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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year

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Demon!Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Part 2 [***]

Warnings: demon!az, mentions of rituals, arguably monsterfucking, sadomasochism, bdsm themes, slight blood play, ovipositor, dark!azriel, dubcon, mentions of somnophilia, cockwarming

A/N: 6.6k words

-Part 1- -Part 3-

Sleeping hasn’t gotten easier. Every night he prowls the halls of your unconscious mind, driving deeper and deeper into you until he forms a nest. Then he starts devouring you from inside out. It’s the same every time. It starts as a normal night, the usual frenetic dreams zipping and zapping through you, morphing from riverbeds and dandelion fur into melting with the sun on an afternoon stroll. He’s always just behind you. About to pounce.

Tonight is no different.

You’re seated in his nest, wrapped in a white silk robe that parts down the middle, exposing you to his hungry gaze. His eyes are blotted out, dark, pulsing veins running below his skin. He becomes more animalistic, anthropomorphised into something vaguely humanoid. Dæmonoid. Fur dusts his lower stomach, thickening when you inevitably follow the dark trail to his cock. Every time a zap of arousal licks between your thighs.

Tonight is no different.

He beckons you forward, glittering claws grazing your mind, tugging you forward on a metaphorical leash. Not as metaphorical as you would like it to be. You lose control of your body - that’s what you tell yourself when you wake - following his command obediently.

Tonight is no different.

You crawl forward slowly, eyes glued to one another as you drag one hand in front of the other. Until you’re seated in front of him, scars and all. Your hands settle primly in your lap, back straight, nipples peaking beneath his piercing gaze. You look up at him beneath your lashes, waiting for the dream to fade to darkness. It doesn’t.

Tonight is different.

Tonight he pounces.

His mouth splits in a grin, razor sharp canines splitting from beneath his lips. Your own part in surprise, a hushed breath passing between them. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his blacked out eyes rippling down your body, silently feeding off your form.

“You got too comfortable, bride,” he drawls, tilting your head to peer up at him, your hands lifting unsteadily from your lap, taken by surprise. He leans in, the mark on your neck stinging as he brushes his canines over the scar, “you made the mistake of letting me inside.”

You shake your head, trying to pull away from his bruising grip, claws bracketing your cheeks, nearly slicing into your skin. A stray droplet careens down to your jaw, splashing onto the virginal robe. “You aren’t real,” you breathe, “this is my realm.” He grins, and you can practically see your own blood gleaming on his lips. “Is it?” He drawls.

Doubt sparks in the pit on your stomach, “you’re in my mind. I’m asleep. You can’t hurt me here.” The words are more for you than for him. His grin widens, presenting you with a view of too many gleaming teeth. “What’s stopping me?” He taunts and you still. Your breath catches as he leans closer, canines brushing over you lips.

“You’re nothing,” you tremble, forcing the words against his mouth, “you’re a filthy figment of my imagination. Nothing more. You can’t hurt me.” He releases a dark laugh, muscles flexing in his forearms as he tightens his grip, shoving you back on the bed, stalking up your body.

You’re too scared to scream.

“A dirty fantasy, huh?” Again, his teeth drag over the scar in your throat, your back arching at the change in sensitivity. “Then you’ll be fine if I get started,” he growls, moving down your body, the robe concealing nothing as it drapes at you sides, baring your chest to him, nipples peaked. He gives an appreciative lap to one as he passes, making you flinch, his canines catching on the skin, nipping.

Tremors run through your legs, spiralling in the pit of your belly as he pushes your thighs apart as his eyes ravish you. Hot shame flushes your cheeks as he finally sees the slick glossing your heat, coating your thighs. He chuckles, as if he’d expected it, knowing you better than yourself.

Black eyes flick up, “such a waste,” he mocks, one large hand wrapping around your thigh, swallowing it, “the next time sin grasps you, find me.” He lowers himself between your thighs as your breathing quickens. “You’ll find infinite pleasure in kneeling before me than trying to resist.”

And with that warning, he opens his mouth over your inner thigh, biting down into the soft flesh, teeth piercing your skin as you moan. Your palm smacks over your mouth as you hear the sound, legs desperately squeezing together as he works his sin into your body, the euphoria making your insides glow.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so awful to be eaten by him.

————————

You wake with a gasping breath, jolting upright, sweat coating your skin. Your whole body is trembling. You already know he’s watching you. It feels as though he’s always watching. Hardly a moment of privacy spared.

It’s only when you move to push the new covers back do you have to bite back a whimper. The skin on your inner thigh is burning. Hands scrabbling in the sheets, you push away the material, only to find a second set of bite marks already freshly stamped.

Beside you, the dæmon shifts, pushing up to see what you’re staring at, bewildered. A laugh is pulled from his throat as his attention spears into you, “already?” Teary eyes flick to him as he has to remember not to pounce, “what are you doing to me?” Your lower lip quivers, shrinking beneath the pleased glint in his eyes at your helpless confusion.

“Warming you up,” he replies, moving toward you as he pushes you to the bed, one large hand splayed across your chest, “preparing you.”

“For what?” You manage, the pleasure from having his teeth piercing your skin still leaving hot flushes branding you.

He grins, “for when you’re ready to submit.”

————————

The heat isn’t going away.

Ever since that one dream - you’re not sure if it even was a dream - there’s been a constant need thrumming beneath you skin. Like he’s set something off inside of you. And it’s slowly consuming you, becoming more and more intense with every passing day.

You can already feel slick dripping down your thighs.

You look up into the mirror, halfway through changing, seeing yourself clad in the taunting white silk with only a narrow slip of fabric concealing your heat. You can’t go to bed like this. He’ll surely take advantage of you.

You look away from the mirror, tears welling in your eyes as you attempt to take in deep breaths.

A powerful arm curls around your waist, another hand biting into your jaw. Your eyes flick back upward as Azriel pushes your hips into the edge of the sink with his own, his arm pulling your lower body flush against his as his chest presses into you, pushing you forward, practically bending your over. Your breath hitches as you brace your forearms on the counter, meeting his pitch black gaze in the mirror.

“What are you waiting for?” The words brush sensually across your neck, his hips rolling surprisingly gently into yours. “Find me. Seek me out.” The commands are deceptively smooth off his tongue, his hand snaking lower, slipping easily between your parted legs. “Release yourself.” His fingers reach the apex of your thighs, just barely brushing over where you need him so so so badly, before he vanishes again. As if he were never there in the first place.

You don’t know what to do.

He’s set you alight, and you don’t know how to douse the flame.

————————

The moment you enter the bedroom, his eyes are on you, the entirety of his attention pinning you down. From the lack of proper night robes, he knows something’s snapped. The white robe hangs open as you move defeatedly toward the bottom of the bed. Arousal spikes in his abdomen at your expression.

You’re far from your true breaking point, and he knows this. He knows what it would take to shatter you irreparably, and it would be much more. Which is why he delights in the drag of your feet, you’re failure to meet his gaze. You think you’ve already reached the worst of it. How wrong you are.

“Look at me, bride,” he drawls, his body thrumming with pleasure as you obey. Torn, hungry eyes lifting to his own. He tilts his head, as if in sympathy, “you held out longer than I expected.” You swallow, and he traces the roll of your throat with open anticipation. His shadows deepen, thickening as they roll off the bed, dropping to the floor as they wrap around your thighs.

“Are you finally ready?”

Your shoulders slump, head drooping to stare at the floor dejectedly. How foolish of you to look away from him, he thinks. Even after all this time, you don’t understand his threat. How easily he can snatch your life from you.

You don’t want to give in. You don’t want to submit to him. He stole you from your home, trapping you in his realm, taunting and mocking you endlessly. You’ve had enough.

For once, you wish you could act unapologetically. Wish you were strong enough to take what you want without fear or worry for others’ thoughts. But you’re not like that. Your mind turns fuzzy as another wave of arousal washes over you.

Make him pay.

There’s no way for you to kill him. No way for you to ever get him the way he’s got you. You can’t take what you want from him, force him to give you whatever you desire. But you can take whatever he gives you. You can take all of it.

Burning hel, you want all of it. Everything. All of him. Devour him until there’s nothing left. Take everything he gives until he’s run dry.

Biting your lip, you crawl up the bed, eyes settling on his as you drag your body upward. His gaze is latched to yours, gulping down every move you make until you’re perching atop his lap. Male arrogance is seeping from his skin as he keeps his arms tucked beneath his inky mess of hair, piercing gaze trailing up your body. The thin silk hardly covers your breasts.

The heat between your joining points is surprisingly immense as the pads of your fingers splay across his toned stomach, settling yourself nervously above him. “You said…” You swallow, “you said I should come find you, should I ever…” His eyes are already undressing you, thread by thread, torturously slow for both of you.

Black eyes flick to yours, hunger growling in their depths, “should you ever…?” He echoes, a silent taunt in his honeyed voice. You bite your lip as you look down, breaking eye contact, “should I ever…want company.”

A wickedly arrogant smirk plays on his glorious mouth, “you want me to fuck you, bride?” Heat spools in your stomach at the title, eyes returning to his. You swallow your pride as you nod, just a small dip of your head.

He laughs. A slow, mocking laugh.

Fire burns across the crests of your cheeks. He was the one who offered in the first place. Was this all just a cruel joke to degrade you? Let you know your place?

“You think you can take it?” He drawls, malevolence dripping from his sin-touched mouth. You just swallow nervously. You have no answer to that.

His gaze drags deliberately slowly over your form, the curve of your stomach, the exposed skin of your breasts. “If I fuck you, you’re mine. Do you understand?” His words settle in your stomach, an ultimatum laid clear in the sand. “No going back; no hiding behind your so-called morals. You ask me for this and you’re mine.”

Are you going to cross it?

Your lips part, pads of your fingers pressing into the firm muscle beneath you.

You nod.

Muscles ripple as he lifts an arm from behind his head, a single finger tapping against the pulse point on his neck, his claw catching on tough skin, splitting it open for blood to swell. You cock your head, confused, and you feel something shift beneath you. “Stake your claim,” he commands, the dark lilt of his voice so enticing as he tucks his arm back beneath him.

Arousal flutters in your pussy, nipples peaking beneath the too-thin silk. His piercing gaze marks every reaction, amusement and pleasure dancing in his coal-black irises. Your hands pad up his body as you lean over him, breasts brushing over his chest.

You hesitate, breath fanning over the hot, sensitive skin. Even if he isn’t showing it, you can feel the tension building beneath his surface. Power boiling as it strains to be released upon you.

All it takes is the time of one exhale. Then your mouth is hesitantly latching onto his skin, lips parting as your tongue slides out, lapping up the metallic flavour that’s so distinctly him. Your teeth sink against the muscle in his shoulder, as if you’re biting into a ripe fruit, dying for liquid to coat your parched mouth. Your tongue laps over the skin as you suck, hard, bruising him until colour blooms.

The rise and fall of his chest is more pronounced, his whole body thrumming with heat under your touch. You get greedy, moving your mouth to the space beneath his jaw, nails biting into his skin as you nip at the sensitive area.

He indulges for a little, allowing you this small experiment; then one hand is roughly tangling in your hair, yanking you back, painfully. Charcoal eyes pierce your own, spearing into your mind as his brow arches. “Very eager.”

Shame flushes your body at the same time as arousal licks between your thighs. You don’t have time for the former. You want. You need. Subconsciously you press down against him, a groan rasping from his throat as his fist tightens, forcing you to bare your neck to him.

Then he’s hauling your mouth to his, crushing you against his open lips as he shoves his way into your mouth. Entitled. Arrogant. Dominant.

You whimper, your own hands cupping his jaw as you try to keep up with him. It’s sloppy: inexperience on your part and uncaring for mess on his. His hands slope down your back, settling on your ass as he squeezes firmly, your hips keening over him desperately. Then he draws his palm back and you whine helplessly at the cool space he’s left. But his hand is smacking down, a startled moan flying from your mouth to his as your back curves, breasts dragging over his chest.

He growls at the sound, canines nipping at your lips hungrily. I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth. You shiver.

When your hips wind over his, he pushes up from the bed, hand gripping your hips as he drags your centre over him. A growl rumbles in his chest as he repeats the movement, bucking up into you, making you moan.

Azriel pulls away from you to admire his work, how your lips are nipped raw, an arousing flush to your cheeks while your eyes are glazed. He chuckles, swiping his thumb beneath your lower lip, enjoying how you preen under his touch.

The male leans back, leaving you chasing for warmth but the stern look he gives you instructs you to stay where you are. “You want me to fuck you?” He drawls, selecting a crude choice of words to revel in the way it sends more heat to your cheeks. “Take the reigns,” he orders, voice lowering an octave, “I’m not going to give you a single excuse to hide behind once this is done,” he grins, and it’s just teeth. “You’re going to wake up from this knowing you chose every single step, and hate yourself for it.”

He’s right. You know he is. And yet you can’t find the will to care. Not when you can feel him straining against you. Not when he’s looking at you like you’re just another game for him to work through.

You flush, but refuse to break eye contact, lest he decides to change his mind, “I don’t—” you begin, uncertainly. “How do I…?” He cocks a brow. He’s going to force every uncomfortable thought from your mouth. Every silent question you’ve never voiced. He wants all of them.

“Got to figure that one out for yourself, now, don’t you?” He drawls, sick arousal purring within you at his condescending tone. You catch the way his eyes flick down to your pussy. You’re almost certain there’d be a damp spot were you able to see.

Still, you swallow, shifting over his lap as your hands drop to the ties in his trousers. The smirk remains on his mouth as he watches you clumsily fumble with the strings, hands trembling too much. He eases a sigh of relief, a quiet moan, as you push the leather away along with the stretchy fabric hiding beneath.

He makes sure to mark your expressions when your eyes land on him. How they widen, you suck in a sharp breath, hands fall back a little, taking him in. Then your fingers slip beneath the fabric blocking him from your pussy.

You gather an embarrassing amount of slick on your hand from one go alone, swallowing as you wrap your glossy palm around him. Azriel grits his teeth as he silently basks in the feel of your slick hand and the softness of your tummy. He bucks his hips, commanding you to hurry along.

Feeling impatience curling in your chest, you return to your glossy heat, lathering him with more of your slick. On shaky thighs, you raise to be above him, lining yourself up so you can begin the quest of sinking down on him.

He’s fucking big though.

Your eyes only close for a moment, but you feel the familiar catch of skin between your thighs. You jerk hard as his thumb presses painfully on your clit, a command to hurry the fuck up judging by the look in his eyes.

You don’t want to know what he’ll do should you fail an order. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you shouldn’t have allowed lust to cloud your mind, soften what he is. His thumb begins oscillating sharply when you don’t take any more of him. It’s painful, too much pressure to such a delicate part. Even if it turns you on.

“Don’t do that,” you hiss (plead?)

“Doesn’t feel good?” He taunts, mouth brushing over your own, knowing damned well you felt the sparks he set alight by stimulating the nerve endings. “You need some help taking me. Or do you want me to fuck you raw?”

You bite your lip, eyes angrily flicking to his, his crude words overwhelming your prudish ears. “It would feel better if you weren’t trying to strum me like an overzealous lute-player,” you snap. Your eyes widen as you replay what you just said, and to who, hands covering your mouth as if it would hide the words you spoke. He seems mildly surprised by your outburst, having not expected any kind of aggression from something like you.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe from behind your clasped fingers, “I didn’t mean—”

His hand returns to tangle in your hair, forcefully pulling your head back. You whimper, then freeze. Hot breath fans across the skin of your neck, followed by the threatening scrape of canines. A warning and a promise wrapped in the guise of a kiss.

…how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.

Is he about to bite down? Sink his canines into your throat as he turns you into a blood feast for him to fuck and feed off? You almost sob as arousal slams into you at the depraved thought. Maybe it was the idea of him consuming every piece of you, so thoroughly not even a drop was left.

“A-Azriel,” you pant, his tip pressing against your entrance after you lift from him, “it’s not going to fit…” He can sense your fear, yet does nothing about it. It’s not his problem. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’s getting off on corrupting you.

His hands bite into your hips, pulling you down as you squirm desperately, anxious to get away. “Stop,” you plead, tears lining your eyes as you place your hands on his chest in desperate and humiliating supplication, “you’re going to break me.”

The male’s mouth fashions itself into a merciless grin, “I don’t give a damn,” he whispers so adoringly over your mouth. “You’re the one who came to me, remember?” He lifts you up a little, before pushing you down further, forcing you to take more of him, “so you’re going to take every fucking inch I have to give you. And I don’t. Care. If it kills you. You’re swallowing all of it.”

He gives one more sharp tug to your hair before he releases you, his expression relaxing into one of nonchalance, the malevolence fading so quickly you feel as though whiplash has lacerated your spine. You know he won’t be as forgiving next time, so you push down on him. You’re surprised when there’s little resistance, heat flushing your face as your eyes helplessly flick to his before darting away.

There’s a knowing glint, one you could pinpoint in a second. He knows how much he turns you on, and like he said, you’re already hating yourself for it. And yet you have both parts shame and arousal in equal measure. Maybe arousal is the slightly more prominent, actually.

You peer down your body, steadying your breathing as you lift your hips a few inches, preparing to sink down as far as you can take. All of you is aware of his narrowing gaze, piercing into you even as you refuse to meet it. His hips shift beneath you, and you know it’s the last warning you’ll get for not keeping up with him.

Wetting your lips, lower one trembling, you shift your weight from your hands and thighs, allowing you to settle on his cock. Unwillingly, your mouth drops open as he fills you in every sense of the word. Your thighs tremble, eyes rolling back, breaths becoming uneven and spasmodic. Fuck.

A strained moan slips from your lips, nails biting into his stomach as you softly grind your hips, winding them over his cock. The strength seeps from your body as he presses against you. He chuckles darkly, “struggling, bride?” You tighten around him at the sonorous drawl, your nails biting into his abdomen.

Gathering your conscious, you raise from his cock, slowly sliding up and down as you push your weight onto his lower stomach, raising and lowering onto him while you clasp your lip between your teeth. His hands brace your hips, helping you to fuck yourself.

Help definitely isn’t the right word. He’s not doing it for your sake, he’s doing it for him.

His hands slam you down and your eyes roll at the explosion of pleasure blazing through your body. You gasp, grappling for his arms in attempt to push him away. He snarls and you freeze, paralysed at the malevolence thrumming from the male beneath you. “Don’t,” he growls. You swallow, silver lining your eyes as he lifts you by your hips until you’re perched at his tip. “Azriel…” you plead, hands settling on his chest as you attempt to leverage yourself.

Pitch black eyes flick to yours, the pupils dilated to take up his irises. “Please, I can’t—”

He slams you down, raising his hips to meet your own as he hits a spot deep inside of you, your arms giving out so you’re braced on your forearms. A growl rumbles in his chest, reverberating through you as you meet his gaze, “quit complaining,” he snarls, hand gripping your jaw, harshly tugging you until you’re within a breath’s reach. “I’m going fucking easy on you since you clearly haven’t taken time to prepare yourself for this, despite all the nights I’ve given you by yourself, despite all the opportunities I’ve given you while you’ve been asleep.”

Arousal spikes in your tummy as well as mortifying shame. Had he really been expecting you to pleasure yourself to him? Hot indignation rises at his arrogance, “are you serious?” You huff, mouth dropping open in surprise. He raises a single brow, unimpressed by your attempted retaliation.

Gathering your remaining strength, you furiously push away from him, sitting back on your thighs as his cock sinks deeper with the shift. “You’re the one who stole me from my normal life! You could have picked anyone else and now you’re getting pissy over the fact that I didn’t read your mind and know I was supposed to prepare myself for you - whatever the hel you meant by that.” You take in a sharp breath, attempting desperately to tamp down the aroused flush that’s heating your cheeks. “So you’re in no position to be getting grumpy with me, you dæmon prick.”

You breathe heavily, both from finally releasing your pent up anger toward the male, and from having his cock buried so deep inside of you, the slightest movement sending trembling pleasure zapping through you. He twitches inside of you as you finally show some backbone, and you think his pupils dilate even further, expanding over the white of his eyes. They flicker a little, as if struggling to keep their formation.

Then he pushes up from the bed, shifting inside of you making you tighten around him, hands bracing on the mattress until you’re chest to chest. You’re aware of every breath you take has your breasts brushing against him, nipples dragging over the corded muscle of his torso, though you refuse to lean back, yield any more of yourself to him, even as arousal is dripping down from you.

His expression is neutral on the surface, but you can feel his displeasure at being spoken back to, the anger that’s swimming in his black gaze, hunger intensifying. “I would have thought the messages were clear, bride. You were just too dense to realise.” Your eyes flick to his angrily, “and what ‘messages’ are those?” You snap, quickly becoming sick of his cunning words.

This time, he grins, glittering white teeth being bared to you. Your neck aches in response, but it’s different from last time. Before it was a stinging sensation; painful. Now, it’s a dull, heated throb. An arousing itch. You think of how it felt to have his canines spike your skin and pleasure sparks at the thought, excitement running rampant.

“The nightmares you’ve been having,” he drawls, eyes locked on yours. You freeze, breath catching, “what about them?” Helplessly your gaze drops to your inner thigh, where another set of bite marks lay, stamped into your skin. His grin broadens, “they weren’t simple dreams,” he drawls, “just like I didn’t simply pick the first female I saw.” A dark laugh rumbles through him at the way your eyes widen; mouth parts. “A dæmon taking a bride is no small matter,” he smiles, again showing off those glittering canines, “it takes time to select a compatible human, and even more to find one that will be continuously satisfying.” His hands lift to the bone of your hips, thumb brushing over the swell in your abdomen from having you seated atop him.

“Wh— huh?” You’re speechless, struggling to find words to express your complex confusion, “but you said anyone would do, that you picked me because I was there. And what do you mean compatible?” You chose to sweep over the continuously satisfying part.

His hands lift to your back, pulling you harshly against his chest, your arms coming up defensively to have some sort of block between you and him. You gaze up at him, his mouth inches from your own as he keeps you tight against his body. “Most would turn and run at the slightest hint of dark powers,” he drawls, “yet each night you would allow yourself to crawl to me, despite every sign of malevolence that would ward any normal human far away.”

Confusion mars your features, “what signs?”

He laughs, “exactly.”

Your brow dips, “what signs?” He cocks his head, seemingly sizing you up.

Then the air shifts.

His features sharpen, black swallowing the whites of his eyes, canines becoming razor sharp as they push from beneath his lips. His shadows densify, and you feel the soft brush of fur against your lower abdomen. Talons break from the skin of his fingers, sharpening until they dwarf your waist.

Your mouth involuntarily drops open as his cock shifts, expanding beneath the tip, pressing so appetisingly against a spot inside of you that has you helplessly winding over him, desperate for more of the mouth-watering stimuli. Your thighs tremble as light tremors wrack your body, shamefully lowering your head as you give out, slumping into his solid warmth, face dipping into his shoulder.

He laughs, the sound dark but pleased. He knows you’re at a tipping point. One of his hands raises to your head, settling over your hair as he keeps you comfortably enveloped in his warmth. Your own hands ball into fists on his chest, nestling against him, delighting in the animal brush of fur softly sweeping over your abdomen with each breath, melting into his power as your body loses it’s tension, becoming pliable to his will.

“Are you ready?” He asks, and it sounds more gentle, not as carefully sharpened as his previous remarks. You pull away to look at him, take in his dæmon form, the one that isn’t softened for the world, harsh angles and sharp teeth. You swallow, heat racing beneath your skin, “ready for what, exactly?” You manage. After all, you know nothing about dæmon rituals, if the joining ceremonies are at all likeable to human ones.

He grins, hips shifting, evidently enjoying the way it has you sucking in a breath, biting the inside of your lips. “Ready to be taken.” You tighten around him, the words slicing down your spine with lethal precision. You take in a breath, “is it going to hurt?” The words are muted, quietened with fear.

Azriel cocks his head, “the mating or the breeding?” Your mouth drops open, cunt clamping down on him involuntarily. “The what?” You pant, hands splaying open over his chest, feeling the frequent thump of a pulse. A few, actually. He smirks.

You shift, pushing away from him slightly. His hands tighten on your hips possessively at the movement, brow narrowing. “The mating and the…breeding?” You repeat incredulously, staring at the male. “You’re trying to get me pregnant?” Anger seeps through your words as your gaze burns into him. He just laughs, and you bite your nails down into his chest, even if you know he’ll hardly feel it.

“It’s not dissimilar from your human methods,” he growls, an amused lilt to his deep voice, hand moving to brace your lower back. Then he’s flipped you over, your back pressing hard into the spongy mattress as his powerful frame cages you in. “It won’t result in the pain your females are accustomed to during the process.” Your females, you repeat in your mind, as in, humans.

His gaze drops down to your joining point hungrily before his blacked out eyes flick back upward, “that should be enough time for you to adjust,” he drawls, drawing his hips back only to push into you again. Your back arches at the delicious drag of the swell of his cock against your sensitive walls. “There you go.”

Azriel’s large hands land either side of your head, the tops of your shoulders pressing against his wrists, in order to keep you in place for when he begins. Out of the corner of your eyes, you’re able to see those talons of his slicing into the sheets, the threat of having them so close to you sending a sick throb of arousal sparking in your lower belly.

He’s more rough this time, pushing in harshly, sending you bumping into his arms with the force, yet you receive nothing but pleasure, despite how large he is. You manage to look down, enough to see the bump in our abdomen. Curiously, you press your palm down atop the skin, both of you releasing sounds of pleasure at the pressure as he thrusts back in.

You curse beneath your breath and he chuckles, your eyes skating up to his, “already using the devils tongue,” he laughs.

You move to reply but he slams back in, your eyes rolling back as he fills you up, pressing tight against every space available until it’s hard to breathe, basking in the euphoria of having him inside of you. Shadows slip beneath your ass to angle your hips upward and you scream when slams in again, pleasure lighting your nerve endings. “Azriel,” you plead, tears forming at the edge of your eyes as you hit your peak, thighs spreading for him, latching around his hips as you attempt to pull him closer, having him drive his cock deeper inside.

He doesn’t stop for you, even as you cry for him to slow down, the pleasure overwhelming you as you babble. He doesn’t speed up either, keeping up with the rough pace he’d already set. That was something, at least. “You take what you’re fucking given, bride,” he snarls, and your back curves at the animalistic rumble, the beastly timbre of his voice.

“Every drop. Every egg. Swallow all of it.”

Your body goes lax, melting beneath his overpowering heat, allowing him to use you just how he wants. He snarls suddenly, twitching inside of you, head dipping to your neck as he noses at the sensitive skin. You tip your head to the side, gathering enough strength to thread your fingers through the thick, silky locks of inky hair, desperately pulling him closer.

His mouth opens over your neck, canines lining up with their mark as they sink down. He snarls again as he releases inside of you, thick, hot cum spilling. It feels strange. Deeper. Far deeper. The consistency is different, you can feel all of it, pumped so full you’re sure when he pulls out there’ll be a swell to your lower belly.

His teeth pierce your skin, and euphoria seizes your body, doubling…tripling. “Azriel…” you breathe, weakly, already so drained from the mating. You know he’s feeding off the gash in your neck, but with the aphrodisiac coating his canines, you feel nothing but sizzling pleasure. He laps up every drop, sealing you clean when he’s satisfied with his meal, not a mark to be seen.

The male pulls away, cock still pressing into you when he pulls away. One look at you has a possessive growl rumbling through the room, shadows thickening, becoming more frenzied at the air thrums, power pulsing in the air and you’re almost certain the feeling is not limited to the chambers you’re in.

You attempt to move away from him but he snarls down at you, nostrils flaring as he scents you, “where do you think you’re going, bride?” You involuntarily tighten around him, amusement dancing in his eyes as the white returns. Nothing else shifts, though. You’re kind of pleased. “Aren’t we done?” You pant, fatigue heavy in your voice.

His lips purse, “for now.” His gaze drags over you hungrily and you consider the possibility he’s holding himself back at seeing you so exhausted. Your eyelids flutter as you become aware of the weight gilding them.

Azriel’s hands carefully glide beneath your back, wary not to slice your skin as he pulls you against his chest. You suck in a breath as your weight is pulled down onto his lap, his cock driving languidly against your already oversensitive walls. A small whine is pulled from your lips, releasing beside his ear, your arms tiredly wrapping beneath his shoulders.

“I’m beginning to think you don’t want me to give you time to recover,” he drawls, in answer to your needy sounds. And you can’t help it, your body moves by itself as you softly buck your hips against his, moaning as you feel his cum being pushed deeper. “Azriel,” you pant, continuing to grind your hips over him as he lays back into the mountain of pillows, “more.”

He groans, settling his hands over your hips, stilling them as you whine. “Your body needs to rest. You’re human, you need time to recover.” Your brow narrows, attempting to move over him but his grip is like iron, clamping down as he smirks knowingly. “I can take it,” you breathe, hands trailing curiously over his skin, lifting to his jaw as his gaze follows you with interest and amusement.

You lean forward, breasts dragging over his chest as your mouth brushes his, “you want to, don’t you?” You goad, eyes latching onto his as heat flares in the pits of blackness. “Careful,” he growls in warning, brow narrowing. You ignore him, opening your mouth over the skin of his neck as you press kisses up to the space below his jaw, “you want to go again, right, Azriel?” He twitches inside of you, fingers biting into your hips, “come on, I think your cum is leaking out,” you breathe beside his ear, “so fill me up again, yeah?”

“You can hardly sit upright,” he bites out, his words clipped and hard. He’s so hard. Pressing against you; you feel like you might pass out from the pleasure. Your breaths deepen, tightening around him. A muscle feathers in his jaw at your actions. “You can tie me up, right?” You pant, “your shadows.” Your eyes flicker from the darkness back to his, “you can use them to keep me upright. Then you can go again. Doesn’t matter if I pass out.”

A growl rumbles in his chest as you spill your mind to him, “bride—”

“If you don’t want to, why haven’t you shifted back?” He stills beneath you for a moment, eyes snapping to yours. Then a grin splits his elysian mouth, “perfectly compatible indeed,” he mutters.

He grips your hips, shadows twining roughly around your wrists and torso as they pull you upright, supporting your weight carefully as he perches you at the tip of his cock, slamming you down before any of his precious cum can slip out. Your head falls back as you scream.

Then he’s pounding into you, fucking you within an inch of your life as his eyes split to pure darkness, dark as pitch, shadows writhing on the bed as he takes you roughly. Moan after moan spills from your lips, prayers ranging from please, don’t stop to Azriel please! I can’t take it to incoherent babbles. He works you through it all, fucking you until he comes as you flutter around him again.

Your eyes roll backward as you nearly pass out, drowning in pleasure at the feeling of him spilling inside of you, filling you to the brim. Then his shadows are releasing their support on your upper body, allowing your weight to help you sink down on his cock, the final wave of euphoria knocking you out as you fall forward on his chest.

His arms circle you possessively as he keeps you seated on his cock, pulling you into his warmth as he tucks you against the powerful lines of his body, shadows swirling over your form so he can keep you for himself, greedily swallowing your body in a blanket of velvety night.

You’re his.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

#demon! Azriel #demon! Azriel x reader #Teeth and Talons #[***]#demon! Azriel smut #Azriel #demon! Azriel x reader smut #monsterfucking #acotar #acotar au

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demoiselettes · 2 years

Text

Peculiar

Pairing: Sabito x reader

Category: fluff, slight angst

Warning(s)/note(s): fem! Reader, descriptions of death, demon! Reader, mentions of death, certain gory descriptions, Sabito is alive and a pillar

A/n: flufffffff, you guys know i’d marry Sabito if he was real, enjoy!<3

The calmness that wrapped around, reminiscent of the comfort of a warm blanket felt odd. It wasn’t disruptive, quite the contrary. But you just never thought you’d be able to enjoy such a tranquil moment again.

You hadn’t felt him coming, seated atop a dead wooden log, staring down at the shallow rivulet that stretched on its gentle waters. The coolness of the blade seemed to pierce right into your skin before it even dug into your neck. Casting your eyes down to acknowledge the weapon, you inwardly sighted, relief overcoming your senses, though you could also detect- rather annoyingly- the fear that dimmed your rare moment of solace like a bitter aftertaste.

« Any last words? » your destined killer generously granted. Heaving a sigh that echoed into the wind, you shook your head. What little memory of your earlier normal life resurfaced and what you remembered were the prayers your mother taught you. Your throat suddenly felt constricted, as though something had lodged itself inside, and a stinging pain in your head blossomed from the effort of holding back your tears. You counted your heart beats, awaiting death, but after a count of 5, you craned your neck upwards, short of reprimanding the slayer that had not doubt been tasked to kill you and to demand that he finish you off quickly, but your eyes met lavender and your words seemed to crawl back down your throat.

You pondered over your fate. Was it a blessing or a curse that the one who would kill you was annoyingly handsome? He peered down at you, eyes not unkind but mixed alongside the piercing mauve was something resembling a hint of curiosity. It surely did seem like he was curious as the moment you let your eyes off the blade, it was retracted as swiftly as it had been swung.

« Now, why is it that you don’t want to put up a fight? » he questioned, head tilting just slightly in a way that had you shifting your gaze back down to your lap to not combust.

You had asked yourself the same question a long time ago. After ingesting the blood of the one who stripped you of your humanity, you were left homeless, orphaned, and most importantly hungry. The blood on your parents’ corpses had already caked by the time you turned, but you no longer cared, for the hunger consumed you just as you consumed their flesh. It was only after your hands were permanently stained with their blood, that you realized the heinous crime you’d committed. You lost track of time that day, you could no longer count the hours that went by while sat in front of mangled bodies, questioning your reality, your fate, yourself. The fight had evaporated from inside of you, your entire family was dead and though you were not the cause of their demise, you had feasted upon their flesh like a glutton. Did that make you any better?

Once again, you remained quiet, choosing to let your actions speak for themselves. Unfortunately, the slayer who kept his sword by his side seemed ticked off by the silent treatment, opting to poke your shoulder with the blunt of the nichirin blade. « Oi, i asked you a question. Does my flesh not tempt you? Or are you simply unsure of your capabilities? »

Your lips pulled into a pout. « Neither. Kill me if you must. I’m a monster. »

The poking stopped, and you could feel his eyes burning holes into you. Was it normal that you felt sub-conscious? You were most likely about to die and here you were, shrinking back into yourself to avoid the burning across your face. Your heart almost dropped when he kneeled down besides you, closer this time, maybe just a little too close for comfort. « I can’t exactly deny that. But i want to know why you would think so. Demons don’t see anything wrong with what they do, yet here we are. »

It was strange to converse with someone, albeit over such an alien topic, but you suddenly felt calmer. « I don’t want to eat humans. It’s..it’s wrong, isn’t that obvious? I’m disgusted and yet i couldn’t control myself.. » your voice was filled with tremors.

« ‘Couldn’t’ help yourself? How many humans did you eat? » he prompted.

« My mother’s corpse. »

« Did you kill her? »

« No. I had just turned. But i ate her flesh nonetheless. »

Silence stretched on, heavy with tension but the stranger didn’t seem to mind, holding his chin while staring at the water, pensive. It was the first time you were actually observing him from close since well..five minutes ago when you’ve met him. He had a long ragged scar that ran down the length of his cheek, reaching his mouth— his eyes caught yours and his lips stretched into a smile that seemed far too coy. As quickly as you had turned to look at him, your eyes were back on your lap. Which was looking rather interesting today. Your face was aflame.

« Well, being a demon is still strictly against corps rule, » you could hear the smile in his voice, dripping with smugness. « Have you eaten any other humans? »

A simple shake of your head, yet you couldn’t find comfort in his words. « I might. It gets hard sometimes when i smell blood. » not once in your life had you thought you’d find yourself asking for death. Yet you knew it was the better option. The wiser option.

He merely scoffed. « You think i’ll let you kill anyone? If you lose yourself then i’ll cut your head off. But you seem promising. Besides.. »

« You’re not the only demon who’s been spared by the corps. »

Your eyes widened, head snapping upwards to look at him. « Why? » perhaps you could have phrased that in a clearer manner, but you were too shocked to be able to come up with courteous sentences.

« She’s a kid. She hasn’t eaten any humans yet. Her brother wants to turn her back into a human, »

Hope was something you’d long forgotten the familiarity of, but it spread warmth across your body and sent adrenaline coursing through your veins. « That’s possible? Can demons turn back into humans? » you got to your feet before you could even register what your actions. Your real question was can i turn back into a human? Can i undo whatever has happened? He shrugged, the corners of his lips lifting just enough while gazing at you.

« For now, she’s still a demon. But her brother’s trying. And..if you happen to be good too, i don’t see why you don’t deserve a chance to have your normal life back. »

He said those words so easily, smiled so easily at you when so many before him had cowered, had called you a monster. Did he know how fast your heart was beating right now?

« But, »

You snapped out of your trance, anticipating.

« I have warned you. If you were to eat a human, i’d have to kill you. » he seemed to hesitate, as though wanting to add something else. You waited, but he remained quiet.

“I understand. How.. how can i ever make it up to you?”

He laughed, placing a hand on your head completely oblivious to the way your body heat up. “Just don’t be tempted by human flesh. I know it can be hard, but..” his smile turned apologetic. “We all have to do our part, yeah?”

It felt like too long ago since he disappeared into the thick forest, on the account of having to look for something. You’d presumed he had sensed another demon— those slayers tended to have heightened senses. But now unease weighted you because he still hasn’t returned and you were beginning to wonder if he’s been killed.

Just then the leaves rustled upon his emerging from the forest and you were surprised to find him holding a basket of some sort, tightly woven from bamboo sticks. You stared at his approaching figure with eyes as wide as saucers. Did he want to pick fruits or flowers? The confusion must have been apparente on your face because he explained himself without any prompting on your behalf.

“I’m gonna need you to get inside.” He patted the walls of the basket. “Come on.”

You let out a strangled sound. “I’ll never fit in there!”

He wrinkled his nose, almost seeming offended. “Of course you won’t. Can’t you shrink?”

You wondered if he’d gotten drunk while in the forest. But he was looking at you expectantly, his face showing no hint of mockery. “I-i don’t know, i’ve never tried.”

“Then try it.” He once again patted the basket, reaching inside to take out what seemed like a short bamboo stick wrapped in the same red rope that had once been attached to the strange fox mask he wore.

You decided that you’ve used your brain too much for the day and relented, approaching the basket and willing yourself to shrink. The trees above seemed to suddenly stretch on farther into the clear sky, the ground seemed to get closer to your face. The sudden momentum had you dizzy and you swayed slightly before a hand gripped your shoulder to keep you steady.

“Good. Now get in.” He proffered the basket, placing it on the ground at your feet. Weirdly, he refused to meet your eyes, keeping his head turned. Why were his ears red? You let your gaze drop on the basket, asking yourself if you were actually about to let a stranger carry you inside a basket.

Then you jumped inside.

You hadn’t even gotten comfortable yet when he draped a large white cloth over you, covering your entire being. It took you time to understand it was his haori. Pushing the fabric away just slightly, you asked: “Why will you carry me in this? And what’s the haori for? I’m not cold..”

“By the time we get back to Headquarters, the sun will rise.” You felt yourself being lifted.

Oh. He was looking out for you. The innate kindness flustered you to no end.

“Thank you, um..?”

“Sabito.” You heard him secure the straps. “My name is Sabito.”

“Thank you, Sabito-san,”

“And your name is?”

“[First name] [Last name].”

“Well then, [Name]-chan,” there was definitely a hint of playfulness in his tone. “Be ready for your trial. The pillars aren’t very friendly to demons.”

You nodded, the haori shifting slightly from the movement and he couldn’t help the grin that played on his lips. Here he was, a pillar, sparing a demon.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #nanako’s blues #sabito #sabito fluff #sabito x reader #sabito x y/n #sabito x you #kny fluff #demon slayer fluff #sabito alive au #kny x reader #kny x demon! reader

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midmorning-bomb · 1 year

Text

Rules: Give us the links to your wonderful words with the Most hits, Most kudos, Most comments, Most bookmarks, Most words, and Least words.

Tagged by @meggie-stardust, thank you for still tagging me even though I'm like nailing jello to a wall with these ❤️

Most Hits: Everything goes (wow) | Peter/Stiles | Teen Wolf | 21,218 hits It was supposed to go like this:

1. Peter summons demon to the circle. 2. Demon remains in said circle until Peter outlines their contract. 3. Demon agrees to elegantly crafted contract, becoming loyally bound to Peter and Peter alone.

Instead, the creature steps casually out of the circle, tosses its things onto the leather sofa, and starts immediately meddling in Peter’s immaculate space, touching all of Peter’s very expensive things.

2nd Most Kudos: Born to Lose | Peter/Stiles | Teen Wolf | 2,208 kudos “Talia, this engagement was D.O.A. Surely you can build one alliance without a sham marriage.”

Most Comments: Trust No Man | Peter/Stiles | Teen Wolf | 303 comments Peter feels the edges of panic crawling under his skin as his own blue eyes begin to change and flicker. He shoves the corpse away, pushing back to lean against a tree. The rain is pounding harder, already washing away the blood. He struggles to catch his breath as he feels the bonds inside snapping and changing. He barks out a laugh that sounds like a sob. But feels like freedom.

4th* Most Bookmarks: Play Out | Peter/Stiles | Teen Wolf | 418 bookmarks Stiles shows up one Friday night to a freshly dumped (and definitely not freshly showered) Derek. In one hand he has three hot pizzas, and in the other he juggles a six pack of ironically-named IPA and a plastic bag with all nine Hellraiser movies. Stiles waggles his eyebrows while doing a weird wiggle back and forth from his shoulders down to his mismatched sneakers. “We’re going to eat this pizza and drink this beer and watch these shitty movies until you feel less bad.”

Derek is actually touched, and feels a small smile attempting to form, until Stiles continues with another wiggle, “You’re not really my type, but I’ll even make out with you a little and let you cop a feel up on this if you want. You know, get your groove back.”

Derek sighs, but lets him in anyway.

*Because the top three are listed above. (Trust No Man: 888, Born to Lose: 750, Everything goes (wow): 606)

Most Words: Trust No Man | Peter/Stiles | Teen Wolf | 17,430 words

Least Words: Lover/Soldier | Chris/Stiles | Teen Wolf | 485 words So Chris starts to wander. Walks around a nearby park, through the church and cemetery oddly located between a line of shops and tall condo buildings. Past the good dim sum place, by the pilates gym with the too-perky staff always handing out flyers for free trials of their barre classes. And finally into The Lost Little Library, Used Books. It smells like the most peaceful moments in his childhood, the paper-dust-quiet scent of the books in his mother’s studio.

Or, it would be peaceful, if the kid behind the counter would ever shut up.

tagging: Anyone who would like to do a little self-promotion! Share your stuff! Tag me so I can read them, too!

#tagged #fic writing #fic rec

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dimplecki · 1 year

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Tides are turning - Chapter 2

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!hunter, Sam winchester X Fem!hunter

Rating: R (tagging angst, violence, death, language, light smut, mentions of substance abuse)

Summary: When Sam died the first time, Dean brought him back to life. He didn't tell me about the deal he made with that demon until Sam forced him to tell me. We all knew that Dean only had one year left to live, and we all tried to prevent that from happening. The second time he died, Sam was attacked by a demon close to Lilith and fought against it. he lost. one year after his mysterious death odd things start to happen, and I realized things are not quite as they seem.

Authors Note: this story takes place post season 3(with the exceptional flashbacks to the past), difference being Sam died and Dean never went to hell. we experience the story through the eyes a female hunter who went to Stanford with Sam and joined Sam and Dean in their revenge quest after jess’s death. she is Deans girlfriend but there are things happening with Sam as well.

Chapter 2

When I opened my eyes, Dean's face was no longer in front of mine.

I turned and looked at the time. half past six in the morning. It wasn't strange for Dean to wake up before me, but it was strange today.

The fifteenth of December. Today.

I took a deep breath and sat up. My skin shivered and crawled. It was extremely cold, even for winter, but maybe that's just me.

I went downstairs to find Dean in the kitchen, his face buried in a cup of coffee with his back hunched forward. I approached him and laid my hands on his shoulders, leaning him back into a hug.

"Hey," I said in his ear. Dean put his free hand on mine, and held it. I could smell his breath, and it smelled strongly of whiskey. I guessed Dean added a spike to his coffee.

We stayed like that for a few moments and then I let go of him to go and make my own coffee. Without whiskey.

"Why are you up so early?" I asked. Although I guessed why. Dean was silent for a few seconds.

"He's dead." he said huskily. "He's been dead for a year."

I did my best to ignore the suffocating lump that settled in my throat and refused to let me breathe, and I didn't let the tears come out. I need to be strong for Dean. I finished making the coffee and sat in the chair next to him. He was still looking at the bottom of his glass, as if he would find solace there.

"And that fucking demon's still walking around, Dee." he added, burying his head in his hands.

"Which means it's time to call it quits." I said and I was right. Dean has been obsessed with finding this demon for a year now and he hasn't even come across a clue.

"Never." He said and finally looked at me with a stern look. His eyes were full of tears but none of them escaped. "I'd rather die."

"Maybe that's really what will happen in the end."

He started to raise his voice. "My brother is dead! That fucking demon killed him! And I'm supposed to just do nothing?"

I lowered my gaze to avoid his angry eyes, biting on the inside of my cheek. I would usually glare at him until he realized he needed to lower his voice. Not this time.

"I will avenge my brother's blood, my blood..." he said in a quiet voice, with a dark glint in his eyes. "Even if it's the last thing I do."

"It's bad for you, Dean. Look at yourself. You talk like—"

"I don't care. If you do, then live with it."

I leaned forward and kissed his head. He was surprised but not deterred."I live with it every day." I said in a whisper.

Bobby, Dean and I gathered together around Sam's grave at noon. The green field was gray now, and a cold wind blew across our faces as we raised a glass of whiskey to Sam's memory. There wasn't exactly a tombstone, but there was a large stone with the initials S.W engraved on it, Dean's handiwork.

Dean's necklace, the amulet Sam had given him when they were kids, was hanging there from a large screw Dean had drilled into the stone.

To be honest, I thought it was a bit humiliating. Sam was a hunter, and he deserved to be buried like one. But Dean by no means agreed to cremate his body, as if fantasizing about the day when Sam would come back to life, and need a body to return to.

"To Sam," Dean said hoarsely and a single tear fell from his glistening eyes. He raised his glass in the air.

"To Sam," Bobby and I repeated his words, the three of our cups making a 'click' noise as they touched each other.

Dean ducked down towards the grave and held the amulet between his fingers. "Don't worry, Sammy. I'm taking care of Diana. Or she's taking care of me, I don't know anymore..." He let out a sad chuckle. "All of us here miss you, man…" His voice broke as he sniffled. It was hard to watch. I tried as much as possible to detach myself from my feelings, to be present and strong for Dean, but even I couldn't stop the tears from coming. I quickly wiped them off. Sam was the glue that made us a family, united our destinies, and now he's gone.

"I will avenge you, brother." he whispered. I bent down and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. We remained silent for a few moments.

"Sam was a good hunter, and an even better man." Bobby said quietly. "He was wise, a kind soul, he cared about people, more than anyone standing here. He was our heart, our moral compass, our humanity. We miss you, son." He finished and drank all the whiskey in one big gulp.

I didn't say anything. I was not good with words, and frankly, I felt that my grief was somehow more intimate, and belonged only to me. If Sam is still up there somewhere in heaven, watching us, he knows how much I love him, and how much it hurts to live without him.

Tonight is Monday. After a hard and busy day of investigating after suspicious cases and spending too many hours in the office; I was on the bar stool in the kitchen, eating Chinese food and watching with amusement as Dean barked at someone on the phone. Bobby, I would say.

After Saturday he acted as usual, as if nothing had happened. It's always been that way. Dean is the king of repressed emotions, and I'm the queen. Really a couple of cuties, to my opinion.

My cellphone started vibrating on the table, I looked at the screen. blocked number.

I wiped my hands on my jeans and picked up my phone.

"Hello?" I said, swallowing the last bite of food. Dean spoke loudly, but I could vaguely hear breathing of the person on the other line. They didn't say a word.

"Hello?" I repeated myself again, louder and more slowly this time. Dean finally hung up, and now I could clearly hear someone breathing. But no one spoke yet. After a few seconds the person hung up.

I put the cell phone on the table and resumed eating. It didn't particularly intrigue me.

"Who was that?" Dean asked. I shrugged.

“No one.” Dean raised his eyebrow but didn't ask any further questions. He knew that if I had something to say I would say it.

"Right... anyway, I talked to Bobby. I have to go to Washington, there are complaints of interference with phone lines, and a suspicious murder case of a married couple, they both died in their bed for no apparent reason, at the same time. Could be something."

"Washington is far," I said, allowing myself a slightly whiny tone to my words.

"Yeah, and I'll probably stay there until the day after tomorrow if I don't kill something today. Try not to go crazy without me, okay?"

"I know it’s hard to believe believe I'll find a way to go two days without pizza leftovers on the couch and stinky socks on the floor, Dean Baby. But I'll try and survive." Dean chuckled and walked up to me, clinging to me from behind and kissing my neck. I closed my eyes and purred in pleasure.

"Maybe something can be done to make you feel better," he whispered into my ear.

"I've had a long day, Dean…I'm tired." I said and I knew that there was not a trace of truth in my voice.

"Well, and what better way is there to end it?" he asked, his hands traveling teasingly slow up my body and lightly squeezing my breasts. I smiled to myself and knew I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. And I didn't want to.

Dean grabbed my face with one hand and turned it towards him, trailing his kisses from my neck all the way to my lips. His lips were delicious and juicy against mine. I couldn't resist and bit his lower lip, running my tongue over it, tasting him.

I shivered as he slid his hand under my bra. His hands were cold and my nipples hardened under his touch. He caught one of them between two fingers and pinched. I let out a small, high-pitched moan of surprise. I felt him smile against my lips, and then without warning he picked me up and carried me all the way upstairs to the bed with no effort.

When we got upstairs he threw me on the bed and took off his shirt. He got on his knees on the bed and paused for a moment. I looked at his body with admiration, at the big shoulders, covered with freckles, at all the scars that adorned him and told his story. Dean was beautiful.

He gave me a dazzling, loving smile, and I felt my heart fill with warmth that spread all over me. He lifted my legs and leaned his body over mine. Our lips met again. His breathing became heavy as he pressed his hips against my core and I could feel his bulge through his jeans. My nails dug into his skin and I pushed my hips up, increasing the friction. He slipped his hand under my back and arched it towards him, I could feel the heat radiating from his chest, and his heartbeat which started to speed up. His hands worked quickly and before I noticed my bra was already on the floor, and my shirt was next to it shortly after. Dean lowered himself towards my chest with sloppy, wet kisses. He grabbed one nipple in his mouth and gently licked and sucked it, while his other hand grabbed my second breast, massaging it. I let out a deep, long moan and ran my hand over his hair, grabbing where it was long enough to tug. I felt hot surges of arousal from all the spots on my body that Dean touched and I wanted more, thrusting my hips up in his direction in hunger.

Dean laughed in a low voice, the bass of his voice vibrating around my nipple. He positioned himself between my thighs again and looked into my eyes with a drunken, dominating look. "You want more?" he asked, moving his body over mine at a slow, maddening pace; running his fingers over my lips, letting me taste them. I nodded pleadingly. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, running his tongue all over it. I gasped. "What do you want? Say it."

"I want you to fuck me," I panted, my voice trembling with desire.

Dean growled in an animal-like sound and continued to quickly unbutton my jeans, while I unbuckled his belt. When we were both only in our underwear, and our bodies were rubbed against each other with growing hunger, I gave myself into the intoxicating feeling and let Dean have sweet, sweet control over my body.

Dean slumped off from me onto the bed, panting heavily. Apparently making me experience multiple orgasms is really an effort.

"Wow," I said, gasping for breath That's the only word I managed to get out after I was completely drained of energy. in a good way.

I turned my gaze to him and looked at him, he smiled his satisfied and tired smile, his chest rising up and down along with the rapid rate of his breathing.

I turned to him, running his fingertips back and forth on his arm, looking at him closing his eyes and smiling his goofy smile that I couldn't stop looking at.

I felt sensitive, exposed and vulnerable. Like I always feel after sex. But it was okay, because I was with Dean, and I was safe.

"I wonder what Sam would say about me being with you for so long, relatively," Dean said suddenly after long minutes of peaceful silence, looking at the white ceiling. "He always knew, me and long-term relationships don't work together."

I kept silent. Dean bringing Sam up for a conversation was a very rare occurrence. He smiled a little sadly. "He would probably ask how is it that put up with me for so long."

I hoped that wasn't a question Dean was asking himself. But I knew there was such a possibility.

"You're not that bad," I replied with a smile. He chuckled briefly and fell back into his thoughts. I turned his face to mine with my hand. I wanted so badly to get into his head for five minutes and know what was going on there.But more than that, I wanted to wipe that tormented expression off his face.

"Dean, I love you. So much."

He smiled warmly, small crinkles appeared at the sides of his eyes "Thank goodness for that." He caressed my cheek, and I melted into his touch, closing my eyes. "I love you too Dee. You’re my girl."

He kissed me one last time, then got up to take a shower, get dressed and drive to Washington.

#spn fanfic #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #winchester fic #female hunter #sam x reader #longshot

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tteokdoroki · 4 years

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awake with you | s.todoroki

♡ pairing: shoto todoroki x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 1.7K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: ua student!au, angst, comfort, fluff.

♡ summary: during the night, bad things happen but your boyfriend is always there to keep them away. by your side always, shoto todorki makes it his mission to fight your demons and make sure you know that you’re loved.

♡ warning(s): please read ! character death, mentions of car accidents, nightmares, guilt, lack of sleep, but a lot of fluff and the best boyfriend in the whole world :(

♡ author’s note(s): guys! it’s shoto’s birthday, so here i am postiing this shoto request from anon a while back, i hope you all enoy and have celebrating the beautiful boy’s bday <3

♡ masterlist | requests

it was hard for you to sleep.

harder, when shoto wasn’t around.

sometimes it was your thoughts that kept you up; late at night— dark thoughts that swirled around in your head and slowly poisoned your brain with heavy black venom. it was hard to sleep when your mind was heavy with fear, but ever since dating shoto todoroki; those nights became easier and sleep wasn’t so hard to come by.

you weren’t so sure what it was about your boyfriend that made it easier for you to get some shut eye; it’s not like he really knew either. todoroki just didn’t like seeing you in pain, the way your face twisted with discomfort or the way sleepy tears would wet your cheeks under the moonlight— but you had somewhat of an idea, that his fresh peppermint smell and warm arms are what often helped you.

shoto would so lovingly sneak into your room, no matter the time, dusk or dawn— he would hold you tight under the sheets until you drifted off to dream land. even if it meant being teased by the others for stumbling out of your room in the morning, his pretty hair a wild mess creating the image that’d you’d both been up to no good, he’d face it all for you, over and over again.

but tonight, your loving, caring and doting boyfriend was nowhere to be seen— everyone’s second internships had begun and todoroki had chosen to work with his father along with izuku and katsuki, so it was no doubt that they wouldn’t be home until late. what with endeavour being the number one and all.

your friends knew about your struggles to sleep, of course, todoroki bluntly mentioning how you ‘like to sleep together’ to soothe your nightmares ( iida had lectured you about it after, saying it was inappropriate while deku and ochako turned as red as your boyfriend’s hair ) so offered to stay up with you— but you needed rest, today’s training sessions having taken a toll on your body, and wave them off with a smile laced with tiredness.

you could call him, he wouldn’t mind and you know it— but he’s with his father and that takes enough out of him as it is.

you decide, instead, to trudge to the dual quirked boy’s bedroom, instantly calmed by his sweet peppermint scent embedded into every inch of his dorm. you swipe one of his clean sweaters straight from the closet before hitting the lights and snuggling into his bed.

tonight would be fine, todoroki would come home, wrap you in his arms and with the aid of his scent surrounding you— you would sleep safe and soundly.

is what you hoped as you drifted off to the land of dreams.

when you were younger, you watched your older brother, haru, get hit by a car.

the scene haunts you to this very day, crawling up on you while you rest at night— choking you out in your dreams. you see it now, feet glued to the ground as you’re forced to watch the younger version of you, mess with your older brother using your new found quirk. your parents had called it scenery, back then your powerful quirk had been their pride and joy, giving you the ability to create a mirage in a certain targets mind— make them see things that weren’t really there.

back then it was fun to play tricks on your sibling— you made haru see all of his worst nightmares, everything but the road.

everything but the oncoming car.

everything but his untimely death.

you want to scream at little you— tell her to stop and that it’s not funny anymore as she forces your brother back into the road— he’s giggling, he doesn’t know it yet and neither do you. but the words you want to say die down deep in your throat, suffocating you from the inside although they burn at your lungs to burst through.

why cant you speak? why cant you stop her?

adrenaline trickles into your blood stream as you will yourself to run out into the street and protect haru from the oncoming traffic just as he slips off of the sidewalk. your senses are blown out of the water, static noise filling your ears and intertwining with childish screams and the sound of a not so distant honking horn.

you claw harshly at your throat. speak. save him. for god’s sake; do something.

“you’ll kill him! stop! you’re going to kill him!”

the flickering of artificial, yellow light behind your closed eyes has you jolting awake, sweat forming at your brow and hands clenched tightly around your boyfriend’s plain bedsheets. your gaze darts across the room while your heart thumps loudly in your ribcage from the fear that struck you in your dream and finally, your stare settles on a shirtless, bewildered shoto todoroki. his face is a little scratched up no doubt from being on his father’s patrol and he looks exhausted but that doesn’t stop the concern he has for you taking over his expression. “yn—?”

“s-sho,” you hate how your voice caves so easily, the single syllable of your nickname for him falling wetly from chapped lips. todoroki is by your side in an instant, not caring that he’s only half dressed and half awake. he’ll deal with that later.

with tender hands shoto cups the back of your head, letting you sink into the warmth of his flesh. you reach out for your boyfriend and he’s there, taking your free hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze to help ground you. “love, what happened? why didn’t you call? you know i don’t mind—” his timbre voice fills your ears like warm honey, calming your rapid breathing but all you can do is shake your head.

“nightmare ‘n you were working,” you pant, cutting him off while the death grip on your lover’s hand begins increasing. you feel so far from the ground, the scene of haru’s death dancing across your mind. “i killed him, again—“

shoto watches your body twitch with fear and your usually glimmering eyes gloss over in away that makes him feel sick. you’re not here with him yet, still tangled up in the black string of your bad dreams. the world around the dual eyed boy begins to change and it seems you’ve activated your quirk by accident— showing him scenes of the day your brother died.

you screw your eyes shut as flashes of his body tangle with reality to the point where you don’t know what’s real and what’s not. you’re losing control of yourself so easily, fresh sets of tears stinging their way down your streaked cheeks. trapped. you feel trapped like a bird in a cage even while you’re awake and the sounds of cars and screaming burn at your ears once more.

make it stop, please.

“yn... come back to me love, i’m right here,” todoroki’s calm voice cuts through the suffocating song of death, dragging you back to reality while the effects of your quirk drift away. his fingers, although contrasting temperatures, now cup your cheeks to tilt your face towards him so that your eyes lock with his under the crescent moon. “you didn’t kill him. that wasn’t you. it wasn’t your fault.”

you blink away more tears like a helpless child, chest heaving but todoroki doesn’t give up. “but—“

“no.” your boyfriend says softly, yet sternly, leaning down to place an eskimo kiss to your nose. your eyes flutter shut at his simple gesture, although it raises saftey and warmth across your body— black radiates behind your closed eyelids, no longer plagued broken bones and blood. it’s easy to keep breathing from there, focusing on that as todoroki pulls you into his lap and the sheets fall away from your body.

“no,” you repeat back to him while shoto’s arms settle on your waist and his familiar scent of fresh peppermint fills your senses. “not my fault.”

it wasn’t your fault, that day the car had come speeding down a usually safe road in a residential area. the accident was a hit and run, but being a child made you feel every ounce of the blame. shaking the thought away you curl into your lover’s chest, listening for sounds of his heartbeat while he toys with a lose string on his sweater— the one you wear.

“that’s right, good girl...not your fault, here with me yet, love?”

when you glance up, todoroki is looking right back down at you— brows creased with worry but there’s love in his stare, overwhelming amounts that make you hum into his bare chest, grounded by the feeling of his skin against yours. “present and accounted for,” his chest rumbles with relieved laughter, soothing you even more. “thank you, sho. i’m sorry for making you do this so late at night.”

this time, shoto shakes his head— sending locks of red and white flying. “don’t thank me and don’t apologise,” his words are feather light in the dark while he manoeuvres you both onto his back to settle into bed. you’re about to mention that he’s still half in his suit, but your boyfriend doesn’t seem to care, already closing his eyes. “i’m yours, your boyfriend and i’m going to support you no matter what. i’ve got you, okay? you’re always here for me so i’ll do my best to do the same for you. what kind of man would i be if i wasn’t?”

“a very unmanly man,” you tease with a kitten like yawn, already feeling the confines of a more comfortable sleep, taking over.

todoroki rolls his eyes but pulls you closer to him anyways. “you’ve been spending too much time with kirishima.”

“at least i don’t spend everyday working with bakugou, now that’s true nightmare.” you counter, narrowly missing a pinch to the side from your boyfriend.

the pair of you sleep soundly that night, wrapped in each other’s arms. you feel safe, knowing that nothing could ever harm you, as long as you were with him. shoto todoroki would give anything for to you to have a goodnight’s rest. no matter what. even if it meant staying awake with you and being late to patrol with endeavour the next day.

not like he cared, he hated his dad anyway.

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starlightxsvt · 3 years

Text

Cohabitation with the Devil | Chapter 1

pairing ➳ devil!jihoon x female!reader

genre ➳ little bit of horror, crack, romance, fluff, eventual smut.

warnings ➳ so much cursing, use of a broom for self defence, beating, mentions of demon summoning, a lil bit of spooky stuff at the beginning.

word count ➳ 2.2k

summary ➳ somehow an entity ends up in your house and it isn't planning on leaving anytime soon. you know trouble comes in many forms but you never thought it would come to you in the form of a rather short but devilishly handsome, extremely annoying demon.

a/n: the first installment is hereeee~ this was really really fun to write so I hope y'all really really enjoy reading this lol. also I realized I unconsciously made this banner Attacca themed??? Lol.

Happy reading!

║ series masterlist ║

Something feels wrong.

Very.

Your apartment feels oddly eerie and unbelievably cold even though it's barely autumn. Chills run down your spine as you sit up in your bed, eyes squinting to see in the darkness; the only shimmer of light pouring through your window. You try your best to scan the room in the darkness of the night but nothing really seems out of place. It's just that you keep feeling weird. Like you are being watched.

You haven't gotten an ounce of sleep since you got in bed which was probably a couple of hours ago. The digital clock beside your bed reads 3:05 am and you groan in annoyance. You have classes tomorrow, you should be sleeping right now.

A sudden sound, just outside of your bedroom, probably in the living area if you had to guess tears you away from the thoughts in your head as you almost jump out of your skin.

What the fuck was that.

It's the middle of the freaking night and you are alone in your place- well not anymore because there has to be someone here, you are confident now.

Did someone break in? Oh shit.

Mustering up all your courage you gently crawl out of your bed and tuck your phone inside your pajama pocket while softly tiptoeing out of your bedroom.

Entering your living area, your eyes try their best to scan the place amid darkness, afraid if you turn the light on you'll alert the intruder. The broom you used for cleaning the mess earlier rests against the counter of your kitchen and hastily you grab it. Clutching it tightly in your hand, you walk around your dimly lit apartment and weirdly, find nothing suspicious.

Frowning you stand in silence in the middle of your living area for a while.

Are you really hearing things? Or did the intruder escape? But there is no sign of breaking in. Huffing in annoyance your hands reach for the light switch in the switch board and as soon as the lights turn on you come face to face with a man, standing a few feet away from you, his blank eyes set on you.

Your first reaction is letting out a blood curdling screech which makes the man flinch and cover his ears. But you don't stop at that, using the broom in your hand you blindly start smacking him, swinging the weapon around wildly to make sure you don't miss. The man stumbles and falls on the ground but just for safety you hit him a few times more before shouting, "You have five seconds to get out of my house you fucking thief!"

The man groans, clutching his head and yells, "What the fuck!"

"What the fuck?" You bellow. "You motherfucking son of a bitch get out right now or I'm calling the police!"

The intruder manages to stand up while you take a few steps back and scowling at you as he hisses, "Oh my Satan! What the fuck is wrong with you, you crazy lady! You fucking called me here!" Scoffing you chuckle dryly, "The nerve of this pervert! Get the fuck out you sleazeball, I've had enough." The man growls, "You literally fucking called me here! And will you stop calling me names?!"

That's it. You've had enough. You reach for your phone in your pocket, ready to call the police only the device doesn't turn on. Frowning, you tap on the screen multiple times, confused as to why it isn't working suddenly. You clearly remember charging it before bed.

"Yeah, it won't work." Your intruder drawls, watching you warily. You whip your head towards him, "What?"

He rolls his eyes, "I said it won't work, lady. Put it aside, it's useless now."

Silently you stare at him. Who is he and what the fuck is he saying?

Rubbing your temples, you try to inhale deeply, "Listen man I'm too tired for this shit. Get out while I'm being nice or I'll kick you out myself."

"You listen, woman. You fucking summoned me here hours ago and now you don't remember? Are you really that dense?" He crosses his arms over his chest, rasing a brow. You gawk at him, more perplexed and annoyed.

Seriously? What the fuck is going on? Is this a nightmare?

Seeing you mute the man sighs frustratedly, "I'm a devil. You and your stupid friends literally summoned me here a while ago? Remember? With that pentagram and shit?"

Okay now you are definitely sure he's a stalker. Gritting your teeth you hiss, "You are really pushing your luck you creep."

The self proclaiming demon lets out an annoyed huff, "You really won't believe me huh?" Before you can reply the broom in your hand is snatched away by an invisible force and starts floating in the air.

Oh my god.

Blinking a few times you make sure you're not seeing things before you let out the second scream of the night. Yelling at the top of your lungs, you stumble while trying to run away and land on your ass, scrambling backwards from whatever he is. "Fucking hell! Stop screaming or I'll gag you woman!" He hollers and the broom drops to the ground and you immediately shut up, covering your mouth with your hands.

The demon starts approaching you while you tremble in fear and then kneels on one knee to come face to face with you. Now that he is close you see the glint of red in his pupils before his eyes go black, completely hollow, full of nothing but darkness which rakes shivers down your spine. You're tempted to scream again but you stop yourself and hold your breath, waiting for him to snap your neck or suck your soul or whatever they do.

"Do you believe me now?" The demon's voice is soft, something you didn't expect and furiously, you nod your head, unable to reply verbally. A triumphant smile crosses his face as he stands back up and motions you towards the couch, "Shall we have a proper conversation now?"

You are seated on the couch opposite to the one he's sitting on and you keep squirming and shuffling, trying to attain the most distance between you and that God forsaken creature. He watches you with an amused stare but doesn't speak, letting you try to calm yourself down and stop vibrating in fear. You don't remove your eyes from him for a second, afraid he'll hurt you if you do so. The man- demon, you observe, is dressed in an impeccable crimson suit over a shiny black shirt. His black hair is styled away from his face and appearance wise he looks nothing like what he says he is but an elite business person. His skin is pale, porcelain like and his face is... beautiful if you were to say.

With the lack of words from the two of you, there is nothing but unnerving silence in the air and the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock. When you are unable to bear it any longer you break the ice, "W-what do you want from me?"

"Darling I should be asking you that. You're the one who called me here." The demon raises a brow at you. "No, I didn't, my friends did. Go haunt them or something," you murmur.

He chuckles, "It doesn't work like that. First of all, you all summoned me here, in your house. And secondly you gave me your earrings as the offering. So I'm tied to you." He shrugs.

Earrings? Oh right. The stupid ritual book that Hoshi brought said that the summoners had to place an offering to the demon and the offering had to be a personal belonging. Your dear friends talked you into offering your earrings, an old pair which you didn't use anymore and you happily gave them away, knowing it would never work anyway.

Well, the situation seems different now.

"Fuck," you whisper the lump in your throat and bring your knees closer to your chest. It feels awfully cold. "What do I have to do to get rid of you? Do an exorcism?" You ask the devil and he smirks, a diabolical smirk.

"Have sex with me."

You start choking on your saliva trying to tell yourself that you clearly, definitely heard him wrong. You have to. He is just messing with you. Right?

Your alarmed wide eyes seem to bring much pleasure to the evil entity as he grins, licking his lips.

"I'm Jihoon, by the way. Can't wait to have you underneath me, sweetheart."

Enjoyed reading? Please let me know your thoughts as they really encourage me! Ask box is always open!

Taglist: @amymoonl @deardiarylovegale

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leggerefiore · 2 years

Text

Poetry for the Coraline AU With Ingo as the Other

I blame 3 hours of stats homework, a love for poetry, and your brain rot. Do with these as you please, written from the perspective of the beleaguered S/O.

————–

For Ingo

I should hate you. Don’t be so shocked, you know I should.

Why else do you speak so sweetly, hands fidgeting in your lap? Why else are you so shy to look my way? You must think me dull if you assumed I would not notice.

No, your presence only sharpens me- fear runs hot in my veins when you stare too long. You look like you could cry, sometimes. It hurts, but mostly just for you, I think.

Do button eyes shed tears? Would it smell like burning plastic if you sobbed into my shoulder? A hot glue gun adhering sorrow to flesh, ready to burn.

I am not brave. I am not ready to melt on your sadness or take part in your small agonies, not like a good lover should. So much of my day is spent alone, I wouldn’t dare claim to know your heart.

Still, you whisper poetry to me through the crack next to my bedside table. It’s lovely- sticky sweet, melted chocolate two months out of date.

Gods, I should hate you.

You make my favorite meals for me and frown when I can’t bring myself to eat them. I ask what’s in them and you don’t tell me. Or, perhaps, you lie. I can’t tell the difference, not like I can with him.

At least when he lies, it’s obvious.

…I should hate you. When I’m lonely you scratch at the door and call for me and in my fear, I answer. What would you do to me, if I chose to leave you? So I come to you and let you whisper. I eat your praises, if not your food.

You want so badly to feed me.

I starve-

Ignore me. You should leave. I hate you.

Would words make you go away? I can handle being alone but I don’t know if I could take being left behind. Monsters always go away when the sun comes up, I would know- even friendly, smiling ones are best seen in the dark.

I ramble. You do that too, so we have that in common at least. Always so eager to listen, to fill the silence. But then, the empty dial tone is a good listener too, so don’t go feeling too special.

Well. Maybe a little special. You’re the only one I’m scared of, after all.

…I think he’s moved on. Without me. On to- To trains. To better things, or I hope so anyway. He deserves better, a lover who would listen to him and be with him when he’s hurting. One who’s loyal.

Who can take a joke?

The trick of it all- love requires him here, and the world outside these doors of ours, it demands so much of him. I get scraps. I give him scraps.

We are starving things, hungry. He feeds himself on motor oil and speed and I get… You.

I should hate you. Looking at your eyes has me flinching away from the reflection I see there, odd things burning in your black plastic. Touching you has my skin crawling, either off my body towards you or far away to someplace else entirely.

The only thing I can say with confidence is that to know you is to know terror. He has already left, so it hurts only a little, but you-

You could melt me. Hollow me out and fill me up and leave me to scorch from the inside out. A man of plastic and wire instead of sinew, what sort of things would it take to drive you from my side?

Locomotives, at least, are impersonal. Your demons would eat me alive.

Your words, your promises… Best leave them to other people. This is one apple I cannot bring myself to eat and you should know that going forward, it’s only fair.

Full steam ahead makes no place for those left behind, choking on the smoke and coughing embers of their own. Leave.

Why won’t you leave.

I should hate you.

(…I don’t.)

#submission #ingo.ima #coraline au #bless this is so good you genuinely kicked off my alternate coraline au #archetypal-archivist #it will be done soon so get ready for some soup

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zealous-whispers-of-us-redux · 3 years

Text

homecoming

(A/N: I tweaked an old, unposted [on this blog] fic of mine for @multi-stann and her 1k writing event. I picked the smut prompt: "Love the taste of you, but I need more.”) :)

Warning: demon sex and desecration in/of a church. Please don't read if that offends you!!

SMUT AHEAD

Intoxicating dreams. The feeling of her mouth around his cock. His teeth sinking into her plush bottom lip. Heat racketing up his spine until all he knew was her. Wrapping a hand around her neck and feeding on her pleasure as he fucked her. Taking anything and everything she would offer him. He missed her. He missed her.

He...

Bucky jolted awake in the confession booth. Sweat dripped down his face, and he could still feel the flames of Hell licking his skin. He was hard in his slacks. Crossing himself absently, Bucky muttered a few prayers under his breath because this was happening again. He knew what it all meant. He has been away for centuries, but his past was finally catching up to him. The more vivid the dreams, the closer she was to finding Bucky. And the closer she was to finding Bucky, the more his true nature rose within him as his body fought against the angels' invisible chains. Bucky was hungrier than he had been in a long time, but the runes on his skin made him unable to leave the church, let alone go out and feed.

He checked his watch, and as he expected, it read 3:17 a.m. Bucky's heart thumped excitedly in his chest. He knew that she knew where he was. Finally, she had found him, and she would rescue him from this hell. He opened the door to the confessional just as she blew into the church, stalking nearer and nearer until Bucky could take her in for the first time in years. She looked just as beautiful as he remembered- wild and passionate with eyes that glowed from within. With each step she took, the floor cracked underneath her feet. Crucifixes clattered to the ground, and the stained-glass window shattered, raining colored glass down onto both of them. The statue of the Virgin Mary cried, and she grinned.

"There you are," she said, and Bucky could not take his eyes off of her.

"You found me," he croaked in the language he never forgot, no matter how many beatings he took.

"You’ve been calling out to me for ages, but your jailers kept you well-hidden. Even my father couldn't see you."

"They summoned me," said Bucky bitterly. "They summoned me, an' they stole me as a barginin' chip."

"If they think they can stop this, they're wrong. It is only the beginning. My father has gathered his troops. I asked him to wait until I found you. Lord Belial wasn't happy with me, but I came for you anyway. "

Bucky squirmed at the innuendo, his gaze dropping to her mouth. His stomach rumbled, and she must have heard it because she smiled. He reached out for her, and she threw herself into his arms. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, breathing her in.

“You do remember me, don't you?” she asked, sounding vulnerable in a way he would never expect.

“How could I ever forget my baby?" Bucky asked.

"How come you haven't left this church if you remember me?"

"The runes." He gestured to the symbols carved into his skin. "I can't leave."

"You can leave if the angels who created the runes are dead."

"What did you do?"

"They gambled away their vessels, and I burnt them to a crisp," she said, baring her teeth. "It was a fitting punishment, Father said. If they thought they could take away what is mine, they were wrong if they thought they could hurt you without retribution. They deserve worse than what I gave them."

"You-"

"You're free, Bucky," she said firmly, placing her hands against his cheeks. "What will you do now?"

Bucky kissed her, and it was like slipping a key into a lock. He had forgotten almost everything about his old life, except for her, but she saved him and was now giving everything back. He vividly remembered Hell again, remembered how it was not as dreadful as the angels brainwashed him into believing it was. It was his home. It was hellhounds and halls of crystals glittering in the low lamplight. It was decadent food that demons didn't need but ate anyway. It was her naked in his bed, waiting for him to return from corrupting souls on Earth. It was sex all the time, whenever Bucky wanted. She was as insatiable as he was.

“Welcome back,” she said.

“It's been so long,” Bucky replied, pawing at her greedily. “I need ya right the fuck now. I'm starvin.'”

“Remember when we fucked in that church in Romania? Right under the statue of their precious Mary?” she asked.

“Hell, I’ve missed you."

As they kissed again, Bucky felt her heating up under his hands until tendrils of flame erupted from her skin. She pulled back, and Bucky saw her eyes alight with hellfire. He gathered her closer with a groan, knowing he would never get burned. She kissed him again, clawing at his hair as she swung herself into his lap. The confession booth swayed dangerously, but both ignored it. Bucky sunk his teeth in her bottom lip, and she snarled, scraping her nails over his scalp in retaliation. They pulled apart to blink at one another, then she dove to take off Bucky's shirt. Her fingers burned his skin so good, leaving red streaks that would fade quickly. Bucky could feel it crawling under his skin again, the hunger for sex that he hadn’t felt in ages. He wanted; he wanted to feed off of her pleasure and make her scream.

“I see those pretty black eyes,” she said, drawing Bucky’s gaze from her bare chest. “I knew they wouldn’t succeed.”

“Missed you,” Bucky growled, sucking her jaw so fiercely that he drew blood, “Take yer panties off for me.”

“Ask me nicely.”

She dug her nails into his pecs- a warning. Bucky rolled his eyes as he carried her out of the confessional and into a booth.

“Please take off yer panties. Sweetheart,” he said.

“Okay, darling, whatever you say," she replied.

“Disgusting. Don't ever call me that again. An' take your fuckin' panties off, huh?"

“You're such a dick."

"Hey, leave me alone! It's been two hundred years."

She shoved Bucky’s shoulder, trying to push him off of her enough so that she could wiggle out of her bottoms. Bucky ignored her unspoken command. He grabbed her wrists and slammed her arms over her head.

“Keep ‘em there," he said.

“How am I expected to take my underwear off? Think things through, will you?” she said.

“Yer bein’ unusually bratty today.” Bucky wrapped his lips around one of her nipples. “Ain’t had anyone put you in yer place for a while, I guess.”

“Oh, please. My father is one of the seven kings of Hell. If anything, you should submit to me. I remember how much you liked it when I made you beg at my feet like a hound."

“It's been decades since I’ve had ya underneath me. Now that I have ya, I ain’t just gonna give that up so willingly. Stop bein’ a brat."

“For Baal's sake, just do something instead of talking about it."

“No swearin’, we’re in church,” Bucky said. “An’ keep yer arms above yer head. No touchin.’”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“An’ shut that mouth a’ yours too. You don’t want me to gag ya, do you?”

"Who the fuck has been going around and telling lies saying I wouldn't like that?" she asked with a smile.

Bucky softened. He knew he was probably looking at her like a dumbass, but she was so beautiful and here for the first time in a long time. Bucky wouldn't want his first feeding session in centuries to be with anyone else. If a beast like him could love, he was sure he would love her.

"Missed you," Bucky said softly, tucking his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and stuffing them in her mouth. "So much."

"Missed you too," she mumbled.

"Did you make 'em suffer?"

"You know I did. They hurt you."

She said everything he needed to know in just seven words. His hunger overwhelmed him, and Bucky blacked out until all he could see was her. Flames tickled him as Bucky leaned down to kiss a fiery trail down her stomach. She growled at him in an ancient tongue, and the foundations of the church shook at her words. The statue of Mary cracked in two the louder her words got, but Bucky ignored it, not content on just eating her out- he wanted her screaming. But she was a hard one to please. Bucky could rarely get her to scream when he ate her out, no matter the amount of coaxing he tried.

"Love the taste of you, but I need more," he said, his tongue flicking over her clit. "We still gotta topple that statue."

"Come up here and fuck me. It's been so long."

Bucky left the plush comfort of her thighs and made his way up her body, pressing kisses along the way.

"I know it has, babe," he said, kissing her forehead in a display of comfort that they were both unaccustomed to. "But I’m here now, an’ nothin’ can pull me away from ya again, you hear me?”

"I'll kill anyone who tries," she said.

Bucky grinned sharply. "That's my girl."

"Not yours," she countered.

"No?"

He reached down and drew her legs up around his waist. She locked her ankles together, holding him there so tight he could not move, not even to get inside her. He growled, trying to break free.

"I'm not yours," she repeated.

"If you fuckin' think for one second you ain't mine, you're wrong."

"I'm a fucking demon. No one owns me."

"Never said 'owns.' I said mine. Now, you gonna lemme fuck you or not?"

"No. How is it different?"

Bucky groaned, dropping his head onto her chest. He pressed a few kisses at her breast, bit her nipple.

"C'mon, gimme a break. I'm starvin.'"

"No, not until you tell me."

"Fuck's sake. You're mine, an' I'm yours, okay? An' I don't wanna feed on anyone else, ever again. You're enough for me."

"Okay."

"You don't have to reciprocate."

"I put a war on hold, and I killed three angels to find you," she said flatly.

"Yeah," Bucky said, his vessel's heart fluttering. "You did."

She loosened her grip on Bucky, allowing him to slip inside her for the first time. His body shuddered in delight at feeling her again. He could taste her pleasure in the air, and his tongue flicked out to gather it from her lips as they kissed. Bucky knew he wasn't going to last long, but he would be (more) damned if he finished before she did.

"Come on, move," she said, her nails pricking his back.

The pace Bucky chose was brutal, and she moaned, arching her back. He remembered now the way she’d never utter more than a moan. No matter the amount of coaxing, Bucky could never make her scream. She had passed out from him fucking and feeding on her a few times, but even then, all he managed to get were a few calls of his name. It kept him desperate to please her even though she was the one feeding him.

"Go faster," she sighed, her head tipped back enough so that Bucky could get at her neck with his teeth.

"I gotcha, babe. Wan' my hand?"

"Yes, please."

Naturally, Bucky obliged. He wrapped one of his big hands around her neck, squeezing gently and then harder. Her mouth fell open against his as he fucked her, and they stayed like that, panting into each other's mouths. And Bucky wanted so much for someone to burst in and see them like this, see him fucking her into the ground and feeding off her desire.

He pulled out of her when he got an idea. She speared him with a glare, but he calmed her down, urging her to get to her hands and knees. Bucky smacked her ass, and she muffled a cry into her forearms. The flames on her skin burned hotter and hotter the more Bucky spanked her until sweat was pouring down his chest. He gathered her hair up in his hand and dragged her up from the floor, curling a possessive hand around her throat. Flames licked his skin wherever her body was pressed to his. Bucky could feel it rising within her, and he gasped at the taste of it after so long without. It was the best drug in the world.

"C'mon, rub your clit for me, and scream when you come. You know it makes it taste better," he demanded.

"Make it worth my while, and I will."

"You wan' it? I'll give it to you," Bucky said, squeezing her neck until she was gasping. "Now, come for me. Gimme it."

It only took a couple more sweeps of her fingers over her clit and a quick kiss from Bucky for her to come. He kissed her to muffle her screams, drinking her down, thirsty for everything she could give him. He continued fucking her through her orgasm, his eager pants ringing around the church.

"Again, again, gimme one more. So hungry, babe, you taste so good," Bucky panted.

It didn't take long for her to come again, and Bucky fed on her, moaning as he felt her slipping down his throat. He licked his lips and pushed himself entirely inside her, holding still until she triggered his own orgasm.

"That's a good girl," Bucky cooed, kissing her to get the last of her orgasm.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, looking upside down at him.

He snuggled closer. "Yeah."

"Are you pulling out or what?"

"Nah, wanna stay here for a minute or two. Missed this. So happy y'found me. You saved me."

"I always will," she said, scowling.

Bucky laughed, burying his face into her hair.

"How's Hell, anyway?"

"It's good. Will you come back with me?"

"I'll go anywhere you want me to."

"We'll get those runes off your skin."

"'Kay, but later. I'm still ravenous," said Bucky.

She grinned, all sharp teeth and fire in her eyes.

"Come on, then. Let's go to a real bed."

"Lead the way," said Bucky, flipping the bird toward the Mary statue that lay shattered on the ground.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #demon au #incubus!bucky #demon!reader #smut #angst #maybe??#multi-stann’s 1k writing event

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mc-the-bunny · 3 years

Text

Okay so hear me out this is my first ever story...

Have mercy on me please :')...

So i had the thought about lucifer being a winemom. And even though i dont particularly like lucifer i was thinking....

What if he would masterbate with the wine bottle and then mc walks 😳🍷

The story:

It had been a long tough day for lucifer.

All day he had been swarmed by paperwork,meetings, bills from mammon and Asmodeus buying things and making sure you dont get eaten or lose interest in him. After all he couldnt bare the thought of you losing interest in him or even worse you dying..

that would be the scariest thing happening to him after lilith died..

beel had also eaten everything in the house twice today. In response this had send satan in a rage, he had punched holes in cabinets and walls.

So now not only lucifer had paperwork he also had to scold satan, which was no easy task. The blonde demon had flung at him so many times (one hitting his abdominal area) before Lucifer could finally get him under control. He lifted his clothing up to reveal a nasty bruise grunting at the touch.

He would deal with satan later.

He also had to Prepare the repairing spells which required special ingredients they didnt have anymore due to beel eating everything including several dishes... So he'd have to go search for the ingredients.... Sigh* why doesnt akuzon have tge ingredients lucifer thinks while scroling to look if they did...

Akuzon had a lot from the east indian special black and red inc he used to the stuff his brothers bought. But sadly no spell ingredients... He could ask solomon if he could get some of the ingredients but he knew solomon would probably want to make a pact with him in return.... Not that he would ask for help otherwise, after all the Avatar of pride didnt need help from a sorcerer.

He walked up to his liquor cabinet

( which was massive)

First he had to drink some demonius to lighten his headache. (and stresslevels because lets be honest the poor man works way to much)

grabbed a bottle of demonius and sat back down behind his desk drinking straight from the bottle.

He hadnt even bothered to pore it into a glass because he would end up drinking the whole bottle anyways.

(bottles and time passed)

3 bottles of demonius later and lucifer finally felt at ease. His alcohol tolerance was naturally very high so if he really wanted to get black out drunk like mammon and Asmodeus sometimes did at parties he would have to at least drink 6 bottles of demonius.

No the 3 bottles just left him tipsy and on edge, feeling like he wanted to have some sexual gratification.

he took the empty bottle of demonius and looked at the shape. The bottles in the devildom (and human world) didnt look to different from those weird toys he saw Asmodeus walking with a few times.

He smirked opening his drawer he took some orgasm gel out. It was the gel he had wanted to use with mc, mc however was already wet enough on their own for him. Dripping down their legs before lucifer even entered them.

He smiled.

However he wasnt going to be dependent on some human to satisfy him.

He didnt want you to think he needed you.

No he was going to satisfy himself with this bottle of demonius, that was now covered in gel. He undid his pants, pulled off his underwear,

and let his hardening member jump out. He putting it on his desk and started to roll the cold bottle back and forth slowly.

his cock hardening at the temperature difference of the bottle. "Fuck " he muttered while pleasuring himself.

He would've been more than embarrassed if anyone would ever know what he was doing, no this was something only he would ever know about.

The only reason he didn't cum was because he didnt want the paperwork to be dirty with his cum. He would never stoop so low.

No he would never.

After massaging his cock with the bottle until it turned the temperature of his skin he looked at the bottle again.

Another idea popped up in his head.

The top looked to be the similar shape of the dildo he had bought recently for mc.

They had been very thankful and thrilled to try it out.

So curious that they couldnt wait to try it and he ended up watching them masterbate in front of him. He shouldve filmed it.

Such a gorgeous delicious sight should be filmed after all he thought.

He'd have to ask mc next time if he could film it.

Their moans of that night had flooded his senses remembering the lovely noises they had made, they seemed to feel so good with that toy inside their ass cumming on his sofa in his secret study.

He walked over to the sofa and looked.

mcs cum still visible on the dark red velvet.

He smirked positioning himself on the sofa ass up.

putting gell on the other side of the bottle now before slowly sliding the bottle in his ass.

A fairly loud moan escaped his mouth.

Its a good thing he had casted a spell to make this room sound proof for the time being otherwise his brithers might of heard him.

No that would be unbearable. They would definitely tease him over it, and his pride would be more shattered than ever.

Due to the orgasm gel his slit around it quite easily. He positioned himself feeling the cold glass reach deeper and deeper in his ass.

His body now felt like it was on fire with pleasure. Another loud moan escaped his mouth. Then he started thrusting the bottle in and out of his ass.

He could feel a orgasm going through his body at high speed.

Faster and faster rougher and rougher. As long as he was in control he didn't care how rough it was.

(nothing to rough for this sadist)

The sounds of his moan increasing in volume with every thrust.

He felt pure pleasure as he felt he was going to cum, he had preps for that to happen however and he Swiftly took the other empty bottle of demonius as he cummed into the bottle.

Putting the full bottle of cum to the side.

He was going to keep thrusting for a littke more he thought.

"Lucifer?"

Lucifer stiffened at hearing your voice, and looked at you like a deer in the headlights.

"what are you doing?"

"Nothing i i was doingbpaperwork "

"with that bottle up your ass? "

You couldnt help but laugh.

Not in a humiliation way but it was the last thing you had expected to walk into when opening his door.

After the knocking was left unanswered you had stepped in only to find lucifer with a bottle of demonius up his as and flushed cheecks as red as apples.

I can explain lucifer quickly pulled the bottle out and sad up, his pride scattered and fearfully awaiting your reaction. What was he thinking not putting a spell on the lock!?.

He would have to wash those bottles secretly later.

washing would be safer due to nosey brothers . you would never be sure if anyone found the bottles or would stumble upon it by accident.

They woukdve immediately known who the bottles had belonged to, after all lucifer was the only one having multiple bottles of demonius on him at all times.

"Lucifer, im sorry for laughing my beloved. Its just that i hadnt expected to find you.. In such state"

... Lucifer fell silent. he felt like his life was over. he was beating himself up for letting this happen.

What would you think of him now?

Would you turn away? He would never get over it if you did.

Sensing his worry you walk up to him and put a arm around his shoulder (not knowing if you should put them on his cock instead)

"Lucy i understand"

You smile at him.

With bewilderment in his eyes he looks at you.

"You do? "

"Yes lucy babe i do, you were under so much stress today. i already thought you had forgotten our date tonight so i initially came to remind you of it "

"im so sorry mc i shouldnt forget -"

"no its okay Lucy its not your fault"

You looked over to the second bottle of demonius on the ground, seeing what you were almost sure to be Lucy's cum in it.

"It is mc how can i apologise? "

"Ill take that bottle"

before he can say no or even think about it you grab the bottle crawl to the corner of the sofa and smell the liquid in it.

Now emerged with the smell of the last bits of demonius his cum smelled like some sort of delicate wine.

"hhhmmmmm it smells so good lucy darling"

He looks at you in shock for a bit but as soon as he realises you dont judge him for masterbating with a bottle he loosens up.

"Does it now my beloved? "

You look up happily

"Yes"

Lucifer chuckles he tries to take the bottle back but you see it comming and quickly run to the other side of the room.

"Nuh uh its mine now lucy"

Lucifer scoffs and makes his way over to you.

Before he can reach you however you already started drinking his cum out of the bottle. Your eyes still fixated on his to see his reaction.

He looks at you before regrouping himself and making his way over to you.

You run to the other side before you continue drinking his cum wine.

"Hmmm mm hmmmmmm, if water tasted like this i would definitely drink enough on a day"

"Mc, stop this weird behavior at once and hand me the bottle..

before i punish you."

He reaches to grab you but having spend so much time with mammon you know how to avoid getting caught. Running further.

Lucifer can't help but smirk, after all hes secretly really proud of you and himself. After all you said his cum is delicious and are getting quite protective.

it is as if lucifer has to take candy from a child.

"Be a good girl and finish it all then"

Your eyes sparkle in excitement

*Really lucy? Thank you!! "

You sit down on the sofa again tired from running around. Lucifer sits besides you rubbing your back waiting for you to finish it all.

You do finish it surprisingly fast and put down the empty bottle. You want to hug him but-

Lucifer grips your hands and handcufs them

"Lucy?"

"yes darling"

he smirks biting your ear softly.

You squeel

"Lucy what are we going to do? We have to be at the restaurant at 6 remember?"

He positions you in a way your but is sticking up. He squeezes it and this draws a moan from your mouth.

"I remember that, we still have 3 hours"

"but-" you stammer.

"i said i would punish you

so be prepared sitting might hurt a bit in the restaurant. "

He says as he takes out his whip ready to spank you senseless for not obeying him.

I hope you enjoyed.

Im sorry for spelling errors im dyslexic😣

#anime #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me texts #obey me mc #obey me dark #obey me luci x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me luficer #lucifans #lucifer #lucifur #lucifer fluff #obey me fluff #obey me smut

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Personal Demon

Summary: Because of a mistake, you're assigned a devil instead of an angel. Pairing: Demon!Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader Warnings & Conent: oh boy, here we go - language, mentions of suicide, mentions of self harm, mentions of rape, fingering, unprotexted sex, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of reader in an asylum, sliiiiight dumbification of reader, slight corruption of reader, Eren's a little shit Word Count: 3.9 k

A/N: So I wrote this in, like, 3-4 days because I felt like it's pretty bad but not bad enough not to post it. I hope you still enjoy it, though!

You always felt it — breathing in your nape, moving in the corner of your room at night, whispering things you shouldn't dare think about. Your own personal demon. Most of the time you did a good job at ignoring it. Most of the time you abused substances to make it go away, at least for a minute. With the puff of weed or a bottle of alcohol, it stayed away, only watching from afar and never involving itself with you. Most of the time.

Keys clung in your hands, door shutting behind as you walked into your apartment, fingers wrapped around your grocery bags. Yet another night of drinking the voice away.

"Not today, Satan." You hummed, popping open a bottle of gin, nose scrunching at the bitter taste.

"I keep telling you, the easiest way to get rid of me would be to kill yourself." It spoke, this time outside of your head.

"And I keep telling you to stay the fuck away from me." You growled back.

"We both know that's not possible."

Another sip and you put the bottle down, hands digging inside the bag for a snack.

"You're gonna need something stronger than that."

There it was, the bar of chocolate you so eagerly starved for. The TV suddenly turned on. It was craving entertainment.

"Anything unusual happened today?"

No, it was craving attention and you were not about to give it any. You put the groceries inside the fridge and grabbed the bottle, plopping on the couch.

"How long are you going to pretend I'm not here?"

"As long as I need." You snapped back, eyes glued to the TV.

"Well, that didn't last long." It laughed. "Come on, Y/N, we've been together for, what, 24 years?"

"Can you just shut up? Disappear? Crawl back to Hell?"

"Nope. Waaaaait, I know why you've got your panties in a twist. It's because that Jean guy you like hooked up with Mikasa, right?"

It was impossible to deal with. Every single second, it was there. Since you've been born, it was there, always watching, always following you, always. You tried to go to a priest, a monk, anything, but nothing helped. The angel that was supposed to guide you happened to be a demon and there was nothing you could do about it. But you were not going to give it the satisfaction of ending your pathetic life, no matter how much you wanted to, because despite being a demon, it still had to keep you alive until your time came. It, however, did like to push you over the edge, push you until you grabbed a knife and slit your wrists, only for the knife to get shoved by some invisible force before you could finish the job. It tormented you and it loved it.

"I told you, not today, Satan."

"Ugh, my name's-"

"I don't care." Your head snapped into the direction of the voice, only to be met with a wall. "Let's face it, we shouldn't have been in this situation, so why don't you shut your mouth up and let me get on with my life?"

"What life?" It laughed and you could already picture the sneer on its face, flashing you fangs and a forked tongue. "That's not even what I look like."

"Get out of my head!" You screamed before grabbing the bottle and emptying half of its contents.

"Careful, Y/N, the neighbours might call the police and you don't want to end up like last time, do you?"

Last time... you were but a child, throwing plates at the wall only to make it stop talking when your parents admitted you to an asylum. You had to live with it for half a year before they let you out.

"Please, please stay out of my head." Tears pooled at your eyes as you clutched the bottle at your chest.

"Now why would I stay out when it's just so much fun in you?"

"God, I hate you so much!"

"Me or beardy up there? I couldn't quite get it." It laughed again, laughing at your damn misery as you got up from the couch and left the apartment.

The alcohol already made its way to your brain when you reached the ground floor of the building. Rain poured outside but you didn't care, you just ran as far away from it as possible and for the first time in years, it didn't follow you. Grateful and content, you slowed down, admiring the beauty of the city which you ignored because of the voice inside of your head. The smell of rain, the colourful buildings, the empty streets, everything felt new and refreshing, and you took it all in. Time seemed to slow down without itconstantly nagging in the back of your mind and you realised you were pretty far away from your home, an area unknown to you. Still, you knew how to get back, you hoped, but when you turned around, a man pushed you into an alleyway.

"Satan?" You whispered, dizzy from the lingering gin and smell of rain. The man pinned you to a wall and finally you were beginning to realise what was happening.

"Call me whatever you want, baby, just keep that pretty voice down." His hand moved up your thigh and panic seeped through your veins. "We don't want to draw any attention, now, do we?" He kissed your neck and you froze on the spot, eyes widening in fear and body shivering.

"L-let go of me!" You managed, the alcohol numbing your arms, rendering you unable to push the stranger away.

"Shhh, don't fight it." The man squeezed your arms, his fingers bruising the soft skin. Anger, sadness and pain coiled together in your chest and you couldn't breathe anymore. Oh, how you wished you never left your flat, how you wished you stayed back and listened to itconstantly yapping, like a maggot crawling into your brain. "Aren't you a pretty one?" He cooed, his hand travelling lower, lower, to the point where tears started rolling down your cheeks, mixing with the snot and rain on your face.

And then it happened — in the blink of an eye, your assailant was thrown against the other wall by the too familiar invisible force as you sank to the ground, eyes puffy and red, legs trembling.

"The fuck? What are you?" The man hissed at you, his hands holding his abdomen.

"I'm the devil." It spoke, voice inhuman and perilous, and you could only sneer at him. For the first time you were happy it was there. Sick, twisted thoughts invaded your mind and you wanted to watch him suffer, and itknew. It knew, because the devil was always in your head.

"You crazy bitch!" The assailant, now helpless and overpowered, did not know about your own personal demon, and he tried to get up, tried to leap forward at you and strangle the last bit of air out of your lungs, but he couldn't. Somethingwas holding him back.

"You want him dead?" It asked, but you know the devil took more pleasure in inflicting pain rather than swiftly killing.

"No." You grinned, eyes dark and dangerous. "I want him to suffer."

"That's my girl."

Blood-curling screams echoed in the alleyway. You didn't know what it was doing to him, but you knew for a fact that you were enjoying the sounds that came out of your attacker. His wrists contorted in a way you didn't think was possible, and the melody of broken bones reminded you that what was happening was wrong. For a moment, your brain was rational, telling you that it should stop, that you should both just leave and forget this ever happened. But... it also felt good, it felt like you've just been reborn, discovering a deeply buried part of you that ached to be exposed. Then, his legs twisted and the man winced in pain, so much pain, and your heart fluttered in your chest.

"More?" It asked and you nodded.

"More."

His arms looped, like a deformed puppet loosely strung, and it made him dance in the rain until his body gave up from fatigue.

"Aw, I was really hoping he'd be a feisty one." It mused, and you also clicked your tongue in disappointment. Before you left, you gave your assailant a good kick in the stomach, your boot stomping on his face with so much anger and force that what remained was unrecognisable.

Wet clothes piled on the floor, you wrapped your naked body in a blanket to warm yourself up. What just happened? What did you do? Why did you allow it to happen and more importantly, why did you love every minute of it? The questions jogged in your fuzzy brain, as you slowly sobered up.

"Why did I enjoy it, Satan?" You asked, lips quivering.

"I told you, my name's not Satan, it's-"

"Eren, I know. I remember." You could feel it quirk a brow, surprised and impressed by its name rolling down your tongue so naturally. "Why did I enjoy it? It's wrong and disgusting."

"Do you remember what happens when you say my name?" It sounded almost concerned.

"You physically manifest, I know. Now answer my fuckingquestion."

"What do you want me to say?" Itasked, fragments of muscle, skin and silk pulling together from thin air. First, its legs. Then, its upper body, draped in a charcoal-black robe. "That you're as sadistic as I am? Maybe it wasn't a mistake that you have a demon, not an angel." And finally, its face materialised in front of you — long dark brown hair falling down his shoulders and eyes so green, it felt like a forest was in them. It looked almost human, the hooked nose, the elongated ears, the deeply sunken emeralds and jagged mouth betraying its true nature.

"I thought you'd have fangs." Was your only response at the scene unfolding in front of you, blanket clutched at your chest. Any normal person would shudder at the demonic sight of Eren appearing in front of them, but to you, it felt comforting to finally assign a face to the voice you so desperately tried to ignore.

"And I thought you wanted to get rid of me." It scoffed, its facial features changing, becoming softer and resembling a human man, but those eyes didn't change an ounce.

"I don't know what I want anymore. If it weren't for you, I would've been raped and dead, probably."

"Just embrace it, Y/N. Just let go of that annoying voice in your head that tells you it's wrong." He encouraged. "There's no such thing as good or bad, right or wrong. It's just surviving, adapting or dying."

Eren looked unbelievably human and incredibly handsome in the dim light of your living room lamp. Maybe it was the alcohol that hasn't left your body yet, or maybe it was the fact that he saved you, again, but the truth was that the devil in your house was making you feel something you couldn't even feel for Jean — and you thought you were in love with Jean.

"Alright, let's pretend for a moment that I give into temptation." Your eyes found his and you felt hypnotised, the rational part of your brain slowly overshadowed by your instincts and feelings. "What then? Do you leave me alone? Do you go back to hell? Do Igo to hell?"

"Oh, I wouldn't call it hell. More like a demonic paradise." He shrugged, eyes bored and blank, devout of any emotion. You leaned forward trying to search for something in his darkened orbs.

"Why are you being nice to me? You're supposed to save me from death, not rape."

He clicked his tongue, your question drilling into his brain, repeating itself over and over again. Why did he save you? It's not like he cared, he only did his job, right? Right?

Wrong.

The demon you grew up with, the demon who tormented you, the demon who tried so desperately to ruin your life did, in fact, give two shits about you and your pathetic existence. Just not in the way you thought.

"Let's just say no one gets to touch you but me." Eren closed the gap between you two, his nose almost grazing over yours. He was absolutely intoxicating and you always fought with the constant need to let him control you. After all, he was always with you, he saw you hit your lowest points, he saw the best of you, he saw your naked body, he saw everything, ergo you were his. Your head quickly turned to the side before you leaned back, exhaustion written all over your face as Eren clicked his tongue. The thing about demons was that they couldn't physically interfere without their human's consent, only using invisible force to stop you from dying and he was just so close.

"Ah, but you can't touch me, though." You trailed off, brow quirked at his narrowed eyes. You've done your homework, you knew what he needed, but still, that side of you tried to prevail over the side that craved his touch.

"Yet." Eren snapped back before your drifted to sleep.

Once again you dreamt of it him, his cock buried deep inside your needy cunt as you screamed his name over and over again while you came undone. When you jolted up from your sleep, he was there, watching you, like a predator stalking its prey. Normally he wouldn't be there, but since you called his name, Eren was glaring down at your helpless body, famished for something only you could give him.

"What's the time?" You groaned, fingers rubbing your eyelids.

"Three in the morning." He answered, eyes glued to you. "Bad dream?" The demon sneered. You knew he'd been in your head again, you knew those dreams existed for a reason.

"They wouldn't be bad if you'd just stay the fuck out of my mind." You hummed with a fake smile.

"Alright then, look me in the eye and tell me, reallytell me you want me to leave you alone." But you couldn't and he knew it. "Stop fighting it, Y/N. For two decades you kept trying. Maybe you should stop being stubborn and just give in." Eren shrugged, his voice tempting and you only wondered if that's how Eve felt when the snake tempted her. You weren't a Christian by any means, but you knew the story well enough to figure out the consequences.

"I have work tomorrow. Please let me sleep." You got up from the couch, blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

And that's when Eren reached his limits. He followed you into your bedroom, something knocking the wind out of you as you fell on the mattress. Somethingpulling the blanket off of you. Somethingtravelling down your arms, goosebumps dotting your skin as he stood in the doorway.

"I can't touch you, but I can do so many things to you." He inched closer, his figure imposing and dangerous and you could feel your core burning. "I can smell your arousal, Y/N. I know you want it. You just have to say it." Eren demanded and you hated that he was right. Slowly but surely, the battle in your heart and mind was coming to an end the more he got closer to the bed. "Say it."

You whined and writhed in pain and pleasure, and in the blink of an eye your life flashed before your eyes as you came to the conclusion that you've tried so hard to stay away from the demon, but either he was too persistent, or you were too weak. Or you just simply wanted him to ravage you and you were okay with that. Your hands stopped moving, your body stopped fighting.

"Do it..." You half-begged, judgement clouded, vision blurry. "Please, do it! Touch me, break me, fuck me, please! I need you, need to feel you..."

Like some sort of spell had just been lifted, Eren felt relieved. The sight of your sprawled body, combined with the lustful look in your lidded eyes only fed his hunger and he was famished. Calloused fingertips grazed over your knees, up your thighs, sending chills down your spine as you arched your back, pulling the demon closer to your face.

"Kiss me?" You asked, voice sweet and needy and he crushed his lips onto yours. They were surprisingly soft, tasting of whiskey and honey and the flavour lingered on your lips after he pulled away. Your body quivered under his touch, yearning for more, hands tugging at his silken robe to expose the chiselled chest. Eren pressed his forehead onto yours, hot breath tickling your cheeks.

"I'm going to ruin you, Y/N." He dug his teeth into your shoulder, the imprint burning into your skin, all the pent-up frustration slowly being released with each movement. He dragged one hand over your breasts before settling on one nipple, fingers pinching it to earn a reaction out of you. A whimper escaped from your lips as you pushed your chest upwards, wanting him closer than the laws of physics would allow. Your slender hands tangled in his locks as Eren left a trail of purple marks and bites all over your neck and shoulder.

"Fill me up, please..."

"Patience." He mused. "I've waited so many years for this, you can wait a few more minutes." Head buried between your tits, his hand travelled lower until it found your wet cunt. Fingers grazed over your folds before he drove his index into your soaked pussy and that's when you knew just how much you craved him. Your silken walls clenched around his curled-up finger and your neediness made him add another one, moans drilling through his eardrums, into his brain. "Fuck, you're so wet..." Eren hummed, vibrations tickling your skin. You couldn't form a coherent sentence even if your life counted on it. All you could think about was that if his fingers stretched you, his cock would tear your cunt apart — and you reallywanted to feel that. Fingernails dug into his back and he hissed, his tongue flicking your nipple and all the build-up was too much for you.

"Eren, please..." You mewled, your chest rising and falling with each breath, with each touch, each lick.

"You want me to fuck you? Want me to tear you apart?" The demon growled. His sudden change in tone only further added fuel to the fire inside your core and you eagerly nodded.

"Yes, God — yes! But Eren, I want to see you, not this pretty face you put on." You pleaded, eyes teary and demanding.

"No." He simply answered and that instantly made you jolt up, forcefully pushing him off of you.

"Are you trying to screw with my mind again? You've literally been with me for 24 years!" You shouted, and even Eren was slightly confused. "You tormented me for two decades, put me in an asylum, constantly stopped me from killing myself and now I can't even see the real you?" You threw your hands at him and he caught your wrists with ease. "You owe me at least that, Satan." Tears freely rolled down your face and you could feel his hot tongue lick the salty drops from your cheek. Your pain was his pleasure, he was a demon after all, the embodiment of all evil, but he decided you were corruptedenough to at least see his true colours, which you only managed to glance at.

"You're right, Y/N," Eren kissed your forehead and you couldn't even notice the manipulative hints in his voice, "you deserve at least this." He pulled back, and slowly his face distorted, allowing you to look at his disfigured mouth, elongated ears and abnormally long tongue.

"Thank you, thank you!" You beamed with bright eyes.

The woman who battled her demon? Gone.

In her place stood only a shell of a person, whose sole purpose was to get fucked by the demon in front of her. You feverishly parted his lips with your tongue, touch-starved and desperate, and Eren threw you onto the bed, robe pooled on the floor. And you were right, his cock wouldtear you apart by the looks of it. Before he could do anything, you spread your legs for him, like a good little slut, mouth agape and nothing but lust in your eyes. The sneer on his face was unlike anything you've seen before, and it both terrified and aroused you.

"Eager to please, aren't you?" He climbed onto the bed, the velvety tip of his cock barely touching your wet slit.

"I'm begging you, Eren, please fuck me!"

The demon scoffed at your pathetic words, but he couldn't deny how much he loved to hear your needy voice. You wouldn't have to know that, of course. He ever so slowly pushed the tip in between your folds, your cunt greedily taking it all in while you whimpered at the foreign sensation.

"Shhh," Eren cooed at you mockingly, "you love it, don't you?"

"Y-yes, please, d-deeper..."

Was it really you speaking or was this another one of his demonic tricks? And more importantly, did it even matter that he made you say those things when his cock felt just so good inside of you? Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you as Eren thrusts became harder. Your tits bounced with every move, pleasure engulfing both of you and you never knew demons fucked so raw.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He hissed into your ear, the compliment only making you clench your walls around his impossibly hard cock. "Such a good girl." Eren praised you, knowing perfectly well how much you lacked appreciation from your parents, knowing perfectly well how your childhood traumas and frustration only aided him. He was your demon, after all. When your only response was to roll your eyes at the back of your head like a possessed woman, Eren picked up the pace, his abnormal tongue licking at your collarbone.

"D-do you l-like it?" You asked, concerned that he might not be satisfied with you. He wouldn't be fucking you so hard if he didn't, but you were so brainwashed that nothing made sense anymore.

"I do, doll, now be a good whore and rub that clit, will you?" The demon urged and with a shaky hand you complied, the friction mixed with his thrusts sending you into a frenzy. You were close and he knew it.

"Oh, f-fuck! Eren!"

His cock hit that sweet spot and you were done for, your legs loosened around his waist, falling onto the bed, but he kept on fucking you.

"My turn." Eren growled, his hands lifting your hips like you were some sort of ragdoll between his fingers. Your vision blurred, every word you tried to utter lost in your throat the more he buried himself into you, yet somehow you still managed to clench your walls. With one final thrust you felt him spill his hot seed, cum dripping out of your sore cunt as he pulled out.

Eren plopped next to you and you curled up in a ball, head on his chest. You were craving his attention, his care, but he responded by bringing his hands behind his head, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. He wanted to hold you tightly, he wanted to pet your head, but he couldn’t. And you were alright with that, because you knew that, no matter what, you would always have your own personal demon at your side.

#eren jaeger #eren smut #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger smut #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #shingeki no kyoujin

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moonlit-jeno · 4 years

Text

evanescence (m.)

pairing: kim jungwoo x fem. reader

genre/warnings: ghost au, explicit sexual content, angst, fluff, mentions of death, some graphic violence/ gore, character death, brief mention of heights, i swear it’s not as bad as it sounds

word count: 7.8k

summary:

evanescence (n.): the quality of being fleeting or vanishing quickly; impermanence; i.e the evanescence of dreams

song to listen to: me & your ghost- blackbear, faded in my last song- nct, trampoline- SHAED, lonely heart- 5 seconds of summer, dreaming with a broken heart- john mayer

notes: evanescence i.e not the band who wrote my immortal <3 part of the almost collab!

The thing about fear is that it’s irrational.

Of course the doll in the corner of your room won’t suddenly come alive and kill you. Of course the spider on your ceiling is actually harmless. Of course nightmares won’t come true and haunt you in your daily life, won’t do more than bother you for a few minutes when you’re asleep. Knowing that doesn’t make it any less scary. Doesn’t stop the shivers from crawling up your spine, doesn’t ease your breathing when you curl into yourself in an attempt to hide.

Some people find comfort in crawling under their blankets, hiding themselves from the rest of the world as if the thick cloth will protect them. You don’t have that luxury. Because the thing you fear isn’t some axe murderer breaking into your house, or some mutant spider wrapping you up in a web. It’s not ghosts or ghouls or demons.

It’s sleep itself.

You used to love sleeping. Naps were considered a favorite hobby of yours, a way to escape from your obligations temporarily or lift your spirits during a bad day. But the line between like and dislike is thin, and the peaceful dreams you were accustomed to transformed into terrors that torture your nights and leave you shaking and sleep deprived when you wake.

Coffee becomes your best friend, the drink becoming a crutch that you use desperately to avoid reliving the nightmare that haunts you every time your eyes fall shut. It’s always the same scene: a basement, a young man being tortured by a masked figure. Punched, strangled, stabbed. It’s always in that order, with the exact same amount of punches and stabbings each time- six. It’s worse than any movie you’ve ever seen, worse than anything that you can imagine. And yet it doesn’t get any less horrifying as time goes on, as you relive the same thing over and over again.

The only thing that changes is the point of view. Sometimes you can see it from his perspective, begging for mercy from an expressionless figure whose ears fall deaf to the boy’s pleas. That’s the worst, you think, because you can feel everything. It leaves you frantically checking yourself for wounds and marks and bruises, the vividness of your dream leaving you shocked when you find your skin unmarred. Sometimes you watch from the corner of the room, able to see everything yet unable to help, your voice stuck in your throat when you attempt to cry for help. And sometimes, you’re the killer, repeatedly delivering blow after blow in a body you can’t control.

Tonight’s different. Instead of the boy strapped to the chair, it’s you.

You shake and cry out, trying desperately to free yourself of the restraints. They aren’t strong, and yet your limbs feel like jelly and you can’t break free of them. A shadow looms over you and you look up, expecting to see the killer, but you don’t. Instead, the boy stands over you.

His features are softer like this, not scrunched in pain or splattered with blood and bruises. He smiles gently at you.

“Hello,” He says, kneeling down in front of you. One hand lands on yours and the restraints fall away, your limbs now free. “I’m Jungwoo.” You just blink at him. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.” Jungwoo’s smile falters a bit, and he huffs a humorless laugh. “That… yeah. That’s less of a dream and more of a…” He trails off, shrugs. “Memory.”

It takes a moment for it to process fully. Memory? If that’s his memory, then that means that he had to go through all of that. “I’m- I’m so sorry. Who put you through that?” He shrugs. “Dunno. But I wouldn’t pity me too much.” There’s a tight lipped smile on his face. “I’m the one that’s made you go through it, too.”

You blink once, twice, and feel the sympathy in your bones turn to fury. “Why?” You ask, tears brimming at your eyes. “I didn’t do anything to you! And you still tortured me, every night. Do you know how terrified I was? I am?”

“I’m sorry.” Jungwoo says, eyes downcast. “I didn’t even know I was projecting onto you at first. I would just get so consumed with what happened that night, and I guess you would relive the scene with me.” He takes a slow step towards you and raises his head. “I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry.” You nod, because what can you say? Jungwoo doesn’t seem to know either and he stands there, shifting from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at you. “So.” You start, head tilting to the side curiously. “How does this work?” “How does what work?” Jungwoo seems surprised, but whether it’s by your question or by the fact that you’re able to string a coherent sentence together is lost on you.

“I dunno. This. Like are you a ghost? Do you just like, live inside my head now.” “Yeah, I mean I’m dead so I must be a ghost. Haven’t had much time to talk to people and ask.” It’s not meant to be funny, but you can’t stop yourself from laughing. You clear your throat to cover it, trying to focus your energy on your next words. He doesn’t look too hurt at your amusement, though. His eyes are twinkling.

“Hmm let’s test it. If you live in my head, you should be able to hear my thoughts right?” Jungwoo stares at you, bringing one hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. Finally, he snaps his fingers. “Got it! You want pizza.” “Nope! I want you out of my head.” Your smile is sickeningly sweet. Jungwoo rolls his eyes, tongue sticking into his cheek briefly before laughing.

“Well, I want to be alive but here we are. Guess we’re at a standstill.”

Guilt fills you and you open your mouth to apologize, but Jungwoo disappears right before your eyes. You try to call out after him but it’s too late, the dream’s over. The annoying beep of your alarm replaces his soft laughter and you groan, fumbling with your phone to turn the sound off.

Classes pass quickly for once, although you’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t register any of the material. You’re done for the day before you know it, finding yourself at a cafe with Johnny. “You’re in a good mood.” He comments, looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “Did you get replaced by aliens?” You roll your eyes. “I can be in a good mood, Johnny.” It’s rarely true because you’re normally running off of approximately six minutes of sleep, but hey, it still counts.

Johnny raises his eyebrows. “Y/n, you’re never in a good mood. Not even when your best friend is here.”

“My best friend is here? Where?” Johnny gives you a deadpan expression and you laugh, popping a grape into your mouth. “Kidding, you know I love you. But guess what: I actually slept last night!” He gasps so obnoxiously loud that he inhales the chip he was holding and chokes around it, slamming his hand down on the table and hacking his lungs out. You put your head in your hands until he finally recovers. “You slept? You actually slept? Holy fuck, you did get replaced by aliens!”

“No aliens, John. No nightmares either.” Johnny, though he’s your best friend, doesn’t know the details of your dreams. He knows that they’re bad enough to make you cry and curl up in his arms from time to time, knows that you chug energy drinks to avoid sleeping, but that’s about it. No gruesome murders in sight for him.

“Holy shit, that’s great! We should celebrate.” Johnny reaches across the table to high five you, grinning from ear to ear. “Wanna come over and crack open a few cold ones?” He bites his lip and you know that it’s taking all of his effort not to finish that sentence.

You appreciate it, but you shake your head. “I’ve got a lab report to finish plus like two papers due. I really don’t have time.” That’s only slightly true. Yes, you do have homework, but you normally wouldn’t let that stop you. The itch to see Jungwoo again, however crazy it may sound, is driving you crazy and for once in your life, you can’t wait to fall asleep. Seeing Johnny’s expression drop makes you feel a little bad for bailing on him with a ghost. “Maybe this weekend?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Johnny grins again. “Hopefully you get to sleep tonight.”

The nightmares seem to go away permanently after that. Your dreams always take place in that one room, but Jungwoo’s always there to greet you. A month passes and you learn a lot about him, almost to the point where you see him as a friend. Almost. Because you can’t really be friends with someone who isn’t alive, right? But he feels real. His spirit is still alive, to the point where you forget he’s a ghost who you can only talk to in your dreams, and that’s what matters. Except tonight when you fall asleep, you open your eyes to sand and salt water, gentle waves calmly lapping at the shore. Strange. Jungwoo sits with his back facing you, knees drawn up to his chest. He doesn’t look up when you sit down next to him, but he does speak when you say his name softly.

“I think I figured out why I came back.” Jungwoo says, eyes concentrated on the water. “My brother’s in danger.” His head drops to rest on his knees and you pat his back, not knowing what to say.

You don’t learn what Jungwoo meant until the next night, the man so distraught that he isn’t able to form words before your time’s up. The scene is different again this time, a playground replacing the beach from the night before. Jungwoo sits on a red plastic swing, his feet dragging on the ground sadly.

“Hey Jungwoo.” You call out the greeting gently, taking a seat next to him. “Are you okay?” He nods, laughs a little. “Yeah, sorry for freaking out last night. It’s just. It’s a lot.” “Sounds like it is. You wanna talk about it?” You pat his knee comfortingly and he stares at your hand for a long moment before covering it with his own.

He tells you about his brother first, about how much he misses Mark, about how bad he feels for leaving him on his own. Mark’s younger than him, but only by a year, and he was nowhere near as good as him at FIFA. He tells you that he doesn’t remember who killed him, but that as soon as he was transported to the beach, he knew his brother was in danger. There’s no explanation on how the beach told him that, but you have no place questioning the afterlife. You listen patiently throughout the whole story, and it seems to help Jungwoo, his shoulders sagging with relief when he’s done.

“So whoever killed me,” Jungwoo squeezes your hand, stares at the woodchips dragging around. “They’re going to kill my brother next.”

“So we find your killer. Easy.” You squeeze his hand back. “Mark’s going to be okay, Woo. I promise.”

Tonight’s dream takes place on a rooftop. There are lights strung up that lead you straight to Jungwoo, the man facing you with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. His arms are outstretched and you walk into them, sighing softly when he wraps you in his embrace. Lips press to your forehead and you swear you’ve reached heaven. “Dance with me.” He whispers it as if you have a choice to disagree with him when he looks this good. You nod and bury your face in his chest, swaying with him under the stars. There’s music playing now, music that you didn’t hear before, and he hums softly to it as you dance. A squeal leaves you when he spins you, dipping you down before pulling you close, your back to his chest. His lips graze your ear and he laughs before spinning you back around and pulling you into a kiss.

It feels so good and you find yourself getting lost in his touch. The warmth of him against you, the solidness of his chest under your palms. It’s so nice, so comforting, so… real. But it can’t be real. Because this is a dream, because Jungwoo is dead. The thought is enough to jolt you out of your haze and you try to pull back, need to pull back, but the hand on the back of your head holds you still and it feels so good that you almost don’t want to pull out of his embrace. “Jungwoo,” you mumble his name against his lips, not wanting to pull away from the kiss but needing to know the answer to your question. “Jungwoo, are you real?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jungwoo chuckles, pulling you back for more. “Don’t I feel real?”

A gasp leaves you when his hand slips lower to your ass, squeezing before slipping between your thighs. He finds little resistance, easily reaching under your dress and past the thin panties you’re wearing to swipe through your folds and enter you, stretching you out deliciously well. You cling to him as if he’s your life line and not the other way around, letting him take you apart with his fingers. His name leaves your lips in a sob and you press your face against his neck, clutch at his shoulders. “Please, Jungwoo, please.”

Both of his hands slide to your ass and he picks you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically. He carries you over to the ledge of the roof, setting you down on the cool stone. He barely gives you time to take in what’s happening before he’s dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes dark and so intense that you can’t look away from his gaze as he attaches his lips to your thighs. You slide one hand into his hair and he moans into your skin, the vibrations traveling through you as he kisses his way up your thighs and to your core. A sigh leaves you and you put your other hand behind you for balance, your heart dropping to your stomach when your fingertips wrap around the edge of the balcony. “Jungwoo!” You yelp immediately trying to stand up when you look behind you and see the darkness below you, decorated with lights from buildings so far down that they’re almost as tiny as the stars above you. “Jungwoo, I’m gonna fall. Ohmygod I’m gonna fall, Woo-”

“Shh,” Jungwoo hushes you, rubbing your thigh soothingly. He reaches for your hand and laces your fingers together, taking a moment to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Look at me, y/n. You’re not going to fall, okay? I’ll always be here to catch you if you do.” Something in his eyes looks so honest, so sincere, and you find yourself nodding slowly.

“Okay.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, too scared to raise it any louder and break the moment between you. “I trust you.” Jungwoo smiles up at you one more time before lowering himself down to your core. His free hand lifts the edge of your dress up and he takes his time rubbing slow circles into your clit, sighing out praises about how good you are when you shake from the unbearably intense sensation. His eyes stay on yours the whole time, even as he lowers his mouth to your pussy and eats you out like a man starved. It feels so good that you can barely process it, squirming against him and letting your eyes roll back.

“Fuck, Jungwoo,” You whimper, feeling your orgasm build up in the pit of your stomach. “Shit, c’mere.” You use the hand buried in his hair to tug him up, pressing his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss that feels way too good for the moment. He rubs messy circles into your clit that have you clutching him tight to your chest, crying out his name so loud that you’re sure the entire city can hear you. “You like that?” Jungwoo asks, although his voice is so cocky that you’re almost entirely sure he knows the answer. “Fucking love it,” You pant out, orgasm so close you can taste. “Love you, ohmygod.” The end of your sentence cuts off with a whine as you come so hard you nearly black out, holding onto him so tightly you’re sure you would’ve broken at least one of his bones if this were real.

If this were real, if he were real. If this wasn’t a dream with a ghost. The realization washes over you like cold water and the dream disappears before you in a flash, leaving you trembling and empty in more ways than one. Your hand is tingling and when you look at it, you realize that Jungwoo didn’t let go the entire time.

You’re not in your bed when you wake up. It takes you a moment to realize it, the weight of your dream still heavy on your mind, but then you open your eyes and process your surroundings and realize that even though you’re awake, you’re back in your nightmares.

A scream leaves you and you jolt out of the chair, falling flat on your ass. You scramble backwards a good few feet before relaxing, realizing that your mind was just playing tricks on you. This is no nightmare place, it’s just your basement. Except…

That chair is definitely the chair from your nightmares- or well, Jungwoo’s murder. You’ve never seen it down here before, but then again, you never go into the basement. It’s been years since you’ve been down here, the room always giving you the creeps. And you’ve never sleepwalked- you can’t fathom why you’d be down here.

“Jungwoo?” You whisper, not even flinching at the gust of cold air as he materializes next to you. “Why am I down here?” “This is where I was murdered.” Jungwoo murmurs, his gaze distant, cloudy. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Here? Are you sure?” He nods strongly, not an ounce of hesitation on his face. You get to your feet and watch him pace around, tentatively poking at objects. A violent shudder runs through him when he touches the chair. “Jungwoo, this is my house.” He freezes. “This is your house? Then you must know who murdered me.”

There’s a long second where you just stare at him, not knowing what to say. Thoughts abandon you and your mind goes blank, leaving you to shake your head and stutter out objections. “W- No, Jungwoo, I can’t-” A deep breath, a heavy exhale. “No one ever comes down here, and I can’t remember the last time I even had people here.”

“Well someone had to come down here!” Jungwoo presses, motioning at himself. “Y/n, I’m dead. You could help me find who killed me.”

You spend hours thinking through every person you know, mulling over all of your friends and anyone else who has ever been to your house. Parents are ruled out immediately- they live across the country, first off, and your mom nearly cries whenever she so much as swats a fly. Jungwoo tries to help, but he doesn’t know anyone the way that you do, and he’s a tad bit negative.

“Okay, but how do you know they’re not killers.” He asks, tone flat. “I mean, do you have hard evidence? Because somehow none of them are killers, and yet…” He smiles humorlessly and holds his arms out, doing a twirl for you. “I’m dead.” “I’m trying.” You say tiredly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s just hard. Literally no one ever comes over, and I can’t picture my friends as killers. Plus, no one has access to my house except for me.” You purse your lips, staring at your sad little notepaper list with dozens of names scratched out. “Is it possible this happened before I lived here?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” He doesn’t look convinced.

You purse your lips, groaning in defeat when your mind stays blank. “I’m sorry, Woo. We’ll figure it out eventually, I promise. I just can’t think right now.” “Hey, it’s okay. Thank you for helping and not like, I don’t know, calling an exorcist.” Jungwoo presses himself to your side, poking your cheek when you laugh, and his presence is so comforting that it’s easy to forget that he’s not really there. You swat at him good naturedly, your laugh cutting off early when you realize that he’s disappeared. You call for him a few times, panic racing through your mind, until he manifests again a few feet away from you.

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry! Did that hurt you? I didn’t know that would happen!” You jump to your feet, reaching out to him on impulse before thinking better of it.

Jungwoo laughs softly, but his form flickers. “It’s okay. I guess you can only touch me in dreams.” He smiles, but it’s with his mouth closed tight. The chair becomes visible through his form as he flickers again.

The mention of touch jolts your memories and you scratch the back of your neck nervously. “Wait, Woo, I meant to ask.” He looks at you expectantly, humming for you to go on. “Last night, in the dream. Was that like, was that really you?” “Hm? Are you asking if it was real or not?” Jungwoo asks. You nod, unable to look away from his gaze. “It was me, y/n. I’m real.”

You nod, lips pursed as you think it over. Jungwoo smiles though it’s hollow, hard to see the usual light in him when he’s nearly translucent again. “I’ll see you tonight?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before vanishing, leaving you alone in the cold basement.

“Yeah.” You whisper softly, a dark cloud hanging over your head.

“What’s in the bag?” Johnny asks you, nodding towards your bookbag. It’s normally empty, save for a notebook or wallet, but today it’s stuffed full of newspaper clippings and binders.

“Nothing.” You shrug. “Just some old articles.”

Johnny thumbs through a stack of the papers before looking up at you, his forehead creased. “On murders?”

“Yeah. They’re interesting. Figured I should know the history of the town I live in, right?” You take a sip of your coffee, hoping you don’t look as insane as you feel. It’d taken you hours of searching to find those articles, digging through the library archives and reading murder after murder to find ones that seemed similar to Jungwoo’s case. They were unsettling, to say the least, and the fact that someone had taken a life under your own roof left you jittery. “I mean, I guess?” Johnny shakes his head and thumbs through a few more, hesitating at one of the clippings before shoving them back in your bag. “Kind of an appetite killer.” He says, pausing after a second and laughing. “Hah, get it? Killer…” The cold stare you give him has him sobering up quickly. He clears his throat. “Anyways. What else have you been up to? You’ve been kinda distant lately.” Have you been? Probably. “Sorry.” You shrug. “Caught up in my work, you know how it is.” Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “Seeing a new man?” You shoot him a withering look. He throws his hands up innocently. “Woman? Person?”

The word ‘ghost’ is on the tip of your tongue, but that sounds insane even to you. You can’t be seeing someone whose body fades out of existence when you so much as blow air on him too strongly. “No, Johnny. I’d tell you if I was dating someone.” “Promise?” He asks. You hold your pinky out to him, interlocking the digits and offering him a smile. He grins back. “Good. You wanna come over tonight? Play some video games, order some pizza?”

It sounds good, and you really don’t want to be alone at your house after discovering it was the site of a murder, but you don’t want to leave Jungwoo. He’s kind of counting on you for something big, plus you have all those articles to show him…

At your hesitation, Johnny pouts. “Come on, I feel like I’ve barely seen you for like, a month. Please? It’ll be just like old times.” The promise of old times has your resolve fading, and you give into his whining. He cheers and knocks your coffees together, dramatically complaining when the liquid splashes onto his sleeve.

Taking a nap had seemed like a great idea when you had gotten home from lunch, but it’s the first time you’ve dreamt without Jungwoo in your dreams, and all of the nightmares were so genuinely disturbing that you wake up sobbing. Every room seems so foreboding that you can’t bring yourself to sit in the house any longer and you run out the door without any further thought. The rain soaks through your thin sleep clothes and you find that you have three missed calls from Johnny, but you don’t bother to call him back. You’ll be at his place soon enough, and the rain is starting to blue the screen too much for you to see. Or maybe it’s your tears, you can’t be sure, and you really don’t care.

You knock on Johnny’s door, stepping back and impatiently shifting from foot to foot before stepping forward and knocking again. Exhaling harshly, you raise your fist to knock again. The door opens.

A very disgruntled Johnny stands before you, one hand wiping at his face. His hair is disheveled and you have the conscious thought that he must have just woken up, but your brain is flying a million miles a second and you don’t have time to spend worrying about if you’ve interrupted his beauty sleep. “Y/n?” Johnny yawns out, opening the door wider. “You were supposed to come over like 3 hours ago.” His sentence goes unfinished as you push past him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the living room. With your hands on his shoulders, you push him down to sit on the couch. He looks less tired and more confused now, which makes sense considering he’s never seen you act like this- you’re not even sure that you’ve ever acted like this- but he keeps silent, trusting you enough to tell him what the fuck is going on. He patiently puts his hands on his knees, watching you pace around the area.

It takes you a while to formulate exactly what to say to him. How exactly do you tell your best friend that you’ve been helping a ghost solve his own murder without him attempting to send you to a psych ward? After a few moments of pacing, in which you accidentally leave a trail of muddy footprints on Johnny’s carpet, you pause.

“This is going to sound insane.” You start, facing Johnny. He nods encouragingly, motioning for you to go on. “I need you to believe me. Promise me that you’ll hear me out until the very end.” Johnny nods. “No, I need you to promise me.” Maybe it’s how frantic your voice sounds, or the fact that you’re soaking wet and still breathing heavily from your run, but Johnny promises without hesitation. His voice is soft and his eyes are wide and you thank God for giving you such a good best friend. You search his eyes with your own, and finding nothing but encouragement and trust, you begin.

“Okay, so. You know those nightmares I’ve been having?” A nod. “Okay, so apparently there’s a ghost living in my house that’s been like, projecting their memories onto me.” Johnny blinks, not even trying to hide the skeptical look on his face. “Before you say anything, I know it sounds crazy. But ghosts are real. Jungwoo- Jungwoo’s real.” Johnny inhales sharply. “His name is Jungwoo?”

“Yeah. He was murdered 4 years ago in my basement. My basement, Johnny.” You take a deep breath, shuddering. “Whoever did it is still out there, and Jungwoo thinks that his brother might be in danger.” You shift anxiously from foot to foot, hands wringing together in front of you until Johnny takes them into his own, thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands to calm you. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you help me find him? I just need to make sure that he’s okay, and I know it’s silly that I promised a ghost but-” “I’ll help.” There’s a reassuring smile on Johnny’s face when he interrupts you, and you breath out in relief. “It’s okay, y/n. I believe you.”

You launch yourself forward into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t deserve you.” Johnny laughs. “Yeah, you don’t.” He pulls back from the hug long enough to look you in the eyes. “For right now, let's go to bed, yeah? You really look like you need some rest.”

“Okay, so here’s his address. I mean, I think it’s his address.” Johnny looks over your shoulder at the satellite image of Mark’s house, nodding. “We can get there in about two hours.” Johnny hums, stepping away from the computer. “I can get us there faster than that, don’t worry. C’mon, let’s have some coffee and then we can go.” He makes sure you eat something that actually has nutritional value before you go, even going as far as to pack a bag before you hit the road. Johnny does his best to reassure you throughout the drive, but you’re a nervous mess. You compulsively take sips from the water bottle Johnny had forced you to take with and it’s empty in no time, leaving you to drum your fingers along your thighs and squirm with a full bladder.

The house looks so much bigger, so much more foreboding in person. Johnny gives you a reassuring look and after a deep breath, you knock on the door. It takes a few seconds before it creaks open to reveal a man around your age peering at you through black-rimmed glasses that sit crookedly on his face. “Hello?” “Hi, Mark?” he nods, looking you up and down. “Do you have a moment to talk? I just have a few questions, it w-” He’s already moving to close the door before the sentence is even out of your mouth. “Wait, Mark!” You manage to wedge your foot in the door before it closes and he groans, rolling his eyes.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood to buy anything, so if you could just please-” He tries again. “It’s about your brother!” You exclaim, finally succeeding in getting Mark to listen. He freezes and stares down at you dumbly. His eyes stay on you for a little too long before lifting to look behind you.

“Johnny?” Mark asks, eyes widening. “Is that you?” You look over to find Johnny standing behind you, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s me. How you doin, kid?”

Mark lets you into the house after tackling Johnny into a hug, offering you tea and a seat on the couch. “I didn’t know you knew Jungwoo,” You whisper to Johnny, watching Mark grab cups from the kitchen.

Johnny shrugs. “Never had a reason to bring him up.” He definitely could’ve brought him up earlier, like when you mentioned you were seeing his ghost, but you brush it off as nothing. Maybe he didn’t want to upset you.

Mark returns, offering you each a cup of tea before taking a seat on the couch opposite you. “Wow, it’s been so long.” Mark laughs, clutching his tea for dear life. “It’s so good to see friends of Jungwoo’s again. It’s like, it’s not the same as seeing him but. It’s nice.”

“Good to see you too, Mark.” Johnny smiles. “I looked all over for you after Jungwoo’s death, but I couldn’t find you. When did you move?” Mark sniffs. “Um, I think like a month after it happened. They arrested the guy that killed him and I dipped. It was too painful to see all those little reminders of him everywhere.” Mark sniffs again, and wipes harshly at his eye. It makes you tear up a little too, thinking about how fondly Jungwoo talked about his brother, how unfair it is that they got ripped apart so soon. One phrase sticks out to you and you manage to reel yourself back in before you start crying too hard.

“Wait, they caught the guy? Do you know who killed him?” You side eye Johnny because he must have known that the killer was caught already, and it doesn’t make sense that he didn’t tell you considering that was the sole reason for this trip.

“Um, well. Jungwoo uh, he had a sort of accident.” His hands are shaking, you notice. Some tea spills onto his leg. “He used to go out to all these parties and he swore he’d be safe but I guess he slipped up this one time.” Mark takes a deep breath and his voice cracks. “He was driving home from a party and he probably thought he was fine but he was way too drunk and he hit a pedestrian. He drove away but her boyfriend saw the whole thing and followed him.” Mark drops his head down and sobs a little.

Johnny moves to comfort him and Mark calms down after a few moments, skillfully changing the topic away from his dead brother. All the water that you drank in the car finally catches up to you and you excuse yourself for a second. Mark’s laughter rings clearly from the living room and you can’t help but to laugh too, smiling at Johnny’s ability to make everyone happy. You fix your hair in the mirror, a little spring in your step at the thought of being able to fulfill your promise to Jungwoo.

You wish he was with you right now as you walk down the hallway back to the living room. There are so many pictures on the walls, Mark’s accomplishments framed proudly. It sends an ache through your heart that you’re here to see all of this by yourself. It’s only then, when you’re picturing Jungwoo exploring the house with you, that you realize how quiet it’s gotten.

Frowning, you call out Johnny’s name. You get no response and call out again, finally catching movement out of the corner of your eye. “Johnny, why’d you sneak up on me?” A laugh leaves you when you turn to fully face him, cutting off only at the flash of color that slowly fades to black.

Your head is throbbing when you come to, vision taking a few seconds to clear up. A groan leaves you and you shake your head softly, coming face to face with Mark. A Mark whose mouth is covered with duct tape. You freeze, eyes widening, then look down to find that the rest of him is bound, too. “What-”

Panic surges through you when you realize that your hands and ankles are bound too, and you jerk your head to the side, frantically searching to make sure that Johnny’s okay. You don’t find him. It’s only you and Mark in the room. “Johnny? Hey, whoever the fuck has us down here better leave Johnny the fuck alone!” You might currently be tied up, but the fact that your best friend is missing and potentially hurt overtakes any concern you may have for yourself. Mark’s eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically. You furrow your eyebrows and go to ask what he means, but you don’t get the chance.

“Oh, don’t worry. Johnny’s just fine.” The sentence comes from the man himself, standing right in front of the door. Relief fills you, turning to dread the second he closes the door and flips the lock. “You however…” “Johnny? What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he rolls his sleeves up to the elbow.

He tips his head to the side, looking at you with confusion. “Isn’t it obvious?” The glint in his eyes matches the knife he picks up, the dim light catching on the shine of the blade. “For someone who apparently experienced Jungwoo’s death dozens of times, you should be able to figure it out.”

You blink once, twice, and then your eyes bug so far out of your head you worry they might fall out. A soft wheeze leaves you as your chest constricts, panic blooming in your gut. Johnny wheezes too, but his is a wheeze of laughter. He’s amused.

His eyes slide down to Mark, whose eyes are glimmering with fresh tears. “Did you know it was me Mark? Did you know it was me who killed your brother?” The boy shakes his head frantically, tears free-falling down his cheeks now. There’s some muffled cries that you think sound like no, but the tape traps them and makes him incomprehensible. “Really?” Johnny asks, stepping forward until he reaches Mark and then squatting down in front of him.

“Liar.” Johnny whispers, dragging the syllables out. The point of the knife presses into the boys throat, and while the noise Mark makes is barely audible, you can feel his suffering. There’s a tense moment as Johnny increases the pressure, Mark leaning backwards as far as he can to get away, before Johnny pulls it away. Mark exhales strongly, relaxing a little bit. He’s still crying. “It doesn’t matter, though.”

Tears would probably be rolling down your cheeks if you could process what was happening. But shock has taken ahold of you, and you can only watch helplessly as Johnny turns to glance back at you. “Thanks to y/n, now you’ll never get the chance to tell anyone.”

Johnny whips back around in record speed and slices the knife right through Mark’s throat.

A scream leaves you and you fall forward, unable to do anything but watch in horror as the line in Mark’s neck wells with blood, the poor boy convulsing in horror. A wretched gurgling noise leaves him as he chokes and frantically gasps for air, made even worse by the duct tape over his mouth. Johnny sets the knife down delicately and uses that hand to pinch his fingers over Mark’s nose, effectively shutting off his air-flow. The fight drains out of Mark’s body along with his life, and it’s just a few more seconds before he stills completely.

You can’t think of anything to say, can just gape at Mark’s body as Johnny lets go of him and the boy hits the floor. Johnny turns to you next, picking the knife back up.

“It’s a shame you’re always so curious, y/n.” Johnny sighs, shaking his head. “You’re my best friend, I’m going to miss you.”

There’s the faintest breeze against your cheek bone, your hair blowing to tickle the back of your neck. You try your best not to shiver when it starts blowing against your wrists. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s not a draft from an open window, but it’s Jungwoo. He’s not visible, probably because he’s focusing his energy on freeing you. If Johnny notices anything wrong, he doesn’t say anything. Your wrists aren’t free yet, but you can feel the rope loosening. If you can buy yourself some more time…

“Why are you doing this? Why did you kill Jungwoo in the first place?” Your question obviously catches Johnny off guard and he stops walking, glancing off to the side and sighing softly. He seems to have an internal debate but then he shrugs, settling down on the floor across from you. It calms you a little to have him seated instead of looming over you, and you try your best to stay absolutely still.

When Johnny speaks, there’s a hint of regret in his voice. It’s hard to tell if it’s manufactured or not. “Jungwoo and I were best friends. We always had each others backs, always told each other everything. Ride or dies.” His eyes lower to his knife and he smears the blood around the blade with his thumb. “I was the one who hit the girl. I was drunk and it was stupid, but when I called Jungwoo to help me get rid of the body, he refused. He wanted to call the police, y/n. The police.” His eyes are brimming with tears now, and he looks up at you with an urgency that tells you to believe him. You don’t of course, and you can’t tell if he’s trying to convince you of his innocence, or himself. “My own best friend wanted to turn me in, y/n. I couldn’t let him do it.”

“How did you even get into my basement?”

“You were at a training retreat in the mountains for that job you ended up hating that weekend. I knew that your house was empty and where the spare key was, plus I knew that no one ever went into your basement.” Johnny shrugs. “His body’s in the backyard, in case you were wondering. Buried him under the dahlias.” The red dahlias, your mothers favorite plant. How many times had she gone out to water and tend to the flowers, unknowing of the poor boy who lay beneath? Your breath catches in your throat and you finally can feel tears pricking the back of your eyelids.

“You’re sick.” The sentence is barely above a whisper, but it carries enough weight with it. Johnny’s entire demeanor changes, his face twisting into an ugly scowl.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one that was going to betray my best friend by letting him rot in jail! How fucking dare you.” The ropes fall off of your wrists and you grab onto them to prevent them from hitting the ground and alerting Johnny. All that’s left is the rope on your ankle, and then you can make your move. “Yeah? Aren’t you betraying your best friend right now? Just like you did last time?” “I should’ve used the duct tape on you.” He murmurs, tightening his hold on the knife.

There’s enough give in the ropes that you can wiggle your ankles. You just need a few more seconds. “Why didn’t you?” “Ran out.” Johnny breathes, lunging at you. You squeak and roll to the side, groaning when your legs refuse to function. Sitting on them for so long made them feel like jelly and they tingle as the blood rushes back to your limbs. “What the- you little bitch.”

Johnny attacks again and you dodge yet again, doing nothing but rolling around and avoiding him. You definitely can’t beat him in a physical fight, but you can probably beat him in other ways.

Johnny’s breath catches in his throat. “J-Jungwoo?” He stops moving, obviously trying to process how someone who is clearly dead can stand in front of him. Unfortunately, his body doesn’t quite get the memo, and he trips over Mark’s form. A sickly thud resonates through the room as he falls, followed by a deafening silence.

When Johnny doesn’t move for a few seconds, you step closer to examine him. The first thing you notice is that there’s a little stain under his chest that’s steadily getting bigger, contrasting starkly against the wooden floor. The second thing you notice is the acrid stench of blood, too strong for the small room you’re in. Third is the tip of the blade sticking out of his back. After checking his pulse and finding nothing, you roll him over. You find the hilt of his knife sticking out of his chest and your breath catches in your throat. He must’ve landed on it when he tripped. You slump against the wall and try to catch your breath, staring at Johnny’s limp body and waiting for him to lunge at you.

He never does. You look up to say thank you to Jungwoo, but you don’t get a chance. He looks right at his brother’s limp body and disappears, leaving you alone in the room.

You sleep as much as you can, hoping that Jungwoo will pop up in your dreams again. You cry when you sleep and you cry when you wake, until you get to the point where your eyes burn and your face swells and you can’t physically cry anymore. You cry until you’re exhausted and yet you can’t sleep, can only frustratingly toss and turn and scream silently through your raw throat, praying to a god that you don’t believe in to let you see Jungwoo, just one more time. That’s all you need. Just one more time to say goodbye.

Promises are mumbled into your pillow and chanted in your mind but there’s only so much you can do to keep them. You swear to never forget Jungwoo but the words are meaningless and do nothing to stop his face from fading. Slowly, his features become less clear in your mind, his laugh blending with countless others until you can’t differentiate them. You get him a proper grave in a cemetery, and you go from visiting his grave every day to going every few days, until weeks pass before you remember you wanted to leave flowers for him. The flowers last even less than your promises, wilting and rotting on the stone, becoming a sadly unrecognizable mess. You do your best to clean it, and you cry so hard the first time you see the mess that you almost black out, but it’s now a sight that doesn’t even phase you.

Time doesn’t stop to wait for you. It’s not long before you finish grad school and get a job offer in a city 1500 miles away, much different from this one. Your sister drives down to help you pack, easily helping you throw things that you need into a suitcase and counteracting your hoarding tendencies. Something catches your eye just as you’re leaving and you pick it up, frowning at the little resin flower.

“What’s that?” your sister asks, leaning in over your shoulder. “Is that a dahlia?”

“I don’t know.” you furrow your eyebrows, trying to place why it seems so familiar, before shrugging. It makes a hollow sound when you toss it into the trash that seems to echo much too loud for such a tiny object.

She heaves your suitcase into your arms. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

You don’t look back.

#jungwoo fic #nct fic #jungwoo smut #nct smut #nct angst #kim jungwoo angst #nct 127 angst #nct 127 smut #jungwoo angst #nct 127 fic #kpop smut #kpop fic #kpop angst #nct: almost

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anerdinallherglory · 4 years

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Approaching Sun (31)

Author’s Note: Surprise readers! I wanted to celebrate the start of Spring Break (a very much needed break) by posting an update sooner than I expected. Also, it’s double the length, too. It’s practically two chapters in one!

Thank you always to my loyal readers. If I do not get back to you, please know that I see every review, every comment, and every mention. I am grateful for all of you!

Also, I have had a few readers tell me of songs they associate with A.S. and I just think that is so cool, because I too, connect music to books and fanfics that I read. I’d like to make a list of all my readers’ songs that they think fit A.S. and share them on my next update as the “soundtrack” for this story. Please let me know yours in the comments or through message.

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30

Chapter 31: Not Enough

Sakura spun the sword, adjusting it on her left forearm as she pivoted on her heel to bring it around her in another protective arc. The blackness that hovered before her again instantly shielded her enemies from view which could be considered both advantageous and disadvantageous for her.

For the first, Mako and Hisa immediately rushed forward, using the ninjutsu as a cloak. They crisscrossed her, one taking a swipe at her from the front right and the other coming from the left. When Hisa’s blade came from the right, Sakura’s first instinct was to dodge and strike her foe in the side with her fists as she passed. But with her chakra currently restricted, Sakura ducked, pushed up on the handle of her assault weapon with her forearm, and brought her own blade naturally to Hisa’s right flank as she redirected the attack. Sakura hissed in disappointment because the cut was interrupted when she retreated and the result was shallow, not slicing deep enough to incapacitate her. When Hisa took a step back, clutching her flank, Mako suddenly appeared like a breaching shark from the deep only inches before Sakura’s face. He kicked her, quite hard, and Sakura fell into the sand, her weapon tossed aside from the blow. She scrambled for it as Mako grabbed hold of her ankle. She kicked free of his hold, but he was upon he, knees straddling her, and Sakura had no choice but to turn and face him.

He cuffed her hands above her head, saying quietly, “Don’t make this difficult! You will lose your life if you continue to resist. They’ll kill you. Stop struggling!”

Sakura cursed herself for drinking that damn tea, because if she had chakra, she would headbutt his face so far back into his skull that the impact would instantly kill him. Hisa’s face suddenly appeared above Mako’s rights shoulder.

“Killing her is the only option. We don’t have time to hold her hostage,” she chastised Mako with venom in her voice. “We have to get back to base quickly with the news of her death.”

“We could use her. She’s too important to kill immediately.” Came Mako’s response as he sat down hard against her bucking legs.

“We don’t have time for this! The drug effects won’t last on her all the way back to Tanigakure!”

Perfect, Sakura thought. The confirmation she had been looking for. They were in fact the same party of ninja who had attacked her and Sasuke on their journey to Suna. Sakura still wasn’t entirely sure just how many belonged to their group.

“Reach in my pocket for the second dose. We will knock her back out if we have to!” came Mako’s reply, but it was too late. Sakura had been calling, calling, calling her chakra to her wrists this entire time and used that small amount of sudden strength to overpower Mako’s hold, swinging her arms quickly back down to her sides which caused Mako’s own arms to follow. His head hit the ground to the left of her neck and Sakura immediately rolled him, bestriding him the same way he had just held her.

Hisa didn’t hesitate a second as her weapon came swiping horizontally across Sakura’s back. Sakura predicted this and used Mako’s struggling momentum to once again roll him back on top of her. The blade bit into the flesh of his back and he screamed. In the same moment, Sakura used the last of her strength to wedge her knees between herself and Mako’s chest, shoving him out and back toward a surprised Hisa. They both fell tangled back into the shadowy mist, hitting sand somewhere out of sight.

Within seconds, Sakura scrambled toward the lost weapon and the sword she had dropped was within Sakura’s reach. But when she fisted the pommel, a foot stepped down on the blade. The black mist cleared to reveal the eyeless depths of the shadow demon above her.

“Enough of this,” he hissed. Shadows leaked from his eyes, down his face, and crawled down his chest, legs, and over the length of the weapon, icing Sakura’s fingers when they touched the handle. Sakura immediately recoiled in pain as her fingers turned a sickening black. She screamed, backing away from his advancing figure, hand tucked protectively in the crook between her arm and side.

Rage more than fear boiled beneath Sakura’s skin. What sick ninjutsu was this? It reminded her of a combination between Zabuza’s Hidden Mist technique and Shikamaru’s Shadow Control. But the damage was entirely unexpectedt, as if the shadows inside his body were made of a poisonous substance that bleached out the life of whatever it touched. This phantom before her controlled darkness directly, thickening what already existed in the air around them, and then leaking black chakra directly from his body which destroyed whatever came in contact with it. Like the shadows of death itself, Sakura was certain it had stollen all life from her immovable hand.

Sakura cursed and bolted to the left, seeking out the jagged rocks that she had created earlier. She had to test a theory. Sakura slowed as she clutched her hand, listening, keeping an eye on her feet at all times in fear of creeping black, knowing the phantom would pursue.

When his steps came closer, Sakura turned and faced him. A chakra-manipulated path cleared the darkness between them, allowing the two ninja to see each other in the surrounding haze. This confirmed one thing for Sakura: no one, including the ninja user himself, could see through the darkness he created. That was good to know.

Just one more thing then. She waited and the shade sneered as he approached. When he came withing a few feet away, shadows reached for her like grasping fingers. Just as she had seen Temari do all those years ago during the Chunin exams, Sakura backed away until the shadows stopped and retreated back into the skull of the demon who had projected them. She drew a line in the sand, confirming the distance of ten feet between them.

Ha. She thought to herself. Just like Shikamaru’s justsu then. Similarly, it had a limited reach, although it was much shorter than Shikamaru’s range and didn’t seem to be able to use the shadows in the air around it to lengthen or widen. It explained the purpose of the shadows in the air though; the phantom ninja needed to be in close range where individuals couldn’t see the approaching black tentacles of death.

Sakura scoffed. Apparently, this ninja couldn’t measure up to Shikamaru’s intelligence either, considering the fact that she had just figured out how his ninjutsu worked.

There was only one problem, though. Sakura was a close-combat shinobi as well, and her number one battle technique was her chakra enhanced strength. She needed a plan that would allow her to take a different approach.

She ran and her attacker pursued her, thickening the air before her but leaving the trail behind her completely clear.

Suddenly, Mako’s words from earlier came back to her, which gave Sakura an idea. It was the only thing Sakura could think of. She doubled back to where Mako and Hisa had been disposed. She followed the blood in the sand to the precipice of a jagged chunk of earth. When she came upon Mako, Sakura noted that Hisa was already gone, having abandoned him immediately. Hisa was probably blindly searching for Sakura among the shadow-cloaked mountains of ground and sand.

Sakura didn’t have much time. She placed her hand over Mako’s mouth so he wouldn’t scream and give away their location; not that it would do much good. If the phantom had room for a brain somewhere next to that pit of darkness in his skull, he would follow the blood as she had, or trace her tracks in the sand.

Mako, laying on his bloody back in the sand, shot his eyes open when Sakura’s hand pressed down hard on his mouth with her black hand. It was barely more than a useless appendage at this point, but with the help of her good hand, Sakura shoved her fingers in his mouth to silence him. He tried biting them, tearing into her blackened flesh. But Sakura couldn’t feel them at all, the deadening so complete that Sakura was afraid she would never regain use of it again.

With her free hand, Sakura searched Mako’s person. Her hand fisted triumphantly in his back pocket around something long and cylindrical. She pulled it free, praying frantically that it was what she theorized it to be. Bless you for being thorough and for telling me you had it, she thought to Mako as she surveyed the capped yellow injection tube. Whether it was Ashuwa or a second dose of whatever he had put in her tea, Sakura didn’t know. But whatever it was, Mako had revealed its purpose to Hisa which was to incapacitate her again once the current drug in her system stopped working.

Mako squirmed beneath her and Sakura contemplated killing him right then and there. But she just didn’t have time. Lucky bastard. She sprinted from him, the phantom stepping over the boulder in the same moment she darted from the concealed spot.

Did he see what she grabbed? Sakura wasn’t confident but couldn’t stop to try to interpret the eye-less facial expression the ninja wore. Remaining hopeful, she kept running.

Spotting a smaller set of tracks in the sand leaving the location, Sakura followed them, tracing them all the way to their source. When Sakura came upon Hisa, she almost collided with her directly, the blackened air only revealing her in the last second. Hisa didn’t even have a chance to react before Sakura uncapped the needle and dispensed a third of the dose into her neck, enough for her weight. The woman dropped to the ground and Sakura thanked Mako again for designing the perfect drug. Sakura didn’t estimate that she would remain unconscious for long, though, not having the full dose.

Sakura moved quickly. There was only a matter of minutes before the phantom caught up to her once again. Sakura quickly removed the cloak from Hisa’s shoulders and wrapped Hisa’s face covering around her own. She picked up Hisa’s small rapier from the ground.

She turned and walked toward the approaching footsteps, using the black at her back to her advantage this time, thankful for once that it would conceal Hisa’s body completely.

When she came into his view, the ninja balked, taken aback at her familiar presence. “Hisa?” came the hissing whisper. Sakura kept her head down long enough. Long enough to come parallel with him and turn the blade to relieve him of his head.

He ducked as Sakura knew he would. Dropping the shortsword, she came back toward his face with the hidden syringe in the same hand. Like with Hisa, she caught him in the neck with the needle neck, and his black sockets widened as she fully pressed in the plunger.

Deathly black shot out of his eye sockets, gripping her remaining hand with blackness as it traveled up her arm. She cried out in both pain and fury as the medicine injected into the demon’s skin. He screamed and she pulled away as he dropped to his knees.

His consciousness remained momentarily, and Sakura turned, arms limp and useless from damage like Orochimaru’s had been. Turning, Sakura found the sword she had dropped. Bending down, she gripped it between her teeth, the taste of metal and sand coating her tongue. It tasted so, so sweet in that second.

Like another mist demon she remembered, Zabuza Momochi, Sakura wielded the blade between her teeth and pivoted to face this monster who was solely responsible for torturing Isao, spreading hatred and pain, and most of all, underestimating her.

Sakura would never be weak enough that anyone without substance, anyone who couldn’t consider themselves subpar to a legendary Sanin, could dispose of her easily. She didn’t need abilities. She didn’t even need chakra to make it out triumphant in these futile attempts on her life.

“You will regret your choices,” the phantom hissed disorientated. “The next generation won’t be able to handle what is coming.”

Sakura began to advance toward him, ready to mimic Zabuza’s killing blows with a fang-wielded blade. When she reached him, she glared down at him, bloodlust in her veins.

“War is a good thing. Anger is a tool to be used. Vengeance is necessary to strengthen.”

Sakura gripped onto her own blood-bent mind, talking to herself as she looked at this man…beast…whatever he was. And as she had done with Satou, Sakura now too, thought of Sasuke. A person so wrapped in darkness that the darkness presented itself in his very nature.

“You, like everyone else, deserve mercy,” Sakura announced after she dropped the sword from her mouth. Sakura had once blamed herself for being too weak to kill Sasuke, but in this moment, Sakura had an enlightening clarification. When someone so vile deserves death and you can find it in yourself to drop your too-ready hand of justice and offer them a second chance—that is real strength. It’s what Naruto would have done. It’s what Sakura chose to do now.

The man slumped forward, eyes level with the blade that stuck up from the sand. “You will see one day that I am right,” he hissed in finality.

“You have us confused with one another,” she announced to the fading darkness that began to disintegrate into light, the final sign signaling his unconsciousness. Sakura could just make out the sunrise in the east and it was beautiful, pale, and rosy. Sakura pretended it was her victory banner. She also believed it was a sign of hope.

………………………………….

The second chakra pill worked another miracle. Sasuke felt replenished as he practically flew across the sand path in Isao’s memory. He had only run this fast a few times in his life and most recently, it was because of this same scenario. Kido, too, had kidnapped Sakura, and when Sasuke had found out, he had run.

Sasuke cursed himself now for his stupidity. His pride. His mission. He had left in anger and confusion after their kiss, left her alone in Suna despite his promise to never let this sort of thing happen again. Each step he took into the sand was echoed in his mind with an apology. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. He lost count of how many times he said it.

Chakra coursed through his limbs and Sasuke mentally prepared himself for war. Bones enveloped his body, ribs caging around him as he activated an incomplete Susanoo. Purple chakra radiated from him, a threatening beacon to the kidnappers he knew would be nearby.

Sasuke instantly recognized the projections of broken ground that penetrated up from the sand like a golden crown. Unlike in Isao’s shadowy memories, the morning light illuminated each pillar, revealing the sheer length and size of every new peak that Sakura had brought forth with her inhuman strength. Sasuke didn’t even think of concealing his presence; he didn’t need to. He charged into the center of the fray, looking about him everywhere.

He looked behind a few of the crags, eyes finally landing on an individual. Bloody, but not unconscious, Mako lay with his face projected to the sky. His eyes shot open when Sasuke placed a heavy foot on his chest. He wanted to light him up with his Amaterasu and let the flames devour him alive until the ninja was nothing more than the sand beneath him.

Mako groaned and Sasuke unsheathed his katana, stabbing into this ninja’s shoulder. Although he didn’t need to pin him to the ground, it felt good to watch Mako clutch at the blade near his collar bone. The medic ninja was still alive despite his blood loss, but Sasuke relished in the thought that he wouldn’t be for long. Gaara might be mad at him for this later, but Sasuke didn’t care.

“Where is she?” The Uchiha hissed as he sent electricity down the length of his blade into Mako’s chest muscles. He began to spasm.

“Stop!” Mako screamed in pain.

“It will stop when you answer!” he yelled back, losing control of his own emotions. He twisted the metal for emphasis.

“Sasuke, stop!” came a familiar voice and Sasuke’s dropped the blade in shock as Sakura threw her shoulder into him.

“I don’t have enough chakra to spare to heal any more wounds,” she reprimanded him as if she were talking to a patient.

Sasuke blinked in chastisement at the pink-haired woman standing whole before him. He instantly pulled her into his Susanoo, crushing her to his side as he extended the ribcage of the Susanoo to include her. He looked around warily as if he couldn’t quite believe there was no current threat to Sakura’s person. He finally spoke, both relief and annoyance edging his words. “You’re okay?! Where are the others?!”

“I’m fine!” she announced, face suddenly red in embarrassment at their close proximity. Sasuke didn’t notice it at first as he held her back at arm’s length to check her current state. His stomach dropped when he saw her dangling arms, blackened, charred, and bruised. One of them currently had a small halo of green around it and its color paled in comparison to the other.

“Who did this to you?” he rumbled lowly, flashing a red and purple glare back down at Mako, who whimpered pathetically from his wounds. Sakura pulled from his hand and moved in front of the Uchiha, cutting off his direction of blame.

“Not him,” she excused, and her defense thoroughly pissed Sasuke off. Whatever Mako’s role was in this, Sasuke was certain that he was to blame for all of it.

Sasuke did his best to swallow his murdering thirst, eyes landing back on her like a lifeline to his sanity. “Tell me what happened,” he ordered. It was the only words that he could force past his teeth.

“I will explain everything to you, but I need your help first.” She made to step away from him, but Sasuke prevented it. Careful not to aggravate her injuries by touching her arm, Sasuke grabbed her shirt on reflex instead, pulling her back into the safety of the Susanoo.

“It’s okay. We are safe.” she breathed, smiling at him for the first time since he had left her, which brought Sasuke back some soothing clarity of mind. “They are all incapacitated.”

Sasuke’s eyebrow shot up into his bangs. “All of them?”

“It’s insulting that you are surprised,” she nudged him with her shoulder, turning her shoulders to face Mako. She bent to medically assess his new stab wound.

“I wasn’t expecting,” he admitted, but then fell into silence at her targeted look. “I mean, I thought that you were drugged!”

“I am,” she announced, narrowing her eyes further. “But I don’t know how you know that.”

Sasuke cursed at his slip. He couldn’t tell her just yet about how he practically forced Isao to spill all the information earlier. Instead, he said half-truthfully, “I ran into the kid.”

“Isao?” Sakura’s face lit up. “He’s okay? He made it back?” She slumped into the sand at Mako’s side. She practically deflated as her concern for the boy evaporated. “Bless that child.”

Sasuke had to agree. If it weren’t for him, Sasuke wouldn’t have been able to find his teammate this quickly. Even though Sakura hadn’t really needed his help after all. How strange that felt for Sasuke, to not be needed in the ways that he had once been. It was an unexpected jolt to his mindset toward Sakura. She had proved her strength repeatedly to him and he continued to see her as someone to protect.

Before he could even offer an apology, Sakura motioned toward Mako’s body. “My arms are a little preoccupied at the moment. Do you mind flipping him?”

Sasuke’s thoughts instantly darkened at the mention of both her arms and Mako. “What for?”

“I need to look at his back. See how deep the wound is.”

“He doesn’t deserve your help,” he replied instantly, wishing for the ninja to suffer in the same ways he had made his friend.

“I remember a time when you didn’t either,” Sakura replied with a smiling voice, “but I helped you back then, too. Now flip him.”

Sasuke scoffed at her statement, stooped, and flipped the ninja on his stomach. Mako let out a pained groan and Sakura “tsked” at his blatant carelessness. He kneeled beside her, ready to be her hands despite how much he hated the thought of her trying to help him.

“It’s not as deep as I thought. Hold his flesh together,” she ordered and Sasuke did so as she summoned a small stream of chakra to the gray fingertips of her semi-healed hand. The small amount did not last long, but it was enough. Just enough to stop the bleeding.

“Why are you helping me?” Mako asked faintly into the sand, and Sasuke immediately responded for her.

“You don’t need to know, so just shut your mouth so I don’t have to hear your voice.”

Sakura nudged him for his harsh words. “You sure have a lot to say today.” And Sasuke blinked at her again in surprise. She was right; he was talking a lot…for him. He responded with another scoff.

Sakura answered Mako’s question despite Sasuke’s threat. “You believe in war. I believe in peace. We are stronger united than when we are divided. This is how I create peace.”

Sasuke wasn’t following entirely, but he knew that Sakura was referencing words that had been exchanged between them, and Sasuke recognized them as the poison from a mindset consumed in darkness.

Standing again, Sakura said, “The hard part is going to be getting them all back to Sunagakure.”

“What do you mean?” Sasuke asked.

“They’re drugged. Not all of them are dead. They’ll wake soon,” she clarified for him.

Sasuke didn’t even think before saying, “I can remedy that.”

She ignored him, continuing, “We might have to make a couple trips. How many can you carry?”

Sasuke didn’t even respond to that ridiculous notion. Instead, he activated his Rinnegan once more, feeding it with the chakra from the chakra pill. A spiral appeared before them, revealing the central red-dune dimension. Sakura didn’t even have time to protest before Sasuke was throwing Mako’s limp body inside the hole.

“What are you doing?” Sakura asked, confused and stunned by his actions.

“They can remain in this dimension until we make it back to Suna. They can’t flee inside. They have nowhere to go.”

Sakura nodded in understanding. “Good idea!” she praised him, obviously relieved she wasn’t going to have to try to carry anyone with her arms practically useless.

“I’ll take you to the others.”

A female kunoichi Sakura called Hisa was the second to be transported to Kaguya’s center dimension. Then a different sort of being Sasuke considered warily. He didn’t look to be human. Sakura explained that he had been the most dangerous of them all. Sakura believed him to be the ringleader, though she wasn’t sure how many group members he truly led. It was still a confusing web of connections.

Sakura left out the fact that this ninja must be the one to have damaged her arms, but no good would come from Sasuke demanding that she confirm that for him. The Uchiha made a mental note of it as he tossed the unconscious ninja inside, already contemplating on ways to make him talk.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“One more,” she replied, and she led Sasuke toward a small adobe house that he hadn’t noticed before. It was alone in the desert, one wall completely destroyed, revealing the building’s stark clay interior.

Just before they reached the ruins, Sakura stopped when they approached the body of a large man. Sasuke was surprised to find this man not just unconscious; he was dead.

“He hurt Isao,” she defended automatically, ashamed that death had been necessary.

But Sasuke didn’t need an explanation from her. If she wouldn’t have, Saskue was pretty sure that he would have killed him. “Let the sand have him,” he declared, but Sakura shook her head.

“He belongs with them. They must be able to bury and grieve to find peace. We don’t want to give them cause for any further resentment.”

Sasuke wanted to say “you can’t be serious,” but he didn’t feel like arguing, because no matter what Sasuke could come up with to say next, Sakura would still be right in the end. She had a bigger vision in mind that Sasuke couldn’t quite connect sometimes. He just knew that he would always trust her to do the right thing, even if it wasn’t sensible, or in most cases, not what Sasuke would have done.

“Fine,” he declared, opening the portal once more. His breathing became labored as he pushed the effects of the chakra pill. Like with the others, Sasuke dragged the man’s body into the portal.

Sasuke also stepped through, leaving the gateway open between realms. He directed his attention to Mako, ice already coating his next words.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t wander too far from this spot. The dimension is endless and not of our world. You will only lose yourself and die in this place.”

Mako swallowed deeply in fear as he watched Sasuke’s form from his stomach.

“On second thought,” Sasuke sneered under his breath. “Feel free.” The portal closed behind the Uchiha as he exited. He would deal with all of them later, he thought. He needed to get Sakura back to Sunagakure first.

………………………………

Sakura couldn’t help but whimper when her left arm wasn’t responding as quickly to her healing chakra. Her right hand—the very same one she had shoved into Mako’s mouth to keep him from screaming—had almost fully recovered as the medicine suppressing her chakra began to wear off and her healing abilities returned to her. Her left hand, however, was at first very numb, which Sakura knew was a very bad sign. But the longer she worked at healing, the more the pain began to intensify. It was almost unbearable, but Sakura was ultimately relieved at the burning sensation that indicated life. Sakura considered the differences between the two hands and all she could conclude was that distance must have had something to do with it since her right hand had a grabbed the blackened sword at his feet and her left had been near his face when she plunged the needle in his neck.

Sasuke supported her as they walked back to the Sand Village, though he suddenly seemed to her like he was the one that needed supporting. He stumbled in the sand and Sakura removed her good arm from his shoulders.

“I’m good. But are you okay?” she asked, noticing his strenuous breathing for the first time.

“Yes,” he fibbed, and Sakura knew it was a lie the minute he clutched his head to support it.

Redirecting her chakra back to her healed hand, Sakura immediately sought out Sasuke’s brow with her fingertips. He moaned with relief as green chakra lighted over it, but he instantly pushed her hand away. “Heal yourself.”

“What happened?” she responded, ignoring his demand. She found his forehead again. “There’s nothing I can do if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“I took two chakra pills. I’ll be fine though. I just need rest.” He removed her hand again.

Sakura inhaled sharply at the confession. “Why did you do that?”

“I had already depleted my chakra reserves when I found out you weren’t in the village. I panicked.”

“Overdosing on chakra pills is one thing,” she scolded, “but using them recklessly to overexert your Rinnegan is another. No matter how much chakra you have, you have limits with the Rinnegan.”

“It was my only choice,” he defended sharply, obviously masking his embarrassment with annoyance.

Sakura placed her glowing palm over his eyes, now certain of the source of his discomfort. Sasuke made to move her hand away once more, but she fussed like a mother when he tried. “Let me have my way, or we’ll be here longer.”

Sasuke released a small laugh that sounded like another scoff. Only Team 7 could tell the difference between Sasuke’s derisiveness and his sense of humor. Sakura couldn’t believe he had the energy to laugh. But then something changed in the air around them and Sasuke grew very serious as he inhaled—the type of inhale someone made before having something important to say.

Sasuke finally managed to grab her fingers and he tugged them away after Sakura was satisfied with his treatment. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he held them for a moment that suggested tenderness. It was different from how their hands had brushed so many times before, like how they rested them against each other as they watched Suna’s desert sunset. This time, it was more like how Sasuke had held her hand between them in the medicine preparation room.

Finally working up the courage, Sasuke looked down at her feet and said, “I’m sorry.”

Sakura stared at the firm hold his fingers had on hers in wonder. And the truly amazing part was that he stillwasn’t letting go. “For what?” she whispered, not knowing what else to say for fear of him moving away.

“For leaving you behind in Suna. For leaving in anger. For not being there and letting this happen.”

Sakura didn’t let him continue. “Sasuke,” she began, catching his guilty eyes with her own. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I hope I have proved that to you, today. Please don’t burden yourself with worry for me. I can carry my own burdens and some. You already have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Sasuke searched her eyes with his. Sakura knew this was a rare occasion. Not many people would see the Uchiha open, unguarded, with care etched in every feature of his expression.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said suddenly, still holding her fingers tightly, and Sakura felt the whole world suddenly still around them. Even the desert wind seemed to stop. Was this the Sasuke she had always known was inside, no matter how roughly he displayed himself to the world?

“I’m sorry for what happened,” Sakura interrupted, afraid for another impending denial of her feelings. She knew what was coming and she didn’t want this small moment to end. “I won’t do that again.”

He paused and Sakura wondered if he was unsettled by the open acknowledgement of her stollen kiss.

He sighed and Sakura’s stomach dropped. She felt him hesitate, saw it in his face. But he resolved himself, declaring, “I came to a conclusion while I was away, and I have to say this while I have the nerve.”

Sakura nodded, ready for disappointment. She was more afraid of what he would say next than she had ever felt going toe-to-toe with her enemies just moments ago.

“Can it be enough for us to care for one another?” he asked, desperation cloaked with mock annoyance on his breath. “Can it just be enough for us to be friends as long as we are in each other’s lives sometimes? Can it be enough for us to be united in the same goal?”

Sakura’s heart sank and unhappiness hit her like the wave she was expecting. Tears threatened to brim her eyelids, but Sakura swallowed them down. Would he ever not be this thickheaded and stubborn? Would he ever let them be what they could be? Whether or not Sakura was simply high on victory or if she was genuinely losing her meekness in Sasuke’s presence, Sakura wasn’t sure.

She removed her hand from his. “Is it enough for you?” she finally asked, taking a step away from him. But he caught her fingers again, pulling her back gently to face him.

“Is that a no?” he asked emotionlessly, but Sakura saw the struggle in his eyes.

“When the answer becomes ‘yes’ for you, I will accept it as mine as well.” She pulled away, firmly this time. He couldn’t respond. Sakura knew why: he wanted to put this on her; he was always putting it back on her, afraid “because of her,” hesitant “because of her.” These were his excuses, but Sakura wouldn’t give him an out this time. It was his turn to choose.

They both knew that it was far too late for Sasuke to pretend he didn’t love her in the same way that Sakura loved him. But Sakura had learned that people love in many ways and not all people wanted to express that love romantically. Kissing Sasuke had been a mistake. She hated to call it that, but it was the truth of it. She didn’t want to steal from him what he wasn’t ready to give—what he wasn’t at peace with. It was his turn; he now knew where she stood.

………………………………..

When they finally made it back to the Hidden Sand Village, Kankuro was there to intercept them just as Sasuke had expected he would. The puppet-wielding ninja was beside himself with worry at seeing Sakura’s injuries, insisting that Sakura promptly return to the hospital. Sakura had insisted she tend to her own wounds back in their lodgings so she could rest. She immediately requested to see Isao, but Kankuro insisted she get some rest first.

It wasn’t until Sasuke insisted that he have an audience with him and Gaara, that he left Sakura to her own desires. As they parted, Sasuke tried to say something or grab her eyes with his, but she didn’t look at him. Not even once. And Sasuke ran his hand exhaustedly through his hair. He couldn’t think about them right now. A conference with the Kazekage would be the perfect distraction.

Gaara, miraculously, had returned before he and Sakura had, and Sasuke wondered just how fast news could travel. Sasuke privately joked with himself that the desert shared its secrets with the Kazekage. The wind and sand must speak to him if he found out things so quickly. It was a hypothesis that could explain a lot at least.

Sasuke shook his head as he followed Kankuro into the Kazekage’s office. He must be getting delirious from the effects of the chakra pills.

“Sasuke,” came Gaara’s raspy acknowledgement when the Uchiha stepped into the room. Gaara was surprisingly alone, which relieved Sasuke. He thought he would have to face Gaara with the “support” of his council. It would be easier to speak of recent events if only Gaara and Kankuro were present.

Sasuke nodded respectfully despite his feelings of resentment toward the two men at the moment for having let Sakura be kidnapped under their watch. As a ninja that was a part of this unpredictable shinobi world, Sasuke knew his anger was unjustified, but he wanted to be mad at anyone and everyone right now. 99% of his own anger was directed at himself, because Sasuke knew that he was more responsible for what happened than the Kazekage and his brother were. The Kazekage had been trying to be proactive and prevent something like this from happening. It just didn’t turn out that way.

The Kazekage seemed to share Sasuke concern for discreetness, because he cloaked the room in sand as he had done the first day of Sasuke arrival. It filled every crevice, thickening to soundproof the room.

Sasuke opened the portal into Kaguya’s central dimension without further delay. He walked into the vortex, not surprised the group remained exactly where he had left them. The only difference was that they were conscious, a fact that slightly irked the Uchiha.

One by one, he grabbed each ninja, tossing them forward into the Kazekage’s domain. Hisa clutched at her dead counterpart, holding onto the deceased brute. Sasuke found grim satisfaction in Mako’s subdued, yielding persona. Being present before the Kazekage was far more terrifying than being stuck in a desolate dimension.

But the individual that held both Sasuke and the Kazekage’s attention was the wraith-like individual that bled darkness from a small spot on his neck. It was his only injury.

Gaara carefully considered him, crossing his arms and surveying him emotionlessly as he did most enemies that he regarded.

Darkness suddenly began to ooze from the man’s eye sockets and Sasuke’s temper suddenly flared. He looked to Gaara, and the ninja nodded his permission.

“Only demons don’t seem to know when they’re in the presence of other demons. Shall I show you hell?”

Sasuke’s eye suddenly began to bleed as he formed the tiger seal for fire release. “Amaterasu!”

The black flames clung to the phantom, incinerating what Sasuke realized was dark masses of sinewing, vaporized flesh. The phantom hissed. Then screamed, then began to plead for mercy. Hisa began to cry and Mako turned his face away from their leader.

Gaara came up beside Sasuke to speak to the wraith as he writhed. Sasuke released the Amaterasu and the flames receded.

The Kazekage crouched, an arm on his knee. “From one demon to another, I urge you to leave your shadows behind in hell and step out into the light. Only demons desire war. And war breeds more demons.”

Sasuke clutched his eye in silent suffering, and Gaara dismissed him. “I’ll handle the rest. I’ll let you know what we find out.”

Sasuke nodded, not waiting for any further excuses to depart. He had delivered them into the Kazekage’s care. But what those ninja didn’t know was that Sakura’s mercy held Sasuke more confined than it did the Kazekage, a demon just as he had said, whose territory had been breached.

……………………

Sakura was finishing binding her tender left hand in medical bandaging, using up the last of her burn solvent that she had created at Suna’s hospital, when Sasuke walked in.

He opened the door, caught her eyes with his, and tried to hide the bloody track down his face from her with his hand. She was on her feet instantly, pulling him to the bed that he had staked his claim on.

She felt his forehead and it was hot, too hot. He had done it this time. She sighed, summoning the small reserve of chakra behind the diamond mark on her forehead.

She expected Sasuke to scold her for using what little she had left on him, but he didn’t seem to notice in his extreme exhaustion. “Thank you,” he whispered, and Sakura retreated to fetch water for him.

He gulped it greedily and Sakura helped him shrug out of his outer layer of clothing. Sand fell from his hair and clothes in the same way hers had earlier. “I’m better now,” he whispered, the first words spoken between them since their disagreement in the desert.

Sakura nodded, making to move away, but he grabbed her hand for the third time that day.

“Don’t be angry,” he begged, his exhaustion making him suddenly careless to conceal his true intentions with fake displeasure and irritation.

“Why do you think I am angry?” she asked emotionlessly.

“I just want what’s best for you. I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered in defeat. This side of Sasuke startled Sakura. He was becoming more undefended, open with emotions in a way she had never seen him before. Was it because he didn’t have anything to hide anymore? Was he past his denials and his pretending?

“I know,” she squeezed his hand back. “But your concerns are groundless.”

“Tell me how,” he pleaded.

She sat beside him on his bed, and he tilted his ear to her, never removing his hand from hers. She took a breath and told him the truth. Told him everything he needed to know. “I do not love you sacrificially, Sasuke. I do not choose you knowing that my life or happiness could be forfeit by doing so. I choose you because I can keep up with you. Because something like your absence wouldn’t be enough to determine my permanent happiness. I will choose to go on, content with only the thought that I know you are out there somewhere loving me if that is all that I have in the moment.”

She took a breath and continued before he could respond. “I am strong enough to handle whatever comes my way as a result of loving you. And I have absolutely no doubts in my feelings, my happiness, and what I am willing to compromise to be with the person I love most.”

Sakura reached tenderly to turn his face to hers and their eyes met. She touched his forehead in the same way he had done to her many times before. “That person is you,” she reassured him, offering him a sincere smile as she removed her hand from his forehead.

Then Sasuke leaned forward. Very close to her, and Sakura bit her lip to keep from reaching for his with her own. “Is all of that true?” he requested again, suddenly breathless. And Sakura knew later that it was just to be sure before what came next.

“Yes,” she breathed. And she didn’t have to reach for him, because he was suddenly reaching for her. His hand found her chin and Sakura waited for his choice. She waited for him to move. And he did.

“Then my answer is no; it’s not enough for me either.” When his lips carefully parted her own, Sakura knew without a doubt that he had decided to find some way possible for them, a path where he could choose her, too.

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