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eowynstwin · 2 years ago

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to rival the sun

Pairing: Gaz x f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: virginity loss, established relationship, praise kink (kind of), discussions of contraceptives, gratuitous use of italics, a metaphor perhaps stretched too thin, really just a lot of gooey sweetness, only one editing pass so be gentle Author’s Notes: Listen, I am not a Gaz girl, but this thing just came out of me.

Now on AO3!

You’re in the middle of making out on his couch when you tell him.

You’re straddled across his lap, arms hung loosely around his neck as his hands slide soft and soothing up and down your back. Something is burning low in your belly, something you’ve often felt but never shared with anyone else, and his mouth is warm and eager on yours.

“Can’t ever get enough of you, feels like,” he’d said to you, early in your relationship. He’d meant it as a joke, at the time, referring to the near three-solid days you’d spent together between deployment. You hadn’t even done that much—one or two outings to a cafe had only punctuated longer stretches given simply to sharing each other’s company. You’d still been getting familiar then, the both of you, still sharing kisses that were more shy than anything else.

Kyle is not shy now, and neither are you. His entire body is warm, and almost pliant beneath yours, but you can feel a kind of tightness that always seems to be there when the two of you get into these positions. It’s in his shoulders, pulled taut along the muscles of his trapezius, and as you tease his lower lip with your teeth you knead circles into the meat of it with the tips of your fingers.

The massage does the opposite of helping, though—he intakes a sharp breath, and pulls away from you, hands tight on your waist as he breaths hard. His eyes are closed, and the warm brown of his cheeks is made warmer by a tinge of red.

“Maybe we should slow down,” he says, sounding like that’s the opposite of what he wants to do. The grip he has on you seems to agree.

“If you want,” you say, but making the offer feels like pulling your own teeth. That low burn is beginning to spread, but insecurity suddenly threatens to poison it. Does he not want you?

It’s been a little like this throughout the span of your relationship. Even without any admissions, you know it’s pretty obvious that you don’t have much experience. And for the most part, his attention to the slow pace you set has been nothing but a relief—people could get weird about your needs, about what you hadn’t done, but Kyle makes you feel like the rhythm you set isn’t a strange one to dance to at all.

“Do you want to?” Kyle asks, opening his eyes to meet yours.

The insecurity dissolves. You can see it all over his face, in the crease of his brow—he doesn’t want to stop. He wants to keep you comfortable, even if he ends up unsatisfied. You feel like his expression is mirroring yours perfectly, painted stark and hot with aching want, and settling into that shared feeling is like sinking deep into a warm bath.

“No,” you whisper, hands moving to frame the sides of his neck.

He inhales again, less sharply. “Just say when, yeah?” he whispers back. The words are accompanied with a shift of his hips, a flutter of his hands on your waist.

“There isn’t a when,” you say, and then without thinking, “I want you to be my first, Gaz.”

He goes still. Blinks at you. “Oh.”

And instantly you regret opening your mouth. Your hands fall away, sliding down to his chest, curling into embarrassed fists. You look down. Of course it’s weird. Who was a virgin past eighteen these days? You know Kyle is experienced, unlike you—you’ve felt it every time he’s touched you, every time he’s slung an arm around you with the casual ease of someone who knew how to be with someone else. Shame and disappointment flood you, and that burn in your belly rapidly banks.

But his hands—broad, strong, and gentle—are on your face, bringing you back to him. “I would’ve thought—god, I mean, people must have thrown themselves at you!”

He’s smiling, wide and joyful, and it’s like seeing the sun rise. As quickly as it came, the embarrassment flees.

You smile too, the relief making you laugh, and refrain from correcting his generous assumption. “It just never felt right.”

He kisses you, swift and solid, but suddenly pulls away again, but you know this time it’s because he’s thought to say something. “And it feels right now?”

You nod, hands going back to his neck, lashes lowered a little demurely. “You feel right, Kyle.”

He surges forward again, lips finding the corner of your mouth and working toward your jaw. “Tell me the minute I do something you don’t like. Promise me, yeah? Promise.”

“I promise,” you gasp, as suddenly his teeth find the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You don’t think, in that moment as the burn suddenly roars back to life, that he could do a single thing to make keeping that promise necessary. “Kyle, that feels good.”

His lips part from your skin with a wet smack, move to give the hickey he’s just sucked into your skin a companion. “That’s the idea, love.”

Your hands find the expanse of his back as he presses you closer, fingers spreading over the flex and stretch of taut muscle, and you dig your nails in as a little moan leaves you. The tension you’d always felt is gone, and when you realize that it’s been there because he’s been holding back for you the entire time, your breath leaves your lungs.

“That feels good, too, love,” he says against your neck, smiling up at you when you look at him. “Always feels good when you touch me. Always. Didn’t want to scare you with that.”

You melt a little. “I’m never scared of you, Kyle.”

You don’t have the words to describe his expression. The smile has dropped away, but it’s been replaced with something you think borders on beatific. His eyes, warm and brown and soft, are seeing you against a backdrop of something else, something you know is bloody and ugly and a place of no pride. You don’t know the details—you don’t have the clearance—but you know enough.

You take his face in your hands as he pulls back. “Never,” you repeat.

His arms tighten around you like vices, and he leans forward again, kissing you hard. His tongue finds the edge of your teeth, licks into your mouth as his hands flex across your back and your fingers find the collar of his shirt. It feels illicit to delve beneath the flimsy cotton, to trace the shape of his muscles with your nails, but the purr of satisfaction he gives against your mouth tells you it’s exactly the right thing to do.

“Off,” you say between kisses, and the fabric complains as he yanks it up, pulls his arms and head out, and throws the thing away without a second look. You splay your hands across his chest, digging your nails into the swell of his muscles as he claims your mouth again, and his skin is blazing to touch. You think there’s a fire burning inside him, too, and in the back of your mind you wonder if his flat could burn down just from the two of you being together like this.

His arms sink lower around your body, traveling from waist to hips, and abruptly he’s pulling you forward, hands splayed across both ass cheeks, as he shifts his hips and settles back against the couch. The new position has your mons nestled against an interesting bulge at the front of his pants, but he doesn’t give you much time to blush or fluster about it.

“Ride me, love, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, the deep dark of his eyes alight with the firestorm whipping up between you.

You grasp his shoulders and lean in to seal your mouth over his again. His fingers dip under the hem of your shirt, hot on the already warm skin of your back. Encouraged, you pivot your hips a little, experimentally, and in synch the both of you groan at the sensation. His erection is almost perfectly aligned with the clothed seam of your pussy, the drag of it made simultaneously just perfect and not enough with the fabric’s friction. You grind down again, pressing your mouth harder against his, whimpering when his jaw opens and his tongue finds its way into the space beneath yours. He shifts his hips, pushing up into you a little, grabbing you by the ass again as you bear your clit down hard on what feels like it could be the head of his cock.

“Christ, love, that’s fucking perfect,” Kyle gasps, tendons in his neck pulled completely taut.

“Gaz, it feels so good,” you whine, pressing down harder, dragging against him, the need suddenly feverish.

His hands leave your shirt and wedge themselves into the back of your pants, eliciting a sharp gasp as he kneads the flesh. “This okay? You want these off?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes, Kyle, please.”

It’s a clumsy job, and they end up hanging from one ankle because you cannot be bothered to do more than get them out of the way. Somewhere in the back of your head you want to laugh at how slapdash the both of you must look—him shirtless but still in sweatpants, you naked only from the waist down—but the rest of your mind is an inferno. As you settle back onto his lap, there’s only his clothes separating you from him now, and when you press your mons against him again the heat coming from his cock is breathtaking.

“We need a condom?” Kyle asks, spreading his big hands across your thighs.

“I’m on the pill,” you murmur, grinning at his foresight, blessing your lucky stars that you’d thought to take precautions as early as the first time you’d made out with him.

“Fuck yeah,” he enthuses, grinning back. “Option’s always open though. If we need it.”

That has you kissing him again, burrowing your hips into his, swallowing the sharp moan he gives as his fingertips dig into the meat of your hips. You can almost imagine him throbbing against you—or is that your own pulse you feel, beating a rhythm between your folds? Heat floods your face at the thought, and a needy ache blooms quickly from your center.

You separate from him. “Kyle—touch me. Please?”

His hand goes to your sex like he’d been waiting for you to ask. Suddenly you’re fighting your own body, because your hips jerk away from him when his fingers slide through folds that you’re only now realizing are dripping wet. The pleasure is not dulled with fabric this time, not under the rhythm of your control, and it’s like flames are licking at your bare skin with the sensation of his touch. Every nerve is alive, alight with awareness.

“Sorry!” you gasp. “I didn’t do that on purpose.”

But he’s got a steady arm around you. His grin reappears, satisfied and almost smug. “That good, is it?” he teases, a lighter touch dragging again through the creases of you, curling his fingers into a sticky squelch that has you blushing furiously. “Shit, that is good.”

“Kyle,” you beg. “Please.”

He forms his mouth around your pulse, the tip of his middle finger circling your clit without actually making contact. “You want my fingers, love?” They brush around the borders of your entrance. “Want me to get you ready?”

“I can take you,” you say, bearing down, trapping his hand between your pussy and his cock. “I’ll tell you to stop if it’s too much. I promised, didn’t I?”

He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, and searches your gaze. You don’t know what he sees, but his mouth finds yours again. “Jesus, darling. Fuck. You’re fucking perfect.”

He withdraws his hand, and scoots you back a little by the hips. You can’t help staring as he pulls his waistband down, showing a small dusting of curly pubic hair, and pulls his cock free with one hand. The burn almost peaks then and there, because the sight of it standing like that, rigid, the head of it smeared glossy with precum, is almost too much to take. He’s hard, hard because of you, hard because of what you’d been doing together.

Your trace your fingers along its length, almost lightheaded, before remembering that he’s been so good about staying at your pace. “Is this okay?” you ask, your touch lingering at the base. You want to show him the same consideration he’s shown you—want him to know how precious it has been by giving him the same.

His breath comes out unevenly, and he presses his forehead to yours—you think he understands. “Better than okay. Fuck.”

You stroke him again, lingering at the dip between shaft and corona, and your brows shoot up when his cock twitches in response. Your breath is suddenly shaky in your chest, shallow, and your throat feels dry when you finally speak. You hadn’t known that could happen. The implications have the blood roaring in your ears.

“How—” and you have to lick your lips, “—how do we do this?”

You look up at his face again, and his lips part in a smile that’s so tender it makes your heart hurt. “Come here.”

He helps you lift up on your knees, and you want to whimper at how easy it is for him to hold you steady with one hand while the other takes ahold of his cock. There is barely any space between the head of it and your folds. You swear you can feel the heat of it radiating out toward your skin, as if it’s stretching out to find you.

“Help me in, alright?” Kyle murmurs, hand tightening on your hip, the pressure comforting.

You grip his bare shoulder with one hand and reach down, finding your entrance—you’re familiar enough with that—and spreading your folds. As you lower yourself, trembling less than you might have without his support, you feel the head of his cock pass between the splay of your fingers, spreading them wider, and then your entrance surrounds him.

“Good,” Kyle breathes, “so good. You’re doing amazing.”

Lower. You feed him into yourself in centimeters, carefully, but it’s like you were made to take him—your body gives no resistance, the dripping slick you’re coated with welcoming him eagerly, hungrily. You toss your pace to the wind and push down, taking him to the root.

The moan that leaves you is long and loud as he hisses “Fuck!” in your ear. The hand that had been around his cock slaps against your ass, and you feel him go rigid beneath you, feel his shoulders go tight, feel his thighs flex beneath you as his grip on your body turns to iron. He’s hot and thick inside you, and deep, deeper than your fingers have ever been able to reach. You’re sure of it now—you can feel the his pulse in you, thrumming against your walls like the beat of a drum.

You find your breath somehow as the two of you sit motionless for a heartbeat.

Then he’s huffing a laugh. “Warn a guy next time, love! Shit, you feel incredible.”

You laugh too, and it’s followed by a gasp as you can feel yourself laughing around him. “Told you I could take you!” you pant.

He grins at you, showing his teeth, and nips at your jaw. “Fucking minx. Take the rest then, too, aye?”

You pivot your hips, already practiced from before, and give a cry as you finally register the stretch of your walls around him. It’s a good stretch, a burn that you’re sure is going to sear you from the inside. Your thighs are shaking a little, tight with a building pressure that threatens to combust, and Kyle gives a push upward with his hips.

“I got you,” he says, and his voice is low and breathy as he wraps both hands around your waist. “Go ahead. Take what you need. We’ll get you there.”

You pivot again, and pleasure radiates from your core from where your bodies are joined. You don’t need to think about it too much as you roll your hips, back and forth, falling forward to drape yourself across Kyle’s chest as you wrap your arms around his shoulders for leverage. One heavy arm loops around your back, and you’re squealing as his free hand is at your sex again, two fingers pressing into your clit as his hips rock, as ever, to match your rhythm.

Your breath is coming fast. The heat between your bodies is humid, heavy, settling slick across your skin as you move together. You rest your forehead on his shoulder, whimpering, panting, grinding your hips down as the muscles in your back and thighs pull tighter and tighter, as something in your core winds itself up with so much tension you wonder how far it can actually go. You’ve come before, with a vibrator, with your own hands, but it’s never been like this.

“Kyle,” you say, and it comes out as the neediest whine you have ever heard yourself make. “I’m so close, oh my god…”

“I can feel it,” he says, thrusting up into you with new momentum. “You’re almost there, love, it’s alright—shit, you feel good—come on, darling, come for me—Fuck!”

The tension snaps. Your breath escapes you in one sharp, long gasp, carrying a wordless cry out of your mouth, and then you can’t make any sound at all. Your orgasm floods your whole body, fireworks of ecstasy lighting up across your nerves in a sweeping crescendo, bursting to life behind your closed eyes, dancing for moments before winking out to make room for more. For one, singular moment, you feel every nerve ending beneath your skin blaze with pleasure, and wonder if this was how stars came to life.

You finally cry out, panting hard against Kyle’s skin, when you regain the use of your voice. He’s pistoning into you from below, and you only have a little time to gather yourself to watch his face before his hips shove up into yours, almost lifting the both of you completely off the couch, as he comes with a strained growl.

The expression he’s making is indescribable. Everything you’d felt in that climax, you see playing out in the draw of his brows, in the hang of his jaw. Had he looked like that the whole time? You experience an unexpected moment of disappointment, as the pleasure ebbs. You’d been very focused on you. You’d missed what was happening to him.

You’re both breathing hard. You tighten your arms around him, stricken suddenly with that old shyness, when he starts to pepper your neck with soft little kisses, and that eases the disappointment. You come back to yourself, to the both of you, as his hands are traveling across your back, splayed wide, stroking the sweaty fabric of your shirt. His body is still warm beneath you—still warm inside you—and for now, it’s enough.

“That was incredible,” Kyle says into your skin, “Christ, that was perfect. You were perfect.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “So were you,” you say, soft and a little tender. He turns his head to look at you, still resting against his shoulder. You realize you’re smiling, when he smiles back—and you lift your head to press your brow to his. “Thank you,” you whisper.

His lips find yours, soft and sweet. You know he understands.

You’re both sticky, glistening with sweat, and a little dizzy from the climax. This isn’t so unfamiliar a feeling—you and Kyle were known to exercise together—but when the two of you finally break apart, as he slips out of your body, you discover two things.

One, you feel horribly empty without him inside you. Your belly is still thrumming, and you realize that low burn has not gone out.

And two, Kyle is nowhere near flaccid. It isn’t the rigid mast it had been earlier, but like you, Kyle isn’t quite sated.

He sees you studying him, still on the couch after you’ve stood up, and smiles at you. You know what he’s about to say even before he says it.

“Told you I can’t get enough of you.”

You give a breathless laugh. Because now, you’re very interested in going at his pace instead.

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casspurrjoybell-23 · 11 months ago

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Berserkr - Chapter 6 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Scars to Skin

Once they'd ascended to the loft, Vali was quick to herd the Alpha over to the trunk he'd discovered earlier that day, jumping up to sit on top of it before gesturing for the large man to sit with his shoulders bracketed between his short legs.

At first, the Alpha found himself wildly confused with what the Omega could possibly be attempting to accomplish, even briefly wondering if this were his attempt at initiating some sort of sexual advance he'd never heard of.

But once he obediently followed directions and Vali was able to get him situated just right, the sensation of nimble fingers disassembling his overgrown plaits made everything make sense.

Valie's hands were like freshly churned butter as they dissolved into Einar's scalp and began to massage the places where the plaits once were.

The Alpha leaned deep into the touch, eyelids fluttering when something so simple as gentle contact made his entire body relax, hard muscles softening as they finally released themselves from decades of fight or flight.

Rendered to goo by his Omega's hands for the second time that day, Einar could barely conjure up the ability to move his lips and ask the question that had been lingering on his mind since the night prior.

But luckily for him, once Valie concluded his scalp massage and got to work re-weaving careful plaits in the sides of his hair, the Alpha was able to regain a slim fraction of his mental capacity.

"Ástvinur," Einar's voice was gentle but probing.

"How has your mind fared since the... events of yesternight? You do not have to answer if you are uncomfortable speaking of it with me but I cannot help but agonize over your well-being. I... I worry," he finished, attempting to remain truthful to his emotions.

Valie's fingers paused their ministrations for a moment before continuing to weave.

But in lieu of matching the honesty that he could practically feel wafting off of Einar in nervous waves, Valie opted to remain forthcoming as well.

Or as close as he could get to it with only mere words as a tool to convey the profundity of his complicated feelings.

"I... am sad. There is an ache in my heart that is just so endless, like I have fallen down a bottomless well with no way of climbing back to the light," he described and Einar leaned over as he listened, resting his temple against Vali's slim thigh.

The contact soothed them both.

"A simple apology would be inconsequential in portraying the depths of my regret for playing a part in your sorrows."

The Alpha turned, now resting his forehead against the soft skin of Vali's bare thigh that peeked from under his shift.

In any other situation, his actions would have been considered scandalous and improper at best but they both knew that this kind of touch was different.

"If the choice were mine to make, I would have never..." Einar's voice broke, unable to speak of the atrocities that he was ordered to commit and Valie's hands faltered.

This time he did not go back to his completed weft but instead leaned down, wrapping his arms around his Alpha's neck and resting his cheek atop the crown of Einar's blonde head.

"Through the depths of my fright and despair, you have done nothing other than comfort me, keep me safe and feed me of your own ration," Valie whispered, eyes fluttering closed as he pulled in a shaky breath.

Everything felt so clear now.

"Although the blood may have been forced onto your hand, the fault was never yours to bear."

The moan of agony that broke through Einar's chest was like glass as it punctured through his ribcage, releasing all of the pressure that he'd tried his best to ignore for far too long.

"But I have hurt so many, ripped countless innocent souls from this very earth. And I have done nothing, nothing as I witnessed their blood flow, watering the very soil that I strode across as I pilfered their riches without so much a spare glance in their stead," Einar bellowed, iniquities falling from his lips like bile.

"And beyond even this, I have not even been able to preserve myself as chaste for you," Einar croaked as he admitted to his greatest sin of all and Valie's heart stuttered.

He could no longer stand to watch his fated fall apart from afar.

The Omega slid off of the trunk, eyes soft as he moved to kneel directly in front of his Alpha instead.

"May I touch you?" Vali asked, to which Einar harked out a humorless chuckle, as if finding the concept of being given any kind of choice laughable.

The Alpha reached out then, bringing Valie's warm palm to his cheek.

The smaller man translated the action as non-verbal consent.

Without hesitation, he slid his smaller form into his Alpha's lap, straddling the giant's muscular thighs as he captured his other cheek with his spare hand.

"Evil knows only the name that calls to it. And your tongue speaks only of repentance," he encouraged, lifting the Alpha's face which had fallen dejectedly down to stare at the floorboards.

Their eyes met, moisture swimming there.

"I am not worthy of the title of Alpha."

A single tear broke through then, cascading down Einar's cheek until it pooled in the space between Valie's fingers.

"My existence in this world is a curse. A scourge in the face of humanity. In the face of you."

Valie's own eyes pooled over then, lips forming an impenetrable line as his fingers tightened on Einar's moist cheeks, keeping his Alpha from lowering his head with humiliation once more.

"Einar, look at me," he ordered, voice tight.

Oceans of blue overflowed once more as the Alpha obeyed the command despite the shame that boiled in his gut.

"The unfortunate circumstances that you have been made privy to do not define you. You are a good man, a kind man," Vali took a breath, thumbs brushing away moisture on Einar's cheeks.

"And more than my Alpha, you are my fated."

His lips parted, the last word spoken like a promise.

"Do not speak ill of the other half of my soul which you hold."

"My ástvinur, I..."

"I'm going to kiss you now," Vali interrupted the persistent spiral of thought.

And then, he made good on his word.

Einar breathed Valie in, arms encircling the smaller man in an enclosure of worship and protection as their breaths suspended between them, mingling together until lips searched, trembled and finally met.

For years, Einar had lived in the constant state of twilight, a mere passenger in his body as he numbed himself to the burden of existence.

But now, as he released his mind and body to the ownership of the beautiful man that he held so tightly in his arms, the Alpha wanted nothing more than to feel every moment.

The kiss was a glorious thing, equally desperate lips moving in a hedonistic dance, as if attempting to savor a moment that could be torn away at any time.

Valie had moved up to his knees for better leverage as he licked into Einar's lips, arms wrapped around his Alpha's strong neck and tangling blindly into his blonde tresses as if trying to memorize thoughts with his fingertips.

Lips parting enough to allow his Omega the entrance to his mouth that he'd requested, Einar's hands became just as curious, gripping at the back of Valie's thighs with a needy kind of ferocity that made the smaller man arch into the touch, sputtering an airy moan into his mouth.

Einar savored the taste, searching for more of that sound with his tongue as unquenched desire plunged into the fibers of his brain and cranked up the heat.

Einar wanted to sink into his Omega, to meld their bodies into one like metal in a blazing kiln.

Valie mewled his approval as their tongues tangled and his Alpha's hands moved erratically along the short length of his thighs, as if trying to commit every slope of his skin to long-term memory.

His Omega was the opposite of everything that Einar's life was... soft, gentle and filled with so much sweetness that over the course of the short time they had known each other, the Alpha's chest was already beginning to feel infinitely too small to contain his swelling heart.

After being deprived of any sort of meaningful touch throughout the course of his life, the Alpha was like a starved man stumbling aimlessly in a desert and Valie.

Valie was an oasis.

The growl that rumbled from his chest vibrated the walls surrounding them and Einar sensed the characteristic throb of his cock as it reached for the heavens, filling rapidly with blood in reaction to the scent of caramel slick.

It drove the Alpha wild with instinct and he almost bucked when he felt a few drops drip down onto his hands.

He was quick to rub the oily moisture into his Omega's thighs, slicking them up instead of shoving them into his mouth to sample the taste like he really wished to do.

Then, the sank his fingertips back into the soft flesh once more, gripping tight.

Valie pulled back a bit, trying to catch his breath.

But Einar, more than lost to the pursuit of pleasuring his fated, only chased after him, connecting his lips to the stunning swell of his Omega's slim neck when he moved out of reach.

A breathy whine made Valie's trachea vibrate against Einar's probing tongue and the smaller man shook, grateful that he had his Alpha's arms anchoring him down to earth lest he float away like a cloud, caught in a bubble of sensation that reduced him to matter lighter than air.

"Furs..." Vali managed to mutter somewhere between the roll of his eyes to the back of his skull and a feeble, weepy sound when Einar's lips discovered his scent gland, kneading it with his tongue.

"Take me to your furs."

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emeraldiis · 3 years ago

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Pillow Talk

A/N: i will never apologize for being horny on main

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: After an entire day of staring at you in that bikini, Loki is left utterly desperate for release. Good thing he sleeps with a lot of pillows.

Tags: masturbation, phone sex, pillow humping, needy!Loki, pining

Loki shifted on the bed, mashing his face roughly into the satin pillow case. It was nearly dawn, and he hadn’t slept. Even the tiniest hint of sleep had evaded him, and he’d tossed and turned enough to make his muscles ache in protest. With a frustrated growl, he rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. This was never going to work.

He had no one to blame but himself for his insomnia. Really, it was pathetic, the way his mind had latched onto one silly little human and made her the object of his obsession. You with your silky hair and soft eyes, keeping him up until the morning hours. Your melodic voice rang in his eardrums, and every time he closed his eyes, he’d see that perfect skin of yours and wish it was pressed up against--

With a gasp, Loki swiftly brought his hands down to grasp the sheets in agony. He wished he could blame it on the fact that he hadn’t bed anyone in at least a decade, but he knew himself. Celibacy had never been an issue for him in the past; he wasn’t a teenage boy, he could control his needs. But you had him feeling like one all over again. The way he gawked at you like it was his first time seeing a pair of breasts nearly spill out of a way-too-tight tank top, it was downright shameful. You were just so innocent, so pure, and he longed to see that smile collapse into a pout as you whimpered against his lips.

Despite his best efforts, Loki could feel his cock throb in renewed need. It had been begging for release nearly all night, and Loki had successfully ignored it so far. He held steady in his determination in not giving in, but his resolve was slipping. Today has been especially tortuous. Tony and his goddamn insistence that Loki participate in team bonding. A day at the beach, one which Loki spent lounging in the hot sand shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. You had splashed around in the waves with Natasha and bounced around in a bikini that seemed specifically designed to torture Loki. The bottoms had shifted themselves to ride up quite a few times, and Loki had taken pleasure in watching you reach back with slippery fingers to pull them out of your ass.

Loki’s cock throbbed again, almost violently this time. He moaned softly into the open air. The sound was pained, and Loki felt his hand begin to drift towards the string of his pajama bottoms. They were silk, and because Loki had chosen to forgo underwear, the soft material felt like heaven against his swollen erection. Before his fingers could slip inside to where he needed them most, Loki ripped them away in defiance and turned onto his side, tangling the blanket between his legs as he rolled. The pressure of the thick comforter into his crotch made Loki suck in a surprised breath. His hips twitched upward of their own accord and Loki’s eyes fluttered in pleasure.

Loki could feel his will dissolving with every jolt of pleasure that swam up his spin. His mind spun with images of you: you curled up against him, reaching back with your dainty hand to pull him closer to you, encouraging him to grind against your backside. As if he was in a daze, Loki grabbed one of the many pillows adorning his bed and shoved it between his legs. The firmness of the pillow was so much more satisfying than the blanket, and Loki groaned.

It was over, he had accepted defeat. Loki was about to hump his pillow like an animal and it was all your fault. He thought of that wet bikini sticking to your skin, your breasts bouncing as you jogged back up the beach to him and breathed out a “what’s up” like he wasn’t about to cum in his swim trunks just from watching you. As the memories danced through his head, Loki’s hips began to roll in more deliberate motions. With every thrust, his cock pressed up against the soft material of his pants. Loki could feel the pre-cum wetting the silk, but it only served to amplify his pleasure as the damp fabric clung to his skin.

The buzzing of his phone startled Loki out of his fantasies, and he nearly wanted to throw the thing against the wall. Tony would get him a new one, as he always did no matter how many times that Loki had insisted they were unnecessary devices. As much as he wanted to let it ring, Loki had learned that calls at this hour usually meant an unexpected mission, and he’d be back on house arrest if he didn’t answer. Loki reluctantly leaned over to his bedside table to grab the vibrating object, keeping the pillow between his legs. His heart came to a near stop as he saw your name illuminated on the screen.

A few moments passed as Loki stared dry-mouthed at the caller ID, wondering when he had fallen asleep. Because the only explanation for you calling him in the middle of the night was that he was dreaming. Sure, you had texted him the occasional internet video that you thought he’d enjoy, but had never called him. And certainly not at five in the morning. With a hard swallow, Loki hit the “accept call” button and waited.

“Hey, Loki?” Came your tired-sounding voice. It wasn’t as gorgeous when muffled by the phone static, but it gave Loki shivers nonetheless.

“What is this about?” Loki tried to sound as irritated as possible, figuring that would be the proper reaction to receiving a call this early. The truth was that he was elated to hear your voice, and was disgusted by himself. A mortal, making him this weak in the knees, it was absolutely pathetic.

You were silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep. I-I’m not really sure why I called you, I’m sorry for waking you up. I’ll just--”

“Wait!” Loki burst out before you could end the call. His loud voice echoed back at him in the silent room and he cringed, hoping that no one had heard him. Loki bit his lip anxiously, uncertain of what to say to keep you on the line. “Um, I was awake. I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Oh, I guess that’s good. Well, not really good that you can’t sleep, I mean good that I didn’t wake you.”

Loki chuckled at your awkward ramblings. Norns, you were so cute. “Don’t worry, pet, I know what you meant.” As the words left his lips, Loki’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just called you. Pet. It had been a slip of the tongue, but it brought forth a whole new round of fantasies. He couldn’t help but imagine about what it would be like to own you, to grab you by your pretty face and push his cock between your lips over and over. Absent-mindedly, Loki began to move his hips against the pillow again. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from gasping. As quietly as he could manage, he put the call on speaker and set the phone down beside him so he could lie back on his side and resume his earlier activities. Loki knew it was so, so wrong to do this while you were none-the-wiser, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so worked up for so long and now it was like his body had taken over, hell bent on getting the relief it needed.

“So, why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Oh, just lost in my thoughts, I suppose,” Loki said as his eyes fell shut. His voice was the slightest bit strained, the soft drag of his pants against his cock making it hard to focus.

“Yeah, same here.” You sighed into the phone, and Loki heard a bit of rustling as you presumably got more comfortable. “I have trouble sleeping a lot, actually. I guess I just get lonely.”

A heavy weight of guilt sank into Loki’s chest. Here you were, opening yourself up to him, and he was trying to get off to the sound of your voice. He was truly depraved, that was for sure. But fuck, the tired rasp to your voice and the small sighs you let out were sending him sky high. His mind was running wild with fantasies of you under him, you in his lap, you up against the wall as he fucked you into it. Loki fought to sound normal as he responded to you. “I understand. Most beings are very social creatures, we need company to--ah!” A particularly rough thrust of his hips had caught Loki off guard as the mind-numbing pleasure rocketed through his body.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, pet,” Loki said, panting as he forced his hips to still. “Just stretching.” It was a lame excuse, but Loki was too far gone to come up with anything better. His body quaked as he tried to keep still, like his own muscles were attempting to disobey his brain. Everything in him was screaming out for more. Cum, you need to cum. Once again, Loki was forced to give in as his hips resumed their grinding. The pillow itself was now damp with how much he was leaking, and it felt amazing.

The phone was quiet, and Loki could almost hear how hard you were thinking on the other end. And then: “Loki, are you...masturbating?” Your voice trailed off as you said that word. The sheer embarrassment was evident in your tone, and Loki was almost astounded at how bold you were. Not many humans had the nerve to just up and ask something like that.

Even through the shock of being caught, Loki could not find it in him to be surprised that you had caught on. You had always come across as intelligent to him, it was foolish to think he could fool you with a half-hearted excuse. Still, it was beyond humiliating to have been called out so brazenly. Loki saw no point in denying it; you would not have asked if you weren't sure. “Yes,” he replied, voice cracking as he froze in place for the second time. Despite the embarrassment, Loki’s erection did not not falter. In fact, it seemed that he only got harder. This mortal would be the death of him.

“O-oh!” You seemed surprised, like you hadn’t expected him to come right out with it. “I’m so sorry, I guess I interrupted you, huh? Shit, I’m sorry.” How absurd. Loki was the one shamelessly rubbing himself against a pillow while talking to you, and you were the one apologizing.

Loki found it intriguing that you hadn’t hung up immediately upon learning of his actions. You hadn’t seemed disgusted at all, just apologetic for interrupting his activities. Loki wasn’t sure if your lack of repulsion was what caused it, or if it was simply his need clouding his judgement, but his mouth began to move before he could stop it. “It’s excellent for sleep. I highly recommend it for nights like these.”

There was no sugar coating it; that was a proposition, no matter how poorly disguised it was as simple advice. “Um,” came your faint reply. Loki’s face burned as he pictured the look of horror you were probably wearing at the moment. And then he nearly swallowed his tongue as you spoke again. “Yeah, I tried earlier. Wasn’t really...working.”

A new gush of blood found its way into Loki’s cock at your admission. He couldn’t help but imagine you writhing on your bed, soaked in sweat and your own slick as you tried desperately to get to that crescendo of pleasure. His blush had somehow grown even stronger, and he couldn’t recall the last time he had even blushed at all. This mortal was killing him, you were his executioner and he was begging for you to pull the trigger.

“That’s quite unfortunate,” Loki managed through his reverie. He was still frozen, almost scared to begin his motions again for fear of cumming on the spot. His cock twitched in time with his racing heart, occasionally dripping precum into his pants. Loki was a mess, but he could not bring himself to care in the slightest. All that mattered was the arousal screaming under his skin and your intoxicating voice in his ears.

“Yeah. Sorry, should I go? And let you, y’know, finish?”

Loki racked his brain for an excuse to get you to stay. It was maddening, how quickly you had ruined him. Seduction was one of his many talents, as was manipulation. In the past, he would have had no trouble at all talking someone into his bed and onto his cock, but you were different. Every flirtation died on his lips the moment he was in your presence, and it was all he could do to form complete sentences as you turned his knees to jelly.

After an excruciating period of silence as Loki thought, he finally spoke. “It would be unfair of me to abandon you in favor of pleasuring myself when you cannot do the same.”

This time it was your turn to stay quiet. Loki waited anxiously, half-expecting you to just leave anyway. He had already come to terms with your disinterest in him, you were probably just being polite. But...you had called him. There must have been at least a slight attraction for Loki to have been on your mind after attempting to get yourself off.

“Maybe we could…” There was a tremble to your voice as you trailed off, and Loki held his breath as he waited for you to finish. Whatever your suggestion ended up being, he was ready to enthusiastically agree. Anything that involved you and pleasure was incredibly enticing. “Maybe we don’t have to hang up, then.”

Loki’s eyes went wide. Did you mean…? An involuntary moan fell from his lips as he shivered at the thought. “I would, mm, not be opposed to that idea.” Loki’s body had won over for the final time that night and his hips began to move again. After restraining himself for so long, feeling that delicious friction once again nearly overwhelmed him.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” you said. “I can’t really believe I actually asked you that.”

“Would you like instruction, pet?”

“That might help, yeah.”

Loki began to wonder if he was dead, and this was his version of Valhalla. Whatever the case, he was going to ride this high for as long as he could. Everything else seemed to fade into the distance: the chirping of birds outside as the sun rose, the hum of the traffic down below, all of it meant nothing. It meant nothing because you were on the other side of the phone asking for Loki to tell you how to touch yourself. Loki took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of himself; he needed to let you catch up before he could allow himself to lose control.

“I want you to get undressed, and get comfortable.” That was a simple enough command, Loki figured. If he started slow, maybe he could reign in his pathetic neediness and focus solely on your pleasure.

“Okay, I can do that.” The speaker went quiet as you presumably settled onto your bed and slipped out of your pajamas. “Now what?”

“Touch your breasts,” Loki said. His breathing was heavy, but even as he settled into the role of your instructor. “Rub your fingers across them, tell me how it feels.”

You sighed happily. “It feels really nice. Can you tell me what you’re doing?”

Loki was a bit ashamed to admit that he was currently grinding into a pillow, but figured there was no point in lying. “I’m, uh, I have a pillow between my legs, and I’m rubbing against it.”

A whimper burst from your lips. “Oh, that’s so hot.”

“Is it?” Loki asked hesitantly. He didn’t feel very attractive; slick trousers and sweat coated skin, fighting hard to hold it together.

“Yeah, fuck. Can I touch myself, please?”

Loki wanted to drag it out a bit longer, to tease you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say no to that pretty voice. Especially when you asked so nicely. “Go ahead, pet. You’re such a good girl.”

There was a faint slick sound, then a drawn out moan. Loki groaned in response, the sound extracting a full body shiver from the god. He had never heard such alluring sounds of pleasure, you were just so far above any other being he had ever met. “That’s it,” he murmured in encouragement.

“Feels so good,” you said, voice growing high pitched. “Shit, I’m not gonna last too long. Ah, fuck. Been needing this all night.”

Loki sucked in a breath and began to thrust with more fervor. His eyes nearly rolled back at the pressure and his thighs squeezed around the pillow. “That’s okay, darling. I, oh--” Loki cut himself off with a strangled moan as his pleasure mounted. “I need to cum, too.”

For a moment, panting and whimpered moans were the only thing coming through the speaker. Loki prayed that you were as close as he was, because the coil tightening in his stomach threatened to snap at any moment. It was all he could do to keep from allowing his release to overtake him before you got yours. “Please, pet. I want to hear you cum,” he ground out as his eyes fell shut.

“So close,” you whined. “Loki, I’m gonna cum.”

He couldn’t help it. Loki’s control disintegrated as he began rutting into the pillow like a wild animal. His hips moved in sharp, quick thrusts, and quiet moans left his lips with every movement. ‘Cum--fuck, mm--cum for me, love.” He was going to cum, he couldn’t stop. He just needed you to finish first.

The phone crackled as you let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Loki listened in a trance, trying to memorize every noise that left your lips as you climaxed. Your sounds spurred him on, and he found himself tipping over the edge, cumming harder than he had in a long time. Pleasure whited out his vision, and Loki could faintly hear himself whining your name in a broken voice. He didn’t get the chance to be embarrassed about the noise; his cock pulsed in dizzying waves of euphoria, spurting out rope after rope of hot cum. It shot into his pants, soaking them all the way through and seeping into the pillow. It wasn’t until the last drop had left his body that he was finally able to stop the groans that had been bubbling up from his throat.

As the pleasure subsided, Loki sagged against the bed and took in the mess he had made. His pants were ruined, no doubt about that. And the pillow? Well, it would most likely need a few good washes. But he felt sated, too relaxed to even care about the cum drying to his thighs.

“Are you still there?”

Fuck, he had almost forgotten that you were still on the phone. “Yes,” he croaked out. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finished for him. Though you couldn’t see him, Loki nodded in agreement.

The bed suddenly felt very large and very empty after the daze of Loki’s orgasm faded. He found himself wishing that you were here, so he could wrap his arms around that perfect waist and bury his nose in your hair. It was an incredibly foreign feeling; Loki had never been one to cuddle after sex. But then again, everything about you was different. You were special. Loki opened his mouth, ready to invite you to his room, but something stopped him. What if this had been just a spur of the moment thing for you? What if you only saw him as a tool to get yourself off?

“Would it be weird if I came down there?” You asked, startling Loki out of his thoughts. There you went again, calming his anxieties before he even had the chance to feel them.

A relieved grin broke out on his face, and his heart sped up again in excitement. “No, I would very much enjoy that.” And for the first time in a very long time, Loki felt wanted.

#loki x reader #loki imagine #mcu #marvel #smut #needy!loki #my writing #fanfic

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bullshxtvixen · 4 years ago

Photo

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Pairing: Bokuto x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Song: Put It On Me - Matt Maeson

Warnings: 18+, Coercion(dubcon themes), size kink, cream pie, virginity kink, corruption kink, rough sex, spitting, spanking, light choking, light assplay(I couldn’t help myself), dom!bokuto(he’s kind of an ass oops).

A/N: So uh, it’s finally here…My first fic in two months and i’m ngl, i’ve been dreading posting for so long, but i tried to give you guys something good for my return, so please let me know what you think and go easy on me, i’m a little rusty sksks. However, this is a gift for @thekraziesreside because she drew me them most amazing Kenma x Me icon and i needed to pay her back somehow!!

Shoutout to my amazing friends @deathcab4daddy, @dymphnasprose and @spicykzumeknma, who i’m sure are sick of beta reading this by now and having me freaking out about posting it. Thank you for all your grammar corrections that I will probably never learn from, I love you all

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I-I’m a virgin.”

The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

The large hands that had been tracing the contours of your body stilled. You had to stop yourself from flinching when his intense golden stare shot to your face.

“What…” He let the word trail off, a well-practised mask of surprise coming into place on his features.

It was second nature to him now, letting his face morph into whatever expression he needed it to at a moments notice. No one ever suspected the friendly Ace of being anything other than a good guy, and really, he wasn’t a bad guy. No, he just relished in taking the innocence of unsuspecting women who easily fell into his trap.

Like you.

“I’m a virgin, Kou.” Even though you were straddling him, you still had to look up to meet his eyes.

With the tips of your ears burning, you moved to get off of his lap as if you could escape from your embarrassing confession. You couldn’t believe you’d openly admitted you were an inexperienced virgin to the guy you’d only just met a week ago. A mutual friend had introduced the two of you, and you’d quickly fallen for his ‘nice guy’ act.

You hadn’t even put a foot on the floor before you were pulled back and thrown into the pillows. The weight of Bokuto’s body was quick to settle on top of you, pressing you down into the plush mattress.

“What are y-” before you could finish your sentence, your wrists were pinned above your head, rendering your arms useless in his firm grip. The muscles in your abdomen tightened at his rough treatment, and you couldn’t stop the small gasp that fell from your lip. Turning your head to the side, you tried in vain to hide your flustered expression.

Bokuto felt his cock twitch in the grey sweats that hung low on his hips.

The innocent ones were always the most responsive. He fought off a grin as the thought crossed his mind.

“Did you really think I was going to let you get away after telling me something like that?” He growled, warm breath ghosting over your face and across your neck. He watched with a glint in his eyes as you shivered under him.

Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Do you know what that means, little bird?”

Your heart raced at the nickname.

Could he make you sing for him?

Certain he could hear your heartbeat fluttering like a hummingbird's wings in your chest, you silently prayed for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. The mortification you felt was palpable in the space between you.

Bokuto thought it was cute how bashful you were, so unsure and unwilling to show him your real feelings, even though your body told him everything he needed to know. Still, he’d have you voicing your innermost desires sooner or later- it was only a matter of time.

“Well?” He pressed, not allowing you to dwell on your thoughts any longer. He didn’t want to have to put in too much effort to break you.

Your voice was small and unsure when you answered him, eyes looking anywhere but his direction, “No.”

He was so close, closer than any man had ever been before. The proximity made it hard to think straight as the warmth of his body seeped into your bones, and his masculine scent invaded your senses.

It was almost stifling.

His tongue darted out, licking a wet strip up the side of your exposed neck before pressing a soft kiss just below your ear. He felt you shiver beneath him before pulling back and watching a deep blush journey down to your chest. It was so pure...He couldn’t wait to be the one to defile your virtue.

Gently grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger, he turned your face until you had no option but to meet his simmering gaze.

Begrudgingly, you looked up at the man looming over you and found he was already observing your flustered expression. He stared so openly and without shame that you began to squirm under him.

Bokuto saw your blush deepen further and wondered what you’d look like when he eased his cock inside your virgin hole.

Would your eyes roll into the back of your head? Would your nails imbed themselves in his back? Or maybe you’d simply cry out in pain and pleasure as he ripped through your innocence?

All kinds of scenarios whirled around in his brain, sending his mind into overdrive.

Unconsciously, he ground the head of his cock against your clothed slit and was rewarded when he heard your sharp intake of breath.

Heat pooled in his groin.

It was such a pretty sound. He wanted more, and he didn’t need to feel the slick collecting in the crotch of your underwear to know your feelings mirrored his.

His smile was predatory as he answered.

“It means that I’ll be the first person to fill your tight little pussy up with cum. I’ll stretch your walls around my cock and pump you so full that it’ll be dripping out of you for days.”

The lewd words fell from his mouth with ease, and you found yourself shifting as your body all of a sudden became too warm as if the temperature in the room had spiked, but you knew it was his words alone that had caused your reaction.

You hated how easily he affected you.

“I bet you want me to corrupt your sweet little body, don’t you?” He already knew the answer.

Your body responded of its own accord, turning into putty beneath him. Your hips rolled against his as your back arched off the bed at the feeling of his cock nudging against your clit. The knot in your stomach tightened.

The grip on your wrists tightened. Bokuto took a few steadying breaths, struggling to hold himself back. You seemed so tiny and fragile as you lay beneath his brawny form, and he was scared he would break you if he gave in to his own desires too soon.

Maybe that’s what you wanted. The sadistic voice in the back of his mind purred.

“I- I don’t know.” Your voice wavered as you answered him honestly. Doubt had begun to gnaw at your gut. Waiting didn’t seem like the worst idea- there was no rush, after all.

He closed his eyes for a split second to hide the annoyance that no doubt flickered through them. When he reopened them, he became the personification of a bird of prey, and you were his next meal.

Your mouth became dry as you lied entrapped by his stare.

“Come on, I can make you feel good.” As if he was digging his talons in to prevent your escape, he rolled his hips against yours once more, making sure that his cock rubbed firmly over your swelling clit. The side of his mouth quirked up when a tentative moan left your parted lips.

“That’s it, you like that, don’t you? You want me to make you feel good, don’t you, little bird?” another roll of his hips, and he watched the doubt dissolve away for now.

“Koutarou...please.” Your voice was small, uncertain as you begged.

You didn’t know what you were begging for, you just knew he could give it to you, whatever it was.

Golden eyes flashed at the way your voice was saturated with need. For a moment he thought that maybe you weren’t a virgin, but instead, a succubus, come to steal his soul.

He would let you.

The weight of his body left yours, and in seconds, you were stripped of all of your clothing, which was thrown haphazardly around the room. His soon followed.

Eager eyes drank in the sight of your naked body before him. Your skin was so beautiful and unmarred by another person, so enticing and begging for his touch. Soon you would be littered in his marks as he lay claim to your body, inside and out.

Growing self-conscious under his prolonged stare, you tried in vain to cover your most intimate parts.

“There’s no use trying to hide from me. I’m going to become well-acquainted with your body by the time I’m done with you.”

A gasp escaped your lips when his fingers reached down and ghosted over your folds. A groan left him when he felt just how wet you were.

“Well, looks like someone’s already dripping at the thought of being ruined by my cock- isn’t that cute?” Though his tone was mocking, his words still sent excitement trickling down your spine.

Spreading your lips, he circled a thick finger around your twitching entrance, smiling devilishly when you whined for him. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he witnessed your jaw go slack as he eased the first finger past the slick opening, surprised when he was met with little resistance.

Soon he was able to work himself knuckle-deep, and your walls fluttered around him in welcome.

Such a slutty pussy for someone so untouched.

“You’re so tight, baby. Your pussy’s sucking my finger in so nicely; I bet you’re going to feel amazing when I stuff my cock inside.”

You groaned as his fingers started to move within your previously untainted walls. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling like you’d feared it would be- it was almost like a welcoming pressure had settled deep within you.

“Kou… more.”

A chuckle met your ears in line with his warm lips brushing against your pubic bone, “Your wish is my command.”

When the second finger was added, the discomfort became evident on your face. He didn’t pause his movements; instead, their pace increased as pain and pleasure fought for dominance at the apex of your thighs.

“That’s it, you can do it. The pain will stop soon,” At that moment he chose to curl his fingers and press them against the spongy spot deep within your sopping cunt. The pain dulled and was overshadowed by pleasure as he played with your body as if it were an instrument he was fine-tuning.

“Ah- fuck, I-” Your breathing accelerated as the pressure in the pit of your stomach began to increase . Your hips started to buck up off the bed when his thumb joined his ministrations and began working tight circles against your clit. Sparks of excitement like nothing you’d felt before shot through your veins. Stringing thoughts together became almost impossible.

If this was what his fingers could do, you weren’t sure you’d be able to remain sane once his cock entered you.

“There it is,” he cooed, fingertips rubbing against the same spot, this time with a little more vigour, “God, you look so beautiful with my fingers inside you, you’re drenching them, baby.”

A thick fog came over your mind as they stroked and stretched your walls, creating a pressure in your abdomen that threatened to overflow at any second. It almost scared you, and yet, you couldn’t prevent your hips from desperately grinding down against his hand.

“More,” you cried, your breaths beginning to come out in pants.

The wet squelching sounds of your pussy filled the room as his hand became a blur between your thighs. The sound only added to your arousal.

When your legs began to quake, he lowered his head and added his mouth to the mix, suckling skillfully at your puffy clit. His lips were cool as they attached themselves to your heated skin, the difference in temperature causing a prolonged whine to leave you.

His tongue swirled around the sensitive nub, his fingers working your insides, coiling, stroking and stretching until the pressure that had been steadily rising in your stomach finally exploded within your body. It erupted from your core, spreading through you like wildfire.

Your hands found hair, pulling and twisting the soft locks as you came hard around his fingers. He moaned at the flash of pain in his scalp- causing his own desire to heighten. Your walls pulsed as he continued to curl his fingers against your g-spot.

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, Kou, fuck, oh god, oh god!” Your cries of delight were music to Bokuto’s ears. It excited him so much that he couldn’t help but gently rut his hips into the mattress. His cock was painfully hard now, and precum leaked freely from his swelling tip. He needed to be inside you soon or he’d lose his mind.

Pulling his fingers from your pussy, you watched through half-lidded eyes as he brought them to his mouth and began to eagerly lap at them.

“Koutarou…That was....” Your brain was still riding its high, unable to give you an end to your sentence.

He pulled his hand from his mouth, “I told you I’d make you feel good. Now, before I fuck your brains out, why don’t you see how good you taste?”

The musky smell of your arousal filled your nostrils as he brought his fingers to your lips.

“Open.” It wasn’t a request.

At your hesitance, he quirked a brow, “I promise you taste amazing. Now, open.”

You obeyed, still riding the endorphin high he’d pulled from your body. Because of this, you didn’t even notice that he’d reached over and pressed record on his phone that was propped up on the nightstand. He’d made sure to angle it so the camera pointed directly at your face.

He found people were much more...compliant... if he had video footage he could use against them in the event that they changed their minds.

With a grin, he placed the two fingers he’d had knuckle deep in your cunt against your tongue.

The tart taste of your release was quick to spread over your tastebuds. His eyes darkened when you began to swirl your tongue around his fingers, lightly sucking on them until they were completely clean of your arousal.

It was so erotic that you found it hard to maintain eye contact.

He released a shaky breath before pulling his fingers from your mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’.

“You’re a little minx, you know that?” He teased, allowing one of his hands to come to rest next to your head while the other reached between your bodies. Taking his length in his hand, he watched a mix of anticipation and fear come over your features when you looked down.

Your audible gulp was heard in the silence that followed.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected, but this was beyond anything your mind had come up with. Even though you’d never had sex before, you knew he was big. His cock was thick and heavy where it hung between his legs. Veins ran along the sides of his shaft, the largest one snaking directly down the centre before splitting in two near the swollen head. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like having something so big inside your body.

“I don’t think I can do this.” Your voice wavered, doe-eyes shining with fear as they met his.

He acknowledged your fear with a condescending sneer, “Oh, little bird, you really think you have a choice?” he nodded towards the nightstand.

The blood in your veins turned icy, and your body began to tremble as you lay eyes on the phone, screen open and recording.

Breathing became difficult as panic rose in your chest. You’d been so naive. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“It’s been recording for the last couple of minutes. Now,” his rough fingers came to rest against the sides of your throat, squeezing lightly as he brought his face just inches from yours, “you can either behave, and this will feel amazing for both of us, or you can be a brat, and the only person this is going to be fun for is me. Not to mention, I’ll send the video around to every person you know, including your boss.”

At the mention of your boss, your whole body deflated. He had you right where he wanted you. While the thought of your friends and family seeing the video was mortifying, you couldn’t risk losing your job. Your virginity was a small price to pay to make sure the video stayed hidden.

Anger bloomed in your chest as you leered up at the spiky-haired man, but you had no fight in you. It was useless to even try.

“If I do this, you’ll make it go away?” You tried to make your voice sound confident, but it cracked at the end.

He couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face when he realised you were giving in, “Of course- no one else will ever see it.”

He watched the internal battle going on behind your mind before your eyes hardened.

“Fine, so be it. I’ll play your sick game.” You spat, what else did you have to lose?

Bokuto’s eyes widened when you reached down and removed his hand from his length before replacing it with your own. It was softer than you’d imagined, yet firm at the same time. Like steel encased in velvet.

“You like the feeling of my cock, baby? It’ll feel even better when I'm balls deep inside you. You’ll be my little slut and take it all like a good girl, won’t you?”

The man above you let out a rumbling moan from deep within his chest when your fingers flexed around him, head falling against your chest. Your wavering hands felt so small as they struggled to circle his impressive girth. It again reminded him of the size difference between the two of you.

Your eyes darted between him and the phone. He took the hint and reached over, turning the phone off and laying it flat against the nightstand.

He turned back to you with a smug smirk.

You wanted to slap the look right off his face, but violence would probably result in the video being circulated faster.

Resigning yourself to your fate, you dipped the head of the thick muscle between your folds. Your slick coated it instantly. Lining him up with your entrance, you waited for him to meet your gaze. When he did, he saw the hatred burning in them. It made his cock throb in your palm.

When he pressed his hips forward, all at once, the air left your body as heat flooded your core.

Bokuto studied your face intently, drinking in the way your pupils dilated and your mouth dropped open into a silent moan. If he could burn one image into his mind, it was your face at that moment as he stole the last remnants of your innocence from you.

“Hng-fuck...it feels...s-so-” Your hands blindly grasped at his broad shoulders, seeking some kind of anchor as the burning feeling of his cock threatening to split you open sent your mind into a frenzy.

“So what, baby?” He cooed, body tense above you. “How does it feel? Come on, little bird, use your words.”

Nails dug into his shoulder blades as he worked himself into you. Hissing out a breath, he savoured the way your lower muscles clenched around his girth before relaxing, only to repeat the motion moments later, pulling him deeper into your heated sheath.

“So full. So so full, so fucking good.” You whimpered, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It was a fullness, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Every nerve in your body had come to life, and a familiar heat began to pool in your lower body once again. Bokuto’s control began to slip, and he soon realised he was trembling above you in an effort to hold back. Heat was surging through his own body, clouding his mind and bringing him closer to his climax. If he didn’t move soon...

“Ah, fuck, I need…” He couldn’t finish the rest of his sentence, his mind was lost to the beast you’d unleashed inside of him. With a harsh snap of his hips, he sheathed the rest of his cock inside your wet heat.

A scream ripped from your throat as your poor cunt was suddenly filled to the brim with the Ace’s cock. His hips lay flush against yours as he bottomed out inside you, the plush head of his length kissing your cervix. He stretched your body in such a sinful way that for a second, you forgot how to breathe.

Even though you never wanted anything to do with him and the thought of him being inside you made you feel sick, you couldn’t stop your body’s natural reaction to him.

On instinct, your legs wrapped around his hips, heels pressing against his ass. You didn’t know where your confidence had come from, and in your lust-driven craze, you didn’t care. In fact, it was almost as if a switch had been flicked in your mind. All you knew was that you craved him.

“Shit, you’re choking my cock with that sweet little pussy. Fuck.”

“Koutarou...move. Please.” You panted, cutting him off, “I need you to move, now.”

The heels of your feet dug into his ass while you simultaneously rolled your hips into his. The movement sent flares of desire straight to your core.

Bokuto didn’t need to be told twice.

The first few of his thrusts were short and practised as if he was testing whether or not your body could handle him. When he was met with mewls and whimpers, he couldn’t stop himself from picking up his pace and slamming mercilessly into your greedy pussy.

The pressure you’d experienced before started to build once again, only this time it felt more intense, almost out of control as you writhed beneath him.

There were many ways you’d imagined losing your virginity; slow, soft, romantic sex with someone you’d known for years; gentle caresses and stolen kisses beneath a slither of moonlight as your lover whispered loving words into your ear.

This was nothing like that.

Bokuto’s thrusts were bruising, unforgiving, and the power behind each one jolted your entire body. He was animalistic as he fucked into you.

This wasn’t love-making. This was rough, hard fucking, and you found yourself growing intoxicated as you were forced to drink in every sensation he was pulling from you.

He’d been wrong before, you weren’t like the other girls at all. They’d all cried and begged for him to go easy. But you, you thrived on him using your body, even savoured the feeling of being fucked like a whore.

The realisation made his head spin. If you liked being fucked like a whore, he was happy to oblige.

A strangled cry echoed through the room when his teeth latched onto the sensitive skin of your nipple. His hot tongue swirled around the pebbled nub, sending bolts of desire splintering through you as the pressure inside you bubbled up and threatened to explode at any moment.

His mouth left you all too soon.

“Such a good girl. You’re taking my cock so well. Who knew a virgin could be such a dirty little slut? I bet you’re loving this, being used like a cocksleeve.” The words left his mouth in a rush as if he’d forget them if he didn’t get them out fast enough.

Leaning back, he hooked his arms beneath your knees, still continuing his assault on your cunt. He couldn’t help but reach around and press a hand on your stomach. Desire stirred in his groin when he felt himself moving beneath his palm.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. I’m practically in your stomach…” His words died off when he felt your walls begin to spasm.

“Kou, I’m- fuck- I’m going to cum.”

No, he wouldn’t let you cum just yet, it was too soon. He knew if he drew it out much longer, you’d be too sore for another round, but he wanted- no, he needed- to test just how far he could corrupt you.

Without thinking, he leant over your body and allowed a string of his saliva to slowly drip from his mouth. It gave you enough time to move if it was too much for you.

You didn’t move. No, instead you eagerly stuck your tongue out and waited for his spit to drip onto it, like a puppy begging for a treat.

When you swallowed it with a smirk on your face, he finally lost all semblance of control.

You weren’t entirely sure what happened next, but next thing you knew, you were stomach-down on the bed.

“Wha-”

The sound of impact as Bokuto’s hand met the supple flesh of your ass rang in your ears. You barely had time to register the searing heat blooming across your rear before he brought his hand down again on the opposite side.

“Get that fucking ass in the air.”

Bringing your knees under you and sticking your ass out as much as you could, you waited for his next move as your orgasm began to dwindle.

Bokuto bit his lip as he watched you present yourself to him, puffy lips glistening in the dim light.

Gripping your hip with one hand, he used the other to give your ass a few slaps with his length before realigning himself with your entrance. You were so wet and stretched so well that with a harsh snap of his hips, his entire length was buried deep in you with no resistance.

“Fuck!” Your voice was hoarse as you cried out from being stuffed with his cock again.

The angle this new position set had his cock dragging along your walls, caressing them as he fucked into your heat. The new pace he set was brutal as he chased his own high.

Skin against skin became the only sound in the room as his weighty balls slapped against your clit- each time the coil in your stomach tightened.

Your body stiffened when you heard him spit, followed by the feel of moisture coming into contact at the top of your ass.

He’d been lost in his mind as he watched your puffy slit suck in his length, and when his eyes travelled up to the puckered hole just above, he couldn’t help himself.

“Don’t worry,” He spread the spit around your pucker with his thumb before gently applying pressure, “I’ll ruin this hole next time, little bird. But first, I want you to get an idea of just how good I can be to you.”

When his thumb slipped past the tight ring of muscle, your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

A sense of euphoria settled deep within you as you lay there and let the Ace pound into you with reckless abandon.

Bokuto became drunk on the cries he was sure you didn’t even realise were falling from your mouth as drool pooled beneath your cheek and turned the bedsheets a darker shade.

It wouldn’t be long now. He could feel his balls tightening as heat spread through his body. Not to mention, your legs had started to quiver with the first signs of your release.

“You ready to come for me again, baby?” His hips never faltered from the harsh pace he’d set.

“I can’t...too much...fuck.”

He found it almost endearing that you thought you had a choice.

“Wrong answer.”

You didn’t think it was possible for him to fuck you any harder, but a last burst of energy had him pistoning his hips into you with such force that you had to reach above your head and press a shakey hand against the headboard to stop your body from jolting forward.

Your body couldn’t take much more stimulation and seconds later you cried out your release into the mattress.

Your first orgasm was nothing compared to the pure ecstasy you felt in those following moments as you came hard around the thick muscle still pumping into your aching walls.

Stars flashed across your vision as your toes curled, and your hands blindly clawed at the mattress. It was as if you’d been washed out to sea in an ocean of bliss, and you had no choice but to ride the waves crashing through you.

Bokuto’s thrust became sporadic until finally, his body went taut behind you, balls tightening as he emptied his seed into your spasming walls.

His cum was warm as it splashed against your cervix, staining every inch of your insides with the thick fluid.

White noise rang in your ears as your body rode out its chemical high.

Bokuto pulled his thumb and cock from your holes once his balls were empty. Once removed, your body collapsed to the side, exhausted.

Bokuto’s own energy was about to run out, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your twitching cunt. His cum had started to dribble out from between your swollen lips in a steady stream of white.

Instinct had him reaching out and pressing as much of it back into your body as he could. He ignored the weak cries that the action coaxed from your mouth as his fingers brushed against tender flesh.

He’d fucked you raw.

You’d be sore for days after this. Hell, a dull ache had settled in his own muscles.

With a groan, he used the last of his energy to scoop your thoroughly fucked body off the bed and carry you the short distance to the bathroom. Placing you gingerly down into the toilet seat, he only let go when he was sure you weren’t going to fall face-first onto the cold tile floor.

Grabbing a small cloth, he made quick work of rubbing the musky smell of sex from your body before jumping into the shower and ridding himself of the thin layer of sweat sticking to him. The warm water felt amazing against his skin, and suddenly, tiredness came over him. All of his limbs felt heavy as if weights had been attached to them. He’d definitely been rougher than he meant to- fucking never usually took this much out of him.

You’d been so lost in your after-sex daze that he almost jumped out of his skin when you finally spoke.

“So...When can we go again?” Your voice was far more lucid than he’d expected. It seemed in your daze you’d forgotten your hatred towards him. He knew some gentle persuasion was all it would take to unlock your inner animal.

Raising a brow, he turned to see a sly smile creep onto your face as you sat naked on his toilet.

You at least had the decency to blush at your request.

“I mean...that’s if you want to. Oh, and you’d better delete that video or I’ll rip your cock off and shove it down your throat.”

He thought you might just be a succubus after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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#bokuto x reader #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu smut #bokuto smut #Haikyuu x you #Haikyuu x y/n

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angstyaches · 3 years ago

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From 🍄 anon after I basically begged for angsty requests:

hello flick, if you want to write hunger with little to no comfort,,,,, consider this,,,, shayne,,,, not letting himself eat back when he still lived with madeline and watson,,, and not telling charlie,,, because he doesn’t want to worry him,,,,

This is closer to a whump fic than a hurt/comfort fic, so be warned. Also, just a reminder, these OCs are 19-20ish at the time. Shayne gets a little comfort, just not the right kind.

CW: emotional whump, disordered eating, low self-esteem, hunger with pain and affecting cognitive function, little/no comfort, psychological abuse.

___

He woke for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night, groaning as he took in the appearance of his room. He sluggishly rolled over, frowning in the direction of the little clock that sat on top of his set of drawers.

5:35am. An acceptable time to give up on sleep.

He sat up slowly, trying to gauge how much he could move without making himself dizzy. He rubbed his eyes, the stray ends of sleep disappearing and leaving a stabbing pain in the pit of his stomach. He pressed a hand over the pain, frowning when he felt his stomach rumble under his palm.

Maybe that’s what had been keeping him from sleeping.

Are you hungry, Shayne?

A shiver ripped up his spine. He stood up, shaking his head to chase out the phantom voice; he couldn’t deal with the Madelyn in his head, especially not while she was also in the house with him.

He tried to remember what he’d eaten recently. He’d been shaky after school yesterday, and he’d tried to eat a cup of instant noodles, but he’d only managed a few mouthfuls before starting to feel nauseous, and the cup had ended up in the bin along with most of its contents. Before that, he’d had a granola bar for breakfast, and before that –

No, wait, the granola bar hadn’t been yesterday. It’d been the day before that. It was definitely that week, for sure…

He swallowed, wondering if he should have breakfast today. It was always a gamble; he never knew when Watson or Madelyn would expect him to work, and it was always much messier and more painful when he had food in his system.

Not to mention that food always came with a side helping of judgment in this house.

He took his time getting ready, though there was little to relish about the morning. He crossed the dark hallway to the bathroom, took his usual lukewarm shower and brushed his teeth, towel-dried his hair, put on the grey-and-navy uniform that would keep him relatively invisible for most of the day.

In this house, though, it was impossible to stay invisible.

Madelyn was in the hallway as he made his way downstairs with his backpack. His stomach dropped, her gaze making the hairs on his forearms prickle. He quickly tugged his sleeves down from his elbows to hide the goosebumps that sprung up.

“Morning, Mads.”

“Good morning,” she snapped, eyeing him up and down as he stood, silent, on the last step, gripping the handrail. She had piercing amber eyes and dark, silky hair that fell to her waist when loose. That morning, she’d twisted it into an elaborate structure at the nape of her neck.

Shayne shrugged his backpack a little higher on his shoulder. “Do… Do you need me for anything?”

She scoffed at that, eyes turning away from him. “If it were possible to prove yourself useful this morning, don’t you think I would have already informed you?”

He nodded. “Sure. Sorry.”

“Could you tell me what time you’ll be home after school today?”

Shayne swallowed, only hesitating for a second. “Five o’clock. As soon as the bus gets in…”

“You have no… plans?”

He shook his head. There was no way he’d let Charlie rope him into hanging out at the Mulberry house, not while he was feeling so weak and drained. Even worse, he’d probably be offered dinner if he showed up there.

At just the vague thought of food, his stomach shifted and let off a low growl. He quickly crossed his arms, shuffling his feet and clearing his throat at the same time. With her heightened senses, Madelyn surely heard it, but she didn’t react beyond narrowing her glare.

“Nothing?” she asked. “We’ve seen so little of you recently.”

Shayne shook his head and cleared his throat again. “Do you need me for something then?”

“Full of questions this morning, hmm?” Madelyn shook her head and took a step towards the kitchen. “Just be home when you say you’re going to be home. Otherwise, you know… I’ll have to send Watson out to find you again.”

A chill rolled down Shayne’s back as he watched her step out of his way. It was vague, but it was a threat, not just to him, but to Charlie and his parents. He bit into his cheek, hot streaks of anger flashing through his head and tightening the muscles in his chest.

Madelyn raised her eyebrows. She didn’t quite gesture towards the front door, but it felt like an instruction to leave. He stormed past her and out the front door, letting it slam behind himself in what instantly felt like the pettiest form of rebellion ever.

He spun around and lifted both his middle fingers towards the door; Madelyn had several supernatural abilities, but seeing through doors wasn’t one of them.

“Fuck you,” he mouthed silently, with enough force that he might as well have screamed it. He took several steps backwards before he turned to face the road, proceeding like a zombie beneath the rain-dampened trees.

His hands felt funny. He lifted them slightly and frowned when he found he couldn’t hold them steady. He crossed his arms over his chest and held himself, taking gulps of air into his lungs to try to calm himself.

But even when he managed to tame the fiery, hateful anger, he was still shaking. The centre of his stomach ached as waves of hunger weaved back and forth inside of him. As the rusted sign for the bus stop came into view, its edges seemed to blur, and the road tipped to the side.

Shayne freed one hand from under his own arm and pressed it to his mouth, wondering for a second if he was going to be sick. Instead, it was just a shallow burp that rolled up, churning his stomach and making it growl violently.

“Mm. Fuck,” he whispered to himself. He glanced down the empty road, checking that the bus wasn’t arriving just yet. He held a hand over his stomach, pushing against it and rubbing harshly, hoping to coax the growls out before he was surrounded by other students. He realised he’d forgotten to fill his water bottle before leaving the house, so he couldn’t even get some liquid into his stomach to shut it up. He’d need to remember to go to the water fountain before his first class.

As the bus crested the hill, he shoved his hands in his pockets, staring down at the ground. He always wondered what he looked like to the students looking out the bus windows. He’d never figured out how to hold himself in a way that seemed natural.

The bus driver didn’t even bother to look at him, which was normal. Shayne glared at a first-year student who was staring at him while whispering something to his friend. He was used to hearing himself being talked about, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. He already hated that he took up physical space; he could barely stand the idea that he also took up residence in people’s minds.

He walked until he reached the seat where Charlie was sitting, staring down at some loose sheets covered in notes while wearing in-ear headphones. He looked up after a few seconds, breaking into an easy smile.

Fuck. That smile. It usually pissed him off so much that he would just look away whenever it popped up on Charlie’s face, but for some reason, Shayne found it hard not to stare this morning.

“You want to sit?” Charlie asked, pulling out his headphones.

Shayne swallowed, unable to bring himself to nod. Charlie’s backpack was in the seat next to him. It would need to be moved if he was going to sit down.

You take up so much fucking space –

Without even waiting for an answer, Charlie pulled the backpack towards himself, propping it on his lap.

The hollow space inside of Shayne throbbed, ached.

You're like a black hole.

"Go ahead," Charlie urged him, nodding to the free seat.

Shayne swayed a bit, though he could pass it off as though the motion of the bus had caused it. He held in a groan and sat down next to Charlie. He shoved his backpack down between his feet. He was tempted to just let his head rest against the back of the seat in front of him. The bus had only been in motion for a few minutes, but he was already light-headed again.

A flutter of panic hit his chest as he realised Charlie had said something else, and he’d missed it.

“What?” he asked, slumping back in his seat.

“I said, ‘how are you?’” Charlie shrugged, still wearing that smile. “You okay?”

Shayne nodded briskly, glad that Charlie provided him with an adjective that he could lie and agree to. It saved him having to fabricate a lie himself.

“You?” he asked, feeling secure in the knowledge that anyone – including Charlie – could easily be distracted if they were coaxed into talking about themselves.

“Yeah, I’m…” Charlie sighed, glancing at his notes. “I’m half-dead this morning. Just hoping my coffee kicks in before second class, for the history test.”

As a fun kick to the ribs when he was already down, Shayne had forgotten about the test. He’d also likely forgotten every word of their history textbook. His found it hard to concentrate these days, and everything that passed in front of his face seemed to dissolve somewhere between his eyeballs and his brain.

“Hey, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Fuck. Charlie had wasted no time in swinging the focus back towards Shayne.

Shayne felt his heart start to pound, cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. He hated this. He wished he’d found somewhere else to sit. He missed the days when nobody gave a shit, nobody asked him questions like how he was or if he was feeling okay. He’d blacked out in art class the previous term, and nobody had even noticed; they’d all just assumed he’d put his head down to go to sleep.

And yet, Charlie… Charlie saw him.

He wondered what would happen if he told him the truth. If he said that he was scared and ashamed to eat anything, that he was so hungry his stomach hurt, that this was still so much better than the alternatives...

Shayne glared at the back of the seat in front of him, hating himself for even considering burdening Charlie with all of that. Charlie was staring, still waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t exactly look worried yet. One advantage of being a miserable bastard was that Shayne didn’t have to put up an exhausting, cheerful façade.

“Kind of tired,” he said finally.

“Okay." Charlie frowned. "Well, I’m going to read over my notes a few more times, but if you’re really tired, I’ve been told my shoulder makes a good pillow.”

Shayne blinked with genuine incomprehension. The words didn’t stick in his brain long enough for him to dissect them; all he could really focus on was trying to breathe in time with the hunger pangs fluctuating in his stomach. He could usually keep it relatively quiet that way, but being this close to Charlie was making him even more anxious than usual.

“What?” he mumbled.

Charlie’s eyelashes fluttered as he broke into another smile, his gaze flicking away from Shayne’s. “Um, you can sleep on my shoulder, if you want.”

Shayne scoffed under his breath.

“Or don’t,” Charlie laughed, turning his attention towards his notes. “Whatever.”

Shayne’s gaze wandered towards the paper in Charlie’s hands, skimming over the headings that he’d jotted down in his annoyingly pretty handwriting. The topics sounded vaguely familiar, like he remembered them from a movie he hadn’t watched since he was a toddler. Like he’d last heard them from the other side of a thick veil.

His stomach pinched, and he realised he was hugging his waist again in an attempt to ease the pain and muffle any unwanted noise. He swallowed harshly, glancing from Charlie’s notes to Charlie’s shoulder and remembering his offer.

It was so silly. And yet Shayne wriggled a little closer.

The fabric of Charlie’s jacket was cool, unpleasantly so, against his cheek at first, but he quickly got over it. His head instantly felt better, supported by something solid instead of trying to follow the turns of the bus. Shayne inhaled deeply as his stomach squeezed and his shoulders tensed against the pain. A low grumble began to surface, soft enough that he covered it up with a sigh.

“I know I sound like a broken record,” Charlie said, startling Shayne a bit, since he’d thought he’d gone back to revising. “But… you can tell me if something’s wrong.”

“I’m fine,” Shayne said. The words felt like shards in his throat. He didn’t know – wouldn’t realise for a while yet – why it was getting more and more difficult to bring himself to lie to Charlie.

Charlie nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Shayne closed his eyes and continued taking deep, delicate breaths.

#hunger #whump #angst #hunger fic #whump fic #hunger mention #starvation mention #StW Shayne #hurt no comfort #no comfort #hunger writing

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years ago

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Hi lovely Elle! Congratulations on your milestone, my friend! I’m so excited for you; your writing is always absolutely immaculate and makes my heart sing, and your compassion and integrity shine through every single thing you produce. I can’t wait to see what you create next! For the celebration, may I please request something with my favourite, Rex? For the soulmate AU, I’d be happy with whichever one you feel works best (I don’t know very much about them sorry 🙈) thank you my love and congrats again! x

hello my dear! such high praise, especially from someone as lovely and talented as you! I definitely used this as an excuse to watch videos of Rex being... Rex, since I havent written him before �� and obviously now I'm swooning so

I hope you enjoy!

warnings: cannon-typical angst / violence, yearning, fluff, elle writing yet another new character

soulmate requests / follower celebration

Clones did get to see colors. Not really, anyway, just the muted, modulated ones their buckets provided - not the ones that brought grown men to their knees.

The ones that made elation run through a person's veins and completion paint the world in light.

The soulmate colors.

Clones didnt get to see them, because clones weren't supposed have soulmates. Why would they? Their very existence was specifically curated not to encourage them to find themselves, not to go on adventures, or develop dreams, and certainly not to fall in love.

Still, when he stood at the corner of the mess hall, and watched his brothers quarrel and laugh, with their uncontrollable hair and skin spattered with scars, Rex wondered.

Because the more time he spent, the more he saw new painted patterns and heard annoying inside jokes, the more he thought somewhere in all those calculations, they got it wrong. They were individuals, they went on adventures, and had different dreams.

So, like scuffs collecting on shiny plastoid armor, a new determination scratched a mark somewhere deep inside him. If his brothers could be and do all that they already had? Love, even, was not quite so unrealistic.

He didnt talk about colors much - none of them did, and he of all people rarely had the time. But he thought about them more than he should, ached for them during quiet nights alone in his bunk.

The feeling was frusterating, something unreasonable to share, impossible to explain, so as time flew on, he learned to bury it. It felt like a lifetime ago when he learned to guard his mind and control his thoughts around his jedi generals. Still, there was a time when he - his friend and jedi - had been distracted, gazing into his certain someone's eyes, that Rex had watched. And just for a moment, his mind had slipped.

Another scratch in his chest, wanting - wanting - what? Just someone to look at, to really see, and... someone who would see him, too. That's all he wanted. It was a selfish thought, hot and fierce, seering his careful facade, branding another scuff before he could shake it away.

When he first saw you, even through his aging helmet, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

You were walking, talking to someone, not relevant to his mission, but important and he wanted to walk after you, to be the one you were talking to, but... then you were gone.

Someone else asked who you were and he felt suddenly possessive, a strange feeling immediately followed by confusion. It was an illogical response, by all accounts, you had never even met before.

And then someone else answered - a trusted friend of Senator Amidala's, and he felt relief, that he hadn't been forced to choose looking foolish by asking or the much worse option: not knowing.

And it was another illogical response.

Weeks went by, stealing glimpses of you floating through the hall, and pondering his responses in his meager free time. Was there a reason he wanted to smooth the line between your brows? Or have his arm be the one you tucked your hands into as you climbed the stairs in your heavy robes?

There shouldnt have been. But when you appeared in front of him, your lovely eyes wide and thoughtful, here shouldnt have been a reason his brain short circuited, either. But it did - images of you appeared before him: you kissing his cheek lashes fluttering as you made him promise to stay alive, your head against his chest plate as your breaths thickened with peace and his own were full of pride. You, gasping his name as your hands grasped desperately against his skin, holding onto him as he took you for his and his alone.

Rex had never been quite so dysfunctional in his entire life. But before he could collect himself, you ducked your head and ran.

There were conversations Rex had never indulged before, at the bar, or between his brothers whenever they had a moment. Conversations about love and colors and... soulmates. And it had seemed selfish to listen, selfish to participate, like it would only add to his ache, and steal from his duty. Until you.

Each time he turned to see you watching him, before your eyes would widen guiltily and you'd turn your head in embarrassment, his resolve slipped away. He was already indulging, by stealing his own glances at you, and through the intentness at which he listened beyond your educated opinions for your laugh.

And when you tripped, walking quickly through a corridor opposite of him, and grabbed his arm, holding him like he could keep you steady, it snapped.

Then those conversations became like water - they were everywhere and he craved them like he needed it to survive.

"What, really?" As always, he tried to seem only politely interested.

"Honest, we only talk for a bit -"

"And admittedly he'd been drinking, but -"

"Yeah, they seemed in love. Way more than just fucking, he was acting stupid and happy."

"It was nice, you know? A vod looking like a normal dude -"

"- kept kissing and -"

" - talking about colors - "

Rex nodded and slipped away.

After long missions, his muscles would ache with scrapes and bruises, but he always told the shinies it prepared himself for the next one. He was done collecting aches - he wanted it. Soulmates or not, he wanted you.

The opportunity came sooner than expected, in long moments after a meeting had dissolved sooner than expected.

The two of you were left alone looking over a projection, and the convenience spurred his bravery.

"You do well, with all those idiots." Brave, certainly, but smooth? Not as much. You looked surprised and pleased at his praise, and pride shot through him.

"Thank you, I..." You glanced at him, and he watched your eyes trace over his marks, along the lines of his armor and then into his visor. Hands fiddling with a little dark grey pendant around your neck, you seemed like you were building courage.

"I'm sorry I've been avoiding you."

His head tilted. You had been avoiding... him? Him, specifically? Maybe Rex shouldve felt upset, but the definitive proof that you knew who he was, lit his whole body on fire.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"You're so admirable! And capable and," you turned away, shoulders raising a bit as you confessed - "and there's something about you that's just..."

He'd never wanted someone to finish a sentence more. It seemed impossible how much he ached for you, how right you seemed for him, how it seemed like maybe you agreed, but he had defied a world of impossibilities.

"I didnt want to seem too eager," your voice was but a whisper. Hope fueled his heat, filling his armor until it felt too much to bear.

Pulling off his helmet, Rex reached for you, saying, "You couldn't -" before his words cut off.

You looking him face to face and his whole world changed in a single moment.

"- Mesh'la."

The pendant was... a color that matched the way rain felt, and the paint on his armour, brighter than he'd thought. You were his.

And you were wearing it, looking like a dream, staring at him like you'd never seen a man like him before. And... you hadnt.

As he grabbed your hands, and your fingers fit inbetween his own, Rex knew you hadn't. Because he as in color, and he was yours.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk @saradika @zinzinina

#🙃#rex x reader #soulmate requests #zinzinina #maybe i dont know people #elle only posts soulmate rqs at weird hours thats the rule #captain rex #star wars

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monsoonblooms12 · 4 years ago

Text

Kjæreste (King Liam x f!MC)

Summary: They have a day all to themselves full of love and cute moments of togetherness🧡

Kjæreste: (Norwegian) Dearest, Beloved One; Term of endearment for one's romantic partner😍

A/N: This is the giveaway prize for my lovely @parkdoesthings who won a place in my followers and birthday celebration giveaway. Wren, I hope you like it and the way I used the prompts you gave me. Writing them for the first time made me nervous as well as happy. Really hoping that you like this🧡

Prompts used: @parkdoesthings gave me the prompts "I missed you, so much" kisses + dessert. In addition to these, I have used Prompt 3, 14 and 16 from this prompt list by @creativepromptsforwriting. Feel free to send in more requests, I am always accepting!🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤎

Pairing: King Liam Rys X f!MC (Odette Dawson)

Word Count: around 2K

Rating: General

Category: Fluff

Triggers: A few curse words (Just 1 or 2)

OTHER WORKS

The golden hues filtered through the strains of the satin drapes, filling the place like the aroma of a freshly brewed cup of coffee. The birds taunted each other playfully, all lost in their plays. A few of them beckoned her to join them.

She certainly would have, if she had those mystic spells, radiating sparkles on clicking her fingers, turning into an appealing blue jay, adorning herself in the summery blues and whites, just like the sky right now.

She had been lying awake for quite some time now, sleep being a long-lost pal. The silk of her covers ran like water under her fingers, and if it were someone who had not been accustomed to it, the sensation would have been enough to cradle them into a deep siesta.

Finally, she pushed herself to get up. The gentle sloshing of water around her as she gently placed down herself into the dreamy tints of the bathroom soothed her senses. Closing her eyes, she felt as if she was in a pond amidst a forest, all alone enjoying the tranquillity, as the woody scents dazzled her senses and the solitary rose petals caressed her skin.

It was unwinding and comforting, not to live by a schedule, blabbering all day around with stupid dignitaries or argue about some variety of apples.

Ugh, Apples!

The only downside of marrying the king of Cordonia that she could think of. She could go on about her list of grievances she had with apples, but right now, if she thought about them for a second more, she would throw up.

And when in Loire Valley, never think of those gross little piece of mischief, she made it her motto.

Especially when they make you vomit.

The soft pink fabric fluttered in the merry breeze, the net covering her hands, making her look as elegant as the chandelier that now adorned her majestic room, every thread glowing like diamonds on a bracelet.

She gives a twirl, she wants to feel the fluffiness of the holiday, but yet she couldn't.

Not when there is someone she has been waiting for, eagerly, unabatingly.

Now and then, she would pick her cream-coloured cellular, glide to the balcony, leaning down to make out the appearance of a car, her chestnut brown locks dancing joyfully.

A shrill cajoled her out of her reverie, and her heart leapt to a beat of joy.

The soft music playing in the room seemed even more melodious to her as her feet lead her to the doorway with a swift dance-like motion.

She opened the door, the dazzling smile brightening up her face like a 100-watt bulb.

Only to find the waiter standing there with her breakfast.

Her face fell as if it was not a royal buffet, but trays full of apples in front of her.

And when the waiter blushed thinking that he was the reason for her joy, her anger built up like the pressure in a pressure cooker.

She knew a stream of rudeness would escape if she opened her mouth, hence she sealed her lips, put on the exercised smile and stepped aside for him to enter.

Breakfast was other-worldly. She had quite forgotten the sheer deliciousness a classic French breakfast carried in itself.

Her mouth was an adobe of butter, chocolate and coffee, and all her objections vanished with a bite of that melt-in-mouth croissant.

The weather showed a solemn change as the white were replaces by greys and the golden slowly muted down.

She didn't really love rains, any season for that matter, but she could deal with everything. She decided to go down for a stroll, deciding that she had little to do in this room all by herself.

The softness of the Earth under her shoes, the multitude of colours in front of her soft brown eyes, the splendid fragrances filling her nostrils, the melody of nature playing in a loop in her ears and the sweetness of the solitude making her heart flutter.

All her senses were enamoured as she twirled around the gigantic flower garden.

A golden yellow butterfly greeted her by landing on one of her fingers, wanting to hold her finger and take her on a tour around her adobe.

Both of them silently exchanged a few words, and Odette happily agreed to get enamoured by the fluttery beauties and silky petals.

But she hadn't taken a step when two palms softly covered her eyes. She was startled but knew better than to scream. Her heart told her that it was someone she knew and not someone who would try to harm her.

As if someone would even be able to get past the heavy security

Her ringed hand gently reached for the hands which were still placed on her eyes. She felt them, a metallic feel of a ring, gave her a serotonin boost. Her heart danced and the smile that was waiting for its chance finally spread on her face, making her look like a goddess.

With a gentleness equal to the one when they were placed, Odette removed the hands, didn't even bother to open her eyes and kissed the person behind her with so much love that one would have melted into golden honey by its power.

But he didn't.

Their love wasn't cancelling out each other, it was multiplying to become so powerful that it would engulf them forever.

Placing the foreheads together, Odette finally opens her orbs, which shone like brilliant diamonds, to look up at the person whose arrival she awaited. The blush that spreads on both of their faces is automatic.

He twirls the stray lock that adorned her beauty around his finger, his hand, the ringed one, tightly wrapped around her silk regalia.

"I missed you so much! You know how impatient I am, and yet, you made me wait." Odette whines lovingly, the smile never leaving even through her complaint.

"I am sorry, Ette! There was an emergency apple-themed event-"

Odette's eyes narrowed, and an unamused pout took the place of the preceding grin.

"Can we please skip the apple talks, please? I did not come here to escape about those vomit-inducing pieces of shit."

All the while, Liam chuckled, always amused by the thought that out of everyone, he fell in love with that gorgeous lady who hated apples.

"Soo... Now that you are finally here, what are we supposed to do? Just stand here staring at each other?"

"I mean, that wouldn't be bad either."

"C'mon, Li! I didn't travel all the way to here to stand and stare at you. I already do that, every time, at Cordonia." Even though she had spoken it matter-of-factly, it made him blush and grin.

Even more because he had been doing the same, every moment she had been with him, right from the day he met her.

But he had always been a hopeless romantic, she had not.

Whenever Odette told him that he was the one who had made her realize that love and soulmates actually exist, his heart would start running a marathon in his chest. He still couldn't comprehend how someone like him had ended up getting someone like her as his queen.

Every poem, every romantic song, pales in front of the hues of their love, and since words were not enough to express it, he made sure to show it to her, every day, every time, every moment of his life.

"We will do whatever you want to do! This vacation is all about you, after all." He said as she linked her arms into his, but not before she made a wordless promise to the butterfly that she would come back and go on the tour.

As Liam led them towards the car, Odette pulled him back.

"Not the car, Mr Rys. Loire valley has enigmatic forests, and if we are not doing a forest trail, we will seriously miss out on the greatest beauty, the beauty of nature."

And he was in awe, again.

This is the side of Odette that makes her the queen he wanted by his side. How much respect and appreciation she has for everything, especially nature. He happily gave in to her demand.

The soft crunch of some dried leaves and the earthy scents enveloped the area. It wasn't secluded, now and then, the excited chirps and melodious tweets of the feathered beings spread through the air.

Odette's eyes joyfully travelled all around her, the multitude of chrome spreading a happy surprise through her heart.

"My Queen"

She looked up at him, their browns dissolving into each other.

"You know what these hues remind me of?"

"What?" She asked in a silent whisper.

"You."

"Your colours. The multi-chrome of your attributes, and the elegance they add to your persona. They make you charismatic"

"Liam, Yours is the only colour I want to get painted in."

Their lips meet like muscle memory, without any initiation. It was a reflex registered in the record book of their cerebrum.

Their thoughts entangled, arm around each other, the trail ended before they realized. They were now standing in front of the eight o'clock café.

"It isn't eight o'clock yet, but there is something special I've got arranged in here for you." Odette winked, pulling him in.

A few silent whispers later, Odette took Liam to the secluded first floor of the café, only for him to get the surprise.

The arrangement was a large table with his favourite board games, Carcassonne and Scrabble, neatly arranged on it. If he had been a kid, he would have screamed up and down, and circle danced with her.

No one had ever done something like this for him, and he doubted someone ever would.

Well, except her.

The next hours were filled with mindless laughs, funny fights, fake waves of anger and joyful screams.

The voids between those were filled with delicious coffee and melt-in-mouth gelato that had been specially arranged, again by Ette.

She had ordered flavours he had not heard of, and with the constant consumption, he had become a fan of the chocolate fondente flavoured one.

Utterly tired of the endless rounds of gameplay, they finally took their leave while thanking the people their generously for bearing their shenanigans.

Who would have guessed that board games would be so much fun even after years of not playing?

Not them, definitely.

"Just one more spot, and then we will go back, I promise." Odette winked, again.

He doubted if he would ever be able to refuse to her enigma even if he wanted to. One look and he would do anything to make her smile the way he likes.

The surprise that emerged in front of him posed such a stark contrast to the one before that for a moment he felt like he had got a tour of the polar opposites.

His eyes travelled up to the dazzling Ferris Wheel, standing majestically up before them.

"Just executing my idea of experiencing opposites in a day, that's it."

He wanted to kiss her as his life depended on it. But before he could get hold of her, she was already rushing towards the ticket counter, and he followed.

It was the last ticket, and gladly, they had managed to get it. They rushed to enter their cabin, hand in hand, adsorbing the cheerful air around.

The view that met their eyes was heavenly, like a piece of God's adobe fixed neatly amidst the man's land. Their eyes shifted once outside, and the next minute they found themselves staring at each other, eyes sparkling like stars of the endless sky.

She was his flower moon, the happiness and love she brings to his life matching with the fertility and flowers May brings with itself, which is what the Flower Moon symbolizes.

She shines differently from everyone, a unique sight for anyone who lays their eyes upon her, dazzling brilliantly.

The brilliance that pales every obstacle, every pain with the power of her love, she was destined to stay with him forever.

The wordless promise he made holding her hand, that he would fight with the worst if it was to keep her in his heart's labyrinth.

She was the one who made his heart beat, after all.

PS: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @jessiembruno

Liam x Odette: @anotherbeingsworld @ao719 @hopelessromanticmonie @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002

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hxwks-gf · 4 years ago

Text

｡･:*:･ﾟcrossing the line

pro-hero deku x reader

summary: you show up on deku’s doorstep in the middle of a stormy night with a fresh bruise on your cheek. he big mad and takes care of you

genre: angst, fluff, mutual pining

warnings: domestic abuse, descriptions of abuse, descriptions of injuries, spicy elements if you squint, one swear word

w/c: 2.4k

request: Hey there! I am feeling the sad and the numb and feeling like being rescued. So can I request Deku saving female reader from an abusive situation? (up to you whether they are in high school or adults) Like say a boyfriend, or now ex boyfriend, is all mad you've been spending with Deku. So you get in a fight and this now ex boyfriend has the audacity to slap/punch you. Either in front of Deku or like reader comes running to him with a dark bruise on their cheek.

a/n: this has some explicit depictions of the reader being hit by their partner, so if that’s triggering to you i would advise you not to read! it’s not super graphic, but i know it can make some people uncomfy. also, if you or you know someone who is a victim of domestic violence, here’s their hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) please be safe my lovelies! and enjoy some sweet and soft deku ♡♡

“Y/N…” Deku’s soft yet firm voice only served to force the tears in your eyes to spill over your cheeks against your will. “Who did this to you?”

“Deku, it’s fine,” you said through trembling breaths, trying to regain at least some of your composure. “It’s not a big deal.”

He stepped close to you. Too close, your mind screamed. This was exactly what your manipulative boyfriend had berated you for, this strange closeness between you and Izuku that could no longer be categorized as pure, simple friendship. You had danced along this line for months now, blissfully unaware of the fact that taking even a single step over it, accidental or not, could ruin you. However, as Deku’s warm breath fanned over your face, smelling of peppermint and comfort, you were so afraid. It was blindingly evident in your wavering breaths and trembling hands.

The pads of his fingertips found themselves gently caressing the harsh bruise that mottled your upper cheekbone, his green eyes carefully gauging your reaction to see if you would stop him. You didn’t. You couldn’t.

You melted into his touch and pushed your cheek further into his hand, wincing at the dull, aching pain of the bruise. Pretty soon his fingers were damp with your tears.

“When?” he asked, and you recognized that dark, determined tone lurking just beyond the word.

“Not long before I came here,” you replied. “He…he just lost control. That’s all.”

“No, that’s not all.” Deku pulled his hand away and settled for holding one of yours, still shaking with fear. The callouses and scars that decorated his skin stood out against your own, a reminder that he too was no stranger to abuse. Albeit none of it came from a jealous, manipulative, disgusting boyfriend. “Was this the first time?”

“Yes,” you whispered, swallowing the lump in your throat as you remembered the pure, unchecked rage and aggression that had bubbled in your boyfriend’s eyes just moments before he snapped.

“You’re staying here tonight.”

Fresh fear ripped through you and you violently shook your head, pulling your hand out of his grasp. You didn’t want to think of the consequences you would suffer if you didn’t return home that night.

“I can’t,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I have to go back, you don’t understand—”

“Hey, listen to me.” Deku reached up and cradled your cheeks, mindful of the bruise. “Y/N, you’re safe here. With me. I will never let that man come anywhere near you ever again, do you understand?”

“What are you saying?” It was hard to focus on anything but his warm hands on your cheeks, his thumbs idly wiping the salty tears that never seemed to stop dripping down your face.

Deku sighed and dropped his face. “I want you to stay with me until we can find another living situation for you. You aren’t going back to that apartment until we pick up your things.” His expression hardened. “You will never have to deal with that pathetic excuse for a man again.”

Your lower lip trembled. “He won’t just let me go, Deku.”

“Yes, he will.”

“How do you know?”

Deku ran his thumbs across your cheeks again. “Because if he doesn’t, I’ll make sure he does.” He slid his hands along your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. He was so warm, so inviting. He was a cozy cabin in the middle of a harsh and unforgiving blizzard, just waiting for you to open the door and let yourself inside.

“Deku,” you whispered, looking up at him through tear-stained eyes. Your hand was on the metaphorical door handle of the cabin, all you had to do was turn it. “I…”

His lips curved into a smile. “You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. Let’s get you inside.”

“Wait, wait,” you said, reaching out to stop him. Your fingers curled around his bicep, strong and corded with muscle. “Deku, you really don’t understand—” Pinching the bridge of your nose before you could say anything else, you sighed. You wanted to scream at him that it was because of the budding feelings you had for him, the feelings that were forcefully pushing back against your inhibitions you had so carefully crafted, but no sound came out of your mouth.

He just stood there, staring at you with those impossibly deep green eyes that reminded you of forests in spring, bright and soft all at once. “Y/N, is there something else? Something you’re not telling me?”

Nothing ever gets past him, you thought to yourself. He was still so close. You could feel the warmth radiating from him.

Your phone suddenly buzzed in your pocket, the familiar ringtone that you had assigned to your boyfriend breaking the strange, heavy silence. Your stomach dropped as you slid it from your pocket with shaking hands, barely able to read the little text bubble.

“Don’t read that,” Deku murmured, and his hands were covering yours and gently pulling the phone out of your grasp. “Can you come inside, please? It’s going to rain again soon.”

The bruise that decorated your cheek was starting to throb, as if somehow you were still connected to your boyfriend through it. Every thought you had of him only made it worse.

“Okay,” you said softly, letting your head fall in defeat.

Deku wasted no more time in ushering you into his apartment, mindful to double-lock the door behind you. The space was a little more cluttered than the last time you had been over, various piles of clothes strewn about the floor and boxes of takeout left forgotten on the kitchen counters.

“S-sorry,” he sheepishly chuckled, clearing some of the clothes out of the hallway with a swift kick. “It’s been a busy few weeks since I last saw you.”

You stood in the middle of the living room, waiting for him to tell you where to go or what to do. Everything felt...muddled. Your toes were up against that invisible line again, but this time they were curious. What was it like on the other side? Your eyes flicked up to watch Deku hurrying andto try and tidy his place for you, his eyebrows pulled together in adorable concentration. He noticed you staring and flashed you an embarrassed grin.

One step.

“Deku,” you said, wringing your hands.

He stopped, his grin dissolving into a frown. “What’s wrong?”

You licked your lips in anticipation, not sure how to approach the words that wanted to spill from them. All you wanted to do was have him wrap those strong, protective arms around you and never let go. “You don’t have to worry about cleaning,” you found yourself choking out, wincing at your own cowardice. “I’m really tired.”

“Oh, right,” he said, dropping the box of takeout he held in his hands into the garbage. “Let me get you some clean clothes to sleep in, is that okay?”

You knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you simply nodded. He disappeared into his bedroom for a moment and then reappeared with a pile of neatly folded clothes; a soft hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. When you took them, his fingertips brushed your knuckles and it sent a bolt of electricity up your arm and directly into your heart. He stood there and stared at you, hands still just-barely touching yours, until you cleared your throat.

“I’m going to go change,” you said, averting your eyes and skirting around him to escape into his bedroom. Once inside, you quickly shut the door and threw the pile of clothes on the bed. You stared at his sheets, still rumpled and messy from whenever he last slept in it. You had no doubt it smelled of him, too.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” you said from the bedroom door, dressed in his hoodie and sweatpants.

Deku glanced over his shoulder and his eyes traveled over your form, unhidden appreciation all over his face. However, his expression shifted into confusion as he processed your words. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ll take my bed. I’d be a terrible friend if I made you sleep on the couch after what you went through.”

“It’s fine,” you said, unable to tell him that you didn’t want to be completely surrounded by his scent for fear it would only catalyze your feelings that you still refused to acknowledge. “Please, just let me sleep out here, Deku. It’s okay.”

“Alright,” he said slowly before glancing at the clock. “I have some work to finish at the agency tomorrow morning, but I’m going to take a half day and come home early. Will you be okay by yourself for a few hours?”

“I think so,” you replied, absentmindedly running your fingers over your injured cheek.

He stepped close to you again, breaking you out of your thoughts. Your breath hitched in your throat as he reached up and studied the bruise, fingertips tracing the mottled colors. He shook his head and sighed, dropping his hand. His touch lingered on your skin.

“Get some rest,” he murmured, guiding you to the couch and placing a blanket over you. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You looked up at him standing over you, knowing that it would be so, so easy to twist your fingers in the collar of his shirt and bring his lips down to yours. But a heavy thunderclap shook the apartment and interrupted the thoughts that were stirring in your mind. You pulled the blanket up over your shoulders and pressed the uninjured side of your face into the pillow.

“Goodnight,” you said, already feeling the sleep begin to pull you away from the waking world.

Deku chuckled, giving the top of your head a gentle stroke, before disappearing into his bedroom and drifting off to sleep himself.

A deafening thunderclap jerked you from sleep and you shot straight up on the couch, looking wildly around for any signs of your boyfriend.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, putting your face in your hands. The bruise throbbed incessantly. The rain pattered against the windows, and every few minutes a bolt of lightning would illuminate the apartment.

Without thinking, you were slipping out from under the blanket and walking towards the bedroom. Stop, stop, stop, the little voice in your head started to shout as you placed your hand on the doorknob.

“Shut up,” you growled at it, and you twisted your hand to take that glorious first step over that invisible line you had been dancing along for so many months.

His bedroom was dark but you could make out his sleeping form underneath the comforter. You pulled it back and slid beneath it, already feeling his warmth stretching across the bed.

“Y/N?” came his groggy voice.

“It’s me,” you whispered, and he shifted so he was facing you.

“What’s wrong?”

You swallowed nervously. “I want to do something.”

That got his attention. He lifted his head and blinked before saying, “What do you mean?”

“Just stay still, okay?”

“Okay.”

Your heart melted at the softness of his voice. Before you could stop yourself, you scooted close enough to him that you could smell his sweet breath again, and you hesitantly placed a palm on his cheek.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

“And don’t talk,” you whispered back, bringing your face just centimeters away from his. His hair was soft at the ends of your fingers as you held his cheek, and then you slowly, slowly brushed your lips over his in the softest way possible, so soft that you were sure you had imagined it.

But when the breath he had been holding exhaled over your mouth, you realized you had not imagined it and you had, in fact, just kissed Izuku Midoriya in his bed, in the middle of a thunderstorm.

You pulled back and took a trembling breath, still feeling the lingering touch of his lips. He was staring at you with wide eyes and a slack jaw, no words coming out of his open mouth. A breath of silence passed between you.

Before you knew it, his hands were grasping at any part of you that was available to him and pulling you flush against his body. He placed his lips against yours again, but this time it was like a dam had broken and he was spilling out every single missed opportunity into the kiss. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, the only thought you had in your brain was of him.

You opened wider for him and he gasped into your mouth, fingers gripping your hips so hard you knew it would leave bruises.

“Stop,” he breathlessly whispered against your mouth. “This...this isn’t how I thought our first kiss would go—”

“You’ve thought about kissing me?”

Deku pulled away and looked at you, the softness returning to his eyes. “Of course I have.”

You were already craving more of him, now that you had gotten a taste. As you leaned in for another kiss, he gently stopped you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, unable to mask the nervousness in your voice.

“I want to take this slow,” he murmured, running a hand along the side of your face. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you and your….current situation. I want to give you the time and space to properly heal and process what you’re going through.”

Is this what a healthy partner does? you thought to yourself as you stared at him. Weird.

“Alright, fair enough,” you finally said, laying back down beside him. Deku automatically wrapped an arm around your shoulder and brought you into his chest, just like you had pined for just hours earlier. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to kiss you,” he said into your hair, and your eyes fluttered closed.

“I want to do it again soon,” you said, smiling into his chest.

His chuckle rumbled through you and put you at an ease you didn’t think existed. The line you had crossed was long gone now, and you would never think about it again. As his arm tightened around you and the rain continued to pour outside, you felt safe for the first time in a very long time. The apprehensiveness of the future still festered in the back of your mind as you lay there and listened to the rain.

But for now, with his arms keeping you safe from the world, it was enough.

♡ 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐: @greatbiscuitsword @a-monsters-love @jennammae @heydae20 @unlasting @kuurechr @erilerichan

𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝!

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raphaellalacognizi · 3 years ago

Text

so remember last july when i thought to myself, "haha, wouldn't it be cool if i made a mechsona?"

well, turns out a year of living with that thought in the back of your head will only get you 4,977 nearly 5,000 words of backstory and a spotify playlist, so, solid 7/10 experience

(okay look, Day 2 of the Mechtober prompts was the most coincidentally perfect overlap of "Mechsona" and "Blood," so I finally decided to stop being a coward and actually let people who aren't my classmates see this. ALSO, quick warnings for violence and death, if you're a bit squeamish about those sorts of things. So, with that said, the story itself...)

Introducing!

La Vie en Rouge

Dear Reader:

In this strange world, so bright and so bold

You may, somehow, find a Tale Yet Untold

You could read one now, if you so choose

This Tale- of the Blood-Red Dancing Shoes.

It had started like any other day. And not even an interesting kind of “any other day,” like a Saturday, which always promises adventure, or a Thursday, which has a tendency towards mystery. No, this was a Tuesday kind of “any other day,” which merely meant inescapable boredom.

At the very least, that’s how it started.

However, as Adeline Troffea was leaving her house, she heard the trumpets that signaled Lord Vitus’ arrival. She groaned. A visit from Vitus- sorry, His Most Esteemed Lord Vitus, she snorted as she mentally corrected herself- never went well. He was a deeply unpleasant person to be around, as he looked like a spoiled child and acted twice as bad. Additionally, he was usually about two seconds away from screaming nonsensically at any townsfolk who bothered him, like some sort of Saturday-morning-cartoon villain. Sometimes Adeline was sure he must be doing it on purpose- his ridiculous moustache (twirled oh-so-carefully at the ends), his pale skin and delicate hands (that had clearly never done anything harder than gesture dramatically from the shade provided by his servants), the too-fine crowns and jewels and capes his draped himself in (who even needed more than one crown? Isn’t that too excessive, even for Vitus?)- he couldn’t be for real, right?

Reader, Lord Vitus would prove himself to be more real than Adeline could imagine before this story’s end. But we’ll get to that in time.

Hopefully, Adeline thought to herself, walking down the well-trodden path into town, I can be in and out of the market before Vitus takes a single dainty step out of his carriage. Fabien, her best friend (practically an older brother, really) as well as the town’s shoemaker, had promised her something special today- an early birthday present, he had called it the day before, as the birthday in question was “an entire week and a day away” and he didn’t know if his “poor, old heart” would hold out that long.

“Fabien, you’re barely 30!” she had protested, shaking her head.

“I know, Addie, I’m ancient!” he’d moaned, before adopting the affectation of what was probably supposed to sound like an old man, but instead sounded more like a wheezing duck. “I can feel my brittle bones crackin’. They ain’t what they used to be, I tell ya. You know, when I was just a boy, I had to walk to school every day? Uphill! In the snow!”

“Both ways!” Adeline joined in before they both dissolved into laughter.

So now, here she was, in front of Fabien’s shop, feet tapping on the ground in a sort of nervous excitement. Gingerly, she opened the door.

“Hello?” she called. The response came from somewhere in the back of the shop.

“Ah, Addie! What a surprise! What sort of thing-that-I-totally-don’t-know-about brings you here today?”

She rolled her eyes as she began to make her way through the shelves and around the cobbling stations to the back of the building. “You know, it’s a funny story actually, but my best friend- well, former best friend, I should say-” she was cut off by a sharp laugh as she turned the next corner and came face to face with Fabien, holding a beautiful red box.

“‘Former best friend?!’ Is that any way to treat someone who’s gotten you such a spectacular present?” he asked, schooling his face into an over exaggerated pout.

“It is if they’re going to be stupidabout it,” she replied, yanking the present from his hands with ease. Fabien made a wounded sound, and Adeline stuck her tongue out in response before opening the lid of the box.

Inside was the most beautiful pair of tap shoes Adeline had ever seen. The leather they were made of was white as freshly fallen snow, and the perfect balance between flexible and sturdy. She turned them over in her hand and gasped, brushing her finger over the engravings on the metal taps.

“Roses,” Fabien smiled softly, “because I know they’re your favorite.”

Overwhelmed, Adeline could only set the shoes aside for a moment and tackle Fabien in a hug. And for that one shining moment, everything was perfect.

“Oh, I simply must have these!” a haughty voice sang out behind Adeline, who jumped at the sudden noise. Standing there was none other than Lord Vitus himself, bedecked in his finest golden cape, and holding- oh no, absolutely not. Before she could even register her own movements, she yanked her shoes back.

“No, you simply mustn’t have these, actually,” she quipped in that same snooty tone, stuffing the shoes back in the box, before suddenly realizing what exactly she had done. Refusing the Lord? Taking things right out of his hands? Mocking him to his face? How could she possibly get out of this?

Clearly, there was only one answer.

She bolted.

She heard Vitus’ petulant cry of “After her!” ring out from behind, and then the heavy sound of soldiers’ footsteps, but she dared not look back. Instead, she ran harder, her mind racing almost as fast as her feet. There had to be someplace to hide. She turned a corner, onto a smaller side street. She couldn’t go home, it was too far away.She burst out onto another street before turning abruptly, one hand wrapping around a streetlamp to keep her momentum as she flew back where she’d just come from, the soldiers falling over themselves in their confused haste. But there were so many soldiers, and there was no way she could outrun them forever.

She ducked into a dark alley for a moment, throwing herself behind a couple of barrels just as the men appeared at the mouth of the alley. She held her breath as they hurried past her, trying not to catch their attention with her heaving gasps. And this is why I’m a dancer, not a runner, she thought, half delirious on a cocktail of exhaustion and adrenaline. Could it have been minutes? Hours? All the streets had blended together long ago, and her muscles ached with exertion. Unintentionally, she closed her eyes, just for a moment.

A strong hand clamped down on her shoulder and Adeline’s blood turned to ice in her veins as her eyes shot open again. Her despairing cry was cut short as another hand covered her mouth. She shook her head wildly, terror taking over, before she caught the gaze of her captor.

Fabien.

Adeline felt her entire body sink back in relief with his appearance. Slowly and ever-so-softly, Fabien removed his hand from her mouth, making a shushing motion before Adeline could even open her mouth to ask what was going on. He carefully undid the buttons of his cloak, taking if off of himself and wrapping it around Adeline. It dangled loosely from her small frame, making her look even smaller. A disguise, she noted distantly, hiding in plain sight. Once he’d secured it around her shoulders, Fabien began to explain.

“Everyone’s pretty proud of you, you know, standing up to Vitus like that. I know you’ve always been a bit of a wildcard, but that was even better than expected. You should have seen his face when you ran, oh my-”

Adeline made a small noise of distress. She hadn’t been making a statement, she’d been making a mistake! It was all a big misunderstanding, and now she was going to be killed, or worse, and she hadn’t even had the chance to wear her beautiful birthday shoes, and-

Fabien shook her gently, murmuring comforts, and she took in a shuddering breath, focusing back on him.

“You’ve been brave enough today. Let me take a turn, okay?” he said softly, gesturing at the shoebox. Without waiting for a response, he grabbed it from her still shaking hands. In seconds, he had pried open the lid, taken the shoes out, and tucked them into the inside pockets of the cloak Adeline now wore, continuing to talk as he did so.

“The village has been giving Vitus the run-around all day, trying to keep him off your trail, and honestly, I’m not sure he’s noticed. That man is so far up his own ass that I genuinely think he can’t even comprehend the thought of people working against him.” Fabien smiled a bit as Adeline giggled weakly. “Just keep a low profile. We won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.”

For a moment, Adeline was so overcome with emotion that felt like her legs might give out underneath her. Instead, she threw herself forward and hugged him, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could.

“Thank you, so much. For everything.”

Fabien squeezed her in return.

“Nothing to thank me for, Addie.”

It was at this moment the sound of soldiers came rushing back, hurling them both back into reality. In a flash, Fabien pulled the cloak’s hood up, casting Adeline’s face in shadow. He gave her a little push towards the other end of the alley, nodding reassuringly. Adeline took a deep breath, steeling herself, before walking, confidently as she could, back out onto the crowded street.

There were soldiers everywhere, knocking on doors, stopping bystanders and asking them about Adeline’s whereabouts. A customer just coming out of the bakery- Monsieur LeClair, she noted- was having one such conversation… if one could call “a man taking obnoxiously large bites out of a muffin and then speaking with his mouth full, spraying bits of food directly into the soldiers’ faces” a conversation. As the soldiers hurriedly excused themselves, disgustedly wiping the muffin bits from their faces, Monsieur LeClair caught Adeline’s eye and winked. She smiled and bowed her head in return before scurrying off again. As she made her way to the town square, she passed at least a dozen or so variations on this conversation- townsfolk left and right making excuses, even outright lying to the soldiers, distracting them long enough for Adeline to slip away, towards the town square.

Vitus was exactly where she thought he would be- right in the middle of the town square, complaining loudly to anyone who would listen (and all those who wouldn’t). She leaned against the brick wall of the closest building, trying to make herself look as small and unassuming as possible. She bit her lip as she thought through possible escape scenarios, keeping Vitus in her peripheral vision, right up until-

“We found the shoemaker, Your Lordship, but no sign of the girl or the shoes.”

Adeline felt her heart stop as her head turned on autopilot. A crowd had gathered in the square, following three figures that Adeline loathed to recognize as Fabien and Lord Vitus’ men. One soldier shoved Fabien down roughly, while another threw the shoebox down with such force that it popped open, revealing its empty inside.

Vitus rolled his eyes at Fabien, looking bored out of his mind. “Where are they?” he sighed.

“Where are what, My Lord?” Fabien asked through gritted teeth.

At this, Vitus seemed to revert to an overgrown toddler.

“My shoes! They were so very pretty and I wanted them, but that little wretch stole them from me and ran off and I want them baaaack!”

Fabien, still on his knees, snorted.

Vitus blinked, clearly surprised. Suddenly, another laugh joined in, and another, and another, and in seconds the entire crowd was laughing at this grown man’s tantrum. Even Adeline found herself giggling, albeit shakily.

It was as though Vitus had only just now realized what kind of a predicament he was in. No one was going to give up the shoes, or the girl, and to make matters worse, they weren’t going to take him seriously either. He glanced nervously around the crowd for a moment before his lip curled and his nose scrunched up, as though he had just smelled something particularly unpleasant. Standing to his full height, he raised his voice.

“You have one week to hand over the shoes! If you do not, there will be, shall we say… severe consequences.” He turned around dramatically, which reignited the snickering, and quickly made his way back to his carriage processional.

As the carriages rattled away, Adeline was struck by an idea. It was a bad idea, she knew, and probably too risky, but she had already defied the odds once today, and with the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, she felt unstoppable. She nimbly climbed to the roof of the nearest building to pay her respects, so to speak, waving in the direction of Vitus’ window. She ripped off her hood dramatically, snorting when Vitus’ face contorted in rage. And as her heart sang with love for her town and her people, her feet were helpless to dance along for all the world to see. From her perch on the roof, she watched the other townsfolk join her in celebration, dancing in their own little ways. Madame Beaumont lifted her son Jean into the air, spinning him around as he giggled. Michel Rousseau was doing a little shoulder shimmy. Even Old Lady Coralie was dancing a little two-step. Adeline beamed at them all before turning toward Fabien. Several people were still gathered around him, making sure he wasn’t too hurt, and Adeline almost climbed right back down to join them. But, as though he could sense her worry, Fabien looked up suddenly at met her eyes. He smiled at her before winking conspiratorially. Relief flooded through her as she winked back- a sign that everything was going to be okay, and one she believed wholeheartedly.

Just before she climbed back down to go home, she chanced a glance back at Vitus’ carriage. For a second Vitus met her eye, his glare an ice cold promise of revenge. Adeline shivered under the threat, before gathering herself just enough to make a rude gesture back at him. The distressed shriek that followed was music to her ears.

That pompous man-child had it coming anyway, Adeline thought, and resolved to put the matter out of her mind. Of course, Reader, it wasn’t so simple as that, but let it not be said that she didn’t try her best to hide her misgivings from everyone, even herself.

After what was probably too many hugs goodbye, even for her, Adeline finally made her way back home with her new shoes. The moment she closed her door, she slumped against it and slid down to the floor, exhausted and terrified. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she recalled the look in Vitus’ eyes as he took his leave. She was no fighter! She had no money, no strength, no prospects- no hope. How could she possibly try to stand up to the army Vitus would surely bring back with him? And she couldn’t- wouldn’t- put her people in danger like this, not after they’d already done so much for her. That’s it, she thought, rubbing her eyes, she would go right back to the village and work something out with everyone else, something to keep everyone safe and out of harm’s way before Vitus could return.

But as she opened her eyes again, her gaze fell upon the shoe box, lying on the floor beside her. The shoes themselves had tumbled out from her little outburst, and they almost seemed to be calling to her, begging her to at least try them on, to dance in them. And after so much trouble, how could she possibly refuse?

The shoes were a perfect fit- of course they were, they were literally made for her, she thought as she snickered a little under her breath. Watching herself carefully in the mirror, she raised her right foot ever so slightly before kicking it forward in a test shuffle. She smiled. The sound of metal against the waxed wood floor was perfection. Unable to help herself, she hummed a little tune, matching each note with another step- a cramp roll here, a paradiddle there, a set of triple time steps- she was in her element as she lost herself to the dance.

Dancing in the shoes filled her with such joy that she really could almost forget about the whole thing with Vitus. Adeline knew he wouldn’t take this lying down, and with his power and resources- she knew she had to be prepared. First thing in the morning, I promise I’ll figure out a plan, she reasoned. It’s not as though he could even attack tonight anyway.

So she danced and danced and danced, until the day finally caught up with her, and she quite abruptly fell asleep, not even bothering to take off her new shoes.

That night, Adeline had the strangest dream. She- no, the whole town, was dancing to song unlike any she’d heard before. It almost… hurt, in a way, to listen to, and yet she was sure it was the most beautiful melody she had ever heard. It felt as though it had wormed its way into her soul, her very existence, and intertwined itself so deeply that it might never leave. For a moment, Adeline felt fear, the likes of which she’d never known. She tried to wake herself up, to scream for to someone to help her, to do something, anything to stop this, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop-

And then Calm washed over her completely, every other thought and sensation lost to the ocean of the strange melody as it lulled her back to sleep.

When she opened her eyes the next morning, it was to find that the song had followed her into the waking world. She knew something was wrong, but as she tried to figure it out, every thought was just out of reach. She stumbled out of her room, towards the front door, but her limbs felt almost disconnected from her, almost as if they were being of their own. She slammed face-first into the door, and, for a split second, the ringing of her ears overpowered the music enough to. I need… help, right, that was it, I need help because of…

Because of……

The music, the music, the music- it consumed her every thought. Every step and every breath taken in time with that exquisite, unending song. Every note whispered sweet nothings in her ear, asking, pleading, begging her to join them and become beautiful too, until she was helpless to resist any longer. Until finally, she began to dance.

And dance, dear Reader, she did.

She found herself completely at the mercy of the music as it maneuvered her around like a marionette. She was only vaguely aware that she had somehow made it to the town square, and that several of her concerned neighbors were trying to talk to her, but nothing could break through the haze of the music.

As the day went on and on, passersby occasionally stopped to try to rouse her from her state, all to no avail. It seemed there was no way to reach her, and as night fell, they stopped trying. The light of the moons illuminated her as she danced, and were it not for the sound of the metal in her shoes they might have assumed her some dark spirit. Perhaps some still did. But the fact remains that all the townsfolk, save one, eventually found their way to sleep, secure in their ignorance of the events to come.

The next morning, as the suns rose over the horizon, the people of Strasbourg woke to the sight of not one, but two figures dancing in the square. By breakfast, it had been made a dozen. By lunch, it was nearly half the town. And by 8:46 pm, on the dot, all 398 residents of Strasbourg had found themselves unwilling victims of the dance.

Reader, there are many things I wish I could tell you.

I wish I could tell you that the dancing stopped just as strangely and suddenly as it began, and it became a scary story told for many generations. Or else, I wish I could tell you that the townsfolk found a way to weaponize their dancing and rose up against Lord Vitus, and discovered the cause of their dance- a machine of Vitus’ cruel creation, designed to transmit an almost imperceptible signal into the minds of those who heard it and drive them to madness. Picture it now, Reader: Vitus, stroking a gloved hand down the side of the machine as its whistles blew and the steam that rose from the spouts shrieked, the sound of his dastardly laughter barely audible over the chaos, until it was suddenly cut short by the doors to the hall as they opened with a BANG, and Vitus would finally come face to face with the consequences of his actions.

But more than all that, I wish I could tell you Adeline never remembered what happened as she danced. That for the seven days and seven nights that she danced in the town square, without food, without water, without rest, she was never aware of the fact that everyone she had ever known lay dead or dying at her feet.

None of these things are true, of course. The dance continued, the machine was not destroyed, and as the days passed Adeline slowly became more and more conscious. She watched, helpless, as all around her, her friends, her family, fell to the ground to dance no more. She yelled, screamed, pleaded to anyone who would listen, to anyone who could help- and the only response she got was the answering cries of her village, getting smaller and smaller.

By the sixth day of the village’s dance, there was only one other person still dancing beside her. It was Fabien, because of course it was Fabien- she didn’t know if this was supposed to be a blessing or a curse, though she was leaning heavily towards the latter. His steps had been slowing and his wheezing had increased exponentially in the past few hours, and Adeline knew what was coming, even if she couldn’t bear to say it aloud. Fabien, on the other hand, had no such qualms.

“I did warn you,” he rasped, after a coughing fit had nearly sent Adeline into a heart attack of her own, “That I wouldn’t make it to your birthday. My heart is just so-”

“God, shut up, please, for once in your life just shut up!” She screamed, her voice breaking. Her outburst seemed to shock him, and she turned away before she could see the tears streaming down her cheeks. She took a shuddering breath before barreling on.

“Fabien, this is all my fault, I’m so sorry, I should have-” he made a sharp noise and she cut herself off, choking back a sob.

“Don’t you dare think, for even a moment, that this is your fault,” he whispered, sounding more serious than she had ever heard him. “We all made our own decisions, you and me and everyone else. This is not on you, even a little bit. It was my choice, and I would choose it in a million lifetimes, okay? I just-” Fabien dropped to his knees, gasping, legs shaking almost imperceptibly, and Adeline felt her heart shatter.

“Addie, I’m so sorry,” his every word sounding like it had been ripped from his throat, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.”

And with that, he, too, was gone, and Adeline’s last remaining hope had died with him.

Oh Reader, what could she do but cry? So she cried. She cried for Fabien, for Monsieur LeClair, for Madame Beaumont, for Michel Rousseau, for Old Lady Coralie, for every lost soul of Strasbourg, until only one remained- and only then did she cry for herself, dancing alone once more.

The tears still streamed down her face when Lord Vitus returned with only a small squadron the next day, a full week after Adeline’s dance had begun. Towering over them from atop his horse, Vitus called out to his men.

“Oh ho, what have we here? An entire village, destroyed by some sort of plague, it seems. What a tragic end… But look! It seems one still suffers. Let us put the poor thing out of its misery, shall we?”

The largest of their number stepped forward, an axe readied in his hands. An executioner, Adeline realized tiredly. He made his way towards her, gingerly maneuvering around the corpses littering the town square, and Adeline wished she still had the strength to huff out a laugh. To show respect for the dead, on the path to kill another? How utterly ridiculous! Without a sound, the executioner raised his axe above his head, and Adeline closed her eyes, prepared to meet her end.

“Wait!” Vitus’ whining cut through the air. “Bring her to me first! She has something of mine that I want back.”

The executioner shrugged, before lunging towards the unsuspecting Adeline and hefting her over his shoulder with a grunt. She struggled against him, as much as one can struggle with a body that refuses to stop dancing, but it made no difference- he was simply too strong. Within moments, she was set down before Lord Vitus.

“The shoes,” he demanded. “Hand them over.”

“Are you kidding me? All of this for some shoes?” Adeline whispered hoarsely. “Hundreds of people, an entire town, dead, because you couldn’t stand the thought of someone else wearing these stupid fucking shoes?”

Vitus sneered at her. “On the contrary- I’m killing you because of the ‘stupid fucking shoes,’ as you’ve so crassly called them. Everyone else was… shall we say, collateral damage.”

Adeline’s breath caught in her throat. Her village, her friends, her family- they weren’t even some kind of fucked-up punishment for her, to drive her mad with grief and guilt. They were just “collateral damage,” not even worth an afterthought in the mind of their murderer. Her rage boiled inside of her, and had Adeline been able, she would have killed the man herself just then.

“Oh no, look!” Vitus sounded so genuinely miserable that for a moment Adeline was taken aback. “You’ve gone and ruined them!”

She glanced down as Vitus gestured towards her shoes and saw it was indeed true. The once-pristine white was long gone; now the leather was completely stained through by her own blood.

Reader, do you know what she did then? Why, she did the only thing she could.

She laughed, Reader. She laughed for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, all her frustration and sorrow and fear and anger and fatigue welling up from within her as she faced this utterly ridiculous man. She laughed. And as Vitus’ disappointment turned to shock, then to an angry pout, she laughed even harder. Even the dance, for a moment, seemed to laugh with her, each shuffle taking on the tone of ha-ha, ha-ha.

Finally, Vitus had had enough. He struck her, clean across the face, and for a moment, the laughter ceased as she gasped in pain.

“You know, I think they look better this way,” she drawled after catching her breath. “The red really brings out my eyes.”

Lord Vitus, clearly having expected Adeline to fall to her knees and grovel for forgiveness (fat chance, she thought, even if I hadn’t been cursed), puffed up like a particularly unpleasant frog as he spluttered through some sort of retort. Even his stupid moustache seemed to puff up with him, Adeline noticed in tired amusement, as he finally settled on, “W-W-Well, I never!”

He turned away from her sharply and caught the eye of the executioner. Adeline’s stomach dropped as Vitus’ face returned to that arrogant smile. He looked back at her, malice gleaming in his eyes, and addressed her once more.

“I do soapologize, it seems that I have forgotten myself for a moment. I am, however, fully prepared to make it up to you. You see, I do, in fact, possess the antidote to your little ‘Dancing Plague,’ as it were, and I would be delighted to offer you the cure.”

Adeline couldn’t see it, but as she felt movement at her back, she knew what was about to happen. In one final act of defiance, she spat at Vitus, who squealed as he tried, and failed, to avoid it. He huffed once more as she laughed at him, before screeching his final command.

“A PERMANENT CURE!”

And with that, Adeline felt pain explode in her legs, near blinding in its intensity. For a moment, a scream overpowered the music, and it took a moment longer to realize the scream was her own. She blinked though unnoticed tears to look up -when had she fallen- at Vitus, but she couldn’t quite focus on him -or anything else. She felt so -tired sick- dizzy, and she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and –die- rest. But the pain in her legs screamed for her attention, and as she dragged herself up, she realized why.

At its simplest, a cure is just a way to remove a problem. It doesn’t need to be as advanced as a vaccine, or as complicated as the witches’ remedies of old. In fact, Lord Vitus’ antidote was both exceedingly simple and remarkably effective.

The permanent cure for the Dancing Plague? Simply remove the problem.

Namely, the legs.

How strange, she thought, in that last moment of lucidity, as she stared at the legs- her legs- lying on the ground a few feet away. I almost expected them to keep dancing.

And with that, she fell, lifeless, to the ground.

But Reader- she did not die.

#look im still working on uploading this to ao3 but for now we're stuck like this #ill reconfigure this later once ive got that up. or maybe ill just make a new post. whichever is easier.#mechtober #the mechanisms #i cant believe im maintagging this but you know what im proud of it #my writing #also no im not late what are you talking about

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luzarya · 3 years ago

Text

To Hunt A Creature

twst x Yuu

Summary: Yuu, as all know, came from another world. Not a word about their past however.

Until something from their world arrives, and Yuu deals with it alone.

Ao3 link: here

warnings and tags: some violence, mention of blood, not beta read

word count: 1,910

If it was something that Yuu desperately wanted to leave behind, it was their past. So far, they never once had to explain it, keeping it locked away.

But today was different.

Yuu felt something was amiss in the morning, feeling something that they thought they wouldn’t have felt in this world. It was odd, but it brought a sense of panic to Yuu.

“Grim,” Yuu called out to the sleeping feline, “Hey, Grim.”

Grim mumbled something in his sleep, then finally opened up his eyes, “Eh, what is it?”

Yuu gave a small smile, “I’ll be a bit late to class today, so on without me.”

“Eh? But it’s pretty early? Why are ya gonna be late?”

“I want to shower,” Yuu lied, “I forgot to take one last night and it’s bothering me.”

“Sheesh,” Grim huffed, “You and your long showers. Well…” He paused, “I guess it’s fine, as long as I get some tuna!”

“Of course!”

Yuu never attended class.

It was the afternoon, and it has been a few slow hours tracking down the creature in the forest, the creature that was the cause of it all. It was only because of Yuu’s previous experiences did Yuu ever notice, really.

If the creature isn’t taken down, then it would only grow stronger and stronger, until it no longer can be contained, destroying its surroundings in the process.

Yuu wanted to get rid of it while the creature was young, or at least, before anyone noticed that anything was amiss.

It was calming, to say the least.

Perhaps it was because this life was all that Yuu had known, or perhaps it was because their body sorely needed something like this. Yuu often didn’t get a chance to show their skills, lest anyone would question their entire identity.

Yuu walked slowly, careful to keep quiet. A glance told them that the creature was nearby, fresh prints in the mud. It didn’t take much for Yuu to realize that the creature was likely a little too nearby, faintly able to pick up the breathing of the creature.

It was calm, sounding just like any other animal to anyone else, though to Yuu, they could pick up the slight raggedness of it, too atypical to be that of a normal animal.

Yuu turned ever so slightly, their eyes meeting the figure of the beast that they had been tracking. It startled them for a brief moment, but they quickly calmed. The creature, without a doubt, was from their world.

The creature turned its head, now spotting Yuu. It bellowed out a roar, and then lunged towards them. But Yuu’s muscle memory kicked into action, allowing them to dodge the creature’s attack.

Your movements flowed smoothly, as if you weren’t inactive as a hunter for months on end. Yet, despite this, you could already feel the ache of your muscles, but that feeling was also familiar; thus your body continued despite its protests.

You pulled out a dagger, feeling the cold metal in your hand. With a thrust, you plunged your dagger into the creature’s flesh, blood splattering out and landing on your person.

Thus, a dance began.

The creature would lunge forward, and you would dodge. It would swipe at you, but you were quick enough to go to the side, out of it’s reach, landing another attack on it. This continued, your lungs burning, the creature persistent with its assaults. Few times did the creature managed to wound you, but you didn’t care- you were just. So. Close.

You don’t know how long it lasted, nor did you keep track of the number of times you landed a hit on the creature, and vice versa. But by the time the creature’s body landed on the ground with a loud thud.

But Yuu didn’t rest, no, they instead pulled something from their pouch. It was a vial of holy water, something of which Yuu had to make themselves. They also took out a pair of ear plugs, putting them in, then pouring the holy water onto the creature.

The creature let out an ear-shattering howl, and despite the earplugs, Yuu’s ear still hurt. Yuu took a step back as they saw the holy water melt the creature’s flesh, the creature crawling with much effort, but to no avail. Slowly, it made its way towards Yuu, and by the time it managed to crawl right in front of Yuu, who merely stared at it, the beast let out one last pitiful screech, before its head slumped against Yuu’s shoes, its body no longer moving.

It took only a few minutes for the body to dissolve into nothing but dust, of which was when Yuu knelt, taking out the earplugs and putting them away, clasping their hands together, closing their eyes, whispering out a prayer.

Blades of light appeared, striking down the dust. Somehow, it managed to get all of the dust, completely removing any evidence that the creature ever lived, with a small exception.

A small purple stone remained, glowing brightly, as if asking to be taken.

And Yuu complied, wordlessly picking up the stone, albeit carefully, then standing up. The stone shook in their grasp, puffs of black smoke swirling around Yuu’s arm, but never harming them. Eventually, it shook more and more, as if angry, but after a few minutes of absolutely nothing happening, the stone became still- signifying that it had given up.

Smiling, Yuu pulled out a pouch littered with faded runes and sigils, placing the stone within.

“Heh, guess I still have it in me, huh?” Yuu laughed, putting away the stone.

It was then when Yuu’s actions finally caught up with them.

Yuu’s legs gave out, causing Yuu to fall harshly against the forest floor. Yuu let out a yelp, followed by a string of curses.

It was only lunch, judging by the position of the sun, as far as Yuu could tell, which meant that there was a chance that someone would find them- but Yuu knew that it was unlikely. Grim probably assumed that they were skipping school- which admittedly was technically true.

Yuu quietly cursed again, trying to move their arms. Yuu managed to move them, but not without feeling the pain from all the gashes and wounds they’ve endured from the fight.

A thought came to Yuu.

Weakly, Yuu took out a knife, pulling out the blade. They pressed the tip onto the dirt, and began making an intricate design. They had spent only a few minutes on it, and once they were done, Yuu shifted their arm, the wound parallel to the ground. Yuu then used their free hand and pressed against the wound, forcing the once closing wound to open up, the stream of blood regaining life.

Drops of blood spilt onto the ground, as Yuu began muttering phrases.

It became dark, until it became too dark that Yuu couldn’t see a thing. Yuu became silent, moving their arms so that they laid at their sides. At this point, Yuu could feel the consequences of losing all the blood, and for a moment, Yuu regretted not eating prior to the fight.

Through the midst of the heavy air and silence, a voice rang out.

“So, you’ve called, at last, my dear?”

The darkness dissipated, the forest and its surrounding returning within Yuu’s line of sight- with a new addition.

The owner of the voice stood quite the distance away from Yuu, looking down at them.

“Just come and help me,” Yuu seethed, glaring at the figure, “I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t desperate.”

“I know,” the demoness replied, “I’m just surprised, is all. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

“Yep. Now, help me.”

“Heh, fine. Just for old time’s sake.”

The demoness, who was dressed in a red suit, the jacket hanging on their shoulders, walked slowly over to Yuu. Once the demoness was just a foot away, they just gave Yuu a glance, stroking their chin.

Then, with a snap of the demoness’ fingers, all of Yuu’s wounds healed. It wasn’t a painless process, however, as Yuu slumped over into the ground, the demoness letting out a small yelp as they jumped back out of Yuu’s way.

It took a moment for Yuu’s wounds to completely heal, and even then, they were still weak.

“Perhaps, it’s been too long,” the demoness muttered, as they went over to Yuu and picked them up, “Now, my darling, show me the way to your new home.”

“It’s over there…”

“Thank you.~”

The demoness then began walking. It would have been more convenient to fly over the forest, and be ‘home’ in an instant, but this was a different land. Unknown. Unseen.

And the demoness didn’t want to take chances in a world in which they were ignorant of its customs and culture- who knows how it would react to someone like her.

So it took a while. By the time the demoness had arrived at the place that Yuu had called ‘home’, there were three figures, from what she could sense. Yuu, at this point, was fast asleep.

Quietly, as they could, they walked over, careful to not be seen. Gently, they propped the sleeping Yuu against the wall. The demoness glanced around- the figures hadn’t noticed yet.

Good.

The demoness then walked away, and once she had deemed that there was enough distance between her and everyone else, she threw a rock.

And another.

Until one of the figures had the brains to investigate.

“The heck? Where are these rocks coming from?”

The demoness hide within the bushes.

Within the demoness’ line of vision, they saw two boys, one with red hair while the other with blue, and a fat dark cat with flames.

“Eh, is that Yuu?” The fat cat grumbles.

“Oh Great Seven,” the blue haired kid exclaimed, “It is!”

The demoness watched as the blue haired boy ran over to Yuu, picking them up with great ease. Naturally, this woke up Yuu, who began to immediately struggle in the boy’s grasp until the boy said something.

Whatever the boy had said, it was enough to calm Yuu down.

“Oh… It’s you, Deuce,” Yuu sighed.

“Geez,” the red haired kid scoffs, “Where were you? All the teachers gave that look of disapproval, y’know.”

“Yea!” The cat replies, “You left me all alone! You said you were just gonna be late! What’s the deal? Why are you wearing different clothes? Why do you smell like blood, huh?”

“Blood? Oh, that’s-”

“Eh?!” Deuce gave Yuu a look-over, “You were bleeding!? We need to get your insides!”

“Deuce, I’m fine-”

“How are you not dead?”

“Ace-”

At this point, the demoness was getting annoyed. A look from Yuu indicated that they felt their annoyance, which didn’t go unchecked by their friends.

“What are ya lookin’ at?” The cat turned to the demoness’ direction. “Is there somethin’ there, eh?”

“No, Grim-”

The demoness let out a sigh, and then revealed themselves. The two boys, Ace and Deuce, and the fat cat named Grim, stared at the demoness.

For a good moment, all was quiet, until someone broke the silence.

“So. This is Aristomache…. But she goes by Mache for short ...” Yuu said, letting out a nervous laugh.

At this, Mache smiled at the teenagers, lifting up her hand, open for a handshake. “Hello, friends of my darling, it’s a pleasure.”

Silence….

…

“...Yuu, what the heck…”

“Oh, shut up.”

#twst x yuu #twst fanfic #luzarya writes things yuh

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lyallblacklupin · 4 years ago

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I am fighting for you.

Remus can’t easily escape the most heart-wrenching memory from his mind that was clinging stubbornly, only making his transformation worse; Sirius Black fighting alone against seven hooded opponents, the red sparks suddenly hitting his chest, and the screams echoing the alley. How can Remus forget the fact that those howls craving nothing but death, were of the most foremost person in his life, the only hope, only dream, only love, only the reason to keep living in this war. Sirius was his everything and the only thing.

Just for once, he wanted to live...

Just for once, he wanted to unfeel the pain...

Just for once, he wanted to love without fear...

Remus was lying crumpled on the floor, the pool of his blood beneath his wounded body. The sharp breeze of the cold dawn swishing from the opened window of the Shrieking Shack, that spasmed his already trembling, naked body. He peeked from his one of his heavy eyes to see the deteriorated window that was hanging on its rusty hinges, waving in and out, back and forth by the currents of the wind, and the sky was light blue as if witnessing an almost twilight sky, except it had started getting brighter. The view was quite scenic enough for Remus to distract him from his physical pain. However, the pain was not just physical.

He barely acknowledged the severely maimed hand of his own that was laying lifelessly before him. His wand was not far from his reach. He could grab it and cast healing charms at his wounds and he could apparate back to his flat. It was all physically possible, and yet very unwanting.

No one had come to accompany him on his full moon, and he was not mad. He was just tired, and so was James who was fighting for his wife and son, and Peter who was fighting for his dying mother, and Sirius...who was he fighting for?

Suddenly, the previous day enrolled before him, again.

"NO SIRIUS! COME BACK! APPARATE BACK!"

Remus was shrieking like the way he had never shrieked before, the blood dripping from his forehead, trickling down his eyelid, didn't bother him because they were outnumbered by another troop of death eaters who had apparated right after James had taken an unconscious Lily back in the nearby shop in Diagon Alley. There was fire, jets of red and green sparks, ashes of the burnt shops that once used to glitter with vivid colors and had the whiff of excitement for going to Hogwarts.

And then there was Sirius in the middle of the alley, fighting alone against seven hooded opponents. His eyes were hard and furiously fixed on the masked people. Remus could see how Sirius' wand was not relaxing for a single second, blocking every curse, jinx, and hex.

He wanted him to stop! He wanted him to come back! He wanted him alive! Why was he not listening to him? Remus' throat felt thorny because of screaming pleas for Sirius to come back. No voice on earth was going to stop him, no jerk was going to make him retreat from his charge. What was he fighting for?

"WHAT ARE YOU FIGHTING FOR!?" Remus cried.

Sirius abruptly stopped and his widened gaze fell on Remus. And that was when a bitter voice yelled, "Cruicio!"

In the fleeting moment, Sirius' body thrust to the ground as the red spark hit him in the chest. And then, there he was violently twitching, jerking, reaching nowhere, his eyes rolling, his screams were echoing in the alley.

"KILL ME! KILL ME NOW!"

Remus' chest was tight, and his already trembling body felt a strange shudder when that memory replayed in his head. He was struck with the most bitter realization; This was it. This was his reality. This was the true picture of his life in which he had to suffer with infinite amount of pain in every way possible, especially by watching the pain of his loved ones, and above all, Sirius.

Something broke inside him—like his ribcage suddenly lost the strength that held him and his stiffened muscles slumped down in defeat as he sobbed over his misfortune. His howls were making him realize how much he was torn inside. His tears were dissolving in his blood, and he wanted everything to stop, the war, the suspicion, the terror, the agony of being a werewolf, a terrible lover, and...just himself. He wanted to end...die. There was a voice inside him saying that there was a life beyond death where he could live without pain, love without fear.

Just for once...only for once...was it too much to ask?

Crack.

He immediately recognized the familiar footsteps, the strong scent, and the heartbeat which suddenly panicked him. How can he wish to die when he had one person who loved him more than they loved themselves?

"Merlin...Moony..." Sirius murmured under his breath, as he rolled Remus over so that his back was against the floor, exposing his bare chest. Sirius' eyes were tensed but he was wearing a poker face. Remus knew that he was pulling himself together just for him.

Padfoot doesn't cry when Moony cries, he will not yell when Moony yells—even if he yells completely unfairly—that was the rule because that was how they had been able to make this far.

Remus was just serenely studying Sirius' face: Those grey eyes were concentrated in casting healing charms all over his body, his nostrils were flaring but there was no hint of anger on that face, just deadpanned, he was frowning at the very unexpected wounds, his mouth was formed in a thin line, and his dark hair falling in his eyes which he didn't bother tugging behind his ear. He was so, so beautiful. And then the memory flashed in Remus' brain, again, and suddenly Sirius Black looked ten times more precious than he was right now. Remus didn't realize a whimper escaping his mouth until Sirius' eyes stopped to meet his.

Remus felt his heart skipped a beat, but there was a strange sense of satisfaction in exchanging a long stare. He could stare at him forever. He lifted his trembling hand and reached for Sirius' hair as he tugged a thick lock behind his ear, and a tear escaped Sirius' eyes.

"Don't leave me." Remus whispered.

"Selfish, are you?" Sirius' voice was hardly recognizable. Remus nodded, despite the pain in his heart, he knew how raw Sirius would become when he had been hurting. Sirius' plain expressions exchanged with the helplessness. Remus' hand was still tracing his damp face.

"Let's run away, then. Far away. Just you and me." Remus said, wanting to be just as raw as Sirius.

Today they were not being fire and water. They were being fire and fire, water and water. This was going either going to end in flames or a raging flood.

Little did Remus know, Sirius started sobbing as he shook his head. They were eventually back to being themselves. This was how it always ended. Either of them would break, and the other is there to pick up the pieces.

As much as broken Remus was, physically, Sirius was wounded deeply as he cried. He had never cried when Remus was suffering. He had known how to stay strong, but this time he was quivering in between his sobs.

"We wouldn't have to return, you know. Let's do this." Remus was also silently crying, but that didn't mean that he was ignoring Sirius shaking his head in disapproval. He held Sirius’ forearm to sit up, and he wrapped his aching arms around him.

"Don't do this," Sirius whispered in his hair.

"Then why do you make me do this?" Remus pulled away to face the other in the eyes. "Why do you throw yourself into hell as if you are searching death and wanting it to hit you!?

He was suddenly speaking so loudly and Sirius was looking down at their hands. Remus had wanted to say those words to put some sense into Sirius, but few hours after the dueling, he himself had disapparated to the Shrieking Shack when the wolf inside him had started to signal his arrival. In the meantime of his transformation, he hadn’t forgotten the dueling, the cruciatus curse hitting the love of his life, and most importantly, the urge to see him in one piece before him.

"As if you completely forget that I am here too! At your side. You don't even acknowledge the fact how much your actions would hurt me! Your pain is my pain, Sirius Black!" He poked him harshly on his chest. "You don't let only yourself be dead, but you also kill me! You don't fucking realize how much I love you! You fucking dumb tosser! I can't watch you die! I can't let you get away from me! I can't live without you! Why don't you understand!?

Remus' chest was heaving raggedly. He had forgotten about his wounds, and now he was just staring at Sirius' glistening eyes. They were leaking tears so silently. He looked so small and vulnerable. Remus held his face in his hands and pulled his forehead to his lips to press a chaste kiss there.

"I am sorry." Sirius' raspy voice sent a shiver down to Remus' body.

"I want to get out of it. But I don't think I can without you. I want to protect you like you have your whole life. Let me protect you, please."

"I'd die for you-"

"I don't want you to die for me!" Remus grabbed Sirius' wrists and tugged him close at his eye level, "I want you to live for me!"

"I'm responsible for this, Moony." His voice was weak and muffled because he had slipped his head in the crook of Remus' neck.

"What are you talking about?"

He met Remus' eyes. "I know...I can't say if I disagree with you because I don't. But then when I look at you, James, Lily, and Peter, I feel like I owe you all. My own blood is out there killing innocent people..."

Suddenly, everything was making sense to Remus; the hard glare of Sirius while he is dueling with those masked death eaters, the concentration that would be keen to linger when he disarms them, aiming charms and spell on those masks which could reveal their identity and Sirius would either sigh in relief if Regulus Black isn't behind that mask.

"I feel like I am responsible for every life because my blood is aiming to kill the people I so dearly love, Remus. I can't give up on you so easily. I don't care about myself!

“You can't see me dying, can you? I saw you on the verge of death every month since for years and I still do, but I cannot fight that miserable fate. I actually thought when I was twelve that I could find a cure for your lycanthropy. I actually believed that one day I will be the one to take the pain away from you. I was so naïve. Now these people, who are also my unfortunate family, are trying to kill you. I can’t stand that.

“So you asked me who am I fighting for? I am fighting for you."

Remus opened his mouth to speak but the words died in his mouth. Sirius had left him utterly speechless.

"You don't care about yourself," He spoke after a lingering silence, "but I care about you so you have to care about that."

Remus knew that his words sounded very stupid but Sirius chuckled and shoved him in his embrace.

"I love you, Remus John Lupin. I love you more than anything. And I promise that I will be careful for you, just for you because I don’t want to hurt you in anyway."

“You better not,” Remus leaned close and pressed his forehead against Sirius’. “Otherwise, I won’t share my jumpers with you.”

“A little less tyranny, Moony, I’m fragile!”

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar angst #wolfstar happy ending #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #first wizarding war rp #dynasty mia

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abarbaricyalp · 3 years ago

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Inhale My Soul

am i reposting my favorites from the prompt meme from last night just by themselves? maybe

AO3 link in the reblog

Kisses 27: Desperate Kisses

Dissolving hadn’t felt like anything. Sam wasn’t sure he even understood what was actually happening. Maybe he’d thought it was just a trick of the reality stone. Maybe human minds weren’t meant to comprehend anything close to what had happened.

Coming back felt like dying.

He woke up on his back and he couldn’t breathe. It was like he had no lungs at all, just a trachea spasming in his throat without air, like a gills with no water. He grasped for the ground and the feeling of dirt was horrifying, a grave waiting to swallow him down into the Earth. The wind was knives on his skin. His suit felt like it was trying to pry his spine from his ribs. His legs ached like someone was trying to stretch the bones on a crank.

He must’ve screamed but there was no air to make a noise.

Finally sight came back and the first thing he saw were the trees falling over him, ready to crush him and hide him again.

Had anyone seen him disappear? No one was by his side. No one looked for him.

No, the trees weren’t falling. They were swaying in the wind. The sun kept gliding down through them with every shuffle of the leaves.

It was so quiet he felt like he could hear the leaves sighing as they grew.

It took him too long to realize the ragged breath that broke the silence like a gunshot came from his own chest. The hands digging his own grave shot to his chest, felt the rise and fall of his ribs and lungs, the proof that he was breathing. He was alive again.

He rolled onto his side and heaved until his ribs creaked, still firmly attached to his spine. There was nothing to come up, but the noise was comforting, the ache that he could name and handle was safe. Human. Living human.

His knees were in his legs when he leaned back on his haunches. They sank into the earth but the grave didn’t swallow him down. No unwilling sacrifice to be taken from him. He brought his dirt covered fingers--firm and whole and attached to him--up to his face. He found his cheeks, a beard with edges that were too straight for a man who had died and been put back together, his teeth. They throbbed in his gums like they were all about to fall out but they were there in his head. His tongue.

He could speak.

“Steve!” he shouted and his throat screamed in protest, the air in his lungs turned to fire. “Steve!” he called again and forced himself to his feet. His boots were tied. His pants were still tucked into them. There was no blood, which seemed wrong. He felt flayed open and left to soak into the ground. How could there be no blood?

“Steve!”

God, if Steve was dead…

Sam couldn’t lose more people. He couldn’t fight his way back. Not after this. Not while everything hurt so fucking much.

“Steve, please, God, where are you?!”

“Sam?”

Sam whirled around at the tired voice. The trees danced in his vision. The grass clutched at his legs, which still felt like they were being stretched out and sunk into the earth. The trees were going to take him over. The grass was going to eat him again. No one was looking. No one would find him. Why wasn’t anyone ever looking for him?

“Sam?” the voice called again.

Footsteps. Crushing grass. A metal screech in the bark of a tree. A colorful curse. “Sam, fuck, shout again!”

Sam stumbled forward, breaking free of the natural world trying to take him away again. He shoved himself away from a tree and crashed into a warm, solid, human body.

“Jesus, Sam,” Bucky breathed and wrapped his arms around Sam tightly. It hurt in the best way. Sam held him back, face hidden in Bucky’s shoulder. He didn’t even care about what gore he was smearing all over himself. Bucky’s hand came to the back of Sam’s head and Sam almost expected it to hit exposed brain but it didn’t. Instead his calloused fingers brushed over Sam’s short hair, smoothing over the natural lines and divots in it until goosebumps erupted over Sam’s skin.

Right. Things could feel good. That was part of being human and alive.

He had no idea how long they stood there. His shoulders were aching, but in a pleasant way that reminded him that there was something he loved right in front of him, in his arms.

Bucky was the first to move, stepping back half a step, a quarter of a step, barely any at all, just enough to bring his hands up to either side of Sam’s face. The cheeks and the mouth and the skin that was all there and new again. He tilted Sam’s head back, eyes intense and clear in front of Sam.

Had it not felt the same for him? Was he not grappling with his ridiculously weak claim to existence? Or, fuck, was this how he always felt after being frozen and woken up? Had he been going through this for seventy years with no one to run to? With no one to hold him and remind him that things could feel good?

Sam’s fingers tightened in Bucky’s vest and just as Bucky was starting to say something Sam couldn’t honestly answer--something about how he felt, if anything hurt, if he needed medical attention--Sam hauled him down into a desperate kiss. Their noses smashed together and pain bloomed across Sam’s face, made his eyes water, made him want to sneeze, made him want to lean into it all the more, like the pressed-on-bruise ache of Bucky’s arms around him.

He felt Bucky’s teeth notch a split into Sam’s lip by accident, crushed together with nowhere to go. Finally it softened. Bucky’s mouth pressed against his until Sam felt like he could actually breathe, until he could make his mouth do what he wanted, catch Bucky’s lower lip between both of his, wring out a noise he’d never heard the other man make before. Bucky’s hands on his face kept him close and Sam’s fingers tightened in his vest. He wanted to crawl into Bucky’s chest--felt like, maybe, he could after being unmade and remade. Their noses knocked together again as Sam tried to turn his head, kiss the other side of Bucky’s mouth, let Bucky bruise the rest of his lips.

Bucky pulled away, but didn’t let go of Sam’s face. Cool air flowed into Sam’s lungs until all of his bones and muscles felt like they slotted back into place.

“I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am to see you alive,” Bucky breathed.

We should talk about this. That. Later.

“I thought everyone was gone. I don’t know… I didn’t know how I came back. I thought it was just me.”

Bucky shook his head. “No. There’s hundreds of people. Not everyone, but at least half of us.”

Half of them.

“Oh my God,” Sam said. “Thanos won. He wiped out half of the universe.”

“I think that was us. I think...someone brought us back,” Bucky said. Pain flashed over his face as he looked at Sam and then pulled him in for another kiss. Sam tried to understand a second chance in it, but all he could feel was Bucky and relief and adoration. He wasn’t sure where that one came from more--him or Bucky.

“There’s still a fight,” someone said from behind them. Another magic shithead. Terror clutched at Sam’s chest like magic itself was enough to unmake him again, take him away again. “There’s still a world to save.”

Bucky’s hand found Sam’s between their bodies. Sam took a breath with lungs that almost seemed to work again. “What’re we waiting for then?” he asked.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fanfic

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brinconvenient · 4 years ago

Text

Green Egg and Fam

You know what? I'm just gonna go ahead and do this...

So a few years back, I was talking to another trans woman who is very familiar with the DC Universe and we were trying to figure out who is Actually An Egg, and after a few suggestions back and forth, I galaxy-brained the answer. She heartily agreed and we talked about it a bit: 1. Artsy 2. Serial Monogamist who is a Relationship Disaster (Big "Do I want to Be With Her, or Be Her?" energy) 3. Becomes best friends with every ex-girlfriend 4. Noted Respecter of Women in Very Terrible and Awkward Ways 5. Chronically allergic to self-reflection and introspection, but also addicted to it in much the same way lactose intolerant people talk about how they can't give up cheese. 6. Just a complete and Utter Messy Agent of Chaos. 7. All too willing to adopt Other People's Expectations and internalize them as a Sacred Duty. 8. Just constantly Marked By Tragedy - both external and self-created.

It's Kyle Rayner, kids.

Torchbearer,

Honor Lantern,

Erstwhile Ion/avatar of the power of will

Kyle "I will be the Last of the Green Lanterns and yet keep trying to ressurect this entire Corps of Space Cops that I didn't even know existed until some Blue Dude showed up to give me jewelry and I guess marry me into the Corps? Because I guess that's just my job now and that will become my whole personality" Rayner.

After the conversation, this - the only fanfic I have literally ever written popped out of my head fully formed. It's intended to really be Chapter 1 of Several which are basically conversations between Kyle and one Ex-Girlfriend per chapter as Kyle finally accepts herself and transitions.

Eventually she reveals that the name "Ion" comes from her real name "ImOgeN" because she read Nevada and Was Impacted and she's just that extra.

But, honestly, despite getting started on the Alex chapter ages ago, I never have drawn the energy to go back and finish and/or write more, so I'm just gonna share the first chapter of what I am calling:

"Green Egg and Fam"

Putting the actual content behind the Read More because I've already rambled too long.

“It’s just exhausting, you know? Every few years it seems like I have to pick up the pieces of my life, my memory, my self and figure out who the hell I am! Every time I get a handle on things, someone or something comes along and shakes up the snow globe,y’know? I’ve tried to talk to Diana about it and, like, she’s compassionate and cares and offers sympathy, but most of the time, my whole relationship with her is just one more flake in the globe and I never know who we’re going to be to each other. Somehow, though, you’re always my favorite ex-boyfriend. It’s weird, right?”

Kyle patted Donna’s arm reassuringly. He glanced from Donna’s face to the view over Lake Michigan. There was no more beautiful view of the lakeshore than the roof of the John Hancock Building. He could just about make out the lights of the small shore towns across the lake in Michigan, and he could see the industrial Indiana towns along the round tip of the lake.

“I’m not positive I like that descriptor of our relationship, but I am happy to be some kind of constant for you,” he said with a rueful smile. “Donna, you are one of my dearest friends and I always want to be here for you. I know you didn’t need my help with Dr. Psycho here, but I’m glad I was Earthside to help you out anyway.”

They’d taken the diminutive psychic menace to the Chicago Special Crimes Unit, who had training and facilities for telepaths and telekinetics. They found this perch when Donna said she just needed a little bit to settle down before heading back to the Titans Tower in New York.

“No, I had him just about handled - a Lasso of Persuasion is pretty useful, after all - but I’m glad you swung through, all the same,” Donna said. “I’m glad to have a friend here. Psycho was really messing with my head this time. He kept dredging through my memory, pulling out bits and pieces of lives lived and people lost. He made me relive the loss of Terry and Robert and Jenny, over and over, replayed the tortures of Dark Angel, dragged me through that whole mess with the Titans of Myth, and I’m actually not sure which of any of those actually happened in this reality anymore.”

Donna’s breath was getting ragged and tears were falling down her face, twinkling in the moonlight.

“You told me about Terry and the kids when we were dating, so since I still remember them, they must still have existed and they still loved you and you still got to love them. I’m a little fuzzy on the Titans of Myth, so I can’t be sure about that stuff. But you’re here now and that’s what’s important right now. Just take a sec to enjoy this moment, this view, this night and see how you feel, ok?” he said.

They sat in the quiet, next to each other, watching the waves reflect and distort the moonbeams. Donna’s breathing calmed down and she straightened her back, half a head taller than Kyle even while sitting.

“Thank you, Kyle. I’ll be ok now, I think. I appreciate you listening. You have a good heart. If you’d only learn to actually fight without that ring, you’d make a pretty decent Amazon. Well … if you weren’t a man, of course.”

Kyle coughed and thanked the stars that Donna couldn’t see him blush. Suddenly Kyle felt like there was lava beneath his skin and he couldn’t sit comfortably.

He didn’t want Donna to catch on, so he stifled his squirming and whipped up a quick construct of a miniature green Kyle in an Amazonian uniform, breastplate, Spartan skirt and calf boots. For added effect he made sure to widen his shoulders and used Hal Jordan as a reference for a jaw far more square than Kyle’s real life chin.

“I’m not sure I can pull off the uniform. Guess I’ll stick with green and black for now. Ha!” he said. He hoped it didn't sound as forced as it felt.

“Oh I don’t know. You’ve got great legs, Kyle! Maybe you should start wearing shorts when in uniform. Besides, you had those over-the-knee boots for the longest time. I think you’d be just fine!” Donna said, laughing.

“Give me a hug, Dick just texted me to meet him in Blüdhaven. Take care and fly safe back to Oa!” she said.

After a quick, warm embrace, she turned eastward and flew off over the lake. Kyle watched her fly out of sight. He looked down and saw little Amazon Kyle, slowly spinning in the air. He drew the construct up to eye level and returned the shoulders and jaw back to his more slender and softer reality. It didn’t look that bad actually.

He’d been trying to make Donna smile, and deflect from … something before, so he exaggerated those features to highlight the incongruence, but he didn’t hate this more realistic image.

He continue to finesse the construct’s features. Like most artists, he never really considered a piece finished, he just stopped working on it. He smoothed the musculature, narrowed the shoulders a little further, pulled the hips out just a bit more, and left the waist alone. The ersatz Kyle’s face got softer still, the brow less pronounced, the nose narrower, the chin just a bit more rounded. He watched the chest muscles soften and breasts form to fill out the breastplate better.

Finally, he lengthened the construct’s hair to shoulder length, adding some wave and curls like Donna’s somehow-always-perfect hair.

And there she was. The woman who’d been haunting Kyle’s dreams as long as he could remember. Slowly spinning in the air was a woman who could easily have been Kyle’s sister, wearing Amazonian garb (or at least what he remembered from seeing Donna’s while they were dating so many years ago).

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he started fiddling with the image, and he didn’t know how long he’d spent staring at the final form. Sister. Yeah, right.

With an angry wave he flashed his hand through the construct, dissolving and dispersing the light particles that he’d given form. He hastily looked around the roof to make sure no one had seen him or, specifically, seen the construct. The burning sensation of shame returned instantly and he immediately flew into the sky until the buildings looked like so many light-speckled building blocks.

He took himself through a calming exercise he learned from Kilowog to help him center himself and sling his ring “like he wasn’t a complete Poozer and deserved to wear it.” Kilowog had no appreciation for just how hard it was for other people to feel calm when he was around. Still, Kyle found it helped when the pink giant wasn’t breathing down his neck.

“My will is strong enough to carry the torch for the entire Green Lantern Corps, I can stop these feelings. I can make all of these thoughts go away. I can stop this. I’ve got too much responsibility to keep indulging this … this nonsense” he thought, trying to ignore the sting of the tears fighting their way free to fall down his face, ignore the pain in his heart.

“I don’t want to lose my friends - what would Donna say? Would she think I was a pervert, or making fun of her somehow? I definitely don’t want to lose Hal’s and the guys’ respect. I don’t want to lose my whole life just because I’m some kind of freak. Get it together, Rayner. No one else is feeling sorry for themselves because they don’t fit in.”

He pulled a hand down his face and pointed his right fist with it’s gaudy, shining green ring on the middle finger toward the Milky Way and flew into space. He hoped the cold solitude of the transluminal conduits would help him regain his composure before he faced Guy, Hal, John and Kilowog for the Honor Lantern meeting. For the millionth time, he wished he could just be more like them, have just a sliver of their easy and effortless masculinity. They made it look so simple.

“Bet they don’t spend half their life trying to figure out what is wrong with them,” he thought. He tried so hard not to envy them, but it was really hard sometimes.

Especially nights like tonight where his resolve had failed him yet again and he gave in to his most hidden thoughts. He entered the transluminal conduit between Saturn and Jupiter and closed his eyes.

He traveled faster than light, but it still took time to reach Oa, so he tried to sleep and hoped that his dreams wouldn’t betray him again.

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boys-from-santacarla · 3 years ago

Note

so i've never seen any fic or really anything for dwayne + paul so like maybe that idk--

Notes: Thank you so much for your request. 💛 And sorry if I made you wait too long. I have never read anything like this either, but I hope you like it. It was fun writing it tbh, so feel free to write a positive or negative feedback.

Warnings: Homophobia, homophobic language, cursing, a bit of explicitness in an attempt to lead to sex.

The Moralist (Dwayne x Paul)

Word Count: 1563.

The fourth night at stakeout waiting at the boardwalk was going just as usual; with David waiting at the corner for Star and Laddie to hopefully come back with a third individual, and Paul and Marko playing a stupid game to win a stuffed animal, with Dwayne as a keen spectator next to them.

When the game was over, both players started fighting.

"You cheating bitch! Everyone saw I was winning until you step on my foot!" Paul yelled.

"Maybe I did, but you started it by pushing me every five seconds!" Marko snapped back. Paul half-closed his eyes in anger and began to yell again when Dwayne got between the two.

"Ok, we get it. You both assholes are losers that need to cheat to win something." He laughed and the blondes protested with a loud "hey". He rolled his eyes and said "Move on."

Paul pointed a finger towards Marko and warned "You gon' pay, buddy." Marko gave him the finger and started walking backwards to play some more while showing off his brand new item.

"Hey, man, c'mon. Let's get a drink or something." Dwayne suggested still laughing.

After getting a tasteless six for the evening, both moved to a calmer side at the end of the boardwalk to sit down at some stairs. After all, when Michael appeared they'd hear David's bike.

"Dave's really into this guy." Dwayne said after taking the first sip of his beer.

Paul giggled "Who would've known his weakness were young and closeted curly brunettes."

Dwayne hummed his agreement. "I mean, he's kinda cute." He said and giggled, earning a funny look from his company.

"Don't tell me you have the hots for him too" Paul pleaded incredulous.

Dwayne shook his head "Nah, it's just..." He stopped for a moment to think about it. Michael was dumb, that was for sure, but he had this exciting... aura around him. And he was good looking too.

"I don't know" He finally stated and shrugged. "He's cute. That's all."

"Oh, Lord..." Paul shook his head in disappointment "We got us another fairy vamp."

Dwayne punched his shoulder. "You're such a homophobe. As if you and Marko didn't looked like fags." He teased and took another sip.

"Hey, man! He's the one who seems to like to get annoying just for me to be all over him!" Paul defended himself and was about to get another sip too when he processed Dwayne's whole saying "And I'm no homophobe!" He declared offended.

Dwayne gave him a skeptical look "You know..." he shrugged "they say all homophobes are closeted gays, so..." He unfinished the sentence suggestively.

Paul rolled his eyes and continued advocating his reputation. "I'm as liberal as the next guy. I could even kiss a guy and don't give any fucks." Dwayne almost spitted his drink with that last one.

"Yeah, sure." He murmured.

"I'm serious!"

Dwayne raised his head unconvinced "I don't think so. Your ego's far too sensible for that."

"It is not." Paul snorted.

That made Dwayne wonder, ok, so macho drama queen was liberal and respectful? Why not test the veracity of this?

"Fine. Then kiss me."

Paul turned to look at him disbelieving "I'm a lot of man for you, sweetheart." He said with smugness, but there was a slight quiver in his voice to denote his awkwardness.

Dwayne laughed "I knew it."

"Just because I won't kiss you doesn't mean I'm a damn homophobe. It's just that you're not my type."

"Because I'm a man." Dwayne persisted.

"No, because you're disgusting and ugly." Paul corrected.

But maybe it wasn't a bad idea.

Maybe it would be good to prove Dwayne, the big moralistic guru, that no sloppy kiss could hurt his masculinity. Cause that was the truth, wasn't it?

Paul sighed "You know what? Fine." He decided.

Dwayne shoot up his eyebrows.

Paul smirked "Come here and have a taste." He sensually invited and loudly smacked his lips.

Dwayne remained still for a moment, shocked that Paul was actually up for it. The hotshot couldn't let anyone patronize him, uh.

"Ok." He simply accepted and moved to accommodate his legs with Paul to get closer with each other.

Making eye contact, Dwayne, still a little unsure, put his big hand on Paul's waist while Paul placed with a bit of extra force his palm on Dwayne's cheek.

Then they brought their faces together and left nothing between their lips but an inch apart. So close that each could notice the other's dusty but fresh masculine scent.

"I still don't think you can handle this, bud" Paul whispered, lightly brushing his lips with Dwayne's with the movement.

Dwayne smirked with arrogance "Quitting?"

The blonde gave his negative with a low sound and moved his head to a side to fit his marginally parted lips with Dwayne's.

Both were taking this as a dare to press the other past his limits and make him step back, to leave clear who was the homophobe here. So why think of this wrong? It was just a kiss to prove who had the best manners. No more.

They stayed still for a moment, like a pair of kids having their first kiss. Not moving, just innocently touching lips. But none would step back and give up.

So, if a simple smash of lips was something both could stand, then they would have to take it farther. And it felt surprisingly easy.

Both moved their lips to taste better the other's flavor, and Paul moved his palm from Dwayne's cheek to his nape, slowly, caressing his soft skin, and feeling the light brush of his strands between his fingers. All this while Dwayne moved his hand from his friend's waist to his lower back, intently pressing them closer together and feeling Paul muscles flexing.

The kiss got sensual when feeling silly both opened their mouths and crashed together their tongues. The stubble definitely felt weird, both thought, and even though the hair could help imagine it was a girl, they could not forget it was a pal whom their were kissing.

But that didn't stopped them. Telling themselves it was because it was their job to make the other uncomfortable, they didn't broke the kiss. Just continued to move in a hot syntony sharing saliva.

So the sudden jolt Dwayne felt was justifiable, just as Paul's low moan was too.

It got rapidly heated. Both moving with more confidence, as if already knowing how to move in harmony with the contrary. Their lips began making smacking noises when one decided to venture and nibble a little.

Panting, their hands wandered more and traveled exposed spots of skin and leather.

Paul placed his free hand on his friend's thigh, caressing it while still moving his exploring tongue inside Dwayne's mouth. The hand on his back sent a cold chill on his spine and he felt his cock twitch. Dwayne's response was to moan a little and keep one hand on the wooden stairs to press Paul harder against him.

Lost in the track of time, the dare got out of control and they were both half-hard.

And both felt good.

Fuck, both felt good.

Paul's conscious abruptly came into play and he jumped as if burned, breaking the kiss in cold. Dwayne stayed in position until he reopened and focused his dark eyes on the blonde's. His puzzled expression was enough for him to react too.

In unison their heads turned to the side, trying to hide their dark red faces.

Dwayne cleared his throat "Uhm... that was... That was..."

Paul hesitantly wiped his mouth with the back of his wobbly hand, then glanced at Dwayne still looking anywhere else but at him and repeated his previous action, now with deliberated disgust.

"Repugnant. Nauseating. Ugh, I wanna puke." He stuck out his tongue.

Dwayne agreed "You're such a lousy kisser, man." He copied Paul's action and pretended to clean his lips.

There was an uncomfortable silence while they tried to recover and regain their prides. Dwayne was about to say something when unexpectedly Marko appeared from behind calling them. They turned their heads.

"Hey, guys! Michael's here. Let's go." He seemed oblivious, so he walked back to where he came from and didn't gave them a chance to respond.

Turning back at each other, they wanted to utter something, but just made eye contact, saying... what? "Don't worry, it was good, but I'm not telling, not even myself cause that makes me gay. Thanks for making my dick twitch, tho"?

Dwayne jumped to his feet.

"Well, now it's a fact that you're a homophobe." He teased, in an attempt to dissolve his odd feeling, but it didn't work. "So, I'll, uh, I'll get going, bro." He adjusted his jeans, climbed the stairs and resumed his natural cocky strut as casually as he could.

"Yeah." Was all Paul could say, almost inaudible. But that didn't matter.

He adjusted his pants too and got up.

Yeah, he liked kissing Dwayne, so what? It got a little out of hand and provoked a natural sexual response, right? He wasn't attracted or anything, right? He knew the guy was hot, but everyone with eyes could acknowledge that. It was no big deal. Cause he wasn't a fag.

Paul wasn't a fag.

He wasn't.

Damn.

#writing's not my thing but i like to try #the lost boys #dwayne x paul #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #my writings #gays being vamps

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