgling noise from the machine drew Henry's attention as he uncovered his eyes. He was still blinking away the stars in his vision when ink began to pour from the machines large nozzle with a plethora of sloshing and splashing sounds. The ink was rushing out in alarming amounts but never left the bounds of the circle.

As the last words of the chant left Joey's lips he snapped the book closed with a loud resounding 'CRACK!". Almost as if on cue, the candles flames fizzled out and the ink stopped flowing save for a few drips that lingered on the nozzle of the machine. The pool of ink on the floor began to recess and form a small figure in the middle of the circle.

Henry couldn't believe what he was seeing as a figure began to take shape within the ink puddle. It was small and it was... moving?

Henry must have taken an involuntary step forward because the next thing he knew Joey had him by the arm pulling him away from what was happening before them.

"Wait, Henry! It's not done yet!" Joey all but shouted.

"I-I cant believe it..."

"I know! Isn't it exciting!?"

Henry nodded and turned his attention back to the figure within the ink.

With the last of its little body formed, the excess ink evaporated away like it was nothing more than water in a hot skillet. The last of the ink gone, the soft blue light emanating from the circle burst like glass and faded away leaving only the newborn creature in its wake.

The creature managed to shakily prop itself up on its small arms and onto its knees. It looked from Henry to Joey then back at Henry and smiled a familiar blocky smile on its yellowed face. Its black pie cut eyes looking nervously up at the men before it, its horns twitching before going still.

"Is... is that? Bendy?" Henry asked cautiously, taking a few steps forward to get a better look.

Joey didn't respond. He made no effort to move from where he stood as Henry left his side and approached the little toon devil.

Kneeling down in front of him, he was so small, so... infant like.

Black pie cut eyes watched the man in front of him as Henry tilted his head to the side curiously. An action that Bendy mirrored.

The toon copied every movement that Henry made.

Henry smiled and let out a laugh at the way Bendy was mirroring him.

As a result, Bendy let out the cutest little giggle that Henry had ever heard.

There was no doubt that this little toon was in fact, a baby. Well, maybe not a baby per say but he was definitely in an infant like phase of his life. New, and small, and so so innocent.

"Hello, little one. My name is Henry and that-" motioning over his left shoulder "is my good friend Joey."

Bendy reached his little yellowed hands out and beamed "Henry! Hen, Hen-Henry! Henry!"

"Yes. Yes, that's right."

"Henry!" Bendy giggled as he repeated the name a number of times to Henry's amusement.

Henry reached out and placed a hand under each of Bendy's arms carefully lifting him up off the floor to get a better look at the toon. Bendy letting out a small squeak as he was lifted from where he sat. Henry was shocked to see that in place of the usual skinny legs and large shoes were a set of almost gazelle like legs minus the hooves. His legs simply petered off into rounded hooveless points. And now that he was looking closer he could see what appeared to be a little pointed tail curled slightly around the toon’s dangling legs and it was twitching slightly. The little demon whined and wriggled as he tried to free himself from Henry's grasp.

"Hey now, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Don't be scared." Henry cooed as he pulled the toon to his chest and gently caressed the tiny demons cheek in an attempt at comfort.

He was so small. Henry could cradle him with a single arm.

Bendy looked up at Henry and then over his shoulder, his eyes going wide. He grasped Henry's shirt tightly and buried his face in Henry's chest, whimpering. His tail trying to wrap itself around the mans waist but being too short to do so.

Confused, he turned to look over his own shoulder now, coming face to face with Joey who was leaning forward just behind him. Looking rather displeased with the situation at hand. Joey was glaring at the little toon in Henry's arms.

Bringing himself to his feet, Henry turned to face Joey.

"Why are you looking at him like that?"

"This is all wrong. How could this have happened?!"

"Huh??"

Joey sneered disgustedly at the little toon. Using Henry's soul piece should have worked, should have made the perfect toon. So why didn't it?

Joey snatched the frightened newborn toon from Henry's arms, knocking him to the floor in the process. He was going to return this little abomination to the ink like he had done to the countless before him. Imperfection will not be tolerated. Bendy crying out loudly in fear as Joey made his way back to the machine. Dazed from the impact, Henry quickly collected himself and picked himself up off of the floor. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins. Bendy's wails grew more frantic sending a shockwave of alarm through Henry's core. His eyes now set on Joey. He rushed towards Joey wrapping his arms around the smaller mans shoulders in a vice grip causing him to drop the toon like a rock. Bendy hit the floor with a loud 'thud', knocking the breath out of his little inky lungs. Dazed, confused and frightened, Bendy was frozen were he lie, curled into himself with his tail wrapped tightly around his small body. Henry immediately abandoned his hold on Joey and scrambled for the newborn toon on the floor scooping him up into a protective embrace.

Angry, Joey dives at Henry shouting.

"Give it to me!! It's an abomination!"

Henry's temper flares as he bristles. His hold on the little toon growing tighter while he shields Bendy from Joey's grasp.

"He's just a baby, Joey!!"

Joey dives for the toon in Henry's arms once more. The two men joined in an intricate dance as Henry dodges Joey's prying clutches. Set on protecting the frightened whimpering bundle in his arms.

"I knew it was a mistake bringing you here for this! Of course you would try to protect an abomination! You've always been too weak for your own good!!" Joey hisses. His own temper flaring at Henry's intervention.

"Really?? Well how's this for weak?!" Henry roared back, planting his foot squarely against Joey's chest sending him reeling backward into the cold metal of the machine. Knocking the air out of the fuming man.

Henry hated doing it, but no way in hell was he going to let Joey harm the defenseless little bundle he had cradled protectively in his arms. He stood defensively, ready for Joey to make another move.

But it never came.

Joey sat up slowly, rubbing at the side of his head. A pained expression plastered across his features.

"Fine." Joey spat coldly. His gaze focused entirely on Henry.

"You want it, then you take it. But you would do well to keep that abomination away from me, Stein."

14 notes · View notes

rebelwith0utacause · 4 years

Text

La Petite Mort

I started writing this a month ago, got stuck on 300 words and thought I might never finish it. Here we are, beginning of June, and it’s finally done, all 3.4K of it.

Warnings: Don’t read it if you’re underage, can’t handle smut and bad writing or if you’re Michael Clifford.

I got the idea listening to A Little Death by The Neighbourhood one day. Go check out the song if you haven’t already. It’s one of my faves.

You can also find it on ao3. Let me know what you think. and please don’t let it flop.

It was supposed to be a quiet affair, a way to get rid of their demons, to let them fly for the night. They were no strangers to it, the taboo and the darker side of their passion meant that they had to hide in the shadows. It was easier in a way, shadows cloaked emotions, making any attraction feel hazy and unsure until it completely vanished in the morning.

Not that you’d ever spent the morning with him. It was a wonder that you’d even met up on multiple occasions. That’s not how the system worked. You were given one chance at a scene, meant to be an outlet, not a dating site. But you fit so well that first time, you knew you had to see him again.

It started out with an occasional DM on Twitter, every couple of months. You would tell him what you needed, what your body and soul craved, he would tell you the location, and the time. You would show up, you would perform, exorcise your demons, go back home, rinse, repeat.

You never meant to get addicted, but there was something in his touch that liberated your soul. You knew it was one-sided, but that didn’t stop you from going back for more.

It was the end of November, an uncharacteristically cold weather had blown into town, the air smelled of snow and you decided that your fingers could use a pair of gloves. You quickened your steps. The neighborhood was neither bad, nor the greatest, but the streetlights were flickering and you started feeling the panic swell in the pit of your belly. The motel was in your sights, a flickering red sign above the main entry showed that there were a few rooms left vacant.

Entering the lobby finally set your nerves at ease. You’ve entered familiar territory.

There was a middle-aged man tending the front desk, his thinning hair glowing under the neon light. He was flicking through the pages of an old magazine, not paying too much attention to the sound of the bell when you opened the door. Really, he couldn’t even bother to look up.

“How can I help you?” was uttered under his nose, his eyes never leaving the glossy pictures. “I have a reservation for room number 7.” Your voice cracked at the “have”, not sure if it was the nerves or the lack of use. He swung around in his chair, grabbing the key from its allotted space and placing it on the desk, no “There you go.” no nothing.

Seen as he wasn’t very forthcoming, if you were being 100% honest, he was cold and insanely rude, you just grabbed the key and left the lobby. You pulled the lapels of your jacket a bit closer and hurried to get to your room. You only had half an hour to get ready.

You’ve done these scenes in almost any kind of environment, but the stagnant air and moldy waterpipes in motels had you feeling a certain way. You never claimed to understand why you liked the things that turned you on.

The first thing you had to do was set the scene. You were both lovers of 90’s aesthetics, so the outdated furniture and yellow lighting in the room were perfect. You took off your clothes, making sure to leave your white cotton set on. It was going to get destroyed anyway, so there was no point in wearing fancy underwear - his words, not yours. Come to think of it, it might had something to do with the fact that it made you look almost virginal, and it felt like he was corrupting you time and time again.

Folding your clothes one by one, you set them in your backpack and hid it in the bathroom, leaving your old self behind. You took the bedcovers off the queen-sized bed and the pillows on the nearby chair, you knew he might need them at one point. Hiking your knee on the mattress, you settled in the middle on your back, eyes closed, hands clasped on your tummy, waiting. And you didn’t have to wait for long.

You heard the creak as the door opened, but you didn’t dare open your eyes. It was one of your demands. You didn’t want to know who he was, it was easier that way, you could fantasize about the possibilities of it being anyone on the street. You could hear the soft sounds of his footsteps as he approached your lying form. “Up.” It was a signal for you to lift your head as he wrapped a scarf over your eyes. The bed dipped as his knee came to rest behind you, securing the knot and doing quick work of braiding your hair. At first, it freaked you out, but you soon came to realize that it meant he could do less damage to your scalp when he pulled, and he liked to pull on it quite a lot.

His cold fingers trailed from the bottom of your braid to your sides, making you squirm in your seat. He’d warm them up on your skin soon enough. You could hear and feel his soft exhales in your left ear, followed by the feel of his beard on your neck as he trailed kisses on your skin.

“Are you ready?” The only answer you dared give him was the tiniest nod.

Both of his hands moved between your thighs, gripping them and parting your legs as wide as they would go. His left hand found your clothed breast, roughly grabbing a handful and squeezing a moan out of you. The tips of his right hand found their way on top of your cotton panties, middle finger pressing lightly between your slit, dampening the material with your juices.

It was only an interlude, you knew that he was here on a mission to wreck you, but the intimacy of it all prickled at your soul.

You felt his whole demeanor change, his breath evening out and his muscles flexing against your body. The hand grabbing your tit moved to grab your neck, no pressure yet, he was just using his thumb and index finger to guide you against him. The one petting your pussy moved to bunch up the material of your panties and pull it up, giving you an uncomfortable wedgie but stimulating your clit at the same time. Your only response was a strangled wheeze.

“You like that? Like having strangers feel you up?” He released your neck. “Look at you. A whimpering mess and we haven’t even started yet.” You suddenly felt a light tapping on your clothed clit, increasing in force and intervals, making your head fall back on his shoulder, moaning at the slight pain.

And that’s what you were here for, the pain. You knew that he had loads of it in store for you. He grabbed your braid, maneuvering you around until your head was pressed on the bed and your thighs were spread on both sides of his knee, ass high in the air. Same as before, he bunched the material of your panties and pulled, leaving the globes of your ass bare for his eyes only. His other hand grabbed your right cheek, roughly squeezing it upwards and away, getting a peek of your puckered hole. It disappeared and came back before you could even blink behind the scarf, the resounding thwack of his palm on your ass chasing the chill away. He repeated the same motion a few times until the bottom of your ass was rosy and you were silently begging for more.

There was a ripping sound in the stillness of the room as he roughly pulled your panties. They were left to sit in ruins on your thighs as his middle finger came to inspect your leaking pussy. The whole thing looked so bad but felt so right at the same time. You were nothing but a broken puppet in his hands and you were never sure if he was trying to fix you or fuck you up beyond repair.

The pressure was building in your lower belly, his knee pressing against your bladder and his calloused finger strumming your clit, catching it with his blunt nails time and time again. Just when you thought that you might enter another dimension, his finger disappeared only to be brought back in the form of a hard hit on your pussy.

“Not so fast.”

You were impatient, but that’s not how you won this game. You felt the bed move with him, falling flat on your belly. He, once again, used your braid as a handle to position you right. You were lying like that for a few seconds or a few minutes, you couldn’t tell. The panties were off, the bra was lying somewhere on the floor and your feet were cuffed in metal rings. You recognized the familiar immobility caused by the spreader bar, holding your feet from locking together. He bound your hands in leather and left them to rest on the bed above your head. The bed dipped between your knees as he situated his body behind you, pulling on your hips, grinding your naked ass on his denim-covered crotch. You kept rotating your hips, working yourself up and stretching lazily like a cat. It was almost desperate, the need for contact so great, you would do anything for him. But he had other plans.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop making a mess? You’re such an infuriating little slut.”

He left you on the bed, tears of frustration slowly gathering behind your eyelids as you waited for any sort of stimulation. You heard the whoosh before you felt the tiny licks of pain on your back. So he decided to use the cat this time, the tiny leather knots deliciously digging in your skin. He was warming you up, knowing you needed to have a bit of pain before you reached nirvana, but ever so careful not to break the skin.

Minutes turned into eternity. Your thoughts had fled your mind. You could only feel the warmth and produce incoherent noises in different pitch. Hit after hit like tiny water droplets before the deluge. Somewhere in that not-here-nor-there space of yours, you didn’t hear the buzzing, or maybe the blood rush to your head drowned the noise. But the tiniest vibration from the wand had you shattering to pieces.

You held your breath, the scream lodged in your throat, saliva dripping on the sheets in front of you, your entire body shaking from the orgasm, your knees barely holding you up. He could only chuckle from the side, knowing that this was only the first of many that night.

He let you breathe for a while, seeing the curve of your back dip and flatten as you tried to get yourself together was a huge turn on, if the bulge straining against his jeans was anything to go by. The next time he approached, he decided to forego the whip, but kept the wand close by, just in case. He was back between your knees, hands hugging your lower back, bending you even further. His roughened hands traveled the expanse of your reddened back, making sure you still felt the phantom pain from the cat-o-nine tails. His face was in front of you, taking in the scent of your arousal before flattening his tongue on your lips. You felt the vibrations of his moan more than his actual voice, but it was over before it began.

You heard a click and felt the coldness of the lube between your cheeks. He used his middle finger to spread it on the rim and started applying steady pressure. You’ve done this before so you knew that it was time to relax and push back, allowing entry. He was working you up, slowly opening your hole to fit two of his fingers. After he was satisfied with the progress he made, he took them out and slowly replaced them with a lubed up princess plug. The metal felt heavy inside of you, but not entirely uncomfortable, and if you were being honest with yourself, it made you feel special knowing that there’s a sparkly button attached to your ass. He pulled on it a few times, making sure you were comfortable with it before leaning down and giving the clear zircon a kiss.

The incredibly tender moment was cut short when both of his palms landed hard on your cheeks. He liked seeing the contrast between your fire red flesh and the cool fake crystal handle, so much so, he couldn’t stop playing with your ass, jiggling the metal device with every squeeze.

It never occurred to you that you could cum from such a little amount of stimulation, but you were almost there. You were moaning the motel down and somewhere in that sex haze of yours you thought you might have heard a thump or two from the neighboring wall, but you couldn’t care less. Not when the wand was back on your clit, and definitely not when you felt his fingers curl up inside of you. He wasn’t being extremely gentle either. He knew you thrived on the overstimulation, pressing the pads of his fingers on your g-spot harshly, almost feeling mechanical. He was a conductor and he knew how to orchestrate your body, your moans and screams the most beautiful symphony. You thought that you would end with a dramatic crescendo, but the music sheet had a few more pages left.

His fingers left you, the wand went down at the same time as his zipper. He didn’t bother to push his pants down, just opened them enough to pull his, very hard and very ready, dick out. You heard the crinkle of the condom packet being ripped and felt the latex on you. He was rubbing his cock between your cheeks, gathering as much of your juices and lube on him before he entered you. The novelty never wore off. It didn’t matter what he did to you beforehand, it was always a tight fit, the stretch bordering pain and pleasure.

You felt full at last, the double penetration making you mewl like a cat in heat, the moan slowly rising up in volume until you did nothing but scream. Each time he moved his hips against yours sounded like thunder in your ears, the plug going deeper and deeper inside you. You tried to hold off as much as possible, but it was a losing battle.

One extremely forceful push had you collapsing on the bed, blissed out. He was chasing after his own orgasm, covering your body with his. The only indication that he was a tall man was the fact that when he laid like this, his chin would almost reach the top of your head. But you didn’t mind the weight, in fact, it almost made you feel protected.

The bed dipped to your left, he must’ve put his hand in front of you for leverage because his other was busy shoving three fingers in your mouth. You had your eyes closed, making sure you produced enough spit to lube his digits so you didn’t notice the moment the scarf shifted, freeing a tiny sliver for your eyes to see. He took those fingers, bringing his hand to your already wrecked pussy, finding purpose in playing with your clit. The sensation was too much, revving you up one last time. One final push had you coming hard, milking his cock for every last drop, vision going black, and the sight of a familiar finger tattoo making your heart painfully clench.

--------

It was New Year’s Eve and you were on a mission. The Christmas lights were on, the finger food was on the table and the guests were about to arrive. There was no dress code, you just told them to dress comfortably. It was a small event, you didn’t have many friends to begin with, courtesy of always working, but you did have a growing circle of people who loved video games as much as you.

You were slowly becoming a tight-knit family, getting together for game nights and the occasional drinks, and you liked it, you didn’t need more interaction. You were, however, extremely happy when one of your gamer buddies gave you a bit of his attention. Where you were generally talkative and friendly, he was your polar opposite, deciding to stay in his shy shell until he felt comfortable enough to speak. You knew he had a good soul, you just never knew what to expect from him. The only time his real self decided to come out was when he was in the middle of a game.

But you did in fact know a little bit more about him than you were letting off. He was in your apartment now, scanning the place for an empty corner to hide in. You couldn’t help but admire him, a tiny ball of lust wound tight in your lower belly. He looked so good in a pair of light blue jeans and a white tee, covered by a red plaid shirt. The tattoos peeking beneath his rolled-up shirt sleeves and the whole grungy look were such a contrast to his shy self, it almost made you laugh, that is, until you realized that you might have cum a few times from rubbing yourself sore on the coarse denim of his jeans.

The advantage of playing host was that you always had an excuse to go up to people and strike up a conversation. You let him relax for a bit, though. Cornering him right off the bat might do more harm. But you were done playing this game of cat and mouse, where the cat was in fact a kitty and the mouse was a Pit Bull in disguise and you wanted to know what was his endgame.

You found him in the kitchen by himself, licking some pizza sauce from his fingers. “Oh, hey Michael, didn’t expect to see you here. Too crowded?” You pointed behind you at the party, eyes zoned in on his Adam’s apple moving as he gulped. He looked a bit startled but he wasn’t cowering like you expected him to. “Yeah, you know me, not much of a team player.” You knew that wasn’t the full truth because whenever he tried to hide something, he would try to fix his already perfectly styled bleached fringe.

There were layers to his personality, and he was never game to show them all at once, but you were willing to unravel him. You were thankful for once that your kitchen was tiny so it only took you a couple steps to reach his side. Before you could chicken out, you grabbed his left hand and brought it up for inspection. He tried to pull it away, but you were having none of that. “You know Mikey, I never really asked you what this tattoo’s about, and I’ve been meaning to for a while now.” He still looked uncomfortable, but the way your thumb kept rubbing over the circle and three dots engraved on his middle finger was making his eyes dilate. “You like it?” His tone was no longer shy, and you could finally understand why you never put two and two together. Turned on Michael was speaking in a low, almost gravelly voice, completely unrecognizable from his usual higher-pitched tones. And now he knew you knew. And there was no escaping it.

“I liked it better when it was disappearing into my pussy.” You whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. You knew you were trying to act tough, but the moment he wound his fingers in your hair and pulled, you knew that you’d always be putty in his hands. “Don’t forget your place, pet.” he breathed out. “You don’t get to top from the bottom. I could easily bend you over the table in front of all of our friends and have your ass red if I wanted to.” And you knew that he would. He detangled himself from you, leaving you turned on and confused in the middle of the kitchen.

The party was dying down. There were a few stragglers left, their silhouettes hazy in your vodka-Sprite-induced vision. A new year has begun and for once you dared yourself to make a wish. Little did you know that once everyone left, a certain 90’s enthusiast would make all of your wishes come true, and then some, only this time you could look into his green eyes while you died a little death.

160 notes · View notes